beyondtheline | cosmic ash and blackened brain, I call you by

cosmic ash and blackened brain, I call you by - wait no don't do that

[The night carries the two of them south. While Johnnie's original plan based on his map had been to travel down the coastline, he's still cautious about what lurks there, and opts for a quieter, inland route that bypasses most of the major cities in South Carolina. Whatever this state might hold, they'll miss it, aside for a brief pit stop near Lake Marion to refuel the tank, fill up on snacks, and get Chrissy a little more knife fighting practice (though with sticks found at the lakeside, no sharp edges here) before either of them are too low on energy for that.

There are long stretches where towns mostly vanish, where they're lucky to have pavement at all judging by the lack of civilization around them. The road material shifts at one point into something strange and glassy, and Johnnie has a hard time finding traction for the bike - and the explanation comes in the form of some strange electric vehicle with neon lights that zips rapidly past them, floating over the road rather than touching it. It's cool, but it also makes the hair rise on the back of his neck.

The orange-pink disc of the sun is just barely visible emerging on the horizon as they ride into Tifton. That last leg of the road had been so dark and quiet Johnnie had fallen into something of a trance, hypnotized by the black road and its yellow stripes, but a road sign for the Tifton Mine ("an unbelievable journey through time you don't dare miss!") and the lights of a fire station and golf club at the edge of town snap him out of his thoughts.

The mine is to the north, and part of him wants to just take that road and go straight there. But Chrissy needs a real bed to sleep in while she recovers from her injuries, still - dozing on the road probably doesn't count enough. And, okay, maybe he could use a couple hours' rest, too.

They pass a fucking taquería and that blows his mind, and then as they get farther and farther into the city he continues to sit straight up and look a little bit startled by all the lights and signs and everything for what was marked as some tiny little dot on a map that he was expecting to have no more than maybe five hundred people. The music, too, keeping him awake this last part of the ride, is even more unfamiliar than it was in the 90s, and as he merges with traffic and looks around at dancing lights and animated billboards, he spots a bank with a time, date, and temperature reading for some absurd reason.

April 6, 2004.]

Hey, you seein' all this, Chrissy?

[Who knows if she's even awake right now, but maybe the slowing of his bike and the surprising amount of traffic at this hour have done the trick. Now they just need to find a motel, and the main drag up ahead looks like a good bet.]

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Huh? Oh, yeah.

[Look, he heard her, there's just a lot going on right here. He's nearly 40 years past his own time. He'd be an old fucking man if he was still alive. His brothers are old men, if they're still alive, and his parents, well, if they're still around they're fucking ancient. Weird, weird thought, made weirder by a moment to look around as the light turns red and he doesn't bother to scoot through it.

The sun is truly on its way up now, coloring the buildings with pink. It's not hard to pick out the older brick and wood buildings scattered around as originals from the 40s and 50s, the larger, blockier ones probably from the 60s through the 80s, and some of the more modern sleek glassy things as 90s and onward. Is that weird, now, that he can look at a city and recognize so many elements outside his own time?

There are still familiar chains here - McDonald's, Dairy Queen - but so much of it is new that he may as well have wound up in a different country.

Admiring can come later, as the light turns green. That motel ahead calls itself a Country Inn, but as they draw closer there are about five others all around it, competing with their own signs for attention. Who knows how to pick, but the thing calling itself a Marriott is backed up against a cemetery and therefore a little quieter, maybe a little easier to slip in and out of, so that's where he heads. The thing has a giant parking lot, too, and plenty of rooms with its three floors, so surely they can find one to crash in.

He parks the bike, and gives Chrissy a hand down.]

Looks nice enough. You wanna come with me, or wait here an' watch the bike?

I'll wait here.

[She's definitely sore and hurting after riding for so long, and she figures that maybe someone needs to keep an eye on the bike and their things in a place like this. She smiles and gives him a quick kiss before letting him go, and takes to stretching and trying not to wince when she does.

It really is annoying that she's still aching at all, but she figures it's going to take a little longer to fully heal. Time fixes everything, she guesses. But she wishes that their bodies just fixed themselves overnight. They're dead, defying the laws of the world just by existing. Why can't they defy things a little more and just magically heal with a snap of their fingers?

