[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]

Huh? [He says, eloquently.]

[eyediot]

Surely there was something else?

[Did he misread that?]

[kayakking]

That's a lot as is.

[There's ... a pause, and a longer look at Jon, disquieted. And.. you know, nows as good of a time as any.]

Look. There's one thing but hold until you've gotten more sleep.

[eyediot]

.... [Unfair. But also... fair.]

All right. [This is a weird tension in the air, suddenly. Maybe he wasn't supposed to know that?]

...You remember you always hated my plans, yes?

[kayakking]

I hate your one step plans. None of these are one step plan sort of plans.

[eyediot]

Th-they're not all bad!

[kayakking]

...

[eyediot]

'Get Better Coffee" wasn't bad.

[You just get better coffee for the Research breakroom, that's all! Why was it hard!]

[kayakking]

If you know nothing about coffee at all!

You know that Joan and Carl STILL don't talk to each other anymore after that blow up. It started an all out war.

[eyediot]

Honestly, that's on them. They made that choice, not me.

[kayakking]

You told them to figure it out!

[eyediot]

[A rare occurrence of a little voice in the back of Jon's head telling him not to say what's on the tip of his tongue.]

...So. I can... sort of see how I may have had a hand.

It shouldn't have happened though.

[kayakking]

[Tim's expression seems to shift a bit, off guard. He was expecting the usual line and got-

Huh.

His expression softens.]

... Right. I mean. ... Normally, it shouldn't have. But both of them were scheduled real short shift that week, if I remember right.

[eyediot]

[Turns out you can teach a hedgehog new tricks.]

Y-yes, I think so. Maybe I'll... I don't know.

[He was going to say 'buy them nicer coffee' as a gift from the Archive staff, but now he isn't sure that's a good idea. Plus he still only knows basic coffee.]

[kayakking]

[It is probably not, but it's a good sentiment.]

Fruit basket. Or fancy cheeses. You know, better than the grocer platters that come out usually.

[eyediot]

..... You sound like you've had to send a few.

[kayakking]

[Jon might have been gearing up to hear that Tim had been keeping peace between the other departments around Jon.

Instead:]

Yeah, so I was a manager for a stint there in my last job.

[eyediot]

[Jon moves to flop back down on the mattress, feeling it buoy behind him before settling his weight.]

Answers quite a lot, I think.

[Any small wonder he's been frustrated with Jon "Extremely Underqualified For This Position" Sims.]

[kayakking]

[There's a snort from Tim, but it's good-natured enough.]

Oh, don't think I was aiming for your job. I, very specifically, didn't apply.

[eyediot]

.... How many times did the site crash.

[kayakking]

Fffour before I just decided it wasn't worth it.

[eyediot]

Only four?

[Oh look at that, he's just picking through his clothes again and checking his toiletries.]

[kayakking]

[Jon.]

... How many did YOU slog through?

[eyediot]

Don't, um. Don't know how the count really matters.

[Look, at the time he didn't know about Gertrude, all he saw was an opportunity to get closer to the real research he wanted.]

Lost count at twenty-four. [Stubborn ass.]

[kayakking]

Christ, Jon.