[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

TIM TIME

[eyediot]

[After the... incident at the cafe, Jon is shaken. He thought he was getting better, thinking more clearly. He knew for sure he had proof of what was going on, but now...

He has to talk to someone. He's still on the fence about Sasha. He doesn't trust Elias, even without what future-Martin told him (and was that even real?), and this current timeline Maryin is. A little too eager to please. No, Jon only trusts one person to tell things to him honestly.

He waits, works up the nerve for a day or so. Until he finally approaches Tim privately.

Deep breath. It will be fine.]

Tim. If you have a moment after work, I need you to come to my flat to check something.

[kayakking]

[It's not at the desks, the cluster of Assistants is likely far less private than the sort of conversation Jon had worked up to was going to provide. So, Tim is sorting through some of the Unclassified box, digitizing what he can and making a small, small pile of the rare few that corrupt immediately after transcription.

So there he is, when the Head Archivist pops around the corner, a laptop across his knees and a sheaf of old files at his feet, and a thermos of coffee in hand. The first move is to hastily screw on the cap of the thermos before that lecture gets going.

The second is to close his mouth where his jaw had dropped a little.

Jon had been getting better. He really had. Hell, if he'd known sullen cops were his type, he'd have hooked him up ages ago.

So this... backslide into weird wasn't exactly welcome.]

Hullo boss, nice to see you. I've been having a great day. [The words are just pointed enough, each carefully enunciated as a normal people making normal greetings thing.]

And I am going to need SO much more explanation about that.

[eyediot]

[Gods, he wants to say something about that open thermos. An open thermos! In the archives with statements all over his lap and laptop and--

It's not what he's here about. Focus.]

Right - Yes, I'm. It's good to see you too. [Remember when Tim was a ... perhaps not "close", but at least good terms friend? Jon finds himself missing that more these days. Maybe this is a step back towards that, being open and... Explaining things.

But not here in the Archives.]

Sorry. There's... Been a lot. I don't know that I'd call this work related? It might be. Could be. But- I really... could use some advice. And I trust you.

[kayakking]

[Jon could see the waspish comment forming behind Tim's eyes as he tumbled into the explanation and the deferral of that explanation all at once. And then he hits him with that last sentence.

God. God!! He had no idea, until that exact moment, how much he had wanted to hear that. Needed to hear that. Just that.

Something angry just.. deflates and Tim sits up a bit straighter, setting the thermos on the ground.]

So on a scale of 'There's this mole' to 'Bring a shovel' what are we looking at here.

[eyediot]

[He'd prepared for Tim to have some comeback, some snappy, sarcastic cutting remark and having some kind of fight over this.

But just like that... Tim agrees? That.. helps. It helps ease this some, but he's still a little on edge.]

Maybe 'Don't tell anyone your location for a few hours' level.

[kayakking]

[Both of Tim's brows raise at that.

And well... THIS is probably more like what he's expecting: Tim holds out both hands wide in a 'are you serious?' pose.]

You DO know how that sounds, right? Right?

[eyediot]

[In true Jon Sims fashion, he stares at Tim.]


What?

[kayakking]

It's...

[Is he going to explain this? He's going to explain this.]

There's a real creep factor in following come to my flat with don't tell anyone where you'll be.

[eyediot]

[Wait.






Wait.




Yeah there's the recognition.]

Oh- God, no! No, no that's-- [Yeah, he looks rightfully embarrassed and a little shaken that's how he came across.]

It's just. It's personal? No, that isn't better. I promise. It is not creepy or untoward. I just... [His eyes look up, toward the ceiling and ostensibly toward where Elias' office would be.]

[kayakking]

[He follows the gaze a moment, and might even make the connection about Elias? But... To Tim, Elias is just run of the mill upper management-level incompetence.

Still it's...

He rubs a hand over his face, looking back at Jon. God. This is going to be something weird isn't it? Did he find an artefact he can't get rid of or-]

It's serious.

[It's as much of a statement as it is a question.]

[eyediot]

Yes.

[He looks back at Tim directly, The Archivist look on his face. All serious and determined.]

If. Depending on how this.. ends up, I think. I'm not sure. But it could really help. I... Really do trust you with this. To be honest with me.

[kayakking]

[This is a bad idea. Every part of his brain informs him that no good thing is going to happen from this kind of a set up. This is exactly the sort of thing that survivors of statements actually say no to.

... But he's going to go and do whatever he's going to do alone otherwise.]

Right. What time?

[eyediot]

Whenever you're free. I'll be home either way.

[HE HAS TO HIDE HIS CONSPIRACY THEORY BOARD. HE CANNOT PRESENT HIS FULL CRAZY.]

[kayakking]

[THAT IS A REAL GOOD IDEA.]

Cool. I'm going to snag dinner first.

[A beat.]

... I am just realizing I actually don't know where you live.

[eyediot]

... Right.

[Jon is fairly private with his life. He takes his phone to text Tim the address.]

It should be easy to find.

[kayakking]

[He wasn't GOING to make postal code judgements (yes he was.) but that was unexpected. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle.]

Central. How many roommates you gotta put up with for that?

[eyediot]

[Oh, his face is deadpan for a moment.]

I don't. Look, it- It doesn't matter. Just... [HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN TIM WOULD HAVE A COMMENT.]

[kayakking]

[HUH.]

Right, right. I'll phone when I get up from the tube.

Annnnything else?

[eyediot]

[Look he's been. Trying to be better, and less weird so.]

...Keep up the good work here.

[JUST KEEP YOUR THERMOS CLOSED. He won't. Say anything this time.]

[kayakking]

[And that has been so appreciated on levels Jon doesn't EVEN REALIZE exist. Work's only the usual level of terrible lately. Well within working parameters.

Tim pulls up a few of the statements with another long, burningly curious look. But whatever's behind it, he doesn't ask. Not here.]

You got it boss. I'll have the new batches filed before I punch out.

[Damn. DAMN, it is the worst shame Sasha's been freezing him out lately. He'd love to casually run a few questions by her. Soooo, Martin, maybe.]