The Truman Show fic: Day 1 - Truman
May. 7th, 2016 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dimity_blueTitle: Day 1 - Truman
Author: Dimity Blue
Rating: G
Genre: epilogue, slight het
Characters: Truman, Sylvia (Lauren), Christof
Word Count: 1737 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Truman, after the cameras stop rolling for good on The Truman Show
Day 1 - Truman
by Dimity Blue
Truman didn't know exactly what to expect when he stepped through that doorway, but he finally felt like an explorer. Unknown worlds were waiting for him. Unknown worlds and - he hoped - Lauren. Or Sylvia. It had been so long since he'd seen her. Had she thought of him? Had she dreamed of him as he'd dreamed of her?
Truman was under no illusions as to how ordinary he was, for all that a world - a show - had been built around him. It was hardly likely that Lauren (or Sylvia) was still thinking of him. She was probably married, maybe with children, but Truman had to find her, to see, if only so he could spend the rest of his life missing her.
The dark doorway led to a dimly lit flight of stairs that led to another door marked 'exit'. Taking a breath, Truman pushed it open and stepped outside for the first time.
The air seemed gritty, full of tastes and smells that Seahaven had lacked. Truman blinked at the sight of the huge city laid out before him, seemingly unendless. He didn't even know which city it was.
"Truman!"
Truman yanked his gaze away from the endless buildings. Lauren! As she ran to him, he caught her up, kissing her, swinging her around, her laughter ringing in his ears.
"You made it, you did it!"
She sounded almost breathless, and Truman wasted no time in kissing the words away from her mouth. Too soon, she pulled away.
"We have to go. The press will be here soon - there's no way they'd miss a story like this!"
Her hand holding his, tugging him on, he followed her without protest. She knew this world, he didn't. For the first time, Truman felt handicapped, at a huge disadvantage due to his limited, orchestrated past.
"Quick!"
As Lauren dragged him behind a bush and yanked him to his knees, Truman managed a, "Where are we?" then promptly shut up as a crowd of people ran past, a number of them with large, heavy cameras on their shoulders or in their hands.
Once they were gone, Lauren said, "LA." Then they were running again.
It seemed to Truman that they didn't stop running until they were inside, a door between them and the outside world, and Lauren was pulling him towards a long flight of stairs and up into a small room, crowded with furniture.
Truman looked around. The couch was old, its raggedy back mostly hidden by a crocheted blanket, with a battered, cluttered coffee table between it and the TV. Compared to the open, pristine rooms he was used to, it was ugly, but it felt more real than any room Truman had ever seen.
Lauren turned to him, a smile lighting up her face.
"Lauren... Or is it Sylvia?"
Her smile widened. "Sylvia."
"Sylvia..." He pulled her close again, the memory of their first kiss in his mind. This time, they weren't likely to be interrupted by some man in a car claiming his schizophrenic daughter brought boys here all the time. He stopped suddenly. "You're not married, are you?"
She shook her head, looking, if anything, even happier. "No."
"Thank God." He grinned against her mouth, then kissed her again before lifting her up. He couldn't swing her around without them both crashing into something, but just being able to hold her, lift her against him, so it felt like he'd never let her go, was enough.
It was hours later, after talking and lovemaking, that they were interrupted by a furious banging on the door. Sylvia, half dressed in a baggy sweatshirt, frowned at the door, then scrambled up off the couch as the knocking resumed. Truman sat up, pulling Sylvia's too small, too tight dressing gown up his arms and over his shoulders.
"Truman!"
Sylvia's eyes widened. "It's Christof!"
Truman stared at the door, a feeling of unreality creeping over him. He had escaped - he had. They'd almost killed him trying to stop him.
"Truman, this is real. This isn't part of any show." Despite the thudding on the door, Sylvia's voice was calmer now - there was no trace of hysteria, unlike Meryl's voice when it had all started falling apart.
Taking a breath, Truman nodded. This was real. Sylvia wasn't Meryl; there was no calculating look in her eyes when she gazed at him, no hint of underlying emotions that would never be expressed. Which meant Christof - the architect of the deceit that had surrounded Truman all his life - was outside the door and demanding to come in. "Open the door." This was Day One of the rest of his life, and Truman was going to start by slaying (metaphorically, anyway) the monster he'd discovered under the bed.
Sylvia stared at him, then opened the door.
