Duly posted over on LJ too - it's
here if anyone prefers to read it in LJ format. But in deference to TGL and anyone who prefers reading here, here's 4,500 words of random.
Title: Dream A Little Dream Of Me
Synopsis: In response to the 08/01/08 clip, specifically the "morning after" scene.
Disclaimer/Warnings: I own nothing, Chrolli/Ollian and all associated characters belong to someone else. *tear* Moderate language. Un-betaed. Long; spread across 6 posts or so here.
Feedback: Definitely; I'm especially interested in whether people think the general concept works at all. (And believe me, I won't take offense if the answer is "No, you're crazy and kinda weird" - when re-watching the scene this was the best way to come at it that popped into my head, and if people think it's viable I may well re-use it in future for other fandoms, but I dunno how well it comes across outside of my own head.)
Strong arms are dragging me off the couch (aw, I was just getting comfortable!) and steering me towards my room.
“Come on, drunky. Let’s get you into bed.”
A double entendre is the first thing that pops into my mind. A vague protest is the second – why would I need to go to bed? I’m having a wonderful time! Of course, by the time I manage to connect my brain to my mouth to express this, I’m already at my door, which should probably be my first sign that I’ve had a little bit more punch than is good for me.
“Mmphm…bed.”
Yeah, that would be the second. I try to concentrate, make my words come out right, but then the room starts to lurch sideways and I decide to focus instead on staying upright.
“That’s right Olli, bed. Now just get in – yes, that’s it.”
I’m lying on the bed (when did this happen?) and my shoes are sliding off my feet without me even moving. This is kinda cool! Then someone’s pulling the cover over me and turning me onto my side with a whispered “Just in case…”. As the door closes and the last slit of light leaves the room, he turns to look at me one more time and I get one last look at his face, somewhat annoyed but also more than a little amused.
“Christian…”
I’m not sure if I’m calling after him or talking to myself or even if I’ve spoken the words out loud. I close my eyes and focus on not spinning any more – it feels like I’m sleeping on a merry-go-round. Nice of Christian to put me into bed; who knew he was actually capable of being pleasant towards me for longer than two minutes at a time?
The room is starting to slow down and my head is getting fuzzier by the second. I can vaguely hear the sounds of everyone else heading towards their rooms – the two couples pairing off for the night, Gregor and Sarah, Coco and Christian…Christian…
“OLLI!”
I start awake. Gregor’s voice is ringing through the cabin.
“Olli, come on, get up! You need to move!”
It’s morning? Already? It’s bright outside, so I suppose it must be; and my head is clearer, so I must have slept. Before I know where I am I find myself dressed and being propelled along the hall (why must people always propel me? I’m capable of walking on my own) by Gregor, Sarah following behind. Christian and Coco are in the living room, lounging on the couch; they seem remarkably unphased for all of Gregor’s hurry.
“Not ready yet? But then, you never are.” But there’s no harshness in Christian’s words; instead, there’s a slight smile behind his lips. Maybe our little chat by the campfire has finally gotten him to loosen up around me. Maybe that’s the real Christian, rather than the sullen, moody, overgrown teenager I’ve been living with so far. Coco, on the other hand, looks at me as balefully as ever.
I’m still trying to muster a reply when Gregor opens the front door and practically throws me out.
“Go on, go! Move it!”
And I watch in confusion as the door closes behind me. What on earth is happening here? How am I meant to get home now? I spin around to look for the car and find myself…
…in Schneiders? What? But…I was…what? Then I see Gregor and Sarah, sitting together with candles burning between them, hands clasped together and nothing but devotion in their eyes. A few tables away are Christian and Coco, smiling at each other but looking slightly less sickening.
“There you are!” Charlie appears out of nowhere, clutching an apron. “I might as well get a few hours work out of you before you rush off again.” And she thrusts the apron into my hands before turning and walking away.
“But I’m not wearing my…” The cry dies in my mouth. Because I am, in fact, wearing my waiter’s uniform, shirt neatly pressed, shoes shining. All I’m missing is an apron, which I dutifully put on, moving out of habit as my brain struggles to catch up. I’m here, and they’re here, so we must have come back together, but…but it seemed like I just appeared here. Am I having blackouts? Did I hit my head? Am I still drunk? It was some very strong punch…
I head towards Gregor and Sarah, not even sure of what to say without sounding crazy.
