[Hair] I Believe in Love (2/3)
Feb. 12th, 2010 11:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eirenicalAnd here's Part 2. ^_^ Everyone please remember, comments are love.
Fandom: Hair, the new Broadway revival
Pairing: It's all Claude/Berger this time, baby. ^_^
Rating: PG-13, occasional dips into 'R' territory.
Word Count: Total -- 14,999 (is it wrong that I want to write one more word just to make it an even 15,000?); ~4500-5500 for each segment.
Warnings: Slash, still wildly AU.
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
Summary: It's now been about a year since the events in "Where Do I Go?". Berger is as recovered as he's going to get... and not a moment too soon. When Claude's returning memories of Viet Nam coincide with Sheila's reappearance in their lives, things are going to get ugly, fast... and he's going to need all the help he can get.
February 12, 2010: Claude finally finds out that Sheila is back in town... and Sheila finds out about Claude. Neither one takes it very well.
This guy's walking down a street, when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up "Hey you! Can you help me out?" The doctor writes him a prescription, throws it down the hole and moves on.
Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up "Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on.
Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me, can you help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole!
Our guy says "Are you stupid? Now we're both down here!" and the friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out."
--Leo McGarry to Josh Lyman in the episode "Noel", of "The West Wing"
Warnings: Still slash. ^_^ Strong PG-13, dipping its toes into 'R' territory here and there. Enjoy?
I Believe in Love
by Renee-chan
When Claude finally got home at 4 o'clock, Berger was climbing the walls. No matter what he did, he couldn’t think of a way to fix this without making it worse than it already was. He'd always been better at breaking things down than building them up. And Claude... oh, Claude. He looked like a gentle spring breeze would knock him right over. His face was pale, eyes half-glazed... it was a wonder that he'd made it through the school day. Wordlessly, he pulled the other man into the apartment and into a gentle embrace. Claude folded against him, tucking his head into Berger's neck like a child trying to block out the world.
Murmuring soothing nonsenses all the while, Berger got the door closed and got them both over to the couch. Claude didn't say a word through any of it. Eventually, the slight tremors running through his frame eased and he relaxed against Berger's side. Berger ran his fingers through his lover's hair and simply said, "I take it you didn't have a great day, huh?"
Claude's answer was a snort as he pulled himself upright, "I've had worse... but not much worse." Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he let out an exhausted sigh, "I just want to crawl into bed and stay there all weekend."
It was a nice image -- one Berger could warm up to all too easily -- but unfortunately, it wasn't going to happen. He rose from the couch and walked over to the little curio cabinet where Claude kept his more fragile keepsakes. He started turning them this way and that, picking one up and moving it to a different spot, then moving it back. Now that the moment had come, he just couldn't bring himself to add one more burden to his lover's already overburdened shoulders.
Fortunately, Claude had long since gotten used to reading between the lines of what Berger did... and didn't... say. He, too, rose from the couch and walked over to where Berger was fidgeting with the figurines. He said, "OK, I'd have to be blind to miss this sign. What's on your mind, Berger?"
A wince. He still hadn't figured out a good way to explain what had happened earlier, and it wasn't even like it was his fault! He was just the bearer of bad tidings. Finally, he just blurted it out, "I saw Sheila, today."
When no response was forthcoming, he turned to look at Claude just in time to see his face go a few shades paler and to catch him as his knees buckled. Well, shit. That had obviously been the wrong approach. Getting them back over to the couch, he laid Claude back against the cushions and settled himself between the other man's legs twining his own around them. They'd sat like this often when they were younger... only Sheila had always been there, too, her own legs providing a cushion for Claude's head as she leaned over them both. Maybe provoking that imagery wasn't the greatest idea, but laying like this had always comforted Claude in the past, and he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Eventually, Claude's eyes cleared and he reached a shaking hand up to ghost along Berger's cheek, "You couldn't have eased me into that one, could you?"
Berger ducked his head, relief at not having permanently harmed the one he cared most about warring with the hint of mischief that always edged his thoughts, "I couldn't think of any better way to tell you... so I thought it was better just to say it."
Seeing that hint of mischief, and the hope rising in Berger's eyes that he was going to be forgiven for his newest screw-up settled Claude like nothing else on Earth would have. He let out a weary chuckle, "You never change, do you? I can't even be mad at you for it. Hell, I think it's half of why I fell in love with you to begin with."
Berger let a small smile dance across his face as he caught Claude's roaming hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, then leaned forward and stole one from his lips. When he sat back up, Claude's smile finally looked a little more solid, so he took that as a hint that he could safely explain without worrying about Claude half-fainting again, "You remember all those months ago when Jeanie had us and Crissy over for dinner? When she was asking all those questions about that time right around when you were drafted?"
Claude's eyes darkened, "How could I forget? I got my first memories of Nam back that night. What about it?"
"Well, apparently we're not the only ones she's talking to. She's the reason Sheila's here. She wanted to get her stories, too," Berger concluded.
Claude lips pulled down into a puzzled frown, "Do you think she's been in contact with anyone else?"
Berger shrugged, "Don't know, didn't ask." Eyes brightening, he momentarily bounced in place on the couch, "But we can ask when we go over for dinner, tonight!" Gazing back down at his lover, he noted that Claude's eyes were once again glazed and he leaned over, worriedly asking, "Claudio?"
The response he got was not the one he'd been expecting. Claude wrapped his arms around Berger's neck and pulled him down for an intense, devouring kiss. All Berger could think in response was, Huh?, but he didn't let that stop him for long. Claude didn't often take the initiative like this, but Berger was always glad to see it happen when he did. Now what had brought that on...? It was with a wicked chuckle that he realized what had done it and experimentally bounced on the couch again. Claude's hips involuntarily bucked up against him in response and Berger's grin slid into a full-fledged smirk. The random flipping from the bad kind of tension to this kind of tension wasn't entirely unknown to them and it might be exactly what his lover needed to regain his balance for when they went over to Jeanie's tonight... eventually.
When they reached Jeanie's apartment building, it was to run into Cloud on his way down the stairs and out the door. The boy paused, eyeing the two of them for a moment before slumping with an, "Aw, damn. I just knew I was going to miss something good."
