[Hair] The Zorya (3/9)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eirenicalTitle: The Zorya
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Berger/Claude/Sheila
Rating: PG-13 for some kissing, really very mild stuff, though... even for me.
Word Count: 62,317 Part 3: 7305
Warnings: Slash (as always ^_^), angst
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: Berger and Sheila are a broken triangle, desperately missing their third side. But is Claude well enough to fill his usual place? Only time will tell.
December 3, 2010: And we finally have Claude at home! But... things aren't going quite so smoothly. Sorry Claude!
Enjoy and please remember... comments and reviews are love!
River of Healing
by Renee-chan
Damn it. Damn it, Damn it, Damn it! Claude quietly thunked his head back against the wall and let out a small moan. He'd tried. G-d help him, he'd really tried... he just couldn't do it. He slowly opened his eyes and stared across the room. Berger and Sheila were fast asleep in the bed, curled into the spot of warmth he'd left behind when he finally gave up and vacated his place between them. They'd been upset, earlier in the day, when he'd noticed that Suzanne's old room was now Cheryl's and then innocently asked where he was going to sleep. He huffed out a bitter little laugh. They'd been very upset, Sheila especially. On some level, they must have both thought that now that they had him home, things could just go back to the way they'd always been. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, that it would take time, but Sheila didn't really see the full extent of it. Berger... Claude thought Berger might understand. A little. But even he had a rose-colored veil over his eyes where Claude's recovery was concerned.
Claude sighed, let his head fall back against the wall, tried to remind himself that these were just the first little baby steps. Getting him home had been ordeal enough. After that, he hadn't been ready for another major battle, so when they both insisted that he sleep in the bed with them, he'd caved to the need so plain to see in their eyes. They needed him close. They needed to know he was there. They needed to be able to touch him. And he understood that, even welcomed it. It was just... Damn it, he couldn't do it. When he'd first settled in between them, for one brief moment, he'd been at peace. He'd felt safe, loved, protected. It was why he'd always loved sleeping between them, with Berger's warmth and strength at his back, Sheila's beauty and softness right in front of him. It had made him feel loved... needed. And it still did. For that one moment, everything had been all right... until suddenly it wasn't.
As first Sheila, then Berger had dropped off to sleep beside him, everything seemed to change. There were noises in the apartment -- pipes banging, windows rattling, heaters hissing -- all noises he could readily identify, but still noises that he was unused to... noises that startled him back to full awareness every time he started to drift off. And then there was the bed, itself. It was soft, it was comfortable and warm and it should have felt so wonderful to finally have a safe haven in which to rest... but he couldn't see the door. And there were too many blankets to throw off if he had to get up quickly. And with Sheila on one side of him and Berger on the other, anyone wanting to get to him would have to go through one of them... and he couldn't keep them safe that way.
After almost an hour of laying there, fitfully starting at every random noise and movement, Claude couldn't take it anymore. He was going to wake one of them up or go mad trying not to if he continued on this way. So, he'd wiggled himself down to the foot of the bed and out from under the covers, then crouched at the foot of the bed, heart hammering as he tried to decide what to do next. He'd finally made his way over to his belongings, shame flushing his face a deep scarlet, to unbury his fatigue jacket from the bottom of his duffel bag. It was one of the only things he had left that was his, that had survived his tour in Viet Nam, and like him, it was much the worse for wear. Being reunited with it after all that time in the hospital had felt bizarrely like reunited with a long-missed friend. He ran his hands over it, feeling for the spots where his ID patches had once been, for the embroidery stitching that still proudly proclaimed what the government considered to be the only important information about him... U.S. Army. He could practically feel the words "property of" stitched on the jacket above them, even though logically, he knew they'd never been there. He moved on, gently running his fingers over each tear, each worn spot... each hole. The stains were gone, he knew that without even looking, but in the dark, his fingers tricked him into believing they were still there. Blood, dirt, sweat and tears. He'd lived in this fatigue jacket for two and a half years -- it had worn its fair share of each.
Once he'd finished surveying it, he'd crept back into Sheila and Berger's bedroom and found a corner from which he could watch both the bed and the door and curled up in it, jacket wrapped tightly around him. And that was where he'd sat, unmoving, for the last three hours.
A small movement from Berger's side of the bed drew Claude's hyperaware senses that way. There it was again. It wasn't much, but Berger had definitely moved. A moment later, Berger's hand quested into the space he'd left behind, felt around, then paused. Even knowing it was probably coming, Claude nearly jumped out of his skin when Berger shot bolt upright, eyes wild and chest heaving in panicked breaths. Shit. Quietly he called out to the other man, "Berger. Berger... I'm over here, man. Don't wake up Sheila."
Berger's wild eyes slowly shifted from their panicked flickering to focus on the source of the voice. It was strange, that moment. For just a minute, as he tried to catch Berger's unseeing eyes, Claude almost felt like the sane one. The thought made him snort out half a laugh, twitched the corner of his lips upwards. What was it that Berger had said that first day? It was like the blind leading the fucking blind. Wasn't that the truth?
Eventually, Berger relaxed, eased himself out from under the covers and crept over to where Claude was sitting. He was calmer now, Claude could tell, but he'd been badly shaken when he woke to find Claude missing. His next actions confirmed it. When he reached the corner, he pressed himself as close to Claude as he could get, tucked his head into the crook of Claude's neck and let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. Claude shifted his jacket to cover both of them, slid an arm around the younger man and pulled him in close. Berger took in a deep breath, let it out in another sobbing laugh. He murmured into the warmth of Claude's neck, so quietly that Claude almost didn't catch the words, wasn't sure he was even meant to, "Thought I'd lost you, again..." Claude just continued to hold him. They sat there like that, sharing the rhythm of their breathing until both began to calm. It was an old trick... a soldier's trick. Don't make noise. Don't make a sound. They'd find you if you did, even buried deep in your foxhole. If a fellow soldier needed comfort, they needed you to give it silently... if they'd let you give it at all. And sometimes this was enough, simple human contact and the rhythm of shared breathing. Apparently, it was this time, too.
Berger lifted his head from Claude's shoulder, gently bumped their noses together, "What are you doing out here, Claudio? Aren't... aren't you uncomfortable?"
Claude shrugged, still embarrassed that he'd had to flee the bed in the first place, "Not really. I've... I've slept in worse places."
Berger's body went still against him, then he winced, "Jesus, Claude... I'm sorry. I didn't think."
Claude shrugged again, sank down into the folds of his jacket, "It's OK, Berger. Don't worry about it." Risking a glance upwards, he caught Berger's eyes again, bright green and full of worry and remorse. Sighing softly, he tightened his grip, pulled Berger's head back down to his shoulder, "I just... I couldn't sleep."
Berger frowned, eyebrows drawing together, "But... you were sleeping just fine in the hospital. This shouldn't be that much... Oh." Something about the way that Claude suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes, about the way his body went utterly still in the effort not to betray himself, clued Berger in to the real problem. Quietly, he amended, "You... You still weren't sleeping in the bed... were you?"
Pulling his arm back under the jacket, Claude edged away an inch or two. It was ridiculous, but he somehow felt like he'd let Berger down... like he'd lied to him. And that wasn't fair. He'd never told Berger he'd gotten over that issue, Berger had assumed that all on his own. Unable to take the mild accusation in those greengreen eyes any longer, Claude jerked himself to his feet and bolted from the bedroom. Of course, Berger followed him, no doubt worried that Claude would make a break for the door.
Claude didn't run far, though. In a twisted mirror of the night they'd met, this time, he was the one who ended the chase early. He only fled as far as the living room and this time it was Berger's turn to pause several feet away, confused and afraid. Claude just stood there, facing away from Berger and staring out the window. Almost unconsciously, he lifted his fatigue jacket, slid his arms into it and hugged it tight around himself. It was flimsy protection... but at least it was something that was his.
Berger stepped closer, one arm outstretched, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, it's just... Jesus, Claude, I wish you'd told me. I never would have... I wouldn't have let Sheila..." He dropped his arm, defeat written in every line of his posture, "I guess it doesn't really matter what I would've done, huh?"
Slowly turning back to face him, Claude reached out to take hold of that dropped hand, pulled it close and planted a gentle kiss on the knuckles. It was reminiscent, that gesture, reminiscent of younger, more innocent days. Berger's lips twitched into half a grin at the shared memory. Once he'd relaxed, Claude explained, "It isn't that I don't want to. I do want to... to be able to be with you both -- really with you both -- warm and safe and... G-d... Berger I want it more than anything." Looking up to meet Berger's eyes, he said firmly, "But I can't. Not yet. It's too soon."
