SERIES: "Seize the Day" (2/4)
FIC: (Part Two) "A Time for Caution"
AUTHOR: Mistress Marilyn camelotslash-2 at qwest.net
DATE: 1989
FANDOM:  "Dead Poets Society"
PAIRING: Charlie Dalton / John Keating
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They belong to Touchstone Pictures, director Peter Weir, writer Tom Schulman, and to the respective actors who played the roles. This is a work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work.
WARNINGS: Slash, sorta, but not graphic. Really, this is about young love, meaning the warning should state "underage."
SUMMARY: Charlie Dalton reveals his feelings to his teacher, Mr. Keating.
AUTHOR NOTES: One of my favorite concepts in myth and literature is the love between the younger man and his male mentor or teacher. From the first time I saw 'Dead Poets Society,' I saw this possibility between the rebellious character of Charlie Dalton (Gale Hansen) and the inspiring English teacher, John Keating (Robin Williams). This is Alternate Reality; the story has the same characters but is set the second year of Keating's tenure at Welton; Neil Perry did not commit suicide in the first year, so the Dead Poets go on as before.

A Time for Caution

"Might I have a word with you, Mr. Dalton?" said Mr. Keating, just after the bell. Boys were rushing to the classroom door, eager to find their way to lunch. Charlie watched them go, only slightly unhappy not to be one of them, a little nervous about this approaching moment in his life.

What the hell! Carpe diem!

"Yes, Mr. Keating," he said with a smile, standing and walking toward the front of the room. The door closed with a bang behind the last departing student. Charlie forced himself not to react.

John Keating sat behind his desk, his chair facing the windows. Outside was another beautiful fall day, and the noon sun sent a pattern through the long windows that lined the western side of the room. Keating's expression was unreadable; he looked vaguely pleasant, as always. His blue eyes seemed almost clear as he gazed outside.

Charlie stuck one fist in a pocket of his slacks. He had left his stack of books on his desk at the back of the classroom. He still smiled, a little uncertainly, waiting for Keating to speak. Finally, in a matter of seconds (which seemed more like very long minutes), Keating looked over at him.

"That was quite an essay you turned in yesterday, Charlie. I wonder if you realize how outrageous it was."

Dalton almost smirked. "I think I do, Captain. But it was food for thought, didn't you think?"

Keating pressed one finger to his right eyebrow. "Yes, food for thought, Charlie. I believe the term now is 'fast food' or 'junk food,' if I'm not mistaken. I really believe you can do better than that."

Dalton's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean, Mr. Keating? don't you think it was well written?"

Keating's blue eyes bore into Dalton. "No, not really, Mr. Dalton. Not considering the potential you have. Your essay was vaguely amusing as a spoof, but nothing more. If you were trying to shock me or test me, you'll have to do better than this. I think instead of having the effect you desired, this essay merely made you sound very young and inexperienced in the ways of the world."

Keating's words so shocked and upset him, Charlie was almost unaware of the beautiful voice that spoke them. Unfortunately, not completely unaware, and this made the words even worse. Charlie's forehead furrowed to form one of his famous scowls.

"Mr. Keating," he protested, his voice raising in pitch, "that's not fair! The essay may not have been entirely serious, but it wasn't without any truth to it! I meant some of it."

Keating's eyes turned softer, and the corners of his mouth lifted. "Which part, Charlie? The part about women being stupid?"

"No! The part about being brainwashed! You know as well as I do that great men throughout the centuries have been drawn to other men! They try to hide it from us in our studies here, but I did some reading this summer. What about Leonardo da Vinci, Alexander the Great, William Shakespeare -- or your favorite, Walt Whitman, for goodness sake! Men who have seen past the brainwashing and been man enough to truly seize the day!"

Keating stood up, his eyes level with Charlie's from across the desk. "Mr. Dalton, seizing the day does not necessarily lead to a relationship with someone of your own gender. You are treading on dangerous ground in this school, and I want you to take care with this."

Charlie's face went as blank as his mind for a few seconds. Then his thoughts burst into his head with a clang, and his face betrayed them. "I get it . . . maybe you agree with it, and you're afraid I'm going to do something to get you kicked out of Welton, maybe out of teaching!"

"Mr. Dalton, please keep your voice down," Keating commanded. His own voice dropped so much that Charlie had to nearly bend forward to hear the next words. "Charlie, if you only understood things beyond your first emotional reactions to them. If you could only trust yourself . . . if I could trust you. I fear you're destined to ruin yourself someday if you don't learn to be more careful, and if I let myself, I would gladly participate in your ruin." His blue eyes looked almost cloudy, as if he could weep. Charlie caught his breath. "Only I won't let myself," Keating continued. "And I demand you not to tempt me again."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "What have I done to tempt you? I've never said anything, done anything!"

"Charlie," Keating said in an almost kind tone, "do you think I can't read your face? You have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen on anyone. Don't you know how they betray you?" He paused and looked down at his hand, moving his fingers. "If I'm wrong about this, I hope you'll forgive me. If not, I hope you'll do as I say."

