The Letter
Title : The Letter
Author : dalehead
Pairing : VigBean
Rating : R
Summary: Sean is searching for something.
A/N or Warning if you will: This is an adult story, it has adult themes.
A/N : For liars_dance because she asked me for more VigBean and for shegollum for whom this story should have been written.
Sean watched the man who looked, if anything, even wearier than he had the day before. He watched as the man sat down and brought out a pad, brought out a couple of books and begun feverishly writing at great speed.
Smiling, Sean returned to his own studies. Well they weren’t exactly studies, more investigating his family tree. Well not really his family tree but more his Great Uncle Sean for whom he’d been named.
It was the noise. The noise got to them more than anything else. The sound of gunfire, heavy and heavier gunfire. That and the stench of humanity, of decay, of death. Viggo moved swiftly through the line, he was carrying important information. Information he had to pass on to his CO as soon as possible.
He looked over at the man who always seemed to get to the library before he did. He nodded to him, good looking guy as it went, blond, green eyes. Nice looking face, kind. He reminded Sean of someone but he couldn’t quite remember. He sat down and wished the correspondence he was wading through wasn’t so terribly, terribly sad.
Stumbling down, the Tommy nearly fell at the feet of the officer. He lay there in the mud panting. He’d been one of a party sent out to reconnoitre, to cut wire, to collect the guns and the ammunition of the dead and wounded. Snowy Smith, his mate, his pal, he’d got it, not just a Blighty, not just a ticket home, Snowy was no more, blown to smithereens. He wept even as the officer pulled him to his feet.
The man got a flask of coffee out of his bag, poured some into a cup and sipped it, turning the pages of his note book. Sean did the same, in his flask there was hot, strong tea, he had brought a pile of sandwiches, wrapped in foil so as not to disturb any one else, or rather not to disturb the guy he kept bumping into. He had bought water so he didn’t have to interrupt his work, he could just keep going. He only had a pass to do this for a couple more days. He was prepared for all eventualities and was even wearing an extra layer of clothes because this part of the library here was cold. It was always cold, even when in the middle of summer. Sometimes Sean fancied it wasn’t just the aircon that kept it so, that there was more than old books and papers down here.
“On your feet Tommy,” although Viggo’s tone was gentler than his words. He heaved the man to his feet. “Take deep breaths, you’re safe,” for now. “Yes sir, thank you sir, sorry sir,” the Tommy was dazed, his grief raw on his face as he contemplated the rest of the war without his best friend. He slumped again.
“Please let me be Sir,” he said quietly. “I need a few moments.”
Of all the things Viggo knew, he knew how to be quiet. He lit a couple of cigarettes and passed one to the Tommy.
Sighing, Sean put his notes down. Sometimes he found all this very uplifting but other days, like today, he was struck by …
“It was such a waste wasn’t it?” The coffee drinking guy was looking over at him, sympathy writ large all over his face.
“Yeah, I feel …”
“Sad?”
“Yeah but more than that, I feel such a sense of loss…” Sean sighed again. “You know if history teaches us anything, it’s that we don’t learn anything from history.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” the guy ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions.
“I don’t know why I started this,” Sean spotted something he hadn’t noticed before, his voice trailed off.
“No?” the guy turned back to his own work. “I guess you’ll find out eventually,” he smiled.
I needed that,” the Tommy stood up, his legs were still shaky but his voice was steady. “My pal, Snowy, he’s gone…” he smoked the cigarette until the end of it all but disintegrated. “I better go write to his wife … to his mam.”
“My brother …” Viggo hesitated. “Peter …”
“Gone?”
“In Gallipoli, no body for us to bury,” Viggo’s lip trembled. “It was so hard for my parents, for my mom, my dad…”
“You’re not English are you?” The Tommy noticed the strange intonation.
“Danish but I lived in New York for a long time.”
“New York eh? I come from near old York,” a smile hovered around the Tommy’s lips, transforming his face.
Viggo chuckled. It was the first time he’d laughed for many a long week. “I have to deliver this message, when I’m done, would you like to share a cup of tea with me?”
“You’re an officer Sir, I don’t think…”
“I am and if it was an order?” Viggo thought the Tommy looked like he could do with a break. “Who’s your CO?”
“Captain Roxwell.”
