Dan left the space station with little fanfare. He gathered up his sparse belongings, stashed an indignant Merrill in his pocket, walked to the part of the station furthest from Marcus's lab, and imagined himself elsewhere. Unlike every other time he had teleported, there was a distinct feeling of... absence, afterwards. He knew, despite his closed eyes, that he had changed locations. Not through obvious means, such as the change in lighting and temperature, nor the raucous sounds of street life that just barely reached his ears. Some feeling, some subtle background pressure, had disappeared.

It was a little disturbing to think about, so Dan chose not to.

He turned his thoughts towards his next destination. Abby was, without a doubt, his closest friend in this world. Social bonds had never come easily to Dan, yet the two of them had become remarkably close in a very short amount of time. Nothing felt forced with her. A natural friendship, between two like minds.

She deserved to know the truth about him.

It was a selfish decision at its heart. Dan hated lying about his past, about his circumstances, about his knowledge. He hated pivoting around his cultural faux pas, he hated pretending to know things that he didn't, he hated that he couldn't share his woes with his friend. It was exhausting, even if he was well-practiced by now. Dan wanted to confide in her. He wanted to plan with her, to tell her about his dreams, to tell her about his experiences. He wanted to watch old Spaghetti Westerns with her and laugh about the differences. He wanted a person he could be open with who wasn't four times his age. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for?

Nonetheless, he was horribly nervous. He climbed out of the workout clothes that he'd worn to the space station, and carefully selected one of the outfits that Abby had picked out during their shopping trip. The girl had been entirely too thrilled to have him play a dress-up doll, and had quickly filled his meager closet. Between his genuine need for clothing and Abby's puppy eyes, Dan had walked out of the mall forty pounds heavier and about two-thousand dollars lighter.

It was strange, having money. That level of money at least. Dan had been comfortable in his old life, and he was not rich by any stretch of the imagination now, but the idea of shopping for casual-wear at a place other than his local Target was utterly foreign to him. Even though Marcus paid him an obscenely generous salary, Dan would not have splurged without outside prompting. Even with outside prompting, he would've liked to say.

Amazing what a pretty smile could make a man do.

He made himself as presentable as possible, carefully avoiding comparing himself to the other men he had encountered in this reality. With body mods being a thing, perfect appearance and fitness were widely achievable. Upgrade stores ran like car dealerships, offering a vast array of packages and loans for the unsuspecting customer. Dan was unsurprised that body mods were tacked on to just about any upgrade one might commonly purchase.

It did make him feel a little self-conscious, though. He wasn't exactly unattractive. He just... had the appearance of a default character in a low-budget RPG. Just shy of handsome, just shy of muscular, common as common could be. His efforts to exercise and eat right were slowly changing that, but he couldn't cheat his way to perfection like everyone else on the planet.

Not that he cared. He wasn't trying to show off for anyone. It just seemed unfair is all. Why was he even thinking about this?

Dan tried to picture himself back on the station, that moment of finality, of decisiveness. He wanted that fire back, that drive to go out and do things himself. He needed it.

Unfortunately the fire in his chest was being violently suppressed by the horde of butterflies in his stomach. A nervous energy filled him, making his leg bounce his place. He surged to his feet and began pacing his hotel room.

The Pearson's accomodations were as anachronistic as the rest of the building. The frame of his king-sized bed was made from gnarled wood, manufactured in a way as to seem handcarved. The walls were a dull brown that contrasted with the flowery murals that wound around the edges. A large desk was tucked into a corner, where Dan kept his laptop and Merrill's cage. Across from the bed was a large dresser containing a hollow center where a television was mounted. Even the TV was designed to look ancient, with purely decorative knobs mounted on its thick outer frame.

None of these details served to distract Dan from his nervousness. He was stalling, blatantly so, in the hopes that Abby wouldn't be home when he arrived. If he missed her today, he might not work up the courage to try again. It was a lot of trust that he was about to extend, and to a person that he hadn't really known all that long. Two months was just a drop in the ocean of time. But trust had to start somewhere, and it was Abby.

Dan... didn't want to be alone.

With that thought, he closed his eyes. Space twisted and churned and the sounds of busy city streets faded into birdsong. Dan opened his eyes in Abby's neighborhood, a large gated community on the outskirts of Brunswick. He appeared on a street corner a block away from her home. Normally he would drop in right outside her house, but the short walk might help calm his nerves.

He should... he should have a plan, right? Maybe not just for the coming conversation, but for the future. But definitely for the coming conversation. Claiming to be from a parallel universe, claiming that parallel universes exist, isn't something so easily done. How, exactly, was he supposed to prove his words?

Oh hell, Abby is gonna think he's a lunatic.

