"Amor Fati" Part Two

[indybaggins.livejournal.com]

Author: Indy Baggins
Pairing: Ryan/Colin, eventually
Rating: PG for this part, NC-17 for the series
Summary: Sometimes things happen because you wanted them to; sometimes because you thought they were necessary. But every now and then things happen in such a peculiar way that we have no choice but to think that they were fated to be…
Author’s comments: This is part two, about Colin, and about dreams and reality. About a picture too, and Ryan, and a sunset...
Thanks to my beta Della.



Colin

--- Dreams. I had dreamt many dreams in my life, and most of them had come true. I had a gorgeous son, just seeing him run around made my heart clench at times. I had a beautiful wife, I had many friends, and most importantly, I had a carrier where I could put both my heart and soul in, and that had given me as many laughs and as much satisfaction as I ever could have hoped for.
I had everything to consider myself happy, and I did, mostly, but the problem with dreaming is that once you have allowed yourself to dream, to phantom up a certain turn of events or a feeling, you can never go back to un-dreaming it… ---

***

Colin had been sitting behind his desk, his fingers ruffling through a bunch of white pieces of paper, bound together by black bands. Yet another pile of scripts his agent had sent him, asking him to consider them. Knowing how much crap they most likely were, he hadn’t felt like reading through them at all, and had postponed it to the point where his agent had called in four times all ready. So, he had apologized to Deb this morning and had gone to his study right after breakfast with the resolute idea he would have them all read in a couple hours.

By now it was almost noon and as the sound of Deb’s voice talking on the phone filtered through the closed door of his study, he was considering giving up on the whole thing. He placed his hand under his chin as he forced himself to read on, and then moved it to rub his eyes tiredly. He dropped the pile of papers on his desk and sighed.

Leaning back in his creaking chair, his eye fell on the desk itself and he smiled. The thing was huge, old, brown and ugly. Deb had begged him to get rid of it, to buy a new one, but he had held on to it, saying it was a keepsake of some sorts. And it was. It had been his, taking up too much space in his cramped apartment, long before he had even met Deb. Now the desk had an entire room to itself, which Deb referred to as “the study”, but was really more a gathering room of everything that didn’t fit anywhere else. There were lots of books, some of Luke’s baby-artwork, a few Canadian comedy awards either Colin or Deb had won, an old painting on the wall, and then Colin’s eye fell on the pictures on the desk itself.

There were lots of pictures, silly ones and posed ones, all in different frames, one of Luke as a baby, one of Deb smiling brightly at the camera, their wedding picture, some of various friends of his, all placed there by Deb, gathered through the years, but there was only one picture that had come along with the desk, all the way from Colin’s overcrowded apartment, to their first place together, to L.A. and back again. It had seen lots of bad times and crappy apartments before it had come to stand here, along with the desk in a nice room in an expensive house. It stood a little bit behind the others but still placed in such a way that Colin could easily see it, housed in an old, cheap brown frame.

Colin extended his hand towards it and brought it close, tracing his finger over the familiar image.

It was him and Ryan, hugging closely after a show with Second City. It had been the end of the evening; they had been walking from the stage to the green room, both feeling the immense rush that performing brought, together with the pleased tiredness of a job well done. Colin had been walking first in the small hallway, knowing that Ryan was behind him, feeling his movement behind him, when he had felt a warm hand on his shoulder, had half turned around and had felt Ryan’s arms glide over his shoulder to pull him close. Unquestioningly, he had leaned in, still feeling slightly giddy but slowly melting into the feeling of being surrounded by Ryan. He then had felt a strange warmth flood through his veins when he had felt Ryan’s breath tickle over his face, and had then realized they were hugging so tight that he had felt his heartbeat.

Colin had lifted his head slowly, as if in a trance, and had turned it so he was breathing into the crook of Ryan’s neck. Then he had slowly pressed his lips against the skin there. He had felt Ryan shiver and move somewhat closer; the time seemingly standing still; when they were disturbed by someone bumping into them, and when Colin had looked up he had briefly seen another Second City actor with a camera, smiling at them.

He had been too distracted to think about that fact though, and he wouldn’t see that picture until almost a year later. He and Ryan had walked to the green room, still close, but then people had come between them, talking about various things and before he knew it he was back home again, alone.

