now you're all gone, got your makeup on, and you're not coming back

Things have been slow since the musical ended, which isn't much of a change from the norm except that, for a little while, Jenny had been busy, with something to actually be working on. Now, though, it's business as usual, which means afternoons without plans, what could have been refreshing at first but, she knows, is quickly going to grow boring. Most of the time, it isn't that she dislikes this place. There are good people here, and she's been spending more and more time with Cameron since his brother disappeared, who would easily be the island's saving grace if she had to pick one. It's just that, when everything isn't absolutely mad, it's just as dull as Twickenham was, and without even the potential to go elsewhere. Back home, there was always something nearby. Here, it's just day in, day out of the same thing.

What it does have, though, is considerably better weather. In the year that's passed since she was pulled from home, Jenny has gradually gotten used to the way fashion has changed since her own time, and begun to shift her own wardrobe accordingly. Besides, it isn't like she's especially modest, as proved by her recent theatrical pursuits. Now, as she's done many times in the past, she's gone out to the beach, stretched out on a towel in a bathing suit, a light sweater and a pair of shorts in the bag beside her for when she decides to head back. Under the warm sun, in a place that's relatively quiet, it's easy to all but drift off, lulled into relaxation by the rhythmic crashing of the waves.

Half-out of it, she doesn't know how long has passed when she finally realizes that something is different. The sun beating down is just as warm, the smell of salt carried in the air all but identical, the beach just as quiet. There's something off, though, in the way the light shifts with the coming evening, and when she sits up, glancing behind her to where there ought to be trees, she's greeted to a sight completely different, a boardwalk and buildings off in the distance. It isn't right. She's seen the island change before, or at least woken up to it looking completely different, but this doesn't seem like that at all. It's utterly unnerving, panic seizing her all at once, making her throat constrict.

Reaching into her bag for the clothes she has with her, she shrugs the sweater on and wriggles into the shorts, as disturbed by what else she finds there as she is by the rest of it. She'd brought a book, but with it now is her copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that appeared just a few days ago, and an envelope that looks weighty. Ignoring it for the time being, she gets to her feet, dusting sand off herself and leaving her towel behind, heading in the direction of the first stranger she sees. "Excuse me," she calls, bag slung over her shoulder, "but I think I may have gotten lost. Do you think you could tell me where I am?"

The man looks at her like she might be crazy, and Jenny isn't entirely sure he's wrong. "Darrow," he says, the word unfamiliar to her, which must show on her face for the way he continues. "God, don't tell me you're one of those people who just appeared here. It's so creepy."

"I —" she starts, cutting herself off and trying not to let herself blush. There's no reason why he ought to be so unkind about it. "I am, actually. And, you know, you aren't being very helpful."

She turns on her heel, preparing to walk off and find assistance elsewhere, but pauses when he calls after her. "There should be a packet of information for you," he says, his tone itself making clear that he's probably rolling his eyes. "At the train station, if not anywhere else."

That, she reasons, must be what's in her bag, but she doesn't say so. She doesn't thank him, either. He's given her a name and an answer, but otherwise hasn't actually done her any good, and there's clearly a lot she has to catch up on. If there's one thing she can be sure of, it's that she isn't where she was when she woke up this morning.

(no subject)

Jenny still can't quite make sense of it. Though it's been a couple of hours since she showed up, one beach replaced with another before she could even realize it, and though she's had it explained to her more than once where she is and what must have happened, it's more than she can wrap her head around yet. As far as she was aware, it was just one thing or another, the island or home, and she wasn't exactly hoping to leave any time soon. Things were looking up, a lot more so than they would have been were she back in Twickenham. One chance to start over away from the mess she made of everything, she'd been glad for, but a second, she doesn't need at all. It's hard not to be a little bitter about that, having been taken away from the life she made for herself, or it would be if she could process any of it at all. As it is, she thinks, it will take a while to really grasp that the place she lived for a year and all the people she knew there could be gone now, out of reach.

At least she hasn't been totally stranded, a slim bright spot that she's tried with little success to focus on. How an entire folder of things — including some strange wireless telephone — could have just shown up in the bag she had with her, she hasn't got a clue, but she's grateful for it even so, to know that she has a place to go and money to her name, when this seems to be so different from the island in that regard, it might even feel more normal, except that isn't really a word that seems to apply to any of this.

She takes advantage of it anyway. Having shown up with little more than a bathing suit, she takes the strange bills she found and buys herself a change of clothes, managing to be at least a little glad that she doesn't have to rifle through some awful box for them. It's only once she's done so, and gotten herself changed, that she finally makes her way towards the address printed on the little card.

In a way, she thinks she's been deliberately putting it off. Going there is like giving in, accepting that this is where she's going to be stuck now, not a trace of her former life with her aside from what she carries in her bag. She doesn't want that to be the case. She wants to be back with her friends, with Cameron; she could much more easily overlook the other losses if only he were here with her. She's not quite sure what to do with the fact that he isn't except try not to think about it, something easier said than done. She's spent nearly every night with him since his brother disappeared. Now, she'll be the next one who's gone, and she'll be sleeping alone.

The thought of it makes her stomach twist into knots as she heads into the building, taking the elevator to the designated floor. Only once she's there, glancing at the numbers until she finds her own, does she start fishing through her bag for the key, which is what keeps her from noticing someone else's approach, and the very reason why she's so surprised when she glances up to see a familiar face, wondering for a moment if it's too good to be true.

"Hello," she says, as calmly as she can, though there's no denying the hope in her voice or the faint smile curving her lips. She's breathless, heart lodged up in her throat, and it's all she can do to keep her cool, but she has to, tempting as it might be to just throw herself at him. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."