A quiet knock on the hospital room door interrupts his thoughts, and swings open to reveal his frequent visitor, Astrid, bearing a fragrant pan of something edible. She smiles upon seeing him awake and steps inside, closing the door behind her.
"Hi, Donald. I hope I'm not too early, but I thought I'd bring you some of these muffins."
Her gaze flicks to the terminal he'd been reading and her smile falters a little. Between that and the muffins, it was easy to tell that she was worried.
He's going to read something else, yes, as if that will make it all go away. It's too late, he knows she's seen it, but at least he might distract her.
"You're not--better now than after they've served breakfast, thank you." Hospital food will always be terrible.
This does make her smile return as she makes an amused sound.
"Anything's better than egg sticks and fiber loaf," she answers, popping the lid from the tray and reaching in to retrieve a warm, blueberry-studded piece of baked heaven, nestled in its little accordioned paper cup. She hands it to him almost reverently. "I'm only sorry I can't do anything about the lack of real coffee."
A second muffin is retrieved and she sits in the chair next to his bed, quietly munching. She's not one to ignore any elephants in the room, but at the same time, she's learnt from years of dealing with Walter that when bad news is afoot, food is Important.
It's a pleasant moment, and Astrid is loath to break it. But she has to see what he knows about these sightings, if it really is something to worry about. She clears her throat softly.
"News gets around," she says, glancing at the newsfeed again. "We managed to get a picture, though."
She digs her mobile out of her pocket and pokes the screen a few times, bringing up the photo and then handing the device to him. "Do you think it's real?"
The subject of the picture, despite looking a trifle worse for wear, is familiar. If he didn't know any better, he'd say this fellow was one of the original twelve, the ones who really were Observers....
Astrid blinks, several replies about anything from the picture to the actual date coming to mind before she puts two and two together--he used to be called 'September.' He had a colleague called 'August.' It only stands to reason....
"He's one of the original Observers?" she asks.
But....
"But don't they all not exist, now?" she finishes, hopelessly tangling the temporal grammar.
This is still a bit beyond her--causality is beyond most people, really.
This is a fact that has gone patently unremarked-upon, mainly because Donald is likeable and, really, how does one go about saying You know, you shouldn't really exist....
Walter... would have just blurted that fact at some point and while Astrid far too polite to do such a thing, the concept does raise itself again in her mind.
She looks at the photo again, albeit upside-down. If this is a copycat, it's a damned good one. It's... strangely more likely that he's real. She looks up at Donald again.
"You're here, though. Not... that that's a bad thing. It's not. But if you are, then maybe whatever is keeping you here... kept him, too?"
It's much much stranger that Donald didn't vanish. October still has brains and tech to escape with.
He's skimming the text, looking for more clues. Starting with where October showed up. "I'm as lost as you are. It doesn't seem like he's doing anything."
Indeed, it seems as though October has been sticking to a small radius of space and has only been sighted for the last few days. The locations all appear to be in and around the same areas that September, himself, used to observe, when he was September. He has interacted with no-one, and this is the only photograph anyone has managed to take of him.
It almost seemed as though he was... looking for something. Or possibly someone.
"He does keep showing up in the same few square miles." Not too bright. October might be the one who gets hurt. "I really can't tell you what he's doing."
Astrid takes the mobile back, regarding it for a beat or two. It kind of feels like the old days, investigating Fringe Events, tracking mysterious people and things. But half the team are gone and the man who used to watch from a distance is in the thick of it, now.
Is it starting over again? Do they have a new Observer? Or is it something else entirely? A message, perhaps? If so, this Observer has done a really piss-poor job of getting it to them. Unless he can't find them....
Astrid sees that depression. She reaches out to squeeze his hand gently, and nods. "Okay," she says, "I'll get a hold of a few people. See what we can do."
She smiles again, more gently this time. "Is there anything I can do right now?"
That's as may be, but she knows it's there, and she has enough experience with people hiding their troubles that she's become an expert at ferreting them out.
"You're still going to need someplace to stay until you find another place of your own," she answers. "You're staying with me when you're released, and that's final."
