A couple of weeks ago I saw the film The Fall for the first time after hearing loads about it (mostly from all the gifsets on tumblr). I was pleasantly surprised, it's not only beautifully shot, costumed and cast but also a very meaningful movie and deserves more attention.
After seeing the film I went to read the fanfics on it that I could find, and became inspired to write my own. Above all I loved the relationship between Roy and Alexandria, it's so beautifully genuine and believable. I know it might be a bit weird to turn them into a pairing, but I'll do my best.
So without further ado, welcome to my first The Fall fanfic; 'Different ways to Fall', please enjoy!
The journey has taken me two hours. Or is it ten years? My imaginative mind has never left me, and even as I stand here at the ripe age of eighteen my thoughts still try to push creative ideas through everything I see. I'm not a little girl anymore. Not that I want to be. Or do I? I've felt so torn recently, and I'm certain this dreamy little hope I have is the only answer.
The baby-blue coloured bus that took me in the early morning from the orange grove that is my home to Hollywood pulls away. The other passengers exit and scatter in many directions, getting on with their busy and bustling lives. But somehow I just can't seem to do the same.
I had dosed for most of the journey with my head pressed up against the murky window. But now fluffy clouds patter across a sapphire blue sky as the morning sun streams down onto the sidewalk I stand alone on. Facing me across the boulevard is the colossal Warner Brothers studio. I suck in a huge gulp of warm air and pull my brown leather satchel further up onto my shoulder and start my way across the road to the studio entrance.
As I walk I find myself questioning how on earth I came to decision to be here now. Of course it's not all about my emotions; I'm here on business too. But I start to wonder if I'm just thinking this in denial? Why I'm coming on business is technically because of my emotions.
I start to think back to the very beginning; ten years ago, when I was a little girl with only one working arm. Over the years the memories have become blurred. Mother has mentioned the hospital over the years. But now I cannot remember what it looked like, big or small? What were the beds like? I remember there were some nice people, but I can't remember what they looked like just that they belong to a building I also can't remember the appearance of.
But among all the faces that must have been in that Hospital there is only one person I will never forget. Roy. I can always bring back the memory of his face, and pinching his toes, and his words. When all other things of my childhood become blurred his words will always stick true and clear in my mind, as if he is standing beside me and telling them to me all over again. Words about strength and saving souls, and Alexander the Great, but best of all is the words about The Masked Bandit and the people he knew. I find it impossible to believe it's been ten years since he spoke those words to me.
My broken arm healed and I was gone from the hospital long before Roy was on the way to recovery. I only found out he'd healed when I saw him in the pictures. In the holidays Mother used to take me and my sister Gabriel to them and then I'd see Roy, only for a second or so, he'd be narrowly avoiding a train, or taking a hit by something dangerous, or climbing high up among many tall building the likes of which we don't have at home. And then the second would pass and he'd be gone, replaced with the face of the star of the show. I've never went to the pictures to see the famous faces but while growing up seeing Roy was always a comfort, even if it was only on screen and never for real.
But the years passed and with them I grew older, and Mother needed me to help her more often in the grove now that Gabriel and I were strong enough too, between that and my lessons my visits to the theatre became less. And Roy became more of a memory than a presence in my life through the silver screen. Still I never forgot his words, especially his epic tale.
Some nights after lessons and then further work tending and gathering oranges out in the fields I would come home to find sleep not agreeing to me, so I would tell myself just a little part of Roy's story every night, perhaps subconsciously I was trying to keep his presence in my life alive. And that's how I came to write the story down. Night after night I would set a candle by my open window and pull my bed sheets over me, forming a tent reminding me of the white drapes the hung around Roy's bed in the hospital. And I would handwrite the tale of the Masked Bandit down on paper I'd taken from spare books at school, word for word, exactly as I remembered it as he told it to me, persevered forever in my mind and on paper.
