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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Reunited

Tim and Bertie had fallen in love with Jonny on the moon, but when Bertie died Tim had left Jonny behind. He realizes how much he regrets it when he’s getting mechanized. After he finds out Jonny is alive, he vows to make it up to him and does his best to mend their relationship again.

On AO3.

Ships: Gunpowder Tim x Jonny d’Ville

Warnings: grieving and working through some issues. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~

It was dark when Tim woke up.

He didn’t think he would wake up again when he had confronted the Moon Kaiser, so the fact that he was alive in the darkness was strange. He tried to move, but found his hands and feet were tied down to the surface he was lying on.

“Stop wiggling.” a voice said.

Tim did not know who the voice belonged to, but his head swiveled in the direction it had come from in an attempt to see who it was.

The person snorted and said: “I don’t think that will help, since I’m currently making you a pair of eyes. I’m Doc Carmilla, by the way, a pleasure.”

“What happened? What do you want from me.” Tim now really started to struggle against his bindings as he tried to get away.

“You were in an explosion.” the voice, Doc Carmilla apparently, told him gently, “You lost your eyes and I’m making you new ones. All I ask is cooperation.”

The fury from before was reignited in his veins as he continued to struggle fiercely. He wasn’t about to become an experiment of the Moon Kaiser or anyone else. He was Gunpowder Tim and if he’d had enough righteous anger to cut through thousands of Lunar Men, he would have enough to break out of here.

Doc Carmilla sighed and Tim felt a prick in his neck. As he started to loose his grip on the world, he heard her say: “Only people who cooperate get progress.”

When he woke up again a few days had passed, not that Tim would know since he’d lost his sense of time in the darkness. He startled, but before he could do anything Doc Carmilla spoke: “Don’t struggle again, it’s already been slow going since my help was emotionally compromised and I can’t work on your face if you struggle.”

“I don’t even know what you’re doing to me.” Tim protested.

“I’m giving you a second chance at life, away from everything that has brought you such misery. A new family to call your own that will be there forever. Don’t you want that, Timothy? Don’t you want that new beginning away from there?” she asked.

Tim thought about that. He didn’t really know the answer, he hadn’t thought about a future since he’d lost Bertie. His only focus had been to kill the Kaiser or die trying, no matter the price. What was he going to do now that it was over?

“It’s alright if you need time to think.” Doc Carmilla told him, “You’ll get plenty of time to think anyway.”

Then she started to work and most of the pain from getting metal shoved into still healing wounds took over for coherency.

But it came back to him when she left him, apparently done for the day. He pondered how he had avenged Bertie, how he could heal now, but the more he thought about it, the more he had failed him.

While they might’ve already been in love before they arrived on the moon and had known each other since they were little, it hadn’t been just the two of them, not anymore. There had been a fierce soldier, who really shouldn’t have been enjoying himself that much, that they had loved as well. His name had been Jonny, Jonny d’Ville. And Tim couldn't help but feel like he had abandoned him.

Jonny might have been manic from time to time with too much bloodlust for his tiny body, but he had also been soft and insecure.

Tim could remember the nights, where they had held Jonny between them as they whispered reassurances to him, while he was overwhelmed with the unfamiliar praise and affection that they heaped onto him.

But then Bertie had died and Tim hadn’t been able to see through his own grief. He’d gone on a rampage, leaving Jonny to fend for himself without a shoulder to lean on.

It felt like a punch to the gut and a bucket of cold water over his head. He had allowed himself to loose someone he cared about, someone he loved. He still had someone left and he hadn’t cherished the love he could have had.

Bertie would have killed him if he knew. The other man had taken to Jonny so quickly that Tim would have become jealous if he hadn’t trusted Bertie so much. Bertie took joy in figuring out what made Jonny blush or smile softly, just like he’d done for Tim so many years ago.

Tim missed that, missed Bertie, missed the three of them in a heap next to the campfire while Jonny softly sang of worlds far away.

Jonny never told them how he knew those songs and he would only sing them for Tim and Bertie in those quiet peaceful moments. Tim had learned to look forward to them and hold them near to his heart, but it seemed he had forgotten this lesson and now he would never hear Jonny sing again.

It was only then that it hit him that he might have been the one who killed Jonny. If he was here and did his duty then the moon was gone, along with everyone on it.

He had not only abandoned Jonny, he had murdered him as well.

That was what he thought about for the days that followed. Doc Carmilla would come in and work on him and he’d just lay there, mind somewhere else. He had failed both his lovers and he would do anything to make it up to them, but it was too late. He’d never be able to make it up to them again and that hurt deep to his core; the fact that he would never get to say sorry.

Then Doc Carmilla stopped coming and Tim was all on his own in the darkness once more.

Tim didn’t know how long he’d laid there before he heard a noise in the chamber he was in. He turned his head towards it, even though he couldn’t see and called out: “Who’s there?”

“Hmm, she’s farther along than I thought.” a heavily accented and slightly disappointed voice said.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” Tim was getting slightly nervous.

“Sadly, I have to fix you up.” the voice said coolly.

“Uhm, why?” this person obviously didn’t seem pleased of that and he was scared and confused in this never-ending darkness.

“Carmilla had to depart.” the voice answered, picking each word carefully “And I would have someone hound me if I didn’t and they found out, so here I am.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that.” Tim was getting worried the person would hurt him and he would be stuck and helpless here.

“I’m not, but you’re one of us now.” the voice sighed, “I’m Nastya, the engineer.”

“Oh, I’m Tim, Gunpowder Tim.” Tim replied.

“I know.” Nastya told him and after that she was silent, the only noises that of whatever project she was working on and the dripping of the IV keeping up his strength.

Tim tried to think of what he could have done to earn her anger, but none came to mind. What she told him also didn’t make sense, because who here knew him? He was still pondering that when she left, with a curt goodbye.

This awkward existing in the same space went on for another three days, before Nastya announced: “They’re ready. This is going to hurt, but then it’s over.”

