[Hair] The Algea: Ania (3/4)
Jul. 20th, 2010 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eirenicalSo, there's about a million other things I should be doing right now other than posting this (like not ignoring the rather large pink elephant of the GRE that I'm taking in 27 hours), but I felt bad about how I left the last chapter and wanted to get this out sooner. ^_^ Enjoy!
Title: The Algea
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Berger/Sheila, hints of Claude/Berger, Claude/Berger/Sheila, Claude/Jeanie
Rating: PG-13 for some kissing, R for angst and trauma. Pick your poison. ^_^
Word Count: 33,098
Warnings: Slash. Angst. Holy hell, is there angst. O_O Sorry 'bout that. Rebound effect from 'Flesh Failures,' I think...
Disclaimer: Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D ((Hair was written by James Rado and Gerome Ragni with music by Galt MacDermot.))
Summary: Sheila has watched Berger destroying himself for months and finally decides that she can't take any more of it. She's going to save him from himself no matter the cost... or the ultimate prize. Sequel to "Going Down."
Juy 20, 2010: Part 3... and things are finally starting to look up! ^_^
And do remember... comments and reviews are love! ^_^
The Algea: Ania
by Renee-chan
Berger jerked awake, so startled by the sudden screaming and flailing happening next to him that he fell out of bed, "Wha--? What... Sheila, what the hell?"
When he finally got himself upright, it was to find Sheila sitting up in the bed, an embarrassed look on her face as she stared down at him. A deep blush quickly suffused her features, "Sorry, Banana-Berger..." Looking down at herself, she winced, "I... I think my water just broke."
They stared at each other for several minutes until Sheila let out a small groan and grabbed at her abdomen. Berger was on his feet in a flash, anxiously hovering at Sheila's side, "Wh-what do we do? Sheila?" Eyes wide and panicked, Berger clutched at Sheila's arm, "Sheila, what do we do?"
Seeing that Berger was going to be absolutely no help and, worse, was closer to falling back into pieces at this moment than he'd been in six months, Sheila fought through the contraction to take a firm hold of his face with both hands, "Berger! Snap out of it. We talked about this, remember?" Seeing an edge of sanity come back into the younger man's gaze, she continued, "You know what to do. Go get my overnight bag while I call a taxi, OK?"
Berger took in a deep breath and nodded, "OK. OK. Get your overnight bag. I can do that."
He started to walk away and Sheila held up a hand, "Berger! Just..." Blush deepening, she said, "Could... could you help me up first?"
Green eyes met blue and softened. Berger came back to the bed and took Sheila's hand in his, cradled it to his face for a moment. Eyes shining and a smile starting to light his features, Berger gave a little laugh, "This is really happening, isn't it? We're having a baby." The smile widened and Sheila could just about feel the manic energy starting to roll off him. He laughed again and grabbed her up into a tight hug. Sheila was about ready to cry herself with pure relief -- not because he had stopped panicking, but because for the first time since that fateful day in 1967, it felt like she had the old Berger back... her Berger... Claude's Berger. A moment later he pulled her to her feet and spun her around in a brief but wild dance of joy. Immediately apologetic, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips, "Overnight bag. I'm on it. You go," he waved his hands towards the kitchen, "Waddle over there and call a cab."
Laughing right along with him at his antics, Sheila shook her head and did exactly that. It was going to be one hell of a long night... but at least it was starting off the right way.
Berger stared up at the clock in the hospital waiting room and let out another string of inventive curses. This was not how this was supposed to have gone. When they arrived at the hospital, the doctors took one look at him and ordered him out into the waiting room. Sheila tried to object, to insist that she wanted him with her, but they were hearing none of it. They stood in the hallway and argued about it for almost ten minutes. Finally, soul tearing apart as he listened to Sheila screaming with the force of the next contraction, Berger had finally given up and let them wheel her away. He could hear her protesting their treatment of him all the way down the long hallway to the delivery room.
It was the right thing to do. He knew it. She didn't really need him in there and he would only have caused her problems by continuing to protest... but that didn't mean that it hurt any less. Every twenty minutes or so, a nurse would wander by to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and tell him that everything was proceeding normally. What did that mean? Was Sheila in pain? Was she afraid? Was the baby OK? G-d. How had his father done this more than once?
After about an hour, Berger finally calmed enough to call the rest of the Tribe and let them know what was going on. Jeanie and Claude, Crissy, Woof, Hud and Dionne arrived at the hospital within thirty minutes of his phone calls, each ready to give whatever support they could to the expectant father. After another twenty minutes, Berger was ready to climb the walls in his sheer frustration with their attempts to be helpful and had screamed that if they didn't leave him alone soon, he was going to start throwing chairs. That bought him a few feet of distance... at least for a little while.
And naturally, not even a minute later, it was little Claude who breached that invisible barrier, walked right across it as if he didn't even know it was there. Stepping up to his Uncle Berger's knee, saying not one word, he laid a small hand on it in comfort. Berger, no less immune to the child's charms than he'd been to the those of the one he was named after, sighed and reached down to pull the boy into his lap. Claude wrapped his small arms around Berger's neck and hugged him tight. Berger returned the embrace just as tightly, unable to speak due to the sudden lump of tears in his throat. It was stupid, really, to feel so left out. They'd known it was a long shot that he would be allowed into the delivery room -- after all, he was a man and he wasn't even Sheila's husband -- but still, he'd hoped. His connection to Sheila and the miracle of this life they'd created between them was all that had kept him holding on all this time. With its sudden loss he felt bereft, adrift... incomplete.
After a few minutes of letting Jeanie's son comfort him, Berger couldn't handle it anymore. There were times -- tonight being one of them -- that the boy reminded Berger far too much of his father, the way he would just wordlessly appear to offer solace... the way he gravitated towards Berger whenever he was in the room... the way his eyes would twinkle just so with mischief... Swallowing against that hard lump of tears, Berger gently placed the boy back on the ground and rose to his feet. He barely managed to mumble out that he was going for a walk before the shakes got the better of him and he bolted.
Soft. They're getting soft. He can tell. A vicious smile crosses his features. Not long. Not long. Not long. It only took them four, four, four, four, four, four and three weeks... six months, a little more... to forget what they shouldn't have. He's been patient, biding his time. The one in the brown suit doesn't come anymore. The one in the blue chased him away. That's good. Goodgoo--. That's good. One good. One good is enough.
The one in the white coat hardly ever brings his needles anymore. Just sits -- sits and talks at him. He even understands some of the words now. Not all, not even most, but some. The one in the white coat, his word is 'doctor.' Doctor... Doctor is healer. And that is confusing. Why would there be in this hellhole one who heals? It's the first hint that he has that something is wrong. The inmates are running the asylum.
And there are those big thoughts again.
The one in the blue... the one so powerful with the soft hair and the sweet smell and the wetness in the eyes -- tears. The tears... her word is 'mother.' That's a powerful word and one he should know. 'Mother' gave you life. 'Mother' suckled you, protected you, healed your little hurts when you were little yourself. She shouldn't be here either, but he can't help but be glad of her presence, for the one she chased away -- the one in the brown suit... the one whose word is 'Father.' He hates him, clenches his fists in rage when he even thinks about him. Somehow, he doesn't yet know exactly how, this is all his fault. But that doesn't matter here, either. Thoughts of fault, blame... too big. Those thoughts are too big and they don't matter. They're distracting. They don't belong here -- not those thoughts and not these people or their words. They belong to that other life -- the life before the pain and the terror and the sheer hellhole of despair that ripped his soul apart. And that makes no sense. Because if they belong to that other life, how can they be here?
He can't take the confusion anymore. He needs answers, needs to understand, and he can't do that trapped in this room with the corners and the space barely large enough to pace 10 steps in any direction -- and how did that used to seem so big? -- and the bed in which he still can't sleep. He needs to get out of here. He finally thinks he's ready.
He's watched, waited, tricked them into thinking he sleeps in the bed, tricked them into thinking he's getting better, understanding more, tricked them into thinking he's harmless. He isn't harmless. The one in the white coat isn't here tonight, neither is the one called 'Mother.' Good. That's good. Tonight it's just the woman in white, the one who brings his food, the medication they try to make him take. Normally he tucks it under his tongue, spits it out once they've gone. Tonight he doesn't waste the time. The door is open. She left the door open and there's only one. Only one tonight. Only--
Enough. Stop. Spinning his body into motion, he swiftly incapacitates the woman in white, lowering her gently to the bed as she drops unconscious. The door. The door! Gathering his legs underneath him, he launches into a quick sprint, desperate to be out that door and away before they can realize he's gone.
Two of the muscle-men are outside the door, waiting, unaware still of what transpired in the room they should have been watching. With a chilling smile of pure glee he lashes out. His fist catches one across the jaw, drops him like a felled tree. The other... he recognizes that one. It's the one he hurt before. There is no gentleness in him. That one never forgets the other time and retaliates for it as often as he can. He's been hurt more than once on account of this one -- restraints pulled too tight, bruises left where no one can see. This one gets no mercy. Striking out with his right foot, he catches this one in the knee, smile widening into one of ecstasy when he hears the loud keee-runch of the joint giving way. He's down, but not out. No time to finish the job, though, not if he wants to get away.
A mere heartbeat later, he's off and running down the hall. The rooms... the halls... they all look alike! How is he possibly going to find his way through these labyrinthine corridors? What kind of camp is this? Frustration mounting and fear building with every turn, his heart starts to pound in panic. How on Earth can he get out of this place if everything looks the same? He could be running in circles for all he knows!
Rounding a corner, his eyes catch on something. Hand up for balance, he skids on the slick floor right into the one that caught his attention. They go down on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Fighting as quickly as he can to disentangle himself, he feels another momentary edge of panic. They're comingcomingcom--. They're coming. He's going to get caught and he hasn't even managed a decent recon of the area!
He grabs the shirt of the one with whom he collided, ready to fling him out of the way when their eyes meet. Brown eyes lock with jade green... and he freezes. Those eyes... He... he knows those eyes... No! Flinging the other away from him, he's back on his feet in a heartbeat, down the hall and there! It isn't an exit, but it's a good place to go to ground and think, try to figure out what the hell just happened. Try to ignore the way his heart lurched in his chest at the set of breathless sounds the owner of the green eyes made when their eyes locked. Try to ignore the bone deep recognition he felt for those sounds... and the voice that had made them.
"Claudio??"
Berger wandered the seemingly endless corridors in a desperate fugue, upset, depressed and feeling disconnected from reality. Sheila and the baby had been his lifeline, had afforded him some connection, however tenuous, to the real world. Without them -- even temporarily -- G-d it was too easy to let his thoughts wander roads that they shouldn't. It had been ten months -- Jesus, ten months -- since they'd gotten that damned letter. Ten months since Berger had tried to follow after Claude to that place of eternal rest. Ten months that he'd spent fighting with himself not to repeat that particular mistake.
He needed to be here for Sheila. He wanted to be here for Sheila... but that didn't mean it was easy. His father had been true to his word, had helped him to get a job with an old friend of his from college. Guy owned a record store in the Village and had been willing to hire Berger on the faith of his friendship with his father. And Berger did whatever he could to uphold that faith, because he knew he wouldn't get another chance like this one. And it was hard. There were days that left Berger ready to scream, to throw things, to break things. Those were bad days. Those days usually ended with him coming home to have a screaming match with Sheila... or with him not coming home at all. But it was better, far better, than the alternative. At least this way, he had something to hold on to.
Lost in his musings, Berger didn't at first realize that he was in someone's way. Didn't understand what had happened even when he hit the floor, nor when a pair of strong hands grabbed a double fistful of his shirt and gathered strength to throw him away like a rag doll. No... it was when he looked up, eyes locking onto the wild-eyed gaze of the man crouched over him that he finally caught on. Those wide brown eyes were terrified, bloodshot... all pupil. They saw him but they didn't know him. They were like the eyes of a frightened animal, trapped and scared beyond reason.
And Berger knew them. He knew every line, every plane of the face in which they rested... every line and curve of the body crouched over him. And in that moment he wanted to scream, curse, rail at the unfairness of it all, that a flashback could be so realistic... so cruel. But still, he couldn't have stopped himself from the startled exclamation that flew from his lips if he had all the strength in the world. And at that utterance, the body above him went still, hands tightened in the fabric of his shirt as those eyes widened in... in... dear G-d... in recognition? It was only a second, but it was there. Then a noise from behind them startled the other man's head into flying upwards, eyes darting around in terror. He then flung himself off of Berger and bolted down the hallway into what looked like a storage closet.
Too stunned to register anything but the lingering warmth at his chest where the other man had been clutching at his shirt, Berger looked down the hallway at the closet door, then back up the other hallway at the doctor and four orderlies that came barreling down it after their runaway patient. And then, mind unable to handle that one more shock, he dissolved into hysterics, tipping back his head and howling out his laughter until the tears streamed down his face.
