![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sendthembackSubway. Street. Blah blah blah.
Words required: 30,006
Words achieved: 32,146
Words of today: 1,797
XXII.
Keith immediately announces that he's not going to walk anywhere, especially when Rachel's refusing to tell him where they're going. They spend a few minutes bickering and wrangling, until they finally reach a compromise by way of the subway. Rachel agrees to lead him by way of the 6 Train and they head off toward Hunter College Station.
They stroll down the concrete steps and on into the station. Rachel stands quietly in front of the map for a few seconds, finding the kinked green line and following it down with her finger tip. It's such a simple trip. She shakes her head and then nods at him. He nods back, following her across bare concrete toward the underground entrance. They swipe their MetroCards at the turnstile and then head toward the Brooklyn Bridge-bound branch of the 6 Train. He asks no questions, just follows, more silent than he's been in a long time.
They hit the platform about a minute before the train arrives. Rachel shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other, smiling and shaking her head at Keith when he reaches out to take it from her.
"I've got it, old man."
He finally relaxes at those words, watching her shrug the shoulder strap higher and then glance up and down the track. She's decided that she's in charge and, really, that's the way it has to be. She won't give up Stephen's secret, whatever she knows about it. He reaches out and squeezes her non-bagged shoulder. Then, he drops back a few inches, his hand falling to his side. He follows Rachel's example and looks up and down the track.
He starts to sigh, but then he sees Rachel smiling at him and his sigh slips into a laugh, as if that was what he was always trying to do.
The train rushes up and they step onboard. It's not too crowded, even for a Saturday, and Keith and Rachel stretch out in their seats, her bag sprawling between them. They don't talk, but they watch, taking in the little patches of trash on the floor, the other passengers, and their own awkward reflections in the windows. Keith stares at Rachel in the dark glass, and he expects her to at least smile back, but she either doesn't see him or is ignoring him. He sighs and looks down at the patch of plastic seat between his legs.
The train jerks and slows.
A group of girls surrounding a fratboy-type guy with a backwards baseball cap get on at the next stop, and Keith almost leans in toward Rachel, half to apologize for the weird short trip he's forced them into, and half to remind her that the next stop is theirs, but, then he catches the way she's watching them. It's all open and curious. She's even almost smiling, watching the way one of the girls places her hand on the boy's shoulder and then lifts it away, and then the way he almost tips his cap at her, touching the brim, grinning, maybe a little embarrassed. But then, there's another girl, saying something to him, drawing his attention away.
It's moments like that which make him think she's the same she's ever been, make him forget that something's happened, or that he's finally discovered that something's happened. On the subway is his first. It's reassuring and confusing, all at the same time, because he can't pin down what exactly it is that makes the moment, what has happened and what Rachel sees. He experiences her reaction, but he has no frame of reference for what she's done.
It's in the way she watches people. First, it was the punk kids on the street, and now it's this weird college kid and his apparent harem. She seems to get an inexplicable delight out of the most bizarre subsets of humanity. They spring out of nowhere, and that makes him feel uneasy. But, she enjoys what she sees, smiling and laughing, drawing out some unexplained strength when Keith just finds himself becoming exasperated at the crazy world around him. He supposes this is just another thing he eventually needs to talk to Rachel about, or not, knowing his talking-to-Rachel track record. It's just something to file away.
Rachel grins blatantly at one of the girls, a longhaired blonde dressed almost entirely in pink, from the strappy heels to the unnecessarily short skirt to the low-cut tank-top that barely covers her breasts. The girl smiles back, almost nodding, and Rachel looks away. Keith stares at her afterward, but Rachel doesn't seem to notice.
Their stop comes up sooner than Keith expects, the train speeding to a halt. Rachel stands up, reaching for Keith's hand as she shoulders her bag once again. She nods, smiling at the crowd that hangs around the the doors she and Keith stride out into the station, and Keith swears most of them nod back.
"Please explain," Keith says as they move down the platform toward the exit. Rachel shrugs, then gestures over toward the wall beside them and he sees the way a man-made crack in the tile gives way to a secret mosaic inside the gap. He's seen it before, but he still slows down to take it in again, his eyes catching on the blues and yellows. He shakes his head, suddenly realizing that she's trying to distract him.
He slowly slips his eyes away from the crack. "Rachel..?"
"The weird fan club that boarded the train at the last stop?" she asks when he's looking toward her again.
"Yes, them."
"What about them?"