The man outside had his hand still raised, as if in mid-knock, and Truman looked at him, assessed the one who'd controlled and manipulated him for far longer than Truman could remember. He was, frankly, a disappointment. He was an ordinary looking man, with round glasses and a ridiculous beret on his head. Truman could far more easily believe him to be some Hollywood poser than the monster of Truman's life.
"Truman!" He swept in, a worried-looking Asian woman on his heels. "You have to come back. This is completely ridiculous."
Well, Truman recognised the voice.
"We could create a part for Sylvia - the viewers would love to see Lauren return - she could play your new wife on the show."
Truman wouldn't have been tempted, even if he hadn't noticed the look of disdain Christof had thrown at her.
Christof smiled, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Though we'll have to update your wardrobe."
Looking down at himself, Truman realised he was still wearing Sylvia's robe. He also realised he didn't care; his privacy had been violated so much there was nothing left. Raising his head, he looked Christof in the eye. "Nah, I don't think so."
"You can hardly appear on TV like that!"
"I won't be appearing on TV like anything. It's over."
Truman realised Christof was smiling at him fondly, as though he was a recalcitrant child who had no idea what was good for him. "It can't be over, Truman. This is your whole life."
"No. This is the rest of my life, and you have no part in it. Get out."
The smile widened, the feeling of being infantilised grew. "You can't throw me out, Truman."
Truman smiled. "Yes, I can. Sylvia, call the police."
Christof's smile vanished as Sylvia picked up the phone, and the Asian woman looked even more worried as she tugged at his arm. "We should leave."
"I'm not leaving!" Christof yanked his arm free. "Truman, you're being ridiculous!"
"No...no, I'm not. I'm free. I'm over twenty one, you don't own me, and I can do and go wherever I please."
"Why would you want to go anywhere?" Christof smiled again, though it looked like it took him some effort. "In my world, you have nothing to fear."
Truman heard the snort Sylvia gave even as he retorted, "Apart from attempted murder."
There was silence as Christof's jaw dropped.
Nodding, Truman said, "You controlled the weather. Or are you saying the storm I almost died in was just a coincidence?"
At least the fond look had disappeared from Christof's face. "I - I thought you'd turn back! You're not a sailor!"
"You knew I'd drown. There were no other boats nearby. You tried to kill me!"
"I had to stop you! If you'd stayed in Seahaven like you were supposed to, you never would have been at sea!"
"If I'd stayed in prison like I was supposed to, you mean."
"Prison? No one was in prison." Christof's voice had turned soothing again. "You could have left at any time."
"Well, I have left." Truman nodded, a sense of triumph filling him. "I've left and now you need to leave."
"I'm not leaving you, Truman." Christof stepped closer and raised his hand as if to touch him. "We belong together."
Truman knocked the hand away, stared Christof full in the face, and said, "I never have to see you again."
If Truman had punched him, Christof couldn't have looked more shocked.
"I never have to see you again," Truman repeated. "You don't own me, and you can't force me back into Seahaven. Get out."
"What's going on here?"
Truman stepped to one side to see past Christof, to find two police officers standing in the doorway. They blinked at him.
"Aren't you Truman Burbank?" one of them asked, looking rather starstruck.
It felt like a re-run of the nuclear plant, with the officer recognising him, but Truman nodded, pushing the memory away. There was no forest to chase him through this time. "This is where I live now. And they need to leave."
"Sure thing, Truman," the other said, looking as if he'd waited all of his life to say it.
"No!" Christof tried to pull his arm free. "Truman, you're making a mistake! You need to listen to me, not her!"
"Come on, pal, don't make me arrest you."
Between them, they got Christof out through the door, the woman scurrying behind them uttering shocked protests. Truman thought they probably couldn't hear her over Christof's arguments. Once they were out, Truman shut and locked the door.
"He won't stay away," Sylvia said. "You don't know him - he's obsessed."
"Then we'll make him go away." Truman put his arms around her. "I can sue, right? That's still a thing in the real world, isn't it?" She nodded against his shoulder. "You think I can sue him? Sue the studio?"
Her gaze met his, her eyes full of glee. "God, yes."
"Then I'll sue. If we take away all of his money, he'll have to go away."
Sylvia smiled; a hard, tight, triumphant smile that promised destruction for anyone who stood in his way. "They'll probably settle to make you go away."
"Then we'll go." Truman grinned down at her, a feeling of joy filling him now he had a plan. "Do you want to go to Fiji? You know there are still islands there where no human being has ever set foot?"
"Yes. Let's go to Fiji."
Truman tightened his arms around her. He had a plan and he had Sylvia. Nothing was going to stop him now.
