bryanzilla | [For David

[For David - May 6]

So it wasn't exactly the sort of wedding he'd always pictured himself having - he's barefoot, for starters, there isn't a single rented trumpeter swan to be seen and they were being serenaded by the musical styling of some hippie with a guitar who just happened to be on the beach that afternoon - but that hadn't made it any less perfect.

Perfect for them, anyway.

There weren't any lavish yet tasteful decorations, no burnt almond meringue cake and no blood relatives of the groom and groom in attendance. That last detail might have just been Bryan's favorite part. Or his second favorite part, really. Because while it may not have been the ceremony of his dreams in terms of the superficial aesthetics of it all, he was standing there with a man who, minus the height, surpassed all of his dreams, holding their son, with their family standing witness. As a very wise ten-year-old had once said, many, many weeks ago: Family is who you choose; it's the relatives who are chosen for us.

How could swans, a pretentious cake and all of those other small details improve on what was surrounding him? Flowers wilted, rented table linens and chairs all had to be returned and the swans would no doubt have made a mess of the aisle runner. But this? David, Sawyer and the people they cared about most... and guitar playing hippie? That's what mattered. That's all that mattered. The hippie, probably less so. All of that other stuff just wasn't important in the grand scheme of things.

With the rings and I dos exchanged, standing hand in hand with David, Bryan finds that he doesn't feel any of the anxiety he'd felt the first time they'd tried to do this. It just serves as further proof to him that this is how it was meant to be.

"Then by the power vested in me as a child of God, I now pronounce you... a family," Father Michael concludes and Bryan's smile brightens before he leans in, Sawyer nestled comfortably in the sling between them, and kisses David. For the sake of tradition he'd wanted to have the wedding before Sawyer was born, but in that moment, with each squirm and shift his tiny body makes in his cocoon of fabric, Bryan can't really remember why. To hell with the traditional.

It's the sudden chill in the air that makes him break the kiss off short and open his eyes, instantly glancing down and pulling the side of the sling protectively over Sawyer to shield him from the breeze. "I didn't dress him for this," Bryan says, brow knit with worry when he finally looks up... only to find everything and everyone who had been there just seconds ago were now gone. Goldie and Shania, Rocky and Nikki, Father Michael and their makeshift, beach discards chic alter and archway. Gone. Random hippie? Him, too. In the distance, he notices that the whole of Santa Monica pier has vanished from the backdrop, and that's when he really starts to panic.

"David?"

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No lightning bolts, David recalls. That's what Father Michael had said. There might not have been a flash or thunder clap but he had definitely felt a zap, a shot of electric adrenalin that couldn't be attributed to Bryan this time, or their first kiss as an officially married couple.

No, this one was different and not in a good way. It's a conclusion David reaches as soon as he realises the low, warm glow of a slowly-setting sun has gone, along with the feel of a sand-scattered towel beneath his feet. Along with Bryan. Along with Sawyer.

For a moment he thinks he can hear Goldie's laughter but when he looks frantically around him to locate the source, there's not a wisp of long blond locks in sight.

"Bryan?" He calls out, a hand screwed in hair as he twists to scan his surroundings again. He starts off in a direction he's put zero thought into, favoring instinct over reason, all traces of Boy Scout logic gone the way of the sun and the soft sand and their son and-- "Bryan!"

It takes a series of ungraceful twists, turns and near full-on feats of upper body contortion before Bryan manages to somehow juggle a baby and shed his blazer out from beneath the sling. Once free, he uses it to cover Sawyer, tucking it in around him and gently adjusting his hat.

One small problem solved. It's just a flash in the pan, though, when he looks back up and still has no idea where everything and everyone else went. Was he being Punk'd? Ugh, how 2005.

"David?!" He tries again, shouting this time as he starts up the beach. "So help me, if your father pops out of a beach shelter with Justin Bieber in a backwards cap I will not be held responsible for my actions."

He should be leaving some sort of trail to follow back, markings in the sand or a pebble line. He'd taught boys what to do if they ever got lost or separated from their group but David doesn't find himself looking for shelter, a source of fresh water or dry wood for a fire. He finds himself searching for two things far more integral to his survival.

Breathe, David coaches, shaking out his hands to try and bring his growing anxiety under control, breath quickening despite himself. What would Bilbo do? There is a pier protruding into the horizon, a boardwalk above the shoreline and uneven stone steps leading down to the beach. Higher ground, better view, he concludes, moments before a tiny Bryan-shaped figure appears in the distance. Besides the birth of Sawyer and possibly the first Lord of the Rings movie, it's the best thing David has ever seen and it takes less than a heartbeat for him to start running.

