Even the last words she said--Angel of knowledge--were not really hers. She was existing alongside something and someone else, and while her eyes were open, she was too stunned to realize it. There were wings on her back. She was and is no longer human. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, not even years of mentally drilling it into your head and being aware of the possibility
( ... )
Noah has been out of the room again in the time that she was asleep for. It is impossible for him to sleep without talking to her first. That is the guardian in him but it's Noah too. The last that he heard of her, she was in shock, she was barely there
( ... )
It's with drowsy contemplation she fully awakens. Her hand rests on the pillow beside her and she lifts it up, marveling at the feel of her fingers. She wriggles them in place before resting them back on the soft fabric, eyes darting around the room
( ... )
There's a soft smile as he watches her from her spot, watches how she moves as if exploring the world for the first time. He has a pretty intense memory of when he first woke up for the first time after the wings, after knowing what he was
( ... )
Her smile widens a fraction as he shifts closer. It's subdued and quiet in nature, though very genuine, even if she isn't saying anything. Even if he isn't saying anything, either.
She has learned that after a certain amount of years of knowing someone, you can actually have a conversation with them without speaking.
"Yeah, definitely. A truck or maybe a freight train," she says almost inaudibly, hand running up and down her arm idly. She is colder to the touch than she used to be. She looks up at him too, at what he says, and the seriousness of the past night hasn't escaped her notice.
It's not something she could ever forget.
I'm sorry is on the tip of her tongue to say, but she swallows it back down despite the guilt settling into her stomach in the form of a knot. She knows she scared him, and he hasn't slept in over a day becasue he's been taking care of her instead, and she certainly never wanted him to see something like that
( ... )
They know each other so well that they do not need words, no.
There's a quiet conversation between them without one word being said out loud. There's relief, love, friendship, and knowing.
"A freight train is an even better descriptor if we're being honest. Maybe a ship or a small planet would work too? Rammed into by a comet," Noah says, and he smiles a little but he doesn't manage to keep the smile for long. It falls into a frown again.
The seriousness remains even if the pain thankfully has eased by quite a lot, even if the transformation is over, and they're now in a recovery period.
It's like he can sense the I'm sorry that she doesn't say, and maybe he can. He shakes his head at her, small fond smile pushing past the frown again.
He couldn't do anything else. There was nowhere else he would have been, and he-- she's fine so he's better even if things are echoing through his head still from what happened. They'll fade.
They'll fade.
You'll be an amazing guardian someday.Well, maybe they won't all fade
( ... )
"Comet definitely works. I feel like being rammed into one would make me burst into stars somehow," she says thoughtfully, and then rolls her eyes at herself as the thought comes to her.
"That's what I thought when I was little. When people died, they became stars."
It made sense to her at the time, and it was comforting in a way, too. Her dad was a star, and she could see him at night if she ever wanted.
As if things are ever that simple.
"Then again, I also thought the Weeping Willow was a tree suffering from chronic depression. I was an odd child." Or maybe she just took things too literally.
She doesn't say the I'm sorry despite sorely feeling it, for all sorts of things. She knows he wouldn't want it, and he knows whether she says it or not, which makes the voicing of it a rather useless thing. "Of course I would. I always hated I wasn't, but I knew I wouldn't be any help and she knew more than I ever could, so..." her voice trails off and she takes a small breath
( ... )
"That's... giving me an interesting imagery, but I'm glad you didn't burst into stars. I'd still be your friend, but long distance friendships are hard," Noah says with a small smile that becomes more fond when she rolls her eyes at herself
( ... )
Rachel actually laughs at that, tired and low-pitched as it may be. "Hard but not impossible. As my best friend, you are expected--nay, obligated--to travel through worlds, across universes, and beyond should I ever become a cluster of stars."
She watches him silently from where she rests, mind whirling faster than she can ever remember it doing. "Do you think there is one? An afterlife."
There's a small, small stirring, an itch in her fingers to record his answer, commit it to memory, but it's not so bad.
It's not anywhere near bad yet.
Another small laugh. "I never said odd was a bad thing. I reject the typical and the strive towards perfection. Besides, you're the one who let that child feed you dirt. You were pretty odd yourself, Evans
( ... )
"I completely believe and agree that I would have an obligation, but I also have no idea how I would actually travel the universe to fall those stars that are you," Noah says with a small laugh of his own as he looks over at her, shaking his head slightly in amusement
( ... )
"You would build a TARDIS for us," Rachel says with a deadpanned expression on her face, well-aware of Doctor Who. Look, if anyone could build a TARDIS someday, it would be Noah with her help. It's not exactly an Ark as Jess likes calling him, but the point stands. "Then you could find me wherever!"
