Chapter Text
1
Between having a shoe thrown at him, being thrown out of Todd’s apartment, and being punched in the arm at being identified as his friend, Dirk really should have figured out that Todd isn’t all that invested in the well being of a stranger who clambered into his life and forcibly jettisoned any sense of normalcy from it.
But Dirk thinks that Todd’s being more than a bit harsh, gripping at his lapels and begging him to, “Dirk, come on, Dirk, please go!” Even if Todd did ask nicely, it’s evident by the frantic shaking of Dirk’s head that the suggestion is exactly the opposite of what he wants to do.
“No--” Dirk feels Todd’s grip grow tighter, sending a spike of something that feels suspiciously like anxiety through his chest.
“Please, just go!” Todd yells, though if he’s asking Dirk to get out of his life or for the universe to let him out of this hell can’t be ascertained.
A series of crashes and whoops from downstairs lets the two of them know at least one of those things isn’t going to happen.
Dirk finally sorts through his racing thoughts and takes advantage of the distraction, Todd retreating slightly as his hands slip from Dirk’s jacket. Dirk can’t tell why that doesn’t feel like a minor victory. “Listen,” he begins, needing to get this out otherwise he feels like he never will. “I’m a person of varied intuitions. I have a lot of feelings about a lot of things, and they’re rarely wrong but also rarely completely right.” Todd makes a noise like he’s going to interrupt, prompting Dirk to gesture more vigorously with his hands.
The muffled noise from below draws closer. “That’s the nature of the situation, that’s a reality we’re going to accept. Accepted? No? Yes? Doesn’t matter. There’s four men with baseball bats headed up the stairs right now to wreck your apartment!”
In hindsight, that wasn’t the most convincing argument Dirk could have made. During a desperate dart for freedom, Dirk finds himself captured by Todd’s arm, which in another situation would be great, but in this one it sort of… Isn’t. More than sort of, really.
“No no no--” He might even identify it as being very not great.
“No, Todd, no! Please--” His desperation goes ignored as Todd opens the door with his free hand, managing to push Dirk out of the apartment despite his holding on. It shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise, considering Todd’s job generally consisted of hauling luggage around and dealing with particularly pompous guests, so naturally he’d have more strength behind him than someone whose physical activities only really include running very quickly away from things and climbing up into places he shouldn’t be.
“I don’t want to be a part of this--”
“Please--”
It doesn’t stop Dirk from gripping the door frame on his way out, shaking his head frantically as he feels Todd’s hands push against his chest, fingertips dancing across Dirk’s collarbone as both of them fight for something to give.
“Just go before they--”
Their attention is drawn by a thumping at the end of the hall, men looking like something out of Mad Max hurling themselves against the wall and ricocheting off into the corridor, because it just seems easier than turning around themselves, apparently. They’re frozen as the tall, white haired one pops the hallway light with a baseball bat.
And then something does give as they’re shocked into action, Todd pulling Dirk back into the room on instinct, slamming the door shut behind them and Dirk begins to think that maybe Todd is exactly how Dirk expected him to be.
Dirk backs away from the door as Todd looks through to the other side, only for him to inhale sharply after a moment, eyes widening as what Dirk knows to be a too-familiar voice rumbles from the other side of the door.
“Ding dong.”
---
2
Dirk regards the old poster with renewed interest, a fragment of his memories resurfacing.
“Wasn’t he-- Didn’t Lux DuJour disappear? I vaguely recall it being a big story at the time.”
He gasps loudly, spinning around to face a wincing Todd with a particularly manic look on his face. “Maybe he’s in there!” Dirk suggests, heading over to the door with a bounce in his step.
“I am not investigating anything!” Dirk doesn’t doubt for a second that what Todd is saying is mostly true, before realizing he has the perfect motivator in his hand.
“Then how will you get your lottery ticket?” Dirk crumples up the ticket, knowing from experience that throwing flat pieces of paper is very difficult, before cracking open the door and tossing the small ball through.
Understandably, Todd is not happy. What Dirk doesn’t expect is the speed at which Todd crosses the space between them, gripping Dirk’s lapels with the same amount of force he probably wants to use directly on Dirk. In a voice that’s pretty loud considering his reaction to Dirk’s own volume control, he half-yells, “Are you insane?”
