Looking at Letters

[simon_doctor]

When he slips into River's room, she's sitting in the middle of the floor and frowning at a complex structure made out of modeling clay, toothpicks, and ...

... are those mah-jongg tiles?

Comments

[river_meimei]

"Twelve," River says absently, either to Simon or to the East Wind tile in her hand, still frowning at it.

After a minute, she turns it over, and frowns at the blank side.

[simon_doctor]

"What're you doing, meimei?"

He sidesteps the structure, and slides down to sit on the floor nearby.

[river_meimei]

Beat. River glances up at him.

Flatly, "The Yao-Davisson quark shift is proving problematic."

[simon_doctor]

"Want to take a break?"

He taps the folded-over sheaf of papers lightly against his knee.

"I've got something to show you."

[river_meimei]

River gives him the tolerant look of someone who has much better things to be doing, but will humor her older brother by giving him a minute of her attention.

And then stops, with a tiny jerk of her head, and really does give him her attention.

[simon_doctor]

It's always the slightest bit unnerving when she does that: anticipates what you're about to say, or what you hadn't planned on saying out loud.

"I saw Dad at the bar the other day," he says, "and he brought these."

[river_meimei]

"It's a motile table," River says softly. She's still watching Simon, her hands folded now in her lap around the mah-jongg tile.

"See what we've got."

[simon_doctor]

Impossibly vivid: an image of the side table in the hallway by the stairs in their old house, the table where they used to drop and sort the day's mail. He can see the odd little angular vase sitting there, with its spray of dried flowers, and the framed holopic of himself at age four, and --

Absurd, that the memory of a piece of furniture should carry so much emotional weight.

He holds out the letters to River.

[river_meimei]

River's eyes drop to them.

It's a long moment before she lifts her hands slowly, and takes the bundle of letters from her brother. It's not heavy.

The mah-jongg tile slides from her knee, and lands on the floor with a soft click.

[simon_doctor]

"Everybody knows about us now," he says quietly. "About what they tried to do with us. A lot of people ... support us, and want us to know it."

He picks up the mah-jongg tile, turns it idly in his fingers.

"Those are the ones that came addressed to you."

[river_meimei]

River's head is bent over the stack of paper, but her eyes lift to her brother's face.

She doesn't say anything.

[simon_doctor]

Gently: "Do you want to read them?"

[river_meimei]

Silence for a minute.

Then, "You did."

Whether that's a yes or a no isn't clear.

[simon_doctor]

"Yes."

He's aware of the ambiguity, and doesn't press.

[river_meimei]

River looks down again, studying the digital paper.

After a long moment, "Trying to help."

"In the nature of it."

[simon_doctor]

He nods, and rests his folded hands on one drawn-up knee, and watches her.

She doesn't seem to be upset, but ....

[river_meimei]

Silence stretches, as she regards the bundle in her hands.

Softly, without looking up, "Okay."

[simon_doctor]

"If you'd rather not...."

[river_meimei]

A long moment more.

And then River does glance at him, tilting her head just enough, and her face loosens into an expression isn't quite a smile. But almost.

"It's in the basket."

[simon_doctor]

-- yes, and the lacquered wickerwork basket next to the little vase, where they used to leave personal mail for any member of the family.

When he left home, they hadn't used the basket for nearly two months; the woven edge had come undone in one place, splintery and unsafe.

He wonders if his parents ever did get around to having it repaired.

[river_meimei]

River studies Simon, now.

In her lap, a thumb strokes absently across the top of a letter, and stills.

[simon_doctor]

He looks up at her.

"What is it, meimei?"

[river_meimei]

Softly, "You're thinking about it."

[simon_doctor]

"...About what?"

[river_meimei]

River glances down. At the floor, this time, not the letters; there's a small stuffed lion in the corner, against the edge of the closet. Maybe it's what she's looking at, and maybe it isn't.

"Crossing the trajectories. Stamp and hub."

Beat.

Softer, "You want to be home."

[simon_doctor]

(This isn't home.) (No ... no, we can't go home.)

"It's not..."

(it's all right, we're safe -- we're back home --)

"It isn't that simple."

[river_meimei]

Never is, she doesn't say.

Just watches her brother in silence.

[simon_doctor]

He looks up.

"What about you?"

[river_meimei]

A long, studying moment.

And then River smiles at him, just a bit. Reassuring, and fond, and a little sad.

Her eyes drop, after a minute, and her head bends towards the bundle in her lap. There's a smudge of purple modeling clay under one thumbnail.

That same smile's still there.

"I'm okay."

[simon_doctor]

"...do you want to go back to Osiris?"

He's fairly certain he knows the answer.

But ... he has to ask.

[river_meimei]

River's eyes flick to him immediately. And then she looks away and up, at the ceiling and -- away.

Her gaze drops slowly, to the stuffed lion guarding the corner.

She doesn't answer.

[simon_doctor]

He reaches to touch her hand.

"River?"

[river_meimei]

Very softly,

"That isn't home."

[simon_doctor]

No. No, we --

He closes his eyes.

"No."

[river_meimei]

River turns her head enough to look up at her brother.

Her face is lined with a complicated mixture of regret and guilt and worry and certainty, and she doesn't say anything.

[simon_doctor]

I'm just sailing on a sunrise
(Is it so bad here?)
It's my favorite thing
Simon looks back at her, trying to think how to explain; trying to think how to begin to make her understand, when he doesn't fully understand it himself.
When are you going to realize
"It'll be all right," he whispers, a little helplessly.
I don't blame you, I don't blame you
I never have

[river_meimei]

I took you away from there.
"I know."
I know I did.
River's thumb slides along the edge of a letter, tracing the boundary between digital paper and rumpled cotton skirt. She watches it move.
I remember everything. I remember too much, and...
Then she raises her eyes again to her brother's, and her face softens into something sad and fond and gentle.
But I understand.
"You're right here."

[simon_doctor]

When home isn't home anymore ...

... it's good to have a new home before you have to acknowledge the final loss of the old.

Everything I have is right here.

Simon leans forward, and gathers his sister into a hug.