Junpei turned off the practically antique TV set in the corner of his dingy motel room and collapsed backwards onto his bed. Sprawled out, staring at the speckled stucco ceiling, he admitted to himself that, yeah, he had no idea what he was doing. Leaving Port Island had been easy and ridiculously fun. It had been awesome to actually do things again, to be sneaky and, he thought, clever, but what the hell was he supposed to do in fucking Inaba? He knew there were Persona users about, and Persona users, even badass ones that could call their Personas without evokers, meant shadows - and shadows meant action and adventure and death and regret and, honestly, he could be such a child sometimes. Had he not grown out of this yet?

Junpei shrugged, squirming back on the bed until he could settle his head on the pillow. Regardless, he did not know how to start. Saying that he was going to fight shadows was all well and good, and he had been friggin' pumped the first day, but when he got off the train, he found himself in who-the-hell-cares-ville. That had been just fine, though. Sure, the town sucked, but any town would be fine if it let him back into the Dark Hour one last time, so he had bummed around all day, waiting restlessly for midnight. He had sat on top of a hill that rose above the town and stared at the moon, watching for the moment that everything turned green and repulsive and wonderfully familiar.

Midnight came.

Midnight went.

Junpei glared at the ceiling. There had to be a trick to it or something. He had the potential, damn it. Hell, he had twice as much potential as the rest of SEES, so much friggin' potential running through his veins, giving him headaches and insulting him when he deserved it, which, really, was almost always. So, yeah, if the Dark Hour had come, he would have noticed.

He could go ask Akihiko. He knew where the boy was, playing cops and robbers like a big boy at the police station, and he could ask. Akihiko would know. It would be so simple, Junpei knew, but that jerkass had been fine with leaving him to rot back in Port Island while wonder boy got to play hero. There was no way he was going to ask for help, especially if Akihiko had been able to figure this thing out on his own. No. He just needed time and patience that he did not have, and did he have to be so arrogant?

"Oh, shut up. Like you're any better," Junpei said out loud before he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow and hugging it close. There were just a few minutes to go until midnight, and he was willing to try this whole thing out again. Maybe midnight wasn't the Dark Hour here. With time zones and all that shit, the Dark Hour could really be whatever time of day it felt like. He would wait for midnight, hell he would wait all night, just to make sure. If the Dark Hour did not bother showing up, if the town remained stubbornly shadow-less for a few more days, he would go to Akihiko. It would be humiliating as hell, but…

Junpei raised his eyes away from the pillow, tilting his head so that he could stare vacantly at his watch.

A minute to go. He swallowed, his throat bobbing against the bed spread.

Fourty-five seconds to go. Junpei re-buried his head in the cushions, angling his wrist so that his watch rested beside his ear. Eyes closed, the sound monopolized his senses. His world narrowed to tick-tick-ticking of his watch, and, in the quiet of the room, it and the soft patter of rain outside seemed oppressively loud. Junpei's eyes squinted against the cotton pillowcase, and he counted.

Twenty five seconds to go, and Junpei wanted. God, he wanted. More than anything. More than he had ever wanted to be a hero and more than he had ever wanted Chidori, he wanted to go back, just for an hour, a couple of minutes even, so that he could find whatever it was that he had lost, so he could find himself or their leader or whatever the hell it was he did not seem to be able to live without, because life was fucking killing him, and he did not know how to make it better. That was all he wanted. To make it better, and to find proof that the waking world was not as bleak and solid as it seemed.

Five seconds to go, and Junpei prayed. Just once. He just wanted one more look. Please.

And it was midnight.

Junpei almost sobbed when his watch kept ticking, pulling him away from midnight and on to 12:01. Furious, at himself and at the world, Junpei punched his pillow, jerking backwards until he could scramble into a sitting position. Panting, he glared at his cushions before stilling. There was another sound in the room.

Junpei whipped around, staring at the television that he knew had been off only moments ago. The screen crackled with static for a few seconds before it resolved into a picture so crisp and clear that it was like looking through a window.

Holy hell. He really was crazy.

He had known abstractly, Junpei thought as he flopped off the bed. The other members of SEES certainly made no secret of what they thought of his mental stability, but he had not thought…could one progress to hallucinations that quickly? Was he supposed to know the things he was seeing could not possibly be real? Junpei staggered forwards until he was face to face with the ratty black box. The screen filled his vision.

Well, he had gotten what he wished for, he supposed, even if it came at the expense of what was left of his sanity. The TV-window was situated about nine stories up so that he could look out and see Port Island and the bay as they basked in syrupy moonlight. Blood ran thick down the walls of a building across the street, and he could almost see Tartarus on the right hand side, but it was just past the edge of the screen. Junpei reeled forwards, clammy and frantic with the mindless urge to see around that corner, to see Tartarus like he had so many times before. His cheek flattened against the screen, and the glass friggin' gave.

Junpei scrambled backwards so quickly that he cracked his head against the bed frame. Holy shit. Holy…he panted, eyes wide and terrified and holy shit.

So, apparently he was not hallucinating, unless his mind could simulate tactile responses at that level. Junpei's chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down, but peace of mind did not seem to want to visit him at the moment. Junpei glanced at the screen and was both relieved and alarmed to see that the Dark Hour was still on the other side, clear and calm and as real as it ever had been.

Junpei stood, edging cautiously towards the television set. He could not decide whether touching the screen again was brave or supremely idiotic, but he did it anyway, because he was not sure that he could live with himself if he didn't.

Just as before, the screen held for a moment and then yielded, practically pulling him through. He ripped his hand free, flexing his fingers and twisting his arm, but it seemed whole and unharmed.

Okay. Alright, time to think about this. The screen appeared to be permeable to a certain degree. Iwatodai was on the other side, and so was the Dark Hour. Was that really so strange? Junpei clutched the edges of the television, staring longingly down into the Dark Hour's streets. Hell, Tartarus had been the school during the day, and if a school could turn into a crazy tower thing, then why couldn't TVs turn into portals? It was not weirder than anything else in his life, or at least in his old life.

Besides, he had known that the Dark Hour was hiding somewhere. So, it was a place rather than a time here. He could gel with that. Time, space – who gave a fuck so long as he could see it and almost touch it?

Static crackled across the screen.

Wait. Hold the freaking phone, no no NO, it could not go just yet. He had only just found his way back. Junpei rushed backwards, moving away from the screen and towards his bag. He did not have time to think as he threw aside the few pairs of clothes he had decided to bring. He chucked his DS aside, not even flinching as he heard it crack against the wall. At the bottom of the bag, he found what he was looking for, and he pulled his evoker and holster free, turning back to see the television hissing earnestly.

He flew to it, placed his hand upon the glass pane and pushed.

The screen gave, and Junpei smiled, wiggling his fingers in the remarkably tangible nothingness on the other side. He wished he had a sword, but it did not matter. He had Trismegistus, and Junpei tightened his grip on the leather strap of his holster. Smile still on his face, Junpei took a deep breath, held it and jumped.