Chapter Text
He scrambles for the panel, hands fighting with the levers as he tries to enter a safe date to return to. He can hear the cannon below him powering up, him moving to duck as the sound of it releasing hits his ears. From there it's a sharp moment before he's sent slamming into the controls, the force of his chest cracking leaving him winded. He's left bent over his console, a hand fisting in the side of his trench coat as heat burns at his skin, his lungs fighting for a full breath past the pain.
Quite honestly, he's not sure what date he's managed to set his ship to, his mind blanking as he pushes himself as upright as he can manage. He can't afford to wait for Zam to climb onto the ship after him, can't hesitate and give Mapicc a chance to drag him away. He won't be able to fight like this; or run, he thinks belatedly.
His eyes dart down and all he can manage is turning the knob to a familiar year, the date left unchecked otherwise. Sure, it was probably stupid to hide in such a predictable time period but he craves the safety he assumes waits for him there, shoving the lever up and only starting to relax as his ship kicks into gear, Mapicc yelling something up after him that he tunes out.
The world starts to melt into a blurred mess of colours as Jaron uses the panel to help him slide down to the floor, biting down a wince as the ship jerks and jostles him. He feels about the wound in his side, checking it and thinking it's probably fine enough. It didn't break skin, more just blunt force then something deadly, despite how much his body protests existence at this moment. He's had worse and knows this truly is nothing in comparison.
Still, his eyes slip shut for a moment, him heaving in as deep breaths as he can currently manage. It helps to not watch the colours, at times like these. They're a good distraction and very beautiful but can also be a tad nauseating if you're having a bad day. Jaron thinks this counts as one.
The world feels like it's dropping but Jaron's used to it, anticipating how it feels to appear in the middle of a familiar time. It used to feel almost like waking up but Jaron's accustomed to the shift now, his eyes locked onto the dark of the night sky as if he'd never closed them, the stars dulled by the lights of the city around him.
He drops the hand not pressed into his tender side to the ground, running his fingers over the midnight dew building on the grass. The moon sits heavy in the sky, that stupid rock taunting his every thought at this moment as it stares dully down at him. Jaron stares back, measuring his breathing as he feels his ribs shift unnaturally.
This was probably a mistake.
He begins to haul himself up, arms curling uselessly around his torso as the pain reignites, blinding him momentarily as he hisses. The wound wasn't even that bad, he reminds himself, he would have been fine on his own - in any other time than one Team Awesome would expect - but no. He just had to go and drag his friends into another one of his problems.
All of time was his playground, space bending at the will of his ship that only he knows how to control. He could be anywhere right now, could rewrite his own mistakes and publish a much more egotistical novel bragging about his accomplishments and scientific endeavors, but he wasn't. Honestly, he probably wouldn't know where to even begin with trying to fix his own stupidity. All he knows how to do is cling to his last remaining crumbs of normalcy, risking the lives of the last few people to care about him as he goes.
He squints at the sky, trying to see if he can figure out the date exactly based on the visible constellations. He finds it's too late in the night to be able to tell, the buildings surrounding the park he'd landed in too tall for him to easily view the horizon.
He pulls himself to stand slowly, breathing tightly as he finds full breaths too painful. He starts to stumble forward, one hand reaching out for any object close enough to support some of his weight while the other remains pressurised to his side, the steady pain that action brings grounding.
He probably should have taken stock before starting to stand, his vague guess at a broken rib now perpetuated by the strangled little gasp his body forces in. That stutter only brings more pain, the park bench Jaron had managed to grab the only thing keeping him upright as he rides the feeling out. Once again, he's had worse. It still hurts though.
He's careful in straightening out again, keeping his steps as level as he can to avoid agitating anything further. His mind digs for a distraction, the brick wall he walks up to bringing focus to his calloused fingers as he runs them along the surface. In part, it's in preparation to catch himself. Mainly, he finds he works best when ignoring his problems and diving headfirst into literally anything else, that philosophy not failing him now as he walks, slowly but steadily along.
Bacon and Planet don't live far, if he remembers correctly. He's decently certain he's walked these hauntingly familiar streets before; although, it's hard to place when he might have, his mind buzzing through faulty memories of these buildings under construction. Or maybe they've always been here, even since before Jaron's time. Maybe he remembers them broken down to nothing more than rubble in the future. Time can be confusing sometimes. Even still, these streets were familiar at some point, Jaron using that to blindly lead him forwards.
