curriculum_fictae | [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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From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Martin, in turn, relaxes into the programme. Though honestly, his focus is more on Jon than what he's watching? How close he is. How comfortable it is to sit next to him, in his home, safe and warm and together ...

(That's not fair to Jon, he thinks bitterly. He can't project his own feelings onto the Archivist.)

He stands too, after, tending to his own mug. And gives Jon a nervous laugh. ]

Yes? I mean - I could sleep on the floor, I suppose, but the couch is much better.

From:

eyediot

Hm. No, that's not much better. [He mumbles it to himself. He's gotten into the habit of mumbling to himself a lot since the Prentiss attack. These days he does it without even thinking.

He cleans the few dishes they dirtied by hand while he thinks.]

You're not going to sleep on the floor, Martin...

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Martin hovers close, then, unsure of what to do since on is taking care of the dishes. ]

Right. So the couch is perfectly fine.

From:

eyediot

[-and it's not like he could just get a bigger place because he can barely afford this one bedroom as it is, and Martin can't work because of the whole time travel situation and really what did he think he was asking with tha-

Oh.]

Right. Good. Okay.

[Maybe a fold out bed or one of those inflatable mattresses people use when camping or-]

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Martin can tell you're trying. Which is nice? And yet, also rather confusing. What did Jon expect? ]

You don't have a second bed. And I'm not kicking you out of yours.

From:

eyediot

No, right, I-I know.

[He really did do this to himself telling Martin to stay with him.]

I just.. .wanted to check since it's been a few days.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Sure did, Jon. Not that Martin has anywhere else to go, but you could have kicked him out. ]

... Are you worried about me?

[ That's so cute. ]

From:

eyediot

[He sputters a little, almost dropping his tea cup.]

I-- well. [God.] Yes? I mean, you're here, and you've been giving me warnings and information and. I just. Thought I'd be polite.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Cute. Adorable. Martin can't help but smile. ]

I'm very comfortable here, Jon. Better than I've been in a while.

From:

eyediot

Well... Good. I'm. Very glad to hear that.

[Let him go die in peace.]

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Nope. Sorry, Jon. ]

Are you uncomfortable with me being here?

From:

eyediot

Not... really.

[He can't properly express it, hilarious given what he does all day.]

It just... It feels nice. Having someone here and know that I'm not... crazy.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Oh. Martin's expression softens for a moment. He raises a hand as if to put it on Jon's shoulder and ... stops himself. Hesitating. ]

No. You're not crazy. Most of the things you think you're seeing are real. And the rest still make sense.

From:

eyediot

[Of course there's always the chance this Martin is a hallucination or delusion brought about by paranoia and intense seclusion and the nature of statements he's been reading as well as the mystery of Gertrude's murder and Basira not contacting him anymore to bring anymore of Gertrude's tapes and Tim hating him now and Martin at the office being jumpier than usual and Sasha being... not... Sasha...

Who knows. The cups go on the drying rack and he dries his hand.]

...Thank you, Martin.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ He is terribly translucent in spots, after all. Maybe he really is a figment of Jon's imagination. It's not like they've really touched each other, right?

Though ... Martin hesitates again. And this time he closes the gap between them, laying his hand very lightly on Jon's shoulder. His fingers are icy and cold. ]

Of course. We're - I - I like to think you're my friend, Jon.

From:

eyediot

[That feels real and solid enough. But Martin's words catch him a little off guard, a little... out of breath.]

...Yes. yes, I'm. I think that too.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Solid. Cold, but absolutely physical. Not a ghost or a hallucination.

He manages a small smile. ]

I'm so glad, Jon. I -

[ He swallows thickly. ]

I thought I'd never see you again.

From:

eyediot

[OH NO... MARTIN SOUNDS LIKE HE MIGHT CRY. SHIT HE'S BAD AT THIS.]

Well... At the very least I can promise I'll be here.

[You know until he goes down in the tunnels again and gets framed for killing Leitner but that's a problem for future-Jon.]

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Look. Martin is here to hopefully help when that happens. For now, he focuses on trying not to cry. ]

Do you? Do you really promise, Jon?

From:

eyediot

I-- [Well sure put him on the spot.

He flounders for a second, before really, really looking at Martin.]

...I can promise to do my best.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ He's so soft and hopeful, while simultaneously uncertain. Can Jon promise, really? Can he?

No ... Martin doesn't think he can. There's always something that goes wrong, it seems, and it's all too far out of their control. So while there's hope in his face, it's a tiny flicker compared to the aching uncertainty of the rest of him. The pale translucence of his body doesn't do much to ameliorate that effect, really; he just looks that much more like a ghost. ]

I suppose that's all I can ask for.