Berger nodded, eyes understanding, "I get it." At Claude's quirked eyebrow, he snorted out a laugh, "I really do get it, Claudio. I... I didn't think it was a great idea to force the issue tonight, but Sheila thought... Fuck, it doesn't matter what Sheila thought. I knew it was a bad idea and I should have stood my ground. I'll do better by you next time."
When Claude continued to look confused, Berger sighed, "I didn't really tell you much about the two and a half years you were gone. I... I guess I figured you didn't need any added issues on top of your own. But, you're better now and I think it might help you to hear this." Tugging gently on Claude's hand, he pulled him over to the couch, sat down next to him.
He kept Claude's hand in his, gently stroked it as he started to talk, "Claude... when you left... Jesus, I was a wreck. I know I've told you that before, but I'm not sure you really understood what I meant. I fell into some pretty hardcore drugs, yeah, but it was more than that. I was living on the streets... fuck, there were days I was barely sane. In a lot of ways, I was as bad off here as you were when you first came back." At Claude's indrawn breath, Berger looked up, gave him a wry grin, "Told you it was like the blind leading the blind, didn't I? Anyway, the others, they tried to help, they really did, but I was bound and determined to lose myself. It wasn't until Sheila told me she was pregnant with my kid that I managed to wake up a little. Still wasn't easy and withdrawal was absolute hell, but I got myself clean, got back in touch with my parents... got a job. But you know something, Claudio? After all those nights sleeping out in Central Park or sleeping in some dirty alley, there are nights when I get so claustrophobic that I can't sleep in that bed, either. I end up on the couch, or in the armchair, or on the floor... on really bad nights, I'm out on the fire escape. So, when I tell you I get it... I really do get it, OK?"
Claude sighed, slowly nodded, "OK, Banana-Berger. This time, I hear you." Letting his head drop onto Berger's shoulder, Claude wearily rubbed at his temples, "So... what now?"
Berger turned, pressed a soft kiss to the top of Claude's head, "That's up to you, Claudio. Couch, armchair, floor or fire escape?"
Claude winced, answered softly, "I... I think I'll try the floor. That... that might be best."
Huffing out a laugh, Berger eased Claude off his shoulder and stood up, "You mean we'll try the floor, Claudio." When Claude opened his mouth to raise an objection, Berger dropped down onto his knees in front of him, placed one gentle finger to his lips and shook his head. He then said, simply, "Please, Claude... Please."
And Claude understood. In light of that little piece of story Berger had told earlier, it made perfect sense. And now that he took a closer look into those deep, green eyes, he could see it, plain as day... fear. Berger was terrified to let him out of his sight now that he had him home, was terrified that Claude would disappear like so much smoke... or like some drug-induced hallucination. Claude raised his hands to cup Berger's face, leaned forward and pressed a soft, almost hesitant kiss to those fear-dried lips. Berger let out another one of those little sob-laughs before leaning up and forward to carry the kiss back to him. It was their first one since the day Berger had first brought Sheila to see him and it was soft, chaste, and far less passionate than most kisses they'd shared in the past, but it was no less intense for all of that. This was about comfort, pure and simple. When they finally released the kiss, neither moved, both still hovering with their eyes closed, lips barely centimeters apart. When Claude spoke his response, his lips pressed back against Berger's with every other syllable and Berger drank in that contact like a man drowning... "So, you want to get a blanket from the closet while I sneak into the bedroom and steal your pillow off the bed?"
Berger opened his eyes and just smirked before pressing another soft kiss to Claude's lips and getting up to go to the hall linen closet. Claude also rose and turned back to the bedroom. When he reached the side of the bed, however, he felt a brief pang of remorse. Sheila looked so peaceful, so beautiful, lying in the bed like that. Her golden hair was spread out over the pillow like a halo around her head and a soft, relaxed smile rested on her face. He swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain that he was making the right choice. It seemed... it seemed wrong somehow, to leave Sheila alone in here.
Footsteps behind him alerted him to Berger's presence before the other man got anywhere near him. He stepped up behind Claude and wrapped his arms around him, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, "It's OK, man. She'll understand."
Claude husked out a quiet, "You promise?"
He could feel Berger's smirk against the back of his neck as the younger man pressed another kiss to that spot, "I promise, Claudio. She'll understand. Come on, man. I'm tired."
Claude didn't need any further encouragement. He followed Berger out into the living room, then smiled softly at what he saw. Berger had made a pallet of blankets, maybe five or six deep, on the floor between the bedroom, Cheryl's room and the front door. Eyeing the placement of that pallet of blankets, Claude's breath caught in his throat. From this vantage point, he could easily see every entrance into and out of the main room of the apartment, and more importantly, it put him between the front door and Cheryl and Sheila. Anyone coming into this apartment would have to go through him to get to the girls... or Berger, if Claude placed himself correctly. Berger stepped up behind him again, placed a kiss on his shoulder, this time. He spoke quietly, almost whispering, into Claude's ear, "I told you I get it, Claude. Now... can we go to bed?"
Nodding vehemently, and not quite trusting his voice, Claude knelt down by the blankets. He eyed the door for a moment, eyed the blankets again, then finally laid himself down facing the front door, his back to the girls' rooms. Wordlessly, Berger laid himself down behind him, facing the other way, back pressed against his. Somehow... he hadn't expected that. He'd expected Berger to want to hold him and was almost disappointed that that clearly wasn't the case. Turning to look behind him, Claude frowned, "Banana-Berger?"
Berger's smile flashed white in the darkness as he rolled over to face him, "You'll sleep easier this way, Claudio. Trust me. You watch the door, I'll watch your back, OK?"
Claude's heart gave one more hard thump in his ribcage at those words and the gentle understanding behind them. Rolling fully over to face the other man, he took one precious moment to curl into Berger's arms, one precious moment to feel safe and protected, one precious moment to feel like nothing had changed and they were innocent kids again, camping on the floor of Sheila's apartment because they'd been kicked out of the bed for roughhousing. It was a glorious moment... and over too soon. Claude pulled away, briefly touched his forehead to Berger's, then rolled back over to face the door. Berger pressed one last kiss to the back of Claude's neck then rolled back over, too. And with the firm strength of the hardwood floor underneath him and the even firmer strength of Berger at his back, this time Claude found it far, far easier to fall asleep.
Sheila had startled them both awake the next morning by racing out of her bedroom, hair and eyes a little wild, yelling for them both. That little fiasco had ended with Claude hiding under the dining room table, Cheryl crying and Berger trying desperately to soothe all three of them before the neighbors called the cops. Of course, once Sheila saw that they were both all right and figured out what must have happened, she immediately calmed and couldn't get the apologies out fast enough. Claude took a little longer, but once he understood that she hadn't been angry, had only been worried, he calmed, as well. And once the three adults were calm, Cheryl immediately went back to being all smiles and demanded hugs from them all.
The next couple of weeks were... well, they were strange, for lack of a better description. Even getting off to that rocky start, they fell into a routine faster than Claude would have imagined they could. Sheila and Berger already had their schedules worked out so that one of them could be home with Cheryl at all times, so it was no real hardship that one of them needed to be home for Claude, too. As far as Claude was concerned, that was already one tremendous worry off his back. He knew he was still unstable, wasn't ready to be on his own yet. It was getting better already, but he knew he wasn't anywhere close to being ready to take care of himself.
And those weeks... well, again, they were strange. Neither Sheila or Berger was condescending about it, but in a way, they were both treating him a bit like a second child. If he were a little less unsure of himself, the coddling probably would have chafed. As it was, however, he was mostly just grateful to have a chance to settle into life and know that someone else was taking care of all the more difficult details. Then again, there were times...
"So, what do you think, honey? Do we want to go to the park or somewhere quieter like the library? I heard they're having a story hour! Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Claude twitched from his spot on the couch. Really... When no further commentary was forthcoming, he slowly rose and paced over to stand in Cheryl's bedroom doorway, leaning as casually as he could against the doorframe. When Sheila turned away from getting Cheryl changed to give him a beaming smile, he raised an eyebrow, answered dryly, "Were you talking to me or to Cheryl, just now? Because, honestly, Sheila... with the tone you were using, I couldn't quite tell."
Sheila at least had the grace to blush and duck her head. Cheryl giggled and blew a raspberry at her mother. Sheila cleared her throat, reached for a clean diaper, "I... I'm sorry, Claude. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
Claude ruefully shook his head, walked over to wrap an arm around Sheila's shoulders, "I know you didn't. But you've been doing it to me an awful lot the last few days." Sheila opened her mouth to retort, but Claude held up a finger for silence and she subsided. He continued, "You do it to a lot of people, Sheila. Honestly, I've always considered it part of your charm. And I know that Berger lets you get away with it, though G-d only knows why, but you know I never did. I don't plan to start, now. I may not be having the easiest go of it at the moment, but I'm still an adult, still your equal. This won't work if you start treating me otherwise." With a soft smile, he then tucked that finger under her chin and tipped her face up to press a soft kiss to her cheek, "This family needs two adults or it won't function... and you know Berger doesn't want that particular job no matter how admirably he's been doing with it for the last year. So why don't we start setting the right precedents now, hmm?"
