Glass: Reader Requests

The Making Of

For BlackbirdHolmes

Author's Note: I've never done a RPF before so I hope you're happy with it. Also, this feels like the beginning of a series in itself! Would love to hear what people think of this very different one shot.

*

2009

I was home. This time, indefinitely. Stepping off the plane into the mild, English spring was a welcomed feeling. But the double-takes as I walked through the airport was something I didn't think I'd ever get used to. People were looking at me, then looking away, then looking back at me again, as if they knew me but couldn't quite put their finger on how.

Living in LA, I'd grown used to being asked for a photo in a coffee shop, or having my character's name called out to me as I jogged down the street. A recurring role in a TV show elicited attention – online fan pages, articles and interviews, pictures taken of my ex-boyfriend and I from across the road as we tried to eat our lunch. But the UK was different. When I came home, I was almost completely anonymous, and I rather liked it that way.

Besides a few small roles in TV dramas and sitcoms, I never made a mark in Britain. Which is why I had spent the past three years playing an American FBI agent on US television. I loved it. But when my character was killed off, I took it as a sign - it was time to move back home, to work on projects that I cared about, scripts that excited me, roles that challenged me. I'd already started preproduction on a film when I was invited to an event in London. An event that would change my life in ways I could never have imagined.

*

My agent Christine was a harsh-looking woman. Short hair, pointed features, gravelly voice. She smelled of cigarettes and Estée Lauder, always wore grey. She had passed me over to an agent in America, finally taking me back when I got home.

"So, did you ask them to kill you off?" she asked as we walked into the building together.

We each took a glass of champagne, standing off to the side as the large room bustled with industry people.

"I told them I took a role in a film and asked if they could write me out of the show for a little while."

"And they killed you off? Bloody savage." She pulled out her mobile phone. "I'll get on the phone to the agency in LA. They should've fought harder for you."

"No, Chris, it's fine. Honestly, it's fine. It's all filmed and edited and ready to be aired. There's nothing that can be done now. Besides, I'm excited to put my all into this new project."

"Oh yeah, this film..."

Christine had reservations about my choice to accept the new role, attempting to talk me out of it numerous times.

"Yes. 'This film'" I mocked. "My friend Carys wrote it. I sent you the script, did you read it?"

"I read it." She nodded in approval.

"There you go. How could I say no to a part like that?"

"Because it's a slow burning independent film that'll probably be lucky to get into a festival, let alone a cinema."

"I don't care about that. I'm excited about it. I haven't felt like this about what I do in so long."

"Mm." She gave a cynical glare from the corner of her eye as she pulled her cigarettes from her bag. "Be back in a minute."