DVD Commentary Meme -- Catch me If I Fall part 7
Hubby and I are taking off for the weekend. I'll be around tomorrow, and post the next installment of Superbad Fic, but then I'll be gone Friday through Sunday.
On monday, I'll start posting the next installment of Special Projects.
If I ever do this meme again, I'm going to only do one chapter of the longer stories.
Part 7 of the meme commentary for Catch me if I fall for
snazzy_spazzy
You can find the original fic here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Almost done. And thank goodness! If I ever do this meme again, I'm going to make sure that the commentary is just for one chapter of a longer fic.
Anyway, On with the show.
He found Chloe still sitting on the hood of the wrecked car. She looked at him with serious eyes, and he knew that she wasn’t just going to follow him at a distance the way he really wished she would.
Chloe still has her issues, but part of what she's doing here is out-stubborning him into dealing with his issues. This was a very delicate balance, because if Dean didn't deal with the no-touchy issue here, he wouldn't have ever dealt with it.
He sighed and stretched his hand out to her. Deep down, he hoped that she wouldn’t make a big deal out of things. Because it was taking everything he had just to let her take his hand.
How the hell did he ever think he was going to sleep next to her in the same bedroll?
One problem at a time, he reminded himself.
Chloe studied him with serious eyes, and finally stretched her hand out to take his. He pulled her from the car, and realized that she was still barefoot.
There is actually a reason that Chloe's barefoot. Have you ever crammed your feet into shoes too tight and then had it make you feel claustrophobic?
“Did you bring shoes out here?”
She shook her head.
Dean rolled his eyes, and looked back toward the house. Considering that the ground was littered with glass and twisted metal . . .
“How did you get out here without stepping on . . .” He broke off as she looked down and wiggled her toes in the dirt. “You stepped on glass, didn’t you?”
Her eyes remained on the ground, but she still nodded.
And he's treating her like she's stupid for not wearing shoes, so she's a little sheepish over the whole thing.
Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For God’s sake, Chloe.”
He grasped her by the hips, and lifted her so that she was sitting across from him on the wrecked car.
This was partially Dean slipping back into caretaker mode, and being so distracted with that, that he forgot to be afraid to touch her.
She let out a little snort of surprise, and clung to his shoulders to hold her balance. Once her butt was planted firmly on the hood, he lifted one muddy foot to look it over.
There were no cuts, no bruises. Nothing to suggest that she’d hurt herself. All he had to go on was her word. He dropped one foot and reached for the other, but she pulled it up out of his reach and tucked it under her other leg.
He looked up into her mildly annoyed expression, and knew that she was only humoring him. His mouth twisted in an expression of annoyance. “Did you pick glass out of your feet?”
She shook her head.
“Was there glass in your feet?”
She looked abashed as she nodded affirmative this time.
“Did you even feel it?”
She shook her head no.
“Is it still there?”
Again no.
Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. He wished she would just talk. He wanted to scream at her for being stubborn. For behaving like someone half-crazed. But given what she’d been through, he couldn’t really blame her. Plus, yelling at someone who couldn’t yell back was just behaving like a first-class asshole.
It's kind of ironic that he wishes she could talk, but he dosen't want to talk about what's really the problem.
“So what? Did it just work its way out on its own?”
Again, she nodded.
“Damn it, Chloe. Why aren’t you taking better care of yourself?”
She pinned him with a look that made Dean think that if she could talk, she’d be saying something sarcastic about pots and kettles.
“Yeah, okay, I get it,” he said. Then he put one arm around her waist, and another under her knees, and picked her up. He cradled her close, and for a minute it was as if the whole past week hadn’t happened. There’d never been Superman-induced distance. Meg hadn’t ever possessed him. And his body hadn’t been used as an instrument to hurt Chloe.
It's not a coincidence that Meg struck when she did. She followed Dean around for a while. Dean's finding out about Clark put the chink in the armor that she exploited.
But then he remembered everything that happened, and had to force himself not to drop her.