End.
7th May 2016.
Author: Dimity Blue
Rating: G
Genre: epilogue, slight het
Characters: Truman, Sylvia (Lauren), Christof
Word Count: 1737 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Truman, after the cameras stop rolling for good on The Truman Show
Day 1 - Truman
by Dimity Blue
Truman didn't know exactly what to expect when he stepped through that doorway, but he finally felt like an explorer. Unknown worlds were waiting for him. Unknown worlds and - he hoped - Lauren. Or Sylvia. It had been so long since he'd seen her. Had she thought of him? Had she dreamed of him as he'd dreamed of her?
Truman was under no illusions as to how ordinary he was, for all that a world - a show - had been built around him. It was hardly likely that Lauren (or Sylvia) was still thinking of him. She was probably married, maybe with children, but Truman had to find her, to see, if only so he could spend the rest of his life missing her.
The dark doorway led to a dimly lit flight of stairs that led to another door marked 'exit'. Taking a breath, Truman pushed it open and stepped outside for the first time.
The air seemed gritty, full of tastes and smells that Seahaven had lacked. Truman blinked at the sight of the huge city laid out before him, seemingly unendless. He didn't even know which city it was.
"Truman!"
Truman yanked his gaze away from the endless buildings. Lauren! As she ran to him, he caught her up, kissing her, swinging her around, her laughter ringing in his ears.
"You made it, you did it!"
She sounded almost breathless, and Truman wasted no time in kissing the words away from her mouth. Too soon, she pulled away.
"We have to go. The press will be here soon - there's no way they'd miss a story like this!"
Her hand holding his, tugging him on, he followed her without protest. She knew this world, he didn't. For the first time, Truman felt handicapped, at a huge disadvantage due to his limited, orchestrated past.
"Quick!"
As Lauren dragged him behind a bush and yanked him to his knees, Truman managed a, "Where are we?" then promptly shut up as a crowd of people ran past, a number of them with large, heavy cameras on their shoulders or in their hands.
Once they were gone, Lauren said, "LA." Then they were running again.
It seemed to Truman that they didn't stop running until they were inside, a door between them and the outside world, and Lauren was pulling him towards a long flight of stairs and up into a small room, crowded with furniture.
Truman looked around. The couch was old, its raggedy back mostly hidden by a crocheted blanket, with a battered, cluttered coffee table between it and the TV. Compared to the open, pristine rooms he was used to, it was ugly, but it felt more real than any room Truman had ever seen.
Lauren turned to him, a smile lighting up her face.
"Lauren... Or is it Sylvia?"
Her smile widened. "Sylvia."
"Sylvia..." He pulled her close again, the memory of their first kiss in his mind. This time, they weren't likely to be interrupted by some man in a car claiming his schizophrenic daughter brought boys here all the time. He stopped suddenly. "You're not married, are you?"
She shook her head, looking, if anything, even happier. "No."
"Thank God." He grinned against her mouth, then kissed her again before lifting her up. He couldn't swing her around without them both crashing into something, but just being able to hold her, lift her against him, so it felt like he'd never let her go, was enough.
It was hours later, after talking and lovemaking, that they were interrupted by a furious banging on the door. Sylvia, half dressed in a baggy sweatshirt, frowned at the door, then scrambled up off the couch as the knocking resumed. Truman sat up, pulling Sylvia's too small, too tight dressing gown up his arms and over his shoulders.
"Truman!"
Sylvia's eyes widened. "It's Christof!"
Truman stared at the door, a feeling of unreality creeping over him. He had escaped - he had. They'd almost killed him trying to stop him.
"Truman, this is real. This isn't part of any show." Despite the thudding on the door, Sylvia's voice was calmer now - there was no trace of hysteria, unlike Meryl's voice when it had all started falling apart.
Taking a breath, Truman nodded. This was real. Sylvia wasn't Meryl; there was no calculating look in her eyes when she gazed at him, no hint of underlying emotions that would never be expressed. Which meant Christof - the architect of the deceit that had surrounded Truman all his life - was outside the door and demanding to come in. "Open the door." This was Day One of the rest of his life, and Truman was going to start by slaying (metaphorically, anyway) the monster he'd discovered under the bed.
Sylvia stared at him, then opened the door.
The man outside had his hand still raised, as if in mid-knock, and Truman looked at him, assessed the one who'd controlled and manipulated him for far longer than Truman could remember. He was, frankly, a disappointment. He was an ordinary looking man, with round glasses and a ridiculous beret on his head. Truman could far more easily believe him to be some Hollywood poser than the monster of Truman's life.
