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treatian · 3 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 53: Kernels of Truth

It was five days until he heard from August Booth again. And that was just fine with him.

He'd needed time to cool down after their encounter that night…among other things.

The day after Booth had pretended to be his son, he'd gotten a call from Sidney Glass. He'd confessed to the kidnapping of Kathryn Nolan and needed a lawyer to help him with his deal. Shocking. It had only taken a couple of days to get Sidney settled. Confessing to kidnapping was a lot simpler than fighting a murder charge. One session with Archie had proved that Glass wasn't in his right mind or competent to stand trial. It happened just as he thought it would. Glass was to be confined to a psychiatric ward until he was no longer a danger to himself or others. Regina smiled like Christmas had just come early. Sidney's release could be seven months from now or seven days from now. He imagined that worked just fine for this former pupil. After his part was done he didn't particularly care. But he was grateful for the distraction that Sidney had given him from Booth so that he could focus a bit more on Booth's counterpart…Pinocchio.

He didn't know much about Pinocchio in their land. His "father" was Geppetto. He'd been created from the wood of an enchanted tree that brought him to life, and at some point, the Blue Fairy had turned him into a human boy. It wasn't a lot of information, but fortunately, being cursed in this land had its benefits. Rumpelstiltskin didn't know much about him, but Mr. Gold, on the other hand…he knew Pinocchio's story. He knew how he'd been charged to be good; selfless, brave, and true. After he'd come to life, he'd done the opposite. He'd lied and run away from his father, going to an island of pleasures, and nearly turned into a donkey thanks to the magic of that island. Fortunately for the boy, he'd come to his senses. He'd tried to escape, to get back to his father…and found that his father had come after him. After saving his father from being eaten by a whale, he'd been turned into a boy by the Blue Fairy because he'd finally mastered the art of being selfless, brave, and true. Their stories were not always accurate in this world. Hell, in his own story, his counterpart had torn himself in two when a princess successfully guessed his name. However, if being Mr. Gold and Rumpelstiltskin had taught him anything, it was that these stories always had a grain of truth to them. He couldn't be sure what was truth and what was fact, but he was certain the information would come in handy…as long as he could confirm that Booth was, in fact, the wooden puppet boy.

Fortunately, by the time he finally contacted him a few days later, he knew how he would do it.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Mr. Booth, I was just thinking about you," he smiled when he answered the phone to find that voice.

"We need to meet. It's about Emma," he explained with an eerie calmness to his voice. "There's a…problem."

Well, he should think so. For someone who claimed he was the only one who could make her believe before he died, he was taking his good sweet time with it. So, he figured, what was another hour to set up his brilliant plan.

"Excellent timing. Why don't you come down to the shop in an hour or so."

"Mmhmm."

Neither said goodbye, which was a good thing because he had another call to make and didn't want to spend time on niceties. He looked at a clock on his shelf; one Gold had been meaning to fix for a good long time. If he was right, father wouldn't recognize son. But there was a chance that the puppet might recognize his creator.

When Marco arrived almost exactly five minutes before Booth was due to show up, he nodded to him and brought out the clock. He had hazy memories of doing work with Marco during the years of the Curse. If someone brought in a wood piece that needed restoration or a clock that needed fixing and he couldn't do it himself, then he called Marco. Of course, he was quite the handyman himself after being a broker for all these years. In fact, if he'd taken the time, he probably could have figured out the clock himself. But he'd rather it be used this way.

He was in the middle of looking over his ledger and appraisal of the clock while Marco inspected it to identify the problem when Booth walked into the shop. Right on time.

"Ah, Mr. Booth. I'll be with you in a moment. On second thought, tell me, as one admirer of antiquities to another, do you think it's worth my while having this clock repaired?"

The look August gave when Marco turned to look at him…priceless. And just as perfect as his timing. Now that was all the confirmation that he needed. August Wayne Booth was indeed a son missing his father. It just wasn't him he was missing. It was his creator. Always good to have these little facts straight. Leverage was a beautiful thing. And revenge wasn't half bad either. He'd had to let him live, but there was no reason he couldn't enjoy watching the man suffer in turmoil. Man…perhaps puppet was a better word for it. How ironic after he'd tried to make him a puppet with the dagger.

"I'll take your silence as a yes, then."

"You know, I'm very busy right now. And, uh, I'm just a one-man shop. But, uh, I'll get to the clock as fast as I can," Marco agreed, unknowing that the son he always longed for was only a few steps away.

"I wouldn't ask for anything more."

And with nothing else necessary, Marco scooped up the clock and walked right past his greatest creation without even knowing it. "Good day," he muttered.

August mumbled something, but it was unrecognizable through his shock. He only smiled. Though he longed for the day the Curse would be broken; sometimes, he had to admit…it was a thing of poetry.

"First time seeing dear old dad since you arrived at Storybrooke?"

"I'm so-so-sorry…" August stuttered, clearly still overwhelmed by the experience. But he'd find no pity or grace from him, not after the trick he'd pulled. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching his pain after all that.

"You know, what surprises me is why a man who claims to be at death's door can't even bring himself to say hello to his father. What are you afraid of?" he asked, continuing the torture.

But Booth seemed to be getting control of himself again finally. He smirked almost proudly at him and sighed. "That's, uh…that's my business."

"Oh!" Now he knew the value of privacy. People in glass houses…

He would have been happy to point that out to him, but he knew how to work a situation and work a plan. He prided himself on it. He wouldn't stoop to his level when there were important matters to be discussed. When he'd called, he'd said there was a problem with Emma. What, he wondered, was that?

"Fair enough. Let's talk about ours. You claim to be the only person who can make Miss Swan believe. That you could get her to do exactly what she was brought here to do. And yet, for a man who's running out of time, you don't seem to be in much of a hurry."

