Every Stop Along The Way

Link to article: Every Stop Along The Way.
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|text=Aaron kept everyone he ever knew in a notebook in his pocket.]]

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**Author:** [[*user AstralNavigator]]
[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/astralnav Author Page]
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[[=image greyscale_train.jpg]]

Aaron kept everyone he ever knew in a notebook in his pocket.

He could catalogue them neatly: names, habits, the way someone held their glass or hesitated before speaking. He wrote down the small things and the big things, all the important pieces to reconstruct someone from the words on the page. Re-reading them brought them to life. They didn't blur or die or decay. On the pages of his notebook they remained, his ward against absence. 

That was the bargain he'd made with himself. He would be a witness from afar and maintain a practiced distance to preserve the truth of the stories he saw across the many worlds along the Lampeter network. If he kept enough detail, enough texture, without getting too close, then goodbye would be manageable. Nothing recorded faithfully enough could ever truly vanish. 

Ezra was the flaw in that logic. 

Aaron had been traveling with him for while now, ever since the musician had caught his interest performing a mournful melody on his violin in the echoing halls of a Lampeter station. Ezra -- for his part -- was affable and friendly around Aaron. He seemed to enjoy the time they spent together. Ezra moved through the stations on the Lampeter network as if each were a temporary inconvenience, yet seemingly he had no true destination they kept him from. There was an odd contrast in his demeanor. He seemed comfortable traveling, but deeply uncomfortable in each of the new worlds they traveled //to.//

When asked about it, Ezra would brush it off. But Aaron had seen how the musician's eyes would linger as he observed the crowds gathered for his busking. He was searching for something among the faces, a longing perhaps even he wasn't aware of. It wasn't specific. There was no one person he sought out. No, this was a search for some sort of connection.

Aaron could sense a story worth recording there. But his efforts thus far had been foiled, and he was running out of time. As he dined on the train car with Ezra -- a habit that had formed as he tried to get more hints as to the man's story -- he'd discovered that their planned routes would diverge here at the next station.

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[[=image Baltimore_and_Ohio_dining_car_pre1907.png]]

The ever-present hum of the train rolling along merged with the gentle clamor of diners in the car as Aaron and Ezra sat down for the evening meal. An overworked waiter approached them to take their drink order. 

"A whiskey sour and a vodka cranberry, thank you," Aaron said with a practiced politeness. The server nodded and left the pair. 

"Y'know, since the first time we did this, you've remembered my drink order and asked for it every time," Ezra commented, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"Oh? I apologize, I didn't mean to take over." 

"No, no, I like it. You paid attention and remembered... not everyone does that." 

"Well, don't you worry, then. I've no plans to forget your drink preference anytime soon."

Given how busy the server was, Aaron expected a wait for their drinks. He pulled out his notebook and began writing down the details of the dining car tonight, most importantly its patrons. The scratch of his pen was a familiar comfort as he let himself get lost in the ritual of it all. Soon he found himself humming as he took down the little details of his environment. He was distantly aware of Ezra shifting in his seat across from him. 

Ezra reached for the sugar caddy and grabbed a packet that he began to fidget with in Aaron's peripheral vision. Then, Aaron was interrupted as the packet fell and landed on his notebook. 

"Oops," Ezra apologized. 

"Oh, that's quite alright," Aaron said with a small smile. 

He began to return to his task, but Ezra interrupted, saying: "Don't you ever get tired of all the writing you do?" 

"Tired? Oh, I suppose sometimes I do. But I find I tend to miss details if I go too long without writing things down. Little things matter!" Aaron tapped the notebook with the back of his pen, before adding, "I don't like to lose things, anything. I've found that if I don't write things down, and soon, they... change. In my head, I mean." 

He gestured vaguely with his pen towards himself before resting it against the page again. "Memories get smoothed over. Details vanish. People become impressions instead of who they actually were."

Ezra hummed in response, fidgeting with the sugar packet once again. 

"So this," Aaron continued, a little more earnest now, "this is how I make sure I've got everything down //right.// Using the little moments like these."

His attention returned to the notebook, and he was vaguely aware of Ezra's fidgeting ripping the sugar packet cleanly in half. Their drinks arrived after another moment, and Aaron put away his notebook to grab his vodka cranberry. Ezra simply held his drink, watching the condensation trail down the glass instead of making eye contact. A moment later, he took a big gulp of the whiskey sour before shaking his head.

"Aaron, I'm gonna be getting off the N-line at the next junction," he said suddenly. 

