[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]

Less like a scratching post? [That's his helpful supplement.

But he's still watching, not sure what to do with his hands.]

I'm glad. That you're- Up and about. But.... Yeah, that was. [How do you even.. put any of that to proper words? He's going to have to isn't he.] On second thought, let's not.

I was concerned. [Worried.]

[kayakking]

I was going to go with 'paper shredder' but that definitely works too.

[A flush colors his cheeks as a bit of hot embarrassment rushes over him. He... really should have gone to visit. Two perfectly good feet.]

I... yeah. I'm good. Barely touched. ... And kinda the worst.

[eyediot]

I'm relieved for that. [Tim being good and 'barely touched'. But at the comment, he genuinely looks a bit confused.]

Though I'd definitely not call you 'the worst'. [After his conversation with Martin, he's... pretty much taken that idea to himself.

While he talks he starts rummaging through his bag for something. A folded set of papers, all handwritten to hand him.]

[kayakking]

I'm not arguing the case against myself, do you'll just have to make do with my word.

[There's something so exquisitely anachronistic as a handwritten accounting that is so deeply Jon.

... And so backwardly full of earnest effort that could have just been circumvented by asking for help. Or at least CALLING to see if Tim could pick them up. Or sending with Martin.

But no, every last point of this had been a deliberate, perhaps overly stubborn choice. A sequence of misguided 'thought it was best' he was sure.

God, he missed this absolute idiot. He just. Looks at them a bit helpless, a bit fond.

Abruptly:]

Have you eaten yet? Can't say I've got much on hand at the moment, but there's a few good places with delivery right now.

[It's... as much a need for company as it is any amount of hospitality and social niceties. Funny how one can be absolutely fine in their own walls until they are not.]

[eyediot]

[The question is definitely abrupt, and has Jon swinging his head back around quick.]

No? I wasn't intending to take up your time. [You should be resting, Tim!!

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want the company. Algric is great, but. There's an impending sense of dread between them and their eventual trip to the Institute doing things they can't stop.]

Sure.

[kayakking]

I'm sure you've noticed, but the all this time is absolutely the worst part of this. Second worst. Sneezing is the worst.

[Or anything suddenly stretching the range of motion, but sneezing is inherent antagonist to all injury.

He sits carefully in a chair across from Jon and pulls out his phone.]

Indian?

[eyediot]

Hm? Oh, that's fine.

[Not even thinking about it. Jon settles into a spot within arm's reach and tries to relax a little. He glances over the papers one more time before actually handing them over to Tim.]

You don't really realize how often you try to lay on your back until you can't for a couple of weeks.

[kayakking]

[They put in enough orders at work that Tim just keys in what he feels like and with a glance at Jon, keys in his usual order without even asking.

Then takes the offered papers, setting them on one knee to spread out. Filled to the brim with the small, cramped handwriting usually found living in the corners of statements, layering on the sarcasm.]

Right? Nothing like enforced side sleeping, and then making the mistake of rolling over.

How's the feet, though? Docs expect any problems?

[eyediot]

None, as long as I stay off them and take it easy so the stitches hold.

[Tim it's so hard. It's so hard to stay off his feet.]

Follow up in a week or so to get a better look.

[kayakking]

...

So, how tempted IS Algric to tie you down?

[eyediot]

Please don't give him ideas.

[kayakking]

Oh no, from that, I guarantee that no suggestions are necessary.

[eyediot]

Tim, I-- I swear.

[He's too exhausted to finish the thought, but GOD.]

...How's the arm?

[kayakking]

A mess but should be fine if I leave it alone.

[Rrrreadjusted the sling to actually hold it.]

So about the same.

[eyediot]

[Hey, he won't tell if you don't. He's not even watching, he's digging for his phone.]

Better than 'bad recovery', I think. I'm.. Really glad to hear it. It's... Honestly, I needed some good news.

[kayakking]

[That does get brows raises and a careful, wary look at Jon.]

As much as I am fond of being the good news.. is that, ah, bad news new and recent or just the general collective of holy fuck how did it get this bad?

[eyediot]

Recent as of my A&E admittance.

[He sighs, rubs his forehead a bit.] Elias came to see me while I was there. I, um. I have to make a statement. When I go back to the Institute.

[Something about his tone says he'd rather much not like to do that.]

[kayakking]

[Tim scowls at the name alone. And the rest really just seals it.]

That's a trap. That sounds absolutely like a trap.

[To do what or for what, he has no idea... but....]

So, lets not. Apparently my record in the future is three weeks. That's enough time to get a plan together.

[eyediot]

Normally, I would agree, but.. [There is always a 'but' these days, isn't there?]

He got to Algric first. While I was asleep. [There's obvious concern in his tone sure, but now... an undercurrent of... a different kind of worry. Like worry of losing something important.] He has to go in before the week is over.

By that effect, there's no point putting off my going in. [Jon rubs and pinches at the bridge of his nose under his glasses with a sign.] He knew exactly how to win this.

[kayakking]

[There is always a but.

It takes a second, a deliberate reminder that what Elias could possibly want from Algric would be incredibly, severely different reminder than what it could or would be from Martin.

Even removing all of the occult from it, they know the man's a murderer, and Algric is meddling in his plans.

He lets out a long breath.]

How can I help?

[eyediot]

I don't know.

[He runs an unsure hand through his hair, looking around the room instead of at Tim, settling to just. The window, aimless and not really looking. Just setting his eyes somewhere.]

He and I agreed to go in together. See if we could mitigate anything, but I don't... I don't know what Elias will do.

[kayakking]

[There's a long, loaded moment.]

When are you planning on going in?

[eyediot]

[Jon carefully shifts his eyes to Tim, just. Watching him.]

Haven't decided yet.

[kayakking]

[Tim's expression is a certain quiet, angry intensity. Moreso than anything Jon has actually seen even focused on him.

As Tim decides that if he's going to do something drastic it has to be real soon.]

I suppose there's no wiggling on just... doing things on a technicality?

[eyediot]

[Something about that sits... Wrong with Jon. He can't put a finger on it. He shifts as best he can in his chair to look directly at Tim.]

...Not that I know of. I... What are you thinking?