I Betcha the Louvre Never had to Deal with this

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv was standing in one of the back rooms of the Brooklyn Museum during closing hours when Holly, her coworker, came in. The area was quite spacious in order to house and create space for some of the museums larger artifacts and paintings, some of which were over ten feet in length. Although the one she had before her was not nearly that big, it was still quite the large canvas standing at 51 "x 68" inches.


It was leaned up against one of their metal supports and Viv was standing on a step ladder in order to properly work on restoring the back of the head of the man before her. Holly leaned against the door frame of the backroom and let out a low whistle. "You really have your work cut out for you," her coworker spoke as her voice echoed through the large, open room. Viveka simply hummed in agreement as she worked to remove some of the old varnish along the rim of the bowler hat. Holly went on, used to this sort of one-sided conversation that tended to happen when Viv got engrossed in her projects. "You should take a break, you know," she began to lecture as she did at least once a week, Viv simply made a noncommittal sound and continued to work. "Why don't you come out for a few drinks with the rest of us?" Her coworker offered.


At that, the woman paused and turned her head away from her work, her glasses sliding down her nose at the movement. A drink sounded tempting, and Viv was sore from standing on such a small platform for what must have been several hours. "I'd love to.." she began, sending her friend a small sympathetic smile.


"But --"


"But," Viv pursed her lips and glanced at the large project before her. "I still have a lot of work to do." Her coworker sighed, she thought about arguing, but knew it would amount to nothing if she tried, so she let it go. For now. Instead, she stepped further into the room and peered close at the painting, her eyes focusing on the man whose back Viveka was currently working on. An awkward silence fell between the two coworkers as they both looked at the damaged painting before them.


Holly was the first to break the silence after a moment. "Renoir, huh?" She spoke aloud. "How did a small museum in Brooklyn get so lucky?"


"Simple," Viv said as she took a cotton swab and gently dabbed at the hat before her. She gently set the swab aside to be stored later. "The Louvre didn't believe it was legit," she responded. Although she wasn't looking, Viv could practically feel the frown that was likely on her coworker's face. After all, how anyone could fake a masterpiece such as this was beyond her, but their loss was her gain, even if the painting was in a decrepit state.


"You really did it this time," Holly spoke as she saw all the work that had yet to be done on restoring the painting. Despite the fact that Renoir was a revered artist of the time, the amount of work that needed to be done to this painting might make in un-salvageable and would be worth nothing if they couldn't prove it was real. "Anyways, feel free to join us at our usual bar if you get tired at staring at this thing."


"Next time?" Viv promised, although they both knew it was an empty one that she was unlikely to follow through on anytime soon, but Holly nodded anyways.


"Next time," she said with a narrowing of her eyes as if to say that she fully intended for to hold her to that. With that, her coworker left and Viv was left in the room alone once again - the only person in the museum save for the guards of the night-shift who would likely be asleep within the next two hours.


---


Viv wasn't sure how much time had passed, although she did know it was now past midnight. Her eyes started blurring and it was harder not to wobble and stand straight on the platform, so she stepped down and went to the work station where there was a nice pot of coffee to get her through the night.


If she wanted, Viv could take the train to her apartment right now and catch a few hours of sleep, but the idea of heading to the station at this time of night made her grimace and she figured she was better off just staying here for the night and catching a few Z's on the couch in the break room before her next shift in the morning. It was easier that way, she reasoned, although in the back of her mind, she knew the truth was she really didn't want to be apart from her work for even a moment. Not with this project.


Viv took a good look at the painting before her, still a bit of a disaster but not nearly the hot mess it was when the museum received it. The painting had been in a small museum, practically hidden away in a corner, despite the prestige of the artist who painted it. If Viv had been the one to spot it in that museum, she would have torn the management a new one for the way they treated this painting and several others that were found in that space. There were several paintings donated to the museum's collection after the Louvre refused to put it in their exhibition, but for a while, the management wasn't even sure what to do with them they needed so much work and it's been a huge uphill battle even trying to restore the painting because of all the controversy around it.


There was literally a hundred of years of dust accumulated on the front and back of it, water damage, cracking, the frame itself was rotting. Management was debating on whether or not the paintings were even salvageable and whether it would even be worth their efforts to restore them. Just as they were deciding to refuse the donation, Viveka had the (incredibly dumb) idea to volunteer on her own time to restore what she could. It was a huge mistake, truly, but this was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn't something that came along every day, and she couldn't let such a painting just sit in the back of some museum in a dark corner to be hidden away from the world.


Viv had spent a near month simply removing the dust that was caked on there like a layer of icing. She had replaced the frame (thank goodness it was painted on canvas as opposed to a wooden panel) and was currently removing the old, yellowed varnish. The colors on the back of the man she was working on stood out more vibrant than the others, as this was where Viv had started to repair some of the cracks and remove the varnish.


The cracks were the reason she was working so tirelessly on this project. Any more time that goes by and the damage would be near irreversible and the original paint would chip off, but Viv was confident that in its current state, she could (eventually) do a decent restoration on the painting so she has been working day in and day out to keep as much of the original intact as she could. Despite some of the controversy, this painting was meant to have vibrancy and colors, not to just fade away with old age, Viv just couldn't let that happen. The painting itself was magnificent, the technique, the structure, the color that was slowly revealing itself and how well it was portraying the people inside, the more Viv worked on it, the more frustrated she was that such a great piece was treated so poorly.


Viv blinked as she realized she had just finished whatever was left in the coffee pot. As the caffeine began to do its job, she stretched her arms and grabbed her solvents as she went back to her place from before. She was hoping that by the end of the night, she would be finished in repairing the cracks in the man's form, finally. With an excited grin, Viv pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stared at the painting once more before getting engrossed in the work.