Dirk can’t say he’s quite prepared for the level of aggression in Todd’s tone, nor his body language. He was expecting something more along the lines of Dirk throwing the ticket in, Todd being annoyed but agreeing to come with him, and then they’d solve the case together and everything would work out just fine. But at this rate, the person who’s legally allowed to be here (Gordon Rimmer) is going to find the two people who are trespassing for the sake of a case (Dirk and Todd), and as a result, they’ll never get past the garage.
In addition, he’s not prepared for how his body responds to grabbed by Todd and shaken slightly, breath hitching in a way that suggests he’s scared of Todd, or something (which he definitely isn’t; he can hold his own against Todd. Mostly), despite the fact he doesn’t instinctively push Todd away, most of the evidence suggesting he probably needs some self-preservation instinct in his line of work.
There’s also the slight issue of the unfortunate infatuation Dirk is developing with regards to Todd, given it’s very rare that anyone pays him this much attention for this length of time. Unfortunate in that it’s making the situation a lot more awkward than it needs to be, with their faces so close together Dirk can taste the cheap coffee on Todd’s breath.
Still, these things don’t change the fact that Todd was just very loud, much louder than Dirk’s excitable chatter had been. He eventually raises a finger to his lips in the space between their bodies, hissing out a hushed, “Shhh!”
Todd looks downright scandalized at that response, the furious set to his mouth turning into one of shock. Dirk must have gotten through to him somehow, however, considering Todd’s face softens slightly, and while he’s still unhappy he relaxes his grip, leaning back slightly.
Todd opens his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again.
Dirk grins widely in what’s probably an attempt to placate Todd, but more accurately gives the impression that Dirk’s enjoying the situation, and more specifically the fact that Todd can’t risk raising his voice. Naturally, this has the exact opposite effect from what Dirk was intending. Todd’s grip tightens, and he firmly spins the two of them around so that Dirk is backed up against the door, Todd’s rage more focused than explosive.
“I did not ask to be in this situation.” Todd’s voice is low and dangerous, making Dirk shrink back against the door, expression petulant and forearm resting uncomfortably on the doorknob. “I do not want to be sneaking around in some guy’s home when I have an actual life I need to try and fix.”
Dirk blinks. Despite his relatively blank look, there’s a myriad of thoughts racing through his mind, including but not limited to the fact he’s hyper-focused on the points of contact between him, Todd, and the door they’re leaning against. “Well, what do you expect me to do? Go in there alone? Me, against a man who’s connected to a murder, and has kidnapped a teenage girl? Please, do you think I’m…” It’s by that point he realizes that this is not helping his case. Todd is fixing him with a look that seems to suggest he’s blown away by how stupidly oblivious Dirk is being to his plight.
True to form, Dirk doesn’t pick up on the obvious. He presses his lips together, looking expectantly at Todd for his reaction. Through the door, he can hear muffled barking and shouting, which is as good a sign as any.
Todd still has the shocked look on his face, brows drawn inwards when Dirk clicks his tongue. “Right. Well then,” he gives Todd a firm, controlled push away from him, and Todd gets the hint to let go as Dirk puts a finger to his lips and gestures for Todd to come, cracking the door open.
“You’re the worst,” Todd mumbles at his side, and Dirk can’t help but believe him.
---
3
Todd’s explanation is interrupted by a soft meow down by their feet, drawing his attention and train of thought to a black kitten happily finishing off the last chunks of whatever Dirk thinks is appropriate to feed kittens.
“Whose cat is that?” It’s worth noting that Todd’s question assumes Dirk isn’t the owner of the cat, which isn’t particularly fair of him to assume, even if it does make sense given Dirk’s apparent criminal proclivities.
“Oh, it’s the one from the crime scene, the one everyone’s been looking for,” Dirk explains, answering each one of Todd’s implicit lines of enquiry while generating about ten more for him to stress over.
Todd was not expecting such a direct connection. Maybe ‘Patrick Spring was spotted at a pet store downtown before his death so I thought it made sense to pick up one of the animals,’ or even ‘I bought/stole it as a result of my poorly managed impulses’.
“What? I-- Um, hold on--” Dirk taking a pet from the crime scene implies Dirk was nearby at the time of the murder, which means Dirk must know things that Todd doesn’t which also means--
“Dirk?” This time, the apparent will of the universe not wanting Todd to ever finish a train of thought is carried out by the slightly groggy-sounding woman taking up Dirk’s couch.
