Nothing could get in the way of Eric Cartman and a plan.
Not the law, not stupid sea otters and warring atheists, not even time.
And especially not an irritating, robotic canine lackey that he didn't even remember asking for.
"Hello, Eric!" K-10 exclaimed with artificial cheeriness as Eric burst into his dormitory.
"Yeah, hi," Eric muttered, dangerously exasperated. His ungraceful, ten year old self whipped around the room like a hurricane. Storming and stomping, his eyes gleaming with determination, shielding the dread that lay beneath.
K10 just stood there dumbly, not wired to pick up on subtle emotional indicators. "What are you looking for?" He asked, scanning the room himself for anything in particular.
Eric ran a damp palm through his immaculately combed hair. "My time phone, my fucking time phone, do you know where it is?!" He snapped testily, before he studied the room suspiciously. The storm halting for a moment, "something looks different."
"I cleaned your room while you were gone," K10 replied, his robot tail mechanically wagging like it always did when he completed a task.
A task that Eric hadn't set, by the way.
Eric's eyes flashed with rage. "You cleaned my room?!" He shouted indignantly, he gripped his hair in frustration. "Science damn it, now I won't know where everything is!"
Eric pouted then, stomping his foot.
"But doesn't everything look more organized?" K-10 asked. He was confused, Eric's response didn't seem logical. "Less cluttered?"
"Yes, but-" Eric sighed, closing his eyes. Great, Eric thought, now the dog is gonna give me the same lecture that mom used to. Like I give a shit, besides, focus. "Where did you put my time phone?"
"In the compartment underneath your bed."
Eric stomped over to it, forgoing a 'thank you'. He huffed as he reached under the bed. "Why did you put it there, anyway?" He grumbled.
"You haven't used it in a while."
"And?"
"I thought you had no interest in using it anymore."
"Well, I have! I mean, I do!" Eric shook his head at his blathering. He had to calm down, but this was so important. This needed to go right.
He pulled the time phone out from under the bed, crossing his legs and placing it in his lap. Curled up by the foot of his bed, he was hunched over the phone possessively, that rush of surreptitious mischief melded with the seriousness of his plan. It didn't feel right.
"Who are you calling?" K-10 asked.
"Myself," Eric mumbled impatiently, setting the date.
"Yourself?"
"Yes, myself! Science damn it!" Eric exclaimed, growling under his breath.
"Why would you want to play a trick on yourself?"
"I'm not going to trick myself…" Eric mumbled, half-listening.
"Then you're using the phone for what purpose?"
"To change some things," Eric replied dismissively, shaking his head. "Make some things right."
"But Eric, that's illegal," K-10 warned.
"Like that matters."
"But you could affect-"
"That's the whole point!" Eric retorted, he wanted to get that damn robot out of here. "I want things to change!"
"But if you get caught-"
"I'm not going to get caught, asshole!" Eric said, his teeth gritted, the phone was ringing. "I need to do this, okay? And you need to be quiet!"
"Very well, Eric."
Eric didn't respond, he just pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes firmly shut. Every ring drilled into his chest, pulled at his insanity, elevated his doubt… No, he wasn't going to regret this. His already damp palms grew slicker and his heart leapt into his throat.
"Hello?" A familiar, unassuming voice. His own voice. It didn't seem real.
"Hi," Eric whispered, in awe.
"Who the fuck is this?!" The startled, defensive question dragged him back to reality.
Eric rolled his eyes, cringing when he smacked a palm to his forehead. "It's you. You're talking to yourself-" Eric bit the inside of his mouth in frustration, he had no idea how to explain this. "Look, it's gonna take way too long to explain, but, basically, you're gonna wind up in the future-"
"What?!" His past-self interrupted. "How the fuck does that happen? Do Stan and Kahl have something to do with it?! Those assholes, I swear-"
"It's not Stan and Kahl's fault!" Eric explained, flustered and pissed off.
