stuntie_jed (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stuntie_jed) wrote2008-06-04 08:55 pm
stuntie_jed) wrote2008-06-04 08:55 pm
Entry tags:
Jed and Pete Again
Jed pulled up to the gates at Weta tentatively, yet hopefully. It had been several weeks since he'd gained the new occupant in his skull, and he'd yet to feel the deep interior cold that the Wraith brought with him. The Rohirrim had finally conceded that he was safe and let him out of the warehouse.
He felt lost again, couldn't settle down in his house, had no purpose to his life. How does one come back from something like this? He had no bloody idea how to pick up the pieces.
This was the place to start. He didn't know if he'd be allowed in but he presented his badge to the guard, still feeling that uncertain hope.
"Just a moment, Mr. Brophy. Your badge has been flagged to inform Mr. Jackson immediately."
Jed's hands tightened on the steering wheel, feeling like he was on the verge of something. He had just enough spirit left to think it might possibly be something good for a change. The waiting was killing him though, waiting while they called Pete and Pete made whatever decision he was going to make.
Pete was hard at work in his horribly messy office. Not that anyone who didn't know his methods would notice. His feet were perched on his desk, heels skewing a formerly neat pile of research materials, while he played with a small action figure of a Hobbit. The figure bore a disturbing resemblance to the Pete that had brought the original Rings trilogy to life. It took him longer to slip into creative-mode these days. He was older, and a lot wiser than he'd been back when he first tackled Tolkien's tales for the movies. With that wisdom came experience, a lot of which the public didn't know about, and he'd be damned if he'd let them in on the secrets.
A notebook on his back credenza listed various actors who had been involved in the first round of movies, many of whom would be returning for The Hobbit. A small check mark ticked off quite a few of the names. A small, innocent mark, but one carrying great meaning. A check mark indicated a known shift manifestation. Next to the name of Jed Brophy, there was a tick mark and also an exclamation mark.
A runner tapped on his open door and peered inside. "Mister Jackson, Jed Brophy's at the gate."
Pete blinked, not quite expecting that turn of events today. "Well, let him in. Bring him directly here, and get some tea brewing for us. The stuff in the blue can on the top shelf. Make it strong." He hoped like hell that Jed hadn't built up an immunity over time. His office was messy enough without letting a ringwraith loose in here, he thought. It was a lot easier to tell himself that small joke than to really think about what sort of danger he'd just given permission to breeze back into his world.
The guard put the phone down. "They say for you to go right in, Mr. Brophy. Mr. Jackson is available."
Jed let out his breath, and then filled his lungs again, trying to calm himself. He wondered what they'd told Pete about his long disappearance, if his friend would be mad with him. He parked up and entered the non-descript front doors.
His feet seemed to know where they were going, a good thing, since he found that he couldn't concentrate. He was wallowing in memories of all the good work he had done in this building in the past. The place was full of the creative forces of thousands of artists of all sorts. He hoped that Pete would let him take his place among them again.
Jed hovered uncertainly at the door to Pete's office, but he could see the two cups of tea on the warmer already.
"Hello, Pete."
"Jed." Pete spoke his friend's name as if he'd just popped in after an hour away. "Tea?" Pete held out a huge steaming mug that wafted a strangely familiar aroma. "Drink up, then we'll talk."
Jed took the mug, recognising the scent of the athelas immediately. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was still trying to regain his mental equilibrium after being exiled from his life for so long. He supposed that he owed that stubborn Rohirric prince quite a debt of gratitude. Jed didn't blame Pete for not trusting him, not after the Wraith had been responsible for so many deaths.
"Ta, mate. Quite good." He took a large mouthful, knowing the kingsfoil wouldn't hurt him. Besides, in the books, the people who weren't injured had gained peace from the steam. And peace was something he'd had little of in past months. He would take any fragment of peace he could find.
Pete visibly relaxed at the sight of the tea sliding down Jed's throat. "So, then, Jed. At the risk of sounding like your mother... you never call, you never write... it's been months. I worry. I've been up to my ears getting this Hobbit deal worked out, so I guess I'm at fault too, I know I haven't been real sociable lately. And the thing is... I really need you on the project, but I feel like an ass asking you to join up again. So, I won't. You tell me if you want in. If you can stand to be back in."
