[Log] There is time to kill today [Closed]

[zunesareawesome]

Characters: Flynn Carsen, John Watson, and Peter Quill
Location: Building 276 + more traveling/locations
Date: Day 292-295
Summary: Event log for Imaginary Time
Warnings: CW's noted individually inside, general event horror

Comments

Day 292

[zunesareawesome]

 

[cahooted]

[After days of long and demanding marches it's a nice change of pace when all that Flynn does on this day is cross a skywalk. The explorer in him feels dismayed that he backtracked so much of the way he had come with the others. But it's a small part, rendered mute by their fallout and his concern for Peter.

Flynn is still cold but it has gotten so much better over the past couple of days as he slowly adds layer after (ridiculous) layer to his outward gear. Shaking off the snow from his clothes he jumps on his feet several times, pulling a face when feeling returns with the force of a thousand ants. That can't be good – he needs better shoes or he will start losing toes eventually. He makes a mental note to ask John about it.

Trying to make himself useful he spends the rest of the afternoon dragging together everything he can find in the lobby and suite to build a comfortable resting place for Peter. He brings everything that Watson might need, too, the towels from the bathroom, and he fills his frying pan and the thermos with water. When everything's ready and waiting he takes the opportunity to clean up as well. It's been a while and it feels amazing.

He could really use a haircut, though. And he's in desperate need of a shave.]

[jumpthegun]

[It's been a long, long day of helping Peter hobble along. They've restocked on food, though, which was John's biggest concern. Now? Now, they have the nicest places to sleep in the industrial zone and John's considering the possibility of just staying there for a day or two to let Peter recover in relative comfort.]

Almost there.

[That's muttered to Peter as the lift carries them to the top floor and... oh. John is immediately on edge when he sees there's someone there. He edges himself in front of Peter and searches for the exit to the sky bridge, along with the best points to attack from, makeshift weapons he can grab. It's only a second or two for him to take in the room and mentally map out a battle strategy.

And then it registers that that's Flynn. The protective bristling relaxes.]

Looks like you made it here before us, Flynn.

[His tone is light, like he hadn't just been planning the various ways to incapacitate the other man.]

Thanks for setting things up, mate. C'mon, Peter.

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter's beyond exhausted. But he hobbled along all day, not complaining, except for the odd comment about how much Norfinbury sucked.

It was far better than the horrible hallucinations he was getting.

When John suddenly edges in front of him, all Peter could think about was how Bucky died. This couldn't happen again--not again, not to someone who was helping him, not to John--but his fears were immediately quelled when he too realizes it's Flynn. Jeez, John, try not to terrify a guy, would ya?]

Dude! Hey, Flynn!

[It's a happy greeting. He nods and leans against John again for their approach.]

[cahooted]

[For a moment Flynn freezes in place like a deer in headlights but when the atmosphere relaxes so does he. Thank you for not incapacitating him, John! That would have been awkward.

He opens his palms, smiling at the newcomers.] There you are. I was wondering when you'd get here!

[When Peter speaks up his grin broadens with sudden relief, now that he knows both of them in here and in general safety.] Hey, Peter! Oh, wait, hang on, let me... [He hurries to get over and help John support him from the other side.]

Day 293

[zunesareawesome]

 

[cahooted]

[We really don't need you anymore.

Flynn has retreated into the lobby, shadow-fencing with his crowbar. The weight still feels off, even after this long year, and he goes through the motions slowly, then faster, adjusting his posture and stance from time to time. His eyes are transfixed on an empty spot ahead, approximately where the other weapon should be.

Where Cal should have been.

It's not him, Flynn, it's, uh, it's you.

The bar cuts through the air with sudden ferocity, leaving soft whirring sounds.

Well, she's, uh, she's dead, Flynn.

And, and to be fair, you are the one who refused to take a Guardian.

He lunges forward, suddenly, a gut-wrenching yell of pain and anger erupting from his lungs as he strikes, shattering one of the lobby's standard lamps into a hundred pieces.]

Day 294

[zunesareawesome]

 

[1,392 years later - not appearing physically aged] CW: Refs to universe destruction

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter wakes up, panting from that dream again. But--it had been years--no, centuries...?

Right. What day was this again? He fumbles for his tablet. Same old song.

The images were still so vivid and fresh, though. Maybe they'd never fade. He could still smell the familiar scent of charred ash, the meager remnants that an Infinity Stone left behind after it burned through organic material. He could still see Gamora, dead at his feet. And Ego--Peter set his jaw, the soft parts of his heart that had awokened that morning after the dream became cold once more. Billions of people, dead--though that hardly mattered. They'd be dead eventually anyway.

He missed his friends, thought of them fondly, but they had just been...mortal, after all.

