peterjackson

When Dave took the call from Pete, Paris was more than ready for it. Ever since Dave had told him about Jedâs shift, heâd thrown himself into work with an enthusiasm that had even surprised Ryssa, to keep his mind occupied and keep from dwelling on the problem.

He and Dave had driven to Peteâs in silence, and as they walked up to the door, Paris squeezed Daveâs hand and smiled at him as reassuringly as he could. Heâd contacted ThÃ©o and told him about the meeting, asked him to make himself available, and heâd felt the unspoken âit is about timeâ as ThÃ©o agreed to it. It took a moment for their knock to be answered and then Pete was there, ushering them into the house which was filled with the warm smell of something tasty cooking. Paris couldnât help the first words out of his mouth, despite the gravity of the situation and the fact heâd only met the director once before since Rings. âSomething smells good.â

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"Barley and carrot soup! and another pot of beef and noodle for the carnivores. There's bowls on the counter in the kitchen, help yourself if you like."

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Oh god, Pete's made soup. The last thing Dave wanted was to eat anything. His stomach was in knots, his nerves were on edge. He'd asked Pete to do this, but now that everyone was gathering in, Dave wanted to be anywhere but here.

But he nodded and smiled, and managed to let go of Paris's hand long enough to shake Pete's. "Hey. Got a beer around here? The soup smells great, but I need something stronger today."

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"Beer's in the theatre fridge, you know where that is. There's hard stuff at the bar in there, too. Get whatever you like, and settle in."

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Dave grabbed a beer and rolled the bottle between his hands. "I'll just be over there, with Paris, avoiding your lawnmower. You do realize you have a bloody lawnmower in this room, don't you, Pete?" Dave shook his head woefully. "Of course you do."

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Pete was pacing, eyeing the front window for signs of cars pulling up outside. Actors. A brainstorming session to try to figure out how to deal with a threat against Wellington, hell, not just Wellington, the whole damn world was at stake. And his war council consisted of actors. Not that there was much choice in it, though. "There's drinks in the theatre, too. I figured we could all gather in there, it's a big enough room and there's plenty of space for pacing and plotting."

It didn't occur to Pete that the theatre was also stuffed with all sorts of horrors from his lifetime of moviemaking. He'd grown so used to the various props, he barely saw them anymore.

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"Okay." Paris followed the smell of soup into the kitchen and helped himself to a small bowlful and grabbed a spoon. There wasn't much that could kill his appetite, not even the prospect of a Ringwraith in town, apparently. He followed Dave through into the theatre, his eyes widening at the decor and he sat down in a comfortable chair as Dave fixed himself a drink.

Paris sipped on the soup. It was tasty and warm and somehow comforting. As Pete's pacing brought him into the theatre, Paris thanked him for it. "It's good, thanks."

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"You're welcome! It's an old family recipe that I just made up this morning." Pete picked up a giant latex bug salvaged from filming King Kong and turned it over and over in his hands. "At least you're a practical guy, Paris, you build things for a living, and that takes some brains. Acting was just a lark for you. Not that actors are stupid, but..." Pete realized he was digging himself quite a hole - Paris was involved with one of those actors, after all! "Anyway, I'm really hoping you might have a bright idea or two about how to deal with this situation." Pete looked at Paris hopefully.

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Paris listened to to Pete ramble as he continued devouring the soup, stopping with the spoon halfway to his lips when Pete looked at him hopefully. Ideas? "Well, er ... " Short of keeping poor Jed locked in a very secure place for the rest of his life, and everyone taking turns to keep him company, which was not an option, Paris didn't have any firm ideas, just vague ones he wasn't sure about sharing yet, although he didn't really want to put his trust in the tea holding the ringwraith at bay on a long term basis.

"I'm sure we can come up with a solution with everyone here to brainstorm ideas." He said with a kind of reassuring smile. Pete nodded, obviously not reassured in the least and wandered off to stir soup as Paris put down his bowl and snuggled closer to Dave.

His mild curiosity when he heard the knock on the door as to who was arriving next turned to out and out shock as Craig, Dave's ex who lived on the other side of the world, walked into the theatre.

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Not entirely sure what to expect, Craig wasted as much time as he could with whatever he could find around the house before he even thought about going. He turned on the heat, some lights, walked around making sure at least the rest of the place was in order. Avoided the bedroom and got things set up for sleeping on the couch, and then made sure three times that all the locks were locked before getting the puppy into the car and heading over.