Gentle she might be, but when she makes a decision, she brooks no argument.
Astrid smiles again and then steps quietly out of the room. She's out there for a while. While she's out there, a harried nurse comes in with not only breakfast (ooo, look, real orange juice to-day!) but also discharge papers, already signed by his doctor.
The hospital is terribly overcrowded, after all, what with all the rioting that's happened after the Invaders vanished.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's too soon to panic, surely. It could be anything, down to some idiot playing dress up and acting terrorist-like.
There isn't much he can do, not yet out of the hospital. And it's only rumors.
no subject
"Hi, Donald. I hope I'm not too early, but I thought I'd bring you some of these muffins."
Her gaze flicks to the terminal he'd been reading and her smile falters a little. Between that and the muffins, it was easy to tell that she was worried.
no subject
"You're not--better now than after they've served breakfast, thank you." Hospital food will always be terrible.
no subject
"Anything's better than egg sticks and fiber loaf," she answers, popping the lid from the tray and reaching in to retrieve a warm, blueberry-studded piece of baked heaven, nestled in its little accordioned paper cup. She hands it to him almost reverently. "I'm only sorry I can't do anything about the lack of real coffee."
A second muffin is retrieved and she sits in the chair next to his bed, quietly munching. She's not one to ignore any elephants in the room, but at the same time, she's learnt from years of dealing with Walter that when bad news is afoot, food is Important.
no subject
"Real coffee... That would be a miracle and a half."
Indeed, sugar goodness then bad news!
no subject
It's a pleasant moment, and Astrid is loath to break it. But she has to see what he knows about these sightings, if it really is something to worry about. She clears her throat softly.
"News gets around," she says, glancing at the newsfeed again. "We managed to get a picture, though."
She digs her mobile out of her pocket and pokes the screen a few times, bringing up the photo and then handing the device to him. "Do you think it's real?"
The subject of the picture, despite looking a trifle worse for wear, is familiar. If he didn't know any better, he'd say this fellow was one of the original twelve, the ones who really were Observers....
no subject
"I don't believe it--it's October."
no subject
"He's one of the original Observers?" she asks.
But....
"But don't they all not exist, now?" she finishes, hopelessly tangling the temporal grammar.
This is still a bit beyond her--causality is beyond most people, really.
no subject
Except, you know, the one sitting right here eating muffins and reading the news.
no subject
Walter... would have just blurted that fact at some point and while Astrid far too polite to do such a thing, the concept does raise itself again in her mind.
She looks at the photo again, albeit upside-down. If this is a copycat, it's a damned good one. It's... strangely more likely that he's real. She looks up at Donald again.
"You're here, though. Not... that that's a bad thing. It's not. But if you are, then maybe whatever is keeping you here... kept him, too?"
no subject
He's skimming the text, looking for more clues. Starting with where October showed up. "I'm as lost as you are. It doesn't seem like he's doing anything."
no subject
It almost seemed as though he was... looking for something. Or possibly someone.
no subject
no subject
Is it starting over again? Do they have a new Observer? Or is it something else entirely? A message, perhaps? If so, this Observer has done a really piss-poor job of getting it to them. Unless he can't find them....
"Do you think we should try to contact him?"
no subject
"We should try. I'm not worried about him doing anything wrong, but I am curious."
no subject
She smiles again, more gently this time. "Is there anything I can do right now?"
no subject
"No, I don't think so. I should be released soon."
no subject
"You're still going to need someplace to stay until you find another place of your own," she answers. "You're staying with me when you're released, and that's final."
Gentle she might be, but when she makes a decision, she brooks no argument.
no subject
No direct argument. It's subtle. "Do any of you have places to stay yet?"
no subject
She doesn't want to say anything about Peter, not yet.
no subject
"Who am I to say no?"
no subject
"Exactly," she replies firmly. And that, as they say, is that.
Still, just the mention of Peter has her thinking.
"Will you excuse me for just a minute? I have to make a phone call."
no subject
no subject
The hospital is terribly overcrowded, after all, what with all the rioting that's happened after the Invaders vanished.
no subject
"Thank you, I'll be out soon."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)