Welcome to the Universe

Chapter 3

Fuck, his head hurts like a bitch. The distant clanging of pots and pans - probably the maids starting up breakfast - and the noisy twittering of forest life doesn't help much either. He must've left the windows open last night. He presses the heels of his hands into his aching eyes pushes himself up.

He's in a tent. Albeit it's a nice tent, with a heavy red canopy and mahogany furnishings and colorful rugs, but...why the fuck is he in a tent?

A circle of chanting people. 

Merry-go-round stars and flashing galaxies, his mother's care-worn face. Thin, strong arms encircling, loving-

Finn remembers and the vertigo doesn't stop. Bile shoots up his esophagus and he hurriedly covers his mouth with both hands. It feels like his head will explode. He doesn't hear someone come into the tent; he wants to throw up.

"Don't throw up," says an annoyed voice. "If I have to scrub your vomit from these rugs, I'll fucking kill you." The asshole rummages around the tent, procures a plastic Walmart bag from a wooden crate, and proceeds to shove the bag in Finn's face. He then hooks the handles on Finn's ears. "Now we're safe. Knock yourself out, dude." At this point, Finn is so annoyed that he forgets about throwing up altogether. He gingerly lowers his hands from his mouth and looks up, plastic bag still hanging from his face.

A guy with messy white-blond hair fixes him with an unimpressed stare. Finn's cheeks heat up and he yanks the thing off. 

"Wasn't gonna until you showed up," he snarks, red-faced. Guy Fieri snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Cute. Comeback Montessori is so proud of its notable alumnus Finn Barnes." Finn crumples the Walmart bag aggressively and convinces himself that it's his noble nature that prevents him from responding.

"Whatever, dude. Where am I anyway? What happened with the whole satanic sacrifice thing? Who even are you?"

"I'll answer the most important question first," Blondie smirks. "I'm Mer, your caretaker slash guide for however long it takes you to get used to life in the community. You," he points at Finn, "are now a member of the Janus Cult, an international secret society dedicated to the God of Time. The 'satanic sacrifice thing'," he airquotes, "was the initiation ceremony. You'll probably never see your family again and we're camping in Ecola State Park, Oregon. Any more questions?" Mer somehow looks bored and self-satisfied at the same time. It's a punchable expression. 

Finn reigns his impulses in and contemplates the new information. So he's been kidnapped by a weird time-god-worshipping cult instead of a satanic one, and he doesn't have to go back to his dad's empty hellhole of his mansion. He supposes that he should be thankful for small mercies. 

Janus, the two-faced Roman god of time. The god of beginnings and transitions and of doors and gates and endings. He's sure that there's a lot more AP English symbolism bullshit going on, but does it really warrant international involvement? Secret societies? Did he just get inducted some kind of mythological Illuminati? Is he required to attend Adult Camp Half Blood from now on? Is his dad some kind of god? (He fucking hopes not.)

But that dream was so...he wants it to be real. If there's one thing he wants from this whole weird mess, it's for that vision to be real. 

"What was that dream?" He finally asks. "Was it...real?"

The smarmy expression slides off Mer's face and Finn sees him for the first time - beneath the sarcastic bravado and grating smirks. The blond, probably not much older than Finn, squeezes his arm.

"It's real, dude. It's the gift of the ceremony. Everyone is given time with the one thing or person that they need most; it's...kind of why I'm here. A lot of people can't separate their dreams from reality after their initiation and get stuck in limbo. Kind of like in Inception."

His mother, the one who held him as galaxies swirled and nebulas plumed and birthed stars, was real. Whatever mojo the time-cult used - she was real. Finn smiles inwardly. He feels something warm kindle in his chest.

Mer smirks - Finn can't help but feel relieved (the dude being nice is just kind of worrisome), and ruffles his hair - at which Finn's relief turns into irritation. "Good thing you have such a thick head. Makes you pretty well-grounded."

"Fuck off, Blondie," Finn grouses with no heat. 

"Blondie? How original," Mer laughs. His grey eyes are oddly piercing as he grins over his shoulder, "I think you got enough beauty rest. I'll show you around camp." He lifts a heavy tent flap and as light and sounds stream in, Finn feels himself grinning too.

"Alright, dude."