Chapter Text
Ian constantly felt dread. Walking down the street, in the warmth of their home, and even in the office with their most beloved friends they felt a sense of unease. Every day they felt like they had a target on their back, even if they decided to tone down, well, everything about themselves. It was never enough for them, and by ‘them’ Ian honestly didn’t know what that stood for. Was it their peers? Was it strangers? Or was it the entire world? Surely that’s what it felt like, with all the anti-trans legislation going around, Ian only felt more alone. Old feelings they hadn’t felt since they were a kid flooded back to them like a whirlpool of emotions that Ian couldn’t even begin to decipher while working to get Ben back safe and sound.
Late nights at the office turned into all-nighters and the singular flavored coffee that Ian got turned into the spew of black coffee and cloyingly flavored energy drinks that diluted their need to eat. Even their usual mask of comedy and perfection was slowly fading in the eyes of their coworkers, and even Ian themself could tell. Something that they were usually patient and calm about like a faulty piece of code or a delay in Ziggy’s functioning set them off.
One day, Addison decided she’d had enough.
Everyone was heading home. After a long day's work and a stressful leap everyone was rather exhausted, well, everyone except Ian. They continued clicking away, their eyes hurtling from one monitor to the next, riveted by the task at hand. Behind them they could hear the group making some sort of plan to watch Housewives over at Jenn’s house this time, she had begun to reluctantly admit at least a partial liking to the show. Ian’s ears attempted to cling to the conversation, but something in their brain continued to block out the drivel. The assignment they were working on was way more important than whatever night out the rest of the group was planning, they could always catch up later. Nodding to themselves, they continued toiling away.
“𝘐𝘢𝘯-”
“𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰, 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘐𝘢𝘯?” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥.
“IAN!”
Ian shot up from the chair, spinning around they shouted a loud frightened, “WHAT?”
Magic was taken aback by Ian’s snappy response, regaining composure he cleared his throat and searched his mind for a response.
“Ian, we just wanted to know if you were coming over to Jenn’s with us, we were going to pick up some food and-
“-And watch Modern Housewives, I know Magic, I’m a bit busy right now though, another time maybe.” They said, turning their chair back around to their work.
“Are you sure? You know my house is always open.” Jenn spoke, sincerity dripping from her voice that made Ian want to break right there. Instead, they just took a long deep breath, transformed their sharp frown into a sharp, wide, toothy smile, turned their chair back to their friends, and crossed one leg over the other.
“Sorry guys, but the answer is no. You guys- sure are persistent though, I guess I’m irresistible!” They added an awkward laugh for the believability factor and prayed to whatever was up there that their friends would leave it at that.
“Okay, if you say so Ian, don’t work too hard okay? Remember what I said about this, treat it like a marathon, not a sprint.” Magic lectured.
“Yeah yeah, anyway you guys go! Text me the details after. I’m sure with how the plots going it’ll be a juicy couple of episodes.” Ian said, feigning a smirk.
Jenn and Magic seemed to have bought the playful banter that Ian had been attempting to sell and carried on. What Ian didn’t notice before turning back to their work was Addison’s solicitous face that she carried looking at Ian. They turned back around and began to click away. What they were working on was extremely important. Now that they learned more about Ben’s leaping patterns from Janice, they were positive that they could replicate about one hundred leap scenarios through Ziggy in an attempt to be ready for whenever or whatever the next leap could be. They needed to be absolutely positive about every scenario, every outcome, every possibility. Though their eyes began to water as they yawned and just keeping them open was a challenge, Ian vowed to not give up.
If their work ethic continued they would have narrowed down the probabilities to around fifty which would be a great start in case Ziggy was slow one day, or finding Ben in a leap was particularly challenging on another.
Testing out the pathway for the probabilities was the next thing they needed to do before they narrowed down the amount. Making sure all the code was input into the system, they tapped the enter button, the black paint on their nail chipping from the harshness.
ꜱʏɴᴛᴀx ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
What?
They hit enter again.
ꜱʏɴᴛᴀx ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
“No, it can’t, I- it should work. I did everything right it can’t be wrong. There’s no way”
𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.
For the third time they hit enter, unaware that the moisture in their tired eyes began to fall.
ꜱʏɴᴛᴀx ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
“NoNoNoNoNo- FUCK!” They screamed, their voice cracking and hot tears scorching their cheeks, landing on their hands as they kept pressing the same button, only to get the same result.
ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
ᴇʀʀᴏʀ
They let out a scream, punching the keyboard in the process. All their hard work went haywire as commands and letters and phrases were ruined hit after hit, tear after tear.
They bashed the keyboard until they could feel a black and purple bruise forming on their pale hand. Finally collapsing next to the desk they curled up on themselves and let out a perturbing sob.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦?
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦.
They pulled on their hair and rocked back and forth, undoing the meticulous curls they spent so much effort on tedious styling.
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥.
𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤é 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.
𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸?
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳?
Thoughts flew through their head so fast they felt like they were jumping at them, coming from every which way pushing them down and up and all around into a frenzy they couldn’t even conceptualize. Words, colors, and shapes danced across static vision.
“Stop, g-get out of my head!” They screamed, clawing at their scalp.
Images flew into their mind of times they had almost been attacked. They dared wear makeup outside while taking a stroll, a bunch of drunk assholes thought they had the right to fuck with them just because of how they looked.
“Leave me alone!” they sobbed, scooting their back to the desk.
𝘏𝘢, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳.
“Ian?”
“Get your hands off me!” Ian screamed, shoving the man off.
“IAN! It’s Addison! Can you hear me?!”
What?