Loose Ends

by evvrythingisawesome

Summary:

(Prequel to Teen Wolf Season 3B Crossover AU)

Ernest Littlefield returns from Heliopolis a stranger to his own family, and has to learn how to integrate into a world that has moved on and left him behind.

Sergeant Stilinski makes the decision to retire from the Air Force to move to his wife's hometown.

Cora Hale becomes collateral damage as the consequence of a mummy's curse.

Chapter 1: Ernest - October 1997

For all that he’d kept hoping, and for all that he imagined his life together with Catherine, he had to admit to himself that he never truly expected to be rescued. He kept working anyway, copying down every page of the Heliopolis library. He took walks along the shore, imagining Catherine by his side, doing his best to imagine what her perspective would be on the library. He imagined her reaction when he revealed what he was. He hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her, before he’d been stranded—he’d meant to do so as soon as their engagement was made public.

He’d felt his father’s death, decades ago, when the surge of Alpha power overtook him. He’d wondered how his family was faring, with their Alpha gone and no apparent heir taking his place. Did they die out? Meld into another pack? He’d wondered if he’d ever find out what had happened to them. Short of dying himself, though, there was nothing he could do for them. Not until he was rescued, anyway.

There was no moon orbiting Heliopolis. His first years there made for an uncomfortable transition. The cycles he’d built his life around dissolved, leaving him lost. Catherine had saved him again on that front, encouraged him to build his own balance. Listen to his own body, instead of relying on his environment. With her assistance, he’d become so centered, so grounded, that he’d managed the full wolf transition.

As the years had passed, he’d come to rely more and more on Catherine’s insights. He couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like without her with him for all these years. Didn’t want to imagine that life.

When the strangers came, he thought he was imagining them, too. He’d dreamed of rescue so many times over the years. But they were real! And Catherine…

The Catherine he’d lived with for so many years had seemed so vivid, so real to him. He’d loved her more every day. But this Catherine, the one that arrived with the strangers—

It was hard, at first, to see past everything that had changed about her. He’d thought she was just playing a trick on him. But this Catherine was so angry with him, in a way only the real Catherine could be. He knew, when she told him she hadn’t forgiven him, that he would be spending the rest of his life making it up to her. And doing so gladly, as he fell in love with her all over again.

The first thing he did when they arrived back on Earth was tell her everything. It didn’t go nearly as smoothly as the first time—the imagined time, he reminded himself—but that was to be expected. What mattered was that she did, eventually, begin to understand.

His next step was to find his family. To his immense relief, he found they’d survived. Melded into another pack, as he’d hoped. The pack that had taken them in was old, and powerful. His nephew’s marriage with the Hale Alpha had strengthened both packs.

His own transition into the blended pack was trickier. His social skills had suffered from disuse; apparently the life he thought he’d lived with Catherine hadn’t counted for much on that front. But there, again, Catherine had saved him. His nephew had followed in his grandfather’s footsteps and become an archaeologist, and Catherine had bonded with him instantly. And with her guidance, and his assurance that he had no intention of reclaiming his pack, he began to feel at home.

Chapter 2: Sergeant Stilinski - January 1999

Notes:

These events take place after the SG1 episode "Show and Tell" -- the encounter with the Reetou.

“Ow, Jesus,” Noah hisses as Dr. Fraiser brings the swab back to clean out his wound. “Are you trying to make it hurt more?” He’s pretty sure she’s torturing him just for fun now, the sadist.

She just shrugs at him unsympathetically as she works. “That’s what you boys get when you throw yourselves in the line of fire,” she says.

“I didn’t even know there was a line of fire!” he objects, waving his free arm emphatically. “The aliens were invisible, for cryin’ out loud!”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Well, then just be glad they only grazed you.” She jabs the needle in much harder than is necessary when she starts on his stitches.

He growls in pain and frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this injury at home?” Claudia will never believe his standard excuses, and he hates lying to her. He knows he can’t tell her the truth about all this, but he’s starting to think it’s not worth it.

Sergeant Siler, lounging in the next bed over, shrugs. “I always just say it’s electrical burn,” he offers.