No. No, no, she would believe him. She was sweet like that. Abby wouldn't doubt him, that wasn't her way. She might be furious that it took him so long to tell her. That was fine. That was okay. He could deal with an angry Abby. It was sensible to hide it, she had to see that. Making such exaggerated claims was bound to draw unwanted attention. He couldn't have told her when they first met, and it's not like such a thing would've come up in casual conversation since then. She'd be furious, but she'd get over it. Or, she wouldn't. Worst case scenario, she never speaks to Dan again.

He came to a stop in front of her house, frowning.

What an idiotic idea. The walk hadn't helped at all.

And he still had no plan.

As Dan stood there, frozen and indecisive, the front door of Abby's house swung open. The woman herself stood there, smiling widely. She wore a light blue top that hung loose on her shoulders, and dark grey sweatpants. Her feet were stuffed into fluffy white slippers with rabbit ears. She peered out at Dan from behind the threshold of her house, leaning against the open door.

"Danny?" she asked, curiousity coloring her tone. "What are you doing here? I thought you said you'd be out of town for a while."

"Uh, well, you see," Dan stuttered awkwardly. "My plans fell through a bit, and uh, things changed."

He shuffled nervously in place, drawing a frown from his friend.

"What's wrong, Dan?" she asked.

Dan had a decision to make. He could faff around for a bit more, make up some vague placations and bug out while he still had the chance, or he could actually do what he came here to do.

He squared his shoulders. "I've got something to tell you, Abbs."

She blinked at his somber face. She took a quick step away from her entrance, and gestured inside. "Come on in."

One foot went past the other, step by step, and Dan moved forward. His stomach churned with worry, his mind moved like quicksand, but still he crossed the threshold.

Abby's hand went to his back, rubbing soft circles. Her voice, filled with worry, murmured to him as he walked towards her living room. They sat down on her couch, next to each other. Abby's legs were crossed beneath her, and she sat sideways in order to face him. Her hands went around Dan's cheeks, and she forced him to meet her eyes.

"Dan, tell me what's wrong," she commanded, fiercely matching his gaze.

So he did. It all came out pouring out like a flood. Where he was from, how he arrived, what he'd been doing. A rushed, garbled explanation of a man lost in a strange world, seeking to reinvent himself.

Abby listened as he spoke, eyes focused on his face. Her expression was carved from marble, unchanging and still. She nodded occasionally, fractional motions that kept Dan talking, but otherwise kept her silence. He didn't have the slightest clue what she was thinking.

At long last his words ran dry. The story ended with him arriving at her doorstep. Dan felt drained at the end, tired but relieved. The anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the retelling had faded away the longer that he spoke. This was nothing, just one friend confiding in another. He had survived worse than this already. Whatever came next, he would be ready.

Abby reached across the space between them, and dragged him into a hug.

Dan yelped, caught completely by surprise. His face ended up somewhere over her right shoulder, buried into her hair. Her arms, toned and lean and soft, squeezed the breath out of his lungs as she clung to him like a limpet.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that," Abby murmured softly. Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke, and his shoulder was slightly damp.

"That's uh, that's okay," Dan replied stiffly. He cautiously patted her on the back. "I've had some time to acclimate."

Abby pulled away, holding him at arms length. Her eyes were wide with concern. "Are you going to be okay long-term? Is this Doctor Mercury still paying you? Oh damnit, I made you spend all that money last week! Let me give you some—"

Dan held up a hand. "I'm fine, Abby. Marcus didn't mention garnishing my wages, but I'll be looking for new clients for my little delivery business anyway."

"I can help you!" Abby said quickly. "My family knows all kinds of people. Grandma would definitely hook you up if I asked."

"No!" Dan held back a tremor of fear. "You don't need to owe any favors on my account. I didn't tell you because I need help. I just, well, wanted you to know."

The worry on Abby's face faded slightly, replaced by warm fondness. "I want to help you, Danny. We're friends, aren't we?"

Dan shot her a crooked grin. "You're my best friend in the world, Abbs. Granted, I only know half a dozen people or so, but it's still true."

"I'll take it," Abby replied, flushing slightly. For a moment, she simply looked at him. Her eyes ran over his face, and her lips tugged up at the edges. A mischievous smile emerged, and she giggled lightly.

"My best friend is an alien," she said, more to herself than anything. She giggled once more, releasing Dan's shoulders to cover her mouth.

"Well, technically—" Dan paused his retort, considering Abby's words. He thought back to Marcus's irritated comment when the old man first laid eyes on him. He looked at Abby's beaming smile.

It was a topic that he'd avoided thinking about. This reality was different enough, without purposefully separating himself even further. Dan didn't need to think about if he could be considered 'human' or 'alien'. Had Marcus claimed such a thing, Dan might've socked the old man in the face.

But it was amazing what a pretty smile could make a man do.

With a shrug, he rolled with it.

"Technically, I suppose that's true."

Her gleeful laughter was the sweetest reward.