Ryan never gave any sign of remembering that moment, although Colin did note that Ryan kept his post-performance hugs on stage now, and off-stage they never got quite as close anymore. He had all but forgotten about that particular evening as well, when at a party one of the Second City members gave him some pictures to look at, and he had seen this one. He had been shaken up immediately, the intensity of that moment coming right back to him, but ever the actor, he had asked for a copy of it ‘because it was such a nice picture’, and the person had just given him the original.

Once back home, Colin had stared at that picture for hours.

It was a dark image, nothing special really. His own face was mostly hidden behind Ryan’s, but Ryan’s was clearly visible. Ryan’s eyes were half-closed, and the part of them that the camera could show was dark, but his face was so open and relaxed, sporting a vague smile and a blush that Colin knew wasn’t stage make-up. What always got to him were Ryan’s hands. The one hand, together with part of his arm, was placed over Colin’s waist, holding him close. But the other, closer to the camera, was hardly touching him, it was hovering half-air close to Colin’s face, about to touch it. In real life it never did, and before Colin saw that picture he never knew it would have.

That night he got the picture he had clenched it in both hands for a long time, thinking of what that hand possibly could have meant. At that point too much time and life had passed to find out; he was dating Deb, and Ryan Pat, so he never had said anything about it. But he never forgot about it either. That same night, he had put the picture in a frame and had placed his on his desk, where, Colin realized, it had been sitting for over eleven years now. Eleven years of a phantom touch, hovering in the air and a Ryan that looked happier in that picture than Colin had ever seen him look again.

“Colin?”

He tiredly put the picture back in its place, before he answered. Deb looked at him strangely, and he wondered if she knew what the picture meant to him; what it symbolized, standing on his desk. He felt ashamed that he didn’t even hear her come in, but had no time left to think on it as she handed him the phone with the words “It’s Drew.”

He unconsciously smiled when he placed the phone next to his ear and spoke “Hi Drew.”

“Colin! Wow you’re a hard man to find at home! What are you doing, trying to take over Canadian television?”

Colin laughed, but didn’t answer. He knew Drew most likely called with a purpose, and he wasn’t disappointed by the conversation that followed.

Following that phone call, Colin had told his wife that once again he was going to appear on national television portraying a gay man, and that he would be flying out to L.A. the next day. She only had smiled an indulgent smile and had said she would make sure his shirts were washed in time so he could take them with him. He had smiled back and had said a “Thank you, honey” that he had both meant and had inwardly cringed at.


In his study, a little later, he had dialled Ryan’s home number, and had left a message. Afterwards he had known there must have been a trace of… something in his voice when he had said, “I kind of missed you” but he had doubted Ryan would pick up on it, as always.

It didn’t happen often, but sometimes Ryan did pick up on some of the feelings that phantom touch had left behind in Colin’s mind though, he was sure of it. And when Ryan actually reacted to it it was always in a way that amazed Colin, that shook him to the core and left him feeling out of sync with the world for days after. Like what had happened the last time they were in L.A., this summer. Ryan had kissed him. Oh, sure, he had known it wasn’t a real kiss, that Ryan would do about anything to get the audience’s laughs, but that hadn’t stopped him to continue shaking for hours after. Through the years Colin had learned there was a fine line, there was a fine line between Ryan simply as his friend, and fellow performer, and Ryan as on the Second City photo; a Ryan that made Colin just a bit uneasy… and that kiss had crossed the line. Just a bit, but it had.

Pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden sound of the fax machine starting to print out page after page, Colin got up and retrieved them. It was the script for the Drew Carey Show. He really wanted to look through it for “Eugene”, but decided to leave it for the plane, as he would be leaving soon enough.

He spent the rest of the day with Deb, and went to pick up a chatterbox Luke from school, even bought him some ice-cream as a special treat. As Deb fell asleep that night, he held on to her body, wondering why he always felt as if he had to make things up to them, when there was nothing he could make up for.



The next day Colin took the same flight to L.A. as he always took, the script to the Drew Carey Show tucked in the front pocket of his carry-on. Once the plane had landed, he automatically walked over to the car-rental service, where, for once, they actually did have his name on file and he could go right on.

The drive to the hotel was mind-numbing and uniform, all cars melting into a long file of things he only half saw and he was secretly glad he had driven this particular route so many times he could do it without thinking.