Claude just raised an eyebrow and the kid blushed. It always caused a momentary pang in Berger's heart as he watched the two of them. In many ways, Claude was the only "father" the kid had ever known. He'd been raised on story after story about the man Jeanie had loved, the man she'd wished truly had been his father, and when they'd finally met in the flesh... Claude fit with them in a way Berger never really would. It made him sad sometimes, to think he'd been the reason that Claude didn't have this -- a home with a family, children to love and protect. He thought about them often, those children. Maybe there would be a boy -- a young man that would have his father's strength and idealism, his warm, earth-strong, brown eyes. Maybe there would have been a girl, too -- with long, shining locks of hair floating about her face, possessing her father's beauty and grace, and deeply caring and nurturing heart. It haunted him, the images of those children that Claude would never have.
Before he could finish wallowing in the guilt those kind of thoughts always brought, a warm hand sought out his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The look in his lover's eyes was almost painful to see -- the sheer understanding and forgiveness in that gaze, not to mention the depth of the love -- and it left him feeling a little humbled, like always. He raised Claude's hand to his lips and brushed a butterfly kiss over the knuckles to let him know he was done moping. Neither of them could afford to be distracted by regrets tonight.
Cloud, for his part, had a hip cocked and his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked down at the two of them and said, "You know... it gives me hope, watching you two." Ignoring Claude's suddenly sharp look, the boy continued, "I mean, they say a man's libido peaks at 18, but just look at you guys! It warms my heart, really it does."
Claude aimed a swat at the boy's backside, but whether Cloud was too fast or Claude had deliberately been too slow, it never connected. Cloud danced out of the way and skipped down the rest of that flight of stairs, out of reach. Claude just shook his head, then smiled wickedly as he said, "Have fun at Zack's, tonight."
The boy blinked innocently up at him, "What makes you think I'm going to Zack's?"
Giving the younger man a you-must-be-kidding-me look, Claude pointed out his skin-tight tee-shirt and the jeans he was wearing that looked like they'd been painted on. It was with a jolt that Berger realized what the undercurrents of the conversation meant, and another jolt when he realized that the "kid" was 16... almost a man. He and Claude had met when they were 16. Caught in that revelation, he missed the end of the conversation.
A hand on his cheek abruptly brought Berger back to the world to meet Claude's worried eyes -- eyes that silently asked if they needed to go back home so he could retreat from things for a while. He snorted and shook his head, then urgently whispered, "Do you realize what he's going to get up to when he goes to his friend's house tonight?" He had no idea why the thought was bothering him, except that the kid was the closest thing Claude had to a child of his own... and fathers were supposed to be bothered by that sort of thing.
Claude just smirked, "Who do you think gave them the push that landed them in bed together in the first place?" At Berger's shell-shocked look, Claude's expression softened, "Berger... I may be a father figure to him, but I'm not his father. Lord knows, I got up to my own fair share of trouble, romantic and otherwise, when I was his age..." A lifted eyebrow to acknowledge that more than a fair share of the "trouble" had involved Berger, "...and my lack of connection with my father is what drove me into my more wild acts of rebellion. He needs an understanding ear far more than he needs a scolding parent."
Seeing that Berger's eyes still reflected a touch of uncertainty, Claude stepped down to join him on the landing and wrapped his arms around the other man, "I don't regret a moment of my time with you and I've lost nothing that I cared about losing. I was never destined to live the life with the wife, the dog and the 2.5 kids--"
Berger finished the long-standing harangue with him, "--in the house behind the white picket fence."
Claude gave him a broad smile, "Exactly. That was my father's dream, not mine." The smile softened, "My dreams have only ever had room for one other person... and that's you."
Berger met his eyes with naked relief and heartfelt sentiment for just barely a moment before looking away and snorting, "You're such a sap, you know that?"
Claude's laugh was muffled in the fabric of Berger's jacket, but was no less forceful for that, "You can never be serious, even for a minute, can you?"
The smirk that met Claude's lifted face was pure mischief, "I've been known to manage 30 seconds on occasion."
A snort to indicate what he thought of that possibility. Hearts renewed by the moment of connection and laughter, both men glanced up the remaining flights of stairs. Quietly, Claude asked, "Are you ready for this?"
"Nope. You?" was the response.
Claude shook his head, "If I had a year to prepare, I still wouldn't be ready for this."
Holding out an arm to his lover, Berger just raised an eyebrow, "Should we do it anyway?"
With another sigh, Claude just nodded and let Berger lead him up the rest of the stairs.
In unspoken agreement, Claude tucked himself to the side of the door where he wouldn't be seen at first glance and let Berger knock for both of them. When Jeanie opened the door, her eyes flicked around looking for him. When she spotted him to the right of the door, her eyes filled with understanding. She let Berger in and left the door open behind him.
Berger stepped into Jeanie's living room, easily spotting Sheila where she was just rising from the sofa. Jeanie's voice cut through the potential awkwardness of the greeting, "I know you two remember each other, so I'm not going to bother with introductions. But Berger, you may be interested to know that Sheila's married, now."
Sheila's eyes landed on her old friend, as though puzzled as to why it was so important for her to share that information that she couldn't have waited for the flow of conversation to bring them there, naturally. Jeanie just smiled.
For his part, Berger figured that made things simpler... and at the same time, didn't help at all. It was nice of Jeanie to try to reassure them right off the bat, but it had already been highly unlikely that Sheila would randomly leave her new life to try to come back to them. And really... it didn't matter. Because it didn't mean the hurt at having been left out in the first place would be any less. Berger started to sweat from the pressure of, yet again, having to break shocking news to someone he cared about. He should have asked Claude what to say when he'd had the chance... Eventually, he figured that what had almost worked for him before might go... at least not any more badly than the first time, so he just blurted it out, "Sheila... Claude's alive."
The loud "thunk" from just outside the door that had to be Claude's head hitting the wall made Berger wince. Sheila, for her part, was glaring into his eyes, an extremely hurt look on her face. She folded her arms over her chest as she glowered, "You know Berger... after all these years, I still thought that there were lows to which you wouldn't stoop. Clearly I was wrong."
