Title: In the Corners of My Mind [1]
Chapter Title: a lonely sheriff with a half-empty glass of beer
Fandom: Eureka.
Characters: Nathan, Fargo, Allison, S.A.R.A.H., G.U.S., Jack, Vincent, Jo.
Word Count: 1965
Rating: PG
Summary: A GD experiment goes awry, as always, and from then on in it's a race against time, with hilarity, forgiveness, regret and a dash of angst thrown in for good measure. Jack/Nathan.
Notes: It's happily set in the same 'verse as A Second Opinion (which is the story of how Jack and Nathan got together) and Stranger Things (which introduces G.U.S. and is full of laughable crack). Points from those two will probably be carried over into this one, so a vague understanding of those might be good idea. No, I'm not pimping my fics - what would ever give you that idea? XD

In the Corners of My Mind
a lonely sheriff with a half-empty glass of beer
“Fargo, you’d better make this quick.” Briskly and pointedly, Nathan pulls back the sleeve of his expensive Armani jacket to consult his equally-expensive Rolex. It’s a meaningless gesture, really, because he checked the time before he headed down to Section Six, but it’s a meaningless gesture that’s bound to make his erstwhile-assistant’s knees tremble.

Sure enough, he sees Fargo grasp at the nearest solid surface for balance, before straightening and scurrying to his latest mechanical wunderkind. “Won’t be a second, Doctor Stark,” he blusters, and Nathan exchanges a glance with Allison. They both have better things to be doing right now. Fargo clears his throat experimentally. “If you’d like to take a seat?” he suggests, glancing towards the chair-like contraption.

Nathan doesn’t move. “I thought that this was supposed to an upgrade on your ‘Mental Mouse’,” he states acerbically, loading his words with as much disdain as he can muster. “It doesn’t look like much of an upgrade.” Fargo seems to quail under his sharp gaze, and Nathan feels momentarily guilty. Well, it doesn’t, he reasons with his unruly conscience, appraising the set-up once more.

For all intents and purposes, this ‘Mental Manipulator’ appears to be a pair of chairs, enshrouded by plastic tubes and metal wires, simply dumped in the middle of the floor of a disused laboratory. Nathan’s already been briefed on the principle—for the Manipulator to allow direct human interface with Global’s Universal Systems—and he thinks it’s a good idea. His problem with it (aside from the left over qualms from Fargo’s wonderfully successful ‘Mental Mouse’ experiment) is Fargo’s questionable aesthetic choices.

His ‘Mouse’ was small and discrete, Nathan muses. This? It’s a monstrosity!

“You try building a functioning interface with an AI that keeps losing concentration and laughing at you with the Sheriff’s house,” Fargo mutters to himself as he preps the connection points, and Nathan perfunctorily wonders if Fargo has finally cracked. He files a mental note to ask Jack what S.A.R.A.H. has to do with his scientists’ mental health, and lightly rests his briefcase against the table leg.

“Let’s get this over with,” he commands brusquely, and lowers his perfectly-tailored form into the scrap-metal chair. He fixes Fargo with a chilling look. “I’ve got a meeting at Café Diem in forty minutes, and if you make me late your pay is getting docked.”

Fargo makes himself even smaller than he usually is.

Allison tries to hide a smile, and she partially succeeds. But Nathan can tell she’s amused – he was married to her: he can read her easier than he can read a book. “You don’t control his pay anymore, Nathan,” she points out, arms crossed over his stomach in a mockery of sternness. “You can’t follow up on threats like that.”

Nathan shrugs, and allows Fargo to attach two connection points to his temples. Blue gel seeps out into his hair, and he wipes it away with a disgusted expression. “I could hack to system,” he points out to Allison, a smile flirting with his lips. He’s not sure why he’s in such a good mood this evening—it’s after six already, and he’s been working since seven this morning and should therefore be tired—but he thinks that it may have something to do with the sandy-haired Sheriff who will be meeting him soon at Café Diem. Jack tends to make his cheerier, which is endearing and irritating at the same time.

Allison’s smile has grown when he returns his attention to his immediate situation, and he remembers that the ‘I-was-married-to-you-so-know-what-you’re-thinking’ effect tends to go both ways. Her eyes are happy for him, and he forces himself not to smile in response. It won’t do to let Fargo realise that he can actually be quite nice on occasion.

S.A.R.A.H. calls you “cuddly”.

Nathan nearly jumps out of his seat. “Fargo?” he almost-squeaks, and Allison looks alarmed. “A bit of warning would have been nice!”

Fargo looks vaguely sheepish.

The voice in his head sounds amused. Surprised, Doctor Stark?

“A little,” he answers, forcing his over-reacting heart to slow its beat. “Who are you?”

Global’s Universal Systems, is the immediate reply. You can call me G.U.S.

“You’re the AI?” Nathan asks, and he notices Allison crossing to speak to Fargo. She’s probably wondering why he’s talking to himself, and he should probably answer her himself – but he just doesn’t want to. The scientist in him is amazed, and just wants to delve deeper.

I am, flesh-object.

Suddenly Nathan is aware of another presence in this little conversation – a warmer one, even if a little distant. G.U.S., don’t say ‘flesh-object’, it chides. Human, remember?

The voice is very familiar – although, to be honest, he never expected to hear it inside his head. “S.A.R.A.H.?” he blurts out.

Strangely enough, at the brief outburst, Fargo merely rolls his eyes.

Doctor Stark, she answers warmly. I trust you have not forgotten your rendezvous with Sheriff Carter at 1900 hours?

“No, of course not,” Nathan replies, slightly astounded by the idea of Jack’s house reminding him about their dinner date. He decides that it was inevitable, and adds, “But what are you doing here?”

