Stopping in the doorway Wendy tilted her head to the side in something that was akin to both confusion and wonder. It was not at the presence of a baby in the lab, but more the fact that the child's mother was trying to teach it something a bit confusing even for those who could already speak.
"Shouldn't you try for an easier bone?" she suggested, trying to be helpful. "One with less hard consonants."
Temperance looked up, nonplussed. "I see no reason to alter the course of my daughter's education to a more babyish way of talking. Evidence has shown that children are best able to absorb language between infancy and their fifth or sixth year."
Wendy had known several girls who could speak Italian and other mostly useless languages as well as English and the required French by the time that they were in second form. That did not mean that they spoke it well.
"I was not saying that you should, how is it said, dumb it down for her, but perhaps focus on things that she might actually be able to say in a manner that can be understood."
Temperance really stopped now, looking at the girl, analyzing the sound of her voice and her speech patterns. "I see no reason to have lowered expectations," she said. "You're very impertinent for a girl of your time period, I would venture. Don't you feel uncomfortable criticizing an elder?"
Without any impromptu autopsies to perform, X-Files to investigate, hidden government conspiracies to uncover, or outlandish theories to (attempt to) debunk, Scully had suddenly found herself with far too much time on her hands and very little idea of how to spend it. Although she made a noble effort of denying it whenever her mother or brothers brought it up, Dana had long since accepted the fact that, somehow, somewhere down the line, she had allowed herself to become a workoholic. There was no harm in admitting it to herself, especially when she had no intention of changing. Or, rather, had not the first clue how to go about making the change. Not that it mattered at the moment -- she had been forcibly separated from Mulder and the bureau on the island and, without her work to keep her occupied, Dana no longer had the slightest idea what to do with herself
( ... )
"It's fine," Temperance said, immediately trying to place a name with that face. The woman was very familiar, and while Temperance had an excellent memory, especially where bone structure was concerned, she just wasn't Angela. Instead of puzzling further, she gestured. "Come in. I realize I sometimes treat the lab as-- how was it put-- an extension of my body, but I always welcome another truth seeker."
She smiles, finally, only too aware of how her daughter has trapped her between two worlds, two personas. "And thank you. Her name is Diana."
Oddly enough, Scully was reminded of Mulder and her first time down in the basement office. Truthfully, his invite hadn't been much in the way of inviting, but he had come to welcome her in for that very reason - to search for the truth. Six years later and they were hardly close to finding it, that greater truth he had hoped to find ever since his sister was taken, but Scully liked to think they had made some progress. It was something.
"Truth be told, I wasn't aware this lab existed until I wandered in just now. It is remarkably well equipped, considering the circumstances." Her eyes were scanning the facilities now, taking everything in like a kid in a candy store - or, she imagined that's what she looked like, what Mulder would say if he could see her face. It was almost frightening how often she thought of him now that he wasn't around, his opinion - or what she thought his opinion would be - factoring into her own decisions all too often
( ... )
"Your body language suggests otherwise," Temperance said, very mildly. "And truth be told, this laboratory is terribly equipped for the sort of thing you'll see here." She tilted her head. "I really feel as though I've seen you before. Are you with the FBI?"
There was a certain FBI quality to her, but-- not quite.
"Well, at least she's not chewing on it," says Rollie, pausing on his way by to pick up a few supplies. It's amazing how fast they grow. It's been a long time since he's been in one place long enough to really notice. "I'd say that's probably a step in the right direction."
"Yeah, we've always had a huge problem around her with the IPD gnawing on evidence," says Rollie dryly, "but what can you do? So are we investigating something, or is that purely for educational purposes?"
"Educational purposes," Temperance said, "unless, of course, you have something to investigate." It would be so morbid to suggest any sense of glee at the thought of something to investigate. She wouldn't suggest it, then.
"Skelly belly," John corrected, leaning across the table to tickle Diana's stomach. He pushed up her shirt, blowing a raspberry right into her skin. "And guess what!" he announced, going for her mother next.
Backing Temperance up against the counter, John wrapped his hands around her waist and bent down. "Mama's got a skelly belly, too!"
"John!" she half-shouted, half-murmured at him. "You're not helping." Not that Temperance really expected him to use the diagrams and learning charts that will have Diana identifying remains at least three grade levels above normal.
Diana, however, was perfectly happy to have a skelly belly.
"I'm totally helping," said John, beaming when he finally managed to reveal a strip of bare flesh. He pressed his mouth to it and blew hard, filling the once calm silence of the lab with a thunderous squelching.
