agirlnamedtyeee

[thekracken]

okay gang what should we cry about today? the fact that when andy was unnerved by copley knowing who she was, she called out for booker? or the fact that both booker and his son died at forty-two?

[scimitar-and-longsword]

I've got a prompt about Joe & Booker brotp 🤜💥🤛 Joe is still very angry with Booker, but the team needs his help for a mission. While Booker tries again to power through his depression by pretending he's doing okay (like he fears that if they saw how mentally unwell he actually is they might resent him even more for not getting better). For the first time Joe starts to see all the cracks in Bookers facade.

On Nony! All my dreams in this one request! Joe seeing Booker’s depression break through a bit is gonna break both his and my heart!!!! ahhhhhhh!! All right, *cracks Knuckles* let’s do this.

—————–

Brothers Fight.

Things happened so quickly. 

Joe didn’t have the chance to argue when Andy had suggested they call Booker. Partly because it was Andy, and you don’t argue with Andy. But also because Nicky had shot him a sharp look when he had opened his mouth to argue with her anyway.

The next thing Joe knew, he was sitting on an empty car of a passenger train, staring daggers into the back of Booker’s head.

“Settle down.” Nicky whispered harshly in Arabic.

Joe sighed and shifted in his seat. He relaxed hands he hadn’t realized were clenched into fists on his lap, and switched to looking out the window at the Chinese countryside whizzing past. 

It was not at all convenient for Booker to join them from Paris, and they all knew it. It had barely been five years, not to mention the fact that they had already broken his exile once only six months after it started because of the whole Quynh thing.

Everyone else wanted Booker back. Well, mostly Nile wanted him back. At least she was the most outspoken about it. 

But Joe could see it on Andy’s face every time Nile brought up that she missed Booker, or wondered aloud what Booker thought of the latest news. Joe had even seen the pain and longing flicker in Nicky’s eyes more than once at the mention of Booker.

Joe just couldn’t bring himself to forgive Booker, not yet.

The train lurched as the track began to turn ever so slightly.

Nicky suddenly got out of his seat and walked to the other end of the car where Nile was sitting. He probably could feel Joe’s mind turning over the Booker issue in his head. Joe knew the whole situation bothered Nicky, but he couldn’t help it. Andy was stretched across the entire row in front of Nile, her feet barely visible where they stuck out into the aisle.

Nicky sat in the seat across the aisle from Nile. She perked up when she noticed him and immediately passed an earbud to him, leaning partway into the aisle so that the cord would reach.

Joe smiled, despite his sour mood.

Watching the friendship between Nile and Nicky blossom had been a joy over the past five years. They had bonded in their love of music, and their religious backgrounds. When Nicky wasn’t with Joe he could often be found entertaining Nile with tales of battles from hundreds of years ago.

Booker cleared his throat and Joe’s attention was abruptly shifted back to his former friend. He felt an ache grow in his chest.

What absolutely lucky and ungrateful bastard Joe had been. To have been gifted a soulmate in Nicky and a brother in Booker and to not realize what he had. 

He had wanted for nothing in his long life, not truly. He had lacked nothing. Family, friendship, safety, love. All of it wrapped up in this group. But he had not realized the space that Booker had filled in his heart until he was gone.

When they first found Booker, it had taken Nicky all of two years to start making jokes about Joe having two soulmates. And as much as Joe bristled at the implication, no matter how joking it was, that anyone could replace Nicky, Joe knew what he meant.

Booker and Joe just got each other. Of course Booker got along with Andy, and though it was less obvious, with Nicky too. But Joe and Booker, they were brothers.

They made each other laugh, and enjoyed watching sports. They shared a distaste for modern music and enjoyed hiking and running together.

They had slightly shorter tempers than Andy and Nicky had. And just as often as not the two of them could be found arguing about some trivial thing or another.

Joe never yelled at Nicky, and he hardly yelled at Andy, but fuck if he didn’t have his fair share of screaming matches with Booker over the years.

Despite that though, or perhaps because of  it, Booker was his best friend.

Joe knew he had taken Booker’s betrayal harder than anyone else. He’d talked about it at length with Nicky. Even though Joe hated talking about Booker now. He hated thinking about him too. It hurt too much. 

Still, he couldn’t hide this, not from Nicky. His heart knew him too well.

Booker cleared his throat again. And Joe sighed, releasing a held breath. 

The train swayed slightly as the track straightened out once more.