Sheila stared up at him for a minute, then ducked her head. Muttering under her breath about the fumes in here, she started wiping furiously at her eyes. Claude didn't believe it for a minute. Eventually, she took a deep breath, finished with Cheryl's diaper, reordered her clothes, and put her down on the ground. That accomplished, she turned back to Claude and tucked herself up against his chest. Eagerly obliging, Claude wrapped his arms around her. She let out a relieved sigh, "You're right. Claude, you're absolutely right. It's just... it's hard. I've been taking care of everyone for so long... it's a little hard to let go, you know?"
Claude smiled, placed a gentle kiss on top of her head, "I know. But you don't have to do it all alone anymore, Sheila. Surely living with Berger, especially since Cheryl was born, has taught you that. And I will get better. I will. It's going to take time, but I'm going to get there. And when I do, things will get even easier. I guarantee you that. I want that... to be Cheryl's father in more than just name. I want to be an equal partner with the two of you and I'm going to work hard to get there as fast as I can. I promise." He leaned back to look her in the eyes, "Just... please stop trying to insist that I should want to subsist on grilled cheese and pancakes and that my favorite activities are story time at the library and playing in the sandbox at the park." He winced, "Neither one of us will survive my recovery if you keep that up, OK?"
Sheila stared up at him for a moment, then her lips twitched and she started to laugh. When she eventually sobered, she let out a small groan, "Oh, no... Claude... I didn't really do that to you, did I?" He merely arched an eyebrow. Letting out another laughing groan, Sheila just shook her head, "OK, then I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that and I don't know why I did it. I'll do better from now on." Taking a deep breath, she stepped back away from Claude and shook back her hair, "All right, then, Claude... what would you like to do today?"
Claude looked back and forth between Sheila and Cheryl for a moment, then a slow smile started to stretch across his features. Pulling Sheila back into his arms, he said, "Well... it's a little corny, actually... and it's not exactly close... but I happened to see on the news last night that the Rockefeller Center tree is arriving today..."
Sheila met his twinkling brown eyes then a matching smile spread across her own features. Having just declared himself an adult, Claude must have no idea how much like an eager child he looked in that moment. She decided not to point it out to him, discretion being the better part of valor and all that. Instead, she laughed, "You want to go watch them truck it in?"
Claude ducked his gaze, looked away for a moment. Finally, he quietly answered, "I... My mom and I used to go watch them bring the tree in. We went every year until I was about thirteen. My..." He frowned, forced the word out, "My father used to join us for the lighting ceremony, but the day they brought the tree to the city, that day was just for my mother and I. It was... I suppose it was our special day. We would go watch them put the tree up, then go ice skating... and drink hot cocoa. It... I guess it's kind of stupid, actually."
Raising a hand to his face, Sheila turned him back to her. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up to kiss his cheek, "No, sweetheart. It isn't stupid. It's a fantastic idea. However... I think maybe we should wait until this afternoon to go." At Claude's frown, she explained, "Just because your father wasn't involved, doesn't mean Berger shouldn't be." Claude's eyes widened and that smile stretched wide again. Sheila planted a kiss on the tip of his nose, "Actually, I think it sounds like the start of a beautiful family tradition, don't you?"
Claude pulled Sheila tight against him, buried his face in her hair. It was so different... G-d, it was so different. He almost couldn't reconcile it. In his experience, this wasn't what a family was, this easy acceptance, this wide open love and affection. He'd had moments, flashes of this in his childhood, but only with his mother. He'd never known that it could be like this with a whole family. To his everlasting horror, his breath caught in his throat, presage to a set of tears, he was sure. Biting down hard on his lip, he fought them back. He would not cry, not over this, not over something that made him happy, damn it. Sheila just held him through it, stroked gentle hands through his hair and down his back.
When she felt him calm, she let him go and smiled up at him. Sighing heavily, Claude managed to smile back. Sheila bent down to pick up a clamoring Cheryl and then said brightly, "Well, Berger's done with work at two, today, right? So, if we plan to meet him there before he gets out and then make our way up to Rockefeller Center, we should leave here around one. That gives us about three hours to kill until then... and enough time for someone to take a nap." Smiling wryly, she added, "And for the record, that time I was talking to Cheryl, OK, Claudio? I don't want any confusion."
Claude laughed, pulled them both in for another hug, "Don't worry, Sheila. That time, I understood." Placing a smacking kiss on the top of both of their heads, he then let them go, "Well, I actually have a suggestion for that, too. In the middle of that news broadcast, there was a commercial. Apparently, they're starting the Christmas movies early this year... and the first one they're playing is 'It's a Wonderful Life.' For some reason... that movie seems disturbingly appropriate right about now." Glancing over at the clock, he said, "And I believe it's starting in about a half hour."
Throwing her free arm around him, Sheila squeezed Claude tightly to her, "Claude... I have missed you!"
Cradling them both close, Claude just closed his eyes and drank it in, "I've missed you, too, sweetheart... I've missed you, too."
Berger stared at the clock and drummed his fingers on the counter. Friday mornings were usually pretty slow at the store, but today just seemed to be dragging like nobody's business. He'd only had two customers all morning. It was times like these that made it the most difficult for him to keep in control and not end up doing something crazy that would get him fired. And it was especially hard when he knew he had Claude -- Claude! G-d that felt good to think -- sitting at home and waiting for him. Fortunately, Dennis was due in in another twenty minutes and then he was free and clear for the rest of the day. He could go home, wrap himself around Claude and not let go for the next hour... or six.
He was just starting to get real good and glaze-eyed at the warm fantasy he was building in his head when he was rudely and abruptly jerked out of it by the tinkling of the front door chime. Jerking upright, he whipped around to face the door, smile already firmly planted even as he was still fumbling in his own mind to get his thoughts back into the present. And what he saw framed by the door certainly didn't help. For just a moment he thought he was having a flashback. Claude and Sheila were standing in the door to the shop, bundled up against the cold, roses in their cheeks, hair tousled from the wind and love and laughter in their eyes as they looked his way. It was like a snapshot of the past come to life with all of them carefree and happy. He rubbed his eyes, tried to clear them of whatever daydream haze was left. The vision remained. He stared dumbly at the pair in the doorway for another minute, trying to reconcile what his eyes were seeing with what his brain was telling him should be there. Fortunately, Cheryl chose that moment to let out a shrill complaint at being ignored from over Sheila's shoulder where she was strapped into her sling on her mother's back. That finally did what Berger had failed to do -- allowed him to register that this was, in fact, reality. Claude and Sheila were here... in the store... in public... laughing and smiling.
Berger let out a wild whoop and leapt over the counter to meet them at the door. When he reached them he grabbed them both up into a hug, pressed laughing kisses to both their faces, then reached behind Sheila to give Cheryl a smacking kiss of her own. She giggled with delight, thrilled as always to see her father so exuberant. Once he'd claimed another kiss from each of them, Berger finally took a step back, beaming grin still firmly in place, "So... what brings you two here on this gooooooorgeous November day? Hmm?"
Sheila laughed, shoved hard at his shoulder, "We can't just want to visit you? We have to have some ulterior motive?"
Berger looked consideringly at her for a moment, held a finger up in the air as though he were thinking, then finally shook his head and said, "Yes." Ignoring Sheila's rolling eyes, he sidled up to Claude and batted his eyelashes at him, "Claudio...? Gonna give me a straight answer?"
Claude snorted, eyebrows raised in amusement, "Why should I? You never do."
"Awwww... Claudio..." Berger assumed a pouting expression, though he was secretly thrilled beyond belief at Claude's response. Granted, he was being rather soft-handed about it, but this was the closest he'd been able to come to baiting Claude since he'd found him all those months ago. For the first time in a long time, Claude looked like he might be ready to take it... and maybe even dish a little back. He'd missed that... Raising a hand, Berger pressed a finger into the spot on Claude's left cheek where a little dimple would occasionally show itself when the other man was really happy, "You know you're gonna tell me eventually, anyway..."
It was now Claude's turn to roll his eyes as he batted irritatedly at Berger's finger, "Oh, knock it off, already." Yet, in spite of the irritation in his voice, there was no such quality in the heated look he sent Berger's way. That look... G-d, how many nights had Berger dreamed of seeing Claude look at him that way again? Whole and happy... and wanting. It made him feel a little high to see it now. It made him want to rub himself into Claude's body like he was a giant cat and Claude so much catnip. Restraining the impulse with difficulty, he instead took a step closer to Claude, took the other man's hands in his and pressed their foreheads together, placed a soft kiss on the tip of Claude's nose. When he stepped back, he merely raised his eyebrow. Claude held his gaze for a moment longer, then rolled his eyes again and sighed, "We thought it might be fun to head up to Rockefeller Center and watch them truck in the Christmas Tree this afternoon, maybe do a little ice skating after, get a cup of hot chocolate or something. What do you think?"
