bluetears07 | (no subject)

Disclaimer: Ever so sorry boys…the stuff in here never happened.
Series: Preordained
Paring: Sean A./Elijah
Summary: AU: Some things are just meant to happen while others are simply ripples off of one small mistake that change us forever. (Read AU Description, and also AN; behind cut)
AU Description: Same as before. (Refer to the “Prologue’s” AN for information mentioned previously.)
Rating: R (over-all) Chapter Twenty-Four: PG--PG-13
AN: Sorry for lack of update. *hangs head in shame* Dude, I’m going to make up for it with mini shout out to Jared Leto…hehe…*maybe will only amuse me…*
Guide: ‘Thoughts’
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Preordained

Chapter Twenty-Four: Post-Production Depression

A brilliant glare was radiating from the computer monitor, the light flickering sporadically as the image quickly shifted from one scene to the next. The distinct silhouette of a slumbering Sean Astin, his cheek pressed against a plastic keyboard and eyes closed tight against the intruding brightness, was cast against the wall opposite the screen, fluxing in size each time the scene switched. Several other constantly moving shadows were playing against the wall near the director's-Sean’s-editing crew. They had considerately decided that their poor director deserved a few hours of peaceful sleep after working from six in the morning through to the next day, not to mention the stress of his divorce. Despite the bulky headphones wrapped around his ears, it was easy for the exhausted director to tune out the sound and continue sleeping. There was a distinct smell of cheesy snack foods, both puffy and crunchy mingled together, hanging thick in the air of the cramp little editing room on the Focus lot. Every so often a burst of white flashed, sending the man’s closed eyelids twitching with irritation, signifying the end of a scene that still required some editing work to be done to it before it would be called complete. However, once reaching the end of the film, the sustained white screen, accompanied by an annoying high-pitched, whining note, finally dragged the man back up to the surface of consciousness.

It was almost five a.m.

“How long was I out?” Sean asked neurotically, pulling the headphones away from his ears and glancing towards Jack, the young chief editor sitting beside him. A thick wave of guilt consumed his body, knowing his crew needed his assistance if they wanted to meet the deadline in order for the film to premier in mid-September. It would be a serious time crunch, seeing as how the distribution deadline was to be in late August, and it already being the first of that very month. His eyes were still glazed with lingering sleep, his pupils fluxing in size as they tried to adapt to the bright light glowing from the screen in front of him. Curling his fingers, Sean anxiously rubbed his tired eyes, trying in vain to wake himself up—‘Just a few more hours, Astin, you can sleep all you want when you’re dead.’ No matter how much sleep he might have been able to sneak while he was supposed to be assisting the film editor, the skin beneath his eyes was still colored with the tell-tale signs of sleep deprivation. A large, flushed imprint of the space bar and a few other keys were creasing the skin of his stubble-covered cheek.

“Not that long,” the man lied, looking away from his own monitor for a moment to give Sean a reassuring smile. Taking a sip from his large thermos of dark coffee, the young man turned back to his work, glancing over at the director every few seconds. In truth, Sean had been out like a light for nearly four hours, murmuring a few things under his breath about taking a plane to Prague, but otherwise peacefully. Thankfully, though, the crew was able to simply look at the clutter of scrawling notes made in the director’s copy of the script in order to keep on working through without his constant commentary on what every shot should look like exactly.

“Oh…uhh, okay…” He paused his slow, tired speech with a long, drawn-out yawn, chest tightening until it felt like his lungs were on fire. Pressing a hand tight against his wide open mouth, Sean attempted to discreetly conceal the yawn. A trembling shudder racked through his body as he finally sighed, the rush of air that had filled his lungs pouring from his parted lips. Blinking a few times, eyes watering, he shook his head vigorously, trying to wake himself up. Sean reached for his own large cup of Starbucks coffee that had long since gone cold. Cringing at the repulsive taste, he drank it regardless, desperately needing the rush of caffeine. As he drank down half of the remaining coffee, he pressed his elbow against the hard surface of his desk. His cheek cupped in one hand, eyes falling shut even as he continued to pour the dark liquid into his mouth. A few drops spilled over his lips and onto his mussed button-down shirt.

“Sean.” A low whisper slipped through the air as the man put the paper cup back down on the desk next to his keyboard. It was his chief editor, his hand curling around the director’s slouched shoulder and squeezing it with a gentle pressure that gave the older man a strange sense of comfort. “Sean,” he began, his eyes glinting as they reflected the brilliant light glaring off the screens. The man leaned in close, trying to keep his advice just between himself and the director; hoping he would not embarrass the older man with his unintentionally cheeky comment. “I think you should go home; get some real sleep.” If it had been any other moment in Sean Astin’s life, he would have put up the biggest protest, but as he felt the contours of the sleep wrinkles on the side of his face with his fingertips, he conceded.