By the time he checked into a uniform-looking hotel room, he had a firm headache, his ears still thrumming from the sound of the plane. He put his bag aside, kicked off his shoes and laid down on the bed with a sigh. He wondered if he was getting too old for flying cross-country every couple of days, or if his fatigue had to do with something else because he couldn’t remember his head being so swarmingly full with images and sounds before. He slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke, disoriented and sweating, it was evening, the room in total darkness but for the yellowish streetlight coming through the half-closed blinds. Getting up stiffly, he realised that even though he felt nauseous now, at least the headache was gone. Forcing himself to move, he took his clothes out of the carry-on, hung his shirts that smelled like home up in the closet and then called in with Deb to let her know he made it alright. Afterwards he would not remember what he had said to her, as he often didn’t anymore. It had become routine, being the husband. After that he called his agent, and then Drew, to go over the planning for the next days.

Later he stretched himself out on the bed again and, flipping through the channels of the TV until it landed on a hockey game, reached for the script. They would do a run-through early the next morning, and if all went well they would shoot one of his scenes in the afternoon, leaving him enough time to drive back to the airport and get Ryan. He knew the traffic would be hell around that time, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Ryan in what seemed like forever, and now he, for once, had the chance to go pick him up he would.


At seven the next evening, stuck in the traffic just a couple miles from the Los Angeles airport Colin felt different about all that. The radio had been playing some vague jazz, and his fingers thrummed on the black steering wheel of the car as he waited for the cars in front of him to move. The window was half-opened and the nauseating smell of the exhaust fumes, together with the uncanny warmth of the day flooded through, leaving him more than a bit frustrated at the thought of actually being late. Suddenly the cars in front of him moved again, and stepping on the gas moved him just a couple feet before he had to hit the brakes again, driving the vague routine that was L.A. traffic.

His day had been fine, but he didn’t know any of the Drew Carey Show actors well, leaving him to wish for Ryan, a wish that actually turned into a physical sense of pulling as he mentally urged the cars in front of him to move already.

Through some creative driving, Colin managed to turn onto the airport parking at exactly seven twenty-three, and walked into the main arrivals hall a couple minutes later. On the huge board overhead he could see that Ryan’s Seattle flight hadn’t landed yet, and so he walked over to the right gate, and waited.

There was a relative crowd of people, ranging from a middle aged man with flowers, to a travel agent of some sorts who was holding a sign, to a blond-haired toddler who looked up at him with wide eyes while sucking his thumb, the mother holding his hand tightly. Colin never liked crowds, and as always he longed to just disappear in them, but instead of feeling comfortably surrounded by others he felt singled out. He found himself wishing he had worn his baseball cap or something as there were a few people looking in his direction with a confused look on their face, as if they recognised him but did not quite know from where. He took a few steps back so he was out of their line of sight, and tried to concentrate on the fact that Ryan would walk through those doors any minute.

He felt a small stab of anticipation pass through his body at the thought of seeing Ryan again, and he checked his watch.
Suddenly a ripple of comments went through the crowd, and he looked up to see people streaming through the gate, and unexpectedly, a little closer by, his eyes fell on Ryan.

Ryan had the ability to stand out in any crowd, and he did so now as he ignored everything, only focusing on where Colin was and how to get there. Colin felt a smile spread over his lips as he met Ryan’s eyes, but as he moved closer he could see that something was wrong, Ryan was walking too stiffly and too determinedly; it wasn’t anger, no, it was sadness. In the couple seconds it took Ryan to cross that hall Colin was certain of it, and so as Ryan closed the distance Colin moved forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, feeling his heart skip a beat when Ryan heavily leaned into him.

Ryan recovered quickly and leaned back again, but not quick enough for Colin not to feel how badly he was shaking. An actual smile came over Ryan’s lips now as he looked at Colin and said “Hi.”

Colin smiled back, and, recognising in Ryan the need to get out of there, he said, “Eh, the car is in the parking lot…”

Ryan just nodded , and let himself be lead out of the hall, through the sliding doors into the warm metallic smell of the outside air.

As they walked over to the rental car, Colin felt his eyes wander over Ryan’s face and frame. Colin thought Ryan didn’t look good, there were evident lines under his eyes and he had obviously lost weight compared to last summer. Colin had to fight the urge to hold him close again and ask him what was wrong, but he knew Ryan would never allow that, he had this way of insisting on always being the strong one, untouchable by any emotion. And he even got away with it with most people too, Colin thought, a little apprehensive. There were many things about Ryan that no one seemed to know about, and their depth amazed Colin every time he was allowed somewhat closer too them.

After a few moments of their eyes meeting, Ryan cleared his throat, smiled a half smile, and said “So… Eugene huh?”