Noah just glares at him. “That’s because it almost always is electrical burn for you, Sly,” he reminds the other man.

Siler hums uncaringly, flips to the next page of the magazine he’s been perusing. “You may have a point,” he concedes absently.

“Training exercise gone wrong?” Janet suggests.

Noah turns his glare back on her. “What the hell would I be training for, to get this kind of injury, in a facility where all we’re supposedly doing is analyzing deep space radar telemetry?”

“Also a good point,” Siler agrees unhelpfully.

Noah sighs, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “I just don’t think I can do this anymore,” he mumbles.

Janet’s hands pause where they’ve been working at his side. “Can’t do what anymore, exactly?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he says, waving his hand in a vague, all-encompassing gesture, “all of this.”

Siler sits up with a frown, snapping his magazine shut and turning to face Noah’s bed, legs now dangling off the side. “You want to leave the SGC?” he asks, and Noah has never seen him look more confused before.

Noah slumps, then winces in pain when the movement pulls at his injured side. Janet steadies him and quickly finishes up his stitches. “Not just the SGC,” he decides after a moment, “the military.”

The other two are silent for a moment as they process what he’s just said. Siler’s looking heartbroken and horrified, like Noah has just declared his intention to murder a litter of puppies. Janet presses her lips into a tight line and angrily slaps a bandage onto his side.

Noah groans and scrubs his free hand down his face. “Come on, guys, don’t be like this,” he tries. “Look, I have a son—”

“Oh, and I suppose Cassie doesn’t count,” Janet snaps at him, reminding him of her own adopted daughter as she busies her hands with tidying up her surgical tools.

He stops her with a gentle hand on her arm. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he says. She doesn’t respond, though, just glares at his hand until he removes it and allows her to continue her task. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, ignoring the way the movement makes his side burn in agony. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been injured on the job,” he reminds them. If nothing else, they must concede that point to him. “And, fine, so this time was just a graze, but what if, next time, it isn’t?” He’s been thinking about this quite a bit recently. He knows he’s been incredibly lucky so far. He knows many others in his place have not.

“But,” Siler starts, shaking his head and still frowning like he can’t even comprehend what Noah is saying, “but this isn’t just any job. This is the Stargate. What other job allows you to literally save the friggen planet every couple o’ weeks?”

“I don’t need to save the planet,” Noah insists. “Why can’t I just save, like, a town?” A small town, maybe. Like, perhaps, the one where his wife grew up, where her best friends live. The one she’s been longing to move back to for some time now. The one that’s been recruiting new deputies to the police force like crazy for the past few months.

He looks up to find Janet studying him carefully. “You’re serious about this,” she observes after a moment.

He frowns, opens his mouth to reply, closes it again, then raises his eyebrows and meets her eyes steadily. “Yeah,” he decides, “I guess I am.” He didn’t fully realize it until just now, but there it is.

"But, the ‘Gate," Siler objects, still shaking his head in adamant denial.

“The ‘Gate has plenty of good people guarding it,” Noah reminds him. “You don’t need me.”

Siler deflates, swinging his legs dejectedly and frowning at the floor. “Maybe not, but we want you. You’re the best.”

Noah rolls his eyes. “I’m a glorified mall cop, Sly. All I do is stand around, hold a gun, and occasionally get shot with strange alien energy weapons.” He flaps a hand at his injury, as if to prove his point.

“I think what he’s saying,” Janet interrupts, “is that he’d miss you. You’re our friend, and we care about you. We know you have our backs here, and we like being around to have yours. We can’t protect you if you leave us.”

“Guys, seriously,” he scoffs, “I won’t need you to protect me. How much trouble can I possibly get in, in a town like Beacon Hills?”

Chapter 3: Sergeant Stilinski - August 1999

Notes:

Approximate timing: somewhere around SG1 episode "Deadman Switch" or "Demons"

“Last day, huh?” Colonel O’Neill asks him, fiddling with one of the buckles on his vest.

Noah blinks back the shock of Colonel O’Neill knows who I am and what’s going on in my life, what?? and nods. “Yes, sir. As of 1700 today, I will be officially retired.”

