Chapter Text
Two opponents stood underneath a bridge.
They circled each other, both unwilling to finish it. Only one of them would leave this place alive, unless lady fate was in an exceptionally playful mood that day. Not playful were their swords however. The blades thirsted for blood, justice and the heat of combat. One, a magical symbol of justice, power and protection. The other, a simple kitchen knife that was commonly used to fillet fish.
Not that it was a fair fight, really.
One advanced, twisting around his smaller opponent with grace and the intent to eel away into the shadows. The other reacted, using his smaller form to roll below like a boulder, then deliver a punch that bruised some ribs. A dive to the left later had both of them facing each other once more, looking at each other's hardened eyes. They were wondering where things had turned so wrong.
And one of them blamed himself for all of this.
How it had come to this was a bit of a mess, even in the most nimble and brightest of minds. Time wasn't much of a flower, but more like a scattered and twice broken disco ball. One that he had personally crushed with his reckless and selfish actions. He hadn't been thinking at all the past few weeks. He just acted, reacted and then let the adrenaline rush carry him through the day and towards that one key moment where he had lost everything dear to him.
Well, they were alive and healthy, but was it worth it? They were alive and happy, but without him. No, he was a paradox. He was something that didn't fit in anymore, something like temporal cancer that corrupted the timeline. Everything he had longed for burnt up before his eyes until nothing but the shadows of it's ash remained.
His girlfriend? She was creeped out by him. She had even called him a stalker and threatened to call the police.
His mother? She didn't appreciate to be manipulated. The set up date with his history teacher, turned enemy, turned mentor went very unexpectedly bad.
His real mentor and adopted father figure? How should he know? It wasn't like he got kicked out of his library two days ago.
His brother in arms? He was lucky he got away in time. Getting called a traitor and security risk wasn't how he wanted to go out.
And finally there was his best friend. Or rather, his former best friend. At first they were inseparable, using his knowledge of the future to guide him towards brighter days. However, they forgot that people are not robots, and best friends aren't marionettes on soulless strings. They started to argue, even fight, over how to handle things. Accusations flew around, names followed soon after. It got heated like it had never before. Within a week the two had drifted apart.
"I'm the trollhunter now. I decide how we do this."
"But I know what's going on. I know how to beat them before we lose anyone."
"Well, I haven't lost anyone yet while you let them die. What does that tell us? Yeah. We're doing this my way."
It had stung. No, it did more. It hurt him beyond imagination. It hurt more than the titan fire, or watching his world burn to cinders around him. This wasn't a final end where he could have said goodbye, then dealt with grief. This was a new future fully out of his control, and by giving away his title and responsibilities to his best friend, he also lost his status. He wasn't the hero anymore, and who would ever want to listen to the side character? He was hardly a sage and didn't look like an oracle or seer, so what could be do? What was left for him to do?
It was a glitch in between time that he could still call Excalibur. As broken as it was - a fitting parallel to himself, maybe? - it was a good weapon. It was also the weapon he was now using against the one constant in his life, his rock to hold on to.
Always was, always will be, just different.
Too different.
Once more they met and sparks flew. What should have been a happy ending was turning into a bloody nightmare of guilt and despair. He just had to do this - dodge, a step to the right - he just had to play god and risk it all - block, then twist - he just had to do it because he couldn't lose any more. Everyone left him, always. His deadbeat father, his avocado dad, his basement brother, his knife aunt, his girlfriend, his hard rock wizard, his nature lady and now his best-est of the best friends.
He got careless and cut him across the face, that would leave a scar similar to the one he once had in a future that would never happen now.
On the sidelines his former mentor was cheering. He was hollering encouragements with a passionate tenacity of a raging sports stadium, but not for him. His father figure wasn't on his side anymore. He was playing on the other team now.
Speaking of teams, nobody wanted him now. The good side accused him of treason because he dared to think he could convince a changeling to change. The bad side wanted him dead, still, and he was only still alive because they didn't see him as a serious threat. After all, he was just a boy now. He was just a dropped know-it-all sidekick who liked to condescend the chosen one.