Fuck. Jed stared, not knowing what the bloody hell he should say to that. Fucking more than he expected.
"Bloody hell, Pete. I've been a bit of a dodgy worker these months and you offer me that?"
He'd entered the world Pete created once and look where it had got him. Best hear the man out though. "Whatdya have in mind?"
Pete leaned forward and poked Jed's cup of tea. "Course you've been dodgy. For damned good reason. As far as I'm concerned, you've just been minding yourself with some worker's compensation time. Working for me got you into dire straights, don't think I don't remember that!"
There. Pete needed to get that off his chest. It's not as if he felt completely responsible for all that had happened, hell, he was a victim too. But something about Jed being affected. The one guy that'd stuck with him through so many films, never complained, never balked at anything Pete asked of him. And he had taken one of the heaviest hits of this whole cursed situation.
It was totally absurd to pull him into the fray again. But, these were absurd times they lived in. "Well, Jed. You at all in the mood to help train some hobbits? For starters? We've got some guys that look great but can't pick their noses without falling over."
Jed snickered. "Hobbits and Dwarves?" He mentally thanked his stars that he was bit too lanky for a dwarf. 'Course, Pete could always try to stuff him in a fat suit.
"Be happy to help, you know that, mate. I wouldn't pike out on ya."
Not unless he got captured by mad men from Middle Earth again. He considered telling Pete about his new passenger, and then wondered if Leodthain could prevent him from catching another shift. He was never going near Craig's place again, damn if he was.
Pete would have been shocked if Jed had turned down the offer. He'd never known his friend to back away from any project Pete threw at him. "I know you wouldn't, mate, you never tell me 'no', even when you bloody well should! Anyway, The Lovely Bones is under control and you got spared that one. Nice story but probably would have been a bore for a guy like you, really."
Pete probably should have left well enough alone right there, he'd never demanded full accountability from his friends and employees. If they got a job done, it was well enough and what went on elsewhere wasn't anything to him. But it just hadn't been like Jed to go so long without hounding Pete for a night out with some pints, or just to harangue him on the phone for no good reason other than giving Pete grief. In short, Pete was curious as hell what Jed'd been up to lately. "Not that I could'a rounded you up for any work on that one anyway, mate. You lose your cellphone down the dunny again?"
Jed snorted. "Nah, mate. Got waylaid by some friends of yours who decided I wasn't fit to be let out on my own."
Pete had to know all the story and all the shifts, Jed reasoned. If anyone had his finger on what went on with Tolkien in Wellie, it'd be Pete.
"Those Gondorians running around loose plus the dead prince have been keeping me captive in Paris's warehouse."
Pete blinked. Gondorians. That'd be the brothers. And the dead prince, well, there's a nickname to be proud of. "You don't call Théodred that to his face, do you? That might be too much information for the dude." Pete had heard some tales of adventures in that warehouse, none of which he wanted to know too many details about. "I didn't think you were into those games, Jed. Kinky's never been your style, has it?"
Jed still felt an awkward sort of guilt over revealing Théodred's fate to the bloke. Awkward because it was wrapped up with anger at his captivity. But he grinned at Pete. "Nah, mate, the only man that's ever turned my head was Viggo. I don't play that shite."
He rubbed his finger over the rim of the mug, feeling the slight drag of the ridges in his fingers over the crockery. "Thing is, they thought I was a danger to this old world. Wanted to keep me out of it until something could be done about the fucking demon in my head."
More guilt to deal with . . . how the Wraith had killed without a leash until they had sorted what his problem was.
Pete pondered Jed's words a while, putting the twos and twos together to get some fairly rickety fours. "So, they locked you up for safety. But you're here right now. Unshackled." Pete raised an eyebrow. "Look, mate, if I'm going to put you back to work in the danger zone you'd better come clean with me. How's your demon doing? Right now?"
Jed couldn't help the grin. It was so fucking good to be out of the warehouse, especially when at one point, he had been convinced he was never going to leave it. Not alive anyway.
"He's right ticked off at the moment." He giggled, not being able to help it. He reached back into his mind the way the Elf had taught him, waking the Rider. His eyes closed.
When the man opened his eyes, he said, "Greetings. I am Leodthain of the Mark."
