rekindleme | It's gotten to him, at last.

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It's gotten to him, at last.

Who: September and anyone who happens upon him
Where: About town and Building 1, making his way to the second floor
When: Pretty much now.
What: September gathers very strange components and puts together an equally strange device
Warnings: Weird science. Weird Observer stuff. Weird.

People are used to seeing September in just about any place around town. To-day, however, he appears to be on a mission, as the sightings are concentrated in, of all places, hardware and medical supply retailers. Why, yes, there are at least a few of those in town, and he's had to make a few substitutions.

Then he has to haul it across town to the apartment building, and this does not seem to be going well. He stops frequently to catch his breath. Eventually he simply hires a rickshaw and piles himself and his large box of purchases into it, submitting to being carried from point a to point b.

Arriving at the building, it's a lot easier for him to pick up the box and step through spacetime to his apartment, though there's a loud clattering thump as he drops the box.

For the next few hours, there's the vague noise of... something... being built.

What is it?

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Diarmuid wakes up slowly, rubbing at his eyes and then stretching like a little wavy-haired cat. He mutters something softly and then starts when he wakes up enough to realize that September isn't there anymore. He looks around quickly, and seems relieved when his eyes find his friend. Once he knows September is okay, his worried look turns into a guilty one instead.

"I'm sorry, Lord September! I was suppose to stay awake and watch over you and I fell asleep! Can you forgive me?" The poor boy seems so upset by his lapse that he doesn't even notice the look on September's face. If he did, he would probably be far less worried.

A strange twinge of pain goes through him, but he knows it isn't physical. It makes his eyes prickle anyway.

"Yes. I do." His eyes go warm and tender, and the beginnings of a smile twitch the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and places his hand on Diarmuid's head with what he'd later identify after close examination as paternal affection.

"Thank you," Diarmuid bows his head slightly, though a moment later, he is unconsciously pushing up against the hand on his head, since head pats are one of his favorite forms of affection. He looks up at September and the guilt disappears off his face when he sees the warmth in the man's look, "I promise I will do better next time! Are you feeling better after your rest?"

"Yes." It's all he can think to say at the moment, as his thoughts are preoccupied by this strange, tender feeling that's crept up on him. He blinks rapidly, wondering why his eyes are wet, and rubs at them with his other hand.

When Diarmuid sees the blinking and wet eyes, worry creeps back onto his face, "Are you sure you are okay?" He looks around quickly, seeming relieved when he spots where September has moved the machine too, "Do you need to use the breathing machine again? I can get it for you!"

"No, I..." He rubs his eyes again. "It is... emotion."

Only now does it occur to him to maybe bring his eye level down closer to Diarmuid's. He sits on the floor, then, and takes a deep breath.

"You remind me, somewhat, of my... son. I have not seen him in years, but I remember his mind. It is very much like yours."

"You have a son?" Diarmuid moves closer to September once the man sits on the floor, kneeling in front of him and resting a hand on man's arm. He doesn't quite understand what September means when he says Diarmuid's mind is like his son's, but that doesn't really matter at the moment, "Why haven't you seen him for so long? Did...something happen to him?"

"He had to be hidden, so that he will remain safe," September answers softly. "I will see him again, but I do not know when, yet. I... know that he is safe and that is enough, for now."

His solemn face and calm voice are the same as always, but there's... a hint of sadness to his voice, now.

"It would be better if he was with you," Diarmuid unconsciously starts rubbing September's arm in a comforting action. "Fathers should be with their sons. Who else will teach them?" His eyes grow sad, "Knowing someone is safe is one thing. It's good he's safe! But, that doesn't mean you still can't miss him. I am sure he misses you too. Even though I know time isn't moving for my father right now, I miss him. He's safe, but it's not the same as being with him..."

Again, this kind of wisdom from someone so young makes him pause momentarily, unable to find words.

"I... suspect that he does. He is very different to the rest of my people, and that is why he must remain hidden for now. He has a... home. I have seen that the people he is living with care for him."

He has to roll this next thought about in his head for a moment. "I... I think I do... miss him."

"There is nothing wrong with missing him! Everyone misses those they care about!" Diarmuid nods confidently. As usual, he doesn't realize what he is saying is oddly adult. He's just repeating what he has heard and what seems right in his heart, "How is he different? Is it because he has his emotions back? Like you are starting to do?"

"I'm glad he has a good family to watch over him. It helps. It's still not the same, but it helps."

