[Hair] The Zorya (5/9)
Dec. 5th, 2010 10:34 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: ~7200
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 5, 2010: Why the hell am I doing this instead of my paper? O_O Sometimes I want to kick myself in the ass. *sigh*
Oh, FYI... this is the part with the dangling plotline. I promise it will be resolved, though... in the next fic. That should make sense after you read it. ^_^
Enjoy and please remember... comments and reviews are love!
The Evening Star
by Renee-chan
What do I do? What do I do? Oh... Someone, please tell me what to do! Crissy paced furiously outside the building that housed Jeanie's apartment. Jeanie hadn't been at the protest the other day. Poor Claude had a bit of a cold and she hadn't wanted him outside that long. Crissy had gone anyway, wanted to support Suzanne and Jackie. And it had felt good, really good, to be protesting for something that might actually make a difference for a change. It had seemed silly when they first brought it up, to protest the Rockefeller Center tree, but the more she listened to them, the more it made sense. Sure New Yorkers loved their tree, sure it was tradition... but what about the tree? To chop down such a gorgeous natural beauty and then throw it away like so much garbage when they were done with it... It wasn't right. It wasn't humane. In this modern world, there had to be alternatives.
They'd gone to Sheila for advice, of course, but for the first time in Crissy's memory, the older girl had been almost no help. Maybe it was taking care of Cheryl and Berger, maybe it was the stress of the upcoming holidays, maybe she was just too busy with law school, but whatever the case, she'd been distracted, had barely listened when they talked. She'd been like that a lot the last few months, the last few weeks, especially.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Crissy kicked at the side of the building. Normally, with a problem like this, she'd go straight to Jeanie. Jeanie was her rock, her support. Jeanie was the one she could always count on. Jeanie was the one who'd talked her into taking some college classes, into trying to do something with her life. She was proud of Jeanie, beyond proud of Jeanie, for the woman she'd turned into. No one had really expected that motherhood would change her so much, though it had. She was still the quintessential Jeanie -- flighty, mystical, don't tie me down Jeanie... but there was more, now. Being Claude's mother came first and it showed.
Which brought her back around to needing to talk to Jeanie! The longer she dwelled on this, the more she realized that she couldn't handle it alone, that she needed her friend's advice. But... but she couldn't do that. She couldn't do that to her friend. She couldn't raise a hope like this, just in case she was wrong. If she was wrong... G-d, it would kill Jeanie. She'd only barely gotten over the worst of her grief and it had been almost two years already. She couldn't force that all back to the surface. It just wouldn't be fair. But she didn't know what to do!
Finally Crissy plunked herself down on the sidewalk, face buried in her knees. She was no good at this. She was no good at figuring out what to do. She was no good at being the strong one. She needed to change, needed to learn how to solve problems for herself, she knew that. It was just so hard... Her mother had held her, told her that she would find her strength in time, told her that she knew that Crissy had a powerful woman living inside her and that these things didn't develop over night. That had been reassuring, but ultimately hadn't helped. She needed to be that powerful woman now.
A set of quiet, shuffling footsteps on the pavement caused her to look up. When she saw who it was, she immediately launched herself off the ground and latched her arms around his waist. He smiled softly down at her, as always with that touch of melancholy hovering around the smile, and gently hugged her back. She buried her face in the fur lining of his vest and wailed out, "Woof... I don't know what to do!"
He tightened his grip around her, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then asked quietly, "What to do about what, Crissy?"
She let out a small growl of frustration and stepped away, started pacing again. Finally, she turned back to the older man, pointed a finger at him, "You weren't at the protest, were you?" When he shook his head, she sighed, lowered her hand, then said with intense feeling, "Damn it."
Woof's eyes widened at the language. Sure it was mild, but even that mild cursing was generally more than Crissy engaged in. He opened his mouth, closed it again, frowned. Finally he said, "What happened at the protest?"
Crissy met his worried hazel eyes, wondering, like always, if he was refraining from saying anything in an effort to let her get out the frustration. He so often seemed to know things, things he couldn't possibly know, that it always seemed strange to her on those occasions when he was almost willfully ignorant. She stepped in closer, wrapped her arms around him again, needing the comfort. In a quiet, hesitant voice, she said, "I... I saw Claude. At the protest."
Crissy felt his indrawn breath before she heard it. His arms tightened almost convulsively around her before they relaxed. He swallowed, shook his head, "Crissy... I... I see him, too. In crowds, in the park, at the library, on the subway... I see him everywhere, all the time. That doesn't mean it's him... right?"
The sheer hesitancy in his gentle voice was painful to hear. Woof was never sure of himself, never confident. It just wasn't his way. He often felt like a kindred spirit to her because of that. Lately, though, it had been worse -- she'd noticed. The news of Claude's death had rocked him severely. He'd been so sure that Claude was coming home. He'd been so sure of it that he'd even told Berger, promised Berger that he was coming home... and look at what that had done. So he didn't say things like that anymore, ignored his feelings and hunches when they came along. He'd withdrawn into himself, started taking stupid risks, gotten involved with a woman that was outside of the Tribe -- some little upper East-sider who was only looking to shock her parents by sleeping with a deadbeat -- things he never would have done before. But the Tribe had been so wrapped up in its own grief, in its leader's grief, that the smaller griefs -- Woof's, Crissy's, Jeanie's, so many others -- had gotten ignored. She looked up, caught his almost frantic gaze and shook her head, "I... if you'd asked me that a year ago, six months ago... two months ago, I'd have said you were right. Now... Woof, I'm just not so sure."
He held her gaze, searching for G-d only knew what, finally nodded. He took a step back, reached down to take her hands in his and said, "Tell me."
So she did. She told him about all the little observations she'd made, spewed out the whole list that she'd been unaware she'd been collecting until that very moment. She told him about Berger's now almost ridiculous sense of punctuality, how he needed to be home at a certain time, every day, how he often refused to hang out with the rest of the Tribe, vaguely claiming responsibilities elsewhere. She told him about Sheila's distraction, about how the few times that she came over for girls' night that she couldn't focus, kept watching the clock... and more recently about how she couldn't seem to meet her or Jeanie's eyes when she was even there. And finally, she told him about that day at the protest. She'd been late, had been finishing up some work at school, and had arrived after a crowd had already formed. She'd spotted Sheila and Berger amongst the onlookers, had been about to go over to tell them that the protest was happening on the other side... when the crowd had shifted. And for just a brief moment, she'd seen another man standing with them. He was tall, topped Berger by maybe an inch or two. He had brown eyes, shoulder-length, gleaming blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail... and there was no mistaking him. It was Claude. She'd frozen, mouth agape, unable to even call out... and she'd missed her chance. They'd turned away, arms around each other, and left before she could get a single word out.
Woof stared at her, shook his head, "They'd have told us. If it was really Claude, if he was alive... they'd have told us. Berger... he would have told me. Wouldn't he?"
And, oh... his eyes looked so lost in that moment. Crissy freed her hands from his, raised them up to cup his face and stood up on her toes to plant a butterfly kiss on his lips, "Oh, Woof... I don't know. Claude was more important to him than anything. If Claude is really back... maybe he wants some time alone with him?"
Woof frowned, obviously not satisfied with that answer. He turned, looked up in the direction of Jeanie's windows, frowned harder, "You were going to tell Jeanie, weren't you?" At Crissy's nod, he sighed, "Don't. Not... not yet. I'll get to the bottom of this, find out if there's anything to tell. If there is... if there is, we'll tell her together, OK?"
Crissy threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly to her in her relief. She wasn't alone with this anymore and that was what mattered. And if Claude was alive... Oh, G-d, if Claude was alive... With that hope burgeoning in her breast, she couldn't quite contain the happy giggle. When Woof smiled down at her, she beamed right back, "Oh, Woof... I hope I wasn't hallucinating!"
Lowering his head, Woof claimed her lips, kissed her as though he needed to draw that innocent happiness into himself to bolster him for the coming confrontation. Though surprised that Woof, of all people, would take that initiative with her, Crissy gladly went along with it. She buried her hands in his thick blonde hair, kissed him back with all the joy and butterflies currently dancing around in her heart, willed that happiness to fill him, too.
When they broke apart, Woof had a different kind of smile playing about his lips. It was surprised, it was a little smug... he looked like a little boy who'd unexpectedly gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. That look, it made her think, made her consider possibilities that she hadn't before. Before she could say anything, however, he'd grabbed her up into a tight hug and started swinging her around. When he planted her back on her feet, he then grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door, "Come on! I promised Jeanie that I'd help her. She wants to try to make chicken soup for Cl--" He stopped his words and his feet so abruptly that Crissy crashed into him. His mouth worked for a minute, but no sound emerged.
