Table of Contents [Report This]
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello all! This is my first foray into tP fanfiction and I thought I'd share it with you. I'm still not quite sure how this one-shot came to be...I'm a complete J/MP shipper and I always thought my first piece would be something to do with them, but I was watching Inner Sense last night- the scene where Sydney shows Miss Parker the DSA of himself and Catherine talking- and suddenly I had to write something with them. This one is a lot more melancholy than I ever write, so again, I'm amazed how it even came to be. I just had the scene in my head and needed to write a moment between them I guess...Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and be sure to drop me a line- I'm eager for some feedback! Thank you!
The elevators opened and Catherine Parker stepped out. This floor, these halls, were a familiar route her heels had worn well. The sims, the lab, the children, Jacob, Sydney-
Oh Sydney...
Out of caution and instinct, and perhaps some Centre borne paranoia, Catherine glanced over her shoulder. The passage behind her remained empty, the cameras in the ceiling corners glowing red. Angry, perhaps- at her daring while her husband was away? A weekend trip overnight- just the opportunity she needed. Defiant of those watching the sub-levels that evening, she strode on, the clicking of her polished shoes the only noise to distinguish her from Centre ghosts.
She stilled as she approached his office. The door stood ajar, a sliver of golden light penetrating the dim hall she stood in. While she paused motionless, her mind and her heart continued to work. Memories, fervent- happy and painful, flooded her mind. Two faces so similar, but their minds divided. Their difference was nothing now, the matter trivial, or perhaps it had always been trivial? Catherine frowned and shook her head. No, she was deceiving herself. It was a matter of grave seriousness.
Deadly serious...
Catherine drew in a breath, her resolve hardening as her heart ached. This matter- the unimaginable (but it had happened, she had caught sight of what was left of the car...) results of such a matter, had driven her to where she stood at that moment. She was to see him. In this moment of pain she would try to help in any way that she could. Comfort him, listen, talk, smile, or be silent- simply exist in the empty space. She would do this as any person, much less a friend, should.
The clicking of her heels brought her to just outside his door. She could see in now, half of his desk visible in a pool of yellow light. There were piles of paper, the stale smell of cigar smoke, and the static of tension...sadness. To her ears she heard nothing but the small rustlings of the person within- the beating of her own heart and the breaking of another. A light tap on the door broke the relative silence. A greater stillness than even before overtook the room. Without further invitation, Catherine passed inside. Her blue eyes fell on the part of the room she could not see before.
He sat at his desk, his tie removed and forgotten, slung over the back of his chair. His jacket had been taken off as well and at some point had found a home on the extra seat she intended to take. His hair was more ruffled than she was accustom to seeing, and his jaw line it seemed, had begun to work on it's five o'clock shadow. Despite his unusual appearance, it was not this disheveled look that held her attention, but rather his hands.
He made slight move at first to hide the bottle, but then changed his mind. Contrary to the slight red in his eyes and the tiredness settled into his features, his manner revealed his mind to be still clear and alert. Fortune was with her it seemed; she had caught him at his first glass.
"Mrs. Parker," he greeted in his customary way. His deep tone, normally soothing, now held a sorrow that was unsettling. Catherine offered a warm, but tentative, smile. His frequent use of her last name- his rare gentlemanlike politeness, was a source of both great charm and annoyance. Tonight, she decided it was a nuisance. It offered him a perfect defense, distancing himself from her personally...emotionally.
"Sydney," she spoke with careful pointedness. Sydney set down his glass, his eyes moving from her face to the files scattered across his desk.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure? It is rather late for social calls..."
Catherine smoothed her skirt behind her legs, taking a seat. She took her time gathering his discarded coat into her hands before answering,
"You've been away some weeks...I thought I might say hello on my way home."
Sydney's eyes fixed themselves to a single spot on the paper he had been attempting to read.
"It is not an unusual occurrence at the Centre. Your husband is away, I understand."
Catherine bore his evasiveness with all the patience of her namesake.
"Indeed", she finally replied, her gaze resting upon his face, "But he has not recently lost someone he loves..."
Sydney's posture stiffened, but he did not look up. Catherine waited, set firmly in her seat, fighting down the impulse to take his hand, to provide some comfort in the loss of a man they had both cared about...