There was something... Berger rubbed a thumb back and cross over Claude's knuckles. There was something more to the question. Claude was asking it nonchalantly enough, as though he didn't care what the answer was, but Berger got the feeling that that wasn't exactly the case. Claude cared about the answer to this question. It was important for some reason. Was Claude unsure about the crowds of people that might be there? Did he want him to say, "No?" Did he want Berger to put his foot down so he wouldn't try to push himself too hard, too soon? They'd taken forays out into the city before, sure, but never that far from home and never to a place where there were sure to be a lot of people. Honestly, Berger had never understood the appeal of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree -- that had always been his mom and his sister's thing. It had always seemed strange to him that to celebrate a holiday which celebrated a gift of birth, you killed a tree and then hauled its carcass into your living room to decorate it and dance and sing around it. It had always seemed awfully barbaric to him. But that was his opinion, and it sure hadn't made him popular with his extended family at the holidays, that was for shit sure. Claude, at the core, was a hell of a lot more traditional than Berger could ever hope to be. He probably didn't feel that way.
Berger turned to look at Sheila, trying to get some hint as to what the right answer was. Unfortunately, she'd gotten distracted by Cheryl pulling several parts of a display down. Shit. Turning back to Claude, he could see the faintest hint of a blush starting to creep up the sides of his neck. Quietly, he amended, "I mean... if you don't want to, that's all right..." And there it was. A hint of wistfulness. Claude wanted to go. Berger would lay even odds that it had even been his idea. And that was all the answer Berger needed. It didn't matter how stupid he thought it was. If Claude was feeling well enough that he wanted to go out into a crowd of people to watch them put up the tree... well, there was no question that Berger would go with him.
Leaning forward, Berger touched their foreheads together, smiled softly, "Claude, I'd love to go. I haven't been that far uptown in ages. And you know how much I adore harassing the tourists." The relaxing of the tension in Claude's shoulders and the light smirk that touched his lips were the only clues Berger needed to know that he'd answered correctly.
Dennis chose that moment to walk in from the back. Berger eyed the clock and with another cheerful whoop, grabbed his timecard and punched out. As he reached behind the register to grab his jacket, he tossed Dennis a jaunty wave, "She's all yours, pal! I'm off. See you tomorrow!" Then before Dennis even had a chance to respond, Berger had Claude and Sheila's hands in his and was out the door.
It was nearly a block later that he registered Sheila tugging on his hand and yelling for him to stop. Worried that he'd done something to upset Claude, he immediately spun around to check on him. Claude just laughed and shook his head. Sheila scowled at him, hands on her hips, "Berger! Honestly. Could you just stop long enough to put your damned coat on? You'll get sick!"
Berger stared at her, blinked once or twice, turned to look at the coat in his hand and finally gave her a sheepish grin as he shrugged into it, "What difference would it make, anyway? If I get sick, I'm the one who'll suffer, not you."
Sheila gaped at him, finally swatted him on the shoulder, "Obviously, you've already forgotten the last time you boys got sick. And who was the one stuck playing nursemaid to you both, hmm? Me, that's who. So don't give me that, 'I won't be the one suffering' crap. Keep your coat on, button it up and shut up about it, OK?"
At the snap to her voice, Berger's eyes widened and he immediately started doing up the buttons. To his everlasting amusement, he caught Claude out of the corner of his eye doing the same. They met each other's eyes and shared a wry grin. There was just something about that damned mom voice... Sheila caught the grins going back and forth and laughed, "You know... I think I could get used to this." She then slid an arm through each of theirs and started tugging them along.
Maybe it was the idea of the Christmas tree. Maybe it was Sheila reminding them so forcefully of their first Christmas together. Maybe it was the way they'd both reacted like chastised little boys when she'd scolded. Whatever the case, Berger found himself feeling almost boyishly mischievous for the entire rest of that trip. The entire way up to Rockefeller Center, he kept reaching around Sheila to poke Claude in the side, tickle the inside of his ear... blow raspberries at him from behind Sheila's shoulder. And to his intense delight, Claude responded in kind every time. It was the most carefree he'd seen the other man since the first year he'd known him. It made him giddy with joy. For one day, one afternoon, one hour -- Berger really didn't care -- he had his Claude back and they were having fun. No consequences, no worries, no flashbacks except the good kind, no fear. Berger didn't care if he got stuck getting hauled up to see this tree every damned year -- if it prompted this sort of reaction, it would be well worth it.
When they finally reached Rockefeller Center, however, the bubble burst almost immediately. There was definitely a crowd of people there and several of them were holding picket signs. Oh shit. Berger even recognized a few of them. That was definitely Jackie... oh crap, Suzanne was there, too. And he wasn't the only one that saw them. Claude and Sheila both froze, as well. Claude hunched down in his coat, a miserable look on his face. Berger immediately stepped closer and wrapped an arm around him, "Easy there, Claudio. They haven't seen us and if we're careful they won't, OK?" Claude nodded, seemed to be willing to accept that assurance at face value... but Berger could feel the shivers running through that tall frame. Claude was spooked and that wasn't good. Berger stared around the immediate vicinity, hoping against hope that he would find something with which to distract Claude... and a tiny, grasping hand proved to be the answer. Without even asking, Berger plucked Cheryl out of her sling and plopped her into Claude's arms. Claude stared at her, unseeing. Cheryl stared right back. The tableau held for a full minute before Cheryl gave in and blew a very sloppy raspberry in Claude's face. Claude didn't stand a chance after that. He let out a soft huff of a laugh, buried his face in her neck and blew a raspberry right onto her skin. She giggled with delight and tangled her fingers in his hair, happily blowing as many raspberries as she could as quickly as she could.
Sheila reached out a hand to touch Berger's arm. Once she had his attention, she gave him a genuine, proud smile and mouthed, "Thank you." He smiled back and shrugged. When he stepped closer, she sighed, "Now what do we do? I'm afraid it would be a major setback for him to get this far and then be forced to go home, but if Jackie and Suzanne see us, they're bound to tell some of the others and word will spread like wildfire through the Tribe that Claude was spotted in Rockefeller Center. Berger... Jeanie can't find out that way, we owe her more than that. And you know she'll be among the first they tell."
Berger sighed, gently rubbed her back, "I know... I know. Shit. This sucks."
Before Sheila could come up with another response, Claude stepped closer, Cheryl held firmly against him, "Guys... it's OK. We made it here." Looking around, he let out a breath, "I'm standing at the edge of a crowd of fifty people and I don't feel an immediate need to hide behind a tree." Snorting softly, he added, "I won't speak for what would happen if you put me in the middle of the crowd, but for now... I'm provisionally OK. That's better than I dared hope for." Raising a hand to cup Sheila's cheek, he said, "And we can always make hot cocoa at home. For this year... for this year, it's enough. OK?"
Berger and Sheila both met Claude's eyes in turn, then smiled. Berger slid a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him close to touch their foreheads together, "OK, Claudio. OK. Let's go home." Arms wrapped securely around each other's waists, the three turned and went back the way they'd come, at peace and in total concert for the first time in four years.
Master Post and Chapter List
A/N:
OK, in lieu of chibi silliness (because I think Nuriko's still sulking and I really don't want to set him off again O_O), I'm going to share a little interesting factoid and explain a little something at the same time. It's about the Rockefeller Center Tree. One of the interesting little factoids in the linked article is this: "The first Rockefeller Center tree to be recycled was in 1971, driven by the growing environmental movement. The tree was turned into 30 three-bushel bags of mulch for the nature trails of upper Manhattan."
Yes, I do an insane level of research for these fics. What's your point?
*coughs* Moving on! Anyway, I thought that was very interesting, considering that this fic takes place in Manhattan in 1971. And if the city suddenly decided to recycle that tree due to the growing environmental movement... my first thought was that our Tribe would definitely have been out there with their picket signs being part of the pressure that made it happen. ^_^
Also, as a side tidbit: This year, the tree arrived on Friday, November 12th. In 1971, I don't know what day the tree arrived, but November 12th was also a Friday that year... and this chapter would have taken place mid-November. O_O
Yes. I know I do an insane level of research for these fics. Why do you keep pointing that out? *twitch*
I just thought that was neat. A little creepy, but neat. ^_^ Anyway, more tidbits to come as I come across them. Thanks for reading!
Coming Soon: Berger and Sheila finally begin to learn the full extent of Claude's problems and start to realize that they may have bitten off more than they can chew. Fortunately, Cheryl's got a handle on things, even if they don't.
