Chapter Text
June 2021
Ranboo can’t believe it’s finally happening. He’s on his way to the UK! He’ll finally be able to meet Tubbo (and Tommy and everyone else)! He’s still a bit surprised that he was even able to think about this trip, what with the foster care system occasionally being an absolute nightmare. But he graduated high school and he’s almost eighteen. And it isn’t like he was being fostered by a family or anything. No, he’s spent the last two years in a group home.
(Okay he’s honestly surprised he was even able to start streaming, but that’s a whole other story.)
Now, here he is. He’s actually on his way to the UK. His flight is supposed to land in just under an hour. Tubbo will be waiting at the airport in London to pick him up and take him home. Ranboo is… Ranboo is so excited. Maybe a little too excited. He meant to sleep during the flight, but he’s only managed to get in an hour or two of rest.
With that in mind, he resolves to sleep for at least some of the rest of the flight. Only, just as he’s falling asleep, the plane jolts. Ranboo’s eyes fly open and he looks around frantically. There’s another jolt, then lots of rumbling.
“Everybody, please stay seated and fasten your seatbelts,” he hears one of the flight attendants say. ‘Everybody’ is not many people - the flight is at low capacity due to the pandemic - but still, someone stumbles down the aisle and lands in the seat across from Ranboo’s. It’s not their seat, since Ranboo doesn’t remember anybody being there when they took off, but considering how shaky the airplane is right now, Ranboo wouldn’t want to walk down the aisle longer than he had to, either.
“Hey,” the person says. She seems to be about his age, maybe older. “Crazy weather we’re having, huh?”
Ranboo laughs. “Yeah,” outside, lightning shoots through the clouds. “Crazy.”
And then the shaking gets so bad that the lights start flickering and luggage falls from the overhead bins and Ranboo decides to keep his eyes ahead and hold onto the armrests for dear life.
As quickly as it began, the shaking stops. It’s so abrupt that Ranboo wonders if maybe it was all just in his head. Except the girl is still in the seat across from him, looking equally unsettled.
“We apologize for that, everybody,” the pilot comes through on the intercom. “We hit an unexpected patch of turbulence due to the weather that wasn’t on our radar.”
“Well,” the girl says, unfastening her seatbelt, “that was… shitty.” She stands and gives Ranboo a small nod, which he returns. With a little wave, she walks away.
Ranboo sighs. There’s no way he’s getting any more sleep after that. He decides instead to put in his earbuds and listen to some music. Pulling up his travel playlist on spotify, he hits shuffle and leans back into his seat. There’s less than an hour left until he’ll be able to see Tubbo in person for the first time. He smiles at the thought.
For some reason, their flight gets redirected to a smaller airport just outside of London (further south than London itself). To make matters worse, Ranboo’s plan to let Tubbo know what’s going on by texting him when they land goes right out the window when he discovers that, for some reason, his phone doesn’t have service. He definitely remembers setting up a cellular plan that would allow his American number to work in the UK, so he isn’t sure why it’s not working.
His day goes from ‘eh, this is happening I guess’ to ‘what in god’s name is happening right now?’ when he notices the cop cars and ambulances outside the plane. Did something happen during the flight that Ranboo isn’t aware of?
Ranboo and his fellow passengers - he’s glad to see that they’re just as confused as he is - are made to disembark the plane straight onto the tarmac. They’re all gathered into a small group. The pilot and co-pilot are off to the side. They seem to be arguing with a police officer and some important-looking guy in a suit.
The important-suit-man breaks away from the argument and approaches the group of passengers. Ranboo hopes that it’s to tell them that they’re free to go. The man introduces himself as Rodney Gregson. He apparently works for M-something or other. Ranboo figures that’s like, the British version of the FBI or something like that.
“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s going on,” Gregson says. “Frankly, so am I. As of right now, here’s what we know. You all boarded this flight in June of the year 2021. It is now, currently, July-” huh? “-of the year 2024.”
July 2024
Ranboo isn’t certain that he’s breathing properly. It feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He really doesn’t care all that much, to be honest. There’s only one thing going through his mind. Over and over and over again:
What. the. fuck.
