curriculum_fictae | [PSL] time travel, time travel

[PSL] time travel, time travel

[ Martin had always known that Lukas would kill him in the end. If not along the way, then surely at the end, once he'd gotten what he wanted out of Martin, whatever that turned out to be. When the Lonely rose up to swallow him, he'd accepted his impending death with ... what?

What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.

And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.

But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.

The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?

And where was Jon? ]

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[Following him... Nope, nope pay attention, Stoker.

Angling a look to make sure Jon's clear, he gives a short, strained nod, voice tight.] Okay, ease it back, niiice and slow.

[ Don't ask questions until you're actually ready for the answers, Tim.

Martin just makes a dimly distressed noise, anyway, and levers the fridge back. ]

R-right - okay -

[can a knock be both polite and nervous? because that's the nature of the knock that comes at a fairly awkward moment.]

[Picking the recorder up, something sort of pricks at the back of his mind. Jon looks to the door a second or so before the knock and narrows his eyes at it.]

...Why is he here now?

[He carefully steps around the two as they put the fridge back, trying to steer clear and sets the recorder on the table as he goes to the door.]

Martin? You're-- Why are you here at this hour?

[Tim leans against the nice cool metal of the fridge for a moment, only frowning a little bit as Jon goes by.]

What? No, he's stopping by tomorrow.

[Martin jumps a little, almost stepping back.]

Jon! Oh, I-I was...expecting Tim... He, um, he sent me some texts? About you, and I sort of got too worried to sleep, so I thought maybe Tim was still awake and I'd just...come. Here.

[ Meanwhile, future Martin, inside (and not visible from the door, thankfully) whips his head around at that little bit of knowledge, staring at Jon with wide horrified eyes. Did he just -

And then he goes even more rigid as he hears the voice coming from the door. ]

I-- Yes, he's still awake too. He said you were coming tomorrow?

[God, it's not like he can just. Tell Martin to go away at this point, so he looks back at Tim and future-Martin before stepping aside to let current-Martin in.

Oh gods this is going to get confusing.

There's still the faint smell of scones and the plate on the table with some still steaming hot tea.]

[Tim sidles out of the kitchen, straightening out his cuffs and dusting some fridge dust off.]

Making it sound like I was planning on staying then night. [It's an easy tease, that current Martin hasn't seen Tim as prone to lately, and especially not with Jon.

Tim takes one look back at Martin's stricken face and moves with grace and surety that only comes from betrayals of this magnitude: Tim's hand settles on Future!Martin's back and steers him out of the kitchen with him.]

Well, this will save on the re-explaining bit. Martin, meet Martin of Christmas Future.

Edited 2020-07-29 23:20 (UTC)

[welp that gets him gesticulating and babbling nervously]

I know, I'm sorry, I'm just-- He said a lot of nonsense about time and ghosts, but it sounded like in the end we're just trying to help you, because you've been weird, Jon, and we're worried and we...want to help.

[Tim makes his way over and Martin just makes A Face.]

Tim- Honestly, you don't have to--

Edited 2020-07-29 23:25 (UTC)

Oh my god.

I don't-

[roughly clears his throat, but his voice trembles]

I don't...understand. That's- I...

I think...I'd like to come in and sit down.

[...]

Please.

[ Whatever explanation future Martin might have attempted - whatever words might have made it to his lips - they’re dead and buried before they even make it past his head. Tim steers him all too efficiently into current Martin’s path, and there’s nowhere for him to hide. Nowhere else for him to look, either.

So he stares, grabbing at Tim and Jon with knuckles that would be white if his hands weren’t fucking transparent right now. An unpleasant voice roars to life in the back of his head, reigniting the image that had been burned into his mind without his consent.

You want to know what she sees when she looks at you?

He'd thought mirrors were bad enough; he'd certainly thrown out all of his back home, and been miserably surprised by Jon's here. No, looking at himself in flesh in blood is infinitely, infinitely worse.

Future Martin makes a strangled, miserable noise and faints outright. ]

[Even though Jon moved out of the way, Martin seems... stalled. So he carefully takes Martin's arm to gently pull him in through the doorway so he can close the door.

But then there's a strong grip on him. And he looks back to see future-Martin is]

Christ- Hey, hey stick with us.

[Yeah, he's INCREDIBLY FUCKING WORRIED about the fact that Martin's hands have gone back to transparency now. Jon looks at current Martin, a little wide eyed and not sure what exactly is happening. Should they just not even be in the same room at the same time? Is it some time paradox mess? Are they breaking the fabric of this reality?

And then he goes and just fucking faints.]

Martin!

[Yeah, Jon's trying to catch and hold him but. That fridge issue earlier- He's straining.]

Yeah, grab a- Christ!