"It's not me slowing us down. It's her. All she can think about right now is getting custody of her kid." Emma taking custody of Henry…now that certainly sounded like something that might piss Regina off. That solved part of his problem but not all of it. He needed her focused not on Henry but Regina. He needed them to be angry at each other!

"Sounds like Sheriff Swan needs a course correction," he muttered.

"She's coming to you for legal advice."

"And you want me to steer her toward you?"

"I can get her there, to believing, trust me."

He laughed. "Ah. I'm sorry. It's just that, knowing who you are and your nature, trust is a big ask," he smiled as Booth's faded. That little comment had certainly been worth its weight in…well…for lack of better terms, gold. It sounded as though the stories Gold had read might have more than a kernel of truth to them after all. "Fear not," he muttered, collecting his ledger. "A gentle nudge I shall provide."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #dark one #mr gold #august w booth #pinocchio #geppetto #Marco #Regina #Evil Queen #Emma Swan #Sidney Glass #Magic Mirror #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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thenixkat · 5 years

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Animorphs notes: Megamorphs 2

Megamorphs 2

Marco 1

Saw something on the news and mentioned it to the others leading to everyone in a storm trying to breathe in dolphin morph

Of course its not like sharks need to breath air and might be better in some cases

Marco uses humor to cope

Rainy day

So why are the animorphs getting involved with a sunken nuclear sub?

Marco wants to go out of his way to save people again.

Him and Rachel are like the most likely on the team to become superheros

Or they could put their stuff in a bag and bury it on the beach instead of putting things in the trash?

How exactly do these guys plan on rescuing people?

Cassie 1

Everybody morphs dolphin

They find the sub

Jake 1

Ah yes the plan to kidnap an officer. Totally would have no negative reprocussions

Can’t just act in a weird and obvious manner to direct people to the sub

Sometimes dolphins help people, sometimes dolphins kill people. Its a rulette game as to whichever a dolphin is more interested in at the moment

The writter makes a comment on war and nukes

A nuke goes off and instead of being vaporised by the light the kids get transported through time and space for some reason

Rachel 1

One of these days a kid is gonna get trapped in morph when they’re uncoincious

Cassie’s the only one who had any injuries from the fucking nuke going off

Why is there a volcano over there? There shouldn’t be volcanoes where they are

Rachel watches the Magic Schoolbus

That’s not how plesiosaurs work and you could never mistake them for a whale even with sonar

Ax is smug about those not being whales

Tobias 1

Why the hell are fucking plesiosaurs intered in them in the first place?

Tobias got vored by something big enough to swallow a 10ft at least dolphin whole

This is causing me pain

Rachel got vored by something that can fit 2 ten or so foot dolphins inside its stomach

Looked it up and yeah no, plesiosaurs were def known to not have flexible necks by the time this was written

No that can’t be an ichthyosaur b/c they’re gone by this point in the Cretaceous and the on ly ones that big were likely FILTER FUCKING FEEDERS

Random ass gulper eel dolphin sea monster

Rachel decides that morphing is the best idea in the stomach

Tobias morphs too

Jake 2

Ax doesnt get to have a turn yet what a surprise

Cassie says they should try to rescue Rachel and Tobias, Jake says thats a fucking dumb idea and he’s right

Jake is pissed at people getting themselves eaten and Cassie coming up with dumb fucking idea

There should actually be some seagull like dinosaurs but I think those were discovered much later than these were written

Kids finally put 2 and 2 together and realized that they aint in Kansas anymore

They havent actually put togther the gone back in time bit yet

Jake and the writer seem to be under the impression that dolphins have no natural defenses

They are almost there in realizing what happened

Cassie 2

Still no fucking Ax narration

THESE KIDS ARE REALLY FUCKING DUMB

Sauropods did not leave elephant like foot prints. At all

Nope not figured it out yet

Cassie, you should know that whales can’t swallow whole full gown dolphins

Cassie almost gets eaten by a crocodilian and these kids still haven’t fucking figured it out

Wait a minute. Grass doesn’t exist in this time period

Also Cassie should know better. Herbivores can and will fuck you up with little provication

They finally figured it out

I see we have movie monster Tyrannosaurs

Rachel 2

Wow Ax really doesnt have any rights does he?

...that’s not how anatomy

Bears are not herder to digest than dolphins

This is hurting ,me

Tobias everything you said aside from the hadrosaurs was pure bullshit

Rachel thinks the dinosaur angle is rediculous

Tobias 2

Tobias you have a fucking hork-bajir morph you utter dumbass

Wow Tobias is bad at morphing, he can’t even get rid of his injuries

Tobias gets to be extra useless and cause Rac hel pain by haveing to perch on her

Grass doesnt exist in this time period

There was a gradual decline in the late Cretaceous of nonavien dinosaurs, the asteroid was the last nail in the coffin

T. rex was just another animal not not much more dangerous than say a lion, just bigger

Marco 2

Ax doesnt get to narrate I guess

There is no reason for the tyrannosaur to be chasing them it just made a fucking kill

They aren’t even the right size to be worth the fucking effort either

Marco almost gets eaten and is saved by Ax who papercuts the thing to death

Ax 1

Yeaaaah Ax vs Tyrannosaur should not end in victory for Ax

I flatout don’t belive this rediculousness and my suspension of disbelife died several chapters ago

Ax is fucking shook that worked

Ok good Ax was very very fucking lucky that worked and not gonna try that again

No, Ax, no that is not scientificly possible b/c theres no fucking dna in the fucking fossiles they are bone and other shit shaped rocks

When the fuck did Cassie get any survival skills? Did she decide to brush up after the Karen incident

