Several hours had passed, long enough for Capa to be taken to the clinic, long enough for him to find a place to stash the suit, hoping no one would tamper with it while he was gone. It wasn't the suit itself he cared about, only that it would be in good condition when he found the right equation to get off the island
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"No, I'm sorry," he said, stepping back and holding the door open for her to come inside. The stitches pulled tight and he pressed his other hand to his chest, hoping none of them had torn. "I was just looking for something."
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Even as he wished for it, he knew it wasn't true. It would never be possible. The ship and his bomb and everyone on board were gone. "A space ship," he said, then stepped back and let the door close behind him. "But she's not there."
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He is halfway to asking him to please shut the door when he pauses after catching sight of the man's expression. He clears his throat and says, amicably, "Hello. You look a bit lost." 1900 knows that look entirely too well.
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But it was enough. He had the facts. Island, usually tropical, unable to leave.
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"And that's probably not very interesting. Did you just get here?"
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Saying I fell from the sun seemed rather dramatic and so he didn't say it. Instead, he just said, "I hit the ground outside in the snow."
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"You seem to have picked an ill time to go for a walk," Adrian noted.
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"Did I see you earlier?" he asked a moment later, having studied the other man. "I just arrived, but I feel like I saw you when I was still..." He trailed off and gestured at himself, trying to mime wearing the suit.
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"Preserves," he repeated. "You think this is going to last long?"
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She parked as close as she could get, dragging a tarp over the ATV before stomping off towards the building. The tarp probably wasn't going to help, but the vehicle was military-grade and probably wouldn't rust through once the snow melted.
If the snow melted.
Alice pulled her headscarf off as she approached the steps. The fabric was nearly frozen through, and she swore under her breath when it crackled and dripped ice down her neck. Then she looked up.
The man standing at the door probably wasn't the absolute last person she expected to see, but he was pretty fucking close.
"Jim?" She stopped and stared.
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When she didn't move, he frowned and looked over at her. She'd said a name, but he shook his head, because it wasn't his. "Capa," he corrected, still standing on the front step in the snow, his shoes and socks growing wet.
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"Sorry," she croaked. "You look like someone I used to know." Jesus, the spitting image.
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"I'm sorry," he said and the apology was genuine. He must have looked an awful lot like this Jim, but if Capa couldn't dismiss the idea that he'd fallen to another world, he couldn't dismiss the idea that he looked that much like another person. "Robert Capa," he added, still standing aside, holding the door open for her.
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"You should at least get into something warmer, you know," she commented, though not chidingly. Her arms folded against her chest in a vain attempt to keep herself warm, too. The weather was getting worse instead of better.
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The woman had stitched him up, after all, the last thing he wanted to do was give her a cold by accident just because he'd been too busy searching for Icarus.
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Admittedly, she was grateful that he'd closed the door. Even wearing a layer or two, it was still pretty cold.
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Smiling wryly, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pushed his hair back off his face. "I was trying to push a bomb into the sun because the world I came from was in the middle of a solar winter."
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