Summary: Between the lines of the episode, "The Play's the Thing," from Carmen's POV.
Author's note: I always wondered exactly how Carmen convinced Lily to perform in her production and why she chose that particular tragedy. Here are some (femslashy) answers.
If consensual romantic relationships between two women is not your cup of tea, this is not the tale for you. While this story is far from explicit, it is rated M because of target viewer age.
Disclaimer: WOEICS is the property of DIC etc. Willy Shakes is in the public domain.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.
Antony & Cleopatra Act II Scene II
I suppose it was my damnable pride that lead me here. The actress Lily Marlene did not realize it, but by interrupting one of my capers she had effectively thrown down the gauntlet. The moment in a crime when I actually escape with the object of my desire is always one of near euphoria for me. How I hated to be robbed of it. And by an actress no less, not even one of my beloved ACME detectives.
So that was how I came to be in the office of Lily Marlene's agent, accompanied by a few of my associates. I had my people call her people, you see.
And so I began my offer. I described the unique opportunity of performing against the backdrop of Giant's Causeway, promised her a star turn in the tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. The actress' clear blue eyes stared boldly back into mine throughout the entire pitch. Her look was less Dietrich than Monroe, somewhere between Iowa farmer's daughter and tanned California girl. Not really much of a Cleopatra. And not really my type.
Finally, she spoke. "I'm rather surprised to see you here, Carmen. After what happened at the Hollywood sign, I'd expect you'd want to slash my tires, not offer me a job."
"It is not often I meet someone who challenges me, Ms. Marlene. You made quite an intriguing first impression." I had learned long ago that the best lies are often creative versions of the truth.
The actress glanced at her handlers. "Well, as my agent always says, there's no such thing as bad publicity. And Cleopatra is the role of a lifetime."
"Are you sure you are up to the task?" I couldn't resist needling her. "You are better known for box-office blockbusters than the classics."
The blonde gave a rather ungraceful snort. "I trained at Julliard, Carmen. I don't star in movies that contain more explosions than dialogue by choice. But that's what I am offered. And that's what pays my bills."
"Well, for the sake of argument, perhaps you would humor me with an audition?" Verisimilitude was always the best policy. Lily Marlene's lips offered a lovely pout, but she picked up her script with little protest.
And so our little dance began. Lily as the Egyptian queen thrust and I, as Antony, parried back her verbal attacks. Shakespearean dialogue is nothing if not sharp. I have to admit, I was so enthralled in our duet, I barely noticed when we reached the end of the scene.
"Pardon, pardon!" my Cleopatra cried and thrust herself into my arms. A bit too melodramatic for my taste, but that hardly mattered under the circumstance.
"Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates/ All that is won and lost: give me a kiss," I dared, a gloved finger tracing the outline of her jaw.
I honestly didn't think she would do it.
Really, most people are afraid of me. I seem to live inside my own security perimeter sometimes. Even the detectives who pursue me are reluctant to invade my personal space enough to actually catch me.
To my utter amazement, the tiny blonde grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard. Her lips felt so unexpectedly warm and pliable against mine. For a moment, I forgot where I was, forgot my elaborate con, and kissed her back. I might have actually moaned with pleasure. But all too soon rationality returned and I came crashing to earth. I pulled away and fought to regain the icy composure I was famous for, all the while feeling betrayed by the color rising in my cheeks. My henchmen offered me aroused and amused expressions, which I returned with a withering glare.
"Satisfied?" The actress asked, a defiant glimmer in her eye.
Hardly, I thought. "Very," I lied.
Backstage at the amphitheatre a week later, I stood outside Lily Marlene's dressing room and applied my lipstick. Not my trademark color but something that Sara Bellum had cooked up at my request. A color I liked to think of as "Knockout Red."
I sighed. There were more efficient ways to do this. An injection of M-99 to the neck that would have left the actress incapacitated for hours, for one. A blow to the back of the head by a heavy object, for another. But I was not prone to violence. And this way was so much more fun.
I knocked at the door. "Lily?" I called out.
She bade me come in and shared a broad smile with me. "Thank you for the flowers. And the champagne."
I had sent my leading lady two dozen roses, red of course. "You're very welcome. We'll toast your success after the show. I just came to say break a leg."
