The Man
"Five minutes."
A distant voice echoed inside his head, before he felt a hand on his shoulder and his body
being shaken.
"You have five minutes."
Opening his eyes, he looked up into an unknown face hovering above his own.
"What?" He asked as he looked around the room feeling displaced and confused.
"I said you have five minutes." The unknown man repeated, then abruptly turned and left
the room.
Shit! He knew he shouldn't have sat down on the couch. It was a bad idea and he knew it.
He'd told himself to get up the moment he sank down into its soft and inviting cushions but
his body had overruled his brain. Working sixteen hours straight and then taking a red eye
across country left little time to catch any sleep. He was definitely going to have to talk to
his new agent about scheduling conflicts. In all fairness to the man, it was last minute, he
was only suppose to be out here to tape an interview for a late night talk show later in the
day when the network called and asked him to fill in after a guest cancelled on one of their
morning shows. It had been the right choice, even though it left his sleep deprived.
Reluctantly pulling himself up from the comfort of the couch, he staggered across the room
to the small bathroom in the corner. He was going to splash water onto his face to wake
himself up when he remembered that he'd been through make up already. Damn!
He wandered back out into the room and headed over to the small mini fridge. He opened
the door and looked inside for a soda, hoping its fizzy coolness would bring him back to his
senses. He grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the shelf, opened it and took a big swig. Yep, that
was better, and the ensuing belch even helped a bit.
Now that he was sufficiently awake, he took a moment to ponder the strangeness of the
dream he'd just had. Why those two characters, he wondered, and why the bar and the
creepy bartender? He'd probably need a therapist to understand all the underlying meanings
going on in that dream. Better not spend too much time thinking about it…he needed to
think about the prep questions he'd been reviewing on the plane ride. He needed to be
focused for the interview ahead. He did a few stretches and vocal exercises to get the blood
flowing so he wouldn't look or sound like he was half asleep. He was pacing around the
room when the man, he remembered him now from the production staff, popped his head
into the room.
"They're ready for you now, just follow me."
He followed the man down a long corridor to the stage door entrance. The assistant led him
through the door to wait off camera till they needed him on set. He was nervous, this was live
TV and he was always afraid of fucking up.
The camera lights suddenly went off and there were people scurrying around the set. He felt
the assistant's hand on his arm.
"You're on," the man said, as he led him to the chair opposite the host's. They shook hands
as he sat. He'd met the man for the first time an hour earlier and they'd hit it off over coffee
and donuts, so he knew he was in good hands as he settled into his chair.
"Thirty seconds!" someone yelled.
The camera lights were soon on and he half listened while the host made his introductions, they
always embarrassed him, so he tuned them out till he heard his name.
"….Nathan Fillion of the hit TV show Castle, good morning Nathan."
"Good morning Matt,"
Disclaimer: I do not own Nathan Fillion (Damn!) or his likeness (though I have captured him in my wallpaper), and I do apologize for speaking on his behalf.