(no subject)

[ladyfirestarter]

It's the same hallway as the last time he came through. The drawings have changed; one of them is a careful pencil sketch of two hands in repose, fingers halfway overlapping.

Charlie stands aside to let him pass, studying him carefully as he crosses the threshold.

Comments

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie spreads one hand. "Anywhere you think might be restful. I forget, did I show you the stables last time you were here?"

[thisfatefulhour]

"No, we mainly stayed indoors."

He glances down the hallway. "The library? And maybe the stables a little later."

[ladyfirestarter]

She nods. "Library it is."



The last time she brought Charles Wallace here was nearly a year ago. She remembers leading him down the stairs to the underground passageway between the buildings, remembers keeping her eyes fixed on the far wall so as not to look down at her feet on the stairs.

We got out.

[thisfatefulhour]

This time, the positions are reversed -- Charles is moving carefully, with Charlie keeping a close eye on him. They don't talk much, though. Charles still has that slightly abstracted look on his face, of a man stepping inside from the cold and focused on soaking up the warmth.


When they reach the library, Charles glances around automatically, to see who else is in there with them.

And pauses.

"Charlie -- it's 2007 here, isn't it?"

[ladyfirestarter]

"Yes -- what year is it for you? If you told me before, I've forgotten."

(There's nobody in immediate view.)

[thisfatefulhour]

"1983."

(That's all right -- the stacks are taking up his full attention at the moment.)

A slow smile starts on his face. "There are books in here I've never imagined."

[ladyfirestarter]

And oh, that smile's a sight to see.

Charlie grins back at him. "Anything in particular you want to see?"

[thisfatefulhour]

"I don't know where to begin," he admits. "Poetry?"

Sometimes he's very predictable.

[ladyfirestarter]

Little bit yeah.

"Over this way," she tells him, keeping a straight face.

[thisfatefulhour]

He slants a look at her, amused.

"I heard that."

[ladyfirestarter]

She gives him a small rueful smile. "Sorry about that."

The poetry section of the library is surprisingly extensive, and has a reading area of its own: two soft armchairs, and a table with another chair next to it.

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles passes her and goes up to the shelves, running his fingers along the spines reverently. They pause several times -- The Road Not Taken; Nocturne of Remembered Spring; The Sea and the Mirror; Words for the Wind -- until finally settling on Questions About Angels.

It's probably safe to say he's in his own world right now.

[ladyfirestarter]

Charlie finds a chair and seats herself comfortably, watching him study the shelves.

The kids should be getting out of morning classes fairly soon now. Some of them will doubtless find their way here: if she concentrates she can hear the word passed through the goodmind, the one that says someone we know is here, he's come back.

[thisfatefulhour]

He cocks his head slightly, and shoots Charlie another look, this one less readable.

(he's come back)

(It echoes slightly, under the goodmind, plucking at the constant homesickness and the nervousness.)

Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Charles settles into a chair and starts to read. It's something to focus on.

[walk_ins]

Winter sunlight sifts through the windows, moving across the floor slowly, almost imperceptibly.

Light footfalls, and a face appears around the corner of one of the bookshelves.

[thisfatefulhour]

(no wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart)

Charles' head comes up a moment before Avi is in sight.

The look in his eyes (the feel of him) is a jumble of anxiousness and hope and pleasure.

[walk_ins]

Avi studies Charles for a moment in intent seriousness, then gives him a tentative smile.

"Hi."

[thisfatefulhour]

A quick smile in return, almost as tentative.

"Avi. Hi."

[walk_ins]

He glances at Charlie, who smiles back at him, and back at Charles, and then his gaze wanders along the wall.

"Is it better?" he asks, apparently of a bookshelf.

[thisfatefulhour]

The smile fades.

"Better," he says finally. "It's not what it was before, though. You take it day by day."

[walk_ins]

Avi nods, the gesture a little jerky. He hunkers down to a crouch next to the bookcase, wrapping his arms around his knees, and settles there.

[thisfatefulhour]

He glances away briefly.

(He knows.)

It's only a moment, though -- then he looks up again, expectant.

[ladyfirestarter]

There's a muffled giggle from somewhere, quite close by.

Charlie looks up at that sound, and suppresses a smile.

[thisfatefulhour]

Charles' own lips twitch up, and he shoots a glance between Charlie and Avi.

(The nervousness lessens a little.)

[walk_ins]

Another giggle, louder.

And an aggrieved sigh from the other side of the room, where a thin red-haired figure stands leaning against the doorframe. "He can hear you," she informs the air pointedly, before turning and stalking out.