closed RP: Stephen and Sarah: remembrance
Stephen continued to visit the popcorn room regularly, in tribute to River. Simon Tam had joined her not long after, and now Susan Sto Helit was somewhere amongst the kernels as well, Stephen knew: in the wake of her mysterious 'experiment,' a note had somehow found its way to his desk, a letter she had prepared in the event of her demise. He was thankful Jack had only been trapped in a magic privy and not popcorned. He did not know how many more losses he could sustain in such a short period of time without returning again to the drugs he knew Sarah wished him to avoid.
It was his first visit after receiving Susan's note, and he stopped to trace her name on the plaque, as if to confirm her fate. Then he noticed an addition, a name he knew. Dib had been a student of Stephen's, but more than a student: a fellow researcher, perhaps even a friend. Certainly he had acted as a friend. Without Dib, Stephen could not have made the talisman that kept Sarah safe, or that at the least gave her assurance of safety.
Stephen had never come to know Dib very closely. What he knew of him, he respected: the boy had chosen to age beyond his proper years in order to face an alien threat; he had undertaken serious study; he had fiercely defended his loved ones and sought to protect them. He knew, too, that Dib had been recently bereaved, his first love gone to the popcorn room much as River had done. He wondered whether the boy had followed her purposely.
He did not abbreviate his visit. He wanted time alone to think, to be in what still felt like River's presence. He knew when he returned to the laboratory, he would need to tell Sarah that Dib was gone. Sarah had liked the boy, had come to see him as a friend; she would want to know. And that would also mean that Stephen would need to admit to her he had been going to the popcorn room in the first place, something he had never discussed with her.
When he did return, he found Sarah happily at work on a prototype of the cat-transformation potion, humming something to herself. Bearing unhappy news never was a pleasant task, but to disturb this rare tranquility seemed doubly discourteous. All the same, he would not spare her. He knew she would not want to be spared. So he quenched the fire under the cauldron with a brief cooling charm (the one he had just learned from Lily only days before) and led Sarah to sit on the cot in the corner, taking both her hands in his.
He said it as concisely as he could. That was its own form of mercy. "Mr Dib is popcorn."
Then he waited, watching her face.
It was his first visit after receiving Susan's note, and he stopped to trace her name on the plaque, as if to confirm her fate. Then he noticed an addition, a name he knew. Dib had been a student of Stephen's, but more than a student: a fellow researcher, perhaps even a friend. Certainly he had acted as a friend. Without Dib, Stephen could not have made the talisman that kept Sarah safe, or that at the least gave her assurance of safety.
Stephen had never come to know Dib very closely. What he knew of him, he respected: the boy had chosen to age beyond his proper years in order to face an alien threat; he had undertaken serious study; he had fiercely defended his loved ones and sought to protect them. He knew, too, that Dib had been recently bereaved, his first love gone to the popcorn room much as River had done. He wondered whether the boy had followed her purposely.
He did not abbreviate his visit. He wanted time alone to think, to be in what still felt like River's presence. He knew when he returned to the laboratory, he would need to tell Sarah that Dib was gone. Sarah had liked the boy, had come to see him as a friend; she would want to know. And that would also mean that Stephen would need to admit to her he had been going to the popcorn room in the first place, something he had never discussed with her.
When he did return, he found Sarah happily at work on a prototype of the cat-transformation potion, humming something to herself. Bearing unhappy news never was a pleasant task, but to disturb this rare tranquility seemed doubly discourteous. All the same, he would not spare her. He knew she would not want to be spared. So he quenched the fire under the cauldron with a brief cooling charm (the one he had just learned from Lily only days before) and led Sarah to sit on the cot in the corner, taking both her hands in his.
He said it as concisely as he could. That was its own form of mercy. "Mr Dib is popcorn."
Then he waited, watching her face.