Still Falling

Everything was… different. Not good different, not bad different, just… different. Scout wasn't entirely sure how he should feel about, well, any of it, so he didn't. That part of him that cared just a little too much was shoved aside, locked behind that big door where he usually kept it all. He had to focus on the current task of keeping an eye on the trio left in his care. But the last… however many hours since he's slept were starting to catch up to him - had it really been that long? - and his eyes were starting to close as he felt himself starting to nod…

"Dad!"

Head snapping up, Scout blinked at the figure hauling the door open, striding towards him as Amber leapt to her feet. Something about the gait, the posture set off an alarm in Scout's head and he was on his feet, immediately moving to shield Jordan and Antonia as his hand dropped to— shit, no pistol—

"Amber, what the hell have I told you about goin' out near those compounds?" Sheriff Greene didn't greet his daughter with a hug or kind words - he caught her by the arm and pulled her behind him as he turned to face Scout. "And who the hell are you?"

Crap - Scout had a feeling things had been going too well, so it only made sense it was all about to fall apart. He needed Miss Pauling - she was the best person to handle someone like Greene, but she wasn't in any condition to be answering questions right now, much less lying through her teeth.

He had to try and hold it together; if not for himself, then for Miss Pauling.

"I'm Ryan Holmes," he lied, giving the name Miss Pauling had given the gate guard. Crap - what was his date of birth meant to be? "I ain't here for long, just until my boss—"

Greene moved, and Scout had a half-second to react before the Sheriff's gun was pointing at his chest. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been held at gunpoint, not by a long shot - but he remembered most people had some sort of reaction in his position. Slowly, he raised his hands, palms forward as he tried to take a step back. Jordan and Antonia had already scurried away from him, both of them taking cover behind the plastic seats, and Amber was behind Greene, but Scout drowned out their protests as he looked from the gun to Greene.

Dying wasn't fun, but it wasn't something he was scared of. Not since they knew respawn was working.

"Who the hell are you?" Sheriff Greene repeated, hiw words slower as he kept the gun levelled at Scout's chest. Scout considered giving another fake name, but Greene looked on edge - he might shoot if Scout tried that.

The only real option was the truth, no matter how crazy it was going to make him look. Maybe there were other options, but Scout's mind was already foggy with exhaustion, and his heart hammering in his ears wasn't helping him think clearly. Miss Pauling would have to forgive him later.

"Jeremy Willis."

"Bullshit. Jeremy Willis is dead."

That was news. Scout blinked at the Sheriff as he noticed movement, other people. "D'ya ever find a body?"

Greene didn't twitch, didn't blink, but something in his glare shifted. Scout knew he was in dangerous territory, and though every instinct was telling him he could grab the gun, twist it out of the guy's grip, maybe put him in an arm lock before the guy ever got a shot off, he wasn't willing to risk it - definitely not with the kids there.

"My name's Jeremy Willis," he stated carefully. "This mornin' I woke up and it was February twelfth, 1972. A few hours ago, I went through a…" shit, the teleporters were meant to be something of a secret. "I went through a doorway, and it weren't 1972 anymore."

It sounded crazy, even though he'd lived it. As far as Scout was concerned, the bar for "normal" had gone to hell a long time ago, and he'd learned to just live with the world being a lot less sane than most people liked to believe. But he wasn't about to have that discussion with someone who had a gun levelled at his chest.

"How do I know you ain't lyin'?" Greene asked. Scout shrugged.

"If ya already decided I ain't bein' honest, nothin' I say's gonna change it," he pointed out. Greene's eyes narrowed, but one of the figures behind him moved, stepping around the Sheriff - and Scout stared.

Nothing had felt real about the time-jump. Not the dust in the base or the decrepit foodstuffs in the cupboards, nor the rust on the cars in the garage or the way the town had changed - hell, even the flat-screened television and the rectangles of magic the teenagers had been showing him felt like proof that time had passed.

But the man before him just looked… too familiar. Too much like his brother, too much like somebody he knew so well he could have drawn him from memory - and yet at the same time, he was so different.

"Jer?"

