OOC old timeline, old Ashton, follow up to this: theultimatexmen.proboards.com/thread/14606/text-solo


It was just so

Shitty

Awful

Gut punch

Neck-cinchingly heart breaking

He found her under cold fluorescent lights, restrained. He had been searching. For her. Just her. The others he found had been her search. Missing people. A case.

He wrote about it in his journal. The strained relationship, distance, repeated failures, disappointment when the contact they had never showed for a raid.

Then He found her phone. And

The text.

The higher ups had wanted to know about the text, the case. He was not officially involved. He kept trying to get unofficially involved with her, but- he had not been. She had not spoken to him about it all. Mostly they had not spoken in a while

There had been blood in the car, where He found the phone, signs of struggle. He had been looking for her. found her phone. Tech guys probed it, an unfinished text to him had searching, but it was a jumble. All of it.

He had not spoken to her. Official inquiry. What had been the case, trafficking?

He’d gone to Haven to ask. Nothing. Broke into her place. Found her wall. Read the crazy wall. Idea Web. Webs. Plural. Christ.

He’d been miserable before, but that place, then, He had been out of his mind. The madness ultimately lead to a place: hunts point.

He set up a raid on the warehouse there. Hunts point.

Everything had taken a profound amount of time. If He had been quicker, maybe she would never have-

Cage after cage.

Kids. Freaking kids in kennels. They had found them, in the warehouse, him and his men. And her. She was a kid, too.

If he had been quicker, If He had been quicker, if only—

He found her under cold fluorescent lights, restrained.

”Hey Archer,” He said, unlocking the cage. ”Sorry it took so long.”

And she was—

The Talking Heads song And She Was just snapped into his mind, and he was just so glad, amid the gut wrench, amid the awful, the shitty, the ‘too slow’, the terrible, he was— just so glad

~~Joining the world of missing persons and she was
Missing enough to feel all right and she was~~

And he was— Just so glad she was not floating above it all. And She was alive.

His face was rough-hewn stone, but he softened it, for her. She was just a kid, after all.

It had been cold and it had been bright, but despite the chill, Quin had been sweating. It was running down her face, it was running down her back, and she was shivering in the chill of the room.

Where was she? How had she gotten here? Was she sick? Had she come to the hospital? Things happened so fast. This wasn’t a hospital, she was in a tank top and her shoes were gone.

Two men were there, lifting her from the table by her arms and half carrying/half dragging her through more halls lit with bright fluorescent lights. Quin’s body felt wrong, her legs wouldn’t listen when she tried to walk, how had she gotten here?

Too stunned and disoriented to speak, Quin tried to take in her surroundings as she was taken to a fenced area that would have looked more at home in an animal shelter or one of those poor excuses for a wildlife park where amateur hobbiests saw animals as an investment opportunity rather than living things. That was where they were taking her?

Starting to struggle as they opened the gate, Quin dug in her socked feet to no avail and pulled at her arms until she was roughly deposited on the floor and the door was shut.

After the initial panic wore off, Quin felt almost unsettled by the calm that settled in its place. She wasn’t hurt…not physically but there was blood dried on her face and in her hair. Her clothes were filthy and torn.

What had happened?

Quin didn’t know how long she was in there, but she knew that she wasn’t alone. The cages like the one she was in stretched as far as she could see and Quin could hear people trying to call for help. She wanted to panic again, but that wouldn’t help so instead she slid down the back of the cage and wrapped her arms around her knees. What else was there to do?

Quin thought she had probably dozed off because when loud voices rang out she was startled and her head shot up. Standing, Quin moved to the door of the enclosure as a man approached.

He knew her name? He knew her name in a familiar way that made her frown and take a step back. ”Who are you?” she asked, the eerie calm still permeating everything. ”How do you know me?”

She frowned. She took a step back. She did not know him.

‘Of course not, you idiot’, Ashton admonished himself. She had regressed. Turned into a kid.

Who the hell does that? But apparently it was a thing they did. It made his chest hurt. Made him queasy.

He cleared his throat. She did not know him.