Well we have ‘I will survive this with or without you’!Cassie today

Yall could actually morph Ax and have your own andalite tails. Or fucking morph hork-bajir

Rachel 3

Grass still doesnt exist yet

At no point did rachel think to escue some modesty and make wraps for her feet

Rachel suggests that Tobias morph human, even perminatly

He is very shit at morphing

I guess he expects that he’s got days to live as a wounded bird over anything else he could fucking morph

Rachel refuses to fucking make it known that she’s suffering

In what fucking world does that description matach a triceratops

Also deinonychus, not around at the end of the cretaceous

Deinonychus is about almost 3 ft tall at hip and a ft longer than that

Naked ass ones at that

Them going after them at least makes sense

Cassie 3

Camping and eating tyrannosaur meat

Gonna sleep in shifts

People keep forgetting that they have hork-bajir morphs which are amazing and also that they could just aquire Ax

Tobias 3

Nothing about the majority of large dromaeosaurs suggests that they’re fast. The opposite actually. Ambush predators not chasers.

Tobias and Rachel split up

Tobias and the writers forgot about wing assisted incline running and the fact that raptors can fucking climb if the have to

Tobias drops on one and aquires it

Tobias 4?

This is going with the not-dynonicus being diurnal for some reason

Tobias lost control of the morph and will probably attack Rachel

Jake 3

The rock that was the final nail for the dinos is estableshed bvery firmly\

Stampede

And a nother tyrannosaur

Jake trips and falls when it matters most

Rachel 4

Tobias is really serious about not identifying as human

Rachel tries to reach him over smashing the lead raptor

Jake 4

Jake gets vored by the tyrannosaur whole even tho it was already eating bigger more interesting prey

Jake aquires the thing and starts morphing imediately

That tyrannosaur broke its fucking tail

Everyone aquires the injured dinosaur

Marco 3

Marcos not happy and everyone misses Rachel

More travel

Ax says the flash of light that started the stampede was artifical

Did Ax just say he can see ultraviolet and infrared

They find an alien city

Tobias 5

Tobias is bitching about Rachel still being mad that he gutted her

Neither of them are healing their injuries for no good reason

Ew, Tobias gross.

Rachel has a raptor morph now

Rachel isn’t a coherent person when hrungy and tired

Why are there coconut trees? They dont exist yet

Rachel eats a not coconut

No. That is not a fucking spinosaurus. Spino is fucking African and didn’t live at the same time as T.rex

Tobias metally calls Rachel stupid

Rachel 5

This is really fucking poorly reserched

And lo an alien:

And that's when I noticed the other creature step smoothly out from the

bushes.

It walked on two legs. It was rough-textured, like it had really chapped

skin. It was reddish in color. It had two big eyes and a small mouth,

all of the same reddish-rust hue. It stood about eight feet tall. It was

carrying a weapon.

The creature gazed curiously at us with what seemed to be eyes, although

they were mere indentations in its face. From its head a pair of

antennae, flexible as whips, grew and began waving toward us.

The alien calls dibs on the dinosaurs and speaks Fucking English

The nesk

The nesk is a pile of antlike creatures

Anmd really Rachel just fucking escalate things to outright violence

Cassie 4

Cassie suggests that they just go see who the aliens are

And that Jake stay behind b/c she doesnt want to loose more people

The alien city:

We flew toward the shining city in the valley. With osprey eyes I could see much more clearly. I saw buildings that rose in steep, smooth sweeps, like they'd grown from the bedrock. Windows were stuck in odd locations, some aiming out, others more like skylights. And there were fields planted with green and arranged in neat circles instead of rows.

The aliens themselves:

As we got closer, I could see creatures of some sort. They looked a little like large - very large - crabs. Only with shells in a wild array of colors, deep blue, spring green, orange. And while on one side there was something very much like a large pincer, on the other side there was a pair of hands.

Crab people

TRhe kids are attacked by naked pterosaurs

Tobias 6

Wow its almost like starting a fight with an unknown party can go wrong

The ship:

The ground beside me exploded, like it had been ripped by an invisible

plow. I jumped. Another plow mark just behind me! I saw movement. And

there, racing toward us across the plain, was a gleaming, silver craft.

Maybe twice the size of a Bug fighter, but shaped like an elongated

pyramid, long end forward.

The nesk herd Rachel and Tobias away from their claimed territory

Ah they’re falling over the cliff of the mercora city

Jake 5

Daring mid air antics and the team is reunited

Also a force field wich is smart\

Ax is tired of having to be the info guy

At least its not a killer forcefield like the kind that yeerks use

The mercora introduce themselves

Ax 2

Ax and his andalite bullshit

More of the mercora:

There were three of the creatures. They moved upon seven legs. Four on

one side, three on the other. To make matters worse, the four

legs were larger than the three. So they scuttled sideways in the

direction of the small legs.

They stood about half the height of a tall human, and seven or eight

feet wide.

On the side with the four big legs, there was a sort of three-way pincer

claw. It looked very powerful. It looked like the sort of thing I would

not want to have to fight against.

On the other side, the weak side, there were two arms similar to my own,

but even stronger than human arms. The arms ended in long, tapered,

delicate fingers.

There were a lot of eyes. They kept opening and shutting, one or two or

three at a time. They were each hidden beneath tiny trap doors in the

Mercora's exoskeleton or shell. Eyes were forever appearing and

disappearing. It was very, very distracting.

Which is a cool design

They talk in thought speak

Just b/c humans in the future don’t know about the mercora doesnt mean they left or were destroy you dumb fucks

Marco 4

The mercora healed Tobias, gave everyone food, a place to stay and even offered to make them soem clothes

The crabs wear clothing or at least make it

And they have force field furniture

Also that’s not how broccli works

Marco makes a vore joke about the mecora

Really Cassie?

