(Past) Past Tense [Open]

[julianbashir]

At first the only sensations Julian can connect with his own body is extreme vertigo and nausea, side-effects Bashir isn't used to experiencing with the transporter beam since he was a first year student. Still, he has the distinct feeling that he is about to puke up everything he's eaten in the last 24 hours, which isn't much thanks to the fact that his Dominion captors weren't all that concerned about giving full meals to prisoners that were just going to die anyway. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself with all his power not to vomit, and slowly realizes he is on his hands and knees gripping the sidewalk with his fingers like the whole world might slip out from under him at any moment, shaky but clearly alive, his atoms not lost forever in the vastness of space. That is certainly something to be happy about, at least. He doesn't feel like he has any parts missing, either.

Wait, the sidewalk? The surface beneath him is definitely not metallic. Julian forces his eyes open. This is not the Dominian internment camp, and he is really, really glad about that. But it isn't a rescue ship either. Julian is not prone to cursing, but as he looks around the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, "Fuck." Because this is Earth, or a planet that looks very suspiciously like Earth. Which doesn't make any sense at all. This isn't even the Earth he calls his home, but clearly an Earth from... the past? He was always a terrible history student. You'd think his last accidental trip to the past would have made him study it, but he'd thought one accidental time-travel trip was probably all he would have to suffer. Wrong, apparently.

His hand goes to where his comm badge should be before he remembers that the Dominion took that from him too. He is utterly alone, cut off from rescue. Had Garak been lost too, or had he made it out? He hopes Garak is safe, somewhere. No matter how out of time Julian's clothes might be, he is still human, or at least mostly human. Would Garak, the crew look for him, or would they assume Julian was dead? He couldn't be stuck here forever... who knew what future he would change, screw up, just by existing here? From imprisonment to freedom, but not the kind he was hoping for. There would be no rest, no return to his quarters and friends, not yet.
Too many questions, and not the right time. He stands up, gives himself a mental medical check and finds nothing pressing, and takes in a deep breath. Julian presses any remaining panic down and steels himself. "You're an officer, Jules. Act like one. What do you do next?" Survival and not messing up any timelines should be his first directive. He is trained for this, he should know what to do and has been through this before in a way, though never on his own. He needs to get out of sight, first of all. His uniform will need to be abandoned somewhere, and clothes of the time found instead. He hates to steal, but his priorities are to blend in, stay out of trouble, find out where and when he is, and if possible why. It seems to be somewhere between the 20th-22nd century, though Julian has always been a terrible history student. Why, why hadn't he cared more about history? He'd been swept into the past, into mirror universes where the future was different... by now one would think he'd learn from his mistakes.

But... research! Julian loves research. He's good at it too. It is immensely calming to think of this as nothing more than his next research project. Gathering data of his surroundings, to support or go against his formed hypothesis of when and where and why... Yes, that Julian can do. He feels slightly better already. At least so far no-one has spared him a second glance. Wherever/whenever he is, people don't seem to be thrown by strangely dressed men standing in the middle of...wherever he is. Julian needs food, water, and a good long sleep, then he can figure out how to get home without majorly messing up either history or himself.

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[boneshaker]

For a moment he thinks he's hallucinating. Did a man just appear from thin air? Hard to miss, staggering on the sidewalk, dressed in - he'd guess a uniform, but what kind? He hovers for a moment, clutching the small sack of animal bones Quickbeak has been helping him collect. Should he approach? Should he say something? Meeting a stranger, being the one to initiate the introduction, that's terrifying to him.

But this is probably exactly what happened to him several days ago. And what would he have done if Daniel hadn't taken pity on him, extended his offer of help? Surely this man deserves the same. And as there seems to be no one else angling toward him, well...

He swallows and steps over, gingerly seeking eye contact.

"Excuse me," he says a bit softly. What does one say in this situation? What did Daniel say? He can't remember. "I, I saw you appear."

Clumsy, but at least it's honest.

[julianbashir]

Julian is feeling a bit steadier on his feet and more clear-headed, though still a bit nauseous, when he realizes that he is being approached by a stranger. He is younger than Julian, with a kind-looking face and a voice with an accent that reminds Julian of familiar things. From what he can tell the stranger looks... nervous, which is probably not good news for Julian, though he also doesn't have a particularly threatening look on his face, which is at least a start. He should make this conversation very quick and painless, and preferably as forgettable as humanly possible. The less time he talks to this man, the quicker he can get back to his normal life on his normal time line, and the less explaining Julian will have to do.

