Soon enough, and barely before having to rent the room for another day, Bernie and Matt are off again, heading south out of the city and properly bound for the L.A. area.
The highway between San Francisco and Los Angeles is insipidly beautiful, becoming quickly monotonous, though Matt stops a few times near the ocean just to look at the Pacific and stretch.
Bernie sings quietly to herself for good portions of the ride, holding on tight and not seeming to get bored with the scenery. Every pause, she spends a good part of admiring the ocean.
As the dynamic duo gets closer to L.A. the freeway becomes wider, more impersonal and separate from the world around it, becoming more and more a fast-paced concrete and asphalt world, ruled by people who want to go a lot faster than the Lambretta is capable of, particularly burdened with two people and their gear. Accordingly, Matt gets off the interstate at the best opportunity, switching back to pleasant back roads and state highways. The freeway remains an ugly reminder of the collusion between Weaver and Wyrm, a few miles away to one side or another, paralleling their course.
Off the freeway, the terrain is more varied; the scooter has to work hard on a few particularly hilly areas, though most are flatter, if winding. Some areas seem almost untouched aside from the road and muted thunder of the nearby interstate, while others are covered in houses of varying size, proximity, and repair. Even the smallest, dingiest specimen, on the water side, seems to cost a fortune if the few for sale signs are any indication.
The Lambretta labors to the top of a hill and crests it, and Matt brings the machine to a stop . Spread below them, from horizon to horizon, is the sprawl of Los Angeles. Nearly hidden behind a haze of smog, the city sparkles like pyrite--grey, but twinkling with reflected sunlight off glass, and always, always moving. "Damn," Matt says. "That 'as ta be the largest fing made by man Oi've ever layed me minces on."
Bernie nods, and grins a little as she looks at it. "I like it better at night. Then th' whole area's covered in lights... li'l pinpricks of white an' dots of th' other colours... I mean, I know I'm not s'posta like it, but it's pretty, from here." As they ride down and through the city, things come more into focus, passing through sections of industrial and commercial buildings, residential neighbourhoods of all stripes. It's about seven and just starting to get a bit dim out as they near Bernie's own neighbourhood, and though she cheerfully points out her old school, the park she used to hang out in, and various other landmarks, it feels as though she's maybe a little tense.
Matt can feel it, where she's holding on to his waist. He takes a hand from the handlebars momentarily to give her hands a loving squeeze, but says nothing, only nodding at her directions and tour-guide commentary.
The area gives the impression of being a rather ancient suburb, in danger of being swallowed by the expanding city proper at any moment. The houses are small, almost all one story, on small lots, mostly fenced. Most of the houses are old but carefully kept in decent shape, though a few are getting on toward dilapidated. Bernie directs Matt toward one near the middle of the block; it looks as though it's been painted relatively recently, and the wooden fence is in good shape. Behind it, a small boy is hacking wildly at the somewhat overgrown grass with a plastic sword, a towel tied around his neck as a makeshift cape. A pretty, darkhaired girl of maybe 13 is sitting on the porch steps, reading Seventeen magazine and, one assumes, watching over the little one. Both of them look up at the Lambretta's unusual noise, as it pulls up.
The dark-haired girl, Naomi, follows the Lambretta with a cursory glance before writing it off mostly as another oddity that comes along in the southern California area. A quick note of the whereabouts of her little brother is mentally filed away before she resumes her more in-depth analysis of the magazine articles on toning up those flabby underarms.
Matt pulls the Lambretta into the driveway, like Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider. He drops the kickstand, sliding off the scooter to make it easier for Bernie to dismount behind him.
Michael is out of sight, though not of sound. The big man's snoring can be heard through the open window by the porch. He is apparently sacked out on the couch.
There's no Lola visible, either, though there's the eventual sound of a baby crying, somewhere inside the house.
The little one's grass attack is forgotten as the strange, laden vehicle stops right by his house, and he hovers warily a few feet from the fence to watch. As Bernie dismounts and takes off her helmet, he moves slightly closer, and then runs to press against the fence, grinning. "Bernie!" he yells, and lifts his arms, sword in the air. Bernie grins back, and leans down to scoop him up over the fence. "Hiya, Sam! Nice sword y'got there..."