“Hi, Farah!” Dirk’s voice is irritatingly cheery, though that’s certainly not the worst thing about his response.
“You know her?” Todd is not happy, voice raised and noticeably agitated.
Dirk’s expression dims down considerably into something more uneasy. “Well, I, um--”
“So when they said that they have your friend,” Todd cuts in, voice and temper raised, “they meant your friend?”
“More of an acquaintance, really!” Dirk rushes out, tone purposefully light and accidentally failing to have the intended effect.
“Mother--” Todd lunges for Dirk who flinches back, eyes wide and shoulders hunched up as his hands fly in front of him to protect himself.
There’s a brief scuttle while a forgotten and disoriented Farah watches on from the couch, managing to convince herself that she must have passed out at some point during her capture and this is an increasingly strange fever dream.
Dirk ends up backed against the counter, bent slightly backward at an awkward angle with his hands trapped between his and Todd’s fronts. Todd’s hands are clutching at Dirk’s lapels in what’s becoming an increasingly familiar position, their faces just slightly too close to be considered appropriate.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Todd barks, irritation coloring his voice. “Why didn’t you just say you knew her instead of pretending you didn’t? That’s so… It’s just stupid!” Dirk can feel Todd leaning against his hands, and it’s actually kind of nice. Like a heavy blanket. A very pissed off, heavy blanket.
“Well I-- I couldn’t be sure, see! The picture wasn’t very clear, for one thing.” Dirk has never been able to think straight in his life, but now it’s proving especially difficult with how close the two of them are. It’s a good thing he doesn’t blush all that much, otherwise Todd would probably pick up a more solid indication of Dirk’s thought process than just the rush of words tumbling from his mouth.
Dirk must be doing something right since Todd seems to deflate a little, and Dirk can feel himself being pulled towards Todd by his jacket slightly less. He continues, “I haven’t seen her in ages, Todd. I didn’t even realize until hours later!”
“So you-- you still had time to tell me! ”
And he blew it again. Todd presses back into Dirk, probably getting a headache from the emotional flip-flopping, while Dirk lets out a small breathy “Yes." He realizes a moment later that that’s not a proper response and that Todd is fixing him with a look he can’t place, and says more confidently, “Yes, but I didn’t want to distract you--”
“Distract me? That’s called sharing information, Dirk!” Dirk feels Todd shake him firmly once, and as a result of not being prepared for it, his head falls back solidly against the bottom shelf of a cupboard, connecting with a painful thunk.
Todd has the decency to immediately back away at that as Dirk fixes him with a shocked look, and while rubbing the back of his head lets a very pointed, “Ow!”
Todd can no longer seem to meet his eyes, looking instead somewhere below them as his now empty fists clench uneasily at his sides. He sighs, anger significantly tempered, and licks his lips before saying, “Sorry. I just--” he sighs again, turning his head to the side. “You should have told me.”
Dirk wishes experience hadn’t taught him otherwise. He brings a hand up to rest on Todd’s shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, prompting Todd to meet his eyes again. “If I’m ever sent another picture of someone I know, and you don’t know that I know, I will let you know. That I do know them.”
Todd offers a polite smile. “That probably makes sense. Thanks.”
Dirk smiles brightly, before he starts as his eyes are drawn to something over Todd’s shoulder.
Todd whips around, and apparently Farah has dragged herself off the couch, despite looking distinctly like she shouldn’t be doing anything remotely close to moving in her condition.
“Shit,” Todd says, swiping up the glass of water from the counter and pressing it carefully into the hand of hers that isn’t braced against the wall.
She shakes her head, taking a long drink anyway before launching into a series of pointed questions, while Dirk tries not to think too hard about the missing sensation of Todd pressed against his hands.
---
3.5
Someone is dead. That someone apparently being the (ex-)leader of this whole weird, soul-swapping cult, so really it was only a matter of time before their own demise caught up with them. The fact that someone has been shot is a more common occurrence than it has any right to be in this case, but the difference is that in the past it was down to random chance or someone on their side.
In this instance, the very scary looking robot person doesn’t seem to be on their side, if the way they yank a screaming Todd and Dirk from their hiding place and promptly aim guns at both of their faces is any indication.