Booker had cried into Joe’s shoulder for hours on the night his son finally passed from cancer. Joe had spent probably a fifth of his evenings since Booker had joined them watching the man get sloppy drunk, and laughing with him into the early hours of the morning.

Booker’s betrayal had hurt him, had hurt Nicky, and had almost killed Andy. Nile had been dragged into a fight she had not been prepared for within days of learning of her immortality. Joe had stared down the reality of years, potentially decades, of torture for him and Nicky because of Booker.

All of that hurt. But that wasn’t the reason Joe couldn’t forgive Booker, not really.

It was that Joe had no idea Booker was in so much pain. Joe knew Booker was a bit of a brooder, but he also had so much life, and fire within him.

How could Joe not have known? How could he not have seen the extent of the pain his friend was going through? 

To have wanted so desperately to end it all, desperately enough to sell them out, but to still not have confided in Joe, not even once. Fuck- it hurt.

But even as Joe’s thoughts formed he felt guilty. How could he be mad at someone experiencing so much pain?

The endless cycle of anger and guilt he had been locked in for five years continued. Perhaps he wasn’t only mad at Booker, perhaps he was mad at himself too.

Booker had been an intricate part of Joe’s happiness for over two hundred years. Joe had never considered that the brotherhood he thought he had with Booker was one sided.

But he considered it now.

That part of his life was over, or at least on pause. Perhaps he could find it in his heart to forgive Book and to forgive himself. But not yet, the pain was still too new.

Nile laughed at something Nicky said and yanked her headphone cord back, the earbud in Nicky’s ear flying out with it.

“Ow!” Nick said, but there was a small smile on his lips and a crinkle at the side of his eyes.

Joe smiled to himself. Had this been what Nicky had felt watching him and Booker bond?

And just like that, his smile faded and he sighed once more.

“Will you stop that?” Booker snapped at him from where he sat two rows in front of Joe.

Booker turned and made eye contact with Joe over the tops of the seats.

“I can hear you being irritable from here.” Booker’s eyes didn't leave Joe’s as he spoke.

Joe rolled his eyes in response.

“Gee, I wonder what on earth could make me irritable?”

“Do you really want to do this right now?” Booker said flatly. 

“No,” Joe spat back, the volume of his voice seemed to be increasing without his permission, “I want to do this in ninety five years! But no one else seems to agree with me, so this is what you get. Irritable, angry, old me.��

“Typical.” Booker stood up, “You’d let your anger at me get in the way of a mission? Put people in danger for the sake of your grudge. Can’t control yourself for, what, how long has it been? Five hours since I got back?” Joe was up now too, meeting Booker in the aisle.

“My anger get in the way of a mission? My anger? I can do my fucking job Booker.” Joe said, stepping up closer to his former friend. “I would never put my bullshit in front of the safety of my family.”

Booker took a step backwards at Joe's advancement toward him. A look of pain flashed across his face, but it disappeared just as fast.

Somewhere in the back of Joe’s mind a small voice, that sounded very much like Nicky, chastised him for going for the kill with that last sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, he was too angry. Angry and embarrassed. He couldn’t stop the emotion spilling out of him now. A damn was broken.

Still, Joe took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even. He was vaguely aware that the low chatter coming from Nicky and Nile had stopped, but his eyes never left Booker.

“Was everything a lie? Did you enjoy any moment of your life with us?”

Booker turned around toward where Nicky and Nile were seated and then back toward Joe. His face was stern.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” He said as he pushed passed Joe toward the back of the train.

“How can I if you never told me?”

“Hard to tell you anything while in exile.” Booker bit back. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, his back still to Joe.

“You know what I mean, Book. Two hundred years and you never-” Joe started but Booker cut him off.

“I don’t want to have this fight again Joe,” Booker said, his voice finally rising to match Joe’s, “No matter how many times you scream at me about it, I can’t change the reasons I had for what I did! I had- have no one. I have nothing keeping me here.”

“You had me!” Joe shouted back at him.

“What?” Booker said with genuine surprise. He finally turned back to face Joe.

“You had me,” Joe said, he swallowed and took a deep breath. His eyes darted throughout the train trying to collect his thoughts, “You were my brother, Book.” 

Booker just stared at him. And after a moment Joe had no choice but to keep talking.

“Obviously you didn’t feel the same way, but I thought we were close enough that you could have confided in me. I would have helped you- at least I would have tried.” Joe finished his sentence, feeling utterly exposed.

“I-uh.” Booker stuttered.

Joe felt his anger drain away rather quickly at the sight of Booker’s complete surprise.