The burning sting of the memory of Gamora faded, as it did, when he sometimes thought of her.

Whistling, Peter turned on his tablet and reached into his pack for something to eat.

His old Zune fell out, battery dead. He hasn't bothered charging it for the last few centuries.

Turns out you really could only listen to your favorite songs for so many years until you got tired of them.]

[a good 20+ years later, early 50s]

[cahooted]

[The image of the Library burns into his mind, of Cal who had refused him, Judson who had refused him and his heart breaks all over again. But he can see the golden glow, the rows and rows of books, the artifacts, the hallways. It's beautiful. More beautiful than his faded memories; it's been so long since he had seen it so vividly, the warm light, the faint sounds of the Fountain of Youth, the place that still held his heart.

His home.

Flynn tries to focus on that, to drown out the bad details of the dream, he just wants to see it, wants to soak up all the details, wants to stay, please, let him stay... Tears prickle behind his eyes and he keeps them squeezed shut, just a little longer. Just five more minutes.

He doesn't get five more minutes. What he gets is whistling and the sudden cold of a Norfinbury morning creeping into his joints when his mind is jolted awake.

Still curled up Flynn brings his hand up to his face, pinching his nose, breathing evenly until the moment of vulnerability passes. Then he reaches for the first object in his bag, which happens to be a rolling pin, and throws it at Peter.]

[zunesareawesome]

[DONK--

The pin strikes Peter right across the forehead and he drops his tablet, clutching the now-lump on his head.]

Hey! What gives, man!?

[An entirely uncalled-for good morning greeting, that's what that was.]

[cahooted]

I was sleeping. You woke me up.

[Flynn sits, pressing his forehead into his palm, wondering why he is even out here with other people. He keeps to himself these days, avoiding them where he can save the occasional network interaction. The dream lingers still, tearing at his soul and he grunts, unwilling to show any such emotion; especially not in front of Peter.]

And you're out of tune.

Afternoon

[cahooted]

[After Flynn has taken care of the tablet situation he helps John carry Peter back to the rest area. His back still hurts like hell but he insists; he was the one who knocked Peter out after all and with all of his injuries it's probably safer to move him with two men.

Flynn is quiet, now that the adrenaline has worn off, and sullen. Once they put Peter to bed he even manages to look the tiniest bit sheepish, some ghost of the bumbling young man he used to be.]

Sorry about that.

[jumpthegun]

[John rubs his eyes. He's getting too old for this nonsense.]

He came after you while he was being a dickhead. That's not your fault, Flynn. He's always been hot-headed. [And it's only got worse with time.]

It's hard to believe he used to be the man he was some days.

[cahooted]

Yeah.

Sometimes I just... [Flynn doesn't know what he sometimes just, and his voice trails off uselessly.]

Sometimes he has these-- we talk and, there's these moments, you know, it's as if he's back and I know he's not? I know that, but it's like he is or maybe like he could be and... [Stumbling. He hasn't stumbled over words in years and it shows that he's a lot more upset than he wants to let on. He exhales, waiting for the moment to pass and pull himself together. Eventually he just puts his hands up, dismayed.]

I don't know what to do.

[jumpthegun]

[John frowns, his heart going out to the other man. He's had his rows with Peter and the heroic shine of him had been worn off early on. Flynn had actually been properly friends with the Peter who use to be Star-Lord.]

Keep trying. [He runs a hand over his face.] That's all we can keep doing here, Flynn. Keep trying. If we can get him out of here, if we can get everyone out of here... I think it would fix a lot of problems.

Night

[cahooted]

(cont from here)

[Some things you just can't take back. Some words cut too deep, they are too hurtful and - part of Flynn is surprised that it's still possible. That there's still enough of him left to be heartbroken by the fact that Peter doesn't even see him as alive.

But apparently there is; and he is. The words are stuck in his head, over and over again and they make him dizzy, nauseous. He's so angry he can hardly breathe; at the same time so numb he feels weirdly detached from his body.

Flynn enters the room but keeps his distance, leaning against the wall.] I want you to...

[He takes a deep, shaky breath, palms pressed to his sides.] I want you to say that to my face. If you really mean that, say it.

[zunesareawesome]

Dead guy walking?

[The words come out poisoned, bitter, dripping with disdain. They weren't words to mock, they were words of years of suppressed pain. He rubs his eyes with his palms, somewhat shocked to find that they come away wet. When did that happen?

He looks up at him, his eyes reddened. He's clearly not bothering to attack him or get up, but Flynn's far enough away anyway. His eyes cast back down again, not really looking at him or anything in particular, as he sniffs angrily.]

Do you think I like it this way? That if I let myself start to care again, I'll just lose you and everyone else? I've lost you over and over again. [All the versions he'd seen over the centuries.]