“Gregor, Sarah…this may sound like a stupid question, but…” Again, my words seem to die as Gregor looks up at me in utter surprise.
“You’re here? Still? Shouldn’t you be getting somewhere?” And with that, he turns back to Sarah and continues whispering sweet nothings at her. Confused and more than a little disoriented, I turn and find myself at Christian and Coco’s table. She stares at me again like I’m something she stepped in and announces “I’d like the soup” as if I were a perfect stranger. And yet, I instinctively reach for my pad, only to find it gone from my belt.
“He’s not ready, Coco. He’s never ready.” Again, though, Christian is smiling, with this stupid superior look on his face as if he knows something I don’t.
“Christian, what –”
“It’s OK,” he cuts me off. “Go and get what you need to get. We’ll be right here.”
I find myself turning almost without thinking, and for the first time I take in the bistro around me. It seems…different somehow. Bigger in some places and smaller in others, and the colours are brighter than they normally are, and as for the piano…
Wait. Piano? Charlie doesn’t have a piano!
But sure enough, over in the corner next to the bar is a grand piano, and lounging on top of it...
“Olivia!”
She glances up at me and gives a cheerful wave. She’s dressed in a full evening gown even though it’s bright outside and is stretched across the piano like it’s a bed, sipping from a cocktail with one hand and popping grapes into her mouth with the other. In between mouthfuls she seems to be singing away to herself, but it’s hard to pick up any solid tune. I move towards her, now thoroughly confused.
“When did we get a piano? And why are you dressed like that? And why are you drinking – it’s morning!”
A smirk, a raised eyebrow and a casual “Is it?” are all the answer I get. I’m about to start again when I notice something.
“Olivia…is that piano playing itself?” Even as I watch, the keys move up and down of their own accord and a pleasant-but-bland tune fills the room. “What is this? Where am I? What’s happening to me?”
She responds to my increasing panic with a sigh.
“Oh, Olli. I knew I was the smart one, but I never knew you were quite this slow.” And with that, she looks behind me and with a faraway stare in her eyes, starts to sing in English.
“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’…”
I recognise the song, and my brain unconsciously fills in and translates the next few lines, and that’s when it hits me.
“A dream? This is a dream?!” It’s far too weird to be true, and yet, it does make a certain amount of sense. Looking around the bizarre bistro, it almost seems like the most logical explanation. And somewhere in the back of my mind I can hear a professor at one of the few psychology lectures I actually managed to attend explaining to us all about the subconscious, and the idea of ‘lucid dreaming’…
“Well, duh! Margarita?” And pulling another cocktail glass from thin air she offers it out to me. Olivia seems to be taking this whole ‘dream’ thing a lot better than I am. But then, I suppose she’s not really Olivia – she’s just a representation of my subconscious. And yet, if you didn’t know the difference… I take the offered cocktail and have a sip. It tastes completely real – everything here seems so vivid, so normal. It’s incredibly cool, yet disconcerting at the same time. Before I can contemplate it too deeply, though, Olivia breaks through my reverie.
“We should go somewhere and party! I know this great new club, you’ll love it!”
“What? But Olivia, it’s the middle of the day!”
“Is it?” A third voice cuts in behind me – Christian’s. I turn to look at him and – whoa. It’s nighttime. The windows are dark, the restaurant is empty and the chairs are stacked – even the piano music has stopped. The place suddenly seems eerily quiet.
“What happened to the others?”
“They left, Olli. People don’t wait forever.” Again, his tone is kind and knowing, as if there’s something he’s not saying.
“Whatever. I’m bored – can we go?” Olivia has dismounted her piano somehow and is now pulling at my shirt impatiently, cocktail glass still clutched in her other hand. I look at Christian questioningly but he just shrugs.
“Your call, Olli. If you want to get moving, that’s up to you…”
Before I can ask what he means by this, Olivia has chirped out a “Great!” and is heading for a door at the back of the bistro. I start to follow out of instinct, then stop to look back – but Christian has gone. Looking the other way, I see the door behind Olivia slowly swinging shut. The restaurant suddenly seems to be shrinking – for no reason at all, I can feel myself starting to panic, and the thought of being here terrifies me. I practically run after her, but as I reach the door, I hear a new voice ringing out behind me.
