Notes from Mama Lobster: now we can get to the present time, and move through it almost normally.

Don't Panic

== Dave: say goodbye

Honestly, narrator, there's no need to be so dramatic about these things; she's going be back tonight. Jade's leaving to go plant a tree or smoke pot or whatever it is she does at that nursery. It's always changing, and she tries to explain, but you lost track when she started talking about the unique biological differences between perennial and annual hibiscus.

Of course, she's so damn excited about the whole thing that you keep listening anyway. Look at the way she claps her hands together, goddamn. Shit's fucking adorable.

You have to be on your way, too, and she adjusts your tie before kissing your cheek and grabbing her lunch.

You can't help but smile, even though your tie is completely off-center now.

== Dave: work

Well, that's sort of a joke these days. Being genetically identical to the world's highest-grossing director of the moment has its perks. Mostly that you can trade a metric fuckton of stupid scripts with your elder clone and make a hell of a lot of money for pretty much nothing. It's glamorous as shit and netted you a pretty sweet apartment in the outskirts of the city.

Of course you still have to pretend to work occasionally, and this just happens to be one of those crappy days. God damn do you not care about creative meetings or executive bullshit. You love the product placement campaigns, though. Every stupid logo infiltrating your terrible movies just adds to the sense of pop culture horror. It's magnificent.

Today's just another casting meeting, and you have no idea why you have to be involved, but all the suits seem to look at you expectantly as you walk into the room.

"Mr. Strider, thank you for coming in today. We were hoping you might have some input for the casting director to consider."

They start spouting off names of famous people you don't care about, and you tell them every single one sounds like a fucking fabulous idea. It's more fun that way, watching them slowly squirm as you give them absolutely nothing to work with. Are you being serious or sarcastic? They'll never know. You'd think these assholes would learn that if the elder, more important Dave Strider wasn't going to be of any use to them that the younger one sure as fuck wasn't going to cooperate either.

They give up eventually, and you're free to go. Good. You have time to pick up dinner for Jade on the way back.

"Mr. Strider?" Well, shit. "Mr. Strider, I just had one more matter I wanted to discuss with you. Privately."

You follow the faceless suit out of the conference room and into his shitty office. Well, not shitty. It's huge and expensive looking with a spectacular view of the city, but in the end it's still a glorified cubicle. You hate these things.

"Mr. Strider, we were wondering if you might be willing to meet up with another director. We have another project that we think you would be the perfect writer for."

Fuck. Another mis-matchmaking attempt from useless producers who have no idea what they're talking about. But of course, if you make money and he makes money, who cares about your vision?

"It's right up your alley, trust me, it's just a spin off of your work on Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff."

Ok, maybe you're listening. This could be just the shitty, useless distraction you need to kill all that free time you have.

"We wanted to look a little more into the chess sequence, where Sweet Bro decided to break the rules and take matters into our own hands. It's time to try a unique perspective. We were hoping you would follow the story of the Knight."

Oh come on, this giant... he just had to go there. Didn't anyone ever tell this douche about trigger warnings?

He's still talking, you know, but you're not hearing anything the asshole says. Between the sinking feeling in your gut, the ringing in your ears, the explosions firing behind you, there's a hell of a lot going on to drown out out the suit's useless speech. Knight. Shit, what the fuck kind of asshole starts bringing that up in a meeting? What kind of asshole gets set off by something as stupid as a fictional chess match, anyway? You have to wipe your palms for a minute, keep breathing. Keep cool. You hope your shades are covering the hate in your eyes.

"…so we're sure you're the right person for the job, and we really hope you'll consider it."

You nod and excuse yourself far more politely than you would have liked to. Whatever. You need to be gone. He's chasing you down, trying to give you a business card, but really, fuck that guy.

The bathroom counter feels nice against your sweaty hands. Fucking cold as ice, like you should be when dealing with a bunch of cheap-suited pawns like these guys.

Pawns.

You fumble with the plastic bag in your pocket; goddamn your hands are shaking. It's fine, though. You just need a hit to get you home. One line, not a problem. You can go straight back to the apartment after and just collapse and ride the high. You'll be sober even before Jade gets home and still have time to make dinner.

It's not a problem, you think as you inhale sharply. The cloud overwhelms your mind.

== Jade: work

You do, and hard! And for the most part you really enjoy it. No, you don't need the money, but you get lots of free plants to study and you can play in the dirt as much as you like. You were never very good at working with people anyway, and plant biology is so much easier to understand. Except for your friends, most of the people you've met have found you a little strange.

