SERIES: "Seize the Day" (4/4)
FIC: (Part Four) "My Barbaric Yawp"
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 prepares to graduate from Welton Academy and face Mr. Keating for the last time.
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.

My Barbaric Yawp

Charlie and Neil Perry sat in the cave, side by side, each engrossed in reading, studying for finals. It was finally springtime, and the days had gotten longer and warmer, and it was lighter and more comfortable in the cave -- more pleasant to study there than in the dusty confines of the Welton Academy library.

After a mid-year slump, Charlie had managed to turn his studies around, raising his grades by concentrating on nothing but academics. His friends had spent some time trying to understand what had changed the daring, devil-may-care Dalton into such a serious, almost grim young student, but they had finally given up. School had changed all of them, hadn't it? Hadn't Todd finally gotten more confident and Neil more carefree and even Cameron more likeable? With graduation just a few weeks away, it was understandable that their experiences at Welton Academy would have finally affected some sea changes to even the Dead Poets Society members.

Charlie preferred to avoid references to the sea and sailing, so he didn't see it exactly that way. No one would ever really understand what had changed him last fall, except, of course, John Keating.

"Hey, Charlie," Neil said, looking up from his book. "Whatever happened to Nuwanda?"

"Huh?"

"You know. That crazy character who used to paint his chest and sound his 'barbaric yawp' all the time . . . the one who faced Nolan down and didn't even flinch."

Charlie laughed. "I wouldn't say he didn't flinch. If I remember that beating, I flinched quite a few times."

"What happened to him, Charlie?"

Charlie looked away. "He grew up."

It had been a long time since Charlie thought about his alter-ego, the mystical 'Nuwanda.' Hadn't it been glorious to forget Charlie Dalton for a time and embrace this more basic -- more base -- side of himself? It had been such a relief to act wild, to act free, even for just a little while.

Kid's stuff. Or so it now seemed.

Neil waited a few moments before continuing. "So you got into Harvard. Does that mean you won't even get to leave home? You'll have to stick around your family?"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm not living at home. It'll be bad enough to still be in Boston. I'm going to go to Harvard for the first year, then switch to New York University and live in the city."

Neil nodded. "Good idea. I'm doing the same. I mean, I'm going to study pre-med for the first year, then if it doesn't work out, I'm switching my major. If my father doesn't agree, I'll drop out of school and become an actor. And he doesn't want that to happen."

Neil had squared off with his father over his desire to act more than a year earlier. The Dead Poets knew how hard that had been for him, because his father was set on Neil being a doctor. Charlie's family, on the other hand, thought he should have a law degree to go with his eventual bank presidency.

And to think just 18 months earlier they had spent so much time wondering what it was like to 'suck the marrow out of life'! They were all doomed to choke on the bone if their parents got their way.

"Life is not all it's cracked up to be," Charlie commented. "If our parents had their way, there wouldn't be any poets or playwrights. Just men leading their lives of quiet desperation."

Neil looked thoughtful for a moment. "Mr. Keating doesn't quote Thoreau as much as he used to. And he never quotes Walt Whitman anymore. It's strange."

Charlie didn't comment.

"Did you know Walt Whitman didn't like girls?" Neil said, looking down. "He liked boys, I guess."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, I knew that."

"Charlie, can I tell you something?"

There eyes met, and suddenly Charlie knew exactly what Neil was going to say. "You like boys, too, right?" he said.

"You knew?"

"No. But I guessed right now. It makes sense."

Neil looked away. "Why? Because I love acting?"

With a shrug, Charlie said, "I don't know. Maybe it takes one to know one."

Neil's eyes widened. "Not you, Charlie! You're always after girls!"

"So what? The Greeks thought the purest love was the love of a boy for an older man or vice versa. It didn't mean they didn't believe in marriage and family. They just separated love into different categories. I've read a lot of things during the past year that tell different stories than the stuff they've fed us our whole lives about what we should act like and feel like. This country was colonized by Puritans who brought all their religious nonsense with them, which is ironic since they were supposedly looking for freedom from religious persecution! And we've been suffering for it ever since. We shouldn't be celebrating Thanksgiving every November! We should be begging for our own freedom."

