And how long did you climb that night

With the ice in your lungs on the rungs of the light?

Beyond recall, you severed all strings

To everyone and everything.

Despite his overwhelming tiredness and erratic moods which made it nearly impossible to concentrate, September found it equally difficult to simply rest as Dr. Bishop continued to insist. He came to remember where he had hidden his son, but had no way of knowing whether or not he was still there. The fear of the other Observers finding the boy weighed heavily on his mind. He could feel his heart racing – he could even see its motion through his shirt. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling until he could hold still no longer. He got up, trudged across the hallway, and knocked on Walter's bedroom door. He stood staring at his feet until he saw a light come on from underneath the door. The door opened.

"September? What are you doing out of bed? It's one in the morning, and you're still-"

"I feel fine," September interrupted.

"Well, you don't look fine! You're sweating profusely. Come on." Walter stepped out and moved to lead September back to the other bedroom.

"I cannot sleep anymore, Dr. Bishop. It is most of what I have done for the past thirty hours," he said. He looked Walter in the eyes. "I remember where the boy is."

Walter paused. "Excellent! That is excellent news. However, it's still very late. This is no time to be traveling, especially not in your condition."

September squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He was still sore and feverish. Moving was more of an effort than he would admit. "I am fine," he insisted once again.

"You are just like Agent Dunham," Walter muttered. "Prideful and ungodly stubborn. Please, go back to sleep. If you don't rest, you could suffer complications from the procedures you've gone through."

"I am finding it impossible, Dr. Bishop."

Walter smirked. "In all honesty, I am having some difficulty myself. Would you like to watch something?"

"Watch…?"

"You know, like a movie? Do you enjoy movies?" Walter asked.

"I have seen a few. They were interesting," September said. "I no longer remember much of them, however."

"Come with me," Walter said, walking towards the living room. September followed. The scientist pulled a large box of VHS tapes from beside the TV set. "This is my collection," he beamed. The "collection" was in absolute disorder, with corners of tapes sticking out of the box every which way. "Would you like to look through it?"

The lack of order bothered September. When he looked at the box, it felt as though scores of lights went off sporadically inside of his brain, each beaming in a different direction. "No, thank you. You make the decision."

Walter dug his hand into the box with his face turned away. September eyed him with curiosity – the man was selecting at random. "Here we are!" Walter piped up as he presented the tape to September.

"Singing In The Rain," he read off the cover. "Do they …actually sing?"

"Yes. Yes, they do, it is a musical."

"Intriguing."

"I take it you don't mind that, then?" Walter asked.

"No," September replied. He sat down on the small couch as fatigue overtook him once again.

"All right, then." Walter put the tape into the VHS player that was embedded into the small TV set, pressed "play", and turned off all of the lights in the room except for one small lamp on a table across from the couch. He knelt in front of the table, opened a drawer, and pulled out three small items that September could not see from where he sat. Whatever they were, he noticed at least one of them had a fairly strong, yet not unpleasant odor.

"What is that?" He asked.

"Something I've always found goes well with a good movie. Or, in many cases, even a bad one," Walter replied as he removed some plant matter from a plastic bag and stuffed it into a small glass pipe. He took a lighter to it and inhaled as he sat down next to September. "Would you like to try some? It may help you to relax. It may even lower that stubborn temperature of yours…"

September sniffed the air. The sour, burnt odor of the smoke bore little resemblance to the musky-sweet fragrance he had noticed coming from the plant itself, which disappointed him a bit. "Will the smoke not have adverse effects?"

"Other than a bit of coughing, I would expect not. Here," Walter said, handing him the pipe.

September hesitated for a moment, and then took it from Walter's hand. Its contents were still lit with an orange-red glow.

"Breathe in, go on," Walter said. "Be sure to hold your breath."

September did as he was told, and exhaled, coughing loudly as he did so. It took him a moment to catch his breath. Once he did, he began to feel warm inside. His vision blurred slightly, but without dizziness. He smiled and leaned back, focusing on the film. The characters' interactions were curious to him, like nothing he had witnessed in any era of the real world. He could not help but laugh. "Why is it they behave this way? It is so exaggerated," he said.

"Well, this is a comedy. Hence why you are laughing," Walter said with a playful shove to September's shoulder. Walter took another hit, and September did as well.

"The music is quite enjoyable," September remarked.

"I couldn't agree more."

As the film wore on, September grew drowsier and leaned against Walter's body without realizing it. In Walter's current state, all touch was pleasant, and he did not mind the weight of the other man. He smiled and wrapped an arm across his shoulders, pulling him onto his chest. "Is this more comfortable or less?" He asked. He realized contact such as this could help expedite September's transition into humanity – this may have been just what he needed. Still, he did not wish to overwhelm him.

"It is more comfortable," September said between slow breaths.

"Good." Walter paused, noticing something on the other man's head. "September. You've started growing hair," he said with a smile.

"I have?" He asked. He hadn't occasioned to look in any mirrors yet.

"You're blond. Or, you will be, once it comes in fully. Dirty blond, I'm presuming."

"Hmm. It does not sound like a particularly pleasant color," September said, focusing on the word "dirty."

"It will suit your complexion nicely," Walter said, hugging him carefully.

September wasn't sure why Walter was handling him in this way, but for all its unfamiliarity, nothing about it felt unnatural. Though he was on the verge of sleep, a part of his mind felt more awake – more aware. Despite his intoxication, he felt grounded in a way he never had before.

The credits rolled. September noticed the name of the actor who had played the character he'd most enjoyed – "Donald O'Connor."

"Dr. Bishop?"

Walter had fallen into a light sleep, but he snapped awake when he heard his name. "Yes? And, by the way, you're living under my roof, however temporarily… You may call me Walter."

"I do not believe I should go by the designation 'September' any longer, Walter," he said.

Walter nodded. "Hmm, it is rather unusual as a person's name, isn't it?"

"Even if that were not the case, I wish to leave my old life behind. I would like to use the name of the man who played Cosmo," he explained.

Walter laughed softly and rubbed the former Observer's shoulder, taking care to avoid touching the sutured slit on his neck. "Very well, then, Donald."