Naomi looks up again as the Lambretta's noise doesn't subside and actually gets louder when it pulls into the driveway. The upward arch of her eyebrows towards the 'mysterious figures' on the vehicle is quickly smoothed over as she focuses in. Inside the house besides the sounds of a baby crying are the sounds of some pans clanking. Dinner comes a little later than usual tonight. With little Sam shouting out the runaway sister's name, Naomi closes up the magazine. "Bernie?"
Michael's snoring eases, a grunt the only other sign that the clatter has roused him. It lasts only a moment and he again begins snoring, a little softer this time.
Matt pulls off his helmet wearing a wistful, sad, expression and a half-smile on his face.
Penny's crying winds down somewhat, and then stops entirely. Perhaps she was being changed. Certainly, Lola can't hear what's going on out there, not quite yet.
Sam clings a little to his sister. "I got it for my birthday last week! You're late. An' there isn' any cake left. What'd ya bring me??" Bernie laughs, giving him a squeeze, and lowers him back to the ground. "Oh, you think I shoulda brought you somethin', huh? I'm not enough? Well, I'll take a look when we're inside an' see 'f there's somethin' hidin' in here, a'ight?" She gestures toward the scooter's load, and then turns her attention to Naomi, with a slightly sheepish grin. "Hey. Mind if we come in?" She reaches over to unlatch the gate, and signals for Matt to go on in.
Matt nods, absently, and steps inside the gate. He seems nervous, the thought of meeting Bernie's family suddenly more real than he had expected.
Naomi stands up with an awkward sort of movement. For all her work at being the graceful lady, there is still some clumsiness to be kinked out. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it and nods in answer. Then, she turns and opens up the front door. "Mom! She's back!" The slightly frazzled looking woman in the kitchen glances up from her sauteed onions towards the front door. "Who...?" Naomi's face breaks into a bit of a smile as she holds open the door. "Who else? Bernie!" The clanking pan stops, followed by the sound of running water and then some hurried walking. Not before long, the older woman shows up at the door to see what she's been waiting for.
This announcement, Lola /does/ hear, given as Penny's stopped wailing in her ear. It's hard to gallop down stairs while holding a baby, but she manages it, ending up right behind their mother, practically bouncing.
Michael grunts again, startled a little at the yelling going on right over his head. Bleary-eyed, he sits up and rubs the muss of bed (couch?) hair on his head.
Bernie closes the gate, wincing a little at Naomi's fanfare. That wasn't quite how she'd meant to show up... but, can't be helped. She takes hold of Sam's swordless hand with one of hers, and reaches for one of Matt's with the other as she follows Naomi to the door, looking a tad nervous again herself. "Hi, Mom," she greets her, passing over the youngest kid, and grins a little, "...so... what's for dinner?"
Michael stands up in time to greet those coming in the door. He takes a moment to straighten his shirt, as well as his pants, and clears his throat. Bernice," he says, somewhat gruffly, and with vague surprise.
"Well if I had known you were going to be here, I would have made a little more of the mashed potatoes..." The mother breaks off the idle chatter before gathering herself and her daughter up in a hug. Naomi hovers about on the side with a grin. "Steak and all that good stuff, Bernie," the little sister puts in. Meanwhile, her eyes go to Matt. "Who's your friend?"
"/Bernie/, why didn't you /ca--/" Lola breaks off as she spies Matt, and contents herself with smiling as if she hadn't done it in months.
Matt offers a free hand, stammering "ah...Matt, Matt Fulton, Mum. Pleased ta meet ye." His accent is thicker than usual--nerves.
Michael's eyes eventually find Matt, and they harden a bit, the young man getting an exceptionally hard, critically look.
Bernie hugs her mother back, before blushing very slightly and running a hand through her curls as she apologises, "...sorry, I kina wan'ed to, y'know, s'prise you and stuff. Promise not t' eat too much of th' potatoes..." She turns a suddenly rather more nervous smile on her father, and gives him a slight wave. "Hi..." Unsure what else to say, she trails off before something occurs to her. "Um. C'n we come in?"
Michael reluctantly gives way, allowing the two to come in further. His eyes don't leave Matt, however, at least not yet.