Under his breath as he looked at the puppy who was trying not-so-subtlety to get into the front passenger seat, "Maybe I should call you Backup, think that's a good name?" It quirked its head, then yodeled happily. Craig couldn't help grinning and scruffing the pup's head, "Nope. Wouldn't suit you I think."

Getting to Pete's was quicker than expected, he regretted leaving the puppy in the car but couldn't remember if Pete liked the things or not. He knocked on the door.

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Pete dropped the lid back on a pot of simmering chili-beef tomato soup and trotted to the door, mentally tallying up everyone who'd already arrived. He was still expecting Viggo and Orlando, and Sean and Karl, who else? He was still mulling over names as he pulled open the door.... and then stood there, gaping.

Well. He hadn't expected him, but he was sure glad to see Craig. "Well, tie me up and call me Shirley, if it isn't the guy that sends makeup artists screaming. Craig. You're back in town? Um.... you didn't just drop by randomly I hope? I don't mean to sound rude, but if you don't know what's going on I need to haul you into the kitchen, stuff you with soup and give you the quick and dirty catch up talk." Pete abruptly stepped back to allow room at the door, suddenly realizing he'd been standing there blocking poor Craig's entrance during that entire blather.

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"Well, I figured something might be amiss when I noticed I have a new pond out back." He entered as Pete let him in, then paused, "Hey, it okay if I let-- errr... I have a dog, er, puppy in the car, mind if she runs around your backyard? Really didn't want to leave her by herself there." He spoke quietly, not wanting to get the attention of anyone else in the house yet, jitters? Of course not. Right.

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"A puppy??? Well, good god, man, bring the beastie in! I'm sure we've got treats in the kitchen - there's soup bones just waiting for someone to try to gnaw on them, let's give the critter a chance!" Pete pushed Craig right back out the door and stood on the doorstep adamantly waiting for the man to return with something dog-shaped. Which he soon did.

"Oh, by the way, Dave's in the theatre. Down the hall, door to your left, it'll take you in." Pete managed to drop the cavalier attitude for a minute, and stepped closer to Craig. "There's been a lot of changes in relationships since you were here last, Craig. You'll notice Fran's not around the house, and I'll let you deduce what you will from that non-cryptic statement. Dave's in the theatre, right now... and Paris is there, too." Pete sighed. It was hard enough dealing with his career, his personal life, and all these other personal relationships, too. "They're really happy, Craig. Remember that. And one other thing.... Dave has never, ever said anything bad about you, not since you've left, not ever. Never an unkind word that I've learned of. Just something to remember when you walk in there, eh?"

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He couldn't look Pete in the eyes, just listened as he set the puppy down on the floor, "It was my fault PJ. I left for a reason, I've nothing against him being happy. But I can understand it if I don't have the best of lights shining on me."

He eyed him a bit, "What's this about relationships? We haven't all gone gay like a bad slash epic novelette have we while I was gone? Viggo hasn't married Orlando on a yacht somewhere or anything and you're definitely not sharing your place with Sean Astin?"

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Pete snorted. "Right. Astin. Just what I need to re-gain my hobbity reputation! I'll have you know that I'm as straight as the pretend ruler I'm holding poised to smack your knuckles with. Er, I'm divorced now, but still managing a bit of romance in my life and that's all you're going to hear about it, at least for now." Pete smiled as the image of Ryssa's face flickered through his mind.

"As for Viggo and Orlando.... well, it wasn't on a yacht, at least." The puppy was padding about, sniffing at everything. "Why don't you go join the gang in the theatre and I'll let your puppy out into the back yard? It's fenced, and I promise there's no wargs out there." There hadn't been a warg spotted in the yard for a few years at least. Though, there were worse things in town these days.

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Craig snorted, "The Scooby Gang? We do seem to do a lot of fighting evil..."

He headed over to the indoor theatre, skipping the soup since he wasn't quite sure yet whether he'd be able to keep it down.

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Dave had been industriously trying to disappear into his seat until some sort of brainstorm idea might appear to him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew there was something he'd neglected to tell Paris.

Apparently it was time to mention that small oversight... right now.

"Paris? Um, love... Craig called earlier. He was freaking out over the state of his house, not that I blame him, I mean, you've seen the back yard, and he's got to be upset about the roof, and the windows, and well... everything. I should have said something to you right off, but I managed to head down a weird logic path and I suppose I forgot to actually speak aloud. I'm sorry... oh, by the way, that's Craig walking in just now. He's left England and is back in Wellington. Should we get up and say hello?"