“Yeah…” he agreed, mumbling in a low gravely voice as he pushed a few strands of wayward hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Smiling in a way that might have made other crew members consider whether or not the director had had his coffee Irish-ed up, he saved his work. The image of Elijah, all dressed up in William’s suit and covered in fake blood, flashed over the screen. Sean had long since memorized the expression that was on the actor’s face. From the look, Sean knew that the young man was staring across the set at his co-star and director, not needing to act the glint of lust burning the irises of his eyes with an intense blue flame. It had been the last scene Sean remembered working on before giving in to his urge to ‘just close his eyes for a moment.’ A faint smile pulled up the corners of his lips before the screen flickered by to the blue-hued desktop image of Focus Features logo. Chewing his lower lip anxiously, Sean hit the button to turn off the monitor, a quick click of plastic sliding against plastic getting lost in the cacophony of chip bags crinkling and keyboards clacking.

Still in his sleepy stupor, Sean bent to pick up his leather shoulder bag, one hand gripping the edge of the desk to stabilize himself. The hard surface of the desk was cold against his hand, stimulating the multiple nerve endings in his fingertips and waking him up slightly. Standing back up, he grabbed his cup of coffee and headed towards the exit. He was beginning to wake up a little, the blood pumping in his veins once he started moving. The solid presence of the heavy bag against his hip reminded him of a certain young actor bounding towards down the linoleum floored terminal, faded blue messenger bag clicking against his own hipbone. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, Sean focused on opening the door. Just has his fingers wrapped around the starling cold brass doorknob, a question popped into his head. He looked over his shoulder at the young man who had just advised him to go home.

“Jack,” Sean began in a solid voice, the lingering traces of sleep finally leaving his steady tone. “Are we gonna make the deadline?” His eyebrows arched hopefully, breath caught in his chest as he waited for the answer. Silently, the young man nodded hesitantly with a guilty smile before turning back to the screen. In the back of his mind, Sean knew it was just a sugar-coated white lie to help him fall asleep when he got home. “Good.” Sean murmured to himself with a content smile, softly nodding his head. He turned back towards the door and twisted the knob, walking through the doorway into the dark hallway, every other florescent ceiling light half illuminated.

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Radio volume turned up on a NPR station to keep him from falling asleep at the wheel, Sean pulled up to stop light. Patiently waiting for the blaring red light to change and illuminate the green bulb, Sean allowed his eyes to wander briefly, glancing out the windows. In the distance he could see the striking hues of lingering midnight mingling with faded pink and orange pastels. The vision was captivating, to say the least. After staring fixedly at the natural beauty of the sunrise, his hazel eyes dropped to the passenger seat, where he had tossed his bag a few minutes before. The unclasped leather flap had fallen open when had turned the last left corner a little too sharply. His cell phone was lying out on the seat within reach, beckoning silently to him.

‘Lij,’ seemed to be the only thing running through his mind as he stared at the phone, considering whether or not pick it up. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him no, that it would be the middle of the afternoon in Prague and that Elijah would still be working. Unsure whether he should give in to either logic or spontaneous passion, he continued to stare at the taunting machine. Chewing the yielding flesh of his lower lip, he leaned across the armrest dividing the two seats. His fingertips brushed against the cool silver back of the phone just as a blaring horn sounded from the car behind him. Jumping in his seat, Sean snapped back to himself and drove through the intersection, leaving the cellular phone lying dormant on the seat next to him.

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The stiff living room sofa was not the most comfortable place to sleep, but given the circumstances Sean was happy just to collapse onto the overstuffed cushions. Thankfully, though, he had brought his downy pillow down from the bedroom. It was laying in wait for him, squished into the corner of the couch's arm and the seat cushion. Pulling the pillow from the crevasse and fluffing it a few times, Sean threw it back onto the couch and laid down with a contented sigh. A subtle rustling of worn clothing shifting against leather filled the silent air. He lay on his back for a moment before a twinge of discomfort made him fidgety. Keys clinking quietly in his pants’ pocket, he rolled onto his side, pressing his hands together beneath his head. For a few restless minutes he simply stared across the wide expanse of moonlight glinting off the large glass coffee table. Still unable to close his eyes and fall asleep, Sean rolled onto his back once again, staring blankly up at the rotating fan hanging from the ceiling.

