Slings and Arrows ficathon entry
Title: The One Without Any Shakespeare
Rating: PG for one swear
Author: Just_jen
Prompt: Anna, the stage at The Swan.
Spoilers: It's set mid-season two, but doesn't give away anything terribly important.
Notes: First of all, I am terrible at titles. This one is fitting, though, in that this is not a story about actors, or about Shakespeare, or about drama in any way. Also, as I watch and re-watch episodes, I adore Anna more and more, so I really do appreciate this opportunity to write her.
Anna has her ‘delivering bad news’ face carefully in place by the time she reaches the main theatre. She’s had a lot of time to practice it; working so close to Richard’s office means she needs to call on it at very short notice.
She hovers by the back row of seats. Geoffrey’s on the stage, muttering in that not-quite-to-himself way that everyone whispers about when he’s not there. While she hesitates, he shakes his head and then a hand, irritated. Anna doesn’t expect to see anyone appear from the wings to fill in the other half of Geoffrey’s conversation.
Eventually he snarls, “Fuck off!” and stomps downstage, arms folded, causing his overcoat to bunch around his middle so it sticks out over one hip like some ridiculous tutu. Finally Anna walks up the aisle, deliberately making her steps heavy, her heels clumping even on the carpeted floor.
“Anna!” He opens his arms wide like he’s welcoming her into his castle, but he’s wearing his desperate ‘don’t give me bad news’ grin. “It’s so… reassuring to see you.”
“Reassuring?” She manages to hold her smile the whole time, until she reaches the stage and feels her cheeks beginning to ache a little. Feeling foolish, she relaxes somewhat.
“I really was hoping for an interruption.” She throws him a questioning look, but he doesn’t explain. The empty chairs seem to eat up the silence; they sit there, waiting for something more. Geoffrey shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
“How’s everything going? With the play, I mean.” As if she might have meant something else. Anna bites her tongue to keep from babbling.
“It’s… definitely going, I’ll say that much.” She manages a polite smile, a nod of the head. “So what is it you’re putting off telling me? I assume it’s bad news.”
“Not terrible news.” Her smile falters and her eyebrows rise of their own accord, which doesn’t help the sudden raising of her voice. Anna purses her lips and tries to speak again without sounding so idiotic. “Just a slight hitch with one of the suppliers to the costume department. Some of the fabric we ordered was out of stock. They’re getting some more soon,” she rushes on before Geoffrey’s dangerous smile gets any wider, “but I just wanted to let you know that some of the military uniforms will probably be done a couple of days later than anticipated.”
Geoffrey lets rip a short blast of laughter, never taking his eyes from Anna’s face. It’s hard to keep smiling back; she notices the deep creases around his eyes and wonders why they don’t make him look old. They’re practically the same age, but she sees more and more of her mother in the mirror every morning, while Geoffrey barely seems to have changed since the first time she worked with him. Of course, she didn’t actually work with him back then, they just happened to work in the same theatre. Occasionally she’d pass him on the corridors as she dashed somewhere to deliver paperwork or pass on messages to people who actually did work with the actors. Sometimes, if she was lucky, he’d treat her to one of those smiles as they passed, and she’d have to work hard to keep from gibbering at him, scolding herself afterwards. He’s a colleague, just someone else you work with. Be professional! Back then, though, it was hard to walk past Geoffrey Tennant and not remember all the times she’d watched him from the cheap seats, trying not to blush as Geoffrey made whole audiences swoon as Romeo or Ferdinand or Mark Anthony.
“Just when the costume department had finally made sense of Oliver’s sketches,” Geoffrey grouses, pulling her back to the present. “Of course, that gives Henry a couple more days to stick his oar in about his costume.” He smiles, a little less desperate, a little more tired.
“They’re giving us a discount, at least,” she offers, knowing that Geoffrey won’t be appeased but needing to find something positive to focus on herself.
“Well, I’d hate to be charged full price for making the costume department work harder.” His mouth draws up on one side, and she knows his frustration is in no way aimed at her. At last she feels able to relax for real. It always seems to take a while to relax each time she talks to Geoffrey; it takes time to work out whether he’s in a ‘the world is crazy, isn’t it fantastic?’ mood or a ‘the world is crazy, I think I’m going to stab someone’ mood.
He watches her for a moment, then seems to make up his mind about something.
“Come up here.” He gestures to the stage.
“Geoffrey?”
“You can help me with something.” He gets to his feet. When she doesn’t move, he gestures again, comically, for her to join him. Feeling very awkward, she climbs the steps up to the stage and follows to where Geoffrey is showing her to stand. Her shoes are too loud on the boards, and she can’t shake the feeling that Geoffrey’s not the only one watching her.
