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lobelia321Title: Fade to Reality?
Author: Lobelia;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lobelia321
Fandoms: Verbotene Liebe / Stargate Atlantis / meta-fandom
Pairing: Christian / Oliver; Christian / Chuck the technician.
Length: c. 4,000 words
Language: English (with some German dialogue)
Disclaimer: I do not know these people. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a fictional piece of amateur prose. No money is being made.
Canon status: This was written before the Verbotene Liebe episode in the Turnhalle-gym, i.e. before there was anything resembling explicit sex or even mild swearing.
Rating: NC-17 for language.
Summary: Something's not right. And then Christian is zapped from Düsseldorf into Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy where he meets a mysterious and fresh-faced young man.
Thanks to: Frogspacefrogspace who discovered that the oranges are really an Ancient device.
Fade to Reality?
by Lobelia
Chuck the technician
http://pics.livejournal.com/lobelia321/pic/0000qx4f
Christian
http://pics.livejournal.com/lobelia321/pic/000ckdr8
1.
Something's not right.
There are some oranges in the kitchen. That's the first thing that Christian notices.
There's nothing strange about oranges. But these oranges have been there for months. Weeks and months. Yet they're as ripe and as orange as ever.
Christian looks at the oranges. There are four of them. They repose in a spiral wire rack. The rack is attached to the kitchen wall. The oranges sit still and round.
"Hey, Christian!"
It's Olli, and Christian forgets the oranges.
2.
Christian kisses Olli.
He loves kissing Olli. He loves holding Olli and kissing him on the lips. He loves stroking Olli's cheek and cupping the back of Olli's head and touching the naked skin of Olli's waist.
He loves it so much. Something in his heart goes twang every time he sees Olli. He looks into Olli's eyes. Olli's eyes are full of love. Olli's eyes are swamped with it, with love and tenderness and sweet, sweet...
Something.
Sweet, sweet something.
There's something missing. There's an emptiness, there's a yearning, there's a void that longs to be filled.
"Olli," whispers Christian.
They fall onto the bed and almost... Almost it seems as if now... As if something might happen.
But then they kiss some more, and then they fall asleep, arms around each other, like always, and when Christian wakes up, the strange longing has gone.
3.
"Olli?"
"Ja, Kleiner?" / "Yes, kid?"
That's what Olli calls him these days. 'Kid.' Every time Olli says 'kid', a little curl of smoke goes up inside Christian's belly. He smiles and forgets what he was going to say.
Instead, he goes over and takes Olli's face in his hands. He looks into Olli's eyes, into the shallow depths of them, and touches Olli's lips with his own lips.
4.
"Olli? Ist dir schon mal was Eigenartiges aufgefallen?" / "Olli? Have you ever noticed anything strange?"
"Nein. Was denn?" / "No. What is it?"
"Sind dir nicht schon mal die Orangen in der Küche aufgefallen?" / "Haven't you ever noticed the oranges in the kitchen?"
"Wieso? Was ist mit den Orangen?" / "Why? What about them?"
"Als... Kannst du dich daran erinnern, als wir diese Orangen gekauft haben?" / "When... Do you remember when we bought those oranges?"
"Hm." Olli's brows frown briefly. "Nein," he finally says. "Eigentlich nicht. Aber ich bin mir sicher, die sind noch frisch. Sie sehen ziemlich frisch aus." / "No. I don't, actually. But I'm sure they're still fresh. They look fresh."
Christian leans over. "Das ist es ja gerade. Die sind frisch. Die sind seit Monaten frisch. Seit Monaten." / "That's the point. They are. They've been fresh for months. Months."
Olli shrugs. "Nö. Wir haben sicherlich irgendwann mal neue gekauft." / "Nah. We must've bought new ones at some point."
"Nein," says Christian. "Ich bin mir ganz sicher: nein. Ich bin mir sicher daß diese Orangen schon immer in diesem Drahtgestell waren, schon immer seit... solange ich zurückdenken kann. Sogar, als du noch gar nicht eingezogen warst." / "No. I'm sure we haven't. I'm sure those oranges have been in that wire frame for... for as long as I can remember. Even from before you moved in here."
Olli smiles. "Kleiner." / "Kid," he says. "Komm her." / "C'mere."
They kiss. Christian forgets all about the oranges.
5.
In the night, Christian wakes up.
There's a strange white light creeping in through a slit at the bottom of his window blinds. It almost looks as if it were daylight out.
But that can't be right. It's the middle of the night.
Olli lies next to him. He stirs in his sleep.
Christian looks at Olli. He loves Olli so much. Sometimes it hurts him to love so much. There's a place inside his rib cage, between sternum and diaphragm. That's the place where the ache resides.
It's pulsing now. The ache is pulsing through him in long, hard throbs. Something's happening. Something's strange.
He pushes up against Olli. He fits his own body to Olli's body. He can feel each rib of Olli's slim torso, the in-and-out of breath behind Olli's navel, the edge of Olli's hip bones, the mound inside his pelvis.
Christian feels his own mound. He feels hot and sweaty in the bed at night, with the strip of daylight showing below the blinds and Olli's breath in a stream of invisible smoke against Christian's neck.
But what to do? Where is this all going to lead?
"Olli," he whispers. "Oh, Olli."
"Was denn?" / "What?" mumbles Olli. He lifts a hand and puts it... no, not there, no... he only puts it on Christian's arm.
Christian doesn't know what's happening to him. He'd like Olli to put that hand somewhere else, somewhere lower down.
Unimaginable.
"Ich liebe dich." / "I love you," murmurs Olli and kisses Christian.
Christian kisses him back and forgets about strange sensations and daylight striptease.
6.
Christian stands in the kitchen. He's reading a letter. The letter is from Coco.
Christian remembers Coco. Coco was his girlfriend. This was before he fell in love with Olli. He used to be in love with Coco. Now, of course, he's in love with Olli.
He can remember being in love with Coco although he can't quite remember what it felt like. He can remember the fact of it but not the reality.
The past is strange like that. The past comes in fits and bursts.
