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]

Who knows how long a rescue will take out here. And I'm not much into the idea of being questioned about what happened or why we were here.

[Aside from his obvious not wanting to deal with the police, there's also the matter of oh, right, he shouldn't exist in this time line.

He sighs, resting his head against Tim for a brief moment. Just to get his breath. Or three.]

What I saw when it all fell, at. At least one of these pieces shouldn't be so load bearing.

[kayakking]

All right. Give me a minute. ... Then just, tell me where to push.

[Tim's hand comes up and- well, it's clumsy. Sort of a poke at Jonah's cheek, then a slide over the ridge above his eye, over the coarse hair of his brow. An odd, instinctive seeking in the dark, finding a face, an expression.]

[eyediot]

Oop- well [God. He scrunches his nose, closes his eyes at all this.]

Not my face, for starters.

[He shifts, taking hold of one of Tim's elbows to carefully start moving it. One last push. Just... Enough to get them out. It's an easier motion once he can see, keeping one hand to Tim's elbow, the other (the scarred one, burned in another, more spiteful fire that took joy in his pain) taking Tim's hand to place it where it needs to be. Over the drywall of a larger solid piece, to where a beam bridged to another piece of ceiling... And places the hand firmly on a piece of wall about two inches shorter than Tim.]

There.

[kayakking]

Here. Okay.

[Tim pulls off of Jon and carefully sets his other hand against the chunk, braces his shoulders and pushes. There's a soft grinding noise above and a little below, and dust begins to filter down between them.

With a heavy heave, the flicker of fire casts a faint glow through a crack that opens. The curl of smoke and chemical ash fills the air of the space.]

Almost.

[He gives it another hard, heavy push and something gives.]

[eyediot]

[Tim moves, and Jon feels the hard ashen ground against his cheek. Avatar or not, he still has lungs. The groan of exhaustion and soreness he lets out gives way to coughing with the new smoke. When Tim gets the piece out of the way, a few smaller chunks fall from the shifting; Jon curls in on himself on his side before turning his head toward the open space and the light of the fires. Almost like a lethargic cat on its back trying to look behind him.]

You've got it, Tim. Almost.

[kayakking]

[The air scorches his lungs (and it feels right. The sting of ash was just seasoning to the air. He puts his head down, squares his feet, and backlit by the roaring fire filtering through the hole, the last heave is echoed by a thud outside of the small enclosure. Enough to get though, though Jonah will probably need a-

His train of thought derails looking back at the crumpled form of the Archivist.]

Jonah!

[The man's eyes glowed weakly, flickering in the heat mirage. Tim carefully gathers the other man up.]

[eyediot]

[Between the dust the fallen piece of wall just kicked up to the new, fresh wave of smoke, it's a wonder Jonah can even make sense of Tim kneeling to gather him up.]

I-i'm fine - [Nevermind the coughing and wheezing.]

Just- just got to get out of h-here and. And we're golden.

[Nevermind he can't see anything. His eyes are burning, in a painful way nothing else he's experienced has been. Stinging and trying so hard to water, but there's no moisture left in him. He clings to Tim; he led them in, so it goes it's only fair Tim leads them out.]

[kayakking]

That doesn't look- You know what?

[He's pulled tight to Tim's chest. He can hear more of the debris hit the ground and the roaring of fire is even wilder now. Tim's hold is tight and protective, but does little to actually help. Control isn't in the Desolation's toolbox. Never is, never was, never will be.

The best he can do is what he does. Speed. He puts his shoulder to the fire exit, not feeling the cherry red metal as anything but good.

The cold, clean night air, when it hits Jonah's face, is likely a shock to the system.]

[eyediot]

[The Archivist lets it be known that it is a shock to the system.

There's a gasping, coughing half-dead bundle of limbs in Tim's arms. But even once in the clean air, his eyes still burn with an ache. It was too much with too little. He pushed too far, this isn't his timeline, this isn't the Eye's apocalypse, this is enemy territory and he's dying -

Jonah tightens his grip on Tim's shirt trying to get just one solid breath in. One solid breath out that doesn't end in half-bottled coughs that make it harder to breathe even longer.]

I-i can't.. See, you'll have to. To get us home.

[Whose home? It doesn't matter. They all practically live together at this point.]

[kayakking]

Are you kidding? How about a hospital?

[He's moving, though. He can feel the shudder of the lungs, the mucus inside drying and crackling, sizzling around the tar scars and stains. The one who got so far, survived so much, dying of such a senseless afterthought.. He swallows hard.

Moving fast. There's a corner to a main thoroughfare a block away. He can hail a cab from there.]

Definitely a hospital.

[eyediot]

[Somewhere, without needing the Eye's help, Jonah knows Jude Perry would be thrilled by all this. The Archivist's friend turning to the Desolation and dying in his arms.

What a load.

His eyes are still flickering, a sputtering light in a dying bulb. He can't do this. He can't have been stopping this same ritual, survive the same explosion, and end up getting taken to the same hospital in a completely different timeline.

Jonah hates not being able to see.

At least his friend survived this time.]

I-i just. Need a few hours.

[kayakking]

Are you bullshitting me? [Tim sounds wrecked, honestly.] Jonathan Sims I will shake you to death if you try to up and die on me. You absolute arse.

[eyediot]

I won't die, Tim. I-i just. Need a few hours to heal. And... [Sigh.] Get a statement from my flat, that'll help speed it along.

