The afternoon sun is hot on Cameron's shoulders as he makes his way down the beach from the boathouse. He's been putting in a little time every day on bringing those skiffs he found up to his standards. When he's honest with himself, he knows he could have had them seaworthy long ago - they weren't too badly off when he found them, just disused - but the work seems to matter more when he has no one to take them out with.
His eyes are near closed from the glare of the sun, and he's starting to wish he'd thought to find some sunglasses or something when he catches a flash of crimson ahead. It takes a split second glance before he's off and running, knowing what his mind hasn't had time to process yet. There's no pausing for doubt, there's no doubt period. "Ty!"
Tyler's still adjusting to the glare of the sun overhead, something of a drastic shift given the dimmer lighting in the club's lounge, and he doesn't have his sunglasses to shield his eyes, either. He'd checked only moments prior, patting the lapels of his jacket only to come up empty-handed, save for his wallet and cell, the former of which doesn't help him here and the latter seemingly useless when he takes it out to check the signal.
There's a blur of movement in his periphery and he looks up, squinting, giving his eyes a moment, but when his vision clears, there's no question of who it could be long before he hears his name in Cam's voice, and he starts heading towards him at a slightly more relaxed pace, hands shifting into the pockets of his khakis. "Do me a favor and tell me I didn't pass out back there," he says, by way of greeting. "What the hell was that?"
It's more of a relief to see him than Cameron will ever say. Though they've been apart before, it's never been like this, months without hearing from his brother. It's not like he was inconsolable over Ty's absence or anything, but he can't pretend he hasn't felt like something's been missing either.
The outfit's familiar, seeing as how Cameron has one of his own back in the hut, but doesn't tell him much of anything but what his brother was doing before his arrival. Clapping a hand on Ty's arm, he shakes his head. "I wish I knew," he says, "but you haven't passed out. It's... a bit more complicated than that."
The expression on Cam's face is more than a little unsettling; he's seen it enough times in the course of their lifetime to identify it by now as relief, and though he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel similarly at this juncture, his brother's level of excitement doesn't really add up with only having seen each other a few minutes ago.
It's safe to say he's confused, but he won't let on much beyond a small frown, scrutinizing the current state of Cam's wardrobe. "When did you have time to change? Anyone sees you out of that jacket and you'll be beyond even my power to save your ass," he adds, mouth dipping into a half-smirk.
"Please, like I need your help," Cameron answers easily. Even now, it's easy just to fall back into the rhythm of who they are and forget the details. But then, Cameron's mind isn't made to let those things go so easily. He shakes his head and shrugs. "I found a lot of time to change over the course of four months. You're running late. I'm a third of a year in some kind of bizarro island paradise ahead of you."
It's less than tactful and hardly an explanation, but he has to start by introducing the idea, at least, and however his tone might sound, he knows Ty has no reason not to believe him, even if it's somewhat unbelievable. After all, it can't have been more than a handful of minutes since his brother saw him last, so it sounds insane, but it's plainly the truth.
"We both know the truth," Tyler absently responds, letting his gaze scan the beach in either direction, the shore on all sides. He knows his brother would have no reason to lie outright, and there's a voice nagging in the back of his brain that's warning him to be mindful of what Cam is saying.
"Jesus," he breathes, looking down. There's sand going into his boaters, sun beating down on the back of his neck and he's starting to sweat in the crimson jacket, feeling more restless by the second. "Four months is a long time," he finishes, lifting his gaze. "Gonna have to get you back into rowing shape."
Cameron waits the brief while it takes for Ty to let that sink in, then huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Please," he says, and flat or not, it's in earnest. "There's a cardio class that's been kicking my ass, the teacher is not kidding around, but it's..." He shrugs. It's nowhere near the same thing as what they need to keep in shape for their sport, and he's missed it like crazy. "Got a couple good skiffs, though. Just need someone to row with me."
They'll want other people to row against later, but for now, honestly, there's no one else he wants in the boat with him. There's a hum in him now, a feeling he knows means something good; for the first time in months, things are clicking into place. He's been waiting to go home, but Ty being here is the next best thing. "Come on, I'll show you around."
"You haven't tried to replace me, have you?" Tyler asks, pretending to take offense to what Cam could possibly be implying, and crew takes several different muscles than strength training would, which is why they'd always supplemented the one with the other, but lacking in any area - well, he imagines it won't take his brother long to fall back into the pattern of things, just long enough to re-acclimate.
There's no denying the advantage they have in the boat, which makes them a formidable opponent on any given day, even against their own teammates, and there seems to be a unity they find out on the water that easily translates to everything else they do together: classes, parties, meetings, or anything else that includes both of their names on the guest list. "What's the last thing you can remember before being here?"