The man stepped forward, putting a hand on Greene's arm, forcing him to lower the gun. Greene looked from Scout to the older man - an older man whose middle-brown hair was shot through with grey, whose once-smiling face was now lined, whose crystal-green eyes seemed slightly more cloudy than Scout remembered.

His mouth had gone dry. Nothing, nothing could have prepared him for this, for seeing his brother so… aged.

He should be twenty-eight. He should be young, but instead…

"Jacob?"

Jacob Willis's face split into a grin, and if there had been any doubt in Scout's mind, it was erased the moment he saw that lopsided, buck-toothed grin.

Greene was staring from Scout to the man at his side, and shook his head ever so slightly. "He can't—"

Someone swore, and Scout saw another face thaat was too old for his memory, but one that carried the familiarity of a child grown.

"It's really him, Mom,"

Jordan's voice cut through the fog that had settled over Scout's mind, and he looked at the kid, following his gaze to the woman who had a hand covering her mouth, her familiar sea-green eyes wide.

"Fifty damn years and you ain't aged a day!"

Jacob moved, closing the two steps between them and wrapping Scout in a tight hug, chuckling; but the sound was thick with something else, a sort of bittersweetness that was clawing inside Scout's chest. For once, he was speechless - no witty quips, no clever comebacks, no smart remarks.

He hugged his brother, letting himself relax. Something about it was reassuring, comforting, safe, and Scout let himself relax into that, closing his eyes.

His knees buckled, and there were cries of alarm as he slipped into a long-overdue sleep.

Scout drifted. Voices shifted just beyond his reach, faces swirling through a blend of colour, light, and sound. The soft blip of medical equipment echoed down a long tunnel and something sharp pricked his arm as voices, ones he knew, ones he didn't, shifted around him before he slipped into a proper sleep.

"…Unpalatable, but we might need to consider it."

Sounds swirled together once more before diverging. Scout caught one of them like a rope, hauling himself out of the depths.

"Adam, this is the first time we've seen this man in over fifty years, don't you dare try tellin' us we can't keep him here where he belongs."

Blinding light assaulted his vision and Scout raised a hand - but a sharp pain shot through his arm and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut as his arm fell back onto the bed.

"They ain't goin' anywhere for now, so spend your time, Jake. I'll talk to the lady again, see if she's more forthcoming."

"Look," Jacob's voice lowered as movement occurred at the foot of his bed. Scout tried again to open his eyes, but the light was still there, blinding him. "I get that you're twitchy, and I don't blame you. But we might have a bigger problem waitin' for us out in those wastes—"

"Back with us, Jeremy?"

The light was moved as a woman spoke and Scout was able to open his eyes.

"Welcome back, brother," Jacob grinned at him as he moved closer, laying a hand on Scout's bare arm as he lookied him over. Scout was aware of a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm, inflating to get a read as a woman with short black hair and faintly familiar eyes read the numbers flipping past on a small screen. Greene was there, too, and leaned on the footboard of Scout's bed.

"Doc says your system must've been runnin' on fumes," Jacob told him. "Cortisol was through the roof. Something similar with your lady friend."

"His boss," Greene corrected, looking to Jacob. "She confirmed she's his supervisor."

Miss Pauling. "You spoke with her?" Scout tried to sit up, but the nurse lady had a hand pressed against his shoulder almost too quickly. Greene nodded.

"You're both stayin' in town until that car's fixed, at the very least," Greene shifted hesitantly as Jacob shot him a raised brow. "Look, I'm… sorry for coming in guns blazing this morning. Didn't have all the info, all I knew was a kid was shot, and two strangers came into town. When we tried to run your credentials, they came up false. I panicked."

Yeah, that made sense. Scout managed a weak half-grin. "No problem. Anybody would'a panicked in that situation, right? Nobody got hurt."

"And little Jeremy's gonna be fine," Jacob added, squeezing his arm gently. "Doc said they were just some scratches. He's home with his dad now."

Home with his dad. Scout nodded, trying not to think about the "dad" in question. What did Jeremy tell him? Luke, little gap-toothed Luke who wanted to be a pilot, all grown up and with kids.

