[PSL] time travel, time travel

[curriculum_fictae]

[ 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? ]

Comments

[secreteary]

Maybe we could ask Jon to write down what...wh-what other me knows. For cross-referencing.

[kayakking]

That's... a damn good idea.

For more than one reason.

[secreteary]

[heh.]

Bit surprised Jon hasn't done something like that already.

[kayakking]

...

Possibly.

Bets on which floorboard we'd have to pry up this time to find them?

[secreteary]

[...oh yeah this is Jon they're talking about]

Or behind some wallpaper...

[kayakking]

[... Snickers.]

Brick in a chimney.

[secreteary]

Behind an air vent.

[kayakking]

Buried in a rose garden.

[secreteary]

Tattooed on someone's back?

[kayakking]

[No hang on, he has to picture Jon's scrunched handwriting and sarcastic comments all over someone's back. And just laughs.]

Fuck. Who? You can't put that out there without a victim.

[secreteary]

Yeah, you're right, I just thought of Golden Kamuy somehow...

[kayakking]

[A beat.]

You know? Haven't gotten around to reading that one. So it goes Full Metal Alchemist there?

[secreteary]

I didn't get very far, to be honest... But it does involve a treasure map tattooed across the backs of different people...

[kayakking]

Huh... Maybe I should-

No, wait. Distracted. ... From the point that you'd be the only one he'd have a chance of convincing to sit still for that, and you have way more brains than that.

[secreteary]

[a small laugh]

I certainly hope so. Otherwise he'd be trying to convince statement givers that it's "new policy", or something.

[kayakking]

[Oh god.]

I can see it.

[He pitches his best Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.]

While we find your statement somewhat... less than credible, we now require a small donation to the Institute for our timeless service to the community as a whole.

First, do you have any allergies to - [He drops it with a laugh.] I don't know. An ink color.

[secreteary]

[congrats Tim, you've got Martin full-belly laughing]

"Please consider it your civic duty to contribute to our research," or something like that.

[he pauses, then laughs AGAIN]

God, imagining Jon with those black gloves and a tattoo gun in hand is something else. One of those rare tattoo artists who doesn't have a single tattoo himself.

[kayakking]

[Tim snickers at the mental image, Jon looking over the edge of a tattoo gun like some Death Note posing.]

Right? Like a bald barber or a skinny baker. Oh sure, they're there. But it's a bit of a second look, innit?

We'd be doing rescues left and right.

[secreteary]

Forget research; our whole job would be damage control.

[kayakking]

Why hello, Ms. Spooky, ma'am. Oh, yes I see you're quite upset. Understandable. Here, have a tea and biscuit. And a newspaper. Keep it rolled and at hand for the Archivist. One firm whap will do it.

Oh! Right, sugar, be right back.

[secreteary]

Oh, a bit of lemon for your tea, absolutely. There's a box of tissues for you; I know you must be going through a lot of emotions right now. He tends to have that effect on people.

[kayakking]

[Yeah, nope. There's just laughter to that line. It takes him a moment. ]

Good lord, I don't think I could manage such a gross professional understatement as that.

Okay, okay. It's absolutely back tattoos. Decided and agreed.

[secreteary]

Jon should come with a warning before anyone sees him to give a statement. Otherwise we'll be trying to explain him after the fact when the damage is already done.

...Maybe we'd start giving people waivers to sign? I wonder if that's how he recruited his back maps.

[kayakking]

We should be doing that anyway. Danger, exposure can cause confusion, emotional distress and endless amounts of frustration.

You know the worst part? He's not that bad when he just, you know. Is Jon Sims, sans the Archivist bit.

[secreteary]

Caution: you will most likely feel insulted by the end of any given conversation.

[Martin's wide grin shifts into something smaller and more private. of course, he's given away by how he turns pink.]

...Yeah. He's...really not bad.