lostcarnival | Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.

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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!

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Annnnd it got worse.

Sherlock was having a tough enough time as it was coming to terms with the reality of the carnival, other worlds--apparently it was something that was plausible, just he didn't really think about it. He was a scientist, none of what he'd seen over the past month should be in any way possible. And yet, here they were.

Okay, so he laughed. But it was more of a scoff of horror than outright mockery. He couldn't, not when he was currently about 75% shark. He had no high ground to cover on this one. Sherlock seemed to be genuinely disturbed, though, and he was covering it with humor.

"Right so..." Don't be rude, don't be rude. "Let's pretend that whatever you said happened...happened." That was rude. "The only trouble you'll run into here is to your own person, and this is saving your family." A pause. "Then there's really not much of a decision to make then, is there?"

Jimmy misses the look but hears the scoff, and turns towards Sherlock, looking stricken. Seeing the look on his face takes the edge off, though. Outside confirmation is kind of nice. That it was horrible.

The 'pretend' gets a tiny flinch out of him. He should have known, right? "Yeah. But given how.... how great everything's been going for me, I was thinking stopping and thinking it through would be a better option. The... the angel was prone to over-reacting and having it explode in his face. Granted, the Winchesters were a pair of co-dependent train wrecks in their own rights."

Sherlock shrugs. "There's always the possibility it could go absolutely and horrifically wrong. If you've weighed the pros and cons, though..."

He still has a funny look on his face like he's struggling to accept what he said versus the very real consequences that something happened that was clearly obvious with Jimmy's face, posture, body language, actual language...it was so mad he was experiencing some sort of cognitive dissonance.

"It's.... There's not a lot to really weigh. If I go back, it'll cost me another year here. But it doesn't matter if I can get dropped off whenever I want after everything's finished." And another year of this would be so easy in comparison. Even the worst of it.

"After the last few years, I can't... Can't help but wonder if the angel was wrong about this too? That I'm making everything worse by trying to fix it, just like he did." Jimmy shakes his head, and slides a hand over his hair, since the webbed membranes prevent him really running his fingers through his hair. "But this? I can't really think of anything worse than this."

"Well, suppose you'll find out eventually."

That...that wasn't helpful, Sherlock.

"And at the very least, you tried. You did something. You protected your family." Surprisingly kind words from the still-baffled-looking detective.

"Tried, anyway. And I don't know what's happened to them since the angel left with me the second time." Jimmy's hoping for the best, but clearly bracing himself for the worst. He's hoping that they're going to be okay, and just wondering what happened and where he went, and that he's not going home to graves and a repossessed house.

"I'm just worried that there's no way to protect them. That everything I try will end with them being dead in a different way than they were before." He sighs, tentacles idly curling under him. "Not that they're dead. I hope they're not, but anyone caught up in this mess that isn't the angel or named Winchester tends to die. Usually badly."

Sherlock chewed on his lip. Bad idea considering his rows of teeth, but it didn't harm him.

That was a...difficult dilemma.

"Have you ever heard of the story of the Merchant of Sammara?"

Edited 2017-02-09 04:02 (UTC)

"I..... no?" Jimmy shakes his head. "Can't say that I have." It doesn't sound familiar, anyway. It's possible he might have heard it somewhere and not recognized it. "What's it about?"

"There was once a merchant, in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise, and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles, to the city of Samarra. For there he was sure Death could not find him. But when, at last, he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. "Very well," said the merchant. "I give in. I am yours. But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?" "Because," said Death, "I had an appointment with you tonight... in Samarra."

He looked at Jimmy.

"If fate is real, if there is nothing anyone can do, then...there is nothing anyone can do."

"Though I hated the ending of that story and always wrote my own."

Edited 2017-02-09 06:34 (UTC)

Jimmy nods slowly. "That does sound kind of familiar. I probably heard it somewhere and forgot the names." He takes a deep breath and tries to get himself a little more settled, and the tentacles have gone from tangling themselves up in knots to trying to wrap themselves around the couch.

"I kind of think that fate doesn't really care about you, unless you're on the short list of people that are going to do Big Things." He's trying to use this discussion as a distraction from the things he was just talking about, but it seems to be working a little. "And if you get close to one of those people, then you get dragged along with them, and everything you could have had before that is just... gone. After your run in with them. If you survive it." Jimmy's getting a little rambly, and he knows it, but he can't make any more sense of what happened to him that Sherlock can, really.

"I don't like the idea of fate," Sherlock said after a moment. "But I am open to the possibility that it could be real, maybe not in the metaphysical sense, but in the way that your actions have consequences that cannot be avoided."

A shrug, and a sad little smile. "Can't offer much else than philosophical questions. But coming from someone that's usually dragging other people along with him, everyone else's contributions are noticed."

Jimmy smiles weakly at that. "It's good to hear. That you noticed. Most of the time, the angel tended towards 'Sit down. I know what I'm doing. Trust me.' with a side order of 'I'm fine', some days." Which gets a shudder out of Jimmy. Someone saying they're fine when they're going off the rails was bad enough for a human. An angel being 'fine' was something altogether worse.