O’Neill hums thoughtfully. “Y’know, I retired once,” he points out, quirking an eyebrow and gesturing vaguely at the far end of the room. “Look how that one turned out.”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

O’Neill nods, intrigued. “Always.”

“Everything you’ve done here, all the things you continue to do...” He shakes his head. There aren’t enough words to say what he wants. “It’s incredible, sir. It’s more than worth it.”

“Yes, well,” O’Neill says, shrugging as he adjusts the brim of his hat, “some things are more important.”

“No, sir,” Noah says, “nothing is more important. Equally important, sure. Important in different ways. But not more.”

O’Neill considers his words for a moment before responding. “You know what you’re going to do yet?”

Noah blinks at the abrupt change in subject, but decides it’s probably best to just go with it. “Law enforcement. Apparently, the town’s in dire need of new deputies.”

“Oh yeah?” O’Neill asks, nodding a greeting to Major Carter as she enters the ‘Gate room. “Where’s this?”

“Beacon Hills. Small town in California.” The rest of SG-1 files in behind Carter. He knows their time is almost over, but he wants to cling to this connection for as long as he can. “My wife grew up there.”

“Chevron one encoded,” Walter’s voice announces as the ‘Gate starts to spin.

“I, uh—” Noah hesitates, wondering if he’s being too forward, considering this is the first casual conversation he’s ever had with the man. He leans closer instead of speaking louder to be heard over Walter’s continued announcements. “There’s a lake. I hear the fishing there is great.”

“Fishing, huh?” O’Neill winks at him as he hands a packet of tissues to Dr. Jackson and finishes settling the rest of his gear in place. “You sure do know the way to a man’s heart.”

“You should come visit sometime,” Noah blurts out, before he can stop himself.

“Chevron seven locked.” The ‘Gate whooshes open, and SG-1 moves together toward the ramp, with O’Neill lagging behind.

“I may take you up on that.” O’Neill grins and tips his hat in farewell, following his team to another world.

Chapter 4: Cora - September 2000

Notes:

Precursor to SG1 episode "The Curse”

Cora startles and drops her crayons as her Papa bursts through the front door, smiling bigger than she’s ever seen him smile before. “They found it!” he announces, throwing his arms wide like he’s expecting the biggest of hugs.

Cora rushes to him. His hugs are the best. “Found what?” she hears her mother ask.

Papa reaches down to ruffle Cora’s hair, then scoops her up and plants a slobbery kiss on her cheek. Cora giggles and scrubs at her cheek to get the slime off. “The Stewart Expedition,” Papa says. “They recovered the shipwreck, and they’re bringing it to the University of Chicago. They want me there as soon as possible.”

Mama’s grinning back at him. “That’s incredible. You’ve waited so long.”

Papa reaches out with the hand not currently supporting Cora to hold Mama’s hand. “I know the timing isn’t ideal, but—”

Mama squeezes his hand. “Your family needs this closure. Let the curse be lifted.”

Papa pulls Mama into the hug, squishing Cora in between. Cora giggles and squirms, but doesn’t actually try to get away. She loves being sandwiched between them. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Cora realizes what “I’ll be back” means just as Mama pulls out of the hug. “You’re going away?”

“Only for a little while. Oh, don’t cry, sweet one!” He carries her over to the couch and sits, still holding her, as her eyes well with tears. “Remember when I told you about my grandpa Sheldon? The Egyptologist?”

“The mummy’s curse,” she whispers, remembering bedtime tales of Papa’s adventurous family.

“Exactly,” he says, tweaking her nose. “They found the boat he sank on. If I can be part of the team that works to get the artifacts returned to Egypt, the curse should be lifted.”

Cora considers that for a moment. “I guess that’s okay, then,” she finally decides. “Just don’t stay away too long.”

“I won’t. I promise.” He squeezes her again, then sets her on the floor at his feet. “Now, I need to go pack, but I want you to finish that drawing you’re working on so I can bring it with me. Do we have a deal?”

Cora grins up at him. “Deal!” she replies, and turns back to her abandoned crayons.

