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]

[He stops, one hand on the door and looks at him.]

Yes?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He takes a step towards him. ]

Thank you. I'll - I'll be down once Jonah's settled, all right? I'd like to make dinner.

[eyediot]

[Oh...He softens a bit, but solemn.]

It's all right. You don't have to do that.

[Jonah will need him, after all.]

[curriculum_fictae]

I want to, Jon. Let me do this for you?

[eyediot]

...Sure.

[Gulp.]

Don't.. Don't rush, though?

[curriculum_fictae]

Sure. I'll make sure Jonah's feeling better first.

[eyediot]

Good.

[He watches another few seconds, then leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric watches him go. Then ... he stoops to the box, grabbing the top statement, and then settles himself down in bed. He reaches out to Jonah's face with one hand. ]

Jon? I'm here.

[eyediot]

[The heat of Algric's ice block hand cuts through the heat from his eyes, burning even in his sleep. Jonah whimpers - encased in it, dropped into the depths of the blood-colored sea, a viewing tank while the world falls apart around him - and hand twitches, gripping the duvet tightly. They're leaving him, left alone in life and they'll go the only place he can't, dying, dead. Safe from all of this finally.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Oh - Oh god. Somehow he can see that, can't he? The feeling of the Lonely bleeds through first, but he's Eye too, courtesy of those statements, and -

He stifles a gasp of terror and moves to shake Jonah's shoulder. ]

Jon - Jon I'm here, I'm back, you aren't alone--

[eyediot]

["You are very lonely, aren't you?"

The words in Peter's voice echo over Algric's in his ear.

He was never that strong, was he? If he were, he could break this ice, help them all, keep his loved ones safe from the illnesses, safe from the bites and claws and tears and screams and burns but he was always going to fail

There's nothing he can do to stop tears in his sleep, hand stiff as the cold seeps into him.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric shakes him harder, but - he's cold as ice, isn't he? And at least as still. ]

No - god, Jon, please, I'm right here -

[ He leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. ]

[eyediot]

[A single spot of warmth. Right at his face, ice melting, warming him - he can breathe. Slowly melts, and a few moments later his eyes flutter open. It's probably the nicest waking up from a nightmare he's had.

He lays still, then slowly moves, turning to look up but. Ah. Still blind.]

Martin?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Good. Good. Okay, that's good. He keeps pressing soft kisses to Jonah's head then, his hands framing the other man's face. ]

Yes, Jon. It's me. I'm right here.

[eyediot]

[His muscles relax, sinking into the cushion under his head and curls into himself. But not away from that touch.]

A nightmare.... G-good.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He just pulls Jonah closer, arms around him. ]

R-right, just a nightmare. I'm sorry to have left, but ... I have food now.

[eyediot]

Oh.

[Had he known that Algric left at all? He must have, why else would he have dreamed that? He hates not being able to Know.]

You fixed something?

[curriculum_fictae]

Not ... exactly? Jon and I just - gathered up some statements for you. I thought I could read some to you.

[eyediot]

Oh.

[Right. Statements, he forgot for a second. He carefully pushes himself to sit up, turning his face into Algric's hand.]

A-are you sure?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He gladly leans in close again. ]

Well they aren't in Braille. Of course I'll read them to you.

[eyediot]

[He kisses his palm and leans into him.]

All right. Thank you.

[curriculum_fictae]

Of course, Jon. Just rest for me? And let me help you.

[eyediot]

Mm. [Easy enough to suggest. He's tired, it wasn't good sleep, and he's still weak. Jonah closes his eyes and leans into Algric.]

Yes, sir.

[curriculum_fictae]

Right. Let's see then ...

[ He shifts a bit, opening the folder with the first statement. ]

[eyediot]

[Jonah settles in, head tucked into him. It's a rough story, an old letter from 1850, to Jonah Magnus. The statement from a young man, apprenticing under Robert Smirke. His work with the architect is not the subject of the letter, but merely a context of why he writes to Jonah specifically. No, it's the story of what happened when his brother begged him to see the latest Grimadi performance at the newly built Covenant Gardens. How, as soon as they sat something felt odd; he had wanted to leave but his brother wanted to stay. He stayed as well, even when Grimaldi missed a step and started to fall. His brother ran to help, despite his own shouts for his brother to stop. He saw the man's hand touch Grimaldi, and then.. Well. The description of his death is described well from his memory. He had tried to save his brother, but Grimaldi grabbed his hand as he tried to flee, pulling the skin from it. Smirke had found him several days later, huddled and mute before taking him in as his apprentice. But he finds himself questioning the bits of steel and wood that make up that hand.

By the end, the red in Jonah's eyes has faded a little, enough he can see faint blurs of color and shape.]