Fic: Silent Tango Epilogue
Title: Silent Tango
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/'Stephen'
Summary: With Stephen back from Iraq, Jon and Stephen struggle to deal with their divorces, their budding relationship, oh, and a telepathic mind link, an assassination attempt and bananas on their breakfasts, too.
Chapter: Epilogue. Thanks to all who followed this story and especially those who reviewed! Look Ma! I finished something!
Six Months Later
Jon stood at the gate, anxiously waiting for Stephen's plane to come in.
Well, not exactly.
What with today's post 9/11, shoe bomber, and underwear bomber "preventative" security measures, he stood outside the metal detectors staring down the hall Stephen would eventually come down and continuingly glancing at the monitor next to him every thirty seconds to reassure himself that yes, Stephen's flight had landed twenty two minutes ago.
*******
It turned out there was really no 'cure' for telepathy, and no convenient reverse switch on the machine, (which, apparently, the U.S. Military understood little better than Stephen had). So, after several hundred non-disclaimer forms, (properly read this time), oaths on Bibles, (Stephen hadn't really helped their case by arguing that it didn't count for Jon because he was Jewish), and out and out threats about what would happen if their little secret was revealed, they had agreed to let them return to their day-to-day, if nowhere near normal lives.
So, six weeks after their mysterious disappearance, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert hosted their hour-long ‘Return Extravaganza’.
There was none of the normal buzz and laughter that accompanied the level of excitement in the waiting studio audience that night. A heavy layer of anticipation and anxiety stifled any hushed whispers that broke out sporadically. Even the cueing of the Special’s Theme music merely elicited a short burst of polite applause.
The silence lasted for a moment after Jon and Stephen, arm still tight in a sling walked out onto the set.
Then a deafening applause broke out that didn’t stop for ten minutes, which the team were forced to cut it down in editing. But Jon was grinning, Stephen was basking, and the audience was going nuts. Life was going to be normal again.
It wasn’t, of course.
Both the studio teams and most of the internet knew Jon and Stephen were a couple now, the majority opinion being ‘It’s About Damn Time’. Jon sold his tiny apartment, and moved in with Stephen. Mrs. Wilcox came over for coffee every Saturday, and they considered getting a dog to take up some space in the obscenely large house.
But if at home they were working like a well-oiled machine, at work things were falling apart.
Stephen was being attacked by fans and critics alike for his changed and considerably more moderate views, something which upset him far more than he would admit aloud to Jon.
Jon was continually being reprimanded for his temper outbursts, irrational and inappropriate decisions, and falling behind in his paperwork.
Now that they were aware of the long term effects of effectively ‘being’ another person, they did attempt to combat them. They asked their teams to point out if they did anything out of character, and tried to focus of ‘being themselves’, which, while sounding like something from an after-school special, was becoming increasingly difficult.
Both shows were losing viewers, and with them the sponsors were threatening to pull out.
One day, about two months after they’d gone back on-air, the Viacom Executives pulled them both in to give them an ultimatum.
They didn’t know what was going on, but if the two of them couldn’t fix the problems, Jon would lose his Producer responsibilities and possibly the anchor at the Daily Show. Stephen could lose the Report entirely.
In short, Shape Up, or Ship Out.
The search for control of their link had led to a government approved Buddhist monk, who had attempted to help them close off their minds via meditation.
That had been a disaster, filled with Jon joking about learning Occlumency to protect himself from Stephen's evil mind, Jon repeatedly apologizing to Stephen for comparing him to ‘the most evil wizard who ever lived’, (which included a two hour lecture on the 101 reasons Voldemort is Un-American, and Harry Potter is not, despite being British) and a heated argument involving Stephen ferociously arguing down at a tiny man in an orange robe that he was not going to shave off his recently regained hair again, even in an attempt to find inner peace.
After their ultimatum from the higher-ups, they turned back the ‘experts’ at the Pentagon, begging for something, anything, no matter how radical to try.
They made a suggestion.