A wave of relief washes over him once he spots David, with nary a teen pop star to be found in his company. As pleased as he is about that fact, that just sends him right back to square one. If he's not being Punk'd, what the hell is going on? Everything's gone, everyone, and it doesn't make sense.

Arms cradling the bundle against his chest, Bryan trudges on towards David through the sand. His shoes can be counted among the missing, too, and even with those added to the list, it doesn't really dawn on him that the three of them might be the things that are out of place.

"Please tell me you know what just happened," David calls out as soon as he's close enough, arms held out in reference to their new surroundings. One look at Bryan's face and he sighs, already knowing the answer. Unfortunately, that's about all he knows right now.

Reaching the pair, he lifts a gentle hand to Sawyer's head and examines the vicinity once again, teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Goldie?" He checks hopefully, raising a concerned gaze to Bryan. "Shania?"

"I was under the impression that you'd be the one to tell me," he replies, looking over David's shoulder at the way he had just come from. "How the heck did you even get all the way over there? Where's the pier?"

David takes that as a no on both counts, his heart sinking further, reeling a little from such sudden emotional whiplash. "I didn't go anywhere," he insists, frustrated with himself for being unable to think of a rational explanation. "Father Michael just married us, I barely blinked and then you were both gone. Locating the pier isn't high on my priorities, Bry."

"An eighty-five foot ferris wheel has vanished." And, yes, he knows that's not the most important thing to go missing in the blink of an eye, but Bryan also can't deny that it's the most impressive. Not really in a good way, though. "You let me know where to rate that on the priorities list." For Bryan, it's just makes more sense to lump all of it together as one big oddity that he can't wrap his mind around.

"Maybe they're by the car," he suggests, though he doesn't sound like he's convinced that's the truth. They wouldn't just leave. "Do you have your phone? Try calling."

"Why didn't I think..." He slips a hand in his pocket and pulls out his cellphone, attention torn between Bryan and the screen. "David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear, you know," he points out, finding Goldie in his speed-dial and lifting the phone to his ear. He lets out a short gasp and drops his free hand to Bryan's forearm when it starts to trill. "It's ringing. Gol-- That's weird. I got cut off." When he tries again, it doesn't even connect this time. Hearing nothing but a strange dead tone, his forehead creases with confusion and he moves to the phone to Bryan's ear so he can hear it as well.

Rolling his eyes skyward, Bryan knows better than to comment on the subject of David Copperfield. Now is neither the place nor time for that particular argument.

While David tries to get a hold of someone, Bryan takes a moment to peek into the folds of fabric at Sawyer, still asleep and oblivious to any potential strange goings on outside his little bubble. Bryan envies him a little. He glances back up again only when the phone is at his ear, brow knitting. "Well, that's not good," he says unnecessarily, leaning back just far enough to focus his vision on David's screen. "No service," the lack of little bars indicates, sending Bryan fishing out his own phone, only to have the fact confirmed.

Suppressing another sigh, David's brows furrow in consternation. Two weeks ago their wedding had been uniquely and amazingly interrupted by the impatient arrival of their son, something he wouldn't change for the world. This time the disruption is far less welcome and brings with it a deeply unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Alright." Pocketing the useless phone, David turns to face Bryan and reaches for his arms, both to seek and offer comfort. He keeps his voice firm and gaze steady, belying his apprehension. "First things first, we are not going to panic. Bryan."

Their phones are nothing but obscenely overpriced paperweights at the moment, and while being cutoff from his Twitter feed is generally enough to induce panic, it's only responsible for a small portion of what Bryan's feeling right now.

"You are not going to panic," he repeats after David, amending it as he deems appropriate. He isn't going to make a promise he's likely to go back on at any second.

"You can't freak out on me," David insists in earnest, losing a little bit the restraint in his voice. "The second you feel yourself beginning to channel Nicholas Cage or, or, or Faye Dunaway's Joan Crawford, I want you to look at your son." He drops his gaze briefly to Sawyer, raising it resolutely back to Bryan moments later. "Sweetie, he'll pick up every vibe."

Bryan does look at him, puffing out a small breath through his nose. "Baby ESP? They should put that in the manual." Right before the chapter on... whatever it is that's going on right now. Maybe there hadn't been any lightning bolts like Father Michael had been afraid of, but this doesn't seem a whole lot better.

"We need to get off the beach. Looking around at everything that's not here is creeping me out."