Aaron only blinked in response. He felt a complex mix of emotions within him, but in a practiced mental motion he pushed it all down and left his face smooth as glass. "Oh. I see." He took a sip of his beverage to buy himself some time to respond. //The story,// he insisted to himself, ignoring the hollowness of this justification. "Well, I must say I've really enjoyed our journey together. You're quite unforgettable, Ezra." 

"You too, chronicler," Ezra said, but his face remained unreadable throughout the rest of the meal. 

Routes diverged all the time; that was the nature of the Lampeter network. Worlds intersected briefly, then peeled apart again, each traveler carried onward on the tides of the ever-more-uncertain timetables of departures. It wasn't until later, as he lay awake in his narrow berth, notebook resting unopened under his chest, that the weight of it settled in: after tomorrow, Ezra would be gone. 

Whether he intended to stay here in this world, or (more likely) transfer onto some other branch of the network, Aaron hadn't yet determined. Ezra himself seemed unconcerned by the distinction. That had stung a touch more than Aaron cared to admit. 

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[[=image Grand_Central_Station_Main_Concourse_-_DPLA_-_744ae7b25caa192d78d580f706f03b1c.jpg]]

The station that would see their parting was an old one, bearing remnants of the dead L-NESC's former glory. Entire concourses were closed off behind barricades, as funding was not available to maintain them, and a grand ceiling overhead presided over the empty space. Crowds shuffled through even at this early hour as Aaron disembarked. The train they had arrived on would remain here for the entire day as the crew was exchanged, maintenance was performed, and supplies were replenished. Aaron took a seat at a table that offered a broad view of the station and pulled out his notebook.

If today was their last day, then it made sense to stay close and learn what he could while their paths still aligned. He wrote Ezra's name at the top of a fresh page, underlined it once, and waited. The musician found him not long after, violin case bumping lightly against his leg as he crossed the concourse. He looked rested -- almost buoyant -- as if the coming separation had already loosened him up. Aaron felt his face contort ever so slightly at the thought and shifted uncomfortably as he tried to regain his composure. 

"There you are," Ezra said, dropping into the chair opposite Aaron and glancing at the notebook. 

"You know me. Always writing. Actually, I was thinking we could spend the day together." 

Ezra smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." 

They wandered the station and its surrounding streets for a few hours. They discovered an open-air market, where local thaumaturges openly sold their magical wares -- clearly a distinguishing detail of this world -- and Ezra set up to play there among the stalls of mystical goods. Aaron longed to write more down about them but he had a more pressing goal today. Small knots of listeners were drawn in by the violin music, and they'd linger for a while before moving on, some dropping change into the open violin case at Ezra's feet. Aaron sat nearby, ostensibly listening, but his pen kept moving. He noted how Ezra adjusted his tempo depending on the crowd's response, how his bow would hesitate on the strings for a fraction of a second before he'd pick up with a new song as if he'd always intended it, and how his gaze drifted outward when applause came, never lingering too long on the faces clapping for him. 

"You play that song pretty often," Aaron remarked as Ezra finished playing. "Where did you learn it?" 

"There's a world I visited called Glasswater," Ezra said, a smile plain on his face. "The place has like, no roads. They use canals for everything. It's real pretty. There was a man there I... admired, and that song is what he'd sing every morning as he stood on his ferry and tried to draw in a crowd. I always loved transitory places like the docks." 

"Fascinating. Did he teach you it or did you figure it out on your own?" 

"Jack -- Yeah. Yeah, he had taught it to me, I guess."

"Hm. Did things... not end well?" 

Ezra sighed. "I don't think he even really remembers me. But what does it matter? I have the song now, and as you can see it's a crowd-pleaser." 

Aaron glanced around, confirming Ezra's words. Sure enough, a group of people were still gathered and talking about the performance. A trio of blushing young women approached and offered Ezra a woven flower crown. He accepted it with a whispered thank-you and a wink, sending the girls scattering away with screams of delight. When he turned towards Aaron, though,  his smile changed. He placed the crown upon the studious man's head, currently buried once again in his notebook. 

"Oh, thank you," Aaron said in surprise, then he looked back in his notebook. "Can you tell me why you were in this 'Glasswater' world?" 

"You're missing it," Ezra sighed in exasperation, causing Aaron to pop his head up from his notebook.

"Missing what?"

"You're missing //now//! You have so many questions, yet you seem so uninterested in the things going on right in front of you." Ezra jabbed a finger in Aaron's direction.

"What! You have no idea how much I want to learn more about y-- this place!" 

"I'm not talking about this //place//. In all your interrogations of me today you've never //once// asked me how I feel about any of this!" 