Hearing Jed giggle was about the last thing Pete expected. But before he could comment on that, the real last thing Pete expected happened. Pete spluttered out a greeting. "Well, hello. I'm Jackson of the Studio. And I DID assign Jed to romp with the Rohirrim, didn't I? I'm amazed and relieved to meet you!" Pete studied the newcomer thoughtfully before inquiring. "So. Is Jed's beastie dead?"
Leodthain was unsure to which beast this new man referred. He consulted with Jed, who also had no answers.
"Prince Théodred and the White Lady slew the Nazgûl's steed, the beast of the air. The presence inside Jed's soul is still there. I am told that there are no mortal weapons that will end his existence. I do not fear him though, and that confuses him, I think."
This was not his world, however, it was Jed's. Leodthain withdrew, leaving Jed with his friend.
Pete shook his head. So their weapons in this war had come down to confusion and tea. What was this, Monty Python's version of Tolkien's tales? Leodthain's withdrawal went unnoticed by Pete, who kept on talking to what he thought was the Rohirrim. "So, Jed's stuck with the Nazgûl. I'd hoped maybe you'd replace that one, permanently. This world could use more of your kind, as far as I'm concerned. Jed's one of the finest guys I've ever known and one of my dearest friends. I hate that he got sucked into all this, but you know? If anyone can handle having a Nazgûl in their gut, it's him, and I'll trust you both to keep that one stifled."
Momentarily struck dumb by the odd experience of having one of his oldest friends tell him exactly what he thought of him, Jed fought down his welling emotions. After the last year, he hadn't expected that he'd ever regain the friendship and trust of anyone.
He cleared his throat a few times. "Hey, mate. It's me again. That Rider, he doesn't hang around much. He's dead really."
Jed touched a marquette of the cave troll from Fellowship. "So . . . the Hobbit, eh?"
Pete blew out a steady breath, slumping a bit in relief. That was... awkward. But it was the truth, maybe good for Jed to hear, but it's not as if there'd be manly hugging or anything cause of it. Pete was glad to just be able to get back to normal, as much as what passes for normal 'round here, anyway. "Yeah. The Hobbit. Hey, you heard those rumors yet? Apparently I'm casting Jack Black as Bilbo!" Pete snickered conspiratorially. "And we know the tabloids can't print it if it's not true, right?"
It felt good to laugh, like he was using muscles that he hadn't in a long time. Jed grinned happily.
He felt lost again, couldn't settle down in his house, had no purpose to his life. How does one come back from something like this? He had no bloody idea how to pick up the pieces.
This was the place to start. He didn't know if he'd be allowed in but he presented his badge to the guard, still feeling that uncertain hope.
"Just a moment, Mr. Brophy. Your badge has been flagged to inform Mr. Jackson immediately."
Jed's hands tightened on the steering wheel, feeling like he was on the verge of something. He had just enough spirit left to think it might possibly be something good for a change. The waiting was killing him though, waiting while they called Pete and Pete made whatever decision he was going to make.
Pete was hard at work in his horribly messy office. Not that anyone who didn't know his methods would notice. His feet were perched on his desk, heels skewing a formerly neat pile of research materials, while he played with a small action figure of a Hobbit. The figure bore a disturbing resemblance to the Pete that had brought the original Rings trilogy to life. It took him longer to slip into creative-mode these days. He was older, and a lot wiser than he'd been back when he first tackled Tolkien's tales for the movies. With that wisdom came experience, a lot of which the public didn't know about, and he'd be damned if he'd let them in on the secrets.
A notebook on his back credenza listed various actors who had been involved in the first round of movies, many of whom would be returning for The Hobbit. A small check mark ticked off quite a few of the names. A small, innocent mark, but one carrying great meaning. A check mark indicated a known shift manifestation. Next to the name of Jed Brophy, there was a tick mark and also an exclamation mark.
A runner tapped on his open door and peered inside. "Mister Jackson, Jed Brophy's at the gate."
Pete blinked, not quite expecting that turn of events today. "Well, let him in. Bring him directly here, and get some tea brewing for us. The stuff in the blue can on the top shelf. Make it strong." He hoped like hell that Jed hadn't built up an immunity over time. His office was messy enough without letting a ringwraith loose in here, he thought. It was a lot easier to tell himself that small joke than to really think about what sort of danger he'd just given permission to breeze back into his world.