Chloe must have sensed the change in him, because she stiffened in his arms, and then tried to push away.
Chloe's always had rejection issues. Everything she's been through has been mentally degrading as well as torturous. So if Dean can't hold her here, it's going to mentally scar her.
Dean held her tighter as she pushed, and was reminded of what had happened while he was possessed. Only this time, he had control over how he held her. He dropped her knees, and let her rest her feet on the tops of his boots. Still, she tried to push away, her face twisted in a mask of hurt and rejection.
Dean realized that if he didn’t get control of the situation right away - he was in real danger of losing her. Because if he’d learned one thing about Chloe over the years, it was that she was afraid of rejection.
He sighed and shut his eyes. More than anything, he’d like to just push the pause button on their relationship until such time as he was finished dealing with his own issues. Then he could come back, pick up right here, and make it all better for her. But he just didn’t get that luxury. Not when Chloe was just as mentally messed up as he was. He was only going to get one shot at this, and he was blowing it.
And Dean's smart enough to realize that.
“Damn it, Chloe would you hold still?” He tightened his grip on her waist.
She made some kind of nasal squeak, and clutched at his wet t-shirt to keep from losing her balance and falling flat on her ass. She looked up at him - her face an open book of confusion.
“Let’s just try this piggy-back,” he said. “You take the gear and climb on back.”
When she saw that he wasn’t physically rejecting her, she seemed to calm down. She nodded, and let him lift her back onto the car. Then he turned, and let her climb onto his back. He wrapped his arms around her legs and hitched her higher. In response, she grasped his shoulders, and let him carry her toward the old barn. As they walked, he breathed a little easier. This - he could do. She was safe where she was, and it wasn’t remotely like anything Meg had done to her using him.
If he could deal with her like this, maybe he could learn to deal with everything else, too.
The barn hadn’t been painted in decades. Any paint that it had had long since faded away, leaving behind rough, untreated wood. Dean sat her down in the soft hay, and then pulled the pack from her back. He shoved it into her arms.
Chloe took it, and then looked up into his face with a curious expression.
“Okay Chloe, we’ve got this big, open barn. Find a place to put the bedroll down. That won’t make you feel claustrophobic.”
She nodded, and then shouldered the pack and walked away. While she was off finding a spot to bed down, Dean checked the stability of the old structure. A few hard knocks on the wall, and he was satisfied that it wouldn’t collapse on their heads while they slept. He knelt and ran his hands through the hay experimentally. It was soft stuff, and once they were settled it would probably insulate them fine. They’d actually be pretty warm in it.
This is just Dean stalling.
He sighed. It wasn’t the solution that he wanted, but it was a solution they could both live with.
By the time he caught up to Chloe, she’d selected a spot up in the loft, just far enough away from the window so that they wouldn’t get wet. Dean cleared the hay away in a large circle around the bedroll, and then put down a line of salt on the rough wood in its place.
By the time he was finished with the circle; Chloe had stripped completely and crawled into the bedroll.
She sat up, sleeping bag clutched to her chest modestly, and held a hand out to him in a silent request for his presence.
Dean looked at her hesitantly. If he was being totally honest with himself, he was afraid. Long before he met Chloe, he’d dreamed of someone like her. Longed for someone who would always be with him, through whatever wackiness his strange life could throw at them. But he hadn’t wasted his time hoping for her, and dreams were all he’d ever expected to have.
The reality of Chloe was far better than any dream. She was annoying and intoxicating. She challenged and excited him in ways that he’d never thought possible. And she wanted him almost as badly as he wanted her. In the time they’d been together, having her in his arms had seemed like some kind of dream come true.
But that had proved to be his weakness. The demon knew exactly what it was doing with its hit list. It hadn’t been a coincidence that Chloe was first and Sam was last. Because the things that it had done to Chloe and planned to do to Sam were chosen specifically to stretch out his suffering until he was broken.
And he was broken. More so now than ever. He couldn’t go near Chloe without remembering how helpless that he’d been to stop the demon from hurting her.