“Ah well I’m on my way to see him now, you can show me the way.”
It was getting colder. There was no heating in the library. It damaged the precious artefacts. So it is that after a couple of hours, Sean had to start putting on layers. He was even wearing a woolly hat. He looked up at the man and found the man was looking at him.
“I’m freezing,” he remarked.
“It is cold though not as cold as they were,” the guy smiled though, softening the words which might have sounded rather harsh without the warmth of the tone.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Sean agrees. “I’m researching my great uncle. He came back from the Front but he only lasted about six months, my gran said her man thought he pined. Like he’d lost something precious. Of course they put it down to shell shock…” there was a long pause which the man did not interrupt. “But…”
“But what?” The prompt was gentle.
“It sounds to me … I’m a psychologist … like he pined not for something but for someone…”
Another long pause and when Sean looked, he thought how very sad the man appeared to be and he shivered again, then looked down at the letters and documents he was ploughing through.
“They only let me in here because I’ve written books about shell shock, what about you?”
“Friends in high places,” and the guy smiled, a smile that quite took Sean’s breath away.
“Friend in…” he trailed off because he felt strange, a sensation of something he couldn’t place made him feel off kilter.
“In high places…” the man looked away and the sensation died away. Sean realised he was clutching his pencil so hard it had broken, he shook his head and returned to the letter he was trying to decipher.
Sir?” Viggo led his newly acquired Tommy into the dugout where their commanding office was poring over a set of maps. “May I present my batman…”
“Yes, yes, welcome aboard Tommy though…” Captain Roxwell sighed. “Go find Beccles, he’s my lad, he’ll show you the ropes …” he turned back to the maps. “You have something for me Viggo?”
Taking the curt words as a dismissal the Tommy slid away to find Beccles, leaving Viggo, strange name, to discuss tactics with the Captain.
When the bell rang, warning them the library was about to close, Sean stood up and begun packing his gear away.
“You know,” he said to the other man who showed no sign of leaving. “I think I may nearly be there…” he looked down sadly. “I think something is missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure what,” Sean shook his head. “I’ve got to go though, and so have you, do you fancy going for a pint?” He never knew what possessed him to ask.
“Thank you but no, I have to get home.” He showed no sign of getting up and feeling de trop, Sean gave it up.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
On the way out, Sean turned and it seemed to him that the other man was already melting into the shadows…
Life might have been slightly better in that he was no longer sharing his sleeping place with as many rats as men. Nowadays he was slightly warmer, a little less damp but what really made his existence bearable was Viggo.
Initially it had been quiet conversations and shared moments over a hot drink or the occasional tot of rum. Viggo was often sent off at a moment’s notice, his batman was the last person to know where and what he was up to but he was always ready with something hot, something comforting.
One night they were standing sharing a cigarette and Viggo was never sure whether it was him who leaned forward to press his lips against the Tommy’s or whether it was vice versa. Whoever started it, there was no denying the searing heat between them as the kiss deepened, lips parting, tongues dancing and moving against each other. Heavy breathing and muttered moans floated on the fetid air until Viggo came to. He was kissing a man, a man and they were in the open, anyone could see them and it would do them no good at all. He pulled away.
“I want you…”
“Want you too.”
The next morning Sean was in bright and early.
“You’re the first man in,” the security guard on the front desk remarked as he waved Sean in.
“Morning,” how strange. The guy is there.
“But…”
The man looked at him.
“Just I thought I was the first one in.”
“Friends in…”
“High places,” Sean finished for him. “Yeah…” But as he sat down, he was aware of a sense of unease.
“You said you’d nearly done?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Sean begun to relax. Now he could see the guy, his previous fears seem a bit stupid. “There seems to be a hole, a void. I just can’t fill it.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Are you really …” there was something about those eyes that seems to encourage confidences. “I mean do you want to hear about it?”
“Yes.”
“Like I said before, my Great Uncle Sean fought in the First World War…”
“Here,” he passed the last of the rum ration to his batman. They had spent their first night together. They had lain together until the night was very old, talking about their lives and what might happen if they both survived the war. In Viggo’s pocket was a letter. It said all the things he hadn’t found the courage to bring up. That he’d fallen in love that first night they’d met, how he wanted them to spend their lives together, no matter how difficult it might be. The letter was in his pocket. He needed to find a quiet moment to hand it over.