Keating sighed. "This happens with young men and teachers from time to time, Charlie. It's just a crush, nothing that unusual."

Charlie stood, his eyes welling up, his face flushing. He started to turn away, wishing he could run out of the room and never return. He knew if he did, he would gather his things and leave Welton forever. And running would not save his dignity, anyway, so hang it! Keating was too smart for him. He couldn't be tricked.

"You're right," Dalton choked out, a tear escaping the corner of one eye. "I love you. I know you have a fiance' and you're a romantic about women and you probably have had a dozen boys with crushes on you already. I guess it's not all that unusual.

"But I don't care. I'm not as silly as you think I am. I may go from one thing to another, and I may be reckless and in trouble half the time, but I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you more than anything . . . so much I won't ever look you in the face again. I'll never do anything to give this away again." A sound like a sob followed his final word, delivered in a tremulous, high-pitched voice. But he had not run from the room, and he wasn't weeping like a baby . . . yet.

Keating still didn't look up. Even after those words, the man still studied his damn hand! He didn't even respond for a time, as though he thought Charlie would just go away. Finally, Charlie almost did go away, thinking it pointless to stand and wait for his dignity to crumble entirely. Then Keating spoke.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. Your feelings mean a great deal to me, but you know it's impossible, and I know it will pass with time. Please try not to let this hurt you too much." Keating's beautiful voice sounded sad, and Charlie could swear there were definitely tears in those downcast blue eyes.

Look at me, he wanted to scream. Just look at me. But he had just promised not to look into Keating's eyes again, and he had to keep the promise.

"Yes, Captain," was all he could say, finally, and he regretted his choice of words. Keating would not be his captain, after all. He would never sail Charlie's soul around the world. There was no joint destiny for them. "Yes, Mr. Keating," he amended. "Thank you." He had no idea what he was thanking the man for now.

Charlie backed away, bumped into a desk and then turned and left the classroom. After he had closed the door behind him, he remembered his books, but he couldn't return to his desk to retrieve them. He forced himself to walk slowly toward his building, glad it was still lunchtime and he wouldn't be confronted by any of his friends. He didn't really understand what had happened in Keating's classroom, and he needed time and quiet to sort it out. Before he reached the building, he veered off; and, glancing carefully around him, he ran for the woods.

By the time he reached the cave, he was huffing and puffing. His hair was tousled and he was perspiring heavily. The physical activity had helped alleviate the pressure of an onslaught of emotion. When he first entered the cave, he simply squatted, panting, his mind quiet.

What had Mr. Keating said to him? He had pretty much admitted that Charlie was a temptation to him of some sort, and he wouldn't put up with it. If Charlie were a temptation, it must be a sexual temptation. If Mr. Keating were sexually tempted by Charlie, it must mean be found Charlie sexually attractive. Charlie allowed this fact to sink in slowly, enjoying the sensations it caused.

Mr. Keating was attracted to him.

The real disaster of the encounter was the fact Keating had cut off all possibilities of successfully tempting him further. Charlie had shown his hand too soon, before he had found a way to inextricably link himself to Keating. If Keating felt the strong emotion that he, Charlie, did -- the strong love and yearning of more than the body -- the conventions or dangers of the situation would never stop him from acting. Keating was a man who had to be true to his feelings, wasn't he? Wasn't that what he taught in his class? So, although he thought Charlie was a tempting potential diversion, he hardly felt anything deeper than the normal concern of a caring man empathizing with a confused, unhappy boy.

Charlie was humiliated.

Charlie sat and thought about what he was going to do next. If he quietly kept to his promise and let the months go by, he would soon be graduated from Welton and on with the rest of his life. Keating would then believe he had been right in saying Charlie's feelings would pass and in believing that the young man had not been deeply hurt by his rejection. Yet, if Charlie did not keep to his promise and continued to attempt to get closer to his teacher, he might end up getting sent away from Welton -- and worse yet, Mr. Keating might end up hating him.

The dilemma made Charlie's head spin. He stretched out on the rock floor and closed his eyes, trying to completely replay the scene in the classroom again. He didn't want to miss anything that had been said. He wanted to make the right decision and stick to it, for once in his life. And he didn't yet know what that decision should be.

A year earlier when one of Charlie's pranks had nearly gotten the Dead Poets -- and John Keating -- in deep trouble at Welton, Keating had told Charlie that there was a time for daring and a time for caution, and a wise man knew which was called for. Charlie had certainly never pretended to be 'wise' when it came to choosing between options, and now was no exception. Today he had been daring and told Mr. Keating what he felt. Keating had once again made it clear that caution was the more appropriate course.

As frustrating as it was, the one thing Charlie could not accept was that John Keating was simply a man who did not have the courage of his convictions -- or at least not enough to buck a system that frowned on anything that came close to "the road less traveled by." He was ready to admit anything except the possibility that the man he so revered could be less than the hero he had come to play in Charlie's world.

After a while he fell asleep, as physically tired as he was emotionally exhausted.

The End, Part Two