The doctor stopped at his side, eyes worried and torn as he knelt by him, "Son... are you OK? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
It took Berger a few more minutes before he got himself under control enough to answer, "No... no, he didn't hurt me. I just... I was just surprised is all. What... who...?" He couldn't do it, couldn't ask the question that was beating against the confines of his throat, desperate to get out, didn't want the confirmation that his eyes had been playing tricks on him after all.
The doctor sighed as he helped Berger to his feet, "A sad story, son. That's what he is. A Viet Nam vet. He was checked into the hospital about ten months ago, now. He's had a pretty rough go of it." Running his hands through his hair in irritation, the doctor shook his head, "I thought he was getting better. He was getting better. And then this... damn it." Eyes locking on Berger, he abruptly scowled, "Why the hell am I telling you this? Who are you?"
Feeling like he was on anything but solid ground, Berger put a hand out to the wall to try to steady himself. He'd just been thinking it earlier -- ten months ago... Sheila gotten that damned letter ten months ago, almost exactly to the day. Berger tried to take in a deeper breath, but suddenly there was no air in the hallway. He couldn't get in any air. Sliding down the wall, Berger tucked his head between his knees. The delivery, getting separated from Sheila and now this? He couldn't handle it, wanted to just close his eyes and forget this day had happened, desperately wished he could just float away on a cloud of smoke.
The doctor was kneeling beside him again, one hand on his back and murmuring words that Berger couldn't understand. There was no way. Absolutely no way. It couldn't be... it just couldn't... Letting out a soft cry, Berger lurched back to his feet and down the hall in the direction that the other man had run. The orderlies were pounding on the door, trying to pry it open, but the man was obviously clever and had done something to barricade it.
Berger and the doctor reached the group at the same time and the doctor reached out to grab his arm and hold him back, "Son, you really can't be here right now. You need to go back to wherever you belong. We can handle this."
Wherever he belonged? Wherever he belonged?? He belonged here -- right here. Eyes blazing with sudden fury, Berger got right up into the doctor's face, "Oh you can, can you, Mr. Doctor? Because you've done such a bang up job so far, huh?" At the doctor's shocked look, Berger continued, "Any idiot could see that poor guy is terrified of you. So what do you do? You hunt him down like an animal and try to break down the door of the one place he found where he feels safe! And you say you can handle it? Bullshit!"
Caught off guard by this attack from a random person in the hallway that shouldn't have even had an opinion on the matter, the doctor could only gape, "Well... what the hell would you suggest then?"
Eyes settling, though still burning, Berger leaned back in and growled, "Back the fuck off and let me handle it." Before the doctor could voice an objection, Berger sneered, "What the hell do you have to lose? I can't possibly fuck it up worse than you already have, can I?"
The doctor slumped, reluctantly nodded, "You know what? Fine. You think you can do a better job than the professionals, son? You go right ahead. Knock yourself out. I'm starting to think he's a G-d damned lost cause anyway."
At those words, Berger's heart sank and soared at the same time. He still wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't hallucinating, wasn't seeing something that wasn't there, but at least now he had permission of a sort to find out. Eyes firming with resolve, Berger walked over and pushed the orderlies out of the way. He was going to get to the bottom of this, because that fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach, that tug at his very heart, was telling him more clearly than his eyes ever could that he was right. He knew who was on the other side of that door and if he had to, if that was what it took, he'd wait a lifetime for the other man to open it.
Walking right up to the door, Berger leaned his body against it, pressing his face to the cold wood and lifting a hand to gently stroke the grain. Softly, into the door, he whispered, "I... I may have been hallucinating just now, flashing back on something I wanted to see and not something that was really there, but I don't think that's true. Because when you looked at me... some part of you knew me, too." Breath hitching on a quiet sob, Berger pressed his face into the door, "Please... please let me in. I need to know. I need to know if it's you. Please..."
To the shock of everyone in that hallway, those quietly spoken, desperate words did the trick. There was a sound of things shifting around inside the closet and the door opened a crack, just enough to reveal the gleam of one terror-rounded brown eye. It glanced furtively around, then one long arm snaked out through the crack, grabbed Berger's arm and tugged. Berger didn't need to be told twice. He slipped through that doorway as quickly as he could.
Once inside, the other man pushed him towards the back of the closet and set himself to re-barricading the entrance. He was quick, efficient, expedient in his actions, not one movement wasted. The soft glow of a flashlight behind them on a shelf was the only illumination in the small space, but Berger's eyes used it greedily. Watching the other man, his breath caught at the familiarity of every movement. It wasn't the same, of course it wasn't, but there was a ghost, an echo, in each one -- something reminiscent of the man he knew. Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand to touch one of those slim shoulders.
At that touch, the other man spun to face him, flinched away like he'd been burned. Berger was so startled that he also jerked backwards, slammed his back into the shelving behind him. Shit. They stared at each other, two hearts racing, two minds uncertain and unstable, both wanting to trust, both unable to do it. Finally, Berger managed to force himself to relax, then sighed in relief when that seemed to relax the other man a little, as well. Taking a deep breath, Berger let a small, pained smile light his features, "I... G-d, I want to believe it's you. I do. You have no idea how much I do, how much I've missed you." Voice cracking on another sob, Berger was ashamed to feel a few tears track down his face.
The other man's eyes were immediately drawn to the trail of wetness as it gleamed in the dim light of the flashlight. His hand raised up, shaking, to touch. Though it was only a butterfly brush of fingers against skin, though it lasted barely a second, Berger's breath caught, got tangled up in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut. When he got them open again, it was to see the other man touching his now wet finger to his own cheek, just below his eye, leaving behind a trail of wetness of his own. Berger's breath caught again, more tears spilling from his eyes.
At that, the other man took a step forward, as though unable to help himself. In the close confines of the closet, that one step was enough to bring him almost flush up against Berger, only a few inches separating them. If Berger had leaned forward, he could have pressed a kiss to those lips, was tempted to do exactly that, but even he wasn't such a fool as to think that would be a wise choice right now. So he forced himself not to move, forced himself to hold absolutely still as the other man stepped forward, reached out a hand, again, to touch those trails of wetness... reached out the other hand to do the same. The fingers lingered this time, drifting along the planes of Berger's face like one who was blind.
That gentle touch, that light skimming of long-fingered hands across his features... Berger's heart gave another hard lurch. He knew this touch, the gentleness in it, the warmth. He knew it. And he couldn't take another second of it. Backing away as far as the confines of the space would allow, Berger sank to the ground, curled in on himself, buried his hands in his hair and his face in his knees, quietly sobbing. Every nerve, every fiber of his being, told him that he knew the man standing over him in this closet. Every beat of his heart spelled out the man's name. Every breath he took was filled with the other man's essence. But he... he didn't know Berger and that was too painful to bear.
The other man dropped to his knees next to Berger, eyes once again scared and uncertain. He lifted a hand as though to reach out and touch, then seemed to think better of it and pulled the hand back against his chest. Watching Berger curled up and crying seemed to break what little confidence he'd had and a low, keening cry began to emerge from his throat.
At that noise, Berger's head jerked upwards, eyes flooded with pain. That sound... G-d that sound. His ears might never have heard it before, but his heart... his heart knew that sound. His heart had made that sound -- lost, alone, frightened, in terrible pain -- and his heart was what responded. Not even giving thought to the action, Berger reached out and pulled the other man into his arms, cradling the hunched up form to his chest. Caught up in his own pain, the other man didn't even stop his desperate keening, didn't even notice as he was hugged tightly against Berger. They sat there like that for a long time, Berger slowly rocking the other man back and forth in his arms and he clinging to Berger like a life raft in a storm tossed sea.
Eventually, the other man calmed, the keening quieted to an occasional whimper. But to Berger's surprise, he made no move to pull away, instead leaned in closer, pressed his face into the crook of Berger's neck. As the embrace loosened, lost its desperate edge, it, too, began to feel familiar. The feel of the other man's arms around him, that lithe body draped across him... he knew it. Knew the feel of it. Every muscle in his body knew this posture, this embrace... and reveled in it.
Taking a risk, Berger pressed a small kiss to the other man's temple. The response he got was the other man's arms tightening around him. Emboldened, he pressed another kiss to that same spot, then spoke softly into the cropped hair, "You don't know who I am. I get that. But you do know me. I know you do. Thing is... I don't think you know who you are, either, love. Well," Berger's voice firmed with resolve, with strength, "I know who you are. I know you. I did what you asked, imprinted you so deeply in my heart that there's no way I couldn't know you. I can remember for both of us. And I will... until you remember, too." Voice cracking on a single sob, he said, "Claudio... welcome home."
Staring down at the precious bundle in her arms, Sheila couldn't keep the ridiculously goofy grin off her face. She tried, because it truly wasn't dignified and she was still upset that the doctors hadn't let Berger in the delivery room with her, but she just couldn't do it. Looking up at the other blonde in the room, that smile put a roughened edge in her voice, "It's... she's... I... How...?" Eventually she gave up and just shrugged helplessly.
Jeanie, cradling a blissfully sleeping Claude against her, just smiled, "Words can't describe, huh, Sheila?"
At that understanding look, a tear finally escaped to roll unheeded down Sheila's cheek. Eyes full of wonder as they turned back to the sleeping newborn in her arms, she let out a watery laugh, "No, I guess they can't. All this time I've been so worried about everything, you know? How are we going to pay for things? Will Berger be able to handle this? How will I manage finishing up classes while taking care of a baby?" She paused, shook her head, "I guess I forgot that there's more to this whole thing than worrying. Now that she's here... G-d, Jeanie, you're right. Words can't describe." Her gaze dropping back to that tiny bundle, her smile softened, "I didn't expect to fall in love with her so quickly or completely."
Jeanie nodded, "I know exactly what you mean, Sheila. I felt the same way when Claude was born. I knew I would love him... but I never expected I would love him this much, would love him more than anything else... than anyone else." Blue eyes met blue in a sudden moment of pure understanding. Jeanie shrugged, "Not that I'll ever forget him, but it made it easier, you know? Being a mom really does come first, above and beyond anything else in my life. Everything I do now, it's for him." Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to Claude's head of blonde curls, "Everything."
Sheila smiled, "I think I understand what you mean. Now that she's here, she comes first -- before my own grief, before me... before Berger." Smile falling and voice dropping, she hunched over, "That scares me a little. Berger's only made it this far because I've been able to put him first. How... how is he going to handle this?"
Jeanie sighed, "He'll just have to, that's all. Your daughter is going to need you both and she's going to need you both to put her first. It's not an option and he knows that. He'll adjust." When Sheila moved to object, Jeanie shook her head, "He will, Sheila. I've watched him these last six months. He's changed, mostly for the better. I think he's ready for this. I really do think so." Reaching out a hand to poke the other woman in the shoulder, she smiled, "So quit worrying about everyone else for once and enjoy this moment, OK?"
Sheila laughed, "OK, OK. I can take a hint." Eyes narrowing, she said, "Just... one last bit of worry before I give it a rest for the day." At Jeanie's raised eyebrow, she frowned, "Where the hell is Berger? I think everyone in the Tribe has been in to meet her at least once, but I haven't seen or heard from him since we got here seven hours ago. Where the hell is he?"
"What do you mean you haven't heard from him?" Jeanie sat up, a worried frown on her face. Her eyes unfocused as she thought, "He was in the waiting room when we got here around midnight... then about an hour later he left to take a walk... Jesus, Sheila, you're right -- he never came back." Eyes widening in horror, Jeanie slumped, "That can't be any kind of good."
Sheila's eyes grew rounder with each word that emerged from Jeanie's lips, "Jeanie, what the hell? I figured he was out in the waiting room with all of you just trying to get up the guts to come in! But now you're telling me that he wandered off into the hospital five hours ago and no one's seen him since??" Muttering curses, Sheila started trying to shift her legs to the side to get up.
Trying desperately not to wake her own sleeping child, Jeanie beat her to it and rushed to the bed to block her attempts to stand, "No! Sheila, you can't get up. It's too soon! Just lay back a minute and let me think, all right?" When the other blonde reluctantly settled, Jeanie turned around to put Claude down in the chair and started pacing. Finally she sighed, "I'll go out into the waiting room and see if he's back. If not, we'll all split up and look for him. I don't think he would have left the hospital, so he can't have gone too far. Someone will have noticed him wandering around. So, just sit tight, all right?"
Grumbling in irritation, Sheila settled back against the pillows, "Fine. But if you're not back with him in an hour, I'm getting myself out of this damned bed and looking for him myself."
Twitching at the ire in her friend's voice, Jeanie nodded. G-d help Berger if he didn't have a good reason for his disappearance... because she had a feeling no one else would.
