Title: Through the Years
Author: Eve
Rating: G
Keywords: GSR, Christmas, fluff. Maybe a tiny bit of angst too.
Spoilers: Up to and including season 3.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Christmas - past, present and future.
Author's notes: For Peggy. Merry Christmas :-)
Through the Years
by Eve
~~* Christmas: The Past *~~
"What are you doing, mum?" The tall woman doesn't turn around and for a moment the young boy is confused. But then he remembers. He looks at her unmoving back, her shoulders slightly bend forward over the cupboard in front of her. On the outside his mother still looks the same and it's so easy for him to forget about the change. At the same time he knows that while their lives may be different now, the most important thing hasn't changed. They still have each other.
Not wanting to cause his mother any more pain, he is glad that she didn't notice what happened and the boy silently admonishes himself for not paying attention. Then he gently taps her arm. She averts her gaze from the object in front of her, turns halfway around and meets her son's blue eyes. The boy repeats his question, this time using both his voice and his hands.
"Mum, what are you doing?" She points towards the Christmas crib standing in front of her on the cupboard. The figures are at the boy's eye level and he studies the arrangement even though he knows the scene in front of him by heart. Then he looks up to his mother's face, lightened by the candles on the Christmas tree and those placed around the room. The tree in the corner may be smaller than the one he remembers from the year before but is nevertheless lovingly decorated with handmade ornaments.
"I was listening to the music," she explains to him. Then she takes his small hand and places it on top the wooden roof of the crib. She winds up the clockwork mechanism and counts up till the key has been turned eight times. Then she lifts her hand.
The first note of the melody reverberates from the walls of the small living room, then another one and another until the music clock takes up speed and he recognises the no longer isolated notes as the tune of a Christmas carol he knows. But the small boy does not only hear the notes, he can feel them now too. His mother smiles at him, places her hand next to his and they both listen to the music.
~~* Christmas: The Present *~~
A much bigger hand came to rest on a pointed wooden roof. Still it was the same hand on the same roof even though many years had gone by and both of them had aged accordingly. Candles, on a small Christmas tree in the corner, on a nearby table and next to the crib, were once again the only sources of light inside the living room.
Having lived for quite some time in the city of Las Vegas, the man in front of the crib had never bothered to decorate the windows with colourful electric lights for the holiday season. They reminded him too much of the world he wanted to keep out of his private sanctuary. He preferred the soft glow of the yellow-white flames to the glaring brightness of the blinking light bulbs and neon Santa Clauses any time.
The apartment was quiet and the old mechanism squeaked as he slowly wound up the music clock and tightened the spring. He knew what would happen once he let go of the key. Still he wasn't able to skip the ritual, to skip the self-imposed test. But even though he had known for quite some time now what would eventually happen, he still didn't know what to think of it. What had he been waiting for all those years: failure or success?
The key slipped through his fingers and started to turn around and around, slowly unwinding the spring.
He strained his ears and listened, listened hard to make out the single notes, make out the melody he knew so well. But he couldn't. For the first time since that one Christmas he couldn't. His hearing faded in and out and he swallowed, trying to push back the anxiety that grabbed him. But then he closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses, let the tiny vibrations underneath his fingertips fill in the blanks.
He was concentrating so hard on the tiny movements that he nearly missed the alarm of the timer. He lifted his hand from the crib and he walked over to the kitchen, put on gloves and took the Christmas cookies out of the oven. After arranging them on a plate, he placed them next to the candles on the living room table. Casting a rather nervous glance at the clock on the wall he realised that she was due to arrive any minute now.
The clockwork mechanism was still playing and even though he could hear the notes at that very moment loud and clear he knew that soon, very soon he would have to make a couple of decisions. Decisions he had been avoiding for way too long. Decisions that would without a doubt severely affect his future.
Glancing down at the plate he couldn't help but think that none of those decisions would affect his personal future as much as the one he made yesterday when he invited her over. While waiting for some test results to come in, they talked about past Christmases and she mentioned how much she missed her mother's Christmas baking. He took the opportunity he'd been waiting for all week and promised her a plate of his homemade cookies if she decided to stop by.
