"Five minutes, Mr Mortensen!"
Almost the end of the run. Just tonight’s show, then tomorrow evening’s, then that’s that.
The whole thing has been a phenomenal experience, one that should surely have happened to someone else, certainly not to Viggo.
But then again, he tells himself, this is what he’s been working towards all these years. Scratching a bare existence waiting tables, saving his hard-earned money to pay for drama lessons, finally getting a place in a touring company. Dreaming of making it, dreaming of getting a part, any part. Dreaming of Sean, those vivid green eyes, their first, their only, amazing kiss. Dreaming of the man who would have, should have, stayed if only he could…
No.
He won’t go there. Not tonight.
For Sean is dead.
But Viggo is alive and his career is at last opening up before him. From understudy to star when the lead actor fell ill, Viggo has not only saved the production but also helped create the biggest box-office smash Dublin has seen in years. Tickets are exchanging hands for exorbitant sums and the daily queue for returns snakes well into O’Connell Street more often than not.
Sometimes he wants to stop the play and just scream. To let them know that he isn’t acting, that he’s showing them his life, baring his scarred soul every night to the paying public. Fate has dealt him a cruel hand in bringing him fame. How more ironic could it get than that his success is due to playing the part of a British soldier who falls hopelessly and tragically in love with an IRA bomber?
It isn’t acting.
It’s real life.
Every night and twice on Saturdays.
The face that stares back at him from the mirror is not the same naïve young hopeful whose life Sean invaded, upended and changed forever. The lines are not just those of the years that have passed, but also of the heartbreak he has carried every day since Sean closed the door between them. A constant dull thrum of pain that will never leave. But it is a pain that has truly awoken his talent and made him a star.
The bell rings and he rises to leave his dressing room. He is not one for rituals, doesn’t believe in luck. Luck has not treated him kindly so why should he give it anything back? But someone once gave him something and to him he always offers remembrance. A fingertip strokes the old creased postcard wedged into the frame of his mirror.
‘For you, my love. Always for you…’
**********************
It isn’t just his stunning performance that has endeared Viggo to fans and critics alike, it’s also his tireless patience with the hoards who wait every night at the stage door, whether they have seen the play or not. No autograph, no photograph is ever refused.
Tonight, with only one more day of the already extended run to go, the crowds are thicker than ever, but still Viggo waits until the end, until everyone who wants a little bit of his attention has gone away satisfied.
Until the only person left is the blond guy in the green jacket.
‘No no no no no no no…’
‘It’s ok, it’s ok, ok, ok…’
‘You’re dead. Go away, you’re dead…’
‘No, not dead. I know, I know. It’s ok, s’ok…’
Viggo tries to push the dead man away but his knees are buckling beneath him and he clings on instead, desperate, terrified and in tears. Finding his balance for a moment, he tries to fight again, but Sean is the stronger, always the stronger, and holds Viggo tight instead, protecting both of them from harm.
‘It’s ok, Viggo. I can explain.’
‘You’re dead, you’re dead, I know you’re dead…’
‘I know, I know. Let me explain…’
Viggo is shaking, hyperventilating, wide-eyed with panic. Sean dares not let him go, doesn’t know whether Viggo will collapse, fight or just run.
‘Let’s get away from here, go down towards the river. Find somewhere to sit. Need to talk, want to explain what happened.’
Viggo allows himself to be led down to the Liffey, Sean’s arm tight around his waist, brooking no dispute. They find a bench on the Quay and for a moment neither of them can say anything, can only watch the lights of Dublin city shimmer over the water.
Suddenly Viggo explodes, fists flailing rather than flying.
‘You bastard! You fucking bastard! All this fucking time you were alive and you just went on letting me think you were dead! Fucking hate you! Hate you hate you hate you hate you…’
Sean grabs Viggo’s wrists and holds them tight together, just as he cuffed them once before, long ago. And then he does the only thing he can do to calm Viggo, to stop this madness, kisses him long and hard, kisses him with years of pent-up passion, pent-up pain.
Viggo’s howl comes from the soul, not just the heart. It’s the cry he’s had to push far, far down for too long, the cry whose echo could perhaps be caught every night on stage as he acted out his own personal tragedy. Both men scrabble to find some hold that will drag them even closer together and keep them that way, never to be parted again.
‘Why? Why, Sean? Why?’
A deep sigh preludes Sean’s reply but he does not let go.
‘Afterwards… After I left, left London, left you… Afterwards it was never the same. Something had died in me when my brother died. He was the one person in my life who had ever truly mattered and he was gone. Once Ryan was out of the way, something changed, I lost my drive. Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t. Took a step back. Began to look at things differently. Wanted the killing and the bloodshed to stop. And eventually I turned informer.’
‘What?!’
‘You heard me. Informer. Squealing to the British. It was because of me that the whole Ballymoran cell got wiped out. Peace could never have been achieved without that. I hated doing it, but it had to be done.’
‘Ballymoran? But that’s where they said you died!’
‘They?’
‘Shit Sean, you couldn’t expect me just to forget about you, could you? You were a notorious terrorist. You held me hostage, gun at my head. You fucked me and I fucked you. I spent the most intense few hours of my life trapped by you in my own flat. You don’t just forget about something like that and get on with your life again as if nothing had happened.
