Lincoln stared at the floor. He knew how strict the law was about this kind of thing. But there must have been something to the fact that he’d never thought about love until now. But of course there were no certainties in this situation. Chances were that Jack didn’t feel the same way about him, and chances were that he would probably even turn him in. That would completely ruin his plans for the future. He couldn’t risk that, could he?
Blackwell hopped up beside him and sank against his leg to nap there.
Jack sighed softly, and kept moving. He cursed under his breath. He needed to go back to that stupid warehouse so he could go back home. Damn it damn it damn it. He thought to himself. Lincoln was cute. Really cute. But this was the past. It didn't matter if the male president of the USA had a husband in 2113, this was 1912. Being…anything but friends with another man was against the law. Very much so.
Lincoln reached over to douse the lamp beside his bed. He sank down and rested his head on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling while he lay deep in thought. Sure, in almost every country being with another man was illegal. But what if it was only behind closed doors? It couldn’t be a coincidence that he didn’t feel any attraction to women, but he had to Jack. Maybe there was something wrong with him, he reasoned, but the government couldn’t dictate everything that went on indoors. And who was he to strictly follow the law; he was already illegally living in an abandoned warehouse.
Jack bit his lip as he headed back to the warehouse. Damn. What was he supposed to do now? He had to be back inside to get back to the future without messing everything up, but…damn it. He couldn't hold back the mental swearing. Someone, somewhere, had messed up phenomenally, and now there was someone in the past who knew someone had gotten in for an unknown reason. A really attractive someone, though that was beside the point.
Lincoln’s mind went back to when he’d first seen Jack. He squinted in thought. He didn’t hear or detect anyone when he first entered the workshop. Given it was pretty dark without windows, but shouldn’t he have heard breathing or movement? Unless he entered after Lincoln, but again: he would have heard something. Or Blackwell would have heard something at least. This thought would puzzle him for quite some time until he figured it out. Unless Jack teleported—or was a time traveler. He snickered through his nose. No, that would be too crazy, even for his ideas.
Jack pulled the device from his pocket, and pressed the power button. "Internal failure. Wires B-8 and G-15 failure. Continuum handler fragile. Travel not possible." Came Tip's voice. Jack swore under his breath. "No no no no no." He muttered, hitting the device against his palm. "Don't quit on me now!" He sighed. "Don't leave your hella gay boy in the past!" He hissed.
Lincoln closed his eyes to try and sleep, but his thoughts kept him awake. Eventually he gave up and sat up in bed, picking up Blackwell to carry him back downstairs. He needed to find Jack again to quell his thoughts, get some answers (or maybe a date).
Blackwell meowed his reluctance to being carried back downstairs instead of going to sleep.
Lincoln stuffed his feet in his shoes, shifting Blackwell to one arm while he fumbled with opening door. In his excitement, he forgot his coat.
Jack was standing a ways down the street, staring at the device. "No no no no no!" He hit it against his palm. "One more, Tip. One more trip home and I'll get you fixed!" He begged. "Travel not possible. Replace wires." Came Tip's calm voice. Jack swore, leaning his head against the light pole. "Please, Tip?" He mumbled. "One!" He exclaimed. "Too dangerous." Tip responded. "You could become stuck in the grey zone between this time and your own, and die."
Lincoln stepped outside into the frigid street. "Damn.." he cursed, turning back inside to retrieve his coat. Instead of setting his coat down, he wrapped both himself and Blackwell in the coat before stepping back outside. He closed the door behind him and walked out into the docks. Jack couldn't've gotten far, right? He scanned the area, resisting the urge to blatantly call for him.
"Tip." Jack begged. "Can't the wires withstand one more trip?" He asked desperately. Tip remained silent for a moment. "Continued asking will not change the answer. Replace the wires before travel can be possible." "But Tip, this is 1912! They don't have the right wires!" Jack hissed. He knew he looked like a madman, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get the fuck home. Tip made a sound very similar to a human sigh. "Replace. The wires." There was almost a hint of irritation in the normally placid AI's voice.