Then came my eighteenth birthday and I hadn't been able to go to the movie theatre for years, both money and work were hard after '29. But Mother let Gabriel and me and some of the other girls from the grove go into town and have a meal in a restaurant and to go see one of the new Talkies. We went to see the film, and there was Roy. And I realised it would soon be ten years since I took that fall which brought me to him. I couldn't believe he's still acting. Shouldn't he be too old for such dangerous work now?
I finished writing the story two months later, and then I spent hours after lessons had ended still in school to use the typewriter. Finally satisfied that I'd got the epic right, I've arrived in L.A. with an appointment with a book publisher tomorrow. Just one thing remains to be done, after all only part of the tale in mine.
The last film I saw Roy in was made by the Warner Brothers Studios, with any luck he's still working for them now. This is ridiculous, I tell myself for the umpteenth time as I stand before enormous entrance to the studio. But no matter how many times I think it I still don't change my mind. Past the gates I find a small building with large glass windows and I can see security men sitting inside. A twinge of nerves volts through me but I've come too far and waited too long to turn back now. I walk up the few steps and knock twice on the side of the open door.
The security men all glance up at me, most of them stare at me with blank faces but the oldest of the team, apparently the leader indicated by the gold badge he wears unlike the others, spreads a warm and welcoming smile across his face.
"Something I can do for you, kid?" He asks kind-heartedly.
"Yes." I answer with a twitch of a smile on my face and I cross the room to where he sits. The other men all go back to their work with bored expressions on their faces. "I'm looking for Roy Walker; I have some business to discuss with him."
"Roy Walker." He repeats, testing out the name. "What department does he work in?"
"Stunt work, I think." I add the 'I think' lamely onto the end, partly because I don't want to make trouble for him, partly because I don't want to get my own hopes up. What are the chances the Roy still works here, and is in the studio today, and has the time to see me? "To be honest, I'm not even certain he still works here. It's just the last thing I heard." I blurt out, more for my own fears than anything to help the chief of security.
He throws me another kind smile and stands slowly up. "I'll check are records." He says and walks briskly over to a shelf of folders lining the one non-windowed side of the room.
I wait while he flicks through a large folder practically hearing the scoffing smiles of the security guards behind me. This may be Hollywood, but I don't suppose they have a strange young lady walk into their station all that often.
"Ah." The chief cries. "Here we are."
My heart skips a beat. I want to dash over to read the information he's found in the folder but I find my legs entirely weak, it seems to take eternity for me to walk over to where he stands with the open folder.
"Yes, Roy Walker." He says, jabbing a finger into the file.
I peer cautiously over to look at the information.
"Says in his schedule he's due in today, filming in studio eight." The chief continues.
I force the large lump that's appeared in my throat back down again. After all these years I'm finally going to see him again. "Can I go see him?" I managed to squeak out.
"Now then, slow down a minute there, kid." My incredible helper replies as he snaps the folder shut and gives me a comically stern glare. "Your Mister Walker is doing big business up in studio eight; I can't let anyone go wondering in."
I just stand there in a daze and contemplating the fact that he just remarked Roy as being mine. He carefully places the file back in the right place and strides over to one of the desks lining the room and I follow after him.
"Now then, I'll call up one of our boy scouts and see if he can take you over to see Mister Walker during his lunch break, they're not really boy scouts that's just the name we have for them because security guards makes them sound tougher than they really are, they're not bad lads actually."
He twirls a number into the phone as I wait with held breath and listen to one half of the conversation.
"Hello there, Charlie. How's the job keeping you? Good, good." The chief continues on with his small talk for a minute or so. "Listen I've got a young lady here. Miss...?" He glances up at me with a questioning face.
"Carmen." I tell him my surname promptly.
"...Miss Carmen. She says she's got some business to discuss with Roy Walker, one of our stunt lads. Are you free after midday, kid?" He asks, holding the phone receiver below his chin and shooting me another glance.
I nod quickly at him, I had planned nothing for today.