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Berger/Claude/Sheila
Rating: PG-13 for some kissing, really very mild stuff, though... even for me.
Word Count: 62,317 Part 3: 7305
Warnings: Slash (as always ^_^), angst
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: Berger and Sheila are a broken triangle, desperately missing their third side. But is Claude well enough to fill his usual place? Only time will tell.
December 3, 2010: And we finally have Claude at home! But... things aren't going quite so smoothly. Sorry Claude!
Enjoy and please remember... comments and reviews are love!
River of Healing
by Renee-chan
Damn it. Damn it, Damn it, Damn it! Claude quietly thunked his head back against the wall and let out a small moan. He'd tried. G-d help him, he'd really tried... he just couldn't do it. He slowly opened his eyes and stared across the room. Berger and Sheila were fast asleep in the bed, curled into the spot of warmth he'd left behind when he finally gave up and vacated his place between them. They'd been upset, earlier in the day, when he'd noticed that Suzanne's old room was now Cheryl's and then innocently asked where he was going to sleep. He huffed out a bitter little laugh. They'd been very upset, Sheila especially. On some level, they must have both thought that now that they had him home, things could just go back to the way they'd always been. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, that it would take time, but Sheila didn't really see the full extent of it. Berger... Claude thought Berger might understand. A little. But even he had a rose-colored veil over his eyes where Claude's recovery was concerned.
Claude sighed, let his head fall back against the wall, tried to remind himself that these were just the first little baby steps. Getting him home had been ordeal enough. After that, he hadn't been ready for another major battle, so when they both insisted that he sleep in the bed with them, he'd caved to the need so plain to see in their eyes. They needed him close. They needed to know he was there. They needed to be able to touch him. And he understood that, even welcomed it. It was just... Damn it, he couldn't do it. When he'd first settled in between them, for one brief moment, he'd been at peace. He'd felt safe, loved, protected. It was why he'd always loved sleeping between them, with Berger's warmth and strength at his back, Sheila's beauty and softness right in front of him. It had made him feel loved... needed. And it still did. For that one moment, everything had been all right... until suddenly it wasn't.
As first Sheila, then Berger had dropped off to sleep beside him, everything seemed to change. There were noises in the apartment -- pipes banging, windows rattling, heaters hissing -- all noises he could readily identify, but still noises that he was unused to... noises that startled him back to full awareness every time he started to drift off. And then there was the bed, itself. It was soft, it was comfortable and warm and it should have felt so wonderful to finally have a safe haven in which to rest... but he couldn't see the door. And there were too many blankets to throw off if he had to get up quickly. And with Sheila on one side of him and Berger on the other, anyone wanting to get to him would have to go through one of them... and he couldn't keep them safe that way.
After almost an hour of laying there, fitfully starting at every random noise and movement, Claude couldn't take it anymore. He was going to wake one of them up or go mad trying not to if he continued on this way. So, he'd wiggled himself down to the foot of the bed and out from under the covers, then crouched at the foot of the bed, heart hammering as he tried to decide what to do next. He'd finally made his way over to his belongings, shame flushing his face a deep scarlet, to unbury his fatigue jacket from the bottom of his duffel bag. It was one of the only things he had left that was his, that had survived his tour in Viet Nam, and like him, it was much the worse for wear. Being reunited with it after all that time in the hospital had felt bizarrely like reunited with a long-missed friend. He ran his hands over it, feeling for the spots where his ID patches had once been, for the embroidery stitching that still proudly proclaimed what the government considered to be the only important information about him... U.S. Army. He could practically feel the words "property of" stitched on the jacket above them, even though logically, he knew they'd never been there. He moved on, gently running his fingers over each tear, each worn spot... each hole. The stains were gone, he knew that without even looking, but in the dark, his fingers tricked him into believing they were still there. Blood, dirt, sweat and tears. He'd lived in this fatigue jacket for two and a half years -- it had worn its fair share of each.
Once he'd finished surveying it, he'd crept back into Sheila and Berger's bedroom and found a corner from which he could watch both the bed and the door and curled up in it, jacket wrapped tightly around him. And that was where he'd sat, unmoving, for the last three hours.
A small movement from Berger's side of the bed drew Claude's hyperaware senses that way. There it was again. It wasn't much, but Berger had definitely moved. A moment later, Berger's hand quested into the space he'd left behind, felt around, then paused. Even knowing it was probably coming, Claude nearly jumped out of his skin when Berger shot bolt upright, eyes wild and chest heaving in panicked breaths. Shit. Quietly he called out to the other man, "Berger. Berger... I'm over here, man. Don't wake up Sheila."
Berger's wild eyes slowly shifted from their panicked flickering to focus on the source of the voice. It was strange, that moment. For just a minute, as he tried to catch Berger's unseeing eyes, Claude almost felt like the sane one. The thought made him snort out half a laugh, twitched the corner of his lips upwards. What was it that Berger had said that first day? It was like the blind leading the fucking blind. Wasn't that the truth?
Eventually, Berger relaxed, eased himself out from under the covers and crept over to where Claude was sitting. He was calmer now, Claude could tell, but he'd been badly shaken when he woke to find Claude missing. His next actions confirmed it. When he reached the corner, he pressed himself as close to Claude as he could get, tucked his head into the crook of Claude's neck and let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. Claude shifted his jacket to cover both of them, slid an arm around the younger man and pulled him in close. Berger took in a deep breath, let it out in another sobbing laugh. He murmured into the warmth of Claude's neck, so quietly that Claude almost didn't catch the words, wasn't sure he was even meant to, "Thought I'd lost you, again..." Claude just continued to hold him. They sat there like that, sharing the rhythm of their breathing until both began to calm. It was an old trick... a soldier's trick. Don't make noise. Don't make a sound. They'd find you if you did, even buried deep in your foxhole. If a fellow soldier needed comfort, they needed you to give it silently... if they'd let you give it at all. And sometimes this was enough, simple human contact and the rhythm of shared breathing. Apparently, it was this time, too.
Berger lifted his head from Claude's shoulder, gently bumped their noses together, "What are you doing out here, Claudio? Aren't... aren't you uncomfortable?"
Claude shrugged, still embarrassed that he'd had to flee the bed in the first place, "Not really. I've... I've slept in worse places."
Berger's body went still against him, then he winced, "Jesus, Claude... I'm sorry. I didn't think."
Claude shrugged again, sank down into the folds of his jacket, "It's OK, Berger. Don't worry about it." Risking a glance upwards, he caught Berger's eyes again, bright green and full of worry and remorse. Sighing softly, he tightened his grip, pulled Berger's head back down to his shoulder, "I just... I couldn't sleep."
Berger frowned, eyebrows drawing together, "But... you were sleeping just fine in the hospital. This shouldn't be that much... Oh." Something about the way that Claude suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes, about the way his body went utterly still in the effort not to betray himself, clued Berger in to the real problem. Quietly, he amended, "You... You still weren't sleeping in the bed... were you?"
Pulling his arm back under the jacket, Claude edged away an inch or two. It was ridiculous, but he somehow felt like he'd let Berger down... like he'd lied to him. And that wasn't fair. He'd never told Berger he'd gotten over that issue, Berger had assumed that all on his own. Unable to take the mild accusation in those greengreen eyes any longer, Claude jerked himself to his feet and bolted from the bedroom. Of course, Berger followed him, no doubt worried that Claude would make a break for the door.
Claude didn't run far, though. In a twisted mirror of the night they'd met, this time, he was the one who ended the chase early. He only fled as far as the living room and this time it was Berger's turn to pause several feet away, confused and afraid. Claude just stood there, facing away from Berger and staring out the window. Almost unconsciously, he lifted his fatigue jacket, slid his arms into it and hugged it tight around himself. It was flimsy protection... but at least it was something that was his.
Berger stepped closer, one arm outstretched, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, it's just... Jesus, Claude, I wish you'd told me. I never would have... I wouldn't have let Sheila..." He dropped his arm, defeat written in every line of his posture, "I guess it doesn't really matter what I would've done, huh?"
Slowly turning back to face him, Claude reached out to take hold of that dropped hand, pulled it close and planted a gentle kiss on the knuckles. It was reminiscent, that gesture, reminiscent of younger, more innocent days. Berger's lips twitched into half a grin at the shared memory. Once he'd relaxed, Claude explained, "It isn't that I don't want to. I do want to... to be able to be with you both -- really with you both -- warm and safe and... G-d... Berger I want it more than anything." Looking up to meet Berger's eyes, he said firmly, "But I can't. Not yet. It's too soon."
Berger nodded, eyes understanding, "I get it." At Claude's quirked eyebrow, he snorted out a laugh, "I really do get it, Claudio. I... I didn't think it was a great idea to force the issue tonight, but Sheila thought... Fuck, it doesn't matter what Sheila thought. I knew it was a bad idea and I should have stood my ground. I'll do better by you next time."