His mind simply refused to turn off despite the intense fatigue contorting the thoughts that swam through his brain, half-formed and still blurry. Ever since Elijah had left, there had been a constant bubble of impervious, pent-up anxiety floating in the pit of his stomach. Ignoring that ever-present feeling, Sean allowed himself to feel a strange sensation of completion filling his body, mind swirling with the prospect of finally distributing his first film across the country. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had started working on the movie, and now that it was almost over, a certain relief mingled with sorrow was all that he could think about. In that same vein, a nagging sense of his entire world falling apart buzzed in the back of his head. Even though the majority of his energy was being spent on finishing the final phase of editing, Sean could not shake the anxiety of the divorce proceedings, despite Christine’s civil attitude and their amicable agreements on nearly everything they had talked about. It was the fact that they had yet to discuss even the idea of what would be done in the matter of Alexandra’s custody that was turning Sean into a raw bundle of nerves, ready to combust at the slightest hint that he might lose his daughter.

Next week, they would go through the custody proceedings.

Eyes wide open; Sean sat up, gripping his pillow in his hands and tugging idly at the soft fabric. He sat there, silent, for a few moments, his mind still trying to encompass the thought of what his life might be like with out Ally’s bright smile every morning. The tell-tale sting of tears burned his eyes as he tried furiously to blink them away. Sean kept telling himself over and over that it would not happen, that it could not happen…Christine would not let it happen. He could feel his chest tightening as he glanced around the moon-lit room, finding not a single sight to take solace in. After throwing the pillow back onto the sofa, he stood up and stumbled through the dark house until he found himself at the bottom of the stairs.

‘What are you doing, Sean?’ The voice in his head questioned in a subdued, distressed tone as Sean gripped the stairway railing. He began climbing the steps slowly, one by one, so as not to make the creak or whine in protest to being treaded upon. As he reached the top of the stairs, Sean turned to the right and stared down the dim hall. To his left was the bedroom he had once shared with his wife, with it's comfortable bed, large and warm, though it had long since gone too cold for them both. Not giving a glace to the opposite direction, Sean took a step down the right corridor. Halfway through the short hall, he could see the faint glow of a muted nightlight spilling from the crack between door and carpet. Walking towards that guiding light, in the dead silence he could just barely hear the soft puffs of breath coming from within the room. The painted door was illuminated from the bottom up, casting a strange shadow of Sean’s hand as he reached for the knob, set a little lower so that Alexandra could grasp it at her own height. He could still hear the constant inhale and exhale, louder now as he opened the door. The sight he found behind the door was an instant comfort to his troubled mind; a part of himself that he could still see in a wholly tangible sense.

Sleeping soundly in her pink sheeted twin bed, Alexandra had her face turned towards the door, mouth opened slightly as she slumbered on, not noticing her father’s presence. In the dim moonlight mingled with the muted artificial glow radiating from the child’s nightlight, Sean could see her face relaxed, looking for all the world like his little angel. The sight nearly made Sean’s heart break. Her head was resting on a soft pillow that looked like it was almost half the size of her body, golden curls splayed across the cotton fabric. Pale moonlight painted her skin a soft milky color, making her face look like one of those of delicate porcelain dolls that she loved to play with in her free time. Clutched securely in the crook of her small arm was a stuffed bunny, literally falling apart at the seems; it's cloth body had once been a brilliant pink, but now was faded to a dull, pale color that boardered on white. A smile spread over Sean’s lips as he closed the door behind him quietly and walked over to his daughter’s bed.

As quietly as he could, Sean crouched down, knees bending and weight shifting to rest on the balls of his feet, next to the head of Alexandra’s bed, his hand pressed against the yielding mattress to keep his balance. His fingertips tenderly traced over the intertwining strands of slightly curled golden hair that lay nearest to the edge of the bed, feeling like liquid silk against the cotton fabric they rested upon. Gently, his hand slipped to push the hair behind her ear, cradling the back of her neck with a paternal smile turning up the corners of his lips. Leaning in, Sean pressed the faintest of kisses against her forehead. The pad of his thumb brushed over her small cheek as she began to stir awake.

“Daddy…” She murmured in a sleepy haze, blinking her eyes a few times as the vision of her father smiling down at her swam before her eyes. Smiling, she felt a pair of warm arms hug her for a moment before being told to go back to sleep. Far too tired to question her father’s logic as she would have if she had been more awake, mirroring Sean only an hour ago, she closed her eyes and slipped back under the enticing wash of peaceful sleep. Before she fell asleep, her little hand reached out for his, her fingers trying in vain to wrap around his larger palm.

