LOG: [Charles, Haller] Oh. Well, that would explain it.

[x-legion.livejournal.com]

Despite (or maybe because of) the unsettling encounter with Nathan the day before last, Haller finally feels like he can relax. The results are not unanticipated, and suddenly all the crazy jokes make a lot more sense.




Today was turning out to be a quiet session. After their obligatory morning tea and outlining a few initial points to keep in mind, Charles had left Jim to the case-studies he'd brought for the day. Both men had since retreated into a comfortable silence. For the most part, the necessity for conversation had passed -- Charles was taking the opportunity to catch up his correspondance, pausing every so often to answer an occasional inquiry from his student. Jim didn't mind; he was aware of the distant, reassuring activity of the professor's mind even as he was paging through the files. Its presence alone was comforting.

Perhaps it was the combination of quiet, private work and companionable silence, or simply because Jim had finally settled in enough to allow himself the luxury of relaxing. Whatever it was, it provided an opportunity he hadn't had in a long time.

There was a subtle shift in the psychic texture of the room as the young man seated on the sofa blinked, then slowly straightened from his work. He looked around the study with the air of someone who had walked into a room and abruptly forgotten what he'd been meaning to do, but the confusion evaporated when he saw Charles. His face instantly split in an incredulous grin.

"It's you!" he exclaimed, making to rise, then stopped to grab at the file in his lap before it slid to the floor. He grinned sheepishly at Charles and conscientiously placed the file on the table before clambering to his feet in a slightly awkward flail of limbs. "It -- it is you, right?" he added, somewhat belatedly. "It's been . . . a long time." The last proclaimation was a trace uncertain, but not particularly anxious. He'd never had much grasp of the passage of time.

Charles stared at the young man for a moment, the telltale pattern of thoughts bringing a slow smile to his face. The expression shifted, steadily, pleased surprised and warmth filtering through, until finally Charles leaned back in his chair, no longer trying to keep the small smile from growing into one of open delight. "David!" He shook his head, minutely, not quite refuting the statement, but not agreeing, either. "It's always a long time," he clarified gently. "And I am always glad to see you."

Davey giggled, a little embarassed by the compliment. He stuck his hands in his pockets for something to do with them. "You changed it, kind of," he said, glancing around the study. He looked back at where Charles was seated behind his desk and the grin returned. "I think I got taller when I was away. But um, I sort of knew that. Sometimes I hit my head on stuff. But that happened a lot anyway." He withdrew one of his hands from his pockets and rubbed the back of his head, a little shy now that the initial rush of excitement was beginning to ebb. It had been a long time between visits, after all.

"Well now," Charles murmured, a small smile permanently into a corner of his mouth, or so it seemed. "Here you are and there is your chair. Might I suggest you take a seat in it? Unless you'd like to check and make sure, beforehand?" he added, a light teasing note to his voice.

"It's still here?" Davey blinked, surprised. His eyes automatically sought out the rather valuable antique leather chair a little off to the side. The only thing about it that seemed to have changed was its position in the room. He sidled over to it and, with one sly look over his shoulder at the professor, squatted on the floor to peer around the back of one tapered wooden leg. Sure enough, the evidence of one productive afternoon spent with an unbent paperclip still remained. "I guess you kind of can't get it off" which had been the idea "but I won't write on anything else. I promise," he added virtuously.

Davey straightened up and eased himself into the chair, mindful to remove his shoes before he folded his legs under him. He liked it because it was the only proper chair in the room with a seat wide enough that his knees didn't come up hard against the arms. There was a little less space now, though. "My legs definitely got longer," he complained, though the thought pleased him in a strange way. He was big now.

"Indeed they are," Charles agreed, with a solemn nod unscored by that permanent, small smile. "And your arms are, as well. Why, I'll wager they could even reach for the drawer right there," he tilted his head to the side, looking at a table near what they both knew as David's Chair and winked once. "And I'll wager there's perhaps something you might recognize, in that drawer, as well."

The shyness was definitely gone. Davey grinned helplessly and discovered that he could indeed reach the drawer (though he had to get his shoulder over the arm of the chair and lean on his ribs to do it), and felt around until he located the pack of cards. It was the same deck. A little more worn around the corners, maybe, but the same. He pulled himself back over the edge of the chair and laughed.

"I haven't played this in so-o long," Davey said, pouring out the cards and trying a shuffle. The shuffle was clumsy; he laughed and immediately moved to recapture the escaped cards. "I'm sort of rusty. I think the last time was, um . . ." he paused, frowning slightly. He glanced up at Charles, still scuffling at the fallen cards with one hand. "Last time. With you, I mean. Is it like that again? I'm not -- I'm not doing things again, right?" He couldn't think of anything like what had been happening when last he'd seen Charles, but he hadn't been out very much since then. Davey automatically looked down at his arm -- but no, the scars were old, and nothing felt hurt.

"There aren't any secret rules, remember David? Everything is fine. And I am quite happy to see you." He smiles reassuringly, not even looking at the fallen cards once. "And you've come back here to stay -I hope for fair amount of time, myself." He leaned forward a bit slightly, moving the tea cup on the low table to the side, making room at the center. "There's juice in the mini-fridge," he added, straightening up once more. "And as it so happens, I have a few hours with nothing to do but play Go Fish."

"I get to stay?" Davey said, hardly believing it. Grinning wildly, he hopped out of the chair, started to pull it up to Charles' desk, then stopped to deposit the cards on the desk when he realized the effort would be easier with free hands. The chair wasn't so heavy now, either. He settled back in the chair, the juice forgotten in his excitement.

Picking up the cards and shuffling them slowly, Charles nodded in answer. "Indeed, David. You get to stay." The cards were distributed, sliding smoothly into place, lined up neatly one next to the other on either side of the table, and only once they were all done did either participants pick up their hands.

"I, um . . ." He knew it was silly, knew he shouldn't say it, but Charles was the only person Davey had ever known worth the name. It had been so long . . . just this once, he could pretend. Just for a little while. Smiling hesitantly over his cards, Davey swallowed hard and said, "I really missed you, Dad."

There was, perhaps, the briefest of pauses, as Charles looked up, blinking once. "And I you, son." And looking at his cards, Charles raised an eyebrow slowly, in a gesture the both of them knew only too well.

"Fascinating!"

The answering giggle was part amusement, part the sudden release of nervous tension. The boy crossed his legs under him and fixed his attention on his cards. Permission had been granted, the unasked question had been answered -- for the moment, at least.

But now, Davey told himself as he fanned his cards, it was time to play Go Fish.