Chapter Text
When you found out you were in your house, at first, you thought you were going nuts: it was the next day of the night Maxwell had taken you away, and nothing was out of place -with the exception of an empty cup. You did have all your new scars with you, which confirmed that it had happened- and which had earned you a doctor’s visit to check the eye, since even if it was no longer black, the iris had washed out to a lighter tone- but overall it was the exact same.
You wondered if Wilson, Maxwell and Charlie were alright- and after some quick internet searches, you found that the last two had lived back in their ages as expected, with normal magician’s shows- but Wilson seemed to have gone missing after a certain point.
Had he not gone back? Did something happen to him? Did he remember you?
The first days back were hard- both in explaining the many new habits you picked up and working through them, and the obvious physical differences you had in, apparently, one day to the next. Nightmares were hard, but thankfully now just dreams- and you’d swear you see… more, from your “damaged” eye instead of less, but you weren’t sure how to explain it.
Eventually, weeks became months and you wondered if it was even real- you’d see your face in the mirror, forever modified by it and doubt. Were you just going insane? Did you rip your face while you slept?
It was around 6 months later when you received a letter with no sender: it was asking you to come to a nearby park from your house, in the afternoon. You were unsure at first- but there was something in your gut that was clinging to the hope that it would be him, so you went.
It was sunny, with the occasional fluffy cloud lazily moving with the wind. The park was well taken care of- it had cobblestone paths surrounding it, with benches and a large playground in the center. It had many trees and bushes of assorted flowers, and a few families and dogs could be seen playing around. You walked slowly into the park, straight to the swings that were under the shade of a tree, and sat.
As you wondered if meeting with a random person from an unknown letter was really a good idea, you were hugged from behind.
—"Y/N!"
You turned around startled to see Wilson smiling from ear to ear at you.
—"W-Wilson…?
He nodded enthusiastically at you, smiling even wider, and you hugged him back. As you saw him more properly you noticed the trademark hair and button-up white shirt were still there, but the vest was navy blue, and he had a black coat, pants, shoes, and white gloves. He also looked more rested.
—"Are you- but- how? Weren’t you from, like, a century ago?" -you asked him, happy but confused.
—"When you took over the throne and did your attack against the dark," -he started, as he sat on the swing next to you- "we were all taken out of the constant. At first, we had all gotten back to our respective times- which allowed me to reunite with William and Charlie, but not with you."
—"William?"
—"Ah, yes- ‘Maxwell’ was just a pseudonym for his ‘magician persona’, as he put it. His real name is William, and anyways, not that he wants anything to do with the fake name anymore."
At that, you giggled a little. You could easily imagine the scowl of the man when named that way again.
—"They are doing fine, by the way, and send their regards."
—"That’s- that’s great! but- it doesn’t really, uh, explain how you are here?"
—"I’m getting there, calm down." -he chuckled, smiling fondly- "After we found each other and caught up, we started talking about you- and- and, well, I wanted to find you, so I started working on a device-"
—"Wait- Wait."
He stopped his dialogue and looked at you. You, as soon as he said that, quickly connected the dots, and stared at him.
—"Wilson, did you build a time machine in 1915 just to see me?" -you asked, frantically.
—"Okay, to be fair," -he started, as you became more dumbfounded by the second- "I originally only wanted to make a device to talk with you- and I still retain the knowledge of the dimensional portal that landed me on the constant, so I only had to tweak that first- but I ended up discovering midway how to make a time machine and… here I am?" -he said, lifting his palms up in defense while you stared at him so hard that it could have made a hole through his head.
—"What?" -he asked you, after a minute- "The concept was almost the same- I had to make a wormhole through time to get to you and making a device that would let me through instead of just talk was one or two extra steps!"
—"Are you- are you aware of what you’re saying? Are you conscious of what you did?" -you stammered.
—"Of course I am!" -he answered, proudly putting a hand to his chest- "Are you aware of what you did? That you defeated an interdimensional being just with- with just- a wave of your hand?" -he asked you back, waving his own hand out to accentuate the expression- "Are you aware that you saved them, after eons of being trapped? Saved me, after a century of surviving in the wilderness?" -he continued, staring at you with fierce determination- "You deserve no less than breaking the fabric of space-time to see you!"
As he finished saying that, you couldn’t help but just stare at him. You slowly sat back and put a hand over your mouth, processing what he had just said. His stare, as the seconds went by, got softer.
—"I still stand by what I said, Y/N." -he said, calmly- "You’re my kid- and no time-space foolery is going to change that."
After that, Wilson finished telling the tale: he had managed to develop the time travel device- in the shape of a pocket watch, which, bonus points for stealth- and had traveled here, but did not know anything about the current time and events, so decided to spend a few months learning what was new and getting some paperwork done ("You wouldn’t imagine how easy it is to make a story up of how you lost your papers and need new ones." -he said, amused- "I also managed to convince them that I am my own great-great-great-great grandson, and that I was named in my honor."), and then started searching for you- which wasn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be, since you had mentioned many things about yourself while in the Constant, and he had managed to piece together all the information and find you. He was, originally, thinking of just showing at your door, but then thought that it might have been weird and decided to write the letter instead.