Berger tried to interrupt her, but she ran right over him, "No! I don't want excuses. I don't want to hear any more explanations that won't add up. I've watched you destroy your life right from the front row for years, Berger. I can't do it anymore. I have a husband who loves me and three fabulous children. I have a home and a good job. I don't need this anymore. I don't need you trying to fuck it all up for me!" Rounding angrily on Jeanie, she added, "I don't know what the hell kind of games you're playing at here, but I'm no longer interested. I'm leaving."
Pushing past Berger to get into the hall, she was clearly surprised to be blocked by another body. When she looked up, no doubt to deliver another blistering monologue, she abruptly froze, mouth still open. Claude said quietly into the silence, "This is no game, Sheila. That I can promise you." Taking her arm gently in one hand, he pushed her back inside and closed the door behind him.
Sheila jerked away from him as though the touch burned and then scurried to get the length of the sofa between them. Her face was white and her eyes huge and terrified, "You... you're dead." Before anyone could open their mouths to explain, Sheila's voice rose into tones of near hysteria, "You died 14 years ago!!"
Berger noted with absolute wonder that there were tears tracking down Sheila's face. It was a dissonant note in his memories of her. Sheila didn't cry -- not like this, not because she couldn't control the emotions raging through her. Seeing her break down like that... it made him feel unstable. Sheila was the strong one. She didn't fall apart in public. This was just wrong. Like "Claude the tweed-clad history teacher", a weak Sheila didn't jive with his image of what Sheila was. Had they all really changed that much?
Maybe it was all the practice he'd had lately at comforting someone, or maybe it was just because he'd never seen Sheila so vulnerable -- whatever the case, Berger couldn't take it anymore. Stepping away from Claude, he went to Sheila's side, pulled her into a gentle embrace and started rocking her back and forth. She buried her face in his shirt and sobbed -- lost, broken-hearted sobs like a little child. It made him want to weep in response.
Looking up, he saw Claude watching them, that same disconnected, slightly left-out and broken look he'd always worn when watching he and Sheila together plastered all over his face. Berger hadn't seen that look in 16 years and seeing it now was like a punch to the gut. Maybe they hadn't changed as much as he'd thought... Not in the ways that mattered. Well, this just wouldn't do. He wasn't trying to shut Claude out... he just couldn't stand to see Sheila cry. Letting a hint of his irritation creep into his face, he jerked his head to indicate that Claude should join him. And he did... hesitantly. Claude's arms reached around both of them, snuggling around them like he'd always done, as though willing to shelter them both, but unwilling to get between them to really join the embrace. Well, this time Berger wasn't having it. He knew better now. Freeing one arm from around Sheila, he slipped it around Claude's waist. Claude jumped like a skittish horse, but calmed at the understanding look in Berger's eyes. He wasn't being abandoned, would never be abandoned. Especially not now.
After a time, Sheila's tears slowed and she backed away from the two of them, flushed and embarrassed. Then she stared up at Claude, wonderment breaking through the darker emotions to light up her face, "Claude... is it really you? You're really alive?"
Claude tilted his head to look over at Jeanie and commented philosophically, "You know... that question is getting a little tiresome. Maybe we should just have one gigantic reunion so I can answer it for everyone all at once. What do you say?"
Jeanie unexpectedly ducked her head and wouldn't meet their eyes. Finally, she sighed, "I'm working on it, OK? That was part of what you weren't supposed to know yet. Just... just give me a few more months, all right?"
That was the moment when Sheila chose to swat Berger upside the back of the head, "You jerk! You couldn't have told me he was alive when you saw me before??"
Berger stared for a moment before finding the voice to answer, "And you'd have reacted better if I told you in the park when you still thought I was mad and Claude wasn't nearby as proof?"
This time the blush was more intense, "That's... that's a good point. And I guess I owe you an apology for all that I said earlier..."
Just glad that he'd found a way to fix some small part of the pain he'd caused her, Berger shrugged, "Spilled milk, water under the bridge, doesn't matter. We're cool, now, right?"
Sheila hesitated only a moment, then nodded and held out her hand. Doubtless she wanted it shaken... Berger used it to pull her into another embrace, instead. Sheila just laughed and planted a friendly kiss on his lips, "We're cool, Banana-Berger. We're cool."
Claude's voice broke through the celebrating -- and if there was a cold edge to it, Berger was the only one who picked up on it, "Then if we're all cool and no one's going to start yelling again... Jeanie, I think you mentioned food?"
Jeanie raised an eyebrow, "After all that, you're hungry?"
Claude sighed as he shook his head, "No, not really. But for one thing, if I don't eat, it makes Berger upset." He ignored Berger's muttered, 'Damned right, it does,' and continued, "And for another thing, I'm going to need a base for all the alcohol I'm going to have to drink to get through this story one more time."
Sheila's face paled at those bitter words, but she agreed readily enough to go into the kitchen to help Jeanie get dinner on the table.
Berger, eyes troubled, stepped up to where Claude was perched on the couch arm... their couch. He ran a gentle hand through Claude's hair, letting it come to rest on the back of the other man's neck, "You sure that's a good idea, Claudio?"
Face looking more grim than Berger liked, Claude shook his head, "No, actually, I'm quite sure it isn't. I just don't see any other way. Facing those memories is hard enough drunk... I'm in no hurry to try it sober. Especially not after last night. But Sheila... she's not going to be satisfied with me telling her that I was in the war and then I was home with amnesia. She's going to want to know why. And whether I answer her or not, the memories will still be there. It'll be easier this way... for all of us."
Berger frowned, sure there was a fault in that logic somewhere, but unable to find it. He pulled Claude up against him and the other man quickly turned his face into Berger's stomach as though to hide from the world. Berger just kept lightly stroking his hands down Claude's hair, then his neck, then his back. Right now he didn't know how, but he would protect Claude... even if the person he had to protect him from was himself.
Dinner was a strained affair. Claude ate with single-minded determination, focused on his task to the exclusion of conversation. Sheila kept darting glances at him, as though torn between wanting to get closer to reassure herself he was real... and wanting to flee as far from him as she could to get away from the memories his presence evoked. Berger hovered as close to Claude as the current seating arrangement would allow, mind furiously working on the problem of how to get through the night with the least possible emotional scarring for all concerned. Jeanie, sensing the strain and keenly aware of her part in creating this situation, kept up a nearly endless stream of chatter, desperately trying to keep the tone of the meal light.