"Like I believe that shit…"
It was then that Eric felt a smug, knowing smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. "Kahl isn't all that bad," he said softly, fondly. He didn't want to, but he let out a shaky, vulnerable sigh. "Trust me, you're gonna be thinking a lot about him five hundred years from now."
"Is that so?" He heard himself sneering. "And why should I even believe you, asshole?"
"Because I'm you!" Eric's grip on the phone tightened. "I wouldn't fucking lie to myself, would I? Dipshit…"
There was a disconcerting pause, and Eric quickly scrambled to keep himself on the line.
"Look, it doesn't matter if you don't believe me," Eric reasoned. "You just gotta trust me. I'm calling for your benefit!"
"How?"
"Just do as I tell you, and you won't regret it."
Another pause. This time, one of deliberation. Calculation, but Eric had himself hooked, intrigued.
"It'll be very worth your while," Eric added temptingly, knowing that would tip the scales.
"Fine, fucking fine," his past-self yielded irritably. "But you better be right, douchebag."
"It'll go right if you listen to me, cockface!"
His past-self sighed, "I'm listening."
"Alright," Eric began slowly. "You haven't talked to Kahl since Kenny died, have you?"
Eric could practically feel his past-self squirming and bristling uncomfortably. "W-what does that have to do with anything?" His past-self finally asked.
"Just answer the question!"
"I'm gonna hang up…"
"No, you're fucking not!" Eric shouted, baring his teeth. "You're gonna listen to me!"
Silence. But there was no finite, disconnecting beep.
"No…" His past-self was quiet in his tone. It roused a pained familiarity in Eric, it hurt to be an outsider to his own emotions. To see what he was really made of.
"No, what?" Eric tentatively pressed on, wary.
"I haven't spoken to Kahl since Kenny died." His past-self clarified. "He hasn't been in the best of moods, and he's no fun to rip on when he's grumpy. Or depressed."
Eric chuckled under his breath and winced. "I know," he nodded. "And I also know that he goes to Kenny's grave about the same time every day."
"How?"
"Because we used to hide behind the wall until he left, genius." Eric teased, smirking to himself in the pause.
A bitter 'smartass,' was mumbled down the line.
"What you need to do is get there earlier than Kahl," Eric explained.
"What if he sees me?" His past-self asked, worry keening in his voice.
"He won't see you," Eric reassured. "You don't need to stay there for too long, okay?"
"Damn it, okay…"
"You're gonna put flowers on Kenny's grave-"
"What?!"
"And leave a note for Kahl inside," Eric continued resolutely. "But don't be a douche."
"Then help me out!" His past-self demanded, although it sounded more like he was pleading. "What should I say?"
"Just… Write how you felt when he hugged you in that hospital corridor." Eric replied, and just the mention of that memory sent him back to that confusing warmth and the emotions that roiled inside him, all because Kyle had actually cared and offered him something he never knew he wanted. Remorse forced its way in. "And tell him how you messed everything up."
His past-self sighed deeply. "I did mess everything up…" stubbornness dripped from his mumbled voice.
"Well… I'm trying to put things right." Eric offered. "If you trust me."
"I trust you," his past-self replied begrudgingly.
Kyle grumbled, his legs ached as he trudged, practically waded, through the snow.
Flakes continued to fall, and the cotton, pregnant sky promised to not let up.
He shoved his bitterly cold hands deeper into the warmth of his jacket pockets, glancing at some of the gravestones half-swallowed by white.
Never had snow seemed so solemn. It made everything look so drained, erased.
A lump rose in Kyle's throat as he approached Kenny's gravestone. If only some things didn't have to be erased, if only time could change.
If only.
Kyle's toes flexed awkwardly, twitching in his winter boots. He had no bouquet to give, and had ran out of words to say. He would cry if he hadn't cried countless times before, and if he knew his tears wouldn't freeze on his cheek.