It's strange. Even her focus has channeled into something different. She can't not pay attention to things. Everything. All at once. She's always been nerdy. She writes everything down in a Composition notebook and she devours books like the boys do food.
Angel of knowledge is at the very least fitting.
"I don't think it goes against science," she says gently. She always thinks these things through. It's not that she believes she is wise or anything, but she doesn't believe one necessarily cancels out the other. "I believe they go hand in hand. We need science to explain life's mysteries so they are no longer mystery. And one's beliefs take over where science may fall short
( ... )
"Yes, let me get right on that, Rachel," Noah says with a tiny, amused smile. Baw, they probably have watched Doctor Who together that is ADORABLE. It totally would be the two of them that could do it. They're geniuses. :x "Wherever, whenever." We're meant to be together. Noah doesn't know that song, but the narration thought of it automatically
( ... )
"I will let you. I realize you need my permission to do these things, so consider the permission granted," Rachel says, and she's closed her eyes but she is not falling asleep at all, grinning softly as the conversation floats over to her. She has found it's easier if she focuses on adjusting to one sense at a time.
The sense of hearing. Their voices are sharper, clearer somehow, as if the volume on the television has been elevated, and they are already speaking softly as it is.
They would totally, totally watch Dr. Who, and Rachel would think Martha Jones was made of awesome, made only more awesome by the fact she lives in Chicago. They need to stumble on a blue box that takes them somewhere really random now. And that's the deal, my dear. 8|"Maybe it is. Maybe the point isn't really finding the answers so much as living them. I do believe in the final moments it all clicks into place. Maybe I'm too idealistic that way, but I'd rather give the world too much credit than not enough of it." She doesn't know why it isn't the same
( ... )
"I do need your permission. Thank you so much for finally giving it to me. It's what I've been waiting for this whole time or a TARDIS would already be in the making," Noah informs her with a small smile that widens just slightly when he finishes the sentence
( ... )
Noah smiles at her when she says she believes him. It helps. It helps and it hurts, because he knows he's lying to her. Not about that, but there is a big lie, betrayal.
"Okay, I'll admit that I would feel bad too. It's irrational, and I know I can't make you not feel bad, but I wish you wouldn't anyway," Noah says quietly as he looks at her and then he laughs. "yes, that along with everything else makes us Rachel and Noah."
He sees the smile even if it's only in her eyes. It's enough. It's more than enough. "It's-- I don't need it, but I understand that you need to say it so I'm not... going to take that from you," Noah says quietly as he looks at her. "I'm glad you're more okay than you thought you'd be. You're.. welcome? It's hard for me to say it, because... I was just being your best friend."
Funny how there are moments when that phrase doesn't seem enough.
"You're welcome. I figured it was time. I was only holding off until I was sure you were ready. Fly along now, grasshopper, and build me a TARDIS," Rachel says. Her eyes may be closed, but she hears the smile in his voice, and it makes her own smile deepen in place. There isn't any pain, as long as there aren't abrupt movements and the like.
The only real area where there still seems to be soreness is her shoulder blades, and she took aspirin for that once he brought her the water and crackers. She'll need bedrest for a while, but in comparison, it's all so subtle she doesn't notice. It is nice to be able to focus and have a conversation and not just be endlessly waiting for that moment the pain will stop.
The better question is, why would she not love Martha Jones? And thus, they will meet in game for it is necessary
( ... )
Even the last words she said--Angel of knowledge--were not really hers. She was existing alongside something and someone else, and while her eyes were open, she was too stunned to realize it. There were wings on her back. She was and is no longer human. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, not even years of mentally drilling it into your head and being aware of the possibility ( ... )
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She has learned that after a certain amount of years of knowing someone, you can actually have a conversation with them without speaking.
"Yeah, definitely. A truck or maybe a freight train," she says almost inaudibly, hand running up and down her arm idly. She is colder to the touch than she used to be. She looks up at him too, at what he says, and the seriousness of the past night hasn't escaped her notice.
It's not something she could ever forget.
