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3x01 A proper reunion
She sat at her desk, writing her notes.
Dead copper on the news.
Dead copper in front of me.
The television cut away from the programming to a field of white noise, and of course she crossed the room to kneel in front of it.
"Is there anybody there?"
Nothing. She kept staring. Hoping for something. Some clue. She whispered quietly, as if someone might over hear.
"You know it's weird. I can see why Sam wanted... Why he needed to come back here. There's something about this world, about my place in it that's important."
The television snow cleared, and she could see the silhouette of the young man in uniform, half his face a dark shadow.
"Who are you? What do you want? Do you want help, is that it? I can't -- I can't help you. I can't even help myself." She stared at him, standing in that wide green field, his gaze impassive. As if he was seeing her, but not somehow.
"Can you tell me what any of it means?"
The television picture reformed onto the programme, Top Gear of all things. And the image of the Audi Quattro speeding through the snow.
She writes one final word on the page:
GENE
It all revolves around him.
She takes a deep breath, and lets it go. And before it's gone, there's a soft knock at the door. This late? It couldn't be anyone else. So she puts her notes away and looks down at her big fluffy socks. Yeah, so much for grace and elegance, Alex.
She opens the door and steps back a little, unconsciously inviting him in.
Dead copper on the news.
Dead copper in front of me.
The television cut away from the programming to a field of white noise, and of course she crossed the room to kneel in front of it.
"Is there anybody there?"
Nothing. She kept staring. Hoping for something. Some clue. She whispered quietly, as if someone might over hear.
"You know it's weird. I can see why Sam wanted... Why he needed to come back here. There's something about this world, about my place in it that's important."
The television snow cleared, and she could see the silhouette of the young man in uniform, half his face a dark shadow.
"Who are you? What do you want? Do you want help, is that it? I can't -- I can't help you. I can't even help myself." She stared at him, standing in that wide green field, his gaze impassive. As if he was seeing her, but not somehow.
"Can you tell me what any of it means?"
The television picture reformed onto the programme, Top Gear of all things. And the image of the Audi Quattro speeding through the snow.
She writes one final word on the page:
GENE
It all revolves around him.
She takes a deep breath, and lets it go. And before it's gone, there's a soft knock at the door. This late? It couldn't be anyone else. So she puts her notes away and looks down at her big fluffy socks. Yeah, so much for grace and elegance, Alex.
She opens the door and steps back a little, unconsciously inviting him in.
no subject
He takes a long look at her hands though, inside his jacket. Last time she did that...well. He's not going to repeat the action but he'd bloody like to.
no subject
This is where she belongs. She knows that now. This is important.
Her eyes blink open and she looks up into his face.
"Right. Drink?"
no subject
He looks down into her eyes and is part disappointed and part relieved when she turns away.
no subject
Scotch is in the same place as always. She pours them both stiff doubles.
"To us."
no subject
He can't forget everything that happened but he can bury it. He's good at keeping things buried, Gene.
'You an' me, Bols.'
A rewind, to the night before that day. He can do that.
no subject
The whiskey burns going down, but not near as bright as the spark in her heart.