When Claude continued to look confused, Berger sighed, "I didn't really tell you much about the two and a half years you were gone. I... I guess I figured you didn't need any added issues on top of your own. But, you're better now and I think it might help you to hear this." Tugging gently on Claude's hand, he pulled him over to the couch, sat down next to him.
He kept Claude's hand in his, gently stroked it as he started to talk, "Claude... when you left... Jesus, I was a wreck. I know I've told you that before, but I'm not sure you really understood what I meant. I fell into some pretty hardcore drugs, yeah, but it was more than that. I was living on the streets... fuck, there were days I was barely sane. In a lot of ways, I was as bad off here as you were when you first came back." At Claude's indrawn breath, Berger looked up, gave him a wry grin, "Told you it was like the blind leading the blind, didn't I? Anyway, the others, they tried to help, they really did, but I was bound and determined to lose myself. It wasn't until Sheila told me she was pregnant with my kid that I managed to wake up a little. Still wasn't easy and withdrawal was absolute hell, but I got myself clean, got back in touch with my parents... got a job. But you know something, Claudio? After all those nights sleeping out in Central Park or sleeping in some dirty alley, there are nights when I get so claustrophobic that I can't sleep in that bed, either. I end up on the couch, or in the armchair, or on the floor... on really bad nights, I'm out on the fire escape. So, when I tell you I get it... I really do get it, OK?"
Claude sighed, slowly nodded, "OK, Banana-Berger. This time, I hear you." Letting his head drop onto Berger's shoulder, Claude wearily rubbed at his temples, "So... what now?"
Berger turned, pressed a soft kiss to the top of Claude's head, "That's up to you, Claudio. Couch, armchair, floor or fire escape?"
Claude winced, answered softly, "I... I think I'll try the floor. That... that might be best."
Huffing out a laugh, Berger eased Claude off his shoulder and stood up, "You mean we'll try the floor, Claudio." When Claude opened his mouth to raise an objection, Berger dropped down onto his knees in front of him, placed one gentle finger to his lips and shook his head. He then said, simply, "Please, Claude... Please."
And Claude understood. In light of that little piece of story Berger had told earlier, it made perfect sense. And now that he took a closer look into those deep, green eyes, he could see it, plain as day... fear. Berger was terrified to let him out of his sight now that he had him home, was terrified that Claude would disappear like so much smoke... or like some drug-induced hallucination. Claude raised his hands to cup Berger's face, leaned forward and pressed a soft, almost hesitant kiss to those fear-dried lips. Berger let out another one of those little sob-laughs before leaning up and forward to carry the kiss back to him. It was their first one since the day Berger had first brought Sheila to see him and it was soft, chaste, and far less passionate than most kisses they'd shared in the past, but it was no less intense for all of that. This was about comfort, pure and simple. When they finally released the kiss, neither moved, both still hovering with their eyes closed, lips barely centimeters apart. When Claude spoke his response, his lips pressed back against Berger's with every other syllable and Berger drank in that contact like a man drowning... "So, you want to get a blanket from the closet while I sneak into the bedroom and steal your pillow off the bed?"
Berger opened his eyes and just smirked before pressing another soft kiss to Claude's lips and getting up to go to the hall linen closet. Claude also rose and turned back to the bedroom. When he reached the side of the bed, however, he felt a brief pang of remorse. Sheila looked so peaceful, so beautiful, lying in the bed like that. Her golden hair was spread out over the pillow like a halo around her head and a soft, relaxed smile rested on her face. He swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain that he was making the right choice. It seemed... it seemed wrong somehow, to leave Sheila alone in here.
Footsteps behind him alerted him to Berger's presence before the other man got anywhere near him. He stepped up behind Claude and wrapped his arms around him, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, "It's OK, man. She'll understand."
Claude husked out a quiet, "You promise?"
He could feel Berger's smirk against the back of his neck as the younger man pressed another kiss to that spot, "I promise, Claudio. She'll understand. Come on, man. I'm tired."
Claude didn't need any further encouragement. He followed Berger out into the living room, then smiled softly at what he saw. Berger had made a pallet of blankets, maybe five or six deep, on the floor between the bedroom, Cheryl's room and the front door. Eyeing the placement of that pallet of blankets, Claude's breath caught in his throat. From this vantage point, he could easily see every entrance into and out of the main room of the apartment, and more importantly, it put him between the front door and Cheryl and Sheila. Anyone coming into this apartment would have to go through him to get to the girls... or Berger, if Claude placed himself correctly. Berger stepped up behind him again, placed a kiss on his shoulder, this time. He spoke quietly, almost whispering, into Claude's ear, "I told you I get it, Claude. Now... can we go to bed?"
Nodding vehemently, and not quite trusting his voice, Claude knelt down by the blankets. He eyed the door for a moment, eyed the blankets again, then finally laid himself down facing the front door, his back to the girls' rooms. Wordlessly, Berger laid himself down behind him, facing the other way, back pressed against his. Somehow... he hadn't expected that. He'd expected Berger to want to hold him and was almost disappointed that that clearly wasn't the case. Turning to look behind him, Claude frowned, "Banana-Berger?"
Berger's smile flashed white in the darkness as he rolled over to face him, "You'll sleep easier this way, Claudio. Trust me. You watch the door, I'll watch your back, OK?"
Claude's heart gave one more hard thump in his ribcage at those words and the gentle understanding behind them. Rolling fully over to face the other man, he took one precious moment to curl into Berger's arms, one precious moment to feel safe and protected, one precious moment to feel like nothing had changed and they were innocent kids again, camping on the floor of Sheila's apartment because they'd been kicked out of the bed for roughhousing. It was a glorious moment... and over too soon. Claude pulled away, briefly touched his forehead to Berger's, then rolled back over to face the door. Berger pressed one last kiss to the back of Claude's neck then rolled back over, too. And with the firm strength of the hardwood floor underneath him and the even firmer strength of Berger at his back, this time Claude found it far, far easier to fall asleep.
Sheila had startled them both awake the next morning by racing out of her bedroom, hair and eyes a little wild, yelling for them both. That little fiasco had ended with Claude hiding under the dining room table, Cheryl crying and Berger trying desperately to soothe all three of them before the neighbors called the cops. Of course, once Sheila saw that they were both all right and figured out what must have happened, she immediately calmed and couldn't get the apologies out fast enough. Claude took a little longer, but once he understood that she hadn't been angry, had only been worried, he calmed, as well. And once the three adults were calm, Cheryl immediately went back to being all smiles and demanded hugs from them all.
The next couple of weeks were... well, they were strange, for lack of a better description. Even getting off to that rocky start, they fell into a routine faster than Claude would have imagined they could. Sheila and Berger already had their schedules worked out so that one of them could be home with Cheryl at all times, so it was no real hardship that one of them needed to be home for Claude, too. As far as Claude was concerned, that was already one tremendous worry off his back. He knew he was still unstable, wasn't ready to be on his own yet. It was getting better already, but he knew he wasn't anywhere close to being ready to take care of himself.
And those weeks... well, again, they were strange. Neither Sheila or Berger was condescending about it, but in a way, they were both treating him a bit like a second child. If he were a little less unsure of himself, the coddling probably would have chafed. As it was, however, he was mostly just grateful to have a chance to settle into life and know that someone else was taking care of all the more difficult details. Then again, there were times...
"So, what do you think, honey? Do we want to go to the park or somewhere quieter like the library? I heard they're having a story hour! Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Claude twitched from his spot on the couch. Really... When no further commentary was forthcoming, he slowly rose and paced over to stand in Cheryl's bedroom doorway, leaning as casually as he could against the doorframe. When Sheila turned away from getting Cheryl changed to give him a beaming smile, he raised an eyebrow, answered dryly, "Were you talking to me or to Cheryl, just now? Because, honestly, Sheila... with the tone you were using, I couldn't quite tell."
Sheila at least had the grace to blush and duck her head. Cheryl giggled and blew a raspberry at her mother. Sheila cleared her throat, reached for a clean diaper, "I... I'm sorry, Claude. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
Claude ruefully shook his head, walked over to wrap an arm around Sheila's shoulders, "I know you didn't. But you've been doing it to me an awful lot the last few days." Sheila opened her mouth to retort, but Claude held up a finger for silence and she subsided. He continued, "You do it to a lot of people, Sheila. Honestly, I've always considered it part of your charm. And I know that Berger lets you get away with it, though G-d only knows why, but you know I never did. I don't plan to start, now. I may not be having the easiest go of it at the moment, but I'm still an adult, still your equal. This won't work if you start treating me otherwise." With a soft smile, he then tucked that finger under her chin and tipped her face up to press a soft kiss to her cheek, "This family needs two adults or it won't function... and you know Berger doesn't want that particular job no matter how admirably he's been doing with it for the last year. So why don't we start setting the right precedents now, hmm?"
