Title: Lives Forever Changed
Author: Sarah
Fandom/movie: Reservoir Dogs
Pairing: Mr. White(Harvey Keitel)/Mr. Orange(Tim Roth)
Rating: NC-17 m/m sex, violence, drug content, and graphic language
Status: NEW, Complete 4/29/2000
Spoilers: Yes! If you haven't seen the movie, stop now. But if you wanna get spoiled, go right ahead.
Summary: What *could've* happened during the movie. Would certainly explain Mr. White's strong reaction at the end. Story is from White's POV.
Warning: I *could* put a death warning on this, but if you've seen the movie, you know it's not really necessary ;-)
Disclaimer: This piece is purely fictional(expect for the real scenes from the movie in it) All characters belong to the brilliant Quentin Tarantino.
See end of story for Author's Notes.
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I like this kid.
And that's not fuckin' good.
Why the fuck do I like him? Beats the shit out of me. But from the minute I met him, I was drawn to him. His smart way of talking, his smooth stride. It was arranged for him to meet us at some cheap joint. He showed up wearing leather and a smart ass attitude.
It's perverse. I'm perverse for even *thinking* these type of thoughts for some fuckin' kid. Well, of course he's not *really* a *kid* but I mean, how old could he be? 27? 28 the most.
So, now it's all set. He's in. We meet the next day and Joe assigns us all names. I'm Mr. White. And 'the kid' is Mr. Orange.
I like Mr. Orange. And you know, I don't even fuckin' know what I mean by 'like'. He's a good kid. Witty, funny. Ok, good looking..
But honestly, I can't picture taking him to bed. He just..fuck it if I know, I just can't see it.
Of course, as luck would have it, we get partnered together. We spend hours talking, first about The Brewers(he has a decent knowledge about the team and the sport.) Then, we brush on other subjects like books and music. He likes Country of all things. Who wouldda thought leather wearing, wise talking 'Mr. Orange' would like Country music. But hey, the bastard does.
We spend all day staking out our target spot. You know, sorta like a run through; getting ready for the 'real thing.' By the time we finish, it's night and I drive him back to his place. The gorgeous motherfucker asks me if I want to come upstairs. I, at the moment, have no fuckin' idea what's going on here except that I like him way more than I should. I agree to come up, but more for hope that I'd get some idea as to what's going on in his head.
He has a pretty decent place. It's not The Plaza but it's ain't no shit hole either. I tell him this and he laughs. While he's in the kitchen boiling water for tea,(another surprise. Who in gods name *is* this kid?) I light up the joint I had in my pocket and lay my head back against the cushions, finally relaxing.
The night before a job always gets me tense. Maybe I'm getting too old for this shit. Over and over I'd tell myself 'this is the last job, the you're through' and over and over I never listen. 'Orange' comes into the room and sits beside me, then hands me one of the mugs in his hand. I sip the tea then set it down. He shift a little, then asks if he can have a hit. I say sure. He inhales it long and deep, then lets it out slowly. I watch his body relax and head fall back, eyes closing.
I gotta get the hell out of here.
I take the joint from him, put it out and slip it back in my pocket.
Getting up, I tell him that I better go, tomorrow's the big day. He nods and stands up with me. We walk towards the door, only to have him stop us at the wall just short of it, pressing me against it. I have about one second to read his eyes before his mouth comes down on mine. I groan and kiss back, hard. He tastes so fuckin' good, so fuckin' sweet.
Everything becomes a blur so quickly; my belt being undone, a warm hand on my dick, a mouth nipping at my neck, then back at my lips again. Suddenly, it all comes into focus when he gets on his knees and sucks me all the way in. I let out a strangled cry and grasp the door frame for balance, but more so to keep from fucking this kid's face so hard he'll cry. But he doesn't want me to hold back. He starts pulling at my hips, urging me along, so what other choice do I have? (like I want one) I begin to fuck his mouth. My movements are erratic at first, then soon become more steady.
For five minutes at least he goes on..tonguing, teasing sucking, licking..
And when I come, the room spins. He gets up, tucks me back in and kisses me long and deep. We finally part and he whispers 'Now you can go,' with a wink and a sly grin. I return the latter, squeeze his arm, then say something like 'see you tomorrow'..I don't know, I was lucky to get that much out.
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The next morning we all arrive at the diner near our target. I see Orange, I can tell he's in 'business mode' but he acknowledges me all the same. He sits next me and when I take Joe's address book and comment about his and Mr. Brown's conversations, I can see him laughing out of the corner of my eye. Then Pink starts with all this tipping bullshit. Fuckin' ticks me off, that kid. Yet the whole time, I can't help but notice Orange's arm resting across the back of my chair, and how every so often his hand brushes my back.
This kid fucks me up big time.
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As the bullet goes through him I see every memory I have of him flash before my eyes. I go and hold him, start saying encouraging words over and over. I don't know who I am saying them for more, him or me. He asks my real name and I tell him. This beautifully tragic young kid is dying in my arms, I at least owe him the knowledge of my fucking name. I haul him into the back seat and drive as fast as I can to the warehouse. All I want to do is get him to a hospital but we both know that's impossible.
