[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]

[Jon listens, watches Tim carefully. Drunk or not, his gaze is piercing. The Archivist doesn't really know how to turn that off, even when Knowing isn't a thing for him.]

....Is that not what I'm here already doing?

[kayakking]

[Even without that occult edge, there is something deeply intense about it. He ends up looking aside, after a moment.]

It's REAL hard to tell.

[eyediot]

...Sorry.

I still-- [He groans, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down.] Still can't believe I didn't know.

[kayakking]

[There's another of those heavy pats on Jon's shoulder.]

I'm going to go out on a limb that you were too overwhelmed.

But some days? Me neither.

[eyediot]

I didn't even think about it! I just...

[He sort of sinks with the weight of Tim's hand on his shoulder. This dumb, noodle baby strength Archivist.]

After Georgie, I just focused on my job and not much else. You know?

[kayakking]

Yeahhhh, yeah I definitely get that, in particular. Easier just to throw yourself into something else instead of thinking too hard about something that still hurts.

[eyediot]

Right? And. I mean, you know me. I think on occasion you've called me a pompous prick, so I don't... Get it?

[Especially after how badly things ended with Georgie. God, he's still trying to repair that.]

I don't get what there is to see.

[kayakking]

[Bluntly:] Well, lately you have been.

[But then he softens, propping up his chin under one fist, leaning on an elbow. Anyone else, he'd think the man was fishing.

But no, this IS Jon.]

Anyways, Sasha thinks it was the challenge. [It's still present tense. Will be, for a bit.] You know? The same way people who don't trust dogs but love the hard won affection of cats as being more real. He's got that super nervous edge.

[Tim... pauses here and gives, a frankly awkward shrug, toying with his own, empty glass.] Me? I figure it's simpler. You're astonishingly kind, when you're not being a right royal tit.

[eyediot]

[Jon might kill Tim if he says he considers Jon to be 'kind' to anyone else. He has a reputation and image to uphold!!

But externally? He just "hm"s to himself in thought.]

And according to what I've been told, that's not very often.

[kayakking]

[TRY HIM, SIMS.]

Did you get that feedback? I wrote the last one in glitter pen for HR.

[eyediot]

I heard something about an irregular feedback, but not the details.

Was that really necessary?

[kayakking]

Jon, I was still dealing with muscle spasms from having been eaten by worms, and you'd grilled me a third time on where I was when Gertrude kicked it. Presumably, hoping for inconsistencies?

It was glitter or I was going to punch you in the face.

One of these seemed like a better way to deal with anger.

[FINGERGUNS.]

[eyediot]

... Right.

Fair enough.

[kayakking]

[He tilts the glass to the side, listening to the stone clink in the bottom. The warm haze from the drink lets the silence stretch out a little more comfortably than it might have, or at least, from Tim's side of things.]

Anyway, what I'm saying is, it isn't baseless, even if I don't exactly think you've been putting your best face forward. But with the sheer amount of hovering he's been doing, not like he hasn't had a chance to catch on, either.

And if you want to be even simpler about it, you're not bad on the eyes.

[And completely separate to this, an EXCELLENT idea comes to him, springing fully formed from the crossroads of another glass of the strong stuff would definitely be too much.

He pushes to his feet, and gives Jon a winsome smile.]

How do you like your beer?

[eyediot]

I-- What?

[That comment about not being bad on the eyes takes a second to really register, but before he can even comment on it, Tim's on his feet moving.]

I-- generally don't?

[What the fuck. What is happening, he doesn't understand what's happening or why or how Tim can be moving so fast.]

Wh-why?

[kayakking]

[Worse than fast, he's obnoxiously steady on his feet, even though he'd certainly drunk the same about. He pulls open a small cooler.]

Ah, that type. Not to worry, I've got just the one. Ah, not.. you... or you. You!

[He returns with a Belgian beer, rather than an IPA, though he cracks a nice stout for himself. The beer set in front of Jon is in a blue can with a pink elephant on it. Alarmingly, it states its brand is DELIRIUM TREMENS.]

Ta-da~ Give it a try.

[eyediot]

[Jon watches, absolutely feeling miserable watching Tim do that. It's unfair how easily he's moving.

But the can in front of him.......................... This is ... obnoxious.]

Why.

[Like. He's gonna grip it and rip it. Tim was understanding listening to Jon whine about this mess for the last hour. So sure. Taking a sip and it's not the worst thing.]

I don't know how I could forget this is your type of thing.

[kayakking]

[Worse he's SO happy talking about it. Cheerfully proud of himself.]

Why? Because you deserve better than a boring old English pale. We both do. You don't get notes like that from the super large production lines.

[It's definitely not the worst thing, and certainly not the worst beer. But it sure is still a beer.]

[eyediot]

Sometimes I prefer a boring old English pale.

[Then again, he's that same 120 year old man in a 30 year old body. But he's still sipping the beer quietly.]

But this isn't bad either.

[kayakking]

Right?

[Tim settles back comfortably at that, nursing his own. And just... for a little bit, enjoys the company. The simple sounds of a bottle on the table, the small sounds of another life in the room, the simple companionship of a silence that doesn't need anything to banish it.

It's... nice.

It's been years. Since...

So it's some handspan of time until Tim just slouches in his chair a bit.]

I joined because I had an encounter that I survived but someone very close to me did not. And I've been looking for... I don't know. God. Answers. Revenge, maybe. Something.

[eyediot]

[Somewhere, in some other room a few walls away, there's a quiet muffled click. Clearly not anything Jon has anything to do with.

For his part, Jon jolts a bit at the sudden break in the companionable silence. And watches Tim when he realizes what he's being told.]

...I think answers may be the best bet. I don't... think revenge is ever really worth it. Not in the end.

[Pot, meet kettle.]

[kayakking]

[He cracks a weak smile.]

Doesn't seem like it now. And I don't even think I know jack shit more than I did. Except that this bullshit happens to anyone.

[eyediot]

[Yeah, even if his bully wasn't the greatest person in the world, he still harbors some guilt for not having done anything.

Okay, a lot of guilt.]

It does. But that ...[A soft breath, just watching Tim.] I am sorry. You didn't deserve whatever it was.

[kayakking]

[Tim stares down at his hands.]

Me? Nothing happened to me. Absolutely nothing. I just... watched it happen.

[That guilt probably looks real familiar.]

[eyediot]

[WOW. WOWOWOWOWOWOW Something to commiserate about that isn't weird office antics.

Jon watches him a little more closely, recognizes that guilt. His voice is gentler. A little easier, a little less putting on airs and more understanding.]

The fact you had to watch was still... Not something you should had to have gone through. You've had to live with it. Something I... understand. Very well.