The mercora are herbivores

All you have is the mecoras’ word on that and they are in direct conflict with the nesk

And so what if they’re scavengers?

Very rarely but sometimes Cassie has a valid point

Ax 3

Ax is still kinda specist

Hmm I wonder why the mercora aprove? Its not like they can have an alterior motive here

And the mercora are going to help

Ax is very lonely in genera;

Cassie 5

The writers are fucking awesomebros

And they can’t control the morphs

Cassie gets wounded by a ceratopsian

Jake 6

What? We were just with Cassie oh forget it

Jake is suicidally confidant that Cassie wouldn’t eat him

Apparently Jake is right

Cassie freaks out

Ax 3

Tobias keeps being wrong.

The nesk have thought speak detectors

Tobias 7

They group steal an explosive and destroy the nesk ships

Rachel 6

The nesk retaliate very effectively

Ax calls for back up

TRachel throws herself around to draw away fire from the others

The mercora attempt a rescue and loose a ship

Culture:

The Mercora saucer picked us up, us and our little nuke. But they were a

grim, depressed bunch of aliens. It was hard to tell at first. But then

I noticed that each of them was minus one of their smaller legs. There

were just oozing stumps.

"What happened to your legs?" I asked. But even as the words were out of

my mouth, I saw the limbs in the corner. They were laid out on a

brightly colored cloth which was draped over a shelf. There was

something ceremonial about it. Almost religious.

<Can you explain the meaning of this?> Ax asked politely.

<We must make the sacrifice of pain. The legs will regenerate, but those

we honor will not,> the Mercora pilot said. <This is a symbol. It speaks

to our spirit's pain, by echoing it in physical pain.>

"They did this for the Mercora who were in the other ship?" Jake asked.

<For those who were in both ships,> the pilot said. <To be killed is a

sadness. To kill is a sin.>

Jake says the they owe the mercora for saving them

Fuck you Tobias

Tobias 8

Tobias this is premeditated murder

The nesk have decided to leave the earth

The mercora claim that the nesk altered the path of the meteor

They want to use the bomb to save themselves

Cassie 6

Fuck you Tobias

You need to be held accountable for this shit

Its almost like the vast majority of things to ever live never leave any fucking fossils you nit

This bastard is really trying to justify himself like this is anyway defensible

Fuck you Tobias, you get to join Cassie and Jake in the bin of fucking terrible people

Jake 7

Oh what you little bitch babies can’t handle the consequences?

Tobias deserves his unhappines and eventual death

Cassie 7

Cassie at least decides to bear witness to their crime

CVassie saw the time pass

No good reason given why they can’t retain those morphs

Tobias needs to pay for his shit

#nix reads animorphs #animorphs #this was very poorly reserched #and tobias deserves his suffering

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qqueenofhades · 7 years

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i know you [i walked with you once upon a dream]: five

Post-1x16 canon divergence. When Lucy Preston, a history professor at Stanford University, is visited by a strange man who tells her that her entire world is a lie, she is drawn into a mystery more dangerous than she could have dreamed, and a hunt for a past she can’t remember. But who, or what, is she going to find – or lose – along the way?

chapter four/AO3

Wyatt Logan’s first impression of the place is that it looks like a huge blue aquarium with the water drained out, walls of glass for the crowds to press in and gawk, the trained whales doing tricks for their captors and everyone hoping you don’t spend too long thinking about whether this is, strictly speaking, entirely ethical. He’s been rousted out of bed (well, the couch, with the TV still on and droning SportsCenter) and driven here, while the person on the other end of the phone had that harried sound to their voice that usually means a VIP was shot or a building blown up. They said they needed him, and they said they needed him ASAP. He might be on leave, but he’s still Delta Force. No choice but to pull on his pants, grab a Red Bull, and go.

Now, as Wyatt’s shown into the conference room and shakes hands with a lot of identity-badged government types, surreptitiously checking his breath to make sure it doesn’t smell too much like alcohol and biting his tongue on the questions that he knows won’t get an answer. Yet, at any rate. This has all the hallmarks of a rapid-response mission debrief, and while it might be good to get his head back in the game, Wyatt can’t help but wonder why they picked him. His last review with the Pendleton brass ended with the gentle but pointed recommendation that he could use some time away from the service. They know the thing with Jessica has been hard. (Hah. They know it’s been hard.) So he’s been doing – not a whole hell of a lot. Sports talk shows. Cheap beer. Sitting on the couch. Staring at the wall. Maybe a mission is just what he needs.

The rest of the government types make their entrance, along with Connor Mason, the smarmy British CEO of the company whose premises Homeland Security seems to have swiped. Wyatt’s heard of these guys. They were just in the paper for some big cutting-edge engineering project. He glances at Mason’s assistant or techie or whatever he is, who he vaguely remembers in the haze of hurried introductions as Rufus, Rufus Carlin. Wyatt has a momentarily impulse to wave to him. He clenches his fist until it goes away.

The security shades are lowered, and the briefing starts. As Wyatt guessed, it’s indeed a mission, and moreover, they are quite insistent on it being him who does it. He charitably holds back from the obvious objections this raises, but when they get to the main problem, he can’t. “What? Are you serious? You’re trying to apprehend a terrorist suspect, and your big plan is to send an untrained woman, an unarmed civilian, in with just a GPS tracker by herself? No wonder she got kidnapped! I’m shocked she didn’t get killed!”

“Mr. Logan, given the intelligence available, and the particularity of the situation, we considered the options and decided it was the best available.”