It took the better part of four hours to convince Claude to leave the safety of the closet and go back to his room. And that look of skepticism, almost of betrayal, on his face when he saw where Berger was leading him to about broke his heart. Once they were safely inside, Claude tucked himself down into the corner furthest from the door and just huddled there with his arms over his head.
The doctor approached Berger and quietly cleared his throat, "You... he..." He sighed, "Son, if you have an explanation for me, I'd love to hear it."
Berger sighed in response, "One that'll make sense to you, old man? No." Before the doctor's irritated frown could turn into a lecture, Berger continued, "It's karma, man. Fate." A self-deprecating laugh, "My reward for straightening up and trying to fly right for a change, I guess." Rubbing tiredly at his face as he sat down on the bed, Berger's voice quieted, "Claude's a friend of mine. Thought he was dead. His mother... his mother told us all that he was. Wrote us a letter. Fuck."
Dropping a hand onto the younger man's shoulder, the doctor gave him an awkward pat, "Well, I don't know about all that, son. What I do know is that you've made more forward progress with him in five hours than I've managed in ten months. And I'm not full of so much pride that I would look a gift horse like this in the mouth." Sitting down beside Berger on the bed, he also rubbed a hand over his face, "His parents left explicit instructions that no one but they were to be allowed to visit him. Thing is, they aren't my main concern." Nodding over at the hunched and quietly keening figure in the corner, he said, "He is. And if you think you can help him... well, I'm willing to let you try, because nothing I've done is working. What do you say?"
Swallowing hard against the lump of tears threatening to break open in his throat, Berger nodded, "I say you're on, man. Wild horses couldn't tear me away. Not this time. Not ever again."
"I hope you can keep that positive attitude, son. We're going to need every ounce of it." Holding out a hand to Berger, the older man said, "Name's Dr. Howard. Charles Howard."
Berger gingerly shook that hand, "George Berger." Giving out another soft chuckle, he added, "But I don't dig George so much. Berger will do the job just fine." At the doctor's sideways look and raised eyebrow, Berger continued, like always unable to resist playing into that look, "Or Banana-Berger... Karma-Berger... Hairy-Berger..."
He would have continued the litany to it's usual conclusion, but the soft hand on his knee stopped him short. Looking down into Claude's wide-eyed gaze, Berger's words stumbled to a halt. There was something... it was in the way Claude was looking at him, like he'd just handed the other man a piece to a puzzle that he hadn't even known he was trying to solve. He touched Berger's knee again, mouth working and eyes frustrated. Berger swallowed hard as he took hold of that hand and slipped onto the floor to look Claude in the eyes. Quietly, he picked up where he'd left off, "Unzipped Berger... or Pull-'em-down Berger... Take-'em-off-Berger..." With each variation, that something in Claude's eyes seemed to grow. By the time Berger reached the end of the litany, Claude was leaning up so close to him that Berger's final offering was whispered almost straight into his parted lips like the smoke from a joint, "Or Sexy-Berger..."
Brown eyes fluttered shut and those lips stretched up into a smile of satisfaction, long fingers clutching at the hand they held. As though that last variation was a magic word, Claude slowly drooped until his head came to rest on Berger's shoulder, beyond exhausted by the events of the night and finally relaxed enough to rest. Berger took his weight easily, eagerly cradling the lean form against him as he fell into a deep slumber. The doctor dropped his hand to rest on Berger's shoulder again, "You've got your work cut out for you, son, but for what it's worth, for the first time in almost a year, I've got some hope for this poor guy. Can you be back here at 2 PM?"
Berger slowly stood, easing Claude's sleeping form onto the bed and tucking him in. Once he had him settled, he considered the doctor's question, "2 PM? I don't see why not. It's not like I have anything better to... do..." His eyes abruptly widened and he let out a string of curses ending in, "Fucking hell! I gotta go, man. I'll do my best to be back here, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it." At the doctor's confused look, he elaborated, "In all the excitement I kind of forgot why I was here to begin with." As the doctor raised an eyebrow, he explained, "My girl's having a baby tonight. I... I got so distracted by Claudio, here, I actually forgot." Face reddening, he ducked his gaze, "She's gonna kill me."
Laughing, the doctor clapped him on the shoulder, "Well, you do your best, son. If you get here late, just have them page me, all right?"
Nodding at the doctor, Berger stepped back over to Claude's side to brush a gentle caress across his face. He then bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, "You rest up, Claudio. I'll be back later and we'll start getting you sorted out. I need you, man. More than ever before." He leaned over further to whisper his final words into Claude's ear, "I love you, Claudio." He then straightened up, squared his shoulders and left the room. If Sheila had had the baby and he wasn't there... Jesus, getting killed would be the least of his worries. With that thought chasing him down the hall, he quickened his steps. And in spite of the possible impending doom lying at the end of the hallway, he found himself filled with a lighthearted joy that had been absent for far too long.
Fortunately for all concerned, when Jeanie got back to the waiting room, Berger was sitting demurely on one of the couches, hands pressed between his knees and a look of pure innocence on his face -- as though he'd been sitting there the whole time and couldn't imagine that anyone would have been worried. Woof was sitting next to him, leaning in so close that he was almost in the other man's lap, eyes bright and excited. Berger kept trying to push him away, back to arm's length, at least, but Woof was having none of it. He just kept leaning back in, occasionally pressing his nose into Berger's hair and taking a big sniff. It was like he was a dog and Berger had just rolled in a pile of sausage. And Berger, though he was attempted to look annoyed by Woof's antics, eventually gave up even bothering to fight the beaming smile that had alighted on his face. In spite of her earlier worry, Jeanie found herself beaming in response.
Crissy got up from her chair and walked over to stand beside her. Leaning in close, she whispered into Jeanie's ear, "He just showed up a few minutes ago, like he hadn't been gone all night. He wouldn't tell us where he'd been or what he was doing, but whatever it was, it must have been something good. Woof hasn't left him alone since he got back."
Jeanie snorted out a laugh, "I can see that." And that wasn't all she saw. Looking at Berger now... Jesus, it was like looking at a snapshot of the past. He looked so happy... so playful... so Berger. She hadn't seen him look that free or joyful since before Claude was drafted. Though she had no idea what had prompted it, she readily admitted that she didn't care. She was just glad of the change.
After depositing a still sleeping Claude on a different couch, Jeanie walked over to where Berger and Woof were sitting and planted her hands on her hips, "I'm not even going to bother asking where you've been, Banana-Berger, because I recognize that look on your face. You'd just lie to me." Somehow managing to look contrite and yet completely innocent at the same time, Berger just shrugged in response. Jeanie sighed, "Instead, I'm going to ask if you'd like to see Sheila and the baby." Arching an eyebrow she asked, "So, would you?"
Berger bounced up off the couch, eyes glowing with happiness, and nodded vigorously, "I would, indeed!" He then offered them all a flash of white teeth in a huge grin and walked out of the waiting area into the maternity wing, a skip to his step that had been long absent.
Crissy's eyes narrowed, "Jeanie, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was high." At Woof's horrified look, Crissy frowned, "Oh no... Woof, he isn't high, is he? He worked so hard to get clean!"
Woof was shaking his head, hands held up in a warding gesture in front of him, "No! He's not high! Not on drugs anyway..." That worried look melted back into a blissed out smile, "Man is he high on something, though. Life, maybe? I'm not sure, couldn't quite see..." He trailed off into incomprehensible mumbling as he tried to puzzle it out.
Jeanie just laughed and shook her head, "G-d, Crissy, who cares? This is the most himself I've seen him in years. I'm not going to question why it happened, I'm just going to enjoy it." Wrapping her arms around the small brunette, she gave her a tight squeeze and planted a firm kiss on the other girl's cheek. At Woof's instant woeful puppy look, the two girls took pity on him and opened their arms to include him. He came willingly and instantly to them, snuggling into their embrace with a look of pure happiness on his face. And for once, there was very little to mar the joy of the occasion. For a change, even Claude's absence was less painful. And as Jeanie had promised, she wasn't going to question why, she was just going to enjoy it while it lasted.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Berger had reached Sheila's room. Raising a hand, he quietly knocked on the door, not wanting to disturb her or the baby if they were asleep. In spite of that, her head jerked up at the noise, eyes locking on his, then dropping to give him a thorough once-over. With that accomplished, and nothing obviously out of place, she relaxed again, a soft smile taking over her features. Reaching out a hand, she patted the chair next to the bed.
Berger approached slowly, mindful of the newborn in Sheila's arms. When he reached the bedside, he leaned over to look. The baby wasn't sleeping, was in fact wide awake and staring at him. The minute those blue eyes locked with his, Berger found his breath catching. He'd reached out a finger to touch before he even knew what he was doing. The child reached right back out to him, latching onto his finger with a surprising amount of strength. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. Not that he was inclined to, anyway.
Sheila just watched him, entranced with the fact that he was so entranced. Somehow, in spite of having seen him all those times with little Claude, she hadn't expected that of him. Wary of breaking the spell the moment had cast, but needing to ask the question just the same, she whispered, "Banana-Berger... would you like to hold her?"
Gaze jerking unsteadily upwards, Berger's eyes met hers, uncertain and a little scared. Breath shivering in his throat, he said, "I... Would... I don't... Are you sure?"
Sheila's heart gave a hard thump at the uncertainty in that voice, the undercurrent to the words that Berger didn't think he was worthy of holding their daughter. Smiling as reassuringly as she could, Sheila nodded, "Of course I'm sure. She's as much yours as she is mine." Pushing herself upright, she directed his arms into the correct position and gave him a few quick reminders on how to hold an infant. Once she was sure that he had the idea, she carefully passed the baby over... and then almost wept in pure joy at the transformation that took place.
Cradling their baby to him, green eyes shining and full of wonder, it was clear to see that Berger had fallen in love. He sank slowly down onto the chair beside the bed, eyes firmly fixed on those of the infant in his arms. Bending over, he inhaled her scent, placed a butterfly brush of a kiss against her head. In turn, she reached her arms upwards, fingers tangling firmly in his dark curls. From the completely absorbed look on his face, he didn't even feel the tugging. After a moment or two, she gave one mighty yawn, curled into the warmth that was her father and fell asleep.
It was a good ten minutes later that Berger finally managed to pry his eyes off of her to look back at Sheila. She was unsurprised to see them filled with tears. Still, he offered her a watery grin, a smile of reassurance, "Sheila... she's beautiful. How... Did we really do this? You and me? She really came from us?"
Leaning over, Sheila rested a hand against his cheek, "She really did, Banana-Berger. She's ours, through and through." Laughing, she gently disentangled the baby's hand from Berger's hair, "She's even got your hair already, love, in more ways than this one. G-d help her keeping that mess under control when it grows in."
Berger laughed right along with her, softly so as not to wake the baby. Turning back to look at her, he asked, "Did... Have you figured out a name for her, yet?"
Leaning back against the pillows, Sheila cleared her throat, "I did have a thought, actually." At Berger's encouraging look, she said, "I thought 'Cheryl' might be nice. It comes from the French word 'cheri'... it means 'dear one.'" Voice roughening with emotion, she added, "And I thought we'd spell it with a 'C'... for Claude."
To her surprise, Berger looked almost hesitant about it. Eventually, though, he turned to look back at their daughter and whispered, "Cheryl..." Then a little louder, but still a gentle murmur, "Cheryl..." Shaking his head and huffing out a small laugh, he said, almost to himself, "He'll like that."
Sheila frowned at that choice of phrasing, "Banana-Berger...?"
His head abruptly lifted, eyes wide and panicked, "I didn't mean..." Ducking his gaze and swallowing hard, he qualified, "I meant he would have liked that." Inhaling shakily, he turned to hand the baby back over to Sheila. Once she was secure, he all but jumped out of his seat and nervously started to pace, "He... Sheila, he'd have loved this, would have eaten it up. He'd have loved seeing you with a baby... seeing me with a baby. He'd want to be part of it." Coming back to the bedside, he gripped Sheila's leg through the blanket, "We... we would have let him be part of it, wouldn't we? It still would have been us, all of us, right? You and me and Claude and Cheryl... right? He... he wouldn't have been left out just because you and me made a baby... right, Sheila?"
Sheila fought off a sudden sense of panic at the almost crazed intensity in his gaze. She had no idea why this was coming up now, of all times, but she could see how important her answer was to Berger. Freeing one hand from holding Cheryl, she pried Berger's hand from her leg to grip it tightly in hers, "Of course, love. He was part of us. He always will be part of us. We're going to carry him with us forever. Cheryl is going to know him, like little Claude knows him, because we're going to tell her about him -- about how kind he was, how loving, how beautiful. He's going to be part of us, OK, baby? Don't do this to yourself. Don't fall apart on us, now. Please. We need you."
