[debut] caught up in the stars
Jul. 11th, 2016 03:40 amPeople often say that something makes them feel like a kid again. Walking around the Eye's headquarters at Greenwich Observatory, Danny can see that in Lula and Jack, even in Merritt. There is an unparalleled delight in being here, in seeing firsthand all the hard work that's been done, the attention that's been paid. The others, he looks at them and he sees it: they feel like the proverbial kid in the candy store.
Except that his childhood wasn't like that (neither were theirs, for that matter, though they're not really the touchy-feely sharing types, so it's not like he knows — or needs to know — all the grisly details). He doesn't feel like a kid at all.
This is so much better than being a kid.
It's no less than they deserve, of course. They did their part. Yes, they bungled it a few times — yes, okay, he screwed up once or twice, fine — but there would be no plan without the Horsemen.
Still. Seeing all of this, all of the detail, the sheer scope of it, in this beautiful, pristine place filled with a history he can only just begin to grasp... It's not the first time over the last few days that Danny's realized he's not in this alone, but it might be the best. All this time that they've been waiting and worrying, some of them doubting, wondering if the Eye was even real after all, if they really cared, and here they are with the proof literally on the wall. More trust has been placed in them — in him — than he's given in return in a long time.
There's a shadow over it, a faint one, thoughts he doesn't want to give much credence (how faithless he's been, what it could have cost them, how Henley should have seen this). He pushes them back. He can mope over bullshit later. This week has been a hurricane of anger and hurt and fuck-ups, but finally they're in the eye.
They have so much to learn.
From the other room, Danny can hear them talking, Dylan and Thaddeus, though he can't quite make out the words. On another, less exciting day, he might well go and stand brazenly beside the door to listen. There's too much to see, though, and anyway, Bu Bu spares him the indignity. "An old friend of his father's," she explains.
Which is sort of the tipping point at which the questions become too numerous and he heads into the room.
"Hi," he says. Dylan and Thaddeus might still be in conversation, but there's a lot they need to know, and, anyway, Thaddeus seems to be prepared to leave, and they really can't let that happen without some answers. "Okay, so, um..." He laughs, a giddiness sweeping over him. So much has happened. So much is happening still. The others pour in behind him like a pile of eager puppies. "Well, obviously we have a — a few questions. Right?"
Merritt scoffs, but there's a bright excitement in his expression. "Ah, by a few, I think he means, like, five million."
"Well," Thaddeus says, and it's the kindest he's ever looked around them. "Good luck to you."
"Okay, that's not fair," says Danny, but he's almost laughing. It would be infuriating, but he can't seem to get mad right now. Honestly, it's exactly what he'd do, too, if he had the upper hand like this, except he doesn't feel like they've been played or cornered. It's friendly somehow. He doesn't fully understand it, but Thaddeus is on their team. He'll just have to hope Dylan's willing to explain.
The others are laughing too and protesting, calling after him. "That's gonna make me really angry," Lula says, and she almost sounds excited about it.
"Oh, by the way," Thaddeus adds, stopping in the doorway to gesture with his cane. "Pay no attention to the curtain."
They look around, trying to figure out what he means exactly, and then there it is, a curtain over a portion of the wall in a corner, which is more than a little suspicious, even without tongue-in-cheek cryptic directions. "Oh, there is a curtain."
Jack is shoving, chanting, "Go, go, go, go," and Lula is almost hopping, and they're all bundling over to the curtain, pulling it back to reveal a door, Thaddeus departing forgotten behind them. Whatever's back here, it's going to be something truly astounding.
He can't remember the last time he felt like this, the last time he felt so good when he wasn't on a stage. For once, standing here, anticipation offstage feels like a good thing. For once, he feels optimistic. They've worked so hard for this, and he doesn't know yet what that is, exactly, but it's been worth it.
They push through the door together, and he expects to get crowded in as a group, but it doesn't happen. Instead, there's space. Instead, there's sunlight and salt air, and his winter coat seems a little too heavy. He squints into the light, lifting a hand so he can see better, looking around for something resembling an answer. It's a boardwalk, a carousel just a few yards away, bright tinkling music that unsettles him. This is not London.
