Another Arrival

[adaptiveimmunities]

Shaun hadn't been dreaming. He prefers it when he doesn't dream, because he doesn't usually get the good dreams anymore, and when he wakes it's in utter shock at the intense cold. He'd fallen asleep on a rooftop in Oakland in April. Sure, he's wearing a jacket, but it's not exactly a heavy winter coat. Shaun has never seen a winter like this. Where the hell is he? Antarctica?

"What the fuck?"

He doesn't expect an answer as he wraps his arms around himself looking for shelter. There's a ship. An olde time sailing ship, which is as bizarre to him as anything else in this insane scene, but it looks warm, which is all he cares about right now. He makes his way toward the open ramp.

[What the hell is going on here?]

"Fuck if I know," he mutters.

[This is what I get for letting you sleep.]

It should be funny, but it's not. This can't be a dream. Dreams don't get this cold. But who would bother kidnapping him to a movie set in the Antarctic?

Comments

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson nodded. "It's 1847, by my best accounts. It was 1847 when we abandoned this ship, at least. And I don't believe we were in the wilds for an entire year." He paused. "No. It was still summer. You could still see the sun." The sun had been in his eyes when he died. He was certain of that.

[adaptiveimmunities]

Shaun glances at Mahir. "I guess you get to call me out in my lie. It's not 1869." He takes a sip of the tea and grimaces. Boiled leaves.

[fishandclips]

"...I have a headache," Mahir grumbles, reaching up to rub at a temple. He lets out a slow exhale. "1847," he repeats. "Sir... If I may ask. Have you heard of Kellis-Amberlee?"

He has to ask. He has no idea what he'll do if the answer is no.

[lieutenantsteward]

"I can't say that I have," he told him honestly. "Why do you ask?"

[adaptiveimmunities]

Of course he hasn't. He's either going so hard on reenactment that he's crossed the bounds of sanity, or he means it. Cool.

"Because unless you're really good at acting, something is really wrong."

[fishandclips]

Mahir props his elbows on the table and covers his face in his hands. "Fuck. Bloody fucking fuck. Shaun, what have you done."

There is no logical reason that Shaun could be behind this, but when in doubt, blaming Shaun is usually the right thing to do. Mahir knows that even Shaun wouldn't have dragged him this far into the past if he had somehow invented time travel. (He knows exactly what point in time Shaun would have chosen to rewrite.)

He drops his hands and turns a serious eye on the other man. "The common cold. Cancer. They exist? You've--had a cold? In your life, I mean."

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson was growing frustrated with these two, though it was becoming clear that they were also from some strange time and place. He was beginning to accept a lot of things about his new reality. The fact that people could appear from any place in space or time was starting to become apparent. And Jopson was the king of adaptation.

"As I've previously mentioned, I am not acting. And yes. We have cancer. And colds and chills. Especially here."

[adaptiveimmunities]

Shaun gives Mahir an incredulous look. "This is my fault? How is this my fault? The only person I've pissed off in the past twenty four hours is you, and unless you've suddenly developed time travel to punish me..." He shakes his head. Mahir had already said he wasn't going to drag himself into whatever he did to punish Shaun.

"We don't," he says turning to the other man. "We don't get colds or cancer. No one has, since the summer of 2014."

[fishandclips]

Mahir suddenly doesn't even have the energy to continue harassing Shaun. This is too serious, too dangerous for their sniping at each other. Like it or not, they are together here, and if they aren't careful...

The implications stagger him. Even if he believed in time travel--which he doesn't--they can't continue to assume that this isn't real. Even if just for their own safety. There have always been strange communities out there, hiding from governments, refusing to abide by society's safety rules and regulations. It could be that they've somehow found themselves in one of those places.

"The year is 2041," Mahir says slowly, "and I have to ask. How many people are aboard this ship? Do you have bleach onboard? ...Blood tests?"

He assumes the blood tests will be a no, but he has to ask. One more time. He can't imagine anyone being so committed to historical accuracy that they would deny these basic safety measures.

[lieutenantsteward]

As they were still in the galley, Jopson stood and cleared their teas, needing something to do with his hands. But he stayed close, confused. "Blood tests?" That was too much. He didn't understand that one at all. But bleach was somewhat familiar, just not in the way that they used it. They used bleach like it was a noun, like something you could hold. "I bleach the linens by keeping them in the sun."

[adaptiveimmunities]

"He's talking about sodium hypochlorite. It's a chemical that kills germs."

Oh boy.

Sunshine isn't exactly a proven way to kill Kellis-Amberlee, and it's not like they're going to lay themselves out on the ice to test it. Though. That would actually take care of the problem from their perspective. It would just leave everyone else with a zombie problem.

[fishandclips]

Mahir can feel the color leaving his face. It goes against every instinct he has, to believe that this sort of thing could be real; that they could possibly have time traveled--it's not real, this is the realm of the Fictionals... But he is realizing that they are going to need to operate on the assumption that it is real, if only for their own safety.

They may not even know what germs are, he realizes with a sinking feeling.

"That would be a no, then."

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson was sure that they were no longer speaking English. He simply blinked at them absently before shaking his head. "That is a no," he said with a nod. Mahir was right; he had no idea what germs were. The only word that made sense in that jumble of nonsense was sodium, but only just.

"Perhaps I should show you where you can get some rest," he finally told them. "Everything might seem better after a good night's sleep."

[adaptiveimmunities]

Shaun glances over at Mahir. "Yeah, that'd be real great," he agrees. "This whole... 'suddenly turning up in the arctic' thing is pretty overwhelming." That, and he'd like to talk to Mahir in private, before they scare the absolute shit out of everyone, about how they should deal with their shared medical condition.

[fishandclips]

Mahir nods; he may not be able to read Shaun's thoughts, but he's worked with him for enough years to know what he's probably thinking. Which is the same thing he's thinking, honestly. He's loathe to go full disclosure until they know more about where they are and who is there with them. He stands.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you. And thank you for the tea as well, Mister...?"

[lieutenantsteward]

"Jopson," he told them gently, finding that he actually didn't mind their strange presence. "Come along." He showed them to two cabins, next door to one another, and stepped back. "If you need anything, please do not hesitate to find me. I will likely be in the galley or topside, watching for any new arrivals."

[adaptiveimmunities]

"Thanks. We'll let you know." Shaun gives him a quick smile. He's been in front of cameras his whole life--he can smile even when he's totally freaking out. "Here's hoping anyone else who shows up has actual answers, huh?"