When they moved to the living room and Claude started to reach for the liquor cabinet, Berger realized his time to come up with a brilliant solution had just run out. Praying he wasn't about to make a bad situation worse, he played the only card he had -- he parked himself on the floor in front of the cabinet as a living barrier. He could hear Jeanie catch her breath as Claude's eyes met his, an irritated frown on his face, but couldn't spare her a thought. He just met Claude's eyes, stare for stare, and slowly shook his head. Claude's frown deepened, "Berger..."
Berger forced a cheerful smile onto his face, "Yes, Claudio?" This time it was Sheila's turn to catch her breath -- probably at the memories evoked by that nickname. He ignored her, too.
Unable to maintain a sour façade when Berger was smiling so brightly at him, Claude slumped and let out a broken whisper, "What do you want from me?"
It was a moment's work to worm between Claude's legs and get up on his knees to see him eye to eye, "It's not about what I want from you... it's about what I want for you." When Claude looked like he was ready to hear the rest, Berger continued, "I've walked this road, Claude. It doesn't lead anywhere good. You can trust me on that one."
When Claude opened his mouth to protest, Berger grabbed his face in his hands and said in a low, anguished voice, "I don't want to be running out in the middle of the night, seconds before a storm to drag you out from under a bridge. Claude... I don't want that."
It took Claude a second to catch the reference, and when he did, something in his eyes broke, "Berger...?"
The long-haired man just shook his head, "How do you think I ended up in that state to begin with, Claude? I was running from memories of you... and visions of how you died." Taking a deep breath, Berger pulled Claude down to touch his forehead to the other man's, "I only just got you back. I will not lose you again so soon, even to this."
The tableau held for another few seconds before Claude's face broke into a small, wry grin, "I think that was a personal best, Berger. What would you say it was? 45 seconds?"
Berger snorted, "Now, now, you see here. You don't get to steal my shtick. Not at this point in the game. You can't try to take my substance abuse one moment, then a heartbeat later try to take my inability to maintain a serious conversation, too. Especially not if you're going to use it to try to duck out of a conversation that even I think we need to be serious about."
The wry smile slowly warmed into a real one, "Fair enough, love. Well, then, since you seem to be the only sensible one among us tonight, what do you suggest?"
Berger turned to face Sheila, "You want the story?"
Sheila hesitated, but nature will win out almost every time. In the end, she nodded, "I'd like the story."
Berger turned around to look at Jeanie, "Then you tell her. I'm taking Claude home. I think he's had enough stress for one day."
With a huff of laughter for the simplicity of Berger's solution, and a promise to stop by just to spend some time with the girls tomorrow, Claude let himself be led away from the apartment. He tried twice to get Berger to slow down, then finally gave up and let the other man drag him where he would. He didn't raise another protest until they reached their apartment and Berger continued in his single-minded walk... right past it. Pulling back on Berger's hand, he said, "Berger! I thought we were going home. We just passed the apartment... where are we going?" Berger shook his head and started walking faster, still not having any of Claude's attempts to stay him in his flight. Claude raised one more protest when Berger ducked them down into the subway tunnels, but Berger wasn't stopping and he wasn't explaining. He didn't slow until he'd reached his destination: at the park... and the Bridge.
When they got there, Berger still gripping his hand tightly, Claude couldn't even make himself ask the question. This was a place he tried not to ever visit -- it held too many bad memories. He couldn't even imagine what Berger could want to see or do in this place, especially as he thought they'd settled their drama back at Jeanie's apartment. Voice gentle, he called his lover's name, "Berger?"
Finally, Berger spoke, voice low and intense, "I'm not sure you were really hearing me before. I'm not Sheila and I know you better than that. You diverted me at Jeanie's, but I'm not gonna let you divert me here. If I have to hit you with a sledgehammer to get you to see what I'm talking about, then I will." Eyes raising to bore into Claude's, Berger held up a hand and pointed stiffly at the bridge, "There are no answers, there is no protection, in the bottom of a bottle or the inside of a syringe. It's an illusion. It's a way of ducking your head under the covers and ignoring the earthquake shaking the entire house down on top of you. This is where those things lead you in the end." He spun Claude to face him, gripping his shoulders tightly, "I lost 13 years of my life to that false promise and I refuse to let you do the same. Do you hear me??"
Startled by Berger's eloquence and the vehemence in his normally free-spirited, laid-back lover's eyes, Claude could only nod. Berger relaxed his hold and let a smile touch his lips, "From now on, if you need to run, don't run away... run to me. I can take it."
Stunned by how clearly Berger had seen him all this time and how little he'd managed to hide from him, Claude finally relaxed his hold on control. His control all this time had been mostly illusion anyway, a desperate attempt to pretend that he was still untouched by the tragedy that had been Viet Nam. He'd talked to his students about it, sure, as though he'd played no part in it. They'd assumed he'd used college as a way to dodge the draft and he'd let them. It had allowed him to continue the charade that he was untouched by those memories. Well, he didn't have that luxury any more. And if he had to take a little time and fall to pieces, Berger was determined to give him that time. Wrapping his arms securely around his lover, Berger led them both home.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Comments? Questions? Rutabagas?
Berger: *twitch* Rutabagas? Where the hell does she come up with this stuff? At least pineapples are fruit.
R-chan: *snickers*
Berger: *double twitch* Really? We're really going there?
Claude: *sighs* I think we've not only been there, but we've bought the t-shirt.
Coming Soon: Finally our trio get a chance to hash our their differences and try to find a new balance. Unfortunately, with so much pain between them, it won't be easy.
Fandom: Hair, the new Broadway revival
Pairing: It's all Claude/Berger this time, baby. ^_^
Rating: PG-13, occasional dips into 'R' territory.
Word Count: Total -- 14,999 (is it wrong that I want to write one more word just to make it an even 15,000?); ~4500-5500 for each segment.
Warnings: Slash, still wildly AU.