June 2021
Tubbo can’t wait to see Ranboo! He’s finally going to meet one of his best friends in person! After months of waiting! They’ve been talking about this trip forever. Making plans for streams and videos, sure, but also just for themselves. They’re going to spend months together! Every day and every night. It’s going to be amazing.
First, Ranboo’s plane has to land. Tubbo is waiting in the airport with his mother. They’ve been standing outside of the arrivals gate for the past half hour and Tubbo is starting to get antsy. Shouldn’t Ranboo be out by now? His plane was supposed to have landed twenty minutes ago. Does waiting at the baggage claim really take this long?
“I’m sure he’ll be out any minute now,” Tubbo’s mother reassures him. Or, she tries to. She looks a bit worried too, which really isn’t helping Tubbo’s growing concern. He bites his lip, frowning, and goes back to watching the doors.
A few minutes later, an official-looking man emerges from the arrivals gate, followed by two members of airport security. “Hello,” the man says. “Anybody who is waiting for passengers from flight 922, service from San Francisco, please follow me.”
“What? How come?” A woman asks, sounding scared. She’s about Tubbo’s mother’s age, wearing a thick coat - strange, considering it’s summer - and speaking with an American accent.
“We will explain in just a moment, ma’am,” the airport official responds politely. “If you would come with us, please.”
The woman nods and follows the man. Tubbo meets eyes with his mother, who shrugs. They both begin walking after them. A few others who were waiting at the gate also follow closely behind. The two members of airport security flank them. They aren’t threatening, but rather protective. That worries Tubbo even more.
The man leads them to a large room. It looks like maybe it’s a conference room or something, with one big table surrounded by a dozen chairs in the middle. The man walks to the end of the room, standing at the head of the table. He doesn’t sit, so nobody else does either.
“We figured we would tell those of you who are here the news in person,” the man says. This is… not normal, is it? If this was good news, would they go through all the trouble of bringing them to this room? Probably not, Tubbo thinks.
“What news?” A scowling old man demands. “What is this?”
“Just under an hour ago, flight 922 disappeared from our radars. We have lost all communication with the flight. As of right now, the pilot, co-pilot, attendants, and all passengers of flight 922 have been declared missing.”
Tubbo feels his world fall apart. He doesn’t realize he’s collapsing until he feels his mother wrap her arms around him. Despite her support, he continues to go down, so she gently helps him to the ground instead of trying to make him stand.
Tubbo stays on the floor, held tightly in his mother’s arms, and sobs.
July 2024
Ranboo gets directed to a white tent that’s set up on the airfield tarmac. Inside, there are some cots set up on the ground. Bottled water and protein bars are carefully displayed across a foldable plastic table. They’re allowed to take their masks off once they get into the tent. Ranboo leaves his on.
A few of his fellow passengers head straight for the food. Others, like Ranboo himself, go for the water. He carefully plucks a bottle from the table and makes his way to one of the cots. Sitting on the edge of it, he pulls out his phone to see if it’ll work.
Only, if it really is 2024, it won’t. His plan will have been cancelled, probably years ago.
If he isn’t careful, this train of thought will lead him down a dark hole. He can already feel himself losing it. It’s apparently been three years since he boarded that flight.
But that can’t be possible. Ranboo hasn’t aged a day.
A cop enters the tent and makes everybody hand over their phones and carry-on bags. Their checked bags are already being investigated. Then he tells them that they’ll be calling everybody in by their seat number to be interviewed.
The thing is, Ranboo knows that this is too elaborate to be a prank. It would probably be illegal if it was a prank. Still, he holds out hope that that’s all this is. Just some dumb prank.
That the cops are in on.
And the UK government.
And the newspaper that another passenger hands over to Ranboo that lists the date. Yep, July 2024. The headline reads “Hurricane Leslie Devastates Florida, parts of Georgia.”
Ranboo doesn’t get called in for his interview until after he’s already finished his water bottle and one of the protein bars. He fixes his mask and follows the police officer out of the tent.
There’s a second tent set up for the interviews. Inside is a table. On one side of it sits a detective and Gregson. On the other side is an empty chair, clearly meant for Ranboo. Splitting the room down the middle (going right across the table, is a large sheet of plastic.