Naomi finds herself a little more self-conscious as she realizes what a mess she must look like. She's loathe to leave the doorway, but a solution comes quickly to mind. "We're just going to stand out here and let dinner get cold?" Bernie's mother breaks off the hug and straightens herself up. She nods to the returned and her guest, before ushering the rest of the family inwards. "Dinner is about ready." A short, speculative look passes between her and Michael before she heads back to the kitchen to dish up the grub. Naomi pushes Sam inside before moving back out the grab the plastic sword on the lawn.
Matt smiles, on his best behavior. After shaking with Naomi, he offers the hand to Michael. "Sir. Oi've 'eard a great deal about ye, all good, an' all true, apparently."
Softly, looking, briefly, almost a little shy, Lola gives Matt a smile. "Hi. I'm Lola. And this is Penny." She quickly gets out of the way of the mass ingress.
Michael glances quickly from Matt to Bernie, but his eyes are never off the young man long. "Yeah?" he says, quietly--for Michael, anyway. "Where ya from?"
"Naomi, can you help set the table?" "Sure Mom!" Naomi ducks into the house around her father before dropping off the Seventeen magazine on the table in the living room. Knives, forks, plates and napkins make their way onto the rather large and long dining table with the help of the two youngest.
Bernie heads in, giving her older sister a briefly wary glance before getting distracted by the baby. Her eyes widen a little. "Damn, Lola, she's gettin' big!" she exclaims, tickling the tot under the chin. She looks toward Matt and her father a moment before calling to her mother, "...hey, Mom. D'you need a hand with anythin'?"
Matt glances toward Bernie, then back to Michael. "East End, London. Livin' in Washington, now."
Lola gives Bernie a perfectly innocent look back, and then smiles, giving her a brief, half-embarrassed hug, around the baby. Who gurgles at the tickling.
The mother herself hoists a couple of large platters onto the dining table, as her profession is indeed waitressing. "Oh no dear... just sit on down with your friend Matt." It seems the family has pulled off pretty well without an extra pair of hands but it's not like she's unwelcome. "Well if you /really/ want to help, you can get the ice tea out of the fridge," Naomi quips on her way past Bernie. There's a short pause, before the little sister whispers into Bernie's ear.
Naomi whispers "You look great, by the way."
"London, hmm?" Michael says, nodding once. Finally, his critical study seems to end. Or, at least, he relents enough not to stare openly at Matt. "That's a long ways. Hope you guys are hungry. I am."
Bernie gains a shade of pink at Naomi's whisper, but smiles at her on her way to the fridge. "Thanks," she replies quietly, "...lotsa walkin', an' stuff." She carries the pitcher of tea to the table, where everyone seems to moving into an accustomed seat. Apparently, not everyone is here, since there are two extra seats. "...Where're Bobert an' Clarence?" she queries as she pulls a chair out.
Lola, as she puts Penny carefully in the high chair, volunteers, "Clarence is trying to fix someone's car. I think he's just gonna break it worse, but don't tell him I said that."
"Bobert..." There's a slight pause as the mother sets down a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes, "Is on a school trip." Cornbread, and of course the steamed vegetables. After a few minutes, Naomi reappears with a cool purple spaghetti strap shirt and some shorts on. She seats herself beside Sam. "Nah, he'd have to be lucky to just break it." A quiet giggle follows up as Naomi gets a quick look from Mother.
"I like that shirt," Sam declares, trying to reach across the table and snag the cornbread, and having to almost stand in the chair to get anywhere close, "'s purple. My truck is purple. I got it for my birthday. Hey, you're inside now, what'd y'bring me, Bernie?" Bernie laughs, and baps her little brother gently on the hand. "Sit down an' ask someone t' pass th' bread 'f you want it. An' be patient, we'll look after dinner, a'ight?" She offers the seat beside her, usually Bobert's, to Matt, and nods a little disappointedly to her mother. "...'s it, like, a back-at-ten trip, or's he gone for like a week?"
Michael settles into his seat at the head of the table, grabbing the mashed potatoes first and piling a mountain not unlike that of Richard Dreyfuss' in Close Encounters. Only now does he get a good look at Bernie, so preoccupied was he with Matt. "Damn, girl. Look at you."
Matt slips into the chair next to Bernie's, and his eyes widen at the amount of food placed on the table. "Cor, Books. Ye said ye had a big family, but Oi 'ad no idea yer mum set sooch 'andsome jim on th'cain."