 

[ladymina]

L’Île de Chatou, France, 1881


The lazy Seine was in full splendor today. With sun high behind a fluttering striped awning and a cool breeze drifting off the river below, the terrace of la Maison Fournaise was brimming with bodies and buzzing with lively conversation. The restaurant’s patio jutted politely out over the river where below in the water the boat launch held the tethers of a multitude of moored specimens. Boats of all sizes cruised the water, and now and then a patron would spot a familiar face and lean out over the railing to offer exclamations of excited recognition. On the patio, creamy linens draped tables laden with fruit and cheese and as many empty bottles of wine as were full. The French did love their wine. Ladies lounged in silks and laces and men displaying a full spectrum—from formal suit coats to boating plainclothes—with everyone sporting hats, of course. Their laughter and gaiety rang out over the water and mingled with the lap of the river, the hum of river birds and bugs and boats. And Aldous, by some stroke of luck or fate, had found himself in the very middle of it all.


His trip to Paris this summer had unquestionably brought him to the surrounding countryside. Chatou was known for its indolent beauty as well as the beauty it attracted. In fact, he’d seen few places in all of France he found lovelier than this charming little island destination. If Lysette had seen it, she may very well never have been able to leave.


The characters he’d met today were a lively bunch—artists and models and actresses and collectors, even a journalist and a ministry official were in attendance—all friends or close acquaintances by some means or another. In fact, Aldous had been the only true stranger when he’d arrived, and yet he’d been welcomed in with much revelry after the telling of the tale that inevitably brought him to their party. “Oh, Raoul!” They’d laughingly sighed, and dubbed Aldous “The Baron” for the entire rest of the day. In all its liveliness, the arrangement proved effortless.


“He is a genius, non?” Aldous turned to face the low, feminine voice that had addressed him through the hum of the fete. The boathouse owner’s daughter leaned comfortably against the balustrade, a straw boat hat with blue ribbon cupping the wild, escaped strands of her hair. She nodded across the party towards a man sketching studiously. Aldous had been watching him when she’d spoken, and he nodded, turning away from the artist once more to focus on Louise, if he recalled her name. Her husky, clipped english stood out in the swirl of french surrounding them. Heavy accent aside, she still sounded elegant. “I think him a master already, of course, but some day he will be a Master.” Aldous studied her as she watched the artist behind him. From what he’d gathered, la Maison Fournaise was a favorite place for this group, often hosted by the man, Pierre-Auguste Renoir. The owner and his son and daughter seemed to know their patrons with dignified intimacy.


Aldous had been the novelty in the group—which had titillated them to no end and he’d been fawned over immensely for his first hour there—being that he was from across the Atlantic and knew little french. He nodded in earnest agreement to the young woman, “I’ll have to see some of his work,” and she beamed and nodded knowingly to him like she might to an endearing child. He was out of his element here, but at least no one had scorned him for it.


He opened his mouth to speak, a question on the tip of his tongue, when the barest of sensations stopped him. A prickling began behind his neck, and in another instant it transformed into white-hot pain. Instant panic suffused his senses and he made to move, to clap a hand on the back of his neck to assail the unexpected sensory assault, but his muscles had frozen. What...!? The young woman’s relaxed form swam before him as his vision tunnelled, and then ever so efficiently, like a deep plunge into cold water, his world disappeared.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv stepped off of the step ladder once more and bent over the table to gently put a cotton swab onto the workstation and took another sip from her coffee. Seeing as she had run out, the woman had decided to make another pot and before she knew it was near finishing that one.


As she took a sip, Viv closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. It wasn't the best coffee around, by far. Just some generic Folgers shit that the museum always had in the break room, but it was better than nothing and Viv went through the stuff all too quickly to be able to spend her money frivolously in Starbucks. Typically, she drinks her coffee black but cream and sugar go a long way for making this coffee taste... Less like shit. Opening her eyes once more, Viv pulled out her phone to check the time.


"3 AM," she muttered through a yawn as if seeing the time reminded her brain that this was the time when most normal humans were asleep. "Fuck," she muttered as she rubbed her eyes, remembering just a second too late that she was still wearing her makeup from the day and likely smearing it around her eyelid.


Ah ... Well.. She thought to herself, if anyone asked about it in the morning shed just claim she was going for a smoky eye look like those women in those Rimmel London ads.


Rolling her shoulders, Viv stood up straight once more, reaching for the solvent. Over the course of the night, she had just but finished removing ol' Raoul's layer of varnish and Viv had to admit that the Baron was looking much more lively and colorful than before. She climbed up onto the platform she was formerly occupying with cotton swabs in hand and dipped it in the chemical before applying it to the painted edges where the neck met the shirt collar and began to carefully dab at the area as she dissolved the old varnish.


As the varnish was removed, she noticed an immediate difference in the painting and was overjoyed at the look of how vibrant and more realistic Barbier was looking. Odd.. She thought as she squinted at the man in the painting. He was looking quite realistic indeed. If this was DaVinci or Raphael, she wouldn't be surprised at the realistic quality of the painting but it was quite surprising indeed that an impressionist painter could still manage to create such an effect.


Just as Viv was peering forward on her platform to admire Renoir's handiwork, Viv was blinded by a surge of heat and a bright flash of light that seemed to emanate from the painting itself. Flinching, Viv lost her footing on the step ladder and comically flailed her arms about as she fell backwards. "Fuck!" She yelled as she fell, landing on her ass on the museum floor, and somehow managing to avoid hitting the painting much to her relief. Although the relief was short-lived as she blinked away the temporary blindness caused by the bright flash of light and her eyes came into focus once more.


She couldn't quite believe her eyes as out of nowhere there appeared a man before her! Viv blinked slowly as she studied the man before her brows furrowed and she attempted some semblance of speech. "I.. Wuh..." She began to say before realizing that she wasn't making any sense (although in her defense, nothing about this current situation made any sense). "... What the fuck?"

 

[ladymina]

Brooklyn, New York - 2014





The whole ordeal was over in a matter of moments. One final breath in one reality, one fresh breath in another—though Aldous’ first inhale proved more of a gasp than a breath. He swayed on his feet—disoriented, confused. His hand finished its intended trajectory and he grabbed the back of his neck, but that terrifying, searing pain was gone. The room spun dangerously in a wash of vague, muted colors and tones that slowly formed into shapes as his eyes focused faster than his mind could comprehend. What... happened? A woman materialized before him. Where am I? He hobbled sideways, hand outstretched to catch the first handhold he could find, and stumbled against a low ladder. Where the hell am I.