Wyatt whistles. “Wow. I really don’t want to know what the others were then, do I? Chickens on fire? A big sign telling any terrorists to stand with their hands up until the cops got there?”

“We realize that on face value, this was a risk.” The agent looks cool, as if they’re not going to sit here and be questioned by him. “However – ”

“I’m not asking all of you to think like special ops – and for that matter, I would have been raked over the coals and booted out on the spot if I’d suggested that plan to a superior with a straight face. I am not even asking you to be highly trained risk managers. I’m asking whether it ever occurred to you for one fucking second that this was like giving an angry baboon a Tommy gun: that the outcome was both terrible and idiotically avoidable.”

“Mr. Logan, we made a decision – ”

“Stupid,” Wyatt says. “Let’s be clear. You made a stupid decision.”

Rufus Carlin coughs. It sounds as if it might be intended to conceal a laugh. Whatever, Wyatt didn’t come here to be the Jon Stewart of late-night security crises, but he’s really not in the mood for this. It almost sounds like a bad joke, since surely no credible intelligence agency would have made that decision with a straight face. It would only remotely have a chance of working if there was a personal connection of some sort between the suspect and the victim, if they could set it up as a sting. But if this woman knows terrorists on enough of a familiar basis to make her an option to catch one, why haven’t they –

“Do I even get to know who she is?” Wyatt asks. “This woman that you clowns decided to dangle out for bait?”

Glances are exchanged. They seem to be debating it. Then one says, “Her name is Dr. Lucy Preston. She’s a history professor at Stanford.”

Wyatt’s heart inexplicably skips a beat. They click a photo up onto the screen, and yes, it’s her, the brunette he met the other night, being hassled by more of these award-winning geniuses. Or at least, he thinks it might have been them, since all the sunglasses-and-suits types look alike. He did flash them his Army ID card, so that might be backfiring on him now, if they are having their revenge by making him clean up their messes. Damned if he knows how that works, but still. For some reason he wasn’t prepared for and doesn’t understand, this catches him off guard. If it’s Lucy – Dr. Preston – who’s been snatched by this weirdo, Wyatt isn’t quite as disinterested in the whole clusterfuck as he was a moment ago. Hell if he knows why.

“Ah,” he says, doing his best to sound neutral. “And who has her?”

“His name,” says the lead agent, the beefy, bearded one who Wyatt recalls as Neville, Jake Neville, “is Flynn.”

Wyatt, for an even more baffling instant, is convinced he knows exactly who that is. Has an odd memory of sitting in an apartment, talking to a woman, telling her that the man was a Russian spy – only for him to see Flynn (was it Flynn?) outside, jabbing something into a boy’s arm. He thought it was poison, some kind of drug or other malicious substance, but it turned out to be epinephrine. Saved the kid from dying of an allergic reaction to the bee sting, said something to the woman, and jumped off the balcony. Wyatt got a few shots off at him, but he managed to drive away. Car. Black car. Kind of vintage-looking. Why does this memory feel – not quite present? Aside from the fact that it’s not even a memory, seeing as it never happened, and it’s strong enough to make Wyatt rub his eyes and briefly wonder if he fell asleep, had some kind of intense and localized dream. What the hell.

“And,” he says after a moment, realizing they’re looking at him, “you want me to go after him. Again. By myself. Because either you don’t have enough of a budget to pay for more than one operative on your exfil missions, or there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Would you say you’re familiar with Mr. Flynn? Or Dr. Preston?”

Wyatt opens his mouth to say no, of course he isn’t, but something stops him. It’s at the least unfair to Lucy (Dr. Preston, he reminds himself again, he doesn’t know the woman) to let her suffer for the total incompetence of the feds, and he’d kind of like to have a clear shot at this jackoff himself, even if he doesn’t know why. And while they’d again be sending only one person to deal with a clearly dangerous man, a trained Delta Force operative is not the same as an unarmed academic when it comes to such things. Wyatt can’t believe he’s considering it, when thirty minutes ago this sounded like the worst idea he’d ever heard, but. . .

“So what?” he says abruptly. “I get on the plane to Paris, you drop me in, I find these two, I rescue her – what are my orders in regard to him?”

More glances. Then Agent Neville says, “Frankly, Mr. Logan, we would normally issue kill-on-sight instructions for this man. What he has done, and what he will do – there’s no room for any wishy-washy hand-wringing about it. He deserves to die. But as it happens, we need him alive.”

“Questioning?” That one’s pretty obvious. “You really think you’re gonna make him talk?”

Neville smiles, a bit unpleasantly. “Oh, I think we could, if we put our minds to it.”

Wyatt looks away. He has captured suspects before with the implicit knowledge that they’ll be submitted to “extraordinary rendition” or “enhanced interrogation” or whatever Orwellian gobbledygook they’re calling it these days, and he also knows that as a soldier, you don’t enlist because you think you’ll always have the luxury of accepting missions that you are personally morally comfortable with. Flynn is clearly dangerous, he’s on the run in Paris with Lucy (Wyatt gives up trying to call her Dr. Preston in his head) and frankly, right now, if the brass says jump, Wyatt has to ask how high. He can tell this is a test. They’re sending him, and only him, because if he fails, they’ll have all the excuse they need to chuck him out permanently. Dishonorable discharge, no pension. Good luck getting a civilian job after over fifteen years in the service, training for classified missions and serving in conflict zones. And something more. Something else. Whatever is happening when he had those bizarre flashes of non-memory, and his conviction that he knows these people – knows both of them – better than he understands.

Wyatt takes a moment to consider all this. He’s not in a huge rush to accept, but he also can tell that it’s going to get finicky for him, fast, if he refuses. What exactly does he have to go back to? A sagging sofa crumbled with corn chips and more bad dreams about Jessica? At least this way he’s doing something. At least this way he doesn’t feel completely and irredeemably useless.