Kenny's grave was intact. No acts of vandalism, no stolen flowers… It all seemed in order. Kyle didn't know when or why he had appointed himself to be the inspector of Kenny's grave but he was.
A small laugh pressed against his lips, fizzling out when he noticed intriguingly fresh flowers bound together with pretty string and gleaming cellophane. Sincere yellow Chrysanthemums and strange Forget-Me-Nots, fluttered in the still breeze, tempting Kyle to pick them up.
Who could have bought these?
He scooped up the bouquet, careful to brush the snow away and briefly breathed in the flowers' fragrance.
Something sharp poked at his nose, he peered inside and found a small card, nestled between the petals and the clipped stems. It was as almost as if somebody didn't want their words to be read.
Kyle was caught in a snare of curiosity, he felt it was rude of him to pick up the flowers in the first place, it would be even ruder to read the contents of the card. Even if it was completely innocent, reading it would be wrong, an invasion of some sort.
But Kyle had to know. He had to know the words that had been deliberately buried deep within the bouquet.
He fished for the card, cringing as the cellophane crinkled loudly, judgmentally.
Opening it up, he recognized the handwriting immediately. Boyish and unrefined.
'I did care about him, but I'm too much of an asshole. You know that, Jew.'
Kyle read it again and again, hoping to decode its potential, layered meaning. Because he knew he was smarter than Cartman, (well, smart enough to not fall for his bullshit), but God knows he had a slipped a couple of times. A few times, actually.
But he didn't know. He didn't know what it all meant except that Cartman was… Sorry?
Sorry.
All that scrutinizing and rationalization and all Kyle could come up with was an apology.
So what now? Kyle could be cynical, refuse to believe it - which may have been the more sensible option – or he could just accept it.
He remembered Cartman's tears against his shirt, his muffled cries, his familiar scent and how he had come undone for Kyle to see.
And Kyle did nothing but hold him.
So maybe it wouldn't be so crazy to consider that Cartman was being genuine this time, after all, he had been before. Kyle had witnessed it.
He smiled ruefully, placing the card back among the flowers and setting them down on Kenny's grave.
As the day slipped away and made room for the evening, Eric paced his room back and forth. He narrowed his eyes at the goading time phone, an inexplicable anxiety making him terrified of the stupid machine.
He had sent K-10 to do some menial task so he wouldn't be here to get on Eric's nerves. It was nice to have some peace, for once. Everybody wanted something from the Time Child. Spy on that meeting, steal this information crystal, manipulate and betray them.
Eric liked being needed, but he didn't like the feeling of wool over his eyes.
Still, it was worth it to eventually go home. Hopefully, with a few things cleaned up and sorted out.
Wouldn't life be so much better, so much easier, if he and Kyle could just stop these games? It was exhausting, and Eric had learned the value of time. And pushing himself further from Kyle seemed like a pretty big waste of it.
With that thought, the anxiety within him was decimated. He marched over to the time phone, setting the date and punching the number in thoughtlessly, so he didn't have time to chicken out.
But hearing his voice. It's been so long.
I don't know if I can do this.
Eric grumbled under his breath, the phone already ringing and he had no intention of hanging up.
"Hello?" Kyle's voice pricked at Eric's most vulnerable resolve.
Eric smiled quietly, he coughed into his pudgy fist before he greeted Kyle. "'Sup Jew?"
Kyle sighed, "God damn it, I'm hanging up…"
"No, Kahl! Wait-"
"How the Hell are you even calling me anyway?" Kyle asked angrily. "Shouldn't you be in juvie by now?"
"What?"
"I said, shouldn't you be in juvie?" Kyle asked, his impatience even made Eric bristle. "You practically kidnapped Butters!"
"You're a fucking drama queen, you know that?" Eric replied indignantly. "I did not kidnap Butters!"
"Whatever," Kyle muttered, before he asked, "where are you calling from, anyway?"