He froze standing, staring down at his boots—the same boots he’d put on before leaving the townhouse in Chatou for the river Seine. He studied them for the briefest of moments, using the familiarity of them as a handhold on sanity, the edge of which his mind teetered on precipitously. His feet in his boots—he could feel them now, his feet.


“I... Wuh... What the fuck?”


His sight tore from the familiar, stole across the enclosure to the utterly unfamiliar. A woman—the woman he’d glimpsed in those first moments of disorder—stood rooted a few strides away, her mouth slightly agape. To her credit, she looked as surprised as he felt. And foreign, so very foreign. She’d spoken english, and yet the entire look of her was strange, so alien to any culture he’d ever seen.


The merest of glances about his surroundings gave him little information to work with. A scatter of statues, canvasses, low scaffolding and strewn work materials. Most of the room lay beyond their circle of light, but its vastness was palpable. It felt like some peculiar museum, and yet if he’d been asked where he might be he would never have been able to provide such an answer. Everything was just, wrong. He shouldn't be here! He focussed back on the woman. His mind still hadn't formed any tangible semblance of comprehension. How long had he been standing there like some frozen creature?


“I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming a strange dream that I don’t understand, but I’m dreaming.”


He stared, hard, willing her to speak; willing her to confirm his verdict, but even that hadn’t felt right. He felt so awake. He felt as awake and alive as he’d felt—however fleetingly ago—laughing and conversing with a boisterous group of strangers on the banks of a scenic river. That reality and all the years and experiences leading up to it, that had been his entire life. What in god’s name was this!?

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

"I - god what the fuck just happened?!" She exclaimed. Viv stood up from her spot on the floor, her eyes never leaving the man before her. She was utterly dumbfounded and any lingering tiredness from before was immediately replaced by disbelief and shock.


Her mind was trying to rationalize the situation, berating her for forgoing sleep so much that she was hallucinating, or for neglecting to go out so much that her coworkers decided to pull some elaborate prank.


But another part of her mind (a part that Viv hated and wanted to label as insane) pointed out that the most likely explanation of this scenario was also the most impossible. After all, Viv has been here by herself all night with no other company than the very painting in front of her. She saw the flash of light and as she studied the man before her, she immediately recognized the figure. After all she had spent countless nights staring at it, restoring his figure to its former glory, of course she would immediately recognize it. Didn't mean she wanted to believe it though.


Hesitantly, Viv approached the man before her. "... Monsieur Barbier?" She questioned as she looked at him. The man seemed just as lost and confused as she was at the moment, further solidifying that this couldn't be some elaborate prank (although the going insane part was still a high possibility). The man was taller than she had expected, in fact much taller than any records of the Baron described in the museum archives. This.. ".. You're not the Baron, are you?" She questioned the man, tilting her head curiously to the side. If it really was Raoul Barbier, Viv would know. Viv knew everything there was to know about each of the socialites in Renoir's painting inside and out (she was nothing if not dedicated to this project) and had seen commissioned portraits of said Baron from his time a hundred or so years ago. This man definitely did not fit the bill for the Baron. So maybe it was some elaborate prank after all..? But even as she thought that, there was a large part of Viv (one that she currently was trying not to acknowledge) that an elaborate prank was more unlikely than what once again, was the most impossible and seemingly insane scenario.

 

[ladymina]

Monsieur Barbier? Who...? His face twisted into further confusion. Heaven forbid this individual attempt to convince him he was someone else, because at this juncture he just might believe he wasn’t himself. Oh, the Baron. The Baron!? And the only reason this moniker meant anything to him was because all day (or what he believed had been his day) his jovial French companions had called him nothing else. In fact, what felt like ten minutes ago someone had undoubtedly addressed him as Baron, and here he was, sucked into some alternate reality, and his body and that name were the only things that seemed to have followed.


“The Baron. Yes...”


He eyed her, feeling like that wasn’t the right answer. They’d called him the Baron in place of the man he’d switched with, who he assumed was probably an actual baron. He was the Baron in name that day, but he was not truly the original man—though truthfully she could have been referring to either. The name from the party had travelled this far, had it stuck?


“They call me that, but I’m no baron.” Would such a meager explanation help? Where to even begin.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv looked at the man, confused. He went by the Baron but wasn't a baron? The curator's fingers slid under her glasses as she massaged the bridge of her nose, causing them to lift slightly with the movement. She was far too tired for this shit. Maybe Viv shouldn't say anything and just head to the break room and see if the man were still there in the morning. The idea sounded tempting, but after the shock her system just got, she doubted she would be able to get any sleep at all by this point.


"Then fuck, man.. If you're not the baron, then who are you?" She questioned, then paused, pursing her lips as she thought of how to word the phrase. "Sorry -- just.. " She began to trail off, an annoying habit of hers that tended to happen when there were a million thoughts running through her head but she couldn't find the right words to voice any of them. "I mean, you were there, right?" She went on, gesturing to the large painting behind the man. "The one in the bowler hat? I would know because I've spent so much fucking time working on the damn thing."


"You were at the luncheon, no?" She questioned. "I saw you, you came out of that painting," she rambed, not pausing to stop because she knew that if she stopped to think about what she was saying, she would realize how crazy she sounded. "I mean, there was a flash and poof! Here you are," she made a motion with her hands as she said the word 'poof'. "If you were there. That day. The one in the bowler hat. Wouldn't that make you Baron Raoul Barbier?" And yet, even as she said that, Viv was aware it wasn't possible. The man in front of her certainly looked like the man in the painting, of that there was no doubt. But he certainly did not match any records of Raoul Barbier that have ever been recorded. Not to mention the distinct lack of a French accent when the man spoke.