“Always the same, ever since you were little, you just run, run, run!”
It’s a voice I haven’t heard for years – I’m almost tempted to stop and see if she appears, but I’m already through the door and the world is changing around me…
A nightclub. I’ve never been here before, but it’s familiar – it almost seems like a composite of every random club I’ve ever visited. I’m in the middle of the dancefloor, and next to me, perched once more on her piano, is Olivia.
“Is this piano a permanent thing with you now?”
She smiles. “I think it suits me, don’t you?” And given the crowd of men that seem to have gathered around her, I really have to agree. Laughing along with her, I start to dance, letting the music wash over me and feeling my brain switch off completely. Olivia writhes seductively, tossing grapes to her admirers every now and again, singing along to the music when she feels like it. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours but it feels like we’ve been here forever and could stay for as long as we like.
But now the music is getting louder and the lights are getting brighter, and the harsh noise seems to surround me on all sides, and I turn to find Olivia but she’s gone and all that’s left are endless identical faces spinning and blurring, and I try to push through the crowd but I’m trapped here, and I can’t breathe, and just as everything starts to turn black –
– an arm grabs me. Taking my hand, my saviour hauls me through the crowd until we’re at the edge of the dancefloor and I can see that it’s…Christian?
“What are you doing here?”
He ignores me and starts walking towards the door. I start after him, glancing back to see that the club looks normal again, although still minus Olivia. Despite the apparent return to normality, I’m grateful to leave as I follow Christian through the door and find myself…
…at our flat. Again, the proportions seem slightly off and the colours a little too bright, but I’m still glad to see the place. From the light streaming through the windows I guess it must be day again too. Weird.
“I’m getting pretty sick of this dream shit,” I mutter, speaking mostly to myself, so I’m a little surprised when Christian turns to look at me.
“Maybe you should figure out why you’re dreaming then?”
“You tell me,” I snap back at him. “Right now, I’m blaming your bizarre punch mixture.”
He sighs. “You’re still not ready…”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I’m starting to get seriously pissed off now. “Ready for what? What are you talking about?”
“Did it occur to you that maybe this is just your subconscious’ way of giving you an almighty kick in the ass?”
“What? About what?”
He looks exasperated, but there’s still a smile beneath it. “About me. About the fact that you’re falling in love with me.”
I gape at him. “You egotistical bastard!” Except that this isn’t Christian. This is my mind’s representation of Christian, which makes him essentially just a mirror of me, which means…no! I stop that thought process in its tracks and shake my head like I’m trying to dislodge it from my mind altogether. All the while, he just stares back at me, completely calm, waiting for my response.
“No way, Christian. Not a chance.”
“Really? Are you telling me you’re not attracted to me?”
And my first objection dies on my lips. I mean, I can’t deny that much – he’s an attractive man, I’ve noticed that much from the beginning. He’s tall, handsome, good body, gorgeous eyes…wait, stop. I mean, it’s Christian. Fine, so he’s got nice eyes – it takes a lot more than that to make a man.
“You’re completely judgemental – you could barely stand to be around me when I first moved in!”
“Because you’ve never, ever judged anyone without really getting to know them?” he shoots back, and again I find myself struggling to object. I made assumptions about him just as quickly as he did about me, and I was completely wrong then – maybe I’m being unfair now? But still, what he’s saying…
“We fight all the time.”
“Exactly. When was the last time someone got under your skin the way I do? You’ve barely been able to stop thinking about me since you got here. Lisa, Timo, Coco – none of them have stayed in your head for longer than a minute. But me – I’m always there. Why else would you put yourself through a vacation with two couples – you’d do anything to be around me. God, you’re even
dreaming about me! Maybe you should wonder what that means?”
“You’re utterly obnoxious.” But my protests are getting weaker, and now he just smiles.
“But see, you know that’s not true. You’ve seen the real me now. The sad, scared little boy underneath who just wants to be special, to be loved. And you know just how that feels – and more than that, you want to be the one to make it better.” He steps a little closer to me, and I can see my own face reflected in his eyes. “You want to be the one to love me.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper. But there’s no vehemence left in it – there’s truth to what he’s saying. Sitting at the campfire, I did feel it – a connection to him, something deeper than I had felt before, a whole new side of him that was more than just an immature little jerk who picked fights all the time over nothing. Someone real and caring, someone who’d go to prison for his father to try and save him, someone who could be as utterly selfless as anyone I’ve ever known, someone I could…but no! I mean, I can’t be in love with him, he’s…
“You’re straight.” The last defence of a desperate man, and he knows it.