He nodded and braced himself. For a second nothing happened, then something connected and his eyes started to burn. He screamed as his vision flashed white, a sharp contrast with the darkness from the past weeks, before his world went dark again as he passed out.

When he awoke this time, it was to a metal lab with contraptions and experiments everywhere. He was no longer bound and sat up in surprise. His eyes saw everything so clearly and it was hard just to take stuff in, but after a few moments he got used to it enough to walk.

Slowly he got onto his feet, still unused to walking after so long, and set out to find anyone who might want to tell him more about what was happening.

Tim was about to just start yelling when he heard voices further down the hall. He made his way to a doorway into a room with a few couches where five people were sitting and talking. He didn’t know who the metal man was, nor the red-haired woman, nor the other person, but his eye did fall on The Toy Soldier. It could be TS, who Nastya had referred to even if it didn’t like to be a someone. He was about to call out to it when the last persons face was revealed.

Jonny.

It couldn't be anyone else, even if Tim thought his brain was tricking him. It was the same face that would grin at him in the trenches or smile up at Bertie while laying in his lap. The same face. Jonny had lived, there was a chance Tim could make it up to him.

“Darling, you’re alive!” he yelled, racing forward to envelop a startled Jonny into a hug.

He squeezed him tight, before cradling his face in his hand and checking him over. Jonny looked completely unharmed, if Tim still had tear ducts he would have cried, instead he hugged Jonny again and said: “God, I was so worried about you, love, I’m so so sorry for leaving you, you didn’t deserve that I’m so sorry. How can I ever make it up to you, angel?”

In his arms Jonny looked very surprised, he’d gone still when Tim hugged him and now just sat there quite shocked. Then he softly asked: “You still like me?”

Tims heart broke, it got shattered in a thousand pieces that lodged themselves into his insides and tore through him. He assured him: “Of course I still do, I love you, I’m sorry I made you feel anything different, cupcake.”

Jonny sagged into his touch and Tim could feel his shoulders shake as his clothes got soaked in tears and nails dug into his back as Jonny clutched his coat tightly.

“Tim, Ol’ Sport, It’s You! I Did Not Know You Had Made It.” The Toy Soldier exclaimed, finally recognizing the familiar face.

“Tim, as in broke Jonnys heart Tim? Left him crying for days Tim? That Tim?” one of the people he did not know asked.

A stab of guilt went through Tims heart and he held Jonny closer as he kissed his temple and whispered: “I’m so sorry, bean, so so sorry.”

Jonnys grip only tightened in return, while in the background TS answered: “That Seems Like The Description Of Tim, Mx. O’Reily.”

“Who ordered you to call me that, go back to just Ashes.” the person, apparently Ashes, said then their look turned dangerous, “So, how do we know we can trust him to not do that again?”

“Hold on, Ashes, maybe let him explain first, we can threaten him later.” the metal man told them, he then smiled at Tim and introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Drumbot Brian, most call me Brian and I am the Pilot of this ship. Nastya did talk about finishing something, but she hadn’t mentioned what, has she explained what happened?”

“I don’t think she expected me to wake up yet.” Tim told him, not letting go of Jonny for a second, “She wasn’t there when I woke up and she’s mostly been giving me the cold shoulder.”

“That’s to be expected, with how we found Jonny over you.” the woman with the red hair said, “I’m Ivy Alexandria, pleasure.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Tim, Gunpowder Tim, but most just call me Tim.” he didn’t extend a hand, too focused on the warmth of Jonny safe in his arms.

“Can we go back to focusing on what’s really important?” Ashes asked loudly, “Namely making sure this guy here doesn’t break Jonnys heart again.”

“I’m right here you know.” Jonny mumbled, “And he didn’t break my heart.”

Ashes raised a brow at him and said: “You cried for the first time in centuries and blubbered on about him enough for the Doc to not even tell you she picked him up. Not to mention this current limpet show.”

A flush overtook his features and he was about to let go, much to Tims dismay, when Brian stopped him and gently explained: “They didn’t mean it like that, Jonny, stay put, it’s obviously helping. They’re just pulling the overprotective card, let them do their shovel talk, then we’ll leave you guys alone to talk.”

Jonny kept holding on, relief clear as day, while Ashes pouted: “It’s not a shovel talk, Brian, it’s a proper intimidation act.”

Ashes turned to Tim and crossed their arms, from their standing position they looked down on Tim with disdain as they began: “If you hurt him ever again, I will cut you to pieces and make you watch as I burn those pieces to ash. I will kill you repeatedly in many increasingly painful ways and I will not stop until you beg, beg, me to please make it permanent and then I will kill you a few more times again, before I defy everything you are and murder you, before feeding you to the octokittens. Are we clear?”

Tim swallowed thickly and he could feel Jonny tighten his grip, before he softly whispered: “Don’t leave me, I’ll make sure to protect you from them, please stay.”

“Of course I’ll stay, baby.” Tim assured him with a kiss to his temple, before meeting Ashes gaze, “Nothing will make me leave or hurt you again, no matter how hard they try, I promise.”

Ashes scanned his face, but seemed content with what they found. They nodded approvingly, before ushering the others out while saying: “Come on, lets let these two catch up.”

With them gone Tim focused on what was most important, Jonny. Those others were obviously his family, so he’d felt the need to impress them, but now that was over and he had a cuddling lover to take care of.

Jonny was still crying a bit, although it seemed the heaving sobs from before had ceased. It was clear that Tims departure after Berties death had had more impact on Jonny than he could handle and Tim felt so incredibly guilty over ever leaving him. He’d known how much Jonny could doubt himself and their affection and still he’d left him in the middle of a war zone, alone, to cope with the fact that one of his lovers was dead and the other had apparently left him.

It seemed impossible, but Tim hugged Jonny closer, pulling him into his lap. He rocked him back a forth as he hummed softly.

After a while Jonny sagged even more into his touch, so TIm softly said: “I know we probably still need to talk about a lot, but right now I would love nothing more than to cuddle and sleep, if you’re agreeable, marshmallow.”

