[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

[secreteary]

[a confused frown.]

Sure?

[...]

Wwwwwwwhy?

[eyediot]

Because I'm worried.

[He takes Martin's arm in both his hands, just. Looking at the damage. God, it's... Further along than he thought it would be. He still doesn't know when this happened.

Jon wishes he knew how to stop this. But, he gives one short nod, then. Sort of. Awkward-casually just. Holds Martin's hand. Satisfied.]

[secreteary]

[oh.

Jon's just...kind like that. that's all.

even still...]

It's.

[Martin feels his face getting warm, staring at their hands.]

I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me. Just...take care of yourself.

[he's saying the words, but by this point he's become so distant from his own mind, staring at their hands and really getting lost in it, that he doesn't have the conviction in them that he normally would.

as if to prove this, a hint of color comes back into his fingertips.]

[eyediot]

[Not letting go.]

I do worry, and I think we all know I'm very bad at that.

[secreteary]

I don't know that. I'd say you're quite good at it, actually.

[eyediot]

[Jon, really really doesn't think he has the emotional fortitude to have another big deep talk while he's in the hospital still. He may have to here, but he'd rather not. He'd rather this just. Be simple.

His voice is just. Tired.]

Then you're giving me far too much credit than I deserve, Martin.

[secreteary]

[POT]

Sometimes...

[MEET]

Sometimes we're not the best judge of what we deserve or not.

[KETTLE]

[eyediot]

Yes.

Which is why I got very drunk and Tim very aggressively gave me a kick in the ass. About. [He instinctively wants to keep it vague, not be direct, just say 'a lot of things' but that's not entirely fair here.] About you.

[secreteary]

Me? What about me?

[he racks his brain for anything he might have done wrong (a long, anxiety fueled list) and what he might have done right (a pitiful post it note)]

Is this about choosing "Algric" as a name? He said something about my "game face"?

[eyediot]

What? No.

[What nonsense was Tim sending to Martin that night???

He looks down at their hands and. Just. Gives it a little squeeze.]

For. For whatever you think of me, I am an idiot at times. Unfortunately, I'm not. Entirely the best at. Personal things.

[secreteary]

[hey sorry Jon but you're getting a really fond, just-shy-of-being-lovesick smile.]

I never said you weren't an idiot. For as smart a man as you are, you're also incredibly stupid.

[eyediot]

[Yep, there it is.]

I've been made incredibly aware recently by multiple parties.

[secreteary]

Maybe that's what you get for a few weeks of suspicion and stalking...?

[is he

is that

TEASING]

[eyediot]

Is... Are you...?

Are you teasing?

[Martin, are you teasing a grown man's paranoia????]

Come on...

[secreteary]

[oh oops

he shrinks a little, smile suddenly very uncertain]

...Too soon?

[eyediot]

No, no, just--

[Sorry, he's. Taking that in. Jon gets as close as he can to expressing his feelings without actually saying it, and the first thing Martin does is tease. Lord. It's so different from his near-heart break with Algric.]

Didn't expect it.

[secreteary]

[Martin didn't either, actually. he quietly blames it on affection with nowhere to go.]

Just got caught up in the moment, I guess. Bad attempt to lighten the mood, maybe.

[eyediot]

No, no, it's fair. I... Deserve that.

[He still sounds in slightly better spirits, though.]

[secreteary]

More than a bit, yeah.

[that hasn't escaped Martin's notice, and he smiles at Jon, pleased that there seems to be some improvement in mood.

he was about to offer to grab something for Jon, but then he remembers his hand held in both of the other's and looks at them. his own smile is now private and like it's only for himself as color spreads through his fingers a little more, as well as his face.]

...L-look, Jon, you don't have to hold my hand forever. I'll. I'll be okay. [the smallest of tugs, prompting Jon to let go.]

[eyediot]

[He rubs absently at one of his worm scars with his free hand, then sighs a bit.]

Look, Martin. I... It's just. I... realized what your feelings were. And. That I've sort of been an idiot not realizing something so obvious sooner. [He looks down at their hands, sees some of the color returning to Martin's under his own fingers.] Tim had to. He didn't tell me, I figured it out. But. He sort of shoved me into the 'shut up or do something about it'.

I don't, um. I'm not.. Good? At this. But. [God, Tim would be screaming at him right now. Either do it or shut up.] It's, I think. Worth a try.

If I don't. Incredibly. Royally. Screw things up somehow. Because that seems to be my knack. So. Let me. Hold it for a while.

[secreteary]

[sorry Jon you were right you're shit at this. Martin is wildly confused and has no problem showing it.

"Fee"- Screw what up, Jon, I don't understand-

[then suddenly something occurs to him and it's very obvious that he's switching into Fuss Mode.]

D-do you need to go back to sleep? I think the morphine must be hitting you r-right now... I can leave, if you want me too, though I'd rather stay?

[eyediot]

[HUH. THIS KEEPS HAPPENING TO HIM WHEN HE TRIES TO BE VULNERABLE FOR TWO SECONDS.

Jon looks so put out for a moment, then sighs and just lets it go. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Tim was wrong. Maybe those feelings don't happen until two years from now, who knows. For someone as intelligent as he is, he really is a moron.]

Don't... Leave. [He does... Take his hand back though. He wanted to try to do this right. So badly, he wanted to do something right.]

[secreteary]

[hey Jon is this feeling familiar yet???]

I'll stay, but....what did I do wrong?

[eyediot]

[He smiles, but it's. Not quite full. There's definitely something pinched in it.]

Nothing, you... You didn't do anything wrong, Martin.

[secreteary]

[with genuine concern, though perhaps much more prickly than he means to be:]

Don't. D-don't do that. Okay? Whatever it is, you can tell me. Just d-don't pull this..."I am Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute and I do everything alone and shut everyone out" thing. Again.

[a sigh.]

Don't shut me out, Jon. I'm- Not after we just established that we're not just co-workers and you don't hate me after all.