bigapplesauce | so much more than time has been taken [closed]

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so much more than time has been taken [closed]

[Immediately following this.]

Jay moves Tim's body to his bed. It's hard. He feels exhausted, like his body has been on ice the whole time he was 'dead', muscles needing to learn again how to work. Tim's heavy and Jay can't really lift him, can only sort of roll him awkwardly up onto the bed. It's absurd and undignified and he doesn't give a fuck.

In fact he feels incredibly numb. The initial shock and rage and sadness has fizzled down into nothing. He's running on autopilot, auxiliary power. He finds Tim's keys and takes the one for his apartment. He finds Tim's phone and calls in to his workplace. They actually remember him from that one time he called in for Tim before.

He tells them the truth this time: Tim is in a coma. He's being cared for at home.

They tell him they're going to have to let Tim go, but that, if things look up, he's welcome to re-apply. They seem like good people. Understanding enough.

Tim's phone ends up in his pocket. May as well.

He stands there staring at Tim for too long, until he realizes he feels like he's going to faint. He's hungry, thirsty, he feels sick. His body is both catching up to him and rejecting all of this. He doesn't want to leave Tim, not ever, but he has to. Just for a bit.

He stumbles out of the apartment, locks it behind him, sweaty and cold. He stares at his hands, which are visible and solid and pale and shuddering.

He staggers down a few flights and into the hallway, moving down it like he's in a trance, stopping finally outside Daine's door. He lifts a trembling hand and knocks.

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Daine's clipping on Molly's leash when the knock comes. Sarge lets out a cursory huff as Daine rises to her feet, but after a brief sniff at the door, his tail starts to wag. It's just Jay, he explains. And he has a smell again! Granted, it's not a food smell, but it's still better than nothing.

Eyebrows shooting up - does this mean he's back to normal? - Daine drops Molly's leash and hurries to open the door. And there he is, looking pale and sick but at least fully there. "Jay," she says, laying a hand on his arm, as if to confirm his solidity. He's shaking, and her brow furrows. "What happened?" He looks like he's seen a ghost rather than been one. Sarge ambles forward to nose at Jay's hand, and Molly rears up to plant her paws on his knee, tail wagging anxiously.

Oh god. What is he doing here? What is he going to say? He feels like he sleepwalked down here and now he's just waking up, fully unprepared for this. He opens his mouth and makes a pathetic half-sound before sagging forward. Dogs swirl anxiously around his feet and he can't even reach out to them for the small amount of comfort they can provide.

"I let them-" he starts and begins again because that's not quite accurate, is it. "They - they took him. I mean they-" He looks at her, fuck, fuck, he's not going to cry. "They never wanted me," he says helplessly. "They were after Tim, they were always after Tim. I was - incentive." He snaps the word out bitterly, finally feeling a surge of anger swelling up over the numbing despair, and that's better than nothing.

When Jay starts to slump, Daine shifts her stance automatically, the grip on his arm less tentative and more supportive. Mithros, he can hardly stand. She helps him in through the door, which Sarge nudges shut behind them.

He smells different, Molly observes, sniffing delicately at his pant leg. Like he's just arrived, but not like where he arrived from.

Daine presses her lips together. Like the rift, you mean? she guesses.

Yes, Molly agrees. Like the rift. But not like much else. No food, or soap.

Which means he's only just got his body back, and on top of all that, something has happened to Tim.

"Who's 'they'?" she asks. " And I think you should sit. Here." She pulls out a chair, then digs into her bag for a granola bar and passes it over. "Do you know where they took him? Should I ask the People to look?"

He huffs out a dry, brittle laugh as he lets her lead him to the chair. He drops into it and takes the granola bar, looking at it like he's not sure what to do with it.

"No," he murmurs. "There's nowhere to look and nothing to find. It was the Rift. They - the cats." Finally he starts unwrapping the granola bar with shaky movements. His fingers are weak, it's harder than it should be. "They've been after him before, asking questions about the thing that takes over him. They took me, waited for him to get me back, and threatened to take me again because they knew, they knew he'd sacrifice himself. Because that's what he does."

His voice has become higher, his speech more uneven and frantic. He sets the half-opened granola bar down abruptly and wraps his arms around himself, huddling down in his seat. "His body's still in his apartment but he won't wake up. He's just - gone."