Lieber Christian. / Dear Christian, the letter says. All Coco's letters start like this. Lieber Christian. Mir geht es wunderbar hier in Goa. Ich lege jeden Abend in der Stranddisco auf. Ich glaube, ich habe mich endlich mit der Sache zwischen uns abgefunden. Ich bin nicht mehr total durch den Wind. Ich bin glücklich mit meinem neuen Leben, und ich hoffe von Herzen, daß du glücklich bist mit deinem. /
Dear Christian. I'm having a wonderful time here in Goa. I'm DJ'ing every night at the beach disco. I think I've finally come to terms with the thing between us both. I'm no longer totally beside myself. I am happy in my new life, and I truly hope that you are happy in yours.
All Coco's letters are like this. Christian has asked her, in letters of his own, for more. But he's not sure what more he would like. He just has this vague feeling that there's got to be more. More about Goa. More about the beach. How does the air feel on your skin, Coco? How does the water smell at low tide? What is the texture of the foreign money between your fingers, the grittiness of the sand, the moisture of the temperature? What does the waiter say to you every morning when you order your breakfast; does he smell of aftershave? of coconut? of dirt and sweat? What do you eat for breakfast? Is the milk curdled in your tea? Is there---
"Christian? Kleiner?" / "Kid?"
"Oh, Olli." He tucks away the letter because Olli can be jealous. Sometimes, when Coco gets mentioned, which isn't often... but sometimes Olli's face clouds over and a stern look enters his eyes.
"Ich hab uns noch mehr eingekauft." / "I got us some more stuff from the shops," says Olli. He dumps a bag onto the kitchen counter. Capsicums tumble out, leek, apples, tomatoes.
Somewhere, at the back of Christian's mind, a stag roars in the forest.
7.
Christian stands in the kitchen. He's not reading a letter. He's not kissing Olli.
There's nothing to do.
He looks at the wall. He looks at the wire rack on the wall.
He looks at the four oranges within the wire rack.
The oranges are round and orange. They are plump. They are not mouldy.
Christian reaches out his hand.
It's surprisingly difficult to get the oranges out. They are right at the bottom of the spiral rack. He shoves his hand in at the top but his arm can't manage to turn the corner of the spiral. He pokes his fingers through the wires but the interstices are too narrow; he can't tug the oranges out.
Finally, he discovers a latch at the bottom of the spiral rack. He fumbles with the catch. The hinges flip open.
He catches the first orange, but the second one follows, and he's too slow. It rolls out and falls to the floor. And then the third orange. And the fourth. They're all tumbling out and rolling around on the kitchen floor, except for the first orange, the one he's still holding.
And then a neon-blue light pulses into existence, a spiral wormhole opens, and a great existential storm sucks at his insides. A strange force grabs him in that very spot between sternum and diaphragm and pulls him right out of his dimension and into another world.
8.
Blood roars in Christian's ears.
He coughs, and retches, and gasps.
There's a wetness on his cheek. He touches his face. His hand comes away red: blood!
His other hand is numb. It's still clutching the orange.
Everything is blue and whirly and wild.
Everything goes on forever.
"Olli?" he cries out. "Oliver?!"
9.
Christian falls onto a hard metal floor.
The whirling and the roaring in his ears stop. Voices shout out around him.
He lies on the floor. He can hear the shouts but he can't understand what they mean.
He closes his eyes.
Rough hands lift him up.
10.
He's in a bed. It's not his bed in his attic apartment, with the daylight coming in underneath the blinds and Olli asleep next to him.
There is no daylight here. Vertical columns glow with fat strips of yellow light. The ceiling is patterned with chunky squares. There's something attached to his wrist: it's a tube, and it's attached to a stand next to his bed.
He's in a hospital. He's wearing a hospital gown.
It doesn't look like any of the wards in the Marienkrankenhaus. It looks totally strange.
It looks alien.
On the nightstand next to his bed, lies the orange. There are five moon-shaped gouges in its peel, where his fingernails have dug into the orange's flesh.
11.
"How are you feeling?" says a voice.
Christian opens his eyes and blinks into the face of a woman.
The woman is pretty. She has a little hitch between her lips and her nose.
He can understand what she's saying. He replies, and his voice comes out even and without a catch. "I'm fine, I think."
"That's good." The woman smiles and types something into an electronic notepad.
The notepad reminds Christian of his own laptop. But it's a blurry memory, and it's gone almost as soon as it has passed through his mind.
"You gave us quite a turn, tumbling into the control room like that," she says. "You were an unscheduled transmission. Nobody was expecting you."
He struggles to his elbows. "Where..." he says and shakes his head to clear the pulse behind his temples. "Where am I?"
The woman who is clearly a doctor of some kind raises her eyebrows. "You're in Atlantis. Pegasus Galaxy."
He looks at the woman. "I don't know what that means," he says finally.
"It'll be a bit difficult for you to grasp. I know, it was difficult enough for me to grasp, and I trained for months to come here! It's so different from Earth here, and yet, in some ways, it's not different at all. You'll see."
"Earth?" says Christian. His voice sounds blank.
"That's where you're from, isn't it? That's what they traced the signature trace to. Although I don't think they've yet figured out exactly who sent you through, or why. It wasn't Stargate Central, that's for sure. They'd never heard of you. We transmitted a photo, naturally. We still don't know your name. What's your name?"
"My name?" says Christian. "Christian. I'm Christian." He pronounces it 'Chris-tchen', with a burred 'r'; he doesn't know why.
"And you are from Earth, aren't' you?"
"Earth?" He sinks back into the pillows. "I'm from Düsseldorf."
When he looks over at the nightstand, he can see that the orange is gone.
12.
"So that's all you know?" says the stern-looking one, the one with the uniform and the scary gun on his hip. "That you're from this town called Dussel-something?"
"Dusseldorf," says the other one, the scientist one with the receding hairline and the remote-control eyes. "Goodness, Colonel, don't you know anything? It's a town in Germany, on the Rhine. And yes, it's on Earth. I went to a conference there once. Great beer."
They're speaking English. Christian recognises the words and the American accents. He can understand everything they say, no problem.
"Well, I still don't think he should be allowed off-world. Until we know more about how he got here."
