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2017-03-19
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2020-07-22
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10/10
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When your feet don't touch the ground

Summary:

Roger Debris never once felt out of place. But somehow lately something is missing. And he can't explain it to himself. But then, he helps a seemingly homeless boy in the streets and everything changes. Roger/Carmen ; The Producers (c) Mel Brooks

Notes:

A/N: While working on "True To Your Heart" I felt the whole Roger/Carmen part was getting way too complex to explain it in that one story, so I decided to cut that one part out of it and do a single story about it. It won't be as long, but I thought it was a nice little tale (Plus I really liked my idea of how the two of them met actually) :)

So, hope you'll enjoy. First time I've written something that doesn't include Max and Leo. Don't worry though, I will return to them again :) I just needed to do this.

The title was inspired by the "Finding Neverland" Cast Album I was hearing while writing this down.

Let me know what you think...

Chapter 1: Something's coming

Chapter Text

He watched the morning sun arising at the edge of the endless city as he opened the windows and took a deep breath of the air softly blowing in and carrying along the morning hustle from outside.

A perfect day. He felt it. Whenever a day started like that he knew it was going to be just great. Something to lighten up the boredom he was situated in lately. There was the smell of awesomeness in the air somehow as Roger looked down the skyline of the city. People were rushing by and the yellow cabs were passing the house every once in a while. He inhaled deeply. Something was gonna happen. It was there. He could sense it. And the pure thought of it made him smile from one ear to the other.

Then he carefully closed the windows again and prepared for whatever might cross his way today. He was ready.

Little did he know that this day would change his life forever.

Slowly he made his way downstairs for the usual morning routine. A nice cup of tea, the smell of fresh brioche coming from the kitchen and a random chat with his roommates. It was exactly what he loved; the very way it had been for years and he could hardly imagine something else could change that fact.

So, as Roger walked down the long light corridors of the huge townhouse he wondered what to do afterwards. Sure, he had become quite popular as a director and he couldn't complain about work at all. On the contrary, it was what he loved and the theater was a place were dreams came true. Nowhere else was he able to materialize more. But at the moment there was nothing to do. A new play was set next month and he had been convinced to take it as a chance to regenerate a bit. Some sort of vacation if you like. But if he was honest, it started to bore him. He'd been out a lot lately together with Brian and Scott and the others, but somehow that little creative spark was missing.

"You need to let go a little," Kevin told him, when he saw Roger's face as he sat down in the marble kitchen. "Having some time for yourself ain't that bad."

"I am not holding on to work," Roger jeered.

"Then why the long face?" he grinned.

"He's depressed," Shirley said.

"He is bored," Brian cheered over her shoulder. "That's all. Routine is something he hates."

"I am not," Roger grabbed the newspaper which lay nearby and tried to avoid their eyes as good as possible.

"Then why don't you join us tonight?" Kevin asked again. "We'll be out partying a bit. Checking out the cuties the city has to offer."

"Nah, I guess you should go alone," Roger simply replied.

He'd been out too many times in the last time and it started to bore him immensely. But there was no way he could admit it; more out of fear to insult any of them. After all they only meant well.

He was sure something must follow, but his roommates remained silent. And that silence lasted seemingly forever. After a while he even felt watched and slowly lowered his papers again, raising one eyebrow. All four of them stood around him with folded arms, watching him closely. Roger's head turned slowly from one to the other and back.

"Alright," he said after a moment and carefully folded his papers again, putting them away. "What is it?"

"We're kinda worrying about you," Brian answered sincerely, whereas the others just nodded.

"No need to worry...I," Roger started, but was interrupted quickly.

"You need to get out of this," Scott said. "You need to let go. Whatever this phase is or may become it's not good. What you really need is something else than work."

"And that's what?" Roger asked amused. "Strolling from one Pub to the next with you to find the same people each time? To look into the same old faces? The same conversations and the same useless attempts to get hooked?"

"See? I told you he was bored," Kevin grinned at Shirley, who started to giggle slightly.

"You need someone who changes that same old world for you," she turned her head to the older man then.

"I am perfectly happy the way it is. Thank you!" Roger answered.

"Who are you trying to fool?" Scott leaned over to him and smiled. "Heaven's Rog! The last time you've had something close to a real relationship was when that old drag lived here for two weeks. You can't really call that 'perfectly happy' in any way."