Crissy sighed, patted him on the shoulder, "Yeah... not going to be so easy, is it?"
Woof didn't answer. He stood there on the stoop, stared at the door for a minute, then shook himself all over like the dog he'd been named for. Crissy couldn't help a small laugh at his antics. When he was done, he squared his shoulders, "Tomorrow. I'll get to the bottom of this tomorrow. It's only one night, then, right? We can keep it from her for one night... Can't we?"
The pair looked at each other for a moment, solemnly nodded, then sighed in unison. Then with a short laugh, Woof pushed open the door and they headed upstairs. One night? Against Jeanie's "mom stare?" G-d help them both. They'd need it.
"What do you mean you have to go in to work?" Sheila was clearly trying to keep herself calm and was just as clearly failing. Raising a hand to her head, she gritted out, "Berger, you can't. I can't skip class, today -- I have a test. If you go to work..." She waved her other hand helplessly in the direction of Cheryl's room where Claude was currently trying his hand at getting the little girl dressed for the day.
Berger caught at the waving hand, tried to shush her, "I know! Sheila, I know, OK? But what do you want me to do? I called out on Saturday, our busiest day -- and don't even ask me how much hell I caught for that -- and this was the trade-off. I just... I was so damned worried about Claude this weekend that it didn't even fucking occur to me to double check with your schedule before I agreed." Turning away, he buried his own hands in his hair, "Shit."
Sheila cleared her throat, asked hesitantly, "Do... do you think he'd fire you if you called out again?"
"Jesus... Sheila, I don't know. But whether he would or not..." He turned to face her, the upset clear to read in his eyes, "Sheila, my dad's friendship with this guy got me this job. He put his reputation on the line to vouch for me. If I do this, my boss isn't the only one I let down." And she could see it, how torn he was. He'd had to call out Saturday, there'd been no choice. Spending time with Cheryl the night before had helped, but Claude was... he'd had a major setback on Friday and he'd needed Berger. Berger had known that, had seen it, so he hadn't even allowed the question to be raised. She'd awoken that morning to the sound of him on the phone, already calling his boss. And she'd been so grateful, she hadn't even questioned it. But now... damn it. There were always consequences and though Berger was getting better at thinking ahead and planning for them, every now and then one would come along and wallop him but good. Unfortunately, this had the potential to backfire for all of them... and it wasn't even really his fault. He was trying so hard to do the right thing for everyone and he was doing far better than anyone could have dreamed he would... but he was still Berger.
Sheila sighed, stepped closer to touch his cheek, "No. You're right. You're right. I just... Damn." She leaned forward to rest her head against Berger's chest. This was the moment she'd been dreading. What would happen on that day when both she and Berger had to be away from home at the same time? If it was just Cheryl to consider, it wouldn't have been a problem. Berger had taken her to work before and Jeanie was always willing to watch her, but now with Claude to consider... Damn it. Now she wished more than ever that she'd bullied Berger into letting her tell someone about him. Then this wouldn't be such a crisis.
Berger whispered brokenly at her, "I... I really fucked up, didn't I?"
Sheila raised her other hand up to frame his face, leaned closer to touch their foreheads together. When she pulled back, she shook her head, "No, baby. You didn't. This... you did the right thing. We did need you here on Saturday. Claude needed you here. There wasn't any other choice. Just... sometimes these things happen." She touched their foreheads back together, finished off by firmly saying, "This is not your fault."
Another voice interrupted the moment then, speaking three simple words, "No. It's mine."
Sheila and Berger turned to meet Claude's anguished eyes. Claude just shook his head, then turned away, "I knew it. I knew I was going to be an imposition." Berger opened his mouth to deny it, but Claude shook his head, "I am. I know I am. If I wasn't here, you wouldn't even be having this conversation."
Berger stepped away from Sheila, put a hand on Claude's shoulder, "You don't know that. What if Cheryl were sick? What if..." He threw his hands in the air, "Gah! I don't even know. But it doesn't matter. You're more important to me than any job. Claude... you know that. You have to know that."
Claude shook Berger's arm off his shoulder, turned to face him with a determined look on his face, "You can say things like that all you like, Berger, but the reality is, you can't lose your job. You can't. You need that money and it won't be so easy to get another job, especially not one as good as the one you have. And Sheila can't skip a test." He turned away, moved to sit down on the couch as he stared forlornly into space, "I'm in the way. I'm in the way, just like I knew I would be."
Berger and Sheila stared at each other for a minute, then each went to sit down on either side of Claude. Berger wrapped an arm around Claude's shoulders, "Claude, look at me." When Claude refused to do so, Berger shook him, "Look at me." After another minute, he finally turned, finally met Berger's eyes. When he did, Berger smiled, "Better. Now, you and I are going to have this out once and for all and then I don't want to hear it come up again, OK?" At Claude's leery expression, Berger rolled his eyes, but continued, "There is a hell of a lot that I would give up in this life and never miss. My job and this apartment, just to name a couple. You, on the other hand, are not on that list. You are not an imposition. You are not in the way. We want you here. We knew it wouldn't be easy, that there would be bumps and snags along the way... but we don't care. We'll figure it out." Letting a shadow of his old maniacal grin cross his face, Berger waggled his eyebrows, "Hell, I always do, man. Have a little faith."
Claude watched him, searched his eyes for an endless moment, then deliberately relaxed. He nodded once, "OK. I believe you. And I trust you. But... what about today? I... Maybe you could take Cheryl to work with you and I could stay here by myself...?"
Sheila reached up a hand, brushed Claude's hair back behind his ear, "But would you really be all right alone, Claude? This weekend... it was hard on you and I'm not sure you're entirely back on your feet, yet. Are you sure you'd be OK?" Claude swallowed hard, shook his head. Sheila sighed as she ran her hand down his back, "Yeah... somehow I didn't think so."
After another moment of silence, Claude reached behind him, dipped his fingers into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. Though his face paled, he made himself say the words, "Maybe... maybe we should call Dr. Howard... ask him if I could spend the day in the hospital until one of you gets home..." It was the last thing he wanted to do, that was obvious, but he couldn't think of any other alternative.
Berger pulled him into a tight embrace, vehemently shook his head, "Oh, hell no. We did not fight so hard to get you out of there just to send you back less than a month later."
Claude's eyes widened and he raised a hand between them, pushed lightly at Berger's chest until he relaxed his grip, "OK... never mind, then. Bad suggestion." From where his face was pressed firmly into Berger's chest, however, he couldn't help a relieved smile. If there had been no choice, he'd have gone and he'd have gone without a fuss, but he was happy beyond measure that Berger had refused... even if it did end up causing a problem.
Berger just continued to cradle Claude against him, mind working furiously to fix this problem that he'd inadvertently caused. Meanwhile, Cheryl had wandered over, grabbed the leg of his jeans and pulled herself up to stand. And that gave him a brilliant idea. Abruptly grabbing Claude by the shoulders and pushing him back upright, he said, "Hey... why can't you come to work with me?" At the poleaxed look on Claude's face, Berger laughed, "No, seriously, man. Why can't you? You've been to the store before and you've met my boss. It's never really busy there on a Monday so there won't be too many people and if you get overwhelmed you can hide in the stockroom." At the doubtful look on Claude's face, Berger released him and bent over to pick up Cheryl, held the little girl right up in front of him, "And to be honest, if I'm gonna have this little monster with me all day, I may need you there just to help keep her occupied!" As though to prove that point, Cheryl decided she'd have enough of her father's insanity and twisted herself half upside down in an effort to get out of his hold. Fortunately Berger was used to those kinds of antics and just moved with her until he could get her safely back down onto the ground, "So, what do you say? 'Bring your family to work day' sound like a good idea to you?"
Claude stared at him for a while, trying to puzzle it out from every angle. The idea seemed sound... then again, it was a spur of the moment Berger idea. Those kinds of ideas had always been notorious for getting him into trouble. But, he couldn't really see a flaw to this one... and Sheila wasn't objecting. Turning to double-check, though, he did notice her wearing a very interesting facial expression. On anyone but Sheila, he'd have called it a "pout." But Sheila didn't pout. It wasn't her style. When she caught him looking, she blushed a little and ducked her head, "I'm actually a little jealous. I'd rather go hang out with you guys at the music store than take a test any day."