They look at him. They seem to be waiting on his answer.

Wyatt blows out a breath. There are still any number of sardonic comments to be made about him saving their asses from their own breathtaking stupidity, but he also senses that they aren’t going to help him very much. Lucy is probably tied up in some squalid basement with a lunatic. He gets her safe. Then he worries about Flynn.

“Fine,” he says. Shrugs. “Bonjour, Paris.”

--------------

Lucy is, in fact, sitting on a narrow bed in a garret that looks like a poet or three definitely died of consumption here in the nineteenth century, waiting for Flynn to get back with dinner – she ordered him that if he was going to haul her off, he was at least going to feed her. He gave her a black look, but complied, and has been gone for the last thirty minutes in search of takeout. She wonders if he’s been captured; they have to have put out an alert for him across the city. She isn’t sure if she wants that to have happened or not.

She wanders to the grimy window, judging the possibility of opening it and escaping across the rooftops, but it’s three stories down to the alley below, she doesn’t want to take chances climbing out as she is known to not be the most graceful or coordinated person in the world, and she isn’t sure where she’d go even if she did. Besides, she hasn’t endured this much hassle, most of it caused by him, to just turn and leave when potential answers might finally be in her grasp. It’s possible he is in fact going to hurt her, but for better or worse, she doesn’t get that sense. Hurt everyone else, yes, and gladly. Not her. This doesn’t make him a good man, or a safe one. But at the moment, he is the best, and possibly the only, choice she has.

Just to be sure, she checks the door. It is assuredly still locked. She isn’t planning on hanging around if he turns rabid, but she’ll have to think of a good plan later. Instead she stands by the window, affecting casualness, as the city gets dark outside and the lights come on. It’d be beautiful, if she wasn’t, you know. Where she was.

At last, the key finally rattles, the door bumps and creaks open with a shower of dust, and Flynn ducks through, slamming it behind him. When he’s ensured it’s locked, he throws a bag at her, which Lucy just manages to catch. “There,” he says, sounding put-upon. “Dinner.”

“Can’t just kidnap a woman in peace, can you?” Lucy says coldly. It smells delicious, but she doesn’t want to tear into it too quickly, even though she’s starving. “This is such an inconvenience for you, isn’t it?”

He actually looks surprised, and for a moment, slightly ashamed. Then he shrugs. “You aren’t a prisoner, Lucy. As I told you ninety years ago in this same city. You’re welcome to leave if you want. But I don’t think you will.”

“Ninety years ago – ?”

He shrugs again, jimmying the ancient light switch until it pops on. “1927. We were here. You talked me into letting Charles Lindbergh live, see if he could change. He still ended up being a dick. So in case you were wondering, you were wrong about that.”

Lucy stares at him. Any possible response to this statement – well, there really isn’t any possible response to that statement. “Yeah,” she says at last. “I spent a lot of time wondering if I talked you out of murdering Charles Lindbergh in 1927.”

Flynn sits down on the creaky chair across from her. He’s so tall that they’re still almost eye to eye, and she folds her arms involuntarily, wanting some air of authority, however feigned. “You really didn’t read the file?”

“Was I supposed to have time while you were stealing a scooter, breaking into a bakery, and shooting at government agents?” Lucy finally sits as well, back on the bed, opening the bag and pulling out whatever savory-smelling item is inside. “Or didn’t that come until later?”

Flynn has the grace to look slightly chagrined, though that isn’t very much. “Have you figured it out?” he says instead. “Smart woman like you?”

“Maybe.” Lucy looks at him stonily. “You not only think we know each other, you think we’re some sort of – I don’t know what. A bit like. . . time travelers.”

“Actually,” Flynn says, with the air of someone commenting on the weather. “Exactly like time travelers.”

Lucy blinks. “And you just – what? Tell people that?”

“You’re the one interested in preserving your precious past, Lucy. Not me.”

“It’s not my precious past!” Good god, this man is the most confounding and frustrating person she has ever met, which she is swiftly remembering (and regretting) after her decision to try to get information out of him. “It’s just. . . history!”

“History,” Flynn says, “can be changed.”

“How?”

He eyes her, as if wondering how much trouble he is actually going to go to in order to explain this. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few folded sheets of paper – which, when Lucy opens it, proves to be a photocopy of some kind of handwritten book. Some kind of handwritten book that looks like. . . her handwriting.

“The journal itself doesn’t exist any more,” Flynn says, by way of apparent (non)-explanation. “You never had any reason to write it. But I copied some of it before I went, and. . . that’s the basic gist of it. Are you going to tell me that none of it is at all familiar?”

Lucy stares at it. She can’t deny that it does look like her handwriting, and he is watching her impatiently, as if they’ve done this already once before and he wants to just skip to the part where she believes him. Names leap out at her from the page. Mason Industries. Mothership. Lifeboat. Garcia Flynn. Wyatt Logan. Rufus Carlin.

Rittenhouse.

“So,” she says at last, when she’s reasonably confident her voice will be level. “That’s your big story. That Mason Industries invented a time machine – two time machines, actually. You stole one of them – why doesn’t that part surprise me? – and Wyatt Logan, Rufus Carlin, and I used the other one to try to stop you from taking down all of history.”

“Not history,” Flynn says flatly. “Rittenhouse.”

“Right. Creepy secret society. Your mortal enemy.” Lucy looks at him with that same flatness. “I’ll admit,” she says at last, “that if you were going to make up that story, you’d probably put a more favourable spin on it for yourself. But you have to know this sounds utterly deranged.”