This is a misunderstanding that the two are very eager to fix. They immediately hold their hands out in front of them, the two of them talking over the other as if the more they can say the less likely the chance of them being shot.
“We’re not with them!”
“We’re not on the same side!” Todd’s method seems to be mostly volume fueled by terror, while Dirk’s still definitely fearing for his life, but there’s this feeling of everything finally coming to a head that gives his tone an almost playful edge.
“Who are you?” The heavily modulated voice wastes no time cutting to the chase, and Dirk wastes no time letting Todd in on his epiphany.
“Don’t you see, Todd, this has already happened, but there’s still time--” Sadly for the back of Dirk’s head and body, this gesture also required ignoring the very present and increasingly impatient threat to their lives. Dirk finds himself being shoved back against the metal container, an unfairly strong palm knocking the wind out of him as his shoulders connect solidly with the door.
The fact that Dirk’s brain short circuits for a moment goes unnoticed as Todd’s the one to jump in, starting with the ever-diplomatic, “Okay, easy,” which quickly escalates to a panicked, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa,” as they both seem to remember that the scary death robot has two guns, the left one raised and refocusing itself on Todd.
Since neither Dirk nor Todd have answered their question, the one in the robot suit reiterates. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Their hand inches up to grip at the sides of Dirk’s neck, which kickstarts his brain and sends an uncomfortable spike of heat to his crotch.
Oh. Shit. Dirk feels the tips of his ears heat up, blush thankfully not spreading across his cheeks. Now is really not the time for Dirk to develop a thing for this, whatever it is. Whether that thing is the cool edge of the metal gauntlet pressing into his chin, or the big robot suit with all of the mechanical parts, or the slightly ambiguous moral dilemma of being attracted to a former (potential?) employer. Hopefully, the lighting will stop the others from noticing.
“Dirk, what’s going on? Who is this guy?” The metal arm flexes slightly, and Dirk narrowly avoids letting out a small whine. His hands come up around their wrist, clinging on-- though whether that’s to stop himself being choked or to stop them letting go, he can’t be sure.
“I solved the case.” His voice is slightly breathier than he’d like, but he’s mostly able to distract himself from this predicament. Wide grin on his face, Dirk’s going to get through this without letting on that his mind tumbled into the gutter for a moment there. “And this is... Patrick Spring.”
With the appropriate amount of flair, a number of pistons activate and the faceplate raises to reveal Patrick Spring, tired eyes and greying goatee and all--
Except that’s not what this Spring looks like at all. Stupid, stupid Dirk, completely failing to take into account the fifteen years aesthetic difference between the present Patrick Spring and the younger Patrick Spring! Instead, this one has a fine layer of stubble and an angry set to his brow, looking more like a man in a midlife crisis than the almost fatherly figure Dirk had the pleasure of interacting with once or twice.
And now this situation is incredibly inappropriate for two reasons, not least because Spring slams Dirk back against the metal door, and now Dirk’s also going to have to live with the fact he’s also turned on because this slightly unhinged Patrick Spring is more than slightly attractive.
Libido aside, Dirk should probably clear this whole thing up. “Please, don’t kill us! I can explain everything.”
Spring releasing Dirk’s neck from his grip is both a blessing and unfortunate, but Dirk isn’t confident he’d be able to put his thoughts in order if he had such a major distraction.
“You go by ‘Patrick Spring’ now, but your real name is Zachariah Webb, and you made a terrible mistake...”
Dirk’s retelling of the story is surprisingly coherent and linear for someone whose life is so chaotic. He notes out of the corner of his eye Todd giving him strange looks at the voices Dirk does, but for the most part, there’s an expression of tentative awe on his face as he glances between Dirk and Spring. The latter of whom’s face is generally impassive throughout a lot of it, though what’s important to Dirk is that he’s stopped pointing a gun at Todd.
“Is that basically what happened?”
There are a few beats of silence as Spring’s lips move but no sound comes out, only for him to settle on an angry, low growl of, “How could you possibly know all that?”
Dirk seems just as surprised as Spring, if his incredulous, “I got it all right?” Is anything to go by.
“How?” Spring insists, prompting a careless shrug from Dirk.
“Well, it seemed obvious to me.”
Todd thinks his head might explode, and Spring looks like he wants to make Dirk’s head explode for having such a careless attitude.
