Chapter Text
He's done this once. Twice. Maybe seven times, or a millennia.
It always starts with his bedroom, a week before the apocalypse begins. Everything goes according to the script—he makes the lunches, he cleans the trash, his best friend grumbles about his diet, and they go dashing before they're late. Jim would feel the need to take the passage under the bridge, and they'd stumble upon a pile of rocks which held the world's—Jim's—impending doom. If it wasn't the first time, it would be Toby instead who finds that gods-damned amulet, keep his mouth shut for a few days, before spilling.
Yeah. It always started off like that. Jim could practically recite the scenarios in his sleep, repeating and repeating and repeating his ordeal. He should've died by now. He should've been in college, or in Detroit, or in Claire's bed with his little ones. But he's here, stuck in the same past he spat on, opening his eyes to the ceiling that would crumble from his weight. (Would it? Or did it already crumble? Gods, time-traveling was confusing.)
James Lake Jr. doesn't know what went wrong. What went downhill after Tobes wielded Daylight in front of him.
At first, he thought shit would definitely change since Toby was now the Trollhunter, that all he needed to do was comply to whatever happened from then on, with the knowledge of him only remembering. Even though it hurt to see his beloved Claire not recognize him, even though it hurt to see his older brother Douxie address him politely—there was nothing he could do but shove it away. To keep the past, in the past.
Now... now he wonders if that change involved the world turning to ash. Not by Bellroc's hands, not even by Gunmar's. But by the universe's verdict.
Only the Trollhunter will know, Nari had once told him. That knowing exactly how the future went, it could stop all the disasters from happening. That in using the Krohnisfere, it would make things right. Jim believed her, believed that turning back in time would help him—Toby—bring the greater good. People wouldn't die, wouldn't perish—they'd live to see the trolls and the changelings and accept them as one of their own. Toby would fist-bump him and say "We did it", Blinky would be proud, Aaarrrgghh would pull him to his arms, Claire would kiss him, and--
And--
...It just seemed like a lifetime ago since he felt that thread of hope. Since he gave his full trust to Toby. Since he pictured that moment.
Nothing had gone the way he imagined. It always failed, always ended with destruct—always ended with Toby Domzalski's death. The amulet should've prevented it. The amulet should've protected him from Bellroc's hit. The only reason why Jim told his best friend to go to the canals that day was so he wouldn't have to meet his doom any sooner. Had it been Jim who instead met that fate, should it not cost anything, everything would've been fine.
Jim would not protest if he died. He would absolutely not wish he could live long enough to feel victory. His goal may be to defeat the demigods Skrael and Bellroc to bring back the ever-forgotten peace of the world, but most importantly, it was for no one to die.
Even if he had to give away his life for it. That's what heroes do, right? That's what Douxie would praise him for, right?
Jim didn't know. Not anymore.
Everything repeats. Everything goes back to the beginning again. The gun on his hand trembles each time it meets his temple, because god knows he's gonna open his eyes and redo it. There was no knowing when it'll end, there was no knowing when the universe will finally relent and let him rest. This was like the, what, 38th time he's done this? 40th? 50th? The 100th?
How long had he been doing this? How long should he be doing this? Jim wanted to keep track, he really did. Tally after tally of each time loop was etched on his wall, as some sort of evidence. But the more he went back—the more he witnessed the life draining from Toby's eyes—the more his confusion and dread and anxiety doubled. He was just sixteen, for fuck's sake. What did he do to deserve this?
What did he do to lose Toby not once, not twice, but for as long as he could keep track of?
Was he meant for this? Was it because he killed them all?
He took a breath. Another.
Stretching out his shaky hands, trying to remember how his Claire had done it, he pushes the magic to the tip of his fingers. That surge of power he stowed away from shame pulses with life, seeping into his every vein, a discovery Jim wished never happened. Douxie's sweet coaxes for him to love and embrace it had only done so little—Jim could literally list reasons of why sorcery didn't suit him.