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
Summary: It's now been about a year since the events in "Where Do I Go?". Berger is as recovered as he's going to get... and not a moment too soon. When Claude's returning memories of Viet Nam coincide with Sheila's reappearance in their lives, things are going to get ugly, fast... and he's going to need all the help he can get.
February 12, 2010: Claude finally finds out that Sheila is back in town... and Sheila finds out about Claude. Neither one takes it very well.
This guy's walking down a street, when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up "Hey you! Can you help me out?" The doctor writes him a prescription, throws it down the hole and moves on.
Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up "Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on.
Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me, can you help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole!
Our guy says "Are you stupid? Now we're both down here!" and the friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out."
Warnings: Still slash. ^_^ Strong PG-13, dipping its toes into 'R' territory here and there. Enjoy?
by Renee-chan
When Claude finally got home at 4 o'clock, Berger was climbing the walls. No matter what he did, he couldn’t think of a way to fix this without making it worse than it already was. He'd always been better at breaking things down than building them up. And Claude... oh, Claude. He looked like a gentle spring breeze would knock him right over. His face was pale, eyes half-glazed... it was a wonder that he'd made it through the school day. Wordlessly, he pulled the other man into the apartment and into a gentle embrace. Claude folded against him, tucking his head into Berger's neck like a child trying to block out the world.
Murmuring soothing nonsenses all the while, Berger got the door closed and got them both over to the couch. Claude didn't say a word through any of it. Eventually, the slight tremors running through his frame eased and he relaxed against Berger's side. Berger ran his fingers through his lover's hair and simply said, "I take it you didn't have a great day, huh?"
Claude's answer was a snort as he pulled himself upright, "I've had worse... but not much worse." Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he let out an exhausted sigh, "I just want to crawl into bed and stay there all weekend."
It was a nice image -- one Berger could warm up to all too easily -- but unfortunately, it wasn't going to happen. He rose from the couch and walked over to the little curio cabinet where Claude kept his more fragile keepsakes. He started turning them this way and that, picking one up and moving it to a different spot, then moving it back. Now that the moment had come, he just couldn't bring himself to add one more burden to his lover's already overburdened shoulders.
Fortunately, Claude had long since gotten used to reading between the lines of what Berger did... and didn't... say. He, too, rose from the couch and walked over to where Berger was fidgeting with the figurines. He said, "OK, I'd have to be blind to miss this sign. What's on your mind, Berger?"
A wince. He still hadn't figured out a good way to explain what had happened earlier, and it wasn't even like it was his fault! He was just the bearer of bad tidings. Finally, he just blurted it out, "I saw Sheila, today."
When no response was forthcoming, he turned to look at Claude just in time to see his face go a few shades paler and to catch him as his knees buckled. Well, shit. That had obviously been the wrong approach. Getting them back over to the couch, he laid Claude back against the cushions and settled himself between the other man's legs twining his own around them. They'd sat like this often when they were younger... only Sheila had always been there, too, her own legs providing a cushion for Claude's head as she leaned over them both. Maybe provoking that imagery wasn't the greatest idea, but laying like this had always comforted Claude in the past, and he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Eventually, Claude's eyes cleared and he reached a shaking hand up to ghost along Berger's cheek, "You couldn't have eased me into that one, could you?"
Berger ducked his head, relief at not having permanently harmed the one he cared most about warring with the hint of mischief that always edged his thoughts, "I couldn't think of any better way to tell you... so I thought it was better just to say it."
Seeing that hint of mischief, and the hope rising in Berger's eyes that he was going to be forgiven for his newest screw-up settled Claude like nothing else on Earth would have. He let out a weary chuckle, "You never change, do you? I can't even be mad at you for it. Hell, I think it's half of why I fell in love with you to begin with."
Berger let a small smile dance across his face as he caught Claude's roaming hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, then leaned forward and stole one from his lips. When he sat back up, Claude's smile finally looked a little more solid, so he took that as a hint that he could safely explain without worrying about Claude half-fainting again, "You remember all those months ago when Jeanie had us and Crissy over for dinner? When she was asking all those questions about that time right around when you were drafted?"
Claude's eyes darkened, "How could I forget? I got my first memories of Nam back that night. What about it?"
"Well, apparently we're not the only ones she's talking to. She's the reason Sheila's here. She wanted to get her stories, too," Berger concluded.
Claude lips pulled down into a puzzled frown, "Do you think she's been in contact with anyone else?"
Berger shrugged, "Don't know, didn't ask." Eyes brightening, he momentarily bounced in place on the couch, "But we can ask when we go over for dinner, tonight!" Gazing back down at his lover, he noted that Claude's eyes were once again glazed and he leaned over, worriedly asking, "Claudio?"
The response he got was not the one he'd been expecting. Claude wrapped his arms around Berger's neck and pulled him down for an intense, devouring kiss. All Berger could think in response was, Huh?, but he didn't let that stop him for long. Claude didn't often take the initiative like this, but Berger was always glad to see it happen when he did. Now what had brought that on...? It was with a wicked chuckle that he realized what had done it and experimentally bounced on the couch again. Claude's hips involuntarily bucked up against him in response and Berger's grin slid into a full-fledged smirk. The random flipping from the bad kind of tension to this kind of tension wasn't entirely unknown to them and it might be exactly what his lover needed to regain his balance for when they went over to Jeanie's tonight... eventually.
When they reached Jeanie's apartment building, it was to run into Cloud on his way down the stairs and out the door. The boy paused, eyeing the two of them for a moment before slumping with an, "Aw, damn. I just knew I was going to miss something good."
Claude just raised an eyebrow and the kid blushed. It always caused a momentary pang in Berger's heart as he watched the two of them. In many ways, Claude was the only "father" the kid had ever known. He'd been raised on story after story about the man Jeanie had loved, the man she'd wished truly had been his father, and when they'd finally met in the flesh... Claude fit with them in a way Berger never really would. It made him sad sometimes, to think he'd been the reason that Claude didn't have this -- a home with a family, children to love and protect. He thought about them often, those children. Maybe there would be a boy -- a young man that would have his father's strength and idealism, his warm, earth-strong, brown eyes. Maybe there would have been a girl, too -- with long, shining locks of hair floating about her face, possessing her father's beauty and grace, and deeply caring and nurturing heart. It haunted him, the images of those children that Claude would never have.