The guard put the phone down. "They say for you to go right in, Mr. Brophy. Mr. Jackson is available."
Jed let out his breath, and then filled his lungs again, trying to calm himself. He wondered what they'd told Pete about his long disappearance, if his friend would be mad with him. He parked up and entered the non-descript front doors.
His feet seemed to know where they were going, a good thing, since he found that he couldn't concentrate. He was wallowing in memories of all the good work he had done in this building in the past. The place was full of the creative forces of thousands of artists of all sorts. He hoped that Pete would let him take his place among them again.
Jed hovered uncertainly at the door to Pete's office, but he could see the two cups of tea on the warmer already.
"Hello, Pete."
"Jed." Pete spoke his friend's name as if he'd just popped in after an hour away. "Tea?" Pete held out a huge steaming mug that wafted a strangely familiar aroma. "Drink up, then we'll talk."
Jed took the mug, recognising the scent of the athelas immediately. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was still trying to regain his mental equilibrium after being exiled from his life for so long. He supposed that he owed that stubborn Rohirric prince quite a debt of gratitude. Jed didn't blame Pete for not trusting him, not after the Wraith had been responsible for so many deaths.
"Ta, mate. Quite good." He took a large mouthful, knowing the kingsfoil wouldn't hurt him. Besides, in the books, the people who weren't injured had gained peace from the steam. And peace was something he'd had little of in past months. He would take any fragment of peace he could find.
Pete visibly relaxed at the sight of the tea sliding down Jed's throat. "So, then, Jed. At the risk of sounding like your mother... you never call, you never write... it's been months. I worry. I've been up to my ears getting this Hobbit deal worked out, so I guess I'm at fault too, I know I haven't been real sociable lately. And the thing is... I really need you on the project, but I feel like an ass asking you to join up again. So, I won't. You tell me if you want in. If you can stand to be back in."
Fuck. Jed stared, not knowing what the bloody hell he should say to that. Fucking more than he expected.
"Bloody hell, Pete. I've been a bit of a dodgy worker these months and you offer me that?"
He'd entered the world Pete created once and look where it had got him. Best hear the man out though. "Whatdya have in mind?"
Pete leaned forward and poked Jed's cup of tea. "Course you've been dodgy. For damned good reason. As far as I'm concerned, you've just been minding yourself with some worker's compensation time. Working for me got you into dire straights, don't think I don't remember that!"
There. Pete needed to get that off his chest. It's not as if he felt completely responsible for all that had happened, hell, he was a victim too. But something about Jed being affected. The one guy that'd stuck with him through so many films, never complained, never balked at anything Pete asked of him. And he had taken one of the heaviest hits of this whole cursed situation.
It was totally absurd to pull him into the fray again. But, these were absurd times they lived in. "Well, Jed. You at all in the mood to help train some hobbits? For starters? We've got some guys that look great but can't pick their noses without falling over."
Jed snickered. "Hobbits and Dwarves?" He mentally thanked his stars that he was bit too lanky for a dwarf. 'Course, Pete could always try to stuff him in a fat suit.
"Be happy to help, you know that, mate. I wouldn't pike out on ya."
Not unless he got captured by mad men from Middle Earth again. He considered telling Pete about his new passenger, and then wondered if Leodthain could prevent him from catching another shift. He was never going near Craig's place again, damn if he was.
Pete would have been shocked if Jed had turned down the offer. He'd never known his friend to back away from any project Pete threw at him. "I know you wouldn't, mate, you never tell me 'no', even when you bloody well should! Anyway, The Lovely Bones is under control and you got spared that one. Nice story but probably would have been a bore for a guy like you, really."
Pete probably should have left well enough alone right there, he'd never demanded full accountability from his friends and employees. If they got a job done, it was well enough and what went on elsewhere wasn't anything to him. But it just hadn't been like Jed to go so long without hounding Pete for a night out with some pints, or just to harangue him on the phone for no good reason other than giving Pete grief. In short, Pete was curious as hell what Jed'd been up to lately. "Not that I could'a rounded you up for any work on that one anyway, mate. You lose your cellphone down the dunny again?"
Jed snorted. "Nah, mate. Got waylaid by some friends of yours who decided I wasn't fit to be let out on my own."
