Join the Dance

viii. Katherine, Called Kate

Love has something to do with the notion of being seen — the opposite of invisibility. The invisible, the unwitnessed, the unacknowledged, the isolated, the lonely — these are the unloved. Loving attention illuminates the unseen, escorting them from the frontiers of lovelessness into the observed world.

— Nick Cave, The Red Hand Files, Issue #103

"Heya, Rafe!" said Beetles from the doorway of the teaching room. His smile was a stark contrast to the girl's horror. "We watched her just like you said."

Jake smirked. "She didn't run off 'cause she's in love with you."

Ah. Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes. The younger children on the floor began to giggle as they overcame the initial shock of the girl's entrance.

The girl in question turned her irritated glare onto Jake. "Obviously, that's not true."

When she frowned, Rafe saw, there was a crease that returned between her brows, like an etching of worry. A marking of responsibility, perhaps? Or just an anxious disposition? She didn't seem very anxious at the moment. Her eyes were flashing fiery gold.

"Yeah," Rafe quickly said. He gestured to the children on the floor, and with a quick "we'll finish later," and a nod of command he'd learned from Miss B, they all scampered off. Abigail squirmed herself out from the girl's grasp. Rafe didn't miss her inspired glance upwards as if silently saving the older girl's face into the inventory of people she liked. So, it wasn't just Rafe who was impressed by her nerves.

As soon as Beetles and Jake had turned back down the corridor (Beetles saluting him for some reason) Rafe leant the poker against the hearth and faced the oncoming slaughter.

"Answer me," snapped the girl. She'd turned truly stormy now, probably because her question actually hadn't been answered. "What were you doing to her?"

"Teaching them," he replied. Then, off her look - "Trying to."

"Teaching what? How to get burned?"

Rafe watched her carefully. He wasn't dealing with a clueless teenager here; she wasn't stupid, as Abigail would say. But as far as magic went, not knowing about the ability to touch fire was implausible. Then again, she had come from the future. Perhaps it was a future where the separation worked, and she hadn't known magic existed until she came here.

The girl was waiting for him to reply, the gold flecks in her eyes sparkling in the firelight.

If he couldn't understand her, she would have to understand him somehow.

He reached into the fire. She gasped, but said nothing. Rafe felt the usual tingling feeling in his fingers. With his other hand he touched the candle and the wick flickered to life.

She has time travelled back to now, Miss B had said. Thanks to the magic that flows through her veins. As does yours.

Rafe touched his hand to her wrist, just exposed below the cuff of her coat. Her skin felt warm and real. "I wouldn't have let her get burned."

He blew out the candle. She watched him, quiet. The worried crease on her forehead deepened. She was so familiar, like a half-remembered dream, or a childhood friend you can't recall the name of, or the warm spark of fire under his fingertips.

"Now come on," Rafe gestured to the door. "The Boss is waiting."

She didn't question him, nor speak at all. She seemed in a state of severe confusion. Well, Rafe was familiar with that concept, too.