While she waits for him, she people watches, observing the fashion and hairstyles of everyone that moves through the parking lot. She's grateful both of their outfits generally are pretty timeless, they don't have to change clothes every new decade they visit.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it dawns on her that if she had lived, she'd be in her 30's. It's a little weird to think about, because she doesn't like imagining the kind of life she'd have at that age if she had lived. It's easier to prefer the life she has now, even if she's not exactly alive anymore. She's so happy now, that even imagining life in Hawkins in her 30's feels impossible. She just doesn't want any part of it.

When Johnnie comes back out to her, she's quick to stop thinking too much about things that don't matter, and hurries to grab one of the bags off the bike. ]

Were you able to find a key?

[There's a customer in the lobby when Johnnie walks in. The guy sets the little envelope marked Room 208 on the unmanned front desk to check out, and doesn't spare Johnnie a glance, so he assumes he's safely been unseen. That is, until he swipes that envelope, presumably containing keys, only to have the dude turn abruptly to face him, startled.

So, maybe he was just minding his own business and ignoring him then, whoops.

The dude shouts, sternly tells him to put those back, like Johnnie is going to listen to that. He just grins and shrugs. Suddenly, the guy in his suit lunges at him, or lunges at the keys anyway, only for Johnnie to easily twist away. "Sucks to be you, man," he shouts before he's out the door and trotting his way back to Chrissy.

He raises the keycard envelope between his fingers, then glances back at the door, and is able to just make out the shape of the guy inside, frantically ringing the desk bell. It's only dimly audible through the doors out here, though.]

Think so. An' I think that asshole's paying for us to stay. Ain't he nice? 208, it says, so... Well, we'll find it.

[He'll just grab one of these bags, and then look for a side entrance so they can dodge the irritable lunatic who can probably pay for them no problem anyway, he looks like the type to have enough cash on hand.]

[Chrissy figures that guy isn't exactly doing anything but choice, and laughs as Johnnie leads her toward a side entrance. This place is nicer than where they usually stop, with interior hallways and art hanging on the walls. It's likely mass produced, but who cares? It feels fancy.

As they move through the hallway and follow the signs toward the elevator, she starts to move slower and slower. She has to adjust her hold on the bag a few times, and winds up having to stop and set it down.]

Hey, Johnnie? I think I need some pain pills or something when we get in the room. I'm really hurting, and it's starting to feel weird when I breathe.

[She just needs rest, she's sure. Her ribs are being the worst, but a good sleep will take care of everything. She pushed herself pretty hard on his birthday and then spent hours on the back of a bike the next night. It's no wonder her body is really starting to protest.]

Oh, babe, sure. Put that down, okay?

[She already has, but he means keep it down. He watches her with worry in his eyes, and reaches over to stroke her hair, then give her a quick kiss.]

Just take the guitar an' the keys, here. I can get the bags.

[He passes her the envelope, then doesn't give her room to argue when he picks up both bags, one in each hand, right as the elevator dings and opens its doors, and sets them by his feet while they ride it the short distance up so he can take them up again once in the hallway. A sign on the wall points the way to various room numbers, and so he follows the arrow that will take them to 208. Of course, the bed won't have been made, trash won't have been emptied, but hell, it's a place to start. He can run back downstairs later and see about finding more keycards, maybe, and get something else. She needs sleep first, though.

And pain pills, which are in one of these bags. He sets them down once inside the room, and digs around for the bottle, then passes it toward her.]

Here, sweet thing. You want anything else? I can roll up a joint..?

[Sounds good to him but maybe she just wants to pass out.]

[Oh, that sounds good. Pain pills and getting high will probably ensure she sleeps pretty soundly for a while. Enough that she'll have energy to hit the mine once she wakes up. She can tell that he's worried about her, and feels bad for making him concerned. But it can't be helped, she reminds herself. And this will pass soon enough. It's not a permanent thing.]

Please?

[She's holding the bottle of pills in both hands as she leans in to kiss him, and gives a gentle tug of his lip with her teeth before pulling away and going into the bathroom. The glasses look like they've been used, but she's resourceful enough to be able to cup her hands and drink water from them so she can take a few pills.