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Paris stared at his lover for a long moment, doubled whammied that not only was Craig back, and here, but that Dave had known about it and had kinda forgotten to tell him. Ringwraiths and ex's. Paris sincerely hoped that Auntie Eileen's favourite theory of things coming in threes really wasn't true. Surely those two were enough to deal with tonight? Right?

Paris dug Dave in the ribs. "You knew he was back?" He sighed, his touch gentling, knowing that the situation with Jed had been preying on Dave's mind, and knowing he wouldn't have neglected to tell him about Craig deliberately and ran a comforting hand round the back of Dave's neck to pull him close for a soft kiss. Paris wasn't really sure if it was just a comfort kiss or if there was a small element of staking a claim involved in it. He pulled back and looked into the sheepish blue eyes. "Yeah, we should go say hi."

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Dave mentally thanked Paris for probably the hundredth time for being such a mellow, understanding guy, as he pulled the man to his feet. "Well, then, here we go."

There was something so very warm and familiar about seeing Craig again. And yet not - his eyes weren't the same, and it took Dave a few minutes to realize why. Craig had been elsewhere, both in mind and body, for a few years now. His new life experiences had been out of Dave's view. The eyes Dave remembered had shared his life, made memories alongside his own. These eyes had moved on.

"Hello, Craig." Dave hesitated, feeling stupid simply offering a handshake. But, well, damn it all anyway. He pulled Craig close for a tight, brief hug before stepping back, face flushed. "You remember Paris? Paris, say hi to Craig, newly returned from living with a herd of sheep in England."

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He had a vivid flashback to the time they had made the scene of Aragorn greeting Haldir at Helms Deep, the surprise and hesitation he had distinctively felt when getting into that mindset of the elf. He smiled a little, but tried not to make it too... well he wasn't sure what exactly. He wondered when that feeling of awkwardness would go away, and hoped it would involve whenever Pete came back to the room. It was obvious Dave was well, he was happy, life was being good to him. He supposed as long as that was the way it was he should be happy, and maybe even content himself with the thought of eating out tomorrow night.

"Well I didn't live with them really but you'd be surprised how far a big sheep stink can carry by wind. Blech." He could feel his heart beating nervously as he paused, shaking the hand of Paris, "I'm glad you found each other. I would never want to see Dave alone." Cracking an attempt at a smile, "Should I be warned about the soup Pete's made?"

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Paris noticed the hesitation, and knew it had to be hard for both Dave and Craig, meeting again after so long. He remembered what it had felt like to see his own ex and understood how awkward it could be. Didn't stop a small territorial feeling creeping in to see Dave hugging someone he'd once been close to, though, but Paris squashed it down as far as he could and took Craig's offered hand, shaking it firmly.

"Thanks." Paris smiled back, and took Craig's offered escape from the possibility of uncomfortable talk about the situation they were in to easier topics, like food. "Soup's not bad at all, though I can only vouch for the veggie one. Very tasty."

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Dave was relieved to see that first step taken by both men, and apparently it had gone well. "Paris is a vegetarian, Craig. And I'm still the most adamant carnivore in all of Wellie. But even I'll admit it, if Paris says something's good, you can believe him."

Dave nodded, shuffling his feet a bit. Quite the awkward moment, standing here with his ex-lover, and his current partner. "This gathering's not exactly a social event, but I'm working on the theory that a bit of booze will help us all talk more freely. Craig, can I get you a glass of wine? Red, I know. I remember it well."

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Craig nodded, trying very hard to look serious, "I would appreciate being liqoured up very much," He continued while Dave went to get the wine, "Haven't eaten meat in a while myself, been discovering some delicious vegetarian recipes the past couple years. Was hard though in Cumbria, everyone thinks potatoes are vegetables."

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Paris laughed easily at Craig's gentle humour. First impressions had always counted a lot with him, and Craig seemed like a pleasant enough guy, but then he should have taken that as read given that Dave had been with him for so long.

"Ah, recipes." He grinned, food being one of his passions. "Anytime you care to share, you're welcome to use our kitchen." And knowing what state Craig's house was in, Paris wanted him to know that it wasn't an idle offer. "I mean it. It can't have been easy to come back and find the place like that."

