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faye_dartmouthTitle: Family Ties
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lena7142 created feral Stephen.
A/N: A short angsty vignette this time in the Continued Adventures of Feral Stephen. As always, everything I do seems to stem fromlena7142. Remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: Helen had sent a clone in his place for the sake of appearances. And no one had noticed.
-o-
When Helen invited him to the Permian, Stephen had thought she was half mad. He’d been fairly certain that when she suggested going through a rift in time, she had been speaking in a strange euphemism for some sexual encounter Stephen could only begin to imagine.
But then they had actually gone through time, and that had been that. A decade later, he had to look back and wonder if he still would have gone if he’d actually believed her. Would he have stepped willingly to the past?
The right answer was no, of course not. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure. He’d never had much in real life. His parents had died when he started university, and he’d always been an only child. He’d never had a lot of close friends, and he’d never been sure what he wanted to study or do with his life. He’d been floundering a bit, in all honesty; that was why he’d said yes to Helen in the first place. She was so certain, so clear, so driven. It hadn’t mattered to him much that she was taking him in all the wrong directions; it had just mattered that she was going there unwaveringly.
In retrospect, it wasn’t something he was proud of. Helen had used him and left him, not even sparing him the dignity of letting people mourn him. She’d sent a clone in his place for the sake of appearances.
And no one had noticed.
Not one.
Of course, to be fair, there hadn’t really been many people in his life who would. No family; no friends. Just a hollow, directionless life that the clone had taken over and made something of.
In this, Stephen knew he couldn’t begrudge his clone much. Stephen had been studying everything and nothing, probably a few terms away from dropping out and trying something else. The clone had lived it better than he would have, no doubt, so Stephen had no right to resent him for it.
Stephen had no right to a lot of things, which just made him resent it all more.
Because there he was, living his own life, and it felt more like his. All the pictures, all the knickknacks -- they were his. This was a life of people Stephen had never loved; feats he’d never accomplished. A diploma that had his name that he’d never earned. Birthdays he’d never celebrated; people he’d never mourned.
He’d struggled and he’d fought and he’d survived, and people here had flourished without him. Stephen Hart had been more than he should have been, built a life, found a family, been a person worth existing.
And Stephen resented him for it. Resented everything about it. Hated him, loathed him, wanted to bring him back from the dead just to rip his throat out and show the world which one of them was real.
Yet, sitting there in the clone’s flat, picking up the pieces of the life the other man had worked so hard to build, Stephen was also grateful. Grateful for the job. For the history. For the family ties that Stephen wouldn’t have been able to build on his own but craved so desperately now.
When Helen invited him to the Permian, Stephen had thought she was half mad. When Cutter brought him back, he was sure the man was just as crazy. Helen had taken him to the past; Cutter offered him a future. The clone had given him the tools to get there.
Now the rest was up to Stephen.
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval;
lena7142 created feral Stephen.A/N: A short angsty vignette this time in the Continued Adventures of Feral Stephen. As always, everything I do seems to stem from
lena7142. Remaining mistakes are my own. Summary: Helen had sent a clone in his place for the sake of appearances. And no one had noticed.
-o-
When Helen invited him to the Permian, Stephen had thought she was half mad. He’d been fairly certain that when she suggested going through a rift in time, she had been speaking in a strange euphemism for some sexual encounter Stephen could only begin to imagine.
But then they had actually gone through time, and that had been that. A decade later, he had to look back and wonder if he still would have gone if he’d actually believed her. Would he have stepped willingly to the past?
The right answer was no, of course not. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure. He’d never had much in real life. His parents had died when he started university, and he’d always been an only child. He’d never had a lot of close friends, and he’d never been sure what he wanted to study or do with his life. He’d been floundering a bit, in all honesty; that was why he’d said yes to Helen in the first place. She was so certain, so clear, so driven. It hadn’t mattered to him much that she was taking him in all the wrong directions; it had just mattered that she was going there unwaveringly.
In retrospect, it wasn’t something he was proud of. Helen had used him and left him, not even sparing him the dignity of letting people mourn him. She’d sent a clone in his place for the sake of appearances.
And no one had noticed.
Not one.
Of course, to be fair, there hadn’t really been many people in his life who would. No family; no friends. Just a hollow, directionless life that the clone had taken over and made something of.
In this, Stephen knew he couldn’t begrudge his clone much. Stephen had been studying everything and nothing, probably a few terms away from dropping out and trying something else. The clone had lived it better than he would have, no doubt, so Stephen had no right to resent him for it.
Stephen had no right to a lot of things, which just made him resent it all more.
Because there he was, living his own life, and it felt more like his. All the pictures, all the knickknacks -- they were his. This was a life of people Stephen had never loved; feats he’d never accomplished. A diploma that had his name that he’d never earned. Birthdays he’d never celebrated; people he’d never mourned.
He’d struggled and he’d fought and he’d survived, and people here had flourished without him. Stephen Hart had been more than he should have been, built a life, found a family, been a person worth existing.
And Stephen resented him for it. Resented everything about it. Hated him, loathed him, wanted to bring him back from the dead just to rip his throat out and show the world which one of them was real.
Yet, sitting there in the clone’s flat, picking up the pieces of the life the other man had worked so hard to build, Stephen was also grateful. Grateful for the job. For the history. For the family ties that Stephen wouldn’t have been able to build on his own but craved so desperately now.
When Helen invited him to the Permian, Stephen had thought she was half mad. When Cutter brought him back, he was sure the man was just as crazy. Helen had taken him to the past; Cutter offered him a future. The clone had given him the tools to get there.
Now the rest was up to Stephen.
