"Just show me where, scientist, I've still got tape!" Winona was easy-going despite the situation, following Wilson.
The backyard didn't look well, to say the least. Wormwood took one look at it, frowned deeply, and returned inside.
The small backyard of Wilson's home appeared like it did once had some care put into it, but now it looked like it had been abandoned for some time. Wilson and Winona walked past dried out bushes and stepped over buried stepping stones on their way to the fusebox in the back.
"Urtica diocia," Wickerbottom said of a nettle as she adjusted her glasses. "Have you ever cooked with it, dear? The common name is stinging nettle."
Warly put one hand on his hip, listening intently. "Had no idea you could. I'm open to trying it," he said as he unrolled his sleeves for some protection.
Behind them, Webber ran after Wendy. Wendy was blank faced, Webber's wide mouth grinning and laughing. Finally, he caught her with one furry hand. "Tag! You're it!"
Before Webber could even move, Wendy's hand rushed out and laid upon Webber's arm. "Tag."
"Hey! That's no fair, we didn't even start running!"
"Wilson, buddy," Woodie called, "did you plant this tree here in the yard? How would you feel aboot it coming down?"
"Huh?" Wilson and Winona came back around the house, and Wilson paused for a moment. He gazed at the tree, and his expression became unreadable.
"Maybe not that one, Woodie," Winona said in an attempt to be helpful.
"Not that one." Wilson said finally. "You can cut down the ones outside the yard. Nobody owns that property out there," he vaguely pointed.
With the power restored, the next issue was the water. Wilson seemed shocked when he realized it was off, too. He hadn't used the well on the property in... Well, it was years even before he left for The Constant.
Thankfully, it still worked. Wilson dug in a closet and found two buckets, and very quickly the dusty house became a noisy and busy operation. Wolfgang and Wurt brought in water, and Warly was attentively listening to Wickerbottom explain the uses of stinging nettle. Wortox alternated between helpfully fetching kitchen tools and... Well, Wilson wasn't sure he was going, but the imp kept disappearing when bored.
"I don't exactly have a table," Wilson had said apologetically.
"Your house sucks," Willow complained.
"Is it ok if I move this chair into the kitchen? I can make a dining area!" Walter wanted to be helpful.
"We can eat with our hands," Webber offered helpfully, although right after that the adults finally found enough silverware.
"Just pour me a mugfull, I am not very hungry. Thank you, dear." Wickerbottom said, wiping condensation from her glasses.
"Non non, madame, you've worked very hard today!" Warly was pouring hot tea into a line of mismatched cups. "Are you really sure?
By the time it was completely dark outside, there was a full meal prepared. With no table, Wilson had grabbed a sheet from his bed upstairs and laid it down to indicate their eating area. Wendy and Wurt had helpfully brought plates to each person's spot.
Their meal wasn't exactly gourmet, and Warly's little shake of the head as it began definitely showed his displeasure. But it would at least fill their bellies - Savory mushroom salad topped with roasted wild nuts with stinging nettle tea.
"Ahhh, smells so good!" Wurt was wiggling, trying very hard to remember her manners. Wickerbottom had told her quietly to let Warly eat first.
Finally, Warly came to the "table". He couldn't help but laugh. "I'm more in the mood for fish tonight... But we've done alright, haven't we? Okay, dig in."
Wickerbottom raised her hand, and Wurt watched her eagerly. "Thank you very much, dear - for providing for us!"
"Yes, thank you," Wilson said, stabbing a mushroom with his fork. "Sorry I didn't have more, but... You understand."
"Thank-you, thank-you, this treat looks almost too good to eat," Wortox sang.
"Thank you," Wendy and Webber managed to say in unison (in vastly different tones of excitement).
"Ooo, I almost hate to disassemble this presentation," Winona said.
Wigfrid was silent. And then, slowly, she removed her helmet to set it behind her. With some hesitation, she bit into a mushroom. It was actually delicious, she found. "...Oh yes, thank you!"
"Wait, who said that?" Willow asked.
"Me?" Wigfrid said. And suddenly, the entire "table" was looking at her. Despite her wish to be in the spotlight, Wigfrid blanched.
"Eh, sorry there buddy! I guess nobody really expected to hear your voice like that," Woody explained apologetically.
"Do you have two souls inside of you, perhaps?" Wortox was sniffing the air.
"ARE YOU TIRED OF BIOMEAT?" WX-78's tone was teasing.
"Hey, let's leave her alone," Winona said after finishing a sip of tea.
Wigfrid was waving her hand. "It's okay. Can't blame anyone for being surprised to hear my real voice... After... All this time." Despite her assertion, her face turned pink and her voice trailed off. Winona was close enough to reach a hand over, gently patting Wigfrid's knee.
Beyond the realization that Wigfrid was in fact, NOT an actual viking, the rest of their dinner went off without a hitch.
The situation was strange. Absolutely impossible to explain, Wilson found himself thinking by the end. He glanced around and realized several people had already left, and a glance behind him showed him Warly was preparing to wash the dishes.
Glancing back at the people remaining by the "table," Wilson realized he felt an unfamiliar feeling: Comfort.
There was something very nice about spending a night with everyone without the worry that they'd be attacked. By Charlie, by Nightmare Creatures, by Hounds... By anything. They were laughing. People were laughing.
Walter was telling a story about something to do with Thanksgiving - Wilson felt unable to pay attention - and it made Wolfgang laugh heartily and pat the boy on the head.
Webber and Wortox were playing some sort of patty cake in one corner, and Wurt was being told not to eat soap. It was all so... Normal.
After that, more people dispersed.
For what felt like a long time, the only sound was Willow flicking her lighter open and closed. She remained by Wilson, looking grumpy and hugging her knees.