Before he could finish wallowing in the guilt those kind of thoughts always brought, a warm hand sought out his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The look in his lover's eyes was almost painful to see -- the sheer understanding and forgiveness in that gaze, not to mention the depth of the love -- and it left him feeling a little humbled, like always. He raised Claude's hand to his lips and brushed a butterfly kiss over the knuckles to let him know he was done moping. Neither of them could afford to be distracted by regrets tonight.
Cloud, for his part, had a hip cocked and his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked down at the two of them and said, "You know... it gives me hope, watching you two." Ignoring Claude's suddenly sharp look, the boy continued, "I mean, they say a man's libido peaks at 18, but just look at you guys! It warms my heart, really it does."
Claude aimed a swat at the boy's backside, but whether Cloud was too fast or Claude had deliberately been too slow, it never connected. Cloud danced out of the way and skipped down the rest of that flight of stairs, out of reach. Claude just shook his head, then smiled wickedly as he said, "Have fun at Zack's, tonight."
The boy blinked innocently up at him, "What makes you think I'm going to Zack's?"
Giving the younger man a you-must-be-kidding-me look, Claude pointed out his skin-tight tee-shirt and the jeans he was wearing that looked like they'd been painted on. It was with a jolt that Berger realized what the undercurrents of the conversation meant, and another jolt when he realized that the "kid" was 16... almost a man. He and Claude had met when they were 16. Caught in that revelation, he missed the end of the conversation.
A hand on his cheek abruptly brought Berger back to the world to meet Claude's worried eyes -- eyes that silently asked if they needed to go back home so he could retreat from things for a while. He snorted and shook his head, then urgently whispered, "Do you realize what he's going to get up to when he goes to his friend's house tonight?" He had no idea why the thought was bothering him, except that the kid was the closest thing Claude had to a child of his own... and fathers were supposed to be bothered by that sort of thing.
Claude just smirked, "Who do you think gave them the push that landed them in bed together in the first place?" At Berger's shell-shocked look, Claude's expression softened, "Berger... I may be a father figure to him, but I'm not his father. Lord knows, I got up to my own fair share of trouble, romantic and otherwise, when I was his age..." A lifted eyebrow to acknowledge that more than a fair share of the "trouble" had involved Berger, "...and my lack of connection with my father is what drove me into my more wild acts of rebellion. He needs an understanding ear far more than he needs a scolding parent."
Seeing that Berger's eyes still reflected a touch of uncertainty, Claude stepped down to join him on the landing and wrapped his arms around the other man, "I don't regret a moment of my time with you and I've lost nothing that I cared about losing. I was never destined to live the life with the wife, the dog and the 2.5 kids--"
Berger finished the long-standing harangue with him, "--in the house behind the white picket fence."
Claude gave him a broad smile, "Exactly. That was my father's dream, not mine." The smile softened, "My dreams have only ever had room for one other person... and that's you."
Berger met his eyes with naked relief and heartfelt sentiment for just barely a moment before looking away and snorting, "You're such a sap, you know that?"
Claude's laugh was muffled in the fabric of Berger's jacket, but was no less forceful for that, "You can never be serious, even for a minute, can you?"
The smirk that met Claude's lifted face was pure mischief, "I've been known to manage 30 seconds on occasion."
A snort to indicate what he thought of that possibility. Hearts renewed by the moment of connection and laughter, both men glanced up the remaining flights of stairs. Quietly, Claude asked, "Are you ready for this?"
"Nope. You?" was the response.
Claude shook his head, "If I had a year to prepare, I still wouldn't be ready for this."
Holding out an arm to his lover, Berger just raised an eyebrow, "Should we do it anyway?"
With another sigh, Claude just nodded and let Berger lead him up the rest of the stairs.
In unspoken agreement, Claude tucked himself to the side of the door where he wouldn't be seen at first glance and let Berger knock for both of them. When Jeanie opened the door, her eyes flicked around looking for him. When she spotted him to the right of the door, her eyes filled with understanding. She let Berger in and left the door open behind him.
Berger stepped into Jeanie's living room, easily spotting Sheila where she was just rising from the sofa. Jeanie's voice cut through the potential awkwardness of the greeting, "I know you two remember each other, so I'm not going to bother with introductions. But Berger, you may be interested to know that Sheila's married, now."
Sheila's eyes landed on her old friend, as though puzzled as to why it was so important for her to share that information that she couldn't have waited for the flow of conversation to bring them there, naturally. Jeanie just smiled.
For his part, Berger figured that made things simpler... and at the same time, didn't help at all. It was nice of Jeanie to try to reassure them right off the bat, but it had already been highly unlikely that Sheila would randomly leave her new life to try to come back to them. And really... it didn't matter. Because it didn't mean the hurt at having been left out in the first place would be any less. Berger started to sweat from the pressure of, yet again, having to break shocking news to someone he cared about. He should have asked Claude what to say when he'd had the chance... Eventually, he figured that what had almost worked for him before might go... at least not any more badly than the first time, so he just blurted it out, "Sheila... Claude's alive."
The loud "thunk" from just outside the door that had to be Claude's head hitting the wall made Berger wince. Sheila, for her part, was glaring into his eyes, an extremely hurt look on her face. She folded her arms over her chest as she glowered, "You know Berger... after all these years, I still thought that there were lows to which you wouldn't stoop. Clearly I was wrong."
Berger tried to interrupt her, but she ran right over him, "No! I don't want excuses. I don't want to hear any more explanations that won't add up. I've watched you destroy your life right from the front row for years, Berger. I can't do it anymore. I have a husband who loves me and three fabulous children. I have a home and a good job. I don't need this anymore. I don't need you trying to fuck it all up for me!" Rounding angrily on Jeanie, she added, "I don't know what the hell kind of games you're playing at here, but I'm no longer interested. I'm leaving."
Pushing past Berger to get into the hall, she was clearly surprised to be blocked by another body. When she looked up, no doubt to deliver another blistering monologue, she abruptly froze, mouth still open. Claude said quietly into the silence, "This is no game, Sheila. That I can promise you." Taking her arm gently in one hand, he pushed her back inside and closed the door behind him.