"Truman!" He swept in, a worried-looking Asian woman on his heels. "You have to come back. This is completely ridiculous."
Well, Truman recognised the voice.
"We could create a part for Sylvia - the viewers would love to see Lauren return - she could play your new wife on the show."
Truman wouldn't have been tempted, even if he hadn't noticed the look of disdain Christof had thrown at her.
Christof smiled, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Though we'll have to update your wardrobe."
Looking down at himself, Truman realised he was still wearing Sylvia's robe. He also realised he didn't care; his privacy had been violated so much there was nothing left. Raising his head, he looked Christof in the eye. "Nah, I don't think so."
"You can hardly appear on TV like that!"
"I won't be appearing on TV like anything. It's over."
Truman realised Christof was smiling at him fondly, as though he was a recalcitrant child who had no idea what was good for him. "It can't be over, Truman. This is your whole life."
"No. This is the rest of my life, and you have no part in it. Get out."
The smile widened, the feeling of being infantilised grew. "You can't throw me out, Truman."
Truman smiled. "Yes, I can. Sylvia, call the police."
Christof's smile vanished as Sylvia picked up the phone, and the Asian woman looked even more worried as she tugged at his arm. "We should leave."
"I'm not leaving!" Christof yanked his arm free. "Truman, you're being ridiculous!"
"No...no, I'm not. I'm free. I'm over twenty one, you don't own me, and I can do and go wherever I please."
"Why would you want to go anywhere?" Christof smiled again, though it looked like it took him some effort. "In my world, you have nothing to fear."
Truman heard the snort Sylvia gave even as he retorted, "Apart from attempted murder."
There was silence as Christof's jaw dropped.
Nodding, Truman said, "You controlled the weather. Or are you saying the storm I almost died in was just a coincidence?"
At least the fond look had disappeared from Christof's face. "I - I thought you'd turn back! You're not a sailor!"
"You knew I'd drown. There were no other boats nearby. You tried to kill me!"
"I had to stop you! If you'd stayed in Seahaven like you were supposed to, you never would have been at sea!"
"If I'd stayed in prison like I was supposed to, you mean."
"Prison? No one was in prison." Christof's voice had turned soothing again. "You could have left at any time."
"Well, I have left." Truman nodded, a sense of triumph filling him. "I've left and now you need to leave."
"I'm not leaving you, Truman." Christof stepped closer and raised his hand as if to touch him. "We belong together."
Truman knocked the hand away, stared Christof full in the face, and said, "I never have to see you again."
If Truman had punched him, Christof couldn't have looked more shocked.
"I never have to see you again," Truman repeated. "You don't own me, and you can't force me back into Seahaven. Get out."
"What's going on here?"
Truman stepped to one side to see past Christof, to find two police officers standing in the doorway. They blinked at him.
"Aren't you Truman Burbank?" one of them asked, looking rather starstruck.
It felt like a re-run of the nuclear plant, with the officer recognising him, but Truman nodded, pushing the memory away. There was no forest to chase him through this time. "This is where I live now. And they need to leave."
"Sure thing, Truman," the other said, looking as if he'd waited all of his life to say it.
"No!" Christof tried to pull his arm free. "Truman, you're making a mistake! You need to listen to me, not her!"
"Come on, pal, don't make me arrest you."
Between them, they got Christof out through the door, the woman scurrying behind them uttering shocked protests. Truman thought they probably couldn't hear her over Christof's arguments. Once they were out, Truman shut and locked the door.
"He won't stay away," Sylvia said. "You don't know him - he's obsessed."
"Then we'll make him go away." Truman put his arms around her. "I can sue, right? That's still a thing in the real world, isn't it?" She nodded against his shoulder. "You think I can sue him? Sue the studio?"
Her gaze met his, her eyes full of glee. "God, yes."
"Then I'll sue. If we take away all of his money, he'll have to go away."
Sylvia smiled; a hard, tight, triumphant smile that promised destruction for anyone who stood in his way. "They'll probably settle to make you go away."
"Then we'll go." Truman grinned down at her, a feeling of joy filling him now he had a plan. "Do you want to go to Fiji? You know there are still islands there where no human being has ever set foot?"
"Yes. Let's go to Fiji."
Truman tightened his arms around her. He had a plan and he had Sylvia. Nothing was going to stop him now.
End.
7th May 2016.