"I'm fine, believe me," Roger said and got up. "Would you please stop that now?"

"Are you getting angry?" Shirley smiled mischievously. "Tells me we're on the right track."

"Enough already," Roger went to the door, taking large steps.

He'd already touched the doorknob when he heard Kevin's voice behind him again.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Roger please, we didn't mean to insult you or anything."

"I know," Roger shouted back, raising his hand. But only seconds later he noticed this might have been a little much. So he turned slightly and looked from one to the other. They were shocked, he could tell. And after all they only meant to help.

Roger sighed.

"I am not angry," he said a lot softer now and even forced himself into a slight smile. "I just... I really don't need any more parties or matchmaking's right now. I'm sorry. I just need a little time for myself. That's all."

His four roommates nodded shortly. His signal to leave. He turned again and closed the door carefully behind himself.

He couldn't explain himself why he acted like that. He'd always enjoyed being around people, but lately it felt like being the same every day. He was certain this would change again. And he was determined they were wrong. He didn't need anyone right now. All he needed was something to do with his unexpected time. Something fresh. Something new.

Carefully, he put on his coat and then stepped outside the huge front door to face the world; for once alone. He breathed in the warm morning air and closed his eyes for a moment to listen to the familiar sounds of the noisy city. Usually he wouldn't walk around. He never did really, but he felt this was exactly what he needed right now to get his head clean again.

….

His road led him along the endless narrow streets and past the million people always rushing by. He didn't know any of them, nor did he really care. Yet it was kind of fun to imagine why they were out there and where they were heading to this morning. Roger remembered having played that game a lot when he was a child and somehow it crossed his mind again. And suddenly that old smile was back in his face. The streets had something magical about them. It was almost as though he was entering a new world, even though he knew most of it his whole life. But that was exactly what he loved about New York that much. Everything constantly changed and yet stayed exactly the way it had always been.

He looked up to the sky. The sun was reflecting in the windows of some skyscrapers in the distance and sparkled almost like little stars during the young day.

And once more he had to laugh. They were wrong. How on earth was he supposed to do something like that; to enjoy his own little discoveries when there was someone by his side? Relationships were distracting people from what really mattered. He'd learned that a long time ago. And even though sharing the nights with someone special from time to time was something he'd never give up, he could hardly imagine having some millstone around his neck all the time. No, it was perfectly alright the way it was. He even felt the tension which had been there only half an hour before vanish and his old cheery self was slowly finding his way back.

Roger stretched once and continued his way cheerfully. He wondered why he didn't do it more often? Somehow he'd never been the person to walk around a lot but it appeared to be a cure right now.

He listened to the conversations of two women nearby and chuckled. You sure learned a lot about people by just being silent and listen. And they didn't mind in the least. They didn't even notice. Anonymity was just another big advantage out here. People in theater knew him. And people close to the theater recognized him, but only two streets apart from all that dazzle no one knew. And more importantly no one cared. This was New York. The way it has always been.

He kept on walking and enjoying his freedom. Until someone jostled him and made him stumble.

Quickly he turned his head only to find a scared looking gray boy in front of him. He didn't look less surprised than Roger.

"I-I am sorry," he mumbled, but didn't look at him. "Didn't see you. I hope you're alright."

For a moment Roger thought about screaming at him to better open his eyes, but then he noticed the boy stepping back a few inches just as though he was expecting him to go berserk.

"Nothing happened," he replied then and stroked a little dirt off his coat.

"Sorry," the boy repeated and marched on.

Well, hardly marched. He stumbled more; just as though he had troubles walking. Roger noticed in surprise. He was still stroking his coat while watching him when he took an incidental look at his hand letting go of the fine fabric. His eyes widened. Something stuck to his fingers. Was that blood? It wasn't his, he was certain of that. He didn't even fall. So, his head shot in the air again and his eyes were scanning the street.

That boy had been injured. Clearly. He simply must have. This was his blood. Roger almost smacked himself for not noticing it immediately. That was why he walked so strangely.

He looked around. One face after the other passed him and he tried desperately to find that boy in the crowd. He couldn't be far after all. Not in that condition.