Viv shifted her weight nervously, the sound of her combat boots made a loud noise as she did so, and she let out a grimace as the combination of denim tucked into boots made an uncomfortable pinch on her skin as she shifted her weight. Suddenly she was aware of the fact that she was dressed in her casual wear and she felt tired all over again. Right now, Viv wanted nothing more than to head back home, change into some sweats, smoke, and then proceed to pretend that none of this was currently happening.

 

[ladymina]

As if reality could get any weirder. Her words flew through him, settled somewhere distant, waiting. The bowler hat... Aldous touched the top of his head, felt only the silken flow of hair, and then turned to feast eyes on the astounding magnificence that awaited. The painting, nay, the embodiment before him drained him of any prior semblances of conviction. That’s... that’s... Even his own brain couldn’t speak! He gripped the step-ladder he’d bumped previously, lowering himself slowly down onto its top step. He sat, eyes riveted to the image. He picked himself out in the middle of the crowd, back turned, frozen in conversation with the owner’s daughter—the Baron’s hat on his head. Behind him the strange woman prattled, musing and interrogating. He had only been half-listening—could only half-anything right now. “Wouldn’t that make you Baron Raoul Barbier?” There were few things he knew for certain right now, but this blessedly direct question could be answered. He tried again to make himself understood, “No. But in that... painting, I’m wearing his hat.” And again he reached up to check for it before remembering it wasn’t there, logging that data away for later. Aldous removed his hand and turned to face her while remaining seated. That painting shouldn't even exist. He gestured towards the masterpiece, pinning her with a hard stare. “What is this?” Clearly Aldous, it is a painting. But no, no! None of this makes any sense. And it was then that he understood, at least on some level, that they were getting nowhere. The signs he’d read but been too distracted to piece together came together for him now: this woman was as baffled as he was. She was asking him for answers and yet all he had were questions of his own. And the questions he wanted to ask, from the look and sound of her own rightful incredulity, she probably wouldn’t be able to answer. None of this would do.


If she’d meant to respond, he gave her no chance. He shook his head and put his face in his hands—his tone softened, “Wait, wait, no. This is insanity! I’m sorry, I’m at a complete loss.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, creating little star-bursts against the blackness of closed lids. The ordeal had drained him. If he hadn’t already been sitting he’d have sought a chair to slump into. The room around them was eerily quiet, calm in its expanse. There was no river noise, no festive atmosphere. If it had existed before, it sure didn’t exist here, now. Each second that ticked forward was a reminder of that—that he was unmistakably, if without explanation, somewhere else.


Through his slumped position he peered back at the painting, the view he held as he looked in on the scene undoubtedly the view the artist had held when they’d created it. The thought lingered, caught in the web of his mind that strained greedily for even the slightest sense of clarity. The artist’s view. The artist. The hunch tugged, heaving against its invisible bindings. The artist... Renoir?


He went rigid, sat up straight on the low perch, and turned to face her with wide eyes. “Renoir. This is by a man named Pierre-Auguste Renoir?”

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv watched as the man processed things that she herself were still trying to process. She didn't even want to begin to think of how this was possible, especially when neither of them seemed to know exactly what just happened. Slowly though, the pieces began forming together in her mind and it all began to make sense (frighteningly so). She could see easily enough that it was not the Baron in the painting, and considering the times, it'd make sense that a man of such social standing such as Raoul Barbier would send someone else in his place to a luncheon of socialites when he himself couldn't make it. In fact, it was practically expected if the original person who received the invite could not make it.


She opened her mouth to answer the man before her as he asked about the painting, but he quickly went on in a similar fashion to how she did just before. She watched as he slumped down in the space he was currently occupying, and Viv couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy. As crazy as it all seemed, this is all too real, and this man had it harder than she did at the moment, being sent to a place he seemed completely unfamiliar with.


As he turned to her and asked her who the artist was, Viv nodded slowly, leaning back against the worktable herself next to the coffeepot which was currently making a nice fresh brew that she would need to be drinking soon. "Yes, Pierre-Auguste Renoir is the artist," she confirmed his suspicions. Although the Louvre seems to think otherwise, she thought bitterly.


Viv looked at the man and just how lost he seemed and she figured it was her turn to start answering some of his questions. "You're right about Renoir being the artist. This painting was made in 1881," she paused for a moment, deciding on how to word her next words before giving up and settling on being direct instead. "The year is 2014," she finally spoke. "You're in Brooklyn. Uh.. New York City, that is," she said, scratching her head nervously.


Viv turned around and began to fidget with the coffee machine, wanting to give the man at least a little space with which to collect himself. She grabbed the pot with shaky hands and began to pour herself a cup. She let the silence linger for a few moments more, before she couldn't take it and began talking again. "You want some?" she asked, still not turning around. "It's coffee, it's not the best, but it's also almost four a.m. so..." She took a few packets of sugar and poured them into the coffee and stirred with a spoon. "Um.. My name is Viveka Abbott, by the way, or just Viv," she added, suddenly feeling an awkward air about the room as the initial shock of the situation began to settle down.

 

[ladymina]

2014. The year is 2014.





It mattered little that he had ended up back in New York. What would it matter where he'd spawned, one-hundred-thirty-three years later? The number was baffling. He had been transported—unknown reasoning and mechanism aside—past any lifetime he should have reasonably lived. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here in this... future? The word, even just in his mind, sounded unfamiliar. He'd just barely begun putting thought into his next three years! The word future had barely been part of his vocabulary, and now he was a part of the future. I shouldn't even exist!





Aldous ran a hand through sandy hair, the short sides tickling his palm, the lengthier top slipping through his fingers before brushing down into his eyes. He left it there, bent forward as he was back in his dejected position. How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to feel? He could barely move, let alone process. The immense implications of his transportation into the future weighed on him like bricks in water. Everyone he knew would be dead. Everything he knew would be... different. Whatever that meant. What would that mean?


"...by the way, or just Viv." She'd been speaking to him and he hadn't even registered it until now. She had moved across the room and now her back was to him as she fidgeted with some mechanism at a counter. The coffee machine, microwave, and other scattering of utensils and objects made no sense to his dated knowledge. He hesitated, exasperated by it all. "Viv?" It must be her name. "I'm Aldous Hastings."


