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faye_dartmouthA/N: I really hope the movement forward in the action is helpful and not more confusing! As always, continued reading is deeply appreciated.
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
When the latest prototype burns out, Abby throws it down in frustration at her workstation. Her lab is three times the size of John’s now, and it is completely sectioned off with a wall and a door. Her work is so filled with minutiae that sometimes she hardly sees the man at all anymore. She’s never had much she actually had to learn from him, and now she has enough confidence to be innovative on her own.
The division between her room and his is a sign, she thinks. Eternity’s implicit blessing for the secret that she’s harboring.
The mission she doesn’t want John to know about.
The mission she currently can’t figure out a way to complete.
Sighing, she runs her hand through her hair, looking forlornly at her device. It’s her best one yet, with more power and more precision. She’d taken care to include more circuitry in order to effectively store more power, but no matter what she did, once it was disconnected from an eternal power source it drained too quickly.
They’d have enough time to save the world, at least. She’d even managed to get enough energy conduction to allow for Sarah’s extra jump in Stephen’s timeline. But by the end, there was never enough power conversion to break through the time-space barrier one last time.
In short, she couldn’t figure out how to get them anything more than a one-way ticket. Once the energy on the device wore out, their time as intrepid time travelers would be up.
In short, they’d disappear. With all future events set, there would be no need for them anymore and the conditions that brought them to this place would never be created, thus nullifying their presence all together.
This journey would only last as long as the device, and that wasn’t going to be long enough.
Her lizards, who are free from their cages for now, scamper across her work area. Cutter and Stephen skillfully avoid the wreckage of her frustrated throw, but Connor stops, sniffing at it.
“You probably have an idea,” she mutters at the lizard. “Connor always had ideas. He was putting things together out of old radios and duct tape.”
Connor the lizard pads lightly across the cracked case, niggling in toward the internal components.
“The idea of a car charger is perfectly feasible, except it’s too slow,” she says. “But even if we are able to make a power surge big enough to charge this thing, the window of opportunity for the viable conversion is too small. By the time we’re able to safely capitalize, the energy source will already be burnt out.”
Connor flicks his tail, dismounting on the other side. He turns back around on it, and nudges it back toward her.
She sighs again, shaking her head. “It’s not that simple, Conn,” she says. “The problem is that the energy burst has to be so crude and the device is so exact that in order to successfully combine the two, it’d basically have to be simultaneous.”
At that, Connor runs toward her, darting up her wrist and stopping short to look at her.
And that’s when Abby gets it.
“Oh,” she says, sitting up a little straighter. She looks at Connor. “A car charger.”
Quickly, she sets Connor safely back down on the table, reaching for her tools again.
“Connor, I swear,” she says, starting to smile. “You’re a genius.”
-o-
She marches into the kitchen, where Sarah is mashing potatoes and Jenny is putting brownies in the oven.
Abby is too proud to engage in small talk. She’s too excited to pretend that she’s hasn’t changed everything.
“I did it,” she announces, rocking back on her heels as she beams.
Sarah looks back at her. “Did you get the steaks, you mean?”
Jenny closes the over and runs her hand along the batter in the bowl, licking her finger. “Mm, I don’t understand how we don’t gain weight here,” she says with another lick. “But it is a lovely thing.”
Abby is downright smug. “I did it.”
Sarah raises her eyebrows. “Did what?”
Abby lifts her device, showing it proudly. “I made it.”
“Is that your latest model?” Jenny asks.
“It’s not just a latest model,” Abby says. “It’s the model.”
When the girls look at her for a moment, Abby waves it at them.
“It’s the car charger!” she says. “Literally!”
Jenny cocks her head. “What?”
Abby is too enthused to be annoyed. “Every time I try to create storage capacity that can be converted from finite time sources, I couldn’t figure out how to hold onto it. The conversion rate degrades too quickly. So even though I know you could make a blast big enough to use, I had no way of using that power before it was gone.”
“Or blowing ourselves up,” Jenny reflects.
“Exactly,” Abby says. “So we need a safe way of harness the energy at the moment of conversion.”