(He ended up getting an explanation of how that also was weird by itself, at least in current times, and apologized.)
To say that he was amazed by the technological advancements of this era was an understatement: he had learned what changes were made to televisions, cameras, printers, cars, external and internal architecture, currency, and learned what smartphones and computers were, among many other things. He also checked out how to apply for jobs- and was preparing a CV ("Which, if you don’t mind- could you help me make it ‘digital’? I would be interested in learning how to, and also need help with printing.").
The months went by, you going back to school and him landing a job and studying at the same time, and the times you were able to meet became scarce but sacred. You’d either hang out somewhere- museums were a favorite- or chill at his place; he had managed, after a while, to get a cheap one-room apartment with some basic furniture, and was saving to buy an old house in a plot of land a little bit farther ("I used to live in a house like that, back in my day- and, even if I did leave most things to be able to live with you,- and would always do if I had to- there are some things that I would like to recreate.").
On weekends and through holiday breaks, you’d spend your free time in his apartment, playing video games and watching movies and series to put him up to date. You’d show him memes- which he had taken a while to understand- and get him snacks and modern coffee to try out.
You had just been getting back from your last summer break- in about 2019- before your last year of high school when it happened.
A sea of police and firefighters cars were parked just outside of what formerly was known as your house, now a pile of charred ashes and rubble. You started running, only stopping when a policeman grabbed you to stop you from getting close- they were still securing the area and making sure the fire was out. You tried, with the best of your ability, to explain that it was your house, and the cop sat you on the side and informed you- as nicely as they could- that there was a gas leak, and that there were no survivors.
Afterwards, it was a blur- you’d been asked to give a phone of someone who could come get you, and then you were picked up-
And then, you were back in the apartment.
—"Y/N?" -he asked you, softly. When had he kneeled in front of you?- "...can you hear me, kid?"
—"...I-I’m-" -you tried to start, but- the words were stuck on your throat, and you just lost everything you had- and-
You started crying.
You tried to cover your face with your hands, as if to hide from the world, but it was impossible. Your face was red and your eyes were covered with tears and your hands were wet and you were tired. Why did things keep happening to you?
Wilson got closer and hugged you.
After a lot of legal issues and paperwork, Wilson managed to adopt you- the fact that you already were 19 and it being more of a formality made it easier, but it still took a while. You managed to finish your last year of high school as best as you could- it was not perfect, but it was finished- and he wrapped up his last year of college. After that, you had a few months of doing nothing- up to that point you had been partly ignoring but mostly juggling your issues with the school work-, so you mostly moped in the apartment and slept. Wilson tried his best to cheer you up- but it was impossible. He had expected you to be a mess, with no other words, but he clearly was starting to feel this was beyond him- and he wouldn’t allow that.
—"Hi, Y/N!" -he greeted you, as he got back from his new job. He had managed to find one more related to his career with a better paygrade, and had switched almost instantly- "I have a surprise for you!"
You were lying down on the couch when he got in, and at his statement, turned your head slightly in his direction. He, while dropping his work bag to the side and taking off his coat, noticed this and took the cue to keep talking.
—"So, you remember back then when I had just reached this time, that I wanted to buy this old house?" -at your small nod, he continued- "Well, I’ve just managed to get my hands on it! We’re moving there in the next few weeks."
—"...That sounds nice…"
—"Yeah! we’ll have a large yard, and way more space than this cramped apartment- you’ll get your own room!"
You sat up slowly, humming in response, and he came over and sat next to you, one-arm hugging you.
—"yeah…" -you started, lost in thought, when you had an idea- "would, um, would you mind if I had a rose bush?"
At the question, he tensed- and then it was gone as quickly as it came. He had a small rejection for the flower since the whole thing started- but they were, somehow, still your favorite.
—"Y-yeah! That would be amazing, actually. Maybe I can even unrelate them to… yeah." -he answered, encouragely.
—"...maybe I could also get some paints and canvases…"
—"Anything you want, buddy."
It took a whole weekend to pack up everything, and another to move, but soon afterwards you found yourself outside your new home.
It was a two stories house, much alike to a cabin; the walls were dark brown planks with white frames for the windows, and the roof had green tiles, in an open gable style. It also had a balcony with a wooden railing on the first floor, which spanned through all the front side, and had a front porch with a wooden floor and another wooden railing, and an arch as an entrance. It kind of reminded you of a house you'd build in minecraft, but less squaredy.
The house was surrounded by pine trees, neatly organized bushes, and some rocks- as it was a decently sized terrain- and had a stepping-stones path from the porch of the house to the outside of the property.
—"So, what do you think?"
You turn around to see Wilson next to you. His expression was calm, and you couldn't help but notice the little details: how his skin was pinker, characteristic eyebags almost gone; how his blue eyes were twinkling in the daylight, and his face had became slightly rounder as he put on some weight (even if you personally thought he was still too damn thin, but he insisted he had always been); how his hair was more soft, flowing easier with his movements and the wind.
You turn back to the house.
—"It's perfect."
With a smile that looked about to split his head in two, he lifted you off the ground with a hug, spinning you around as you two laughed.