thelizziebennet | Arrival in Milliways

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Arrival in Milliways

Uh.

...This isn't her advanced quantitative research methods classroom.

It's bigger, for one. Fewer desks for sure. And there is a distinct lack of other students.

Not that the place is empty. Far from it. It's pretty bustling, for a room that has replaced a small classroom in one of the oldest buildings on campus.

But the patrons do not really resemble her classmates. And Lizzie wouldn't exactly call all of the customers human. And then there's the view... (Lizzie's not even facing the Observation Window. All she sees are stars. That's more than enough.)

Lizzie swallows hard and sinks into a conveniently located chair.

"Uh."

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"Bar?"

What a strange name.

"Yes.

"Come with me," she adds, leading the way across the room to the bar.

Lizzie follows. Maybe she should be more concerned about following a perfect stranger to a second location, but this first location is strange enough.

Besides, she has no reason to mistrust Amy. If she's been lying about everything, Lizzie is in much, much bigger trouble than she would be walking across a room.

She follows.

Amy stops in front of the long wooden bar.

"Bar, this is Lizzie. She's new, and she's from California.

"Lizzie, this is Bar. She can get you just about anything you'd like, and the first drink is free. All you have to do is ask."

Lizzie stares at Amy for a long, long moment.

It doesn't seem like the woman is punking her. Amy seems, just as she has for the duration of their conversation, serene, kind, and just a touch authoritative.

"Hello," Lizzie says at last. "It's - it's nice to meet you?"

It's a good start. Solid and polite.

Amy believes in being polite.

She also believes that Bar, having been introduced, is probably more easily explained by showing than telling.

"Bar, could we have a pot of tea, please?" she asks.

It appears seconds later, with cups and sugar and lemon and milk, and there's even a plate of Amy's favorite ginger cookies.

"Thank you."

Mrs. Bennet also believes in politeness and has raised her daughters accordingly.

Lizzie was a bit of a challenge - far too prone to saying what she really thought instead of...well. Anything even remotely polite.

"Magic," Lizzie says, awed.

Then, because she did learn - eventually - she says, "Thank you." She indicates both Bar and Amy.

"No magic where you're from?"

Magic does seem curiously absent in California.

(Amy, alas, has never been to Disneyland. And would, in all likelihood, not Get It if she had.)

"Let's take our tea to a table, shall we?"

Normally, Lizzie might make a lighthearted remark about the magic of technology. At this time, though, it doesn't seem quite appropriate.
"Not like this."

Disneyland doesn't even come close.

Lizzie scoops up the tea tray and smiles. "After you."

Following Amy has worked out pretty well so far.

"Don't worry. Everything's easier with tea," Amy says.

Especially explaining the ins and outs of the end of the universe.

Lizzie grins. "My older sister always says the same thing. She's pretty smart, that Jane Bennet."

"I'm the middle child. Lydia's the baby."

"She sounds very clever," Amy agrees.

"I'm the youngest of seven. My older sister Opal was always very fond of solving problems with tea."

"Seven?" Lizzie is impressed. And surprised.

"I'm not sure I could handle more sisters. Two are enough for me. I love them - and yes, Jane is very wise - but they definitely drive me crazy sometimes."

"Seven," Amy says, with a very decided nod.

"I get along better with some than others. Opal is lovely. Pearl . . . well, she and I have very different interests," Amy says, as diplomatically as she can manage.

"She's the youngest-but-me."

Lizzie nods. "That sounds familiar. Jane and I - we're not that a like, but we just get each other."

"Lydia - Lydia's tough. She doesn't care about many of the same things I care about and spends more time having fun than focusing on - well. Anything."

It's clear that this bothers Lizzie quite a lot.

"Hmmm," Amy says. "Well, if it's any consolation, which it may not be, as you and I have only just met, I suspect most of my older sisters should have said the exact same thing about me not too many years ago. And I haven't done so badly for myself. Or with getting along with them, lately, though we are pretty scattered these days."

Which may help.

"I know. She's really young. And she's the baby, which makes it even tougher - so you must be too, I guess. And she has plenty of time to grow up."

Lizzie sighs and looks at her lap. "I just - I worry about her, you know?"

"Yes, of course.

"We worry about the people we care about."

It's just a thing that happens.

Lizzie smiles. "Exactly. And when I say that at home, my mother tells me not to. Because Lydia is fine, just young. My older sister understands, but she has enough on her plate already."

Her smile dims a bit. "One of those things, I'm sure, is me. It's what older sisters do, I guess."

"That I have noticed, if only from the younger-sister side."

Older brothers worry, too, really.

"Sometimes, I think that's the other part of caring about people. Letting them worry about you."

"And maybe the opposite, too. Learning when to worry and when not to," Lizzie says, thinking it over.

"Caring about people gets pretty complicated sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Yes. But I don't think I should like the alternative at all."

Which is good, really.

Foe the entire Kingdom.

Good for the Kingdom and, because so many people seem to agree with Amy, for the human race.

"It sounds lonely," Lizzie says. "I definitely prefer caring about people. Even if I do worry."

"Do you do this a lot?" she asks, turning the subject to their current situation. "Welcome newbies?"

"Not as often as I used to, but then, I don't spend as much time here as I used to, which is not a reflection on this place and more a reflection on having a great many other things that require my attention."

Four children, a husband, a palace full of courtiers and staff, and the rest of the populace, to start with.

"But you're hardly the first person I've met when she'd just come through the door for the first time."

Amy pauses for just a moment and then adds, "You can still see the door you came through, can't you?"

"It shows. You're really good at it. I'd be freaking out still if it weren't for you."

Lizzie looks around her. "Yeah. It's just sort of...hanging out over there."

In the middle of a booth. Huh.

"That's good, right?"

"Well, thank you," Amy says.

"And, yes, it's a good thing. But if it ever vanishes on you, don't panic. It happens, sometimes. It's called being 'Bound.' It happened to me, once, but eventually the door comes back. I was told that you wound up Bound when there was something you needed to learn here. And some people it never happens to at all."

Thanks for the warning," Lizzie says. "I definitely would panic if that happened and I weren't forewarned."

She mulls over Amy's statement about "something to learn."

"What did you need to learn? If it's not too personal a question," she hastens to add. Because while she doesn't quite understand, any kind of lesson learning might be private, she supposes.

"I learned that there were better ways to deal with problems than running from them, and that I was capable of more than I knew.

"They have been very useful lessons, really."

"I imagine so," Lizzie says. "I wonder what my lessons would be. How not to procrastinate? How to get a real, grown-up job after I finish school?"

Those are the things most on her mind at the moment, but they really aren't the most important things she needs to learn.

So many lessons to come, Lizzie Bennet. So many.

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Arrival in Milliways

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