Sarah looks confused. “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”
“A car charger,” Abby says again, even more emphatically. “A car is a perfect conduit. We can use the speed of the car to power the device, and it will serve as a relatively safe haven to make sure we can get through the window in one piece. It’s a little Back to the Future, I admit, but it should work.”
Sarah’s face is underlined with wonder. “We should be able to transport tangible objects back with us,” she reasons.
“And I can definitely figure out a way to give a car a little extra kick to get us through,” Jenny says.
“And this,” Abby says, holding the device out at them again. “This is our ticket back home.”
-o-
It comes together quickly, after that. Abby’s not sure it was slow before, but all the pieces are lined up, perfectly like dominoes in a row.
Sarah reads; Jenny fires; Abby tinkers.
It’s funny how long eternity is.
Until you’re about to leave it.
-o-
John makes the dinner that night.
Rather, they go downstairs and find John at the table with dinner laid out around him. Abby has her doubts as to whether he actually cooks or not.
Still, when she takes her seat, she realizes it’s her favorite meal: mango chicken, just like the kind she picked up at the Indian restaurant around the corner from her flat back in London.
She takes a bite and her mouth nearly drops open. It is mango chicken from the Indian restaurant around the corner from her flat back in London.
“Not exactly, of course,” John supplies, as if reading her mind, with a grin. “But close enough, right?”
Abby swallows and then loads her fork up for another bite. “It’s remarkable!”
“And this is the pad thai my mother used to make,” Sarah says. “She never even told me the recipe.”
John shrugs. “Just one of the many advantages of near omnipotence.”
Jenny moans contentedly, washing down a bit of her bloody steak with the crisp red wine at her plate. “This is divine.”
“Good, good,” John says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I wanted tonight to be special since it is our last night together.”
Abby stops mid-chew, her throat suddenly constricting. She has to force herself to swallow when she looks up at John again. Sarah hasn’t managed to get that far, and Jenny’s face is carefully composed.
John nods once and collects a breath. “You’ve trained hard, you’ve studied hard, you’ve worked hard,” he says. “You’ve done everything I’ve expected. And there’s nothing left for you to do except actually finish the task at hand.”
“Are you sure, though?” Sarah asks quietly. “We only get one chance at this.”
“And it does bother me that no matter how much we prepare, there’s no way to stage any actual rehearsals,” Jenny comments. “It’s a lot different being in the field.”
“And I think I can put in a few more modifications,” Abby adds. “Get us a little more power out there.”
John’s smile is kind. “Your device is already more powerful than it needs to be to complete this mission,” he says. “And your training is thorough, Jenny. And your theory is sound, Sarah. Eternity can be an asset, but when you let yourself start repeating the same things, you can get trapped in a cycle you never get out of. If you wait for the exact right time, you will be waiting forever.”
Abby presses her lips together, looking down at her plate again.
John clears his throat. “Enough talk like that,” he says, upbeat once more. “Tonight is not a lecture. I want tonight to be a celebration.”
Abby looks up again. Across the table, Sarah is even more tentative, and Jenny is well schooled.
John holds up his glass. “I always knew you could do it,” he says. “But watching you three is still a privilege.”
He’s being so sincere -- so very, very sincere -- that Abby almost feels guilty. Because this isn’t about John. Despite her initial misgivings about him, she’s grown to depend on him. And no matter what secrets she’s chosen to keep from him, she likes him. He’s an important part of this place, which makes him an important part of her.
In some ways, lying to him feels like lying to herself, no matter what her intentions might be, and there is something painfully ironic about his kind send off.
He’s thanking her for being a hero, and Abby is willing to save lives. She’s willing to save the universe and all that it entails.
But she’s not going to be the one to lay down her life. She’s not going down with the ship, not if she doesn’t have to. Nick Cutter, Stephen Hart, Connor Temple -- they’re heroes, which is coincidentally why they need to be saved. No, Abby has no interest in being a hero.
She has every interest, however, of getting the job done.
On her terms.
Decided, she raises her glass. “To getting the job done.”
Jenny lifts her as well and gives a resolute nod. “And setting things right.”