It doesn't matter if I kill you now or something else gets you. It'll get you eventually. And I'm tired of it.

[cahooted]

It matters to me.

What do you not get about this? I still exist, Peter. Maybe I have a different lifespan but I'm still here, no matter how much you don't like that. My death isn't about you, you absolute jerk!

[His voice is tense, thick with emotion and disdain but also understanding. He gets what Peter is saying, in a way. Being sick of loss and disappointment.

But also, wow, screw you.]

I'm sorry, you know that? I really am. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from... this. I know you didn't want this.

[zunesareawesome]

[I'm sorry I couldn't save you from... this. I know you didn't want this.

The words hit Peter like a bullet to his heart and he almost recoils in response.

Something in Peter, ancient and long-buried, crumbled quietly and allowed him to really feel the pain he'd been hiding for so long. The denial that he so desperately clung to, like when he got his mother's last gift and refused to open it for years on end.

His shoulders shook, he couldn't answer Flynn's entire retort, cause he was right--it wasn't about him at all. Right now, everything was about Peter, he'd become just as egotistical as Ego himself. He'd been cruel and callous and bitter and it was only going to get worse. He was only going to get worse.

Maybe that's why he didn't just scream at Flynn to get out, the sobs escaping him as he bit into his pack, trying to stop them from escaping. The very human reaction of pent-up sorrow and grief. He'd had a similar episode about a hundred years on, when everyone who was originally there had started dying off, when he realized what was going to happen to him, and maybe that involved smashing every last thing he could find and getting plastered for about fifty years after that, but this was more vicious. The poison of Norfinbury had seeped into him and had twisted him into the Celestial his father wanted him to be, and there was no end in sight. Whatever that remained of him, his soul, the part that he remembered every time he looked at who used to be his friends, at Flynn, was going to be stolen by this town.

It was so much easier not to care. He didn't want to be human anymore, if this is what being human was about.

His voice was raw, angry. Broken yelling.]

Why'd you have to come here, Flynn? Why'd you have to make me remember who I used to be!?

Day 295

[cahooted]

[cahooted]

[After the dream, and the pain when everything comes crushing back, Flynn doesn't move for the longest time. It's like the paralysis forgot to wore off, he's transfixed, unmoving, trying to process, to come to terms. When he finally does it starts with a groan, covering his face with his hands, the visceral reaction of mortification and shame like a knife to the gut.

At some point he starts making plans. Who he needs to call up, who he needs to never speak to again, who might possibly know if you can erase yourself from the network permanently. Maybe he can just go into hiding, find a small corner in the museum and alternate back and forth between two buildings, becoming an eternal hermit until people forget he ever existed.

At some point, he begins typing out apology messages.

At some point he comes across Will's network post and somehow finds the energy to pull more than just one face at it and some of the responses.

At some point he sees John and Peter; and all the planning, all the hesitancy and haplessness, all the "I am never coming out of my room again" goes straight out the window as he scrambles to his feet and hurries over. And suddenly he's just there, in the middle of it all. There's no time to adjust, no time to even catch up to the fact that he's now face to face with both of them - Peter especially - with no chance to talk things over first.]

What the hell is going on!?

[jumpthegun]

[John's wrung out. His temper keeps flaring and burning out and flaring and-- He wants to leave. These people still need his help, Peter especially, but he just wants to leave, be alone, be away from everything.

John finally lets the younger man go and straightens back up, takes a step back.]

It's sorted. Right?

[His tone is cold, and unless he's directly addressed again, he'll just let the other two carry on. He's done his job here.]

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter's clutching his tablet to his chest, which he'd turned off, still staring wide-eyed at John. He can't look at Flynn in the eyes right now, the painful memories--the overwhelming, stifling, horrible memories crammed into his skull like an unwelcome visitor--are making it difficult to face him.]

Yeah. It's sorted.

[Once John lets go, he carefully leans back against the wall--it was more comfortable to stand on one leg right now and just lean against it with his shoulder, cause his back and butt were sore from the...the crowbar thing. Plus his headache from getting knocked out and probably from all the stupid stuff he remembered now. Luckily a large chunk of the thousand or so years were fuzzy, but there was still plenty he remembers clearly, making his mind feel like it was full of cotton. He still had the remnants of a bloody nose, and bruising around an eye.]

[cahooted]

Oh.

[Flynn stands, glancing back and forth between John and Peter, his outrage uselessly lingering in the air, with nothing to direct it towards.]

I see. Okay.

[Well, that isn't awkward at all?]

Guess I'll just... go back to my room then.

[He actually starts turning, walking back. Then stops, wheels around.]

No, actually, you know what, I don't think I will? Because what the hell was that!