When Stiles opens his eyes, he's practically blinded by a white room.
It's not just white, it's glowing as bright as a sun, and Stiles wishes he could have been told to bring sunglasses. He holds his hand in front of his face, a valiant attempt to block out the glow of the room, but it doesn't really help much.
The timekeep takes a few minutes of silence to let Stiles adjust to the light, and once he does, eyes still squinting a bit, Stiles takes a look around the room. Except, it's not just a room. It's a long narrow hallway, with large rectangular shapes covering the walls. Some are pitch black, like a veil is over them, and some are glowing neon colors.
"This is your room," the timekeep says, waving a hand in a flourish down the hallway. Stiles quirks an eyebrow at them, then has to look away because the contrast of the pure black depth of the timekeep's body compared to the whiteness of the room causes a sharp pain between his eyes. "Every living thing has a room- I guess it's a portal of sorts, in layman's terms. They are windows into your alternate lives. My species prides itself on our filing system."
Stiles curiously takes a step in the direction of the closest rectangle. It's black and gives off a chilling cold when he puts his hand up to it, like ice running through his veins. He shakes and pulls his arm back, tries to rub the cold from his bones.
The timekeep steps closer to him, mouth twisting into a garish frown as it looks into the rectangle, "Oh dear. Be careful, some of these universes dead- meaning you've died in them."
That thought does nothing good for Stiles' brain right now. He takes a step back, stomach twisting at the sight of just how many black rectangles there are. How many universes has he died in? How many times has he made a mistake that had cost him his life?
"You are all of these, and yet none at all," they say, walking down the hallway, "Choose one. It is my gift to you for your help."
Stiles, still rubbing his cold wrist, turns to follow the timekeep, asking, "Wait, I just get to pick any of them?"
The timekeep's head twists all the way around on their body, making Stiles' heart momentarily stutter at the sight, "Yes, as I just said. You have done me a favor, and now I will help you in turn. I believe there's one where you are a rock star up here at the end. That is what you humans pride yourselves on in your time, isn't it? Fame?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Stiles rubs the back of his head, trying to wrap his mind around the sheer number of portals, "Can't I just- isn't there one where I came from originally? Where you took me from?"
Their mouth twists down, head instantly turning back to the front in a fluid motion, "I'm afraid it's not that simple. That time line has already been rewritten, you already changed what had happened. I cannot send you back as it was for you."
They walk past a Stiles with blue hair and tattoos up his arms, another with a cocky grin and a football in his hands, and one where he's in a skirt and has long hair billowing around his shoulders. Their eyes, all light brown and wide, follow him as he walks down the hall, blank stares trailing after him.
They look like dolls, different brands of Stiles set on shelves and wrapped in plastic for little kids to pick and choose.
"Wyglądasz tyle podobne do Nikodem." The timekeep sighs softly to themselves, Stiles' ears perking up as his great grandfather's name falls from their mouth like it belongs there, "I met him when he was your age. You have the same moles."
"I don't actually speak Polish," Stiles says distractedly, pausing to look at a version of himself with a split lip and tattoos covering his knuckles and face.
"I believe in that universe your father died instead of your mother," they say conversationally, "And I'm aware, dearie. I'm just used to falling into the language around you Leśniewski's."
Stiles turns away from the image, not wanting to think about any reality in which his father isn't there, "So I was right. You're the one that that made the deal with Kate? Just to spend a year with my great granddad?"
"My race doesn't value romantic relationships very highly, not like you humans who place it upon a pedestal and revolve your lives around it. I have always been different from the others, in that aspect, I'm afraid." They pass a portal where Stiles' hair is combed back, body accentuated in a clean cut suit and a tie. There's a crest on the lapel, something in Latin he can't make out, "In this one your parents won the lottery when you were small. You are considered very rich."
Stiles shakes his head at it and they keep moving. Each version he passes makes something cold settle in him. They unnerve him. He recalls the timekeeps words, you are all of these, and yet none at all and hates the feeling of loneliness creeping up on him.
"Nikodem summoned me in his pursuit of knowledge," they say, walking past three black rectangles without any explanation. Stiles tries not to look at them. "Your kind is always asking questions, always stirring up some sort of trouble in the world. I was feeling charitable that day and decided to entertain him, whether the answers I gave him were true or false was up to him to decide, you see. But there was something about him, something that made me want to keep coming back. It was around that time that I was summoned by the Argent girl."