He rubs his hand across his eyes and presses his palm over his face, breathing loudly through his fingers, trying to calm down.

Edited 2015-08-13 01:43 (UTC)

There's a low whine from Sarge, who drops his head into Jay's lap without even a cursory glance toward the defenseless granola bar. Daine paces the room, her thumbnail between her teeth as she tries to make sense of Jay's explanation.

"So, those not-cats wanted to know more about that other person Tim turns into, the one with the mask who runs around tackling folk. They took your body away to upset Tim, then took Tim away but left his body behind?" That seems more complicated than is really needful, and she doesn't understand why they'd take all of Tim when they only wanted the other fellow. If the Lioness was here... or any good healer, someone who could call him back from wherever he is, maybe they could at least get Tim back, if not the masked man.

Meanwhile, Jay looks like he might faint. Daine stops pacing and drops into a crouch in front of him, gripping his free hand. "Maybe he's not gone. Maybe he's just far off and can't find his way back on his own. I've seen that sort of thing before. There are healers in my realm who can help folk like that."

Trouble is, she's not one of them. After a few moments' consideration, she says, "I might know someone here who could reach him. Have you met Aziraphale? He lives in this building."

Jay shrugs dolefully. It doesn't make any sense, sounds pretty ridiculous, he knows. But it happened. It happened and he let it happen.

He lifts a hand to pet Sarge's head, a numb, automatic gesture. He looks up in mild surprise when Daine takes the other.

"But it's the rift," he mumbles. "Don't you understand, they only let Tim pull me out because it suited them. They have what they want, they aren't gonna let him go."

He sounds like Tim. So defeatist. Maybe Daine's friend can help. He shouldn't rule it out.

"Sorry." He extricates his hands after a moment and picks up the granola bar, eating it slowly. "Yeah, okay. We can... we can ask your friend." He chews for a moment, swallows, looks at her with delayed confusion. "What kind of name is Aziraphale?"

"But if they want the masked fellow and not Tim, maybe we could get just Tim back." Not that she expects the rift to do them any favors, and she could easily imagine it holding Tim as well, just to be nasty. But that doesn't mean they shouldn't at least try. What's the alternative? Just leaving Tim's body in his apartment until the rift deigns to give him up?

Daine straightens. "He's an angel," she says bluntly. She figures Aziraphale wouldn't mind her telling folk; he's been open enough about it, himself. "He's got all sorts of magic about him. If anyone could find Tim, I expect he could."

"Oh," says Jay flatly. "Okay."

Right. Johnny mentioned angels. This isn't the same one though, he's pretty certain, the other one had a normal name.

"Should we..." He gets up somewhat unsteadily but a little more put together than before. "Um, do you want to go up to Tim's place and have him come down, or..."

It might not be the best plan, and it might not work, but it's better than nothing. Feeling bolstered, Daine nods. "We can go right to Tim and call Aziraphale from there," she says. She wouldn't mind getting a look at Tim before dragging anyone else into this, anyway.

She drops into a crouch and removes the dogs' leashes with a silent apology to each. Your walk will have to wait a bit, she explains, but hopefully I'll be back soon. Giving each of them a reassuring ruffle, she stands and returns her focus to Jay. "All right, let's go."

He gives Sarge a pat and follows Daine out, leading her back up to his floor. He's still a little shaky but he's feeling somewhat better having eaten something. Relatively speaking. Things are still pretty shit, but what else is new.

He opens Tim's door and takes her into Tim's bedroom, where he's still lying there, pale and motionless, barely even breathing.

He crouches down to the bedside and just perches there, waiting for Daine to do whatever she has to do, keeping his eyes on Tim.

Daine's brow furrows when she finally lays eyes on Tim, and finally understands what Jay meant when he said he was gone. Some part of her had still expected some subtle sign of life, some indication that there was someone in there, however far off, who could be called back. If it wasn't for the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest, he might almost be mistaken for dead.

She's no great healer where two-leggers are concerned, and she knows better than to think there's anything she can do about this, but she still steps up to the bed and lays a hand on Tim's forehead. There's no fever. If anything, he feels a bit cooler than he ought to, and she draws her hand back with a frown. Even if he was one of the People, there's nothing here to treat. All she could do is try to reach his mind.