Three days later, Mama calls the family together into the living room. She’s quieter than usual, and she hasn’t smiled all day. Cora settles onto the floor, already unusually somber and still, sensing the mood shift in the room.

Mama explains to them how Papa was in an accident at work, and he won’t ever be coming home again. Cora doesn’t listen to anything anyone says after that. Papa broke his promise, and they’re still cursed. She’ll never forgive him.

Chapter 5: Deputy Stilinski - October 2001

“Wormhole X-Treme!? Looks a bit silly.”

“Extremely silly. There’s no way this show is gonna be any good.”

“And you’re making me watch this… why?”

“It’s important to me. I can’t explain why. Please, just…”

“Of course. I’m just teasing. Ah, the things we do for love.”

--

“Wait, so she’s out of phase, right?”

“Right.”

“So… why doesn’t she fall through the floor?”

“Shhh, just watch.”

--

“You know, I don’t think it actually does say ‘Colonel’ anywhere on his uniform.”

“You’re right, but don’t tell him that.”

--

“Two-way travel through an open wormhole?! They can’t do that!”

“What, so the out-of-phase thing didn’t bother you, but this does?”

“There is a line, okay? This is wrong! It’s— they can’t— but the laws of physics!”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re an expert on that now?”

“I’m certainly more of an expert than they are! I can’t believe they—”

--

“Wow, now that is an impressive visual effect.”

“It’s not CG, y’know. They did it with—uh—practical effects.”

“Impressive. Where’d you hear that, about the effects?”

“Uh—inside source.”

--

“So that was certainly… something.”

“That. Was the best thing. I have ever seen.”

“You have very strange tastes.”

“You’re the one who married me.”

“Mm, don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You do. You love me.”

“True.”

“I gotta call Siler. If he hasn’t seen this, I’m disowning him as my best friend.”

Chapter 6: Ernest - January 2002

“What’s a... Stargate?” Derek says, frowning down at a stack of papers pulled from Catherine’s bag. His basketball is still tucked under his arm, but he seems to have forgotten about it entirely.

“Derek, honey, we don’t look through people’s things without permission,” Talia reminds him, looking up from her book with a frown.

“Right, sorry,” Derek says, still focused on the text. “It’s just, at first I thought it was some sort of afterlife metaphor, but they’re actually talking about it more like it’s some sort of, I don’t know," he shrugs and tilts his head curiously, “almost like a transportation device.”

Ernest and Catherine exchange glances. “You can read Aramaic?” Catherine asks.

“I guess, sort of,” Derek answers distractedly, eyebrows drawn together. “Go— goh-ah-oold? Is that how—?”

“Derek,” Talia interrupts sharply.

Derek looks up, startled, as if he’s only just noticed he’s not alone in the room. “Oh. Sorry. What?”

“You know better than to—” Talia starts, moving to set her book aside.

“No, Talia, it’s alright,” Ernest says. Talia presses her lips together in disapproval, but settles back into her chair. Ernest realizes belatedly that even such a small display of authority over Talia’s family could be misconstrued, but he can apologize later. Right now, Derek is more important. “Where did you learn how to read all that?”

Derek sets the papers down and rolls his basketball between his hands nervously. “Dad used to let me read over his shoulder when he worked in the library.”

“Did you learn many other languages?” Catherine asks. She has that twinkle in her eye. Ernest loves that twinkle.

Derek shrugs. “Just a little of a lot of things, really. Dad was better. He knew all of them.” He frowns down at his basketball as though he has no idea what it’s doing in his hands.

Catherine isn’t one to let go when something catches her interest, though. She prods Derek again, “Do you know any Cuneiform?”

Derek shrugs again, eyes still downcast. “A bit, I guess,” he mumbles.

“A friend of mine is stuck on a translation right now,” Catherine says, pulling a notebook out of her pocket and flipping to a page near the middle. “Would you like to take a look?”

“I should go do my homework…” he trails off, already accepting the proffered notebook. Ernest can see the exact moment when the world falls away and all that’s left is the page in front of him. Derek sinks into the seat beside Catherine and lets his basketball drop to the floor. The ball bounces once on the carpet, then rolls to wedge itself under a table, completely forgotten by its owner.

