(no subject)

[ladyfirestarter]

The permanent door from Milliways opens onto a hallway that looks like it could be a teacher's area in a primary school. Drawings and photographs are tacked up on the walls; the doors leading off the hallway are painted a calm pale-rose color, and each has a nameplate on it. (The closest one reads IRENE TASSENBAUM. It's locked; Irene's out today.)

Charlie steps aside to let her guest through. "Welcome to Taos."

Comments

[thisfatefulhour]

He blinks at her, slightly taken aback, and crouches so he's on the same level with her.

"So was my father," quietly, "but not lost."

He pushes his hair out of his eyes and adds, "I know. Honestly."

[walk_ins]

"Not all those who wander," says Leon, low and half-laughing. "Yeah. He, Beth, he knows."

Beth looks at Charlie, her expression very dubious, and then back at Charles Wallace. "His father," she says.

[thisfatefulhour]

He smiles at Leon, nodding, and looks back at Beth.

"Not time, though. He never learned how."

[walk_ins]

Charlie has taken a step back, fading into the background to watch.

"You had help." Beth's voice is suddenly much less sharp, almost unsure. "Five-dimensional spatial mathematics. Too many angles."

[thisfatefulhour]

Another nod.

"I still can't do time by myself."

[walk_ins]

A few of the others are drawing closer, including a boy of about thirteen who hasn't yet hit whatever growth spurt he's destined to have.

"Wasn't there," he whispers. "He wasn't."

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles glances up and gives the boy a curious look, uncertain what he means.

"Where?"

(Where doesn't matter.)

[walk_ins]

The boy looks at him like he's crazy. "There."

"Walls and masks and needles," Beth mutters. "Never going back."

[thisfatefulhour]

"Oh." Soft.

"No," he agrees, looking at the faces around him. "Never."

[walk_ins]

Another face appears around the corner of a bookshelf, staring at him solemnly.

[thisfatefulhour]

He looks up and catches her gaze.

And breaks into a smile.

She does have blue eyes.

[walk_ins]

She does. And those eyes are fixed on him.

Her smile is tentative and shy, and she doesn't come any closer.

[thisfatefulhour]

He won't push for contact, any more than he would with any of the other kids. But he returns her smile warmly, and looks around at the others.

"Thank you, by the way," he tells them, "for letting me intrude."

[walk_ins]

"It ain't," Leon mutters, but doesn't elaborate.

[thisfatefulhour]

He looks up at Leon for a moment, and then around.

"Could any of you show me a bit more of this place? I haven't seen much yet."

[walk_ins]

They exchange glances, and several of them look to Charlie.

"Has the sight," comes a very quiet voice from over by the bookshelves.

[thisfatefulhour]

Another look towards her -- her voice carries, in the quiet of the library.

"A little."

[walk_ins]

"It's why you came," she says, a little louder, looking intently at a point just over his right shoulder. "Listened to the wind."

[thisfatefulhour]

Watching her face, he smiles.

"When I finally gave up trying to walk against it."

[walk_ins]

"Inherently flawed metaphor," mutters Beth. "Variances in atmospheric pressure affected by planetary rotation. Little to no semantic content."

A beat, and she scowls up at him. "The Lord was not in the wind."

[thisfatefulhour]

(Lords of snow and rain and wind
Do you know the one you send?)

To Beth -- "Maybe sometimes. But that all depends on how you see it, doesn't it?"

[walk_ins]

"Does it call for tears or mirth?"

Zillah takes a step closer, one trailing hand still brushing the shelves.

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles looks up at her, and is silent for a long moment.

Then, very softly -- "Today is a day for mirth."

He stands up, a little stiff, and smiles at her. "Hi, Zillah."

[walk_ins]

She smiles at him, very small and very bright.

"Hi."

[thisfatefulhour]

Smiling back, he glances at Beth, then back to Zillah.

"Not the Old Man's daughter?"