“So? So were you once upon a time. Things don’t stay the same forever Olli. And more importantly, that doesn’t change how you feel about me.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe that’s why you’re having this dream – you can’t accept that you’ve fallen for someone so completely unavailable. But no, that doesn’t quite work…maybe –”
“Oh blah, blah, blah!” It’s Olivia, who has reappeared on the couch, still in her cocktail dress. She lies back, drink still in hand, looking thoroughly bored by what she sees.
“What, no piano?” There’s a harsh note to my voice – she may be just a figment of my imagination, but she’s cutting in at a very bad time here.
“And where exactly would I fit it?” she asks, as if I were crazy, which may not be too far off the mark. “Your apartment is far too cluttered. You should clean up more often.”
“Olivia, why are you here?”
“I’m here to save you from yourself. I mean, do you really want this? Some idiot macho man that you fight with half the time? He may be kinda cute,” and with this she gives him an appreciative up-and-down look, “but you could meet someone more attractive in any bar in Dusseldorf. Hell, let’s go right now! Come on – stop obsessing over this and just have some fun!”
“Thank you very much, Little Miss Id,” Christian sighs, sarcasm etched in his voice. “People can’t just float through life taking the easy route all the time – this is something Olli should be dealing with!”
“What for?” Her disgust is evident. “So he can keep tormenting himself by hanging around you all the time? So he can fall in love with you? Please! Why chain yourself to one guy? Love is for idiots anyway.”
“Oh would you shut up?” For the first time, Christian looks properly annoyed. “Just because you’re a cold-hearted bitch doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.”
“And what would you know about love anyway – you and your whiny little blonde dishrag? Always moaning and complaining and bringing everyone down…”
“Listen, you little –”
“Enough!” I shout, causing them both to stop and look at me. “I can’t take this any more – my head’s about to explode!” You’ve never known stress ‘til your dream figures start arguing over what you should do. “I’m getting out of here.” And I turn to walk to the door only to find myself…
At Tom’s apartment. I haven’t been here for years, and for a moment I just look and take it all in, exactly like I remembered it.
“Always the same, ever since you were little...” It’s the voice again, but I won’t turn and face her. “…the first sign of trouble and you just run away. Coward.”
“Be quiet, Henriette.” I keep my temper, tell myself it’s not real, that it’s all in my mind – and yet, that doesn’t make it much better.
“Henriette?” I can almost feel her smirk. “There was a time when you called me ‘mother’…”
I can’t do this. I won’t. I know it makes her right, but I close my eyes and focus on being somewhere else, anywhere else, and when I open them…
I’m standing on a ship. My ship. The one I spent five years hiding on, running from real life, real responsibilities. I’m on the foremost part of the deck, only a metal railing between me and the open sea. I can feel the wind on my face, taste the salt from the spray. It seems to stretch on forever, mile after mile of sparkling blue water, and the rising sun scatters light across it all. It’s beautiful. It’s empty.
“So that’s it.”
And I can feel him behind me again. I say nothing. I can’t.
“That’s why you won’t admit your feelings to yourself. You’re scared.”
I half turn to face him, struggling for a moment to find the words, but once I do, they flow out of me as if a dam has burst; thoughts I’ve never even consciously had, but know as soon as I say them are true. “Yes, I’m scared, alright? I left Dusseldorf to avoid facing my problems, and I’ve spent five years bouncing from place to place, person to person, never getting serious, never getting close. But then you come along, and you’re stupid and immature and absolutely wrong for me in every way and I just
can’t get you out of my head! And that absolutely terrifies me, because feeling something this strong, this
real, means…it means…”
I trail off. I don’t even know what it means. I’m not even sure what I’m scared of. Of responsibility, of growing up. Of being tied down to one place, one person. Jobs, kids, mortgages, bills – the idea of settling for anything or anyone when there’s a whole world out there to be explored seems ludicrous. That’s why I don’t
do love, why I’ve spent so long building walls around myself. Be friendly, be funny, be charming, but don’t let anyone get too close, because that way lies disaster. And that’s why the idea of falling in love makes me so afraid.