"I think I'm supposed to ask you that," Cameron says, although it's not like this is something he's had to do before. "Henley." His expression clouds over the moment he's said the word. He's had months to grapple with what happened, the choices he made, Zuckerberg's presence here, but right now, facing Tyler and the possibility that's something his brother either just lived through or, perhaps, has yet to have seen and he'll have to explain, the emotions flare back up again. He screwed up back there. He may have accepted Zuckerberg's apology for the lack of professionalism, but he knows still that he should have moved forward long before he did. The further he gets from his arrival and his own self-recusal, the more he feels the explanation wasn't enough and he's just made a fool of himself again.
"And do you remember what you said?" Tyler counters. Henley was only a few moments ago for him, but his brother's apparently had much more time to reflect on the history of events, and the second he shows up, Cam's face is an eerie mirror image of the way it'd had looked, the expression Tyler hadn't even needed to see for himself to see the defeat in it. There's frustration in it too, neither directed toward Tyler nor the situation itself, but what he knows is instead Cam feeling as though he failed in a lack of action when everyone else was ready to move forward with the suit.
"You agreed. We agreed that this was the right move to make, and I don't care that it took us weeks to do it - hell, Cam, I wouldn't have cared if it took years. Point is, it's exactly what we were getting ready to do when I showed up - make Zuckerberg realize he couldn't run with a stolen idea and expect us to sit back and do nothing about it."
"I turned around to agree and I was here," Cameron says, voice spiking in frustration, aimed wholly at himself and the situation. "It shouldn't have taken me weeks, it - years?" He shakes his head, mouth twisting tightly as he attempts to tamp down on all that unhappiness with himself. It's no good to show it, to wear it so plainly for anyone who might walk by to see. And Ty, he knows it's there anyway, but that's never kept Cameron from trying to spare him.
He sighs heavily. This isn't something he wants to address or, honestly, even remember, but while they're on the topic, it's something he needs to take care of sooner rather than later. "Zuckerberg's here. This place, this island - there are people here from all over, different places, different times. And one of them is him."
Tyler's already lifting his hands, palms on display as he shakes his head. "You did agree, Cam, and fine, maybe I didn't mean years, but - " He cuts himself off before he can say the rest of it; his brother doesn't need to hear the words to know exactly what he's going to say, trying to ensure that there's no sense in continuing to self-flagellate when the plan has already been set in motion.
"So, what, he's here, he's just from some bizarro alternate universe where he didn't screw us over? What difference would that make?"
It isn't as if it would matter if Ty told him to cut the self-reprimand short. Cameron will set it aside eventually, knowing that continuing to stand around blaming himself will only contribute to his slowing them down now, because, in the end, self-pity is a luxury and one which cuts into potential. For the moment, though, reassurances aren't going to do much.
"I didn't say it would make a difference," he says, a little calmer this time. "And no, not another world. From the future." Even now, he has trouble making it sound like something he believes, though he does. It's too fantastical, is all. "Four years in the future, to be exact, after he's settled the suit for several million. I didn't say it would make a difference, I just thought you should know."
"You've got to be kidding me." It's a mild exasperation uttered low and under his breath, as he shifts his feet, feeling the grind of sand inside his shoes, rubbing irritation against the soles, and he's not even sure how to reconcile what Cam's telling him at first, trying to weigh it over everything he's just agreed to - hell, everything they decided on only a matter of hours ago. And now Zuckerberg, this Mark Zuckerberg, wherever he is on the island at this point, seems to have showed up just in time to share they've settled, apparently, in the four years it took for this suit to finally be put to bed.
"And you believe what he told you?" Tyler asks, the idea suddenly occurring. "How do we know for sure that we can trust anything he says? Look, I realize you've probably spent the last four months willing to put all of this beyond you, but the guy isn't exactly renowned for honesty here."
"You don't think I haven't thought of that?" Cameron asks. "I don't know what I believe. It seems possible." The downside of that is, it's proof the company is now worth considerably more than several million for Zuckerberg to simply write that off to keep them quiet. "And even if it's not true, there isn't anything we can do about it now.
"They call it Tabula Rasa. And every citizen is entitled to a fresh start," he adds darkly. In theory, it's a pleasant idea, but he thinks it twists the essence of Locke grotesquely. They don't get to start with a blank slate here; that which is done is done, it doesn't disappear or get forgotten because of a mad twist of fate. Besides which, in practice, it has the potential to be incredibly dangerous. "Even if there were a legal system, we wouldn't have the evidence with which to sue and there's no economy, so the case would be settled in seashells and palm leaves."