"This is incredibly unhelpful," she informed him, trying to keep her face serious, and succeeding for approximately twenty seconds before the physical sensation was too much to bear, and she broke down in laughter. "You're setting a terrible example," she accused, between the peals of giggles.
Despite not being supernatural anymore, Angel had always been good at getting around undetected. On the island, that was a blessing - mostly because people were talkative and were likely to strike up conversations directly upon seeing him. And while he wasn't exactly opposed to talking, sometimes these conversations got awkward.
After 247 years of watching life while not participating it, one gets used to solitude. He liked watching people, to be able to see them with their automatic guards down. Call him creepy, but some habits die hard.
The sound of a woman's voice and a child's happy gurgle is what drew him. Standing silently in the doorway, Angel watched the scene with the slightest of smiles on his face.
Angelus hated purity and innocence and wanted to destroy it. Angel enjoyed knowing that there was still some of it in the world.
Temperance turned around, having that odd feeling of someone watching her at the door, and the little fish pointer fell out of her hands. She liked being unflappable, someone the world couldn't surprise, because it was only made of rules and science, two things she knew very well. The appearances of Seeley Booth always made those two ideals very difficult to attain.
In coming to accept her fictiousness, she'd also come to accept that someone must have had some narrative thread, something that had tied her to Booth. It was more clear than Angela ever could have made it. Booth was her final destination, at least in that world, and she could barely stand the reminder. After all, with it came the worrying, nagging thought that John too had a different ending lined up, that all the threads would pull until they snapped and she was left alone.
"I can't figure out who you are," she finally said, exhausted.
Something about his appearance had startled her. Similar facial features to someone she knew? Or maybe she had known him when he was on the island before. It was a strange idea, to know that he had been here and yet not remembering it at all. Angel didn't forget things - not a single face, location or event. This mental blank was definitely a new thing.
"I'm Angel." her next words threw him off, even if his face didn't show it. "We haven't met."
"This is incredibly parabolic, considering how often I told him there's not a God," Temperance said, leaning against the counter. "Your name is really Angel? This isn't some sort of nickname picked up in a outlying homosexual community?"
Perhaps that wasn't fair. It was only that she knew it would have upset Booth.
Comments 32
"Shouldn't you try for an easier bone?" she suggested, trying to be helpful. "One with less hard consonants."
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Wendy had known several girls who could speak Italian and other mostly useless languages as well as English and the required French by the time that they were in second form. That did not mean that they spoke it well.
"I was not saying that you should, how is it said, dumb it down for her, but perhaps focus on things that she might actually be able to say in a manner that can be understood."
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She smiles, finally, only too aware of how her daughter has trapped her between two worlds, two personas. "And thank you. Her name is Diana."
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"Truth be told, I wasn't aware this lab existed until I wandered in just now. It is remarkably well equipped, considering the circumstances." Her eyes were scanning the facilities now, taking everything in like a kid in a candy store - or, she imagined that's what she looked like, what Mulder would say if he could see her face. It was almost frightening how often she thought of him now that he wasn't around, his opinion - or what she thought his opinion would be - factoring into her own decisions all too often ( ... )
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There was a certain FBI quality to her, but-- not quite.
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Backing Temperance up against the counter, John wrapped his hands around her waist and bent down. "Mama's got a skelly belly, too!"
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Diana, however, was perfectly happy to have a skelly belly.
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After 247 years of watching life while not participating it, one gets used to solitude. He liked watching people, to be able to see them with their automatic guards down. Call him creepy, but some habits die hard.
The sound of a woman's voice and a child's happy gurgle is what drew him. Standing silently in the doorway, Angel watched the scene with the slightest of smiles on his face.
Angelus hated purity and innocence and wanted to destroy it. Angel enjoyed knowing that there was still some of it in the world.
Reply
In coming to accept her fictiousness, she'd also come to accept that someone must have had some narrative thread, something that had tied her to Booth. It was more clear than Angela ever could have made it. Booth was her final destination, at least in that world, and she could barely stand the reminder. After all, with it came the worrying, nagging thought that John too had a different ending lined up, that all the threads would pull until they snapped and she was left alone.
"I can't figure out who you are," she finally said, exhausted.
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"I'm Angel." her next words threw him off, even if his face didn't show it. "We haven't met."
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Perhaps that wasn't fair. It was only that she knew it would have upset Booth.
Reply
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