The fight ended when the ground below them rumbled to the sound of approaching water, washing away everything in it's path. After everything done and said he welcomed it with open arms. Maybe letting himself drift away from the mess he had created was just what he needed now. And if not, well, the cold water at least numbed the pain of his bruises and soul.
As he drifted through waters deep and dark, only the shard left of the time stone shone near his heart, filling Jim Lake's veins with a bright green. Then, the young hero's heart beat in synch with time itself.
Water woke him like a slap in the face. He spit some out, almost gagging on the murky aftertaste of algae and wet concrete. Underneath him was soft soil, which meant he got washed through the entire city and should now be somewhere in the park, near the lake with no name. His tired mind though it was a very pretty lake. Especially the way the fading sunset turned it into a magical purple, sprinkled with liquid gold.
It reminded him of Claire - of his own Claire - and of how much he missed her. His heart clenched, shriveled and burned when he thought about her smile. He sincerely had believed to get her a second time, and his plan would have been a success, if he had not overdone it. Too eager to return to what he knew and loved he forgot that the reset robbed her of years worth of memories and love. He knew her so well, yet to her he was a stranger with an obsession. How could he know her so well if they had never been together before? It scared the girl, and made him want to bite a brick.
So sunken into his gloomy thoughts, Jim almost did not notice the cloaked man watching over him. It was definitely an adult, and unless it was a very masculine lady, he was sure this was a man. He stood up as soon as he noticed Jim staring. The man's armor shimmered like vitreous dioptase in the dim twilight of dusk. Yet, before his strange warden vanished completely he dropped a book on a dry stone not far from where Jim had been washed ashore.
The former hunter was careful. He had enough encounters with evil to be rightfully weary, but curiosity won the internal struggle. Soon cold fingers ran over soft leather and golden symbols. This was a very old and very well cared for artefact, and Jim was unsure what to do with it. He may have been in contact with magic, but he was no wizard. This was Claire's specialty.
He took the book with him. It was better to keep it safe than to let it fall into the wrong hands, and he had enough time to figure out how to hide it on his long trek home. Thankfully Arcadia was warm enough even at night. He didn't want to imagine walking home as drenched as he was with a chill creeping into his bones. It would make him sick, most likely, and that wasn't something he wanted no matter how good of a doctor his mother was.
A light burned in their living room, which meant that Strickler was visiting again. It had become a habit since his mother was actually interested in the changeling, but Jim knew better now than to meddle. He gave the two the first nudge. Now the ball was on their side of the court, and he was delegated to watch and wait on the sidelines. Forcing them together failed miserably, and Jim was sure his mom was still angry at his attempt.
As he made his way through the many streets of his neighborhood he saw all the hidden magic that normal people overlooked. An old man was obviously a fae. The two children playing near a bush of roses had the eyes of kind werewolves. It made him smile. Magic could live alongside humanity. The order was just too blind to see the good. Then Jim passed a old witch's herbal garden and heard a gasp from the frail lady. Amber and ruby glimmered in her white dreads and her ancient eyes lit up with something like alarm. He knew she was one of his newer neighbors, only haven moved in a few days ago. However, she seemed like a kind woman.
As Jim passed her he heard her whisper, "Cambion" and decided to not deal with that for now. He was too tired, wet and hungry to do so. Let the new trollhunter sort this out, Jim thought with apathy.
With a sigh he entered the house with the key from his pocket. His went squeaking footsteps echoed through the house and alerted Strickler of his arrival long before Jim could even try to sneak into his room. With a too silent, too deadly grace he appeared in the doorway, looking quite concerned about Jim's sorry state.
"Young Atlas. Where in heaven's name have you been?" He asked softly.
Jim in return cringed.
"Go get changed before you flood the house, I'll make you some tea to warm up."
A light chuckle escaped both of them and the dim mood seemed to warm up a little. Jim nodded, rushed up into his room and then into the bathroom to take a shower. He left his new book hidden underneath his pillow, just in case. He trusted Strickler, but not with a possibility dangerous magical object.