It's hot today, though, and you're not getting as much done as you wanted to. This new troll flora isn't something you're familiar with, and getting familiar with the proper planting techniques has been bothering you. Maybe you're just distracted by the thought of Dave in his suit this morning. He doesn't dress up so often anymore, but when he does…

Your coworkers are looking at you again. You were probably giggling too loudly, which is something you've found most people don't like. Oh well, it's close to break time anyway, and the honeysuckle smell so sweet that it's making you hungry.

== Jade: call John

It's what you always do on your lunch break. Sure, you could sit with your coworkers and make some awkward small talk, but it never really struck you as much fun. Mostly they ask you about your husband's work, and you don't really enjoy feeling like celebrity arm candy.

Of course, today is the day of Casey's spelling bee. She's so proud of all the new words she's learned. Honestly, your niece is sharp as a bayonet and you couldn't be prouder. Actually, according to John you could be. He sounds like he's about to explode on the other end; you can barely hear him past the static rustle. That girl is going to get so spoiled.

Casey placed 3rd. Smart, smart girl! John invites you and Dave over for a celebratory dinner, and you tell him you'll ask Dave about it. Dave can be a little worn out after meetings, and today hasn't exactly been easy on you either. Learning a whole new genus of plants is exhausting enough without having to worry about your coworkers pestering you about movie releases and whether or not you've met so-and-so. The whole nightmare resurgence thing is just icing on the cake.

You still have nightmares, sure you do. You remember exactly what it felt like to get blown away in an explosion and taste blood in your mouth. It's terrifying, but you deal. You just play bass or study the new class of hybrid trees that can only grow under Alternian moonlight, and then you can forget. If it gets really bad you can take some of the meds Rose gave you.

Dave, though… he doesn't deal so well, especially not in the past few months. John was so busy with Casey and Rose was far away with Kanaya, and it's just you and Dave together against the storm. You like it that way, usually; Dave is the best teammate you could ask for. He was just going through some trouble and it could get a little lonely scraping by on your own.

But it's ok. You can just play bass and study, because things will get better! You've always been able to push on this far, and being lonely is still a lot better than being in danger all the time. You really can't let it overwhelm you if you want to help Dave pull out of this.

== Everyone: go home

And they do. Dave gets home first and collapses on the couch, checking a text message from Gamzee. Creepy clown wants to meet up tonight, as if Dave would ever let that happen. He's got plenty of coke left in his coat pocket, and it's almost dinnertime anyway.

Shit. Dinner. That was his job. Jade's been working her ass off all day while he harasses grunt workers and has a duel with the trees outside the building. He's pretty sure his fists lost that one, but damn, it felt fucking amazing.

Dinner, first, then he can clean up the bloody mess. Lo mein for him and moo shi for her, and a giant order of fried rice in case Dirk decides to grace them with his presence. It's settled, and ready to be delivered in 30 minutes. He really wishes they could leave out the timeline, he thinks about it enough as it is, but more than anything he needs to get the splinters out of his hands before Jade gets home.

He fails, of course. She's at the door before he even manages to get the first one out.

"Dave?"

He runs to cover his hands, but of course she finds him first. Even now she sometimes seems to just know where people are.

He looks sick, she thinks, what with his eyes bloodshot and his bruised and bloody knuckles. Her heart sinks a little as she takes his hands gingerly. She doesn't ask too many questions, and he loves her for it. Her cleaning of his hands is so quick, so practiced, it's almost alarming. She's an expert at treating wounds.

"Damn, Strider-Harley, you should have been a doctor or something. Save the world all over again."

She laughs, but her eyes don't quite match her smile. "I think I've had enough blood and guts for a while, and that's just from you."

Guilt. If he didn't suck so goddamn much she wouldn't have had to deal with any blood in the game. If he didn't keep sucking she wouldn't have to worry about it now.

There's an itch in the back of his mind. He wants the high again, but shakes it off. Once is more than enough for today, and she would never forgive him for using while she's around. She hates that stuff.

She's looking his hand over, all hard calluses and busted knuckles, but large and capable nonetheless. She only wishes he could see them the way she does. He's off in his nightmares again where she can never reach him.

Maybe tonight's a good night to jam. Her bass needs tuning anyway.

By the time the bandage enclosure is set the blood has spotted through it. He flexes his fingers to test the strength, and she seems satisfied. "There. All taken care of. Now don't mess them up, I'll be pretty pissed if I have to reset these tomorrow."

She smiled brightly and moves to leave, but he catches her arm and plants a gentle kiss on the palm of her hand.

"Thanks."

She giggles to herself again. The bass still seems like a good option, but maybe tonight he can join her.