People walk past, laughing, chatting, most of the accents American. But it's just him. The others are gone. Jack, Dylan, Lula, Merritt, all vanished as if into thin air. There's a tightening in Danny's chest and he sucks in a sharp breath, the sudden pull at his stomach muscles sending up a fresh pang of hurt from the still-healing bruise there. This isn't right. It's not like just getting on a carousel and being inducted into a secret society or getting hypnotized and dumped into a Chinese restaurant. This isn't right.
Panicking isn't going to help. It's not going to make them suddenly show up. He turns around and it's just a wall, which helps nothing. All he can do is look for answers, which means not just standing here, gawking at nothing. He walks over to a bench and tugs off his coat, and then the sweater under it, rolling up the sleeves of his button down shirt. There's a phone in his pants pocket, but no signal. So that's a dead end.
Grabbing his things, he starts walking. There's a dinky little souvenir shop selling postcards for a place called Darrow. At least he'd heard of Macau. That's all the information he's got, a name he doesn't know. a town that could be anywhere on the Eastern seaboard. But even if this turns to be the absolute middle of nowhere, they've got to have some form of public transportation. By hook or by crook, he can make it from here to New York, or at least to a payphone. A place like this probably still has those somewhere.
He's only half paying attention to the things people say around him, trying to push out the annoying buzz of overlapping voices. Instead he watches the world around him, the signs, the details, the unfamiliar money people are using at different stands. That one sets him on edge. It's undoubtedly money, but it's not American, he's sure of that.
And then a voice cuts through his thoughts, and Danny's never been so thankful to see Jack in his life. He's not a hundred feet away, a little table set up. A show. His coat gone. No sign of Lula or Merritt. Danny takes in the details, but they don't add up to anything yet except more confusion. But it's Jack, and that's a start. Together, they can come up with some kind of a plan.
It's pure luck that the show seems to be winding down, because Danny has no intention of waiting for it to end. There's applause from the audience as Jack finishes his tear-and-restore. He makes his way to the front of the small crowd, brow raising when he catches Jack's eye. This whole situation has him nervous, but he does his best to look unaffected; it doesn't entirely work, his shoulders and jaw tense. "Jack."
Except that his childhood wasn't like that (neither were theirs, for that matter, though they're not really the touchy-feely sharing types, so it's not like he knows — or needs to know — all the grisly details). He doesn't feel like a kid at all.
This is so much better than being a kid.
It's no less than they deserve, of course. They did their part. Yes, they bungled it a few times — yes, okay, he screwed up once or twice, fine — but there would be no plan without the Horsemen.
Still. Seeing all of this, all of the detail, the sheer scope of it, in this beautiful, pristine place filled with a history he can only just begin to grasp... It's not the first time over the last few days that Danny's realized he's not in this alone, but it might be the best. All this time that they've been waiting and worrying, some of them doubting, wondering if the Eye was even real after all, if they really cared, and here they are with the proof literally on the wall. More trust has been placed in them — in him — than he's given in return in a long time.
There's a shadow over it, a faint one, thoughts he doesn't want to give much credence (how faithless he's been, what it could have cost them, how Henley should have seen this). He pushes them back. He can mope over bullshit later. This week has been a hurricane of anger and hurt and fuck-ups, but finally they're in the eye.
They have so much to learn.
From the other room, Danny can hear them talking, Dylan and Thaddeus, though he can't quite make out the words. On another, less exciting day, he might well go and stand brazenly beside the door to listen. There's too much to see, though, and anyway, Bu Bu spares him the indignity. "An old friend of his father's," she explains.
Which is sort of the tipping point at which the questions become too numerous and he heads into the room.
"Hi," he says. Dylan and Thaddeus might still be in conversation, but there's a lot they need to know, and, anyway, Thaddeus seems to be prepared to leave, and they really can't let that happen without some answers. "Okay, so, um..." He laughs, a giddiness sweeping over him. So much has happened. So much is happening still. The others pour in behind him like a pile of eager puppies. "Well, obviously we have a — a few questions. Right?"