Sarah joins them last, casting a knowing look at Abby and Jenny. “For everyone.”
“Hear, hear!” John says before taking a drink.
It’s a toast they can all drink to.
Even if for entirely different reasons.
-o-
It’s a good dinner. The food never seems to run out, and John has not only managed to come up with their favorite dishes, but their favorite drinks and desserts as well. Time, as it is prone to in this place, seems to slow perfectly, allowing them ample time to share for one last night of celebration together.
When John retires for the evening, he does so with his usual panache. If he is a creation from all of them, Abby has never seen it more clearly than that night. He has Sarah’s sensitivity, and Jenny’s idea of a good time. And yet, he knows when it’s time to move, just like Abby.
“Rest up,” he says with a wink of farewell. “Tomorrow will actually count for something.”
Abby watches him go, her stomach twisting inside of her.
He’s right, of course.
Even if he has no idea just how right he is.
-o-
They leave the dishes, just for that night. They end up on the roof, just the three of them.
One last time, just in case.
“We really are ready,” Jenny says, looking up at the sky.
“There’s no reason to wait,” Sarah agrees.
Abby sighs a little, flicking a stray rock off the stone ledge so it disappears into the expanse. “We’re prepared,” she says finally. “But are you sure we’re all ready?”
Jenny arches an eyebrow at her. “This was your idea, remember.”
“I know,” Abby says. “But we all have the option to back out, if we want. I mean, what John’s offering us is a happy ending. Most people don’t turn that sort of thing down.”
“Our ending here can be happy, too,” Sarah points out.
“But you know what we’ll be missing,” Abby says. “The men we’ll never love. The job we’ll never get. The families we’ll never have.”
Jenny shakes her head, straightening her shoulders. “I always promised myself I’d never let a boy dictate my future,” she says.
“But it’s Cutter,” Abby says. “I know you miss him. And what about Stephen? Sarah, I know you’re curious.”
“Curious, yes,” Sarah says. “But that’s one lifetime. Here, we can live infinite lifetimes.”
“And doesn’t that scare you?” Abby asks. “That somehow all this will get monotonous, that we’ll realize an eternity is too long.”
“To discover ourselves?” Jenny asks, thoroughly skeptical. “An eternity isn’t long enough. We’ve already been here an eternity, and I just want more.”
Sarah shrugs. “If we go back, we’ll tell one story. It may be a great story, but it’s just one. Here, we can tell infinite stories. We can fill libraries upon libraries with our stories.” She sighs, shaking her head as she looks out. “I don’t know, it just seems….”
“Right,” Abby concludes for her. “Like there’s no other option that even makes sense.”
“That about sums it up,” Jenny agrees.
They’re quiet for a moment, the three of them lined up at the edge of eternity. It’s a long moment, mere seconds or centuries, they don’t know.
It doesn’t matter.
Because Abby is holding a lizard in her hand. She’s following a little boy into the Forest of Dean. She’s lying her way into a sewer system to catch a giant bug.
It’s a moment when Abby knows, when they all know, exactly what they’re supposed to do with the rest of their lives.
It doesn’t need to be validated.
It just is.
Abby finally speaks. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work out.”
Sarah inches closer to her until they’re arm to arm. “Either way, it’s worth a shot.”
Jenny leans in from the other side. “Besides,” she says. “It’s going to work.”
Abby takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I think it is.”
-o-
They stand like that, together against the expanse. They’ve shared their memories; they’ve solidified their feelings.
It’s not until they’re ready to go inside that the dawn begins to break, someplace far in the east.
That’s the thing about forever.
It lasts as long as you need it to.
-o-
Back in her room, Abby takes just a few minutes in her room tidying up before bed. She does the little things, the inconsequential things. She makes her bed and refolds her clothes. She polishes the mirror, giving herself one more look before she goes back out and puts her lizards back in the cage.
Cutter and Stephen don’t seem to mind, and they retreat to their rock enclave together, circling each other contrarily for a moment before settling down, half curled around each other. Connor, however, clings to her hand, wrapping himself around her finger as she tries to put him back in the glass enclosure.