Glancing around the room, Sean saw an old, simple wooden chair in one of the corners and went to go get it, placing his daughter’s hand on the bed. He set the chair down by Alexandra’s bedside and took her hand in his again. Sean sat like that for a few hours, staring down at his daughter sleeping contentedly. After a while he finally succumbed to the fatigue and necessity of sleep, finally granted, his mind at peace with Alexandra in such close proximity.

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Sean sat silently, deft fingers flitting in a fevered pace over the black keys of his laptop, resting on the coffee table before the couch. Throughout the whole house, the only sound that could be heard was the continuous stream of clicks and clacks coming from the living room as Sean wrote with his fingertips. Sitting unused beside the computer was an empty cup that had only a few short hours ago contained steaming hot coffee. A thin stream of mid-morning sunlight filtered in through the half-opened blinds, illuminating the living room and glinting off the surface of the glass table. Wrapped loosely around his shoulders was the threadbare robe he generally wore whenever he wrote; the old thing had not been worn by the writer since Elijah had grown rather fond of it the first time he put it on and decided to latch on to the poor thing. However, as Sean sat swaddled in the warm cloth, he could still smell the traces of Old Spice linger in the woven fabric. He smiled brightly as he hunkered down into the robe.

He had made up his mind that morning that he needed to start writing again. It had been far too long since he had actually written anything new, and it was beginning to eat away at him. Inside, there was a part of him that felt oddly hollow, sitting right next to the swelling bubble of anxiety with Elijah’s name branded across it's width. The man knew that he needed to have an outlet for the immense amount of nervous energy that had begun to build upon itself in his mind. When he did not write, his subtle neurosis became amplified and suddenly everything, every little mistake, became worse by nearly tenfold. So, as he began writing, he decided that it would be an out and out romance, nothing too elegant or filled with much grandeur but something real. Maybe, maybe, it would be about a lithe young man named Jordan.

The house was eerily quiet, and, regardless of Sean being consumed by his writing, he still felt a little off not hearing anyone moving around on either floor. Christine had gone to take Alexandra over to one of her friend’s house for a little play-day, but that had been almost over an hour ago. Pushing the anxious thoughts away as he finally heard the front door swing open and the distinct sounds of Chris’ shoes scraping gracefully against the floor of the short entrance hall, Sean continued writing. Behind him, he could hear her walking from the hallway into the kitchen, pause for a long moment, and then she was rummaging around in the cupboards for something. Strangely comforted by the white noise, Sean began to whistle some nameless tune quietly to himself.

With a few more paragraphs written, Sean felt a heavy weight settle on his left shoulder, radiating a wonderfully toasty warmth. Looking to see what it was, Sean was greeted by the welcome sight of a full coffee pot resting on a hot mitten on his shoulder, carefully being held by Christine, who was smiling down at him. A smile spread across his own lips as thanked her, noticing that the milk and sugar had already been added to the liquid. He felt her fingers twine in the short hair at the nap of his neck as she bent to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Noticed that you weren’t drinking any like a fiend, so,” she said, trailing off as she raised the container in one hand to signify what she meant. Walking around the arm of the couch, she bent to refill Sean’s cup and offered it to him. Doing so, Sean noticed that tucked beneath her arm was a thin manila folder stuffed with crisp sheets of papers. Christine smiled and placed the hot mitten on the table, and then the coffee pot on that. Once settling down next to her husband on the leather sofa, she pulled the folder out from under her arm and placed it on her lap, waiting patiently for Sean to close the lid of his laptop. Her fingers, completely ring-less, curled around the edge uneasily. Knowing exactly what was happening, Sean saved his document and shut the computer.

“There’s only a few papers here,” she began, looking genuinely sorry for having to interrupt Sean’s writing to deal with the legal matters concerning their house. “So it hopefully won’t take too long.” Finally she opened the folder and unclipped the expensive fountain pen that was hanging from the inside of the folder. She passed the stack of documents to Sean. Taking the papers from his wife, Sean’s fingers skidded gracefully over the freshly printed papers as he read over it briefly, making sure that it was what they had agreed on the day before with their lawyers. The ink stood out against the stark white of the paper as he read.

After checking over the contract concerning the sale of Christine’s half of the house over to Sean, he signed on the dashed line at the bottom. He handed the documents back to Christine, watching as she signed on the line beneath his name in a flowing cursive script—still legally Christine Astin. When they had bought the house nine years ago, both their names had been put on the deed; thus, since the house was bought jointly during the course of their marriage, it was necessary to divide it equally between the two. It had been a brilliant idea that Sean’s lawyer and Christine’s had both agreed upon as in their clients' best interest. Sean would simply buy Christine’s half, thus giving her enough money to buy her own apartment; a very nice apartment at that.

