The little AU: Winter Hopes: Carry it on
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Carry it on
slashfairy
~~
He's had a headache for two weeks now.
It's probably from the mask, worn during filming, to keep the ash out. It's probably from the ash, most of which is not really there but will be added in post. It's probably from the weeks of filming yet to come: the endless walking, pushing the shopping cart, with one eye on the boy and the other on the road, and always, always, one eye out behind them. It's probably from that- from watching out behind him, to catch whatever's coming from the past to assault him here, now, while he's most vulnerable and has the least he's ever had to defend himself.
Maybe it's from the tension that's not left his shoulders since before the awards season started. Maybe it's from the fact that he's been working steadily now for over a year, all over the world, and keeping up [or trying to] with Henry, with family, with Perceval, with his mens, without a let-up.
Maybe it's because he didn't sleep very well last night.
He misses them, he misses home. He misses having time to paint, to write, to edit, to play.
His soccer flag hangs over the foot of his bed like a throw, keeping his feet warm, or around his shoulders as a shawl, or over the door of his trailer, proclaiming his loyalty. He finds people on the crew who will kick the ball around with him, which breaks out the smiles, eases the tension. He wonders when, at what point, the man gives up the idea of having a game of catch with his son, when he stops looking at each piece of downed wood as a potential bat, and lets another part of the past bury the past.
Henry drops down to visit for a day, which brightens up everything. He brings new music, a sweater his dad left behind at his last visit, and a deep sense of peace. They, too, kick the ball around, play with words in a pick-up game of poetry, tell stories to each other. It helps- the headache eases to a dull roar, and Viggo smiles for most of the time Henry's there.
Later, after Henry's gone, headed back north, he'll take a shower, eat a small dinner, do some reading. The phone will ring- Orli, on conference with Karl- and they'll talk for a bit, the three men, keeping in touch, sharing time and stories and warmth if they can't share space. When he hangs up the phone, Viggo goes outside into the chill night air, and looks up at the sky.
Overhead the stars shine, and that's what reminds him that this is, no matter how much he's immersed himself in the role, not the world of The Road. In that world, the stars are hidden behind the ash, as is everything else- history, botany, philosophy. Everything except the fire- that's hidden inside their hearts, his and the boy's, and that's something that will not go out, will, not stop casting its light into the darkness, until there is not one soul left to carry it.
previously: Night
next: Trail Markers
slashfairy
~~
He's had a headache for two weeks now.
It's probably from the mask, worn during filming, to keep the ash out. It's probably from the ash, most of which is not really there but will be added in post. It's probably from the weeks of filming yet to come: the endless walking, pushing the shopping cart, with one eye on the boy and the other on the road, and always, always, one eye out behind them. It's probably from that- from watching out behind him, to catch whatever's coming from the past to assault him here, now, while he's most vulnerable and has the least he's ever had to defend himself.
Maybe it's from the tension that's not left his shoulders since before the awards season started. Maybe it's from the fact that he's been working steadily now for over a year, all over the world, and keeping up [or trying to] with Henry, with family, with Perceval, with his mens, without a let-up.
Maybe it's because he didn't sleep very well last night.
He misses them, he misses home. He misses having time to paint, to write, to edit, to play.
His soccer flag hangs over the foot of his bed like a throw, keeping his feet warm, or around his shoulders as a shawl, or over the door of his trailer, proclaiming his loyalty. He finds people on the crew who will kick the ball around with him, which breaks out the smiles, eases the tension. He wonders when, at what point, the man gives up the idea of having a game of catch with his son, when he stops looking at each piece of downed wood as a potential bat, and lets another part of the past bury the past.
Henry drops down to visit for a day, which brightens up everything. He brings new music, a sweater his dad left behind at his last visit, and a deep sense of peace. They, too, kick the ball around, play with words in a pick-up game of poetry, tell stories to each other. It helps- the headache eases to a dull roar, and Viggo smiles for most of the time Henry's there.
Later, after Henry's gone, headed back north, he'll take a shower, eat a small dinner, do some reading. The phone will ring- Orli, on conference with Karl- and they'll talk for a bit, the three men, keeping in touch, sharing time and stories and warmth if they can't share space. When he hangs up the phone, Viggo goes outside into the chill night air, and looks up at the sky.
Overhead the stars shine, and that's what reminds him that this is, no matter how much he's immersed himself in the role, not the world of The Road. In that world, the stars are hidden behind the ash, as is everything else- history, botany, philosophy. Everything except the fire- that's hidden inside their hearts, his and the boy's, and that's something that will not go out, will, not stop casting its light into the darkness, until there is not one soul left to carry it.
previously: Night
next: Trail Markers