”’m Detective Drake,” He said, almost mumbling at first. Grimaced. Said his name clearer. ”Ashton Drake. I’m with the police. We’re rescuing you and the others, getting you out of these cages… take it easy. Take it slow. I’ll just—“

He stepped away from the unlocked cage door, slipping the key into a pocket with one hand, then raising them both so she could see empty palms.

She did not know him. There was no reason to trust him. He was just a guy in dark pants and jacket. The badge wasn’t even visibly presented. He had not thought that far, before he had found her. He had sort of been rushing down the halls, manic.

In the background, they could both hear the other MRC officers shouting stuff like “found another one,” unlocking cages, speaking with people, escorting kids out of their kennels.

Kennels. Disgusting.

She had asked how he knew her. How to handle that?

”As for how I know you… we need to get you checked out by doctors first, but I’ll explain everything later. You’re safe. One step at a time.”

Detective Drake? It sounded like something out of one of those old black and white detective shows that Quin knew her Dad liked to watch after her Mom had gone to bed some nights. The man said he was with the police though and Quin looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes as he stepped back and held up his hands placatingly.

Detective Drake had unlocked the door though and was giving her space to exit the cage. Was it a trick though? Was he one of the ones who had dragged her here seeing if she would run if she was given the chance?

People were walking by now, people with blankets wrapped around the shoulders being led by people who looked like the Detective. It seemed like he was telling the truth.

The Detective spoke again, they needed to get he checked out by Doctors, ”I’m not hurt.” she said simply, walking out of the cage and back into the corridor.

He knew what had happened though..had answers as to why she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here or what she’d been doing before. Somehow he knew her.

”Did something happen at the University?” Quin asked suddenly, ”How long I have I been here? Did my parents call?” That was probably how he knew her. Quin spoke to her Mom every day, when that call didn’t happen she’d probably gone ballistic.

She narrowed her eyes. At him. At him.

No trust. He would have to tread carefully. After what she had been through, he would never have assumed anything else.

What had she been through? Other than being turned into a damn kid, what had she been through… her memories were affected by the the kid-the kiddification… so… maybe it was a blessing she could not remember at all…. No.

No, it was not. He mentally kicked himself for the stupid thought. And they needed a better terminology than kiddification. Lord.

He’d suggested seeing a doctor, and she’d said she wasn’t hurt, and stepped out of the cage.

Ashton nodded slightly at the comment. Good. Not hurt. She was covered in blood though, wasn’t she? Yes, there was blood dried on her face and in her hair. Her clothes were filthy and torn. And she had lost her shoes along the way. Just in socks. He would have to find her shoes somehow, and avoid broken glass.

If she said she was fine, she was probably fine. He knew better than to second-guess her right now.

Before He could lead her towards the exit, a doctor, a ride, she addressed the elephant in the corridor.

She mentioned university, her parents. The life she knew. Asked how long she had been there, if her parents had called.

Ashton didn’t really know her parents. Pulling out his cellphone to show her the time and date would only make things complicated and confusing. And not simply because it might appear as if she had slept and lost years. Like that story. Aside from a false assumption, he has a cellphone. What year was she from? This youthful version. 90s kid? 2000s? 80s Ashton would need to adjust to future tech. Things too different would seem unreal. A lie.

It took him a couple of seconds to reply, three seconds in which she got to stew. He decided to answer her questions truthfully. They could work towards the big stuff in a minute.

”Nothing happened at any universities,” Ashton announced soberly. ” Your parents didn’t call. We need to get you all out of this warehouse, get this group home. Get you where you belong. If you follow, I’ll take you to the exit. Hobbes!!”

As He stepped away from her, further into the corridor, He grabbed the attention of one of his MRC men. Hobbes had been drifting through the corridor on one mission or another. He was an unassuming plain-looking man in a black tactical jacket, with brown hair. His arms were full of shiny packets. Must have been the mission.

“Drake,” the man said. His eyes shifted to Quin. “Shit,” He grimaced. “Is she—“

Ashton cut him off. ”Cold? Yeah, probably. It’s like an ice box in here. Give me one of those space blankets. And see if anyone has a pair of spare boots in their car. Crapshot, but— thanks.”