The guitar case is slid off and set aside once she finishes there, and she promptly starts undressing. Her clothes come off first, though she stays in her panties. She casts him a look that says she needs help as she sits on the edge of the bed, and starts to work off her shoes and socks.

She gets now why he was so frustrated when she needed to help him with everything. It's annoying having to depend on someone to do simple things.]

You don't have to stick around here while I sleep if you'll get bored. I hate that you have to be still so much just because I need to rest.

[He gives a nod, then starts getting weed and rolling papers out while she gets her drink of water. Honestly, he should take a couple of those pills too, his nose is still sore, especially after hours of riding with goggles on. They help, though. Still worth it.

He pauses what he's doing there, though, so he can go help her out with those shoes and socks, poor girl. Panties, too, unless she bats him away, but he just figures naked is better when it comes to sleeping.]

No, I gotta rest too. I'm just real bad at makin' myself do it. You're a good excuse.

[She gets a kiss, then, soft and gentle, before lifting up the blankets to help her settle in. And then after another minute or two of fussing with the pot, he has a joint lit up, takes a hit, then hands it off to her.]

Here, babe. Gimme a minute an' I'll be right there with you.

[Maybe two minutes, but he wants to brush his teeth and undress, first.]

[She's sitting up against the pillows and is glad to enjoy the joint by herself for a couple of minutes. It's a nice, peaceful time where she feels relaxation settling in. By the time he joins her in bed, she's smiling a little and seems more at ease.

As she leans over to kiss him, the joint is passed over.]

You don't think that guy will come back here to kick us out, do you?

[Maybe she's a little worried about that. But she's pretty sure they can scare off anyone that tries getting in the room. And they did all the locks, so it would take some time for anyone to be able to even get in. That puts her at ease enough that she thinks she can sleep easy.]

[Now that he's got a knife and a gun, those get set on the bedside table next to him, because you just never know. But then he's glad to lean in to that kiss, let it linger a while, then claim the joint for himself.]

That guy? Nah. Looked like he was on his way out. But the people who work here, they might, if he ever got ahold of them. There was nobody working yet when I was in there. Bet we've got time for you to get plenty of sleep.

[He has a draw from the joint, lets the smoke curl from his mouth, then grins and kisses her again.]

If someone does come knockin' I'll handle it, babe. This is our room now.

[That makes her laugh, and she takes the joint from him so she can take a hit. It's passed back quickly, and she's grinning as she watches the smoke plume from her mouth.]

You take such good care of me.

[She whispers, sounding incredibly grateful by the fact that he does. She's slouching down a little so her head can rest on the pillows, but she winds up shifting so she's laying half against him instead.]

It's why I know when I ask for french fries when we wake up, that you'll find them for me.

[Which is funny for some reason, since Chrissy giggles a little as she runs her fingers up and down along his arm.]

Damn right I will.

[She can flop onto him all she likes. He curls his arm around her, warm and protective, and idly twists the joint between the fingers of his other hand.]

Or, if you want, on the ride in there was a fuckin' taquería, like, a real one. Not Taco Bell. 'Course, I dunno what passes for tacos an' tortas an' all that here in Georgia, but we could check it out. Haven't seen anything like that since New York.

[And that mainly was more Puerto Rican and Cuban stuff, anyway, but that was damn good too. Also, that was in the 90s. Maybe the future is just way less white. Nice.]

But I wouldn't say no to fries either. Hell, we can do both. Gotta get a good breakfast in before we go check out that mine.

No, I want tortas.

[Her voice has that distant, airy quality to it. Visiting a taquería sounds really nice. Like he's getting to share a part of himself with her, which she always loves. And really, she can't say no to tacos. ]

So maybe we can save the fries for a snack. Something we can share after we visit the mine.

[Because she imagines that they'll work up an appetite mining or stealing cosmic ash. And if they do find some, maybe he'll have to snort it or something to see if it helps fix things for him.]

What are you going to do if we actually manage to get our hands on cosmic ash?

[She's so damn cute, all light and dreamy when she's high. Makes him grin and want to be real close, make sure she's all safe and comfortable against him. How the fuck did he get this lucky? Gotta be one of the biggest goddamn mysteries of all time, coming across her like he did. He closes his eyes and lets his smile soften as he presses his mouth to her hair.]