"This orange-like object is clearly some form of Ancient transmutation device. It triggered the Stargate mechanism, and the co-ordinates must have been set to the central control room of Atlantis, no matter where in the galaxy Atlantis might happen to be. A bit like a homing pigeon. It's really quite exciting; Zelenka's still working on it. Come to think of it, I should ask Radek about his pigeons; he may have some useful ideas about... Anyway, we..." He looks at Christian directly, for the first time. "We've confiscated your device. Just to let you know."
"Oh," says Christian. "Okay."
His language has switched seamlessly. His words roll out with the same American accent.
He touches his temple. He touches his lips.
"Where's Olli?" he asks.
"Who's Olli?" says the one in the uniform.
"I'm in love with Olli," says Christian. "So much. It's a forbidden love but we have overcome all obstacles."
"Right." The uniformed one exchanges a glance with the scientist one. "Let's call Keller. I think this guy needs some more recovery time in the infirmary."
13.
Something's not right.
Everything's not right.
Everything's new and strange and alien. The attic apartment is gone, and the street with the globe-shaped lights, and the 'No Limits' café. All gone. He's been given new clothes, strange clothes; they are grey and dark red. He's been given boots for his feet, with laces. There is no kitchen, only a communal hall with many tables and people.
The people are scary and strange. None of them speaks German. But his old language is already receding into weird parts of his memory. His old language comes in fits and bursts.
At night, he wakes up in his bed. The room has high ceilings. There is a vertical slot of a window. Outside, it is dark, and he can see two moons. He tugs the blanket up to his chin and lies very still.
Perhaps, if he doesn't move at all, he'll know what to feel.
He has a dream about Olli. In the dream, he's kissing Olli, standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the wall with the orange wire rack. Olli's hair is soft between his fingers.
During the day, he rarely thinks of Olli.
It is strange because he knows he loves Olli very much. He knows the fact of that but he finds it hard to remember the reality of it.
14.
Everybody in this new place, in this Atlantis, strides around with a purposeful air. They say things like "crap" and "Jesus" and "calibrate that simulation for me". Some of them are men, and some of them are women.
Nobody seems to be in love with anybody else.
"Hello," he says to people, and "hello", the people say back. They smile and nod, and then they stride off purposefully, clutching laptops, guns and sheaves of paper.
He has a very vague memory of a place a little like this. It nudges at the back of his mind but then it fades into oblivion.
"Hello," he says to the technician at the Stargate controls.
That's what the big central room is called, he's learned that much: Stargate control room.
"Hi," says the technician.
"I'm Christian."
"I know." The technician has dark eyes and a blunt nose. "Call me Chuck."
"Hello, Chuck."
Chuck types something into his keyboard.
Christian stands around a while longer. Then he goes back to his room.
He lies down on the bed and stares at the fat yellow lights.
There's an empty ache just above his diaphragm.
15.
"Everyone is strange," says Christian to Chuck the technician.
"Oh yeah?"
"Nobody..." Christian struggles for words. Words are difficult in this new place. "Nobody's feeling anything."
"Oh yeah?''
"Nobody's in love or anything."
"No." Chuck the technician turns back to his keyboard. "I guess not."
"Is that because you're all Americans?"
"I'm not. I'm Canadian."
"Oh," says Christian. "I see." He fiddles with a knob but Chuck the technician picks up his finger and removes it from the controls. "Have you never been in love, Chuck?"
"Not that I remember," says Chuck. He takes a pen and starts copying numbers from a chart on his screen onto a chart in a notebook.
"I'm in love," says Christian. "Or used to be."
He stands around. The machinery hums. People stride past with purposeful expressions.
"Everyone's so busy," he says.
"Sure," says Chuck. "We're always in danger."
"I've just remembered. I've remembered what this place reminds me of!"
"Oh yeah?" Chuck continues to copy.
"I was somewhere once. It was a prison." Christian rubs his hands together. "I was in a prison. It was like this. It had a big mess hall, and lots of separate small rooms, and corridors. There were men with guns, just like here."
"Prison?" says Chuck and stops copying. It strikes Christian that he looks just a tiny little bit like someone he once knew.
"Chuck." He pronounces it 'Tchukk'. "Do you know what they've done with my orange?"
16.
"Right," says the scientist one with the receding hairline. "You come here, what was your name again? Christopher? Stand here, place your hand on this template, that's right, and do nothing until I hit the switch. I'm pretty sure you must have the Ancient gene or you couldn't have activated that device but we need to be 100 per cent so just, and no, don't touch anything!"
Christian stands very still. His hand feels cold. The apparatus looks like a waffle iron (he suddenly remembers waffle irons). His hand is encased between two closed lids.
"Hold still, don't move," says the scientist. He hits a switch.
Everything lights up.
"Yes! I knew it. See, Radek?" the scientist calls out across the lab. "Of course, he's got the gene. How else would he... And now for the device itself."
"Here," says the other scientist, the one with the glasses and the messy hair. He's holding Christian's orange in one rubber-gloved hand. "I still do not understand how it did not work with Sheppard. If anyone who has the gene..."
"Yes, yes," says the scientist impatiently. "But this may be a new kind of device, coded to one particular set of genes, maybe localised, maybe spec-identified, here, you, Christopher, put your hand on this."
The orange looks as fresh and round as ever. The five fingernail marks are still there, unrotted.
Christian puts his fingers into the gouges left by his fingernails.
Everything goes blue and whirly and wild.
17.
His insides are grabbed and spun and wrung out.
His diaphragm jolts up into his throat. His Adam's apple plummets into his guts. His intestines, his liver, his pancreas, his fibula and tibia and veins and sinews, all swirl and dance and exchange places.
Everything flies around and then flies back together again.
Christian throws up.
He lands face forward in mulch.
18.
There's wetness on his cheeks. He touches his face. His skin streams, and his hair sticks to his forehead.
It's rain.
He's lying in a patch of mud and wilted leaves, and it's raining in long thin strands.
"Hello?" he says. His voice sounds thin, like the rain.
He sits up. The front of his grey and red shirt is crusty with vomit.
"Hello?" He sits for a while. His mind is blank. Then he tries again. "Hallo? Ist da wer?" / "Is somebody there?"
