victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

The doctor-- a proper doctor, not the Doctor-doctor-- just called Victor on the phone with the results and she told him not to say another word because she has to get Jack and so she cradles the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she texts Jack on her PINpoint: GET OVER HERE.

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"You think they'd be different?"

"Oh, certainly. They'd have different experiences. Everyone anyone meets and spends enough time with changes them."

"I guess that's true of any alternate. I've never met one of mine."

"I know another you. I've met a couple other mes. I don't particularly like myself. Other-myselves, I mean."

"What're the other mes like?"

"A lot like you. He's maybe a little sadder."

"Huh." Jack knows better than to ask why, but it's confusing all the same. Why would he be sad?

"He's older," she explains, though she knows it's probably a mistake to keep going. It's like when she makes a mistake painting and just keeps on slathering paint on top of it, hoping that when she keeps going the error will be fixed (but really it just makes a muddy mess). "He's good people. He's got a good thing going for him. Really, really cool guy."

"You probably shouldn't tell me details," Jack says as if he's just thinking about it, although he knows full well that he needs to say this. "I might not turn out like him, but if he's older, then there's a chance and I shouldn't learn too much about my own timeline."

"I know," she says, now a bit sheepish. "I won't tell the details. I just want you to know that-- I mean, you end up okay. I figured that was alright to say."

"Thank you," he says, flashing one of those brilliant grins. He's privately refusing to believe it, necessarily - that's why his alternate is an alternate - but it's a nice thought, and that's the part that counts.

She reaches over to touch his hand, gentle-like, and she tilts her head to the side, smiles. Then she shyly returns her attention to her frozen yogurt. "Most of my alternates are crazy," she says.

"You're not," he says, swirling his spoon in his froyo without eating it.

"I think I am. On a level. I just cope better than most."

"You're not," Jack insists. "I've seen crazy before, and you are not it."

She gives the slightest little smile. "Now that I'm not sure if I believe."

"Which part?"

"About me being entirely well-adjusted."

"Hey, I never said that," he says with a smile that takes the sting out of the words. "You don't have to be well-adjusted to be not-crazy."

She laughs, almost a chuckle, and takes a big, big spoonful of fro-yo. "That's true. I guess I feel crazy. More than, I think, normal people do."

"Normal is just a concept people cling to so they can feel better about themselves anyway."

"I s'pose that's true," she says. "I know for sure it's overrated, but, I always figured there was a baseline level of sanity that I was somehow missing."

"Well, don't. It's not worth worrying over."

"That helps," she says.

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