Jimmy Novak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
empty_vessel) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-01-31 07:51 am
empty_vessel) wrote in lostcarnival2017-01-31 07:51 am
Entry tags:
Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.
Who: Jimmy and Sherlock
When: Day 47-ish? After the Atlantis event kicks off.
Where: Sherlock's trailer
What: Jimmy's just gotten some information from Joker that's amazingly good news! But he has enough sense to try and get a second opinion before running off to the Ringmaster.
Jimmy couldn't believe it. He couldn't. Nobody was that lucky. If Joker was pulled here from the 1880s, and Jimmy from 2009.... Granted, he'd been with Castiel for some time, and he couldn't pin down much time had passed. But 2009 was the last thing he could solidly remember, so he was going with it.
But this? This was a second chance. A chance to change everything. Force Castiel to go somewhere else. To someone else. {If Castiel cared to ask, Jimmy would suggest a long-term coma patient with no surviving relatives. It'd be the easiest on everyone.) All he had to do was find the Ringmaster and-
Jimmy drifts to a stop as something occurs to him. How many times has Castiel gone off after something that may or may not help, without consulting anyone? Yes, the vortex of emotional constipation that was Dean Winchester didn't set a very high bar to clear, but Jimmy at least, could learn from Castiel's mistakes. Which meant getting a second opinion. Except even with all of the magic and persistent weirdness going on, the list of things Jimmy had been through was a high bar to clear. And that was before things got really bad.
And the people Jimmy would trust with anything more than a vague suggestion of what happened is depressingly short. And easily narrowed down to one person. Sherlock. And he could work out the finer points of what he needed to do, if Sherlock didn't think Jimmy was completely insane and kicked him back out. Then Jimmy would have to wing it and go to the Ringmaster on his own. Assuming she stays to form, he'll end up with another year at the Carnival.
But he would go home after. Pick up where he left off, and get on with his amazingly mundane life. First, though, is getting the second opinion and getting himself to Sherlock's trailer. Which means getting himself over there and all worked up again, until by the time he's arrived at the trailer, he's banging on the door and darting through as soon as it opens, tentacles fanning out around him as he spins to face Sherlock. There are a dozen things he wants to say, but all he can manage to get out at first is "I CAN FIX IT!
When: Day 47-ish? After the Atlantis event kicks off.
Where: Sherlock's trailer
What: Jimmy's just gotten some information from Joker that's amazingly good news! But he has enough sense to try and get a second opinion before running off to the Ringmaster.
Jimmy couldn't believe it. He couldn't. Nobody was that lucky. If Joker was pulled here from the 1880s, and Jimmy from 2009.... Granted, he'd been with Castiel for some time, and he couldn't pin down much time had passed. But 2009 was the last thing he could solidly remember, so he was going with it.
But this? This was a second chance. A chance to change everything. Force Castiel to go somewhere else. To someone else. {If Castiel cared to ask, Jimmy would suggest a long-term coma patient with no surviving relatives. It'd be the easiest on everyone.) All he had to do was find the Ringmaster and-
Jimmy drifts to a stop as something occurs to him. How many times has Castiel gone off after something that may or may not help, without consulting anyone? Yes, the vortex of emotional constipation that was Dean Winchester didn't set a very high bar to clear, but Jimmy at least, could learn from Castiel's mistakes. Which meant getting a second opinion. Except even with all of the magic and persistent weirdness going on, the list of things Jimmy had been through was a high bar to clear. And that was before things got really bad.
And the people Jimmy would trust with anything more than a vague suggestion of what happened is depressingly short. And easily narrowed down to one person. Sherlock. And he could work out the finer points of what he needed to do, if Sherlock didn't think Jimmy was completely insane and kicked him back out. Then Jimmy would have to wing it and go to the Ringmaster on his own. Assuming she stays to form, he'll end up with another year at the Carnival.
But he would go home after. Pick up where he left off, and get on with his amazingly mundane life. First, though, is getting the second opinion and getting himself to Sherlock's trailer. Which means getting himself over there and all worked up again, until by the time he's arrived at the trailer, he's banging on the door and darting through as soon as it opens, tentacles fanning out around him as he spins to face Sherlock. There are a dozen things he wants to say, but all he can manage to get out at first is "I CAN FIX IT!
Part 1 of the Exposition Dump.
"It started in.... mid to late 2007. I want to say August?" Jimmy looks thoughtful for a moment, and the tentacles start tapping each other as if they were counting on fingertips. "Yeah. August works. I don't remember precisely, since there's a lot of blank spaces now, but that feels about right."
"Anyway. Right around August, I started hearing voices. Voices in the static of my television, saying that it was an angel, and I had been chosen to help with the Lord's work." And that phrase is spoken with such bitterness. Jimmy will never, ever forgive himself for this one. "And it sounded... Real. There were demonstrations of proof and my faith. Nothing big, but definite signs that there was something supernatural at work." The tentacles stop counting now, curling and polishing the bead like a worry stone.
"And I saw it as signs I had been chosen. That I was special. That I was.... A god damned egomaniac who was willing to throw it all away for one good stroke." Jimmy sighs and looks back out the window into the medium distance. It hurts to admit that he screwed up this badly. "My wife thought I was losing my mind. Dragged me off to a psychiatrist. Prescribed weekly sessions to discuss my problems, given a tentative diagnosis of schizophrenia and started on the first of several varieties of anti-psychotics." He shrugs, continuing with "They didn't work, obviously. Between the insomnia and the stutter from the first, the hallucinations from the second, and the near-fatal allergic reaction to the third, they decided that as long as I knew they were hallucinations and tried to minimize their impact on my day to day life, then it was probably better to let me go unmedicated."