Time to call for help.

Daine shuts her eyes and prays. Aziraphale? Can you please come here? Someone's... lost. She almost said 'ailing,' but that wouldn't have been right. And not in the sort of way where I could find him. If you're busy, you can text me, but... soon, if you could.

Gripping her own elbows, she says, "I just called him. I think he'll be here soon."

An oddly specific prayer from Daine, one that piques curiosity if not alarm. He pinpoints her - she's right here in the building, that's doable - and sighs heavily, lifting his creaky bones up off the bed where he's been splayed all day.

"Back in a few moments, dears," he mumbles to the children, and winks out falteringly.

He reappears with a stumble in an unfamiliar bedroom, startling the young man who's there with Daine.

"S-" He pauses and lets out a horrendous sneeze, catching it inside his elbow. "Sorry. I'm still a bit... off." He wipes his nose with a handkerchief and looks beyond them, at the body in the bed.

"Oh," he says, coming forward. "It's Alex. I didn't even know he lived here."

Jay remembers this guy. The tall nerd he had to awkwardly rescue Tim from in the park that one time. The one who healed him with a touch. Angel makes sense, the fact that he looks and sounds like he has a cold does not. None of that matters, because Aziraphale calls Tim Alex.

"That's not his name," he says sharply, standing up, irrationally protective. "Why would you call him that?"

Aziraphale blinks at the young man, remembering him now, Alex's - whomever's - friend with his inept cover stories.

"Because that's what he told me his name was," he says a bit meekly. "Though he was not very trusting, so it stands that might have been a false one. I assure you it's all right. As before, I'm here to help." He looks at Daine, eager to speak to someone who isn't quite so tetchy. "What's happened to him?"

Her relief at seeing Aziraphale lasts as long as it takes her to realize he's ill. Daine gawps up at him in dismay. "You're sick," she says, hardly able to believe it. Perhaps she shouldn't be so shocked, though - the TARDIS and the Doctor came down with some sort of bug, and she wouldn't have thought it likely for them, either. Is it only the folk who wouldn't normally get ill being affected? That's just cruel.

But it's not the matter at hand, and she gives her head a brisk little shake before shooting Jay a disapproving look. There's no need for him to be so snippy towards someone who's come to help him, especially on account of a lie Tim told - as if Aziraphale had any say in that.

"His name is Tim, and this is Jay. The Rift has taken him - not his body, but the rest." Should she mention the bit about the masked person? She knows how touchy both Jay and Tim get about folk knowing the least thing about their lives, but Aziraphale's trustworthy, and it might be fair important.

For the moment, she contents herself with saying, "I thought... if he's still in there, somewhere, you might be able to reach him. Call him back."

Jay wilts immediately at the look from Daine, which he knows he deserves. She can't understand it, but there's just something viscerally wrong about Tim being called Alex. Why Tim would ever give that as a fake name he can't begin to guess.

Probably because it was the only one he could think of. Can't really blame him for that.

"Sorry," he mumbles. He backs up a bit to give the angel room to crouch by Tim's bedside, wanting too to avoid contact with his apparent illness. He's relieved Daine didn't go into detail on the situation but he knows too that details might be necessary. He chews his lip nervously, arms wrapped around himself.

Aziraphale rests a hand on Tim's forehead for a moment, then clicks his tongue. "It's very odd," he says. "He's alive, but he's not exactly sleeping. Certainly not dreaming, from what I can tell. I can-" He pauses to sneeze, managing not to do so on Tim, and resumes, sounding vaguely frustrated. "There is something there but it's like it's not complete. He can't wake up without the rest of it. What did the Rift do, exactly?" He looks up at Jay, who avoids his eyes.

"It..." He shifts his weight uncomfortably. "It took a part of him out. This... thing, this other person that kind of... shares space in his head. And then he collapsed and now he's like this."

Aziraphale seems to be considering this information for a moment before he looks back at Tim. "Well, whatever if it was, it seems like it was crucial," he says. "I'm afraid there's - not really anything I can do. I doubt we'd be able to find him in the dreaming, either. He's just... on ice, so to speak."

