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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[Tim's voice is thick and a bit muffled by Martin's jumper, not willing to let up, even for clarity.]

No one is going to be all right if you're not with us. Okay?

[why is it, he wonders distantly, that even surrounded with so much affirmation, that he can't accept what they're saying? what is so messed up about him that makes him believe that they're factually incorrect; completely wrong about this? about him?

even the part of him that wants to absorb this...this affection and wants to change because of it, doesn't know how to.

so it's easier to fall back on what's familiar, however unhelpful it might be.

it dawns on him that he's in the spotlight, and not in a good way. oddly enough, that's what starts making cracks.]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to- I'm sorry.

[ Oh, Martin. Algric knows that feeling so well that he might as well be feeling it himself. Hell, he is feeling that himself, courtesy of Tim directing that comment at the both of them. The Lonely whispers in his ear, telling him that it’s meant for Martin only, not himself, he’s just an extra version of Martin -

And that realisation makes him stop for a moment, to take in a breath and just ... let it come in for once. Maybe - maybe Tim is right. Maybe he does need to find a way to live past this. Through this.

If only to help his other self see that he can do the same. ]

It’s - it’s okay to need help. You don’t have to. Have to figure it out right this second.

[ It’s a soothing mantra for himself too, as he leans in to squeeze Martin’s shoulders a little more tightly. ]

[It's not a terribly long way from Jon's place to Martin's. But it feels like miles when he's struggling. A short tube ride for a couple stops, and by the time he's back on the ground walk, the adrenaline's carrying him through the pain. His head is pounding, he knows something just happened to Martin even after he knew Tim got there. He can't sit by not doing anything. So maybe Algric was right and Jon can't just sit and wait. Screw it.]

Of course there'd be stairs. [He mutters it, takes one steadying breath, and starts climbing. It's a no brainer which apartment to look for. He can feel the chill seeping out from under the door crack (and some of the leftover... ick from the worms. it really had been bad). Jon stops to look at it, then knocks once. Which comes out more like a heavy thump as he just rests his whole arm and head against the door.

Breathe. It's fine. Tim's here, Algric's here, everything's fine. After a moment of no response, though, he decides to try the door. He finds it unlocked and lets himself in.]

Martin? ...Tim?

[What is there to add to that, but his agreement comes in the way he pulls both of them a little tighter.

The sound of Jon's voice is almost eaten entirely by the soft lapping of now- now nearly tepid waters.

-rtin?

But it couldn't be Jon, there's no lift in this building.

Tim?

The voice is sharp, and a tiny little bit of ... something that pulls the attention in an unconscious way. He ends up looking up, blinking away the blurriness of his vision to see-

On one hand he's DESPERATELY glad to see him.

On the other.

Did that stubborn bastard just. Just abandon his chair at the bottom of the stairs? Did he bring it at all?]

[ Algric doesn’t follow quite the same train of thought, but when his head pops up from behind Martin, he distinctly looks down at Jon’s feet with some distress, before looking up with relief to see Jon here. (Or at least the blurry blob that Algric has come to associate with Jon; he’s rather used to not being able to see anyone clearly by now.) ]

Jon! You -

[ God damn it. Algric keeps his grip on Martin and Tim tight. ]

W-why are you on your feet!? I thought I told you to - to stay at your flat!

[ Please back him up on this, Martin. ]

[first, there's a spike of mild panic.

oh god. Jon. why is Jon here. I'm not ready to see him. I'm not ready to apologize for half the things I need to apologize for. oh my god. I look terrible. I'm an absolute mess. and he's going to see me like this. a mess, being barely held up. at a vulnerable, singularly uncool moment in my life. that man I'm in love with is seeing me in my pyjamas almost crying ice tears because I'm such a wreck of a human being. this isn't how I ever wanted to see me in my flat. or at all. oh god I haven't thought of half of the things I need to say.

thankfully, Algric's voice cuts through the mental haze, and Martin's attention is finally drawn outside of himself enough to see Jon's feet and remember.

he gasps, horrified.]

Jon, what the hell are you doing?!