He ran a nervous hand through his hair again, massaging his temples slowly. There was too much to process. Questions crowded his mind, fighting for recognition. Too much. Without answers, without clarity, he felt utterly helpless. He could barely begin to tackle wondering if a "return trip" was a possibility. He was here—if he was to be transported back, it would either happen now, or it wouldn't. First, to tend to his waning sanity.





"If I can be honest with you, I think I need somewhere to rest. I don't know how much longer I can last on my feet." And I'm not even on my feet.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

"Aldous Hastings, huh?" She repeated the name on her tongue. "That's quite the name," she repeated as she took a sip of her coffee and stared at the man before her. He looked so lost and exhausted and Viv couldn't help but feel bad for the man. Finishing her coffee, Viv walked over and began to put away her supplies from the night, securing all of the cotton swabs in air-tight jars and storing away the chemicals and solvents back in their original containers.


"Why don't we head back to my place?" She offered as she fretted about putting things away. Perhaps sending a man traveling through time out of a painting was a sign from the Divine that she needed to take a break and perhaps a day off. Now that sounded nice, she thought to herself as the idea of going home and putting on sweats sounded absolutely amazing at the moment. "It's kind of a mess but you can rest there," she offered. "I mean, it's the least I can do after you kind of.. fell out of the painting I was working on." Viv scratched her head and sent the man a small exasperated smile. "It's only a few minutes through the subway - ah train," she amended.


"Or," she offered, an alternative, wanting the man before her to have at least some form of options on what to do with himself from here on since he was forced into this situation in the first place, "there's a couch in the break room you can crash on, I've done it loads of times. Not as comfortable but just as efficient if you ask me. I'm the only person working right now so no one will bother you."


Viv moved close to Aldous and simply gazed at the painting as she has done many times before, but this time there was a look of exasperation and disbelief present that overtook the look of awe and admiration with which she gazed at the painting before. After a moment of silence, she sighed. "I think we've both had enough of this painting for one night, huh?" She muttered as she carefully went to the back of it and lay the cover over the front, obscuring the faces once more.

 

[ladymina]

His name had never conjured such a reaction. Quite the name? What was that supposed to mean? Aldous? A basic name, if not slightly uncommon. He even shared the name with a cousin. And Hastings was his family name, not some rogue stage name conjured from fantasy and ambition like some upstarts in those new-money socialite circles. The combination of the two even had a nice ring to it—Aldous Hastings. That name had been places, and he'd even been told it suited him. Lysette...


No. Not now. You can't go there right now. He pushed the thoughts and accompanying swirl of feelings under, letting his weariness and exhaustion devour them, and as Viv covered the painting he felt some hidden knot of anxiety within him loosen. Tomorrow. The calm that had settled into him was uncanny. The whole experience had been pretty traumatic—he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him he was in shock. Still, the calm did little for his energy levels. His mind and body needed sleep. He’d sleep on the ground if he had to; though he’d probably be the first to regret anything less than a soft mattress and actual pillows under his head.


He stood slowly and turned to face her, shaking his head. “Please, just... anything will do. Whatever suits.”


There was no fight in him. If she left him here to fend for himself, it was likely he’d be lights-out in half a heartbeat. His eyelids sagged and he shifted his weight subtly between feet to keep himself alert. Still, through his placid state brought on by fatigue, after everything that had happened it would be terrifying to be left alone.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv looked at the man who was practically asleep on his feet. There was no way that she could lead Aldous, a man lost in time and half-asleep, through a New York City subway - her metro card could do many a thing but it surely couldn't do that. "Alright, break room it is," she declared with a soft mutter as she opened the doors and walked forward into the hall outside.


Viv looked at Aldous with a look mixed of concern and sympathy, he looked worn out - just dead bone tired and she wouldn't be surprised if he was already asleep on his feet. "This way," she spoke softly, as if afraid that speaking too loud might startle him too much.


Out in the hall, the walls were plain white with nothing adorning the walls. As this was not part of the museum and for employees only, there were only some florescent lights above them illuminating the hallway. The break room was down the hall and Viv pulled out her keycard and swiped it in front of the scanner as the door unlocked for her. She always found it ironic that a museum with millions of dollars worth of paintings, and they put a security lock on the room with the fridge, tv, and couch. But that was a discussion for another day, Viv thought as she pushed the door forward and the automatic lights switched on.


Along the wall of the break room, were counters, a fridge, and sink as well as a few tables for people to eat lunch or snacks during their breaks. On the other side of the room, there was a flat screen tv with a couch and two armchairs around it. Viv nodded towards the couch. "It's all yours, sir," she commented with a grand gesture as she made her way to one of the employee cabinets and unlocked the door to grab a throw blanket Holly got from the Pottery Barn and had been keeping in the cabinet ever since she realized just how often Viv stayed in the break room the past few months. She tossed it behind her, not bothering to see if he had caught it or where it even landed, as she locked up the cabinet once more and made her way to the armchair.


She unceremoniously flopped onto the seat and felt her muscles relax into the soft cushion-ey surface beneath her and she let out a pleased sigh before turning her attention back to the man before her.

 

[ladymina]

The journey to his temporary lodgings was extraordinary. What a stark, sterile world he had entered! There was no way to describe the sheer brightness of the fluorescent lights and hollow white hallways. Their destination took barely a minute to reach, and yet following his chaperone through this otherworldly labyrinth was awing. The clean, sharp corners, the white light emanating from metallic grates in the ceiling above, the uniform tiles echoing underfoot—this was the modern world? There would be no guessing what other alien landscapes he had yet to encounter.


