Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2007-09-22 12:01 am
ptahrrific) wrote2007-09-22 12:01 am
Entry tags:
Fake News: The Thing With Feathers, Chapter 3
Title: The Thing With Feathers, Chapter 3
Fandom: The Daily Show/The Colbert Report
Rating: G
Words: ~1300
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: I'm being awfully consistent with chapter lengths, aren't I?
For the full table of contents, click here.
The Thing With Feathers
Chapter 3
(there.)
He knocked on the door carefully. "Stephen? Can I come in?"
"Jon! Yes. Yes, come in."
He rattled the doorknob. "You've locked the door, Stephen."
"Oh, right! Sorry." There were a couple of thumps, and then Stephen pulled open the door to reveal an office in complete disarray. Papers had been piled all over the place, the couch cushions were scattered around the room, there was a paperweight on the filing cabinet and a bottle of shampoo on the desk, and the desk itself had been moved about two feet forward, chairs dragged out of its path.
And there in the middle was Stephen, tired and disheveled from the exertion of all this rearrangement, but smiling a brilliant and relieved smile. "Come in, come in. Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."
"Thank you, Stephen," replied Jon, a little surprised. He didn't often get compliments from this man, and it was a shame he couldn't stop to savor the moment, but he pressed on. "Bobby told me you ran off the set. Is anything wrong?"
Stephen froze.
"Come on, Jon," he said, almost pleading, "don't tell me you're in on it too."
He started to back away; Jon didn't follow, but pushed the door closed behind him, cutting off the rest of the world. "Stephen," he said gently, holding up his hands in the universal gesture of I'm not about to pull anything on you. "I'm not 'in on' anything. I don't know what's going on. But whatever it is, I can tell it has you upset, and I take that very seriously."
"'Upset'? Jon, I am rapidly plummeting towards terrified."
It was said with sheer, raw, emotional honesty, and Jon could feel his heart melting. For years he had been trying to ease open Stephen's emotional defenses, and now they were just gone, as completely as if they had never been.
"Stephen," he said again. "What do you want to do?"
"I just want to go home," whispered Stephen.
"Okay," murmured Jon, low and soothing. "Let's get you home."
"But I can't. I can't find my keys. Whoever went through my office, they took my keys."
"Your house keys?"
"No, I found those first thing. My car keys."
Had something happened to Sam? Jon decided not to press it. "I came over in a company car," he said. "I know you don't like riding in unfamiliar cars, but if you're willing to do it, just this once..."
"Sure. No problem."
"All right." Jon opened the door again; Bobby was standing just down the hall. "Send everyone out for a late dinner break," he directed. "An hour, tops. I'll take care of this."
The stage manager nodded and headed off to spread the news; Jon turned to make sure that Stephen was coming. He was, but warily.
Well, it was better than nothing.
"Sorry about the clothes," said Stephen as they emerged onto the street where the car had pulled up. "I couldn't find my regular ones, either."
As far as Jon knew, the collared shirt and pressed pants that Stephen was wearing were his regular clothes. Certainly Jon had never seen him in anything else. The only difference was that he didn't have a tie on. "I like you in these," he offered.
Stephen paused in the middle of opening the door. "Are you humoring me?" he demanded.
"I'm not! I swear I'm not! I really like these!"
His friend still looked dubious, but he swung himself into the car and shut the door. That at least was normal behavior for him -- suspicious and self-centered -- and Jon found it oddly comforting as he jogged around to the other side and climbed in.
"You're coming?" asked Stephen in surprise as Jon's door shut with a thud.
Normally Jon was not one to force his presence on his friend, but tonight he felt he ought to make an exception. "You're distraught," he said, trying not to sound accusing. "I don't want you to be distraught and alone."
Stephen was leaning against the far door, and for a moment Jon was afraid he was going to throw it open and jump out. But no, he reached for his seatbelt. (Stephen wore seatbelts?) "Thank you," he said as he buckled it. "I really appreciate that."
Thank goodness the car was dark, because Jon knew he was blushing.
"That's what friends are for," he replied quickly, and busied himself with his own seatbelt.
---------------------
---------------------
(here.)
He was straightening up his desk and turning off his televisions for the night when his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Jon? It's Eric. Are you still around?"
"I'm just on my way out the door. What's up?"
"Do you think you could come over? There's something going on with Stephen."
Jon locked his office and continued the conversation on his way down the hall. "What kind of something?"
"It's ... hard to explain. You kind of have to see it to get it."
"Is he okay?" asked Jon quickly.