If only he’d known that the high pitched gasp as Dirk gets shoved back into the metal door, hands flying up to Spring’s wrist is a sign that this isn’t exactly what Dirk might describe as ‘negative reinforcement’. Dirk definitely does want to be out of this situation, though, for different reasons than Spring might expect.
The consequence of a distinct lack of oxygen passing through Dirk’s constricted throat, Dirk’s voice is high and squeaky, his mental state not much better. “I have magic powers!”
Apparently, that’s as good an explanation as any, or at least there doesn’t seem to be a better one. Todd cuts in, clearly stumbling behind in this whole convoluted situation.
“So wait, why-- why didn’t you just--” Spring raises his gun again and Todd rapidly comes to the conclusion that continuing that train of thought might not be the best idea.
“W--what’s the use in picking it all apart?” His voice is high and desperate, while Dirk’s thoughts are becoming increasingly hazy. “No, what’s done is done and that’s that, so great job I think!”
“I did the best I could.” Spring’s voice is just as rough as ever, and they’re mostly back to square one with dealing with a man who could end their lives at any moment.
“Definitely, one hundred percent, nothing crazy about that!”
“A series of logical and rational decisions, really!”
Todd’s back is pressed firmly back against some large machine, distancing himself from the gun while also trying to get through to Spring. “We are not the enemy. We are here trying to save your daughter.”
Dirk nods along, lines of pressure increasing under his chin as it presses into Spring’s gauntlet.
“My daughter?” Spring drops his arms, and the two can only hope it’s for the last time. “What’s happened to my daughter?”
Todd and Dirk share a concerned glance. Of course Spring doesn’t know what’s going to happen today-- it’s not like you can just read up on the future or something.
“They’re taking her to the Perriman Grand hotel,” Dirk begins, voice cracking on the last syllable. “To meet you-- the, uh, older you. But listen, there’s more elements at play here than you realize--”
Yet again, Dirk finds himself shoved forcefully back against the metal door, and he’d be surprised if it wasn’t dented by now. The situation still sends an inconvenient spike of pleasure through him, but really by this point, it’s just getting very samey. Would it kill Spring to mix it up a little? Fire a couple of shots into the air? Break out into a terrifying, supervillain-esque musical number?
Well, that’s probably not happening. Just to continue this endless cycle, Spring aims his other arm back up at Todd, who appropriately recoils, flinching back and holding out his hands.
Spring looks between them, the cogs whirring on his suit and in his mind.
“Don’t get in my way.” Spring releases them, the sound of pistons and hydraulics following Spring as he leaves the room, stepping over bodies as he goes.
Dirk and Todd’s eyes lock onto each other as they (mostly Dirk) catch their breath, staying still until Spring is out of earshot.
Dirk swallows, licking his lips. “That was an uncomfortable moment of revelation.”
Todd nods, glancing towards the exit, and it takes Dirk a moment to realize he wasn’t even talking about Spring’s current predicament.
---
4
Todd shoves Dirk against the corridor wall, a hard set to his mouth and a look of utter betrayal in his eyes.
Dirk’s too focused on the man in front of him to pay much attention to the thrill that shoots up his spine, that enticing feeling mixing with dread and guilt and pooling low in his gut. Something has gone very, very wrong. It’s not that Dirk wasn’t expecting some form acknowledgment that, yes, Dirk technically was keeping some details from him, but this? This seems a tad excessive.
“Calm down, calm down!” Dirk holds his hands out in front of him as a gesture of surrender, if only so that they can postpone this conversation until they’re away from the crime scene.
“It was a loop. It was a time loop! You remembered that happening!” Dirk tries to cut in, to defend himself, but Todd isn’t having any of it. “That’s how you got the gorilla mask. It wasn’t a coincidence! That’s how you knew to get the kitten--”
Dirk shakes his head firmly, hastily interjecting. “Well, no, I didn’t have any context, I just thought that-- Well, I mean once we got here it was obvious!” Todd turns away from him, taking a couple of steps into the hallway, and Dirk wants nothing more than to reach out for him.
Todd rounds on him, face a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Yeah, maybe to someone reading it in a book, not when you’re living it!” Dirk gets the awful feeling that the chance for him to reach out has slipped away, and briefly wonders why this time is so much different to the many, many others.