"I am fine."
Catherine leaned forward, her graceful fingers touching the edge of his desk,
"You are grieving", she contradicted sadly. Sydney shifted, and raising his head he finally met her eyes,
"I assure you that I am fit for my duties. I have had the necessary recovery time, thank you for looking after Jarod while I was away."
Catherine nodded and slowly sat back in her chair. He was shutting her out; he would not willingly share the burden of his pain, though she carried a fair amount herself. He had not been the only one to lose Jacob. There was a beat of heavy silence; she could see he would not speak openly with her.
Perhaps it was too soon? She had not come that night to press him. Even still, perhaps she had assumed too much of their connection? Their mutual grief was not enough to link them as she had thought. Or perhaps their acquaintance- relationship...friendship, was not what it appeared to her? Just because she confided in him, did not ensure that he would equally confide in her. The Centre was a difficult place to build trust, and while she only felt more positive of his good nature, it was possible that he regarded her, as Mr. Parker's wife, with more suspicion.
Brushing a wisp of dark hair from her temple, Catherine made to stand, still holding his jacket in her arms. As if sensing her departure, Sydney brought his attention to her once more,
"I appreciate the visit Mrs. Parker," he spoke softly.
He recognized her intentions, and he considered them in goodwill despite his reservations, his reluctance...Realizing this gave Catherine pause. She had come to comfort, listen, even to be turned away as she was now- but as his friend she would try once more. She smiled at him, locking her blue eyes with his own, a torrent of silent pain and open kindness between them- kindred spirits. She stood slowly, her stare lingering on his face, but he had already looked away, scratching some unimportant note down. Gently she laid his coat upon the chair she where had found it and turned to leave. She had made it three steps when she stopped.
"Doctor, I have a question," she said suddenly, looking over her shoulder at him, her dark hair moving with her.
Her professional tone and the unexpectedness of the question caught him off guard. After a moments pause, giving him time to adjust, he addressed her as he often did during their sessions.
"You would like some advice?"
His voice held less of the hollowness that it had before; there was a safe, objective, distance in speaking this way. Satisfied that she had made the right decision, Catherine turned to face him better,
"Yes, perhaps you can guide me in a matter I'm having trouble with?"
Sydney nodded almost imperceptibly and drew his hands together in thought. The moment was an encouraging one; he was now working with her- cooperation. Almost as if acting on an invisible pull, Catherine took a step back towards him.
"I have a friend who I believe needs my help," she began, watching carefully for any withdrawal- but he remained unaffected.
"We cannot know the needs of others for certain, Catherine", he reminded without any real reproach. There it was. Her name. The wall between them had been moved aside in the interest of advising her. This further progress gave her the strength to continue. With a slight nod at his comment, she moved closer still to his desk,
"Even so, I do flatter myself with the ability to read those I care most about."
Sydney consented to this without reply, in his eyes a slight curiosity that urged her to continue.
"This friend," she went on, her focus resting on the fingers steepled before his lips, "I believe, needs someone to talk to- you see he's just lost someone he loved and..." she paused here, her voice quavering for the first time that night. She attempted to retract the sudden emotion filling her. Grief. Grief for herself, for Jacob...for Sydney. There was the thickness to her throat, her tongue now took an incredible effort to move, the edges of her vision blurred. She shook her head and pursed her lips in an attempt to throw off the overwhelming feeling of loss, but to no avail.
"Catherine," he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. The hollowness had returned. She did not remember drifting so near him, but in the next moment a hot tear fell from her cheek onto his desk, creating a dark spot on some classified Centre file. Quickly she rose a hand to her face, wishing desperately to compose herself. She had come here to comfort him in his pain, not to share hers. But it was too late, more tears were falling. Jacob's accident was no accident at all. The Centre, her husband- how could this happen?
The floor swam as she tired to concentrate on her feet, her chin down. But then a warm hand was tilting her head back up. And all at once Sydney was there, standing right before her, his own eyes dark with sadness. His hand left her face and quickly went to his pocket, retrieving a cloth handkerchief.