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The long plane ride back had been tense, because Karl couldn't bring himself to make lewd jokes as he usually did to take Sean's mind off flying. Instead, it had been Sean who'd soothed him this time, allowing Karl to cling to him like a child. They had been somewhere over the Indian Ocean when Karl cautiously tapped against the door in his mind that led to Middle Earth. He felt incredibly guilty about telling Ãomer what the problem was, because he was reluctant to involve his shift in any more battles on behalf of his screwed up world. But he'd promised ThÃ©odred, which should teach him not to make promises.

When they showed up at Pete's, Karl was jet-lagged and cranky, having been home less than a day by the time they'd been told to show up at the meeting. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to recall the things that had happened in Otago, but they needed to know what they were up against. But he'd rather just go to bed with Sean and not come for air for the next month.

"Afternoon, Pete." Karl just barely managed to keep the surliness out of his voice. He knew that none of this was really Pete's fault but he wasn't in the mood to be mature about it.

"Could use a beer, mate."

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Oh, good. Karl's grumpy. It was starting to feel like the old days now, back when every early morning was a challenge to drag sleepy, sometimes hungover actors out of bed and into makeup for another endless day's work as they toiled to bring fictional characters to life with all the movie-magic Pete could muster. "Hey, there's a thought. Oh, sorry Karl, just thinking out loud. There's enough beer in the theatre to float us all to the Grey Havens. Some of the others have already arrived so you might as well head on in." Karl hadn't arrived alone, and Pete turned to greet another friend. "Hey, Sean, good to see you again."

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Had to happen, sooner or later, and itâs as Sean stepped over the threshold of Peteâs house that it hit him . . . theyâre here to sort out what to do with a bloody Ringwraith. The thought was nearly too mad to get his head around, though the reality of having had a bloke from another world pop in and take over his body from time to time had gone some way into making Sean more adaptable to the madness of life in Zid.

He frowned, focus returning to his lover where it had been constantly over the last forty-eight hours or so, since Pete called them. The flight back from Italy had seemed to drag out for ages, and itâs difficult to believe that two days ago they were sightseeing the sun-soaked villages and hills of Tuscany. Neither of them has had a chance to rest properly, and he suspected it showed.

Sean ran his hand up Karlâs back in a familiar, almost unconscious gesture, and summoned up a grin for Pete, catching a hint of a rather pleasing aroma. âChrist, mate, donât tell me youâve cooked. Think Iâll go ahead and have a beer now, too, if you can spare one.â

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"Yes. I cooked. Apparently my soup's driving everyone to drink. Well, except my new best friend Paris, who thinks my cooking's tasty. Beer and compadres are in the theatre. I think we're almost all here now. And I hope you two don't mind my saying, but you really look like an actual cat dragged you in here. You both all right?"

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âRight, thanks for reminding me,â Sean offered with a smirk, his eyes glancing over Karl as they followed Pete deeper into the house. âWas on holiday when you called, Tuscany, busy traipsing about wineries and the odd castle. Jumped the first flight we could manage, think weâre both still a bit knackered, though.â

His arm remained snug about Karl as a beer is pressed into his hand. âWeâre all right. Just tired, and still a bit . . . â freaked, Sean thought, but instead said, âsurprised, about all this.â

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"Yeah... look, I'm really sorry to have snagged you two away for a nice holiday, I had no idea. I mean, I had some idea, I'd heard you two were a pair now, just didn't know you'd been off on a holiday." Pete sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. When would have been a good time, though? Any date he could have picked, no matter when it might be, he was certain he'd be catching someone in the middle of plans. After all, this lot was constantly traveling for filming and pleasure breaks. Even when they were home, there were scripts to read, events to attend... it never ended, Pete knew that as well as anyone else. Still, he was chagrined to have interrupted a pleasant getaway for Sean and Karl.

"I think we're waiting on Viggo and Orli now, but everyone else I could get a hold of is in the theatre. Why don't you go on and settle in, we can get the brainstorming going quite soon, I'm sure."

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Sean's arm tightened around his waist, and Karl thought that maybe his lover hadn't let him go since they got the phone call. He was relieved that Sean was so stubborn, because it felt good to finally have someone to fight these battles with him. Sean's fingers traced a pattern on his back and Karl felt some of the tension leave him.

"Where's Hugo?" Karl hadn't quite forgiven the man for sending him out against Morgoth's minions with nothing but Ãomer's sword and two old men. It was beside the point that one of the old men had morphed into the most powerful wizard in Middle Earth, but Hugo hadn't known that at the time. The point was, that Hugo had thrown him into the fight with scarcely any backup. "And Ian?"

They really needed people whose shifts had some real power, not a bunch of battle hungry Rohirrim.