Distance had already proven to play a factor in the strength of the link, and after a series of experiments they came up with some definite numbers.
A separation of at least 2000 miles for a period of at least three months every year would weaken the link to an almost imperceptible state, only slightly higher than the connection they had had before Stephen had gone to Iraq.
"It'll be like you two had been married for fifty years or so," an elderly lab technician explained sweetly, an oblivious smile on her face.
Over the months the link would gradually return, but slowly enough to allow them to adjust. They would separate again before they got to the point where they started to ‘become’ each other again.
"Because honestly Jon, that was just creepy. I may...y'know...love you, but I don't want to turn into you."
Jon heartily agreed.
So now they had to come up with a plan. Who was going, where they were going, and what to do about their jobs.
They had originally agreed that a discussion of this magnitude should be conducted verbally, as it still just seemed…weird, otherwise.
But after two hours at the kitchen table, they had made no progress and both had realized the awkwardness of ‘normal’ dialogue, the sending of feelings and ideas snuck into the conversation increasingly frequently, until they had unanimously had enough and given up.
It turned into another long, quiet conversation on a sunny afternoon in bed.
Jon was sitting up against the headboard with Stephen in front of him, helping work some of the tension out of the other man’s almost-healed shoulder.
As he dug into the tense muscles, Stephen nudging him towards the right spots and nearly purring out loud, he raised the issue again.
I could always just retire. Move to Florida in the winters.
Even with his back to him, he could feel Stephen glaring at him.
Don’t you dare. I’m not letting you retire for something that-
He cut himself off.
Something what?
Stephen didn’t answer, trying to shut down in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Too long, it no longer worked. Jon could feel the levels of guilt and anger coming through.
Stephen? Look at me?
Rolling his shoulders and turning stiffly, Stephen turn to face him, eyes wide without his glasses.
You think this is your fault, don’t you.
It is.
Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Reassuring lies were no longer an option, and would just make Stephen feel worse. So, he tried for a joke.
What happened to the plan you had last week for us to be crime fighters, eh? We have the superpowers, you have the cape…
Stephen didn’t laugh.
You’re going to lose your job, and your anchor, and everything and you’ll hate me for it eventually.
Jon cringed. Once Stephen realized he couldn’t hide things he started being brutally honest. It really got painful at times.
Leaning forward, he kissed Stephen on the nose, and pressed their foreheads together.
Listen to me. You, Stephen Tyrone Colbert, are the maddest, most infuriating, craziest man I have ever met. You do things like talk me into giving you your own show, run for president, talk me into giving you a USO show, get shot and get us kidnapped, develop telepathy and have the kindness to share it with me. You are responsible for half the grey hairs on my head, and you’ll probably turn the rest one of these days, and I will never hate you for it. Do you understand that?
Stephen smiled.
Fine. But you’re still not moving to Florida. You burn too easily.
***
Eventually, the answer came from the Conan-Leno feud.
Due to the unpopularity of NBC’s decision, ratings for the Tonight Show dropped drastically, fueling panic and the ‘need’ for another major change.
So, after a few weeks of contracts, paperwork, inter-network debates, and arguments, The Tonight Show had a new host.
***
Three months later, the Tonight Show with Jon Stewart shot its last show in L.A., and began the move back to NYC to the new studio that signified another of the changes NBC was trying to make.
Until then, Jon had a week off, a borrowed beach house, and Stephen’s flight was due in.
Privately, Jon liked several key points of this new plan.
It wasn't that he didn't love Stephen, or enjoy spending time with him, but he had a sinking suspicion that if they were forced to spend every second inside each other's heads he would eventually be forced to shoot one or both of them.
What was the saying? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'
Besides, he thought, collapsing back onto a tangle of what remained of his sheets, There are some...other benefits to Stephen being gone for three months a year...
Crawling up to cuddle on Jon's chest, Stephen looked pensive.
"Hey, Jon?"
"Mmmm?"
"Can you read my mind?"
"Nope."
"Know what I'm thinking?"
"Hell yeah."
It may have been a temporary solution, but for now, it was enough.