[Jon starts to instinctively take one step in, feels his heel start to slide and stops, lifts his foot and looks down for the first time.

Christ, that's a lot of ice. He's keeping himself propped up holding onto the door frame and the doorknob and. Just looks further in to the flat, like an invisible fence is keeping him at the door.]

I-- I needed to-

[God, are they yelling at him because he came to check because he was worried??? His hands tighten around their props as he fights to still stay upright, but if he doesn't get the door closed, other people on this floor are probably going to notice the sudden rush of cold. He looks positively put out being stuck at the door.]

How was I supposed to stay when I get a message like that? [Not that Algric knows that Martin texted the both of them.] Th-that you'd passed out, Algric? Or-- or that Martin disappeared? [That one was definitely not a text he received. Stupid. Eye knowledge.]

Edited (eye, brain, all the same to hte ceaseless watcher) 2020-08-17 04:07 (UTC)

[It's fortunate that Tim's really not in a place to notice that Jon couldn't possibly have been told about Martin disappearing, else he'd add his own voice to this. (Though something unconscious settles in the back of the mind, the way the Eye does, a sort of fingerless unease.)

Instead he takes a moment, a steadying breath and drops his forehead to Martin's shoulder a moment.]

Okay. Stay right here. I'm- I'm going to go get him before he breaks his bleeding neck.

[Algric will feel Tim's hand find his forearm and give a reassuring squeeze, and then a warm grip on Martin's shoulder, before he pulls himself up, ignoring the aches and bites of the prolonged cold. He scrubs his face with his palm (a small second for himself), then decides if anyone didn't want to see him a wreck they could just mind their own damn business.

He is... at least, steadier, finding the patches of the floor that had begun to thaw through, and while Martin and Algric continue their reactions, he'll guide Jon's arm around him (the shoulder's too high, but-) to bring him back to the Martins. ]

[ God, Jon, you’re so stupid. Algric can’t help but love him even more there, even though he knows Jon has surely just wrecked his feet even worse now. (Or worse, his feet have healed, which is its own problem.) With Tim having moved to help Jon, he shifts both arms to wrap around Martin in a firm (if chilly) hug, leaning his head to lean down against his shoulder. The move is as much self-protective as it is intended to be comforting; he’d rather not pass out again. ]

Thank you, Tim.

[ To Jon, a little calmer —- ]

Th-thank you for coming too, Jon, just - take care of yourself, okay?

[ He stays behind Martin, letting him reach out to Jon first. He needs this. ]

[sure, Jon is stupid, but Martin's just as dumb. it's not like his self-esteem is magically fixed after one situation where reassurance and affection was given so freely. he still doesn't believe he's necessary in all of this.

but he at least knows that Jon cares because he's a kind person, and that he was hurt by Martin's disappearance.

but he doesn't know how to apologize for that, so he clings to Algric.]

What...do I do?

[If the string of texts and unanswered calls from Jon are anything to go by? Hurt and distressed and scared. It was only for the immediate following day and then Jon... figured Martin wanted to be left alone. And then Jon didn't want to push his luck or risk making it worse.

It's slow going getting over there, but easy enough watching where Tim puts his feet for the better places to step on. He's, of course, mumbling the way over - He won't break his neck, Tim, don't be so dramatic - and finally stops when he gets brought before the both of them.

Here, in front of them both, his breath catches in his throat. And then carefully, lowers himself to kneel in front of the Martins and hesitantly reaches one hand to Martin proper. He starts to - to touch his hand, then his face but catches himself. He hasn't earned that right after fucking up so badly, so instead he settles the hand on Martin's shoulder, watching his face. Then he looks to Algric and... Oh. The other hand just. Carefully reaches to pull Algric's blindfold back up and secure it again before matching its placement on Algric's shoulder.]

Thank goodness. [The sigh of relief there is so heavy and shaking but so strong. Another breath before he slowly pulls them both in for a hug, one arm each. Sorry, no favorites here. But his voice is quiet, nearly muffled in Martin's jumper.]