Metal glinted as Hobbes handed him a chrome-looking camping blanket. The man had a metal hand. Metal arm, actually, but He wasn’t flashing bicep.

He turned away. Hobbes voice in the back ground, on the radio: “Anyone got any spare boots in their vehicles? Drake needs—“

Drake looked to see if Quin had followed him. He had the mylar blanket already free of the plastic packet. The reflective emergency blanket crinkled in his grasp.

”Archer?” He said.

Why was he being cagey?

Nothing had happened at the University? Her parents hadn’t called?

”They’re okay right?” she hadn’t been at home when this happened, had she? Why was there a giant blank spot regarding how she had ended up in this situation. That was the most frustrating and panic-inducing part of the whole thing. Why didn’t she know what had happened? Lots of people were getting drugged at parties these days, but Quin always watched her drinks and they always traveled in groups.

Get that group home? Get her where she belonged. That implied that Detective Drake knew where she belonged.

Drake walked away and Quin followed him mutely, arms wrapped around her middle. It was cold now that she’d stood and her lack of sleeves wasn’t helping. The floor was cold through her socks too and Quin hoped that wherever they were going she could find some shoes.

They ran into another cop. This one had a more official looking jacket on and was carrying a bunch of those mylar blankets you always saw on movies and in the news when things like this happened.

This cop looked at her like he knew her too. Quin frowned as Drake and the man went back and forth, Drake was very smoothly keep Quin out of the loop of the conversation and that made things even worse. What did they know that she didn’t know?

Quin watched the other cop, desperately trying to place the nondescript man. That was when her eyes fell on the printed badge on the top left of his coat.

NYPD.

NYPD?

She was in New York?

Quin was so stunned she hadn’t noticed that Drake was saying her name, nobody called her by her last name. He was holding out that cold-looking metal blanket though like she was supposed to take it.

”Why am I in New York?” she said, taking a step back. The eerie calm that had settled over Quin was starting to break now as the lack of information set in. ”Nobody calls me ‘Archer’” she said, taking another step back, it was always Quin.

”Who are you?”

>>> ”They’re okay right?” Archer had asked.

”Yeah,” He had said. Yeah. Her parents were just fine. Would be, until they heard about this.

He knew her. Had known her. She had talked to them all the time. Unless something had occurred during the time He had moved, to start another MRC elsewhere. After that, him and Archer had not spoken much at all. Which was on him. All of it. And he probably wouldn’t ever be able to make amends for it, Now.

But oh, look!

A distractingly shiny blanket,
And an option on boots.

A brief conversation with Hobbes, and he was back. With blanket from outer space. And he had just walked back into her conversation to find her with some sad look upon her face, or something. Except not sad, but stunned. Because, reasons

Something had triggered her mind into action. Pieces were aligning in a puzzle.

She asked why she was in New York. She took a step back, to leave him holding the Mylar blanket. Looking dumb. His mouth sagged.

Nobody called her Archer. He’d done it again.

Another step back. And who was he?

All of those were excellent questions. The gleam of future detective/officer Archer was in her eyes. But, now was answers time. Dammit.

He folded the blanket under one arm, and did not step closer to Quin.

”I had hoped to get you somewhere you could sit down. Because there is a lot to process. But… you were a cop. My former partner. And you were working on a case. That got us here. Someone changed you, somehow, into a younger version of yourself— you lost a lot of time, Quin.”

He had not answered all of her questions, but at the same time, he Had given her a lot of answers. Also, questions. Too many damn questions.

Her parents were fine.

Nothing was adding up. It kind of made Quin want to pull her hair out. Her parents were fine, but something had happened to her. Quin could see the lights in that medical room every time she closed her eyes. She’d woken up there and then she’d been brought to the cage. How had she gotten there? What was going on?

Why was this man, who apparently knew her, not telling her the things that she needed to know?

Quin wanted to run. She wanted to just get away from it all. She wanted to be at home or in her dorm. Anywhere but here. She’d taken a couple of steps back but she could easily turn and run.

Drake started to speak though, and he pulled that stupid mylar blanket back. He’d wanted her to sit down? What did he know about what had happened?

