Violet sighed. “Arlo. We’ve been over this. Your dad coming back to do this could mess with more things than we mean it to.” It wasn’t impossible though, Violet knew that from experience. She’d met her past self before, protected herself even. But Violet seemed to exist in a weird liminal space, never truly belonging to any time or place. It was lonely, but it was all she knew. “You’re not doing it alone either.”

/

“Like he hasn’t been part of a time fuck up before,” he grumbles, rubbing a hand down his face. It seemed that time travel had only negatively affected his family, they didn’t have the luxury of control (however recently acquired) that Violet did. But then he was just being bitter, wasn’t he? Violet didn’t deserve that shit and he knew it but he often took out his frustrations in all the wrong places. “I know,” he says a bit softer then and leans his elbows on his knees. “If I don’t get my shit together they’ll probably end up sending my sister though, and no one wants that.”

@barricadxd· said: “They are asking me to lead. I am doing the best I can.”

Violet was getting better and more controlled with her jumps, finally. She could pick where and when she wanted to appear for the most part. Sometimes, however, the universe still pulled her without her permission. That was how she’d initially met Arlo Summers, how she’d ended up so far into the future. Even here was the future to her, having been born in the 1970s. But future and past meant very little to her any more. What meant more was trying to fix this timeline they were on.

“But?” His phrasing implied a but in her mind. “What is it?”

/

Venting to Violet felt a little safer than doing so with Olivier. Which wasn’t exactly fair, considering he was Arlo’s best friend but there were some things he wasn’t ready for Oli to hear yet. If at all. They were things he probably already knew, given their psi-bond. Then again, Oli didn’t like taking peeks without permission. “But it’s not enough, I’m not enough,” he mutters as he glances around before sitting down heavily on the bench of the training room. It was empty besides them, a safe place for them to talk about things no one else here could know besides their comrades. “Funny how they wouldn’t even think to entrust my dad with this sort of thing and now they’re acting like I’m the only Summers around to do this.”

“Yeah, well. I gotta try.”

/

It’s hard to ignore the pain surrounding Arlo. It seeps into Olivier’s bones, but he can’t let the smile be wiped from his face. Something is there deep in Arlo’s mind that Olivier won’t touch because it’d be unfair to, and Olivier is almost terrified of using telepathy anyway. He tries not to drop his voice, but it does just a bit. The pure joy from only moments ago dwindled slightly when he spoke again, “Join mah class den, we can be a team.”

Olivier starts walking away from Arlo now, not wanting to look too concerned now. At the mention of food, it’s almost as if his ears perk up and he turns his head, “Non, ya wanna remedy dat?” Was he hungry? Always, and spending time with Arlo while on mission was more fun than spending it alone trying to figure out where the anomalies were coming from. “Out… not in da mansion.”

/

Where Oli was nervous to use his telepathy, Arlo did so without hesitation. It used to be that he just couldn’t control it, but then it became sort of a defense mechanism. If he knew what made everyone tick, then he would always have power over them. Long before he was actually, physically strong. He glances at Oli, knows he’s put his friend on edge with his own skittish behavior. “Yeah we can do that,” he says slowly, to appease him.

“Out, huh?” He catches up easily, putting an arm around Oli’s shoulders in a way that seems friendly at the most but the way he means the simple affection is so much more than that. “You askin’ me on a date, LeBeau?” 

The fact that Arlo was completely uncomfortable here almost made Olivier laugh. Not because it was funny or anything, but because it was just like Arlo to stress over something he probably had no control over. The sigh that escaped him was exasperated, but he wasn’t going to press the issue right now if Arlo didn’t want to admit he was not fine. There were too many eyes and ears around for him to lay into the man.

“Ah ‘ave, take it ya don’? Dat ol’ man prolly can see through us, but he ain’t say nottin’ yet.” Even if he couldn’t get through their heads, the old man wasn’t stupid. Unless Oli was just giving him way too much credit. He’d always been described as too trusting, but he didn’t have time to contemplate that. Oli burst with laughter for nearly a minute. Then he turned to look at Arlo and laughed again because he couldn’t help it. By this point, he could feel eyes turning on him but he didn’t care. Oli grabbed Arlo’s shoulder to stop him from trying to walk and leaned on him to catch his breath, “Den go do sumting if ya don’ wanna feel like dat. Get in the training room, ma… ah–Anna is in dere.”

/

Even if he isn’t being honest with Olivier, Arlo knows he can see right through him. At least enough to know he’s far from fine. Arlo was beginning to regret this entire mission, as essential and goddamn imperative it was to keeping the world running. He wished he’d left it to Oli and the others rather than be here and have to see everything they’d lost like it was still here the whole time. In a way, it was. The mansion was some sort of nexus. Some still moment in time where any moment could be accessed with the right tools. 

“Don’t...” he murmurs under his breath as he moves away from Oli’s grip. There’s an ache in his chest when he mentions his mother. “Why would I want to-” But that was far too telling and he knows it when the complaint leaves his mouth. He looks away before Oli can read the ghosts in his eyes, the ones of himself and Anna. Her arms so tight around him and then nothing. He’s hurtling in the air towards his father’s chest, she’s disappearing into the mansion. The doors shut, she’s dead. He blinks fast and hard then he looks at his friend. “Nevermind. Ya eat yet?”

The conversation was somewhat enlightening, but so far no one knew how to fix this. Lupe was from the future, just like them, but she wasn’t here officially like he and a few others were. When he looked up from Lupe’s eyes, he laid eyes on the one person he loved seeing. Sometimes he could get lost in those eyes, but they moved away almost as soon as they met. Odd. Olivier played it off like it didn’t hurt and turned to smile and bid farewell to Lupe.

Olivier had a habit of running his hand through the white patch in his hair, but he’d dyed it and it was like he could feel it was wrong. It made him not himself, so maybe that’s why it seemed off when his eyes met Arlo’s. Still, he didn’t hesitate to move over to the man with a sly smile on his face. The smile grows when he spots his mother out of the corner of his eye, but fades immediately when he hears Arlo speak.

“Does it? It kind of just feels… weirdly nostalgic to me.” Oli leans against the wall close to Arlo, wanting desperately to greet him the way he usually does, but knows better. “Are you all right?”

As confidently as Olivier strutted down the hallway, Arlo could still feel some unrest through their psi-bond. He didn’t think he could feel worse, but at the moment he definitely felt like pure shit for making Oli feel self-conscious. If he knew what was really going on in Arlo’s mind right now, he would be more upset and Arlo couldn’t risk that. Not when they needed to stay focused, when the fate of the world depended on them not taking everything in this time personal.

Clearly, he was already failing at that.

Grunting at Oli’s response, he shrugs his shoulders. If he said he was alright then Oli would know he was lying within seconds, but he was too tired to come up with anything more convincing. It was like he was digging his heels in deeper and creating a bigger problem which is what he was good at. “Yeah I’m fine,” he says with a bit of annoyance in his voice. “Have you got any class assignments yet? I feel like the old man can see right though me. I’m not studying, I’m not teaching.” Grumbling, he moves around his friend and barely brushes his arm against his. “I’m starting to feel like that twenty-something year old guy that still hangs out with highschoolers.”

He could remember her breath moving his hair, her chest rising and falling rapidly as they raced towards the door, and her strong arms around him until they weren’t. It was the last he’d seen her before she disappeared back into this house and never came out again, her body gone with nothing left to bury. Arlo hadn’t realized just how hard this would all be, forever cynical and cocky, and now he could barely look Olivier in the eye when he was the person that Arlo wanted to talk to the most.