Ernest knows that look on the boy’s face; he’s worn it himself often enough, spent over 50 years living that feeling Derek is embodying right now. He’s lost to the project. Daniel will be pleased to have this new perspective on the tablet he’s been struggling with.

Chapter 7: Sheriff Stilinski - January 2004

Notes:

Stargate Wiki says Janet Fraiser died in 2003, but both parts of Heroes aired in Feburary 2004. I'm going with the airdate as the date when it happened, as that doesn't seem to conflict with anything else in the SG timeline.

He doesn’t cry when he arrives at the hospital and sees the faces of the staff, her primary care doctor, even the other patients and visitors he recognizes in the hallways, confirming his worst fears. He finds his son sitting with his head buried in his hands outside her room. He silently gathers Stiles up, bundles him safely in his arms, and takes him home.

He doesn’t cry when Stiles has his first panic attack. He grips his son’s hands tight, talks to him soothingly, until he remembers how to breathe again.

He doesn’t cry when he files the last of the paperwork for the car crash that kept him away that day. Sheriff Barnes suggests maybe he’d like to take some time off. He says thank you, but no. His job is the only thing that makes sense to him at the moment.

He doesn’t cry at the funeral, when practically the entire town shows up to offer their condolences. He nods in numb acceptance, thanks each of them for their kind words and support. Siler finds the corner he and Stiles have hidden in hours later and joins them there in silence until he needs to leave to catch his flight back to Colorado.

He doesn’t cry when he drowns himself in whiskey, toasts to the memory of his dead wife’s eyes. He drinks until he forgets how much it hurts, only to wake up the next morning and realize the pain only gets worse with a hangover.

He doesn’t cry when Talia Hale approaches him in the grocery store, reminds him how special Claudia was, how important she was to them, to the town, tells him if he ever needs help with Stiles, or someone to talk to, or anything at all, all he needs to do is call. He thanks her and turns back to the meat counter, orders a couple pounds of ground beef. It’s not until much later, when he’s lying awake in the dark, staring at the empty half of his bed, that he pauses to wonder why the Hales even care. As far as he knows, they’ve never even spoken before.

He doesn’t cry during his son’s third, fourth, seventh, who the hell is even keeping count anymore, panic attacks. He talks, he listens, he breathes, he remembers.

He doesn’t cry when Rafael, who, for once, actually seems concerned for his welfare, escorts his drunk ass home and dumps him unceremoniously on the couch. Rafael informs him that he’d better get his act together or risk losing his son, too. He asks Rafael what the hell he’s even doing in town, but the other man just sighs, shakes his head, and leaves.

He doesn’t cry when he pulls off his wedding ring, stares blankly down at it for a few minutes, and drops it in the drawer of his bedside table. He digs it back out five minutes later and puts it back on, vows to wear it until it no longer hurts to think of her or until he dies, whichever comes first. If he were a betting man, his money would be on the latter.

He doesn’t cry until two weeks later, when Janet shows up at his door and takes him in her arms without a word. Stiles is at Heather’s for a sleepover. Janet’s supposed to still be in Colorado, at work, but here she is. Noah breaks down the moment she shuts the door behind him, buries his face in her shoulder and just sobs. He can’t even find the strength anymore to walk over to the couch himself. She practically carries him the few feet there, just letting them both collapse onto the cushions.

He releases weeks’ worth of pent-up tears into Janet’s shoulder. He’d apologize for getting her shirt all gross from his sobbing, but she’s crying too, so he’s pretty sure she doesn’t mind.

Janet strokes his back soothingly as he calms down, occasionally muttering meaningless soothing sounds in his ear. When he finds his voice again, it’s still rough with pain. “How’m I supposed to do this without her?” he rasps. He”s been trying, but he just doesn’t know how. Not in the ways that matter.

She squeezes him tighter. “Same way the rest of us do,” she tells him. “You just do it.”

He shakes his head and tries to disappear. “I don’t think I can,” he grumbles miserably.