There is an abrupt and guilty silence from the two AIs. Nathan has heard this particular brand of silence before—in particular, from Zoë, when Jack discovered Lucas hiding in her closet at half-one in the morning—and he feels abruptly traumatised. He blinks, and focuses on his ex-assistant. “Thank you, Fargo,” he says dryly. “I’m never going to be able to sleep in the bunker again.” He pauses, and reconsiders. “Or my office.”

Allison looks amused. “Okay then, Fargo,” she says decisively, “plug me in. I want to see what all the fuss is about.” She sits herself down next to Nathan, and Fargo trails behind helplessly.

“Doctor Blake,” he protests weakly, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The power requirements haven’t—”

“Fargo,” they both say flatly, and he wordlessly attaches two connection points to Allison’s temples and steps back to his console. He pulls a face, flicks a switch, and then Nathan can feel his ex-wife’s mind alongside his.

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like it’s all in his head. He feels connected – as if he’s just one part of a larger network, full of energy and light and information. He senses as opposed to feels things: Allison’s amazement, G.U.S.’s curiosity, S.A.R.A.H’s almost-motherly concern for them all. There are no thoughts, no decisions, no deliberations – there just is, and that is enough. His head buzzes.

I wish Jack was here, his mind projects to Allison before he even consciously thinks it. He can just imagine the Sheriff’s wonder at this, whatever ‘this’ is, and he feels his lips smile at that thought.

You would, is Allison’s unconscious response, and that stops him in his tracks. Two simple words, but they’re laced with bitterness and regret and jealousy, and that makes his head spin.

Allie? he thinks in confusion, but then the buzz in his head screams through him, shaking him apart from the inside out, and all he can hear is pain. He tries to rip the connection points from his temples, but his arms refuse to move. He feels a creeping numbness working its way through his body and then—

And then there is flash of bright, white light, and he feels nothing at all.

§§§
Nathan’s late, and Jack can’t help but feel disappointed. He sits at Café Diem, his feet propped up against the opposite seat in his booth, and stares dejectedly at the rapidly-disappearing foam on his beer. He’d dressed up, too, in the dark grey sort-of-silk shirt that Jo says makes him look perfectly lickable.

Oh course, she’d been flat-out drunk when she’d said that, but he still takes the comment as a compliment.

He gives up on not starting without Nathan, and takes a long drink of his beer. He grimaces as he puts it down – he hates warm alcohol. But, then again, he’d been expecting it: he has been waiting for half an hour, and he was a few minutes late himself.

Work, he thinks bitterly, and drinks again.

Vincent peers around the corner of the booth, and his face falls. Jack thinks he must make a picture: a lonely Sheriff with a half-empty glass of beer. “No Doctor Stark?” the rotund gourmet asks sympathetically.

Jack hates other people’s sympathy. He shrugs, expression blank, and downs the rest of his beer.

“Anything else I can get you?” Vincent asks, hands knotted in the pocket of his apron.

“A glass of whisky?” he proposes.

Vincent’s expression flickers briefly, but then he smoothes his features. Only his eyes reveal his worry. He nods, once more the perfect host. “Of course,” he replies, and whisks the empty beer glass away.

Jack is left alone once more, and he misses his warm beer.

Allison had warned him that this would happen – that Nathan’s obsession with his work could, and would, overshadow everything else in his life. He’d hoped that she would be wrong, just this once, but evidently—

His cell buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out automatically and flips it open. “Carter.”

“You need to get to GD.” It’s Jo on the end of the line, and her lack of greeting tells him that this is serious.

He levers himself wearily out of the booth. “What happened this time?” he asks disinterestedly. All he wants right now is to go home and go to bed, but duty calls. He tries not to sigh.

“There’s been an accident,” Jo replies. “Some cybernetic link-up of Fargo’s that went wrong. He says he was demonstrating it and it overloaded. Something about—”

Jack spots Vincent returning with his requested drink and a quizzical expression. He takes the alcohol from the other man, and interrupts Jo. “Who?” he asks.

She pauses almost imperceptibly. “Allison and Stark.”

The glass drops from his hand to shatter on the floor, and he races for the door.

§§§
Jo meets him in GD’s atrium, her radio in her hand and a frown creasing her forehead. “They’re unconscious,” she reports, “and unresponsive. Fargo thinks it was an overload in his experiment’s circuitry that caused this – something to do with substituting the brain’s natural electric field for a man-made one.”

Jack has had the entire car ride up to GD to worry about this particular situation, so he’s just about ready to explode right now. “What the hell was Fargo doing letting them anywhere near this thing?” he demands, hands balled into fists.

“He says that they insisted,” Jo supplies. She shrugs. “Seems like a viable theory. You know Stark and Allison.”

“Yeah.” Jack laughs shortly. “I know them. And I’m going to kill him.” He’s had quite enough of Nathan trying to commit suicide for one lifetime. Decades have been happily shaved off his own life in the process of said incidents. “What do the doctors think?” he asks, diverting the unruly course of his own mind.

“They’re positive,” she answers quickly. “They think it’s probably just the shock that’s keeping them under. They’re a little singed, but—”

“They’re gonna be okay?” Jack asks, and he’s annoyed by the neediness of the hope in his voice.

Jo nods. “That’s the general idea. Shaken, but fine.”

Their pace through GD has been rapid, and so they’re already rounding the corner that leads to the Infirmary. Jack’s heart is thumping almost violently against his ribs, and his palms are sweaty. Damnit, Nathan, he thinks, but there’s a twinge of relief in his thoughts. Despite himself, he can’t help but think that everything is going to be okay.

So it’s somewhat of a surprise when he walks into the Infirmary to find Nathan embroiled in a rather passionate embrace with Allison Blake.

to be continued
this: [a lonely sheriff with a half-empty glass of beer]
next: [a smile that is full of seduction and daring]