"Why were you looking at them like that?"
Rachel laughs. She takes Keith's hand in hers, slowly leading him up into the light of the street above the subway. "I don't want to talk about it."
"What if I want you to talk about it?"
They spend the next three blocks fighting, Keith asking questions and Rachel refusing to answer any of them. When they hit the right corner, he says one more thing before finally gives up on his questioning for good.
"I think I know where we're going," he says.
"Where?" Rachel asks. She suddenly stops, standing completely still on the sidewalk.
Keith shrugs. "It's coming up. Keep walking." He reaches out and taps her on the hip, his hand jerking back as soon as it makes contact. Rachel keeps walking.
"I don't even know," Rachel says. "I'd love if you told me, though."
"Tell me about the subway, then," Keith answers. "Tell me about that weird boy."
"He was a certain stereotype," Rachel says.
It's Keith's turn to stop, just as they turn the corner on to 49th. "What do you mean?"
"The boy on the subway was a certain stereotype, something I have in my head, whether I like it or not." Rachel seems content to stand still for a few seconds. She smiles. "Tell me what you thought of him."
Keith shifts from foot to foot. "I don't think I really want to at this point. I have no idea and I think you've got it figured out. I don't want to argue with that. You've got the corner on the market and I'm tired."
Rachel's smile compresses toward a smirk. "I've never had the corner on anything, I promise. I only have a theory."
"Then why are you so cocky about it?" Keith asks. He returns her smirk, moving up toward the next traffic light.
Rachel frowns. "I'm not cocky. Do I look cocky?"
"Not really, no," Keith admits. "But you've got the answers, so I figure you must know something."
The light changes. They cross over Park Avenue and Rachel finally speaks. "He wasn't some sort of college jiggalo or a manslut or whatever you want to call him. He was a remarkably popular gay boy and that's all... or that's my opinion, any way."
Keith grins. "And what about that girl you we--"
"I wasn't checking her out." Rachel stops at the next crosswalk, even though the light is green, even though they're being called forward by the image of a little white man with bent knees. "I think I pinged her gaydar, though she probably thought I was some nerdy boy more than anything else."
The little white man disappears, replaced by the old red blinking hand.
Rachel takes a breath. "I know it may shock you, but I'm not on the market right now. I'm completely closed for business. I don't even..." She shifts her weight around, watching the red hand go steady. "But I guess it looks like I'm never really off the market. I'm a whore, aren't I? I guess that's why I've fucked everything up."
Keith actually reaches after her. It's some weird reflex he never knew he had, but it's too late, too slow. Rachel barely looks both ways before she steps right out into traffic.
Keith feels she must have planned it somehow, because she isn't immediately crushed by an oncoming taxi or rammed into by a terrified cyclist. She takes her time in the crosswalk, striding purposefully across, and no one honks at her. It's like a damn movie.
Of course, there's really no way she could have planned it, and that only makes Keith mad, the foolishness with which she just let herself go, as if nothing mattered at all, as if she were her own person, complete in herself and disconnected from everything. Keith paces back and forth on the street corner, waiting. When the light finally changes again, he charges across.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Was what?" Rachel asks, shrugging as she leans against a nearby building.
Keith grimaces. "You just crossed against the light in the middle of Manhattan. You should have gotten mowed down by a taxi for that. What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," she answers. She's already heading down the street before Keith even has time to process what she said.
"Why not?" he asks when he's finally caught up to her again.
Rachel lets out a long sigh. They're less than a block away from where they're headed, wherever the hell that is, and she just doesn't want to deal with any questions. She grabs Keith's wrist, but doesn't find a watch. It's enough to confuse him, at least, and that gives her time to dig her phone out of her bag. They've still got ten minutes. Rachel looks around again, until she sees a lamppost halfway down the block.
"Come on."
Keith sighs. He can't do anything except follow her.
When they reach the post, Rachel leans casually against it, smiling at him.
She takes a breath. "So, tell me what you want."
Keith frowns.
Words required: 30,006
Words achieved: 32,146
Words of today: 1,797
XXII.
Keith immediately announces that he's not going to walk anywhere, especially when Rachel's refusing to tell him where they're going. They spend a few minutes bickering and wrangling, until they finally reach a compromise by way of the subway. Rachel agrees to lead him by way of the 6 Train and they head off toward Hunter College Station.