And indeed: There he was! Making a turn into yet another alley. He was slow and holding his right arm but somehow still fast enough to escape Roger's sight. So, without further thinking the older man ran after him. Looking back he didn't even know what had hit him that moment. But if he really was injured, he needed help. And he didn't seem to be dangerous. At least not from that first impression Roger had gotten. And even though he probably had ignored him under normal circumstances, Roger was no one not to help.

He reaches the corner of that alley in seemingly no time and within a second his eyes spotted him.

The boy leaned against the wall of a building with his healthy shoulder not only a few feet away from him. His head was bowed though. He seemed exhausted.

"Hey," Roger addressed him as he quickly approached him. "Wait!"

He reached out for him, but as soon as the young man got his words he whirled around fast and backed away. His feet didn't seem to carry him anymore though and he fell to the wall with his back again. His eyes were teared wide open and he looked at Roger scared.

"You get away from me!" he yelled and held his obviously healthy arm in front of himself to prevent Roger to touch him in any way.

"Hey, calm down," Roger said calmly and stopped. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Don't come closer," the boy yelled. "I-I'm warning you!"

"And you're gonna do what?" Roger said calmly. "You're hardly able to walk at all."

This truth seemed to strike the boy too that very moment. His hand slowly sank and the tension in his body seemed to vanish a little. He kept staring at Roger in fear though. It didn't take him long to steady himself on his shaking feet and he stepped back even more, meaning to leave.

"Leave me alone," he said and gave it his best attempt to sound unimpressed by the calm voice of that stranger in front of him.

He turned and took two more steps, when his feet gave in and he sank to him knees, moaning deeply and once more holding his whole body.

Roger rushed by his side and helped him sitting up. He softly leaned him against his arm and tried to hold his head up so the young man could breathe easier.

"Easy there," he said, but didn't get any response. His counterpart had his eyes closed in pain and for the first time Roger noticed how much he shivered. He took a closer look now that he had him that close to himself for once. There were bruises all over him and he wore the swollen marks around his eyes like a trophy. His head was bleeding as was his left arm which hang loosely down his grip. And his chest didn't seem to be okay either. His shirt was also soaked in a red liquid and told Roger he must have had other injuries one couldn't make out at first sight. Probably his rips were broken.

Roger stared at his scratched face in shock. What happened to him? He didn't seem to be that old yet.

"You're injured," he whispered in shock. To his great misfortune the boy opened his eyes again hearing his words and struggled immediately to get out of his grip once more. But he wasn't strong enough and Roger didn't think about letting go of him right now.

"Listen to me," he tried to stay calm. "You need help. These are some serious injuries you got there and you need someone to look at them."

"Let go," the boy said in despair, trying to struggle out of his arms.

"Alright," Roger agreed. "I will. But only if you'll listen to what I wanna suggest to you!"

For once the boy turned his head in his direction and got a little calmer. Roger looked into that pair of brown eyes for the first time. No, there was nothing dangerous about that one. He couldn't explain why he thought about it that moment, but there was something about him that told him he could really trust his instincts right now.

So, the boy nodded once even though Roger could tell immediately he didn't trust him at all. He loosened his grip and it didn't take him more than a blink and that boy rolled over and vanished underneath his fingers. It must have been very painful. He could tell by looking in his face again. Luckily the young man didn't get far. He was tired and exhausted. His whole being told Roger so. He stopped only inches away and leaned his back to a nearby trashcan while he still sat on the cold gray ground. He stretched his head up and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Then, he opened his eyes slightly and looked at the older man from the corner of them.

"What do you want?" he asked defiantly, breathing heavily.

"What happened to you?" Roger asked slowly.

"None of your business," the boy replied, closing his eyes once more as he leaned his back to the trashcan too.

Roger waited a second. But when he was sure nothing was about to follow, he added:

"Alright. You don't wanna talk about it. I understand."

The boy didn't reply. He didn't even move and it looked like he was about to fall asleep from exhaustion any minute. Roger felt his stomach flip seeing it. The situation was about to become dangerous if he really passed out right here. Whatever happened to him, he would find out...later. But now, the first step was to get him away from here.

Roger didn't take his eyes away from that strange boy. A young slender man with short light brown hair. He didn't look like someone living in the streets but yet everything indicated it. He wore a long gray coat and a gray hooded shirt with dark jeans. Homeless people usually didn't wear that kind of stuff. But somehow he looked like having spent some time out here; let alone these horrific injuries all over his body that kept on bleeding.