With that final blessing, Claude let the last of the tension seep away and nodded. Berger clapped him on the shoulder, all but bouncing in his place on the couch, "Oh, man... it's gonna be great! We'll order pizza for lunch. We'll turn off the overhead lights and flip on all the blacklights and blast Grateful Dead music. We'll break out the good incense and pretend we're getting high!"
Bouncing up off the couch, Berger spread his hands wide and started dancing around the room. Cheryl immediately started giggling and chasing after him as fast as she could crawl. Catching her at it, Berger immediately reversed course to chase after her and she squealed happily and turned to crawl away. He let her escape for a good twenty seconds before scooping her up and blowing raspberries on her tummy. She just giggled louder. Berger then plopped them both back on the couch and flopped over to rest his head in Claude's lap, Cheryl cradled close against his chest. He stared up at Claude and Sheila with such a buzzed and blissed out expression on his face that all Claude could do in response was ask, "Seriously, man... what the hell are you on and can I have some?"
Sheila laughed, reached out a hand to tweak Berger's nose, "That goes double for me, Banana-Berger. Wanna share?"
Berger just smirked, reached an arm up to caress first Sheila's, then Claude's face, "There's always plenty of me to go around, my loves." Waggling his eyebrows and allowing his expression to assume a smirk of epic proportions, he asked, "So, who's first?"
Sheila just smiled, indicated with her eyes that she was OK with waiting. Berger turned to face Claude at the same time shifting his body to shelter Cheryl between himself and the back of the couch. Leaning up, he brought his hand back to Claude's face, lifted an eyebrow. They sat there like that, neither moving, neither hardly even breathing. It would have been easy to close that distance, far easier than sitting and waiting, but Berger was determined. The last thing he wanted to do was make Claude feel pressured to take a step he wasn't ready for. Except for an occasional overly affectionate kiss on the cheek or the forehead, he hadn't asked for any more from Claude since that first night he'd been home. He wasn't sure Claude was ready for more, wasn't sure the advance would be welcome. And he wanted it to be Claude's choice, didn't want him to feel pressured in any way. He had enough to worry about without worrying about that.
Claude smiled at him, a soft, gentle smile -- Berger felt the warmth of it all the way down to his toes -- and leaned in. For just a moment, Berger thought that he was going to go for it and nearly parted his lips in eager anticipation, but at the last minute, he shifted, pressed his forehead to Berger's, instead, in a gesture that had almost come to replace their usual kisses. So, when Berger just waggled his eyebrows again in return, Claude huffed out a small laugh and leaned back, "You're insane, do you know that?" At Berger's wide grin, Claude's lips stretched into a wider, more solid smile of his own, "And coming from me that's saying a lot, Banana-Berger."
Berger shrugged in response, leaned back in to press a kiss to Claude's forehead, "All part of my charm, eh, Claudio?" When he leaned back, he moved his hand to tweak the other man's nose, "It's why you love me."
"That's presuming an awful lot, don't you think?" But the banked heat in Claude's eyes gave lie to that teasing answer. Finally Claude sighed, leaned in himself and touched their foreheads back together, "No... No, I guess it isn't." Reaching out a hand to his right, Claude pulled Sheila in to rest against them as well, "What did I ever do to deserve you two?"
Sheila reached her hands up and wrapped one around the backs of each of their necks, giving them both a brief squeeze, "I ask myself that same question every day, Claude." When the two men turned to look at her with eyebrows lifted, she smiled, "Whatever it was... it must have been something damned good."
The tableau held for all of thirty seconds before Berger snorted out a laugh. At the sour look Sheila turned his way, he just laughed harder. Finally, he managed to sober enough to get out, "That's not what you used to say!"
Caught up in Berger's infectious mirth, Claude pressed a hand over his mouth in an effort to not join in. With the expression currently sitting on Sheila's face, however, it was a battle he was destined to lose. Right before he, too, started to chuckle, he offered Sheila a half shrug, "Well... he's got a point there, Sheila."
Remembering all too easily the numerous occasions that had had her rolling her eyes heavenward and demanding to know which god she'd pissed off that day to get stuck with the two of them, Sheila could only sigh, "Yeah... for a change, he really does." Then the corner of her lips twitched and it wasn't long before they were all leaning against each other and trying not to laugh like fools.
Thirty minutes later, as Sheila was bundling Cheryl up and tucking her into the stroller, she repeated to herself that they would be fine. They were only going to the music store. Claude had been there before and it would be fine. Really. They would be just fine. Shaking her head ruefully, she let out a small sigh. It was times like these that she most understood Claude's new tendency to start repeating things when stressed.
Finally, she straightened, walked over to her two men and started fussing at their coats, too. Berger just rolled his eyes and let her do it. When she got to Claude, however, he took her hands in his and raised them to his lips to give her a soft kiss on each set of knuckles. Meeting her eyes dead on, he said simply, "Sheila."
She took in a deep breath and shook her head, "Right, right. I know. You're not a child, you're all going to be fine and we'll be laughing about this by tonight." Looking over at Berger, she offered him a stressed out smile, "Is it wrong that I still wish I was going with you?"
Berger leaned over, pressed a kiss into the side of her neck, "No, it isn't. But you still don't get to go." When he straightened up, he offered her a lopsided grin, "Never thought I'd see the day when Sheila Franklin would want to play hooky from school, though -- and on a test day, no less!"
And there was another of those strange moments that left Sheila just a little in awe of the man she'd made a child with. He was just as worried as she was, maybe even more so, but he'd put a brave and joking face on over it anyway. Making a deliberate decision to let that mask be the truth for her, she raised a hand and smacked him lightly over the head. At his wide, answering grin, she laughed. Giving all three of them a brief hug, she then grabbed her books and left the apartment before she had a chance to convince herself to do otherwise. They would be fine without her. Berger would make sure of that. And the fact that she could think that and mean it filled her with more giddy joy than she'd thought possible, and that was a gift, indeed.
"You ready, Claudio?"
Claude sighed. Was he ready? No. He wasn't ready, not by a long shot, but he didn't have much choice. Let's face it -- he didn't have any choice. Damned if he was going to say that to Berger, though. Instead, he just tucked his neck further into the collar of his coat and offered the other man a noncommittal shrug.
Berger sighed in response, "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're gonna do this anyway, though, no matter what I say about it... aren't you?" When all Claude offered him was another shrug, he shook his head, "Well, glad we've got that cleared up." With a soft snort, he pushed Cheryl's stroller out of the doorway and started heading up the street, trusting that Claude would follow.
...As though that was even a question. Claude would have followed Berger to the ends of the Earth and back even before the war. Hunching himself further down into his coat, Claude warily left the safety of the building's main doorway and hurried to catch up to the other man. He was getting better at this, leaving the one place he thought of as "safe," anymore, but that still didn't mean he was comfortable with it. From the moment he left that doorway, he felt as though his eyes, his ears, sometimes his whole head, were on a constant swivel, always looking for danger. These streets, they were too open, too exposed. There were too many ways an enemy could come at you, too many places a sniper could hide, too few options for cover. For himself, he honestly couldn't care, but for the people he walked beside? For two of the only three people on Earth that he loved? For them, he cared. For them, it mattered. For them... for them he would keep his senses on that constant high alert to make damned sure that danger never even had a chance to touch them. Danger wouldn't even know what hit it if it tried.
After about a block of Claude anxiously darting his gaze around and jumping at every little sound, Berger unobtrusively took one hand off the stroller and slid it down to touch his, just a brush of fingers, nothing more. Like so much about him, it offered, but didn't demand. Claude gave one final twitch, had one massive internal struggle and finally turned his hand and latched onto Berger's like a lifeline. After all, he wasn't kidding himself -- that was exactly what it was. Berger just smiled and raised Claude's hand to his lips, pressed a gentle kiss to the knuckles. And in spite of his anxiety over the situation, Claude couldn't help but smile in response.
It was so easy to forget... all those years ago, it had always been Berger looking out for him, not the other way around, no matter what he'd thought at the time. It was Berger who led, Claude who followed. It was Berger that provided for the Tribe, Berger who guided them. It was so easy to forget that, how he'd always looked to Berger for guidance, even when he'd pretended disdain for the other boy's attitude. Berger had always been so much larger than life. Deep in his heart, Claude had truly believed that there wasn't a thing on this green Earth that Berger couldn't handle. He almost wished he had a little of that belief back. Ironically, though, it seemed as if all of his belief had ended up on permanent loan to Sheila. And it was good for them, for Sheila and Berger, and especially for Cheryl, but Claude missed that belief. Life had been easier with it.