He straightens up, brushing himself off unnecessarily, before looking at Jay again. "I'm sorry."

Jay doesn't reply. He stares at the floor. Somehow more upsetting than all of it is the idea that Tim's masked counterpart is - crucial. A necessary part of the whole that is Tim. That's... that's awful.

Receiving no reply from the boy, Aziraphale looks to Daine. "His body will need care, I expect," he says. "Perhaps it would be best to send him to a hospital."

Daine's a bit less wary of Aziraphale's illness than Jay, but she's not about to crowd folk who are working. She hangs back as the angel examines Tim, and frowns at his explanation. The masked fellow had struck her as some sort of usurper, not a part of Tim from the beginning, and certainly not needful. Maybe it's like her magic, and they could put a wall around it to keep it in line... but it would have to be there before they could even think of doing that.

And until then, Tim's just... stuck.

Daine presses her lips together unhappily. If Aziraphale can't get him back, that's her best plan out the window. The only one remaining is to just wait for Tim to wake on his own (or at the Rift's pleasure, more like). He will, she thinks. The Rift might muck around with parting folk from their bodies, but if it really wanted to kill Tim, she thinks - or hopes - that it would just do it.

He'll wake. But Mithros knows which part of him will do the waking.

"A hospital might not be safest," she says. She glances at Jay, more in preemptive apology than to seek permission, before adding, "The part of Tim that's missing is dangerous. It's attacked folk. For all we know, it'll be holding the reins when he wakes." And if that happens, even if he doesn't manage to hurt anyone, it'll be that much harder to get him out of whatever hospital they put him in. Even the Rifty clinic probably isn't equipped to handle something like this.

Ma was a healer, and not with such a grand Gift that Daine didn't learn how to do things the hard way, first. Caring for the bedridden isn't new ground so much as very old ground she hasn't had to tread in a long time. "It shouldn't be that hard to keep him clean and comfortable," she says, "but I don't know how we'd keep him fed." If he's too far gone to wake or dream, he might be too far gone to swallow without choking.

Jay keeps his eyes on the floor for all of Daine's answer, cringing only slightly at the details she's sharing, even though he understands why she's sharing them. Privacy can't be the top priority now. And if Aziraphale really is an angel, well, he's got to be trustworthy, right?

"I'd offer to do it myself, but I don't know if that's wise," says Aziraphale, sounding reluctant. "It would be - very specific, constant care. I think a human doctor would be best."

"No hospitals." Jay's almost surprised to hear himself speak, and he shuts his mouth for a moment. The last thing Tim needs upon waking - and he will wake, goddammit - is to be in another hospital room. "I can do it. I can take care of him myself."

Can he, though?

This is probably a terrible idea.

"Oh," says Aziraphale brightly. "Well, all right then."

"Thank you for trying," Daine says quietly, patting Aziraphale's arm. He has his own illness to deal with not to mention running the apartment building; she can't really blame him for balking at the thought of tending Tim all the time, too.

To Jay, she adds, "I can help, if you like. The dogs need walking, anyway; I could pick some things up while I'm out." Food, she's thinking. She doesn't know how well Tim's cupboards are stocked, but Jay hasn't needed to eat in some time, so there probably isn't enough for two.

"Okay," he mumbles, a little surprised that it's all just resolved like that. What, do these people actually trust him to deal with this shit? He's always so torn between options. Get help, or shoulder the burden. Trust no one, or be vulnerable. Tim never had as much trouble making those choices.

"That'd be good," he says to Daine. "Uh, thanks." He glances up at Aziraphale. "You too."

The angel gives him a distracted nod and pats Daine limply on the back before disappearing again.

He accompanies Daine to the kitchen as she gets a list of things he might need, awkwardly offers her some money, which she accepts with a smile. And then she goes.

Leaving him, again, alone with Tim's body.

With Tim.

Try as he might, he can't avoid returning to the bedroom. Tim's in there like a splinter, a little pinprick of pain he can't stop worrying at. He gets the peanut butter and a glass of water and takes them in with him, eating occasional spoonfuls and taking slow sips until he starts feeling human again.

This will work out. It has to. It has to.

Everything will be fine.

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so much more than time has been taken [closed]

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such muncest wow

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