"I'd even be okay with remembering.... everything, as long as I could keep them out of it."

Ah. Sounded rather familiar. He reads Jimmy's body language and looks rather uncomfortable. Not because of what happened to Jimmy, but because of John. He would often do the same, ignore what John was feeling or thinking to get on with the case. Usually that ended up saving lives or finding justice, but seeing someone's actual reaction reminded him just how much poor John put up with.

"All I can say is...good luck," Sherlock looked up at him. "I don't have the data or information to reassure you in any other way."

Edited 2017-02-10 14:50 (UTC)

"Would you believe it's actually kind of comforting to hear you say that?" The smile's a little more sincere this time, and the tense edge fades from Jimmy's posture.

"With.... everything before, it seemed like there was a lot of coasting in momentum, making it up as they go, and nobody bothering to talk to anyone else. Just hearing someone say 'I have no idea how to help.' is a novel change of pace."

"I've been told my 'bedside manner' is atrocious. However it seems like it worked in this regard," Sherlock comments quietly, mostly to himself. He looks a little confused by Jimmy's positive reaction. Comfort in discomfort? Such an odd reaction. But not unwarranted. He understood what he meant.

"I.... Can understand that. And it did." Jimmy sighs again, shaking his head. "Everyone was so convinced that they were doing the right thing, and that that there was no time to even try considering other options that..."

"They felt that even taking five minutes to talk about other options would have been the end of everything. And in the long run, it might have made everything a little bit worse." Absolutely worse for Jimmy, anyway. And there aren't really a lot of good ways to articulate the feedback he was getting from Castiel, anyway. Subconscious? Subliminal? The bits he got were all tinged with this overwhelming sense of urgency.

"Which is what happens when people let emotions like fear overwhelm their decision making process," Sherlock said simply.

A wry look. "I probably would have gone mad if I was taken for a ride with what sounds like a band of incompetent people." Either he was warming up to the idea what Jimmy went through was true, or he was speaking in hypotheticals. But he wasn't scoffing at him. No, something definitely happened to Jimmy. Whatever it was, it was clearly real. Whatever world he'd come from, whatever all of this was, it existed. It was possible it could only exist in Jimmy's mind, but he hadn't any indication of any further delusions.

"They were very good at everything relating to what they did, but they were utter disasters in just about every other aspect of their lives." Another deep breath to steady himself, and Jimmy shakes his head. "It's like if it wasn't related to hunting..... Of the supernatural creature variety, not, y'know, deer. Then it didn't matter. Including things like communication skills."

"The times when I was... asleep helped a little. Even if it meant losing months. It was things that the angel was doing that I wasn't seeing. Woke up one time, six dead people on the floor and me in the middle of them." Jimmy shudders at the thought. Hadn't that been a lovely surprise. Risking multiple homicide charges on top of everything else. "... Although, I might have actually been able to use the insanity defense. Being diagnosed as schizophrenic and all."

That sounded familiar. Not unlike himself sacrificing everything in order to be the best consulting detective he could be at the expense of oh, every other thing in his life.

"Supernatural crea...you know what, I don't want to know." A wave of his hand.

Sherlock perked up at the mention of mysterious murders. Very much so. He looked positively entranced. "Really? Did you find out what happened? Did you get arrested?" A part of him sort of hoped Jimmy was a homicidal maniac, just because that would make things so much more interesting around here.

Edited 2017-02-17 01:53 (UTC)

"No, it's pretty much exactly what it says on the label. The Ringmaster? Supernatural creature of some kind, though she's probably too powerful for the Winchesters to really tangle with unless they had a lot of help." The tentacles stretch and curl up again as Jimmy talks, before going back to fidgeting with the bead.

"No, I didn't get arrested. I think the angel just.... teleported? Flew? us out of there. I just hope he changed my fingerprints." Jimmy looks down at one hand, sighing. "I'd hate to go back to..... well, a lot of arrest warrants. I think? the angel took care of it, anyway. I don't remember any run-ins with the police." Sorry, Sherlock. It looks like your 'Jimmy the Axe Murderer' hopes will be disappointed.

"Of course...brilliant," Sherlock said dryly. It'd taken him ages to come to terms with the Ringmaster being fae, and even right now, when he was literally a shark person, it still bugged him.

Ah well. He looked visibly disappointed, even his tail drooped downwards. Such a pity.

"Maybe you left some evidence behind," he said hopefully. Even though that...that would not be good for Jimmy at all, Sherlock, seriously?

"I hope not!" Leaving Amelia and Claire to explain the angel's rampage, and him to take the fall for it? All the more reason to get on with the deal, get home and stop all of this.

"I think I'm going to do it, but I don't know when a good time would be. Not now. Not when she's.... Godzilla-sized." Another vague handwave in the direction of the Ringmaster's abode. "Maybe after this. Maybe there will be some transition time so we can dry everything out before we get to the next stop."

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Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.

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