I'm sorry, Martin. I should've... I should've done it differently. I just. [He's had a lot of time to mentally script out what he wanted to say, and now that he's trying it's a cascade being tumbled out and nervous energy. He squeezes them both.] I care about him, yes. I've only known you at work in the Archives. And I've only known him [Don't say 'at home' don't say 'at home'--] outside work. But. He's ... At some point in his past, he was you too. And. And, I want the chance to get to know that you. If you'd let me.

[Jon is only treated to the rejoiner of You sure wont, since I'm here. Or subjected to, depending on which of them you ask. But once Jon is settled in, Tim just, quietly makes himself unobtrusive.

It already felt a bit too achingly personal between them. He sure wasn't sure if it was a good idea to leave yet, but he could at least give the polite fictions of privacy.]

[ Oh. That’s - such a soft, kind gesture. Algric relaxes as Jon tugs the blindfold back into place, removing the risk that he’ll see himself again and pass out. He can’t help but lean into Jon’s hand, desperate for contact even as he clings back to Martin in turn. (He’s here, Martin, he’ll help you through this. Let his experience be good for something.)

Slowly, mindful of whether Martin is coming along or not, he moves to hug Jon back. He’s careful not to override Martin’s spot, only sliding into his own like he was made for it. This ... this is nice. This feels right? Less like he’s competing and more like they’re completing two halves of a whole.

He turns towards Martin, briefly, feeling much better with that scarf drawn over his eyes. ]

Just - just hold on for now. Figure out the rest later.

[ Personally, he likes the thought of Jon getting a chance to know his younger self now, while he’s still - well. Not a monster. Not a refugee from a failed timeline, a harbinger of doom.

He can’t see through the scarf, but he still seems to look at Tim over Jon’s shoulder. His expression is quiet, and ...grateful. ]

[it's too much. there's too much kindness being directed at him, and he doesn't know how to handle it. he can't hold it all. on top of everything that's been boiling inside of him: the recent frustration, anger, terror, feelings of abandonment, of being replaced... Peter Lukas, NotSasha, the nature of Elias' compulsion on Algric, the looming Unknowing...

and here's Jon. this stupid, wonderful man that he's in love with for some reason, offering his own hard-won, rarely seen vulnerability and a place in his arms, in more ways than one. Martin has barely dared to dream of ever being on the receiving end of any of this.

even Algric. his own self, being so kind. it's almost unfathomable.

it's all too much.

so Martin cries.

he leans into Jon as a gesture of accepting Jon's openness, babbling apologies for hurting him and for disappearing, apologizing for being stupid, apologizing for causing everyone so much trouble, and eventually saying through tears that if everyone's alright, and if Jon's happy, Martin is willing to learn to accept it; even be happy with it. just forgive him, please Jon, he's so sorry. he's so sorry everyone. he's so sorry for making such a fuss.]

[Jon simply holds them both. He shifts so he's sitting, feeling the slow, rhythmic lapping of the waters around them in this mini-Lonely domain. He's getting wet, the bandages in his shoes are getting damp, and Jon finds he does not care for the moment. His hand squeezes around Martin again hearing all that. Lets him babble and get it out, doesn't even make note of his shoulder being wet now.

In turn, he rests his head in the place both Martin and Algric's shoulders meet. A little shaky now that the adrenaline of getting here is gone and ...Huh. His feet and back don't hurt as much. They feel a little sore still, a little uncomfortable, but not the unbearable pain. That's probably? Not great, considering what's happening to him otherwise.]

It's all right, Martin... I'm... We're here. There's nothing you need to apologize for.

[ Algric leans his head down next to Jon’s, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. No tears for him, just ... shivering relief as he holds both Jon and Martin, as he sees his younger self accept this, if only with a torrent of tears and apologies. He knows full well how hard it is for them to get anywhere close to acceptance.

He echoes Jon, his own voice strangely calm. There’s something ... peaceful about soothing his younger self? Something deeply satisfying about giving himself something he had never had. ]

Jon’s - Jon’s right. And I’d say a fuss is ... is allowed. Given. Everything.