I'm sorry is on the tip of her tongue to say, but she swallows it back down despite the guilt settling into her stomach in the form of a knot. She knows she scared him, and he hasn't slept in over a day becasue he's been taking care of her instead, and she certainly never wanted him to see something like that ( ... )
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There's a quiet conversation between them without one word being said out loud. There's relief, love, friendship, and knowing.
"A freight train is an even better descriptor if we're being honest. Maybe a ship or a small planet would work too? Rammed into by a comet," Noah says, and he smiles a little but he doesn't manage to keep the smile for long. It falls into a frown again.
The seriousness remains even if the pain thankfully has eased by quite a lot, even if the transformation is over, and they're now in a recovery period.
It's like he can sense the I'm sorry that she doesn't say, and maybe he can. He shakes his head at her, small fond smile pushing past the frown again.
He couldn't do anything else. There was nowhere else he would have been, and he-- she's fine so he's better even if things are echoing through his head still from what happened. They'll fade.
They'll fade.
You'll be an amazing guardian someday.Well, maybe they won't all fade ( ... )
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"That's what I thought when I was little. When people died, they became stars."
It made sense to her at the time, and it was comforting in a way, too. Her dad was a star, and she could see him at night if she ever wanted.
As if things are ever that simple.
"Then again, I also thought the Weeping Willow was a tree suffering from chronic depression. I was an odd child." Or maybe she just took things too literally.
She doesn't say the I'm sorry despite sorely feeling it, for all sorts of things. She knows he wouldn't want it, and he knows whether she says it or not, which makes the voicing of it a rather useless thing. "Of course I would. I always hated I wasn't, but I knew I wouldn't be any help and she knew more than I ever could, so..." her voice trails off and she takes a small breath ( ... )
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She watches him silently from where she rests, mind whirling faster than she can ever remember it doing. "Do you think there is one? An afterlife."
There's a small, small stirring, an itch in her fingers to record his answer, commit it to memory, but it's not so bad.
It's not anywhere near bad yet.
Another small laugh. "I never said odd was a bad thing. I reject the typical and the strive towards perfection. Besides, you're the one who let that child feed you dirt. You were pretty odd yourself, Evans ( ... )
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It's strange. Even her focus has channeled into something different. She can't not pay attention to things. Everything. All at once. She's always been nerdy. She writes everything down in a Composition notebook and she devours books like the boys do food.
Angel of knowledge is at the very least fitting.
"I don't think it goes against science," she says gently. She always thinks these things through. It's not that she believes she is wise or anything, but she doesn't believe one necessarily cancels out the other. "I believe they go hand in hand. We need science to explain life's mysteries so they are no longer mystery. And one's beliefs take over where science may fall short ( ... )
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The sense of hearing. Their voices are sharper, clearer somehow, as if the volume on the television has been elevated, and they are already speaking softly as it is.
They would totally, totally watch Dr. Who, and Rachel would think Martha Jones was made of awesome, made only more awesome by the fact she lives in Chicago. They need to stumble on a blue box that takes them somewhere really random now. And that's the deal, my dear. 8|"Maybe it is. Maybe the point isn't really finding the answers so much as living them. I do believe in the final moments it all clicks into place. Maybe I'm too idealistic that way, but I'd rather give the world too much credit than not enough of it." She doesn't know why it isn't the same ( ... )
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Noah smiles at her when she says she believes him. It helps. It helps and it hurts, because he knows he's lying to her. Not about that, but there is a big lie, betrayal.
"Okay, I'll admit that I would feel bad too. It's irrational, and I know I can't make you not feel bad, but I wish you wouldn't anyway," Noah says quietly as he looks at her and then he laughs. "yes, that along with everything else makes us Rachel and Noah."
He sees the smile even if it's only in her eyes. It's enough. It's more than enough. "It's-- I don't need it, but I understand that you need to say it so I'm not... going to take that from you," Noah says quietly as he looks at her. "I'm glad you're more okay than you thought you'd be. You're.. welcome? It's hard for me to say it, because... I was just being your best friend."
Funny how there are moments when that phrase doesn't seem enough.
"What else was I going to do?"
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The only real area where there still seems to be soreness is her shoulder blades, and she took aspirin for that once he brought her the water and crackers. She'll need bedrest for a while, but in comparison, it's all so subtle she doesn't notice. It is nice to be able to focus and have a conversation and not just be endlessly waiting for that moment the pain will stop.
The better question is, why would she not love Martha Jones? And thus, they will meet in game for it is necessary ( ... )
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