Berger stared straight into her eyes for an endless moment, then took in a shuddering breath. When he released it, she could almost see him willing himself to relax. Slumping down to sit on the foot of the bed, he nodded, "OK. I'm OK." Taking in another deep breath, he rubbed his hand over his face, "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm tired. Last night was... it was..." To Sheila's surprise, the tears that had threatened before from joy now threatened from sadness... and won. Curling up at the end of the bed, his head pillowed on her legs, Berger quietly gave in to them.
Sheila had no idea what to think of it. The younger man was obviously exhausted, and not just physically, but emotionally. Was being separated from her last night really that hard? She desperately wanted to ask, but knew she would get no answer from her lover in this state. Instead, she paged the nurse to come and take Cheryl back to the nursery. Once she was gone, Sheila tugged Berger up to lie next to her on the pillow, cradling him close until he finally fell into a troubled, exhausted sleep. All she could do was hope that whatever this had been, come morning, she'd have back the Berger that she loved and was quickly coming to rely on. She would need his strength more than ever now, for her... and for Cheryl.
When Berger woke up later that day it was to see Sheila beside him, feeding their daughter. She smiled softly at him and held up a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. He smiled in response and nodded, then sat up to watch. He'd secretly always found it a little weird, back when Jeanie's son was born, to watch her feed him. It just... something about it seemed so bizarre. But watching Sheila and Cheryl? The only word he could think of to describe it was "beautiful." The two of them together were beautiful.
Moving closer, he let Sheila pillow her head on his chest. She slunk down against him with a grateful sigh, murmuring, "You wouldn't think that six pounds was all that heavy, would you?" When he shook his head, she snorted, "Yeah, well try holding those six pounds in this position for thirty minutes. It's damned exhausting. Someone should have told me." Letting out a soft yawn, she added, "I'd have started lifting weights or something in preparation."
Berger laughed at the image that presented, then took the hint. The minute Cheryl was done feeding, he took her from Sheila so she could put herself back together and rest her arms. Rolling her head to look up at them, she smiled, then her brow wrinkled, "You... Berger, you're going to have to burp her. Do you know how?"
Grabbing a blanket from the basinet, Berger threw it over his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose at Sheila, he nodded, "I know how. I wasn't totally gone when Claude was born, you know. I did learn a thing or two." He then lifted Cheryl onto his shoulder and gently started rubbing her back. She kicked her legs, scrunching them up against her and letting out an unhappy little cry. Berger just sighed, "I know it hurts, kiddo. Claude was a colicky little guy, too. Just give it a minute." Gently patting her back, he started walking around the room with her, letting the rocking of his gait press his shoulder into her stomach. After a few minutes, some more crying and finally, a rather large belch, she settled. He then pulled her back down into his arms and wiped her face with the blanket. Giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, he smiled, "There now. Told you. Doesn't that feel better?" She responded by tangling her fingers in his hair as it swung by.
Sheila just watched the whole scene, more than a little in awe. She'd forgotten... she really had. Back when Claude had first been drafted, Berger had been scattered, sure, but he'd still been together -- well, as together as he ever was. And he'd also been desperately in need of a distraction. Into the void of that need had come Jeanie's son. Jeanie had been so overwhelmed, so in need of help... and Berger had so desperately needed someone to need him that he'd ended up spending several nights with her in the apartment that the Tribe had pooled resources together to get for her. He'd been there with her, all the way through those first few months. It wasn't until later -- when she no longer needed him quite so much -- that he'd started to fall apart. In point of fact, it might have been Jeanie and Claude that kept him sane all that time.
Well, whatever the case, Sheila was just grateful. It had been less than twelve hours and she was already petrified that she was going to do something dreadfully wrong and hurt her child. Hell, when Cheryl had been colicky earlier this morning, Sheila had been unable to calm her or ease her pain and had started crying right along with her. The nurse had finally had to come in and help. Of course, Berger had slept the sleep of the dead through the whole thing. But now, seeing Berger so casually confident... Something in her relaxed at the sight. In spite of their little hiccup last night, Jeanie was right -- Berger was ready for this. And not only was he ready... but she obviously wasn't going to have to carry his weight along with hers and Cheryl's. In fact... it seemed more and more like she might be able to let him carry a little of her weight. The sheer relief of that almost brought tears back to her eyes. She wiped at them miserably, "Damned hormones..."
Berger looked up at that, eyes questioning, "What was that?"
She shook her head, laughed a little, "It was nothing, Banana-Berger. Just... you're a natural at this. When she pulled that on me earlier, I was crying right along with her."
Berger just stared at her, the look on his face clearly stating that he thought she was trying to pull one over on him. He frowned, "You were not. You don't cry."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed, "You obviously haven't been paying attention the last six months. I most certainly do, Banana-Berger. Especially with all these stupid pregnancy hormones flooding my system. Seems like all I do these days is cry." At his astounded look, she shrugged, "She was in pain, she was upset and I couldn't help her. Wouldn't that be enough to make you cry?"
Understanding finally dawned and Berger nodded, "Yeah... yeah, I guess it would." Walking over, he ran a gentle hand through Sheila's hair and down her cheek, then leaned over to give her a soft kiss, "Look, she just ate, so she'll be good for a while, right? Why don't I get the nurse to take her back to the nursery and get out of your hair for a while so you can sleep? I'm sure you could use a break."
Gratefully, Sheila nodded, "G-d, Berger... that would be fantastic."
Berger laughed in response, a jaunty grin on his face, "'G-d-Berger', huh? That's a new one... but I think I like it."
Laughing right along with him, Sheila raised a hand and swatted at him. To his credit, he didn't even try to move out of the way, just let her hit him. He then pressed another soft kiss to her head, put a sleeping Cheryl down in the basinet and wheeled her out to the nurse's station. And not a moment too soon... the clock read 1:47 PM. He should have just enough time to go splash some water on his face before making it to his other appointment... one that, even after only six hours apart, already felt like it was long overdue.
By the time Berger reached Claude's room, he was almost jumping out of his skin in anticipation. He still wasn't sure why he'd lied to Sheila, why he hadn't told the others the good news about Claude still being alive. Just... something had held him back, had warned him not to say anything. Maybe it was selfishness, the need to have Claude to himself for once... for a little while. Really, though, that wasn't the whole truth. If the rest of the Tribe, if Sheila, knew that he was alive, they'd want to see him. And Claude wasn't ready. He wasn't anywhere near ready for that.
Seeing Dr. Howard walking up the hallway, Berger offered him a wave. The doctor waved back, offered him a small smile in return, "I see you made it. Good. That's very good." Seeing the light in Berger's eye and the bounce he couldn't quite contain, even when standing still, his smile widened, "Boy or a girl, son?"
Berger's smile turned sheepish, "A little girl. Cheryl. She and her mom are doing great, no one killed me when I got back and they were so happy that I was back that they didn't even ask me where I'd been, so I think I'm in the clear."
Clapping Berger on the shoulder, the doctor laughed, "Well, I suppose that's a good thing, isn't it?" At Berger's enthusiastic nod, he laughed again, "So, are you ready for round 2?" Before Berger could answer, he held up a hand, "I should warn you, he's been a bit... agitated... since this morning. His parents came for a visit, the first time they've both come in several months, and... well..." Dr. Howard sighed, "I gather that he and his father weren't on the best of terms before he was drafted and it seems to be worse, now. Usually visits like that end with the poor boy in restraints and drugged. We managed to avoid that this time, but only just barely, and he's been..."
Berger nodded and finished it for him, "...a little agitated since. I got it. It's OK. We'll work it out, somehow."
The doctor unlocked the door, "I'm going to stay out here, son. He doesn't always react to me well, either, especially after a visit from his father. I don't want to make things worse than they already are."
Nodding to show he understood, Berger pushed the door open to enter the room, then allowed it to swing shut behind him. Looking around, he didn't immediately see Claude and his heart rate kicked up a notch in response. Finally, a low growl alerted him to the other man's location. Moving around the bed, he found Claude crouched down into the corner, eyes furious and hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically, as though he were grabbing at something. That low growl continued, only pausing now and then for breath. It was... Jesus, it was actually a little scary.
Getting down on the floor in front of him, Berger tried to make himself as non-threatening as he possibly could, then spoke softly to him, "Hey, Claudio. I told you I'd come back. I hear you had a bit of a rough morning... want to tell me about it?"
Glazed brown eyes slowly shifted away from their fixed position to focus on him. A moment later, the growl quieted, too. His hands, though... they continued their clenching and unclenching. Berger sighed, "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I've spent many a night of my own picturing my hands around your dad's neck. If he hadn't planted all that patriotic responsibility nonsense in your head, you and I would be living it up in Canada right now. None of this war business. Just you and me in the Great White North... curled up in some log cabin by a fireplace, drinking hot coacoa."
Whether it was the sound of Berger's voice or the image he was calling up with his words, Claude's hands finally relaxed, the clenching stopped. Berger breathed a sigh of relief, "That's the way, love. No one's going to hurt you." Turning himself so that he could lean against the wall near Claude, Berger settled in. Smiling at Claude he patted the floor next to him, "Come here." At Claude's skeptical look, Berger sighed, "I told you I'm not gonna hurt you. Come on."
After a few minutes of deliberation and a few more skeptical looks, Claude finally crept from the corner and sat down next to Berger, legs curled tight to his chest and eyes frantically darting around the room from this slightly more exposed vantage point. Berger just smiled as encouragingly as he could, "You know, there are a lot of people who are going to be real happy to see you once you're better, Claudio. We've missed you. We've missed you a lot." Voice quieting, he swallowed hard, "Me most of all, though. Life didn't really seem like it was worth living without you around, man. I'm not proud of what I put everyone through because of it, but I couldn't help it, you know?"
Again, maybe the tone of his voice was what did it or maybe the words themselves, but Claude shifted minutely to bring his body into contact with Berger's, silently offering the support that he couldn't offer directly. Berger's breath shuddered in his throat and he let out a shaky laugh, "Jesus, Claudio. What a pair we make. I don't know which of us is worse off -- you or me. It's like the blind leading the fucking blind here." Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he rubbed tiredly at them, "You're eventually gonna have to give me some sort of hint here, OK? I'm no psychiatrist. I don't know what to do to help you."
Turning, he met Claude's gaze with his own. Those brown orbs were still wary, still uncertain, but there was a small spark of something more. Maybe it was wishful thinking that made Berger think it was recognition, but he didn't think so. On some level, Claude knew who he was, knew that he didn't mean him any harm. He just had to find a way to bring that level back to the forefront.
Letting out a small laugh, Berger let his body lean just a small fraction more against Claude's, "Since it seems like you're digging the strong, silent vibe these days, how about I just talk for a while? You seem to like that... me talking, huh?" At Claude's hesitant smile, Berger laughed again, "Yeah, thought so. It's actually kind of a refreshing change from being told to 'Shut up' all the time, if you wanna know the truth." Taking a deep breath, Berger tipped his head back against the wall, "So, how about a story? I'm not as good at them as Jeanie is, but I can try..." When Claude offered up no further input, Berger smiled, "OK, then. A story it is." A sudden memory swooped down and Berger laughed again, "I just remembered... Claudio, you're going to love this one. It was a few years ago, right before Christmas, and we'd gotten snowed into the city. I was planning on dragging your ass out to play in the snow with me, but you'd gone and gotten yourself sick. Real fucking inconsiderate, you know?"
As Berger slowly spun out the story, interjecting his own thoughts into the narrative every now and then, Claude relaxed further. Once or twice, he even thought he felt the other man's chest move in a silent huff of a laugh. It felt good... beyond good. Even if it took a year, even if he talked himself hoarse, he'd find some way to get through to Claude, some way to get the other man to consciously recognize him again. Somehow, someday... no matter what it took.
( Master Post and Chapter List )
A/N: And now for some chibi silliness! :D
Claude: *frowns* Hmm...
R-chan: Oh, come on! It's already better, isn't it?
Claude: *continues to frown*
R-chan: *holds up a finger* You have Berger back, don't you? And you got to cuddle with him.
Berger: *impish grin* Yeah, I liked that part. *frowns* Well, except for the "Claude crying" bit. That, not so much.
Claude: *frowns some more* Exactly.
R-chan: *sigh* *rolls her eyes* It gets--
Claude and Berger: "--better by the end." We know, we know.
R-chan: *twitch* *giggles*
Claude: *rolls his eyes*
Questions, comments, cauliflower schnitzel?
Nuriko: *twitch* Running out of four syllabled fruit again?
R-chan: *innocent blinks* No. It's my favorite food and we're having it for dinner tonight.
Nuriko: *double twitch* I'm just not gonna.
Coming Soon: One more step remains to make this trinity whole again... and Fate isn't done playing a part in this story just yet.