Something moves to his left. There's a shadow behind a tree. The tree has green and brown bark. The shadow is a person.
"Hi," says Chuck the technician.
19.
Everything's strange and new.
At the same time, nothing is strange. Everything feels open and full of meaning.
There are people here. They walk about among the trees. After a while, they recede into the distance and build themselves huts. Two of them, the doctor one and the scientist with the glasses, sit holding hands on top of a knoll.
Behind the trees, behind the hills, there's a pond with clear blue water. Birds fly. Dragonflies hover.
On the other side of the pond, Christian can see two people kissing. It's that scientist with the receding hair, kissing the one with the gun.
It reminds him of something. But he doesn't know of what.
"There you are," says Chuck. "They're in love."
"In love?"
"You asked if anyone's ever in love. And they're in love."
Christian looks at the kissing couple. "Yes," he says. "I suppose they are." He turns to Chuck. "I'm in love, you know."
"I know." Chuck takes off his shirt. "You said." He has a very pale torso.
"Good idea," says Christian. His shirt smells and, in an inkling, it's on the ground, among the leaves and the mulch and the curling sniggering sliming snails.
Chuck is naked. He's running down the slope. His bare feet squelch in the mud, then they splash, and then his white sturdy body disappears into the water.
Christian runs into the pond, trousers and all.
20.
"What do you remember?" asks Chuck.
"It comes in fits and bursts," says Christian.
They've found a cave. There's a log fire, there's a rabbit on a spit, there's a nest made of moss and lichen. Outside, a million stars shine and a breeze ruffles the surface of the nocturnal pond.
"How about you?" says Christian.
"I dunno. I don't remember anything much. The control room. But of Earth? I dunno. You'd think I'd remember something about..." He hesitates. "Canada?"
"I was once in prison," says Christian. "And I had a brother. I think. And I liked to train. And I had a girlfriend. Or was that a boyfriend?"
"You've done such a lot. You've experienced so much."
"Me? I've done nothing! Nothing!"
At some point, their fire burns down. They sit and look at the crackling twigs.
The void is back. The yearning creeps up on Christian, like soft smoke from the flickering embers. It tugs at the top of his diaphragm, somewhere just below his sternum.
"Have you ever..." He can hardly speak. "... noticed anything strange?"
Chuck's voice is very low. Its timbre is of the stars and of the mulch. "All the time," the voice says. "All the time."
"All the fucking time," Christian says, and Chuck laughs a startled laugh.
The ache sinks down from Christian's belly into his groin. He sits and tries to breathe. He doesn't know what to do.
"I don't know what to do," says Chuck. "I feel very strange. I feel."
Christian closes his eyes.
"I don't think I've ever felt before," says Chuck. He's very close to Christian now. Christian can feel the hairs on his forearm stand up in response to the proximity of Chuck. "I don't think I've ever been anyone before."
"I've tried to fight it..." begins Christian but, "no," interrupts Chuck, "I haven't," and they kiss with their lips and their mouths, and then with their tongues, and Christian has never done that before.
Their feet slip into the ashes. "Have you ever...?" whispers Christian, and, "no, never," whispers Chuck whose eyebrows are two dark stripes and whose hair stands up in soft tufts and whose hands are warm on Christian's belly.
"Chuck," says Christian. And Chuck unbuttons Christian's grey trousers and puts his mouth, no, yes, there, unimaginable.
Something pulses through Christian in long, hard throbs.
His cheeks are wet. Tears run down his face.
He remembers everything.
It's the past that yearns. It's the memories that ache to be united, the dots that crave to be joined up.
Everything is sad and happy at the same time.
"I love you," says Chuck. "I think."
"And I," says Christian, "I haven't got a clue. I'm not myself. I never have been. But kiss me again, and then... and then let's fuck."
21.
The End
23 April 2008
Author: Lobelia;
lobelia321Fandoms: Verbotene Liebe / Stargate Atlantis / meta-fandom
Pairing: Christian / Oliver; Christian / Chuck the technician.
Length: c. 4,000 words
Language: English (with some German dialogue)
Disclaimer: I do not know these people. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a fictional piece of amateur prose. No money is being made.
Canon status: This was written before the Verbotene Liebe episode in the Turnhalle-gym, i.e. before there was anything resembling explicit sex or even mild swearing.
Rating: NC-17 for language.
Summary: Something's not right. And then Christian is zapped from Düsseldorf into Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy where he meets a mysterious and fresh-faced young man.
Thanks to: Frogspace
frogspace who discovered that the oranges are really an Ancient device.Fade to Reality?
by Lobelia
Chuck the technician
http://pics.livejournal.com/lobelia321/pic/0000qx4f
Christian
http://pics.livejournal.com/lobelia321/pic/000ckdr8
1.
Something's not right.
There are some oranges in the kitchen. That's the first thing that Christian notices.
There's nothing strange about oranges. But these oranges have been there for months. Weeks and months. Yet they're as ripe and as orange as ever.
Christian looks at the oranges. There are four of them. They repose in a spiral wire rack. The rack is attached to the kitchen wall. The oranges sit still and round.
"Hey, Christian!"
It's Olli, and Christian forgets the oranges.
2.
Christian kisses Olli.
He loves kissing Olli. He loves holding Olli and kissing him on the lips. He loves stroking Olli's cheek and cupping the back of Olli's head and touching the naked skin of Olli's waist.
He loves it so much. Something in his heart goes twang every time he sees Olli. He looks into Olli's eyes. Olli's eyes are full of love. Olli's eyes are swamped with it, with love and tenderness and sweet, sweet...
Something.
Sweet, sweet something.
There's something missing. There's an emptiness, there's a yearning, there's a void that longs to be filled.
"Olli," whispers Christian.
They fall onto the bed and almost... Almost it seems as if now... As if something might happen.
But then they kiss some more, and then they fall asleep, arms around each other, like always, and when Christian wakes up, the strange longing has gone.
3.
"Olli?"
"Ja, Kleiner?" / "Yes, kid?"
That's what Olli calls him these days. 'Kid.' Every time Olli says 'kid', a little curl of smoke goes up inside Christian's belly. He smiles and forgets what he was going to say.