"Claudio, we're here. I need my hand back to open the door," Berger's voice lightly insinuated itself into Claude's musings as he tugged at their joined hands. Claude shook himself, released his grip on Berger's hand and replaced his hand back into his pocket. With the loss of that contact, the anxiety returned. They were too exposed out here with their backs to the street. Berger would be hampered in any movement by the stroller. The entryway into the store didn't provide enough cover.
Berger reached out, gently tapped his finger against Claude's forehead. Claude jerked at the touch but refocused on the younger man quickly enough. Berger just smiled, "Lost you there for a second, didn't I?" When no response was forthcoming, Berger sighed, "Yeah. I know. Let's just get you inside, OK?" With that, he pushed open the door and easily guided the stroller over the doorstop. Claude followed him in, close on his heels.
Once they were inside, the door to the shop closed safely behind them, the tense muscles in Claude's back began to relax. This might not be perfect, but at least there was more cover, fewer entrances and it was more defensible. The huge plate glass windows covering the front of the store weren't ideal for defense, but at least they provided a good view of what might be coming from the street. Claude barely noticed as Berger grabbed the back of his coat collar and gently tugged. He just unbuttoned the coat and let Berger pull it from his shoulders as he began to prowl the store, checking every entrance, every window, every nook and cranny, memorizing the layout in case he needed the information. And through the whole process Berger was silent, just stood by and let him do what he needed to feel safe.
When Claude was finally satisfied with his explorations and returned to the register, Berger met him with a squirming armful of eight month old. Beaming a brilliant grin at him, he plopped Cheryl into his arms and said, "She's all yours. Have fun and try not to break anything."
Two hours later, Claude was so busy chasing after Cheryl that he'd nearly managed to forget how nervous he'd been when he first got to the store. Berger could only be grateful for that. Bringing Claude with him today had been a greater risk and worry than he'd let on to either he or Sheila that morning. There was so much potential for something to go wrong and Berger was deeply afraid that if something did, he wouldn't be enough to handle it, no matter what Sheila thought.
And as though those very thoughts had summoned trouble, Claude's voice yelled out from the opposite corner of the store, "Berger! Come quickly! Hurry!"
There was such urgency in that voice that Berger jumped, nearly spilled his coffee on himself. Cursing quietly but intensely, he all but dropped the mug on the counter and raced to where he'd heard Claude's voice. What the hell could possibly have gone wrong? He'd only taken his eyes off the pair of them for a minute! When he reached the other side of the store, Claude reached out to grab at his shoulders and hold him still. Berger immediately turned and latched onto Claude's arms, eyes doing a quick scan and noting nothing immediately out of place. What... what the hell? Claude wouldn't even look at him. Voice layered in three different kinds of worry, he pressed, "Claudio...?"
Claude merely shushed him, a very odd, distracted sort of smile on his face as he continued to watch whatever it was his gaze was fixed on. Claude held up a finger for quiet, then slowly turned him to face the same direction. Cheryl was standing about five feet away, grinning wider than he'd ever seen her grin before. She was standing... Oh G-d. She was standing completely unsupported. Swallowing hard against a suddenly dry mouth, he croaked out, "How... how long?"
Claude squeezed his shoulder, let out a soft huff of a laugh, "About thirty seconds, now." And that seemed to be the cue for Cheryl to plop herself back down onto the ground, give a happy little burble and immediately start crawling away. Claude let go of Berger long enough to chase her down, scoop her up and plant a smacking kiss on her neck. She giggled and immediately tried to stick her hand in his mouth. He gave her fingers an obligatory nibble and then carried her back over to Berger. Smiling sheepishly at the younger man, he said, "I'm sorry if I worried you, but I didn't want you to miss it."
Berger stared at him for a minute, stared at that image of a smiling, happy Claude... a smiling, happy Claude holding his child -- holding their child -- and had to swallow a sudden lump of tears. It was moments like this that truly gave him hope, that made him think that there was a chance for them, after all. Things could get better. Claude could get better. They could be a family... a real family. Stepping closer, Berger wrapped one arm around Claude's shoulders and with the other, gently cupped Cheryl's head and gave her a kiss of his own, "No problem, Claudio. Just remind me to return the favor next time you're holding a cup of hot coffee." At Claude's immediately contrite look, Berger laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "Ease up, man. It was worth it. It was totally worth it." When he leaned back, he had a smile fit to match Cheryl's resting broadly on his face, "You do realize what this means, though?"
Claude blinked innocently at him, shook his head, "No. What?"
Berger groaned melodramatically and let his head drop down to rest against Claude's shoulder, "If she's getting this good at balancing, she'll probably be walking within a month, two months, tops."
Claude's body went still and tight beneath his cheek for a moment, then slumped. He let out a soft moan as he dropped his own head to rest against Berger's, then said quietly and with fervor, "Well... shit. I hadn't thought of that."
Berger snorted out a laugh as he lifted his head, "Yeah, my sentiments exactly, Claudio. My sentiments exactly."
Though the rest of the day passed in relative ease and comfort for the two men in the store, the same could not be said for the one who was watching them from outside. He was careful and canny, just enough to avoid being caught. He'd gone by Berger and Sheila's apartment earlier to find it empty on a day when it shouldn't have been. At first, he'd thought that Berger might have taken Cheryl to the park or down to watch the ferries or any of a number of other places that they usually visited on Berger's days off, but in spite of walking the city until his feet ached, he didn't find them. He'd somehow known that he wouldn't.
Finally giving in to the knowledge beating an anxious pulse at him from under his breastbone, he turned and headed back to the Village to go to the music store. Berger would be there. He knew it, had been fighting that knowledge all morning. It was that same inner prompting that had so often told him things in the past -- like the fact that the dark-haired boy with the green eyes so responsibly buying hot dogs for his sister would change his life for the better, like the fact that he had to bring that boy to the shore two years later to find the person who could support him the way he needed... the way Woof couldn't. Like the fact that a frightened boy on the subway, sporting a brilliant English accent and not a penny to his name, was essential to the survival of the Tribe. He'd just known. But he hadn't trusted that inner prompting in almost four years now, ever since it had lied to him about Claude coming home. It was hard to trust it again, now. It was hard, but he couldn't ignore it, not with the way it was hounding him. So, after nearly four hours of searching the city, he finally caved in and went where it wanted him to go.
And that was how he found himself hovering outside the store, peering in the windows like some abandoned pup... and feeling far more like one than he had in a long time. Berger was there all right. So was Cheryl. And there was a man with them who they seemed awfully comfortable with. And Crissy had been right -- if that man wasn't Claude Hooper Bukowski, then he looked enough like him to be his long-lost twin. But even from his spot outside and undetected, Woof could tell that something was off. There was something in the way the man moved, in the way his eyes never stopped scanning the store, in the way he would periodically tense when he caught the movement of Woof's passing by the window. This man was dangerous in a way that Claude had never been -- Woof could see it. It made him hesitant to open that door, hesitant to go inside and ask Berger why he would keep something this important from the rest of the Tribe... and it gave him an insight into why the younger man would have done it.
So rather than making his presence known, rather than finding a way to get confirmation for what his heart demanded must be true, Woof just stayed outside, forlornly watching the happy couple inside the store, wishing he could go in and join them, and desperately trying to figure out both how he and Crissy could break this news to Jeanie... and whether or not they even should.
( Master Post and Chapter List )
A/N:
...yeah. Still nothing. I suck at author's notes this week. Damned paper. :'(
Coming Soon: Sheila normally goes to visit her parents for Thanksgiving dinner, but since none of our trio are too keen on that idea this year. she decides to invite everyone over to her apartment instead. Now the only problem will be convincing Claude to stop hiding in the bedroom long enough to meet them.
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: ~7200
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 5, 2010: Why the hell am I doing this instead of my paper? O_O Sometimes I want to kick myself in the ass. *sigh*
Oh, FYI... this is the part with the dangling plotline. I promise it will be resolved, though... in the next fic. That should make sense after you read it. ^_^
Enjoy and please remember... comments and reviews are love!
The Evening Star
by Renee-chan
What do I do? What do I do? Oh... Someone, please tell me what to do! Crissy paced furiously outside the building that housed Jeanie's apartment. Jeanie hadn't been at the protest the other day. Poor Claude had a bit of a cold and she hadn't wanted him outside that long. Crissy had gone anyway, wanted to support Suzanne and Jackie. And it had felt good, really good, to be protesting for something that might actually make a difference for a change. It had seemed silly when they first brought it up, to protest the Rockefeller Center tree, but the more she listened to them, the more it made sense. Sure New Yorkers loved their tree, sure it was tradition... but what about the tree? To chop down such a gorgeous natural beauty and then throw it away like so much garbage when they were done with it... It wasn't right. It wasn't humane. In this modern world, there had to be alternatives.