Title: The Algea
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Berger/Sheila, hints of Claude/Berger, Claude/Berger/Sheila, Claude/Jeanie
Rating: PG-13 for some kissing, R for angst and trauma. Pick your poison. ^_^
Word Count: 33,098
Warnings: Slash. Angst. Holy hell, is there angst. O_O Sorry 'bout that. Rebound effect from 'Flesh Failures,' I think...
Disclaimer: Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D ((Hair was written by James Rado and Gerome Ragni with music by Galt MacDermot.))
Summary: Sheila has watched Berger destroying himself for months and finally decides that she can't take any more of it. She's going to save him from himself no matter the cost... or the ultimate prize. Sequel to "Going Down."
Juy 20, 2010: Part 3... and things are finally starting to look up! ^_^
And do remember... comments and reviews are love! ^_^
The Algea: Ania
by Renee-chan
Berger jerked awake, so startled by the sudden screaming and flailing happening next to him that he fell out of bed, "Wha--? What... Sheila, what the hell?"
When he finally got himself upright, it was to find Sheila sitting up in the bed, an embarrassed look on her face as she stared down at him. A deep blush quickly suffused her features, "Sorry, Banana-Berger..." Looking down at herself, she winced, "I... I think my water just broke."
They stared at each other for several minutes until Sheila let out a small groan and grabbed at her abdomen. Berger was on his feet in a flash, anxiously hovering at Sheila's side, "Wh-what do we do? Sheila?" Eyes wide and panicked, Berger clutched at Sheila's arm, "Sheila, what do we do?"
Seeing that Berger was going to be absolutely no help and, worse, was closer to falling back into pieces at this moment than he'd been in six months, Sheila fought through the contraction to take a firm hold of his face with both hands, "Berger! Snap out of it. We talked about this, remember?" Seeing an edge of sanity come back into the younger man's gaze, she continued, "You know what to do. Go get my overnight bag while I call a taxi, OK?"
Berger took in a deep breath and nodded, "OK. OK. Get your overnight bag. I can do that."
He started to walk away and Sheila held up a hand, "Berger! Just..." Blush deepening, she said, "Could... could you help me up first?"
Green eyes met blue and softened. Berger came back to the bed and took Sheila's hand in his, cradled it to his face for a moment. Eyes shining and a smile starting to light his features, Berger gave a little laugh, "This is really happening, isn't it? We're having a baby." The smile widened and Sheila could just about feel the manic energy starting to roll off him. He laughed again and grabbed her up into a tight hug. Sheila was about ready to cry herself with pure relief -- not because he had stopped panicking, but because for the first time since that fateful day in 1967, it felt like she had the old Berger back... her Berger... Claude's Berger. A moment later he pulled her to her feet and spun her around in a brief but wild dance of joy. Immediately apologetic, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips, "Overnight bag. I'm on it. You go," he waved his hands towards the kitchen, "Waddle over there and call a cab."
Laughing right along with him at his antics, Sheila shook her head and did exactly that. It was going to be one hell of a long night... but at least it was starting off the right way.
Berger stared up at the clock in the hospital waiting room and let out another string of inventive curses. This was not how this was supposed to have gone. When they arrived at the hospital, the doctors took one look at him and ordered him out into the waiting room. Sheila tried to object, to insist that she wanted him with her, but they were hearing none of it. They stood in the hallway and argued about it for almost ten minutes. Finally, soul tearing apart as he listened to Sheila screaming with the force of the next contraction, Berger had finally given up and let them wheel her away. He could hear her protesting their treatment of him all the way down the long hallway to the delivery room.
It was the right thing to do. He knew it. She didn't really need him in there and he would only have caused her problems by continuing to protest... but that didn't mean that it hurt any less. Every twenty minutes or so, a nurse would wander by to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and tell him that everything was proceeding normally. What did that mean? Was Sheila in pain? Was she afraid? Was the baby OK? G-d. How had his father done this more than once?
After about an hour, Berger finally calmed enough to call the rest of the Tribe and let them know what was going on. Jeanie and Claude, Crissy, Woof, Hud and Dionne arrived at the hospital within thirty minutes of his phone calls, each ready to give whatever support they could to the expectant father. After another twenty minutes, Berger was ready to climb the walls in his sheer frustration with their attempts to be helpful and had screamed that if they didn't leave him alone soon, he was going to start throwing chairs. That bought him a few feet of distance... at least for a little while.
And naturally, not even a minute later, it was little Claude who breached that invisible barrier, walked right across it as if he didn't even know it was there. Stepping up to his Uncle Berger's knee, saying not one word, he laid a small hand on it in comfort. Berger, no less immune to the child's charms than he'd been to the those of the one he was named after, sighed and reached down to pull the boy into his lap. Claude wrapped his small arms around Berger's neck and hugged him tight. Berger returned the embrace just as tightly, unable to speak due to the sudden lump of tears in his throat. It was stupid, really, to feel so left out. They'd known it was a long shot that he would be allowed into the delivery room -- after all, he was a man and he wasn't even Sheila's husband -- but still, he'd hoped. His connection to Sheila and the miracle of this life they'd created between them was all that had kept him holding on all this time. With its sudden loss he felt bereft, adrift... incomplete.
After a few minutes of letting Jeanie's son comfort him, Berger couldn't handle it anymore. There were times -- tonight being one of them -- that the boy reminded Berger far too much of his father, the way he would just wordlessly appear to offer solace... the way he gravitated towards Berger whenever he was in the room... the way his eyes would twinkle just so with mischief... Swallowing against that hard lump of tears, Berger gently placed the boy back on the ground and rose to his feet. He barely managed to mumble out that he was going for a walk before the shakes got the better of him and he bolted.
Soft. They're getting soft. He can tell. A vicious smile crosses his features. Not long. Not long. Not long. It only took them four, four, four, four, four, four and three weeks... six months, a little more... to forget what they shouldn't have. He's been patient, biding his time. The one in the brown suit doesn't come anymore. The one in the blue chased him away. That's good. Goodgoo--. That's good. One good. One good is enough.
The one in the white coat hardly ever brings his needles anymore. Just sits -- sits and talks at him. He even understands some of the words now. Not all, not even most, but some. The one in the white coat, his word is 'doctor.' Doctor... Doctor is healer. And that is confusing. Why would there be in this hellhole one who heals? It's the first hint that he has that something is wrong. The inmates are running the asylum.
And there are those big thoughts again.
The one in the blue... the one so powerful with the soft hair and the sweet smell and the wetness in the eyes -- tears. The tears... her word is 'mother.' That's a powerful word and one he should know. 'Mother' gave you life. 'Mother' suckled you, protected you, healed your little hurts when you were little yourself. She shouldn't be here either, but he can't help but be glad of her presence, for the one she chased away -- the one in the brown suit... the one whose word is 'Father.' He hates him, clenches his fists in rage when he even thinks about him. Somehow, he doesn't yet know exactly how, this is all his fault. But that doesn't matter here, either. Thoughts of fault, blame... too big. Those thoughts are too big and they don't matter. They're distracting. They don't belong here -- not those thoughts and not these people or their words. They belong to that other life -- the life before the pain and the terror and the sheer hellhole of despair that ripped his soul apart. And that makes no sense. Because if they belong to that other life, how can they be here?
He can't take the confusion anymore. He needs answers, needs to understand, and he can't do that trapped in this room with the corners and the space barely large enough to pace 10 steps in any direction -- and how did that used to seem so big? -- and the bed in which he still can't sleep. He needs to get out of here. He finally thinks he's ready.
He's watched, waited, tricked them into thinking he sleeps in the bed, tricked them into thinking he's getting better, understanding more, tricked them into thinking he's harmless. He isn't harmless. The one in the white coat isn't here tonight, neither is the one called 'Mother.' Good. That's good. Tonight it's just the woman in white, the one who brings his food, the medication they try to make him take. Normally he tucks it under his tongue, spits it out once they've gone. Tonight he doesn't waste the time. The door is open. She left the door open and there's only one. Only one tonight. Only--
Enough. Stop. Spinning his body into motion, he swiftly incapacitates the woman in white, lowering her gently to the bed as she drops unconscious. The door. The door! Gathering his legs underneath him, he launches into a quick sprint, desperate to be out that door and away before they can realize he's gone.
Two of the muscle-men are outside the door, waiting, unaware still of what transpired in the room they should have been watching. With a chilling smile of pure glee he lashes out. His fist catches one across the jaw, drops him like a felled tree. The other... he recognizes that one. It's the one he hurt before. There is no gentleness in him. That one never forgets the other time and retaliates for it as often as he can. He's been hurt more than once on account of this one -- restraints pulled too tight, bruises left where no one can see. This one gets no mercy. Striking out with his right foot, he catches this one in the knee, smile widening into one of ecstasy when he hears the loud keee-runch of the joint giving way. He's down, but not out. No time to finish the job, though, not if he wants to get away.
A mere heartbeat later, he's off and running down the hall. The rooms... the halls... they all look alike! How is he possibly going to find his way through these labyrinthine corridors? What kind of camp is this? Frustration mounting and fear building with every turn, his heart starts to pound in panic. How on Earth can he get out of this place if everything looks the same? He could be running in circles for all he knows!
Rounding a corner, his eyes catch on something. Hand up for balance, he skids on the slick floor right into the one that caught his attention. They go down on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Fighting as quickly as he can to disentangle himself, he feels another momentary edge of panic. They're comingcomingcom--. They're coming. He's going to get caught and he hasn't even managed a decent recon of the area!
He grabs the shirt of the one with whom he collided, ready to fling him out of the way when their eyes meet. Brown eyes lock with jade green... and he freezes. Those eyes... He... he knows those eyes... No! Flinging the other away from him, he's back on his feet in a heartbeat, down the hall and there! It isn't an exit, but it's a good place to go to ground and think, try to figure out what the hell just happened. Try to ignore the way his heart lurched in his chest at the set of breathless sounds the owner of the green eyes made when their eyes locked. Try to ignore the bone deep recognition he felt for those sounds... and the voice that had made them.
"Claudio??"
Berger wandered the seemingly endless corridors in a desperate fugue, upset, depressed and feeling disconnected from reality. Sheila and the baby had been his lifeline, had afforded him some connection, however tenuous, to the real world. Without them -- even temporarily -- G-d it was too easy to let his thoughts wander roads that they shouldn't. It had been ten months -- Jesus, ten months -- since they'd gotten that damned letter. Ten months since Berger had tried to follow after Claude to that place of eternal rest. Ten months that he'd spent fighting with himself not to repeat that particular mistake.
He needed to be here for Sheila. He wanted to be here for Sheila... but that didn't mean it was easy. His father had been true to his word, had helped him to get a job with an old friend of his from college. Guy owned a record store in the Village and had been willing to hire Berger on the faith of his friendship with his father. And Berger did whatever he could to uphold that faith, because he knew he wouldn't get another chance like this one. And it was hard. There were days that left Berger ready to scream, to throw things, to break things. Those were bad days. Those days usually ended with him coming home to have a screaming match with Sheila... or with him not coming home at all. But it was better, far better, than the alternative. At least this way, he had something to hold on to.
Lost in his musings, Berger didn't at first realize that he was in someone's way. Didn't understand what had happened even when he hit the floor, nor when a pair of strong hands grabbed a double fistful of his shirt and gathered strength to throw him away like a rag doll. No... it was when he looked up, eyes locking onto the wild-eyed gaze of the man crouched over him that he finally caught on. Those wide brown eyes were terrified, bloodshot... all pupil. They saw him but they didn't know him. They were like the eyes of a frightened animal, trapped and scared beyond reason.
And Berger knew them. He knew every line, every plane of the face in which they rested... every line and curve of the body crouched over him. And in that moment he wanted to scream, curse, rail at the unfairness of it all, that a flashback could be so realistic... so cruel. But still, he couldn't have stopped himself from the startled exclamation that flew from his lips if he had all the strength in the world. And at that utterance, the body above him went still, hands tightened in the fabric of his shirt as those eyes widened in... in... dear G-d... in recognition? It was only a second, but it was there. Then a noise from behind them startled the other man's head into flying upwards, eyes darting around in terror. He then flung himself off of Berger and bolted down the hallway into what looked like a storage closet.
Too stunned to register anything but the lingering warmth at his chest where the other man had been clutching at his shirt, Berger looked down the hallway at the closet door, then back up the other hallway at the doctor and four orderlies that came barreling down it after their runaway patient. And then, mind unable to handle that one more shock, he dissolved into hysterics, tipping back his head and howling out his laughter until the tears streamed down his face.
The doctor stopped at his side, eyes worried and torn as he knelt by him, "Son... are you OK? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
It took Berger a few more minutes before he got himself under control enough to answer, "No... no, he didn't hurt me. I just... I was just surprised is all. What... who...?" He couldn't do it, couldn't ask the question that was beating against the confines of his throat, desperate to get out, didn't want the confirmation that his eyes had been playing tricks on him after all.
