tushanshu | video;

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[Costigan is looking about as chipper as ever. Which is to say not at all.]

I was here before. I don't remember, but I know I was.

[There's a short pause before he continues.]

I have a list of names. If anyone knows them, or if you are them, contact me. I'll, uh- I'll write them in below.

Also if anyone has information on Eshai or Evandau. I think they were important.

[Another pause, then he reaches forward to click off the video and the list follows.]

Annabeth Ariadne Arthur Bruce Banner Dominick Cobb Jack Frost Abigail Hobbs Percy Jackson Hannibal Lector Lincoln Lee Kyle Rayner Spencer Reid Sabriel Catty Turner

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I'll come by.

Cool.

The main part of the building is open at all hours, so feel free to walk right in. You won't be able to access the back living quarters, but I'll know you're there and come out to meet you. Unless I"m in the shower or something. Then you might have to wait a few.

[But she was already planning one or two surprises waiting for him in the meantime. Just in case.]

Sure.

[And that's all he says for the time being. True to his word, Costigan arrives at the Welcome Center later that night, later than most would come calling but not so late as to be deliberately rude. He slips awkwardly through the door that he remembers from shortly after waking up in this magical hellhole, wondering if she was the person who greeted him upon his arrival or if it was someone else. The whole first few hours were mostly a blur.

He walks up to the counter, where no one is present, and leans on the thing. His eyes scan for cameras or the like, trusting the kid to know he's there like she said.]

[He won't find any cameras that he could see. Although, interestingly, there were candles hovering by the main entrance. As in, literally hovering. The holders they were in to catch any dripping wax were completely suspended mid-air. Even if he tried to wave his hand around, looking for the wire, he could find none. And if he tried to take it down, it would just float right back up to its intended spot.]

[More interestingly, though, was the fact that the light of the flame changed colors after a few seconds of his entering. And, less than a minute later--with wet hair and dressed in a pair of loose pajama pants and a spaghetti-strap tank top (she'd meant it about the shower)--Zatanna emerged from a small door behind the counter, holding a mug of steaming liquid in her hands.]

Hey.

The skeptic, I presume.

[Costigan's the kind of skeptic who doesn't look too hard because he doesn't want to find the answer. He sees the candles and almost immediately dismisses them as some kind of trick without bothering to investigate, focusing on waiting for the girl. The color changing doesn't escape his notice, but again he chalks it up to Halloween foolery and scowls at it nonetheless. When the girl enters in pajamas, his expression returns to neutral.]

Billy Costigan. [He confirms, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.]

[She nodded.]

I know. I remember.

[They might not have been that close, but he'd been a good friend of Jack's. That was enough to warrant a strong enough sense of trust for what she was about to do next.]

I have something to show you. Well, two somethings, I suppose. One to help get the other. But before I do, I need you to promise that you're not going to just scoff and walk away without giving it a chance because that second thing kind of means a lot to me. On a personal level.

[She started off light-hearted, but the more she spoke, the more serious her tone got.]

[He tries not to feel unsettled at the idea of her remembering him when he barely feels like she's familiar to him.]

I don't scoff. And I won't walk away. [It's an easy promise to make. Costigan's not one for walking away from someone in the middle of things. He might call bullshit, might have reservations. Walking away wasn't polite enough for his parents and it was the kind of thing to get you killed with Costello. It never seemed like a good idea.]

I won't promise I'll believe you or like it. But I won't walk away until we're done here.

That's good enough for me.

[With that, she lifted her hands to lightly brush back her damp hair, then took a step away from him. One hand raised, and she uttered a few words in a language that may or may not be unknown to him:]

Gnirb eht koob ereh

[A cloud of smoke manifested in the air before her, swirling around and growing thicker and thicker until it formed a cloud, which soon dissipated to leave a large book. Its pages looking well worn. A swipe of her hand opened the cover, flipping through the pages slowly.]

[The words on them were all hand written. There were some pictures included. An names at the top of every couple of pages.]

Jack started this tradition. A long time ago.

[Her smile was sad as she watched several familiar words flicker by, keeping her eyes focused on the book. So she had no idea what his initial reaction to either the magic or the names might be.]

People who went home. Friends, mostly, although he tried to add as many entries as he could. So that nobody would ever be forgotten.

[After a minute or so, one page came up and lingered. The name at the top--"Jack Frost"]

When he left...I added an entry for him. It would have felt wrong not to.

[Costigan stood nearly statue still as Zatanna called the book to her, bracing himself to be uncomfortable. His stillness was as much as sign of discomfort as when he moved too much, but he stood still and he listened and tried not to immediately dismiss what she was saying.

When she lands on the page of his alleged friend, his brow furrows and he concentrates very deliberately on trying to remain open-minded about all this nonsense.]

Sure, yeah. [He agrees distractedly, moving around closer to her so he can see the book. His hands pull from his pockets, hovering awkwardly as he looks at the pictures there and is struck with a familiarity and an almost painful warmth that comes with it. He remembers the kid, even as the actual visage is mostly unfamiliar. But maybe it's not unfamiliar. Maybe he does remember a little.]

