ɑgɛɳt ɱѳɓiuร (jetskiing) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-05-13 07:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): sharon carter, ₴ inactive: mobius m. mobius 2, → week 036 (pilot - empire city) |
empire city - day 2
"What a week." "Lemon it's only Wednesday." The meme played in Sharon's mind as she pulled a make-up bag out of her briefcase and tried to touch up her eye make-up before the light turned green. She got about halfway through a brush of pale shimmery blue before it changed, and she one hand (and perhaps not very safely really), turned left onto the Interstate to drive back into Empire City. Her right eye would have to wait until she parked. The whole week had been strange and uncomfortable, and nerves were somewhere between excited - dinner finally - and a little uneasy. The mysterious network. Mobius saying that they needed to talk. That weird feeling that she'd been to a toga party (although she never had been that sort of student). The fact that the head of DSS had asked the question on the mysterious network. Then there was the dream she'd had last night. Mobius had featured, and clearly she shouldn't have fallen asleep watching Jurassic World. She'd always had a tendency to speed, which sometimes got her into trouble, but today it just got her into Empire City early enough for her to reach for the eyeshadow again and press another hint of shimmer across her other eye. Even now, she refreshed her lip gloss, checked her hair, and climbed out of the car. Sharon had sent a restaurant tucked on the edge of a residential district, near a park, and as she straightened her shoulders and crossed at the crosswalk she thought perhaps that Mobius might be waiting for her. As she stepped closer it was clear that it was him, and for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy him not knowing that she was watching him, before she stepped forward and into his space with a smile. "You've not been waiting long I hope?" Weird, this whole thing was weird, and that was a massive understatement - but Mobius supposed that he couldn’t be too surprised. No, just disappointed, really - feeling like a failure because the fact that a lot of people (Sharon included) couldn’t remember the Derleth Experiment was a massive black stain on how he and others had managed to actually find a stable timeline; all of it worked, yes, and the research had paid off - they’d dug into charts and graphs and codes and went to the ends of sciences, dove into the recesses of magic, combined the two in some kind of perfect-imperfect harmony and now here they were. But was it worth it, if there were some that didn’t even know what it took to get here? That couldn’t recall the bonds they’d formed prior? That they weren’t entirely themselves? Mobius didn’t think so, and that hurt. It also hurt knowing that this had been an effect, and all the calculations in the world couldn’t stop Derleth from throwing some kind of monkey wrench into plans. Now he had people who couldn’t remember shit, a Loki in prison (there was a plan to break him out, hopefully), and a whole lot of mess. He just hoped he could explain it to Sharon without sounding too insane - he was sure he’d feel the same way about her in this universe too, but. He missed the Sharon who had been through Schmigadoon with him, building up to this point. “Not waiting long, no,” he smiled, unable to help reaching out and cupping her cheek in his hand - his thumb dragged along the bone as he studied her fondly, not complaining at all about her in his space; they’d been even closer than this before too. “Let’s go inside? I’m ready for a flantastic time. You look beautiful, by the way,” he added. “Thanks for accepting the invite.” The touch sent shivers through her, and one of those deja vu moments that she'd said to someone on the network that she kept having. It didn't make sense, exactly. She and Mobius had known each other for a while, and if she were honest, it felt as if they'd been dancing around some attraction for a while now, but there was a familiarity to the way he touched her face that shouldn't have been there, accompanying the way the touch sent butterflies dancing in her chest. "Oh, god Mobius," she laughed at him, as she stepped back and shook her head at him. "If you make flan jokes to the waiter, I may just walk out," she shot a grin back at him. "You've been warned." It was a threat without any substance. Because really she had no intention of walking out on him. If anything she'd maybe been a little worried that maybe the 'talk' would be something that she didn't want to hear. But now that she was here, and he was looking at her, and the way he'd just touched her - that seemed less likely. She pulled the door open and stepped into the restaurant, a narrow length of space with tables all the way down one side of the room, and she waited until they were seated towards the back with menus in front of them before she looked back up at him. "You look fantastic tonight too, by the way." “Thanks, sweetheart,” Mobius smiled, the affectionate nickname automatically slipping out - with his accent (that he could deduce was Texan in nature, since he was from Houston in this time? It was where his kids had been born, and partially raised) it sounded like black molasses a little, smooth and sure; he seemed to have different pet names for Sharon, different ones for Loki. Which made sense - it was a nuanced situation, one he felt lucky to be involved with even if one of them couldn’t exactly recall how nuanced it was right now. This was a nice place - high ceilings, warm fireplaces, indoor plants hanging from the walls and colorful murals that caught the eye; he honestly couldn’t wait to try the food. And since he knew pretty much every language there was to know, ordering in Spanish wouldn’t be an issue either. “No flan jokes, it’s out of my system,” he promised; scout’s honor there, hand held up in an oath. “I just - really wanted to see you. And talk to you about that sudden network app and how it may potentially be connected to any dreams you may be having?” Trying to ease into this was more difficult than he thought. There it was again, that feeling of familiarity that wasn’t really what she remembered, but it also didn’t feel wrong - just different? And not something she would usually expect from Mobius. Unless it was? That was the thing, that as she glanced down at the menu, utterly unseeing whatever was there, it felt like the dream she’d had. The one with the dinosaurs. Sharon shook her head slightly, and looked up to offer the man across from her a quick smile. “Thank goodness, although third time is a charm, they say, so as long as it’s not to the waiter, I will eagerly await the award winning performance,” she teased. “And look, chocolate flan, Mobius.” She wanted some, and hopefully still would after whatever it was that he had to say about these dreams. She waited until after they had drinks in front of them before she took a sip and nodded. “I have had a few rather vivid dreams recently,” she felt her cheeks feel a little warm as she considered the content of those dreams. “I assumed I should have one to bed rather than falling asleep grading papers on the couch.” Mobius was about to ask what those dreams had been about, but - Sharon’s blush hopefully spoke for itself? Gods, he really hoped - the more detailed, the more intimate, maybe the easier this would be. He’d asked for a glass of red wine, something with fruity notes and notes of the earth itself - tempting to just drain it right here, but he had never been much of a drinker than he could recall and wasn’t about to start now. He’d be diligent and mix this up with water, to stay hydrated and sharp. Probably. Though now he was experiencing his own rush of memories - wine and cookies, mascara wands and Mobius maybe making for a beautiful woman but Sharon had him outclassed in every way. “I guess they would be kind of vivid, huh?” he murmured, encouraged. “Uh - do you ever read about...other lives? Parallel universes where other versions of us live. It’s some quantum physics stuff, sure, but probable.” "It's not really typically political science material," Sharon pointed out. "I suppose I've read about it in some of the fiction I've read. Or at least the concept." She at one point might have questioned the probability of it, but that had been before aliens had showed up and now, well, anything seemed as if it was probably fair game. Maybe even it felt like the sort of thing she had dreamed once. Multiverses and parallel universes. She tilted her head in Mobius' direction. "You're not going to tell me that parallel universes are a thing?" “And if I did?” Mobius postulated, you know, hypothetically. “Dreams as windows into other lives? Maybe what you saw actually happened someplace. That - wouldn’t be too terrible, would it?” He was just testing the waters. Maybe not actually coming out and saying that those dreams meant something, that they had occurred in another time and place - but he wanted to be truthful, above all else. Because tapdancing around this whole thing was just awkward and it made his stomach sink to think of having to keep doing it if this Empire City location was permanent. It was meant to be, was the thing. They had been trying to find a stable timeline, and they did find one - it just figured that half the people who came with them had sudden glaring holes in their memories and that was something Mobius felt guilt over, even if the memories were good. Their lives here were good. That wasn’t the issue - it was just the principle of the whole thing. Sharon gave him an incredulous look, for an instant, just an instant because as insane as it did sound at first glance, aliens had felt equally so. And just because theoretical physics wasn’t her area of expertise, didn’t mean that she hadn’t occasionally dabbled, either with fiction or the occasional Science news report. The other piece, of course, was that it was Mobius talking about this in the first place. From anyone else she would have likely asked if they hadn’t slept well the night before, but Mobius worked for the DSS, and because of that she knew, even if she didn’t know all of the things he worked with, that there was a chance that he might know something about research that a lot of people wouldn’t. Was’t super secret stuff what they did? Incredulity shifted towards consideration, even if it did feel to her that this was all coming out of nowhere. But then the dreams felt… new? “I suppose it would depend,” she reached for her drink. “What sort of evidence they had of the existence of something like that.” Orders were placed (mussels, Mobius could go for mussels - he loved seafood, and likely could guess why if he really thought about it) and it was an effortless thing to do in Spanish. But then he focused his attention on Sharon, pale eyes narrowing in thought. She wanted proof of course, and he thought about how to give that to her - he was admittedly trying to avoid ripping the bandaid off, but maybe deep down she already knew the truth. It was just a matter of connecting the dots. He took a sip from his wine glass too, the stem twirled in his hands before setting it down. “There was an island,” he started. “You built a house - I brought you blue flowers. The color of sapphires but I don’t even know if that could accurately describe them - I don’t think Crayola’s even come up with a name yet.” Tentatively, he reached across the table to touch Sharon’s hand, to brush his fingers over hers. “It was a...pretty good night. Despite how the threat of being eaten by dinosaurs loomed.” She hadn’t told him the details of any of her dreams yet, right? So maybe this would help - Mobius could only hope. Sharon froze, her thoughts about how much she planned to enjoy the trout and asparagus that she’d ordered slipping away with his description of her dream. But she hadn’t mentioned it at all and she was fairly certain that a dream had been all that it had been. Hadn’t she? It didn’t feel like a memory. But even so, she could remember the things he was talking about, like a dream. Something about a gem, and there had been a hearth, and furs, and a beach. She moistened her lips breathing in, but she didn’t try to pull her hand away. Instead she tilted her head in his direction. “But it doesn’t feel like a memory, and why do I know that dream? Why do you know it?” She flushed, she couldn’t quite keep her cheeks from heating up. Because the dream wasn’t the only time she’d thought of something like that, but only in the dream had it happened, so far as she knew, and how had Mobius known?” “It wasn’t a dream for me,” Mobius replied simply. “It...actually happened. Which is a whole other story about the mechanics of it and everything else, and I don’t want to overwhelm you with it all.” Because he was sure it’d sound completely insane, even more so than the idea of shared dreams or dreams being windows into other worlds, other lives. Also because not even he understood the mechanics of Derleth entirely. There was a time loop, a magical network, and an experiment gone wrong - some kind of explosion that, like the Big Bang, created something far beyond what anyone could imagine. Something that, on most days, felt inescapable - and now they were so close and yet looking at Sharon, who didn’t remember anything about what they’d gone through to get to this point, Mobius wondered if it was even worth it anyway; he wanted Sharon as Sharon, but maybe it also wasn’t about what he wanted. So he sat back and sighed, picking up the wine glass again. “Just - I don’t know. Are you happy? Because if you are, I...that’s what matters to me.” If she was, he’d just shut the hell up and they’d eat their Spanish food and that would be that. Well, now Sharon was definitely feeling hot cheeks, and a little uncertain. Because everything in that dream had been so vivid when she’d dreamed it, and she had almost certainly enjoyed it, and if Mobius said it had actually happened to him… But how because so far as she knew he had been here the whole time. And happy? Well, she supposed, generally speaking. She had tenure now, and she was sitting here with Mobius, but on a micro level it was a lot to consider that she might have had something completely different too, and that she might sort of dream of it from time to time. “Um.” Well that was articulate. She echoed his sigh. “I think I’m a little confused mostly. Are you here because of … You’ve always been here though. We met through DSS? Are we both from another timeline? Or are you just from another timeline?” Wine, he needed more wine. Mobius drained the glass, setting it down and clearing his throat. “I’m...technically from another timeline,” he replied. “It’s sort of a merge - so I’m still me. Still the me you know. But I just remember other dreams that aren’t actually dreams - needless to say, it’s kind of a mess in my head.” However, it always was - so that really wasn’t anything new, was it? Maybe he should be glad that Sharon didn’t have to worry about parsing all of that out, and working through an intricate mental game of cat’s cradle. “Basically I just wanted to be honest with you,” he fidgeted slightly. “And to tell you that - you’re not crazy or anything, that there’s a reason for these dreams and also...I’m here. I mean, for you. You’ve always meant a lot to me - we’ve always understood each other. I don’t think that will change, even if timelines start getting crossed like wires.” It was Sharon now who reached for her wine. Part of what he was saying made absolutely no sense to her. He was from another timeline, but also he was still him, and it was obvious to her that he was still him, because he knew things that her Mobius knew, but he also knew the dreams she’d had recently, only they were apparently … something he’d lived? The mess of that was giving her a headache. She was going to need a bottle of wine and a quiet evening laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. Maybe while cycling through every Enya album she could find on her music streaming service. But even if it was nonsensical, she did know Mobius well enough to believe he wouldn’t lie about something like this, and even if the implications were a lot to think about, she could take the time to do so. She really didn’t know what to say to all of it, and she wasn’t sure that pretending that things were normal was the best way to go, but she did appreciate the honesty. It could be weird, she thought - maybe it even was weird - but he was still here telling her. Sharon put the wine back down in front of her and looked across the table at him, admiring those eyes that she knew well enough to know there was some uncertainty there. Or maybe it was the fidgeting that gave it away. “I’m going to need some time to think about all of this I think, but -“ Sharon reached a hand out to grab his. “I like this new thing where we do dinner and talk about things that make my head hurt, but maybe you could give me a neck rub later…” Right, this new thing. Mobius laughed - because he was just not always great at handling interpersonal affairs since much of it was so new to him. He just remembered the whole conversation with Sharon about eye makeup as a metaphor, and, well - maybe he never shied away from being real about his feelings but he also sometimes simply didn’t know how to form the words. He was doing his best, however - so that had to count for something? His expression was relieved, when Sharon took his hand - he weaved his fingers around hers, a loving clasp, with food in between them but he’d get to that. Mobius wanted to hold hands first, thanks. “I’ll give you a neck rub,” he promised, and he’d swiftly go for a subject change too. “Anything you want. Maybe we can even get dessert to go.” And he’d try to resist making any untoward quips about dessert as well. “Dessert for two, to go… might be… dare I say, flantastic?” The look on her face said very clearly that she knew exactly what she was doing, and although possibly she should be picking up her purse and going home to think over everything that Mobius had said, Sharon had come here for dessert and she didn’t really want to go home without it. “Oh no, you caught the bug,” Mobius teased - the dad joke bug, that is. But he was glad that Sharon hadn’t made some excuse and hightailed out of the restaurant - maybe there was hope. If this turned out to be permanent, she might still remember him even if those memories trickled back slowly, like raindrops under a window shutter. He’d be willing to wait - for as long as it took. He squeezed Sharon’s hand, gently. “Definitely flantastic though, sweetheart, so I think we can make that happen. My place or yours?” That was probably a loaded question - however, he also didn’t want the evening to end. They still had a lot to cover and he still owed her migraine relief or whatever else she wanted. |