"I'm wondering if you could take her over to see him during the lunch break?" The chief continues, talking into the phone once again. "Studio eight is scheduled to have lunch break at 1:30. Will you take her over to the cafeteria there? Thanks Charlie."
He puts the phone down and I stare expectantly at him.
"Charlie says he'll take you to Studio eight's cafeteria in about three hours. Come back here then and he'll pick you up, kid." He tells me.
I agree to his terms and thank him and scuttle out the door as quickly as possible for fear that if I stay any longer I'll give him a bear hug and bust into happy tears.
The ten years that I've spent without Roy physically in my life seem to have sped by compared to the crawling speed the next three hours seem to take.
I sit in a cafe across the street from the studios watching the world go by and drinking cup of tea after cup of tea. I know I should eat something; after all I skipped breakfast this morning to get the bus, but my stomach feels like its left me, along with my lungs and my heart and every other vital organ in my body. I feel as if I'm one of the wispy clouds above my head. Floating, and waiting, waiting to go somewhere, waiting for these three hours to end.
Finally my time comes up and I tug my black coat that I wear loosely on my shoulders like a cape over my shawl and dash across the road. I'm early, leaving for me to stand awkwardly in the middle of the security guard's station as the minutes slide by, until a shadow cuts away the light streaming in from the door and we hear a brisk tap.
"Ah, Charlie. Good to see you, lad." The chief says as he looks up and across at a man in similar uniform about ten years younger than he is.
Charlie smiles brightly and marches into the room.
"Miss Carmen, Charlie Billson." The chief says and throws his hand out to indicate each of us as he says our names.
Thankfully the two guards spare me from my anxiousness with time with very little small talk unlike their conversation on the phone. Before too long Billson and I are leaving the security station and he shows me to a little vehicle, like the golf carts I've seen on post cards. I get into the passenger's seat and we drive away. The studio is very active, there are women walking about in elegant ball gowns and a cigarette in their hand, burly men carry pieces of hard card with paintings of a far off landscape on them from studio to another, but I only take fleeting looks at them, my mind is on the place we're speeding along to, and the person that's going to be there.
When we arrive I hop off the 'golf cart' and take in my surroundings. I'm standing at the top of two steps, descending into a circle full of tables nailed to the floor with large umbrellas open above their heads. On the left side of this circle a small building that has open double doors all along its front side and people both in peculiar costumes and normal fashions stream in and out of the doors carrying food or clean plates on trays to and from the tables and the building. On the right side across a small road a towering building stands with a large number eight sign stapled high on its front wall.
Billson picks his way through crowd and I float after him. "Roy Walker." He calls and strides with ease over to a man and stands before him, blocking him from my view. I'm left to drive my way through the horde.
"Miss Carmen." Billson is just saying to the other as I turn up and with that he strides off with an equal look of ease as before.
I turn my eyes down to the person sitting at the table. I'm well prepared for this moment, or at least I was. My mouth parts open slightly and I just stare for a few seconds at him. Roy. Ten years on. Ten years? I wouldn't know it. The fact that he sits now with legs firmly bent in use is the only thing that shows the passage of time in him. No wait, I realise as I study his face. If anything he appears better. Somehow there is more, warmth in him. It sounds a silly description, but it's true. His eyes are deeper, his lips have more color in them, and his face looks warmer. This is not the broken soul I first met in a hospital all those years ago. I fixed that.
He is half dressed in the costume I presume is for the film he's working on today, but he wears a plain white T-shirt, like the ones American soldiers wear, underneath.
"Miss Carmen?" He asks politely as he looks up at me.
I do my best to compose myself, even though all the organs that I seemed to have been missing for the past hours have returned. My heart defiantly has a least; it's beating so hard, fast and loud that I can barely think. I sit down opposite him at the table, slinging my satchel off and holding it on my lap. "Hello Roy." I finally manage to utter out.
"Is there something I can do for you?" He questions.
