Mar. 1st, 2007

ladyfirestarter: (home)
She's packed and ready to go by ten; Eric's scheduled to drive her to the airport at twelve.

An hour to walk around the grounds and say goodbye to the kids. As usual, she can't be sure which of them was the first to pick up the object of her mission; what one of them finds out tends to spread. A few of them hug her -- Avi practically clings. Sarai gives her a long indecipherable look and says She's walking into the labyrinth, in a tone that somehow combines unease and approval. Arbalest, who almost never speaks out loud, hands her a sketch; it's a study of Charlie herself, her face from several angles. Ethan won't look at her, but mutters zhū nín hăo yùn as she's leaving the room.

Half an hour for an informal staff meeting in Main. Ted, Irene, Fred and Laura Towne, Kate Welker, Eric VanAllsburg, all the others -- even Mark Bell, fidgeting slightly but paying attention as well as his permanently five-year-old mind allows. You all know I'm leaving on assignment, she tells them. I'm not getting any twitches, but precog's not my strongest talent. If any of you feel anything, any warning, now's the time to tell me.

Nobody does.

They're not a ka-tet, this group; there is no overwhelming sense of wholeness to them, no bond tighter than family. They're connected by nothing more than the mutual decision to go in company for a while. But they're a team, and a good one.

They wish her luck as the meeting breaks up, and Eric helps carry her suitcase down the stairs and out to the car, and it's time to get going.



At the airport, while waiting for her flight to board, she wanders through the newsstand-bookseller nearest her gate and scans the shelves idly for the new releases and bestsellers. There's a row of books, unfamiliar cover art under familiar names --

A man with a ponytail and a battered denim jacket nearly bumps into her as he rounds the corner of the bookshelf. "Oh, 'scuse me," he says without quite looking at her, and reaches past her to snag a book at just below her own eye level.

The art on the cover is a wooden chair engulfed in flames, and the title is Firestarter.

Bemused, she watches the man head back to the counter, pay for his airplane reading and an overpriced bag of toffee peanuts, and amble off down the wide hallway.

Oddly, what she's finding herself remembering is something Armin Cochrane wrote in that spate of emails from the Board: We're observers, not protagonists. Let's stay clear.

Charlie's mouth curls in a smile of grim amusement. Speak for yourself, Armin.

Twenty minutes till her flight leaves. They'll be boarding anytime now.
March 1, 2007
11:30pm EST


It's raining hard as the cab from the airport pulls to a halt in front of the hotel on 61st Street. A cheerful recorded voice reminds Charlie to take all her belongings with her as she pays the cabbie and steps out onto the sidewalk, ducking hurriedly under the awning with its stylized logo of a leaping dolphin.

She's exhausted, between the flight and the keyed-up tension of the past several days and the lateness of the hour, but not too much to note small details of the small, smart lobby -- the revolving door, the overstuffed chairs, the mezzanine level visible from the front door, the elegant suit the woman behind the counter is wearing. All of it whispers this is the right place.

Her room's ready -- nonsmoking, yes, thank you. Room 1108. The coincidence isn't even unnerving anymore; it feels like a puzzle piece fitting neatly into place. Especially when she notices, idly, what 11 and 08 add up to.

She takes the keycard, thanks the receptionist again, heads for the elevator towing her wheeled suitcase. Checks her watch, in the elevator, and resigns herself to staying awake for at least another half-hour.

It's enough time to unpack, and to take a quick shower; she's sitting on the bed in her bathrobe, brushing her wet hair, when the closet door opens quietly. A distant-sounding babble of cheerful noise comes into the room, followed by a red-haired woman and a faint smell of something burning.

Charlie looks up at Fire, and smiles.

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