They're probably asleep, Jaron realises, his pace slowing. His squints up at the sky, cursing the stars. For a man who can time travel, he sure does have terrible timing. Maybe they'd still be awake?
Where would he go if they weren't? His ship was somewhere scattered about this time, having abandoned him at the first chance it got, and he really didn't think he had the strength to wander for hours on end, not after the night he's had. Or day, really. Jaron remembers it being day when he last was. He knows he could probably just find some alleyway to curl up in and sleep off the very worst of his injuries but for some reason he can't bring himself to do that. He blames his selfishness, not really acknowledging the guilt making to rise up his throat and choke him out as he aims for Bacon and Planet; his beacon amongst the pain threatening to bring him to the floor.
His feet drag, steps awkward as he trips over air. Bacon would probably be annoyed but maybe Planet would be excited to see him. Were they even friends? What good did Jaron offer them if he wasn't able to take them to see the dinosaurs?
All the questions weren't making the pain any more bearable, Jaron moving to lean against the building nearest to him. He stares at his own fingers, frowning at how harshly they shake. He's going to survive this, whether he asks Bacon and Planet for help or not. Why bother them?
Because Jaron is a coward who craves comfort and familiarity, probably. Because he's a monster who ruined his own life and yet pretends that he deserves good things. He'll drag Bacon into this mess, watch as he dies for a cause he doesn't yet know he's fighting for. Planet probably wouldn't even blame Jaron, far too kind for the man Jaron is.
Jaron will be the death of them both.
He keeps walking.
He keeps walking because he is a coward.
He approaches their building, feeling some cruel sort of relief at the fact that he is in the correct time period, eyes locking on the window he knows to lead to their flat. It's on the second floor, Jaron pausing so he can shift onto his toes and try to peek in, even from his spot 30 feet away. He gives up when pain shoots through him, forcing him to curl up as a hand shoots for his chest. He didn't see a light on, figuring that was his one sign. His sign to turn and leave, probably. Jaron starts hobbling forwards again.
He makes it to the front of their building, trying the handle once and frowning as it's locked. He pulls out his lock pick, struggling to hold it steady as the device whirs quietly, taking longer then usual before the door finally clicks. He jams his device back into his pocket, turning the handle and stepping in, eying the room he's left in; a simple hallway with doors to his right and a staircase in front of him. He picks his poison and walks to the stairs.
He finds the easiest way to get up is slowly, pulling both feet up onto a single step one at a time before attempting the next, the usual way you'd walk up far too strenuous. Both methods are still painful but everything is painful now, Jaron clinging to the railing as he nears the top. He's forever grateful that his friends had only picked a flat on the second floor, pausing at the top so he can regain composure, hissing through his teeth.
Breathing is difficult, Jaron practicing how deep he can take one in as he starts to read the door numbers. He thinks he remembers which one was Bacon and Planet's, stopping in front of the door with a neat little 3 on front. He knocks and waits, attempting to stop the shaking.
He probably looks terrible, Jaron realises belatedly, moving to smooth out the remainder of his coat. It's been a long few weeks, to say the least, so he'd probably need a new one after this. He hates the change but this one was starting to look ratty, a cool aesthetic but one he thinks the few people who care even mildly about him will find concerning considering his hobbies. The gaping scorch in the side can't really be smoothed out so Jaron just shifts his arm to hide it as best he can, taking a mental note to not pass whoever opens the door with that side exposed.
If... someone opens the door. Jaron leans closer, listening to the silence on the other side. He knocks again, louder this time before he shifts back a few steps, deciding being hit by the door would suck. It's taking a decent amount of energy just to stand here now, Jaron eying the floor as he debates just falling asleep here. It's probably as safe as he's going to get, given how exhausted he is. Plus, he's not keen on scaling the stairs backwards.
The door clicks and Jaron flinches, hiding his wince with a wide smile as Bacon squints at him.
"Bacon!"
Bacon's eyes narrow into a tired glare. "What do you want?"
Jaron's mood drops, his smile wavering at the way Bacon's voice burns. Clearly, he's not happy to see Jaron and Jaron can't even blame him. It still hurts though.
"I was just passing through," Jaron lies, moving to shift back on his heels before he stops himself, pain burning his side and chest as he coughs. "Figured I'd say hi."
Bacon doesn't look convinced, eyes scanning up and down Jaron judgmentally. He squints harder, seeming to consider what Jaron was silently asking.
"Why now?" Bacon says, slow. "We saw you earlier today."
"Did you?" Jaron blinks. "Well, it's been a few days for me," He lies easily, figuring Bacon won't think anything of it.
