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[A face comes into view, an older gentleman, wearing a white lab coat over a flannel shirt. He's studying the screen with one part curiosity, one part confusion, and one part terror.]

[He clears his throat.]

Ah, hello. My name is Doctor Walter Bishop. I just arrived here, and I'm not quite sure where I am. I know I'm in Saeng Seong, but I ... I seem to have gotten turned around. I was heading toward the apartments, but now I'm in a market of some sort.

[It's hard to place his accent, though there are hints of Bostonian and possibly London.]

I would very much like to find my way home now, if I could find someone who will stop trying to sell me things long enough to point me in the right direction.

[His tone is full of annoyance, but it drops away to leave him vulnerable again. His eyes dart from the screen nervously, then back.]

Yes, I would very much like to go somewhere quiet now.

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[September stops, regarding Walter, headtilting. He very rarely sees him angry, and when he does, the outcome is... exceedingly difficult to predict.]

It will be difficult to secure their trust to the point that they will be forthcoming with the information that we need, but it will not be impossible. It will take time. Until then, all we can do is to follow their instructions. I have found that it is... inconvenient to avoid doing so.

[Anger flips back to nervous. This isn't going well.]

But I can't be here...

[...]

[What do? What do? For the past few months, all September's known is that contact quite often helps people to be less distraught. Will it work for Walter? There's only one way to find out. He steps forward and wordlessly throws his arms around Walter, hugging him tightly, if a little awkwardly.]

[Walter lets out a tiny squeak. He's unable to move, and barely affords himself a breath. This is the topper of a very, very stressful and strange day. He's too surprised to be much of anything else.]

[in a small voice]

September... are you all right?

[September is... not entirely all right, but that's a discussion for another day. He releases Walter and steps back, regarding the other. He headtilts again.]

Apologies. I have... grown accustomed to physical contact being beneficial for individuals here who are distraught. It was not my intention to frighten you.

[A beat. Then he turns and continues walking, but continues filling the air with words in a vaguely un-Observerlike manner.]

We should continue to the residences. I have observed on at least six different occasions that crowds cause you to become uncomfortable, and the most expedient way to relieve said state is to return you to a quiet environment. I do not wish to see you uncomfortable.

[Then something occurs to him]

I am told that... time moves differently, here, much as it does between your original universe and the one you crossed over into, only... more so.

No... no apologies needed. It was simply unexpected and...

Yes, I would rather go somewhere quiet. Please.

[Walter hugs himself as they continue, keeping himself to himself and giving everyone a wide berth. He seems content to be near the Observer.]

How so? Faster or slower? Or sideways?

[Walter yelps and nearly runs into September as he jumps away from a child running past, followed by what could only be it's father. Walter stops, turns, and yells.]

Can't you be mindful of others who merely want to go home?

[This is not going well.]

[It's not going well at all, and with no Peter or Astrid or even Olivia there to redirect Walter, it will only get worse if September doesn't do... something. Y'know. Besides another sudden hug.]

[He searches his memory for all the times he's watched them do just that, collates the results, and chooses the action that averages the best outcome, even though he's fully aware that Walter regularly stymies predictive calculation. This takes less time than it takes Walter to shout at the rapidly disappearing townies.]

[This time, he reaches out and takes the other man's hand, a gesture that is statistically favoured in attempts to refocus the attention of a distraught individual. If this doesn't work, he might just have to go refigure his entire interpersonal communication matrix from scratch.]

[quietly] Walter, the sooner we are inside, the sooner things will be quiet. We are nearly there.

[Indeed, a cluster of buildings that look like apartment complexes the universe over loom just a couple blocks away.]

[Walter's anger turns over again and he's hugging himself, walking closely with September again. In a few moments, they come upon the buildings.]

This... this is home?

[Home now?]

[They walk briskly inside, Walter trailing after the Observer. Once inside and in the relative quiet of the building, Walter seems to loosen up a little, but he's still staying close.]

Yes.

[Once inside, September makes his way to the stairs, looking back at Walter.]

This way. You live on the second floor.

I do? Oh, I do. I remember, they told me earlier.

[Walter shoves his hands in his pockets and follows September.]

I don't like it already. Not enough light. Dusty.

[And other mutterings of general dislike for the building. Grumpy is better than panic.]

[Grumpy Walter is something he can handle, yes. He stops at Walter's door, number 14, then looks across the hall at number 15.]

[Neighbour Walter is something he also hopes he can handle.]

This one is yours. I live in number 15, just across the hall.

Edited 2014-01-08 07:40 (UTC)

Oh. I see.

[There is a moment's hesitation where Walter looks at his door, then back to September. He wrings his hands.]

That's where you'll be.

[Looks at his door.]

And I'm in here.

[He takes a deep breath, then turns to September again, a very brave, and forced, smile on his face.]

I will be okay. Here.

[His smile falters.]

Alone. In this... room.

[September headtilts at that.]

I have observed that you do not do well with solitude in unfamiliar places. No-one else whom you even remotely know is here, you have no laboratory space, yet, and no cow.

[He know the cow is Important, damnit.]

