Walls Came Tumbling Down

ÿþI

"Century's vanished." Salvo spoke pensively, like he didn't quite believe it himself.

Chrissie gasped, "You are fucking kidding me!" Her voice rose in both tone and pique on the 'kidding'. "Have you checked the library?"

"He's packed a bag and gone. Left his smartphone on the bed."

Across the room, Lauren watched wide-eyed, "He didn't say he was going anywhere."

Chrissie had her eyes closed. Her words emerged strained with outrage. "He hasn't done this in two years. We had a deal! He would always let us know where he is, if we just kept him shielded from Wammy's..." She'd heard the footsteps and opened her eyes to gaze at Hal. "Fine! Whatever! He's old enough now to do whatever the frig he wants." Chrissie's lips pursed, then a thought occurred to her. "You have checked if Muse are touring, haven't you?"

"They haven't played since the Reading Festival in August."

"No Christmas gigs in bloody Afghanistan or something?"

Lauren swallowed. "Is he well enough to be out there alone?"

They both stared at her, Chrissie with a glare and Salvo chuckling. It was Chrissie who replied, "That boy has been absconding from Wammy's House since he was eleven. He'll be chasing clues around some Mediaeval ruins halfway up a Welsh mountain somewhere. Has he taken a car?"

Salvo shrugged, "Usual pattern. No camera captured him leaving the house. No door unlocked. Since we've forced Near to remove his surveillance, there's not even footage from inside the Institution. He didn't go through the front or back doors." There was a grudging respect in his tone. "No sign of him passing through the garden. He could be anywhere."

Hal waited for him to stop speaking before adding, "He's not a priority. He's an adult, so he can come and go as he pleases." She paused to hear any protest. There was none. "But do you think he might have a lead on Fenian?"

Chrissie looked pained. "Ordinarily I'd say that he only cares about history or music. Or Siân. But the way he's been lately? We haven't got a bleeding clue." She looked again to Salvo. "No Matt Bellamy private, one-off show in London?"

"Nothing on the entire Muse website, MySpace nor Twitter."

"Any Roman ports dug up in Newport?"

Salvo smiled, "Not since September."

"Fuck knows then." She leaned back onto the head-rest. "But I'm hurt and really annoyed that he's just taken off like that, without a word." She blinked rapidly. "And if it is a lead on Fenian, and he hasn't told us, then God help him when I catch him." Chrissie slipped her hand into Salvo's. "I hope he's alright."

Salvo brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You know what I'm seeing here?" He winked as she met his gaze. "Old Century back. This time yesterday, he was too scared to get out of bed. Now he's fled. It could be a good sign."

Chrissie didn't look convinced. "Or it could be the worst blasted sign of all!" She glanced at Luigi, still in his coma. "Didn't he even think we'd be worried?"

Hal looked between them and Lauren. "Just how does he get out?" They all surveyed her with slightly resentful, blank eyes. "A house full of genius detectives and no-one ever found out?" She couldn't stifle a smile. "Really?"

"Well," Chrissie sniffed, like it was a personal affront, "He's never found a secret way out of my house!"

II

"I'd like my records please."

Matt stood before Hal's desk like a child, as if nothing had ever happened between them. No history. No chaos. No concerted attempt to destroy Wammy's House from within, using the very Resolution article that he was invoking now. She was perversely tempted to ask if he had a guardian to oversee his reading of them. But that would be herself. "Which records would you like to see?"

Matt shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "All that I'm entitled to under section 12 of the..."

"I know which article it is." Hal told him pointedly. She gave him a sweeping look. "I'd better get them out for you then." He didn't answer, as she took a key from her desk drawer and made her way to the archive room. He didn't follow her inside there, for which she was unaccountably grateful. It also gave her time to think, while she filled a crate with documents and notebooks. She hoisted it up against her chest, steadying the box with her knee, before carrying it back through. "Did you want the items too?"

"Items?"

"Clothing. Toys."

Matt blinked once behind his goggles, then shook his head. "No."

Hal balanced a corner of the crate down on the edge of her desk. "Matt, why did you bring me on board, when all you wanted to do was wreck the place?" She watched him. He gave no indication that he'd even heard her. She continued, reasonably, "No cameras now. Our conversation is private. You must have known that I'd do everything in my power to turn the Institution around; to undo the damage that you perceive Roger to have done."

He moved towards her and started rummaging inside the crate. He was just an arm's reach away, but she might as well have been alone in the room. Matt took out a plastic folder full of A4 photographs. They showed a derelict house, trashed with the detritus of the street. Though, on a second glance, it was neither. Apropos of nothing, Matt spoke quietly and levelly, "This is where I came from."

"Oh?" Hal looked from the topmost image to his blank expression and back again. "Then I'm sorry for that. But I still asked you a question."

"You tendered your resignation. Next committee meeting, you will be leaving."

Hal nodded. "Did I have a choice?" The box was getting heavy. She pushed it more firmly onto the surface, as he wasn't going to take it off her.

Matt took a small selection of notebooks to add to his pile, then leafed through reports and official statements. "You could have fought for the children."