There's a beat when he seriously considers just walking away for a second - to collect his thoughts, to deal with the frustration that swells up inside him at the realization that this is nothing they can physically deal with here, in this place, even if they'd only just agreed to pursue that course of action less than an hour prior. Meanwhile, Mark is here too, though maybe he's suffering just as much at the separation. It doesn't take a financial genius to know he must have been doing fairly well for himself to be willing to arrive at the terms of a settlement, but that doesn't make Tyler feel any better in the process of considering it all.
"Great, so now we're, what, supposed to sit around and wax philosophical about all of this?" he mutters, unable to stop thinking about the irony in all of this, the fact that they're all here together now. "Not exactly my thing."
His eyes are near closed from the glare of the sun, and he's starting to wish he'd thought to find some sunglasses or something when he catches a flash of crimson ahead. It takes a split second glance before he's off and running, knowing what his mind hasn't had time to process yet. There's no pausing for doubt, there's no doubt period. "Ty!"
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There's a blur of movement in his periphery and he looks up, squinting, giving his eyes a moment, but when his vision clears, there's no question of who it could be long before he hears his name in Cam's voice, and he starts heading towards him at a slightly more relaxed pace, hands shifting into the pockets of his khakis. "Do me a favor and tell me I didn't pass out back there," he says, by way of greeting. "What the hell was that?"
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The outfit's familiar, seeing as how Cameron has one of his own back in the hut, but doesn't tell him much of anything but what his brother was doing before his arrival. Clapping a hand on Ty's arm, he shakes his head. "I wish I knew," he says, "but you haven't passed out. It's... a bit more complicated than that."
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It's safe to say he's confused, but he won't let on much beyond a small frown, scrutinizing the current state of Cam's wardrobe. "When did you have time to change? Anyone sees you out of that jacket and you'll be beyond even my power to save your ass," he adds, mouth dipping into a half-smirk.
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It's less than tactful and hardly an explanation, but he has to start by introducing the idea, at least, and however his tone might sound, he knows Ty has no reason not to believe him, even if it's somewhat unbelievable. After all, it can't have been more than a handful of minutes since his brother saw him last, so it sounds insane, but it's plainly the truth.
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"Jesus," he breathes, looking down. There's sand going into his boaters, sun beating down on the back of his neck and he's starting to sweat in the crimson jacket, feeling more restless by the second. "Four months is a long time," he finishes, lifting his gaze. "Gonna have to get you back into rowing shape."
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They'll want other people to row against later, but for now, honestly, there's no one else he wants in the boat with him. There's a hum in him now, a feeling he knows means something good; for the first time in months, things are clicking into place. He's been waiting to go home, but Ty being here is the next best thing. "Come on, I'll show you around."
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There's no denying the advantage they have in the boat, which makes them a formidable opponent on any given day, even against their own teammates, and there seems to be a unity they find out on the water that easily translates to everything else they do together: classes, parties, meetings, or anything else that includes both of their names on the guest list. "What's the last thing you can remember before being here?"
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"The race video was already on Facebook."
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"You agreed. We agreed that this was the right move to make, and I don't care that it took us weeks to do it - hell, Cam, I wouldn't have cared if it took years. Point is, it's exactly what we were getting ready to do when I showed up - make Zuckerberg realize he couldn't run with a stolen idea and expect us to sit back and do nothing about it."
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He sighs heavily. This isn't something he wants to address or, honestly, even remember, but while they're on the topic, it's something he needs to take care of sooner rather than later. "Zuckerberg's here. This place, this island - there are people here from all over, different places, different times. And one of them is him."
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"So, what, he's here, he's just from some bizarro alternate universe where he didn't screw us over? What difference would that make?"
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"I didn't say it would make a difference," he says, a little calmer this time. "And no, not another world. From the future." Even now, he has trouble making it sound like something he believes, though he does. It's too fantastical, is all. "Four years in the future, to be exact, after he's settled the suit for several million. I didn't say it would make a difference, I just thought you should know."
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"And you believe what he told you?" Tyler asks, the idea suddenly occurring. "How do we know for sure that we can trust anything he says? Look, I realize you've probably spent the last four months willing to put all of this beyond you, but the guy isn't exactly renowned for honesty here."
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"They call it Tabula Rasa. And every citizen is entitled to a fresh start," he adds darkly. In theory, it's a pleasant idea, but he thinks it twists the essence of Locke grotesquely. They don't get to start with a blank slate here; that which is done is done, it doesn't disappear or get forgotten because of a mad twist of fate. Besides which, in practice, it has the potential to be incredibly dangerous. "Even if there were a legal system, we wouldn't have the evidence with which to sue and there's no economy, so the case would be settled in seashells and palm leaves."
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"Great, so now we're, what, supposed to sit around and wax philosophical about all of this?" he mutters, unable to stop thinking about the irony in all of this, the fact that they're all here together now. "Not exactly my thing."
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