He also promised himself to talk with her, to open up to her and to tell her about . . . everything. And even though he feared the outcome of his decision and his promise, he was determined to stick to both of them.
~~* Christmas: A Future *~~
He turns the silvery key clockwise. Eight times. Still holding the key between his index finger and thumb he lays his other hand on the pointed roof, palm facing down. Then he lets go.
Once again his fingertips begin to tingle as the wooden surface starts to vibrate. In his mind he pictures the small device attached to the underside of the roof, pictures the tiny rotating cylinder with its pins strike the metallic strings inside the clockwork mechanism over and over again.
And he listens to the tune. Despite its age, the music clock still plays each note of the carol with precision.
As the music takes his thoughts back in time, he marvels at the twists and turns his life has taken. Sometimes he lost sight of what really counted, more often than he likes to admit he nearly lost himself too. Of course there are also things he regrets. Things he did, things he refrained from doing. But he figures that somehow somewhere along the way he must have done something right, because otherwise his life wouldn't be the way it is right now. He wouldn't be here - together with her.
Reaching behind the Christmas crib, his hand closes around the small box he hid there. When he looks down at the black velvety cube he wonders briefly whether he should have wrapped it properly.
But when two arms sneak from behind around his torso, he forgets all about ribbons, tags and wrappings. Leaning into her warm embrace, he moves his hand away from the Christmas crib until it finally comes to rest on hers. She places her chin on his shoulder and then both of them simply stand there for a moment in silence, gazing at the scene in front of them.
"Everything all right?" she asks softly when the last note of 'Silent Night' has died away. The slight trace of worry in her voice makes him wonder how long he was lost in his thoughts.
It is time.
"Yes, it is," he says. Closing his eyes for a moment, he gently caresses the back of her hands with his thumb while his other hand tightens the hold on the small cube. After a moment he adds, "There's something I'd like to give you."
He takes a deep breath and opens the jewel box. He then turns around and when their eyes meet he slowly raises the box and says, "Sara, . . ."
Author: Eve
Rating: G
Keywords: GSR, Christmas, fluff. Maybe a tiny bit of angst too.
Spoilers: Up to and including season 3.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Christmas - past, present and future.
Author's notes: For Peggy. Merry Christmas :-)
Through the Years
by Eve
~~* Christmas: The Past *~~
"What are you doing, mum?" The tall woman doesn't turn around and for a moment the young boy is confused. But then he remembers. He looks at her unmoving back, her shoulders slightly bend forward over the cupboard in front of her. On the outside his mother still looks the same and it's so easy for him to forget about the change. At the same time he knows that while their lives may be different now, the most important thing hasn't changed. They still have each other.
Not wanting to cause his mother any more pain, he is glad that she didn't notice what happened and the boy silently admonishes himself for not paying attention. Then he gently taps her arm. She averts her gaze from the object in front of her, turns halfway around and meets her son's blue eyes. The boy repeats his question, this time using both his voice and his hands.
"Mum, what are you doing?" She points towards the Christmas crib standing in front of her on the cupboard. The figures are at the boy's eye level and he studies the arrangement even though he knows the scene in front of him by heart. Then he looks up to his mother's face, lightened by the candles on the Christmas tree and those placed around the room. The tree in the corner may be smaller than the one he remembers from the year before but is nevertheless lovingly decorated with handmade ornaments.
"I was listening to the music," she explains to him. Then she takes his small hand and places it on top the wooden roof of the crib. She winds up the clockwork mechanism and counts up till the key has been turned eight times. Then she lifts her hand.
The first note of the melody reverberates from the walls of the small living room, then another one and another until the music clock takes up speed and he recognises the no longer isolated notes as the tune of a Christmas carol he knows. But the small boy does not only hear the notes, he can feel them now too. His mother smiles at him, places her hand next to his and they both listen to the music.
~~* Christmas: The Present *~~
A much bigger hand came to rest on a pointed wooden roof. Still it was the same hand on the same roof even though many years had gone by and both of them had aged accordingly. Candles, on a small Christmas tree in the corner, on a nearby table and next to the crib, were once again the only sources of light inside the living room.