Instead, he goes over and takes Olli's face in his hands. He looks into Olli's eyes, into the shallow depths of them, and touches Olli's lips with his own lips.
4.
"Olli? Ist dir schon mal was Eigenartiges aufgefallen?" / "Olli? Have you ever noticed anything strange?"
"Nein. Was denn?" / "No. What is it?"
"Sind dir nicht schon mal die Orangen in der Küche aufgefallen?" / "Haven't you ever noticed the oranges in the kitchen?"
"Wieso? Was ist mit den Orangen?" / "Why? What about them?"
"Als... Kannst du dich daran erinnern, als wir diese Orangen gekauft haben?" / "When... Do you remember when we bought those oranges?"
"Hm." Olli's brows frown briefly. "Nein," he finally says. "Eigentlich nicht. Aber ich bin mir sicher, die sind noch frisch. Sie sehen ziemlich frisch aus." / "No. I don't, actually. But I'm sure they're still fresh. They look fresh."
Christian leans over. "Das ist es ja gerade. Die sind frisch. Die sind seit Monaten frisch. Seit Monaten." / "That's the point. They are. They've been fresh for months. Months."
Olli shrugs. "Nö. Wir haben sicherlich irgendwann mal neue gekauft." / "Nah. We must've bought new ones at some point."
"Nein," says Christian. "Ich bin mir ganz sicher: nein. Ich bin mir sicher daß diese Orangen schon immer in diesem Drahtgestell waren, schon immer seit... solange ich zurückdenken kann. Sogar, als du noch gar nicht eingezogen warst." / "No. I'm sure we haven't. I'm sure those oranges have been in that wire frame for... for as long as I can remember. Even from before you moved in here."
Olli smiles. "Kleiner." / "Kid," he says. "Komm her." / "C'mere."
They kiss. Christian forgets all about the oranges.
5.
In the night, Christian wakes up.
There's a strange white light creeping in through a slit at the bottom of his window blinds. It almost looks as if it were daylight out.
But that can't be right. It's the middle of the night.
Olli lies next to him. He stirs in his sleep.
Christian looks at Olli. He loves Olli so much. Sometimes it hurts him to love so much. There's a place inside his rib cage, between sternum and diaphragm. That's the place where the ache resides.
It's pulsing now. The ache is pulsing through him in long, hard throbs. Something's happening. Something's strange.
He pushes up against Olli. He fits his own body to Olli's body. He can feel each rib of Olli's slim torso, the in-and-out of breath behind Olli's navel, the edge of Olli's hip bones, the mound inside his pelvis.
Christian feels his own mound. He feels hot and sweaty in the bed at night, with the strip of daylight showing below the blinds and Olli's breath in a stream of invisible smoke against Christian's neck.
But what to do? Where is this all going to lead?
"Olli," he whispers. "Oh, Olli."
"Was denn?" / "What?" mumbles Olli. He lifts a hand and puts it... no, not there, no... he only puts it on Christian's arm.
Christian doesn't know what's happening to him. He'd like Olli to put that hand somewhere else, somewhere lower down.
Unimaginable.
"Ich liebe dich." / "I love you," murmurs Olli and kisses Christian.
Christian kisses him back and forgets about strange sensations and daylight striptease.
6.
Christian stands in the kitchen. He's reading a letter. The letter is from Coco.
Christian remembers Coco. Coco was his girlfriend. This was before he fell in love with Olli. He used to be in love with Coco. Now, of course, he's in love with Olli.
He can remember being in love with Coco although he can't quite remember what it felt like. He can remember the fact of it but not the reality.
The past is strange like that. The past comes in fits and bursts.
Lieber Christian. / Dear Christian, the letter says. All Coco's letters start like this. Lieber Christian. Mir geht es wunderbar hier in Goa. Ich lege jeden Abend in der Stranddisco auf. Ich glaube, ich habe mich endlich mit der Sache zwischen uns abgefunden. Ich bin nicht mehr total durch den Wind. Ich bin glücklich mit meinem neuen Leben, und ich hoffe von Herzen, daß du glücklich bist mit deinem. /
Dear Christian. I'm having a wonderful time here in Goa. I'm DJ'ing every night at the beach disco. I think I've finally come to terms with the thing between us both. I'm no longer totally beside myself. I am happy in my new life, and I truly hope that you are happy in yours.
All Coco's letters are like this. Christian has asked her, in letters of his own, for more. But he's not sure what more he would like. He just has this vague feeling that there's got to be more. More about Goa. More about the beach. How does the air feel on your skin, Coco? How does the water smell at low tide? What is the texture of the foreign money between your fingers, the grittiness of the sand, the moisture of the temperature? What does the waiter say to you every morning when you order your breakfast; does he smell of aftershave? of coconut? of dirt and sweat? What do you eat for breakfast? Is the milk curdled in your tea? Is there---
"Christian? Kleiner?" / "Kid?"
"Oh, Olli." He tucks away the letter because Olli can be jealous. Sometimes, when Coco gets mentioned, which isn't often... but sometimes Olli's face clouds over and a stern look enters his eyes.
"Ich hab uns noch mehr eingekauft." / "I got us some more stuff from the shops," says Olli. He dumps a bag onto the kitchen counter. Capsicums tumble out, leek, apples, tomatoes.
Somewhere, at the back of Christian's mind, a stag roars in the forest.
7.
Christian stands in the kitchen. He's not reading a letter. He's not kissing Olli.
There's nothing to do.
He looks at the wall. He looks at the wire rack on the wall.
He looks at the four oranges within the wire rack.
The oranges are round and orange. They are plump. They are not mouldy.
Christian reaches out his hand.
It's surprisingly difficult to get the oranges out. They are right at the bottom of the spiral rack. He shoves his hand in at the top but his arm can't manage to turn the corner of the spiral. He pokes his fingers through the wires but the interstices are too narrow; he can't tug the oranges out.
Finally, he discovers a latch at the bottom of the spiral rack. He fumbles with the catch. The hinges flip open.
He catches the first orange, but the second one follows, and he's too slow. It rolls out and falls to the floor. And then the third orange. And the fourth. They're all tumbling out and rolling around on the kitchen floor, except for the first orange, the one he's still holding.