"It's alright," he soothed, his voice thick as he offered her the cloth. She nodded even though neither of them believed it. They held on to the lie like an anchor in the storm of their emotions. Dabbing at her cheeks, she gazed up into his eyes and saw the unshed tears there. Another impulse, like the one she had refused earlier, came upon her- and this time she listened. Taking his hand she pulled him closer and embraced him, offering all the comfort she could.
Sydney rested his forehead on her shoulder and, slowly, she felt the hot wetness of his tears. She rubbed his back and repeated his words, "It's alright...it's alright."
Oh Sydney...
Out of caution and instinct, and perhaps some Centre borne paranoia, Catherine glanced over her shoulder. The passage behind her remained empty, the cameras in the ceiling corners glowing red. Angry, perhaps- at her daring while her husband was away? A weekend trip overnight- just the opportunity she needed. Defiant of those watching the sub-levels that evening, she strode on, the clicking of her polished shoes the only noise to distinguish her from Centre ghosts.
She stilled as she approached his office. The door stood ajar, a sliver of golden light penetrating the dim hall she stood in. While she paused motionless, her mind and her heart continued to work. Memories, fervent- happy and painful, flooded her mind. Two faces so similar, but their minds divided. Their difference was nothing now, the matter trivial, or perhaps it had always been trivial? Catherine frowned and shook her head. No, she was deceiving herself. It was a matter of grave seriousness.
Deadly serious...
Catherine drew in a breath, her resolve hardening as her heart ached. This matter- the unimaginable (but it had happened, she had caught sight of what was left of the car...) results of such a matter, had driven her to where she stood at that moment. She was to see him. In this moment of pain she would try to help in any way that she could. Comfort him, listen, talk, smile, or be silent- simply exist in the empty space. She would do this as any person, much less a friend, should.
The clicking of her heels brought her to just outside his door. She could see in now, half of his desk visible in a pool of yellow light. There were piles of paper, the stale smell of cigar smoke, and the static of tension...sadness. To her ears she heard nothing but the small rustlings of the person within- the beating of her own heart and the breaking of another. A light tap on the door broke the relative silence. A greater stillness than even before overtook the room. Without further invitation, Catherine passed inside. Her blue eyes fell on the part of the room she could not see before.
He sat at his desk, his tie removed and forgotten, slung over the back of his chair. His jacket had been taken off as well and at some point had found a home on the extra seat she intended to take. His hair was more ruffled than she was accustom to seeing, and his jaw line it seemed, had begun to work on it's five o'clock shadow. Despite his unusual appearance, it was not this disheveled look that held her attention, but rather his hands.
He made slight move at first to hide the bottle, but then changed his mind. Contrary to the slight red in his eyes and the tiredness settled into his features, his manner revealed his mind to be still clear and alert. Fortune was with her it seemed; she had caught him at his first glass.
"Mrs. Parker," he greeted in his customary way. His deep tone, normally soothing, now held a sorrow that was unsettling. Catherine offered a warm, but tentative, smile. His frequent use of her last name- his rare gentlemanlike politeness, was a source of both great charm and annoyance. Tonight, she decided it was a nuisance. It offered him a perfect defense, distancing himself from her personally...emotionally.
"Sydney," she spoke with careful pointedness. Sydney set down his glass, his eyes moving from her face to the files scattered across his desk.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure? It is rather late for social calls..."
Catherine smoothed her skirt behind her legs, taking a seat. She took her time gathering his discarded coat into her hands before answering,
"You've been away some weeks...I thought I might say hello on my way home."
Sydney's eyes fixed themselves to a single spot on the paper he had been attempting to read.
"It is not an unusual occurrence at the Centre. Your husband is away, I understand."
Catherine bore his evasiveness with all the patience of her namesake.
"Indeed", she finally replied, her gaze resting upon his face, "But he has not recently lost someone he loves..."
Sydney's posture stiffened, but he did not look up. Catherine waited, set firmly in her seat, fighting down the impulse to take his hand, to provide some comfort in the loss of a man they had both cared about...
"I am fine."
Catherine leaned forward, her graceful fingers touching the edge of his desk,
"You are grieving", she contradicted sadly. Sydney shifted, and raising his head he finally met her eyes,
"I assure you that I am fit for my duties. I have had the necessary recovery time, thank you for looking after Jarod while I was away."