He also doesn't know what to say to this statement. He would have expected a bit more... fear, or anger, or accusation. Instead, he is simply being offered a state of fact. Can Julian really deny it? Julian inwardly sighs. He quite likes people, in fact. But reading them is a different story. Molecules, viruses, bacteria...they might hold their own secrets but at least Julian always knew how to begin his approach. The word "appear" certainly lends him the knowledge that whatever century he is in, they probably don't have transporter technology yet.

Fantastic. Now he's been standing in awkward silence for far too many seconds. "Er... Sorry?" Julian says with a weak smile, then immediately realizes that was an amazingly dumb thing to say. Not that "must've been a trick of the light" and walking away would have been any better? He shakes his head. Ugh, that hardly makes his stomach feel any better.

"I mean, it's... fine. All's well. Thank you," he says. What does that even mean? It's certainly not fine, Julian certainly isn't fine. All he knows is he probably should find a place that isn't so public, where his uniform stands out like a sore green thumb, and not drag this civilian of some past history into anything further.

((soooorry, this took forever and I'm still... figuring it all out! hope this is vaguely acceptable))

[boneshaker]

((ur fine bb!!))

Oh. That's... a strange response. Castor's not really sure what a normal response would be, but he would have expected some more like the panic he felt. Did this man expect this somehow?

"No," he says uncertainly, deciding he owes it to the stranger to try again. "I mean you - you just came here from somewhere else, didn't you? It happened to me too. A little more than a week ago." He hesitates, working up the courage to be more straightforward. He was never shy in the lighthouse, and this isn't that different. Those people were strangers, and they relied on him; he can be just as helpful here. "Did you already know about the Rift?" he asks with what might a conspiratorial air.

[julianbashir]

"I... wait, what?" Julian says, his own voice sounding far away in his ears. He is supposed to be able to think in these kinds of situations, but his plan...well, the plan had been to get out of sight, not come into any unnecessary contact with the locals, and then panic. But that doesn't seem to be happening. His chest is feeling incredibly tight, and it is taking everything he has not to lose it here in the middle of this... what/where/when-ever this place was. He looks at the man, who he would have thought would have been slightly more panicked at the idea of someone appearing out of thin air, but then the rest of his words register.

"The what? You mean this happened to you too?" He says, which is worrisome on it's own. He almost makes a mental note to notify command about that, but that would be assuming he will be getting back, which may be up in the air right now. He takes a deep breath, because none of this is helping, and the stranger actually is trying to help. "Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, I'm just... I don't know how I got here. Could you tell me where I am? This is Earth, I assume," he adds, somewhat hopefully. It's certainly a breach of protocol, but his relief at finding someone who might actually have an answer, that he hasn't been stranded here completely on his own, makes the relief dizzying.

[boneshaker]

Okay, that's better. Castor relaxes slightly, incongruously relieved by the confirmation of the other man's misfortune. "It's Earth," he says. He knows now from meeting Daine and Callie that options other than Earth are a thing, but it's still strange to have to confirm it. "It's, um, August, 2013, New York City?" It's nice to hear an English accent, makes him almost feel a kinship, but it's a very posh accent, which puts him a bit more on edge. He probably sounds quite rough in comparison. "Sorry, just - there's a Rift, that's what they call it, yeah? Space-time phenomenon, pulls people in from all over the place. Different universes, such like. I come from like - a different Earth. Different England than the one that's here. It's - I'm sorry, I'm not very good at explaining, I'm so new." He rubs at the back of his neck nervously.

"There's people here, who can help you," he says. "But there's - I'm sorry, there's no way back out. Least not that anyone's said. We're all sort of stuck here. In the same boat, like. Sorry." He's bollocksing this up, he can tell. But is there a way to let someone know gently that they've been displaced like this?

"I'm Castor," he says finally. "Castor Nubari."

