#apotheosised

          it’s not like emma perkins to go against logic and do something for the sake of doing it. ( after xander had reached out to her, ensuring her that her participation was necessary, she mulled over the decision for longer than she wants to admit. how important someone like her be? a now community college drop out -- not by choice, of course, but when the town explodes, there’s not much to do about it -- with a plane ticket and a fake passport for colorado cannot be some secret key in the grand scheme of rebuilding hatchetfield. )

          and, yet, here she is. she’s trained herself ( to the best of her abilities ) for whatever she might come into contact with. they’ve told her, repeatedly, that this man is both paul and not paul. that he’s paul, somewhere inside of his body and his mind, but the hive speaks louder, takes control over his actions and his thoughts. however, they only received a breakthrough at the mention of her name, and it was enough for paul to show sign of himself from where he’s trapped, wrapped in nasty blue shit and singing and fake happiness.

                    god, she’s not fucking ready for this.

          swallowing, she’s allowed into the room by colonel schaffer, a curt nod in her direction as she squints in the lowlight. there’s not much inside, just bleak walls and an overhead light that twitches with weak power ( probably something to do with the way the hive works, but that’s above emma’s paygrade ). 

          the fidgeting from the far side of the room catches her attention, and brows crease at the sight of paul ( not paul not paul not paul ), strapped upright with leather bindings. there’s a tune in his throat -- she doesn’t know what he’s singing, and she really doesn’t care to find out.

          instead, she drops her backpack on the metal chair, keeping a safe distance as her hands fall to her side.

When he set the controllers to randomized, he didn’t expect to end up in America, 2018. “Michigan?” he asks nobody in particular as he squints at the screen revealing to him his exact location. “What for?” There must be something special about this place for the TARDIS to be drawn here; they both favor 21st century Earth, so a randomized trip usually leads them away from it.

The TARDIS has no answer for him, which is exciting: a mystery! Arming himself with the sonic screwdriver, he leaps through the door and into a damp alleyway. The sound of the sparse traffic tells him this isn’t a large city; the sound of people passionately singing tells him this isn’t a normal city. Screwdriver in hand, he walks out into the street and comes face to face with a small crowd of people dancing gleefully around a man in business attire. What the Doctor thought must be a strange local custom becomes even more puzzling when he realizes that the businessman in question looks thoroughly freaked out.

With a great finishing harmony, the pedestrians end their number. And just like that, they continue going about their day as though nothing has happened. The businessman looks as unnerved as the Doctor is.

Glancing up and down the street, the Doctor approaches the businessman. “Sorry, I’m not from here -- is that normal around here?”

          it’s been a long, uncomfortable 48 hours. ( for the sake of her own safety, emma had to keep her distance until they were sure paul had gotten rid of all the blue goo still stuck inside his system. purging the last of it makes them all sure that pokotho’s hold on him is gone, and that paul matthews has finally returned to his own body. )

          finding a way to distract herself while she waits for him to wake up, however, has been excrutiating. she’s situated ( uncomfortably ) in a chair, pulled as close to paul’s bed as she can get without actually sleeping next to him. ( she doesn’t miss the looks that other agents give her, the way that xander smirks at her every time he comes into make sure she’s eating something. ) 

          she knows that whatever’s between her and paul isn’t exactly normal -- most people don’t do the shit she did in order to bring someone back to life. she doesn’t want to call it love, because that’s ridiculous. it’s too soon to think or feel something like that. ( but it could be, if they stayed together. if they worked at it, if they wanted to be with one another. and emma wants to be with him, 100%. )

          she’s watching his chest move on slow breaths through hazy eyes, and barely catches the way his fingers twitch against the blankets. carefully, she assesses the situation, and only moves to half-asleep feet when his eyes slowly blink into consciousness.

                god, christmastime in hatchetfield is the fucking worst. on top of the store blasting christmas music at top volume since november fucking first, emma’s now adorned with a red bow around her neck to match her green apron. ( nora wanted her to wear reindeer ears, but thankfully zoey jumped on them before she could threaten to quit. ) the jingle bells around her wrist are also a pain in the ass, and definitely get in the way of her doing her actual fucking job. but, given the way beanie’s is run, emma’s not surprised.

            ❛ --- paul? ❜ there’s something curious in her tone as she speaks, head tilted up towards her ( boyfriend ). he’s been a little.. distant since they left the mall, but she can’t really say she blames him. with everything going on around them, it seems like this morning was years ago. still, there’s enough worry in his features that it causes her to worry, and her hand reaches out, fingers lacing together as she grabs his attention.

“you’re paul matthews, you’re emma’s boyfriend?” he was taken aback the slightest bit, but he couldn’t help but chuckle, more amused than anything by the revelation. he was wondering how many trips to beanies it would take before he would stumble across the man in question and as it turns out, it didn’t take long at all. “can’t say i struck her as the white collar kinda gal, but you learn new things every day i guess.”

@apotheosised​​​​ ! “ i  promise  we’ll  figure  this  out . “

she had been hopeful. had been, being the key words. she was no stranger to tragedy and in the face of it, she was oftentimes forced to smile, whether that be for the kids that she worked with or for the neighbors who talked about her behind her back. and she was more than eager to be hopeful while other were not, but that was starting to take its toll on her, and she wore no smile as she glanced over at paul with doubt in her eyes.