tapestodiane | 031

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031 - 4th wall

[If you're around ... wherever he is, but it's out in the woods somewhere, you might hear gunshots. And if you're curious enough to see what's up, you'll see that Coop evidently has his gun back and is shooting at targets. Where they're from is a mystery, but he's making the best of their presence - his skills have waned some in the years he's been stuck in pokémonland, but it's evident the longer he's at it, the more confidence and skill shows in his shooting.]

[Until he's at the point where he's consistently hitting the bullseye in every single target every single time.]

[Yeah, he's that good. He could shoot you a pattern if you like.]

[... and there magically seems to be ammunition around whenever he needs it, so hey.]

(Action absolutely anywhere as per usual - feel free to just bump into him wandering if you prefer. COME AT ME.)

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_{[He notes only idly that that's a nickname his own father sometimes went by, but thoughts of him are quite distant lately and the significance doesn't really stand out.]

[What he notes with more interest is that instead of shying away from the sound of gunshots, this boy sought them out.]}

Do you know where and when you saw him last?

_{[There's some concern in there. The locals might be happy to let their kids travel the world by themselves when they're ten, but Coop isn't completely on board with that idea yet.]}

I thought you were him.

[Coming from the family he does, he knows all too well how to make one sentence mean two different things. He's said already his dad knows how to use a gun. A boy looking for his father hears shooting and assumes it might be his dad. That's what it could mean. That could be what this man thinks he said.

It could be something else, too.

He stands up a little straighter, as if unconsciously trying to put more of himself on display — more to recognize.]

_{[And it actually does make Cooper pause, what he says. But it's more the idea of even having kids in the first place than realizing that that just might be the case.]

[Still, though, he looks at Tom slightly differently for a moment.]}

Sorry to disappoint you, Tom. But I could help you look.

[You could look in a mirror...

Except not, because they all might not like what you see if you do.]

I'm not really supposed to talk to strangers.

[And evidently you are one.]

But maybe you could tell me if you've seen him? If I tell you about him.

Sound advice.

_{[The kind he'd heard as a child and would pass onto his own kids, most likely.]

[Tom makes a good compromise, though, and Coop nods.]}

Go right ahead.

[He takes a breath, then begins to recite — but oddly, not the sort of description one might expect from a lost boy trying to help someone identify his parent.]

My dad is a really good shot because he's an FBI agent. When he was fourteen he outpointed a real live FBI agent because Mr. J. Edgar Hoover sent him a letter and invited him to come down for a visit. The other agent hit five and he hit six and my grandma sent Mr. Hoover a pound cake.

I want to be just like him because he was a Boy Scout and he was an Eagle Scout by the time he was fifteen and I want to be one too, and he said I could start this year because I'm eleven now but I don't think I can make Eagle as fast as him. I'm going to try really hard though.

He was the one who said my middle name should be S because of my uncle, who isn't really my uncle but he's my dad's friend. My dad has lots of friends because everybody likes him and he's good at talking to people, and that helps him with his cases too because that makes girls tell him more stuff. That's what my mom says. Mom also says I can't blow up anybody's mailbox no matter how much I like them, even though Dad did once and he didn't even get in trouble for it or anything.

And my dad said if he ever forgot me I should run away as fast as I can, because there are bad things in the world that make people forget, and do things they don't want to do.

[His shoulders slump a little.]

And I've been looking for him all day now. Sir.

_{[Pretty much immediately, Coop looks stunned. And while he opens his mouth and looks like he might want to say something several times during Tom's recount of his life - things he couldn't possibly have known without either being really good at finding information or, in fact, have the relationship he's indirectly claiming - he doesn't say a word.]

[Not at first.]

[It's a bit too much to comprehend.]

[But it's all there, and with the information, it suddenly falls into a weird kind of place. He even looks like him, doesn't he?]

[And if people can show up from the past, why not the future?]

[He swallows when Tom finishes speaking, the "sir" hitting him somewhere between the ribs in a way that's entirely unexpected because he's only known this boy for a few minutes, but he's ... if he's really-]}

Thomas.

_{[He says it quietly, after that moment of mental struggle; testing, stepping. Trying to settle with the idea. But if it's really his son, the name has to stand for Thomas. There's no doubt about that much.]}

What year is it?

Edited 2012-11-25 04:13 (UTC)

[Dad.]

Everybody says it's 2012 here. But it's supposed to be 2003. I mean, um, that's what it was yesterday, was 2003.

[But then it clicks; he's no fool, this boy.]

That's why you look different, right? Because you think it's a different year. That's why you don't remember, and your hair's different. You had it like that in pictures from when I was little.

_{[The look on Cooper's face probably confirms it along with the small intake of breath. He just might cry, even if he's not entirely sure why, but it's not quite at the surface yet; what is is a hint of a smile when he shakes his head in disbelief and touches Tom's shoulder with some hesitation, almost making sure he's even real.]}

That's fourteen years from now.

_{[And more to himself, somewhat faintly,]}

I wasn't sure I'd ever have children.

Edited 2012-11-25 04:42 (UTC)

[Well, you know, it's been a hard day for an eleven-year-old in a strange land trying to be a good brother and all, and the combination of relief at finally being recognized and the tone of Coop's voice is enough to send him dashing forward, burying his face somewhere in the vicinity of Coop's stomach and holding on tight.]