Merritt scoffs, but there's a bright excitement in his expression. "Ah, by a few, I think he means, like, five million."
"Well," Thaddeus says, and it's the kindest he's ever looked around them. "Good luck to you."
"Okay, that's not fair," says Danny, but he's almost laughing. It would be infuriating, but he can't seem to get mad right now. Honestly, it's exactly what he'd do, too, if he had the upper hand like this, except he doesn't feel like they've been played or cornered. It's friendly somehow. He doesn't fully understand it, but Thaddeus is on their team. He'll just have to hope Dylan's willing to explain.
The others are laughing too and protesting, calling after him. "That's gonna make me really angry," Lula says, and she almost sounds excited about it.
"Oh, by the way," Thaddeus adds, stopping in the doorway to gesture with his cane. "Pay no attention to the curtain."
They look around, trying to figure out what he means exactly, and then there it is, a curtain over a portion of the wall in a corner, which is more than a little suspicious, even without tongue-in-cheek cryptic directions. "Oh, there is a curtain."
Jack is shoving, chanting, "Go, go, go, go," and Lula is almost hopping, and they're all bundling over to the curtain, pulling it back to reveal a door, Thaddeus departing forgotten behind them. Whatever's back here, it's going to be something truly astounding.
He can't remember the last time he felt like this, the last time he felt so good when he wasn't on a stage. For once, standing here, anticipation offstage feels like a good thing. For once, he feels optimistic. They've worked so hard for this, and he doesn't know yet what that is, exactly, but it's been worth it.
They push through the door together, and he expects to get crowded in as a group, but it doesn't happen. Instead, there's space. Instead, there's sunlight and salt air, and his winter coat seems a little too heavy. He squints into the light, lifting a hand so he can see better, looking around for something resembling an answer. It's a boardwalk, a carousel just a few yards away, bright tinkling music that unsettles him. This is not London.
People walk past, laughing, chatting, most of the accents American. But it's just him. The others are gone. Jack, Dylan, Lula, Merritt, all vanished as if into thin air. There's a tightening in Danny's chest and he sucks in a sharp breath, the sudden pull at his stomach muscles sending up a fresh pang of hurt from the still-healing bruise there. This isn't right. It's not like just getting on a carousel and being inducted into a secret society or getting hypnotized and dumped into a Chinese restaurant. This isn't right.
Panicking isn't going to help. It's not going to make them suddenly show up. He turns around and it's just a wall, which helps nothing. All he can do is look for answers, which means not just standing here, gawking at nothing. He walks over to a bench and tugs off his coat, and then the sweater under it, rolling up the sleeves of his button down shirt. There's a phone in his pants pocket, but no signal. So that's a dead end.
Grabbing his things, he starts walking. There's a dinky little souvenir shop selling postcards for a place called Darrow. At least he'd heard of Macau. That's all the information he's got, a name he doesn't know. a town that could be anywhere on the Eastern seaboard. But even if this turns to be the absolute middle of nowhere, they've got to have some form of public transportation. By hook or by crook, he can make it from here to New York, or at least to a payphone. A place like this probably still has those somewhere.
He's only half paying attention to the things people say around him, trying to push out the annoying buzz of overlapping voices. Instead he watches the world around him, the signs, the details, the unfamiliar money people are using at different stands. That one sets him on edge. It's undoubtedly money, but it's not American, he's sure of that.
And then a voice cuts through his thoughts, and Danny's never been so thankful to see Jack in his life. He's not a hundred feet away, a little table set up. A show. His coat gone. No sign of Lula or Merritt. Danny takes in the details, but they don't add up to anything yet except more confusion. But it's Jack, and that's a start. Together, they can come up with some kind of a plan.
It's pure luck that the show seems to be winding down, because Danny has no intention of waiting for it to end. There's applause from the audience as Jack finishes his tear-and-restore. He makes his way to the front of the small crowd, brow raising when he catches Jack's eye. This whole situation has him nervous, but he does his best to look unaffected; it doesn't entirely work, his shoulders and jaw tense. "Jack."
