ladyfirestarter ([personal profile] ladyfirestarter) wrote2007-03-07 11:42 am

(no subject)

March 7, 2007
11:42am


Almost everyone thought the woman and the girl were mother and daughter.


For the second time in a week, Charlie stands looking at the little sculpture of the turtle at Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. This time she has company.

The note is gone, Charlie notices absently, but some wag has pasted a series of stickers along the length of the nearby walk, in the style of the old Burma Shave ads: SEE THE TURTLE / OF ENORMOUS GIRTH / ON HIS SHELL / HE HOLDS THE EARTH.

"It's from a book," is all she says to Bev's quizzical glance at her when she smiles at the rhyme.

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-21 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
Bev looks from the words on the stickers to the turtle sculpture, and opens her mouth to say that's not really what I'd call 'enormous girth'--

--only what comes out of her mouth is, "The Turtle couldn't help us."

She stands there for a moment, and then, just as unexpectedly, bursts into tears.

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-21 05:34 am (UTC)(link)
Bev swipes the back of one hand across her eyes again and again, trying to get herself under control--which, of course, only makes the crying more hysterical.

In the end, she gives up and just leans against Charlie, one hand covering her face.

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-21 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Is it?"

Bev's more under control now, though her shoulders still shake occasionally.

"How many more things like that are out there? And--that thing I just said about the turtle--I don't even know where it came from, really, but I think I know what it means. It means we have to face them alone, doesn't it?"

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-21 05:58 am (UTC)(link)
Bev sniffs, and wipes her nose on her sleeve.

"It still almost got us."

With the rush of adrenaline faded, the fact that they got it instead seems less of a comfort than it did in the room.

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Bev sniffs again, then looks up at her, a bit uncertainly.

"I--I guess I'm glad I was there, then."

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
"I'll be okay," Bev says, too automatically for it to be really sincere.

"And...is wasn't your fault I was there."

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
Beverly nods, and there's more sincerity in her voice as she says, "Well, yeah, not yet. We're all gonna need some time, I think."

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Bev looks at her, a bit puzzled again.

"Yeah? What's here?"

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
Beverly swipes a hand across her cheeks, getting rid of the last signs of tears, and shakes her head and stands up.

"I'm okay."

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
Bev stops short as Charlie speaks, looking back at the statue.

(he sees the truth but mayn't aid)

When she puts her hand in Charlie's, her expression is thoughtful.

"That's...you said it was from a book?"

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't think I've ever heard it before," Bev says. "But...my friend Bill saw a giant turtle while he was fighting It. And--" her brow furrows; the memory's unexpectedly fuzzy for a part of her life that was so vivid. "--And he said the turtle couldn't help him them, either--but he still felt like it was good."

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
"I guess. Maybe whoever wrote the rhyme knew about the same turtle, somehow."

Bev steps inside, and--

Oh.

She's been inside places that felt wrong before. Fundamentally wrong in ways she couldn't explain, but couldn't help feeling.

She's never been in any place that had an equally deep, unexplainable sense of rightness.

Until now.

[personal profile] walk_ins 2007-03-22 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
It sings. Can you hear it?

Sun pours through the high windows, filling the lobby with delicately slanting light. The floor is tiled in pink marble, everywhere except at the very center.

A square of plain earth, surrounded by velvet ropes strung between chrome stands. A few dwarf palm trees, and some ferns ...

And in the middle, by itself, the rose.

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
Beverly approaches the little garden slowly, sneakered feet making hardly any noise on the tile. Her expression is a mix of solemnity and joy in her face, eyes bright, lips parted and turned up just a bit at the corners.

She doesn't speak for a long moment, and when she does, her voice is hushed.

"This is--"

(everything)

"--a lot more than just a rose, isn't it?"

[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com 2007-03-22 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
Bev looks at it, her slight smile growing, and then at the plaque nearby.

GIVEN BY THE TET CORPORATION, IN HONOR OF EDWARD CANTOR DEAN AND JOHN 'JAKE CHAMBERS. GOOD OVER EVIL, THIS IS EVER THE WILL OF GOD.

One of the names catches at her memory, but she can't place it--and in the presence of the Rose, she's not inclined to puzzle over it, not inclined to do much besides stand here and drink in the sound of the song.

Her vision is blurry with tears again, but tears of a very different kind--and then she shuts her eyes, and it doesn't matter.

"Thank you," she whispers, and isn't sure if it's to Charlie or the Rose itself, or both.