And then a neon-blue light pulses into existence, a spiral wormhole opens, and a great existential storm sucks at his insides. A strange force grabs him in that very spot between sternum and diaphragm and pulls him right out of his dimension and into another world.
8.
Blood roars in Christian's ears.
He coughs, and retches, and gasps.
There's a wetness on his cheek. He touches his face. His hand comes away red: blood!
His other hand is numb. It's still clutching the orange.
Everything is blue and whirly and wild.
Everything goes on forever.
"Olli?" he cries out. "Oliver?!"
9.
Christian falls onto a hard metal floor.
The whirling and the roaring in his ears stop. Voices shout out around him.
He lies on the floor. He can hear the shouts but he can't understand what they mean.
He closes his eyes.
Rough hands lift him up.
10.
He's in a bed. It's not his bed in his attic apartment, with the daylight coming in underneath the blinds and Olli asleep next to him.
There is no daylight here. Vertical columns glow with fat strips of yellow light. The ceiling is patterned with chunky squares. There's something attached to his wrist: it's a tube, and it's attached to a stand next to his bed.
He's in a hospital. He's wearing a hospital gown.
It doesn't look like any of the wards in the Marienkrankenhaus. It looks totally strange.
It looks alien.
On the nightstand next to his bed, lies the orange. There are five moon-shaped gouges in its peel, where his fingernails have dug into the orange's flesh.
11.
"How are you feeling?" says a voice.
Christian opens his eyes and blinks into the face of a woman.
The woman is pretty. She has a little hitch between her lips and her nose.
He can understand what she's saying. He replies, and his voice comes out even and without a catch. "I'm fine, I think."
"That's good." The woman smiles and types something into an electronic notepad.
The notepad reminds Christian of his own laptop. But it's a blurry memory, and it's gone almost as soon as it has passed through his mind.
"You gave us quite a turn, tumbling into the control room like that," she says. "You were an unscheduled transmission. Nobody was expecting you."
He struggles to his elbows. "Where..." he says and shakes his head to clear the pulse behind his temples. "Where am I?"
The woman who is clearly a doctor of some kind raises her eyebrows. "You're in Atlantis. Pegasus Galaxy."
He looks at the woman. "I don't know what that means," he says finally.
"It'll be a bit difficult for you to grasp. I know, it was difficult enough for me to grasp, and I trained for months to come here! It's so different from Earth here, and yet, in some ways, it's not different at all. You'll see."
"Earth?" says Christian. His voice sounds blank.
"That's where you're from, isn't it? That's what they traced the signature trace to. Although I don't think they've yet figured out exactly who sent you through, or why. It wasn't Stargate Central, that's for sure. They'd never heard of you. We transmitted a photo, naturally. We still don't know your name. What's your name?"
"My name?" says Christian. "Christian. I'm Christian." He pronounces it 'Chris-tchen', with a burred 'r'; he doesn't know why.
"And you are from Earth, aren't' you?"
"Earth?" He sinks back into the pillows. "I'm from Düsseldorf."
When he looks over at the nightstand, he can see that the orange is gone.
12.
"So that's all you know?" says the stern-looking one, the one with the uniform and the scary gun on his hip. "That you're from this town called Dussel-something?"
"Dusseldorf," says the other one, the scientist one with the receding hairline and the remote-control eyes. "Goodness, Colonel, don't you know anything? It's a town in Germany, on the Rhine. And yes, it's on Earth. I went to a conference there once. Great beer."
They're speaking English. Christian recognises the words and the American accents. He can understand everything they say, no problem.
"Well, I still don't think he should be allowed off-world. Until we know more about how he got here."
"This orange-like object is clearly some form of Ancient transmutation device. It triggered the Stargate mechanism, and the co-ordinates must have been set to the central control room of Atlantis, no matter where in the galaxy Atlantis might happen to be. A bit like a homing pigeon. It's really quite exciting; Zelenka's still working on it. Come to think of it, I should ask Radek about his pigeons; he may have some useful ideas about... Anyway, we..." He looks at Christian directly, for the first time. "We've confiscated your device. Just to let you know."
"Oh," says Christian. "Okay."
His language has switched seamlessly. His words roll out with the same American accent.
He touches his temple. He touches his lips.
"Where's Olli?" he asks.
"Who's Olli?" says the one in the uniform.
"I'm in love with Olli," says Christian. "So much. It's a forbidden love but we have overcome all obstacles."
"Right." The uniformed one exchanges a glance with the scientist one. "Let's call Keller. I think this guy needs some more recovery time in the infirmary."
13.
Something's not right.
Everything's not right.
Everything's new and strange and alien. The attic apartment is gone, and the street with the globe-shaped lights, and the 'No Limits' café. All gone. He's been given new clothes, strange clothes; they are grey and dark red. He's been given boots for his feet, with laces. There is no kitchen, only a communal hall with many tables and people.
The people are scary and strange. None of them speaks German. But his old language is already receding into weird parts of his memory. His old language comes in fits and bursts.
At night, he wakes up in his bed. The room has high ceilings. There is a vertical slot of a window. Outside, it is dark, and he can see two moons. He tugs the blanket up to his chin and lies very still.
Perhaps, if he doesn't move at all, he'll know what to feel.
He has a dream about Olli. In the dream, he's kissing Olli, standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the wall with the orange wire rack. Olli's hair is soft between his fingers.
During the day, he rarely thinks of Olli.
It is strange because he knows he loves Olli very much. He knows the fact of that but he finds it hard to remember the reality of it.
14.
Everybody in this new place, in this Atlantis, strides around with a purposeful air. They say things like "crap" and "Jesus" and "calibrate that simulation for me". Some of them are men, and some of them are women.
Nobody seems to be in love with anybody else.
"Hello," he says to people, and "hello", the people say back. They smile and nod, and then they stride off purposefully, clutching laptops, guns and sheaves of paper.
He has a very vague memory of a place a little like this. It nudges at the back of his mind but then it fades into oblivion.
"Hello," he says to the technician at the Stargate controls.
That's what the big central room is called, he's learned that much: Stargate control room.