[ Slowly, gently, he reaches his opposite hand around to place it on Martin’s head. His fingers are cool, but the gesture is fond. ]

[There's a crossroads, in moments like these. A simple moment when everything really honestly looks like its going to be all right, and the sigh is lightened with a natural smile. Where one can settle in, take a place, or slip out quietly and see what little things can be done.

But really? Even if it weren't the bone deep sweep of relief, even if the picture didn't seem perfectly right as it was (even with the absolute oddity of the two faded Martins in sharp relief)...

He hates that quiet stoicism trope. And they're his worrying, strange, soft, absolutely idiotic friends, dammit.

There's a soft sound in the water, as Jon and Algric settle in, his gesture is smaller, a soft grip next to Jon's hand on Martin's shoulder, a simple reassurance. He sits, carefully, setting his wrists on his knees.]

There's always swearing us all to silence for all time.

[Not that it works, but it's an OPTION.]

[For all the fondness in Jon's smile at Tim joining them, his tone is dry as a bone.]

Maybe just you.

[He means well enough. Jon rubs Martin's back before sitting up proper. Even if it's not sharp pains, his back is still sore and he finds himself looking at Martin and Algric.

God there are two of them.

What the fuck is he supposed to do with two of them.

Jon clears his throat, giving both their shoulders a gentle squeeze.]

Should we, I mean. The... whole place is... Like this, but should we at least get out of the water?

Edited 2020-08-18 02:58 (UTC)

That... is definitely not a bad idea.

[Good lord, if the worms hadn't voided the poor man's deposit, spectral water damage may finish it off. But... not the problem for right now.

It's a gentle question that comes, perhaps a bit of an offer in it. Just in knowing how much Martin defaults to DOING...]

So if I were to look for towels?

[gulping for air, Martin finally looks up, red-faced and puffy-eyed. color is slowly returning to his whole body, and he's already in sharper relief.]

Closet. In the ha... Hall.

[quiet embarrassment is starting to set in, so he pulls back from Algric and Jon. ...but he doesn't want to let go, so really he's only gone far enough to straighten a bit and give himself some breathing room, nothing more.

one doleful sniff.]

Sorry. I'm. I really am.

[ Look. Martin is due for a move soon anyway, probably.

Algric can’t return Jon’s gaze, but he seems a bit smitten anyway, even with the scarf around his neck. Clearly, Jon, if life gives you two Martins, you have to hug them both. A lot.

He tilts his head towards Tim, opening his mouth — ]

Closet, in the —-

[ Oh. He ducks his head a bit, embarrassed by accidentally echoing his alternate. That apology isn’t really for him, he thinks, so he remains quiet. ]

[Jon takes one steadying breath in before resting a hand on both their cheeks before starting to push himself up.

(Surely it's the cold bite of the water making his feet numb to the pain. Surely. Because it is cold and he can feel that but he doesn't want to think about any other possible outcomes there.)

Using the Martins' shoulders as a proper support, Jon steadies himself, then takes a couple steps back to sit on the edge of the bed.]

Glad we're all in one piece still.

[Even if his head's pounding. Too many Knows in too short a time, but stress and immediate worry over Martin and Algric together... He's got to learn how to get a better control over this.]

Edited 2020-08-18 03:32 (UTC)

No kidding, I thou-

[At THAT, hopefully before disaster strikes, Tim is scrambling up as well as circumstances allow. (It is, at least, so much easier to deal with EVERYTHING that just happened with the mundane little things to handle. Normal transgressions even if from a supernatural origin.)]

Jon! Do not sit your waterlogged ass down. Give me like, one minute.

[GOING TO GET THOSE TOWELS.]

[ Jon please. Algric was going to stay here and cuddle, but - no. No, god, Jon, please. He tugs Jon back to Martin - to at least keep a hand on him, if not back to a full hug. Then he moves to check him over and fuss a little. His feet are ... less bad than he thought? He didn’t see the attack, so maybe they were just not injured quite so terribly. ]

Just - stay here, Jon. For a moment. Let us take care of you.

[ And Algric will help Tim fetch the towels. ]

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