“Change of plan men, we’re going immediately.” Captain Roxwell was well aware his company were being condemned to death.
“But Sir…” Viggo interrupted. “It’s still light.”
“Yes soldier I realise that but orders are orders,” even the words lacked the Captain’s usual steel. He lined his men up and in the following melee the letter stayed in Viggo’s pocket.
“I found out that his whole company died,” Sean said quietly. “On July 1. So many men … Apart from one man. And whatever happened to him while he was out there, no one ever knew. My Great Uncle Sean, I’m named for him, and he was found badly wounded under the body of Lieutenant Viggo Mortensen who almost certainly saved his life. But my uncle,” he shrugged. “He made it back to Blighty like I said before, he died six months later, didn’t even make it to the end of the war.”
The man nodded. “So what exactly are you trying to find out? What do you think is missing?”
“I wish I knew. I don’t even know why, but I can’t help thinking… That there must be something else, more to all this, something I ‘m not seeing. It took me months to get permission to come search these archives…”
“And you found what?”
“Lots of reports of what a good soldier Sean was but nothing to tell me what broke his spirit or …”
“Broke his heart?” the man suggested.
“Exactly.”
Viggo stood up and put his hand in his pocket. “I think this might help.”
Sean took the letter, frowning. “What is this?”
“Read it when you get home,” he smiled.
Sean looked down at the letter, it was addressed to
Sean Bean
The Trench
Somme
France
Delivered par le main
The writing was old, the letter was old. There was a picture of a hand, beautifully drawn on the envelope, it reminded Sean of something. He opened his mouth to ask about it, when he looked up he found he was alone. He stood up and it came to him. He knew exactly who the man reminded him of.
“Viggo?” he called. But of course no one answered. There was no else in the room.
Epilogue
“Hey baby, that you?” Viggo called.
“Why who were you expecting?” Sean responded automatically but his voice sounded strained. Upset.
“Baby?” Viggo could hear something was wrong. He wiped his paint stained hands and hurried downstairs. “Are you okay?”
“No. Something happened. Viggo? I think I’ve been haunted by the ghost of your great grandfather…”
Fin
Author : dalehead
Pairing : VigBean
Rating : R
Summary: Sean is searching for something.
A/N or Warning if you will: This is an adult story, it has adult themes.
A/N : For liars_dance because she asked me for more VigBean and for shegollum for whom this story should have been written.
Sean watched the man who looked, if anything, even wearier than he had the day before. He watched as the man sat down and brought out a pad, brought out a couple of books and begun feverishly writing at great speed.
Smiling, Sean returned to his own studies. Well they weren’t exactly studies, more investigating his family tree. Well not really his family tree but more his Great Uncle Sean for whom he’d been named.
It was the noise. The noise got to them more than anything else. The sound of gunfire, heavy and heavier gunfire. That and the stench of humanity, of decay, of death. Viggo moved swiftly through the line, he was carrying important information. Information he had to pass on to his CO as soon as possible.
He looked over at the man who always seemed to get to the library before he did. He nodded to him, good looking guy as it went, blond, green eyes. Nice looking face, kind. He reminded Sean of someone but he couldn’t quite remember. He sat down and wished the correspondence he was wading through wasn’t so terribly, terribly sad.
Stumbling down, the Tommy nearly fell at the feet of the officer. He lay there in the mud panting. He’d been one of a party sent out to reconnoitre, to cut wire, to collect the guns and the ammunition of the dead and wounded. Snowy Smith, his mate, his pal, he’d got it, not just a Blighty, not just a ticket home, Snowy was no more, blown to smithereens. He wept even as the officer pulled him to his feet.
The man got a flask of coffee out of his bag, poured some into a cup and sipped it, turning the pages of his note book. Sean did the same, in his flask there was hot, strong tea, he had brought a pile of sandwiches, wrapped in foil so as not to disturb any one else, or rather not to disturb the guy he kept bumping into. He had bought water so he didn’t have to interrupt his work, he could just keep going. He only had a pass to do this for a couple more days. He was prepared for all eventualities and was even wearing an extra layer of clothes because this part of the library here was cold. It was always cold, even when in the middle of summer. Sometimes Sean fancied it wasn’t just the aircon that kept it so, that there was more than old books and papers down here.