Naomi smiles over at Sam and resists the urge to stare over at Matt. She busies herself with serving up Sam's portions before herself while Mother moves in to set a few pitchers of ice tea out in strategic spots on the table. She smiles at Matt's words. "Having the food is just half the challenge. Cooking it, well, I had some help before Penny decided she wanted huggies." Then she adds the lighter, "You look great Bernice. What's your secret, mm? Oh, Sam... I don't want you dropping the cauliflower under the table again, got it?"
Penny gurgles innocently. Lola, as she sits, casts the occasional glance at Matt but carefully doesn't stare. "She's making sure I know enough to be able to feed an army, eventually."
"No, just to feed your father," the mother inserts with a loving, playful smile.
Michael, as if proud of the fact, sticks his barrel chest out and makes approving grunting/growling noises.
Sam apparently had no idea his mother had caught on to that trick. Possibly it would've worked better if the family had a dog. He nods silently, putting on his best behaviour. Of course, when he thinks no one's looking, he tries hiding the cauliflower under his plate. "I'm gonna be in kinnergarden this year," he announces randomly, between bites of meat and cornbread.
Bernie flashes Matt a grin, and nods. "Well. Now y'know why everythin' I know how t' cook has so much leftovers..." Her mom's comment draws a blush, and she looks down at her plate. "Oh... lotsa walkin' around mostly, there's this farmhouse that's like twelve miles outta town, an' I go back an' forth between 'em a lot, an' stuff..." She glances up, and giggles at her parents.
Lola says, helping Penny out, "Dad /is/ an army."
"/Twelve/ miles?" Naomi looks up at Bernie incredulously, her knife halfway through her steak. Her mother smirks at Lola before she sets herself down alongside Michael and dishes some vegetables and rice onto her own plate. "How long's that take to walk?" cuts in Naomi again. Walking? Who walks in LA?
Matt, overwhelmed, watches as plates and bowls of food seems to pass just beyond his grasp, from one Rosenberg to another. "Um." He manages, intelligently, too slow to keep up with the conversation, and looking very much the fifth wheel.
"Takes 'bout two anna half, three hours; sometimes I c'n get it down t' like an hour anna half if I," Bernie stops suddenly, and finishes a tad lamely with, "...run." She glances sideways at Matt a second, and starts making sure the dishes go by him properly. "...'s only like fifteen minutes on th' scooter, though."
Matt nods in agreement, and makes very little conversation through dinner. Mentally preparing himself for the grilling he is sure to receive from Bernie's parents.
"Run?" Naomi gains even more of an incredible look. "Wow." The mother notices Matt lagging behind a bit and offers the pan of cornbread towards him. "So you're from London... what brought you over to the US? On vacation?" Grilling, wouldn't quite be the word, but inquiry sure.
Matt shakes his head, politely. "No, I live 'ere. Me blister's in Portland, an' me parents are..." he trails off. "Well."
Lola keeps giving Matt sideways glances, but adds in her own questions occasionally. Such as, "What's a blister?"
Bernie gives Lola a wicked little grin. "You are," she replies, and takes her sweet time chewing a bite of steak before clarifying, "...'s rhyming slang, means sister."
Lola says, "I am not!" before hearing the rest of it. "...Oh. Does he --" She stops, and addresses Matt, "Do you do that a lot?"
"Not so much when Oi fink about it," Matt shrugs, digging into dinner. "'s 'abitual."
Bernie sips her tea, considering. "I like it. 's more interesting than how most people talk," she remarks, and shoots Sam a look. "Hey. You know your plate seems t' have gotten taller?"
Matt realizes about halfway through the meal that it has been a while since he's had a home-cooked meal, and proceeds to be ravenous.
Sam looks chagrined at having been found out, and starts looking for a new place to hide his cauliflower. Meanwhile, Lola notices the time, and starts. "Oh, shoot. I'm going to be late! Na, you still going to put Penny to bed for me?" she asks as she pushes up from the table, carrying her plate to the kitchen and handing the baby off as she goes. The younger girl nods, giving her niece a squeeze. "Uh huh!" she replies, and stands as well, carrying the baby back toward the bedrooms. She pauses to smile at Bernie and Matt and add, "G'night, I'll see you in th' morning..." Bernie grins back, and slides some of her cornbread over onto Matt's plate when no one's looking that way. She eats quietly while her parents chat a bit about things that actually don't involve her.