They'd gone to Sheila for advice, of course, but for the first time in Crissy's memory, the older girl had been almost no help. Maybe it was taking care of Cheryl and Berger, maybe it was the stress of the upcoming holidays, maybe she was just too busy with law school, but whatever the case, she'd been distracted, had barely listened when they talked. She'd been like that a lot the last few months, the last few weeks, especially.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Crissy kicked at the side of the building. Normally, with a problem like this, she'd go straight to Jeanie. Jeanie was her rock, her support. Jeanie was the one she could always count on. Jeanie was the one who'd talked her into taking some college classes, into trying to do something with her life. She was proud of Jeanie, beyond proud of Jeanie, for the woman she'd turned into. No one had really expected that motherhood would change her so much, though it had. She was still the quintessential Jeanie -- flighty, mystical, don't tie me down Jeanie... but there was more, now. Being Claude's mother came first and it showed.
Which brought her back around to needing to talk to Jeanie! The longer she dwelled on this, the more she realized that she couldn't handle it alone, that she needed her friend's advice. But... but she couldn't do that. She couldn't do that to her friend. She couldn't raise a hope like this, just in case she was wrong. If she was wrong... G-d, it would kill Jeanie. She'd only barely gotten over the worst of her grief and it had been almost two years already. She couldn't force that all back to the surface. It just wouldn't be fair. But she didn't know what to do!
Finally Crissy plunked herself down on the sidewalk, face buried in her knees. She was no good at this. She was no good at figuring out what to do. She was no good at being the strong one. She needed to change, needed to learn how to solve problems for herself, she knew that. It was just so hard... Her mother had held her, told her that she would find her strength in time, told her that she knew that Crissy had a powerful woman living inside her and that these things didn't develop over night. That had been reassuring, but ultimately hadn't helped. She needed to be that powerful woman now.
A set of quiet, shuffling footsteps on the pavement caused her to look up. When she saw who it was, she immediately launched herself off the ground and latched her arms around his waist. He smiled softly down at her, as always with that touch of melancholy hovering around the smile, and gently hugged her back. She buried her face in the fur lining of his vest and wailed out, "Woof... I don't know what to do!"
He tightened his grip around her, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then asked quietly, "What to do about what, Crissy?"
She let out a small growl of frustration and stepped away, started pacing again. Finally, she turned back to the older man, pointed a finger at him, "You weren't at the protest, were you?" When he shook his head, she sighed, lowered her hand, then said with intense feeling, "Damn it."
Woof's eyes widened at the language. Sure it was mild, but even that mild cursing was generally more than Crissy engaged in. He opened his mouth, closed it again, frowned. Finally he said, "What happened at the protest?"
Crissy met his worried hazel eyes, wondering, like always, if he was refraining from saying anything in an effort to let her get out the frustration. He so often seemed to know things, things he couldn't possibly know, that it always seemed strange to her on those occasions when he was almost willfully ignorant. She stepped in closer, wrapped her arms around him again, needing the comfort. In a quiet, hesitant voice, she said, "I... I saw Claude. At the protest."
Crissy felt his indrawn breath before she heard it. His arms tightened almost convulsively around her before they relaxed. He swallowed, shook his head, "Crissy... I... I see him, too. In crowds, in the park, at the library, on the subway... I see him everywhere, all the time. That doesn't mean it's him... right?"
The sheer hesitancy in his gentle voice was painful to hear. Woof was never sure of himself, never confident. It just wasn't his way. He often felt like a kindred spirit to her because of that. Lately, though, it had been worse -- she'd noticed. The news of Claude's death had rocked him severely. He'd been so sure that Claude was coming home. He'd been so sure of it that he'd even told Berger, promised Berger that he was coming home... and look at what that had done. So he didn't say things like that anymore, ignored his feelings and hunches when they came along. He'd withdrawn into himself, started taking stupid risks, gotten involved with a woman that was outside of the Tribe -- some little upper East-sider who was only looking to shock her parents by sleeping with a deadbeat -- things he never would have done before. But the Tribe had been so wrapped up in its own grief, in its leader's grief, that the smaller griefs -- Woof's, Crissy's, Jeanie's, so many others -- had gotten ignored. She looked up, caught his almost frantic gaze and shook her head, "I... if you'd asked me that a year ago, six months ago... two months ago, I'd have said you were right. Now... Woof, I'm just not so sure."
He held her gaze, searching for G-d only knew what, finally nodded. He took a step back, reached down to take her hands in his and said, "Tell me."
So she did. She told him about all the little observations she'd made, spewed out the whole list that she'd been unaware she'd been collecting until that very moment. She told him about Berger's now almost ridiculous sense of punctuality, how he needed to be home at a certain time, every day, how he often refused to hang out with the rest of the Tribe, vaguely claiming responsibilities elsewhere. She told him about Sheila's distraction, about how the few times that she came over for girls' night that she couldn't focus, kept watching the clock... and more recently about how she couldn't seem to meet her or Jeanie's eyes when she was even there. And finally, she told him about that day at the protest. She'd been late, had been finishing up some work at school, and had arrived after a crowd had already formed. She'd spotted Sheila and Berger amongst the onlookers, had been about to go over to tell them that the protest was happening on the other side... when the crowd had shifted. And for just a brief moment, she'd seen another man standing with them. He was tall, topped Berger by maybe an inch or two. He had brown eyes, shoulder-length, gleaming blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail... and there was no mistaking him. It was Claude. She'd frozen, mouth agape, unable to even call out... and she'd missed her chance. They'd turned away, arms around each other, and left before she could get a single word out.
Woof stared at her, shook his head, "They'd have told us. If it was really Claude, if he was alive... they'd have told us. Berger... he would have told me. Wouldn't he?"
And, oh... his eyes looked so lost in that moment. Crissy freed her hands from his, raised them up to cup his face and stood up on her toes to plant a butterfly kiss on his lips, "Oh, Woof... I don't know. Claude was more important to him than anything. If Claude is really back... maybe he wants some time alone with him?"
Woof frowned, obviously not satisfied with that answer. He turned, looked up in the direction of Jeanie's windows, frowned harder, "You were going to tell Jeanie, weren't you?" At Crissy's nod, he sighed, "Don't. Not... not yet. I'll get to the bottom of this, find out if there's anything to tell. If there is... if there is, we'll tell her together, OK?"
Crissy threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly to her in her relief. She wasn't alone with this anymore and that was what mattered. And if Claude was alive... Oh, G-d, if Claude was alive... With that hope burgeoning in her breast, she couldn't quite contain the happy giggle. When Woof smiled down at her, she beamed right back, "Oh, Woof... I hope I wasn't hallucinating!"
Lowering his head, Woof claimed her lips, kissed her as though he needed to draw that innocent happiness into himself to bolster him for the coming confrontation. Though surprised that Woof, of all people, would take that initiative with her, Crissy gladly went along with it. She buried her hands in his thick blonde hair, kissed him back with all the joy and butterflies currently dancing around in her heart, willed that happiness to fill him, too.
When they broke apart, Woof had a different kind of smile playing about his lips. It was surprised, it was a little smug... he looked like a little boy who'd unexpectedly gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. That look, it made her think, made her consider possibilities that she hadn't before. Before she could say anything, however, he'd grabbed her up into a tight hug and started swinging her around. When he planted her back on her feet, he then grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door, "Come on! I promised Jeanie that I'd help her. She wants to try to make chicken soup for Cl--" He stopped his words and his feet so abruptly that Crissy crashed into him. His mouth worked for a minute, but no sound emerged.
Crissy sighed, patted him on the shoulder, "Yeah... not going to be so easy, is it?"
Woof didn't answer. He stood there on the stoop, stared at the door for a minute, then shook himself all over like the dog he'd been named for. Crissy couldn't help a small laugh at his antics. When he was done, he squared his shoulders, "Tomorrow. I'll get to the bottom of this tomorrow. It's only one night, then, right? We can keep it from her for one night... Can't we?"
The pair looked at each other for a moment, solemnly nodded, then sighed in unison. Then with a short laugh, Woof pushed open the door and they headed upstairs. One night? Against Jeanie's "mom stare?" G-d help them both. They'd need it.
