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Clive doesn’t feel much anymore.
A clear correlation to how his entire timeline was reduced to staticky images and cracks. So very similar to the state his body is in only without the additional wings and antenna that Film had cleverly referred to them as.
And then promptly changed his nickname to ‘Time Bug.’
If Clive had his emotions, he thinks he may have been bothered by the new nickname and comparison being made. Bugs… he had considered them to be gross little things. Pests to be killed.
But all he did was level Film an indifferent stare before sweeping TriClive and Gunner off their feet with his new found appendages and, with ease that would have been amazed at if he had the emotions to feel them, dropped them off in their home timelines.
Laughably easy. Not that Clive will ever feel like laughing ever again.
It’s odd, recognizing if he was free from this curse where the proper emotions would have been placed.
He knows that he would be feeling many things, anger maybe. He always seemed to be angry at one thing or another. Whether that be the situation, Gunner’s annoying habits, or at himself for always ruining anything he touches.
Sadness at the loss of his entire timeline would also be likely.
And then loneliness. Having finally completed his goal of returning the others and himself home. He really has no one. And even though it should, it doesn't bother him.
All he really feels as he lies on the ground of his empty world, is an odd sense of boredom.
He’s bored. Bored enough that even in his lacking self, he feels the urge to cure himself of it.
So, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. Antennae twitching, he spreads his wings.
— — — — —
In the infinite, there is much, but it’s never quite enough.
At first, he tries to fix his world. It doesn’t turn out. No Dimitri, Claire, Professor, or even Bill have a single clue how to fix this.
To waste time, he pulls Gunner through timelines like in the past. Leaving him frustrated and confused at Clive’s antics. But clearly unbothered and uncaring about what Clive is going through. And Clive had found a mild interest at first, but Clive has seen this all before and it doesn’t last.
Film has a side hobby apparently. Murder mysteries and kidnappings. By all means, the murder mysteries are clever. Clever enough that Clive interrupts a few to try himself.
And Film reacts with his usual concern. Asking where he’s been and if he’s okay. Clive finds that giving more than a quick reply is boring. Just like Film’s mysteries become.
TriClive starts to be hellbent on revenge just like Clive used to be. Bill ruined his life, Descole hurt his family, and Clive can’t find it in himself to care. He’s done this, he’s seen it play out in a thousand different timelines.
Though sometimes, when TriClive makes time to play an instrument, Clive will listen in, hidden away. He’s good at it, not that Clive was in any denial of that before.
It’s a shame, that in his vengeance, TriClive has nearly stopped playing altogether.
And even when Clive moves on from the three of them, all he finds is repetition.
Towns with mysteries, far too many puzzles to count, love, loss, revenge, and acceptance. Over and over again in an endless loop.
And the boredom claws into him.
He wants to feel something, anything .
— — — — —
Then he sees him.
A top hat with a single feather, jacket tied around his waist, few and small particles flickering in and out, and pulling along three versions of himself.
A Clive so similar to himself Clive knows how it will end.
It’s not an easy feat to watch. Though Clive may have perfected control over his jumps, tracking someone is a whole different story.
But he manages, and he waits, and nothing changes.
Gunner is annoying, TriClive is weird, Film takes inspiration, and Timey has not a single crack form on him.
No screaming in pain as his body starts to break into parts. No exhaustion from never being able to get anything right. No utter destruction when he realizes what he did.
It’s not fair.
For a moment, something nags at Clive. Something familiar, between what is right and wrong.
What is happening to him is wrong. It’s horrid, even if it’s hard to feel it.
The fact that this other Clive, who is so very similar to him, has everything he’s ever wanted… It’s not right.
It’s not just .
…Clive had forgotten justice.
He had forgotten how he’d ruin a city for it because he knew better than everyone else. How complacently and ignorance deserved death. How nobody else deserved what he didn’t have.
He’ll change that.
Timey– god, what an awful and stupid nickname– will get what he deserves.
No matter what.