Jay was just standing there, filming, vulnerable. In the split second window before Alex could pull the trigger, something feral and fearless clawed its way up out of Tim's mind, followed by a red boiling heat that flowed through his body and cauterized his resolve in his veins.
The only thing that had mattered to Tim right then was keeping Jay safe. It became an imperative.
And so, he'd moved. No thinking about it. Leaping forward with a strange grace one wouldn't usually expect from a guy Tim's size, tackling Jay to the side when gunfire bloomed to life in the musty air. The bullet struck him in the shoulder. It was immediate misery, and did a pretty good job of dashing the sudden burst of courage.
Tim didn't remember hitting the ground -- or the feeling of being teleported -- but when his eyes opened again, he saw that they were in the woods, well away from the campus. Would've been nice if this had happened before the bullet had a chance to hit him! But at least there was no Alex to be found, for now.
Just Jay. And his fucking attitude. And his stupid camera.
" You're WELCOME, " Tim snarled.
-- ALEX HAD A GUN. It wasn't a question of where he'd gotten the gun, this was the goddam south of course he could find one but seeing it pointed at him--
seeing it pointed at him in the present day, in a way that he remembered, without jessica screaming and that need to protect someone overwhelming him, it was just him standing in this old bando, every single hope and dream he had of that Nat Geo internship he had lined up next year, maybe that last sliver of hope that this could go away, could end just as quickly as it had burnt his entire life to ashes--
His friend was holding a gun at him and, he short-circuted. He raised the camera up. If he was going to go down, at least the world could see, right? Someone would find the tape and upload it just like so many other videos managed to make their way onto that youtube channel sometimes--
Some heroic final words starting to form on his tounge, this cameraman's last goodbye and then--
Tim made it to Benedict Hall. Tim clattered out from some classroom and tackled him and, god he was so so so so tired of Tim always tackling him--
They rolled and it was wet, dewy, grass. Please don't be Rosswood but, of course it would be Rosswood wouldn't it? Jay scrambled to his feet and took his bearings. Yeah. Rosswood for sure. Man.
He tried to choke down that fuzzy feeling like a tape being reloaded when they teleported. It was like he could feel the atoms buzzing and resetting. Clucked back into place, hit play, roll the tape again. Splice the ends together, from one jarring hell to another.
Tim was bleeding. It took a moment to see through the plaid but, no. He was bleeding.
Ah. Yeah, the prickly asshole was returned to form soon enough. You're welcome, Tim snarled, hand over his shoulder.
They'd messed something up. He could feel it. The script was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was supposed to die. He was meant to die. And now he was fully Final Destination'd-- saved by this guy that also tried to kill him about half the time they'd known each other.
"You weren't supposed to save me." Jay said quietly. You got hurt, I'm so tired of seeing people get hurt while I film it. (And yet, he felt himself raising his arm to make sure he got Tim in the shot, even as Tim turned away)
Jay didn't have much of any first aid knolwedge, wish he'd taken that first aid class they'd offered a few semesters ago-- you're supposed to keep pressure on, right?
He set the camera down, a small double check to make sure the shot was framed correctly-- jumped back up to help Tim.
"I didn't ask you to save me! Maybe-- maybe if you hadn't TIED ME UP!"