“Hey,” Abby says, gently prying his little feet off. “You know it’s time to get back inside.”
He evades her, though, scampering around and climbing up her arm.
“Don’t be so feisty,” she scolds, even as he slips through her fingers again and makes his way up to her shoulder. She turns her head, pinning him with a look. “Honestly, you know this is something you have to do, so why would you make it so hard?”
Even as she finishes speaking, her stomach flips. It’s not guilt, and it’s not anticipation, but something else entirely. Before she can place it, there’s a knock at the door.
Startled, she plucks Connor off her shoulder, slipping him inside the case before he has the chance to escape again. She’s composed when she opens the door, but almost falters when she sees John on the other side.
“Oh,” she says, for the lack of something more intelligent or useful to say.
He smiles. “I wanted to stop by to let you know that I’ll look after them for you.”
Abby tries to pretend like she knows what he’s talking about, but she honestly doesn’t have a clue.
“The lizards,” John says. “The three in there, and Rex Jr. in the library.”
“Oh,” she says again, feeling somewhat ridiculous now. She glances to the glass enclosures. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She’s thought about everything else, it seems, but the sudden practicalities of it all have eluded her. Will time pass in her absence? Can time pass here? Will there be time for her pets to miss her? What about John?
She frowns somewhat. “Though wouldn’t Sarah argue that they’d just disappear without me around anyway?” she asks. “A problem that fixes itself.”
In her mind, it’s an adequate comeback to justify her omission. But the idea jars her more than she wants to admit. It’s funny how easy it is to take existence for granted, and how much harder it is to consider the opposite. It’s not just life or death. It’s nonexistence.
The most unsettling thing of all.
John is watching her, more carefully than she realizes. “It would be just that,” he agrees. “If you weren’t planning on coming back.”
She’s distracted, so much so, that she doesn’t catch his tone until a second too late. Her eyes widen before she can stop herself, and she opens her mouth to protest.
He shakes his head. “It’s cute that you thought I wouldn’t know,” he says. “If somewhat willfully obtuse.”
“So you’ve known?” she asks, somewhat dumbfounded by the revelation. “The whole time?”
He shrugs, far more nonchalant than Abby would have expected. “You might argue that I’ve known before you did.”
“Then why did you try to talk us out of it?” she asks, unable to mask her growing incredulity.
“Because I’ve been created to protect the integrity of the timeline,” he says. “That is my only, singular goal. I’m not going to encourage other risks.”
“But it’s not a risk,” Abby says. “We’ve figured it out, John. All of it. Sarah’s theory and Jenny’s logistics and my--”
He holds up his hand to stop her. “There’s also the fact that the most important decisions aren’t the ones that are made for you,” he says. “Resolution needs conflict first. If I had told you what you’d be capable of doing, you’d never have accomplished it at all. Besides, if anything is true, it’s that it’s not the end that matters. It’s the story you tell as you go along.”
He’s not angry -- he’s anything but angry. He’s calmer than she’s ever seen him, more self-assured and collected. And that’s saying something. Because all John’s ever been is self-assured and collected.
But then she realizes.
This isn’t the start of his story.
This isn’t even the middle.
This is the end.
“Wait,” she says. “The theory is Sarah’s thing, but if we do this. If we fix the timeline, it’s not just the timeline that we change. We’ll change you, won’t we?”
“Change is natural,” he says.
“You’ll cease to exist,” she concludes, surprised by the pang of pain that spikes in her heart. “Because the future conditions that created you will have changed.”
“My story will be over,” he says. “My entire purpose was derived from the skewed timeline. When it’s fixed, there will be no need for me because the events that precipitated my journey will have changed. This place is eternal, but it isn’t separated from the finite world. That’s the way these things work.”
“But it doesn’t have to be,” she says, her voice starting to build again. “If we can save ourselves, we can save you, too.”
“Abby,” he says, looking almost surprised. “I won’t stop you from jeopardizing the timeline because it’s your story to tell. You get to decide. I realize that I’m not like you -- I’m not human, maybe I don’t have a soul -- but I like to think I still get to choose. And I choose to accept this ending.”