"A plan of action," David encourages with a nod of confidence, "good, that's all we need." There's nothing to say for sure that Goldie and Rocky aren't just around the corner, doing exactly what he and Bryan are doing right now. Almost by instinct, he turns around to check.

"We'll stop the first person we see and get some answers," he continues, starting up the beach towards the steps that will take them to the boardwalk and civilization. "There has to be an explanation."

"Right. Of course. Obviously there has to be," Bryan agrees, keeping in step beside him. He's just not so sure that he wants to hear the explanation that'll shed light on and make sense of it all, though. As of right now, aliens and... David Copperfield were at the top of the list. It's not a great list.

"Unless this is just what happens you get married and nobody warned us," David surmises, desperate enough to actually pause and contemplate it for a second. His gaze drops slowly to his left hand.

"Oh my God. The Rings of Power," he declares dramatically, sliding his wedding ring halfway off his finger, eyes darting around to see if that makes a difference to their surroundings.

"Oh, God, no. No, David, stay with me. Your ring is a simple yet classic platinum band from Tiffany's. It was not forged in the Temple of Doom by Salamander the all the seeing eye, or whoever, okay?" There's a chance none of that is right, because as little as he knows about the films, he's pretty sure they have nothing to do with Harrison Ford. "Now, would you stop that." Because, really, the only thing that would make this entire situation better is if they wound up having to comb the beach for David's wedding ring.

"We're not panicking, remember?" Especially not if it involved the most mind–numbing dull trilogy Bryan has ever had the misfortune of trying to nap through.

Bryan's annihilation of the Lord of the Rings narrative pulls David from his trance and he slips his ring back on securely, taking a fleeting moment to appreciate it on his finger.

"I'm sorry, you're right." He lets out a deep, steadying breath and wiggles his shoulders. "Staying calm." He only manages to remain quiet a moment or two longer before he sends Bryan a side-long glance. "That was a really good try, honey, I'm proud of you. But I think someone needs a rewatch."

"Uh-huh. What's that you were saying before about priorities?" Bryan asks. Without one hell of an incentive, the likelihood of him willingly subjecting himself to that kind of cruel and unusual punishment is slim to none.

"Bad guys lose, good guys win, pirate Orlando Bloom will always trump elf Orlando Bloom and Andy Serkis takes home an MTV Movie Award for best virtual performance. What else is there to know?"

Legolas is and will always be Middle Earth's biggest badass in David's opinion, an opinion Bryan knows full well. On a normal day he wouldn't think twice about defending the elf's honor but today is anything but that.

"When we're back home, safe and sound, I'll show you," he promises distractedly, taking the last step up to the broadwalk. Everybody looks normal. Nobody is running around like a headless chicken like David is inside his head. They all just look as if they're going about a regular day. "Hopefully one of these has a cell phone we can borrow."

"Well, that's not much incentive to expedite the process," Bryan says absently, rocking Sawyer gently when he begins to fuss and fishing around in the sling for for his missing pacifier. It dawns on him a moment later that the comment hadn't been confined to his brain. "I mean whoo home, yes please."

David rolls his eyes but holds in any comment, quickly distracted by a young hip-hop-looking girl, who given her height and sassy demeanor could maybe pass for Rocky's little sister, listening to music on her cell.

"There, there," he points out, flapping a hand against Bryan's arm. "She has a phone. Go, go. Ask her where we are and call Goldie. No! Call my mom."

"David, you are a grown man with a child," he reminds him. "I am not calling your mother. Now, take this." Carefully, he transfers both baby and sling over to David's shoulder, holding on until he's certain Sawyer is properly secured. "Try not to disappear again," Bryan says, smoothing down the front of his shirt and leaving the pair on the spot to try and convince a complete stranger to let him borrow her phone. With no shoes on. Honestly, if he doesn't end up pepper sprayed in the face or having his picture taken and sent to that jerk Perez Hilton, he'll consider it a success.

When he approaches the young woman, it's in what he hopes is the least threatening way possible. He presents his useless cellphone, motions over to David and Sawyer and is offered use of her phone soon after. It's returned almost as quickly.

It's another few minutes of conversing - most of the talking being done by the young woman as Bryan nods, shakes his head or is caught between some strange blend of the two - before he makes his way back over to his family. The good news? They hadn't disappear on him. And he hadn't been pepper sprayed. "You're a doctor," he says once he's close. "People ask for second opinions all the time, right? Let's get one of those. Pick someone else." After a beat. "Also, I need a tetanus shot."

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[For David - May 6]

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