“I have some paperwork waiting…” she begins, feeling far too self-conscious. Geoffrey stands behind her, puts both hands on her shoulders and steers her upstage, turning her to face something she can’t see.
“I won’t keep you long.” His voice is low, so close that his breath tickles her ear. “Now just look…” He lets her go and scurries downstage to the point she’s supposed to be looking at. “Right here. That’s it. Now keep looking at this point. Ignore me.”
She can’t help turning her head a little as he jumps off the front of the stage and moves out into the stalls, quickly correcting herself as she feels his eyes on her again. Because when she looks, she sees all those seats; the house lights are on, of course, and the space out there is huge. There’s no one standing out there besides Geoffrey, she knows, but she’s still the focal point for all those empty seats. Even without the stage lights she’s flushing, and it’s hard to keep her head up, staring resolutely where Geoffrey told her to look. Part of her wishes thestage lights were on her, so they would cut her off from all that space out there, cocoon her in that little world the actors disappear into.
“See, it’s too clumsy.” Out amongst the seats, Geoffrey is pacing; she watches him from the corner of her eye. “Macbeth needs to be more of a focal point, otherwise Lady M is just gonna look awkward.” It sounds like a completely different conversation, one Anna isn’t a part of.
She hears him stomping back down the aisle.
“Okay, Anna, thanks.” Her shoulders slump as she realises just how stiffly she’s been holding herself. In her head, she hears the voice of her high school drama teacher telling her, ‘Good effort’, the same thing he said to her after every attempt at a performance, reminding her that no matter how wonderful the words might have been in her head, they just don’t work coming out of her mouth.
“Uh, is there anything else, Geoffrey?” She shrugs, and then rolls her shoulders back, trying to ease a little of the tension there.
“That’s it, thanks.” He offers her a hand as she comes back down the steps, hating the way her heels thunk on the bare boards. Geoffrey smiles at her, and for once he does look…how did he put it? Reassured. Without warning, she’s smiling herself.
“I should get back to my desk.”
He nods, still smiling.
"See you later, Geoffrey.”
She's conscious of the sound of her heels on the floor as she leaves. He's a colleague. Just someone else you work with.
*****
Rating: PG for one swear
Author: Just_jen
Prompt: Anna, the stage at The Swan.
Spoilers: It's set mid-season two, but doesn't give away anything terribly important.
Notes: First of all, I am terrible at titles. This one is fitting, though, in that this is not a story about actors, or about Shakespeare, or about drama in any way. Also, as I watch and re-watch episodes, I adore Anna more and more, so I really do appreciate this opportunity to write her.
Anna has her ‘delivering bad news’ face carefully in place by the time she reaches the main theatre. She’s had a lot of time to practice it; working so close to Richard’s office means she needs to call on it at very short notice.
She hovers by the back row of seats. Geoffrey’s on the stage, muttering in that not-quite-to-himself way that everyone whispers about when he’s not there. While she hesitates, he shakes his head and then a hand, irritated. Anna doesn’t expect to see anyone appear from the wings to fill in the other half of Geoffrey’s conversation.
Eventually he snarls, “Fuck off!” and stomps downstage, arms folded, causing his overcoat to bunch around his middle so it sticks out over one hip like some ridiculous tutu. Finally Anna walks up the aisle, deliberately making her steps heavy, her heels clumping even on the carpeted floor.
“Anna!” He opens his arms wide like he’s welcoming her into his castle, but he’s wearing his desperate ‘don’t give me bad news’ grin. “It’s so… reassuring to see you.”
“Reassuring?” She manages to hold her smile the whole time, until she reaches the stage and feels her cheeks beginning to ache a little. Feeling foolish, she relaxes somewhat.
“I really was hoping for an interruption.” She throws him a questioning look, but he doesn’t explain. The empty chairs seem to eat up the silence; they sit there, waiting for something more. Geoffrey shoves his hands into his coat pockets.
“How’s everything going? With the play, I mean.” As if she might have meant something else. Anna bites her tongue to keep from babbling.
“It’s… definitely going, I’ll say that much.” She manages a polite smile, a nod of the head. “So what is it you’re putting off telling me? I assume it’s bad news.”
“Not terrible news.” Her smile falters and her eyebrows rise of their own accord, which doesn’t help the sudden raising of her voice. Anna purses her lips and tries to speak again without sounding so idiotic. “Just a slight hitch with one of the suppliers to the costume department. Some of the fabric we ordered was out of stock. They’re getting some more soon,” she rushes on before Geoffrey’s dangerous smile gets any wider, “but I just wanted to let you know that some of the military uniforms will probably be done a couple of days later than anticipated.”