The actress smiled and twirled around in her costume for my approval like a debutante before a ball. Her gown was alluring and modest at the same time and the trim set off her golden hair. I reached over and tugged at a stray blonde curl. She, oddly enough, didn't pull away. She should have. My gloved hands snaked through her hair as I brought my lips crashing down on hers. It was a shorter embrace than last time, but long enough, I hoped, for Sara's compound to work its magic. "For luck," I told her.
When we parted Lily Marlene had a happy yet glazed expression on her face. In about five seconds, she went weak in the knees for me, quite literally. I caught her body as it sagged against mine. Later, I felt something akin to a twinge of guilt when I unceremoniously left her unconscious in an empty wardrobe. But the curtain was about to rise in less than ten minutes and there was no time for regrets. The show must go on.
One month later…
I have always had a fondness for pretty things. Usually my tastes run more to Faberge eggs and priceless Vermeers than flaxen-haired starlets. But I also have never been able to resist a challenge. It was not often I crossed paths with a woman who managed to foil my plans and upstage me. Twice.
One month later, it was hard to believe this had all started as an act of revenge.
I've never cared for L.A. I prefer the baroque glamour of Paris or the glitz of Shanghai to the sprawl and the smog of Southern California. Perhaps it's my own hometown bias- nothing beats the bohemian elegance of my native San Francisco.
Outside Lily Marlene's Malibu dream house, palm trees swayed in the moonlight and I could faintly hear the surf crash below. Well, like the blonde actress herself, I suppose the City of Angels had its charms.
Lily was famous, but not so famous as to require armed guards on the premises. Her security system was serviceable enough to keep out the paparazzi but too simplistic to whet my criminal appetites. I thought for a moment and cut the phone lines in case things went badly. After all my noteworthy escapades, it would be horribly embarrassing to be put away for trespassing.
Doors are for lesser mortals. I descended from a skylight like a Sophoclean deus ex machina into Lily's living room. The actress was sprawled across her couch, surrounded by a small mountain of scripts and screenplays. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and were those reading glasses perched upon her nose? Not her usual level of style, but endearing nevertheless.
Her blue eyes went wide, but she didn't move a muscle. "Carmen. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Where to begin. "I'm sorry I knocked you out and locked you in a closet." I'm terrible at apologies. I so rarely give them.
She arched a pale eyebrow. "Really? I'm not." To my surprise she responded, "Your little bait and switch was one of the best things ever to happen to my career. Suddenly I'm being asked to do Chekhov in New York and work with Marty Scorcese instead of filming, you know, Amazons From Outer Space III." She eyed me suspiciously. "I hope you're not planning on going public with your story."
I shook my head. "No. You beat me at my own game. Turnabout is fair play."
Lily shoved some scripts aside and patted the seat beside her. I sat down, uncomfortably close. "I watched your performance. You did a superb job. Perhaps even better than I would have done." She paused for a moment then quipped, eyes flashing, "Your suicide was especially convincing."
At a rare loss for words, I simply shrugged.
"Are you so like her then…Cleopatra? Is that why you chose this play…why you were so good?"
"I don't follow."
"Most people think Cleopatra died for love, but really it was pride. The queen was so proud, she chose to die rather than become Caesar's prisoner. Is that how you feel if you were captured? The choice you would make?" Lily's tone and look held a sincerity I would not have thought her capable of.
There was truth in what the actress had spoken. She uncovered motivations I had left unexamined. When I replied, it was in a soft voice I hardly recognized as my own. "I like to pretend I can run forever, but I know that idea is…unlikely. One day, I may be too slow. Or my gadgets may fail. And, yes, I will have to make that choice. I...I don't know."
I faltered and tried to turn away as my eyes were pricked with unexpected tears. Lily's left hand, petal soft, reached out to stroke my cheek, while her right removed my fedora and caressed my hair. In that moment, I was utterly exposed and undone. And then she kissed me, briefly and intensely, her soft lips reaching out to claim my own. No cunning, no guile, no one to impress. Just a kiss, so sweet it pained me.
Now it was my turn to feel weak in the knees. And I could not blame it on lipstick laced with barbiturates.
When we pulled away, the famous actress gave me a shy smile. "In spite of everything, I like you, Carmen. The world would be a smaller place without you." She rose and pulled me to my feet. "Come," Lily told me and cocked her head toward what I assumed was her bedroom. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, a look I found irresistible on anyone, but especially her.
As I followed her, I was filled with the heady mixture of anticipation and delight I associated with the grandest of larcenies. And I suspected that Lily had stolen not only the show, but a piece of my reluctant heart as well.
FINIS