Written for Voodoo Child for the 2007 xmas_rocks exchange
| This story is a work of fiction and therefore completely untrue. No harm or libel is meant or implied about any of the individuals named within this work and it was written without their involvement or permission. No profit is being made. |
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Robert reflects one night. No Quarter era. When he accepted Jimmy’s offer for the No Quarter sessions, he didn’t know what was eventually going to happen, but he had been sure of one thing: that they would end up in bed together. And that was exactly what happened. Now, at three in the morning, he was sitting naked in his hotel bedroom, while a heavy rain was falling outside. The covers were up to his waist and he just lit his cigarette, while a Jimmy Page as naked as he was slept heavily on the other side of that bed. Robert took the first drag from his cigarette and relaxed, his back against the cool wall, his eyes closed. He exhaled the smoke and opened them again; then he glanced at the sleeping form next to him. He didn’t need any further light to see him and to know what he was like; the occasional lightning was just fine. Jimmy’s hair was still all black, though he was older than him; a soft laugh escaped from the singer’s lips, when he thought about the first white strands appearing in his curls. They were completely blond, when they first met. It was 1968 and Jimmy had invited him over at his place. There, they discovered that they loved the same music and that they shared the same convintions; Robert wasn’t even old enough to drink in locals but when his staying there ended, he was in. At that time he had been struck by Jimmy, in every sense. The guitarist was beautiful, charming, smart; his playing was beyond everything he ever heard until then, he knew how to be in control when it was needed, he knew what he wanted, he knew how he was going to have it and never doubted once that one day he would accomplish every one of his targets. And he did. Those days, Robert didn’t even imagine that he had become one of Jimmy’s targets. Robert took his second drag and smiled slightly. In the end, Jimmy got him too. He got him alright and it had been one of the greatest days of his life. Later, it would become one of his most treasured memories. His expression softened again, thinking about that. This whole ‘remembering’ thing seemed sort of bittersweet taste but he wasn’t caring that much for it. They were high. Quite fucking high. Not just because they had drunk something before the show, but because that show had been so good that they just couldn’t believe that. Music had flowed smoothly between all four of them, the crowd was the best they ever had, it was the first gig in their new tour and to Robert the fact that just three years before he had to run away from home becaus ethe desire to sing seemed just weird, if not impossible.It happened in a few seconds, just before the usual crowd of groupies came to them. Jimmy grabbed his arm, spun him around and kissed him square on the lips; but before he could do anything to kiss back, because he wanted it too, Jimmy left with a young girl who had just come in. He remembered being upset for that, very upset. He wanted to open the window but outside he was cold, rain was still falling and he just didn’t feel like getting up and doing it. He gave up and took the third drag. The cigarette was half burnt and the whole backstage kissing happened a month before he and Jimmy really started being a couple. Some kind of couple, at least. Now they were really getting into the touring and there were no groupies, that time. They were sitting on the wooden floor of Jonesy’s hotel room. He was out with Bonzo anyway and probably wasn’t about to come back that night. His hands were on Jimmy’s cheeks, Jimmy was pulling his hair down, threading his fingers into the curls. And they were kissing. Really kissing, this time. He didn’t hurry, he wanted to save that moment as long as possible. He could still feel Jimmy’s tongue ravaging his mouth, the pure feeling of those thin, soft and pale lips against his own. He remembered looking into a pair of deep, black eyes, another kiss and then laying back on the thick carpet (the bed was still Jonesy’s, they couldn’t use that), feeling its softness on his back and some minutes later screaming Jimmy’s name while spasms of ecstasy ran through his whole body. Jimmy shifted in his sleep; Robert adjusted his sitting position and took the fourth drag, relaxing again. He knew that this wasn’t going to be so much fun, in the end. But he kept on thinking about them anyway. He figured that it was the best time to do it, before starting with a new page of that story. And the Presence sessions were what came next. It had been horrible. He couldn’t walk or even stand up and Jimmy solved all problems by shooting up. And he couldn’t do nothing about it. There wasn’t a moment when he didn’t feel at least frustrated and useless; and he didn’t recognize the Jimmy Page he’d fallen in love with anymore. They went on with the record and with their relationship, sure, but things had changed. They weren’t excited anymore, they didn’t have any enthusiasm, what felt just right before now felt plain wrong. Jimmy’s eyes were stressed and not bright as they once were, he was too thin, he just wasn’t himself. Well, he admitted, he, Robert, wasn’t like his 1973-self at the time. Like no one else was. But they both failed to understand it. The smoke floated in the air above him and he spent some thirty seconds watching it, while it moved and turned into white-grey swirls. It was almost the end of that. Two more drags, no more. Ad two more steps in that story, until then. The cigarette didn’t taste sweet anymore, now it was just bitter; the sleeping man next to him still didn’t move. He could tell he was alive just because he could hear Jimmy’s regular breathing; he had always been like that, when he slept. Robert brought the cigarette to his lips again. 