“Yeah,” Jonny mumbled into his neck, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Tim told him, before scooping him up into his arms, half concerned and half glad he was still able to do that, as he asked: “What way, princess?”

A recognizable blush spread over Jonnys face as he pointed into a direction and Tim smiled to himself, some things never changed. Tim started walking while keeping up a constant stream of soft chatter, only pausing to ask for more directions that Jonny provided silently.

The room they arrived at was clearly Jonnys, the messy décor reminding Tim of his equally disorganized pack, while the belt and guns scattered around screamed Jonny.

Against the wall stood a big bed with a ton of pillows piled on it and Tim filed the soft nest away in his mind with new things to learn about Jonny in this new setting, as he gently put Jonny down between the blankets and other plush on his bed.

When Tim put him down Jonny whimpered slightly and Tim whispered: “I’m just taking off my shoes and outer layer, it’s a bit dirty and I want your bed to stay clean. That alright, sweet pea? Want your boots off too?”

Jonny nodded and Tim set to work. He kicked off his own shoes uncaringly and shrugged off his coat and trousers easily, but when he got to Jonnys boots he knelt down and softly undid the laces, before sliding the boots off gently.

He looked up and smiled at a now completely red Jonny and asked: “Do you want the belts off too, dove?”

After biting his lip, Jonny nodded and Tim undid his belts and slid them off, being mindful of keeping the same gentleness throughout the entire progress.

As Tim climbed onto the bed Jonny wiggled out of his own trousers as well and shrugged off his waistcoat. Then he rested his head on Tims chest, who instantly wrapped two arms around him and held him closely as he drifted off, the entire day finally catching up to him.

It took Tim a bit longer to find sleep. He didn’t know if it was because he’d woken up just over an hour ago or because he was still reeling over the fact that Jonny was still alive. It was frankly a miracle, but now that he thought of it, he should have seen this coming.

Back on the moon Jonny used to make a lot of immortality jokes, but he would get rather defensive if anyone called them that or didn’t believe him. Bertie and Tim just humored him and tried to keep an eye out, but The Toy Soldier always seemed 100% agreeable over it, which made sense after seeing it here. So the logical conclusion was that all those jokes along with the forever family comment from Doc Carmilla meant that Jonny really was immortal and after Ashes’ shovel talk it wouldn’t surprise Tim if he was now too.

That was quite a lot to take in, but Tim didn’t really have time for an existential crisis, he had to focus on Jonny and making things right between them. Apparently they were going to have forever and he needed to be his best for his beloved right now, so compartmentalizing it was.

It took a while, but Tim fell asleep too, listening to the soft breaths coming from the small figure in his arms. He’d studied Jonnys face closely, it was still as lovely as he remembered, even with ruined eyeliner covering it.

When he awoke it was Jonny who was studying him. He had been hovering over him when he’d opened his new eyes and had startled back when he’d realized Tim was awake. He said: “Oh, hi, good morning, Tim.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Tim smiled, “How did you sleep?”

“Great, fine, better.” Jonny mumbled, looking a bit embarrassed, “It was nice to have you here.”

He had always been a terrible sleeper and Tim knew his and Berties presence had made it easier for him to sleep and it was nice to know that it still did. Tim smiled: “That’s good to hear.”

Jonny bit his lip, started to say something and then stopped. He looked at Tim again and Tim grabbed his hand, lightly squeezing to silently let him know that he was there and that it was okay. Jonny softly asked: “You are here, right? This is not just in my head?”

“Yeah, I’m really here.” Tim looked Jonny in the eye, but Jonny adverted his gaze, so he gently took Jonnys cheeks between his hands and said: “I mean it, Jonny, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you realize that I will never leave you again. What I did after-” a deep breath, “after Bertie died was stupid and hurtful and I have to live with the fact that I did that to you when you didn’t deserve it. I love you, Jonny, you’re my everything, and I will stay by your side and tell you that as much a possible for as long as you’ll have me.”

Jonny was crying again, Tim didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad one, but he held him nonetheless, whispering sweet nothings into his hairline and leaving soft kisses along it.

“I’d- I’d like that.” Jonnys voice cracked, but he sounded so relieved and all Tim could do was squeeze him tightly and hope Jonny would understand.

They sat there for a very long time, Tims stomach was rioting, but he didn’t dare disturb the peaceful air around them. Jonny was playing with his fingers while Tim rubbed his back. After making one of his fingers crack, Jonny seemed startled for a moment, then he asked: “Have you gotten a tour of the ship yet?”

“What?”

“A tour, of Aurora, the- the ship?”

“Oh, no. I just woke up and wondered around a bit.”

“Then I’ll give you one, get dressed.”

Jonny was out of the bed and pulling on clothes, suddenly bustling with activity as he fluttered around the room. He turned and looked expectantly at Tim, who smiled softly and said: ��I don’t have clean clothes, poppet.”

“Oh, of course.” Jonnys face got an understanding look on it as he began to dig through his closet, “I think I have one of Brians sweaters here from when I stole it and I must have a pair of sweatpants that can fit you. It will be too short, but it will have to do. And we have to ask Ashes to make sure they’ll get you some new clothes when we land some place habitable.”

The clothes thrown over his shoulder hit Tim, who took them and put them on. The sweatpants were indeed too short, but the sweater was oversized. It reminded him of Berties sweaters that he used to steal.

“Are you alright?” he asked, unsure what brought on the sudden need to move after Jonny had seemed perfectly content to just sit on the bed for the entire day not even a minute ago.

“You need to know where you’re going to stay, right? I mean, you can’t be expected to be with me the entire time, so I need to show you.” Jonny explained.

It sounded like watertight reasoning, but Tim couldn't shake the feeling that Jonny just didn’t want to come across as clingy, which had always been a fear of him. Tim put his arm around Jonnys waist and said: “I think I’m not going to leave your side anytime soon, but I do love to hear you talk, chipmunk, and a sense of direction would be nice. So lead the way!”