“On your feet Tommy,” although Viggo’s tone was gentler than his words. He heaved the man to his feet. “Take deep breaths, you’re safe,” for now. “Yes sir, thank you sir, sorry sir,” the Tommy was dazed, his grief raw on his face as he contemplated the rest of the war without his best friend. He slumped again.
“Please let me be Sir,” he said quietly. “I need a few moments.”
Of all the things Viggo knew, he knew how to be quiet. He lit a couple of cigarettes and passed one to the Tommy.
Sighing, Sean put his notes down. Sometimes he found all this very uplifting but other days, like today, he was struck by …
“It was such a waste wasn’t it?” The coffee drinking guy was looking over at him, sympathy writ large all over his face.
“Yeah, I feel …”
“Sad?”
“Yeah but more than that, I feel such a sense of loss…” Sean sighed again. “You know if history teaches us anything, it’s that we don’t learn anything from history.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” the guy ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions.
“I don’t know why I started this,” Sean spotted something he hadn’t noticed before, his voice trailed off.
“No?” the guy turned back to his own work. “I guess you’ll find out eventually,” he smiled.
I needed that,” the Tommy stood up, his legs were still shaky but his voice was steady. “My pal, Snowy, he’s gone…” he smoked the cigarette until the end of it all but disintegrated. “I better go write to his wife … to his mam.”
“My brother …” Viggo hesitated. “Peter …”
“Gone?”
“In Gallipoli, no body for us to bury,” Viggo’s lip trembled. “It was so hard for my parents, for my mom, my dad…”
“You’re not English are you?” The Tommy noticed the strange intonation.
“Danish but I lived in New York for a long time.”
“New York eh? I come from near old York,” a smile hovered around the Tommy’s lips, transforming his face.
Viggo chuckled. It was the first time he’d laughed for many a long week. “I have to deliver this message, when I’m done, would you like to share a cup of tea with me?”
“You’re an officer Sir, I don’t think…”
“I am and if it was an order?” Viggo thought the Tommy looked like he could do with a break. “Who’s your CO?”
“Captain Roxwell.”
“Ah well I’m on my way to see him now, you can show me the way.”
It was getting colder. There was no heating in the library. It damaged the precious artefacts. So it is that after a couple of hours, Sean had to start putting on layers. He was even wearing a woolly hat. He looked up at the man and found the man was looking at him.
“I’m freezing,” he remarked.
“It is cold though not as cold as they were,” the guy smiled though, softening the words which might have sounded rather harsh without the warmth of the tone.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Sean agrees. “I’m researching my great uncle. He came back from the Front but he only lasted about six months, my gran said her man thought he pined. Like he’d lost something precious. Of course they put it down to shell shock…” there was a long pause which the man did not interrupt. “But…”
“But what?” The prompt was gentle.
“It sounds to me … I’m a psychologist … like he pined not for something but for someone…”
Another long pause and when Sean looked, he thought how very sad the man appeared to be and he shivered again, then looked down at the letters and documents he was ploughing through.
“They only let me in here because I’ve written books about shell shock, what about you?”
“Friends in high places,” and the guy smiled, a smile that quite took Sean’s breath away.
“Friend in…” he trailed off because he felt strange, a sensation of something he couldn’t place made him feel off kilter.
“In high places…” the man looked away and the sensation died away. Sean realised he was clutching his pencil so hard it had broken, he shook his head and returned to the letter he was trying to decipher.
Sir?” Viggo led his newly acquired Tommy into the dugout where their commanding office was poring over a set of maps. “May I present my batman…”
“Yes, yes, welcome aboard Tommy though…” Captain Roxwell sighed. “Go find Beccles, he’s my lad, he’ll show you the ropes …” he turned back to the maps. “You have something for me Viggo?”
Taking the curt words as a dismissal the Tommy slid away to find Beccles, leaving Viggo, strange name, to discuss tactics with the Captain.
When the bell rang, warning them the library was about to close, Sean stood up and begun packing his gear away.
“You know,” he said to the other man who showed no sign of leaving. “I think I may nearly be there…” he looked down sadly. “I think something is missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure what,” Sean shook his head. “I’ve got to go though, and so have you, do you fancy going for a pint?” He never knew what possessed him to ask.