The doctor sighed as he helped Berger to his feet, "A sad story, son. That's what he is. A Viet Nam vet. He was checked into the hospital about ten months ago, now. He's had a pretty rough go of it." Running his hands through his hair in irritation, the doctor shook his head, "I thought he was getting better. He was getting better. And then this... damn it." Eyes locking on Berger, he abruptly scowled, "Why the hell am I telling you this? Who are you?"
Feeling like he was on anything but solid ground, Berger put a hand out to the wall to try to steady himself. He'd just been thinking it earlier -- ten months ago... Sheila gotten that damned letter ten months ago, almost exactly to the day. Berger tried to take in a deeper breath, but suddenly there was no air in the hallway. He couldn't get in any air. Sliding down the wall, Berger tucked his head between his knees. The delivery, getting separated from Sheila and now this? He couldn't handle it, wanted to just close his eyes and forget this day had happened, desperately wished he could just float away on a cloud of smoke.
The doctor was kneeling beside him again, one hand on his back and murmuring words that Berger couldn't understand. There was no way. Absolutely no way. It couldn't be... it just couldn't... Letting out a soft cry, Berger lurched back to his feet and down the hall in the direction that the other man had run. The orderlies were pounding on the door, trying to pry it open, but the man was obviously clever and had done something to barricade it.
Berger and the doctor reached the group at the same time and the doctor reached out to grab his arm and hold him back, "Son, you really can't be here right now. You need to go back to wherever you belong. We can handle this."
Wherever he belonged? Wherever he belonged?? He belonged here -- right here. Eyes blazing with sudden fury, Berger got right up into the doctor's face, "Oh you can, can you, Mr. Doctor? Because you've done such a bang up job so far, huh?" At the doctor's shocked look, Berger continued, "Any idiot could see that poor guy is terrified of you. So what do you do? You hunt him down like an animal and try to break down the door of the one place he found where he feels safe! And you say you can handle it? Bullshit!"
Caught off guard by this attack from a random person in the hallway that shouldn't have even had an opinion on the matter, the doctor could only gape, "Well... what the hell would you suggest then?"
Eyes settling, though still burning, Berger leaned back in and growled, "Back the fuck off and let me handle it." Before the doctor could voice an objection, Berger sneered, "What the hell do you have to lose? I can't possibly fuck it up worse than you already have, can I?"
The doctor slumped, reluctantly nodded, "You know what? Fine. You think you can do a better job than the professionals, son? You go right ahead. Knock yourself out. I'm starting to think he's a G-d damned lost cause anyway."
At those words, Berger's heart sank and soared at the same time. He still wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't hallucinating, wasn't seeing something that wasn't there, but at least now he had permission of a sort to find out. Eyes firming with resolve, Berger walked over and pushed the orderlies out of the way. He was going to get to the bottom of this, because that fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach, that tug at his very heart, was telling him more clearly than his eyes ever could that he was right. He knew who was on the other side of that door and if he had to, if that was what it took, he'd wait a lifetime for the other man to open it.
Walking right up to the door, Berger leaned his body against it, pressing his face to the cold wood and lifting a hand to gently stroke the grain. Softly, into the door, he whispered, "I... I may have been hallucinating just now, flashing back on something I wanted to see and not something that was really there, but I don't think that's true. Because when you looked at me... some part of you knew me, too." Breath hitching on a quiet sob, Berger pressed his face into the door, "Please... please let me in. I need to know. I need to know if it's you. Please..."
To the shock of everyone in that hallway, those quietly spoken, desperate words did the trick. There was a sound of things shifting around inside the closet and the door opened a crack, just enough to reveal the gleam of one terror-rounded brown eye. It glanced furtively around, then one long arm snaked out through the crack, grabbed Berger's arm and tugged. Berger didn't need to be told twice. He slipped through that doorway as quickly as he could.
Once inside, the other man pushed him towards the back of the closet and set himself to re-barricading the entrance. He was quick, efficient, expedient in his actions, not one movement wasted. The soft glow of a flashlight behind them on a shelf was the only illumination in the small space, but Berger's eyes used it greedily. Watching the other man, his breath caught at the familiarity of every movement. It wasn't the same, of course it wasn't, but there was a ghost, an echo, in each one -- something reminiscent of the man he knew. Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand to touch one of those slim shoulders.
At that touch, the other man spun to face him, flinched away like he'd been burned. Berger was so startled that he also jerked backwards, slammed his back into the shelving behind him. Shit. They stared at each other, two hearts racing, two minds uncertain and unstable, both wanting to trust, both unable to do it. Finally, Berger managed to force himself to relax, then sighed in relief when that seemed to relax the other man a little, as well. Taking a deep breath, Berger let a small, pained smile light his features, "I... G-d, I want to believe it's you. I do. You have no idea how much I do, how much I've missed you." Voice cracking on another sob, Berger was ashamed to feel a few tears track down his face.
The other man's eyes were immediately drawn to the trail of wetness as it gleamed in the dim light of the flashlight. His hand raised up, shaking, to touch. Though it was only a butterfly brush of fingers against skin, though it lasted barely a second, Berger's breath caught, got tangled up in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut. When he got them open again, it was to see the other man touching his now wet finger to his own cheek, just below his eye, leaving behind a trail of wetness of his own. Berger's breath caught again, more tears spilling from his eyes.
At that, the other man took a step forward, as though unable to help himself. In the close confines of the closet, that one step was enough to bring him almost flush up against Berger, only a few inches separating them. If Berger had leaned forward, he could have pressed a kiss to those lips, was tempted to do exactly that, but even he wasn't such a fool as to think that would be a wise choice right now. So he forced himself not to move, forced himself to hold absolutely still as the other man stepped forward, reached out a hand, again, to touch those trails of wetness... reached out the other hand to do the same. The fingers lingered this time, drifting along the planes of Berger's face like one who was blind.
That gentle touch, that light skimming of long-fingered hands across his features... Berger's heart gave another hard lurch. He knew this touch, the gentleness in it, the warmth. He knew it. And he couldn't take another second of it. Backing away as far as the confines of the space would allow, Berger sank to the ground, curled in on himself, buried his hands in his hair and his face in his knees, quietly sobbing. Every nerve, every fiber of his being, told him that he knew the man standing over him in this closet. Every beat of his heart spelled out the man's name. Every breath he took was filled with the other man's essence. But he... he didn't know Berger and that was too painful to bear.
The other man dropped to his knees next to Berger, eyes once again scared and uncertain. He lifted a hand as though to reach out and touch, then seemed to think better of it and pulled the hand back against his chest. Watching Berger curled up and crying seemed to break what little confidence he'd had and a low, keening cry began to emerge from his throat.
At that noise, Berger's head jerked upwards, eyes flooded with pain. That sound... G-d that sound. His ears might never have heard it before, but his heart... his heart knew that sound. His heart had made that sound -- lost, alone, frightened, in terrible pain -- and his heart was what responded. Not even giving thought to the action, Berger reached out and pulled the other man into his arms, cradling the hunched up form to his chest. Caught up in his own pain, the other man didn't even stop his desperate keening, didn't even notice as he was hugged tightly against Berger. They sat there like that for a long time, Berger slowly rocking the other man back and forth in his arms and he clinging to Berger like a life raft in a storm tossed sea.
Eventually, the other man calmed, the keening quieted to an occasional whimper. But to Berger's surprise, he made no move to pull away, instead leaned in closer, pressed his face into the crook of Berger's neck. As the embrace loosened, lost its desperate edge, it, too, began to feel familiar. The feel of the other man's arms around him, that lithe body draped across him... he knew it. Knew the feel of it. Every muscle in his body knew this posture, this embrace... and reveled in it.
Taking a risk, Berger pressed a small kiss to the other man's temple. The response he got was the other man's arms tightening around him. Emboldened, he pressed another kiss to that same spot, then spoke softly into the cropped hair, "You don't know who I am. I get that. But you do know me. I know you do. Thing is... I don't think you know who you are, either, love. Well," Berger's voice firmed with resolve, with strength, "I know who you are. I know you. I did what you asked, imprinted you so deeply in my heart that there's no way I couldn't know you. I can remember for both of us. And I will... until you remember, too." Voice cracking on a single sob, he said, "Claudio... welcome home."
Staring down at the precious bundle in her arms, Sheila couldn't keep the ridiculously goofy grin off her face. She tried, because it truly wasn't dignified and she was still upset that the doctors hadn't let Berger in the delivery room with her, but she just couldn't do it. Looking up at the other blonde in the room, that smile put a roughened edge in her voice, "It's... she's... I... How...?" Eventually she gave up and just shrugged helplessly.
Jeanie, cradling a blissfully sleeping Claude against her, just smiled, "Words can't describe, huh, Sheila?"
At that understanding look, a tear finally escaped to roll unheeded down Sheila's cheek. Eyes full of wonder as they turned back to the sleeping newborn in her arms, she let out a watery laugh, "No, I guess they can't. All this time I've been so worried about everything, you know? How are we going to pay for things? Will Berger be able to handle this? How will I manage finishing up classes while taking care of a baby?" She paused, shook her head, "I guess I forgot that there's more to this whole thing than worrying. Now that she's here... G-d, Jeanie, you're right. Words can't describe." Her gaze dropping back to that tiny bundle, her smile softened, "I didn't expect to fall in love with her so quickly or completely."
Jeanie nodded, "I know exactly what you mean, Sheila. I felt the same way when Claude was born. I knew I would love him... but I never expected I would love him this much, would love him more than anything else... than anyone else." Blue eyes met blue in a sudden moment of pure understanding. Jeanie shrugged, "Not that I'll ever forget him, but it made it easier, you know? Being a mom really does come first, above and beyond anything else in my life. Everything I do now, it's for him." Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to Claude's head of blonde curls, "Everything."
Sheila smiled, "I think I understand what you mean. Now that she's here, she comes first -- before my own grief, before me... before Berger." Smile falling and voice dropping, she hunched over, "That scares me a little. Berger's only made it this far because I've been able to put him first. How... how is he going to handle this?"
Jeanie sighed, "He'll just have to, that's all. Your daughter is going to need you both and she's going to need you both to put her first. It's not an option and he knows that. He'll adjust." When Sheila moved to object, Jeanie shook her head, "He will, Sheila. I've watched him these last six months. He's changed, mostly for the better. I think he's ready for this. I really do think so." Reaching out a hand to poke the other woman in the shoulder, she smiled, "So quit worrying about everyone else for once and enjoy this moment, OK?"
Sheila laughed, "OK, OK. I can take a hint." Eyes narrowing, she said, "Just... one last bit of worry before I give it a rest for the day." At Jeanie's raised eyebrow, she frowned, "Where the hell is Berger? I think everyone in the Tribe has been in to meet her at least once, but I haven't seen or heard from him since we got here seven hours ago. Where the hell is he?"
"What do you mean you haven't heard from him?" Jeanie sat up, a worried frown on her face. Her eyes unfocused as she thought, "He was in the waiting room when we got here around midnight... then about an hour later he left to take a walk... Jesus, Sheila, you're right -- he never came back." Eyes widening in horror, Jeanie slumped, "That can't be any kind of good."
Sheila's eyes grew rounder with each word that emerged from Jeanie's lips, "Jeanie, what the hell? I figured he was out in the waiting room with all of you just trying to get up the guts to come in! But now you're telling me that he wandered off into the hospital five hours ago and no one's seen him since??" Muttering curses, Sheila started trying to shift her legs to the side to get up.
Trying desperately not to wake her own sleeping child, Jeanie beat her to it and rushed to the bed to block her attempts to stand, "No! Sheila, you can't get up. It's too soon! Just lay back a minute and let me think, all right?" When the other blonde reluctantly settled, Jeanie turned around to put Claude down in the chair and started pacing. Finally she sighed, "I'll go out into the waiting room and see if he's back. If not, we'll all split up and look for him. I don't think he would have left the hospital, so he can't have gone too far. Someone will have noticed him wandering around. So, just sit tight, all right?"
Grumbling in irritation, Sheila settled back against the pillows, "Fine. But if you're not back with him in an hour, I'm getting myself out of this damned bed and looking for him myself."
Twitching at the ire in her friend's voice, Jeanie nodded. G-d help Berger if he didn't have a good reason for his disappearance... because she had a feeling no one else would.
It took the better part of four hours to convince Claude to leave the safety of the closet and go back to his room. And that look of skepticism, almost of betrayal, on his face when he saw where Berger was leading him to about broke his heart. Once they were safely inside, Claude tucked himself down into the corner furthest from the door and just huddled there with his arms over his head.