September's gaze drops and comes back up.

"Yes. He is considered an anomaly among my people. When his development started, they discovered that his consciousness was... more advanced and diverse than was normal. They thought he was dangerous and wished to terminate him. I... could not let that happen. I took him away and hid him. He is... important. He will... save everyone, soon."

He swallows the lump that had mysteriously formed in his throat.

Diarmuid's eyes grow wide with surprise at what September says. Interestingly enough, there is a little something else in there too.

Anger. For one of the first times in his life, Diarmuid is angry.

"They can't do that! They can't kill him just because he is different! That's wrong!" He actually stomps one of his feet to show how upset he is, "Why do people think they can do that? It is good you hid him! Someday he will come back and he will find a way to teach them what they are doing is wrong. I just know it!"

September watches this reaction as calmly as ever, though he is reminded of the people he knows by this capacity to be angry on behalf of someone one doesn't even know. He's seen the lengths Walter or Peter or Olivia would go to to make things right for people they felt had been wronged. He wonders what lengths Diarmuid would go to, especially when grown.

He reaches out and takes the boy's hands. "That is the plan," he says softly. "When we are ready, we will take him through time to a point where he can show my people that there is another path for the future."

The answer is, in short, Diarmuid will go to a great many lengths to right the wrongs he sees. One might say he even eventually goes too far, since his last wish to right something he feels wrong ends up seeing him returned to the land of the living thousands of years after his death to fight in a war he should never have been called to fight in.

But that is all very far away from the little boy who stands with September now.

Diarmuid shifts his hands in September's so that he can give them a light squeeze, "Good. That is good. That is right. He will be a brave knight fighting to make sure others don't have to be away from their fathers like he did!"

September wonders if he should tell Diarmuid that the real plan is to take his son to the proper point in time to stop an entire course of development for the human race that ends in a ruthless invasion of the past. To, essentially, obliterate an entire timeline and himself as well, for the greater good. He wonders if the boy would understand all the time travel and causality involved. He wonders, really, if anyone would understand the time travel and causality involved.

Eventually, he decides it's a tale for another time.

So he nods once. "Yes. I think he will."

Perhaps once he is older, and almost certainly after he has become a Servant and learns of the existence of Second Magic--the thing that is used to explain alternative timelines in his world--Diarmuid will understand. He will understand and argue with September that there must be another way--another way that doesn't involved erasing the good with the bad.

However, for now, it is for the best that September doesn't try to explain. Diarmuid will just be confused and perhaps even scared. After all, he likes September and the last thing he wants is for the man to cease to be.

"I am sure he will do very well too! He has you to look up to even if you can't be with him. That means he will be kind and smart and strong!"

Aw, shucks. Anyone else would blush. Or maybe tear up. While September does feel a small pang of emotion, he can't quite identify it and takes a deep breath, effectively forgetting it for the time being.

"He already is those things," September murmurs. "That is why you remind me of him."

Diarmuid blushes the blush that September doesn't, bowing his head unsure of how to exactly take the compliment, "T-thank you, but I don't think I am those things. Not yet, but someday! A good knight is all of those things after all, and I will be a good knight!"

He doesn't know what to say to that. He's reached the end of his emotional capacity and now it's simply confounding him and leaving him blinking slightly stinging eyes. He'd scarcely gotten to know his son before he had to hide him from his people, but it's times like these that Diarmuid's resemblance is almost painful and for that, he has no words.

So he pulls Diarmuid into a tight hug, instead, as though hoping the boy will know what he means.

Diarmuid returns the hug just as tightly as he can and wishes there was some way to bring September's son here--to this place where it's peaceful and they would be able to be together like a father and son should be. Sadly, as far as he knows, who is brought here is totally random. Who knows if another from September's world will even arrive.

"I know I'm not your son, but whenever you need someone to hug, I will be here."

September's eyes prickle and start to water again. He holds onto Diarmuid, trying to pull himself together. He would say that he could do the same for Diarmuid, that even though he isn't the boy's father, he could always come to him for anything, but he hasn't got the words for such powerfully emotional thoughts.

"Thank you," is all he is able to say.

"You are welcome. Always!" Diarmuid gives September a squeeze, seeming content to stay there as long as the man wants him to, all plans for returning to practicing gone.

Some things are just more important than training.

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It's gotten to him, at last.

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Wrap this up soon, maybe? c:

I was just thinking that myself! Great minds and all. :-D