[julianbashir]

"2013?" he says a bit faintly, doing the math. 360 bloody years?! He knew next to NOTHING about this time, apart from a few remnants from school that he probably couldn't have cared less about. The thought was staggering, and he closes his eyes briefly, as if grounding himself again, wondering if he is imagining the ground swaying slightly under his feet. Let us not lose ourselves here in the middle of this very public place in front of a stranger Julian tells himself firmly, desperately.

Strange, it's not like this is the first time something like this has happened to him; far from it in fact, but that doesn't seem to make this time any easier. He had been dragged into a hellish mirror universe, and been gone back in time twice... once nearly as far back as where he is now. However, each of those times, he had been with a team. He had been determined that escape was possible, or that people were looking for him to bring him home. He wonders why this time feels so different. Maybe because a part of him knows that the people he cares for, his family, don't even know he was gone in the first place. His place has been taken and only one person knows now that he was even missing in the first place... and Julian is doubting that Garak might have even survived.

Alright, he's doing the long stretches of horrible silence thing again, and he's almost surprised Castor hasn't run away from him in terror. People here seem at least a great deal nicer than in his previous experiences. "A rift," he repeats, wondering exactly what that might mean in terms of science, and tries to ignore the part about how there is no way back. He can't even BEGIN to think about that now. This place IS certainly better than prison and solitary confinement, though, so he's at least taken a step up in life for the moment. "So... it's not only a different time, but a different universe? At least for you, but maybe not for all? Or..." he shakes his head. A whole community of displaced people from all over the universes and time? That sounds... dangerous. And nigh impossible, for how could this universe's (his universe? How could he be sure) time-line survive that at all? "Forgive me, I'm... I'm just trying to understand everything. It's all a bit much. Something similar had happened before, but it was different, and... very temporary." At least he is gathering data, data that grounds him in a time, a place, that he can use later, maybe even to find a way home. "My name is Dr. Julian Bashir. Or... just Julian," he corrects, because nothing he carries with him in title or rank holds much meaning at the moment. But the least he could do is offer the nice stranger (Castor, he corrects himself) a greeting before the man gives up on his babbling completely.

[boneshaker]

Castor is a little bewildered by Julian's reaction, but he didn't expect anything different. He holds steady, determined to help howsoever he can. "Well you've got a leg up on me, then," he says lightly. "I barely ever left home before this. Culture shock, innit? You'll get used to it, sort of." He raises his eyebrows slightly at Doctor. "Nice to meet you," he says. "Sorry, I don't really know how to answer any of that, I'm just... I mean, I can take you to those people I told you about, if you want." He feels like he's babbling plenty himself, but at least Julian is a little too distracted by his predicament to be bothered by that. That's something.

[julianbashir]

"It's nice to meet you too, Castor Nubari," he says warmly.

He furrows his brow at the offer, not sure what other options he really has. There are people here, people like him. He wonders how many of them there are, these outsiders, interlopers, prisoners, all finding themselves in this universe by something other by choice. They must have figured out a way to stay together and mess up the time-line of this one. He doesn't know what the rift is or how it works, but it could be related to a wormhole, and he finds it hard to give up on the idea that what can be opened once can't be reopened.

But can he trust the people Castor is bringing him too? Could someone be controlling this rift? What if someone brought them all here? For what purpose, he couldn't even begin to imagine, but it isn't impossible. He had been manipulated before, taken, to hurt the people he cares about, and while this certainly feels different, Julian can't help but try to put forth every hypothesis that could be even remotely founded. Store it away for later. He can't learn about what this place is if he doesn't meet the people who have been here in the same way as he is. Sleeping on the streets like he had to last time he found himself in the 21st century doesn't exactly sound pleasant either.

"Alright," he agrees with a nod, if a bit warily. He is hungry and exhausted, and Castor seems kind. He had just escaped from a much less appealing place than this, Julian reminds himself for the hundredth time since he arrived, and while maybe not exactly *grateful* at his predicament he at least can accept that bit of optimism. Food, a hot shower (not to mention he feels like he could sleep for days) and then he can start the process of figuring out how to get home. Again, he thinks only a little bitterly.