‘I became addicted to the news after you’d gone. Read every paper, listened to every bulletin. Figured out you’d got back to Ireland, then the trail went cold and eventually you dropped out of view. But I never stopped looking, never stopped. Not once. Not in all those years. Then the net came along and I thought it would be easier, but there was only ever old news. Then… Then, well, then Ballymoran. They said you died, said you were blown up along with all the rest of them. Could only… could only be identified… by dental records…’
Viggo collapses into Sean’s arms and sobs.
‘That’s right.’
‘What?’
‘Sean Miller died at Ballymoran. Blown to bits. Gone forever.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘I’m not Sean Miller. Told you, I turned informer. The deal was a new identity, new name.’
‘So who are you now?’
‘Sean Bean.’
‘Bean?! What sort of a fucking name is Bean?’
‘It’s a good old Irish name and it has served me very well. I’m still Sean, anyway.’
‘Yeah, still Sean.’
‘It’s weird, knowing that you were tracking me on the net. I did the same with you. Tried to follow your career.’
‘Not that there’s been much of one so far.’
‘Hey! Come on! You’re a star now! A fucking amazing one as well. It’s torn my heart out every night, watching you up there, knowing what you were going through. Christ, Viggo, you’re fucking brilliant, you know that?’
‘Every night? You’ve watched me every night?’
‘Yeah… It was the least I could do…’
‘Why now? Why didn’t you get in touch earlier?’
‘Never knew whether it would have been the right thing to do or not. Then when I saw that you were coming over here, coming to Dublin… And after I saw one performance I knew that I couldn’t tell you I was here until the end. You were brilliant because you were hurting so much and I knew that it was me that had caused the hurt. I had to let you go on hurting. Can you understand that?’
Viggo remains silent, stares out across the dark Liffey as it slips down to Dublin Bay.
‘So now what?’ he eventually asks. ‘You going to disappear again back into your new life? Reappear in a few years’ time to see how I’m working through this latest dose of pain you’ve left me with? Is that it?’
‘No. No, that’s not it at all. Not unless that’s what you want.’
‘Course it’s not.’
‘Well, I was wondering what you’re doing after the play finishes. Do you have any time free or have you got to get back?’
‘Why?’
Now it’s Sean’s turn to stare into space.
‘Part of the deal, the new ID… I got a farm. Not a big place, just enough for me and a few horses. I breed them. It’s a lovely spot. Wondered if you’d like…’
‘Do you have to go back there tonight?’
‘Tonight? No. It’s over in Kildare. Not far but far enough. I’m staying in a hotel.’
‘Oh. I don’t know which might be worse…’
‘What?’
‘Worse if I take you back to my hotel where the rest of the cast are staying, or if I disappear off all night to yours.’
Sean laughs in relief.
‘Well my place is pretty nasty. Had to be cheap so I could afford to stay for the whole season. Fuck, but I cursed you when the run got extended! But I had years of sleeping in shit holes and you’re worth a bit of discomfort. So… So, what are we going to do?’
‘I can’t let you disappear on me again, Sean. I just can’t. I’ve held my life together for all these years, building something out of whatever the fuck it was that happened to me, to us, and now that’s all totally blown out of the water. I need to know that you’re real, need to know that you’re not dead, that you’re alive, truly alive.’
‘You’re not the only one that’s been suffering. It’s been hell for me too, you know. And the last few weeks have been the worst – seeing you up there on stage every night, not being able to see you, speak to you, touch you…’
‘You don’t sound much like a killer any more.’
‘I told you, Miller the killer is dead. I’m Sean Bean. Different man.’
‘Not totally different, I hope.’
‘I’d still be more than interested in hand-cuffing you to the bed and fucking you until you scream, if that’s what you mean.’
‘What happened to us, Sean? We were together for just hours, not even days, and it changed both our lives forever. What the hell was going on?’
‘Dunno, but whatever it was we’re stuck with it. There have only been two people in my life who have mattered. My little brother and you. He’s gone, he’s never coming back. But I found you again and I’m not letting go. Never. Understand?’
‘Your brother… Sean, I’ve got something here. Something you left behind when you went.’
Viggo reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieves that which nestles over his heart.
Ireland, the green!
‘You kept it.’
‘Of course I did. Take it. It’s yours.’
‘I gave it to you.’
‘So… so maybe it’s ours?’
‘Ours? Yeah - ours. Oh fucking hell love, yes!’
Love
Sean called him love.
Something somewhere deep down in Viggo’s soul stops screaming for the first time in years.
‘I’ve got to be back in London in a fortnight. Reading for a new play. Romantic lead, of all things.’
‘That’s good. You’ll come to Kildare, then?’
‘It’s been a long run. I need a break. And I need to lay the ghost of this role, prepare myself for the next one.’
‘I’d like to help. If you’ll let me.’
‘Can’t see any way forward without you. Not now I know you’re back in the land of the living.’
‘Forgive me?’
‘Nothing to forgive. In the end, there’s nothing to forgive. I am what I am because of you. Kildare… Is it green?’
‘Course it is, it’s Ireland! Ireland – the green!’
Summary: Viggo meets someone he never expected. Seguel to Govi's "Green"
Rated: R
Categories: Crossovers Pairing: Sean Miller/ Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2234 Read: 888
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009