I will accompany you, and offer what support I can.

[The truth hurts, but it's also relieving not to have to explain himself. Or not explain, as it happens when he's upset.]

Yes, Gene is... she's h-- still at Harvard.

[Walter screws up his courage.]

I've been doing fine. I will be fine. I just... I just need to rest.

[He looks nervously at his door again. he has no idea what to do.]

September Knows You, Walter, he does. Well, as well as an Observer can, which is simultaneously very and not at all.

He looks at the doorknob, then at Walter.

"You must go inside to do that," he finally says, and the gravitas of his statement is patently absurd.

Walter clears his throat and nods again, a solid and final gesture that helps him gather his courage.

"Well then. Ah. See you later."

With great, terrible effort, he slides his key into the lock and opens the door. It's dark, and he's reminded of the first hotel room he and Peter shared after he was released from St. Claire's. He's not sure how to feel about that.

One foot in front of the other, two steps, and he reaches a light switch. It's an apartment, just a wee thing. He's used to more space--he and Peter's house had--has--two floors and a basement and a kitchen, oh there's a kitchen.

Well, he always wanted to be independent.

"I think... I think I'll. Just."

Lean against the wall and sigh, trying not to weep. It doesn't work.

He left the door open, though. September sees all of this, his head tilted. He... doesn't quite know what to do.

September stands in the doorway, snared in an indecision. He does not do well at all with displays of emotion. And yet... Walter is his friend. He... should do something. But what?

After a little more thought, September steps a little hesitantly into the room and approaches Walter, then reaches out to pat the other man's shoulder.

Everything. The smell of an empty room, freshly dusted and cleaned. The carpet under his feet, just thick enough to afford some warmth between the feet and the ground beneath. The small living area with just enough furniture to remind you that you weren't living somewhere people should stay for longer than a few days.

And there isn't a Peter here anywhere, not in a house nor a hotel room, or even angry with him all the way across a continent.

"Oh..." Walter turns around and embraces September, hanging onto him as if he's drowning, clinging desperately. "I can't do this again, I just can't. I can't lose them all. I can't do this. I can't."

Edited 2014-01-19 06:26 (UTC)

September blinks, but curls his arms around Walter anyway. It almost feels as though he's holding the other upright. Perhaps he is. He has no idea what to say, though, so he just holds Walter for several beats, racking his brain for the right words. One hand pats Walter's back.

He lets his eyes fall half shut, listening to Walter's thoughts. Just the surface thoughts, really, just what he's thinking and feeling right now. It's powerful, more so than any other mind he's listened to recently. Still, he can sort out the emotions.

"They will likely not have time to notice that you have gone," he murmurs softly. "Time moves much more quickly here than it does there." He gathers another few thoughts and takes a breath before continuing. "I know... a little... how it feels not to have one's family with one. I will help you. You do not have to be alone."

Whups, his eyes are prickling and watering a little.

Walter leans against September, needing the contact. There aren't many people he gets that close to; while hugs aren't rare, they're only for people he trusts dearly. September once saved his life, saved Peter's life, and while the Observer hasn't exactly been a wellspring of positive information over the last twenty five years, he's been a constant, and Walter considers him a friend. He trusts him implicitly.

"But Peter, he's always helped me, even ... even when I haven't wanted it. He's always been there. I just got him back." He pauses, takes a shaky breath, and in a whisper, "What if I die here? No one would ever know, and I'd ... I'd never be able to say goodbye, and... and..."

He's panicking again, mind racing, horrible scenarios running through his head. Walter can stand up against many things, but this isn't easy at all.

"Maybe it'll be temporary, only a few days..."

September will just hold him upright as long as Walter needs him to. He doesn't say anything for a small while, letting Walter get his words out. He pats Walter's back gently.

The other's fears of dying here stab at him the tiniest bit. "I will make certain that does not happen," he murmurs. He's done it before, after all. "You will be safe, here."

Walter raises his head. He looks old, so much more than his sixty five years, and heartbroken. There's a shred of hope there, though, and it comes out in his voice.

"I can be your ... family? For you, if you like." Did Observers have families? He really, really hoped they did. "It's not much, but I can be useful." When did this man become so very, very small?

They don't have families, but September sort of does. His eyes are warm when he looks at Walter, the closest he gets to a smile, really. "Yes," he answers.

That's a big step for an Observer.

"You do not need to be useful," September continues, leading Walter to a chair. "I have discovered that that... is the nature of family. It is a closeness that is... not conditional."

Sit down, Walter.

Walter nod-nods, doing as he's guided. Chair. Sit. Breathe. OK.

"I'm still getting used to that, even after three years." He settles, closes his eyes. Rubs his face. Opens his eyes again. Scratches his head. His momentarily become lost in the greying curls.

"You're different here," he says quietly, after a time. "I remember August."

There's a pause as September puts his thoughts to words.

"I have been here for three months and eight days," he answers softly, "during which time I have... realised that I have been changing for several years, now." His gaze drops, then comes back up again. "I cannot hear the minds of my people, here. I am... unobserved."

There's a beat and he adds: "It is... a kind of freedom."

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