[kayakking]

[Can he even read it?]

No.

[Jonah will feel himself being set down. A bench? The sounds of traffic are nearby. And judging by the radiant warmth and the sound of fabric against wrought iron, Tim sits next to him.]

No. Shut up. Listen.

I'll- I'm going to tell you about what just happened.

[eyediot]

Tim?

[Shut up. That gets him, green still flickering in his vision. The open air is helping some, but it's no substitute for actual nourishment. He can almost feel his head tilting heavily to one side before he straightens again. To passersby, he's just a really exhausted guy sitting with a friend.]

Y-you shouldn't.

[kayakking]

I don't care.

[He takes a deep breath, inhales. Exhales.]

I really, really, hate them. I don't know if I always have, since Danny- Since they killed Danny. It might have been mostly terror at some point, but it's changed. I changed.

[And it goes as it always does, his tone smoothing his words needing less time between the moments when he picks them- and when he doesn't pick them at all. It's truth, in all of its wretched shame, the spotlight that only shows the flaws, lavishes itself on the terror and the little parts.

He doesn't spend long on the parts Jonah already knows. Why would he?. After all, he heard Martin's recording of Tim's statement. It lived already in Jonah's catalog of fear.

But the account of Sasha, the realization, the chase, the transformation. How it distorted his memories, leaving a monster in his life, his vulnerable moments, his bed. And how he never knows now, who she EVER was. So much of the one or two good things to rip through the haze after Danny- twisted by a horrible stranger.

Hearing they'll kill him too. Kill Jon. Killed Jonah, was another blight on the world, another scar that will tear one of his best friend apart was too much. There wasn't fear anymore.

Not in the swirling lights and disorientation. Not in the pull where words lost meaning and he only Knew enough to make what he saw Wrong.

The fear was gone, only leaving pain. Snarling, outward flowing anger, frustration, and the capricious cruelty that came out of it.

And what he chose to do with it.

And Jonah hears, in Tim's quiet, almost breathless tones, about the moment he chose to let it go again.]

... All my life I've always known what to do next. I don't... know ... right now.

And that's it. That's where I am.

[Below the bench, a tape recorder clicks.]

[eyediot]

[He wants to stop Tim, he doesn't know about what'll happen next, how he likely won't have a restful night of sleep for months after he tells this - But one sentence in and maybe he shouldn't stop him. His muscles go slack as he listens, taking in every horrified, agonizing moment, every time Tim's had to question or look back and wonder.

He knew, deep down, how Tim felt about Sasha. But hearing it like this, Tim never being able to ever look back on those intimate memories again... It aches. He aches for Tim, even as he drinks up that fear and paranoia. And then the anger That isn't for him. It never was.

He's so used to the recorders, Jonah doesn't even register the click. But his eyes are bright, full green and he takes one long, slow breath in, more easily now than when Tim started. He's clearly had a good meal just now.]

...Tim, I... [Platitudes for things past never really did well with Tim, not for things outside anyone's control.] I think, right ow... The next step is rest. Recover. Then... Plan for Elias.

[kayakking]

Right.

[He feels a bit raw, emptied out. Tired. And Jonah, Jonah looks better.]

My place.

[eyediot]

Right.

[It's easier now, getting to his feet and standing straight. He can breathe easier, and he's just a bit sore. But he'll offer a hand to Tim to help him up. The worry he initially had for Tim telling that story, it fades, water down his back. Tim will be fine.]

Your place. I just.. Need some rest. [He looks up at Tim, and despite the words there's no pride in them.] You made it, Tim.

[kayakking]

[He takes it, though it's the hand to the bench back he uses to really push himself up.]

I.. I did.

[He lets out a long breath. He hadn't... really expected to? Even with all of the plans otherwise.]

God, I hope it proper fucks his plans.

[Spotting yellow, he waves a hand, and a taxi starts to ease towards their curbside.]

[eyediot]

[The taxi pulls up curb side, but Jonah is fixed on Tim, eyes still faintly green. A nice meal, yes, but worried all the same.]

It definitely kept the me here from dying, so that'll be harder to orchestrate a second time around. At least the way he needs it to happen.

[Door open, a quiet, clean taxi seat inside waiting.]

[kayakking]

[He seems.. fine. Alive. Alight. in a new way. Just looking at him, his clothes are torn and ashy, burned in places. But his skin is intact and clean, as if he put on a costume.

He leans his elbow on the cab's doorframe and helps Jon in before stepping to the far side.

Tim's address gets them moving.]

Yeah... He has to .. you know, know by now.

[eyediot]

Oh, I'm sure he's known for a little while. Was probably watching just to see what I would do.

[Follow some of the same paths, but not all of them. Enough to deviate and keep this timeline's version of himself safer. He has known. Since Algric tied himself to Jonah, he's known and been watching. That weight of his gaze and the paranoia of not knowing what Elias is thinking and doing on the other side of the spyglass is draining in so many ways.]

[kayakking]

Christ. Of course.

You know? I don't want to think about that prick at the moment. I take it back.

[At least they ease through traffic easily enough. This late, there's hardly any at all. The road is a familiar one, winding up to his house.]

[eyediot]

Probably best to think about the nice shower and clean clothes waiting for us.

[It's not the worst condition Jonah's been in, but it still isn't pleasant. God, he hopes there are enough sets of clothes at Tim's for both Jonah and Jon.]

That went... [Sigh.] Much better than last time.