He was the Trollhunter. Well, former. But, since the moment he realized what it meant to wield Excalibur, Jim wouldn't want any more. Protecting the world and becoming their king should have been enough. It should have been. Nimue's crown most definitely wasn't on his head for no reason, and he wasn't her successor just for fun. His burden was his friends' woes and problems, and whether the world would survive or not. That's it. That's what Douxie told him.
So just why did he have to be a wizard? Why did he have to possess a power that no one else has?
A portal forms. Jim bites his tongue.
The tear in reality hummed the same language his dread presented itself as, so blue and deep and shallow like every fibre of Jim's being. He could feel the crackle of cerulean energy, the voices that tempted him—she had always told him the vortex was one with him, and he was one with it. Claire's portal was more like the void, cold and dark, a true epitome of dark magic. Jim's? It was raw and it was a primal force that didn't know how to stop.
It chanted his name.
He contemplates. Summons his dagger. Shifts the blade to his neck. Jim needed to kill himself for this, needed his blood to do everything again.
Toby needed to survive. Draal, too. Nomura, Strickler, and everyone he's lost. They were... no, Jim was the Trollhunter and he has always been. If the universe deemed his best friend not worthy of the position, then so be it.
There's not gonna be any Trollhunters, from now on. Just Jim and his amulet and the burden of preventing the world from crumbling. The burden of preventing his world from dying.
The steel felt cold against the skin of his throat, a stark contrast to the burning despair that consumed him. He wasn't afraid, wasn't even shaking in his boots. When you've done it once or twice, pusillanimous feelings like those have long been buried. Jim pressed hard. A thin line of crimson bloomed. Why was he hesitating? Why was he shaking?
With a final, shuddering breath, Jim drew the blade across his flesh. This time, there was no pause. The cut was deep and swift, severing the delicate structures beneath. A torrent of crimson erupted, staining his skin and clothes. It burned and it stung, but it was just how he liked it. The dagger slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor as his body slumped, the light fading from his eyes.
Silence descended, broken only by the soft gurgle of a final breath.
He falls right through the portal.
"Toby, didn't Jim come with you?"
He clicked his locker shut, a grim expression plastered on his face. Toby sighed, "Locked in his room again. Wouldn't come out, despite Douxie's attempts."
A frown tugged at Claire's lips, eyes distant from thought. A beat of silence, then, "You didn't even try? I mean, he's your best friend. I'm sure he'd listen to you."
Her voice was thick and heavy, just like the white sweep of her hair, but Toby's known his man's girl for a long time to not notice the fine tremble. He was worried, too. Everyone was. They just tried to hide it more often than not, hoping the facade wouldn't be another burden for their king. "I did, Claire, believe me. But it's kinda impossible when you know he's as stubborn as a rock."
They pushed through the sea of students, taking their sweet time since Ms. Janeth wasn't about to have their heads. Toby fished out a Nougat Nummy, turning it about as a memory resurfaced, a brief flash of a writing that only him and his best buddy knew. Mentally, he chuckled at that short, silly moment of theirs, back when Toby's greatest concern was getting Jim out of the Darklands.
He missed his best friend. More than ever.
"Toby?" Claire nudged him, brows furrowed. From over her shoulder, he could see Aja and Krel heading their way. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he squeaked, cringing at his meekness. "I'm totally fine. It's not like my best friend's being stressy depressy again, so, yeah. 'M fine."
He didn't wait for Claire's response, or if she even had one at all, and instead shoved the whole sweet treat into his mouth in one go, clearly ignoring the Akiridions' expressions. They followed him as he made a turn, glancing briefly at the clock and relaxed at the remaining five minutes. At least they'd made it in time, Toby was most definitely not in the mood for another of Ms. Janeth's lectures at tardiness. That cranky lady needed to chill.
Or keep it crispy. He gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Students then began filling the room, chittering and chattering like there was not a single care to the world. Eli and Steve waved at Toby (to which he ignored, again), making a bee-line to their seats, before settling. Pointedly, he looked away when Seamus and his dark-skinned minion cast an disdainful glance at him, opting to push aside whatever happened before Jim stopped coming to school.