"Yes." I mumble in reply and force my eyes away from him as I fumble with the clasp of my satchel, I find it much more difficult than I usually would but not looking at his face helps and eventually I calm myself down enough to open the bag and pull out a thick pile of paper held in a leather folder and place it on the table before him. I have to meet his eyes again, this time thankfully with a little confidence.
He looks from the leather encased story to me. "Is this a script? Because I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person, Miss-"
"No." I cut him off, growing greater confidence in the satisfaction of doing so. "It's not a script. I will, no matter what, allow this to be adapted into a picture. I want people to use their imagination when this is read."
"A book?" He questions and stares at me as if he's trying to make up his mind if I'm insane or not.
"Will you please just read it? Even just the title page?" I beg, and stare down at the leather folder because I can't look into his eyes any longer. His gaze is so penetrating.
I hear a noise that sounds like a mix of a cough and a small laugh escape his lips before he draws the folder towards him and pulls the elastic ribbon off it and opens it up. My eyes flash back up to his face now that his focus is on the paper inside the folder. I scrutinise his eyes closely as their gaze flickers across the title page of our story. The tale has been carefully written up on a typewriter, but the title page is the one thing inside that is handwritten in my proud and elegant hand.
The Adventures of the Masked Bandit
A Novel
By Alexandria Carmen
His pupils dilate as the realisation clicks into him. He lifts his gaze from the paper and black ink to meet my own eyes and his mouth drops open as he stares at me in disbelief.
"Hello Roy." I repeat and give him the same widespread and warm smile I used to give to him as a little girl.
"Alexandria, from the hospital?" He gasps.
I nod my head firmly. "Yes."
"You...you're a woman." He stammers out.
I suddenly realise the most stupid and obvious thing. All this time I've been wondering about Roy and his changes after all these years. I never once spared the thought of how I will have changed to him. And I have changed.
I glance down at myself as I sit in the chair. I've grown tall. I still wear my hair in two braided pigtails, but my hair is substantially longer, just below my waist. I have a full set of teeth, though there is a noticeable gap between the front two, but I've never minded. The white blouse and swing skirt I have the shirt tucked neatly into beneath my black coat and the traditional shawl tied around me show the curves I've developed, plus considerable length of my legs. I splash a little bit of make-up on my face now, but I used my very best lipstick today for the city. Even my accent lingers only a little now, in the way I finish my sentences. I've been surrounded by many other voices over the years, and thus my own voice has altered. All in all Roy is right. I'm not the little girl he knew anymore. I'm a woman.
"Yes." I answer as I look back up at him and smile, showing my complete strength. "I suppose I am now."
At long last he remembers to shut his mouth and he keeps it firmly closed for a moment, he just sits opposite me and looks over the changes. I'm happy enough to just here and watch him myself. I can tell he's thinking hard on everything that's happened, where we are now, and where it began all those years ago.
"I can walk again." He says finally.
"I know." I reply. "I came to see you."
He stares at me, confused.
"In the theatre." I add.
"Ah." He sighs and sits back into his chair a little more. "You saw my films?"
"Yes. I'm surprised you stuck at it for this long actually." I admit, looking down. It strikes me the fact that Roy refers to the pictures as 'his films', I can remember his words about them when I told him I'd never seen one. You're not missing much.
When I look back up at him he's not smiling at me, but somehow I can see the smile in his face. His eyes are looking at me in an adoring fashion, there's the tiniest quiver at one corner of lips, and his head is slightly tilted to the left. It makes me feel like I'm a little girl with her arm in a cast sitting beside him in the hospital all over again.
"Can I tell you a secret, Alexandria?" He asks softly.
I beam at him, I know he remembers too. "You know I'll always keep your secrets, even when they torture me with needles." I say dramatically.
He sighs again and nods. "To be honest, I think the real reason I'm not working behind the camera yet is because of you. I've had this absurd little dream that you might happen to see me in one of the pictures. Even though you're not supposed to see me, they always try to cover me up as the star of the show. But I liked to hope that you'd seen me, just for that split second, and then you might remember me."