1980 had been the worst year of his whole life. When they recorded In through the out door the atmosphere between them wasn’t the same anymore. Fuck, he had written more songs with Jonesy rather than with Jimmy and that was strange enough. But no, it was more than strange. It was a sign that things had changed and not for the better. Jimmy at least seemed to be fine and wasn’t the shadow of himself of the Presence sessions, but he was far from the Jimmy Page he first met. Knebworth was the last intimate moment they really shared. And then the 25th of September came and it was over. For the band and between them. Because during the years they spent together he had had to face his good share of problems. And to stand against everything that came between them. He could bear the voices about them writing satanic songs, he could bear journalists saying that Jimmy sold their souls to the devil, he could bear his heroin addiction, he had to face the tragedy of his son's death. But he couldn’t bring himself to cope with the loss of his best friend for years. One week after, Robert quit. The band couldn’t be anymore and he and Jimmy couldn’t relate anymore, too. For him it was just too much. He realized it all in the moment someone told him that Bonzo was dead. It was over. That night he cried for hours, but the next day he didn’t have any doubts about what he had to do He had tought he could eventually forget. Now he laughed at himself. Because he hadn’t been able to forget Jimmy Page at all. The cigarette was almost over now. He took the last drag and lapsed into his last memory before the call that Jimmy gave him a few months before. Live aid. Before he received the offer, he hadn’t spoken to Jimmy and Jonesy since they made the arrangements for the release of Coda. He didn’t really know why he accepted, but he did. It was for a good cause and they had to do it once, anyway. Because he wanted to make it clear that Led Zeppelin were over, and that was an exception. Then they were on stage together again and shit, when he saw Jimmy again he knew he was still in love with the man. The chemistry was still there, he felt it like he hadn’t since at least ten years. And he thought that maybe they could do something together, something new. Whenever he looked at Jimmy’s face, he just felt like his heart was bursting. But after that concert, nothing happened. Then he got the call. He watched the last of the cigarette slowly burning off and then fading away. He remembered Jimmy’s voice asking him if he wanted to go and do that MTV unplugged thing with the egyptian orchestra, maybe record some new stuff together; if they felt like it, hey, just to give it a shot. He remembered saying yes, sure right after Jimmy stopped speaking, he remembered the look in his eyes when they saw each other again and that delicious, intimate feeling they shared during the recording. And shit, he had just known it would end like that. Now No Quarter was ready. It was due to be out in a month or so. And that evening, after the press conference, it happened. They were going back to their rooms. Robert’s was the first in that hallways, Jimmy’s was the last. Robert opened the door but as he was going inside he felt a hand on his arm turning him around. It was the moment he feared... but also the one he had been waiting for so long. He just knew it. He turned and waited for Jimmy’s lips to join his own, which happened a few seconds after. He leaned into that kiss, one he had been wishing for since too many years. He closed his eyes and thought that this tasted as good as the first one they had. Then he didn’t have time to think anymore. They weren’t so young now and they knew it. It was a bed, now, not the floor. Jimmy’s hair wasn’t as curly and long, his skin not smooth and flawless as they used to be. Robert’s own hair wasn’t the same, golden blond it had once been, his face had its good share of lines. But in that moment nothing of this was important. The pleasure was the same, the feeling was the same, it was like the old times, if not better. Because now they realized where they were wrong. It was right again. Because, he guessed after, he and Jimmy were made for each other, but they just hadn’t understood it when it was the right time to. He shivered, thinking about Jimmy’s lips on his neck that night, about that long kiss they shared in the hallway, about the same ecstasy that flooded through his body as he felt it twenty years before, about his same voice screaming Jimmy’s name again. The cigarette was over and he closed his eyes. Much had changed since they were young, but not that. As their world changed and... There was something, and... oh, cure. He should have gone searching for some paper but didn’t really feel like it. Then a weight on the bed shifted and a few seconds later Jimmy’s black eyes were looking into his clear, blue ones. “Still awake?” “Yeah. I was just... thinking, I guess.” “It’s two in the fucking morning, Robert!” “A good time as any. You talked about doing some new music together, right?” “Yeah, I did...” “Maybe I’ve got a title.” “You do? What’s it like?” “When the world was young.” “Not bad. You’re using it?” “Why not?” “Now you could use some sleep, you know.” “Guess I could.”
Robert leaned in, kissing Jimmy another time, feeling the softness of the guitarist’s lips, letting the other’s tongue caress his own before putting an arm around Jimmy’s waist and drifting into a dreamless sleep, while the rain was still falling outside. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Jimmy’s smile, lightened by the white glow of a thunder outside.
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