"The police station," Eric lied, "listen, Kahl, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"Yeah, right…"
"No, I'm seriously, I am really sorry, Kahl," Eric pressed on, wanting Kyle to believe it. He was astonished at how quickly his anxiety had melted away. "What I did was fucking lousy and I'm a jerk, okay?"
Kyle didn't seen moved by Eric's apology. "You're more than a jerk, you're a-"
"I know, I know," Eric interrupted him, wincing. "But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did what I did, I'm sorry I ruined your birthday."
"You didn't ruin my birthday, asswipe," Kyle retorted. Shit, Eric had forgotten how fucking stubborn Kyle was.
"I didn't?"
"No, because I don't care," Kyle continued smugly. "You gonna take that apology back?"
"No, because I mean it," Eric replied resolutely, expecting for Kyle to yield a little.
"Fine, whatever," Kyle mumbled, before he asked more clearly, "well? Is that it?"
"No," Eric nearly whispered it, his mouth was dry. "I wanted to tell you that I meant what I said."
"I get it," Kyle drew the words out impatiently. "You're sorry."
"No, not just about that…" Eric was fidgeting nervously.
"About what then?"
Eric closed his eyes, the words building up in his quivering, nervous throat. "You do matter to me."
Silence. One that was unattended, Eric clung to Kyle's faint, thoughtful breathing.
"And I think you know that. You're pretty smart." Eric continued, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "So, uh… that's all I wanted to say."
Eric and Kyle lingered for a moment, not knowing what else needed to be said.
"Cartman, wait-"
"Yeah?" Eric replied, a little too quickly.
"I do know that, uh…" Eric's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Kyle's loss of words. Very rarely had he left Kyle speechless, scrambling. "I guess that's why what you did was so shitty."
"I thought you didn't care," Eric smirked.
"Well, maybe I do, asshole," Kyle replied, but there was no bitterness or malice in his voice.
"Well, uh, alright," Eric began shyly, he swallowed. "Happy birthday, Kahl."
"My birthday was last week."
Eric blushed and he rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to be nice!"
Kyle chuckled softly, "I appreciate it. Have a nice time in juvie!"
"Smartass…" Eric muttered, a stupid grin on his face.
They both hung up without a goodbye.
The time phone bounced on Eric's knee fractiously and nervously.
Please don't tell me I've missed him.
Please don't tell me he's left.
Pick up the phone for f-
"Hello?" Butters' cheery voice cut off Eric's thoughts.
"Aw, shit!" Eric snapped, grinding his teeth and running a disappointed hand through his hair. How was he supposed to explain this? God damn it, Butters…
"Hello?" Butters asked again, noticeably freaked out. "W-who is this?"
Eric sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and ignoring Butters' question entirely. "Nobody," he replied shortly. "Is-" He stopped himself, knowing he would only complicate matters more with his next question. He testily asked, "Is Eric there?"
"Y-yes he is," Butters managed to stutter out, confused. "But we're real busy right now and-"
"I don't care!" Eric interrupted, his face hot with agitation. "Put him on, Science damn it!"
"Science?" Butters muttered under his breath.
Eric's body jolted to attention when a distance voice in the background asked, "who the fuck is it Butters?"
"I don't know," Butters tried to explain. "Somebody who sounds an awful lot like you."
"Well, don't freak out, douche," Eric's past-self chided meanly. "You look like you're about to piss your pants! Just give me the phone and go to the bathroom or something."
Butters must have scurried away pretty quickly, as the next thing Eric heard was an abrupt, blunt question from his past-self. "What do you want now? I'm busy!"
"I know, that's why I'm calling," Eric replied.
"To do what?" His past-self asked suspiciously, defensively, even. "To stop me from doing this? Because that's not gonna happen."
"No, not that," Eric shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I need you to do something else though."
"What?"
"Leave a note for Kahl. In his jacket pocket or something."
"What?!" His past-self's question almost came out like a squeak. "Are you fucking crazy? You must know that I don't want that asshole to find out it was me!"