Quin didn’t have to wait long to hear and as she listened she became more and more incredulous. She was a cop? That was the plan, but she was only a sophomore in college. She had two and a half more years of school before she could even start to do that. She didn’t live in New York. He had been her partner?. She’d lost a lot of time? It was almost impossible to believe, but how else had she gotten here? What else answered all of the questions she had? Why did she believe him?

Quin took a deep breath and let it out, fighting the tears that were trying to build up in her eyes. That was not going to help matters right now.

“How much?” Quin asked, starting to walk again, ignoring the blanket. Quin was cold, but it was helping her think, ”How much time? How? If I’m a cop why weren’t there other cops here?”

How much time, exactly?

She was taking a deep breath, letting it out. He could sense there were emotions. Strong ones, how could there not be? She had been incredulous, and somehow gotten to believing him, and now had to process all of… that… and here he was, being asked to speculate on a woman’s age. Always sketchy territory, even without the mental and body horror that was… being deaged.

His lips went thin as he looked at her. She had mentioned university, so 18, 19, 20, in that range. Before this day, before all of this, she had been… in the range of 34.

He followed her as she walked. Talking. She could find the exit. It wasn’t like the warehouse was a labyrinth and she would get lost, or anything. If you went in one direction for long enough…

”Before,” Ashton began, quietly. ”You were in your thirties. Around 34. Now you seem to be college-aged. Probably about 14 years difference. I’m sorry.”

He really was. He really, really was. He did not know if there was a reverse. For some, it was temporary. Others…

”We found your car. You were alone, when they kidnapped you. Probably scoping out this area to try and find these missing people.” he said.

He did not mention the signs of the struggle, or her cellphone. He did not mention her apartment and the walls.

He did not say the clues she had left behind had saved all these people. Honestly? Felt like a shit way to say ‘thank you for your service’, while completely minimizing someone’s personal struggles. Or their entire life. Chalking it up to ‘sacrifices’, ones they may not have personally signed on to make. Just to sum it up with a quick, high-pitched, singsong ‘thank you for your service!’

Someone’s life had been gravely altered, here. There was no medal in sight.

A decade and a half? Quin stopped for a few moments to look at Detective Drake incredulously before she turned and started walking again. The floor was still cold through her socks, but Quin didn’t care. She couldn’t stop moving right now or else it would all start to sink in.

Before this had happened she’d been a whole-ass adult with a career? Some sort of detective trying to find the other people who had been in cages with her. It didn’t compute, Quin tried to remember something, anything that would give her any sort of context and help her orient herself.

There were so many questions. Too many, her hands were starting to shake and Quin raised one to try to push the hair that had fallen from her ponytail back from her face but stopped when it crinkled in her hands. The dried blood. What had happened to her?

”Why don’t I remember anything?” Quin asked instead of focusing on questions whose answers didn’t matter. There was too much information here. The other cop’s reaction made sense now. He knew her too. Did all of them know her?

It was all starting to break through the calm facade now and it was like now that she’d started to shake it wasn’t going to stop. No, it was getting more and more intense as she walked, vertigo starting to swirl in her head as she stumbled a step, “What am I supposed to do?”

She stopped walking, when He told her the number. It was a big number. He knew He would hurt her with it. It hurt. But. She needed to know. That much time lost would make anyone pause.

The look she gave him was expected. His heart went out to her. It physically hurt to see her having to deal with this trauma.

Boo fucking hoo for him.

He wasn’t the one who had been deaged.

She walked again, coping and moving and processing and-/ He followed.

Her hands were shaking, she touched her hair, looked at the blood, asked why she could not remember.

”I don’t know. You got de-aged, and those memories went with it, I guess,” Ashton said.

It was this whole thing and people didn’t know and they were chasing their tails and he didn’t want to give false hope about anything He knew or didn’t know. Was it forever? Was it mutant, was it man-made? Had his contact also been kidnapped? How many people was this affecting? Why de-aging? He didn’t want to give her more questions just then.

She stumbled and asked what she was supposed to do.

”I am not telling you how to live your life. If it were me, that would just piss me off.. we’re going to get you some hot tea, we will contact your parents, get you to your place. Maybe you go back to university, maybe not. That’s you.”

