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mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Any, any, home isn't always a place, but rather a person or a group of people. Written from the POV of the Machine, set sometime during the start of season 2. Could be Reese/Finch, if one tilts one's head sideways.
home [hohm] noun, adjective, adverb, verb, homed, hom·ing.
noun
1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
3. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home.
4. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.
5. the place or region where something is native or most common.
6. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.
7. a person's native place or own country.
8. (in games) the destination or goal.
The dictionary definition seemed simple enough, despite all the variables. The Library served as residence for the administrator, and his new partner seemed to prefer the place: his body language seemed more at ease, suggesting that he felt relaxed here. And while it might not be a house or an apartment, it fit as an "other shelter", and they were two persons, in something of a family, particularly if they counted the dog (many families had a companion animal of some kind). Also, the system administrator's new partner had been homeless and now he had a dwelling in this place. The dog likely considered the place to be a dwelling, considering its playful and relaxed body language, now that the creature dwelled here: it seemed especially at ease with the system administrator, despite the human's qualms about keeping the creature. And his reaction when the animal gnawed one of his first edition Asimov.
The goal of the pair might not lie here, but in the chess game that their work involved, this was their base of operation and the place where they gathered and collated the information that they needed to complete it. Neither one was native to this place: one came from Washington state, the other came from a place hidden from its databases, and the dog came from a kennel outside Amsterdam.
But the library was their refuge, for all three: watching the body language of the two men, they clearly felt that they belonged here, at each other's side, as much at ease as they could be, when each man had secrets to conceal, when one man was presumed dead and the other could kill without a single blink (at first). Even the Machine felt a strange easing and ordering of its processes as it connected to the hub that the system administrator had arranged in the main reading room, as if it too could feel at home here, at home with these two men. At home.
home [hohm] noun, adjective, adverb, verb, homed, hom·ing.
noun
1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
3. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home.
4. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.
5. the place or region where something is native or most common.
6. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.
7. a person's native place or own country.
8. (in games) the destination or goal.
The dictionary definition seemed simple enough, despite all the variables. The Library served as residence for the administrator, and his new partner seemed to prefer the place: his body language seemed more at ease, suggesting that he felt relaxed here. And while it might not be a house or an apartment, it fit as an "other shelter", and they were two persons, in something of a family, particularly if they counted the dog (many families had a companion animal of some kind). Also, the system administrator's new partner had been homeless and now he had a dwelling in this place. The dog likely considered the place to be a dwelling, considering its playful and relaxed body language, now that the creature dwelled here: it seemed especially at ease with the system administrator, despite the human's qualms about keeping the creature. And his reaction when the animal gnawed one of his first edition Asimov.
The goal of the pair might not lie here, but in the chess game that their work involved, this was their base of operation and the place where they gathered and collated the information that they needed to complete it. Neither one was native to this place: one came from Washington state, the other came from a place hidden from its databases, and the dog came from a kennel outside Amsterdam.
But the library was their refuge, for all three: watching the body language of the two men, they clearly felt that they belonged here, at each other's side, as much at ease as they could be, when each man had secrets to conceal, when one man was presumed dead and the other could kill without a single blink (at first). Even the Machine felt a strange easing and ordering of its processes as it connected to the hub that the system administrator had arranged in the main reading room, as if it too could feel at home here, at home with these two men. At home.
