The Alchemist ✰〘 Varian One-Shots 〙

✰25.2 Corona City

The walk to the hospital was painful. We stopped every few minutes to admire something completely normal. Billboards, fire hydrants, trash cans. You name it, this guy was mesmerized by it. Corona's hospital was only a few blocks away, but it still took us almost an hour to get there. We neared the pristine white walls of the towering building, and I stopped to look where the emergency room entrance was. 

"Alright, there's where you need to go. The staff will help you out." I gestured to the large glass doors, with medical personnel rushing around inside. 

"This is a hospital?" the guy looked at me, then back to the impressive infrastructure. 

"Yes, go in there and tell them your name and then what's wrong with you." I explained carefully. 

"Why?" 

"Because you need help."

"I don't need help."

"Yes, you do."

"I told you, I'm from the past. I'm not sick." 

"You're not from the past." 

"I am."

I opened my mouth, struggling to debate with this loon. Eventually, I shook my head and gave up on all hope of finishing my assignments tonight. 

"I'll go in with you if that helps." I offered, rubbing the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. "Please, if there's nothing wrong with you; they'll let you go with no trouble." I forced a smile, trying to convince this poor fella to get the medical attention he required. His dark brows furrowed and he let a quiet sigh escape his lips. 

"Alright, I'll go in." I nodded at his response, relieved of his decision. Soon, he'll be the nurses' problem. 

"Good, now follow me." I walked towards the doors and pushed the handle open using my shoulder. I hated how heavy these hospital doors are, do you ever notice how tricky they are to open?

A blast of warm air hit my face as soon as I entered the doorway, and I turned back to make sure the weird fellow was following me inside. He slipped in behind me and stared at the door's structure in fascination. 

"Come on, we need to go to the desk." I tried to snap him out of his daydream, and he turned to me with a nod. We approached the main desk and the middle-aged receptionist peered at us from behind her pointed glasses. 

"Good evening, how may I help you?" her raspy voice spoke with little enthusiasm. 

"I think this guy is concussed." I explained quietly, pointing to the messy-haired dude who was currently examining a ball-point pen. "He thinks he's from the past." I whispered, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow. Then her attention turned to the raccoon who sat squarely on his shoulder.

"It's his therapy cat." I quickly lied, earning an unconvinced hum from the receptionist.

"Patient's name?" she inquired, and I nudged the apron wearing teen. He looked at me and then back to the older woman. 

"Varian Quirinson." he stated quickly. My breath stopped for a second, something about that name seemed familiar...

I shook off my surprise speedily as the receptionist typed loudly, her acrylic nails tapping furiously against the keys. 

"You're not on the record, you'll have to fill out the paperwork." the woman sighed, reaching into a filing cabinet and pulling out a bundle of various papers. I ran a hand across my face in annoyance and tried my best to internalize my groaning. She handed to me and I thanked her with a forced smile.

"Take the pen with you." I told 'Varian' as I turned on my heel and headed towards an empty row of plastic seats. I plonked my backpack beside the white chair and sat down with a sigh. A pair of footsteps followed, and then the seat beside me creaked. My tired eyes drifted to the ticking clock behind the main desk, quarter to one one in the morning.

A pen appeared in front of my face, and I turned my attention to the gloved hand that was offering it to me. I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion and took in a deep breath, my lungs filling with the smell of ethanol, cleaning chemicals and hints of vomit; hospitals, am I right?

"Okay, question one: date of birth." I took the pen and prepared to scribble down what he said.

"February 8th, 1779." he answered, as I scribbles down the first half.

"How old are you?" I asked, hoping to ignore his 1779 comment, and just doing the maths myself.

"17." Varian responded. Okay, so 2003.

"How do you spell your name?" I moved to the next question.

"V, a, r, i, a, n, Q, u, i, r, i-"

"Wait." I hushed him. Once I saw the name written, something else inside me told me I knew it from somewhere...

Before my thought process could get any further, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I scrambled to reach for it as it continued to vibrate. Finally pulling it out, I saw that a classmate was ringing me.

"Here, you try fill some of these out for a second." I passed the papers to Varian as he nodded silently. Then I slid the pick-up sign on my phone and held it to my ear.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Dude, you know that assignment we had, y'know for the monarchical and cultural studies?" my classmate said on the other line.

"Yeah, the one I haven't started yet." I recalled as a wave of regret rushed over me.

"I started it last week, and forgot to finish. But like all the work I did was wrong. I am so confused, y'know that old dude who like did all that science stuff? Ugh, I can't remember his name, hold on." she harped, as I heard her turn a bunch of pages.

"I was out for that lecture, I just read a bit about him in the textbook, oh man this essay is gonna be a pain to write..." I complained.

"Like, I was talking to Scott and he says it as well. We all remember the lecture saying he was around for, like, ages. But when we went back to the book, it says he disappeared at the age of 16 or something." she said, the sound of chill music playing softly in the background.

"I don't know, maybe Professor Walter just got it wro-"

"Oh, it's Varian, Varian Quoro- Quirinson." my heart stopped as I suddenly remembered where I knew the name. I turned to stare at the young teen who sat beside me, looking quizzically at the hospital paperwork.

"Gwen, I have to call you back." I breathed, ending the call suddenly. I scrambled to reach into my backpack, pulling out the huge history of Corona textbook I had been lugging around. Flicking swiftly through the pages, I tried to find the chapter I needed. Royal guards, Royal che- Bingo!

"Royal Engineer and Alchemist..." I whispered to myself, scanning the page. 'Varian served the Kingdom of Corona after a young Queen Rapunzel formed a close friendship with the 14 year-old. His years of inventing and advancing the Kingdom's technology was limited, due to his untimely disappearance and presumed death at the age of 17.' the page read, and I  shook my head in shock.

"Nonono, he was an old man! I remember it so clearly!" I ran a hand through my (h/c) hair in frustration. The painting had disappeared. When I read this chapter, there was a painting of an old man with a single unusual streak of blue in his silvery hai-

"Who was?" the teenager chimed, throwing me a look of concern. That's when I saw it.

The blue hair streak...

-----------

Ooooooh time is rewriting itself!! Does (Y/n) realise who he is now? Will they figure out a plan? Who knows, I don't know, I'm just making it up as I go along 🐒

Thank you so much for reading!!! I'll probably write a single one-shot next. Something light and floofy. Let me know what you'd want to read! ✨✨✨