They stroll down the concrete steps and on into the station. Rachel stands quietly in front of the map for a few seconds, finding the kinked green line and following it down with her finger tip. It's such a simple trip. She shakes her head and then nods at him. He nods back, following her across bare concrete toward the underground entrance. They swipe their MetroCards at the turnstile and then head toward the Brooklyn Bridge-bound branch of the 6 Train. He asks no questions, just follows, more silent than he's been in a long time.
They hit the platform about a minute before the train arrives. Rachel shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other, smiling and shaking her head at Keith when he reaches out to take it from her.
"I've got it, old man."
He finally relaxes at those words, watching her shrug the shoulder strap higher and then glance up and down the track. She's decided that she's in charge and, really, that's the way it has to be. She won't give up Stephen's secret, whatever she knows about it. He reaches out and squeezes her non-bagged shoulder. Then, he drops back a few inches, his hand falling to his side. He follows Rachel's example and looks up and down the track.
He starts to sigh, but then he sees Rachel smiling at him and his sigh slips into a laugh, as if that was what he was always trying to do.
The train rushes up and they step onboard. It's not too crowded, even for a Saturday, and Keith and Rachel stretch out in their seats, her bag sprawling between them. They don't talk, but they watch, taking in the little patches of trash on the floor, the other passengers, and their own awkward reflections in the windows. Keith stares at Rachel in the dark glass, and he expects her to at least smile back, but she either doesn't see him or is ignoring him. He sighs and looks down at the patch of plastic seat between his legs.
The train jerks and slows.
A group of girls surrounding a fratboy-type guy with a backwards baseball cap get on at the next stop, and Keith almost leans in toward Rachel, half to apologize for the weird short trip he's forced them into, and half to remind her that the next stop is theirs, but, then he catches the way she's watching them. It's all open and curious. She's even almost smiling, watching the way one of the girls places her hand on the boy's shoulder and then lifts it away, and then the way he almost tips his cap at her, touching the brim, grinning, maybe a little embarrassed. But then, there's another girl, saying something to him, drawing his attention away.
It's moments like that which make him think she's the same she's ever been, make him forget that something's happened, or that he's finally discovered that something's happened. On the subway is his first. It's reassuring and confusing, all at the same time, because he can't pin down what exactly it is that makes the moment, what has happened and what Rachel sees. He experiences her reaction, but he has no frame of reference for what she's done.
It's in the way she watches people. First, it was the punk kids on the street, and now it's this weird college kid and his apparent harem. She seems to get an inexplicable delight out of the most bizarre subsets of humanity. They spring out of nowhere, and that makes him feel uneasy. But, she enjoys what she sees, smiling and laughing, drawing out some unexplained strength when Keith just finds himself becoming exasperated at the crazy world around him. He supposes this is just another thing he eventually needs to talk to Rachel about, or not, knowing his talking-to-Rachel track record. It's just something to file away.
Rachel grins blatantly at one of the girls, a longhaired blonde dressed almost entirely in pink, from the strappy heels to the unnecessarily short skirt to the low-cut tank-top that barely covers her breasts. The girl smiles back, almost nodding, and Rachel looks away. Keith stares at her afterward, but Rachel doesn't seem to notice.
Their stop comes up sooner than Keith expects, the train speeding to a halt. Rachel stands up, reaching for Keith's hand as she shoulders her bag once again. She nods, smiling at the crowd that hangs around the the doors she and Keith stride out into the station, and Keith swears most of them nod back.
"Please explain," Keith says as they move down the platform toward the exit. Rachel shrugs, then gestures over toward the wall beside them and he sees the way a man-made crack in the tile gives way to a secret mosaic inside the gap. He's seen it before, but he still slows down to take it in again, his eyes catching on the blues and yellows. He shakes his head, suddenly realizing that she's trying to distract him.
He slowly slips his eyes away from the crack. "Rachel..?"
"The weird fan club that boarded the train at the last stop?" she asks when he's looking toward her again.
"Yes, them."
"What about them?"
"Why were you looking at them like that?"
Rachel laughs. She takes Keith's hand in hers, slowly leading him up into the light of the street above the subway. "I don't want to talk about it."
"What if I want you to talk about it?"
They spend the next three blocks fighting, Keith asking questions and Rachel refusing to answer any of them. When they hit the right corner, he says one more thing before finally gives up on his questioning for good.
"I think I know where we're going," he says.
"Where?" Rachel asks. She suddenly stops, standing completely still on the sidewalk.