A long moment passed where neither of them spoke. Behind him Joe could hear nothing from Nicky, Nile, or Andy.

Booker stared at him as though Joe had just told him the earth was flat.

Finally, Booker broke the eye contact and stared down at the floor. Joe closed his eyes and brought his hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing to speak.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Joe said, “You were my best friend Book. And I say that knowing Nile and Andy can hear me. You filled a place in my heart I didn’t know was empty. I thought I did that for you too.”

Booker didn’t respond, he just continued to stare at his feet. 

“You know, when we were on the plane to London, Nicky and I, and one of the guards told us they had left you open and bleeding at the Church. I took him to the ground and broke a rib before they pulled me off him. The guard who said he’d thrown the flash-bang that killed you? Nicky broke his arm.”

Booker looked at him with guilt and self loathing in his eyes.

Joe’s heart finally broke at that moment. Booker was so much worse off than he had ever thought.

“I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry, I don’t want to add to your guilt. I just- I want you to know I care about you. I don’t know if it would have made a difference if I had been better about letting you know that back then. I don’t know if it does now. But I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear, that we didn’t make that clear.”

“You’re apologising to me?” Booker said.

“Yes.” Joe said and gave Booker a small smile, “I’m still mad at you. But you fight with family, Booker. Brothers fight.”

Booker gave a small nod, and walked back past Joe to his seat.

Joe turned around to see Nile, Nicky, and Andy all staring back at him. Nile’s mouth was slightly open. Nicky’s eyes had a sparkle to them, Joe could tell he was proud of him. Andy sighed and disappeared once more behind the seat back presumably to lie back down.

Joe felt exposed and dangerously close to crying, so he ducked back into his seat as well. And then he did cry. First silently, and then a little louder when Nicky finally came back to sit next to him.

---

The mission was successful. Everyone worked together as if the last five years hadn’t happened. 

Once again they found themselves in a slightly less empty train car, this one an open freight car, but full of rescued kidnapping victims.

Nile was telling a group of particularly young children an overly acted out fairy tale. Nicky was at the edge of that group wrapping a bandage around a small boy’s arm. Andy sat with her back against the side of the car, trying her best to keep everyone in her sight.

Booker had just finished telling a group of four teens to try and get some sleep while they could.

Joe and Booker hadn’t said anything to each other that wasn’t directly related to the mission since the conversation on the train. And now that they were out of immediate danger, Joe couldn’t help but feel the hanging question in the air.

“This doesn’t change anything. Not yet.” Joe said to Booker as he walked up to stand next to him.

“I know.” Booker said flatly.

“I don’t think we’ll last the whole century though.” Joe added.

They stood like that, for a long time. Neither man looking at the other, preferring to feign busyness by watching over the increasing number of sleeping children. 

“I think you should talk to someone.” Joe said finally.

“And tell them what?”

“The truth. That you’re lonely. That you’ve been in a downward spiral for years and don’t know how to get yourself out again.”

“The truth?” Booker said sarcastically.

“Well,” Joe paused for a moment, “you should probably omit a few details.”

Booker chuckled and Joe felt a warmth in his chest.

Another hour or so had passed before Booker spoke again.

“I feel the same way you know.”

They were the only two still awake in the train car.

“Felt- I felt the same way.” Booker corrected, “I just didn’t want to play second fiddle to Nicky so I pushed it away.”

“Nicky is the great love of my life. Andy is a mentor and fierce companion. Nile already feels- I don’t know- I feel quite fatherly towards her.” Joe chuckled, “ I’m not sure how she would feel about that though.”

Booker nodded, and crossed his arms.

“And you were- you are- like a brother to me Book. You’re not second to anyone in that. I know you have your loneliness, and I know I can’t fix that tonight, but you are not alone. We all love you Book, even after everything that happened.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of their watch. Switching with Nile and Nicky as night turned to early morning.

They didn’t speak again until Joe was walking Booker towards the departures gate for his flight back to Paris.

“I mean it, Book. Talk to someone, at least try and sort through some of your shit.”

“I will.”

Joe pulled Booker into a hug. The first one he had given him since before Nile had joined them.

“I’ll see you in a few years yeah?” Joe said, suddenly overwhelmed with saying goodbye.

Booker nodded, and broke the hug first. He turned and disappeared into the airport.

Joe walked back over to Nile, Andy, and Nicky waiting by the curb.

Andy smiled at him, lines around her eyes already showed signs of age that they didn’t five years ago. He wouldn’t be able to keep Booker away for much longer, it wasn’t fair to Andy. It wasn’t fair to any of them.