He saw a small smile flit over Jonnys face and couldn't help, but pat himself on his back for the excellent reply he had given.

They walked through the halls as Jonny rambled on about the different places behind closed doors, sometimes opening them to show Tim. He was not a very good guide, his talking was chaotic and all over the place and the route never really became clear. But Jonny seemed happy to talk and Tim was perfectly content to listen.

Jonny opened another door as he said: “So this is the kitchen, me and Brian mostly cook, because Ashes tends to burn anything and Nastya and Ivy can’t cook to save their life, you know, so we make the best of it and- oh, hi Nastya.”

“Hello, Jonny,” Nastya crossed her arms and gave Tim a judgmental one over, “Tim.”

“Hi, you must be Nastya.” Tim stepped forward and held out his hand, “We kind of did meet, but, you know, a face to the name.”

Nastya didn’t shake his hand and Tim dropped it. He could feel the nervous energy radiating of Jonny, from what the others had mentioned they must be close and it pained Tim that Nastyas anger at him had this impact on Jonny.

“I know you don’t like me.” he sighed, “I get it, I really do, I feel terrible about leaving Jonny too and I wish I could go back and slap me for it, but I did what I did, okay? I can’t change that and it seems like we’re stuck here together for forever, so you being mad isn’t going to make things better. I’m trying to make it up to Jonny, please, please, give me a chance.”

He didn’t see how Jonny made pleading eyes at her behind his back. He needed Nastya to be okay with Tim, he needed her to give him a chance and he needed her to be there and still like him if it went wrong.

Her shoulders sagged and she warned: “If I ever, and I mean ever, see Jonny cry over you again, I will cut off you genitalia and throw you in Aurora’s engine.”

“Nastyaaa.” Jonny whined, she raised a brow at him: “What, Jonny? It’s not like he won’t deserve it then.”

“I agree with Nastya, dear, full responsibility and accountability.” Tim said.

Jonny rolled his eyes and groaned: “Why is everyone suddenly so overprotective off me. I’m the crazy one and the oldest, I am the protector, not some damsel in distress.”

“Which is exactly why.” Tim and Nastya said in unison, they both looked at each other and Tim felt a slight victory at Nastyas small smile.

“Whatever, I still need to show Tim the couch room.” Jonny started to walk away, before Tim could follow Nastya stopped him and said: “Jonny isn’t the best guide, if you ever need to find anything, just ask Aurora.”

“The starship?”

“Yes.”

And with that Nastya walked away, while Jonny called out to him from where he had walked off in the other direction. Tim quickly walked over and they continued the tour.

Dinner that evening was provided by Brian and quite an awkward affair. Tim tried to get to know the others, but it seemed they had all decided to see if he proved himself worthy, before they accepted him. Brian did offer polite conversation, but that bled dry rather quickly.

In the end he just gave up and ate his dinner in silence, Jonny fiddling anxiously besides him.

The next few days went on quite similarly. He spent most of them with Jonny, who would alternate between too much energy and silent and sullen. Tim tried to keep up with him, but he was starting to get concerned about it and the stares at dinner, which was still violently silent, weren’t helping at all.

So, when they were lying in Jonnys bed, he still hadn’t gotten around to asking Ashes for his own (not that he wanted that), he asked: “What’s going on in that head of yours, munchkin?”

“What- what do you mean?” Jonny asked and Tim could hear the vulnerable defensiveness in his voice.

“I’m just concerned for you. You never want to talk and in some moments you bounce around and in others it seems the world could burn and you won’t move. I just want you to be alright, okay? I want you to talk to me, so that I can try and help.” Tim said, sounding a bit desperate, “I love you, sweetheart, I don’t want to see you upset.”

“Well, I don’t need your concern, I’ve been doing just fine without you.” Jonny spat.

Tim should have seen the outburst coming. He knew he couldn't just walk in and have everything be alright again, but it still hurt. He bit his lip, trying to keep a sharp retort in, but failed: “And I’ve really been seeing that independence lately.”

He knew it was a low blow, but Jonny was already replying before he could take it back and apologize: “Maybe if you weren’t smothering me so much, you would.”

“I- Me? Have I been smothering you?” inside Tim screamed at himself that this was just what Jonny did, he pushed people away and got defensive as if to prove to himself that they wouldn't stay if they saw him. But Tims already fierce soul had turned snappish and angry in the war and he couldn't help, but let false venom spill from his lips.

“Yes,” Jonny crossed his arms, sitting up, “you’re always around, a guy needs his space. I’m not some fragile child that will break the moment you leave me. I survived you leaving me already, I survived a lot without you before that. I don’t need you, but maybe you should think about how much you’re clinging to me.”

The words were a punch to Tims gut, he was trying so hard to be better, to stay, but the hurt was still there in Jonnys mind and that wouldn’t just disappear with Tim here. Maybe Tim deserved to be pushed away.

He got up out of the bed and stated: “Alright, if I’m smothering you that much, then I’ll give you some space.”

And with that he walked out the room. If he had bothered to turn around, he would have seen how Jonnys face crumbled as he curled into a ball on the bed, contemplating if he should call out, but the door was already closed.

Outside Tim realized he had nowhere to go. He still didn’t really know the way and no one aboard Aurora liked him enough to help. Fuck, he really did need Jonny. Why was he so stupid? Why did he let his anger get the best of him?

He suddenly had no energy to do anything and just collapsed on the floor outside of Jonnys room and leaned against the door. He wanted nothing more than to go back in and apologize, but he still wasn’t sure if Jonny was serious about the smothering and he didn’t want to risk angering him even more.

Maybe if he was nice and stayed out of the way tonight, Jonny would want to talk to him again next morning and then he could apologize.

Tim felt like such a dumbass, sitting against the door in his nightshirt. He probably ruined all he did so far. Jonny didn’t need him, not really. Here he had a family that loved him and would die for him, even if they did come back, but Tim still wanted to be the one to tell him how much he was worth and how much he loved him.