"I do, well, I thought I did," Eric furrowed his eyebrows, his tone resigned with regret. He exhaled shakily and quietly admitted, "Now I realize that was a mistake."
Before Eric could get further entangled in vicious remorse, he pressed on firmly, "You have to do this."
A stubborn, deliberating silence was making Eric antsy. His knee started to bounce again, his heart beating loud over the faint static that his past-self had left him with.
"Are you sure?" His past-self asked, unable to hide the uneasiness pushing its way through.
"Yes," Eric replied, his mouth dry, not sure if his assurance was convincing.
"It's gonna turn out okay?" His past-self asked, tentative trust replacing the uneasiness.
"Yes!" Eric replied, frustrated and desperate. "Of course it is! I told you to trust me for a reason!"
"You better be right…"
"I will be!"
His past self sighed, palpably conflicted. "Damn it. I gotta go," he muttered. "I have a bus to catch."
"Do what I told you…" Eric commanded sternly, before his past-self could hang up.
"I will!" His past-self exclaimed. "Jesus Christ..."
Despite his past-self's infuriating attitude and the phone call ending unceremoniously, Eric flopped back onto his bed with an excited grin.
He had put everything right. Now all he needed to do was finally get back to a different kind of past.
A past where he and Kyle could start over. A past that was free of his stupid mistakes.
A pothole woke Kyle from his cloud of slowly dissipating unconsciousness. A faint, familiar voice rang through his drowsy mind, but he was too busy adjusting to his new surroundings - and trying not to panic - to decipher the voice ringing in his ears.
A bus. He was on a slowly trundling bus. Its passengers either sleeping or staring silently and sleepily out of the window.
It was then that it occurred to Kyle to take a look for himself.
Mountains. Rural, quiet mountains that replaced the pretty houses and cityscapes that existed before his blackout. But it felt familiar, strangely safe and comfortable.
He knew it, he was going home. But how?
His eyebrows furrowed, and he saw his pale face crease in the window's reflection. His mouth was dry, his head whirring with too many nameless noises, faceless touches and the sensation of his feet leaving the floor. Of being held. But who carried him? His parents?
Shit, his parents! Where were his parents?
His heart stirred to life like a half-awake engine, forced to roar. Cold sweat did laps around his small body, and he whipped his head around frantically. He saw his parents sat behind him. His father's snoring head was resting on his mother's soft shoulder.
A gust of chilly, mountain wind whispered into the opened window, and an even smaller body stirred and shivered beside him. Kyle's eyes slid laxly to his little brother, curled up by his side, knees tucked under his chin.
Kyle took off his jacket, careful not to nudge Ike, when a crumpled note fell from his pocket.
The paper was thin, frayed, even singed at one corner. Kyle unfolded it, hoping to find some kind of clue as to how his family had been saved.
The definite answer only prompted more questions. That handwriting, Kyle wished he didn't recognize it. Only because it made this situation so much harder to understand.
The note simply read, 'welcome home.'
It coerced a smile, and a conspiracy of flutters in his chest.
Suddenly, Kyle wanted to sleep again.
He placed the jacket over Ike's shoulders, but clutched the note tightly.
Leaning against the windows, he stared at the early morning sky. He didn't know exactly what time it was, and he didn't need to. The sky could barely translate it, so he decided not to question it further.
The paper felt more present in his hand, surrounded by the unknown and unanswered questions.
The AAA attacked Ubaleh – the biggest UAA controlled city – and its headquarters just before sunrise.
The wailing alarms and the violent cloak of red Eric's room was swathed in, tore him away from a dream of home.
He knew what was happening before he looked out of the window and saw the AAA zeppelins, oil-colored behemoths that crowded the colourful sky.
Damn otters. They could have at least told me when they were attacking, I would have packed some of my stuff.