Nicky slipped his hand into Joe’s, lacing their fingers together as the group walked away.

“I’m really proud of you,” Nicky said in Arabic.

“I miss him.” Joe said back in Arabic, squeezing his love’s hand.

“We’ll see him again. Sooner than you think.” Nicky said.

Joe believed him, and for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to seeing Booker again.

((Available on AO3 as well, link on my tumblr 💜))

[nvramanan]

Salman Rushdie: A chance of lasting from Louisiana Channel on Vimeo.

"I feel very proud to be part of this resistance", says the acclaimed British writer Salman Rushdie reflecting on his book The Satanic Verses and the years of the fatwa. "Today people are much weaker. I wonder if such an act of collective solidarity would ever happen again."

"My parents used to say, that I always wanted to be a writer", this conversation with acclaimed British writer Salman Rushdie (b. 1947) begins. Rushdie talks about his early love for reading, his Indian childhood and his father, who told stories to him instead of reading them out loud.

Rushdie talks about his early attempts of writing, starting with commercials. Rushdie also reflects on his close relations to filmmakers and musicians in the Britain of the 1970's. Looking back, Rushdie is sure, why he became a writer, having a talent for language: "It needs some form of solitude in your nature. That you prefer doing something by yourself. A screenplay for example is only a step on the way to a film. I just thought, I like to do it by myself. But it took me a very long time to do find out how to do it."

Midnight's Children, published in 1981 and dealing with India's transition from British colonialism to independence and the partition of British India, changed Rushdie's life. The novel won the Booker Prize and later the Bookers Booker Prize and was added to the list of Great Books of the 20th century. "Writing the book took me five years. I am very proud of that young man who struggled to find out how to write without any guarantee, that the book would be published. I was pretty sure it was a good book. But I had no confidence in the fact, that anybody else would agree. Midnight's Children then told me, that I was the writer I could be."

"As an author of literary fiction you are writing books that you hope will endure. That will sit on the bookshelf and outlast the author. It's now 33 years since Midnight's Children was published. The fact that people still read it, the fact, that young people still read it and find, it has something to say to them, that's very satisfying."

This conversation with Rushdie then circles around The Satanic Verses and the debate after it's publication. "The fatwa wasn't only about me. It was a moment, when a line had to be held, when you could not concede the fight."

Rushdie talks about the years of hiding, his relationship to his son and how reading and literature helped him through those dark years. He reflects about the solidarity he received as well as about the fight to keep The Satanic Verses in print: "The reason why we managed to defend the book was that very widespread belief that it had to happen - not so much for the book itself, but for this old reason: the freedom of speech. People, whom I had never met, went to battle for me - booksellers, publishers, ordinary people, who bought the book as an act of support and solidarity. That was their way of saying: I am on your side."

"Mostly in those years, I was touched and impressed by the degree of solidarity, that there was. Mostly! There are always some people who fall short of what your expectation is. The great mass of writers and book-world-people understood, that something serious was at stake, in which they all were implicated. Politicans as often came very late to the party."

And Rushdie continues: "I feel very proud to be part of this resistance. Today people are much weaker. I wonder if such an act of collective solidarity would ever happen again. We have fallen a long way short of the strength that people collectively showed in the late 80's and early 90's."

Rushdie ends by reflecting about his autobiographical book Joseph Anton: A Memoir. "I finally reached the point, where I was able to write the book and look back at the things that have happend. It was clear to me, that it was me, who should write this story." Rushdie also speaks about the role of literature in a fearful world - a world of darkness. Literature, he says, has to challenge the narratives, we surround ourselfes with - the narrative of family, politics, whatever. As a writer, he says, I feel it is my responsibility to speak up and to give back some of the solidarity, I have received myself earlier.

Salman Rushdie (b. 1947) was born in Mumbay and is the author of worldwide bestellers like Midnight's Children and The Satanic Verses. The latter caused fierce protests in the Muslim world. Death threats were made against Rushdie, including a fatwa issued by the Iranian leader Ayatollah Khomeini on 14 February 1989. In his latest autobiographical novel, Joseph Anton: A Memoir, Rushdie reflects upon his decade of hiding.

Salman Rushdie was interviewed by Marc-Christoph Wagner.

Camera: Klaus Elmer

Editing by Kamilla Bruus

Produced by Marc-Christoph Wagner

Copyright: Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, 2014.

Supported by Nordea Fonden.