Finally looking up from the papers as the woman closed the folder and tossed it onto the coffee table, Sean saw Christine smiling to herself. It was only then that he really looked at the woman sitting beside him. Of course she was dressed nicely, a little more so than usual, a low cut V-neck sweater and a black skirt with dark, tasteful pumps. However, the first thing he noticed that was out of place was that she had her hair down, brushing against her shoulders. Normally her hair was pulled away from her face in a neat, loose bun with a clip. Also, after a moment of looking at her face, he realized that she was wearing make-up; though it was muted colors of copper and earthy tones that brought out her natural beauty, elegant in a sophisticated way that Sean had forever associated with Christine. It had been a long time since he had seen her wearing make-up. Sure she would wear lipstick, even mascara occasionally, but never rouge or eye shadow.

Puzzled at the sudden change in Christine’s habits, Sean furrowed his eyebrows and tried to think. Arching one up slowly, he came to the only conclusion he could think of that would make his wife to put more make-up on that normal. Sensing her husband had caught on, a faint blush intensified the light pink hue of rouge she had already brushed over her cheeks.

“Christine, you have a date.” He deadpanned, watching as Christine’s eyes widened in muted shock that she had been found out so easily—leave it to the writer to notice the subtle changes. Fidgeting nervously for a moment, she stalled, unsure what exactly to say to Sean. The blush painting her cheeks deepened as she wrung her hands, her eyes never moving from a spot on the sofa between them. A little voice in the back of her mind told her it was okay to be going out with another man; she was no longer bound to the one sitting next to her.

“No, no…” Chris began, tugging at the hem of her dark V-neck sweater. The fabric was soft against her fingertips. Idly, she began rubbing her thumb over the soft material, finding comfort in the repetitive motion and the gentle feel. “It’s just, just lunch…” She stuttered as she finally looked up from the sofa cushions to see Sean watching with an amused smile tugging up his lips. Something in her chest that had been wound tighter and tighter ever since Sean has spoken eased loose as she realized that her husband was…happy for her. The anxiety dissipated almost instantly, and her tongue loosened as she began to say more about her rendezvous. “It’s only a short lunch ‘cause he has to go direct the cinematographer over on the set of some movie with Jared Leto in it…or something like that.” She trailed off waving her hand as she spoke. Something hit Sean, his mouth fell open as he ran the words through his mind for a second time; he knew exactly who it was she was meeting.

“Its Viggo, isn’t it?” Sean asked with a smile.

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All he got was the fucking answering machine, teasing him with Elijah’s giggling, recorded voice—though he had expected as much after checking the time in the car’s digital clock.

“Hey Elijah, it’s me…” Sean whispered against the speaker of his cell phone as he turned down the street, heading for the Focus Features lot. His fingers were curled around the back, warming the once chilled silver cover encasing the phone. Glancing around the lot, he found a parking spot and shut off the engine. “I know you’re at work right now and all, but I just wanted to call and leave you a message so you’d know a.s.a.p.” The man babbled on for a moment as he picked at the peeling fake leather around his steering wheel with the sharp edge of his car keys. “Everything with editing is going on schedule.” He winced as he spoke those words.

‘Okay, that was a small lie.’ Sean thought honestly, biting his lower lip guiltily. They were a little behind with the editing of scenes, splicing certain shots and fixing the levels of sound. But it was due to the time crunch that Sean knew for sure that his crew would pull through and get the film finished so that it shined like a new penny, ready to be distributed on time.

“Soooo,” he drawled with a small smile, feeling a little giddy upon hearing the next few words pouring from his lips. “We’ve decided on a date for the premier, it’s going to be the week after you get back from over there.” A small laugh filled his voice as he spoke, grinning brightly as he paused for a moment. The last few words rung in his ears as his smile faded to bittersweet.

“I miss you, Lij…” Desperation, pure and simple.

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Some of the same men and women that Sean had seen early that morning were still sitting in the same spot they had been in at five a.m., working away at fixing up the few minutes of film they had left to clean up. It was still dark in the room; a few lights were on, but not enough to interfere with the screens-an attempt to cut down on the glare on the large monitors coming from the illuminated florescent fixtures overhead. The same smell of cheesy junk food filled Sean’s nose as he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with a quiet click. A few people looked over their shoulders to glance at Sean but none said anything. Jack, however, spun around in his chair and stood up instantly with a smile to greet his director.

“Hey, Sean.” He said brightly, wrapping an arm around Sean’s shoulder. “Do I have some good news for you, man.”

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AN: Big thanks to