[He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets out the door and breathes in the fresh air. He would've eventually left to go somewhere else--hell, even taken up Wrath's offer, maybe--just to get out and away after the talk with North and the feelings that followed. But movie night (well, day) with Carolina? How could he refuse?
He deliberately ignores any windows passed, blinks away flashing vehicles. No. He doesn't want to see. Seeing is what fucked everything up to start with. Just get to Carolina's, watch mindless explosions, and ignore literally everything else. Best plan. Best plan for the day. Keep her company. Try not to worry her too badly.
When he makes it to the apartment complex, he almost has a spring in his step, or at least, he looks more chipper than he has in a few days. Everything is perfectly fine when he hops into the elevator and pushes the button up up up.
It takes a minute for the error to register. The elevator is practically sparkling on all sides. Anywhere there isn't an ad plastered up, it's sleek chrome, his face looking back. A few aspects of his face looking back. He stares at the door and sees his blue and red suit, other familiar colours, and a hologram hovering by his shoulder. He turned left, saw himself in some gaudy Hawaiian shirt, actually barked a laugh at it. Turned to the back, and there was him with captain pips and sporting a goatee, in command of a ship that was crumbling apart around him. And to the right--
He and Trip are standing together, fingers laced. Rings sitting on their fingers. A few others mill about on a hill at night. There's a little one sitting up on Malcolm's shoulders, all blond and blue-eyed and definitely a Tucker if he ever saw one. They smile at each other, then look to the sky as a fireworks display starts exploding above them. He'd never thought--with Trip? And happy? And apparently on Earth. What kind of universe was that supposed to be? He doesn't think, though, when he reaches out to touch the child's face--
And it floods into every pore of his body, a history that isn't his, that starts out similar but diverges with a relationship never had, rocky moments but a blooming love. And he understands now. He understands so fully what North was talking about, what York was trying to say, about not just thinking it, but being it, about feeling that love that is whole and complete and everything. They're happy. They're a family. Little Charlie growing up with his dads. And cuddling up against the man who was his best friend, the man who is, in Malcolm's mind, stuck between life and death, seems like the most normal and natural thing in the world. They watch the fireworks together, the young lad who is their son in awe.
This is not his life, but it's a life that he's filled with. To be so loved and to feel so loved, and to be filled with love that he gives in return. Stable and whole and together. He knows it's a lie but knows too that maybe somewhere out there in all of the infinite universes, this happened. Despite the brief contact, it's still there as strongly, and he backs away, crumples to the floor, watching the reflection and watching in his mind's eye the memories ticking by.
And it isn't fair. To be stuck. To be stuck here in this world so far from the family he loves. That he can't be there with his husband, with his son. That he feels all of this and knows that it isn't real. The elevator dings, doors sliding open to Carolina's floor, but he can't. He can't. He's a mess, and his emotions are getting the better of him, a hand covering his mouth but tears in his eyes. He can't go to her place like this.
It's another ten minutes before he picks himself up off the floor, another five before he finally tears himself away from the image that feels so right. Gives his face another quick wipe just in case before knocking on the door, smile plastered on.]
Action; Day 158 - late morning
He deliberately ignores any windows passed, blinks away flashing vehicles. No. He doesn't want to see. Seeing is what fucked everything up to start with. Just get to Carolina's, watch mindless explosions, and ignore literally everything else. Best plan. Best plan for the day. Keep her company. Try not to worry her too badly.
When he makes it to the apartment complex, he almost has a spring in his step, or at least, he looks more chipper than he has in a few days. Everything is perfectly fine when he hops into the elevator and pushes the button up up up.
It takes a minute for the error to register. The elevator is practically sparkling on all sides. Anywhere there isn't an ad plastered up, it's sleek chrome, his face looking back. A few aspects of his face looking back. He stares at the door and sees his blue and red suit, other familiar colours, and a hologram hovering by his shoulder. He turned left, saw himself in some gaudy Hawaiian shirt, actually barked a laugh at it. Turned to the back, and there was him with captain pips and sporting a goatee, in command of a ship that was crumbling apart around him. And to the right--
He and Trip are standing together, fingers laced. Rings sitting on their fingers. A few others mill about on a hill at night. There's a little one sitting up on Malcolm's shoulders, all blond and blue-eyed and definitely a Tucker if he ever saw one. They smile at each other, then look to the sky as a fireworks display starts exploding above them. He'd never thought--with Trip? And happy? And apparently on Earth. What kind of universe was that supposed to be? He doesn't think, though, when he reaches out to touch the child's face--
And it floods into every pore of his body, a history that isn't his, that starts out similar but diverges with a relationship never had, rocky moments but a blooming love. And he understands now. He understands so fully what North was talking about, what York was trying to say, about not just thinking it, but being it, about feeling that love that is whole and complete and everything. They're happy. They're a family. Little Charlie growing up with his dads. And cuddling up against the man who was his best friend, the man who is, in Malcolm's mind, stuck between life and death, seems like the most normal and natural thing in the world. They watch the fireworks together, the young lad who is their son in awe.
This is not his life, but it's a life that he's filled with. To be so loved and to feel so loved, and to be filled with love that he gives in return. Stable and whole and together. He knows it's a lie but knows too that maybe somewhere out there in all of the infinite universes, this happened. Despite the brief contact, it's still there as strongly, and he backs away, crumples to the floor, watching the reflection and watching in his mind's eye the memories ticking by.
And it isn't fair. To be stuck. To be stuck here in this world so far from the family he loves. That he can't be there with his husband, with his son. That he feels all of this and knows that it isn't real. The elevator dings, doors sliding open to Carolina's floor, but he can't. He can't. He's a mess, and his emotions are getting the better of him, a hand covering his mouth but tears in his eyes. He can't go to her place like this.
It's another ten minutes before he picks himself up off the floor, another five before he finally tears himself away from the image that feels so right. Gives his face another quick wipe just in case before knocking on the door, smile plastered on.]