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Pete tried to remember the last time he'd seen Hugo. He'd tried to call a few times, and either ended up talking with Depp, of all people, or a Hugo that had way too many drinks ingested to make much sense.

"I wish I knew, mate. He's a loose cannon, but somehow he always managed to make some sense out of things. Haven't seen him or his pirate in quite a long time now. I hope he hasn't been....? You know, attacked?" Pete shuddered. No, somehow they'd know if the wraith had gotten to him. Wouldn't they?

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Stepping into the theatre and snagging a beer, Karl turned to see who else was there. Daisy and Paris.

Karl was shocked at who he saw standing with Dave and Paris. He hadn't see Craig in . . . he couldn't remember how long. He had left and then Craig had left by the time Karl had returned to Zid for good.

"Craig! Good to see you, mate!"

He'd known Craig longer than he had almost everyone else here, they went back as far as Shortland Street and Xena. It was good to see him again, although Karl wished it had been under different circumstances.

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After talking with Paris and Dave was still getting the wine, Craig was surprised by the large hand on his shoulder and turned to find Karl there, he grinned a bit and poked him in the ribs, "Good to see you too, Karl. Well, good to see you're still around in all this, you look good mate."

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Sean nodded at Craig and smiled in greeting, not able to recall the last time heâd last seen the other man. Since theyâd been together Karl had mentioned Craig, their time together on different jobs, like Xena. He was glad the two friends had a chance to see one another, despite the circumstances.

Seanâs arm remained about Karlâs waist and he wondered briefly if Craig knew Karl and he was together. He grinned aside at Karl, in whole hearted agreement with Craigâs last statement before he turned back.

âBeen a hell of a while, Craig. Good to see you, mate.â Sean wished suddenly this meeting was about a bunch of mates taking the piss instead of the reality.

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"Afternoon." He nodded to Dave and Paris, not going to say it was good to see them. It wasn't, not under these circumstances. He handed a beer to Sean, and pulled his lover to a seat, wanting contact.

So Dave wouldn't be patching him up this time; he'd be in it too. He narrowed his eyes at Dave, suddenly remembering that Faramir had been on the South Island with the rest of the crew. How could the Gondorian not recognize a Wraith?

Who the fuck knows? Maybe this Faramir hadn't run across them yet. Karl was certain that he wasn't going to dig through his copies of Tolkien for time lines again.

But his friends . . . it made his gut clench in terror to think that they were in danger. They'd probably take the suggestion that they get the hell out of Wellie just as well as Sean had.

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The last time Dave had seen Karl was at the new house he'd bought with Sean. It was a very happy occasion, with memories of good food, friendly snarking and warm companionship.

The expression on Karl's face made Dave feel like that evening was a hundred years ago. "Afternoon, Karl." He raised his beer at the man in the next seat. "Sean."

Among good friends, a long silence can be very comfortable. Unfortunately, the awkward silence that followed their greetings proved that's not always the case, though. Eventually Dave couldn't take it any more, and blurted out suddenly, "So, either of you have any ideas? Come on, Karl... you carried that bowl back, and then Ãomer fought a Balrog, and... he could take a wraith if he was prepared in advance for it, couldn't he?"

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"Hi Karl, Sean." Paris greeted his friends, wishing that meeting up with them again could have been under happier circumstances, like the last time the four of them had been together.

His hand strayed to Dave's waist, but faltered as ThÃ©o bristled enough at Dave's suggestion to send goosebumps shivering down Paris' spine. A suggestion Paris knew, well, hoped, Dave didn't seriously mean, and didn't think Karl would take too kindly to either. He pulled Dave closer and tried to be optimistic.

"I'm sure if we all talk this through, we can come up with some way of dealing with it." And maybe some way could be found that wouldn't put any of them in danger, but if he was honest with himself, he doubted it.

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Karl stared at Dave. "You're not fucking serious! You're the one who bloody well changed the dressings on the result of Ãomer tangling with a Balrog. Besides, according to him, Gandalf killed it, Ãomer was just bait."

Karl wished again that they had someone here with power. Their shifts were warriors but that had never sufficed against the Wraiths. And if Ãomer were to fail . . . Karl didn't doubt that it was him who would die, not blondie.

He glared at Paris, unable to return the greeting, not when Paris's lover was being such an ass.

The idea of taking arms against a Wraith was ludicrous. But . . . they didn't know what he did. Probably not even Faramir, cause he'd blown the incident off and never mentioned it. Not even to Sean until Pete's phone call.

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