I dunno. Try it, I guess. They were snorting it from a, what did they call it? Just looked like a bowl. That ain't hard. 'Course, I dunno what happens then but if it's supposed to undo what the vide noir did then I might need you right there with me in case it's some kinda real bad trip.

[He can only imagine it's unpleasant. Because the thing about overdosing on vide noir is, aside from the hell of a ride he went through out at the fucking edge of all of time and space, the stuff itself in normal doses feels good. Like flying, or dreaming, all peaceful. So he's just assuming that cosmic ash feels like the complete opposite, like waking up by being dragged behind a truck against hard ground and breathing sand and -

He reels in the pot brain and takes a breath, then shrugs. What he actually said out loud, he'll stand by that.]

[Even with as safe and content as she feels in his arms, there's a slight shiver at the thought of going into this essentially blind. They don't know what the cosmic ash will do to him, if it will even do anything at all. Any worry she might have felt is dampened by being high, though she still gives a soft sigh as she kisses his shoulder.]

I'll be right there beside you the entire time. There's no way I'd be anywhere but helping you.

[She's being serious, but that light quality to her voice is still there. It's probably a sign that she doesn't need another hit from the joint, but she still takes it from him to take a long drag. As she exhales smoke, she passes it back to him. And then takes to reaching up to play with his hair because it feels so soft against her fingers.]

I've got you. No matter what happens.

[He gives a soft hum of appreciation, and aims a kiss at her arm as she reaches for his hair. He lands it, but it's more of a bonk of his lips against her forearm than a proper kiss, and it makes him laugh. Maybe that's enough pot, he decides, and sets the remainder of the joint over on the side table so he can lazily drape this arm over her and lace his fingers together behind her back, both arms looped around her now.]

Love that about you. Love you. For... everything you do. My lucky little charm, mi milagra.

[Soft, warm, and all his. This kiss he manages to plant firmly on her lips, and sighs into it, taking his time with it until he has to pull back for air.]

[She's giggly when he bumps his lips against her arm, and feels nice and light and warm. Everything is absolutely perfect in that moment, even with as tired as she is. The pain she had been feeling almost feels far away, like it belongs in another body that she's floated away from.

But she comes crashing back down to reality in the best way when he says that he loves her, and she's grinning as his lips find hers and she melts into that kiss. She's the one that sighs when he pulls back, and her tongue grazes across her lips.]

Your milagrita.

[She pauses after she says it, laughing as her nose scrunches up. It's hard to believe that adults want to keep weed illegal. Getting high like this is the absolute best thing ever.]

I love you too. [It's practically hummed as she kisses him again, though this time she's quickly distracted by nibbling against his bottom lip. She's so comfortable and at ease, she feels like she's radiating happiness.]

We'll get through this just the same as we have everything else. Together.

You got it, babe.

[Man, he knows he's actually tired when that nibble doesn't go straight to his groin. It's probably for the best. They can sleep, get a nice recharge, let her rest up before they take on whatever madness the day is bound to bring.

He's not sure when he finally drifts off to sleep, but it does happen. He falls into that same space he'd been on toward the end of the drive, not dreaming, simply existing in darkness. That infinite black is less disturbing now than it once was. Not comforting, but less likely to leave him gasping for breath as if he's drowning in it.

There's a tremendous, earth-shaking rumble that snaps him out of it and he sits bolt upright, alert - wait, no. That's just someone pushing a heavy cleaning cart down the hall. Shit. He rubs at his eyes, sweeping hair out of them, then looks at the slick black digital alarm clock next to the bed. Noon, or just past it, anyway. Good enough, time to get up and get dressed. Quietly, in case Chrissy is still asleep, or wants to get back to it - because he's pretty sure that his sudden movement must have woken her up.]

[That sudden movement scares the hell out of Chrissy. Her eyes open wide and she tries clinging hold of him, afraid that something is trying to take him. But he's still there in a few seconds, and there's no loud noise or other movement. With as tired as she is, she drifts back off to sleep with a murmur about it being too early for monsters.