Eric was ready to go back to sleep, block out the sounds of invasion and pillages, before his door was broken down. The entrance keypad fixed to the wall was dismantled and crushed under the heavy war boots of the armed otters.
Eric shot up in his bed, suddenly craving the material assurance of his quilt. "You could have at least told-"
He didn't finish his question, a tranquiliser dart plunged into the base of his neck.
Smothered by unconsciousness.
It hurt to open his eyes, his mind trapped by drowsy manacles.
And so were his arms, anchored to a deathly still, floating chair. Natural light from the vast, wall length window spilled into the room. The thousands of glowing bulbs, that usually bobbed attentively a few inches from the ceiling, had withered. Starved and drained of the electricity that nursed them.
The sun was white. Eric had a minor view of the city, and he couldn't distinguish it from the desolate valley it had so valiantly risen from.
"What the fuck is going on?!" Eric demanded, the question felt like he had vomited it up from his slowly awakening viscera. "Let me go, Science damn it!"
Distress slid through his veins, distress that he was trying so hard to deny.
"Be calm, Time Child…" Blavius stepped into view. The AAA president who remained calculating and regal, even in the midst of a successful, brutal invasion. His clean fur stood out starkly against the matted fur, clotted with blood, of the mute soldiers lining the room.
"Fuck you!" Eric snapped aggressively, rebelliously. "I won't calm down until I know what's going on!"
Blavius didn't flinch, he didn't even blink. Spurring Eric on more to dumbly struggle and attempt futile escape.
"Surely you're well aware of what's going on Time Child," Blavius spoke evenly. "You've been complicit in all of this have you not?"
Eric was still too tried to reply, retort, and besides, what could he say to deny it? The evidence was everywhere.
"All your traded secrets and manipulation have led to this," Blavius continued, the smoothness of his voice barely trembled zealously. He watched Eric struggle as he spoke. "Our grand uprising, finally putting an end to this war, righting our society's wrongs. Yes, we otters may have stood for peace long ago, learned reason from the great Dawkins, but years of oppression, years of excruciating frustration…"
A clear shade of rage seeped into Blavius' colourless eyes. "They couldn't just expect the new generation to stand idly by? Wait patiently for a solution that would never come so long as our answer to the great question went unheard-"
Eric was growing tired of the discourse that had been drummed into him countless times before. He was familiar with the AAA's gripe. "I don't give a shit!" He spat caustically, "I don't care about this Science damn war! All I want is to-"
Blavius nodded and said in exasperation, "we know what you want."
"You said I could go back!" Eric's voice cracked humiliatingly, lethargic tears made his eyes ache. "You promised me!" He tugged fruitlessly, one last time.
Blavius nodded to a silent figure that must have been stood behind Eric, for suddenly, those manacles cooked Eric's skin in a surge of heat. Warning him to stop resisting.
Eric ground his teeth until he felt his jaw nearly dislocate, but he complied. A pathetic, exhausted groan made his entire body slump.
"You see, it's your naïve wilfulness to believe, that betrays you," Blavius cruelly teased, his condescension had the sharpest edge. "It reminds us all that you're still merely a child. How could we let the key to our victory leave us? What will become of the AAA if you were no longer here?"
"What are you saying?" Eric asked, nauseous.
"The deal is off, Time Child."
"No! No, you can't do that!" Eric yelled, lurching forward with incredulous anger. But his skin was singed again, forcing him down. "We had a fucking agreement, you asshole!"
"There is no need to compromise with you anymore, Time Child," Blavius explained, taunted. "We have won, you have won-"
Eric shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out Blavius' sickening words. "Don't fucking say that!" He shouted, "This isn't my war! It never was!"
"You are not moral enough to believe that deals can't be broken," Blavius accused. "Your betrayal has led us to this point! Can't you see?"
Eric felt weak, emptied of fight. Stinging tears travelled down his face and he cringed when one splashed on the floating chair. It boiled and evaporated under the probing, waning UV light. "Please, I, I need to go." He begged, biting back an ugly sob.