Sheila stared up at him for a minute, then ducked her head. Muttering under her breath about the fumes in here, she started wiping furiously at her eyes. Claude didn't believe it for a minute. Eventually, she took a deep breath, finished with Cheryl's diaper, reordered her clothes, and put her down on the ground. That accomplished, she turned back to Claude and tucked herself up against his chest. Eagerly obliging, Claude wrapped his arms around her. She let out a relieved sigh, "You're right. Claude, you're absolutely right. It's just... it's hard. I've been taking care of everyone for so long... it's a little hard to let go, you know?"
Claude smiled, placed a gentle kiss on top of her head, "I know. But you don't have to do it all alone anymore, Sheila. Surely living with Berger, especially since Cheryl was born, has taught you that. And I will get better. I will. It's going to take time, but I'm going to get there. And when I do, things will get even easier. I guarantee you that. I want that... to be Cheryl's father in more than just name. I want to be an equal partner with the two of you and I'm going to work hard to get there as fast as I can. I promise." He leaned back to look her in the eyes, "Just... please stop trying to insist that I should want to subsist on grilled cheese and pancakes and that my favorite activities are story time at the library and playing in the sandbox at the park." He winced, "Neither one of us will survive my recovery if you keep that up, OK?"
Sheila stared up at him for a moment, then her lips twitched and she started to laugh. When she eventually sobered, she let out a small groan, "Oh, no... Claude... I didn't really do that to you, did I?" He merely arched an eyebrow. Letting out another laughing groan, Sheila just shook her head, "OK, then I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that and I don't know why I did it. I'll do better from now on." Taking a deep breath, she stepped back away from Claude and shook back her hair, "All right, then, Claude... what would you like to do today?"
Claude looked back and forth between Sheila and Cheryl for a moment, then a slow smile started to stretch across his features. Pulling Sheila back into his arms, he said, "Well... it's a little corny, actually... and it's not exactly close... but I happened to see on the news last night that the Rockefeller Center tree is arriving today..."
Sheila met his twinkling brown eyes then a matching smile spread across her own features. Having just declared himself an adult, Claude must have no idea how much like an eager child he looked in that moment. She decided not to point it out to him, discretion being the better part of valor and all that. Instead, she laughed, "You want to go watch them truck it in?"
Claude ducked his gaze, looked away for a moment. Finally, he quietly answered, "I... My mom and I used to go watch them bring the tree in. We went every year until I was about thirteen. My..." He frowned, forced the word out, "My father used to join us for the lighting ceremony, but the day they brought the tree to the city, that day was just for my mother and I. It was... I suppose it was our special day. We would go watch them put the tree up, then go ice skating... and drink hot cocoa. It... I guess it's kind of stupid, actually."
Raising a hand to his face, Sheila turned him back to her. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up to kiss his cheek, "No, sweetheart. It isn't stupid. It's a fantastic idea. However... I think maybe we should wait until this afternoon to go." At Claude's frown, she explained, "Just because your father wasn't involved, doesn't mean Berger shouldn't be." Claude's eyes widened and that smile stretched wide again. Sheila planted a kiss on the tip of his nose, "Actually, I think it sounds like the start of a beautiful family tradition, don't you?"
Claude pulled Sheila tight against him, buried his face in her hair. It was so different... G-d, it was so different. He almost couldn't reconcile it. In his experience, this wasn't what a family was, this easy acceptance, this wide open love and affection. He'd had moments, flashes of this in his childhood, but only with his mother. He'd never known that it could be like this with a whole family. To his everlasting horror, his breath caught in his throat, presage to a set of tears, he was sure. Biting down hard on his lip, he fought them back. He would not cry, not over this, not over something that made him happy, damn it. Sheila just held him through it, stroked gentle hands through his hair and down his back.
When she felt him calm, she let him go and smiled up at him. Sighing heavily, Claude managed to smile back. Sheila bent down to pick up a clamoring Cheryl and then said brightly, "Well, Berger's done with work at two, today, right? So, if we plan to meet him there before he gets out and then make our way up to Rockefeller Center, we should leave here around one. That gives us about three hours to kill until then... and enough time for someone to take a nap." Smiling wryly, she added, "And for the record, that time I was talking to Cheryl, OK, Claudio? I don't want any confusion."
Claude laughed, pulled them both in for another hug, "Don't worry, Sheila. That time, I understood." Placing a smacking kiss on the top of both of their heads, he then let them go, "Well, I actually have a suggestion for that, too. In the middle of that news broadcast, there was a commercial. Apparently, they're starting the Christmas movies early this year... and the first one they're playing is 'It's a Wonderful Life.' For some reason... that movie seems disturbingly appropriate right about now." Glancing over at the clock, he said, "And I believe it's starting in about a half hour."
Throwing her free arm around him, Sheila squeezed Claude tightly to her, "Claude... I have missed you!"
Cradling them both close, Claude just closed his eyes and drank it in, "I've missed you, too, sweetheart... I've missed you, too."
Berger stared at the clock and drummed his fingers on the counter. Friday mornings were usually pretty slow at the store, but today just seemed to be dragging like nobody's business. He'd only had two customers all morning. It was times like these that made it the most difficult for him to keep in control and not end up doing something crazy that would get him fired. And it was especially hard when he knew he had Claude -- Claude! G-d that felt good to think -- sitting at home and waiting for him. Fortunately, Dennis was due in in another twenty minutes and then he was free and clear for the rest of the day. He could go home, wrap himself around Claude and not let go for the next hour... or six.
He was just starting to get real good and glaze-eyed at the warm fantasy he was building in his head when he was rudely and abruptly jerked out of it by the tinkling of the front door chime. Jerking upright, he whipped around to face the door, smile already firmly planted even as he was still fumbling in his own mind to get his thoughts back into the present. And what he saw framed by the door certainly didn't help. For just a moment he thought he was having a flashback. Claude and Sheila were standing in the door to the shop, bundled up against the cold, roses in their cheeks, hair tousled from the wind and love and laughter in their eyes as they looked his way. It was like a snapshot of the past come to life with all of them carefree and happy. He rubbed his eyes, tried to clear them of whatever daydream haze was left. The vision remained. He stared dumbly at the pair in the doorway for another minute, trying to reconcile what his eyes were seeing with what his brain was telling him should be there. Fortunately, Cheryl chose that moment to let out a shrill complaint at being ignored from over Sheila's shoulder where she was strapped into her sling on her mother's back. That finally did what Berger had failed to do -- allowed him to register that this was, in fact, reality. Claude and Sheila were here... in the store... in public... laughing and smiling.
Berger let out a wild whoop and leapt over the counter to meet them at the door. When he reached them he grabbed them both up into a hug, pressed laughing kisses to both their faces, then reached behind Sheila to give Cheryl a smacking kiss of her own. She giggled with delight, thrilled as always to see her father so exuberant. Once he'd claimed another kiss from each of them, Berger finally took a step back, beaming grin still firmly in place, "So... what brings you two here on this gooooooorgeous November day? Hmm?"
Sheila laughed, shoved hard at his shoulder, "We can't just want to visit you? We have to have some ulterior motive?"
Berger looked consideringly at her for a moment, held a finger up in the air as though he were thinking, then finally shook his head and said, "Yes." Ignoring Sheila's rolling eyes, he sidled up to Claude and batted his eyelashes at him, "Claudio...? Gonna give me a straight answer?"
Claude snorted, eyebrows raised in amusement, "Why should I? You never do."
"Awwww... Claudio..." Berger assumed a pouting expression, though he was secretly thrilled beyond belief at Claude's response. Granted, he was being rather soft-handed about it, but this was the closest he'd been able to come to baiting Claude since he'd found him all those months ago. For the first time in a long time, Claude looked like he might be ready to take it... and maybe even dish a little back. He'd missed that... Raising a hand, Berger pressed a finger into the spot on Claude's left cheek where a little dimple would occasionally show itself when the other man was really happy, "You know you're gonna tell me eventually, anyway..."
It was now Claude's turn to roll his eyes as he batted irritatedly at Berger's finger, "Oh, knock it off, already." Yet, in spite of the irritation in his voice, there was no such quality in the heated look he sent Berger's way. That look... G-d, how many nights had Berger dreamed of seeing Claude look at him that way again? Whole and happy... and wanting. It made him feel a little high to see it now. It made him want to rub himself into Claude's body like he was a giant cat and Claude so much catnip. Restraining the impulse with difficulty, he instead took a step closer to Claude, took the other man's hands in his and pressed their foreheads together, placed a soft kiss on the tip of Claude's nose. When he stepped back, he merely raised his eyebrow. Claude held his gaze for a moment longer, then rolled his eyes again and sighed, "We thought it might be fun to head up to Rockefeller Center and watch them truck in the Christmas Tree this afternoon, maybe do a little ice skating after, get a cup of hot chocolate or something. What do you think?"
