Title: "Babylon"
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, as long as you've seen up to and including 10.21, "Midnight"
Summary: Carter works through his feelings after the death of his son.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual.
Author's Note: I started this on Wednesday, I think, before Midnight aired. So the first chapter and a half was written without knowing exactly how it would go. I think it could still fit, though. Anyway, I have no idea how the show's actually going to go, since I don't read spoilers (found out about the baby by mistake...was very annoyed). But this is my little take on it, inspired by the song "Babylon" by David Gray. Sliding Doors will probably be updated tomorrow or Tuesday, but I wanted to start posting this now. This is going to be a 4 part little thing, so stay tuned for the next parts! I would love to know what you think. :) Thanks! Jo xx
"Friday Night"
Friday night I'm going nowhere,
All the lights are changing green to red.
Turning over TV stations,
Situations running through my head.
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind.
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule.
---
I watch my son playing in the grass of our backyard. He laughs loudly, throwing a cheeky grin in my direction as he runs towards the sandpit. In his haste he loses his footing, falling flat on the muddy ground. He screws his face up, and I know it's only moments until the loud cries begin. But before I know it a pair of loving arms reach down and scoop the two year old up, holding him close. I watch him bury his head in her chest, whimpering slightly. She rubs his back soothingly, and when I look up towards her I see the gentle, caring look in her eyes that only a mother can have. She places a kiss on the top of his head before looking up at me and grinning. This is what we imagined. And I'm truly happy. As the small cries subside, she whispers something in our son's ear, before putting him back down on the ground. I see the muddy streaks up his dungarees, and as I look up she points to the matching muddy marks down her clean white shirt, laughing. Her eyes sparkle as she laughs, and I can't help but grin back at her. My goodness, I love her. I look back down to see our son charging towards me, arms wide open for a hug. In just seconds I'll have the same muddy mark down my t-shirt, but instead of worrying I laugh like her, and pull him into a tight hug, holding him to me. "Love Daddy," he tells me, looking up with a grin on his face. I love you too, son, I love both of you so much.
I open my eyes as I feel the warm trickle of a tear down my cheek. Every time I close my eyes I see it all, so clearly. Never the same situation twice, the only common element is the two of them, grinning and laughing. And for a moment I feel so complete, as I image the life I could have had. But then as reality sinks in the pain I feel is unbearable. I'm far from being sat in a sunny garden playing with my son. The rain is lashing against the windows of the empty house that should be our home, as I sit in the middle of an empty nursery. Everything is so empty. My arms feel empty from not being able to hold him in them. Every ounce of me aches for what I lost before I even really had it.
I've tried watching the TV, but each scene just blurs into the next, each programme into the next. Every image I see through my tears is just a wash of colours that mean nothing to me. Just like everything else that is happening around me means nothing to me. I feel lost and alone. Sitting here in the nursery makes me feel a little closer to him, as I see the crib, and look at the bright pictures of the jungle painted on the wall. I smile as I remember my mad panic to get them finished in time. There's at least a little satisfaction in realising I did, before it sets in that it doesn't matter whether it's finished or not. He's gone, and he's never coming back. This is all worthless. Every little bit of it. My whole life is worthless.
I get up from my spot on the floor, and angrily rip a sheet of the wallpaper, watching as tigers and elephants fall down into my hands. There's an initial delight in the feeling of doing this, some sort of release from all the pain and anger I'm feeling. But then as I look down at the bright colours I realise that I just removed something that was supposed to be his from my life. I'm already forgetting about him. Every moment and every thought is filled with him, but I forgot him in that one second. And the guilt I feel is overwhelming.
I throw the wallpaper across the room, and slowly sink down to the floor again. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry that I failed you as a father. I'm sorry that there was nothing I could do to help you, that you never got a chance to know us, or us you. And I'll always love you. I don't want to ever forget you.
She's still at the hospital. I know I should be with her, that we should be grieving together for our son. But what am I supposed to say to her? That I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner that something was wrong? I'm sorry that I didn't take better care of her? It's too painful to be there. To walk along corridors past rooms with mothers nursing their babies. I can't face seeing her eyes puffy from crying, and have to hold her and tell me it'll all be fine in the end. It's selfish, I know, and I feel enormously guilty for the way I'm acting. She needs me. I'm abandoning her, letting her down. Like I let my son down by letting him die.
---
Once again I'm sat alone in the nursery, staring at the blank piece of wall that I created in my anger a week ago. The tears have finally dried up, and now I feel numb and alone. Like I have nothing in the world.
"John!" Her voice drifts through from the kitchen, but I can't bring myself to respond. What's the point? There's nothing to say. "John." This time her voice is closer: she's standing in the doorway of the nursery watching me. "Are you okay?" I shrug, not looking at her. "Do you want a coffee?" Once again I shrug. I don't want a coffee, I want my son. The one thing I can't have. "John, talk to me." I look up and see her eyes filled with tears. She looks exhausted, emotionally and physically. She's hurting too. But for some reason I can't see past my own agony.
"I can't do this," I tell her, looking down at the floor.
"Can't do what?" she asks as I lift myself off the floor.
"This room's so empty," I continue, ignoring her question. "Everything's empty. There's no point anymore." I slip past her out of the door, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen where I begin to pour the coffee she's already made.
"John?" She hurries after me, her voice anxious. I know she's worried about me, about what I might do. But she has absolutely no idea, really. She doesn't know how I've reacted to death before, what it's done to me. She can never understand.
"Do you want one or two sugars?"
"I don't take sugar. John, please, talk to me. How are we meant to get through this if we don't talk?" I shrug, not knowing how to answer. Not wanting to talk. When she speaks again I can tell she's trying to hold back tears. "You're making this so much harder for me John. I think I've managed to compose myself, stop feeling so distraught, and then I turn round and see you like that, and all the feelings come flooding back. I need to get on with my life, you're not making it easy."
"Well, maybe I don't want to get on with my life, or stop feeling distraught," I retort angrily. "Because when that happens, it feels like I'll have forgotten him. And I don't want to ever forget." I thrust the mug of coffee into her hands, and turn to leave the room.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know," I respond, grabbing the keys for my jeep as she rushes out into the hallway.
"When will you be back?" I shrug. "Will you be back?"
"You said it yourself Kem, this will be easier for you if I'm not around to upset you." She opens her mouth to say something, but obviously can't think of the right thing to say. "I really do feel bad that I can't comfort and help you in the way you need. But I think you can do that better for yourself. If you want me to stay, just say the words. But..." I take a deep breath as I reach what I now realise is the heart of the problem, and has been since long before we lost our son. "But we don't have the baby anymore. Things are different." She nods her understanding, and steps towards me, placing a short and sweet kiss on my lips.
"Thank you. I'll miss you. We had fun." She steps back and watches me with tears in her eyes once more.
"I'll miss you too." I give her a weak smile, before turning and walking out of the house and getting into the jeep. Once I'm safely inside I look back towards the house and sigh. I realise I'm doing exactly what I accused someone else of once, and have now become very good at myself. I'm running.
---