"You'd actually beg?" Blavius said through a booming laugh that made his soldiers chuckle sadistically.
Eric shuddered, humiliated and desperate. "Please, I need to go home," he pleaded. "I'll do anything! I may have betrayed everybody else, but I'm loyal to you!"
"We cannot risk it, Time Child," Blavius answered blithely.
"Even if it's not permanent," Eric reasoned, regardless. "Even if it's for one day, please."
An unnerving silence descended on the room.
"You owe me a lot," Eric continued, rousing strength from somewhere that he thought was still out cold. "I'm entitled to something, aren't I?"
Blavius shifted uncomfortably, his eyes boring into Eric because the Time Child had called his bluff.
"Perhaps," Blavius replied, non-committed.
"There's no 'perhaps' about it!" Eric couldn't help but snap indignantly. "Without me you would never have won, and if you otters are all about reason and righteousness, then you'd give me what I'm asking!"
"But why go back?" Blavius asked, changing tact. "Why go back when the present is so much better?"
Eric withheld a scoff, but his skin did bristle and he stubbornly replied, "I don't have to tell you."
"You're the one that is grovelling."
"I want-" Eric decided against it. "I need to see somebody."
"Who?" Blavius asked, his eyes narrowed.
"It doesn't matter!" Eric shouted defensively "It's just someone-" A pain in his chest made him falter. He whispered and stared at the ground, "who I have to go back for." He raised his head and asked, "Can't you understand that?"
"I do understand," Blavius replied, surprising Eric. "But you see our concerns, Time Child."
Eric rolled his eyes, his limited movements only heightened his frustration. "Yeah, I get that. But give me one day! One day! That won't change history forever, right? I know it's possible! I've seen it done before!"
Blavius opened his mouth to speak, before his attention switched to the ear piece he was wearing. Eric craned his neck subtly, to decipher the voice over the crisp static. But he didn't need to know. The look on Blavius' face was enough.
"A squad just inspected your room," Blavius began. Eric's blood ran cold. "They found a time phone."
Eric's body was wracked with shivers, and he forced himself not to tremble. Although Blavius' glare was terrifying.
Blavius addressed the voice in the ear piece once again. "Confiscate it," he ordered.
"You can't!" Eric protested. "That's mine!"
Blavius ignored him, the contempt between him and Eric was palpable. "Bring that robot canine in for questioning too, although I think I know what to do with it."
Finally he addressed Eric, and Eric couldn't even attempt to hide the storm of weak emotion in his eyes. "This will make our negotiation a little more problematic, Time Child."
"I didn't do anything illegal, I swear," Eric shook his head, surprised that even now he was able to lie through his teeth.
"I find that difficult to believe," Blavius huffed derisively.
Eric's lower lip wavered, he wanted to persist, but couldn't find it within him. His head dropped, guilt and defeat twisted grotesquely inside him.
"A very unwise move, Time Child," Blavius goaded.
"Science damn it…" Eric whispered, even those words were hard to get out.
Blavius sighed, Eric didn't even bother responding.
"Despite being morally reprehensible, you have done well for us, Time Child," Eric's head shot up then, he felt no shame as he trained himself on Blavius' every word. "And I was so close to granting you your wish, but, owning a time phone? You could have put so much in jeopardy."
"But I didn't!" Eric protested vainly, he was just so tired. Of everything and himself.
"Maybe so," Blavius acquiesced, before something resembling a cruel smirk appeared on his face. "But it appears that whoever's waiting for you back home, is going to be waiting a long time."
It had only been a year (that's how Kyle liked to think of it, anyway) and there was a memorial for him already.
Him, Kyle thought, the infuriating, enigmatic him. Eric Cartman.
Unlike most cases were a child has gone missing, the townspeople didn't panic. Not because they didn't care, not because it wasn't tragically serious, but, because, well, it was South Park. A vortex for the bizarre and chaotic, a place that had slipped through the cracks of normality.