"It is a lot to think about," the nurse told him. Her voice carried the trace of a Russian accent, and Scout stared at her as she noted the numbers flashing on the screen on the back of her hand.

"I'll get out of your hair," Greene stated, tapping on the footboard a little awkwardly and nodding to Jacob. "Call me later. I'll think about what we discussed."

"I will."

Scout wasn't an idiot. He pretended to be, because it was easier to go through life seemingly oblivious to everyone else's opinions and annoyances, but he could read people. Greene and Jacob weren't saying something, and whatever it was, it was bothering Jacob.

"Ignore him," the woman stated, looking at Jacob. "His word is not law, no matter what badge sits around his neck."

"What's goin' on?" Scout asked, looking between the pair. Jacob sighed heavily, dragging a chair to Scout's bedside.

"Just town stuff," he replied, offering Scout a tired smile. "You ain't gotta worry about it for now. Jeremy, someone you gotta meet," his smile split into that familiar half-grin as he gestured to the woman, who had finished reading the numbers on his screen and was now standing at Scout's other side. Her features had softened as she looked at Jacob, and Scout didn't need to be a genius to recognise the way she was looking at his brother - but something about her face felt uncomfortably familiar.

And that accent…

"This is my wife," Jacob told him, beaming at the woman. "Bronislava. And she's head nurse here, too, so you're in good hands."

Scout's head whipped around to stare at Jacob. His brother had always been a bit of a bed-hopper, more than Jeremy ever was, so the idea that he had settled down with someone - much less married her - was just…

"Your wife?" Scout asked, still staring at his brother. Jacob nodded, turning back to him.

"We bonded over missing brothers," Bronislava told him, the soft smile shifting as she turned her gaze away from her husband and back to Scout. "Not to pester you, but… you might know, and young Jordan mentioned…"

Right. Scout sighed as he realised why her features were so familiar. "You're one of Heavy's sisters? Mik…"

"Mikhail, yes," Bronislava's icy blue gaze, so similar to his teammate, hardened ever so slightly. "Is he…?"

"Oh, no he came through as well!" Scout grinned, glad that he could offer more happy news. "We're all here, all of us and Miss Pauling. My whole team, remember?" He looked at Jacob, grinning, but Jacob's expression was that frozen one he used to wear when Ma was coming after them after they put a baseball through a window. The smile was tight, didn't seem quite as lopsided as it usually was, and Scout sensed immediately that something was wrong. "Jacob?"

"It is good news," Bronislava cut in, smiling as she patted Scout's shoulder. "We do not go out to the old compounds, but perhaps he will be able to come here. But you," her tone shifted, and Scout suddenly felt like he was being scolded. "You must rest. You are safe here."

Scout thought it slightly odd that she felt the need to reassure him that he was safe here, but he bit his tongue as she shot her husband a smile before slipping out of the cubicle and tugging the blue curtain closed across the front.

Jacob's hand was still resting on his arm, and Scout looked at his brother. A heaviness had settled on his chest as he looked at the man who was supposed to only be a year older than him, and yet looked… so much more older than he expected.

Fifty-two years, he had to remind himself. It was in the dust, the rust, and now in every single line in his brother's face, every grey hair that turned his once-chocolate locks to a more salt-and-pepper look. He'd never really thought about time passing, not when he was growing older with everyone around him. He'd watched nieces and nephews grow from babies into precocious children, watched his brothers grow from teenage dumbasses to adult dumbasses (he'd been his own brand of dumbass, too). But it had never felt… real.

Staring at Jacob now, it felt more real than he'd ever let it seem.

"I missed a lot, didn't I?" Scout asked. Jacob swallowed, the muscles in his throat tightening as he blinked, squinted, and blinked again.

"Yeah, you did. But you're home, now," Jacob's smile returned, but it was a bittersweet one, the lines a reminder of the years Scout had missed. "And we can always catch up, right?"

Fifty-two years was a lot to catch up on, but Scout nodded.

"Okay, let's start from the top," he shifted, trying to get comfortable in the bed. "How's Ma?"