She forces him to sit up, holds him at arm’s length, grabs his face so he has no choice but to meet her eyes. “Yes, you can,” she informs him. “You can, because you have to. For Stiles.”

He studies her face and sees that she’s really giving him no other option in this. He sighs, defeated. She’s probably right, anyway. “Okay,” he promises.

She pulls him in for one more quick hug. “Good boy,” she says, patting him on the back as she releases him. “Now, go get cleaned up.”

“You can’t order me around, I’m retired,” he complains.

“I’m a doctor,” she reminds him. “I can order you around all I want, for your own good. Now scoot.”

He rolls his eyes halfheartedly, but complies.

Janet can’t stay. She needs to be back at work tomorrow morning. She has a flight to catch. She gives him one last hug on her way out the door, makes him promise to call regularly.

Nothing is okay. It may never be okay again. But he’ll make it work. He will, because he loves his son.

Chapter 8: Ernest - January 2005

Even after years of being back, it’s still overwhelming, being around this many people. They’re all family, they all love him, and he loves them, but after so many decades of being alone, it very quickly becomes too much. He’d thought he might be able to hide in the corner and commiserate with Cora, the only one of them similarly overwhelmed by crowds, but she’d disappeared into her room hours ago after an argument with her mother, and Ernest had been left alone, trying so hard to be present for the rest of the gathered masses.

Catherine can apparently read his mind, however. She glances across the room at him, from where she’s deep in conversation with Talia about Derek’s college plans, and just knows.

Her smile softens into something intimate and almost unbearably gentle as she meets his eyes, and she gives him the tiniest of nods. A small coil of tension releases from his shoulders, and he sends a look back at her that he hopes communicates all the love and adoration he feels for her as he quietly slips out of the room, then out the door into the forest.

He strips down—still not fully comfortable clothed, not used to needing to shed layers to transition, after so long not needing to bother—and runs through the underbrush on grateful paws. The full moon lights his way and adds a delightfully primal edge to everything, and he allows the cool night air to soothe him.

It isn’t too long, though, before a familiar scent catches his attention. He stalks toward her, bemused, as he can smell the anger coming off her in waves. He’d never tell anyone, but little Cora remains his favorite niece, even as she grows into her preteen angst.

She doesn’t notice him right away, too lost in her own thoughts, a backpack slung over one shoulder as she kicks a rock along the dirt path with every few steps and grumbles under her breath. He sees the shift in her posture when she finally does notice him: a slight easing of tension in her spine, a resigned tilt downward to her chin, a harder-than-necessary kick to the rock that sends it careening into the bushes.

She sighs, defeated. “Did Mom send you?” she asks. Her pace doesn’t slow, but she makes room for him on the trail.

He doesn’t answer, just walks out of the bushes to stroll by her side as if he hasn’t a care in the world. And he supposes he doesn’t, really. Whatever Cora’s processing, all she really needs is for someone to listen while she decides how she feels and what to do about it. No judgment, no advocating for one side or another of any conflict, just being there like Catherine was for him (wasn’t, he tries to remind himself, no matter how much it felt like she was).

“I’m not going back,” she informs him, resolute, petulant.

He once again doesn’t respond, just keeps a steady pace beside her and keeps his eyes on the trail ahead.

She studies him as they walk for several more quiet minutes. She’s always been able to read him, even in this form, even when he doesn’t speak. Her shoulders slump and she scowls as she says, “They haven’t even realized I’m gone. Typical.”

He huffs gently and bumps his nose against her hand to remind her that he noticed.

“That’s different,” she replies as if he’d said it aloud, rolling her eyes. “You’re you. Of course you noticed. Pretty sure none of the rest of them even care.”

He knows that’s not true, but he also knows with a crowd that big, it can be easy to not notice who’s there and who isn’t at any given moment. He doesn’t respond, though, just continues walking beside her as she now buries her hand in the thick, soft fur at the base of his skull.

“I just—” she starts, and cuts herself off, frustrated. He waits while she gathers her thoughts, then lets out a sound between a groan and a growl. “They don’t understand me,” she laments. “I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t stay there, I just can’t.”