“I’m not interested in arguing about whether it’s true, Lucy. It is. You know the part in the stories when magic starts happening, where the token rational character insists that there’s some normal explanation for what’s going on, that there’s nothing out of the ordinary? That everyone else is just making things up? You know how that character is always wrong?” His eyes are dark as two pits, depthless. “How about we just agree that you skip that part?”

“But – ”

“Let me guess,” Flynn says. “You’ve been having strange memories about Houston,1969. About thinking you were there, that you had something to do with the moon landing, even as that scholar’s brain of yours tells you that you hadn’t. And either 1754 or 1934. Maybe, at a stretch, 1972 or 1893.”

Lucy stares at him again. “How did you – ”

“Because that’s where it’s started to split.” He considers her, weighing his words. “In the middle. I destroyed the Mothership, as you said I could. It turns out that this was a bad idea on both our parts. It reset it to the timeline where none of this had technically happened, but it built in so much paradox that it’s starting to happen anyway. The changes we made are bursting back into existence randomly, like cluster bombs. We can’t be sure when or where they’ll hit – or who. And if you care about your sister, you’re going to help me find a way to stop it.”

Lucy’s spine stiffens. “If you’re threatening Amy – ”

“I’m not threatening her!” Flynn looks completely exasperated. “I’m warning you that in the new existence, the one that came about as the result of our meddling, she was gone! She was never born, and my wife and daughter were dead! You already said that Lorena vanished. It could be that she’s already just. . . gone, and there’s no getting her back.” A muscle works in his cheek. He does look genuinely frantic. “If the timeline remembered that she was supposed to be dead – don’t you see? Your sister could be the next to go! Just like that.”

Lucy is thoroughly rattled. She likewise should have a logical answer for this, but she doesn’t. “But my. . .” she says at last, faintly. “My sister exists. She’s a person, she’s real, she’s here. How can she just. . . not?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn stares at the ceiling, bleak and drained. “But it happened before. She was gone. And the only thing you wanted was to get her back, the same way I wanted nothing more than to save my wife and child. If you wait until she’s gone again this time, it’ll be too late.”

Lucy has absolutely nothing to say to that. So this is what he wants: for them to join forces to stop their respective loved ones from vanishing in a puff of unsustainable spatial-temporal paradox, thanks to changes to history that they themselves made with the aid of a time machine. Cracked, of course, does not begin to cover it. And it would be difficult enough if they were ordinary people. Wanted fugitives from God knows how many federal agencies, with the added complication of whoever he thinks these Rittenhouse people are. . . Lucy can’t think of any feasible way to pull it off. As well, she’s a historian, not a quantum physicist. She can advise on the general facts of the past, but for putting up the hood and tinkering with the engine. . . yeah, she’s lost on that. There’s still no scrap of proof for his story, either, and she represses the academic’s urge to ask for it, for a citation, for empirical, verifiable evidence. She’s scrawled it on her students’ papers all the time. Show me where the text supports this argument.

They remain staring at each other for an excruciating moment longer. She again has to concede that she doesn’t know why he would make this up. It does look like her handwriting in the photocopy, and everything he’s known about the unreality of her reality. . . that nagging feeling that something is out of place, that things are out of order and memories can’t be counted on. It does exactly match the version she got from Lorena, about what Flynn told her, so if he is a delusional liar, at least he’s a consistent one. Agent Christopher did use the word “unprecedented” when talking about whatever he wants to do.

What the hell.

Lucy remains irresolute a split second more. Then at last, she looks at him straight. “Fine,” she says quietly. “What do we do?”

Given Flynn’s apparent predilection for kidnapping and grand theft larceny, she shouldn’t be too surprised that the answer involves this, and it also doesn’t, to her ears, sound like much of a plan. He says that one of the rules of time travel (cool, Lucy thinks, good to know there are rules) is that you can’t travel on your own timeline, go back to anywhere you’ve already been, so you have to be indirect about changing things. Can’t just pop back five minutes before and get a do-over on that bad day or anything else. He’s confident, however, that a scientist of sufficient genius, if given a sufficient incentive, could create a one-time loophole to circumvent this. All he needs to do is reverse the decision to destroy the Mothership, so reality is allowed to proceed more or less as it was, with the possibility for the changes to exist harmoniously with the new timeline. That way, they still have their loved ones, but they don’t put so much stress on the space-time continuum that it threatens to snap at any moment and erase them. Everyone wins.

“Really?” Lucy repeats skeptically. “Which scientist?”

“Rufus.” Flynn looks at her as if it’s surprising she needs to ask.

“And what? How do we get him?”

“I grab him, of course!”

“What? No!” Lucy glares at him. “I did not agree to help you hurt people!”

“I wouldn’t hurt him. Just borrow him until he figures it out.”

“Your kind of borrowing is known as kidnapping!” Lucy puts her hands on her hips. “After you caused enough of a mess fiddling around with reality and the Mothership and putting strain on the timeline, as well as kidnapping people, your solution is to – put more strain on the timeline and kidnap more people? No!”

“You agreed to help me, Lucy.” His voice is low, almost a growl. “Help me.”

“Not like this.” Lucy regards him defiantly. “Think of a better plan.”

Flynn is inordinately frustrated by this principled stance, wheeling away with a curse. “It’s going to be dangerous enough if we bring the Mothership back. Or – ”

“Or what?” Lucy flashes back. “You’ll steal it again?”

Flynn looks as if he is very much regretting buying her dinner earlier. Good. She hopes he’s regretting a whole lot. “I am,” he says after a moment, clearly doing his best to keep his voice level, “trying to think of something that will do what we need to, as efficiently as possible. There’s still the Lifeboat, even if it doesn’t currently work. Get Rufus to create enough of a loophole for us to use it to reverse the decision to destroy the Mothership. This time we’ll just blow its controls and CPU, so it’s useless, rather than eradicate it entirely. Nobody even has to die this time. I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Nobody has to die this time?” Lucy repeats. “As opposed to what, all the other times?”