Matt is quiet, but polite, on eggshells. After dinner he heads out to the scooter, getting their things in order for bed.
Bernie helps a little with the tidying, then heads out to help Matt, and not coincidentally to have an excuse to talk to him alone a moment or two. "So," she asks quietly, unloading her backpack, "...whatcha think?"
Matt smiles, weakly. "A bit overwhelming, honestly, an'..." he sighs, heavily. "I miss me Da."
Bernie sets her bag down silently, and interrupts Matt's own unloading to give him a big hug. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, after a few moments.
Matt's face is a little wet, when they finally separate. "S'okay," he sniffs. "Nice people. Have you thought about it? If they know, I mean?"
Bernie glances toward the house, not letting go completely, and nods a little. "'bout me, y'mean? Yeah... I figure they do, I mean, kinfetch, y'know? An' Kaz says, th' chain said my sibs are all kin, so," she replies, softly. "...I think maybe Dad's one of us, y'know? But I dunno for sure. I kina figure I'll try an' ask or somethin', somehow, when th' other kids are all in bed or something, y'know?" She bites her bottom lip a little, uncertain.
Matt nods. "I think my movver is. If she's still alive." He gathers up his load and heads back inside, looking for a place to set up.
Bernie reaches out to stop Matt before he goes in, and glances toward the door. "Prolly," she suggests quietly, "I should use my old bed, an' you should borrow Bobert's, seein' as he's away. 'cause," she blushes a bit, "I mean, I'd rather share, but I dunno how that'd go over, y'know?"
"I think," Matt smiles, "That we can obey the First Law...for a change."
Bernie sticks her tongue out at him, briefly. "'s not a change! You watch it, or I'll make it one..." She takes a quick look to make sure no one's watching through the windows, and steals a very fleeting kiss before opening the door and toting her burden through.
Matt laughs, quietly. "So tonight it won't get so bent, neh?" He relishes the kiss, and when they go to separate rooms, he says "I'll miss you."
"Me too," Bernie replies, leaning against the doorjamb for a moment and watching him find the appropriate bed. She seems about to say something when she's interrupted by Sam, energetic as only five year olds can be. He bursts in, and regards Matt. "Hey! Are you stayin' in here t'night? Cool. Look, wanna see my purple truck?" He finds and brandishes a Tonka truck, proudly. "Bernie! What'd you bring me?" Bernie giggles, and shakes her head. "'s too late now. In th' mornin', a'ight?" Sam pouts for about half a second, and then nods, and runs over to give her a big hug, making her oof. "G'night!" he declares, and runs back over to show off the truck some more. "G'night," Bernie replies to him, and then repeats a bit more softly to Matt, "....g'night." Turning, she walks the three steps across the hall to the girls' room, and disappears inside.
Matt grins, checking out the Truck. "My Da...my Dad...would call this a 'lorry.'" He passes it back. "Night, Sam. G'night, Books." He tucks himself into his sleeping bag pretty quickly, and despite his nerves, is quickly asleep.
[...later...]
It's late, later than Bernie might believe--even for the parental ambush she very much expected. Michael left right after dinner, explaining vaguely about helping out a friend. Apparently, he's just now gotten back, and the quiet rap on the girls' room door heralds him. "Bern? You sleep?"
"Mmph?" Bernie replies incoherently, just on the edge of sleep, and sits up, finger-combing her curls. Naomi and Penny are snoring softly in their respective beds; Lola's still out, apparently, wherever it was she was late for. Bernie slips out of the bunkbed and pads barefoot to the door, and out, closing it behind her so as not to wake the others up. "I'm 'wake," she announces, as if it didn't show.
Michael looks his daughter over once to see exactly how true that statement really is, and then he nods toward the living room. "Come on an' sit down for a sec. I wanna talk about whatcha been up to."
Bernie nods, pulling her hair back a tad nervously, and heads toward the room, dropping inelegantly into a corner of the couch, and pulling her legs up to curl about her on the cushion. Her choice of night-gear hasn't changed; as always, it's an old concert shirt and grey sweat pants. Some things at least are consistent.