"You trust these people, yes? I mean, they... helped you?" He offers Castor an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, I don't mean to seem ungrateful. I... I must say, I'm glad you were here. I wasn't too keen on the idea of wandering around and trying to survive on my own. It's a bit frightening. You seem... very well held together. You really arrived a week ago? If it's not too personal a question to ask, what time, what world are you from? Is this very different from the world you came from?" He winces. "Sorry, I'm going on again. You're being very kind, and I'm bombarding you with personal questions." He seems ready to follow Castor, though.

[boneshaker]

Those are a lot of questions, and he raises his eyebrows, a bit alarmed and intimidated. "N-no, it's all right," he murmurs. He's not sure what to make of the comment that he seems 'held together' - he feels quite the opposite, in fact. It was only the day before that he actually went out and made contact at all. Really he is disgracefully underqualified for this task.

"I, erm," he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, "it's 2013 where I'm from, too, but I think I'm sort of... lucky, in that regard. In a lot of ways it seems similar but then a lot of ways it isn't - but also I really wouldn't know. I sort of... kept to myself, where I'm from." He doesn't exactly what to go into that. He thinks the fact that he spent nearly his whole adult life in a lighthouse might be off-putting. "But these people, yeah, they'll help. There's two organizations, I don't know much about the other one, but they both just want to help us, you know, get on our feet again. Give us a place to live an' all. I can, um... that is, if you don't mind walking a bit." He turns halfway, angling to head down the sidewalk, anticipating that Julian will follow.

[julianbashir]

"Well, I imagine the scale of 'lucky' in this situation is a fairly small one," Julian says with something that looks between an attempted smile and a grimace. "Same time period or otherwise." Two organizations, both trying to help people like him get settled. It sounds awfully permanent to him, but he tries not to think about it.

And why two organizations? Are there THAT many people being pulled through the... what was it, a rift, that they found they needed to expand their efforts? And yet, the logistics of it all are somewhat comforting. He hadn't imagined in those first few moments of realizing what had happened that there would be anyone he could even talk to safely. And yet here they are, very different people brought together through a similar trauma creating a community to survive, as people bonded through circumstance often will.

"No, I don't mind walking," Julian says. The walk might do him good. His mind can't process everything, and his body is still fighting back. A bit of exercise certainly wouldn't hurt him right now. Julian follows Castor, looking upwards more often than at the ground, his endless nervous pratter and questions finally silenced by his surroundings as he takes it all in. The smells, the people, the streets... this is the Earth of 350 years ago. The thought makes him dizzy, and his heart squeezes inside his chest. This is no hologram history lesson from school or a game, but very real. He wonders if it will ever really feel it.

[boneshaker]

Castor walks in silence for a bit, though he keeps stealing glances back at his charge, wondering how he's faring. He doesn't look particularly well.

"It's gonna be okay," he says awkwardly. "I mean - I'm still not really used to it, but... at least we're not alone, yeah?"

He's not sure what else to say. How to offer comfort. He has even greater appreciation now for how hard this must have been for Daniel, and what a good job he'd done regardless. All things considered.

[julianbashir]

Julian refocuses on his more immediate surroundings when Castor's voice breaks through his thoughts. "Thank you, Castor," he says with a half-smile, encouraging his long legs to go a bit faster and to bring his eyes back down to his immediate surroundings in an effort to catch up so he can walk next to his guide as opposed to following behind him like a bewildered child.

"Not alone." He repeats this quietly as if taking Castor's words and storing them away for further reminders. "Disconcerting as this all seems, it certainly is a relief to have someone to help when in the first few moments of arriving here I had very much expected to figure it out all out on my own. Though I'd rather not admit it, I'm not sure I would have been at all successful." He shakes his head. "I imagine it must be hard to play tour guide when you've only just arrived in this strange situation yourself. You had someone to do this for you, as well, a guide of sorts?" He peers at a building as they pass by. "I'm fairly sure this is my first time in New York City. A few centuries off and possibly trapped here forever, but I suppose I finally managed a visit." It is a wry, perhaps failing attempt at humor, but he smiles faintly despite himself.

[boneshaker]

"Yeah," says Castor, faintly baffled by all this introspection. "I, uh, yeah, I had someone." He shrugs and digs his hands into his pockets, not sure what else to say. "You'll get sorted soon enough," he says awkwardly.

He wishes he could be better at this, but - at least Julian is grateful. Maybe he'll do better next time. And maybe this can be a new friend.