Me and Lily walked forever, Dad. And I carried her when she got tired and made sure she ate lunch and everything. Where were you?

[HE'S NOT CRYING BECAUSE HE IS A BIG KID AND STUFF. A big kid who really needs a hug.]

_{[That's okay, Coop is more than willing to do hugs, and he crouches down with one knee on the ground to better return it - the gun was holstered a while ago now and he gladly wraps his arms around the boy (his son) without anything getting into the way of that hold.]

[He almost laughs at the other name, recognises what it has to be immediately, but he's also kind of tearing up himself as he looks over Tom's shoulder.]}

I'm sorry, Tom, I didn't know.

_{[If he'd had any idea at all, he would have helped. He would.]

[And he'll just hug his son for a moment to try to convince him of that before he pulls back a little, to try to find his face.]}

Where's your sister?

I found you.

[It seems important to repeat it, now that it means something, and he'll understand.]

She's hiding. Because we didn't know if you were you or not. So she hid so she could run away if something happened to me.

[Gosh, is that the beginnings of a martyr complex? WONDER WHERE HE GETS THAT FROM.

He hangs on to the hug a little more, face crumpled with relief, and then calls out.]

Lily! Hey, Lilypad, come out, it's okay. It really is Dad.

You did.

_{[But that explanation strikes him as so very wrong, and he can't help an expression of worry to flick over his face as he lifts his gaze to see where Lily might appear from.]

[Lilypad. Tomcat. Just ... just wow.]

[He focues on that and tries to force the gnawing feeling of dread from his mind. He's okay, and his kids are okay. That's the important part. Right?]}

I'm here too, Daddy.

[Comes the voice from the bushes well away from where Tom originally appeared, and amid some rustling, Lily appears, still poised on the back of the Ninetales as if she'd been prepared and ready to run at any moment, and with an amiable-looking Politoed flanking her.]

We can't do any of the tests if you don't remember us, though.

_{[Coop watches her for what feels like a long time, just taking her in. He lifts a hand in invitation to the half-hug he's still sharing with Tom, a silent beckoning. He just. He wants to hug her too, but the wariness in her makes an eerie amount of sense and pains him to hear, which shows in his voice; a slightly breathless quality to it.]}

What tests, Lillian?

To make sure you're okay.

[When they're only a few feet away, she slides a little ungracefully off the Ninetales's back (one leg, then the other, with her stomach and torso still pressed against the column of its spine) and regards him quietly, unconsciously mirroring the calm, independent posture she's seen her mother wear so many times before.]

But if you have Tom's charm then you must be okay, because we wear them to keep us safe and his was yours first.

_{[And he recognises that posture - already figures Carmen is their mother for a handful little reasons, and when he keeps his eyes on Lily and answers, it's with those coming to mind.]}

Your mother gave it to me.

_{[There might be no tests to be made, but he says that with as much truth as he can, and maybe that counts for something. He's still gesturing for her to come join them, but he's not going to rush or pressure her.]}

Uh-huh. You picked mine. And made the beads.

[She fishes for a cord tucked securely beneath her shirt and retrieves a pendant comprised of hand-carved beads and some kind of animal claw.

Absently, she rotates one of the beads between two fingers, a motion that's clearly habitual and long-practiced.]

I could've walked more but Tom said I'd get too tired.

[And at last, she comes over for her hug, too.]

_{[Thank you, Lily.]

[Coop circles one arm around her, keeping the other still lingering by Tom, and leans his chin on her shoulder. Closes his eyes for a moment. His little girl, who would have thought?]}

He's just looking out for you.

I wouldn't have. I'm not too slow.

[It's not her fault she gets tired. It's not her fault she sometimes goes places when she dreams, either.]

Yes, you are. It takes twice as long when I have to hold your hand everywhere.

[Tom remarks companionably, without derision.]

She wasn't that heavy, anyway.

_{[For a moment he doesn't say anything; just feels his heart swell a bit over the slow-forming breaks. Then he withdraws, both hands on Lily's upper arms now, smiling a little mixed at her before he comments on what Tom just said.]}

Wasn't she?

_{[He has kids.]}

Do I get to try?

[And then, at last, Lily's hesitance finally seems to break, and with it goes her guarded expression — her face breaking into a smile like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

Because yes, that's her dad, all right.]

Uh-huh!

_{[It's impossible for Coop not to mirror that smile, the mixed up expression giving way to a simpler kind of happiness when he stands up, repositions his hands to her sides, and just lifts her.]

[Straight up - and she really isn't very heavy, his girl - and he does a little spin on the spot for her amusement before he lowers her into a hug again. The kind that doubles as carrying.]}

[She laughs, of course; in the grand scheme of things, that sort of lift isn't nearly so impressive as hanging on to her mother as they pitch backwards off a building, or pressing her face to the window as they soar through the air, but there's a unique sort of thrill that comes with this sort, because it brings memories rushing back of her dad, the strongest person in the world, never too weak to hold her on his shoulders.

I can't reach them, she'd told him once, plaintively, on a summer night when the cloudless sky was filled with stars (and Tom knew their names and showed her, every one), and he'd laughed and lifted her up high like this, and told her to try reaching again.

Don't ever stop reaching for them, he'd said.]

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