"What do you mean you have to go in to work?" Sheila was clearly trying to keep herself calm and was just as clearly failing. Raising a hand to her head, she gritted out, "Berger, you can't. I can't skip class, today -- I have a test. If you go to work..." She waved her other hand helplessly in the direction of Cheryl's room where Claude was currently trying his hand at getting the little girl dressed for the day.
Berger caught at the waving hand, tried to shush her, "I know! Sheila, I know, OK? But what do you want me to do? I called out on Saturday, our busiest day -- and don't even ask me how much hell I caught for that -- and this was the trade-off. I just... I was so damned worried about Claude this weekend that it didn't even fucking occur to me to double check with your schedule before I agreed." Turning away, he buried his own hands in his hair, "Shit."
Sheila cleared her throat, asked hesitantly, "Do... do you think he'd fire you if you called out again?"
"Jesus... Sheila, I don't know. But whether he would or not..." He turned to face her, the upset clear to read in his eyes, "Sheila, my dad's friendship with this guy got me this job. He put his reputation on the line to vouch for me. If I do this, my boss isn't the only one I let down." And she could see it, how torn he was. He'd had to call out Saturday, there'd been no choice. Spending time with Cheryl the night before had helped, but Claude was... he'd had a major setback on Friday and he'd needed Berger. Berger had known that, had seen it, so he hadn't even allowed the question to be raised. She'd awoken that morning to the sound of him on the phone, already calling his boss. And she'd been so grateful, she hadn't even questioned it. But now... damn it. There were always consequences and though Berger was getting better at thinking ahead and planning for them, every now and then one would come along and wallop him but good. Unfortunately, this had the potential to backfire for all of them... and it wasn't even really his fault. He was trying so hard to do the right thing for everyone and he was doing far better than anyone could have dreamed he would... but he was still Berger.
Sheila sighed, stepped closer to touch his cheek, "No. You're right. You're right. I just... Damn." She leaned forward to rest her head against Berger's chest. This was the moment she'd been dreading. What would happen on that day when both she and Berger had to be away from home at the same time? If it was just Cheryl to consider, it wouldn't have been a problem. Berger had taken her to work before and Jeanie was always willing to watch her, but now with Claude to consider... Damn it. Now she wished more than ever that she'd bullied Berger into letting her tell someone about him. Then this wouldn't be such a crisis.
Berger whispered brokenly at her, "I... I really fucked up, didn't I?"
Sheila raised her other hand up to frame his face, leaned closer to touch their foreheads together. When she pulled back, she shook her head, "No, baby. You didn't. This... you did the right thing. We did need you here on Saturday. Claude needed you here. There wasn't any other choice. Just... sometimes these things happen." She touched their foreheads back together, finished off by firmly saying, "This is not your fault."
Another voice interrupted the moment then, speaking three simple words, "No. It's mine."
Sheila and Berger turned to meet Claude's anguished eyes. Claude just shook his head, then turned away, "I knew it. I knew I was going to be an imposition." Berger opened his mouth to deny it, but Claude shook his head, "I am. I know I am. If I wasn't here, you wouldn't even be having this conversation."
Berger stepped away from Sheila, put a hand on Claude's shoulder, "You don't know that. What if Cheryl were sick? What if..." He threw his hands in the air, "Gah! I don't even know. But it doesn't matter. You're more important to me than any job. Claude... you know that. You have to know that."
Claude shook Berger's arm off his shoulder, turned to face him with a determined look on his face, "You can say things like that all you like, Berger, but the reality is, you can't lose your job. You can't. You need that money and it won't be so easy to get another job, especially not one as good as the one you have. And Sheila can't skip a test." He turned away, moved to sit down on the couch as he stared forlornly into space, "I'm in the way. I'm in the way, just like I knew I would be."
Berger and Sheila stared at each other for a minute, then each went to sit down on either side of Claude. Berger wrapped an arm around Claude's shoulders, "Claude, look at me." When Claude refused to do so, Berger shook him, "Look at me." After another minute, he finally turned, finally met Berger's eyes. When he did, Berger smiled, "Better. Now, you and I are going to have this out once and for all and then I don't want to hear it come up again, OK?" At Claude's leery expression, Berger rolled his eyes, but continued, "There is a hell of a lot that I would give up in this life and never miss. My job and this apartment, just to name a couple. You, on the other hand, are not on that list. You are not an imposition. You are not in the way. We want you here. We knew it wouldn't be easy, that there would be bumps and snags along the way... but we don't care. We'll figure it out." Letting a shadow of his old maniacal grin cross his face, Berger waggled his eyebrows, "Hell, I always do, man. Have a little faith."
Claude watched him, searched his eyes for an endless moment, then deliberately relaxed. He nodded once, "OK. I believe you. And I trust you. But... what about today? I... Maybe you could take Cheryl to work with you and I could stay here by myself...?"
Sheila reached up a hand, brushed Claude's hair back behind his ear, "But would you really be all right alone, Claude? This weekend... it was hard on you and I'm not sure you're entirely back on your feet, yet. Are you sure you'd be OK?" Claude swallowed hard, shook his head. Sheila sighed as she ran her hand down his back, "Yeah... somehow I didn't think so."
After another moment of silence, Claude reached behind him, dipped his fingers into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. Though his face paled, he made himself say the words, "Maybe... maybe we should call Dr. Howard... ask him if I could spend the day in the hospital until one of you gets home..." It was the last thing he wanted to do, that was obvious, but he couldn't think of any other alternative.
Berger pulled him into a tight embrace, vehemently shook his head, "Oh, hell no. We did not fight so hard to get you out of there just to send you back less than a month later."
Claude's eyes widened and he raised a hand between them, pushed lightly at Berger's chest until he relaxed his grip, "OK... never mind, then. Bad suggestion." From where his face was pressed firmly into Berger's chest, however, he couldn't help a relieved smile. If there had been no choice, he'd have gone and he'd have gone without a fuss, but he was happy beyond measure that Berger had refused... even if it did end up causing a problem.
Berger just continued to cradle Claude against him, mind working furiously to fix this problem that he'd inadvertently caused. Meanwhile, Cheryl had wandered over, grabbed the leg of his jeans and pulled herself up to stand. And that gave him a brilliant idea. Abruptly grabbing Claude by the shoulders and pushing him back upright, he said, "Hey... why can't you come to work with me?" At the poleaxed look on Claude's face, Berger laughed, "No, seriously, man. Why can't you? You've been to the store before and you've met my boss. It's never really busy there on a Monday so there won't be too many people and if you get overwhelmed you can hide in the stockroom." At the doubtful look on Claude's face, Berger released him and bent over to pick up Cheryl, held the little girl right up in front of him, "And to be honest, if I'm gonna have this little monster with me all day, I may need you there just to help keep her occupied!" As though to prove that point, Cheryl decided she'd have enough of her father's insanity and twisted herself half upside down in an effort to get out of his hold. Fortunately Berger was used to those kinds of antics and just moved with her until he could get her safely back down onto the ground, "So, what do you say? 'Bring your family to work day' sound like a good idea to you?"
Claude stared at him for a while, trying to puzzle it out from every angle. The idea seemed sound... then again, it was a spur of the moment Berger idea. Those kinds of ideas had always been notorious for getting him into trouble. But, he couldn't really see a flaw to this one... and Sheila wasn't objecting. Turning to double-check, though, he did notice her wearing a very interesting facial expression. On anyone but Sheila, he'd have called it a "pout." But Sheila didn't pout. It wasn't her style. When she caught him looking, she blushed a little and ducked her head, "I'm actually a little jealous. I'd rather go hang out with you guys at the music store than take a test any day."
With that final blessing, Claude let the last of the tension seep away and nodded. Berger clapped him on the shoulder, all but bouncing in his place on the couch, "Oh, man... it's gonna be great! We'll order pizza for lunch. We'll turn off the overhead lights and flip on all the blacklights and blast Grateful Dead music. We'll break out the good incense and pretend we're getting high!"
Bouncing up off the couch, Berger spread his hands wide and started dancing around the room. Cheryl immediately started giggling and chasing after him as fast as she could crawl. Catching her at it, Berger immediately reversed course to chase after her and she squealed happily and turned to crawl away. He let her escape for a good twenty seconds before scooping her up and blowing raspberries on her tummy. She just giggled louder. Berger then plopped them both back on the couch and flopped over to rest his head in Claude's lap, Cheryl cradled close against his chest. He stared up at Claude and Sheila with such a buzzed and blissed out expression on his face that all Claude could do in response was ask, "Seriously, man... what the hell are you on and can I have some?"
