Title: What If?
Email address: T for a few bad words
Pairing: Neil/Todd
Spoilers: Can you really not have any spoilers when it's for a movie? And if you haven't seen the movie are you going to be reading the fan fiction?
Summary: Todd grows a backbone and a voice. Neil's curiosity is roused.
AU Notes: I'm trying to stay as close to the movie as possible so I do take some dialogue from the script but I put my own spin on it (hopefully). Now this would have been out sooner but both myself and my BETA (whom I have fallen in love with and owe my happiness with this chapter to) came across technical and RL difficulties.
Word Count: 1,345
Warning: There is one part where I take a bit of artistic license with (what I believe is) a major part of the movie (and my fic).
Disclaimer: I do not own DPS, I make no money off of this.
It wasn't until later that evening, right before dinner actually, that Neil finally came back from his play rehearsal. In his arms he hefted a lumpy paper sack.
"Um, N-neil? What is that?" Todd asked gesturing to the brown paper covered lump.
Not saying a word, Neil grinned and ripped the sack off of the object with a flourish that only a true thespian can perform.
The reaction Todd gave was not exactly one that Neil had been hoping for. "Where did you get that ratty thing, and what makes you think we'll be able to keep it in our room?" the sandy haired boy asked, his worry about getting caught battling his amusement at his roommates antics and enthusiasm.
"It was a prop from the theatre, and they were going to just throw it away like it was trash. I think it's got a lot of character left in it." Neil said studying the old beat-up prop. "Besides, it's not going to be staying in our room. It's for the cave."
"It's the god of the cave." Neil said sitting down while removing the old yellow, tatty shade from the lamp that happened to bare a striking resemblance to George Washington, or at least the George Washington that was drawn in their History Books.
Chuckles were heard all around, but attention was quickly diverted from the newly declared God of the cave to Charlie as he began the meeting with his latest piece of poetry - "Poetrusic."
"Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling."
Everyone stopped playing with their pipes, their attention fully on Charlie now.
"Gotta do more. Gotta be more."
Wails of jagged notes, matching the wails of jagged emotion emit from the woodwind, crashing off of the cave's surface.
"Chaos screaming, Chaos dreaming. Gotta do more! Gotta be more!"
The reedy vibrato of a more soothing harmony rolled out of Charlie's medium - washing over the inhabitants of the dark shelter, leaving them glowing with awe.
It took a while after the tune wound down from it's final crescendo for someone to speak. "Wow," Meeks mumbled dazedly.
"That was nice. That was great. Where did you learn to play like that?" Pitts asked from his corner next to Todd, his voice containing a slight rasp, lungs unaccustomed to the unfiltered tobacco of his pipe.
"My parents made me take the clarinet for years." Charlie said, as if that explained everything.
Cameron obviously didn't catch his drift. "I love the clarinet."
"I hated it." Charlie snorted and rolled his eyes at his roommate. "Now the saxophone. The saxophone is more sonorous."
"Ooh." Cameron mocked, trying to cover the fact that his cheeks were flaming, angry that once again Charlie was able to best him.
"Vocabulary." Meeks added, though his tone took on a more teasing note than mocking.
"All right gentlemen," Neil exclaimed while standing. "Tonight, for the first time ever, our dear Todd Anderson will read some of his work!"
While everyone else was unfazed, used to Neil's unusual outbursts, though the content of this one slightly different from the norm, Todd's response was somewhat different. His eyes shot in Neil's direction, expression akin to a deer caught in a trucks headlights. "What!"
Neil grinned, nodding like a maniac. "Come on Toddy, you said that you wanted to start actively partaking in our meetings. Well, here's your chance!"
"I di-didn't mean tonight, b-besides, I don't have anything to read!" he knew he was grasping for anything he could get a hold on, knowing in the end he could never say no to Neil. Hell not being able to say no to Neil is how he started coming to the meetings in the first place.
"That's alright, I wrote down what you said in class today!" Neil said brandishing his notebook for Mr. Keating's class. Not seeing Todd's panicked expression diminish, he grabbed his friend by the back of the neck and pulled him forward until their faces a mere breaths length apart. Looking hesitant himself, and at a more hesitant Todd, he added quietly, "You can fly, I promise you won't fall." He wanted to add more, but didn't know how to voice it in a cave full of males, even though he had it worded perfectly in his mind.
Todd nodded, quite shaky by now, and stood in the middle of their impromptu circle - grabbing Neil's notebook as an after thought. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything out.
Taking a deep breath he slowly re-opened his eyes.
"I-I…I close my eyes, and this image f-floats beside me. A s-sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. And, and all the time he's mumbling. M-Mumbling, truth. Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream…" As Todd trailed off he looked over and saw, for the second time that day, a proud look on Neil's face.
Seeing that look - knowing it was for him - he felt compelled to continue. "B-but acceptance of life, of truth, of the unknown. Acceptance of hurt, of comfort, of uncertainty. Acceptance of…life…will bring the warmth of living. The warmth - of peace - will envelop you. Warm the feet that lay uncovered by the blanket. A-and when I open my eyes, the madman that stares at me is not a madman, but my own face reflected back to me…"
There was silence, but it only lasted a moment. The whole cave erupted into applause and all other sorts of ruckus. But this time the applause was for a different reason. They weren't for Todd's amazing poem, no they had applauded earlier in the day for his descriptive metaphors and allusions and similes of truth. This applause, this pride that radiated throughout their cave was for a new level of freedom one of their own achieved. It was the pride that one friend has for another when they finally realize something about themselves and embrace it. Yes, Todd came up with the poem earlier in class, but that was only because their teacher, Mr. Keating, made him block out the rest of the class, allowing him to hide in his darkness. Pretend he was alone in his room.
Tonight, in this cave, Todd Anderson looked around at the people surrounding him and declared his thoughts worthy of other people's ears. Declared him worthy.
But, true to the erratic nature of the meetings, just as Todd was sitting down and the excitement started to ebb, Knox jumped out of his seat.
"I can't take it anymore. If I don't have Chris, I'm gonna kill myself." he cried as he paced around the cave, breathing as if he were about to hyperventilate.
"Knoxious, you've gotta calm down." Charlie said, trying to placate his friend.
"No, Charlie. That's just my problem. I've been clam all my life. I'll do something about that. Tonight's a night of changes!" Knox turned towards the cave entrance a slightly crazed gleam in his eyes.
"Where are you going?" Neil asks jumping up, ready to follow his friend.
"What are you gonna do?" Charlie asked, jumping up right next to Neil.
"I'm gonna call her." Knox answers with a dazed grin, chuckling as he left the cave. Throwing a mixture of panicked and amused looks between them, everyone else quickly grabbed their coats and ran after him.
All except for Charlie that is. He fell back in the cave to continue his creation. But not the more resonant sound of a well tuned instrument, but the shrieks of noise that only a select few would consider music. Such music that would cause listeners to confuse him with a Corybante, a priest of the goddess Cybele.
Chaos screaming, Chaos dreaming. Gotta do more! Gotta be more!
TBC
priests of Cybele (most often identified with Rhea or to the Romans the Great Mother), known as Corybantes, worshiped her with cries, shouts and clashing of cymbals and drums.
I was really tenitive about continuing Todd's poem because I'm afraid that it won't seem like Todd or that I screwed up a major point from the movie.