Florence Pauling had found herself in situations before - too many times to count, really - but this was one where lying, stealing, or shooting her way out just wasn't going to work.

She wanted to see Scout, make sure he was okay - Greene had mentioned his collapse, but told her it was just some sort of exhaustion and blood pressure issue, that he'd be fine and had family with him. She tried to insist, but Greene's smile had faltered, and she got the distinct impression he was actively trying to keep them separated for some reason.

She had no weapons, no vehicle, and her backup was, as far as she knew, unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere. So she'd smiled and accepted the Sheriff's generosity.

Greene had a deputy walk her to the motel tucked behind the hospital, even walking her to her door and making sure she got situated in the room. Ramirez was his name, and Miss Pauling filed that information away for later; she might need to use it at some point.

The shower was good, though. And wrapped in soft blankets in a warm bed, she'd managed to sleep maybe more than she should have. At some point she was aware of soft knocking interrupting her sleep, but it had gone away after a few attempts.

The sunlight filtering through the window was at zenith when she finally resurfaced, finding a tray of food had been pushed through the room service hatch at some point. After figuring out the television, Miss Pauling sampled the continental breakfast while flicking through the channels, marvelling at the variety of programs available. Reruns of Ghost D.A. played on one channel while another program, Star Trek, showed on another. A third channel showed a talk show rerun hosted by… a black woman?

Amber had glossed over some of the major social changes the world had seen in the past fifty years, but there was a difference between a teenager saying it and actually seeing it for herself. Still, Miss Pauling didn't experience any sort of aversion to it - she was glad to see other women on TV, being treated as real, sensible, strong, and even powerful individuals.

A knock on the door dragged her out of her channel-surfing. Setting the food aside, she crossed to the door and checked the peep hole before unlocking the door.

"Sheriff," she forced a bright smile at the stranger. "I hope you have good news."

He was still in the same clothes from that morning, but had apparently found the time to shave. Waving a hand, he shrugged. "You look like you got some rest. Didn't want to mention it earlier but you looked like you needed it. D'you mind if I come in?"

Miss Pauling stepped back, giving him enough space to enter the room. His eyes darted about, taking in the rumpled bedcovers, the half-eaten tray of food, and the TV that she hurriedly turned off.

"How's Scout?" she asked as he turned to her. The smile he gave her was a tired one, more genuine than any he'd offered before.

"Just came from his bedside. He's awake, his brother hasn't left his side and his sister-in-law's one of our lead nurses so he's in good care. Doctor said he should be out in the next few hours, assuming the tests come back clear. Mind if we sit?"

He gestured to the small table tucked against the wall, and Miss Pauling shrugged, waving a hand. He could make himself at home if he wanted, so the fact he was asking reassured her.

"Your car is… well," he snorted softly, shaking his head, "It's a Frankenstein of a thing. Not sure where you came by it, but Dave said it'll take at least a week to get the parts, and even then the rust's gone all through the body. You're better off scrapping it and getting a whole new car."

She nodded along, though the smile she had plastered across her face was wearing thin. He seemed to sense this.

"I'd almost be tellin' you off for driving my kid around in that death trap, but we have other things to discuss," he settled back in the seat, gesturing for her to sit as well. Miss Pauling hesitated, before sitting on the foot of the bed.

"You weren't very forthcoming with the truth this morning, were you. Flo?"

The smile stayed in place, though every muscle in her was suddenly taut. Miss Pauling fought not to let it show, but given the slight quirk of his lips, Greene had already noticed it.

"You didn't think you'd keep the wool over my eyes that long, did you?"

She let out a slow breath, fighting the urge to get snappy. He was the Sheriff, and between the two of them he was the one with a gun. Her smile faded, lips pursing as she eyed him.

"What gave it away?"

"The car, the fake names, the dates of birth," he snorted, shaking his head. "Could have overlooked all of it if not for the fact half the town's familiar with the story of Jeremy Willis and Mikhail Kolvec. And I know Jacob Willis fairly well, he's many things but a liar is not one of them. He recognised your friend the moment he saw him."