Flynn waves a hand impatiently. “Nobody anyone would miss.”

“I’m not sure you get to make that call.”

“What, and you do?” He paces to the window, peers out, and pulls his gun from his jacket, checking that it’s loaded, which is not the most comforting action for a still-probably-crazy man holding you technically captive to undertake. Even if Lucy doesn’t think he’ll use it on her, that doesn’t rule it out on anyone who might try to interrupt. Someone has to be looking for her. You’d hope so, at least. That after all the fuss and furor and the fact that Flynn snatched her when she was supposed to be the reason they snatched him, there has to be some beating of feet involved to get her back. The question, though, is whether she’s going to let them.

Lucy can’t believe she’s actually, genuinely thinking about helping Flynn, but it’s clear enough that something is going on, Lorena did vanish, and she’d rather not take chances. She thinks wryly that it might be far easier for her to suggest non-murdery alternatives if she knew for a fact that this was actually real and not just his extensive fantasy, but still.

“Tell me,” he says after a moment. “Aren’t you a little bit curious?”

“About what?”

“The past.” His teeth flash in a sardonic grin. “Being there. Seeing it.”

“By the sounds of things, I didn’t have much time to sightsee,” Lucy says coolly. “Not if you were acting like this.”

Flynn absorbs that with an obnoxiously unruffled shrug. It’s true that they seem to have fallen into a kind of familiarity, almost without meaning to, if she’s prodding him about things they’ve done which she can’t, strictly speaking, remember. She returns to the bed and finishes her dinner, which has been somewhat interrupted by all this revelation, and has a moment to wonder if they’re planning to stay here tonight. Flynn isn’t the sort of person who’s going to stay long in one place, with a mission in mind and a manhunt on his tail, and they’ll probably try to sneak out once he’s sure it’s full dark and they’re not being observed. Lucy should likely try to get a few winks while she can, as she hasn’t slept since the plane ride to Dubrovnik and she’s starting to see double with exhaustion. She crawls onto the bed, curling up on her side. World in danger of ending or not, she needs a damn nap.

As she closes her eyes, she catches the quickest glimpse of a strange expression on Flynn’s face, as if it’s caught him off guard that she trusts him at least enough to fall asleep in his presence, to think that he won’t hurt her or otherwise let her come to harm. If she’s wrong, she’s wrong, but so be it. Later.

Lucy must indeed sleep, because she’s jerked out of a strange dream some interminable time later. It’s very dark. Flynn is sitting on the floor next to the bed, which can’t be very comfortable, drowsing with a hand inside his jacket – or at least he was. Whatever has roused her has caught his attention as well, and he gets stealthily to his feet, pulling his gun. Crosses the floorboards without a creak, waiting by the door, as there is another faint thump on the stairs outside. A click, and a clunk. The handle moves quietly. Someone’s trying to get in.

Lucy goes tense, drawing her legs up and tempted to dive behind the bed in case gunfire breaks out, as the latch works and saws back and forth. Flynn remains tense as a diver on the edge of the high board, waiting, waiting. Then the lock gives, the door opens, and he pounces like a jaguar.

There’s a muffled yell, a crash, the sound of something – it doesn’t take an expert to guess that it’s a gun – flying out of someone’s hand, and the further sound of a silent and furious struggle, grunting and huffing and swearing, as Flynn tackles someone on the landing outside. There is the distinct noise of fists hitting flesh, struggling bodies, a thump, a bang, and general semi-silent pandemonium as they roll inside the room, still whaling on each other. Then Lucy jumps up, dives for the light switch, and lays hold of it just in time to discover Flynn busily engaging in beating the daylights out of someone. Someone who is, impossibly, familiar.

The name bursts to her lips before she can stop it.

“Wyatt?”

He twists his head sharply to stare at her, which isn’t a good idea, as Flynn promptly punches it while he’s distracted. He flails back, landing a glancing blow, as Lucy pulls Flynn off and there are several further moments of general confusion until the chaos subsides. Wyatt sits up spitting blood and swearing, seems inclined to reach for his gun, and in the interests of preventing a full-blown firefight from breaking out, Lucy jumps in the middle. “What are you – ” Yes, he was the one who rescued her from the goons the other night, but he’s also supposed to be the one – of two, at any rate – who was her time-traveling teammate. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.” Wyatt wipes his mouth and grimaces. “Though this wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Yes,” Flynn growls. “I know what you were expecting.”

“You.” Wyatt regards him coldly. “They definitely got the dick part right.”

“Lucy’s fine. You can toddle along. Typical. Always interfering even when you can’t remember.” Flynn is no slacker in the baleful-stare department himself. “Or is it that you – ”

Wyatt completely ignores him. “You all right, ma’ – Lucy?”

She considers for a long moment. She’s not about to stay blindly beholden to Flynn on his insane crusade, but she isn’t going to abandon him flat-out either, and if the story’s true, Wyatt was her ally – her friend. Whatever both of them are supposed to remember, he doesn’t, and before any decisions are made in haste, he should at least be aware of what’s at stake.

She pauses, then reaches for the photocopied pages, ignoring Flynn’s hiss of disapproval. If these belong to some mythical journal she was supposed to have written once upon a time, she gets to decide who sees them, and this feels instinctively right in a way she can’t define or explain, to do this. With that, as Wyatt is still looking utterly baffled, she holds them out to him.

“Here,” she says quietly. “I think there’s something you should know.”

#timeless ff #lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #once upon a dream

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