Keith shrugs. "It's coming up. Keep walking." He reaches out and taps her on the hip, his hand jerking back as soon as it makes contact. Rachel keeps walking.
"I don't even know," Rachel says. "I'd love if you told me, though."
"Tell me about the subway, then," Keith answers. "Tell me about that weird boy."
"He was a certain stereotype," Rachel says.
It's Keith's turn to stop, just as they turn the corner on to 49th. "What do you mean?"
"The boy on the subway was a certain stereotype, something I have in my head, whether I like it or not." Rachel seems content to stand still for a few seconds. She smiles. "Tell me what you thought of him."
Keith shifts from foot to foot. "I don't think I really want to at this point. I have no idea and I think you've got it figured out. I don't want to argue with that. You've got the corner on the market and I'm tired."
Rachel's smile compresses toward a smirk. "I've never had the corner on anything, I promise. I only have a theory."
"Then why are you so cocky about it?" Keith asks. He returns her smirk, moving up toward the next traffic light.
Rachel frowns. "I'm not cocky. Do I look cocky?"
"Not really, no," Keith admits. "But you've got the answers, so I figure you must know something."
The light changes. They cross over Park Avenue and Rachel finally speaks. "He wasn't some sort of college jiggalo or a manslut or whatever you want to call him. He was a remarkably popular gay boy and that's all... or that's my opinion, any way."
Keith grins. "And what about that girl you we--"
"I wasn't checking her out." Rachel stops at the next crosswalk, even though the light is green, even though they're being called forward by the image of a little white man with bent knees. "I think I pinged her gaydar, though she probably thought I was some nerdy boy more than anything else."
The little white man disappears, replaced by the old red blinking hand.
Rachel takes a breath. "I know it may shock you, but I'm not on the market right now. I'm completely closed for business. I don't even..." She shifts her weight around, watching the red hand go steady. "But I guess it looks like I'm never really off the market. I'm a whore, aren't I? I guess that's why I've fucked everything up."
Keith actually reaches after her. It's some weird reflex he never knew he had, but it's too late, too slow. Rachel barely looks both ways before she steps right out into traffic.
Keith feels she must have planned it somehow, because she isn't immediately crushed by an oncoming taxi or rammed into by a terrified cyclist. She takes her time in the crosswalk, striding purposefully across, and no one honks at her. It's like a damn movie.
Of course, there's really no way she could have planned it, and that only makes Keith mad, the foolishness with which she just let herself go, as if nothing mattered at all, as if she were her own person, complete in herself and disconnected from everything. Keith paces back and forth on the street corner, waiting. When the light finally changes again, he charges across.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Was what?" Rachel asks, shrugging as she leans against a nearby building.
Keith grimaces. "You just crossed against the light in the middle of Manhattan. You should have gotten mowed down by a taxi for that. What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," she answers. She's already heading down the street before Keith even has time to process what she said.
"Why not?" he asks when he's finally caught up to her again.
Rachel lets out a long sigh. They're less than a block away from where they're headed, wherever the hell that is, and she just doesn't want to deal with any questions. She grabs Keith's wrist, but doesn't find a watch. It's enough to confuse him, at least, and that gives her time to dig her phone out of her bag. They've still got ten minutes. Rachel looks around again, until she sees a lamppost halfway down the block.
"Come on."
Keith sighs. He can't do anything except follow her.
When they reach the post, Rachel leans casually against it, smiling at him.
She takes a breath. "So, tell me what you want."
Keith frowns.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-19 04:57 pm (UTC)Y'know Rachel, of all the people to be having a nervous breakdown around, Keith is really not your best bet.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-19 06:36 pm (UTC)Talk about loaded questions...
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-19 08:26 pm (UTC)She seems to get an inexplicable delight out of the most bizarre subsets of humanity. They spring out of nowhere, and that makes him feel uneasy.
♥ times a thousand. It suits her, and it suits him.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 09:32 pm (UTC)odd comment is odd
Date: 2009-11-19 09:32 pm (UTC)no I won't say Time Lord, though it would be pretty coolbut there are little things that sort of pick her out of a groupyeah that totally made sense :P
it's the disconnect she has, and I don't blame her for not thinking about things too much
Re: odd comment is odd
Date: 2009-11-20 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 01:28 am (UTC)My anticipation for the scene with Stephen cannot be put into words. Know that it's there, and anticipating.
Bonus points if he dragged Jon along =DD
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 09:34 pm (UTC)