“So what would you rather?” he asks me. “Is this what you want?”
I look away again, staring out at the sea. It’s freedom. But it’s desolate.
“I don’t know.”
He sighs. “Maybe you’re still not ready. But you should know this much – someday, maybe sooner than you think, you’re going to look out at the open water, and what you have in front of you is going to matter to you an awful lot more.”
I say nothing. The idea of him being right scares me. The idea of him being wrong is even worse.
“Olli, why did you come back to Dusseldorf? Why did you leave here?”
Because I’m getting older. Because I’m going to be 30 a lot sooner than I’d like. Because some part of me looks at kids and mortgages and dying in bed at 95 surrounded by grandchildren and sees something amazing. Because there’s only so long that any rational human being can run away before they feel the need to try and stop somewhere. Because Dusseldorf is the only place in the world that’s ever really felt like home. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. It’s not as simple as just hopping off a ship and settling down – some part of me is always going to want to run. Some part of me will never be satisfied with what it has. And that’s the most terrifying thought of all.
I’m trying to figure out how to even begin to put this into words, but before I can, I feel an arm slide around my stomach, feel his breath on the back of my neck.
“Olli, you don’t have to be scared. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don’t have to run away from me. You don’t have to be afraid of what you feel. Just let it happen. Listen to your heart and decide what you really want.”
Slowly I turn, until we’re facing each other, inches apart, his arm still tight around my back. And for a moment I let go, act purely on instinct, and lean in to kiss him. Gently at first, then deeper, getting lost in it, in him. His arms tighten around my back; I run my fingers through his hair, feel his stubble brush against my skin. I’m dying for air but I don’t want to break away – this is the most incredible kiss I’ve ever had, and for a moment I can let myself believe that this might work. Maybe letting someone get truly close, letting myself love someone properly, is OK. Maybe I don’t need to be so scared. But this isn’t real, and I can feel him starting to slip away, the sound of water splashing against the prow fading in my ears, and when I open my eyes I’m in my bed again. Light shines through the window and my aching head lets me know that this, finally, is reality. The dream is over.
******************************************************
Ten minutes later I’m up and dressed, staggering outside to find the others. Already the dream is starting to fade, fragments of it blurring and getting lost in my memory, but I can still taste Christian on my lips. Gregor is walking in the front door as I walk out of it, and we chat briefly.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Have you been up long?”
“For about two hours.” Gregor doesn’t sound too happy, but my head is still spinning, and I feel the need to mention what I weird night I had, even if I can’t exactly explain it to him.
“I dreamt such crazy stuff last night.”
“No nightmares, I hope?”
I don’t even need to think about it. Creepy nightclubs and weird memories aside, I know this was hardly nightmare territory. I smile at the memory of Christian’s arm sliding around me. “Everything but.”
As Gregor heads inside with a half-hearted suggestion that I start loading, I grab some coffee – I need to snap myself awake soon, get a hold of my thoughts. But as I look at Christian, the lake stretching out in front of him and beautiful, untouched nature spreading out for miles, I can still hear a voice in my ear.
…someday, you’re going to look out at the open water, and what you have in front of you is going to matter to you an awful lot more…I know just how stupid this is. Coco is right there with him, and even as he starts to walk over to me he kisses her cheek. She’s the one that he wants, and part of me knows that. But I know it’s far too late to worry about being sensible about this. I can feel my stomach lurch as he gives me a shy little smile, apologising for talking too much, and it’s all I can do to answer without giving myself away. For a moment, my flight instinct kicks in and I’m already planning an escape. Falling for a straight guy? That I live with? Whose girlfriend I kissed not too long ago? Everything about this spells trouble. But do I really want to run away from this, when it’s the first time for as long as I can remember that I’ve felt something so deep?
Gregor reappears and hands us brooms to start cleaning the cabin with, but Christian is still Christian, and gives me a sly poke instead. In that moment I make my decision – I’m going to stick this out. Even if he never feels the same, even if it makes me miserable, there’s no way I can turn my back on this. What I’m feeling might just be a brief infatuation…or it might not. And the only way to know for sure is to grow up and face my problems for once. I smile at him and hit him with my broom and somehow, in the weirdest possible way, this feels pretty damn right.
This is where all my running has brought me. I’ll find out soon enough if this is where I’m meant to be.