A wet rat no more, he found Strickler downstairs with two cups of tea, as he had promised. Jim gladly accepted the liquid love with minty flavor as he sat down on the couch. Like a wing a blanket was draped over his shoulders while Strickler muttered something to himself that sounded like fond curses. The mentor ruffled his favorite student's hair moments before he plopped down beside him on the couch.
"So, would you share which epic adventure you went on today or shall I guess?" Strickler teased lightly.
Jim was tempted, but he decided against making fun of Strickler's species.
"I went to the park and fell into the lake."
"My... Jim just because your surname is lake you don't have to jump into one."
"I fell!" Jim exclaimed, "it was an accident."
"Of course." There was a pause, "have you at least found a treasure? I know boys your age always look for "cool" things to adore on a shelf later."
"No..." That was a lie and both knew it.
However, Strickler let him get away with it. He wasn't interested in whatever bottle cap, keychain charm or old rusty screw Jim may have fished out of the waters. If it had been anything important he knew his young Atlas wouldn't be able to keep quiet about it for long. Unfortunately, this Jim wasn't the same Jim anymore. Whatever mood swing had dragged him down during their battle with the arcane order, his inner fire was reignited.
Actually, not that he thought about it - Jim had felt off ever since the onyx shard had pierced his heart. Had it somehow still been influencing him? He wasn't sure and there was no way to figure it out now. He also never again wanted the cursed thing to come anywhere near him.
"Jim? Are you alright?"
Strickler was bent over with a frown on his face - the picture of a worried parent. Jim hiccuped a sob and hugged the changeling around the midriff. He decided to go with the ace up his sleeve.
"It's this girl..."
His mentor lit up in relief and mirth, "ah, the young miss Nuñez. What happened? I thought you two finally started to talk?"
"She thinks I'm a creep."
And Strickler's face fell. This was obviously something he had first hand experience with, but he didn't know how to comfort Jim. It wasn't like changelings had wild romances all the time after all.
"It will be alright. You are a good person, and I'm sure she will see you shine brightly."
"Yeah. Right." Jim wanted his Claire back, "I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow?"
"Yes. Your mother invited me for dinner."
"I cook."
With a laugh Strickler replied, "goodness, if you don't I'll have to."
They waved each other a pleasant night and Jim retreated with a slightly lighter heart, and a slightly worse headache. The book was a mystery he didn't know what do do with. Part of him was scared of the consequences of opening it, and yet something told him it was alright. A feeling like a pull let him gravitate towards it. Temptation won over caution and he pulled it out from it's hiding spot as soon as his body plopped down on the soft bed he called his own. The ancient tome contrasted sharply with the synthetic blue fabric of his comforter, but when has his life not been split between two sides? Old and new, ancient and modern. Jim stood right in the middle of it all - a center piece.
Tenderly he opened a random page and let the smell of paper, ink and smoked pinewood hit him, his favorite. It curled around him like magic, yet not, bringing back ghosts of memories that he had forgotten or not yet made. It made his fingers tingle and the hairs on his neck stand up. But, it also felt like an old friend's returning. Something that was missing clicked into place as if it had been meant to be there, he just didn't know it was gone.
The words themselves made no sense, if they were words even. To his eyes the lines made no sense at first. It looked like someone had drawn mathematical graphs onto musical sheets, but after a second or two of confusion he felt them make sense. He couldn't read this, but he instinctively knew what each line ment very much like when he had used Daylight to translate trollish.
"... This is a, a blueprint? No not just that. It's..." He turned a page, "woah! It's a sword."
He somehow acquired the instructions to craft a new magical weapon for himself.
"Maybe they'll take me seriously if I can get one of these... Uh, claidheamh-mòr? Is that it's name? Let's see..."
And a night full of reading was the beginning of yet another adventure, one that would shatter even the broken fragments of reality and mend rifts that were never meant to be.