It might be selfish, but Tim wanted to be the one to make Jonny blush and smile. He wanted to be there when his brain got the better of him and he needed someone to hold him and tell him it was alright. Tim wanted to be the one who made him happy, just like before.

But now he might have ruined that, just because he snapped back at Jonny even if he already knew Jonny didn’t mean it, that he probably did it out of an insecurity that Tim only fed into instead of banished.

Like an idiot.

He never thought he would miss crying, but now he wanted to do nothing more than give himself over to heaving sobs and hope strong arms would hold him, that Bertie was still here and would make it all better again.

Yes, Bertie would have known what to do and what to say. Bertie was always better about these sort of things, about Jonny. As much as Jonny had him wrapped around his little finger, Bertie could get Jonny to do what he wanted just as easily. Always the right words and smiles ready.

Tim sighed and slumped further against the door and tried to get comfortable on the metal floor, Bertie wasn’t here and the hole in his heart felt deeper than when he was with Jonny. He needed to make it up to the other, but he didn’t know how.

What would Bertie do?

He pondered the question. Bertie would respect Jonny, not be stupid and push him when he was already upset, but if it did go wrong, he would catch him the next day. So that’s what Tim would do now. Tomorrow he promised to himself and Bertie, tomorrow he was going to apologize, grovel if he needed to, now he would just give Jonny space, just in case.

When he woke up, it was because he felt like he was falling. How he had managed to fall asleep, he did not know. He groaned and looked, only to find that it hadn’t been just a feeling, but that Jonny had opened the door he had been leaning against, causing him to fall backwards.

Jonny was looking down on him, a surprised look on his face, red rims around his eyes. He frowned: “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, you see, I, uhm,” Tim think of what Bertie would say, but he was not Bertie, he would never be that, so he just had to be himself as he confessed: “I had nowhere to go and I felt really bad about snapping at you, but then I thought that maybe I was smothering you, so I didn’t want to bother you, so I decided to apologize in the morning, because I am really fucking sorry and- are you crying, pumpkin?”

“You- you stayed.” Jonny sniffled, “I got really mad at you, but you still stayed here and tried to listen even if I’ve been really mean to you and you still tried to be nice and I don’t even know why I did that.”

Jonnys knees buckled and he collapsed next to Tim, who quickly sat up to wrap his arms around him. He rocked them slightly back and forth and whispered: “I promised to myself that I would make it up to you, honey. I’m never making the mistake of leaving you ever again.”

After a while Jonny said: “I’m sorry for getting mad at you.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know you didn’t mean it.” Tim replied, “I just worry about you and I got frustrated, but I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you. I never was the one who was good at that and I just didn’t think.”

Jonny was silent for a moment, then he whispered: “I miss him.”

“Me too.” Tim squeezed Jonny tightly, to reassure him and to remind himself that he was still there and not alone.

“I feel bad, because you’re here and that is already a miracle, but I still miss him.” Jonny was crying and Tim would be concerned about how often he’d seen Jonny cry these past few days, if his own eyes didn’t ache to join him.

All he could do was hold on and say: “It’s alright, well, it’s not, he should be here and I fucking wish nothing more than to have him here with us, but you’re allowed to grieve, dear, just let it all out.”

“Just- Why him?” Jonnys voice cracked, “Why did he have to die? I should have- should have protected him, but I was too late and it’s all so fucking unfair.”

“It is unfair.” Tim agreed, “It’s so unfair, but it’s not your fault, Jonny, it’s not. He would never blame you and neither do I.”

“I hate it, I just hate it.” Jonny pouted, cheeks and eyes wet, but his eyes full of rage, “I fucking hate it.”

“Yeah, I do too, teacup, just don’t hate it so much that it will ruin you, because he wouldn't want that for you.” Tim hated telling Jonny not to let the anger consume him after he had abandoned everything for his own rage.

“You got that perspective now?” Jonny asked, quirking a brow at him, a bit of a sharp edge to his voice.

“I know, it’s too late. Lying on a table in the dark gives you time to think, suddenly realized how pointless it all was and how badly I treated you and how much I wished I could make it better, to just be able hold you again and apologize.” Tim said.

The anger drained out of Jonny and he sighed: “You’re right, of course, you’re fucking right, I just wish anger or violence could be the answer that’s what I do. I can’t- I don’t- Not this. I’m not made for this.”

He sounded so frustrated and broken at the end and Tim just wanted to take all the anger, all the frustration and hurt from him, but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he kissed his forehead and sadly smiled: “No one is made for this, precious. I wasn’t, I’m still not.”

Jonny thought about that. Then he kissed Tim, it was soft and desperate and not really what Tim was used to, but he welcomed it nonetheless. When Jonny pulled back he asked: “What was that about?”

“You’re just so good for me and I know you feel guilty about what happened after B- you know? But you don’t have to feel guilty about it.” Jonny said, it was clear that he’d thought about it for a while, “It hurt, of course it fucking hurt, but I get it, I get it and I can’t be mad at you for it, as much as I want to blame you, I can’t.”

“Jonny-”

“No, let me talk please, because I don’t know if I can say all this again.” Jonny cut him off, “When I went- when I got here, no, before I got here, I- I was angry at my home and I burned it to the ground and it felt good to be angry and do that even if it was pointless, so I get it.”

“But can you forgive me?” Tim asked, scared of the answer, but needing to know.

“Someday, yeah, I can, just- just not now, not yet.” Jonny told him, “But we’re getting there and I still love you.”

The doubt that had been gnawing on him, disappeared with that. It was the first time Jonny told him that he loved him since he’d gotten here and he had been scared that the other didn’t anymore, that he had been too late. He breathed out in relief: “I love you too, starling.”

Jonny let out a small giggle, breaking the sad tension that had hung over them. He smiled: “You with your silly pet names.”

Tim laughed too and promised: “I got a whole lot more, Jonny-boy, don’t you worry.”

“Well, I’d like to hear them.”

“I will try my best, m’lady, but first breakfast!” Tim said, a weight off his shoulder as he pulled Jonny up. This conversation had been what they needed, a bit of clearing the air so that they could move forward and be sure where they stood even if a fight had brought it on.

