Disclaimer: I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.
Chapter Seven
I'm still trapped in what has to be the most hellish place on earth. If you could even consider this tiny, horrible, freezing cold nightmare to be on this planet… and I thought that… that… that school was bad…
I have no idea how long I've been imprisoned here in this godforsaken room. It feels like for fucking ever.
I guess one thing I have to be thankful for is that miserable excuse of a teacher phantom, ghost, demon whatever title one would want to give it has finally, finally gone. I haven't been subjected to its horrid and ghastly torture for what seems like several days.
I don't know where Dad is either. He was here, wasn't he? Or was that my demented imagination further tormenting me? His voice – it was so… so beautiful. Yes, it's a "girlie" thing to say – but I can't think of anything more apt. It fits.
Where did you go Dad?
I am desperately trying to make sense of what he did tell me (which seems so long ago now). He told me he would help me get back to the "real world" – what the hell does that mean? This is the real world… isn't it? Well it's mine at the moment. Although there have been some freakish things happening… there's hearing (albeit faintly) Michael and the other Pythons but not being able to see them. Then there's those… uh… moments with Mikey – him apparently giving me drinks of water, feeding me, bathing me – not to mention that wonderful, wonderful moment of passion… yet I could only feel those happening, they didn't actually seem to be happening…
Maybe I have slipped into some different world… well I know it's not normal but maybe I am literally and metaphorically trapped…
"Hello my dear boy."
Oh. My. God. Dad?
"Yes son. I've waited so long to see you."
Don't start sooking again Eric…
I don't… don't believe it. Are you really here?
"Yes child. It is me. Look at you all grown up."
But how? I don't understand. I don't.
"I wish I could say that this is real… but you hit the nail on the head moments ago, you are confined deep in your own mind at this point in time. You have been for five days."
My heart sinks. I want this to be real, more than I ever dreamed possible. Damn…
"Oh my dear boy."
Hang on a second, what did you just say? Something about being trapped, caged in my own mind… and for five days…
"Yes son."
Why? Why would I do that?
"Who really knows how our amazing and mysterious minds work? I can only suggest that this is something you had to do to overcome something from your past. Maybe you needed to face that teacher who haunted you for so long while you were at school. Perhaps that experience at Doune Castle reminded you of your school days."
Ugh. Don't talk to me about those horrible horrible days. Please? I don't want to go back… I can't.
"I hate to break it to you son, but you just have in some fashion."
Oh.
But that still doesn't explain why you're here. Not that I'm complaining, I've wanted to see you for as long as I can remember.
"Me too child, me too. And to answer your question, have a think about why you went to that school."
Oh. I was sent there because you died. It was for kids whose fathers who had represented their country and had been killed.
Why did you have to die so soon? Leave Mum? Me?
"Oh Eric my boy. It was an accident. A freakish accident. It could not have been prevented. I wish it could have, but if it had not happened… think about how different your life would be now."
I'd still have you Dad.
"Perhaps. But if you had not had gone to that school, you may not have got that scholarship to study at Cambridge and met your fellow Pythons. Could you imagine your life without them and what you men have done in your young lives?"
I try to picture it. And I have been given some insight in the last few days because I haven't been able to see them. And hear them for the last little while. It sucks. I don't think I could. They're my closest friends and I love them all… even if I don't show that very often. I definitely couldn't live without Michael…
"What about Michael?"
Oh crap. I… I…
"It's okay son. I don't mind."
Really?
"Yes, really."
"You realise it's been almost a week now Idle? I mean, we all know you love the attention, but this is well and truly gone beyond a joke."
Mikey? Are you here?
"And now, it is time for me to leave. I've done all I can. You now need to take that next step on your own."
Dad…
"You knew this time would come… unless you want to be imprisoned forever."
Yeah you're right. I love you Dad.
"I love you too my dear boy."
"Come on Eric, are you going to come back from wherever you are today? Do you think you could manage that?"
I am going to try Mikey.
It's been long enough. More than enough…
"And that is my cue. Goodbye Eric."
Bye Dad. I furiously swipe at those unwanted tears that have appeared from nowhere. I'm going to miss you. I had not realised how much I needed to see him until this very moment in time. I will get myself back to the real world – no matter how much sweat, blood and tears it takes.
"Okay Eric, you asked for it. I'm now going to play you something from your guitar, and it will be horribly awful… both the singing and playing…"
Oh god… you're not are you? And what the hell are you doing with my guitar?
"You say yes,
I say no,
You say stop,
And I say go go go…
Oh no…
You say goodbye, and I say hello…
Hello hello,
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello…."