[Tim's outburst echos Jon's. Luckily for Future!Martin's head, Tim gets that hand on Martin's back into something of a hold. He can't catch Martin, not that off guard and out of position, but he can break the fall, going down with him in a controlled fall.]

What just happened?! [The demand is of Jon, but really? It's to the room. To god if there is one.]

Oh god!

[it's instinct for Martin to dive forward and help, even given the odd, blurry figure in front of him. all he manages to grab is this person's hand and pulls--]

[This is just!

A miserable pile of secrets and limbs!

He feels his breath just leave him at once. Mind, Martin isn't a small man in either iteration and just the exertion from trying to move the fridge before and trying to catch Martin now has zapped a lot of his strength but so has... That weird moment before. He can't place it. Jon sounds almost out of breath.]

I don't know! They just saw each other, that's it!

[ Thanks, team, you're the best. Between Jon and Tim (and Martin), he ends up collapsed in the general pile with not even a bump on his head, courtesy of his friends being beneath him and not the hardwood floor. Whatever's just happened hasn't killed him, at least. The creeping transparency in his hands isn't suddenly destroying him, nor does seeing his alternate self seem to have immediately resulted in a time paradox (though the clear hands are, perhaps, an unfortunately timed side effect of his stress.) Since he can't see himself while he's unconscious, he gets a respite there.

His past self isn't so lucky, though. Present Martin grabs hold of one of those icicle-clear hands - and something cold goes through his fingers, rippling up his arm and going straight to his head. A voice curls in close, leaving fractal frost patterns along his ear and neck. Look at that, it says in a voice that both does and does not belong to himself. They've already replaced you with the new and improved model. And Jon, well--

The voice laughs unpleasantly. Jon's fallen for him, hasn't he?

(On the floor, future Martin groans a bit and lifts his head. Not daring to open his eyes again, but coming round.) ]

[he couldn't let go even if he wanted to. the icy feeling locks his hand around the hand of...The-Blur-That-Might-Be-Him...

it rushes up his arm like a biting winter wind; just short of being agony as it seeps through skin and into bone. the voice in his head sounds like the crackling of ice by his ear, and his heart goes as cold as the rest of him.

finally letting go, Martin stumbles back a few steeps, clearly unsteady on his feet. saying he's "pale" doesn't do his lack of pallor justice, and the horror in his unseeing gaze speaks of something that hit too deep.]

I--

[gulp]

B-bathroom--

[Martin fumbles for the wall behind him, and slides along it - still staring at...that blur... - feeling quite sick and just needing to get away, to breathe]

[Jon's torn between making sure Tim isn't crushed, that future-Martin isn't just - dead or something, and that current-Martin doesn't have a full panic attack.

But he knows that look. He's up on his feet, carefully guiding him along, down the hall to the bathroom.]

This way - Come on... [His voice is that uncharacteristically soft, quiet. He'll give him privacy and close the door to the bathroom but he's still standing halfway in the hallway so he can see when Martin's done, and still see Tim and future-Martin.

He looks so tired. All that exhaustion from just after the Prentiss attack is rushing back to him now.]

I'm not sure this is how I really would have wanted any of you to see my flat for the first time.

[Tim flashes a wild look up as- he really didn't catch exactly what happened to the present Martin, just the blur of grey, and Jon getting up quickly to follow. He... No, Jon has it.

He focuses on the eerily cold man more on his legs than the floor. The warmth from Tim's hands radiate through even the washed out jumper as they settle, a soft, urgent shake at his shoulder. And a little more firmly (guilt, confusion and bone deep relief war at the sight) when Martin's lashes flutter as he claws his way back to consciousness.]

Martin. Martin. Hey, stay here with me.

[ It's not a pleasant journey back to consciousness - his head feels like it's going to split open, and his eyes burn with tears and misery alike - but he returns all the same, not significantly worse for wear. Tim hasn't accidentally murdered him with a time paradox or something.

He blinks up at Tim slowly, feeling his warmth spread slowly through Martin's otherwise frigid body. And in turn, Tim can see how the colour blooms quietly from his touch, solidifying Martin and bringing him back to himself. It's nice. And ... sad, too. He'd been very pale when Tim had first seen him, right? ]

Tim? What --

[ Wait. Martin squeezes his eyes shut again, terrified he'll catch another glimpse of himself. ]

I - I told you it was a bad idea.

Edited 2020-07-30 02:49 (UTC)

[in just about ANY OTHER situation, Martin would feel a thrill and a fluttering inside him at this moment of gentle Jon directed at him, but as it stands, he's too distraught to even notice.

he doesn't even close the door as he bends over the sink, resting his forehead on his arms, and just trying to breathe deeply and evenly. he's dizzy, he's nauseous, he's cold. his hands are gripping the arms of his sweater tightly. he hasn't even noticed yet that his left hand is turning transparent...]

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done i think????????

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Thread split!