On Ryan’s prompting Colin told about his first day on the Drew Carey Show set, going into the details once he realised that Ryan actually wanted to hear about it. While they drove over the grey city roads, the to Colin just as familiar route to Ryan’s house, the sun slowly set colouring the sky a brittle orange and pink.

Their conversation flowed effortless and comfortable as ever between them, and it was only when Colin pulled onto the driveway of Ryan’s house that there fell a silence again. When the car stopped, skirting little stones on the driveway, and Colin stepped out without any real reason, Ryan walked over to the door, turned around half-way there and said “Come in”. It was never a question, just a statement.

When Colin followed Ryan through the open door he vaguely wondered at the freshly cleaned smell, but then realised Ryan probably had a cleaning lady. Ryan’s back quickly disappeared somewhere around the corner, leaving Colin without comment to stand in the living room.
Liberace’s living room, Colin reminded himself, and smiled. As the seconds ticked by with the idle movement of an antique clock on the wall, Colin allowed himself to wonder about Ryan’s sadness. Realising it probably had something to do with his family, Pat in particular, Colin walked on towards the large sliding windows that connected the living room to the garden. Wanting to open them, but feeling strangely self-conscious in the large house he opted for standing there and looking at the brittle colours of the sunset slowly fading into a navy blue.

When he could hear Ryan’s footsteps nearing the living room carpet, Colin kept his eyes on the first appearing stars, knowing for a fact that Ryan would join him. He was to be proven right when he felt Ryan’s presence next to him, Ryan’s breathing heavy and evident in the silence. They stood that way for a couple moments, shoulders almost touching but not really, when Ryan swallowed and spoke, hoarse and close by “Are you counting stars?”.

All possible replies escaped Colin as he turned his gaze and looked at Ryan, whose eyes were so open and painfully sad that Colin’s breath stopped in his throat. When Ryan’s fingers slowly touched his hand, almost caressed it, it took him a moment to react and hold on to the cold glass that Ryan was handing him. Blinking his eyes, Colin looked at the glass filled with a yellowish liquor and clicking ice cubes in his trembling hand while Ryan had long moved away and was sliding the windows open.

Colin recognised that this was what made being around Ryan both so confusing and so intoxicating, it was as if it changed his senses, on stage causing him to think and react with the speed of lightning, but sometimes, as now, expanding the moment to the extent where, for years to come, he would be able to recall this, from the color of the sky to the slightly shaking glass in his hand. And that wasn’t normal; that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he knew it.

Willing the burning ghost of Ryan’s touch away, Colin followed him outside into the slightly fresher air. He involuntarily shivered, and forced himself to pull it together, keeping his eyes on the moths swarming near the garden light before joining a dead silent Ryan on the wooden bench. Bringing his glass to his lips, Colin evaded conversation by drinking the strong nameless alcohol until he was sure of his own voice again. When he looked up, he could see that Ryan had brought the bottle and was pouring himself a second drink without hesitation.

“You’ll get drunk.”

Ryan chuckled darkly. “That’s the point.”

“What happened?”

It was as if Ryan had simply laid that question aside, and he drank on undisturbed, his adams-apple bopping whenever he swallowed, his hand moving the glass to and from his lips, the frown of concentration on his forehead growing more pronounced, and the clench of his other hand into a fist stronger.

All Colin did was wait, looking at the covered up pool further in the garden, the trimmed grass under his feet, and listening at the crickets chirping louder and louder, not even toned out by the buzzing of the passing of a car on the street ever once and a while. At first paying attention to every insignificant movement Ryan made, but slowly starting to feel the calmness of the evening take hold, Colin drank too, his glass wordlessly being filled by Ryan again and again. After a while he felt pleasantly drunk, his lips numb and a familiar tingling sensation in his chest that he associated with alcohol, and in particular, alcohol combined with the presence of Ryan. Lost in warm thoughts, Colin jumped when Ryan suddenly spoke, as clear as ever but for the slight tremor in his voice “We’re getting a divorce, that’s what’s wrong.”

…And in what seemed like one single breath Ryan retold the entire conversation he had had with Pat, as well as the weeks that had gone before it. Colin had felt a quick stab of something that bordered nausea when his own name was mentioned, but Ryan seemed to be too far gone to notice, and when his story came to the point where he had said goodbye to Pat at the airport Ryan fell silent and stiffly lowered his head into his hands.