"It was made very clear to me that I had committed several lapses of professionalism."

"Yeah." Matt evidently had what he'd come for. He sauntered back across the carpet towards the exit, carrying his collection. The remainder was abandoned in the box. "And I shot Mello."

Hal stared. It sounded like he was asking her to reconsider leaving, though that had to run contrary to his sworn intent. He had his hand on the door-handle, before she called after him, "You're not taking them anywhere. They are the originals. I'll scan and copy all that you wish to keep, but I can't let you leave with them."

Matt paused and, for a moment, Hal thought he'd leave anyway. Her heart sank at the scene in advance of it occurring, but he came back. "I'll scan them." She directed him to the industrial sized copier in the archive room. "Thank you." He wandered in there and, under her watchful eye, tried nothing untoward. Good as gold and quite divorced from the Matt that she'd come to know and dread.

It took Hal a few minutes to ask, "Do you want me to go?" No response. "Am I asking the wrong questions?" Nothing. "How's Mello?"

"Asleep."

"Lazy bastard." Hal smiled. "He didn't wake up until nearly noon."

"That was me. He just lay reading Chekhov until I woke up. Then sent me for coffee." He spoke so flatly, giving nothing away with his tone. "He's napping now."

"I'm glad that he's recovering well." Hal tried to determine how she felt about the infuriating redhead. There was little loveable about him, mostly because he alienated everyone around him. She wished that Valerie could have had the chance to help him. Hal also had the feeling that she was merely a pawn being moved around his chessboard; and that irked her more with him than it ever had when Near or Mello did it. Linda had sat for an hour telling Hal what a wonderful job the warden had done here. It bothered Hal that she craved just one word from Matt telling her the same. She reasoned that it was because that word would signal that the games were over; but she knew that she lied to herself. It was the coldness of him that she wanted to shake out of him.

Matt suddenly looked right at her. Hal resisted the urge to stiffen. He wore a slight frown. "Toys?"

"You'll have to see Ann about that. She has a cupboard full."

"'kay."

They waited in silence, until the rest of the copying was done. Hal saw the last sheet being fed to the scanner and asked, "Is this for Century? Only he's left." She received no reply. "Do you realise that it's rude to ignore people like this? Did anyone ever tell you that?"

To her surprise, she actually did get a response. "Is he coming back?" Matt asked, without looking up.

"We don't know. We don't know where he is." Hal stated calmly.

Matt nodded. "He's probably worked out that you know his true age."

Hal hid well her bewilderment at how he could possibly know that. She shrugged. "Everyone here just seemed so convinced that it was Century's 18th birthday, that I didn't bother to look it up. Then Near just blithely commented to me a couple of days ago that we should make plans for Century's 18th." Hal shrugged. "Near's little joke?"

"Nope." Matt collected together his copies and held the originals out for Hal to take. "He must have been going through our records to see who was most likely to snap in the supposed civil war. He came across Century's birth date."

Hal felt herself blush. She said nothing, as he passed by her and left her office.

III

The wind came in cold from the Conwy harbour, laced with warnings of winter. Century shoved his hands more firmly into his coat pocket and watched the school bus coming in Ysgol Bryn Elian. He contemplated the fact that they all looked so much younger than he did, despite their corresponding ages. Had circumstances been different, he might have been among them. His own peers, just a few towns removed.

"Siân! Edrychwch dros yno!" Rachy was yelling and pointing before he'd even seen his girlfriend emerge. Siân stepped alongside her friend and looked over. "Yw od Iestyn?"

"Ydy!" Siân shrieked and was bearing down upon him as a study in pink. "Iestyn! Dewi! Sut ydych chi wedi dod?"

Century stared at her. Her whole face shone with the surprise of seeing him, but she seemed to him like some silly, little girl. He tried to imagine why she had ever made him feel whole. The chill that he felt now couldn't all be explained by the breeze from the Menai Straits. He ignored her banal questioning about how he'd arrived in Conwy. She should know that he had a car, even if he'd taken the train. "Ydych chi eisiau a paned o de?"

Siân followed his gaze towards the cafe, where he'd spent the last hour killing time before the bus arrived. "Ydw." She nodded, more subdued than he'd ever seen her. Something in his aspect or his tone must have tipped her off, as to what he'd be telling her over that cup of tea. "Un eiliad." Siân slouched away, worry lining her features. She reached Rachy and huddled with her in urgent conversation. Rachy's features clouded, as she glanced back at Century.

He afforded her the tiniest of smiles. Siân's friend had once threatened him with emasculation, if he ever broke his girlfriend's heart. He had the feeling that scenario was extremely imminent. Belatedly, it occurred to him that when Siân had lifted her chin towards him, she was probably anticipating a kiss.

Century shuffled uncomfortably and started striding towards the cafe. Siân knew where he was heading and she'd come with or without Rachy. He wished he had something better to tell her. She simply bored him now, just like Chrissie said all along that she eventually would. But he'd rehearsed his excuses. He'd blame the distance and just tell her that it wasn't working.

Siân caught up with him as he reached the door. "Dw'i iawn?"

"Da." Century certainly didn't want to discuss his health with her. "Iawn." He glanced back. Rachy and about seven other teenage girls were cloistering around the harbour wall. They were uniformly glaring at him.

"Beth sy'n bod?" Siân asked plaintively.

Century took a deep breath, his hand holding the cafe door half open. He looked at her and tears pricked in her eyes. This was more upsetting than he had anticipated. But before he could speak, the door was yanked away from him from within. The owner stood there, contriving to seem both stern and solicitous. "Naill ai ddod i mewn neu aros allan. Mae wedi rhewi yn barod â chynnal y drws ar agor."

"Mae dwrg gen i." Century grimaced. He caught a glimpse of shivering customers all casting annoyed glances in his direction. He led the way inside, where it had been a lot warmer before he'd allowed the draught. "Dos te, os gwelwch yn dda." He made his way to the seat that he'd so recently vacated. It let him people watch the entire cafe. More pertinently, there was a second chair at the table.

As the owner busied herself pouring their teas, Siân sat. In a tiny voice, she asked him, "Yr ydych yn dympio fi?"

Century squirmed. He didn't think that she would just come straight out and ask if she was being dumped. She shouldn't have even known at this stage in the conversation. It was like she had a sixth sense or something. Female intuition and all that jazz was biting him in the butt. It was awkward and he was already having second thoughts. It wasn't that he thought she was right for him. The thought of being with her for the rest of his life wasn't as enticing as it had been even a week ago. It was as if a switch had been flicked on his feelings, he just wanted her completely out of his life. But she was looking at him with doe eyes and it felt like he was kicking Bambi. "Ydw."

She cried. She actually sat and cried right in front of him. Century wanted to crawl up his own arse. Everyone was looking at him. He realised that their conversation wasn't as private as he'd imagined, in such a quiet cafe. "Mae dwrg gen i." He rolled out his spiel about a long-distance relationship being good for neither of them; and how she deserved better. In the middle of it all, the cafe owner brought their tea to the table with a faintly sympathetic expression. "Diolch." He practically whispered, contrite.

"Iestyn." Siân squeaked, picking up a napkin to wipe her eyes. There was mascara and eye liner running all down her cheeks. "Rwy'n caru ti."

Century held his head in his hands, staving off a panic attack. How could she love him? She was only sixteen. It was an infatuation. That was all. "Dwy'n ddim caru mi." At the next table, both middle-aged women looked aghast. The man with them quickly shook his head, sending a male solidarity signal to him that correcting Siân on this matter was not the way forward.

"Sut ydych...?" Siân began, in incredulous protest, but interrupted herself with another question. "Mae hyn am Aber?"

"Na." Century sullenly assured her. But he wondered if he was lying, even as he said it. Maybe the problem had begun in Aberystwyth. They'd never spent so much time together; and he had felt embarrassed under the smirks of his siblings.

She was intently peering at him, "A ydych yn siu
r?"

Century deduced that the silence in the cafe was no longer accidental. They weren't speaking loudly, but nevertheless everyone was listening in, enjoying the free drama. "Ydw." Why couldn't he have done this in the middle of summer? Then the place would have been full of English tourists, who wouldn't have a clue what they were saying. "Rwy'n siu
r."

"Rwy'n caru ti." She sniffed, looking very small and pathetic. He guessed that he was definitely the villain in the minds of all onlookers. It irked him.

"Ddim..." He tried again, but the man at the next table was wincing. Century took a sip of his tea instead. Apologies seemed to have worked better. "Siân, mae dwrg gen i." His secret mentor nodded approval, earning himself a glare from his own wife. "Rwy'n bastard." Lauren was right. Swearing was much more effective in English.

Siân didn't disagree; but she did stare more pointedly at him this time. "Oes gennych chi rywun arall?"

"Na." Century was happy to confirm that one. The way he felt right now, he doubted there would be anyone else ever again. This was excruciating. He was hating every second of it.

Unappeased, Siân's eyes narrowed. They still glistened through the slits with brimming tears. "Lauren, a yw'n?"

Century started, "Lauren?!" The shock coursed through his veins. Century felt himself turn crimson, but it was only because Chrissie and Mello had accused him of the same. Even Salvo had made some pointed comments. Siân and Lauren had never even properly met. Had he mentioned the Finn in messenger or 'phone conversations? Possibly. "Na! Dim byd..."

"Ydy!" Siân glared; and suddenly she was in English too. "You're right. You are a bastard!" She stood angrily. "Fuck off back to the English bitch!" She threw her napkin into his face, sodden and black with her mascara tears, then turned on her heels and ran. Stunned beyond words or action, Century just watched her go. She paused at the door, spinning around to survey him. Her face was a mask of misery. She keened, pitifully, "Roeddwn wedi caru ti."

He noted the past tense, as she slammed the door behind her. "Fwc." Century cringed and buried his face in his hands. All around him, the cafe patrons paused a few more seconds, before their whispered conversations finally reconvened. He didn't wait to hear it. He popped his ear-buds back into his ears and let Muse's 'Showbiz' take the strain of his emotions.