"I...I could never forget you." I stammer out. I'm stunned, his secret is so genuine and beautiful, and it's strange that I've been going to the pictures all through my childhood just to see him and now to find out that's what he wanted. It's like we never did miss each other these past ten years. "And I guess now you have permission to retire, because I've seen your pictures." I add as a joke because he's watching me with such joy that I'm sure it'll give me a heart attack.
Thankfully it works and he bows his head as he chuckles. "What are you doing here?" He asks lifting his eyes to me again after a small pause. "You just emerge back into my life after ten years. Why?"
I lean forward and point to where my name is written on the title page. "It says by Alexandria Carmen, but it's not just my story. I have an appointment with a book publisher tomorrow, but I wanted to try and find you before then. I want your name credited as writer as well."
"You want me to become a writer?" He asks as if I'm half-mad.
"Well, I did just say you could retire from stunt acting." I joke. "In all seriousness though, I've already written up the book, I spent the last two years doing so. But I want the book credited as being a joint partnership if it's published, written by both of us. After all you did come up with the story, I just typed it up."
"I came up with most of it. You are part of the story too." He reminds me.
"True. But it was probably for the best, your ending will not sell copies." I retort playfully.
He smiles. "I'm glad you changed the ending."
His mouth is left open; as if he means to say something more, but then he shuts it firmly closed. I understand nonetheless. If I hadn't changed the ending of the story for him, he would have ended himself with it as well. I might have become a little girl with a broken soul like the one he'd had, because I'd lost my friend.
We sit there in silence, completely at ease with each other, for a few seconds. Suddenly the ring of a bell concludes an end to our conversation. All at once the many cast and crew members that surround us stand, bin any remaining food and start slowly filing their way through the large double doors into Studio eight.
"Ah." Roy sighs in annoyance as he looks around at the masses of people leaving, but he makes no quick attempt to stand. Instead he gazes over at me, the intent watch in his face again. "Come with me."
"What?" I gasp.
"Come back with me to the studio, I'll find you a place to watch until I'm finished."
"Are...are we allowed to do that?" I stammer.
"Ah, I've been working for them long enough, they won't mind so long as you behave yourself. Can you do that for once?" He says, giving me the eye.
"No stealing anything, you got it." I say and smile. I know he remembers how mischievous I was as a child.
We get up together and push through the crowd to where Billson waits by the cart.
"Miss Carmen will accompany me into the studio." Roy explains.
Billson gives a suspicious look between the both of us but says noting. He gets into the cart a drives away. Roy turns to me and smiles. He slips his hand into mine and leads me in the direction of the others through the doors of the studio. Somehow holding his hand is the best thing yet since I found him again. It a wonderful feeling to know that he's physically back in my life again.
So that's the first chapter. Please tell me what you think.
I'd like to thank ICanSeeYourFace for her beautiful fanfiction 'Where I Keep My Strength' which partly inspired me to write this in the first place. It's definitely worth checking out if you haven't read it yet.
Notes:
I don't usually write in present tense, but seeing as this is from Alexandria's point of view I want readers to feel like their travelling with Alexandria through the story, not knowing what's going to happen etc. Please forgive if I occasionally slip back in past tense.
Furthermore I'm actually from England, but again as this is Alexandria's POV she'd use American-English, which I don't, so apologies if I ever use the wrong word or spelling.
I read over all my stories, but I might miss some mistakes some time, hopefully it's not too obvious or distracting if there are any.
I don't believe Alexandria's age is ever specified in the film, but Catinca Untaru who played Alexandria was born in 1997 and film was realised in 2006, so I estimate that she was about eight years when the film was shot, so I made Alexandria the same age for the events in The Fall.
Well I think that's about everything. Please review, I need some advice seeing as this is just the first chapter and I haven't been a fan of the film for long, so any comments are very much welcomed.
Thanks for reading, I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible.