"Magnificent." The man in the coat and breeches had been told, several times, that he could move to a waiting area and relax there while someone he knew would come to collect him and show him around a bit. He, however, was intensely interested in what this 'Intake Department' was doing, how they were doing it, and essentially the whys behind it all. "Instant travel, with no use of standard alchemical components or the use of a single pentagram." He was already taking notes on a small stack of papers that he'd pulled from a breast pocket.
So far, no one had bodily kicked him out of the way or moved to escort him forcefully anywhere. This had only, in turn, encouraged him to continue trying to ask questions and observe the inner workings of the department. Perhaps it was just that he was being so unfailingly nice about the whole thing, or maybe they just weren't used to someone showing an interest in their work. Either way, he was wholly invested in learning more about this fascinating sort of magic that they'd worked up in Atlantis. Which, honestly, was not at all what he'd imagined. He would certainly have to plan more trips, the tales of the place simply didn't do it justice.
Mordecai had limited himself to a single shared bottle of wine, following Temple's arrival. It seemed only inevitable after the previous Christmas. Of the potential futures he knew of, that had been the only one not yet represented. His son was just as much a marvel as Anastasia and Maeve had been, even if the timeline he represented was otherwise bleak. There would have been something reassuring about seeing his daughters again simply on that score (Not to mention others). Both of those futures seemed even more remote now. Maeve's mother had returned to her own world to battle demons that rather put Mordecai's to shame, and Rosalie had not even said good-bye.
He hadn't expected that, even though their conversation upon waking from their Breckentale lives had included a ruthless dissection of his character (he hadn't been kind himself, if he were honest). It might simply have been one of those glitches of Atlantis. Rosalie wasn't the sort to leave without a word to anyone, but Mordecai hadn't quite had the nerve to question those she might have told - her coworkers, Jasmine's 'sister' from Breckentale, the Parr siblings (Young Dash was clearly angry with him about something. Mordecai had stopped ordering delivery service, if he could help it). Mordecai both hoped for and feared her return.
By the time Mordecai received the text, therefore, he would have been grateful for any face both familiar and friendly. Seeing Flavian's name brought a genuine smile to his face. Apparently, his conversation with Julia had not entirely jinxed his chances. He left his team finishing up training and headed upstairs to Intake. The sight there was not particularly surprising. “Have you figured it out, yet?” he asked by way of greeting. “I've been trying for almost two years.”
"Not quite. Oh, not even close. It's utterly fascinating! Mordecai, come look at this. I believe…" responded Flavian, moving to point out something in his notes when he realized what he'd said and who he was talking to. Lost in the moment, as it were. He turned with a surprised (but pleasantly so) expression on his face and took in the sight of his friend, who by all accounts should still be back at the castle that he'd just left.
"Mordecai?" he asked, bewildered and moving to greet his friend while simultaneously attempting to shove his notes back into a breast pocket. They'd said something about messaging him, of course, but Flavian had rather assumed they meant they'd pass some kind of message back to the castle and he wasn't sure what good that would do for anything and thus he'd just automatically started taking notes and asking questions to anyone who would spare him a minute to answer. "What? How… two years?" was the best he could manage as he pumped Mordecai's hand up and down, the urge to also give him a bit of a hug warring with his movements.
Mordecai saved him from the awkwardness with a brief hug. The hesitation was endearing. There was nothing calculated about Flavian. That was one of the marvels of him. "It's good to see you." When Flavian repeated his words, he realized anew just how long it had been. Even during his assignment in London with all its attendant awfulness, he'd made visits back to the castle: for cricket (usually), for holidays (some of them), to deliver displaced Asheth Temple cats (he'd left quickly and seen no one; they wouldn't have thanked him, and he hadn't been in a frame of mind to be thanked). Mordecai had never been gone so long before. "Yes, two years. Well, almost. They aren't choosy about when they pluck people from in this Atlantis, but so far they've managed not to damage any world's history that I can tell. We seem to be there the entire time that we're here ." He glanced around the office. "We probably ought to get out of their way. Intake has been working overtime this week, bringing in guests for the Christmas holidays." Mordecai gestured toward the door. “Although I might steal a biscuit on my way out. I've heard they're amazing.”
Flavian was grateful that Mordecai saved him the trouble of sorting out the best way to greet him and returned the brief hug with vigor and a sharp (but friendly) pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you, too. And if it's any indication, two years here has done wonders for your step. I had worried you'd lose something of yourself on house arrest." He smiled and smartly stepped in the direction of the door that Mordecai had gestured to. He didn't stop talking, though. "Not that I'm ungrateful for Gabriel's assistance on that, considering there are plenty of people who'd prefer worse, I'm sure."
"Make that two biscuits?" he asked, hopefully. "But yes, I'm thrilled to see the outside if the inside is this interesting. Is it cold? I did not bring an overcoat, I'm afraid." It was obvious that Flavian was trying to stay positive and upbeat, best of friends, but you could tell in his eyes that he was searching for something in Mordecai. He'd been given a brief explanation of how the timeline seemed to pull randomly already, and Mordecai confirmed as much, but he still didn't know if this Mordecai was old Mordecai who was still working with the Wraith or if this was resolved Mordecai who had worked with Christopher to save Gabriel. Which is why he'd brought up the house arrest, of course, to see the reaction. An investigator at heart, and Mordecai probably knew that he was digging intentionally. Still, Flavian's smile was true; regardless of scenario, Mordecai was still Mordecai and a friend.
Mordecai didn't miss a step. The scrutiny wasn't surprising, or for that matter, unwarranted. He did pull a wry face, but really Flavian from after was better than Flavian from before from the point of view of honesty, and leagues better than in the middle as Rosalie had been the first time. “No awkward explanations needed?” he said. “I was getting a bit bored, and I admit, it's nice to be doing something more useful than waiting on the workings of justice.” It was the simplest explanation of why Mordecai had stayed in Atlantis, both as true and as incomplete as most of his simple explanations tended to be. It was an adjustment as he'd told Marina, all of it, and even if he might not remember it when he returned, Atlantis provided breathing room in which to make that adjustment. He smiled again. If it was a little sharp, the sharpness was not meant for Flavian. “Or I'm running away. It depends on the day.”
He did make sure to grab a couple of biscuits on the way out. Ginger, they looked like. “It's freezing, unfortunately. We'll have to rectify that while you're here. There's too much to do in Atlantis to stay indoors.”
"Atlantis," breathed Flavian, his voice tinged with a bit of excitement. "I've read about it, you know. Parsing together truth from fiction. Or at least marking out what is obviously outright fabrications. Dragons and people living together, can you imagine?" The last part, he'd leaned slightly to show what he thought of that particular myth. His smile was definitely more warm, not entirely oblivious to Mordecai's wryness, but he was definitely pleased to know what version of his friend he had before him (which in itself was a strange thought to have). He quickly followed after Mordecai, deciding to leave his notes in his pocket so that his first sight of the outdoors of Atlantis could be uninterrupted by the desire to write things down.
"Well, if you're running away, my friend, at least we're doing it together. Sorry if I'm a bit late. Is Miss Rosalie here as well? It seems the perfect place for you two to finally," he started, bracing himself mentally for the freezing cold that Mordecai had mentioned. His sentence paused for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to finish it. "Find your common ground?" he finally decided on, knowing that it was rather lukewarm statement.
Mordecai's laughter as they reached the lobby was only slightly strained. "You make everything sound better than it is! I couldn't ask for better company in my escape. I sent a message for a cab, so hopefully you won't have to wait long to see for yourself." He checked the time on his tablet and said, "Most of the dragons are up in the mountains, but we're up to four in the city, I think.” He paused to enjoy the effect of that remark and added, “Including the one I share lodgings with. Will is human most of the time, but he doesn't have a lot of control over the transformation, so I've made sure to fireproof everything in the house. You needn't worry if you stay with us. You will? Intake usually assigns guests a hotel room, but we have an extra room, and I doubt the others will object.” There was always the chance of the room being assigned to another new arrival, but so far it had remained vacant since Mara and Cassian's engagement.
"As for the rest of the dragons, I haven't met the little ones, but Temeraire has been known to drop by. He's a very attentive and inquisitive neighbor." Mordecai had once used the same words to describe his old landlady in Baker Street who was a kind woman, but blunt and overbearing in her nosiness. "He and his human companion fought their world's Napoleon. Successfully, I gather. I imagine the dragons helped. I haven't dared mention to them that there's a world where Bonaparte won. Laurence is very military, very honorable, very polite." If Temeraire reminded Mordecai of a more terrifying version of Mrs. Campbell, then Laurence reminded him of an equally terrifying Rosalie. "I'm convinced I'm going to offend him one day and find myself challenged to pistols at dawn." He was interrupted by an alert on his tablet. "I think our cab's here."
He pushed open the lobby door, and the cold air hit like a wall. Brisk was the most generous term for it. Mordecai said, also briskly, as if he hadn't been avoiding a reply to Flavian's last question. "Rosalie washere - twice, in fact - but she went home several weeks ago. As far as common ground goes, yes, after a fashion. We agreed that I'm shallow and untrustworthy and that Rosalie's affections will always be regulated by her better judgment."
Flavian woodenly followed Mordecai out the door and honestly didn't quite feel the cold at first. Nor had he managed to answer the question about staying with his friend. He knew that Mordecai tended to ramble when he was either worked up about something or avoiding a subject. In this case, it seemed to be both and Flavian's eyes were near the size of dinner plates by the time the cab had arrived. Dragons were living with people. A dragon, no a person who was also a dragon, living with Mordecai. Dragons visiting, like it was an everyday normal occurrence.
Finally, Mordecai had topped off such an overwhelming and fascinating briefing by explaining that things with Miss Rosalie were still very much the same, even in a place where they would, he thought, finally be able to settle things but it sounded as if the two of them would simply have to circle each other for a good while longer. He'd never truly understand relationships, perhaps. Too little of it made any sense, but he certainly wanted them both to be happy.
The cold did finally manage to startle him back into being able to speak again. "I imagine if this Laurence is military and serving with a dragon, very little should shock him," he noted as they quickly climbed into the warm cab. "If you can imagine a world like this exists, it would not be a large leap to learn another exists with a similar but slightly modified timeline. Is this part of a Series? Or something outside of that altogether? I presume the latter, just based on how significantly different this place appears to be. Do other worlds also exist in their own Series? Is that limited to our..," He struggled for the right word to describe the different sorts of people. He'd been asked a few questions when he arrived that seemed to suggest that they knew arrivals came from different origins. "Source?" he offered, hoping that would be sufficient.
“Blue City Threads,” said Mordecai to the cab driver. A coat for Flavian was first on the agenda. “There are belts for strapping in,” he pointed out. The automobiles in Atlantis were a far cry from the new horseless carriages in Twelve-A. “I'm told Atlantis is the source - or hub I've heard it called for the other worlds - so much for the airs of the Great Mages in Series One, hmm?” In reality Mordecai had a great deal of respect for the feats of magic and technology that had been accomplished in the worlds of Series One. Anyone who styled themselves ‘Great Mages,’ however, had earned a bit of mockery. “That's why it's under attack. COS means to destroy the rest of the worlds by removing creativity from Atlantis. There are a few possible future timelines - where we succeed in stopping COS, where we fail, and where the fight continues. We’ve had visitors from those, as well.” One of whom would certainly need to be introduced to Flavian.
"Good heavens," breathed Flavian, taking all of that in. "A war for the very soul of creation, it sounds like." He had watched Mordecai's movements with the security strap and followed suit, smiling firmly as the vehicle lurched into motion. Very soon, he found himself in his own little war - keeping his attention on Mordecai and wanting to look out the window at the scenery they were passing. Reluctantly, he was able to tear his eyes away from the window, mainly because of the very intriguing information on the alternate futures. "What is COS? And how do we know about alternate futures? Augury? Prophecy? My word, there are time travelers here, aren't there?" It seemed the most logical deduction, based on what he'd already seen and some of what Mordecai had said.
Mordecai waited out the questions, smiling as Flavian reached the correct conclusion. “We all are, after a fashion, but yes, there are time travelers from Atlantis's future here. Futures, I should say, with the three possibilities I mentioned. It's a bit startling to think one is taking part in events that could cause the branching of new worlds. Nearly as intimidating a responsibility as discovering one will have children in those worlds.”
Mordecai had always been good at keeping secrets, even (or especially) from his friends, but this wasn't really a secret to be kept, not when Temple was here in Atlantis. Besides, there was a chance that if he hadn't waited until they were in Breckentale to broach the subject with Rosalie, then that whole conversation might have gone a different way. Might have. Mordecai shook his head at himself. Spilt milk.
“COS,” Mordecai said aloud. “Committee of Safety is what they call themselves, I believe. Nice and pompous, isn't it? It has just the right amount of high-sounding ideals and hypocrisy to send chills down the spine.” He turned more serious. “It would be easier to say more about them, if we could ever keep their agents in custody. If we manage to capture one, they disappear. There have been engagements in which a few have been killed, but the bodies vanish immediately after. We did manage to take one of their bases, but that was after they'd kidnapped and tortured several of ours.” He still remembered that period of empathy with Dr. Fitzsimmons. “They're quite skillful at controlling the conversation.” The horseless carriage was different, as was the view outside the window, but Mordecai could almost imagine they were back at the Castle before the whole fiasco with the Wraith, discussing a case.
"Needless to say that I'd be startled to find a mysterious child claiming to be my offspring, indeed," agreed Flavian, though the fact that he truly hadn't ever entertained the thought of siring children meant his focus had already moved onto the other subject they had been discussing. While Mordecai explained the situation regarding COS, he had already moved to withdraw his papers and stubby pencil from his breast pocket and had been making a few shorthand notes. These agents could seemingly come and go as they pleased, dead or alive. But they were a real enough threat.
When Mordecai had finished giving him the facts of the case, because yes he absolutely looked at this like a case, he reviewed his notes again and chewed his lip for a brief second. "If you will pardon a few steps in logic, it sounds as if these agents," he began with a pause, as if to confirm he was using the right term for the COS entities. "These agents have access to a similar technology to Atlantis, then. Only they can deposit or withdraw from this hub, like coins in a jar? Which would be more effective if you have those coins attached to a string, I would imagine. Has any attempt been yet made on seeing if they possess some kind of recall device?"
Mordecai nodded confirmation. “Access to the same technology, and possibly the same equipment, at least at times. They've sabotaged Intake before. Previously, when we've had a burst of unscheduled new arrivals, that's why, but this time appears to be different. It can be an effective distraction, I'll admit. It's the sort of problem no one wants fixed too soon when it means the chance to see a friendly face one has missed.” A smile accompanied that admission, but it faded. “There could be the accompanying paranoia as to who is to be trusted. We don't know who they are, and while they don't have free access to the Vault, they do seem to know a great deal about it, about Atlantis, and about all of us.”
The wry expression returned, showing a consciousness of the irony of Mordecai discussing the possibility of wolves in sheep's clothing among the defenders of Atlantis. He didn't really believe it of most his fellow transplants, or even the majority of the locals, but no one knew better that the possibility for betrayal existed in any group. “Every recruit has a good reason to help, even if it's just to avoid an unpleasant fate back home.” That wasn't Mordecai's own reason, although it had been upon his first arrival. Even then, when he'd believed his only other option was prison, he'd enjoyed the chance to do something untainted by divided loyalties. “We just have to keep close watch that our demons don't follow us.”
"I suspect," answered Flavian, consciously aware at what Mordecai was referring to, "that Atlantis' has more than one asset that has experience with subterfuge for this very reason." He tapped the side of his nose to suggest Mordecai knew exactly what he was about. "Well, I think there's at least one more simple explanation, if you'll allow a few more theories."
Over the next twenty or so minutes, Flavian explained his thoughts on how multiple futures would reasonably suggest multiple pasts and multiple presents. Which may even mean multiple versions of themselves, and if all of that were feasible, then it could also be feasible to assume there were corrupted alternate versions of the Atlantis leadership who would, indeed, have detailed insight to the inner workings of the system and also potentially have workarounds to deal with it. And if Mordecai's posit about this Atlantis being the hub of creation, it would then further stand to reason that these alternates would want to extend their control over the originator Series (or even Singular Source, which he'd grown to call it) in order to control the very fabric of everything.
"Of course, this is all theory," he added, noting that they were pulling up to the shoppe that Mordecai had requested they be delivered to. "I'd welcome an opportunity to hash this out with you more, of course."
Parallels, as well as branches, worlds that never truly separated, but nor did they cross. It was a fascinating thought, Mordecai agreed. “I'm always up for a discussion of theory, especially if it helps make sense of the nonsensical.” He didn't comment on Flavian's other speculation (about the usefulness of clandestine agents in Atlantis), but it was warming after the skepticism of others from the Castle. Mordecai was acutely grateful for the opportunity he'd been given for a second chance both here and at home. “But first, we need to find you an overcoat. I highly recommend this establishment. My favorite seamstress has gone home, but they still have the best clothes in Atlantis.” He paid the cab driver and thanked him for the ride before exiting the cab.