Of course - the very same familial connection they'd been hoping to exploit was bound to have been their undoing. Rookie error, Pauling. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she nodded.

"Nothing gets by you people, I guess."

"Folk here are a lot smarter than they used to be."

"So I've noticed." Miss Pauling sighed, gesturing at the room around them. "So this is why you're keeping me here? Try and draw out the others so you can punish us all for some belated sense of justice for crimes the land remembers?"

"What?" Greene laughed - genuinely. A deep, almost booming sound that would have been infectious if Miss Pauling wasn't already on edge. Folding her arms, she gave him a cold glare as he sobered. "No, I just didn't want you runnin' away on me before I could talk to you about it. And I mean it, you did look like you were about to keel over like your friend." he was still smirking, and chuckled, shaking his head.

"So we're not in trouble?" Miss Pauling asked cautiously. Greene shrugged.

"Should you be? You're not one of the Teufort Nine, and even if you were, they were acquitted of their crimes back in the late 70s," Greene relaxed, hooking his arm over the back of the chair as he tilted his head at her. "Times have changed, Miss Pauling. Most of the people that knew about the things going on in the past are long gone. Lot of ghost stories still linger, but that's all they are - just stories."

Acquitted. Miss Pauling let herself relax as she studied Greene's face, looking for any signs of a lie, any tells - but no, he was more relaxed now than he'd been when they'd first met in the hospital. What he told her now was the truth.

"Kids tell 'em to scare each other, but stories don't hurt nobody," Greene reminded her. "That is, until last night when one of those stories came back to life. And as much as I'm beggin' to know how that came about, I'm more concerned how that's gonna affect my town. So," he shifted, folding his arms as he eyed her, sizing her up. "I need to know what's goin' on out there."

"Honestly?" Miss Pauling shrugged. "I have no fucking clue. One of our devices malfunctioned and we're all here, I guess. And…" she hesitated; it was a hard truth for her to accept, but she was going to have to confront it sooner or later. "And it's fairly clear we never made it back home. So we're here to stay."

People had been searching for them for fifty-two years; no mention of their return, of anybody finding them, nothing. Miss Pauling had forced herself to accept that, along with all the other things the past thirteen hours had confronted her with.

Greene was nodding slowly, studying her as he leaned forward in his seat. "I'm sorry for your loss. All of you. It's… it's always worse when it's unexpected."

He was right, and Miss Pauling closed her eyes for a few moments, thinking of her parents, her older sister. They were long gone by this point, she guessed; even if she did show up on their doorstep, would they accept her back? She hadn't even called in that last year, and they'd been steadily drifting apart for years before that.

From their perspective, there had simply come a day when she had stopped writing or calling. Even if they were still alive, was there any point in trying to reconnect?

Her hands shook as she tried to clear her throat; some silly lump had formed there and her eyes were watering.

"It's fine," she told him, taking a deep breath and forcing aside the slight ache in her chest. She'd made that decision to put her career first. Career women didn't get families. That was the harsh reality of it.

"I need to know that my people are gonna be safe," Greene told her simply. "I know you've got a collection of mercenaries out there, and I don't care how many times you spin the word "professional" when talking about them, the truth is they know how to take a life and they ain't the type to hesitate if they think it's necessary. I just want to be sure my folk won't be in danger with yours bein' around again."

Of course. Here and now; Miss Pauling wrenched herself out of her little moment of self-pity, offering him a thin-lipped smile. "I understand the concern. Once I can get back to them—"

"No disrespect, Miss Pauling, but I ain't comfortable letting you loose in a world you don't know," Greene sighed, tugging out a think rectanguler object. "Look, you've got about fifty years of society and technology to catch up on, and maybe only a few hours to do that." He tapped at the device as it lit up, the tiny sound of clicks emanating from the device. Miss Pauling had seen the phones of the teenagers, recognised the device as one of these personal smartphones, and tilted her head as she watched him tap away.

"Amber volunteered to help if you needed it," he told her, "So I'm gonna set you up with her. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do about your friends; I sense the longer you stay, the more likely they are to come lookin', and I don't want them coming in here and breaking china."