They walked to breakfast hand in hand. The past few days they had been close, but the barrier of uncertainty was gone now and the contact now felt more natural. A happy bubble floated up in Tims chest as Jonny chattered on about a stupid dream he’d had.

Entering the dining room everyones gaze fell on them. Ashes stood up, butter knife in hand, and asked: “Has Jonny been crying? What did you do to him?”

Where before he would sit silent and say nothing, just send them pleading glances to keep their mouth shut, Jonny now snapped: “Don’t do this, Ashes. If he could, he would have been crying too. It was good crying, now shut the fuck up before I shoot you.”

“Are you sure?” Ashes asked. Tim noticed Nastya had stood up as well, hand at her holster.

“Yes, I’m sure. You could all be a bit nicer to Tim, it’s not like he doesn’t belong here. He is family too now, it would do you good to get to know him at least.”

Ashes looked a bit unsure at that, but they did sit down again and so did Nastya. With that done, Jonny seemed a bit more awkward, thorn between Tim and his other family. Tim just dragged him to his chair and said: “Come on, eat something. You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

“I do not.” Jonny replied indignantly.

Tim rolled his eyes playfully and smirked: “So that time you forgot to eat and then complained about the soil for two hours and threatened to shoot me over telling you to calm down, was just you being happily full, eh, bubbles?”

Jonny blushed a bright scarlet and mumbled something that was drowned out by Ashes chocking loudly. They now registered the pet names that they had missed in the surprise back when Tim had first arrived and exclaimed: “Bubbles?”

The flush got darker and Jonny gritted out: “Shut up.”

Some of the others laughed as well and Tim felt kind of bad for the embarrassment he was causing Jonny, but it really wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to keep the pet names on the down low with everyone hating him, but, with the more relaxed atmosphere between him and Jonny, it had just slipped out.

Tim had been about to save Jonny when The Toy Soldier asked: “What Is So Weird About Tim Calling Jonny Bubbles? He Always Uses Strange Names That Aren’t Jonny To Refer To Him.”

Multiple people at the table began to grin as Jonny tried to disappear into thin air with no success. Interested Nastya asked: “Really, TS? What sort of names then?”

“Well, I Remember Dearie, Gorgeous, Sweetie, Jellybean-” The Toy Soldier was cut off by Jonny, who shot it before glaring at everyone and saying: “Not a goddamn word.”

“Ahw, are you embarrassed about me, missy?” Tim teased, knowing the last time he’d used that particular moniker Jonny had spluttered for a full minute or two.

The effect was the same. The already prominent blush spread further and further as Jonny waved his gun haphazardly around and gaped like a fish. There was more laughter and in the end he just dramatically draped himself over Tim as he exclaimed: “Why do you hate me?”

Carding a hand through his hair Tim said: “I could never. Here, I’ll even make you coffee.”

“‘M gonna need something stronger than coffee,” Jonny pouted, still hiding his face, “but you’re making a strong argument.”

Tim decided he liked the new vibe in the room with the others, as it allowed Jonny to be softer and him to be more himself as well. He gently reminded Jonny: “I thought we had all agreed first coffee then something else, cuddle bug. Remember?”

With his face still hidden Jonny couldn't see the others biting their lips at the pet name. All wanted to see if Jonny would actually do it. They of course didn’t know how Bertie had made the most convincing puppy dog eyes as he played up the concerned boyfriend act when they made the agreement.

“Alright, but I’m drinking something stronger right after.” apparently Jonny was going to honor the agreement, even if the other party wasn’t there anymore.

With a smile Tim got up and went to make coffee after he had gently pushed Jonny off of himself. While he was away, Brian leaned over and softly said: “He seems nice. You look happier, Jonny. That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

Nastya and Ashes nodded. Jonny couldn't help but smile at that, he’d been so worried when everyone had seemed mad at Tim. He didn’t like to see his family members fighting and a part of him had feared that the animosity would never fade.

The moment was ruined by Ashes who asked: “How many times will you kill me if I ever refer to you as bubbles or cuddle bug or missy? And how mad will you get when I tell him you used to be a cowboy?”

They were answered by a shot through their head, however it was too late, because Tim had entered just in time to witness the murder. He raised his brow and asked: “I’ve gathered the immortality thing, but is this a regular occurrence?”

“Sadly, yes, there is 67% chance that someone will not survive the day when everyone is in a good mood, this rises to 91.5% when someone isn’t.” Ivy told him.

“Great.” Tim said, handing Jonny his coffee, which he took gratefully, before making himself a bowl of cereal as well as one for Tim.

Ashes and TS didn’t wake up during breakfast and Tim had a pleasant chat with Brian about string instruments, apparently the other played banjo. Meanwhile Jonny and Nastya seemed to be having an in depth conversation about whether Ashes would be mad if Jonny stole their tongue.

When the last spoonful was in gone, Tim got up and stated: “I want to see this observation deck that I’ve heard about. Come on, cowboy, lead the way.”

“Oh no, you heard that?” Jonny groaned, but he got up anyway to show Tim.

“I almost get the feeling that you’re ashamed of my pet names.” Tim told him, then more dramatically he went on, “The light of my life, my own little gremlin and cutie pie, ashamed of little humble me.”

“Oh come on, you dork. That’s enough teasing material to last them a few centuries, the vultures.” despite his words Jonny had a smile on his lips and Tim hadn’t seen him happier in a very long while.

He ceased his pet names onslaught and just let Jonny drag him away from the others to the observation deck where they both sat down to watch the stars.

Tim had wrapped his arm around Jonny, who leaned into him gratefully. It was oddly domestic after most of their experiences together being in the middle of a war, but Tim found that he quite liked this opportunity for a new them.

There was still a lot to do, a lot to work through and talk about. Tim had to adjust to an immortal life and fully win over the others, even if he was already on the way. He’d have to get used to living again, for the first time actually function without Bertie there. There was also Jonny, whose forgiveness and trust he still had to earn, despite the love he already had. It all seemed very daunting, but with Jonny under his arm, safely tucked into his side, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“I love you, nugget.” he told Jonny softly, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you too, Tim.” Jonny replied, shifting to make himself even more comfortable next to Tim.

Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. Tim could get used to this.

#RR writing #tw: grief #tw: emotional issues #The Mechanisms #the mechs #Jonny d'Ville #gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville x gunpowder Tim #Bertie x gunpowder Tim x Jonny d'ville #bertie (the mechs)#doc carmilla #carmilla #Ashes O'Reilly #Nastya Rasputina #jonny d'ville & nastya rasputina #the toy soldier #drumbot brian #toy soldier

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63824peace · 4 years

Text

Tuesday, 29th of november 2005

When I left home this morning, I saw that someone had repainted the pavement's white lane markings. The newly lettered STOPs covered the old and faded characters like freshly fallen snow.

The icy new lines sat slightly off-center the old ones, and the two STOPs blended into double-vision. I felt as though I had astigmatism when I looked at them. The painters hadn't traced the old edge-lines very well either. I could see traces of the old and over-trodden markings beneath the newly painted lines.

They should do better work when they try to renovate the area. Even so, the repainted lane markings made me feel as though the roads had renewed their vigor.

I walked to the train station and thought about roads. Roads and the ground that they pattern form much of our perception of a town. We need them to comprehend something as simple as a row of houses along a street.

An unpleasantly warm wind slipped across my face.

I noticed the blurred STOP letters on the ground and then I noticed other lines and figures that I usually ignore. Though it sounds odd, the lettered STOPs made it impossible to stop seeing new things!

I observed the pavement while I walked, and the act felt natural. I had paid enough attention to notice two species of STOPs on the road: one written in kanji, and the other written in hiragana. Had someone placed the hiragana STOPs for younger school children who might rush into traffic? And, if that's so, had someone placed the kanji STOPs in traffic lanes for kanji-literate drivers?

No... I decided against my explanation. I saw hiragana STOPs for drivers too. What standard does the city use to determine where hiragana and kanji STOPs go?

I continued walking with my head bent toward the ground. I saw so many painted figures such as squares, plusses, and perpendicular Ts. I noticed numbers and letters on speed limit signs... I saw Emergency Parking signs in front of the hospital. I even noticed the commonplace median markings, stop lines, and crosswalks.

I gave the pavement's surface more and more attention. I saw grounded dashes, marks, numbers, and letters fill the pavement. All countries paint this kind of national graffiti on their roads.

I hadn't realized so before, but different types of roads serve as navigation media that carry a lot of information. The asphalt symbols define a sort of program to describe the way everything should move... people, bicycles, motorbikes, and cars.

I didn't see a single naked road during my walk to the station. Well… I didn't see anything in the alley where I take my shortcut. No cars travel there.

We'll see our roads painted with more and more symbols in the future. We'll walk around looking at the numbers and road signs on the ground.

We should look at the ground more often while walking. Our postures will worsen, but perhaps we'll discover something from our new perspective. Our tears will drop straight down our faces though, so we'll need to take care when we cry.

I ate an Agedori Lunch at the restaurant Hana Goyomi. Gucci ordered Ishiyaki Kaisen.

I met with Mr. Muraoka at the bookstore. He recommended that I pick up The Day Yukio Mishima Died (Vol. 2). I got Joseph Finder's new novel, Paranoia, instead.

People are holding many festivals in honor of the thirty-fifth anniversary of Yukio Mishima's death. The movie Spring Snow has become a big hit recently too; Mishima wrote the film's source material. Maybe I'll read Mishima's books again after I've taken a long break from them.

My father ardently admired Mishima's writing. I remember his shock when he learned that Mishima had committed harakiri.

I stopped by Shin-chan's work booth after I had returned to KojiPro. I found him with a Mishima biography.

Shin-chan, Murashu, Rettsu, and I received our flight suits for OOOO Training from Phantom. Murashu tried his on first. He posed flamboyantly when I took out my camera.

We had arranged to get identical flight suits. We bought them used from a military base. We don't need brand-new materials this time because we plan to incorporate them into our self-made camouflage outfits.

Each suit's color differs from the others', but they all were once identically green. The colors of the Nomex fibers blush when over-exposed to the sun. The tincture of the new colors depends upon the circumstances and length of exposure to ultraviolet rays.

Each suit outwardly bears the record of its military career.

Microsoft has recently released the Xbox 360 in the United States. I played a bit of Project Gotham Racing 3 and drove a white Lotus Esprit through London. I felt like Roger Moore as 007.

I parked the car on the side of the road and then manipulated the camera to view the onlookers behind the wire frame. The people aren't in 2D - they're in 3D! It's a next-generation system, so that's really expected.

I played the U.S. version, and I found that the options include Japanese and even Korean subtitles. Incredible... does this mean that the system is region-free? If that's true, then I can play foreign games too. I definitely want to play King Kong, but I should watch the movie before I play the game.

I gave an interview in the early evening with Mr. Hamamura for Famitsu's December 22 issue. Mr. Hamamura's interviews always turn into pleasant conversations.

Enjoyable interviews don't happen very often. No matter how many interviews I give, I always feel apprehensive. I especially become more cautious whenever I interview with newspapers or general interest magazines. Some of the nastier interviewers schedule an appointment just to bring up their ideas about the immorality of video games. Other wily interviewers try to talk me into a corner. I actually get a stomachache after enough of those.

Mr. Hamamura is totally different. We have both worked in the industry for a long time, and he has a lot of experience in games. Mr. Hamamura loves games, and he shares my concern for the future of the gaming industry.

I actually started to enjoy today's conversation so much that I forgot it was work! I dropped my guard and I accidentally mentioned our new PSP project.

I'll apologize to Okamura before they publish that issue of Famitsu.

I went shopping in Ginza later in the evening. I hadn't been there in a while. Ginza's department store closes early at night, so I only had an hour. I had to shop so quickly that I didn't have a lot of time to deliberate.

