Work Text:
Partners
A First Wave Fanfiction Story
by Jennifer Lyon
"Damn it, Eddie! You scared the shit out of me!" he exclaimed, leaping up to prowl around the side of the car. The setting sun glinted on his golden hair. He turned to glare at me, slanted eyes fierce.
"I'm sorry," I say, spreading my hands wide. "They would have killed my friends to get at me. I couldn't let that happen. Anyway, it's fine. I handled it."
He gave me another disbelieving look and I lost it. I'd been through a lot today.
"Damn it, Cade!" I shouted. "Believe it or not, I can take care of myself! I've been doing it for a long time. I don't always need you running to the rescue! You don't have to be the hero all the time!"
I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. He paled. I could see the reflection of pain in his eyes even as a memory of words barely heard when spoken re-echoed in my mind. Cade's voice, rough static in my ear while I tried to deal with other things, telling me that I was the only person in this world he could count on. I hadn't been listening then, not truly. His plea had slipped into my subconscious, stored for a later time, when I had time to recollect and respond.
I'd left it too late.
"OK. Fine. Glad you didn't need me. " He lifted his hands, palms open towards me, and turned away, hiding his hurt behind the lean strength of his back. Stalking around the car, he got in on the far side and waited for me.
Ah hell...a thousand possible things to say reverberated in my mind, but nothing made it out my mouth. Instead, I got in the car and drove.
It was a long, uncomfortable, silent ride back to the trailer. I stung inside, a righteous anger warring with a painful sense of guilt. It wasn't really Cade's fault that he saw me as someone to be protected. Hell, the man protected everyone. It was what he'd been born to do. And he had even managed to say aloud that he needed me. But still...
I'd learned a long overdue lesson this day. I'd discovered my own strength. For once, I'd stood up in the light of day instead of hiding in the shadows behind my computer screen. I was proud of that and it hurt that he couldn't see it. I was his partner, not a damsel in distress. And yet...
He'd only reacted the way he did because he cared. About me. From the moment he found me in the empty gym until we argued outside, he had kept touching me. Constantly reassuring himself that I was here, alive and safe. That warmed me the way a thousand sunrises never could.
Ah hell...
The silence wore on me as we went inside the trailer. I just couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps I talk to cover my own nervousness, but it is natural to me to fill the void with words.
"Cade...I'm sorry. I didn't mean that..."
"Yes, you did," he replied, sitting down beside me on the old couch. It dipped between his weight, sliding me an inch closer to him. He sighed. "And I'm sorry too. It's just..."
"That you've always been the one to go out and kick ass while I hide in here," I filled in for him.
"You do more than hide!" he protests, pinning me with his eyes. "I'd have been dead long ago if it hadn't been for you."
"I know," I agree, even as I shake my head. "But I've always been on the sidelines. And until today, that's where I thought I was. I was wrong." Now it's my turn to focus on him, trying to communicate one of the day's many lessons. "It was me they were after this time, not you. I'm in this all the way and sometimes that's going to mean being on the frontlines without you to save my butt." I lean in closer to him. "Cade, you can't protect me all of the time. Yes, you're the Twice-Blessed Man and yes, you're the hero of the piece. But you can't be everywhere all the time. If I'm going to be your partner, then sometimes you're going to have to trust me to protect myself."
"I *know* that," he responds emphatically. Then he slumps back down into the couch, regarding his hands as though they were something new and different. "I was just scared, Eddie. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I..." he stumbles, then forces the words out, "I couldn't bear losing you. You're all I've got."
"You'd manage," I say, just to say something to kick my stomach out of my throat. My voice sounds like the awful squeak chalk sometimes makes on a blackboard.
He simply shakes his head, twisting his hands, fingers twining around each other, trembling. Trembling...I suddenly realize just how terrified he was. I reach out to touch his shoulder, he shivers under my hand.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't know..." My voice trails off. For once words have failed me. How can anyone put that kind of emotion into language?
He laughs harshly. "You're all I've got. They've taken everything...everyone...else. I can't do this alone." His eyes wander, his head remains turned away from me. It is tearing at him to say this stuff and it's not doing much less to me. I have to give him something back, but I don't know what. How do you repay this level of trust?
"You don't have to go it alone. I'm here, Fos...Cade, and I have no intention of going anywhere."
"They could have killed you!" he exclaims.
"And they could kill me tomorrow. Or you. Or everyone on this planet. I thought that was why we were doing all this, remember." For an attempt at lightening the situation, it was beyond pitiful, but it did make the corners of his mouth twitch.
"Yeah, but..."
"But it was hard not to be there to help when I was in danger," I add, again completing his sentence for him. What can I say? It's a bad habit.
He nods, finally lifting his head and looking at me through slitted, haunted eyes.
"So now you know how I feel most of the time when you're out there," I tell him, unable to resist making the point. I do know that feeling - that helpless ache of frustration - the pain of watching the most important person in my life risk his life while all I can do is sit and wait. I've lived with it for almost two years now, since the first day he burst into my life.
That seems to startle him. His eyes widen and then, abruptly, he smiles.
"Yeah, I guess I do, now."
"It sucks, huh?" I ask, grinning back.
"Yeah." His smile dies just as suddenly as it arose. "Next time, I go with you," he states firmly.
I shake my head, "Foster..."
"Next time I go with you," he repeats, his expression turning to granite. I know that expression well; it's the one he usually gets right before he kicks some major alien butt. It's also a reflection of the extraordinary determination that makes him who he is -- the one man who can save us all. And I know better than to argue with it, at least not directly.
So I lift my hands above my head and give in as gracefully as I can. "OK. Next time we go together. Satisfied."
He nods, sprawling out beside me. Now those cat-eyes of his are gleaming at me.
"So just how'd you 'handle' those aliens?" he asks.
Now *that* is a long story, but it's one that I'm delighted to tell.
End