His gaze flickered to the seat next to him, almost missing the presence of the lanky boy who saved the world from demigods. On days like this, of course he'd be missing his best friend more than usual, but... but this wasn't like the Darklands or the Grit-Shaka. Jim was not here, on purpose, so Toby didn't really have a reason to be feeling like something bad's blooming. There really wasn't.
Right?
Oh, goodness. He needed to stop thinking like this. Jim is fine, maybe a bit bed-ridden and sick and all, but he wasn't being harmed or anything. Gunmar did not have his neck at the moment, nor did the Gumms-Gumms or Bular, for that matter. Their plan on how to save the world seemed practically flawless, and besides, his best buddy was still the Trollhunter.
The amulet was going to protect him. It always did.
"Mr. Domzalski!"
Jolting up straight, Toby blinked away his thoughts, as his focus zeroed on the loud silence and the echoes of Ms. Janeth's booming voice. Fuck, had he been zoning out? But his teacher didn't seem mad at him, glancing at somewhere and then back. He looked over his shoulder to see Claire's worried-but-relieved face, the Akiridions smiling softly, and wondered what caught their attention.
Toby swiveled in his seat, eyes widening as he saw a slender man with blue jeans and jacket that was all too familiar with him. Recognition dawned over his once-stricken face, his lips stretching to a wide grin. Jim, with a small smile and awfully pale skin, ushers him to move over so he could sit, like this was any other day.
"Dude, why'd you come late? I thought you were going to stay home all day." He stage-whispered, making all sorts of gestures to show how distressed he had been.
Jim chuckled. "Sorry, Tobes." A wince, a frown, then back to a smile. Huh.
Whatever. At least Jim was here, that's what's more important. Ms. Janeth's gaze lingered on them for a while, before going back to explaining the Pythagorean Theorem, to which he gladly shut out. "No worries, dude, just treat me to some burritos at Stuart's later."
"Seriously? That's all it takes?"
"I mean, what did you want me to do? Make you take my spot at gym class later, which I would do if I wasn't so worried about you? I'm a better friend than that, Jimbo." Toby paused, searching for the next words, but Jim beat him to the punch.
"That's... I would prefer that, Tobes. Ghosting you for a week was definitely not the move, but--"
"Mr. Lake, Mr. Domzalski. Do you mind? We're having a class at the moment. You," Ms. Janeth pointed at Jim, "come up here and solve this. Calling in sick and then having a change of heart does not excuse you from these mathematical problems."
Toby threw a sympathetic look at Jim when he groaned, disregarding the collective snickers of the class.
It was like yesterday and earlier never happened.
Jim had never felt so sick.
Sure, there were a couple dozen times when he felt really under weather to call in sick, which was, by the way, one of the things he hated to do. So upon waking up to a splitting migraine and a throat as dry as a desert, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it to class. And that was a week ago. A week since he touched his beloved pans and pots and made breakfasts and lunches for them. A week since he last saw Claire, and his best friend.
It wasn't intentional, really, the painkillers and tablets just hadn't been enough for the sickness to go away. Jim made his friends worried, his mom and Douxie concerned, and he really hated that. Hated becoming a burden. Hated being sick. Hated feeling so useless and helpless for no reason--
"Earth to Jimbooo!"
He blinked, turning over to see Toby waving his hand, staring at him with brows furrowed. Concern. Jim didn't like that. "What?"
It must've been harsher than expected because Toby tensed, taking a step back like Jim was a monster.
The trembling ground went to the back of his head.
Jim's eyes widened and he hurried to apologized. "I- I'm sorry, Tobes, I didn't mean to. It's just... everything's a little too overwhelming for me right now, and I--"
"Forget that, Jimbo! Look at what's behind you!"
Just as he spun, the ground buckled. One moment there was solid earth, the next, a gaping maw of jagged teeth and shadow erupted from below, tearing the world open. It wasn't so much born into the world as imposed upon it, an alien presence that defied understanding. A cold dread washed over everything, silencing the birds and chilling both their souls.