"Hi," says the technician.
"I'm Christian."
"I know." The technician has dark eyes and a blunt nose. "Call me Chuck."
"Hello, Chuck."
Chuck types something into his keyboard.
Christian stands around a while longer. Then he goes back to his room.
He lies down on the bed and stares at the fat yellow lights.
There's an empty ache just above his diaphragm.
15.
"Everyone is strange," says Christian to Chuck the technician.
"Oh yeah?"
"Nobody..." Christian struggles for words. Words are difficult in this new place. "Nobody's feeling anything."
"Oh yeah?''
"Nobody's in love or anything."
"No." Chuck the technician turns back to his keyboard. "I guess not."
"Is that because you're all Americans?"
"I'm not. I'm Canadian."
"Oh," says Christian. "I see." He fiddles with a knob but Chuck the technician picks up his finger and removes it from the controls. "Have you never been in love, Chuck?"
"Not that I remember," says Chuck. He takes a pen and starts copying numbers from a chart on his screen onto a chart in a notebook.
"I'm in love," says Christian. "Or used to be."
He stands around. The machinery hums. People stride past with purposeful expressions.
"Everyone's so busy," he says.
"Sure," says Chuck. "We're always in danger."
"I've just remembered. I've remembered what this place reminds me of!"
"Oh yeah?" Chuck continues to copy.
"I was somewhere once. It was a prison." Christian rubs his hands together. "I was in a prison. It was like this. It had a big mess hall, and lots of separate small rooms, and corridors. There were men with guns, just like here."
"Prison?" says Chuck and stops copying. It strikes Christian that he looks just a tiny little bit like someone he once knew.
"Chuck." He pronounces it 'Tchukk'. "Do you know what they've done with my orange?"
16.
"Right," says the scientist one with the receding hairline. "You come here, what was your name again? Christopher? Stand here, place your hand on this template, that's right, and do nothing until I hit the switch. I'm pretty sure you must have the Ancient gene or you couldn't have activated that device but we need to be 100 per cent so just, and no, don't touch anything!"
Christian stands very still. His hand feels cold. The apparatus looks like a waffle iron (he suddenly remembers waffle irons). His hand is encased between two closed lids.
"Hold still, don't move," says the scientist. He hits a switch.
Everything lights up.
"Yes! I knew it. See, Radek?" the scientist calls out across the lab. "Of course, he's got the gene. How else would he... And now for the device itself."
"Here," says the other scientist, the one with the glasses and the messy hair. He's holding Christian's orange in one rubber-gloved hand. "I still do not understand how it did not work with Sheppard. If anyone who has the gene..."
"Yes, yes," says the scientist impatiently. "But this may be a new kind of device, coded to one particular set of genes, maybe localised, maybe spec-identified, here, you, Christopher, put your hand on this."
The orange looks as fresh and round as ever. The five fingernail marks are still there, unrotted.
Christian puts his fingers into the gouges left by his fingernails.
Everything goes blue and whirly and wild.
17.
His insides are grabbed and spun and wrung out.
His diaphragm jolts up into his throat. His Adam's apple plummets into his guts. His intestines, his liver, his pancreas, his fibula and tibia and veins and sinews, all swirl and dance and exchange places.
Everything flies around and then flies back together again.
Christian throws up.
He lands face forward in mulch.
18.
There's wetness on his cheeks. He touches his face. His skin streams, and his hair sticks to his forehead.
It's rain.
He's lying in a patch of mud and wilted leaves, and it's raining in long thin strands.
"Hello?" he says. His voice sounds thin, like the rain.
He sits up. The front of his grey and red shirt is crusty with vomit.
"Hello?" He sits for a while. His mind is blank. Then he tries again. "Hallo? Ist da wer?" / "Is somebody there?"
Something moves to his left. There's a shadow behind a tree. The tree has green and brown bark. The shadow is a person.
"Hi," says Chuck the technician.
19.
Everything's strange and new.
At the same time, nothing is strange. Everything feels open and full of meaning.
There are people here. They walk about among the trees. After a while, they recede into the distance and build themselves huts. Two of them, the doctor one and the scientist with the glasses, sit holding hands on top of a knoll.
Behind the trees, behind the hills, there's a pond with clear blue water. Birds fly. Dragonflies hover.
On the other side of the pond, Christian can see two people kissing. It's that scientist with the receding hair, kissing the one with the gun.
It reminds him of something. But he doesn't know of what.
"There you are," says Chuck. "They're in love."
"In love?"
"You asked if anyone's ever in love. And they're in love."
Christian looks at the kissing couple. "Yes," he says. "I suppose they are." He turns to Chuck. "I'm in love, you know."
"I know." Chuck takes off his shirt. "You said." He has a very pale torso.
"Good idea," says Christian. His shirt smells and, in an inkling, it's on the ground, among the leaves and the mulch and the curling sniggering sliming snails.
Chuck is naked. He's running down the slope. His bare feet squelch in the mud, then they splash, and then his white sturdy body disappears into the water.
Christian runs into the pond, trousers and all.
20.
"What do you remember?" asks Chuck.
"It comes in fits and bursts," says Christian.
They've found a cave. There's a log fire, there's a rabbit on a spit, there's a nest made of moss and lichen. Outside, a million stars shine and a breeze ruffles the surface of the nocturnal pond.
"How about you?" says Christian.
"I dunno. I don't remember anything much. The control room. But of Earth? I dunno. You'd think I'd remember something about..." He hesitates. "Canada?"
"I was once in prison," says Christian. "And I had a brother. I think. And I liked to train. And I had a girlfriend. Or was that a boyfriend?"
"You've done such a lot. You've experienced so much."
"Me? I've done nothing! Nothing!"
At some point, their fire burns down. They sit and look at the crackling twigs.
The void is back. The yearning creeps up on Christian, like soft smoke from the flickering embers. It tugs at the top of his diaphragm, somewhere just below his sternum.
"Have you ever..." He can hardly speak. "... noticed anything strange?"
Chuck's voice is very low. Its timbre is of the stars and of the mulch. "All the time," the voice says. "All the time."
"All the fucking time," Christian says, and Chuck laughs a startled laugh.
