[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

[eyediot]

[He nods, getting up and heading to the linen closet. He digs out a blanket, a heavy comforter, and a couple extra pillows.]

Of course - help grab these? We'll get you set up.

[curriculum_fictae]

Of course. Let me just -

[ He takes the pillows from Jon carefully and moves to deposit them on the sofa. ]

[eyediot]

[Once that's down, he starts unfurling the blanket and comforter.]

I can give you some cash tonight, I, erm. I don't. Have any extra tooth brushes or anything. Sorry.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ A nervous laugh. ]

And I didn't exactly get a chance to pack, so. I'll just pick up a few more things while I'm out tomorrow?

[eyediot]

Yes.

[Just... Looks at him. He remembers how rough Martin looked after those two weeks stuck in his apartment alone. He hopes this may be better, all things considered. Jane Prentiss is... not a problem now, there's working power and food options here, and he's not alone.]

Whatever you need.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He's still dangerously pale, though the comfort of the evening has brought the slightest hint of pink back to his fingertips. But ... he seems less anxious, at least. ]

R-right. Toothbrush and a change of clothes, then.

[ Since, you know, none of your stuff will fit him. ]

[eyediot]

...No... hairbrush? No deodorant?

[MARTIN COME ON.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He flushes a bit. ]

O-okay, okay, and those sorts of things, yes.

[eyediot]

Thank you.

[Genuine gratitude.]

What else do you need for tonight?

[curriculum_fictae]

I - I might borrow a book to read? Charge my phone. That sort of thing.

[eyediot]

Of course. Bookshelf is there [He gestures to the, quite frankly, overstuffed bookshelf but is in perfect categorization.]

Whatever you need.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin nods at that, rubbing at the back of his neck. ]

That's really all. I'm probably just going to sleep, anyway.

[eyediot]

All right.

[He. Looks like he wants to offer a. Shoulder pat or something but. Nah, he shouldn't do that.]

...Bathroom is down the hall to the right, if you need it. I'll leave a light on.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin would probably be confused, anyway. He nods instead. Taking a moment to select a book before settling down under the blankets. ]

Right. Thank you. I'll be careful not to wake you.

[eyediot]

... Right.

[He'll just. Go to his room now, but. He'll still keep an ear out. With everything going on, he can't be too careful. But tomorrow, he's going to do some more investigating, and then come home and work on that conspiracy board with the new pieces Martin gave him.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's a peaceful night, really. Martin doesn't make so much as a sound, even when he staggers to the bathroom in the middle of the night and nearly has a heart attack when he catches sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. (He only sees his father when he looks at himself now - his mother's hatred burns like a brand in his head--)

He's asleep when Jon leaves for the day. Awakens after, then goes off to find the supplies, as promised. Groceries first and foremost, followed by a visit to a charity shop to find a few cheap sets of clothing. The jumper he finds is some hideous Christmas monstrosity, but it's only 50 pence, so he takes it. Combine that with a set of jeans he knows he can patch with the sewing kit he found (also in the 50p bin) and he's all set. He finds the necessary toiletries as well, and a couple packs of plain white socks, shirts, etc.

Not fashionable. Not in the slightest. But he's used to making do with very little, and he doesn't mind it now. Not when he's away from the Lonely. Not when he's here in Jon's flat, living with him, even if the man probably hates him right now ...

But he's used to living with someone who hates him, really. He tries to make up the obvious nuisance of his presence by having supper ready whenever Jon (finally) gets back the first evening. And on the second and third days, he cleans the flat from top to bottom, being careful not to toss anything that looks important.

He turns from the load of laundry he was just folding when Jon comes back from a day at work. Brightening, as always, to see him home. Something aromatic is cooking in the oven - bread? No, they're potato pancakes that he fried up earlier, just keeping warm. ]

Welcome back, Jon. How was work?

[eyediot]

[It's weird, really. Not so much the "Martin from the future living with him" which is its own strangeness, but ...the casualness of it. The domesticity. Go to work, stop by the grocery on the way home, Martin ready with whatever he prepared when he gets home.

It almost feels like being back with Georgie. If... Georgie didn't make him worry so much about his paleness. How utterly muted she felt. No, that's all Martin. Even stranger was remembering the Martin he sees and talks with at the Archive is not the same Martin helping put together his cork-string-board with answers. Nearly three times just today, Jon had almost forgotten and made some off hand comment about dinner to Martin-At-The-Archive before catching himself.

He hangs his jacket up, shoes off at the door when Two-Years-Future-Martin calls out to him.]

It was... [God. Tim really needn't make assumptions like he does.] It was all right.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ One of these days, Martin-At-The-Archive is going to figure out what's going on and this is going to get super awkward. But for now ... it's kind of nice, isn't it? This Martin is just as supernaturally pale as always, but there's a warmth to the flat that only comes of someone living there. Tidying it, making food, taking care of Jon.

He finishes folding up the shirt he was on and sets it aside, standing up to greet him. ]

Oh? What's the trouble today, then?

[ Because there's always something. ]

[eyediot]

[How does he... even begin here? It's so juvenile and not the least bit relevant to the Archive or Gertrude's murder or.... anything. It's just... childish.]

You know the officer who's been coming by - investigating everything? Basira?

[Hands on his hips! He's so! Put out by this!]

Tim spoke with her and now he thinks she and I are. Y'know. Outside of work.

[Martin you spend more time with Tim than he himself does, surely you get it without him having to say it.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's true. Martin and Tim are reasonably good friends, or at least they were while Tim was alive. It only takes Martin a moment to catch up. ]

Wait. What - you and Basira? Really?

[eyediot]

Yes. [He sounds so annoyed and exhausted by it.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ A chuckle and a sigh. ]

Well Tim just assumes everyone has his libido.

[eyediot]

[Just goes to show maybe Tim doesn't know Jon that well after all.

Which... surprisingly makes him a little sad to think about.

He sighs and sort of flops onto the couch next to the folded laundry.]

Whatever. If he wants to think that and it lets she and I discuss the case without interruption, then I suppose it doesn't matter.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin sits back down, then, the laundry between them. ]

Mm, I don't recall either way. I think I was mostly consumed with worrying about you and Gertrude at the time. Probably nothing bad comes of it?

[eyediot]

Possibly. The you in this timeline is... remarkably concerned about my well being.

[If he didn't know the Martin next to him, if he only had his own observations to go by, he'd be suspicious about now of the level of concern. But... It's probably nothing.]

That's all that's happened this week, I think.