"I don't know. He's not hurt, if that's what you mean -- except for the wrist, obviously. But he's ... like I said, I don't know how to explain it."
"Could you try? At least give me some idea of how serious it is?"
"Well, I don't know that either. It's like..." There was a pause as Eric struggled for words. "It's like he's fallen into character and he can't get up."
Jon considered this.
"You're right," he said. "I think I need to see it."
---------------------
Stephen was lounging in his chair on the set, feet propped up on the giant C of his desk, when Jon showed up. The car must have dropped him off in the garage rather than on the street, because he came in through the back door.
"Jon! Hi!" he said brightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you, Stephen." But when Bobby and Allison clambered down from their awkward positions in the audience seating, Jon turned to greet them first.
They held a brief, low conversation that left Stephen increasingly frustrated. What were his stage manager and his Jewish friend doing, whispering about him to some stranger? He would have shouted at them all, but he did have his dignity to think of. Instead, when Jon finally came over to talk to him, he settled for giving the man a frosty glare.
Jon -- his nice, mild, gentle Jon! -- matched it.
"Seriously, what are you doing?" he asked, and somehow he managed to look incredibly stern despite the old grey T-shirt and khakis.
Stephen would not be cowed. "I'm not doing anything," he snapped. "I'm certainly not having secret conversations with a menial staff member and some random woman, and leaving my Catholic friend out of them, and then acting like it's his fault."
"They're not -- Stephen, they're Eric and Allison. Your writers. You know them."
"I know Bobby. I don't know this Allison, and I've never heard of Eric."
Jon stared very hard at him. Stephen met the stare defiantly. If his Jewish friend was going to be bizarre, he wanted no part of it.
At last Jon turned to Bobby and Allison. "I think this is serious," he said to them. He was still talking about Stephen as though they weren't right next to each other, but at least he wasn't whispering any more. "And I think we'd better keep an eye on him for a while."
Fandom: The Daily Show/The Colbert Report
Rating: G
Words: ~1300
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: I'm being awfully consistent with chapter lengths, aren't I?
For the full table of contents, click here.
The Thing With Feathers
Chapter 3
(there.)
He knocked on the door carefully. "Stephen? Can I come in?"
"Jon! Yes. Yes, come in."
He rattled the doorknob. "You've locked the door, Stephen."
"Oh, right! Sorry." There were a couple of thumps, and then Stephen pulled open the door to reveal an office in complete disarray. Papers had been piled all over the place, the couch cushions were scattered around the room, there was a paperweight on the filing cabinet and a bottle of shampoo on the desk, and the desk itself had been moved about two feet forward, chairs dragged out of its path.
And there in the middle was Stephen, tired and disheveled from the exertion of all this rearrangement, but smiling a brilliant and relieved smile. "Come in, come in. Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."
"Thank you, Stephen," replied Jon, a little surprised. He didn't often get compliments from this man, and it was a shame he couldn't stop to savor the moment, but he pressed on. "Bobby told me you ran off the set. Is anything wrong?"
Stephen froze.
"Come on, Jon," he said, almost pleading, "don't tell me you're in on it too."
He started to back away; Jon didn't follow, but pushed the door closed behind him, cutting off the rest of the world. "Stephen," he said gently, holding up his hands in the universal gesture of I'm not about to pull anything on you. "I'm not 'in on' anything. I don't know what's going on. But whatever it is, I can tell it has you upset, and I take that very seriously."
"'Upset'? Jon, I am rapidly plummeting towards terrified."
It was said with sheer, raw, emotional honesty, and Jon could feel his heart melting. For years he had been trying to ease open Stephen's emotional defenses, and now they were just gone, as completely as if they had never been.
"Stephen," he said again. "What do you want to do?"
"I just want to go home," whispered Stephen.
"Okay," murmured Jon, low and soothing. "Let's get you home."
"But I can't. I can't find my keys. Whoever went through my office, they took my keys."
"Your house keys?"
"No, I found those first thing. My car keys."
Had something happened to Sam? Jon decided not to press it. "I came over in a company car," he said. "I know you don't like riding in unfamiliar cars, but if you're willing to do it, just this once..."
"Sure. No problem."
"All right." Jon opened the door again; Bobby was standing just down the hall. "Send everyone out for a late dinner break," he directed. "An hour, tops. I'll take care of this."
The stage manager nodded and headed off to spread the news; Jon turned to make sure that Stephen was coming. He was, but warily.
Well, it was better than nothing.
"Sorry about the clothes," said Stephen as they emerged onto the street where the car had pulled up. "I couldn't find my regular ones, either."