Michael settles into an armchair to the side of the couch. He doesn't sit back, choosing instead to lean forward and rest his elbows and forearms on his knees. "There ain't no real delicate way to start this, so I'm just gonna say it, and either you'll understand, or we'll have some work to do. Something happened to you, didn't it? You changed, and I ain't talking about losing some of that baby fat you used to carry 'round." Lowering his head, the big man fixes Bernie with a serious expression, bordering on stern.
Bernie looks slightly startled at first, and then, strangely enough, relieved. She grins a little, and nods. "Yeah. Maybe... a week after I left?" Lifting her head a bit, she regards him a few moments, more intently than usual. "...so 'course I was wonderin', are you...?"
Michael blinks. It's his turn to be startled, and beyond that he looks a bit upset. "A week after you left? That soon?" He seems about to go on, but the words are pulled back in favor of a silent frown. Then, her question is given weight. "Yeah. Half-moon. You were born under no moon, weren't you? I can't remember if it was you or Bobert."
Bernie nods. "Ragabash," she confirms, tilting her head a little, "...what's wrong with when? I mean..." She trails off, looking a little confused, and then blinks once. "...wait, d'you mean Bobert's also...?" She glances toward the boys' bedroom, despite the fact that he isn't there. "Did he change too?"
Michael answers the questions in order, nodding and shaking his head where appropriate. "I just meant it's a lot to deal with, let alone doing it while you just struck out on your own. Looks like you did alright though, girl." A pause, and then he goes one. "Bobert is, but no, it ain't happened to him yet."
Bernie nods a little, and runs a hand through her curls again. "Well, I wasn' alone, 'zactly. I managed t' run inta just th' right people, an' they got pinged by th' fetch, too, so it act'ly all went... well, pretty smoothly, far as that kina thing goes, y'know?" She glances up to him almost shyly and adds with a touch of pride, "...An' I had my Rite in March."
Michael's eyes dart toward the room where Matt is sleeping. He lifts his chin thoughtfully. the word 'rite' redraws his attention and he blinks at Bernie. "You rited? Well, wait. Yeah, I guess you probably would have if you been changed almost since you left." Pointing, he asks, hesitantly, "What about him? He one of those 'right people'?"
Bernie follows the glance, and smiles slightly. "Well. Not that first batcha 'em, but, yeah." She looks back to her father and remarks, "...he's a 'dox too, incident'ly. An' a packmate."
Michael's eyes brighten, and widen. "Pack?" he says, both softly and pleasedly. "You have been busy, girl. He Gnawer too then?"
Bernie shakes her head. "Fianna," she corrects, before grinning mischievously, "...but we don' hold it 'gainst him." She glances over to the room again, rather fondly.
Michael's scowl's hard to hide, but he tries, giving Bernie something of a skeptical look. The fond glance she throws toward the door does not go unnoticed, either, by the Philodox. "So who else is in this pack?" he asks, back to business.
Bernie curls back into the corner of the couch, getting more comfortable in the cushions. She notices the skepticism and adds, "...our Alpha, Kaz, she useta be in another pack, an' Rat was their totem? An' their particular totem, Shadowclaws? He was all startled Matt wasn' onea his. Approveda him an' all. So, y'know. 's not like he's =Steven= or somethin'." Like that'd mean anything to anyone here. "...anyhow so yeah, Kaz, she's our Alpha, she's a Cliath Galliard, Metis, called Ears. She's almost Fostern though; doin' her challenge, an' all. An' so then th' resta us are homid, an' all cliath, we got Max, she's a raggie too, an' Li'l Tim, him also, an' then Nevada, he's Galliard too. All Gnawer, 'cept for Matt."
Michael listens silently to all Bernie has to say, and at the end of it, he leans back in his arm chair for the first time. "That sounds...nice, actually. Not too bad." Then, quite suddenly, he smiles at his daughter. It fades a little as it dawns on him exactly how /late/ it is. "We can talk more tomorrow, though. You me, and maybe your friend too. Get some sleep, kay?"
Bernie nods, pushing up from the sofa, and heads back toward the room. "...'s called Trouble, th' pack," she adds, turning back a moment, "...an' we have Raccoon, for our Totem. Ours's named Hood. Maybe he'll come by an' you could meet him, t'morrow? Anyway." She actually takes a few steps back, and gives her father a good hug. "G'night, Dad," she says, before disappearing back into the room.