“Thank you but no, I have to get home.” He showed no sign of getting up and feeling de trop, Sean gave it up.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
On the way out, Sean turned and it seemed to him that the other man was already melting into the shadows…
Life might have been slightly better in that he was no longer sharing his sleeping place with as many rats as men. Nowadays he was slightly warmer, a little less damp but what really made his existence bearable was Viggo.
Initially it had been quiet conversations and shared moments over a hot drink or the occasional tot of rum. Viggo was often sent off at a moment’s notice, his batman was the last person to know where and what he was up to but he was always ready with something hot, something comforting.
One night they were standing sharing a cigarette and Viggo was never sure whether it was him who leaned forward to press his lips against the Tommy’s or whether it was vice versa. Whoever started it, there was no denying the searing heat between them as the kiss deepened, lips parting, tongues dancing and moving against each other. Heavy breathing and muttered moans floated on the fetid air until Viggo came to. He was kissing a man, a man and they were in the open, anyone could see them and it would do them no good at all. He pulled away.
“I want you…”
“Want you too.”
The next morning Sean was in bright and early.
“You’re the first man in,” the security guard on the front desk remarked as he waved Sean in.
“Morning,” how strange. The guy is there.
“But…”
The man looked at him.
“Just I thought I was the first one in.”
“Friends in…”
“High places,” Sean finished for him. “Yeah…” But as he sat down, he was aware of a sense of unease.
“You said you’d nearly done?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Sean begun to relax. Now he could see the guy, his previous fears seem a bit stupid. “There seems to be a hole, a void. I just can’t fill it.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Are you really …” there was something about those eyes that seems to encourage confidences. “I mean do you want to hear about it?”
“Yes.”
“Like I said before, my Great Uncle Sean fought in the First World War…”
“Here,” he passed the last of the rum ration to his batman. They had spent their first night together. They had lain together until the night was very old, talking about their lives and what might happen if they both survived the war. In Viggo’s pocket was a letter. It said all the things he hadn’t found the courage to bring up. That he’d fallen in love that first night they’d met, how he wanted them to spend their lives together, no matter how difficult it might be. The letter was in his pocket. He needed to find a quiet moment to hand it over.
“Change of plan men, we’re going immediately.” Captain Roxwell was well aware his company were being condemned to death.
“But Sir…” Viggo interrupted. “It’s still light.”
“Yes soldier I realise that but orders are orders,” even the words lacked the Captain’s usual steel. He lined his men up and in the following melee the letter stayed in Viggo’s pocket.
“I found out that his whole company died,” Sean said quietly. “On July 1. So many men … Apart from one man. And whatever happened to him while he was out there, no one ever knew. My Great Uncle Sean, I’m named for him, and he was found badly wounded under the body of Lieutenant Viggo Mortensen who almost certainly saved his life. But my uncle,” he shrugged. “He made it back to Blighty like I said before, he died six months later, didn’t even make it to the end of the war.”
The man nodded. “So what exactly are you trying to find out? What do you think is missing?”
“I wish I knew. I don’t even know why, but I can’t help thinking… That there must be something else, more to all this, something I ‘m not seeing. It took me months to get permission to come search these archives…”
“And you found what?”
“Lots of reports of what a good soldier Sean was but nothing to tell me what broke his spirit or …”
“Broke his heart?” the man suggested.
“Exactly.”
Viggo stood up and put his hand in his pocket. “I think this might help.”
Sean took the letter, frowning. “What is this?”
“Read it when you get home,” he smiled.
Sean looked down at the letter, it was addressed to
Sean Bean
The Trench
Somme
France
Delivered par le main
The writing was old, the letter was old. There was a picture of a hand, beautifully drawn on the envelope, it reminded Sean of something. He opened his mouth to ask about it, when he looked up he found he was alone. He stood up and it came to him. He knew exactly who the man reminded him of.
“Viggo?” he called. But of course no one answered. There was no else in the room.
Epilogue
“Hey baby, that you?” Viggo called.
“Why who were you expecting?” Sean responded automatically but his voice sounded strained. Upset.
“Baby?” Viggo could hear something was wrong. He wiped his paint stained hands and hurried downstairs. “Are you okay?”
“No. Something happened. Viggo? I think I’ve been haunted by the ghost of your great grandfather…”
Fin