"Jack?" Lincoln called after a few moments, gradually walking closer where he heard the voice, "Is that you? It's really cold out here.." He pulled the coat collar farther up his face over his mouth and nose. Was he talking to someone? Not that that was a problem, but…he hoped he wasn't busy at least.
Blackwell poked his head out beside Lincoln. His ears twitched in offense to the cold.
Jack jumped when he heard Lincoln's voice. "Huh? Oh, uhm…yeah, it's me. Need something?" He asked, tucking Tip back into his pocket. He would have to figure out this dilemma later. He couldn't risk Lincoln seeing…or could he? He remembered that Lincoln was an inventor, maybe…maybe he could help? No, he was getting ahead of himself. It was best not to ask someone from the past for help. Would lead to complications.
Lincoln shook his head, “No, I’m quite alright. But what about you? Are you lost?” He lifted up a hand to pet his cat’s head. “I was just out on a midnight stroll when I bumped into you again.” That wasn't true: Lincoln had gone out purposefully in hopes of finding Jack, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He stuffed his other free hand in his coat pocket.
Jack sighed softly. "Actually…" He shrugged. "I'm not lost, just…the place I was supposed to stay for the night…turned me out." He said. A half lie. He couldn't get home, but he certainly couldn't tell the whole story of what was happening right now. He bit his lower lip slightly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. He shivered slightly, and pulled his coat tighter against the cold.
Lincoln frowned, but at the same time he felt a flicker of hope , “Oh, well. I happen to have an extra bedroom in the living area above my workshop. You can stay there for the night if you wish, if you need. I’m sure Blackwell and I will enjoy the company. We don’t get many visitors,” he chuckled, sending puffs of visible hot air around him into the cold.
Jack hesitated for a moment, thinking. "I…that would be–lovely, thanks." He said with a small smile. He cursed inwardly. He had almost said "awesome", which was a slang term that hadn't yet come about in 1912. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Is Blackwell…the cat?" He asked slowly. He really hoped it was the cat, and not another person.
“Wonderful, and indeed,” the man laughed heartily, “I live alone except for my cat.” He took a few steps back and turned back towards the warehouse. He glanced behind him to make sure Jack followed.
Blackwell decided it was too cold and dipped his head back into the coat.
Jack nodded. "Alright." He followed Lincoln, pulling his coat tighter around himself as a particularly cold gust of wind blew up. "Thank you, Mr Egle." He said, not sure if he should use Lincoln's first name or not. "I can pay you for this." He said. And he could. He had enough money with him to get by for a while.
“No need,” Lincoln shook his head again, “What did you say your last name was again? Pardon my informality earlier; your surname slipped my mind.” He turned his head to give him a sideways glance. He rolled his shoulders back a bit to stretch, the cold having made his muscles stiff.
"Morgan." Jack replied. "Jack Morgan. You can just call me Jack, I don't mind." He said with a small smile. I really don't mind when attractive people use my name. He thought to himself, biting his lower lip slightly.
“Well, then,” he smiled, “You can just call me Lincoln, as well. Or if we really want to be personal, Link is good too,” he chuckled, looking back forward to make sure he didn’t slip off the dock and into the water, hah, that would be embarrassing. He snickered at the thought. What would Jack do? Would he jump in with him? Nah…
Jack nodded. "Alright." He said, adjusting his coat again. He glanced over at the docks. The water would be cold tonight, that was for sure. Would get hypothermia rather quickly, no doubt.
After a short walk, he eventually made it to his warehouse door. He used the key to unlock the heavy-bolt door and stepped inside out of the way to let his guest in, holding the door open for him. “Do you need anything?” He asked, “Anything to eat? Nightclothes?”
Jack hesitated. "Well…some nightclothes might be nice, please." He said, fiddling with Tip in his pocket for a moment, then pulled his hands from his pocket, and took off his hat, holding it.
“Of course,” Lincoln lit the lamps to illuminate the room around them. He shed his coat and hung it on the coat hanger beside the door, “I’ll be right back,” he grinned and dipped his head.
Blackwell leapt out from Lincoln’s coat just before he took it fully off and ran to his dark corner of the room.