There was something... Berger rubbed a thumb back and cross over Claude's knuckles. There was something more to the question. Claude was asking it nonchalantly enough, as though he didn't care what the answer was, but Berger got the feeling that that wasn't exactly the case. Claude cared about the answer to this question. It was important for some reason. Was Claude unsure about the crowds of people that might be there? Did he want him to say, "No?" Did he want Berger to put his foot down so he wouldn't try to push himself too hard, too soon? They'd taken forays out into the city before, sure, but never that far from home and never to a place where there were sure to be a lot of people. Honestly, Berger had never understood the appeal of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree -- that had always been his mom and his sister's thing. It had always seemed strange to him that to celebrate a holiday which celebrated a gift of birth, you killed a tree and then hauled its carcass into your living room to decorate it and dance and sing around it. It had always seemed awfully barbaric to him. But that was his opinion, and it sure hadn't made him popular with his extended family at the holidays, that was for shit sure. Claude, at the core, was a hell of a lot more traditional than Berger could ever hope to be. He probably didn't feel that way.
Berger turned to look at Sheila, trying to get some hint as to what the right answer was. Unfortunately, she'd gotten distracted by Cheryl pulling several parts of a display down. Shit. Turning back to Claude, he could see the faintest hint of a blush starting to creep up the sides of his neck. Quietly, he amended, "I mean... if you don't want to, that's all right..." And there it was. A hint of wistfulness. Claude wanted to go. Berger would lay even odds that it had even been his idea. And that was all the answer Berger needed. It didn't matter how stupid he thought it was. If Claude was feeling well enough that he wanted to go out into a crowd of people to watch them put up the tree... well, there was no question that Berger would go with him.
Leaning forward, Berger touched their foreheads together, smiled softly, "Claude, I'd love to go. I haven't been that far uptown in ages. And you know how much I adore harassing the tourists." The relaxing of the tension in Claude's shoulders and the light smirk that touched his lips were the only clues Berger needed to know that he'd answered correctly.
Dennis chose that moment to walk in from the back. Berger eyed the clock and with another cheerful whoop, grabbed his timecard and punched out. As he reached behind the register to grab his jacket, he tossed Dennis a jaunty wave, "She's all yours, pal! I'm off. See you tomorrow!" Then before Dennis even had a chance to respond, Berger had Claude and Sheila's hands in his and was out the door.
It was nearly a block later that he registered Sheila tugging on his hand and yelling for him to stop. Worried that he'd done something to upset Claude, he immediately spun around to check on him. Claude just laughed and shook his head. Sheila scowled at him, hands on her hips, "Berger! Honestly. Could you just stop long enough to put your damned coat on? You'll get sick!"
Berger stared at her, blinked once or twice, turned to look at the coat in his hand and finally gave her a sheepish grin as he shrugged into it, "What difference would it make, anyway? If I get sick, I'm the one who'll suffer, not you."
Sheila gaped at him, finally swatted him on the shoulder, "Obviously, you've already forgotten the last time you boys got sick. And who was the one stuck playing nursemaid to you both, hmm? Me, that's who. So don't give me that, 'I won't be the one suffering' crap. Keep your coat on, button it up and shut up about it, OK?"
At the snap to her voice, Berger's eyes widened and he immediately started doing up the buttons. To his everlasting amusement, he caught Claude out of the corner of his eye doing the same. They met each other's eyes and shared a wry grin. There was just something about that damned mom voice... Sheila caught the grins going back and forth and laughed, "You know... I think I could get used to this." She then slid an arm through each of theirs and started tugging them along.
Maybe it was the idea of the Christmas tree. Maybe it was Sheila reminding them so forcefully of their first Christmas together. Maybe it was the way they'd both reacted like chastised little boys when she'd scolded. Whatever the case, Berger found himself feeling almost boyishly mischievous for the entire rest of that trip. The entire way up to Rockefeller Center, he kept reaching around Sheila to poke Claude in the side, tickle the inside of his ear... blow raspberries at him from behind Sheila's shoulder. And to his intense delight, Claude responded in kind every time. It was the most carefree he'd seen the other man since the first year he'd known him. It made him giddy with joy. For one day, one afternoon, one hour -- Berger really didn't care -- he had his Claude back and they were having fun. No consequences, no worries, no flashbacks except the good kind, no fear. Berger didn't care if he got stuck getting hauled up to see this tree every damned year -- if it prompted this sort of reaction, it would be well worth it.
When they finally reached Rockefeller Center, however, the bubble burst almost immediately. There was definitely a crowd of people there and several of them were holding picket signs. Oh shit. Berger even recognized a few of them. That was definitely Jackie... oh crap, Suzanne was there, too. And he wasn't the only one that saw them. Claude and Sheila both froze, as well. Claude hunched down in his coat, a miserable look on his face. Berger immediately stepped closer and wrapped an arm around him, "Easy there, Claudio. They haven't seen us and if we're careful they won't, OK?" Claude nodded, seemed to be willing to accept that assurance at face value... but Berger could feel the shivers running through that tall frame. Claude was spooked and that wasn't good. Berger stared around the immediate vicinity, hoping against hope that he would find something with which to distract Claude... and a tiny, grasping hand proved to be the answer. Without even asking, Berger plucked Cheryl out of her sling and plopped her into Claude's arms. Claude stared at her, unseeing. Cheryl stared right back. The tableau held for a full minute before Cheryl gave in and blew a very sloppy raspberry in Claude's face. Claude didn't stand a chance after that. He let out a soft huff of a laugh, buried his face in her neck and blew a raspberry right onto her skin. She giggled with delight and tangled her fingers in his hair, happily blowing as many raspberries as she could as quickly as she could.
Sheila reached out a hand to touch Berger's arm. Once she had his attention, she gave him a genuine, proud smile and mouthed, "Thank you." He smiled back and shrugged. When he stepped closer, she sighed, "Now what do we do? I'm afraid it would be a major setback for him to get this far and then be forced to go home, but if Jackie and Suzanne see us, they're bound to tell some of the others and word will spread like wildfire through the Tribe that Claude was spotted in Rockefeller Center. Berger... Jeanie can't find out that way, we owe her more than that. And you know she'll be among the first they tell."
Berger sighed, gently rubbed her back, "I know... I know. Shit. This sucks."
Before Sheila could come up with another response, Claude stepped closer, Cheryl held firmly against him, "Guys... it's OK. We made it here." Looking around, he let out a breath, "I'm standing at the edge of a crowd of fifty people and I don't feel an immediate need to hide behind a tree." Snorting softly, he added, "I won't speak for what would happen if you put me in the middle of the crowd, but for now... I'm provisionally OK. That's better than I dared hope for." Raising a hand to cup Sheila's cheek, he said, "And we can always make hot cocoa at home. For this year... for this year, it's enough. OK?"
Berger and Sheila both met Claude's eyes in turn, then smiled. Berger slid a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him close to touch their foreheads together, "OK, Claudio. OK. Let's go home." Arms wrapped securely around each other's waists, the three turned and went back the way they'd come, at peace and in total concert for the first time in four years.
Master Post and Chapter List
A/N:
OK, in lieu of chibi silliness (because I think Nuriko's still sulking and I really don't want to set him off again O_O), I'm going to share a little interesting factoid and explain a little something at the same time. It's about the Rockefeller Center Tree. One of the interesting little factoids in the linked article is this: "The first Rockefeller Center tree to be recycled was in 1971, driven by the growing environmental movement. The tree was turned into 30 three-bushel bags of mulch for the nature trails of upper Manhattan."
Yes, I do an insane level of research for these fics. What's your point?
*coughs* Moving on! Anyway, I thought that was very interesting, considering that this fic takes place in Manhattan in 1971. And if the city suddenly decided to recycle that tree due to the growing environmental movement... my first thought was that our Tribe would definitely have been out there with their picket signs being part of the pressure that made it happen. ^_^
Also, as a side tidbit: This year, the tree arrived on Friday, November 12th. In 1971, I don't know what day the tree arrived, but November 12th was also a Friday that year... and this chapter would have taken place mid-November. O_O
Yes. I know I do an insane level of research for these fics. Why do you keep pointing that out? *twitch*
I just thought that was neat. A little creepy, but neat. ^_^ Anyway, more tidbits to come as I come across them. Thanks for reading!
Coming Soon: Berger and Sheila finally begin to learn the full extent of Claude's problems and start to realize that they may have bitten off more than they can chew. Fortunately, Cheryl's got a handle on things, even if they don't.