He followed her like a ragged stray, eyes wide and mouth agape, until they crossed their final threshold and the grey door clicked shut behind them. His eyes scanned the room but his brain and body protested, forcing his legs to shuffle towards a gauche couch against the wall. "Its all yours, sir." Aldous unthinkingly obliged. He sank into it, stripping off his boots and coat-jacket before pulling his legs up onto the couch. Stuffing the coat to one end, he turned away from the room, curling into the plushy inside of the couch with arms cradling the coat to form a makeshift pillow, blanket gone unnoticed.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv let out a small huff as she saw how quickly Aldous curled up on the couch. She could hardly blame the guy, honestly. Time travel takes a lot out of someone after all (or so she would assume). She got up and went to the small kitchenette in the corner, getting herself a cup of water from the cooler. She would have preferred more coffee, but honestly, caffeine was the last thing she needed when she was already so riled up.


Throwing the plastic cup in the trash, Viv made her way back to the small lounge area, unsure if Aldous was asleep or not. Viv was generally a talkative person, so the silence that lingered when she was with someone else and didn't have her work to distract her was uncomfortable, even if said person was asleep. She noticed that the blanket she had tossed at him before was ignored, and Viv sighed, unfolding the blanket and draping it over the man, not taking the time to see if he was asleep. "Really, now," she said exasperatedly with a click of her tongue. The break room was freezing at this time of year, even more so at night when the air got cooler and management turned off the heaters in order to save money. It surely said something about how tired he was that the man before her was able to curl up onto the couch so easily like this. This man had just taken a whirlwind through time, she wasn't really sure what condition he was in, physically or mentally, and right now, she wanted to avoid shocking him or making him any more uncomfortable than he likely already was.


Viv made her way back to the armchair, unsure if she could really go back to sleep by this point, but unraveling her scarf from around her head and using it as a makeshift pillow like Aldous had done before. She reclined backwards, and curled up, staring at the ceiling tiles as she began to ponder where the hell they were going to go from here on.

 

[ladymina]

Aldous' first real exhale was pure bliss. Nothing else mattered—not the incident, not the ensuing confusion, not even the innumerable implications. His body sprawled on that couch was all that mattered. His eyes flickered shut to block out the glare from the overhead lights. He wouldn't struggle with sleep this night. "...Really, now," he felt a light weight drape around him, sealing out a chill he'd only noticed through its absence.





Oh, right. The woman. Viv.


The instant he'd hit the couch his brain had initiated shut-down mode. He hadn't given her presence much extra thought even dragging along behind her, even when she'd offered him the couch—he'd become single-minded, mechanical. He'd taken her help, trusted her even, and at this moment he found himself utterly and surprisingly grateful.





"Hey," he breathed, his voice muffling feebly into the cushions of the couch. He wanted to turn, to look her in the eyes and form words so that she could know that what little she had done had been profoundly helpful, but his body refused to move. Tomorrow. They could speak tomorrow. His last muted words before he let himself drift hushed forth out of slackened lips,


"thank you."

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv waved off the thanks with nonchalance before realizing that the man's eyes were closed and he likely couldn't see a damn thing she were doing at the moment. "Anytime," she mumbled back as a reply, before figuring that he was likely already asleep. Crossing her arms and tucking them into her armpits for extra warmth, the young curator curled up in the recliner with a yawn.


Although Viv had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, she found herself dozing off into a light sleep, the night's events catching up to her, but the shock still a bit too much for her to really sleep restfully. But, hey, sleep was sleep, and she'd take what she could get.


---


It was still dark when Viv's eyes cracked open once more, the automatic lights in the break room had shut off due to its energy saver mode it was in. Gradually, the woman leaned forward in her seat, suppressing the shiver that ran up her spine as she realized just how freezing it was in there. Or perhaps that was just Viv, because come October, she just felt perpetually cold and her hands would still feel like ice even if you thrust them into a fireplace to warm up.


Viv got up and tried to move about silently in the break room, trying not to disturb her sleeping guest. She went to the kitchenette which had a small Keurig machine that had much better coffee with it (thank god for those little k cups, seriously) than the crap coffee machine in the studio space. Deciding on some good ol' Dunkin Donuts coffee (and Viv would have to profusely thank whoever brought that in later), she began to make two cups of coffee, unsure if Aldous would be waking up anytime soon or not, but figuring she'd just drink his coffee before it got cold if he didn't.


Checking the time on her phone, Viv realized there was still quite a bit of time before the sun would even come up let alone until the other workers came in for the day, so she felt no need to rush. Turning on the tv, she muted the sound and put on the subtitles so as not to wake up Aldous who was likely still exhausted, and decided past the time with some early morning tv.

 

[ladymina]

Of the sensory interruptions likely to draw him out of sleep, scent had been the culprit. In a lingering dream he was still in France. Horses pulled lacquered carriages down cobbled streets, the din of city bustle echoing through tall corridors of grand Parisian apartment flats. Small businesses, restaurants and cafes abounded, the latter accommodating chic men and women at spindly iron tables beneath their ruffled tarpaulin awnings. The denizens of this posh world feigned elegant nonchalance with every move and posture, each woman perched in bustled gown and each man halted in self-assured panache. Dream-Aldous was a mere phantom here, an observer, floating through the scene without knowledge or care for the conscious state his mind and body had escaped. Suspended here in time, Paris ebbed and flowed with a rhythm like breathing, like it was itself alive. The patrons lounged, their waiters attended, the faintest clinking of service and the rich aromas of the cafes wafting from buildings with double doors propped wide. The coffee smell bloomed within his awareness, rousing him to semi-consciousness, the scene blurring and slipping out of reach. I'm in Paris... Paris...


His senses grogged to life but the smell of coffee remained. Aldous stirred, rolling over to peer out into the flickering semi-darkness. A light source somewhere out of sight winked and flashed, cycling through an eerie kaleidoscope of artificial vibrance. Wherever he was, it was definitely not a cafe in Paris; however, the coffee smell seemed real enough. Right. Reality. As if reality even made sense, anymore.


He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and therein received his first true encounter with modern technology—the television—a singularly unfathomable device. He froze, transfixed, the source of the glare now located, however rendering him instantly baffled. Colors and images and people swirled on the flat, glowing surface of the box before him. "Holy HELL!"

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv was intensely watching Girl Code on MTV when --


"Holy HELL!" A loud voice rang through the otherwise silent room, and Viv jumped a foot in the air, spilling hot coffee onto her hands.