"W-what //are// you talking about?" Aaron raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"About today! About tomorrow! About //you//!" 

The pen paused in Aaron's hand. "I assumed—"

"That's your problem! You //assume// I'm just a story you haven't gotten to the end of yet!" 

Aaron felt his chest tighten. "I'm just trying to understand you!" 

"No, you're trying to //keep// me."

Aaron opened his mouth, but any response died in his throat. All the careful language he used to describe his chronicling fell apart in the face of Ezra's simple description. 

"That's not fair! I... I care!" 

"You care about holding on. About... turning everyone and everywhere you interact with into tidy open and shut stories in that damn notebook." 

Ezra stood, lifting his violin case by its well-worn handle. The market crowd flowed around them, oblivious, laughter and conversation filling the air, seeming to seep into Aaron's perception in anticipation of the hole Ezra was about to leave behind. 

"I don't //want// to be one of the stories in your notebook," Ezra said, with a hint of pain in his voice. "I wanted to be a person you were //with//." 

He didn't wait for a response. He stepped back, turning away, and folded into the throng of people, moving with that ease that so fascinated Aaron. Stunned, Aaron stayed where he was.  The page in front of him, Ezra's name at the top, was nearly full now. Observations, fragments, careful lines of ink that only moments ago he would have trusted to preserve everything that matters. He read back over them, then again, and again, and he felt that horrible hollowness he kept this notebook to avoid. The words within it were accurate, meticulous, and useless. 

It came to him slowly, the realization unwinding in his heart. And the truth of it ached. And in plain daylight, that emptiness within him reared its head, never having truly left. The notebook seemed so trite now. Tears stung at the edges of Aaron's vision as he processed what had happened. Time passed, how long he wasn't sure, as he felt frozen in the face of his mistake.

Within him, a spark ignited. He stood abruptly, grabbing his notebook, and looking out across the market.  The sun had dimmed but there was daylight yet.  He felt unsteady, but certain, as he cast his mind back to his interactions with Ezra. He didn't open the notebook for reference; he let the moments in his memory speak for themselves.  

A hundred songs replayed in his mind, a lyrical map to trace the steps he'd taken with the musician. Threads of connection, habits, patterns, little things to be experienced in the present. In this grand recollection, Aaron saw something he had missed in his notebook. A subtle habit, where Ezra would always play one last song before the sun set, alone and distant from crowds, a private concert for one. Or for two, he now realized, recalling how Ezra had brought him to several such "performances" to end the day. 

Shoving aside his guilt, he set off through the market towards its exit. With determination, he navigated the throng of the evening crowd, until he reached the streets of this strange and magical city. There was a moment of despair as he stalked the streets in his search; how would he find one man in a whole city? //Transitory places,// arose unbidden in Aaron's mind, and he sharply turned down a street leading to the harbor district. It was a long shot, and would send him further away then he had initially thought to search. He worried that perhaps, this was another mistake.

But his fears were alleviated when he heard it, the most beautiful song in all the worlds. The plaintive wails of a violin, echoing down alleyways, a pain Aaron now could recognize as //loneliness//. Breathless, he broke into a run, following the sound.  A short time later, he found him, alone beneath a fire escape, eyes closed as he played. Aaron paused and let Ezra finish his song.  When he did, his eyes opened and fell upon Aaron, expression becoming guarded.

Aaron stepped forward and held up his notebook. Disappointment flashed in Ezra's eyes, and he began to turn away, but Aaron caught his hand. Ezra paused, and Aaron pressed the notebook into his hands.  "Take it," he prompted. 

Confusion crossed Ezra's face, but clasped the book in both hands. "What are you..." he began, trailing off as he saw tears streaming down Aaron's face.  

His eyes were windows to a soul exposed and raw, terrified of an irreversible mistake. Ezra glanced at the notebook and back to Aaron, when his face warmed into an undeniable smile. He put the notebook into his jacket pocket, cupped Aaron's face in his hands, and leaned in to kiss him.  Aaron was shocked, his tears mixing with the stubble on Ezra's face as they locked lips, but he found himself eagerly returning the kiss.  It seemed to last forever and for just a millisecond, but eventually they pulled apart. 

Ezra's face was alight with a hopeful grin.  "Alright, chronicler. Let's try this again." 
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> **Filename:** Grand Central Station Main Concourse - DPLA - 744ae7b25caa192d78d580f706f03b1c.jpg
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> **Filename:** Baltimore and Ohio dining car pre1907.png
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> **Name:** Spa Valley Railway train - geograph.org.uk - 2357531
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