Based on how his gaze continues to search Jaron, he would say Bacon doesn't believe him. "Really?" Jaron nods. "You meant to come here at 4am?"
Jaron hesitates. "I was in a rush."
"Right," Bacon drawls, moving to open the door further. "Planet's asleep. Don't wake him."
Jaron understands, nodding mutely as he slips past Bacon. He knows he's not quite walking right, if how Bacon's hands release the door to hover near him mean anything. Jaron picks up his pace, spinning so he can grin at Bacon, ignoring how his whole body feels hot and his legs weak, breath a bit disjointed as he shifts.
"Love what you've done with the place," Jaron whispers, despite it not being too heavily decorated. It's only a small home, kitchenette in the room he's currently in with a table and a few doors leading to supposedly bedrooms and probably a bathroom. It's quaint, Jaron finding he doesn't mind how claustrophobic it is.
Jaron glances back at Bacon, trying to read his irritated expression for something deeper. Was this home for Bacon? It didn't quite seem his style, far too bland and small for a man with ambitions like him. It looked too empty and lifeless to be Planet's as well. It was obviously lived in, Jaron was not doubting that, but was it home? What would home mean for normal people like Bacon and Planet?
Bacon folds his arms. "You wanna tell me why you're actually here?"
Jaron blanks, his smile straining. "I just did? Do I need a reason to visit my favourite people?"
Bacon frowns harsh. Jaron knew now this would be a mistake.
"You're right, sorry, I'll just go-" Jaron moves to walk through the still open door but Bacon swings it closed suddenly, it slamming and causing Jaron to flinch. He winces, Bacon's frown deepening. "Bacon?"
"Are you hurt?" He hisses, insidious as he steps closer. "How the fuck did you even-? Come here."
He grabs Jaron's shoulders, tilting him this way and that. He tries to push Jaron down slightly but that hurts, Jaron shoving him off as he moves to shield his ribs. The way Bacon's eyes lock onto his side tell Jaron he's just dropped the bag.
"Oh, my god," He grabs Jaron, stopping him from hiding or running or doing much of anything. "What the fuck happened?!"
Jaron winces at how loud he is. "You're gonna wake up Planet."
"Good," Bacon grits. "He should see how much of an idiot you are."
Jaron falls silent at that, allowing Bacon to lean down and examine what he can of his wound. Honestly, it was fine; would probably just be sore for a week and bruise like no tomorrow. Bacon hadn't noticed him cradling his broken ribs at least, Jaron counting that as a win.
Bacon gently starts to push Jaron backwards, Jaron allowing himself to be guided towards their little dining table as Bacon pulls out a chair. Jaron takes it, Bacon pulling another one for himself and sitting down in it adjacent to Jaron.
"What happened?" Bacon asks again, Jaron getting distracted as a door opens and Planet wanders out, yawning.
"Morning," Planet says, Bacon grunting his own greeting. "Oh, hi, Jaron!"
"Hey, Planet," Jaron goes to wave but Bacon grabs his hand, forcing it back down. "Bacon's mad at me."
"Why?" Planet drifts around to their side of the table, leaning over Bacon. He frowns at the current state of Jaron. "Oh. That doesn't look good."
Jaron shrugs, ignoring the spite of pain that sends up his torso. "Happens to the best of us."
"How?" Bacon forces again, eyes flicking up to Jaron's face. Planet also watches patiently, clearly curious.
"Laser cannon," Jaron answers truthfully. "It's not as bad as it looks, really. It's just gonna bruise."
Bacon hums at that, moving to pull back Jaron's layers and check for himself. Jaron bats his hands away, shaking his head.
"Nope," He says. "No, thank you. I'm taken."
"Sure," Bacon says dryly. "And I'm Planet. Let me see, bro. I'm checking you're not dying."
"And I'm saying I'm not dying," Jaron wraps his coat more around himself. "Just trust me. I would know if I was dying."
Bacon's eyes narrow but he seems to let it go, turning to Planet. "Do we have any painkillers?"
"Panadol, probably," Planet blinks. "Why?"
Bacon gestures at Jaron and Planet seems to understand, nodding as he turns towards the kitchen. Bacon turns back to Jaron. "Have you slept yet?"
Jaron considers lying but thinks better of it, shaking his head no. Sleep was weird when you jump between time periods. Jaron would say the best way to keep track is to listen to when your body gets tired and go with that but Jaron never does that. It was easier to just keep pushing through, forgoing sleep until it was an appropriate time in whatever period you were in by that societies standards. Then you can't miss out on any of the cool happenings during the day.