The doctor approached Berger and quietly cleared his throat, "You... he..." He sighed, "Son, if you have an explanation for me, I'd love to hear it."
Berger sighed in response, "One that'll make sense to you, old man? No." Before the doctor's irritated frown could turn into a lecture, Berger continued, "It's karma, man. Fate." A self-deprecating laugh, "My reward for straightening up and trying to fly right for a change, I guess." Rubbing tiredly at his face as he sat down on the bed, Berger's voice quieted, "Claude's a friend of mine. Thought he was dead. His mother... his mother told us all that he was. Wrote us a letter. Fuck."
Dropping a hand onto the younger man's shoulder, the doctor gave him an awkward pat, "Well, I don't know about all that, son. What I do know is that you've made more forward progress with him in five hours than I've managed in ten months. And I'm not full of so much pride that I would look a gift horse like this in the mouth." Sitting down beside Berger on the bed, he also rubbed a hand over his face, "His parents left explicit instructions that no one but they were to be allowed to visit him. Thing is, they aren't my main concern." Nodding over at the hunched and quietly keening figure in the corner, he said, "He is. And if you think you can help him... well, I'm willing to let you try, because nothing I've done is working. What do you say?"
Swallowing hard against the lump of tears threatening to break open in his throat, Berger nodded, "I say you're on, man. Wild horses couldn't tear me away. Not this time. Not ever again."
"I hope you can keep that positive attitude, son. We're going to need every ounce of it." Holding out a hand to Berger, the older man said, "Name's Dr. Howard. Charles Howard."
Berger gingerly shook that hand, "George Berger." Giving out another soft chuckle, he added, "But I don't dig George so much. Berger will do the job just fine." At the doctor's sideways look and raised eyebrow, Berger continued, like always unable to resist playing into that look, "Or Banana-Berger... Karma-Berger... Hairy-Berger..."
He would have continued the litany to it's usual conclusion, but the soft hand on his knee stopped him short. Looking down into Claude's wide-eyed gaze, Berger's words stumbled to a halt. There was something... it was in the way Claude was looking at him, like he'd just handed the other man a piece to a puzzle that he hadn't even known he was trying to solve. He touched Berger's knee again, mouth working and eyes frustrated. Berger swallowed hard as he took hold of that hand and slipped onto the floor to look Claude in the eyes. Quietly, he picked up where he'd left off, "Unzipped Berger... or Pull-'em-down Berger... Take-'em-off-Berger..." With each variation, that something in Claude's eyes seemed to grow. By the time Berger reached the end of the litany, Claude was leaning up so close to him that Berger's final offering was whispered almost straight into his parted lips like the smoke from a joint, "Or Sexy-Berger..."
Brown eyes fluttered shut and those lips stretched up into a smile of satisfaction, long fingers clutching at the hand they held. As though that last variation was a magic word, Claude slowly drooped until his head came to rest on Berger's shoulder, beyond exhausted by the events of the night and finally relaxed enough to rest. Berger took his weight easily, eagerly cradling the lean form against him as he fell into a deep slumber. The doctor dropped his hand to rest on Berger's shoulder again, "You've got your work cut out for you, son, but for what it's worth, for the first time in almost a year, I've got some hope for this poor guy. Can you be back here at 2 PM?"
Berger slowly stood, easing Claude's sleeping form onto the bed and tucking him in. Once he had him settled, he considered the doctor's question, "2 PM? I don't see why not. It's not like I have anything better to... do..." His eyes abruptly widened and he let out a string of curses ending in, "Fucking hell! I gotta go, man. I'll do my best to be back here, but I don't know if I'll be able to make it." At the doctor's confused look, he elaborated, "In all the excitement I kind of forgot why I was here to begin with." As the doctor raised an eyebrow, he explained, "My girl's having a baby tonight. I... I got so distracted by Claudio, here, I actually forgot." Face reddening, he ducked his gaze, "She's gonna kill me."
Laughing, the doctor clapped him on the shoulder, "Well, you do your best, son. If you get here late, just have them page me, all right?"
Nodding at the doctor, Berger stepped back over to Claude's side to brush a gentle caress across his face. He then bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, "You rest up, Claudio. I'll be back later and we'll start getting you sorted out. I need you, man. More than ever before." He leaned over further to whisper his final words into Claude's ear, "I love you, Claudio." He then straightened up, squared his shoulders and left the room. If Sheila had had the baby and he wasn't there... Jesus, getting killed would be the least of his worries. With that thought chasing him down the hall, he quickened his steps. And in spite of the possible impending doom lying at the end of the hallway, he found himself filled with a lighthearted joy that had been absent for far too long.
Fortunately for all concerned, when Jeanie got back to the waiting room, Berger was sitting demurely on one of the couches, hands pressed between his knees and a look of pure innocence on his face -- as though he'd been sitting there the whole time and couldn't imagine that anyone would have been worried. Woof was sitting next to him, leaning in so close that he was almost in the other man's lap, eyes bright and excited. Berger kept trying to push him away, back to arm's length, at least, but Woof was having none of it. He just kept leaning back in, occasionally pressing his nose into Berger's hair and taking a big sniff. It was like he was a dog and Berger had just rolled in a pile of sausage. And Berger, though he was attempted to look annoyed by Woof's antics, eventually gave up even bothering to fight the beaming smile that had alighted on his face. In spite of her earlier worry, Jeanie found herself beaming in response.
Crissy got up from her chair and walked over to stand beside her. Leaning in close, she whispered into Jeanie's ear, "He just showed up a few minutes ago, like he hadn't been gone all night. He wouldn't tell us where he'd been or what he was doing, but whatever it was, it must have been something good. Woof hasn't left him alone since he got back."
Jeanie snorted out a laugh, "I can see that." And that wasn't all she saw. Looking at Berger now... Jesus, it was like looking at a snapshot of the past. He looked so happy... so playful... so Berger. She hadn't seen him look that free or joyful since before Claude was drafted. Though she had no idea what had prompted it, she readily admitted that she didn't care. She was just glad of the change.
After depositing a still sleeping Claude on a different couch, Jeanie walked over to where Berger and Woof were sitting and planted her hands on her hips, "I'm not even going to bother asking where you've been, Banana-Berger, because I recognize that look on your face. You'd just lie to me." Somehow managing to look contrite and yet completely innocent at the same time, Berger just shrugged in response. Jeanie sighed, "Instead, I'm going to ask if you'd like to see Sheila and the baby." Arching an eyebrow she asked, "So, would you?"
Berger bounced up off the couch, eyes glowing with happiness, and nodded vigorously, "I would, indeed!" He then offered them all a flash of white teeth in a huge grin and walked out of the waiting area into the maternity wing, a skip to his step that had been long absent.
Crissy's eyes narrowed, "Jeanie, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was high." At Woof's horrified look, Crissy frowned, "Oh no... Woof, he isn't high, is he? He worked so hard to get clean!"
Woof was shaking his head, hands held up in a warding gesture in front of him, "No! He's not high! Not on drugs anyway..." That worried look melted back into a blissed out smile, "Man is he high on something, though. Life, maybe? I'm not sure, couldn't quite see..." He trailed off into incomprehensible mumbling as he tried to puzzle it out.
Jeanie just laughed and shook her head, "G-d, Crissy, who cares? This is the most himself I've seen him in years. I'm not going to question why it happened, I'm just going to enjoy it." Wrapping her arms around the small brunette, she gave her a tight squeeze and planted a firm kiss on the other girl's cheek. At Woof's instant woeful puppy look, the two girls took pity on him and opened their arms to include him. He came willingly and instantly to them, snuggling into their embrace with a look of pure happiness on his face. And for once, there was very little to mar the joy of the occasion. For a change, even Claude's absence was less painful. And as Jeanie had promised, she wasn't going to question why, she was just going to enjoy it while it lasted.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Berger had reached Sheila's room. Raising a hand, he quietly knocked on the door, not wanting to disturb her or the baby if they were asleep. In spite of that, her head jerked up at the noise, eyes locking on his, then dropping to give him a thorough once-over. With that accomplished, and nothing obviously out of place, she relaxed again, a soft smile taking over her features. Reaching out a hand, she patted the chair next to the bed.
Berger approached slowly, mindful of the newborn in Sheila's arms. When he reached the bedside, he leaned over to look. The baby wasn't sleeping, was in fact wide awake and staring at him. The minute those blue eyes locked with his, Berger found his breath catching. He'd reached out a finger to touch before he even knew what he was doing. The child reached right back out to him, latching onto his finger with a surprising amount of strength. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. Not that he was inclined to, anyway.
Sheila just watched him, entranced with the fact that he was so entranced. Somehow, in spite of having seen him all those times with little Claude, she hadn't expected that of him. Wary of breaking the spell the moment had cast, but needing to ask the question just the same, she whispered, "Banana-Berger... would you like to hold her?"
Gaze jerking unsteadily upwards, Berger's eyes met hers, uncertain and a little scared. Breath shivering in his throat, he said, "I... Would... I don't... Are you sure?"
Sheila's heart gave a hard thump at the uncertainty in that voice, the undercurrent to the words that Berger didn't think he was worthy of holding their daughter. Smiling as reassuringly as she could, Sheila nodded, "Of course I'm sure. She's as much yours as she is mine." Pushing herself upright, she directed his arms into the correct position and gave him a few quick reminders on how to hold an infant. Once she was sure that he had the idea, she carefully passed the baby over... and then almost wept in pure joy at the transformation that took place.
Cradling their baby to him, green eyes shining and full of wonder, it was clear to see that Berger had fallen in love. He sank slowly down onto the chair beside the bed, eyes firmly fixed on those of the infant in his arms. Bending over, he inhaled her scent, placed a butterfly brush of a kiss against her head. In turn, she reached her arms upwards, fingers tangling firmly in his dark curls. From the completely absorbed look on his face, he didn't even feel the tugging. After a moment or two, she gave one mighty yawn, curled into the warmth that was her father and fell asleep.
It was a good ten minutes later that Berger finally managed to pry his eyes off of her to look back at Sheila. She was unsurprised to see them filled with tears. Still, he offered her a watery grin, a smile of reassurance, "Sheila... she's beautiful. How... Did we really do this? You and me? She really came from us?"
Leaning over, Sheila rested a hand against his cheek, "She really did, Banana-Berger. She's ours, through and through." Laughing, she gently disentangled the baby's hand from Berger's hair, "She's even got your hair already, love, in more ways than this one. G-d help her keeping that mess under control when it grows in."
Berger laughed right along with her, softly so as not to wake the baby. Turning back to look at her, he asked, "Did... Have you figured out a name for her, yet?"
Leaning back against the pillows, Sheila cleared her throat, "I did have a thought, actually." At Berger's encouraging look, she said, "I thought 'Cheryl' might be nice. It comes from the French word 'cheri'... it means 'dear one.'" Voice roughening with emotion, she added, "And I thought we'd spell it with a 'C'... for Claude."
To her surprise, Berger looked almost hesitant about it. Eventually, though, he turned to look back at their daughter and whispered, "Cheryl..." Then a little louder, but still a gentle murmur, "Cheryl..." Shaking his head and huffing out a small laugh, he said, almost to himself, "He'll like that."
Sheila frowned at that choice of phrasing, "Banana-Berger...?"
His head abruptly lifted, eyes wide and panicked, "I didn't mean..." Ducking his gaze and swallowing hard, he qualified, "I meant he would have liked that." Inhaling shakily, he turned to hand the baby back over to Sheila. Once she was secure, he all but jumped out of his seat and nervously started to pace, "He... Sheila, he'd have loved this, would have eaten it up. He'd have loved seeing you with a baby... seeing me with a baby. He'd want to be part of it." Coming back to the bedside, he gripped Sheila's leg through the blanket, "We... we would have let him be part of it, wouldn't we? It still would have been us, all of us, right? You and me and Claude and Cheryl... right? He... he wouldn't have been left out just because you and me made a baby... right, Sheila?"
Sheila fought off a sudden sense of panic at the almost crazed intensity in his gaze. She had no idea why this was coming up now, of all times, but she could see how important her answer was to Berger. Freeing one hand from holding Cheryl, she pried Berger's hand from her leg to grip it tightly in hers, "Of course, love. He was part of us. He always will be part of us. We're going to carry him with us forever. Cheryl is going to know him, like little Claude knows him, because we're going to tell her about him -- about how kind he was, how loving, how beautiful. He's going to be part of us, OK, baby? Don't do this to yourself. Don't fall apart on us, now. Please. We need you."
Berger stared straight into her eyes for an endless moment, then took in a shuddering breath. When he released it, she could almost see him willing himself to relax. Slumping down to sit on the foot of the bed, he nodded, "OK. I'm OK." Taking in another deep breath, he rubbed his hand over his face, "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm tired. Last night was... it was..." To Sheila's surprise, the tears that had threatened before from joy now threatened from sadness... and won. Curling up at the end of the bed, his head pillowed on her legs, Berger quietly gave in to them.