Oh wow, you chose to sing one from The Beatles? You sure know how to push the right buttons… you know how much I love those guys. Bloody hell Mike, if that song doesn't describe the current situation I don't know what does.
"See I told you it would be excruciating…"
Oh I don't know about that Palin. It's not the worst rendition I've ever heard…
"I don't know how you can do it… it is painful on the fingers plucking at the strings…"
You need a guitar pluck Michael… that usually helps. That's not to say it still doesn't hurt the old fingernails. I bleed for my art…
"Here's a little spin on another Beatles classic."
You're going to sing another one? Hell Mikey… which one are you going to cover this time?
I get the feeling this one will be an emotional ballad – I can hear so much sadness despite your brave mask of happiness. I'm trying Mikey, my oath I am.
"Hey Eric,
Don't make it bad,
Take a sad song and make it better,
Remember to let him into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Eric,
Don't be afraid,
You were made to go out and get him,
The minute you let him under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain,
Hey Eric, refrain,
Don't carry the world,
Upon your shoulder…"
Oh. Sweet. Jesus. Hey Jude? One of their best of all time. Period.
And fuck Mikey you changed the lyrics just a tad… are you trying to make me cry like a girl? Well congratulations Palin, you succeeded. You have no idea how emotional I am right now… fuck. I seem to be crying at the drop of a hat – not unlike a hormonal pregnant woman.
Oh. God. You did say remember to let him into your heart… you were made to go out and get him… let him get under your skin didn't you? What on earth are you trying to tell me Mikey? I didn't imagine that did I?
Are you trying to tell me something? Or is that just my demented over-active, (perhaps not right now), imagination?
Have you put your head on my shoulder?
"Bloody hell Idle. How much longer are you going to keep doing this to us… to me?"
I can hear the sheer desperation in his voice and it breaks my heart. Come on… what's a man gotta do to get back to the land of the living eh?
"Do you know how hard this has been? Taking care of someone who can do absolutely nothing for themselves? It's been fucking hard I can tell you. It's not fair Eric, it's not…"
I know it's not Palin. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
My heart breaks all over again, you are turning me into a girl Mikey you really are.
"Damn it all Eric… why can't you say something… do something…"
If my heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces before it is now. Oh Mikey… I am trying so bloody hard; I really am.
I suddenly feel a weight fall onto my chest. It feels so heavy… yet at the same time it feels so right. Like it is supposed to be there.
Something is happening… everything is changing.
It's so bright in here all of a sudden. I have to shut my eyes and blink rapidly to adjust to the sudden intensity of light. When I finally readjust I soon spot Michael. He is lying atop of my chest.
Oh what an incredible feeling it is to see him again… is he crying?
My right arm seemingly has a mind of its own and I feel it move to comfort him. I don't know why he is so upset but I'll do my best to make him feel better. Those fingers decide they want to play with his dark tresses. His hair seems to have got longer.
He is suddenly looking up at me. His eyes full of a myriad of emotions that I can't quite decipher.
"Eric?"
Michael could hardly believe it. It had been so long since he had seen some glimmer of life in Eric's eyes that to see him looking with at least a tiny hint of recognition (as opposed to that blank, haunting guise – although it was still there), almost made him want to cry with a mix of utter joy and relief. It appeared as if the man was, (or had been), crying – his eyes were moist from tears and those said tears streaked his pale face. That thought made Michael want to cry even more. I wonder if he heard me playing?
Come on now Eric… please say something.
He is looking at me as if I had almost died or something. Maybe I did almost die, I don't know.
Eric's long, elongated, delicate fingers were still lazily, almost unconsciously – which on second thought, it probably was very much an unconscious action – playing with Mike's growing dark brown tendrils.
Upon realising this, Michael couldn't help but let a smile grace his handsome and beautiful face. And it took all he had within not to place a tender kiss on his forehead. I wonder why he has his fingers in my hair… or more to the point – does he even realise that he has? I would be very surprised if he did considering everything.
His hazel eyes shimmer with unshed tears. By the same token, I can see unabated happiness ready to brim over. I wonder what he is thinking – particularly when a smile turns the corners of his mouth.
I have absolutely no idea where I am – but I do feel a little more at ease knowing that Michael is right here with me.
His baby sapphires were furiously darting around, a total contrast to the rest of him, which was lying virtually still under the thick, warm blankets. The only difference of this Eric to the Eric he had become accustomed to was the emotion shown in his eyes. Oh, and those fingers running through my hair…
Michael pondered if he was trying to establish his surroundings; ascertain his whereabouts. He looks sad… scared. Got to do something about that.
"Eric? It's okay, it's just me. You're safe." He spoke to him softly, as one would to a small child.