Colin suddenly felt as if he had too much body, sitting there uncomfortably, having never seen Ryan fall apart like this and hesitated for a moment, but then decisively placed his arms around Ryan, and pulled him close. Apart from the slight tremor that went trough Ryan’s tense body, there was no clue as to tell whether he was crying or not, and Colin tightened his grip, wishing he knew something to say when he saw a tear escape through Ryan’s hands and fall on the edge of the bench.

Realising that he had dealt with an angry, screaming, cursing, even violent Ryan, but never with a crying one, Colin felt his heart clench when looking at him, and for some reason his own chest hitched with tears. He tried to cover his own distress by tracing his fingers through Ryan’s hair, even though he doubted that Ryan would notice, and gradually he could feel some of the tension leave Ryan’s body.

Slowly the night fell, the stars evident in the sky and the sounds of cars passing by became more sporadic. It got colder too, and Colin started shivering. His skin was cold and riddled with goose bumps everywhere he wasn’t touching Ryan, and where he was it felt warm and damp with what he guessed were tears. He wanted to talk, tell Ryan everything would be all right, but every time his mind had formed a sentence the words got stuck in his throat. There was something in this news that made Colin fall apart too, and he knew it was too dangerous to think about here, on a cold bench outside with alcohol still buzzing through his body and a silent and heavy Ryan in his arms.

After what seemed like a long time, Ryan awkwardly moved from Colin’s arms, warily wiped his face and poured himself another drink with shaking hands. He tried to say something, but ended up coughing and turning his eyes away.

Two glasses later, Colin took Ryan and the empty bottle back inside, the first sagging down on the coach while Colin put the second away in the kitchen. Walking back, he expected to see Ryan passed out, but instead he was fixing him with an open expression, and spoke clearly

“You should stay here tonight, you’ve been drinking.”

Colin nodded, surprised at the sudden shift in Ryan’s mood; except for the redness of his eyes he looked quite normal.

“Do you…” He was going to ask if Ryan needed help, but Ryan must have guessed so, as he interrupted “No.” and added “I’m fine.”

Colin almost laughed at how ridiculous and how very much Ryan that statement was, but realised it would be futile to argue and so he agreed, leaving Ryan on the couch with a blanket in reach and heading up the stairs himself.

It took Colin a long time to fall asleep that night, lying curled up in Ryan’s guestroom bed with open eyes, trying to decide between joining Ryan in the living room again and staying put. Somehow he was shivering, still cold under the thick flowery-smelling blankets of a bed with too many pillows. He would never admit it, but seeing Ryan cry had woken something in him that hated the thought of having to leave in a couple days again; and that thought was exactly why he forced himself to stay, endlessly turning in the bed, waiting for the light to come through the windows.

Somewhere near the morning he did fall asleep, and when he woke it was with a start, one glance around the unfamiliar room enough to make the events of the day before appear in his mind again.

Once downstairs he encountered a showered and very down-to-earth Ryan, who said good morning, asked him if he wanted something to eat and informed him that they had to hurry, and before he knew it Colin was in Ryan’s car, swarming through traffic and talking about shooting scenes and other actors, as if nothing had ever been out of the ordinary.


Nothing out of the ordinary would become the theme for the next two days for Colin. He would get to know Ryan as Lewis better, and as a result, also a certain goofy side of Ryan that he had rarely seen before. They ate together at the crafts table, laughed together over scenes and reminisced together over beers at night. Not once did they talk about what happened that night, or did Ryan show one sign of even remembering, and Colin was constantly reminded of their long-ago Second City hug, how the world had had it’s way of spinning extra fast after, as if to compel him not to think on it until it was too late. And he tried very hard not to think on it. He tried not to think on how the trusting weight of Ryan had felt against him, or how badly he still wanted to ask him if he really was all right, or how he had hoped that shooting would go longer than just a couple days, but it hadn’t. The week had passed by all too fast, and at the end of it Drew had thanked him for his lovely job as Eugene. He had walked of the set, giving Ryan a short hug with the promise of a call and had driven back to his hotel room, ready for a flight back home in the morning.

Looking back on it, Colin knew that that very well could have been it. He would have gone home the next morning, back to his wife and son, and the short L.A. days would have become another warm memory to play at the back of his mind sometimes, end of story… but it wasn’t…


The high-pitched ringing of a cell phone ripped the silence in the dark hotel room apart. Colin groaned and blindly reached for the metal-coloured phone that was buzzing on his nightstand, risking a glimpse at the digital clock as he moved. Two am. Not even wanting to count down how many hours of sleep he had left before he had to be at the airport, he flipped the phone open, frowned at the unfamiliar number and answered. “Yes?”