Roger looked around to the streets once more and then focused on the boy once more. He was getting nervous somehow. And he noticed his hands getting sweaty as well. Rubbing over his face once, he thought: "I must be out of my mind doing this."

"Listen, I can help you," he started silently.

"How so?" the boy replied with his eyes closed still.

"You could come with me," Roger said, not believing his own words. "I will have someone look at your injuries. You could recover and warm up."

The boy jeered slightly.

"Don't be silly," he answered, looking at Roger again weakly. "I don't even know you. Why should I do that?"

"So what's your suggestion then?" he asked. "I'll leave you here and let you die?"

"None of your concern what happens to me," the boy replied.

"Oh no, you're wrong," Roger said, causing the boy to open his eyes a little more. "Now I know you. At least a little. It is my concern now. And I won't leave you out here all alone looking like that."

And even though he was weak and his breath was heavy and looked as though it tortured him enormously just to inhale again, he knew the boy listened now.

"I promise I'm not gonna hurt you," Roger continued. "You can leave as soon as you feel better. But please, don't let me beg. I promise I will follow you until you slowly faint and I will carry you personally to a doctor if you continue to act that stubborn. Whereas if you come with me you'll have a roof and a bed and a nice place to cure this."

The boy watched him and somehow Roger swore something about his looks changed. A million questions were written in it and his eyes scanned him perfectly just as though he tried to figure out whether he meant it or not.

"I promise!" Roger repeated.

"Why should I believe you?" the boy asked weakly, but a lot of the defiance in his voice was gone.

Roger on the other hand stepped a little closer and started to smile compassionately. He stretched out his hand slowly.

"I'm Roger," he said and felt curiously touched when the young man hesitantly started to shake his hand after a moment. He didn't take his eyes away from him though and he didn't reply.

"I see," Roger laughed shortly. "No name either, hm?"

He got up from the ground and slowly lend his arm to the boy to get up. It took him a moment to really grab it though, but then he slowly pulled himself up until he stood on his shaking feet again, holding his arm once more. Roger did his very best to steady him. It became clear though he wouldn't even make another two steps. He stumbled next to the taller man and was about to fall again. This was no use. So, without thinking about it, Roger reached out to him once more.

"Hold on," he said and within the beat of a heart he had him lifted up in his arms. The boy looked a little shocked, but held on to him as good as possible.

"I can leave again as soon as someone looked at me?" he asked a little uncertain.

"As soon as you wish," Roger replied.

And when he was certain the boy was satisfied with that answer he started to make his way out of that alley. The boy looked at the streets again a little scared, but soon relaxed a little in his arms.

Roger didn't mind the looks of the people he passed. All he had in mind was to get home a quick as possible. He called for a cab – something that turned out to be rather difficult when both of his hands were kind of occupied - and placed himself and that boy carefully insight the moment it held in front of him. He was still carrying him on his lap as he told the driver where to go. And then all he did was looking outside; watching the buildings and trees rushing by the windows. He didn't care for the people outside anymore. Nor the weather or anything else that made him feel alive this morning. All he wanted was to help that stranger in his arms.

This was crazy. He kept telling himself that over and over again. He didn't even know him. A homeless with no name and apparently a very serious past. He should have ignored him. He should have simply followed his way down the streets not caring about him at all. He even could imagine the blame of his roommates bringing a perfect stranger to their house. Someone they knew nothing about. He could rob them, threaten them; hell, even murder them. Nobody knew. But then again, it was highly unlikely he was about to do that.

Roger looked down at the boy once more. To his surprise he had his restless head leaned against his chest and was fallen asleep deeply. And for once he seemed very calm; just as though he felt safe for that one moment. He didn't appear as hectic and scared anymore. No, it was almost as though he had been waiting all his young life to finally find some security.

Roger felt touched somehow. In way he'd never experience before. He couldn't explain it.

He looked at him a little longer and felt his mouth lifting into a smile. No, he wouldn't do that. He didn't know why but he was sure about it. Something had led him to this boy.

So maybe this was the feeling he had had that very morning. Maybe, but only maybe, he had been meant to meet him...

~To be continued~