Kyle (arrogantly, he now thought. Deluded, he now thought) didn't panic either. For if South Park truly was the edge of sanity, then Eric Cartman was the kid who would always push it to the brink. He'd come back, because that's what he did. No problem in South Park went unsolved (or at least, that's what everybody convinced themselves). But deciding a conclusion, doesn't necessarily mean it's over.
Eric Cartman's disappearance had proven just that. The memorial in his honour, his remembrance, may have been a defeated, mournful conclusion. But it certainly wasn't the end, the end wasn't even clear.
Kyle thought the memorial was tactless. Missing people are found twenty years after the fact, perhaps even longer. But the town needed a conclusion, a way to wrap it up and forget so that they could deal with the next incident, next disaster that was going to come their way.
But, Kyle thought sadly, the odds of that happening without Cartman around are pretty damn low.
While he continually vocalized his vitriol about the memorial (Stan and Kenny assumed it was some kind of strange grieving process, appropriate for the relationship Eric and Kyle once shared), Kyle still lingered for a moment or two whenever he walked past it. He tried desperately to pluck up the courage to stay a little longer, but he couldn't. Fear and pride had melded into one.
It was a cruelly cold, starless night when Kyle finally marched himself over to the memorial. His hands were buried deep in his pockets and the only time he dared to look up was when he reached his destination.
His eyes were vulnerably wide, and he never thought he'd look at Cartman that way.
Because the memorial was the closest thing to Cartman he had felt in over a year. He couldn't even remember the last words they had said to each other, although he guessed he could paint a pretty clear picture. Still, Kyle was sure that it couldn't come close to what they had really said, whatever those words were. The words that had fallen into a subconscious nook in his mind.
"Can you believe they built a fucking memorial for you?" Kyle asked, his timid voice scared him. He jolted and blushed, checking to see if anybody saw him.
"You'd love it if you were here. Although I guess if you were here, you wouldn't need a memorial," Kyle set his mouth in a firm line, determined not to cry. "I gotta admit, this is a pretty elaborate scheme. I'm dying to know what the hell this is all about. I mean, it's been a year! I didn't think you were that patient." Kyle chuckled thinly, his attempt at humour not diffusing the building pressure in his chest like he hoped it would.
"You're not dead," Kyle stated matter-of-factly, despising the tone of his voice. "You can't be. People are assholes and they're jumping to conclusions, right? I can't wait to get outta here."
Kyle didn't know why he kept pausing, there was nobody to interject, nobody to respond. He was talking to an army of bouquets, handwritten notes and a fading picture of his missing friend. Imaginary.
But maybe Kyle needed conversation, however unresponsive it may be, because when he let the silence of the situation take over, he broke. Burying his head in his hands, he started to sob.
"Shit, Cartman," Kyle muttered, roughly wiping his damp, flushed face. As if he wouldn't start crying again.
"I know you're gonna come back," Kyle nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. "But in the meantime, I'm just… I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better. I really wish I had."
Kyle rolled his eyes and smirked, "I mean, like I've known you for a long time but maybe… Maybe there was something more to you. Something I was too stupid and proud to see."
Kyle wrung his hands together, tangling his own fingers, struggling to express himself, "I guess that's my way of saying I miss you," Kyle blurted out, his voice wavered on the 'you'. He shuddered and sighed heavily, "And that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a jerk, like, you're an unbelievable asshole but I'm a jerk. That's what I'm getting at, and, uh, I won't-"
Kyle found his eyes drawn to that picture of Cartman, and he gathered enough courage to say, "I'll never forget you, fatass. Even if you come back, when you come back, I won't ever let myself forget you. That's a promise."
Kyle smiled tightly at the picture and turned away to leave, so he wouldn't start crying again.
A/N: So there's gonna be either three or four more chapters to do this. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed and feedback is always appreciated!