The timekeep stops and turns to face Stiles, a smile on their face as they shrug, "She asked me to let her prove herself to her father, to make it so she could take over the clan. I was desperate, possibly more desperate than I realized, and I didn't consult the proper channels before clearing her deal. It's frowned upon in my culture to do what I did, to take the body of a human. It's done rarely, so rarely that the younger generations of my kind don't even know if it's possible."
Stiles walks past the timekeep, eyes caught by a rectangle over their shoulder. The image is him, not these others who wear his face. This version of him is wearing clothes almost directly out of Stiles' usual wardrobe, hands stuffed in the pockets of their baggy jeans and shoulder slumped forward a tad.
"And the rest is history?" Stiles asks when the silence of the room gets too imposing.
"As you know it to be true, yes," the timekeep walks over and stands next to him, looking up at the version of him with its eyes now golden. "I am truly sorry for what I have put you through Szczęsny. I didn't know how else to fix what I had done in my selfishness."Stiles doesn't say anything, ignores the acid swirling in his stomach at the confession and keeps his eyes fixed on the rectangle.
"What's the story on this one?" He asks, voice only a touch bitter.
The timekeeps' eyes glow white again and they say, "This is actually from the universe you were just in. It's the one you fixed."
Stiles remembers how he felt when he first saw that younger version of him, the shocked, yet awed pride filling his chest when he was instantly called out as a time traveler. He places his hand up to the rectangle, feels his body fill with warmth instead of the gut wrenching cold from before.
"What happens to him? If I choose this universe?"
The timekeep reaches into the rectangle and pulls their arm back out, a dew drop of black resting in their hand. It's the same shade as their skin, practically melting into their flesh. It jiggles as they say, "You will meld together. Their memories will become your memories, and your memories will become theirs. You will share the same thoughts, feelings, body- everything. Your minds will form as one."
Stiles pulls his hand back, clenching his fist at the warmth that still rests there, and asks, "Will I remember everything?"
"I can make it so you don't, if that is what you would prefer."
Stiles remembers Scott and him laughing so hard they cried the first time Scott sneezed and accidentally shifted, remembers having paintball wars with Allison and Lydia when Allison was adamant they teach Lydia some self defense, remembers stepping on his tip toes behind Derek and pulling his cheeks up into a forced grin for the pack photo Erica had insisted upon. He remembers warm Sunday mornings and laughter filled full moons. He remembers his family, and it would be so much easier to forget them as they were to accept them as they are now, but there's a sharp ache in his chest that won't let him.
And so he shakes his head, voice hollow as he chokes out, "No. They're still mine ."
The timekeep nods easily and cups the ball of black in both hands, swishing it as their eyes glow red. Stiles takes a step back, alarmed, because he doesn't remember his mom mentioning red , but they're back to white just as quick, the ball in their hands now gray with speckles of white and black all around it. It jiggles in their hands like liquid and they take a step closer to Stiles with it.
"You need to swallow this," They say, pressing it closer to Stiles' face.
He doesn't give Stiles a chance to say no, just Stiles opens his mouth to ask what it will do, the timekeep pours it down his throat. He grimaces at the taste, like moldy cheese and ash, but resists the urge to hack it back up.
The timekeep steps closer and presses a hand to Stiles' shoulder. It doesn't feel like anything is touching him, but he feels the quick shove like a swoop of air.
"Wait," he squares his feet and turns his head, looking the timekeep dead in the eyes for once, "What's going to happen to you? Are you going to go back to Nikodem?"
Their face is blank for a few seconds before twisting into a smile, "Don't you start worrying about me now, Szczęsny. No, I'm going to go back home and tell my superiors of what I've done in my selfishness. I've had my time with Nikodem, and I love him, but what I've done is wrong, and I need to accept my punishment."
Stiles gapes for a few seconds, unsure what to say to that.
Then, the timekeep laughs, that same eerie, double tinged manic glee from when Stiles first summoned them, and says, "Don't look at me like I'm so misunderstood, dearie. I'm only turning myself in because I would do it again in a heartbeat!"
Before Stiles can even think of a reply, the timekeep laughs again and promptly shoves him face first into the portal.
Notes:
Wyglądasz tyle podobne do Nikodem. - You look so much like Nicodemus.