Sheila jerked away from him as though the touch burned and then scurried to get the length of the sofa between them. Her face was white and her eyes huge and terrified, "You... you're dead." Before anyone could open their mouths to explain, Sheila's voice rose into tones of near hysteria, "You died 14 years ago!!"
Berger noted with absolute wonder that there were tears tracking down Sheila's face. It was a dissonant note in his memories of her. Sheila didn't cry -- not like this, not because she couldn't control the emotions raging through her. Seeing her break down like that... it made him feel unstable. Sheila was the strong one. She didn't fall apart in public. This was just wrong. Like "Claude the tweed-clad history teacher", a weak Sheila didn't jive with his image of what Sheila was. Had they all really changed that much?
Maybe it was all the practice he'd had lately at comforting someone, or maybe it was just because he'd never seen Sheila so vulnerable -- whatever the case, Berger couldn't take it anymore. Stepping away from Claude, he went to Sheila's side, pulled her into a gentle embrace and started rocking her back and forth. She buried her face in his shirt and sobbed -- lost, broken-hearted sobs like a little child. It made him want to weep in response.
Looking up, he saw Claude watching them, that same disconnected, slightly left-out and broken look he'd always worn when watching he and Sheila together plastered all over his face. Berger hadn't seen that look in 16 years and seeing it now was like a punch to the gut. Maybe they hadn't changed as much as he'd thought... Not in the ways that mattered. Well, this just wouldn't do. He wasn't trying to shut Claude out... he just couldn't stand to see Sheila cry. Letting a hint of his irritation creep into his face, he jerked his head to indicate that Claude should join him. And he did... hesitantly. Claude's arms reached around both of them, snuggling around them like he'd always done, as though willing to shelter them both, but unwilling to get between them to really join the embrace. Well, this time Berger wasn't having it. He knew better now. Freeing one arm from around Sheila, he slipped it around Claude's waist. Claude jumped like a skittish horse, but calmed at the understanding look in Berger's eyes. He wasn't being abandoned, would never be abandoned. Especially not now.
After a time, Sheila's tears slowed and she backed away from the two of them, flushed and embarrassed. Then she stared up at Claude, wonderment breaking through the darker emotions to light up her face, "Claude... is it really you? You're really alive?"
Claude tilted his head to look over at Jeanie and commented philosophically, "You know... that question is getting a little tiresome. Maybe we should just have one gigantic reunion so I can answer it for everyone all at once. What do you say?"
Jeanie unexpectedly ducked her head and wouldn't meet their eyes. Finally, she sighed, "I'm working on it, OK? That was part of what you weren't supposed to know yet. Just... just give me a few more months, all right?"
That was the moment when Sheila chose to swat Berger upside the back of the head, "You jerk! You couldn't have told me he was alive when you saw me before??"
Berger stared for a moment before finding the voice to answer, "And you'd have reacted better if I told you in the park when you still thought I was mad and Claude wasn't nearby as proof?"
This time the blush was more intense, "That's... that's a good point. And I guess I owe you an apology for all that I said earlier..."
Just glad that he'd found a way to fix some small part of the pain he'd caused her, Berger shrugged, "Spilled milk, water under the bridge, doesn't matter. We're cool, now, right?"
Sheila hesitated only a moment, then nodded and held out her hand. Doubtless she wanted it shaken... Berger used it to pull her into another embrace, instead. Sheila just laughed and planted a friendly kiss on his lips, "We're cool, Banana-Berger. We're cool."
Claude's voice broke through the celebrating -- and if there was a cold edge to it, Berger was the only one who picked up on it, "Then if we're all cool and no one's going to start yelling again... Jeanie, I think you mentioned food?"
Jeanie raised an eyebrow, "After all that, you're hungry?"
Claude sighed as he shook his head, "No, not really. But for one thing, if I don't eat, it makes Berger upset." He ignored Berger's muttered, 'Damned right, it does,' and continued, "And for another thing, I'm going to need a base for all the alcohol I'm going to have to drink to get through this story one more time."
Sheila's face paled at those bitter words, but she agreed readily enough to go into the kitchen to help Jeanie get dinner on the table.
Berger, eyes troubled, stepped up to where Claude was perched on the couch arm... their couch. He ran a gentle hand through Claude's hair, letting it come to rest on the back of the other man's neck, "You sure that's a good idea, Claudio?"
Face looking more grim than Berger liked, Claude shook his head, "No, actually, I'm quite sure it isn't. I just don't see any other way. Facing those memories is hard enough drunk... I'm in no hurry to try it sober. Especially not after last night. But Sheila... she's not going to be satisfied with me telling her that I was in the war and then I was home with amnesia. She's going to want to know why. And whether I answer her or not, the memories will still be there. It'll be easier this way... for all of us."
Berger frowned, sure there was a fault in that logic somewhere, but unable to find it. He pulled Claude up against him and the other man quickly turned his face into Berger's stomach as though to hide from the world. Berger just kept lightly stroking his hands down Claude's hair, then his neck, then his back. Right now he didn't know how, but he would protect Claude... even if the person he had to protect him from was himself.
Dinner was a strained affair. Claude ate with single-minded determination, focused on his task to the exclusion of conversation. Sheila kept darting glances at him, as though torn between wanting to get closer to reassure herself he was real... and wanting to flee as far from him as she could to get away from the memories his presence evoked. Berger hovered as close to Claude as the current seating arrangement would allow, mind furiously working on the problem of how to get through the night with the least possible emotional scarring for all concerned. Jeanie, sensing the strain and keenly aware of her part in creating this situation, kept up a nearly endless stream of chatter, desperately trying to keep the tone of the meal light.
When they moved to the living room and Claude started to reach for the liquor cabinet, Berger realized his time to come up with a brilliant solution had just run out. Praying he wasn't about to make a bad situation worse, he played the only card he had -- he parked himself on the floor in front of the cabinet as a living barrier. He could hear Jeanie catch her breath as Claude's eyes met his, an irritated frown on his face, but couldn't spare her a thought. He just met Claude's eyes, stare for stare, and slowly shook his head. Claude's frown deepened, "Berger..."