She's trapped in the phase of healing where it doesn't feel like she can ever sleep enough, though once he gets out of bed she quickly becomes aware of the fact he's not there anymore. Oh, she stretches out at first to take up as much room as she can, a lazy smile etched across her face.

Eventually though, she reaches over for him. Not feeling him there has her waking up so she can sit up and look for him. Her heart feels like it's lodged itself in her throat until she sees that he's just getting dressed and ready for the day. Reassured by that, she lies back and dozes off for another fifteen minutes or so before she wakes up enough that she can roll over and watch him.]

Ready to get going?

[Her voice is soft and thick with sleep as she pushes herself to sit up.]

I'll get ready and we can head out to get something to eat.

[As if on cue, her stomach growls, and she laughs as she covers her belly with both hands. He gets kicked out of the bathroom so she can do her business in there, and emerges a handful of minutes later with her toothbrush stuck in her mouth.

This easygoing sort of morning routine they've naturally fallen into together feels so nice. These motels aren't their home, but it feels like a little sneak peak of what things will be like when they do settle somewhere in California. ]

[She asks if he's ready, and he smiles over at her, then finishes tugging on his shirt before going over to ruffle her hair.]

Morning, babe.

[Afternoon, whatever, time is fake and he'd know.

They make their way between main room and bathroom until they're both set to go, dressed, teeth brushed, weapons gathered and his hair impeccably combed back for at least the next few minutes until inevitably some of it will escape back into his face.

He looks around at their things, which haven't had much time to scatter, thankfully, then over at her as she emerges.]

I dunno what we're gonna find up there, but after what happened with the fuckin' fish monsters, maybe we bring our stuff with us. You know, in case we don't come back this way.

[He doesn't intend this to be a long stop. If it is, they can come back. But he wants that shit they're holding at the mine, and then he wants to bail. The only thing holding him back is knowing that Chrissy is still on the mend.]

[She's in the middle of borrowing a little of what he uses on his hair when he makes his suggestion, and pauses with her fingers working grease through her hair. It's all frizzy and she wants it to sit down. What she winds up doing is making her hair greasy, and getting her bangs so clumped together they just fall on either side of her face.

Sigh.

She can't be perfect every day. But along with those healing bruises and cuts that are all over her face, she knows she looks a mess. Not even layers of mascara will fix it, so she doesn't bother trying.]

Your Brylcreem is really greasy, babe.

[She teases him as she closes the tin and tosses it over to him so he can pack it up. She doesn't have anything out by that point, but still puts her hands on her hips and surveys the room.]

I think that's a good idea though. If something bad happens, we'll just be able to get the hell out of town.

[Smiling, she approaches him to put her hands on his hips. Her hold shifts so her arms are around him, and she can claim a proper good morning kiss. Who cares if it's afternoon, it's their morning.]

I'm feeling a little better today, so I should be able to run if we need to.

Uh huh, it is.

[He snorts with amusement and reaches for the tin of hair grease to stow it away. What the fuck did she think hair grease was if not greasy? Besides, it's not his fault his hair is thick enough it needs something as strong as fucking staples to hold it down. It's a good thing it seems like it's stopped growing, if his lack of needing to shave is any sign.

She comes over and he lets his arms slip around her for that kiss. He needs it; for all that today holds a lot of promise, he's tense with the possibilities of what might happen. Not worried, but definitely strung like a live wire. She gives him a moment to relax.]

Hopin' we won't have to run, but it's good to be ready. I'll get the bags again, all right? I know you're strong an' all, but you don't have to overdo anything to prove it.

[He grins as he gives her another kiss, then pulls away to throw on his jacket, light a cigarette, and pick those bags up again, one in each hand.]

Got it all?

[Her mouth opens, like she might argue. But he's right, she doesn't need to prove anything to him. Her jaw clamps shut as she nods, and as soon as he kisses her one last time she's left smiling and easygoing.

She does a last run through the room, to make sure all of their things are with them. Now that she's sure they have everything, she hurries on ahead to open the door so he can head out.

As he passes her by, she steals his cigarette, and smokes it for him while they walk down the hall until they get outside and to his bike. It's there that she hands it back to him, and she laughs at the remnants of strawberry flavored pink lip gloss that are left on the cigarette.]