As far as Jon knew, the collared shirt and pressed pants that Stephen was wearing were his regular clothes. Certainly Jon had never seen him in anything else. The only difference was that he didn't have a tie on. "I like you in these," he offered.
Stephen paused in the middle of opening the door. "Are you humoring me?" he demanded.
"I'm not! I swear I'm not! I really like these!"
His friend still looked dubious, but he swung himself into the car and shut the door. That at least was normal behavior for him -- suspicious and self-centered -- and Jon found it oddly comforting as he jogged around to the other side and climbed in.
"You're coming?" asked Stephen in surprise as Jon's door shut with a thud.
Normally Jon was not one to force his presence on his friend, but tonight he felt he ought to make an exception. "You're distraught," he said, trying not to sound accusing. "I don't want you to be distraught and alone."
Stephen was leaning against the far door, and for a moment Jon was afraid he was going to throw it open and jump out. But no, he reached for his seatbelt. (Stephen wore seatbelts?) "Thank you," he said as he buckled it. "I really appreciate that."
Thank goodness the car was dark, because Jon knew he was blushing.
"That's what friends are for," he replied quickly, and busied himself with his own seatbelt.
---------------------
(here.)
He was straightening up his desk and turning off his televisions for the night when his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Jon? It's Eric. Are you still around?"
"I'm just on my way out the door. What's up?"
"Do you think you could come over? There's something going on with Stephen."
Jon locked his office and continued the conversation on his way down the hall. "What kind of something?"
"It's ... hard to explain. You kind of have to see it to get it."
"Is he okay?" asked Jon quickly.
"I don't know. He's not hurt, if that's what you mean -- except for the wrist, obviously. But he's ... like I said, I don't know how to explain it."
"Could you try? At least give me some idea of how serious it is?"
"Well, I don't know that either. It's like..." There was a pause as Eric struggled for words. "It's like he's fallen into character and he can't get up."
Jon considered this.
"You're right," he said. "I think I need to see it."
Stephen was lounging in his chair on the set, feet propped up on the giant C of his desk, when Jon showed up. The car must have dropped him off in the garage rather than on the street, because he came in through the back door.
"Jon! Hi!" he said brightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you, Stephen." But when Bobby and Allison clambered down from their awkward positions in the audience seating, Jon turned to greet them first.
They held a brief, low conversation that left Stephen increasingly frustrated. What were his stage manager and his Jewish friend doing, whispering about him to some stranger? He would have shouted at them all, but he did have his dignity to think of. Instead, when Jon finally came over to talk to him, he settled for giving the man a frosty glare.
Jon -- his nice, mild, gentle Jon! -- matched it.
"Seriously, what are you doing?" he asked, and somehow he managed to look incredibly stern despite the old grey T-shirt and khakis.
Stephen would not be cowed. "I'm not doing anything," he snapped. "I'm certainly not having secret conversations with a menial staff member and some random woman, and leaving my Catholic friend out of them, and then acting like it's his fault."
"They're not -- Stephen, they're Eric and Allison. Your writers. You know them."
"I know Bobby. I don't know this Allison, and I've never heard of Eric."
Jon stared very hard at him. Stephen met the stare defiantly. If his Jewish friend was going to be bizarre, he wanted no part of it.
At last Jon turned to Bobby and Allison. "I think this is serious," he said to them. He was still talking about Stephen as though they weren't right next to each other, but at least he wasn't whispering any more. "And I think we'd better keep an eye on him for a while."
tl;dr ahead, Or Warning: oh boy Im feeling verbose today!
This is The Best thing. Honestly.
Awww Stephen's! Im all worried for our Stephen in that dimension and a little for 'Stephen' in this, but I have a feeling pretty much anything rolls off 'Stephen's' back anyway, so.
I anticipate 'Stephen' growing up and his Jon evolving as people. Hopefully. Based on your past fine efforts int his fandom I ascertain that this wont be a 'rocks fall, everyone dies' type of ending, But, my paranoia remains. Not because of hints you may of placed, but my own pensive nature of the course of this.
And I think the chaptyers are too short. But I may be biased and a little/lot greedy.
Re: tl;dr ahead, Or Warning: oh boy Im feeling verbose today!
Really? This takes place on August 13; have a look at NFZ's recap.
I like your predictions. And no, this will not be a "rocks fall, everyone dies" story. My favorite type of ending is "everyone ends up safe, happy, and fulfilled", but as you can tell, at this point it will take a lot of work to get there.
Chapters start getting longer after this. Keep reading, and thank you!