After a few moments, his eyes finally landed and focused on Michael. Eric cleared his throat, swallowing as if trying to moisten his dry, dehydrated mouth. "Hang on, I'll get you some water." There was a glass on the bedside table that Michael had tried to give in futile to Eric an hour or so earlier. He leaned over and grabbed said glass and within moments was back in Eric's eyeshot. "Here you go mate, you must be absolutely parched."
Eric gaped at him in an odd blend of vague bewilderment, as if he was asking him to speak in Mandarin or fly to the moon.
Is this déjà vu? I'm not back wherever the hell I was am I? Can't be back… can I?
Michael sighed, Oh well, can't expect miracles. He's hardly likely to be his normal self for a while.
"Here, I'll hold the glass, you take the straw okay?"
Right Idle. You can do this – what's so hard about holding a straw and drinking from it?
Eric slowly took the straw with trembling fingers and placed it between his lips. He tentatively took a sip, but it wasn't long before he was sucking greedily and soon finished what water was in the glass.
Mike chuckled, "Thirsty eh?"
Don't think I've ever been so thirsty in my life.
Eric continued to stare at him, almost in wonder – like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. He's not the only one.
Okay Eric – let's see if you can do this talking thing now…
"Mm- Miich-Michael?"
His voice was practically non-existent – it was that soft, hoarse and gravelly. Which one had to expect given he had not used it for five days.
What the hell is wrong with my voice? It sounds like shit. Like I've been on some crazy bender for a week running or something. Mikey doesn't seem to give a flying toss though… his smile could bloody light an entire house let alone room.
Michael smiled, the most genuine and happy smile he had for five days, and again had to resist the strong urge to kiss that inviting forehead (and mouth). "Yeah it's me. Welcome back."
What is he on? Welcome back? I've been here the whole time, haven't I?
Although I suppose this looks absolutely nothing like I remember that horrid room to look like...
Where am I?
Once more he appeared utterly confused.
"Wh- Whe- Where am I?" He eventually questioned, yet again looking all around as if still unsure as to where he was.
It suddenly struck Michael like a bullet to the chest. God I'm an idiot. He thinks he's still lost in that horrible part of Doune. "You're in my motel room Eric. We found you, perhaps a little worse for wear (understatement of the century Palin),but unharmed."
You guys found me? When?
He said something about it almost being a week, so I guess it must be a few days. Maybe? I feel like my brain has turned to mush. Nothing seems to be making any sense… well save for Michael being right here beside me. How cute is he?
Oh fuck I did not just say that did I? Who are you kidding Idle?
Eric gazed at him in surprise. It almost unnerved Michael the constant staring from his fellow Python. When Eric reached out to softly touch his face however, that did unnerve him – it practically had him inwardly squealing like a teenage schoolgirl.
His delicate fingers almost lovingly caressed his cheek, before touching the dark shadows beneath his brown eyes.
He looks so tired. I hope that isn't because of me…
"You sleepy?"
Michael blushed, astounded at this childlike, (and very cute), Eric. Here he was, practically out of a catatonic type coma and he was enquiring as to his wellbeing? It almost defied belief. He did not blush because the man had virtually intimately caressed his face – he didn't.
Aww he blushed. Did I make him do that?
"Well I guess I am a little, but I'll be alright." He eventually replied. It then occurred to him that he hadn't eaten for a few days. "Do you want something to eat?"
Ugh. No…
He shook his head. "Tired." Came the simple response, and he yawned as if to emphasise his point.
"Yeah I bet." Michael said in empathy. "You can sleep if you want. I think you need some."
You got that right Palin.
He nodded, again unable to refrain from yawning.
"You sleep too?"
Mike chuckled, "Yeah I think I will."
Graham knocked softly, yet firmly on Michael's motel room door. He was with his fellow Pythons who had decided to check in on not only Eric's plight, but see how Mike was coping. Both Terry and Gray himself had spent some time with both Michael and Eric over the last few days – Terry because he was Palin's best friend, and Gray because he had that medical degree. The others had left them alone as much as they could humanly stand as it seemed to be far too much for Eric in his current state to have more than two people in the room. (And they did have Holy Grail filming to keep themselves occupied.) Well according to Mike anyway. Apparently he could sense that it made Eric more anxious or something.
"How the fuck would he know?" Gray remembered – rather fondly – John asking, "What is he, Eric's personal psychic or something?"
Now that Eric had seemingly got worse in the last day or so they just had to go and see how he was.
They waited patiently for several seconds before Gray tried again.
"Perhaps Mike is in the bathroom or something." Gilliam offered after a few moments.