He knows what she means. She’d never truly recovered from losing her father, and her thoughts and feelings have always expressed themselves so much bigger than everyone else in the Hale pack. He likes to think he provides a centering, grounding presence for her when he’s there, but he’s in New York with Catherine most of the time. Cora gets lost in the shuffle here, amongst so many.

They walk in silence a while longer, her hand periodically grasping fistfuls of his fur, tangling or twisting gently before releasing again. “Do you have to—” she starts, but whatever else she was going to say, or is still saying, he can’t hear anymore.

A wave of panic and pain blindsides him, and he freezes. Catherine. He turns abruptly and runs at full speed back to the house. He’s pretty sure he hears Cora shouting after him, running after him, but he can’t think about that now. No, no, no—

The scent of smoke and accelerant fills his nostrils as he approaches the property line, and he can’t—he can’t—

Anguish halts him in his tracks, and probably only just in time. He collapses, just behind the treeline, panting, as the grief overtakes him. A small group of people laugh and banter with each other playfully as they load empty gasoline cans into their truck, as the house burns, doors chained—

They’re driving away just as Cora catches up to him, out of breath, the question on her lips dying as she catches sight of the house burning with her entire family inside it. It’s all he can do to clamp his jaw around her wrist, to stop her from running the rest of the way to the building as it collapses in on itself. She fights him, tugs with all her might, screams and begs and cries, but he can’t let her go. It’s too late, they’re all gone, have been gone since he arrived at the treeline.

Cora finally collapses against him, sobbing, as the last walls crumble. He licks feebly at the wound on her wrist, from where she’d fought against him. Somehow he finds the strength to lead her away, out of sight of the burnt-out husk of her home, curled up at the stump of what was once a massive oak. She cries herself to sleep, clutching at him like he’s the only real thing left in the world.

He doesn’t sleep, can’t sleep, just lays there, numb, curled around Cora until daylight wakes her.

He doesn’t want to, but he leads her back to the burnt remnants of the house when she pleads with him. He watches dully as she searches desperately for anything, anything–but there’s nothing left. The bodies are gone, either taken away by the coroners or reduced completely to ash.

The sunlight glints off of something gold amongst the debris, and he drags himself over to it. He paws at it, unburies it, and his heart breaks again. Cora hears his anguished whimper and walks over, picks up the amulet, brushes off the ash to reveal the Eye of Ra.

“Catherine,” she breathes. “Is this where she—” 

But she doesn’t need to finish the question, and he doesn’t have to answer. She can see it in his despondent stance, they can both smell the last traces of her underneath all the burning, stronger here than anywhere else.

Cora hesitates, then loops the amulet around Ernest’s neck. “What do we do now?” she whispers, burying her face in his fur as she clings to him. 

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how to go on without Catherine. He knows even his imaginary version of her is gone forever now—he can’t feel her presence like he could before, when she was alive but simply far away.

But he will keep going, for as long as he’s able, for Cora. He’ll take her away, somewhere safe and far from here. He knows he may not have long—the years and traumas he’s endured weighing him down, eating away at him. But he’ll keep going. For Cora.

Notes:

A few extra notes for the timeline:
- It's never stated in canon how Catherine dies, but the timelines of the two shows line up well enough that this is how I've decided it goes.
- Ernest is never mentioned in canon again after his episode, so I like to think they had a happy life together up until this point, and he takes Cora to South America (I guess) to keep her safe. Maybe they search for the temple where Daniel's grandfather found the crystal skull.
- Ernest doesn't know that Derek and Laura survived, too overcome with grief to process anything else. Cora knew Derek was supposed to be at a basketball game, and may have known Laura was with him, but she doesn't know for sure either survived, and she doesn't ever mention it to Ernest. She knows he needs her as much as she needs him in this moment, if either of them are to survive.
- For the purposes of this crossover, the niece who delivers news of Catherine's estate to Daniel Jackson is Laura Hale (possibly using a false name for her protection), and she and Derek inherit and move into Catherine's New York home post-fire. Daniel didn't get her entire estate, Derek keeps some of the more interesting (especially supernatural-related) works for his own translations.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Parasites