"Jesus fucking Christ, man!" She yelled adding to the Biblical profanities being uttered at the moment. Distantly, Viv was aware that they were lucky no one else was around or the whole building would have run in here otherwise, but currently she was more focused on dabbing at the hot drink that spilled over her hands and splashed slightly on her pants.


On the bright side, she thought with a grimace, at least my hands are nice and warm now. Once she threw out the napkins, she turned towards Aldous, who had moments before scared the ever-living shit out of her. "You," she hissed, pointing at him with a reddened hand. "What the fuck was that about?" Perhaps the twenty-first century had already broken him and he'd gone mad or something.

 

[ladymina]

Viv came alive across the room, fury incarnate, but he could barely break away from the television. How could a thing like this exist? There was no precedent, no real stepping-stone of technology or invention. Nothing like this had ever existed! Hell, the lightbulb hadn't even existed for a full two years yet in his timeline. If he hadn't been dead-on-his-feet last night he would have ogled the shit out of the overhead lights on their journey through the halls.


"That!" Aldous threw an outstretched hand toward the tv in exasperation. Sure, it made sense to her, but it made no sense whatsoever to him. He gawked at the screen, unabashed. He watched as the camera cut to a close up of two characters, then panned out to reveal them in their full setting. This wasn't just tiny people trapped in little square box, this was some 2014 semi-monstrous hi-definition flatscreen technology shit—these people looked real, as if a still photograph had refused to freeze and instead kept on moving, and in color, no less! And yet no photographic technology he knew looked as crisp as this and put together in a million sequences could ever hope to flow as smoothly. This thing didn't exist in his timeline.


And watching it—even without knowing the images on the screen actually coincided with sound, too—he knew that there would be endless mind-blowing instances just like this one where the new thing he was experiencing just didn't exist in the world he knew. It was profoundly humbling.


Aldous tore himself away from the thing, his eyes hurting a little from staring at the bright screen through the darkness. He swung his feet off the couch and dared a look over to Viv. It was dark in the room, but her eyes gleamed over at him, reflecting the light from the monstrous display on the wall. "Its going to be like this, isn't it." It was a statement of worry, resignation and peace, all at once—acknowledgement of defeat tempered by perseverance.

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

"Yeah, it will be," Viv deadpanned, getting up from the armchair, remote in hand and sitting herself next to the place on the couch where Aldous' feet were occupying just moments before. She didn't know if it was considered improper or whatnot for him, but all Viv knew was that it felt wrong to be across the room when he looked so dejected like that.


Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Viv sent him a sympathetic smile. "But how about we take it a step at a time?" She leaned back in the couch, turning off the mute button but keeping the audio low as she began to speak again. "So let's start here! This here," she said, gesturing towards the tv with the remote, "is a television. The images you see are actually photographs that were being continuously shot with a camera, kind of like the ones you had in your time but more... advanced, I guess," she explained. While Viv wasn't a connoisseur on all things film, she knew a little bit thanks to the museum. Film and photography were, after all, just one of the many faces of the art world. "Each second you see on there is actually twenty-four pictures that were taken one after another after another, and when you put all of said photographs together, it looks like the person is moving." Viv paused, unsure if what she was saying was making any sense to him.


"I - uh, I hope that clears it up a little?" She mumbled questioningly, scratching at the back of her head. "Just don't ask me the science of how the television works because that's a whole side of technology even I don't fully understand," she claimed, taking a sip from her coffee mug, which was slightly sticky with the dried coffee from the spill before.


Viv wasn't sure where her sudden calm was coming from after her freakout in the studio before (which was completely justified, in her opinion). But perhaps it was seeing how lost the man before her seemed that made her realize that out of the two of them, she probably got the better end of the deal and Aldous drew the short stick. "Unfortunately for you," Viv said with a small smirk, "you'll be stuck with me for a while." She paused, her face growing serious for a moment, "So don't be afraid to ask me about anything that you don't understand, got it?"

 

[ladymina]

Besides some of the self-assured french females he'd met this had to be one of the most brazen women he'd come across yet, not to mention the sailor-rivaling repertoire of swear words he'd heard her spew earlier. But this was another form of audacity—familiarity. She came across the room, sat beside him, and gave her strange time-jumping orphan a modicum of comfort. And he'd almost pulled away, almost. But then she'd flowed right into the next subject, graciously having given his prickly emotions an easy out, and whisked his attention right back to the fantastic spectacle hanging on the wall before them. She had a knack for steering, however haphazardly, and right now he was unconsciously thankful to let someone lead.


Aldous soaked it all in. He'd practically gasped when the sound came on, its noise syncing with the scene and throwing a new level of awe into the mix. Her simultaneous explanation helped his technical understanding but did little to lessen his reverence for the end product. Moving pictures. With sound! They can capture people's images and their voices together now! It was like the phonograph and the camera put together, 24 frames per second, and yet it was like nothing he ever could have hoped to experience before.





"Got it." The screen was distracting, especially now that there was sound to match the images. The characters on screen chatted and tittered and though they were women their attire was so very not late-nineteenth century, and their surroundings were equally foreign. To his seriously untrained-in-modern-culture eyes, they seemed to match his gauche little hostess. He tore himself away again, realizing he'd been lost in some vortex he now knew to call the "television." Damn, I keep doing that. I'm swept up in every novelty. How much more idiotic can I get? And because he was realizing there were pitfalls of wonderment around every corner in this modern world he'd been transported to, he knew the rhetorical answer wasn't a pretty one. Get it together Aldous. Keep it together. He let out a terse laugh and slumped back into the couch cushions. "I may be stuck with you, but you may be stuck with me for a time. And you may not enjoy how foolish I'll seem in this world of yours." He turned his gaze on her again, seeing her with an only slightly more informed perspective now that he'd seen depictions of other "modern women"—at least now he knew it was normal for her to be wearing trousers! Her spectacles were a whole other matter.