Bacon nods, pulling himself to stand. "You can use my bed."
"You don't have to-"
"I do," Bacon cuts in, glaring at Jaron. "We don't have a couch anyway and there is no way you are sleeping on the floor."
Jaron concedes, finding the idea of the floor very unappealing. Planet returns, a couple of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other, setting both on the table in front of Jaron.
"Thank you," Jaron says earnestly, taking the pills and putting them on his tongue and taking a large gulp of the water, swallowing them.
Planet pulls out the chair next to Bacon. "Sorry we don't have anything stronger, bro."
"We'll go to the chemist tomorrow," Bacon decides before Jaron can even wave Planet off. "For now, come on," Bacon stands. "Bedtime."
Jaron puts his glass down just so he can frown. "I'm not 4."
"Then don't get hurt like a toddler and we'll have no problems."
"Toddlers don't play with cannons," Jaron snarks, leaning back slowly as to not hurt himself further.
Bacon turns to him, deadpan. "Then why were you playing with one?"
"... Touché."
Bacon offers him a hand up but Jaron ignores him, taking his time pushing himself up using the table. The 'pan-i-dal' or whatever Planet called it clearly hasn't kicked in yet as Jaron freezes, squeezing his eyes shut. He knows he's making a scene but can't really help it, Bacon's hands shifting to be on his back.
"You sure you're not hurt anywhere else, bro?" Planet asks, having stood at some point.
Bacon is probably frowning. "Maybe we should find a 24 hour chemist."
"Do we have those?"
"Probably."
"I'm fine," Jaron brushes off, shouldering away Bacon's hovering hands. "Just tired."
Bacon understands, gesturing to his room. He opens the door for Jaron and Jaron looks around, eying the piles of books on the small desk Bacon has, the mess creeping onto the floor where Bacon's run out of space otherwise. His bed is messy, probably from where he'd jumped up to answer the door for Jaron earlier.
It feels more homely in here, amongst the photo pinned to Bacon's desk of him and Planet and the couple trinkets lining his bedside table. Well, maybe not homely but more Bacon. Jaron glances back at Bacon, feeling this wave of longing wash over him. Home has never been a place for Jaron. Trust him, he would know, having jumped around enough to know he doesn't belong.
"Here," Bacon says, walking Jaron to the bed.
Jaron hesitates before he sits. "Where are you gonna sleep?"
"I have to be up in a couple hours anyway," Bacon shrugs before he stops. "Are you gonna sleep in those?"
To prove a point, Jaron flops backwards, regretting it immediately as his entire body burns in pain. He's almost choking again, having to hold his breath to get himself back in check as stars dance across the backs of his eyelids. He blinks to find he's curled up on his side, him glaring at the pillow further up the bed from him as he steals back air greedily.
"You okay?" Bacon asks and Jaron realises he's knelt in front of him, brows pinched in concern. Jaron can only manage a hum, deciding he's done being dramatic. Bacon still has the audacity to order him about though. "Take off your shoes, at least."
Jaron rolls onto his back, kicking off his shoes, unbothered with the laces. Bacon doesn't comment, standing again as Jaron starts to readjust in bed, rotating so he's the right way around instead of 90° the wrong way.
Bacon tosses the blanket haphazardly over him. "Go to sleep. We'll get you something better tomorrow if you aren't feeling better."
Jaron doesn't plan to stick around that long but doesn't voice that, remaining on his back as he stares up at the ceiling. Bacon goes to flick off the light.
"Goodnight," He clips. "Yell if you need anything."
He clicks the door closed and Jaron stares at it, frowning. It's the most concern Bacon has shown for anything and Jaron isn't sure how to feel about it being him. Maybe Bacon just staying mad would have been better, Jaron thinking he prefers that to the quiet murmuring he now hears through the door.
The door suddenly reopens as Bacon yells for Planet to stop, Jaron turning to see Planet struggling with an armful of blankets. He says nothing, marching in and beginning to layer blankets over Jaron. He runs out and nods to himself, satisfied with the makeshift coffin he's crafted for Jaron.
"Goodnight!" Planet chirps, waving as he pulls the door closed. Jaron can hear the muffled noises of Bacon scolding Planet on the other side and let's himself relax, his breathing shallow but consistent, his body too exhausted to stay awake, even with the pain.
Maybe he doesn't regret this as much as he thought he would.