"Maybe he's having a much needed rest. I know how little he's been getting lately." Terry mused, interjecting, quite unconsciously.
John nodded in agreement; he had a soft spot for the warm and caring Michael. But then again, not many didn't. "Yeah, poor old Mike. He's taken this whole fucking mess to heart... Then again, he loathes making people feel bad."
"We'll he is the nice Python isn't he?" Gilliam remarked flippantly. "I can only imagine how guilty he feels about this."
Terry nodded sadly. "I know exactly how rotten he is feeling for poor Eric. He told me that he blames himself – even though he knows that we, and Eric himself, wouldn't blame him."
"Are we going to stand out here all bloody day?" John suddenly asked, becoming impatient. He almost rudely shoved Gray aside and loudly rapped on the door. "Are you going to open the blasted door Palin?"
"Settle down Cleese." Gray told him in soothing tones, touching him on the arm. "You know this isn't the best way to go about entering a room where a person is in such a deep state of shock as Eric is. It can do more damage than good."
John nodded sheepishly. "Yeah I know, it's just that… you know…"
It was Gray's turn to nod. He was the one who knew John best. You didn't work and write so closely with someone and not know them intimately. He was aware that John was afraid to show his inner emotions – found the mere thought of being vulnerable terribly daunting. "I know mate."
"He must be asleep." Terry commented.
"Should we come back later?" Gilliam asked.
"No need. Michael gave me the key just in case of an emergency." Chapman told the others, with a cheeky grin.
"Well why in God's name didn't you tell us this before instead of us sitting out here like fucking idiots?" John said in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes.
"Because it is rude to just barge in Cleese." Gray replied without missing a beat. He then put his key in the lock and waited for the click to indicate that the door had unlocked.
They all stumbled inside the simple but comfortable room. Four pairs of eyes were immediately drawn to the sight on the bed. Some smiled at the picture (which was quite adorable, Graham thought); others' jaws were dropped in shock.
Michael and Eric were both sound asleep on the afore-mentioned bed. Michael looking more relaxed than he had for some time, and Eric was almost – but not quite – encroaching on Mike's personal space, his head resting near the other man's shoulder.
"Aww isn't that cute?" Gray practically cooed. While it was no secret that he was gay – he was not a stereotypical 'gay,' and didn't like to be seen as one. However, he couldn't help but squeal like a girl at the sight he was being privileged to witness. It is almost too private… but they are so adorable!
The others couldn't help but laugh at his childlike excitement.
"Eric's fucking moved!" Gilliam suddenly exclaimed, unable to keep his voice at a level considered respectable for being mindful of others sleeping. There was nothing malicious to it – he was simply too excited on realising this new development. It didn't seem to rouse the pair though, and that was something.
The others turned their attention to the American in bewilderment before virtually simultaneously redirecting their focus on the sleeping pair.
Terry smiled as he too realised that Eric had indeed moved. He pondered as to how no one had spotted it sooner. "Well would you look at that?"
"What does this mean?" John questioned, directing the enquiry to the doctor of the troupe.
"It means that he's back. Nowhere near back to his normal, vivacious self but he's at least a little more aware of his surroundings." They heard come in a drowsy voice from the bed. Michael was now awake and staring with bleary eyes at his friends in a mixture of confusion and surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't we see how our chums are doing?" Gray asked, feigning hurt.
Michael smiled, beginning to look a little more alert. "I suppose so."
"When did this happen Mike?" Terry asked, referring to the change in Eric's condition.
Mike glanced at the bedside clock, then turned to the still slumbering Eric. "A few hours ago. I was playing a little something on his guitar and the next thing I know he's actually looking at me."
Graham and Terry glanced at each other – both had noticed the look in their friend's hazel eyes.
"Was he looking at you in disdain Mikey?" Gilliam asked frivolously.
"Ha ha touché Gil."
It was at this point where Eric began to become restless in his slumber, mumbling incoherently.
"Bad dream?"
Michael nodded, shrugging. "I would think that's highly likely given everything he's been through."
"Should we wake him?" John queried, watching the resting Idle in concern.
It was Michael's turn to look worried. "Should we Gray? If he was woken suddenly and saw everyone here… do you think he could cope with the sudden audience?"
Gray considered this for several moments as he watched the now rather restless Eric. "Hmm, he may not like seeing us all here as soon as he wakes. Perhaps we should just move out of his eyeshot and let him wake of his own accord."
"Or let Mikey wake him…" Terry remarked, his eyes dancing with laughter, a smirk gracing his features.
"Or that." Gray agreed chuckling.
TBC…
*Song Credit - Hey Jude and Hello Goodbye - The incredible Beatles. :)