FINIS
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/'Stephen'
Summary: With Stephen back from Iraq, Jon and Stephen struggle to deal with their divorces, their budding relationship, oh, and a telepathic mind link, an assassination attempt and bananas on their breakfasts, too.
Chapter: Epilogue. Thanks to all who followed this story and especially those who reviewed! Look Ma! I finished something!
Six Months Later
Jon stood at the gate, anxiously waiting for Stephen's plane to come in.
Well, not exactly.
What with today's post 9/11, shoe bomber, and underwear bomber "preventative" security measures, he stood outside the metal detectors staring down the hall Stephen would eventually come down and continuingly glancing at the monitor next to him every thirty seconds to reassure himself that yes, Stephen's flight had landed twenty two minutes ago.
*******
It turned out there was really no 'cure' for telepathy, and no convenient reverse switch on the machine, (which, apparently, the U.S. Military understood little better than Stephen had). So, after several hundred non-disclaimer forms, (properly read this time), oaths on Bibles, (Stephen hadn't really helped their case by arguing that it didn't count for Jon because he was Jewish), and out and out threats about what would happen if their little secret was revealed, they had agreed to let them return to their day-to-day, if nowhere near normal lives.
So, six weeks after their mysterious disappearance, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert hosted their hour-long ‘Return Extravaganza’.
There was none of the normal buzz and laughter that accompanied the level of excitement in the waiting studio audience that night. A heavy layer of anticipation and anxiety stifled any hushed whispers that broke out sporadically. Even the cueing of the Special’s Theme music merely elicited a short burst of polite applause.
The silence lasted for a moment after Jon and Stephen, arm still tight in a sling walked out onto the set.
Then a deafening applause broke out that didn’t stop for ten minutes, which the team were forced to cut it down in editing. But Jon was grinning, Stephen was basking, and the audience was going nuts. Life was going to be normal again.
It wasn’t, of course.
Both the studio teams and most of the internet knew Jon and Stephen were a couple now, the majority opinion being ‘It’s About Damn Time’. Jon sold his tiny apartment, and moved in with Stephen. Mrs. Wilcox came over for coffee every Saturday, and they considered getting a dog to take up some space in the obscenely large house.
But if at home they were working like a well-oiled machine, at work things were falling apart.
Stephen was being attacked by fans and critics alike for his changed and considerably more moderate views, something which upset him far more than he would admit aloud to Jon.
Jon was continually being reprimanded for his temper outbursts, irrational and inappropriate decisions, and falling behind in his paperwork.
Now that they were aware of the long term effects of effectively ‘being’ another person, they did attempt to combat them. They asked their teams to point out if they did anything out of character, and tried to focus of ‘being themselves’, which, while sounding like something from an after-school special, was becoming increasingly difficult.
Both shows were losing viewers, and with them the sponsors were threatening to pull out.
One day, about two months after they’d gone back on-air, the Viacom Executives pulled them both in to give them an ultimatum.
They didn’t know what was going on, but if the two of them couldn’t fix the problems, Jon would lose his Producer responsibilities and possibly the anchor at the Daily Show. Stephen could lose the Report entirely.
In short, Shape Up, or Ship Out.
The search for control of their link had led to a government approved Buddhist monk, who had attempted to help them close off their minds via meditation.
That had been a disaster, filled with Jon joking about learning Occlumency to protect himself from Stephen's evil mind, Jon repeatedly apologizing to Stephen for comparing him to ‘the most evil wizard who ever lived’, (which included a two hour lecture on the 101 reasons Voldemort is Un-American, and Harry Potter is not, despite being British) and a heated argument involving Stephen ferociously arguing down at a tiny man in an orange robe that he was not going to shave off his recently regained hair again, even in an attempt to find inner peace.
After their ultimatum from the higher-ups, they turned back the ‘experts’ at the Pentagon, begging for something, anything, no matter how radical to try.
They made a suggestion.
Distance had already proven to play a factor in the strength of the link, and after a series of experiments they came up with some definite numbers.