“Hello,” Gregson greets Ranboo by name. “You can take your mask off if you’d like. We’ll get a swab from you to have you tested for the Coronavirus once we’ve completed our interview.”
“Uh, not to sound rude, but if it really is 2024, wouldn’t you all have been vaccinated by now?”
“Yes, we are vaccinated,” Gregson explains. “The virus hasn’t been a problem for quite some time now. However, better safe than sorry, right?”
“Right,” Ranboo agrees, though still unsure. He sits down in the chair and removes his mask.
“Okay. We just have a few questions,” Gregson says. “But first, why don’t you start by telling us everything you remember about the flight. Give us every detail, even things you think are minor.”
So Ranboo launches into the story. He boarded. They took off. He tried to sleep. He read a few pages of a book before he started feeling motion sick. He ate some of the food that the flight attendants provided. He tried sleeping again and managed to get in a couple of hours. He sat and just thought for a good hour because of how excited he was. He tried to sleep again. They hit a really rough patch of turbulence. He listened to music. They landed.
“And that’s everything?” Gregson asks, sounding doubtful.
“Um, yeah?” Ranboo doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say. That’s everything that happened.
“Can you tell us about when you touched down?” the detective asks.
“What? I mean, you were all here, I guess? And was really confused about all the cop cars? And-”
“No, sorry,” the detective interrupts gruffly. “I meant, can you tell us about when you touched down in the middle of your flight? Where did you land? For how long?”
“I- what do you mean? We took off in California and landed here ten hours later.”
Gregson hums. “Yeah. Ten hours and three years later.”
“So this is actually happening, huh?” It’s the girl from the flight. The one who sat down beside him during the turbulence.
“I think so, yeah,” Ranboo replies. The girl drops down onto the cot opposite Ranboo.
“I’m Ashlyn, by the way.”
Ranboo introduces himself with his real name. “I still can’t really wrap my head around this,” he adds.
“Me neither,” Ashlyn sighs. “I mean, I’m definitely no older than I was when we took off. And that kid over there is definitely still a toddler. And yet…”
“It’s been three years.” Ranboo looks around at the other passengers. The toddler is, in fact, still a toddler. The old woman doesn’t have a single extra grey hair. There’s a family of five holding onto each other for dear life.
“My aunt was supposed to meet me at the airport,” Ashlyn says, eyes distant. “I was on that plane because she’s adopting me. Or she was? I don’t even know anymore.” She sighs. “What about you?”
“I was supposed to meet up with my friends,” Ranboo explains. “One of them was supposed to meet me at the airport, too.”
Oh god. Tubbo. He was supposed to get Ranboo from the airport three years ago. And Ranboo, apparently, never showed up.
He can’t imagine how Tubbo must have felt. How anybody must have felt. And what about all of Ranboo’s fans and followers?
And then it hits him. “Are we- are we dead?”
Ashlyn’s mouth drops open.
“Yes,” Gregson says. Since when did he step into the tent? “You were all officially declared dead in 2021, right at the end of June.”
Nobody in the tent knows how to respond.
“However,” Gregson continues, “that was clearly false.”
Yeah, Ranboo thinks sarcastically.
“No shit,” Ashlyn completes his thought out loud.
Tubbo is in the middle of a stream on his main when he receives several messages in quick succession. He checks Discord to find that Phil has spammed the same phrase over and over.
Tubbo end stream
Tubbo end stream
Tubbo end stream
Confused, Tubbo quickly sends off a message to Phil before turning back to his stream. He’s just found diamonds that he needs to mine.
Urgent urgent urgent
End stream
Call me!!!
Okay, maybe he should end stream. He quickly says goodbye to chat and promises a longer stream for tomorrow. Maybe he’ll even stream on his alt, too.
“Phil?” Tubbo joins a vc. “What’s going on?”
“I’m leaving the house right now,” Phil says, sounding out of breath. “I’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”
“What? Phil? Why?”
“It’s…” Tubbo hears a car engine start up. “I don’t think I should tell you over the phone. Just- just be ready to go, okay?”
“Yeah, Phil,” Tubbo grabs the keys to his flat and locks it on his way out. There’s an uneasy feeling building in his stomach. “I’ll wait for you by the street.”