walksthebounds | (no subject)

Jamie has gotten them out of the sticky situation with the tickets, and then out of the station and safely into the city. This would normally be the time for some well-placed boasting, and Jamie is about to do just that -

- when he catches sight of a canal running over the street, over the tracks, on a set of yellow arches.

They are more than familiar.

Home.

The word only rings in his head for a second - long enough for his heart to start racing and ever-present Hope to flare up in him like a beacon, higher than ever before - before his brain catches up with him and starts pointing out the far too many ways things that are wrong, wrong, wrong. The trains are wrong. The clothes are wrong. The machines buzzing about everywhere, they're all wrong, and the buildings are wrong, and even the arches, now he comes to look closely at them, are different from what he remembers, must be. It's not his Home. Can't be his Home.

Get ahold of yourself, Jamie, he thinks, trying not to double over with disappointment - it's not like he's not been through this before -

No one's ever going to call Helen observant, when it comes to people, or emotionally sensitive.

But Jamie's her (only) friend, and she's spent enough time with him to feel a creeping of--unease at the look on his face. She doesn't know what to do or say about it, though, so she ignores it with some contempt and watches the rest of the world from behind her curtain of hair.