Neil watched Charlie, seemingly unsure of what to say. He had never heard Charlie talk this way, and for a minute Charlie regretted his tirade. Neil's eyes looked wise and old when he finally spoke. "You love Mr. Keating, don't you?"

Charlie smiled. "I guess neither one of us is as mysterious as we think we are!"

"I always knew there was something more there," Neil said in a near-whisper.

They fell silent and went back to their studies, but Charlie found his mind wandering. He hadn't expected to share his feelings with anyone this soon, or perhaps ever. It was strange to suddenly give voice to the frustration. It was also surprising not to feel as emotional as he had expected he would.

"I've got to get back," Neil said after a while. "I have an appointment with Mr. Nolan."

"Break a leg -- one of his, hopefully."

Charlie could hear Neil's laughter as he left. After a few moments he heard what he thought was Neil returning, and he glanced up from his book, wondering what Neil had forgotten. But it was not Neil -- it was Mr. Keating who entered the cave.

"Mr. Keating," Charlie said.

"Charlie, I thought I might find you here."

Charlie waited, nearly holding his breath. He studied this man that he had so carefully avoided making eye contact with for the past several months and was surprised to find the same emotional, blue eyes and the same warm smile. He had been sure those had been spirited away with Nuwanda and whatever else remained of his childhood.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving Welton after graduation, Charlie. I'm taking a job in New York City with a publishing firm. I'm going to edit books and hopefully start writing some."

Charlie was incredulous. "You're leaving teaching? How can you?"

"I have to," Keating said in a soft voice. "I can't make the compromises necessary to teach anymore."

Charlie's heart started to beat very fast. After all the pain of his terrible disillusionment months before, he had given up thinking he would ever feel hope again. He was, after all, still very young. (But at least he had finally turned 18 just two weeks earlier!)

"New York? I want to go to school there in a year," Charlie said.

Keating nodded, still smiling. "I hope you do, Charlie. And I hope you'll look me up when you're there."

A strange little noise rose out of Charlie throat. He tried to stop it and it ended up sounding a little like he was choking. Keating's eyes never left Charlie's face, and Charlie couldn't help wondering if he looked as insecure as he felt. He hesitated, swallowing. Should he rush into Keating's arms? Should he throw himself at the man's feet? What would Nuwanda do?

But if he had learned nothing else, he had learned he was no longer Nuwanda. Nuwanda announced his coming by painting a symbol on his cheek. Charlie was going to have to learn to disguise who and what he was if he wanted to live the way he chose.

He took a deep breath and nodded back at Keating. "Yes. I'd like to see you again."

Keating's blue eyes suddenly swam with tears. "Good. Good."

"Captain, may I do something?"

Keating didn't answer, but looked at Charlie quizzically.

"May I kiss you?"

Keating shook his head. "No, Mr. Dalton . . . but I think I'll kiss you. It's time for me to choose my road, and I choose this one." He moved forward and lifted the Charlie's face to his, then closed his mouth over Charlie's.

The kiss lasted for some time.

Charlie felt dizzy and flushed when Keating's lips released his. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it spoke to him of things to come, things he could only dream about now, but knew -- for the first time -- could become part of his reality very soon.

"I hope I've shown you, Captain, that I can be mature and rational about this. Have I?"

Keating nodded, but his eyes held a question.

"So you won't mind if for just this one minute I do something completely wild?"

"I don't know, Charlie . . ."

"Just one thing--"

"What--?"

Charlie threw his head back and thumped his chest. "Yawp!" he shouted. "Yawp!"

Keating started to laugh at this homage to Walt Whitman's "barbaric yawp" from his 'Song of Myself.' He had encouraged the students to read Whitman and to appreciate his often lusty poetry.

"'I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable! I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world,'" Keating quoted, loudly.

"You better believe it," Charlie said, suddenly serious. They stared at one another for a minute.

Then Keating said, "You'd better get back to school."

Charlie nodded. "I guess I'd better." He stood for a few seconds, unwilling to end this pivotal moment in his life. Then he said, "I'll see you later, Cap'n."

Keating reached out and stopped him. The teacher's hand was warm on his.

"Yes, you will," said Mr. Keating.

The End