The ache sinks down from Christian's belly into his groin. He sits and tries to breathe. He doesn't know what to do.
"I don't know what to do," says Chuck. "I feel very strange. I feel."
Christian closes his eyes.
"I don't think I've ever felt before," says Chuck. He's very close to Christian now. Christian can feel the hairs on his forearm stand up in response to the proximity of Chuck. "I don't think I've ever been anyone before."
"I've tried to fight it..." begins Christian but, "no," interrupts Chuck, "I haven't," and they kiss with their lips and their mouths, and then with their tongues, and Christian has never done that before.
Their feet slip into the ashes. "Have you ever...?" whispers Christian, and, "no, never," whispers Chuck whose eyebrows are two dark stripes and whose hair stands up in soft tufts and whose hands are warm on Christian's belly.
"Chuck," says Christian. And Chuck unbuttons Christian's grey trousers and puts his mouth, no, yes, there, unimaginable.
Something pulses through Christian in long, hard throbs.
His cheeks are wet. Tears run down his face.
He remembers everything.
It's the past that yearns. It's the memories that ache to be united, the dots that crave to be joined up.
Everything is sad and happy at the same time.
"I love you," says Chuck. "I think."
"And I," says Christian, "I haven't got a clue. I'm not myself. I never have been. But kiss me again, and then... and then let's fuck."
21.
The End
23 April 2008
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 06:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 07:47 pm (UTC)Ah, thank you so much for reading. Fandom crossover love! *hugs world*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 07:16 pm (UTC)"And you are from Earth, aren't' you?"
"Earth?" He sinks back into the pillows. "I'm from Düsseldorf."
I think that's my favorite line. *g* I think I could even write an essay about how this describes my personal experience in fandom. :D
I must admit that I don't get your approach to the characters though because it looks like you make the choice in your writing not to engage with them on an emotional level (reminds me a bit of what I learned about Brecht and his theories), but I do admire your commitment to the absurd that a surface reading of canon provides. (That thing clearly is an Ancient device! I'll accept no alternative explanation!)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 07:56 pm (UTC)I do. I know. *sighs* And this fandom seems to bring it out more than ever. Maybe because I can't believe that I am in a soap fandom and maybe because the whole canon is already so bizarre (or I find it bizarre, at any rate, not being usually very used to soaps, *g*), and I'm very happy you liked the Düsseldorf line, :-) It turned out to be less meta than I had planned because it was originally going to be even crackier and about fandom and what we do to the boys, turning them into slashy types, and in the soap, of course, they are already such limited cardboard characters who are allowed very little leeway. Anyway, but then it sort of crept up on me and was less cracky than expected.
what I learned about Brecht
It's so interesting that you mention this. I did a lot of writing experiments at the time of the World Cup, and I found that I had to write this fic in a detached, present tense, short-sentenced, repeating-phrases style of narration. It's interesting to me that it came across to you as not engaging with them on an emotional level.
Thank you for the lovely feedback! :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 10:04 pm (UTC)I love the vertigo, the sense of falling: such a physical thing.
And there are all these neat little details, non-essential, that grab the mind's eye: the roar of the stag in the forest, the way that foreign money feels, Chuck's eyebrows. And sniggering snails, an alliteration I can honestly say I have never considered.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 10:20 pm (UTC)The roar of the stag is an inside joke. Well, inside to me. I have even listened to online stags roaring. *runs away and is insane*
Also, guess what? I finished wraith fic today! I re-wrote the ending and I was satisfied with it! It seems it had to go through the mangle of soap boys first...
I didn't want to post it, though, because having soap fic and wraith fic here on the same day would clog up my journal too much, *g*. Do you think Thurs is a good posting day, or to wait till next week? Nobody reads anything over a week-end so I'm not posting Fri/Sat/Sun.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 10:31 am (UTC)I am picking up everything I need to know about soap canon from you! Really I think it is safer this way.
Wraithfic? Brilliant news! This makes me very happy. And I think Thursday is a good day to post, because then people can bookmark for the weekend if that is their wont, or read it straight off. And you can always announce it next week.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:37 pm (UTC)Yes, it is much safer to pick up soap canon from me. Much.
Or next thing you know you'll be spending seven hours watching youtube backstory.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-23 10:58 pm (UTC)BEST LINE EVER!!!!!!!!!
Also, this may just be the most sense daily soaps are ever going to make. Heh.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:21 am (UTC)But in the end I was pretty rattled. It's beautiful and inventive and takes on a life of its own and you end up being completely fascinated and moved.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:39 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading and feedbacking! And, um, stopping me in my tracks with your icon.
And also, I am being made very happy here by your being rattled by the end. I started out on this fic with a clear sense of where I was going to go (to a happy cracky place that was also very meta about what we fans do to characters) and then, before I knew it, I was in another place and it rattled me, too! :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 02:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 06:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 08:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 09:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-24 10:49 pm (UTC)You know what? I was there: at the Argentina/Brazil friendly in London, autumn 2006, and at the Brazil/Portugal friendly last year, both at the Emirates stadium, and I saw these two boys live. *was puddle*
;-P (I done wroted them 2.)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-25 05:08 am (UTC)we must befriend!!! we just MUST
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-25 10:02 am (UTC)Squee about my amazing
orgymatch experience here.For some odd reason, I didn't squee about the Brazil/Portugal game. Hm. I think it was because I had an LJ fellow fan with me and we did all the squeeing in person...!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-25 06:08 pm (UTC)I am so jealous as that argentina goal by kaka is one of the sexiest things in football, and you were there witnessing it...
oh. that was the match portugal won right? *pouts* lol.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-26 01:49 pm (UTC)Perfect ending to any story :)
I'm just amazed how you can take such a wonderfully cracky concept and turn in into some so beautiful. Lovely. Really lovely.
And Coco's letter cracked me up endlessl. "Ich bin nicht mehr total durch den Wind.", yo!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-27 10:05 pm (UTC)I did start out, meaning this to be way crackier than it ended up being. It sort of wanted to veer in another direction... Oh, and the 'durch den Wind'.. well, that was written with a wink at you, m'dear. *g*