This is a bit of role reversal. Up until recently, Chloe has been the one afraid to let people in, because the relationship could be used against her. Now dean recognizes that his family (Sam and Chloe) could be used against him. In fact his relationship with Chloe has been used against him in the worst way possible. So now he's afraid to go there again.
Dad had busted through the Demon’s influence long enough to beg Sam for death. Why couldn’t he have thrown it off long enough for Chloe to get away?
In the next fic, Chloe gets her voice back, and gets to call him on some of this.
And yet, there she was, just as much a victim of what had happened as he had been. And yet still asking for his strength and comfort.
He felt like a damn idiot because he couldn’t cross the damn barrier to take her hand, and hold her close.
He didn’t want to talk about this. If he had his way he wouldn’t talk about it. But he didn’t see any other way. His back was against the wall. If he didn’t make her understand, he was going to lose her. And that just couldn’t happen.
“Chloe . . .” he knelt before her, and put his hands out in supplication. “I want to. God knows I do. But I . . . that thing hurt you, and I couldn’t stop it. It’s my fault.” He bowed his head in shame.
The scratch - scratch of pen on paper caused him to look up in surprise. Chloe had tucked the blanket under her armpits, stuck a penlight into her teeth, and was busily composing a note on one of those long, narrow reporter’s notebooks with the pen he’d given her.
Practical Chloe.
Dean blinked. Had she had that stuff all along? He saw a plastic bag next to the bedroll, and figured that she did -- probably in the pocket of her jeans. She probably just hadn’t felt inclined to pull it out.
Because she was stubborning Dean into dealing with his issues.
Not when she could make him work at talking to her.
Dean shook his head wryly. Trust Chloe to be both practical and stubborn.
Finally, she finished her little note and handed it to him.
In the glow of his own light, he read her words.
Dean,
I know that you think you’re somehow responsible. That if you were smarter, stronger, faster, or somehow better that you could have done more to protect me.
But I need you to understand something. I’ve been through a lot in my life before I ever met you. From being buried alive to nearly freezing to death. As far as I’m concerned, this is just one more insane thing in my batshit crazy life.
I don’t know if this means much to you, but every minute I was in that wall, you were right there with me. I thought of the things we could do when I was free again. I made up conversations between us in my head. Thoughts of you kept me sane when I thought I was losing my mind.
I’ve never had someone to rely on like that before. You saved me.
Please don’t abandon me now .
And here I made myself cry. Chloe's state of mind is that she is so telling in the letter. On one hand, she's trying to stubborn him into healing. On the other, she's half-afraid that he'll abandon her.
Dean blinked as her words blurred before his eyes. He looked up, and saw her looking anxiously at him.
“I’m -- Chloe, I don’t--” He wiped at his eyes, and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say, Chloe. I - Hell, I hate chick flick moments.”
She stretched her arms out to him in wordless reply.
“I don’t know if I can do this, but - okay. Let’s try it.” Dean said as he stood, and pulled his soaking wet shirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor. The rest of his clothes quickly followed, and he crawled into the sleeping bag next to Chloe and zipped it up around them. Then he held his breath as he spooned up behind her.
Although they were both naked under those covers, there was nothing remotely sexual about the situation (no hurt/comfort here). It was very much about two people taking solace in physical touch.
She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled his arms around her. In the warmth of their nest, with the rain beating down on the tin roof, Dean felt the knots that had bound him up so tightly ease away.
“This isn’t so bad,” he whispered.
There's the fluffy moment in the fic.
In the darkness, he thought he felt her nod, but he couldn’t be certain. Within a few moments, her deep, even breathing told him that she’d slipped into sleep.
“I’m not going anywhere, Chloe.” He whispered as he pulled her tighter.
Dean dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Given that she was still on the mend, she’d probably sleep all night. He would stay up. Because while this wasn’t so bad - it was also frightening. If he stayed awake, he could guard against anything else happening to them .
.