Sheila had no idea what to think of it. The younger man was obviously exhausted, and not just physically, but emotionally. Was being separated from her last night really that hard? She desperately wanted to ask, but knew she would get no answer from her lover in this state. Instead, she paged the nurse to come and take Cheryl back to the nursery. Once she was gone, Sheila tugged Berger up to lie next to her on the pillow, cradling him close until he finally fell into a troubled, exhausted sleep. All she could do was hope that whatever this had been, come morning, she'd have back the Berger that she loved and was quickly coming to rely on. She would need his strength more than ever now, for her... and for Cheryl.
When Berger woke up later that day it was to see Sheila beside him, feeding their daughter. She smiled softly at him and held up a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. He smiled in response and nodded, then sat up to watch. He'd secretly always found it a little weird, back when Jeanie's son was born, to watch her feed him. It just... something about it seemed so bizarre. But watching Sheila and Cheryl? The only word he could think of to describe it was "beautiful." The two of them together were beautiful.
Moving closer, he let Sheila pillow her head on his chest. She slunk down against him with a grateful sigh, murmuring, "You wouldn't think that six pounds was all that heavy, would you?" When he shook his head, she snorted, "Yeah, well try holding those six pounds in this position for thirty minutes. It's damned exhausting. Someone should have told me." Letting out a soft yawn, she added, "I'd have started lifting weights or something in preparation."
Berger laughed at the image that presented, then took the hint. The minute Cheryl was done feeding, he took her from Sheila so she could put herself back together and rest her arms. Rolling her head to look up at them, she smiled, then her brow wrinkled, "You... Berger, you're going to have to burp her. Do you know how?"
Grabbing a blanket from the basinet, Berger threw it over his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose at Sheila, he nodded, "I know how. I wasn't totally gone when Claude was born, you know. I did learn a thing or two." He then lifted Cheryl onto his shoulder and gently started rubbing her back. She kicked her legs, scrunching them up against her and letting out an unhappy little cry. Berger just sighed, "I know it hurts, kiddo. Claude was a colicky little guy, too. Just give it a minute." Gently patting her back, he started walking around the room with her, letting the rocking of his gait press his shoulder into her stomach. After a few minutes, some more crying and finally, a rather large belch, she settled. He then pulled her back down into his arms and wiped her face with the blanket. Giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, he smiled, "There now. Told you. Doesn't that feel better?" She responded by tangling her fingers in his hair as it swung by.
Sheila just watched the whole scene, more than a little in awe. She'd forgotten... she really had. Back when Claude had first been drafted, Berger had been scattered, sure, but he'd still been together -- well, as together as he ever was. And he'd also been desperately in need of a distraction. Into the void of that need had come Jeanie's son. Jeanie had been so overwhelmed, so in need of help... and Berger had so desperately needed someone to need him that he'd ended up spending several nights with her in the apartment that the Tribe had pooled resources together to get for her. He'd been there with her, all the way through those first few months. It wasn't until later -- when she no longer needed him quite so much -- that he'd started to fall apart. In point of fact, it might have been Jeanie and Claude that kept him sane all that time.
Well, whatever the case, Sheila was just grateful. It had been less than twelve hours and she was already petrified that she was going to do something dreadfully wrong and hurt her child. Hell, when Cheryl had been colicky earlier this morning, Sheila had been unable to calm her or ease her pain and had started crying right along with her. The nurse had finally had to come in and help. Of course, Berger had slept the sleep of the dead through the whole thing. But now, seeing Berger so casually confident... Something in her relaxed at the sight. In spite of their little hiccup last night, Jeanie was right -- Berger was ready for this. And not only was he ready... but she obviously wasn't going to have to carry his weight along with hers and Cheryl's. In fact... it seemed more and more like she might be able to let him carry a little of her weight. The sheer relief of that almost brought tears back to her eyes. She wiped at them miserably, "Damned hormones..."
Berger looked up at that, eyes questioning, "What was that?"
She shook her head, laughed a little, "It was nothing, Banana-Berger. Just... you're a natural at this. When she pulled that on me earlier, I was crying right along with her."
Berger just stared at her, the look on his face clearly stating that he thought she was trying to pull one over on him. He frowned, "You were not. You don't cry."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed, "You obviously haven't been paying attention the last six months. I most certainly do, Banana-Berger. Especially with all these stupid pregnancy hormones flooding my system. Seems like all I do these days is cry." At his astounded look, she shrugged, "She was in pain, she was upset and I couldn't help her. Wouldn't that be enough to make you cry?"
Understanding finally dawned and Berger nodded, "Yeah... yeah, I guess it would." Walking over, he ran a gentle hand through Sheila's hair and down her cheek, then leaned over to give her a soft kiss, "Look, she just ate, so she'll be good for a while, right? Why don't I get the nurse to take her back to the nursery and get out of your hair for a while so you can sleep? I'm sure you could use a break."
Gratefully, Sheila nodded, "G-d, Berger... that would be fantastic."
Berger laughed in response, a jaunty grin on his face, "'G-d-Berger', huh? That's a new one... but I think I like it."
Laughing right along with him, Sheila raised a hand and swatted at him. To his credit, he didn't even try to move out of the way, just let her hit him. He then pressed another soft kiss to her head, put a sleeping Cheryl down in the basinet and wheeled her out to the nurse's station. And not a moment too soon... the clock read 1:47 PM. He should have just enough time to go splash some water on his face before making it to his other appointment... one that, even after only six hours apart, already felt like it was long overdue.
By the time Berger reached Claude's room, he was almost jumping out of his skin in anticipation. He still wasn't sure why he'd lied to Sheila, why he hadn't told the others the good news about Claude still being alive. Just... something had held him back, had warned him not to say anything. Maybe it was selfishness, the need to have Claude to himself for once... for a little while. Really, though, that wasn't the whole truth. If the rest of the Tribe, if Sheila, knew that he was alive, they'd want to see him. And Claude wasn't ready. He wasn't anywhere near ready for that.
Seeing Dr. Howard walking up the hallway, Berger offered him a wave. The doctor waved back, offered him a small smile in return, "I see you made it. Good. That's very good." Seeing the light in Berger's eye and the bounce he couldn't quite contain, even when standing still, his smile widened, "Boy or a girl, son?"
Berger's smile turned sheepish, "A little girl. Cheryl. She and her mom are doing great, no one killed me when I got back and they were so happy that I was back that they didn't even ask me where I'd been, so I think I'm in the clear."
Clapping Berger on the shoulder, the doctor laughed, "Well, I suppose that's a good thing, isn't it?" At Berger's enthusiastic nod, he laughed again, "So, are you ready for round 2?" Before Berger could answer, he held up a hand, "I should warn you, he's been a bit... agitated... since this morning. His parents came for a visit, the first time they've both come in several months, and... well..." Dr. Howard sighed, "I gather that he and his father weren't on the best of terms before he was drafted and it seems to be worse, now. Usually visits like that end with the poor boy in restraints and drugged. We managed to avoid that this time, but only just barely, and he's been..."
Berger nodded and finished it for him, "...a little agitated since. I got it. It's OK. We'll work it out, somehow."
The doctor unlocked the door, "I'm going to stay out here, son. He doesn't always react to me well, either, especially after a visit from his father. I don't want to make things worse than they already are."
Nodding to show he understood, Berger pushed the door open to enter the room, then allowed it to swing shut behind him. Looking around, he didn't immediately see Claude and his heart rate kicked up a notch in response. Finally, a low growl alerted him to the other man's location. Moving around the bed, he found Claude crouched down into the corner, eyes furious and hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically, as though he were grabbing at something. That low growl continued, only pausing now and then for breath. It was... Jesus, it was actually a little scary.
Getting down on the floor in front of him, Berger tried to make himself as non-threatening as he possibly could, then spoke softly to him, "Hey, Claudio. I told you I'd come back. I hear you had a bit of a rough morning... want to tell me about it?"
Glazed brown eyes slowly shifted away from their fixed position to focus on him. A moment later, the growl quieted, too. His hands, though... they continued their clenching and unclenching. Berger sighed, "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I've spent many a night of my own picturing my hands around your dad's neck. If he hadn't planted all that patriotic responsibility nonsense in your head, you and I would be living it up in Canada right now. None of this war business. Just you and me in the Great White North... curled up in some log cabin by a fireplace, drinking hot coacoa."
Whether it was the sound of Berger's voice or the image he was calling up with his words, Claude's hands finally relaxed, the clenching stopped. Berger breathed a sigh of relief, "That's the way, love. No one's going to hurt you." Turning himself so that he could lean against the wall near Claude, Berger settled in. Smiling at Claude he patted the floor next to him, "Come here." At Claude's skeptical look, Berger sighed, "I told you I'm not gonna hurt you. Come on."
After a few minutes of deliberation and a few more skeptical looks, Claude finally crept from the corner and sat down next to Berger, legs curled tight to his chest and eyes frantically darting around the room from this slightly more exposed vantage point. Berger just smiled as encouragingly as he could, "You know, there are a lot of people who are going to be real happy to see you once you're better, Claudio. We've missed you. We've missed you a lot." Voice quieting, he swallowed hard, "Me most of all, though. Life didn't really seem like it was worth living without you around, man. I'm not proud of what I put everyone through because of it, but I couldn't help it, you know?"
Again, maybe the tone of his voice was what did it or maybe the words themselves, but Claude shifted minutely to bring his body into contact with Berger's, silently offering the support that he couldn't offer directly. Berger's breath shuddered in his throat and he let out a shaky laugh, "Jesus, Claudio. What a pair we make. I don't know which of us is worse off -- you or me. It's like the blind leading the fucking blind here." Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he rubbed tiredly at them, "You're eventually gonna have to give me some sort of hint here, OK? I'm no psychiatrist. I don't know what to do to help you."
Turning, he met Claude's gaze with his own. Those brown orbs were still wary, still uncertain, but there was a small spark of something more. Maybe it was wishful thinking that made Berger think it was recognition, but he didn't think so. On some level, Claude knew who he was, knew that he didn't mean him any harm. He just had to find a way to bring that level back to the forefront.
Letting out a small laugh, Berger let his body lean just a small fraction more against Claude's, "Since it seems like you're digging the strong, silent vibe these days, how about I just talk for a while? You seem to like that... me talking, huh?" At Claude's hesitant smile, Berger laughed again, "Yeah, thought so. It's actually kind of a refreshing change from being told to 'Shut up' all the time, if you wanna know the truth." Taking a deep breath, Berger tipped his head back against the wall, "So, how about a story? I'm not as good at them as Jeanie is, but I can try..." When Claude offered up no further input, Berger smiled, "OK, then. A story it is." A sudden memory swooped down and Berger laughed again, "I just remembered... Claudio, you're going to love this one. It was a few years ago, right before Christmas, and we'd gotten snowed into the city. I was planning on dragging your ass out to play in the snow with me, but you'd gone and gotten yourself sick. Real fucking inconsiderate, you know?"
As Berger slowly spun out the story, interjecting his own thoughts into the narrative every now and then, Claude relaxed further. Once or twice, he even thought he felt the other man's chest move in a silent huff of a laugh. It felt good... beyond good. Even if it took a year, even if he talked himself hoarse, he'd find some way to get through to Claude, some way to get the other man to consciously recognize him again. Somehow, someday... no matter what it took.
( Master Post and Chapter List )
A/N: And now for some chibi silliness! :D
Claude: *frowns* Hmm...
R-chan: Oh, come on! It's already better, isn't it?
Claude: *continues to frown*
R-chan: *holds up a finger* You have Berger back, don't you? And you got to cuddle with him.
Berger: *impish grin* Yeah, I liked that part. *frowns* Well, except for the "Claude crying" bit. That, not so much.
Claude: *frowns some more* Exactly.
R-chan: *sigh* *rolls her eyes* It gets--
Claude and Berger: "--better by the end." We know, we know.
R-chan: *twitch* *giggles*
Claude: *rolls his eyes*
Questions, comments, cauliflower schnitzel?
Nuriko: *twitch* Running out of four syllabled fruit again?
R-chan: *innocent blinks* No. It's my favorite food and we're having it for dinner tonight.
Nuriko: *double twitch* I'm just not gonna.
Coming Soon: One more step remains to make this trinity whole again... and Fate isn't done playing a part in this story just yet.
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Date: 2010-08-05 08:12 am (UTC)Brilliant! Just brilliant! Not only has Berger now got a little BergerShelia, he has nearly got Claude back from the dead! What a couple of days! If that isn't a head f*ck I don't know what is! So very pleased he seems to be holding up for all 3 of the people he is having to look after right now!!!
I just hope he can get Claude make into the real world soon!!x