Sheila laughed, reached out a hand to tweak Berger's nose, "That goes double for me, Banana-Berger. Wanna share?"
Berger just smirked, reached an arm up to caress first Sheila's, then Claude's face, "There's always plenty of me to go around, my loves." Waggling his eyebrows and allowing his expression to assume a smirk of epic proportions, he asked, "So, who's first?"
Sheila just smiled, indicated with her eyes that she was OK with waiting. Berger turned to face Claude at the same time shifting his body to shelter Cheryl between himself and the back of the couch. Leaning up, he brought his hand back to Claude's face, lifted an eyebrow. They sat there like that, neither moving, neither hardly even breathing. It would have been easy to close that distance, far easier than sitting and waiting, but Berger was determined. The last thing he wanted to do was make Claude feel pressured to take a step he wasn't ready for. Except for an occasional overly affectionate kiss on the cheek or the forehead, he hadn't asked for any more from Claude since that first night he'd been home. He wasn't sure Claude was ready for more, wasn't sure the advance would be welcome. And he wanted it to be Claude's choice, didn't want him to feel pressured in any way. He had enough to worry about without worrying about that.
Claude smiled at him, a soft, gentle smile -- Berger felt the warmth of it all the way down to his toes -- and leaned in. For just a moment, Berger thought that he was going to go for it and nearly parted his lips in eager anticipation, but at the last minute, he shifted, pressed his forehead to Berger's, instead, in a gesture that had almost come to replace their usual kisses. So, when Berger just waggled his eyebrows again in return, Claude huffed out a small laugh and leaned back, "You're insane, do you know that?" At Berger's wide grin, Claude's lips stretched into a wider, more solid smile of his own, "And coming from me that's saying a lot, Banana-Berger."
Berger shrugged in response, leaned back in to press a kiss to Claude's forehead, "All part of my charm, eh, Claudio?" When he leaned back, he moved his hand to tweak the other man's nose, "It's why you love me."
"That's presuming an awful lot, don't you think?" But the banked heat in Claude's eyes gave lie to that teasing answer. Finally Claude sighed, leaned in himself and touched their foreheads back together, "No... No, I guess it isn't." Reaching out a hand to his right, Claude pulled Sheila in to rest against them as well, "What did I ever do to deserve you two?"
Sheila reached her hands up and wrapped one around the backs of each of their necks, giving them both a brief squeeze, "I ask myself that same question every day, Claude." When the two men turned to look at her with eyebrows lifted, she smiled, "Whatever it was... it must have been something damned good."
The tableau held for all of thirty seconds before Berger snorted out a laugh. At the sour look Sheila turned his way, he just laughed harder. Finally, he managed to sober enough to get out, "That's not what you used to say!"
Caught up in Berger's infectious mirth, Claude pressed a hand over his mouth in an effort to not join in. With the expression currently sitting on Sheila's face, however, it was a battle he was destined to lose. Right before he, too, started to chuckle, he offered Sheila a half shrug, "Well... he's got a point there, Sheila."
Remembering all too easily the numerous occasions that had had her rolling her eyes heavenward and demanding to know which god she'd pissed off that day to get stuck with the two of them, Sheila could only sigh, "Yeah... for a change, he really does." Then the corner of her lips twitched and it wasn't long before they were all leaning against each other and trying not to laugh like fools.
Thirty minutes later, as Sheila was bundling Cheryl up and tucking her into the stroller, she repeated to herself that they would be fine. They were only going to the music store. Claude had been there before and it would be fine. Really. They would be just fine. Shaking her head ruefully, she let out a small sigh. It was times like these that she most understood Claude's new tendency to start repeating things when stressed.
Finally, she straightened, walked over to her two men and started fussing at their coats, too. Berger just rolled his eyes and let her do it. When she got to Claude, however, he took her hands in his and raised them to his lips to give her a soft kiss on each set of knuckles. Meeting her eyes dead on, he said simply, "Sheila."
She took in a deep breath and shook her head, "Right, right. I know. You're not a child, you're all going to be fine and we'll be laughing about this by tonight." Looking over at Berger, she offered him a stressed out smile, "Is it wrong that I still wish I was going with you?"
Berger leaned over, pressed a kiss into the side of her neck, "No, it isn't. But you still don't get to go." When he straightened up, he offered her a lopsided grin, "Never thought I'd see the day when Sheila Franklin would want to play hooky from school, though -- and on a test day, no less!"
And there was another of those strange moments that left Sheila just a little in awe of the man she'd made a child with. He was just as worried as she was, maybe even more so, but he'd put a brave and joking face on over it anyway. Making a deliberate decision to let that mask be the truth for her, she raised a hand and smacked him lightly over the head. At his wide, answering grin, she laughed. Giving all three of them a brief hug, she then grabbed her books and left the apartment before she had a chance to convince herself to do otherwise. They would be fine without her. Berger would make sure of that. And the fact that she could think that and mean it filled her with more giddy joy than she'd thought possible, and that was a gift, indeed.
"You ready, Claudio?"
Claude sighed. Was he ready? No. He wasn't ready, not by a long shot, but he didn't have much choice. Let's face it -- he didn't have any choice. Damned if he was going to say that to Berger, though. Instead, he just tucked his neck further into the collar of his coat and offered the other man a noncommittal shrug.
Berger sighed in response, "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're gonna do this anyway, though, no matter what I say about it... aren't you?" When all Claude offered him was another shrug, he shook his head, "Well, glad we've got that cleared up." With a soft snort, he pushed Cheryl's stroller out of the doorway and started heading up the street, trusting that Claude would follow.
...As though that was even a question. Claude would have followed Berger to the ends of the Earth and back even before the war. Hunching himself further down into his coat, Claude warily left the safety of the building's main doorway and hurried to catch up to the other man. He was getting better at this, leaving the one place he thought of as "safe," anymore, but that still didn't mean he was comfortable with it. From the moment he left that doorway, he felt as though his eyes, his ears, sometimes his whole head, were on a constant swivel, always looking for danger. These streets, they were too open, too exposed. There were too many ways an enemy could come at you, too many places a sniper could hide, too few options for cover. For himself, he honestly couldn't care, but for the people he walked beside? For two of the only three people on Earth that he loved? For them, he cared. For them, it mattered. For them... for them he would keep his senses on that constant high alert to make damned sure that danger never even had a chance to touch them. Danger wouldn't even know what hit it if it tried.
After about a block of Claude anxiously darting his gaze around and jumping at every little sound, Berger unobtrusively took one hand off the stroller and slid it down to touch his, just a brush of fingers, nothing more. Like so much about him, it offered, but didn't demand. Claude gave one final twitch, had one massive internal struggle and finally turned his hand and latched onto Berger's like a lifeline. After all, he wasn't kidding himself -- that was exactly what it was. Berger just smiled and raised Claude's hand to his lips, pressed a gentle kiss to the knuckles. And in spite of his anxiety over the situation, Claude couldn't help but smile in response.
It was so easy to forget... all those years ago, it had always been Berger looking out for him, not the other way around, no matter what he'd thought at the time. It was Berger who led, Claude who followed. It was Berger that provided for the Tribe, Berger who guided them. It was so easy to forget that, how he'd always looked to Berger for guidance, even when he'd pretended disdain for the other boy's attitude. Berger had always been so much larger than life. Deep in his heart, Claude had truly believed that there wasn't a thing on this green Earth that Berger couldn't handle. He almost wished he had a little of that belief back. Ironically, though, it seemed as if all of his belief had ended up on permanent loan to Sheila. And it was good for them, for Sheila and Berger, and especially for Cheryl, but Claude missed that belief. Life had been easier with it.
"Claudio, we're here. I need my hand back to open the door," Berger's voice lightly insinuated itself into Claude's musings as he tugged at their joined hands. Claude shook himself, released his grip on Berger's hand and replaced his hand back into his pocket. With the loss of that contact, the anxiety returned. They were too exposed out here with their backs to the street. Berger would be hampered in any movement by the stroller. The entryway into the store didn't provide enough cover.
Berger reached out, gently tapped his finger against Claude's forehead. Claude jerked at the touch but refocused on the younger man quickly enough. Berger just smiled, "Lost you there for a second, didn't I?" When no response was forthcoming, Berger sighed, "Yeah. I know. Let's just get you inside, OK?" With that, he pushed open the door and easily guided the stroller over the doorstop. Claude followed him in, close on his heels.