"Salut, my friend." Warly's voice broke Wilson's focus - or perhaps, lack of - and he startled. "Just me, don't worry."
"Oh, sorry." Wilson reached for his dish and silverware, and then was surprised to realize someone else had already taken them.
Warly was wiping his hands with a towel - or at least trying, each one of the towels that remained in the house was full of holes. "What's on your mind?"
"There's a lot NOT on my mind," was Wilson's reply. "Not Terrorbeaks, not Bats-" a sweeping movement with his arms - "none of that! It's really something, isn't it Warly?"
Warly was grinning and nodding. "It is indeed. I don't know how you did it, but it looks like we're finally out of the woods."
There was a pause, and then Warly continued. "One question, Monsieur. I don't know where we are. On Earth. Where have we landed, exactly?"
"O-Oh! Well, this is... New York city, New York state."
Warly looked shocked, but relaxed after exhaling. "I don't want to nitpick how you make portals, but we couldn't have gotten closer to Louisiana?"
He laughed after that, sitting down and elbowing Wilson, who also laughed.
"Is that where you hail from?"
"Yes! Family's been there for three generations."
"I'll try to see what I can do about helping you get home." Wilson's brain started working, and he rose again, one hand upon his chin.
"You've been a big help, Wilson," Warly smiled up at him. And then looked beside them. "What about you, Willow? Where do you come from?"
Willow's eyes cut into Warly at a level he didn't expect, and the chef flinched. Wilson raised an eyebrow, and started to ask her what was wrong, but hadn't gotten a word out before she pushed herself up off the floor and started heading elsewhere.
"Mon dieu, I will have to apologize to her."
"Wilson dear?" Wickerbottom approached, a practical fleet of children on her tail. And Wortox. "Would you have a thing or two I can give the children? It seems I'm without my books."
Wilson was still thinking. "...I may have just the thing, actually."
When Wilson headed upstairs, he waved Wickerbottom along with him.
And there, in the center of the room, it stood. Along with Winona, who started to apologize for intruding, but Wilson waved it off. The portal was broken in half by someone unseen force, but it was undoubtedly the portal Wilson had built that had started the whole mess.
Wilson's eyes scanned it up and down, and he voiced a thought. "We can take it apart for supplies. I would have to find... A hammer and a wrench..."
"I have to fix it up first," protested Winona, which stopped Wilson in his tracks.
"You have to - What, and make it functional?"
"Yes! I have to," Winona's hands were already on a piece of metal plating that had fallen. "Wilson, my sister is there."
"...O-Oh. You're right, but..."
He fell silent, and the two women did the same for a moment. The sound of Winona placing pieces in organized piles was all there was, for what felt like forever. And then she finally exhaled loudly, and turned to face the other two survivors again.
"I just have to, ok? For Charlie."
Wilson felt mortified. He didn't want to have this thing up and running again. If Winona knew the sacrifices he had made, or the frantic and unnatural frenzy he'd entered that made him build the damned thing in the first place...
Wilson didn't know Winona well. She'd been the last person to join the band of survivors. Not that he didn't think of her as trustworthy, but it left him even more uneasy when it came to discussing the prospect of repairing the portal, somehow. He felt he couldn't predict what her next actions would be.
"No." Wilson said. Winona instantly looked irritated, and Wilson cleared his throat and raised a hand. "Not... Not until you know for sure if you can bring Charlie back. I don't want this awful," he struggled for words for a second, motioning at the rubble, "disgrace to everything scientific, active any longer than it has to be. I feel like there's too much risk."
"Wilson dear... These are the blueprints for it, aren't they?" Wickerbottom kept a polite distance, but she couldn't help herself from examining the different worktables that lined the room.
"You have blueprints?" Winona asked, equal parts anxious about Charlie and excited to actually see step by step information on the portal.
Wilson grabbed the blueprint, and after a moment's hesitation, spread it out with his arms so both women could see. "...I don't even recall drawing this out, to tell you the truth. I was in a mad frenzy..."
Wilson felt very cold suddenly. He swallowed, and tried to continue. Winona held her hands out, and Wilson handed her the blueprint. "... Maxwell did something... To my mind. I saw, like a vision, this creation, and the ins-and-outs of its every inch!"
Wickerbottom edged closer to Wilson, one brow raised in curiosity - although she felt unsure of what to ask. "He filled your mind with knowledge."
"...Yes," Wilson said, looking at the older woman. Her expression told him it was the same for her, and they locked eyes for a moment in understanding.
"Don't look at me," Winona said when Wilson glanced her way. "I found my boss man's portal half broken and had to just experiment with the parts using my own knowledge. I think I can fix this, though!"
"That's good to hear," Wilson said, although after he said it, he felt quite cold again and wasn't sure it was so good at all.
After a while, Wilson remembered what he had originally headed upstairs for. "Sorry, excuse me."
"Comfy place for a nap?" Winona teased.
Wilson's bed was practically consumed by boxes and old machinery of different ages, but there it was, in the corner of the room. Wilson reached an arm beneath it, and with a little a-ha sound, retrieved a rusted lunchbox. "I think this will solve their boredom... If I can get it open," he added.
Winona tucked the blueprint beneath her arm, and approached with one hand out. "Here, lemme put some elbow grease into it."
With a little effort, she popped open the ancient lunchbox. Inside was a coloring book - torn, mostly with a few pages left - a tin of wax crayons, and a few candles.
Wickerbottom smiled warmly as she took the lunchbox.
"Did they get'cha before you were about to move, Mr. Wilson?" Walter asked.
Wilson was preoccupied with looking in a closet. After a moment, he glanced back at the boy and simply said: "No."