The gaze he'd fixed her with endured, and he held it, watching her. In all honesty, she was as captivating as the television had been, but he'd been slow to notice through all of the preliminary chaos. Now he'd rested, woken again to an entirely new reality, and there she was again—his exotic futuristic guide. She was thorny and unrefined in the extreme, but she'd accommodated him graciously thus far and there was something very human about her that he couldn't quite describe, like she was actually some benevolent turtle that chose to hide within its hard, spiny shell more often than not. She was the only other real person he'd met so far, and this reason at the very least made her fascinating in her own right. The modest grin that had accompanied his self-amusement still clung to his jaw. "Clearly, neither of us know how long this, thing will last. Are you sure you're ready for me?"

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv watched as Aldous got enraptured by the tv before him, a feeling she identified with as she too would get caught up with her shows - especially during a marathon. She was half-tempted to tell him that if he kept watching it like that, the tv would rot his brain but thought better of it as the metaphor would likely be lost on the poor guy.


"Clearly, neither of us know how long this, thing will last. Are you sure you're ready for me?"


"Bring it on, man," she challenged with a cheeky grin. "Give me your worst; there's nothing I can't handle." As Viv spoke this, she stood up from her spot on the couch with a spring in her step that seemed unnatural for anyone up this early with so little sleep.


"We should get going soon," she spoke as she went to the sink to wash off her mug, the second cup she made for Aldous remained untouched as the two of them had gotten swept away with everything going on since Aldous scared the ever-living shit out of her when he woke up. Ah well, it's pretty shitty coffee anyways, we'll stop at a cafe or Starbucks or something on the way to my place, she thought to herself as she dried off the mugs. Looking outside one of the windows, Viv saw the light of the rising sun streaking between some of the city buildings.


"We'll walk to my place," she declared as she made her way back over to the couch and grabbed her purse that was near the armchair she was resting in before. "I don't think you're ready for the subway yet and we can get breakfast and coffee at this place nearby," she explained distractedly as she dug through her bag for a pack of Marlboro's she had been craving since the man before her quite literally fell out of a painting.


There was a door to the back parking lot right in the break room, under the glowing red exit sign. Pushing the door open, Viv was greeted by the cool autumn morning. The air was crisp and cool, cold enough that Viv re-wrapped her scarf around her neck before lighting her cigarette with shaky hands that were once again as cold as ice after they were temporarily warmed up by the hot coffee spill from earlier.

 

[ladymina]

As she rose and readied herself he donned his boots and shook out his coat before slipping it on. She was fast—he barely had time to glance out the window at the lightening sky before following her out the door. It was cold, especially compared to where he'd just come from, and even though at first look he was staring at a foreign landscape, down to his bones Aldous could feel it was most definitely New York. He was home, somehow.





"Alright, I'm ready. I figure it'll be easiest if I just keep my head down, follow you, and ask questions later." Beside him Viv lit up a cigarette, visibly relishing in her first inhale. The smoke from its ember end curled away into the morning grayness in wispy white tendrils. The acrid smell of chemical tobacco wafted over. He moved out of its path, chagrined. "They're still smoking coffin nails in this future of yours?" Even in his time the things were still little more than a taboo European fad. Is this normal? If people were nonchalantly smoking cigarettes out of brightly colored little packages, perhaps the future wouldn't be as "advanced" as initially expected. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. So many new normals to uncover. And he'd already begun asking questions. He shook his head. "Don't answer that."

 

[SplendaWeReGoingDown]

Viv snorted at the look of disgust on Aldous' face as she smoked. "What would America be without its tobacco industries? It's a nasty habit but addicting as hell," she commented anyways, despite the fact that he mentioned not to answer. Viv didn't mind answering any questions he had about modern times, as a museum worker she loved to talk about history and considering the fact that these events are seriously putting this man through the wringer, the least she could do was catch him up to the modern era. Although she deftly avoided mentioning any of the more disastrous consequences of smoking modern-day cigarettes than that of his time. She was partially glad he seemed turned off by the whole tobacco and smoking bit, she'd rather he stay away and not have to explain the whole "rat poison chemicals" and nicotine and cancer part that came along with it. And besides, if he too, started smoking, it'd be a bitch to go cold turkey once he got sent back to his time. She understood his contempt though. After all, she knew smoking wasn't a huge thing in America for a while. It was mostly just Europe until after World War II that smoking became a thing in the US. Although she was tempted to talk about it, Viv didn't go into that, Aldous was only here for a few hours and she didn't think he was quite yet ready to learn of the World Wars, so she walked on in silence.


The streets were near empty at this time with only a few cars on the roads filled with morning commuters. It was quiet and although the air was cold, there was a peaceful atmosphere to it all that was inviting. While it was still New York, this area of Brooklyn was much more serene, lacking in towering skyscrapers and large metal buildings, with townhouses, parks, and local businesses surrounding the area and a few trees scattered along the side walks. It was much more residential and welcoming than Fifth Avenue could ever hope to achieve and right now she was glad that Aldous came out of a painting in the Brooklyn Museum instead of the Met because Times Square would be a hell of a thing to try and explain.


After a bit of walking, Viv stopped at a small cafe that was just beginning to open its doors for the day. "Wait, let's stop here for a moment," she said quickly, grabbing Aldous' arm and practically dragging the man inside. She came here quite often on her commutes when she chose to walk instead of taking the subway and the owner opening up shop smiled at her in recognition. "Fuck, sorry," Viv said with a sheepish smile as she released Aldous' arm from her grip before turning to the menu. Viv personally wasn't a fan of all of the pumpkin flavored items this fall, but shrugged, 'tis the season, she supposed. Instead she ordered herself a latte with caramel instead (with some extra shots of espresso of course because she very much needed the boost, thank you very much). As well as two bagels and muffins for her and her companion. "Is there anything specific you want?" She asked him, she wasn't sure of his preferences for just about anything and didn't want to order anything he might dislike. "They have tea here too, if you prefer and anything with the words 'mocha', 'latte', and 'macchiato' is just a fancy word for coffee," she explained. "Seriously, get whatever you want, it's on me," she insisted.