Counterclockwise

It is the last day, soon before the end of days.

All I have to say is that despite everything, I have intense regret that I cannot save them. I know that Lee is the cause. I know he must die. I will not attempt to change that.

I just regret that I cannot.

Simon's not quite sure why he writes such candid confessions that are intended to be read by his superiors seventy years on. Something about the anachronism of it all makes it okay; it'll only be read when he's dead, after all. When he falls in the Rift or kills himself afterwards. It won't get read if he somehow makes it back- then, he can cough and hide the notes and tell only the facts about Lee's power. People can know he fell in love if he won't be there to look them in the eyes and admit it.

He's spoken to Lee, but it's all been shadowed by the knowledge that they're waiting. They haven't gone on any dates to the past. Their conversations are filled with lingering glances that they hold too long. They'll stare at each other as people talk around them, unable or unwilling to really pay attention to what Miss Mina or Connie or Noel is saying.

Simon misses him terribly, and a part of him is already grieving.

That was all the past ten days, before he woke up this morning, in the dark liminal space before the sun. He won't wake up tomorrow. He doesn't expect to escape the Rift anymore.

He tries to work through thoughts that are unworkable. He runs through this London, this unscarred London that will only remain so for less than twenty hours. He can't stop staring at the landmarks that will eventually disappear into the Rift, as carbon dioxide burns his lungs, nearly running into people who are oblivious.

It's not known just what time the Rift opened that day. People like Connie, survivors of 10 Downing Street, didn't know who to tell, how to get help, and by the time it was reported to police early the next morning, the exact time was uncertain. Evening sometime. Going off the official estimate, it's 7am right now, and that leaves twelve hours. Twelve hours until the end of the world.

Until Simon jumps into the Rift after Lee.

Simon sprints the last little stretch, including up the stairs back to his room; he needs to get the energy out, needs to take something out of his body, but it's still there, the restlessness inside his blood, when he reaches the door. His heart is pounding and his limbs are burning but the thing that's eating him up inside is still present. It's a shame, how emotions can feel so physical, and yet nothing physical can fix them.

He opens the door and stands, stock-still, as he realises his room is not empty.

At first glance, he does think it's Lee. Not because Noel looks anything like Lee, but because Lee is who Simon wants to see. The sight of Noel just fills him with even more sadness, knowing that regardless of whatever happens tomorrow, he's going to spend his entire life in prison- and that thought stops Simon from even asking what the fuck Noel is doing in his room.

Noel's sitting at the motel room's desk, arms crossed, and waits in silence for Simon to ask the question.

"What the fuck, man?" Simon finally manages to get out of his mouth. He is bubbling up with fear, anger, sadness; anything Noel is making him feel by being here just gets added to an infinitely increasing weight that crushes him.

Noel's nervousness is given away by the bouncing of his leg, although he looks angry more than anything else. "I want to talk to you."

"How the fuck did you break in here?" Simon processes things one at a time. "Why couldn't we have this conversation at Downing Street?"