[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

[kayakking]

[He.. angles a look at Jon after a moment of abstraction. The hand at Jon's shoulder squeezes lightly.]

... You know? It's good to have you back.

[eyediot]

[Jon lets that sit for a moment. Then carefully turns so he's on his side and can look up at Tim properly. His expression is an odd mixture of grateful and apologetic. He keeps his voice down, just for Tim to hear.]

...For what it's worth, I. I'm sorry. For everything. I didn't... realize I'd gone. [He swallows, a bit thickly.] I'm. Glad to be back.

[kayakking]

[God, that goes a long way. Jon can see it on Tim's face, how much something seems to smooth around the eyes and lips.]

I'm... getting an idea how much we were set up, too. So... yeah. Lets, uh, lets keep things this way.

[eyediot]

[Something in him does a little flip. He navigated that well. Point for Sims. He reaches one free hand up to Tim's on his shoulder and gives a small squeeze.]

I'd like that.

[kayakking]

Good. Remember you have friends, arsehole.

[It's said brightly good-natured.]

We'll figure out how to get through the rest of this...

[eyediot]

...Yeah. W-we will.

[What the fuck are friends? What the fuck are boyfriends?

Though a thought occurs to him.]

Do you think we should warm Officer Basira against the Institute? Get her out of this?

[kayakking]

[He didn't really have a lot of strong feelings about the cops. Surely they can handle themselves. But... Jon's been dealing with them a lot more.]

Think she'll listen? I mean. We've got jack shit in proof.

[eyediot]

Maybe.

[He turns one more time to lay on his back, still with Tim's arm draped over him.]

She's... Section 31, meaning she's used to dealing with... Unnatural things. But according to Algric, she still thinks I murdered Gertrude. And that I don't have proof against. And anything we do find would probably point her to Elias and...

[That road goes Bad.]

[kayakking]

And we know he's ready for that. Yeah.

[A sigh... then well, it's Tim. What exactly does one DO with anxiety but cover it up with a bit of shine.]

I mean, if she's sweet on me, I can always lay the charm on.

[eyediot]

[Completely flat:] The worst part is I think you could.

[kayakking]

Can I help it if so many people have fantastic taste?

[eyediot]

Saying that would mean you have to admit I have good taste.

[You wanna admit that, Tim? This guy?]

[kayakking]

Oh yes, you have fallen head over heels for me. I can tell.

[eyediot]

AS FRIENDS.

[kayakking]

[He just rolls flat onto his back, cracking up loudly.]

[eyediot]

[For his part, Jon takes one hand.

And carefully.

Strategically.

Puts it on Tim's face to shove him.]

[kayakking]

[There's a SQUEAK as his skin catches the air mattress, a scrabble and a THUMP.

There's a faint ow. fuck in there, but it's more reflex than anything, given by the way the laughter redoubles at the absolute absurdity of it all.]

[eyediot]

Shit-- [Jon didn't mean to shove him off the mattress. But as soon as he hears laughter, whatever concept of remorse goes out the window. He moves to look over the side down at him.]

...You did kind of deserve that. A little.

[kayakking]

[He does, in fact, seem fine when Jon peeks over the side. A bit rumpled, a bit tangled in the bedding he took with him. And holding a pillow suspiciously.]

Yeah? So do you.

[Is the warning Jon gets before the pillow gets thrown.]

[eyediot]

[That pillow hits him square in the face; Jon doesn't even move.]

Ha.

[It's enough of a wake up to get him moving to get up and glance at the pile of clothes. And sigh starting to pick through it for proper sleepwear.]

We probably don't want to destroy Martin's home, so we're clear why I'm not returning fire.

[kayakking]

[Tim levers himself up with his good arm and sets on the edge of the bed. He watches Jon pick through the clothes but- honestly doesn't really try to stop him. Jon had decided not to sleep earlier. Only so much one can do.]

Cowed by my power level. I get it.

[eyediot]

[He pulls out his sleep shirt and bottoms, already feeling infinitely better for this whole arrangement having them here.]

If that's what helps you sleep tonight.

[kayakking]

I think that's your assigned job, not mine.

[eyediot]

Pretty sure my assigned job is making sure you all do yours.

[He's still your boss, monster-in-the-making or not.]

[kayakking]

Ohh? Right. What's my job right now, boss?