Catherine nodded and slowly sat back in her chair. He was shutting her out; he would not willingly share the burden of his pain, though she carried a fair amount herself. He had not been the only one to lose Jacob. There was a beat of heavy silence; she could see he would not speak openly with her.
Perhaps it was too soon? She had not come that night to press him. Even still, perhaps she had assumed too much of their connection? Their mutual grief was not enough to link them as she had thought. Or perhaps their acquaintance- relationship...friendship, was not what it appeared to her? Just because she confided in him, did not ensure that he would equally confide in her. The Centre was a difficult place to build trust, and while she only felt more positive of his good nature, it was possible that he regarded her, as Mr. Parker's wife, with more suspicion.
Brushing a wisp of dark hair from her temple, Catherine made to stand, still holding his jacket in her arms. As if sensing her departure, Sydney brought his attention to her once more,
"I appreciate the visit Mrs. Parker," he spoke softly.
He recognized her intentions, and he considered them in goodwill despite his reservations, his reluctance...Realizing this gave Catherine pause. She had come to comfort, listen, even to be turned away as she was now- but as his friend she would try once more. She smiled at him, locking her blue eyes with his own, a torrent of silent pain and open kindness between them- kindred spirits. She stood slowly, her stare lingering on his face, but he had already looked away, scratching some unimportant note down. Gently she laid his coat upon the chair she where had found it and turned to leave. She had made it three steps when she stopped.
"Doctor, I have a question," she said suddenly, looking over her shoulder at him, her dark hair moving with her.
Her professional tone and the unexpectedness of the question caught him off guard. After a moments pause, giving him time to adjust, he addressed her as he often did during their sessions.
"You would like some advice?"
His voice held less of the hollowness that it had before; there was a safe, objective, distance in speaking this way. Satisfied that she had made the right decision, Catherine turned to face him better,
"Yes, perhaps you can guide me in a matter I'm having trouble with?"
Sydney nodded almost imperceptibly and drew his hands together in thought. The moment was an encouraging one; he was now working with her- cooperation. Almost as if acting on an invisible pull, Catherine took a step back towards him.
"I have a friend who I believe needs my help," she began, watching carefully for any withdrawal- but he remained unaffected.
"We cannot know the needs of others for certain, Catherine", he reminded without any real reproach. There it was. Her name. The wall between them had been moved aside in the interest of advising her. This further progress gave her the strength to continue. With a slight nod at his comment, she moved closer still to his desk,
"Even so, I do flatter myself with the ability to read those I care most about."
Sydney consented to this without reply, in his eyes a slight curiosity that urged her to continue.
"This friend," she went on, her focus resting on the fingers steepled before his lips, "I believe, needs someone to talk to- you see he's just lost someone he loved and..." she paused here, her voice quavering for the first time that night. She attempted to retract the sudden emotion filling her. Grief. Grief for herself, for Jacob...for Sydney. There was the thickness to her throat, her tongue now took an incredible effort to move, the edges of her vision blurred. She shook her head and pursed her lips in an attempt to throw off the overwhelming feeling of loss, but to no avail.
"Catherine," he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. The hollowness had returned. She did not remember drifting so near him, but in the next moment a hot tear fell from her cheek onto his desk, creating a dark spot on some classified Centre file. Quickly she rose a hand to her face, wishing desperately to compose herself. She had come here to comfort him in his pain, not to share hers. But it was too late, more tears were falling. Jacob's accident was no accident at all. The Centre, her husband- how could this happen?
The floor swam as she tired to concentrate on her feet, her chin down. But then a warm hand was tilting her head back up. And all at once Sydney was there, standing right before her, his own eyes dark with sadness. His hand left her face and quickly went to his pocket, retrieving a cloth handkerchief.
"It's alright," he soothed, his voice thick as he offered her the cloth. She nodded even though neither of them believed it. They held on to the lie like an anchor in the storm of their emotions. Dabbing at her cheeks, she gazed up into his eyes and saw the unshed tears there. Another impulse, like the one she had refused earlier, came upon her- and this time she listened. Taking his hand she pulled him closer and embraced him, offering all the comfort she could.
Sydney rested his forehead on her shoulder and, slowly, she felt the hot wetness of his tears. She rubbed his back and repeated his words, "It's alright...it's alright."
