that one time travel psl

[eyediot]

sad bad end s5 jon and tim on a monster road trip



[Algric had given the trio a fair warning of what was happening. Not the specific details of what he was coming from, but he was from a little further along Algric's timeline, and came through Hilltop Road. Never pleasant, but he's here now. IT took a few days of settling, readjusting, and putting some firm self-imposed boundaries on himself before Jon felt comfortable enough to see the others.

After a few minutes of surprise and staring, Jon ends up sitting alone with Tim for a few minutes; the others having some things to take care of themselves. He sits there, fiddling a bit with his fingers, trying not to be self conscious. He can't do anything about the myriad of different, newer scars, nor about his black sclera or so many other things about himself now.

But god... Tim. Alive and not shouting at him right this second. How novel.]

Tim... I.. [Where does he even start.]

Comments

[eyediot]

[Jonah, meanwhile, spent the first night holed away with Algric. He'd been angry and worried about Jonah and Tim and needed that night to have. But this night, Jonah's on the couch, needing the space to rest. His meal from when Tim gave him a story has long since digested, and the couple of statements he has with him have barely satisfied.

At the sound of the fridge door, he jerks to consciousness an and the dark. Except... That's weird. It's dark no matter what, and he can't tell who's there. Maybe it is just really dark.]

Hello?

[kayakking]

[Clearly, it's just that dark. He can hear someone pad over, the creak of the back of the couch as someone leans against it. Must be Tim.

The thought surfaces before Tim's voice, low and dimly amused cuts through the oddly complete darkness.]

Hey. Shouldn't you be asleep? [Practically rote by now.]

[eyediot]

Shouldn't you? I don't [blink] ... need it.

[He blinks again, eyes staring up at Tim but. There's still nothing. A low, fast rising panic is starting to curdle in his gut. That stinging in his eyes still scratches in the back of his mind.]

Tim, have you got all the lights off?

[kayakking]

... Nnnno. [A creak again from the back of the couch, a rustle of cloth but... no other hints as to what motion just filled that silence. Warm fingers brush his forehead with little warning.

And my, his eyes do sting. Panic curling like smoke from a new fire, delicate and fresh. What will he DO without something so important. Can he even See like this? Though at least, it's neither better nor worse at the touch.]

No, kitchen lights on. Need me to get more?

[Tim's voice is DISTINCTLY concerned.]

[eyediot]

[To Tim, Jonah looks distinctly surprised at the touch and the voice sounding a little closer. But he's forcing his breathing even.]

N-no. I, um. Guess I couldn't tell from here.

[But he shifts to sit up, eyes wide.]

[kayakking]

That's-- concerning. That's definitely concerning.

[Footsteps, soft, nearly soundless of socks on hardwood move from the back to the side of the couch. Depending on if he's listening or panicking, he might get some warning before Tim tries to lift Jonah's face up to see better.]

[eyediot]

[Without the familiar voice, the panic gets worse. It hurts. More than any other mark he's felt. Even trying to See is leaving sparks in his mind.

He jolts at the touch, not wanting his face moved. His eyes are red-tinged though. Like a long period of irritants.]

Tim? [He sounds like he's on the edge.]

[kayakking]

[When Jonah jerks back, the touch vanishes. The couch dips as Tim sits nextto him.]

I'm here. I'm here.

Can you see at all?

[eyediot]

[Gulp.]

No.

[kayakking]

Jesus Christ.

When did this start?

[Said with the tones of someone who has a REAL GOOD GUESS.]

[eyediot]

J-just now.

[He instinctively rubs at his eyes, a pavlovian response to them being brought up.]

They've been irritated for a few days but... Th-this is new.

[kayakking]

Hey. Hey. Don't rub.

[Fingers catch his wrists and start tugging his hands back.]

We off to the hospital then, or is this... ... something else?

[eyediot]

[His hands go stiff at the touch to his wrists.]

Something else. I can't See either.

[kayakking]

[The hands don't withdraw this time, instead Tim's thumbs work up and down, soothingly, along the tendon.]

... Fuck.

You eyes look... red? Sort of. Hard to tell with the... you know, way they are.

[eyediot]

[Control his breathing? Fuck that. He's panicking.]

This hasn't happened before. I-i don't know what this is. Tim--

[kayakking]

[It hurts more the higher his panic goes, or maybe it's just his panic making him focus on it. But the fire seems to spread the more he dwells on how bad this is.]

I'm going to get eyewash, a looking glass and some towels. I need you to stay here. I'm going to be right back with things to help. Okay?

[eyediot]

Y-yeah. I'm not, um. Not... going anywhere.

[It's cyclical, the way his mind focuses on the abnormal pain, the more Focus is on it, the more focused and obvious the pain is. What started as a mild irritant now feels like a migraine pounding behind his eyes and a fire behind the eyelids.]

[kayakking]

[Tim's hands leave his wrists and the couch shifts again. The footfalls are heavier, hurried- but not running. It's not long, really.]

All right, try to keep your eyes open.

[And so it goes. He says what he's going to do before he does it after the first few flinches.

The eyedrops are no relief. In fact, he barely feels them hit, the irritation from whatever it is swallowing fine nerve stimulation. The warm, damp towel over his eyes does feel a BIT better.]

[eyediot]

[When Tim returns, he's huddled, curled into himself on the couch with his head ducked into his arms. Anything to make the darkness feel voluntary and controlled instead of what it actually is.

At every drop, he asks when it's happening. Is Tim even doing it? Is he trying? But the towel helps. Jonah swallows hard and uses both hands to hold the towel in place so he can lean his forehead against his knees.]

...You think it had something to do with the ritual.

[kayakking]

[A pause. Without sight, there's no telling what Tim's expression is with the deeply neutral tone. Without Sight, there's no hint to his actual thoughts.

It's gone.]

Anything else, you'd have just healed, yeah?

[eyediot]

Everything else did heal.

[kayakking]

[He can hear the shaky sound of Tim's inhale at that.]

How do we fix it?

[It comes out before he can really think about it. He's so used to Jonah just... having answers. Like Algric, except even moreso.]

[eyediot]

[There is a moment of such heavy silence. Jonah is terrified. His sight, both kinds, was all he had to be useful. To have lost it feels like he's lost everything.

He's too panicked to think back, to remember those brief few minutes in the smoke when he was blind there until Tim sat him down with a statement that healed it up.]

I... i-i don't know.

[kayakking]

...

What?

[eyediot]

I. Don't. Know.

[He's shaking he's so scared of this.]