A separation of at least 2000 miles for a period of at least three months every year would weaken the link to an almost imperceptible state, only slightly higher than the connection they had had before Stephen had gone to Iraq.
"It'll be like you two had been married for fifty years or so," an elderly lab technician explained sweetly, an oblivious smile on her face.
Over the months the link would gradually return, but slowly enough to allow them to adjust. They would separate again before they got to the point where they started to ‘become’ each other again.
"Because honestly Jon, that was just creepy. I may...y'know...love you, but I don't want to turn into you."
Jon heartily agreed.
So now they had to come up with a plan. Who was going, where they were going, and what to do about their jobs.
They had originally agreed that a discussion of this magnitude should be conducted verbally, as it still just seemed…weird, otherwise.
But after two hours at the kitchen table, they had made no progress and both had realized the awkwardness of ‘normal’ dialogue, the sending of feelings and ideas snuck into the conversation increasingly frequently, until they had unanimously had enough and given up.
It turned into another long, quiet conversation on a sunny afternoon in bed.
Jon was sitting up against the headboard with Stephen in front of him, helping work some of the tension out of the other man’s almost-healed shoulder.
As he dug into the tense muscles, Stephen nudging him towards the right spots and nearly purring out loud, he raised the issue again.
I could always just retire. Move to Florida in the winters.
Even with his back to him, he could feel Stephen glaring at him.
Don’t you dare. I’m not letting you retire for something that-
He cut himself off.
Something what?
Stephen didn’t answer, trying to shut down in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Too long, it no longer worked. Jon could feel the levels of guilt and anger coming through.
Stephen? Look at me?
Rolling his shoulders and turning stiffly, Stephen turn to face him, eyes wide without his glasses.
You think this is your fault, don’t you.
It is.
Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Reassuring lies were no longer an option, and would just make Stephen feel worse. So, he tried for a joke.
What happened to the plan you had last week for us to be crime fighters, eh? We have the superpowers, you have the cape…
Stephen didn’t laugh.
You’re going to lose your job, and your anchor, and everything and you’ll hate me for it eventually.
Jon cringed. Once Stephen realized he couldn’t hide things he started being brutally honest. It really got painful at times.
Leaning forward, he kissed Stephen on the nose, and pressed their foreheads together.
Listen to me. You, Stephen Tyrone Colbert, are the maddest, most infuriating, craziest man I have ever met. You do things like talk me into giving you your own show, run for president, talk me into giving you a USO show, get shot and get us kidnapped, develop telepathy and have the kindness to share it with me. You are responsible for half the grey hairs on my head, and you’ll probably turn the rest one of these days, and I will never hate you for it. Do you understand that?
Stephen smiled.
Fine. But you’re still not moving to Florida. You burn too easily.
***
Eventually, the answer came from the Conan-Leno feud.
Due to the unpopularity of NBC’s decision, ratings for the Tonight Show dropped drastically, fueling panic and the ‘need’ for another major change.
So, after a few weeks of contracts, paperwork, inter-network debates, and arguments, The Tonight Show had a new host.
***
Three months later, the Tonight Show with Jon Stewart shot its last show in L.A., and began the move back to NYC to the new studio that signified another of the changes NBC was trying to make.
Until then, Jon had a week off, a borrowed beach house, and Stephen’s flight was due in.
Privately, Jon liked several key points of this new plan.
It wasn't that he didn't love Stephen, or enjoy spending time with him, but he had a sinking suspicion that if they were forced to spend every second inside each other's heads he would eventually be forced to shoot one or both of them.
What was the saying? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'
Besides, he thought, collapsing back onto a tangle of what remained of his sheets, There are some...other benefits to Stephen being gone for three months a year...
Crawling up to cuddle on Jon's chest, Stephen looked pensive.
"Hey, Jon?"
"Mmmm?"
"Can you read my mind?"
"Nope."
"Know what I'm thinking?"
"Hell yeah."
It may have been a temporary solution, but for now, it was enough.
FINIS