Own nothing. Also, everyone here is made up, I promise.
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When Alek woke up, he thought he might be hallucinating. Buildings towered hundreds of feet above him, and light was everywhere. He was in some kind of city, but none that he recognized.
"Dylan? Where do you think we are? All I remember is the bomb and then-" He stopped abruptly. Dylan was still unconscious, and he had numerous small cuts and bruises. Taking care to not move his head, he carefully picked him up.
"Please, can anyone help me?" Alek called. In his panic, he almost ran into a man.
"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong?" This was no man, he realized, despite her trousers.
"Miss, my friend is hurt."
"Yeah, I figured. Do you need me to call an ambulance?" She pulled a small, colorful box out of her pocket.
"I don't think so. He's not hurt badly." He said quickly. There was no way of knowing if the authorities were friends or foes here.
"Come on, my flat's across the street." He hurried after her into one of the buildings and up the stairs. The woman unlocked the door and helped him lay Dylan on a couch. "I have antiseptic and bandages."
As she hurried to fetch them, Alek noticed a poster on the wall: "Abbey Road, 1969" A sickening lurch went through him.
"Excuse me, miss, can you tell me what day it is?"
"Uh, November tenth?" she said, dabbing something onto Dylan's cuts.
"What year is it, though?"
"Two thousand-ten."
"What?"
"What are you, a time traveler? That would explain Indiana Jones here."
"I-I think so, actually."
"Ooh, awesome! From when?"
"Nineteen eighteen."
"Ah, great. I'll go get some clean clothes for you two."
He sat there, dumbstruck until she returned, tossing the clothes at his head.
"I'm Kayla, by the way."
"Aleksander." He bowed, causing her to giggle.
"Go get dressed." She left.
He sorted through the clothes and pulled them on, feeling dazed. Seconds after he was dressed, the door banged open. A tall, slim man stared at him, running a hand through his jet black hair.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in my clothes?"
"I'm having an affair with him," called Kayla from another room.
"No, she's not!" said Alek, blushing at the thought.
"I know that. But who are you?"
"Distant cousin," said Kayla, entering, "From Germany."
"Austria."
"Yeah, whatever." She kissed the man's cheek. "Sandy, this is Jin."
"Please don't call me that."
"Anyway," she continued, "His friend was in a fight and they need to stay here for a while. Is that okay?"
"Hey, it's your place. What's with the clothes?"
"I dunno. Kids these days."
Kayla was a strange woman, but she was quick thinking. On the sofa, Dylan groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.
"Dylan! Are you alright?"
"Fine. But where-"
"My cousin's house," he said quickly. In the background, Kayla and Jin were arguing over what to cook.
"Jin is making bibim gooksu."
"Bless you," mumbled Dylan, rubbing his head.
"Wahaha! Korean noodles, then. Hey, are you okay? You have a headache?"
"No, I'll be fine," he frowned, "What are these?"
"Clothes. Yours are currently covered in blood," said Jin. "Go change. Alek can help you if it hurts your cuts."
Dylan hesitated, then whispered something in Kayla's ear. Her eyes widened and she smiled smugly.
"Okay, I'm going to get medicine." She dragged Dylan down the hallway, slamming and locking a door behind them.
Alek and Jin frowned at each other. Five minutes later, they emerged.
After they had noodles and tea, Kayla looked decisive about something.
"So, have you heard the word?"
"What?"
"I was aware that everyone had heard the word."
"Kayla, cut it out."
"Fine." She smacked the back of his head.
"Are you two married?" blurted Dylan.
"Uh, no?" Alek and Dylan both blushed deeply.
"But we have been together since Jin's romantic fire escape serenade."
"Kayla, they don't want to hear about that- argh, it's embarrassing..." he buried his face in his hands.
"Nerd."
"What do you do for a living, Mister Jin?" Alek asked politely.
"Art teacher."
Kayla laughed quietly into her coffee.
"We can't all be engineers," defended Jin.
"You're an engineer?"
"I am woman, hear me roar, mister."
Dylan was laughing, and the room blurred and the laugh turned musical and feminine. Almost like the laugh of a-
He opened his eyes. A pale Doctor Barlow and Dylan materialized above him.
"You've been unconscious for five hours," she said.