//Just need to get to the warehouse, wait for Joe, he'll get a doctor. I've seen it before. Yeah, it's gonna be ok.//
Now to get him believing that. He keeps saying over and over he's dying and I keep telling him he's not, ask him if he's a doctor where that he can make that assumption, all the while trying to keep my fuckin' voice steady. This is affecting me too fuckin' much. I scream at him to say he's gonna be ok. He has to be.
We get to the warehouse finally. I drag him out of the car and steady him so that his arm is around my shoulder. I put him on the floor and undo his pants to check the wound. Fuck it's bad. His eyes bore into my skull as he looks up at me and says he's 'so fucking scared'. Then...'would you please hold me?' Jesus Christ, I almost break down right there. I rest my head against him and compose myself before I say 'sure'.
I comb his hair, hold him, try and reassure him, anything to get that haunted look of dread out of those hypnotic eyes. Why the fuck did I have to make it personal? I don't even give a shit about Joe this much, and I've known him for years. Fuck, I'm almost in tears here, listening to him beg and plead.
This kid...
And what the fuck am I supposed to say when he asks me with such passion to take him to a hospital, tells me to look in his eyes, to see he's telling the truth..that he won't rat us out. I almost cave..but I can't.
Mr. Pink comes in at that moment. The other wise ass, but in a bad way, not like Orange. We go into the other room to talk and I leave him reluctantly. He doesn't want me to go and it breaks my heart. *Caring* was never in my job description.
Damn this kid.
Damn Joe.
Damn myself.
And all I can think of is how last night he was so alive..possibly happy..
And today..
Sure, it was a risk. I knew that, he knew. We all knew. Still, it doesn't prepare you for this.
If it was Mr. Pink or Mr. Blue or someone laying there, yeah I'd feel bad, but it wouldn't be affecting me like this. It was my fault..his bullet..all my fault. I can't let him die. Mr. fucking Pink says to me 'some fella's are lucky and some ain't' when I tell him if we don't get Orange to a hospital he'll die. That pushed me over the edge and I start beating the shit out of him. Then, that psycho Blonde shows up and interrupts us.
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When we come back in from moving the cars and getting the stones with Eddie, Mr. Blonde is laying dead on the floor by the door and I don't really care. I immediately go to Orange. He looks at me, eyes again pleading, begging. And I can't do SHIT! That's the worst goddamn part.
And now everything seems to be going to hell around me. One minute I'm kneeling beside him, the next I have my gun pointed to Joe. Joe..my friend for so long. His son, Eddie, also my friend, pointing his own gun at me.
And Joe..with his gun on Orange, the cause of all this. Once Joe came in accusing Orange of being part of the LAPD and tipping off the cops, I knew this was the way it would have to be. I tried to reason..told Joe he made a mistake, that he's a good kid..that 'I know this man.' I know him, more than they think...
'He wouldn't do something like that', I say. No one fuckin' listens. So this is how we stand. Eddie shouts at me to stop pointing my gun at Joe and Bang. 4 gunshots. Funny, I don't even feel the bullet go in me. I just feel numb. I took it to protect this anonymous kid. I vaguely hear Pink run off, the little rat. And now it's only us two left.
I rather up my strength, then crawl over to him, moaning as the pain has now come. He reaches for me and we both try and hold onto one another. I force myself to lift his head into my lap, then start rubbing my hand all over his face.
It's over, I can feel it. I tell him 'I'm sorry, kid. Looks like we're gonna do a little time.'
Then he starts gasping and talking.
The words almost kill me.
"I'm a cop...Larry..I'm so..sorry..I'm a cop.."
The pain from the gunshot is radiating through me, only now to be added by a stronger, more profound ache. Now I'm sobbing.
Cop.
Liar.
Betrayed.
All my caring...all my..love..for this beautiful kid..
And all the while he played me like a fucking violin.
This is why I've never cared before. And this is why I'll never care again.
Moaning in my agony, I raise my gun to his jaw..my hand still rubbing his face..his mouth still gasping out apologies. He sounds so desperate..like he wants me to believe he's sorry more that he wants to live...
The cops burst in at that second. All I can hear over his grunts and my own is 'Drop the weapon.' I can't...the pain is too much. It rips at my heart, contorts my face..
He created it..
And now he'll end it..
I pull the trigger.
...And say good-bye, knowing I'm next.
Every dog has it's day.
This was ours, I guess.
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The End.
Authors Notes: I was watching RD the other night. I'bve seen this movie so many times and each time I get more and more convinced of the slashiness in the scenes between Orange and White. The way White didn't really care about anything or anyone else as long as he could help Orange just stuck with me. I think they felt something for each other, and it would explain why Orange reveals himself at the end as they're holding each other. I never really understood that part. It could be because this man cared so much for him, showed it, that he couldn't go on deceiving him anymore, even if it meant his death. His apology seemed sincere and devesting, and White's reaction was strong and heartbreaking. Just my take.