All He could do was help while she would take his help.

The memories had gone with it when she…deaged? It was such a stupid word for what had happened. It sounded like a fake word. Maybe it was a fake word.

Did it matter though? Did it matter that it was a fake word? Did anything matter at this point? Quin didn’t know, she didn’t even know where she was going. Why did it matter so much that she couldn’t remember anything? What did she care that whatever had happened that had put all that blood all over her was a black hole of thought that she couldn’t seem to see through.

Detective Drake was talking more, tea, parents, her place, university. Up to her.

Quin stopped again, turning slightly to look at the Detective.

She wanted to scream. For some reason she wanted to hit him. To grab the front of that stupid black jacket and yell in his face that he didn’t know anything about her.

Quin didn’t do any of those things though. She just stood there as the words sunk in. She had to start over a life that she didn’t even know she’d had.

”Fine.” she said through slightly clenched teeth looking down at the ground, ”I just want to get out of here.”

Anger was good. This was a situation where anger was good. More constructive than feeling sorry for one’s self, at least. If he could be the target of her anger, and get her moving and focused… so be it. He owed her that. He was no stranger to the idea.

She was clenching her jaw and wanted to leave, so Ashton said ”Okay. And here—“

He passed her the blanket that had been under his arm the entire time. She could be cold or throw it on the ground or use it, but he was tired of carrying it.

He just wanted to help. So, whatever the blanket’s fate was, Ashton moved on, directing her towards the exit. Towards their cars, ambulances someone had summoned, to potential tea or coffee or— whatever.
He’d give her all the help she asked for. If he could.

He really hoped this was the ‘not-permanent’ deaging. Because fuck.

The Detective didn’t have much to say anymore.

Good. If he’d have kept going, Quin might have actually hit him, or started screaming in his face like she’d imagined a few moments before. Quin knew it was irrational, she knew it was the shock and the horror of everything that had happened needing an outlet.

The Detective tried to pass Quin that stupid mylar blanket again and Quin took it simply so he’d stop trying to offer it. There was absolutely no way that Quin was going to put that thing around her shoulders and look like exactly what she was, so she just carried it loose at her side. Maybe it was dragging on the ground a bit. She didn’t care.

Soon enough they were at the place where all the ambulances were and the flashing red and blue of the lights on top of the squad cars gave everything an eerie glow.

It wasn’t just the missing persons who were being led out here. Other people, these wearing handcuffs, were being taken to the police cars. Quin recognized some of them. The guys who’d walked along the cages, maybe even the guys who had taken her to hers.

One face stuck out though. A face in a white lab coat. Looking at him made Quin think of mint and even the thought of the smell made her stomach turn.

”That’s him…” she said, eyes narrowed, stride purposeful as she spotted a proper target for her ire. The blanket fell to the ground as Quin’s socked feet moved over the pavement. She’d need both hands for what she had planned.

In front of the warehouse, it was a circus. Squad Cars, ambulances, people. All it was missing was a ring master. It had plenty of clowns.

People in handcuffs. People they had caught. And she recognized one of them.

The blanket hit the ground. More than it had already been dragging. And—

Oh. Oh no.

She recognized him, and she was going to do something about it. Her target for her anger was no longer him. He had stopped talking, and she was striding towards lab coat. Lab coat was Him, the person who had done something- and —

Ashton did quick mental math. Quin probably weighed something like 130-140, because she was tall. Maybe a little more. Sorry Quin. The scientist, however, was shorter. Scrawny. Your typical stereotype. He weighed much less. If push came to shove, he could trade places with the man and get him out of harm’s way. She was moving purposefully, not flat out sprinting. Ashton didn’t need to swap yet. He could just cut her off.

He moved with more purpose than her, and placed himself in front of her, between Quin and the man. He wanted to say Whoa, act all shocked, raise his hands, and stuff, but— he didn’t. He kept his arms at his sides, and chose a different tactic.

”This is him? The guy who did this to you? If we get your statement, get it on-record— you want him to stay away, don’t you? To get what he deserves?”

Hitting him, or whatever she had been about to do— it would not have done that.