[She watched his reaction, curious to see. Both to the floating book and to the words written on the page.]

You can take it, you know. The book. Flip through the pages yourself.

It won't bite.

[Costigan glanced at the girl, brows remaining furrowed. He paused before finally giving a single nod, lifting his hands to take the book from her and look at it more closely. He did remember Jack making him feel better, lifting his mood, and the anxiety that came with the kid knowing too much about him. Maybe the guy looked a little familiar too, even as the rational part of his mind argued about the ridiculousness of a spirit existing, let alone his being friends with the thing.]

Am I in this book? [He asked after a beat, curious to distract himself and give his mind time to think.]

Should be.

[She didn't sound 100% certain, indicating that if he was, she wasn't the one who wrote the entry.]

Everybody who disappeared before Jack, give or take, should be in there. He was very thorough. And insistent on giving everyone an entry, even if he knew very little about them.

[Costigan flipped through the pages apprehensively, not sure if he wanted to find his own page or not. He paused on a familiar name here and there, lingering for an extended pause on 'Abigail Hobbs', before finding his own name. His expression never changed. He was on his own page for only a second before shoving the book back to Zatanna and looking up from its contents to the girl.]

Why'd he do this? Why didn't he want anyone to forget?

[Her expression softened.]

Because he's like that.

Jack...knows what it's like to be forgotten. He spent a long time alone because of it. I guess that made him want to make sure that nobody else would ever be forgotten, either.

Being forgotten isn't always a bad thing. [He replied, his voice softening ever so slightly in an effort to match hers.]

[Costigan doesn't like the book. He doesn't like people he doesn't know remembering him when he can't even remember being here himself. He also doesn't like all these memories and the headaches the strain to remember brings. It's enough for one night. Too much, maybe. Either way, he shakes his head a little.]

And that proves he was real? [He asks finally, much less disbelieving and accusatory this time and far more accepting.]

[It can be, depending upon the person. She glanced up at him with a faint smile. Neither agreeing nor fully disagreeing with him because the sentiment was too subjective.]

Unless you think I somehow whipped all this up in the short amount of time since we last spoke--in two different handwritings, I might add.

[His entry and Jack's, for example, were clearly written by different people. Including the sentence at the bottom of Jack's written...backwards.]

[Costigan thinks about that for a moment, then shrugs, not ready to commit to believing. He isn't about to disagree with her. It's fairly obvious, from a logical standpoint, that these people all existed here. From an emotional one, loathe as he is to admit it, he knows Jack. And some of the other names he saw there. But it's a little too much too soon for the Bostonian.]

[He's torn between being suspicious of her magic and ignoring the existence of magic entirely.] I believe that those people were here, but it doesn't prove that he's some spirit.

[She resisted the urge not to sigh so very heavily.]

Why are you skeptics so stubborn?

Why would I lie about that? Really. There are far easier ways to mess with you.

If I believed every nut job on the green line about their stories, I'd be out a lot of money by now. Skepticism is natural. [Distrust is natural, when you grew up where he did. But he shrugs, because that's not the point.]

I don't think you're lying. I think you believe it. I don't know if it's true.

So you don't think I'm lying, you just think I'm a nut job.

[Though she didn't seem that offended or even surprised. Merely throwing his words back at him. See how he reacted next.]

[Costigan's lips quirked with the hint of a smile.] Maybe.

[He shrugged again, looking more serious as his gaze returned to the book.] I think it's a lot easier for people who grew up with Jesus to call a dying man being healed a miracle, than one who grew up with doctors. They call it medicine. To you, he might be a spirit. To me, I don't know.

[She pretended to think about that for a moment.]

...yeah, I guess I can live with that. For now.

[It's not like she had a choice.]

Besides, the only way you'll ever truly find out is if he ever showed up again. Which is...unlikely. [But not impossible.]

Yeah.

[He agrees, fairly convinced it's not going to happen either.]

He comes back, you call me. Until then.. Thank you, for showing me this. I know I'm not always easy, but I asked and you answered.

[Costigan drops his eyes with the sincerity of the words. It's a rare moment of truth from the former undercover, much sooner than she might have earned if not for the memories he's trying to reclaim.]

[It might not have been the way she wanted this to go...but, under the circumstances, it was probably the best she was going to get. And it could have gone worse.]

You're welcome.

That is what I'm here for. To answer.

[Costigan gave her a nod, an acknowledgement of her words and the deeper meaning they implied. His gaze wandered, drifting back to the book for a moment before returning to Zatanna.]

You mind if I look again? [He asked awkwardly. Costigan wanted time to find other names he might recognize, to try to fill in the blanks of what people he knew looked like and see if other memories could come back.] I can let myself out when I'm done.

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backwordscompatible - 2017-03-02 02:52 (UTC) - Expand

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lostundercover - 2017-03-03 04:24 (UTC) - Expand

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