Chapter Text
By the eighteenth jump back in time to save the world, James Lake Jr. was beyond tired. He was pretty sure he never slept anymore, and waking up to his alarm clock’s metallic screeching every reset didn’t help.
The sound of Jim’s alarm clock blaring was his least favorite sound in the world. The second was the sound of Merlin talking. Without opening his eyes, his hand bumped around his cluttered side table until his fingers brushed against the digital clock, then slammed a fist down on the snooze button.
Honestly, he could strangle his original self for turning on the alarm in the first place—what a tryhard. Why the Krohnisfere decided to place him in this exact moment, the morning before Jim’s whole world warped, he had no idea. It could have easily placed him a few minutes after the alarm went off, or even when he was standing in the canal. Or it's vindictive and wanted him to suffer.
As if on cue, the five-minute snooze ended, and the clock started up its mournful wail again. Jim opened his bleary eyes, hands folded neatly on his chest, and sighed.
He might as well get up now; lying in bed would help no one, especially not him. Jim’s mind flashed to the previous timeline, where he’d been hewed in two from shoulder to pelvis thanks to Gunmar’s trigger-happy (sword-happy?) tendencies. Phantom pains of agony burned across his body. Resting was a bad idea.
Sitting up, Jim stretched for a few moments, getting used to his body. He had both arms again! It was always weird when he would live a few years into the future, get injured, and then immediately go back to a nearly perfect fifteen-year-old’s body. The worst part was having to adjust.
The time stone had fused itself into the Amulet when Jim had used the Krohnisfere during the first timeline. Now, his deaths caused it to whir to life and drag him back to the beginning. Trying to hand off the Amulet to others, leaving the Amulet alone, or even breaking it did nothing. Jim always woke up in his childhood bed after fucking up.
He scrubbed at his face, bare feet on the cold wooden floor. Finally finding the strength to get up, Jim stood and grabbed some clothes. The shiny Vespa model that was on top of his dresser caught his eye, and he straightened it. Which birthday had he gotten it from?
When his brain couldn’t scrounge up an answer, Jim shrugged, threw on his usual outfit, padded down the stairs, and started on three lunches. Opening up the fridge, he was met with less than stellar options. Hadn’t Toby asked for meatloaf or something?
“You’d think living through seventeen different timelines would help me remember stuff like this.” He grumbled as he threw sandwiches together.
After jotting down a quick note for his mother to know her lunch was waiting in the fridge, Jim slipped on his shoes and snagged his messenger bag full of his things right as a bright jingle came from outside. Toby.
“Jimbo! Hey, you made lunch!” As Jim grabbed his bike from the garage, Toby rooted around in his paper bag. “A turkey sandwich a la Jim, thanks! You ready for another day of torture?"
Jim shrugged and righted the overturned trash cans. Torture was a pretty accurate description of what this day would be. “As ready as ever.” He deadpanned as he scooped trash up and threw it away before securing the metal lid tightly. 7:15 every time. Goddamned goblins.
Throwing a leg over his bike, Jim said, “Wanna go the canal way? It’s quicker.”
“Yeah! I’ll race you! Maybe this time, I’ll finally win!” Toby kicked off, and Jim easily followed after. During the ride, he scanned over Toby to make sure he was safe.
He was considering taking up the Amulet again, but the problem was everything that came with it. A strong deterrent was that whenever worn, the Amulet would turn him into his half-troll form and kickstart the full transformation after it was taken off. Jim delayed wearing the Amulet for as long as possible. It did make him faster and stronger; he'd have to make sure Gunmar didn’t get him again. Or the stalkling.
That timeline had been an awful one. It had been number sixteen, and everything had gone smoothly up until Jim realized the stalkling had been sent out a day early. He had been out on a nightly patrol, and it swooped in out of nowhere. With no lightning, Jim had to scramble to kill the flying troll, but nothing worked. The ground got farther away beneath him as he tried vainly to escape. But the stalkling’s skin was impenetrable, so Jim was stuck in razor-sharp claws that dented his armor and left bruises beneath.
His vision blackened at the edges. The stalkling beat its leather wings more furiously than ever. The night air was bitterly cold even to his stone skin, rattling his armor in violent shivers. Trying to grab onto the stalkling’s talon, Jim scrambled for something steady. The creature’s talons began to loosen. The yawning chasm of open air was before him as everything went dark.
Jim had only hoped to survive the drop. Instead, he had woken up to that infernal alarm clock.
And now he was back, biking beside Toby, headed to the canal, watching the unfolding of fate once again. He knew he should give Toby a third chance with the Amulet, but the past two timelines with Toby as Trollhunter always ended disastrously. But that was Jim’s fault. Many of the timelines ended in death, but that didn’t mean Toby couldn’t have another try because of Jim’s mistakes.
Don’t ask how he knew, but don’t ever goad Gunmar while in the Darklands. It didn’t end well, and in “didn't end well,” Jim was pretty sure he ended up as a smear mark on some dark cavern wall. It was a sobering reminder that he wasn’t infallible or invulnerable.
“Jim, you’re lagging behind, c’mon!” Toby called from where he was in front of Jim, who flinched at his friend’s sudden shout. “You’ve been a little out of it this morning. You feeling okay?”
He worked his bike pedals faster until he was next to Toby. “Sorry, I thought I saw something. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Jim said, checking his watch. 7:42. They would only have a few minutes to pick up the Amulet, but a few minutes was all they needed.
“I’m pretty sure seeing hallucinations isn’t a good sign. Maybe you should skip.”
“I can’t skip, my mom would kill me!” Jim said, already mourning the idea of enduring another sophomore year.
Toby laughed. “Dr. L took an oath, Jim, she’s not going to kill you.”
Grip relaxing on his handlebars, Jim’s bike slowed as he reached the canal. “You never know, I might be a special case.”
“Yeah, right,” Toby scoffed. “She loves you more than anything. Jim? Where are you goin’?”
Jim wasn’t wasting any energy on a cool bike trick this time and rode down the canal wall carefully. Toby almost crashed his bike as he slid to a stop above.
A few feet away lay the Amulet of Daylight, waiting.