Pete had to know all the story and all the shifts, Jed reasoned. If anyone had his finger on what went on with Tolkien in Wellie, it'd be Pete.
"Those Gondorians running around loose plus the dead prince have been keeping me captive in Paris's warehouse."
Pete blinked. Gondorians. That'd be the brothers. And the dead prince, well, there's a nickname to be proud of. "You don't call Théodred that to his face, do you? That might be too much information for the dude." Pete had heard some tales of adventures in that warehouse, none of which he wanted to know too many details about. "I didn't think you were into those games, Jed. Kinky's never been your style, has it?"
Jed still felt an awkward sort of guilt over revealing Théodred's fate to the bloke. Awkward because it was wrapped up with anger at his captivity. But he grinned at Pete. "Nah, mate, the only man that's ever turned my head was Viggo. I don't play that shite."
He rubbed his finger over the rim of the mug, feeling the slight drag of the ridges in his fingers over the crockery. "Thing is, they thought I was a danger to this old world. Wanted to keep me out of it until something could be done about the fucking demon in my head."
More guilt to deal with . . . how the Wraith had killed without a leash until they had sorted what his problem was.
Pete pondered Jed's words a while, putting the twos and twos together to get some fairly rickety fours. "So, they locked you up for safety. But you're here right now. Unshackled." Pete raised an eyebrow. "Look, mate, if I'm going to put you back to work in the danger zone you'd better come clean with me. How's your demon doing? Right now?"
Jed couldn't help the grin. It was so fucking good to be out of the warehouse, especially when at one point, he had been convinced he was never going to leave it. Not alive anyway.
"He's right ticked off at the moment." He giggled, not being able to help it. He reached back into his mind the way the Elf had taught him, waking the Rider. His eyes closed.
When the man opened his eyes, he said, "Greetings. I am Leodthain of the Mark."
Hearing Jed giggle was about the last thing Pete expected. But before he could comment on that, the real last thing Pete expected happened. Pete spluttered out a greeting. "Well, hello. I'm Jackson of the Studio. And I DID assign Jed to romp with the Rohirrim, didn't I? I'm amazed and relieved to meet you!" Pete studied the newcomer thoughtfully before inquiring. "So. Is Jed's beastie dead?"
Leodthain was unsure to which beast this new man referred. He consulted with Jed, who also had no answers.
"Prince Théodred and the White Lady slew the Nazgûl's steed, the beast of the air. The presence inside Jed's soul is still there. I am told that there are no mortal weapons that will end his existence. I do not fear him though, and that confuses him, I think."
This was not his world, however, it was Jed's. Leodthain withdrew, leaving Jed with his friend.
Pete shook his head. So their weapons in this war had come down to confusion and tea. What was this, Monty Python's version of Tolkien's tales? Leodthain's withdrawal went unnoticed by Pete, who kept on talking to what he thought was the Rohirrim. "So, Jed's stuck with the Nazgûl. I'd hoped maybe you'd replace that one, permanently. This world could use more of your kind, as far as I'm concerned. Jed's one of the finest guys I've ever known and one of my dearest friends. I hate that he got sucked into all this, but you know? If anyone can handle having a Nazgûl in their gut, it's him, and I'll trust you both to keep that one stifled."
Momentarily struck dumb by the odd experience of having one of his oldest friends tell him exactly what he thought of him, Jed fought down his welling emotions. After the last year, he hadn't expected that he'd ever regain the friendship and trust of anyone.
He cleared his throat a few times. "Hey, mate. It's me again. That Rider, he doesn't hang around much. He's dead really."
Jed touched a marquette of the cave troll from Fellowship. "So . . . the Hobbit, eh?"
Pete blew out a steady breath, slumping a bit in relief. That was... awkward. But it was the truth, maybe good for Jed to hear, but it's not as if there'd be manly hugging or anything cause of it. Pete was glad to just be able to get back to normal, as much as what passes for normal 'round here, anyway. "Yeah. The Hobbit. Hey, you heard those rumors yet? Apparently I'm casting Jack Black as Bilbo!" Pete snickered conspiratorially. "And we know the tabloids can't print it if it's not true, right?"
It felt good to laugh, like he was using muscles that he hadn't in a long time. Jed grinned happily.