You know, I'm feeling a little nervous right now. We don't know how things will be for us at the end of the day. You could be alive again in just a few hours.

[It's a bittersweet thing to think about, but she knows that he deserves a second chance to live his life. His friends and family are all waiting for him back home.]

I know it's stupid to get our hopes up, but I'm really hoping we can find a way to save you.

[He stuffs those bags back onto the bike, then takes a draw from the cigarette, grinning at the hint of strawberry. Does it mix well with the rest of that flavor? No, but who cares.

That grin fades slowly as she speaks, though he's still in good spirits, if slightly anxious with anticipation. He pulls her to his chest, and curls one arm around her while he takes the cigarette in the other, and for a moment he just closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of her shampoo.]

I don't think of it as bein' saved. I've gotten used to this, an' if this is how I've gotta stay, I'll be all right with that. But I'm gonna try, an'... I wonder if maybe you should, too. I know what happened to you is different, but what if it helps you too?

[It's risky though, and if they get their hands on any cosmic ash at all, he'd prefer to volunteer to try it first in case it's actually just going to make things worse. What if he's too far gone, what if all it does is sling him right back out there? That can't happen to her, he won't let it. But if it sets him right, what if there's a chance she could be alive with him? Is that too optimistic?]

[She goes very still as he speaks. Sure, she had hoped they'd be able to find a way to bring her back too. But she hadn't dared to hope too much. But he gives her hope now, even if it winds up turning into nervous energy as she wraps her arms around him.]

I want to try.

[The answer comes quick, and is barely a whisper. But she's firm in her decision to at least try. She has to.]

The only thing I want is to be with you. And if we can be alive together, then we have to try.

[She still longs for a future that she'll never get to have if she stays like this. While she's accepted the fact that she's dead, she still has hopes and dreams and wants to be able to see them through.]

And maybe it will help us be able to stay together no matter what happens.

[Because she hasn't forgotten about their desire to figure out a way to stay together. That's the one thing she'll be very hopeful about. That somewhere out there, there's a way they can tether themselves together throughout time and all the different versions of Earth that exist.

Her head lifts and she looks up at him, desperation clear in her eyes. There's fear that they may not be able to fix anything, and they'll just be vulnerable ghosts for the rest of forever, at the mercy of the universe.]

Maybe. I don't want you to do somethin' that'll fuck you up, though. I'll do it first, we'll see what happens. You gotta help me through it if it's bad, like we said last night, right? An' then, depending on what I find out, we'll make sure there's enough for you too.

[Because he sees that look in her eyes, he really really wants this to be the thing they both need. But his experience with vide noir has made him cautious, when he never was before. And while he'll still take risks with himself if it seems like it could be worth it, he's not willing to risk her.

But she's right. Maybe this is the way they can stay together, maybe at least it'll do that for them. Gotta be a better way to do that than to have her try that void shit that fucked his head up and left him dead in the desert back roads.

After one more kiss, he pulls away to finish off the cigarette and toss the butt to the pavement, then gives her an unsure little smile, hops onto the bike and offers her a hand.]

Time to find out.

[They pull out of the parking lot and he takes his time making his way through town once again, unable to help but marvel at how foreign things are starting to look at this point in the future. There's enough to be familiar, sure, but fuck, it's the weirdest one yet, maybe because he doesn't know anything about it. History shit, he'd heard about that. Kind of expected soldiers with muskets, and native folks with beaver traps. And sure, here it's still cars and street lights and radio, but the fashions are odd, the weird little devices that must be phones or radios or walkie-talkies are even weirder, and the sheer number of people and lights outside of a place like New York are really weird.

Food first, and he has his mind set on that taquería if only out of pure curiosity. It's not named something shitty like "Pancho's Tacos" so he has decent hopes, at least. Maybe he shouldn't, but he's eager to find something familiar in all this strangeness.

They pull up and it's a shitty lime-green building that needs updating, and the sign is hand-painted on a sheet of plywood, so already things are going great. He can't help but grin as he parks the bike out front, and they sure must be just at the tail end of the lunch rush because the interior is busy, but there's no huge line.]

All right, you said you wanted a torta when you were fallin' asleep last night. This looks like the place.

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