adiva_calandia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-03-26 08:14 am
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-03-26 08:14 am
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Title: Nerves in Patterns On a Screen
Fandom: Academy/Taos!Charles AU
Notes: Self-indulgent AU angst FTW! I wrote this for the sake of two lines of dialogue.
It had been a month since Charles stumbled into Milliways again -- a month since Charlie and Zillah convinced him to return to Taos with them.
Three weeks since Sarai woke Ted and Charlie in the middle of the night, nearly panicking and whispering, "Chuck's falling, he's falling, the whole structure is unstable." Three weeks since Ted put the blocks up around Charles, as he shook and sobbed that he had to go back to the Academy, it's a strategic retreat, he had to.
Two weeks since Zillah started slipping into quotations more and more easily.
A week since the withdrawal symptoms tapered off, and Charles left his room.
Charlie wasn't specifically looking for him when she came into the library. She had some thought of checking on him, soon, but she simply wanted a book. A few heads lifted as she came into the common area; most stayed down.
"Hi," she said softly, to the group in general. "What's up?"
"Meaningless colloquialism," muttered Beth. "It's an arbitrary direction." She looked up and blew out an annoyed breath. "Charles."
Charlie blinked. "Where is he?"
"Isn't important," whispered Zillah, curled in an armchair, but Charlie didn't hear.
"Here," Beth replied shortly.
"For now," added Avi, more quietly.
Charlie closed her eyes. "I see. Is he around?"
Stefan raised one long arm, without looking up, and pointed down the stacks, towards the stairs that led to the second level. Charlie nodded her thanks and headed that way.
She found him a few minutes later, curled up on a windowseat, arms around his knees.
"Hello," he said, before she came into his line of sight.
"Hello, Charles." She came around to face him. "Can I join you?"
He gave her a brief smile. "May."
"Is that permission, or are you just correcting my grammar?"
His smile widened a little, and she sat down at the other end of the window. For a moment, she thought, he looked like a normal young man, with hair in that slightly scruffy state between short and medium -- and then his eyes skittered off hers, to look out the window again, and he looked like . . .
Well, he looked like one of the kids.
"Sometimes," he said softly, unexpectedly, "it's so loud I think it will shake me apart. Down to the component atoms, and you can rebuild him."
She blinked. "What?"
He touched his head. "The goodmind. The Old Music." He closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the wall. "Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew." A hollow laugh. "No. I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be."
Charlie shook her head. "I hope not. His ending's hardly happy."
He opened his eyes to look at her again. "There's a resemblance."
I am but mad north-north-west, she thought, and shook her head firmly. "Not really."
But Charles was already shaking his head, before the words were out of her mouth. "I know a hawk from a handsaw--" He ran a hand through his hair. "The wind changes, and I -- I--"
Charlie reached out and put a hand on his foot, a small gesture. They'd figured out that Charles had certain trigger words -- wind and star and trapped -- but there was no point in trying to avoid them. More often than not, he brought them up himself. Then there was nothing to do but reassure him of where he was, and hope he would register.
"Charles?"
He pulled his knees to his chest, rested his forehead on them. "It'll never go back. Can't be fixed -- a sea of troubles and by opposing -- no. I say what I mean and it comes out madness. G-I-G-O."
"Shh, Charles." She moved along the seat and put an arm around his shoulders. He didn't flinch away. There was a long silence.
"Charlie?"
"Yes?"
His shoulders rose and fell under her arm. "Taos. In the village. This is home, isn't it."
She nodded. "For now."
"For now." Another long pause. Then -- "Okay."
For the moment, there seemed to be nothing else to say.
Fandom: Academy/Taos!Charles AU
Notes: Self-indulgent AU angst FTW! I wrote this for the sake of two lines of dialogue.
It had been a month since Charles stumbled into Milliways again -- a month since Charlie and Zillah convinced him to return to Taos with them.
Three weeks since Sarai woke Ted and Charlie in the middle of the night, nearly panicking and whispering, "Chuck's falling, he's falling, the whole structure is unstable." Three weeks since Ted put the blocks up around Charles, as he shook and sobbed that he had to go back to the Academy, it's a strategic retreat, he had to.
Two weeks since Zillah started slipping into quotations more and more easily.
A week since the withdrawal symptoms tapered off, and Charles left his room.
Charlie wasn't specifically looking for him when she came into the library. She had some thought of checking on him, soon, but she simply wanted a book. A few heads lifted as she came into the common area; most stayed down.
"Hi," she said softly, to the group in general. "What's up?"
"Meaningless colloquialism," muttered Beth. "It's an arbitrary direction." She looked up and blew out an annoyed breath. "Charles."
Charlie blinked. "Where is he?"
"Isn't important," whispered Zillah, curled in an armchair, but Charlie didn't hear.
"Here," Beth replied shortly.
"For now," added Avi, more quietly.
Charlie closed her eyes. "I see. Is he around?"
Stefan raised one long arm, without looking up, and pointed down the stacks, towards the stairs that led to the second level. Charlie nodded her thanks and headed that way.
She found him a few minutes later, curled up on a windowseat, arms around his knees.
"Hello," he said, before she came into his line of sight.
"Hello, Charles." She came around to face him. "Can I join you?"
He gave her a brief smile. "May."
"Is that permission, or are you just correcting my grammar?"
His smile widened a little, and she sat down at the other end of the window. For a moment, she thought, he looked like a normal young man, with hair in that slightly scruffy state between short and medium -- and then his eyes skittered off hers, to look out the window again, and he looked like . . .
Well, he looked like one of the kids.
"Sometimes," he said softly, unexpectedly, "it's so loud I think it will shake me apart. Down to the component atoms, and you can rebuild him."
She blinked. "What?"
He touched his head. "The goodmind. The Old Music." He closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the wall. "Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew." A hollow laugh. "No. I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be."
Charlie shook her head. "I hope not. His ending's hardly happy."
He opened his eyes to look at her again. "There's a resemblance."
I am but mad north-north-west, she thought, and shook her head firmly. "Not really."
But Charles was already shaking his head, before the words were out of her mouth. "I know a hawk from a handsaw--" He ran a hand through his hair. "The wind changes, and I -- I--"
Charlie reached out and put a hand on his foot, a small gesture. They'd figured out that Charles had certain trigger words -- wind and star and trapped -- but there was no point in trying to avoid them. More often than not, he brought them up himself. Then there was nothing to do but reassure him of where he was, and hope he would register.
"Charles?"
He pulled his knees to his chest, rested his forehead on them. "It'll never go back. Can't be fixed -- a sea of troubles and by opposing -- no. I say what I mean and it comes out madness. G-I-G-O."
"Shh, Charles." She moved along the seat and put an arm around his shoulders. He didn't flinch away. There was a long silence.
"Charlie?"
"Yes?"
His shoulders rose and fell under her arm. "Taos. In the village. This is home, isn't it."
She nodded. "For now."
"For now." Another long pause. Then -- "Okay."
For the moment, there seemed to be nothing else to say.