I automatically rush out of a department store whenever they play Auld Lang Syne. They only use the chime to announce that they will close soon. They don't mean to throw me out, but I rush out anyway. I wasn't able to buy a lot, but at least I had the chance to shop.

I saw a huge Christmas tree in front of the Chanel boutique. It would light up only in fixed intervals, probably to save energy. All the nearby girls started to photograph the tree with their cell phones when it lit up. They treated the occasion like a red carpet affair for a film star.

I pulled out my camera, too, for HIDEOBLOG. I was the only man there-but at least I had the best camera.

I wonder... who will they show their pictures to? Will the girls send them to their peers or boyfriends by cell phone email? I don't think that many women take photographs to preserve their subjects' beauty. I think they take them to show other people.

Of course, I took my photograph to include in HIDEOBLOG. Widespread cell phone usage has really changed the purpose for photography.

I passed in front of the lottery ticket seller with the reputation for selling the most winning tickets. Unfortunately they had already closed for the day.

I was surprised to see guards standing around the front of the booth. I suppose they had received a lot of daytime business.

It was the legendary booth where they sell the most winning tickets in Japan. The booth's front sign proclaimed in large letters: "Our billionaires were born here! Three hundred people have won 42.1 billion yen during the whole Heisei Era! Fourteen people won 2.6 billion yen in Heisei-16 alone!"

The booth gave me a strangely strong feeling that I could win. I would have bought some tickets had the booth stayed open. I stepped closer and noticed that its windows had been assigned numbers from 1 through 7, with the exceptions of 4 and 6.

I can understand why they omitted 4 - it’s an unlucky number. I wonder why they left out 6 though. What's wrong with 6?

I mused quietly to myself about these things, and Kenichiro called the Chance Center to ask about it.

They had seven numbered windows in the beginning. "Vox Populi, Vox Dei" had mentioned on November 28 that people would wait in line at Window-1 for three and a half hours. The window gained a reputation for selling many winning tickets. News of Window-1's fortune spread, and its business increased.

After a while, Window-1 couldn't handle its number of clients. They wanted to create a second Window-1 to resolve this. They would renumber the windows 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 – but then 7 would have disappeared. They couldn't just do away with lucky number seven. They decided to discard the number 6, so that's why the booth appears as it does today.

Even lottery shops outwardly wear their histories.

I would have bought lottery tickets from Window-3. I haven't aggrandized the number 3 like the hero did in Stealth. It's just an attractive looking number, and I've always liked it because of that. Number three is also another lucky number.

At the HMV in Ginza, I listened to the album With Love & Squalor by the band We Are Scientists. I decided to go ahead and buy it. It's the New York based trio's first album.

Their style sounds a lot like British rock, and their sound coheres with the in-vogue Post-New-Wave movement. The Bravery and The Rapture came from New York too. Perhaps British rock fans should pay attention to New York.

I ate a late dinner at Toridori in Ginza San-cho-me. "San" means three, so there's another number three! It took me a little while to realize that I had been there before.

I settled for a couple of glasses of draft beer since I wasn't in top physical shape today.

I left Ginza on the Hibiya subway line. It was already late, so I just descended at the transfer station and passed Roppongi Station. I didn't go back to the office.

I only bought a ticket for the trip between Ginza and Roppongi since I already have a commuter pass. I wouldn't have been able to pass through the automatic ticket gate outside the transfer station without that ticket. The alarm would have activated if I had only inserted my Roppongi pass. They use these measures to prevent people from cheating on their fares.

I have always taken the gate with an actual stationed employee to solve that problem. I could simply show him both my commuter pass and my ticket. I went to the last gate on the row and presented both to the employee.

"Oh, right," he said casually. "Put both of them into the automatic gate's slots, please. Then you can pass with no problem!"

"Really? I haven't heard of this before."

I half doubted what he said, but I inserted both into the machine as he had advised. It's the same method used when boarding the Shinkansen bullet train. They require us to insert both the regular ticket and the special express pass at the same time.

The gate opened just like he said it would.

"Wow!"

That was convenient. How long have they used this? Was I the only one who didn't know about it? Or had they recently revamped the automated gates?

I later considered it rationally, and I realized that it shouldn't be too difficult. From both technological and financial perspectives, machines ought have the ability to accept a ticket and a pass pretty easily, one laid atop the other. What have they been doing all this time?

It's such a trivial matter, but I can't stop thinking about it.

I suddenly remembered when I first passed through an automatic ticket gate. I had boarded the Hankyu Line in the Kansai region. That was over thirty years ago.

Not many people know this, but Kansai used automatic ticket gates long before Tokyo. They installed the mechanized gates one day without any warning. I was a boy in elementary school, and I felt as though the door to the future had opened.

"Now, wait just a second...."

Thirty years have passed. The ticket-reading technology and its speed have surely improved since then. It can now recognize the doubled-up SUICA Pass.

But can we really call that progress? We've only modified our machines to read two passes at once after thirty years. Nothing about the ticket gates has really changed, unless we count the advertisements stuck on them. Other technologies advance quickly, but ticket gate technology has moved as slowly as a turtle. Even the game consoles have advanced rapidly within only ten years.

What will the next-generation ticket gate look like? The idea seems kind of strange.

I'm sure that the very concept of ticket gates will disappear in the future. We'll soon enter into the age of digitized personal identification. We won't need to carry anything with us. We'll shop with digitized personal IDs, and we'll even use them to pay for transportation and food. The fees will automatically withdraw. A time will come when personal IDs will handle all of our living needs-food, clothing, and even shelter.

It will be convenient, but I still can't shake the suffocation that comes when I think about it. We may even see a society so controlled that we'll need personal IDs just to breathe fresh air. We will exchange that freedom for 21st century security.

I wrote HIDEOBLOG after midnight with the television running in the background. I saw Mr. Tokoro's commercial several times: "The End-of-the-Year Jumbo Lottery: Three Hundred Million Yen!"

The absent Window-6 haunts me.

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