Dr. Walter Bishop (
because_its_cool) wrote in
touchscreens2013-12-26 07:23 pm
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1.0 : video
[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.
[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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[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.]
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[Neighbour Walter is something he also hopes he can handle.]
This one is yours. I live in number 15, just across the hall.
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[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.
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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.
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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.]
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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"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..."
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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."
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"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?
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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.
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"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."
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"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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"Is this the first time you've been apart? You and your people?"
He reaches out, tentatively, and rests his hand on September's arm. "Change can sometimes be good, yes?"
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When Walter places his hand on September's arm, the Observer does not look down at it in confusion, as he had done before. Instead, after a beat, he carefully puts his own hand over it, his fingers pale and smooth and warm.
"Yes. Change can be good."