Geoffrey lets rip a short blast of laughter, never taking his eyes from Anna’s face. It’s hard to keep smiling back; she notices the deep creases around his eyes and wonders why they don’t make him look old. They’re practically the same age, but she sees more and more of her mother in the mirror every morning, while Geoffrey barely seems to have changed since the first time she worked with him. Of course, she didn’t actually work with him back then, they just happened to work in the same theatre. Occasionally she’d pass him on the corridors as she dashed somewhere to deliver paperwork or pass on messages to people who actually did work with the actors. Sometimes, if she was lucky, he’d treat her to one of those smiles as they passed, and she’d have to work hard to keep from gibbering at him, scolding herself afterwards. He’s a colleague, just someone else you work with. Be professional! Back then, though, it was hard to walk past Geoffrey Tennant and not remember all the times she’d watched him from the cheap seats, trying not to blush as Geoffrey made whole audiences swoon as Romeo or Ferdinand or Mark Anthony.
“Just when the costume department had finally made sense of Oliver’s sketches,” Geoffrey grouses, pulling her back to the present. “Of course, that gives Henry a couple more days to stick his oar in about his costume.” He smiles, a little less desperate, a little more tired.
“They’re giving us a discount, at least,” she offers, knowing that Geoffrey won’t be appeased but needing to find something positive to focus on herself.
“Well, I’d hate to be charged full price for making the costume department work harder.” His mouth draws up on one side, and she knows his frustration is in no way aimed at her. At last she feels able to relax for real. It always seems to take a while to relax each time she talks to Geoffrey; it takes time to work out whether he’s in a ‘the world is crazy, isn’t it fantastic?’ mood or a ‘the world is crazy, I think I’m going to stab someone’ mood.
He watches her for a moment, then seems to make up his mind about something.
“Come up here.” He gestures to the stage.
“Geoffrey?”
“You can help me with something.” He gets to his feet. When she doesn’t move, he gestures again, comically, for her to join him. Feeling very awkward, she climbs the steps up to the stage and follows to where Geoffrey is showing her to stand. Her shoes are too loud on the boards, and she can’t shake the feeling that Geoffrey’s not the only one watching her.
“I have some paperwork waiting…” she begins, feeling far too self-conscious. Geoffrey stands behind her, puts both hands on her shoulders and steers her upstage, turning her to face something she can’t see.
“I won’t keep you long.” His voice is low, so close that his breath tickles her ear. “Now just look…” He lets her go and scurries downstage to the point she’s supposed to be looking at. “Right here. That’s it. Now keep looking at this point. Ignore me.”
She can’t help turning her head a little as he jumps off the front of the stage and moves out into the stalls, quickly correcting herself as she feels his eyes on her again. Because when she looks, she sees all those seats; the house lights are on, of course, and the space out there is huge. There’s no one standing out there besides Geoffrey, she knows, but she’s still the focal point for all those empty seats. Even without the stage lights she’s flushing, and it’s hard to keep her head up, staring resolutely where Geoffrey told her to look. Part of her wishes thestage lights were on her, so they would cut her off from all that space out there, cocoon her in that little world the actors disappear into.
“See, it’s too clumsy.” Out amongst the seats, Geoffrey is pacing; she watches him from the corner of her eye. “Macbeth needs to be more of a focal point, otherwise Lady M is just gonna look awkward.” It sounds like a completely different conversation, one Anna isn’t a part of.
She hears him stomping back down the aisle.
“Okay, Anna, thanks.” Her shoulders slump as she realises just how stiffly she’s been holding herself. In her head, she hears the voice of her high school drama teacher telling her, ‘Good effort’, the same thing he said to her after every attempt at a performance, reminding her that no matter how wonderful the words might have been in her head, they just don’t work coming out of her mouth.
“Uh, is there anything else, Geoffrey?” She shrugs, and then rolls her shoulders back, trying to ease a little of the tension there.
“That’s it, thanks.” He offers her a hand as she comes back down the steps, hating the way her heels thunk on the bare boards. Geoffrey smiles at her, and for once he does look…how did he put it? Reassured. Without warning, she’s smiling herself.
“I should get back to my desk.”
He nods, still smiling.
"See you later, Geoffrey.”
She's conscious of the sound of her heels on the floor as she leaves. He's a colleague. Just someone else you work with.
*****