Having lived for quite some time in the city of Las Vegas, the man in front of the crib had never bothered to decorate the windows with colourful electric lights for the holiday season. They reminded him too much of the world he wanted to keep out of his private sanctuary. He preferred the soft glow of the yellow-white flames to the glaring brightness of the blinking light bulbs and neon Santa Clauses any time.
The apartment was quiet and the old mechanism squeaked as he slowly wound up the music clock and tightened the spring. He knew what would happen once he let go of the key. Still he wasn't able to skip the ritual, to skip the self-imposed test. But even though he had known for quite some time now what would eventually happen, he still didn't know what to think of it. What had he been waiting for all those years: failure or success?
The key slipped through his fingers and started to turn around and around, slowly unwinding the spring.
He strained his ears and listened, listened hard to make out the single notes, make out the melody he knew so well. But he couldn't. For the first time since that one Christmas he couldn't. His hearing faded in and out and he swallowed, trying to push back the anxiety that grabbed him. But then he closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses, let the tiny vibrations underneath his fingertips fill in the blanks.
He was concentrating so hard on the tiny movements that he nearly missed the alarm of the timer. He lifted his hand from the crib and he walked over to the kitchen, put on gloves and took the Christmas cookies out of the oven. After arranging them on a plate, he placed them next to the candles on the living room table. Casting a rather nervous glance at the clock on the wall he realised that she was due to arrive any minute now.
The clockwork mechanism was still playing and even though he could hear the notes at that very moment loud and clear he knew that soon, very soon he would have to make a couple of decisions. Decisions he had been avoiding for way too long. Decisions that would without a doubt severely affect his future.
Glancing down at the plate he couldn't help but think that none of those decisions would affect his personal future as much as the one he made yesterday when he invited her over. While waiting for some test results to come in, they talked about past Christmases and she mentioned how much she missed her mother's Christmas baking. He took the opportunity he'd been waiting for all week and promised her a plate of his homemade cookies if she decided to stop by.
He also promised himself to talk with her, to open up to her and to tell her about . . . everything. And even though he feared the outcome of his decision and his promise, he was determined to stick to both of them.
~~* Christmas: A Future *~~
He turns the silvery key clockwise. Eight times. Still holding the key between his index finger and thumb he lays his other hand on the pointed roof, palm facing down. Then he lets go.
Once again his fingertips begin to tingle as the wooden surface starts to vibrate. In his mind he pictures the small device attached to the underside of the roof, pictures the tiny rotating cylinder with its pins strike the metallic strings inside the clockwork mechanism over and over again.
And he listens to the tune. Despite its age, the music clock still plays each note of the carol with precision.
As the music takes his thoughts back in time, he marvels at the twists and turns his life has taken. Sometimes he lost sight of what really counted, more often than he likes to admit he nearly lost himself too. Of course there are also things he regrets. Things he did, things he refrained from doing. But he figures that somehow somewhere along the way he must have done something right, because otherwise his life wouldn't be the way it is right now. He wouldn't be here - together with her.
Reaching behind the Christmas crib, his hand closes around the small box he hid there. When he looks down at the black velvety cube he wonders briefly whether he should have wrapped it properly.
But when two arms sneak from behind around his torso, he forgets all about ribbons, tags and wrappings. Leaning into her warm embrace, he moves his hand away from the Christmas crib until it finally comes to rest on hers. She places her chin on his shoulder and then both of them simply stand there for a moment in silence, gazing at the scene in front of them.
"Everything all right?" she asks softly when the last note of 'Silent Night' has died away. The slight trace of worry in her voice makes him wonder how long he was lost in his thoughts.
It is time.
"Yes, it is," he says. Closing his eyes for a moment, he gently caresses the back of her hands with his thumb while his other hand tightens the hold on the small cube. After a moment he adds, "There's something I'd like to give you."
He takes a deep breath and opens the jewel box. He then turns around and when their eyes meet he slowly raises the box and says, "Sara, . . ."