Berger forced a cheerful smile onto his face, "Yes, Claudio?" This time it was Sheila's turn to catch her breath -- probably at the memories evoked by that nickname. He ignored her, too.
Unable to maintain a sour façade when Berger was smiling so brightly at him, Claude slumped and let out a broken whisper, "What do you want from me?"
It was a moment's work to worm between Claude's legs and get up on his knees to see him eye to eye, "It's not about what I want from you... it's about what I want for you." When Claude looked like he was ready to hear the rest, Berger continued, "I've walked this road, Claude. It doesn't lead anywhere good. You can trust me on that one."
When Claude opened his mouth to protest, Berger grabbed his face in his hands and said in a low, anguished voice, "I don't want to be running out in the middle of the night, seconds before a storm to drag you out from under a bridge. Claude... I don't want that."
It took Claude a second to catch the reference, and when he did, something in his eyes broke, "Berger...?"
The long-haired man just shook his head, "How do you think I ended up in that state to begin with, Claude? I was running from memories of you... and visions of how you died." Taking a deep breath, Berger pulled Claude down to touch his forehead to the other man's, "I only just got you back. I will not lose you again so soon, even to this."
The tableau held for another few seconds before Claude's face broke into a small, wry grin, "I think that was a personal best, Berger. What would you say it was? 45 seconds?"
Berger snorted, "Now, now, you see here. You don't get to steal my shtick. Not at this point in the game. You can't try to take my substance abuse one moment, then a heartbeat later try to take my inability to maintain a serious conversation, too. Especially not if you're going to use it to try to duck out of a conversation that even I think we need to be serious about."
The wry smile slowly warmed into a real one, "Fair enough, love. Well, then, since you seem to be the only sensible one among us tonight, what do you suggest?"
Berger turned to face Sheila, "You want the story?"
Sheila hesitated, but nature will win out almost every time. In the end, she nodded, "I'd like the story."
Berger turned around to look at Jeanie, "Then you tell her. I'm taking Claude home. I think he's had enough stress for one day."
With a huff of laughter for the simplicity of Berger's solution, and a promise to stop by just to spend some time with the girls tomorrow, Claude let himself be led away from the apartment. He tried twice to get Berger to slow down, then finally gave up and let the other man drag him where he would. He didn't raise another protest until they reached their apartment and Berger continued in his single-minded walk... right past it. Pulling back on Berger's hand, he said, "Berger! I thought we were going home. We just passed the apartment... where are we going?" Berger shook his head and started walking faster, still not having any of Claude's attempts to stay him in his flight. Claude raised one more protest when Berger ducked them down into the subway tunnels, but Berger wasn't stopping and he wasn't explaining. He didn't slow until he'd reached his destination: at the park... and the Bridge.
When they got there, Berger still gripping his hand tightly, Claude couldn't even make himself ask the question. This was a place he tried not to ever visit -- it held too many bad memories. He couldn't even imagine what Berger could want to see or do in this place, especially as he thought they'd settled their drama back at Jeanie's apartment. Voice gentle, he called his lover's name, "Berger?"
Finally, Berger spoke, voice low and intense, "I'm not sure you were really hearing me before. I'm not Sheila and I know you better than that. You diverted me at Jeanie's, but I'm not gonna let you divert me here. If I have to hit you with a sledgehammer to get you to see what I'm talking about, then I will." Eyes raising to bore into Claude's, Berger held up a hand and pointed stiffly at the bridge, "There are no answers, there is no protection, in the bottom of a bottle or the inside of a syringe. It's an illusion. It's a way of ducking your head under the covers and ignoring the earthquake shaking the entire house down on top of you. This is where those things lead you in the end." He spun Claude to face him, gripping his shoulders tightly, "I lost 13 years of my life to that false promise and I refuse to let you do the same. Do you hear me??"
Startled by Berger's eloquence and the vehemence in his normally free-spirited, laid-back lover's eyes, Claude could only nod. Berger relaxed his hold and let a smile touch his lips, "From now on, if you need to run, don't run away... run to me. I can take it."
Stunned by how clearly Berger had seen him all this time and how little he'd managed to hide from him, Claude finally relaxed his hold on control. His control all this time had been mostly illusion anyway, a desperate attempt to pretend that he was still untouched by the tragedy that had been Viet Nam. He'd talked to his students about it, sure, as though he'd played no part in it. They'd assumed he'd used college as a way to dodge the draft and he'd let them. It had allowed him to continue the charade that he was untouched by those memories. Well, he didn't have that luxury any more. And if he had to take a little time and fall to pieces, Berger was determined to give him that time. Wrapping his arms securely around his lover, Berger led them both home.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Comments? Questions? Rutabagas?
Berger: *twitch* Rutabagas? Where the hell does she come up with this stuff? At least pineapples are fruit.
R-chan: *snickers*
Berger: *double twitch* Really? We're really going there?
Claude: *sighs* I think we've not only been there, but we've bought the t-shirt.
Coming Soon: Finally our trio get a chance to hash our their differences and try to find a new balance. Unfortunately, with so much pain between them, it won't be easy.
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Date: 2010-02-26 04:54 am (UTC)First: As for the date... The timeline I'm basing off is as follows -- the events of 'Hair' take place in the fall/winter of 1967, IIRC. My entire premise for the AU of this ficverse is that Claude did not die immediately upon arrival in Vietnam, but instead had served for 2 1/2 years before his supposed "death" in the summer of 1970. The first of these two stories takes place in the summer of 1982 through the winter of 1982 (12-12 1/2 years later). This story takes place a year after that in the fall/winter of 1983 (13 1/2 years after Claude's alleged death). When Sheila said he died 14 years ago, she's rounding in the heat of the moment.
Second: the Vietnam/Viet Nam issue -- I confess, I'd seen it spelled both ways (Viet Nam in my old history notes and Vietnam on wikipedia -- see, I did research ^_^) and wasn't certain which was correct, so I just picked one. I tend to trust my school notes over wikipedia, but it's entirely possible that I misspelled it then, too. My apologies -- I'll correct that in any future stories and appreciate you pointing out the mistake.