Once they were inside, the door to the shop closed safely behind them, the tense muscles in Claude's back began to relax. This might not be perfect, but at least there was more cover, fewer entrances and it was more defensible. The huge plate glass windows covering the front of the store weren't ideal for defense, but at least they provided a good view of what might be coming from the street. Claude barely noticed as Berger grabbed the back of his coat collar and gently tugged. He just unbuttoned the coat and let Berger pull it from his shoulders as he began to prowl the store, checking every entrance, every window, every nook and cranny, memorizing the layout in case he needed the information. And through the whole process Berger was silent, just stood by and let him do what he needed to feel safe.
When Claude was finally satisfied with his explorations and returned to the register, Berger met him with a squirming armful of eight month old. Beaming a brilliant grin at him, he plopped Cheryl into his arms and said, "She's all yours. Have fun and try not to break anything."
Two hours later, Claude was so busy chasing after Cheryl that he'd nearly managed to forget how nervous he'd been when he first got to the store. Berger could only be grateful for that. Bringing Claude with him today had been a greater risk and worry than he'd let on to either he or Sheila that morning. There was so much potential for something to go wrong and Berger was deeply afraid that if something did, he wouldn't be enough to handle it, no matter what Sheila thought.
And as though those very thoughts had summoned trouble, Claude's voice yelled out from the opposite corner of the store, "Berger! Come quickly! Hurry!"
There was such urgency in that voice that Berger jumped, nearly spilled his coffee on himself. Cursing quietly but intensely, he all but dropped the mug on the counter and raced to where he'd heard Claude's voice. What the hell could possibly have gone wrong? He'd only taken his eyes off the pair of them for a minute! When he reached the other side of the store, Claude reached out to grab at his shoulders and hold him still. Berger immediately turned and latched onto Claude's arms, eyes doing a quick scan and noting nothing immediately out of place. What... what the hell? Claude wouldn't even look at him. Voice layered in three different kinds of worry, he pressed, "Claudio...?"
Claude merely shushed him, a very odd, distracted sort of smile on his face as he continued to watch whatever it was his gaze was fixed on. Claude held up a finger for quiet, then slowly turned him to face the same direction. Cheryl was standing about five feet away, grinning wider than he'd ever seen her grin before. She was standing... Oh G-d. She was standing completely unsupported. Swallowing hard against a suddenly dry mouth, he croaked out, "How... how long?"
Claude squeezed his shoulder, let out a soft huff of a laugh, "About thirty seconds, now." And that seemed to be the cue for Cheryl to plop herself back down onto the ground, give a happy little burble and immediately start crawling away. Claude let go of Berger long enough to chase her down, scoop her up and plant a smacking kiss on her neck. She giggled and immediately tried to stick her hand in his mouth. He gave her fingers an obligatory nibble and then carried her back over to Berger. Smiling sheepishly at the younger man, he said, "I'm sorry if I worried you, but I didn't want you to miss it."
Berger stared at him for a minute, stared at that image of a smiling, happy Claude... a smiling, happy Claude holding his child -- holding their child -- and had to swallow a sudden lump of tears. It was moments like this that truly gave him hope, that made him think that there was a chance for them, after all. Things could get better. Claude could get better. They could be a family... a real family. Stepping closer, Berger wrapped one arm around Claude's shoulders and with the other, gently cupped Cheryl's head and gave her a kiss of his own, "No problem, Claudio. Just remind me to return the favor next time you're holding a cup of hot coffee." At Claude's immediately contrite look, Berger laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "Ease up, man. It was worth it. It was totally worth it." When he leaned back, he had a smile fit to match Cheryl's resting broadly on his face, "You do realize what this means, though?"
Claude blinked innocently at him, shook his head, "No. What?"
Berger groaned melodramatically and let his head drop down to rest against Claude's shoulder, "If she's getting this good at balancing, she'll probably be walking within a month, two months, tops."
Claude's body went still and tight beneath his cheek for a moment, then slumped. He let out a soft moan as he dropped his own head to rest against Berger's, then said quietly and with fervor, "Well... shit. I hadn't thought of that."
Berger snorted out a laugh as he lifted his head, "Yeah, my sentiments exactly, Claudio. My sentiments exactly."
Though the rest of the day passed in relative ease and comfort for the two men in the store, the same could not be said for the one who was watching them from outside. He was careful and canny, just enough to avoid being caught. He'd gone by Berger and Sheila's apartment earlier to find it empty on a day when it shouldn't have been. At first, he'd thought that Berger might have taken Cheryl to the park or down to watch the ferries or any of a number of other places that they usually visited on Berger's days off, but in spite of walking the city until his feet ached, he didn't find them. He'd somehow known that he wouldn't.
Finally giving in to the knowledge beating an anxious pulse at him from under his breastbone, he turned and headed back to the Village to go to the music store. Berger would be there. He knew it, had been fighting that knowledge all morning. It was that same inner prompting that had so often told him things in the past -- like the fact that the dark-haired boy with the green eyes so responsibly buying hot dogs for his sister would change his life for the better, like the fact that he had to bring that boy to the shore two years later to find the person who could support him the way he needed... the way Woof couldn't. Like the fact that a frightened boy on the subway, sporting a brilliant English accent and not a penny to his name, was essential to the survival of the Tribe. He'd just known. But he hadn't trusted that inner prompting in almost four years now, ever since it had lied to him about Claude coming home. It was hard to trust it again, now. It was hard, but he couldn't ignore it, not with the way it was hounding him. So, after nearly four hours of searching the city, he finally caved in and went where it wanted him to go.
And that was how he found himself hovering outside the store, peering in the windows like some abandoned pup... and feeling far more like one than he had in a long time. Berger was there all right. So was Cheryl. And there was a man with them who they seemed awfully comfortable with. And Crissy had been right -- if that man wasn't Claude Hooper Bukowski, then he looked enough like him to be his long-lost twin. But even from his spot outside and undetected, Woof could tell that something was off. There was something in the way the man moved, in the way his eyes never stopped scanning the store, in the way he would periodically tense when he caught the movement of Woof's passing by the window. This man was dangerous in a way that Claude had never been -- Woof could see it. It made him hesitant to open that door, hesitant to go inside and ask Berger why he would keep something this important from the rest of the Tribe... and it gave him an insight into why the younger man would have done it.
So rather than making his presence known, rather than finding a way to get confirmation for what his heart demanded must be true, Woof just stayed outside, forlornly watching the happy couple inside the store, wishing he could go in and join them, and desperately trying to figure out both how he and Crissy could break this news to Jeanie... and whether or not they even should.
( Master Post and Chapter List )
A/N:
...yeah. Still nothing. I suck at author's notes this week. Damned paper. :'(
Coming Soon: Sheila normally goes to visit her parents for Thanksgiving dinner, but since none of our trio are too keen on that idea this year. she decides to invite everyone over to her apartment instead. Now the only problem will be convincing Claude to stop hiding in the bedroom long enough to meet them.
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Date: 2010-12-07 01:11 am (UTC)AND I AM LOVING THIS! All that wait was worth it ^^
I'm loving all this angst (I'm an angst whore) XD
But it's so sad to see Claude like this... analysing everything as if he still was in Vietnam =/
It wouldn't surprise me if he has a flashback in the middle of the street O.o
I demand you to make him better!! At least a little bit more ^^
I hope the rest of the tribe will understand why Berger and Sheila didn't tell them... I just wanted to hug Woof so badly XDDDDDD He's my cutie! ♥
And I'm very excited to read the next part. You write really really well, in a way I always wished I could. You have such a way to transmit all the characters emotions and they don't sound forced. Congrats my dear, this is a very difficult task ;D
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Date: 2010-12-07 03:13 am (UTC)And I'm glad you enjoyed the angst. ^_^ I've been getting a complex lately from everyone telling me how cute my stories are... even ones I mean to be angsty. O_O Being an angst queen myself, this was disturbing me. I thought I'd lost my touch! ^_^
As for Claude... ;_; I know! :'( I'd feel bad about it... except he's such fun to write all paranoid and half-crazy. *coughs* *unsure but game smile* But never you fear! He will get better. *pause* Slowly. Eventually. Honest!
*chuckles* I'm sure they will... in the next fic. O_O That was all originally slated to happen in this one, but I figured 9 chapters was already 3 more than I wanted, so I had a cut it short. :) And I love Woof, too. I think he's my favorite after Claude and Berger. ^_^
*massive blush* Aw... *more blushing* Thank you so much! That means a lot to hear. I do try. ^_^ I hope to get the next chapter up tomorrow, but I have a term paper to finish... so we'll see. O_O
Thanks again for the comment!