She wants to argue with him. She wants to knock his bloody head against the wall. Her chest is tight, and she wills herself not to sniffle. “You’re a man just like the lot of them,” she says. “Stupid until the end.”
He smiles fondly. “That’s why we need you three.”
She takes a breath, and then forces herself to take another. “You’ve seen the end of this. Does it work?”
He tilts his head. “There are some stories you have to find out for yourself.”
In the moment that follows, Abby’s not sure what to do. She’s not sure what to say. A thank-you seems too simple. An apology sounds too trite. This isn’t John’s project, and he’s not the leader of it, but he’s been important to it. Saying goodbye to him is like saying goodbye to part of herself, and it’s a task she’s not even sure how to start.
Instead, she reaches forward, pulling him into a hug.
“Take care of my lizards,” she whispers into the crook of his head.
He hugs her back, a little slower than she had but just a little tighter. “You know I will.”
-o-
Abby tries to sleep, just because it seems like the right thing to do. But when she closes her eyes, there is nothing to dream.
There is only the real world left for her.
-o-
They don’t eat breakfast; they don’t make small talk. Jenny packs on her gear, wearing extra ammunition inside her special jacket, tailored for just such a purpose. Sarah hesitates over her books, packing just a few into her knapsack while looking pained at the ones she is leaving behind. For her part, Abby packs light. The device she’s built is streamlined and simple. Part of her would like to bring some spare parts, but if it comes down to that, she thinks they’ll be out of time anyway.
That’s the ironic part. After all this, they’d be out of time.
“I can make the first jump for you from here,” John explains, nodding to the equipment in his office. “That’ll save you some energy in your device and give you a bit more time as you try to navigate in the past.”
“And you’ve got the time coordinates I gave you?” Sarah asks.
John nods. “I’ve already input them.”
“And you’ve controlled for our location,” Jenny presumes. “We want to be close to the ARC, but we don’t want anyone to see us.”
“I’ve compensated for all variables as best I can,” John says. “There’s no way to guarantee, of course, but I’ll admit I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.”
These are nervous questions, because they’re the ones they’ve gone over every day since this task was entrusted to them. Not that Abby’s not thinking them, but this is no time for doubt.
Not when Abby is so certain of her purpose.
“It’s not a question of how good you are,” she says, running a hand loosely through her hair. “I think it’s more a question of how good we are.”
“Remember why you’re there,” John warns.
Abby sighs. “John--”
He shakes his head. “Don’t mistake this for condescension,” he says. “You have to set the timeline right, you have to correct and maintain these three fixed points or all of this is for nothing.”
He looks at them each steadily in turn.
“All of this,” he says again, the words heavy with meaning. “And all the rest that is to come.”
He’s not just talking about the timelines. He’s talking about the universe. He’s talking about them, the three of them. He’s talking about this place and eternity. If the timelines fall apart, if the universe implodes, they’ll have no way of making it back here. Just because this isn’t a suicide mission anymore doesn’t mean it’s not a question of life or death.
This isn’t a charge just to save the world.
But to save themselves, to save this place where they found each other.
To save everything.
Sarah is fretting, and even Jenny swallows hard. They’re not certain.
But that’s okay.
Abby’s certain. She’s more clear on this than anything else in the entire world. Her fortitude will be enough for all of them.
“Then we better get moving,” Abby says definitively. “Sounds like there’s no time to waste.”
-o-
It looks like an anomaly.
The sight is almost painful in its familiarity. It seems so long ago that she saw her first anomaly, all the way back in the Forest of Dean. People with common sense probably would have run in the other direction, then and now.
Abby’s not so keen on common sense.
No, instincts are much better.
And hers are telling her to make the leap, to take the plunge.
“So,” Jenny says. “Who first?”
Sarah glances at Abby with trepidation. “If we do this, there’s no turning back.”
That assumes they’d want to.
“There’s no point in eternal life if we don’t live,” Abby replies, almost smiling now as she steps closer. She can feel its electromagnetic pull, charged like electricity across the surface of her skin. She glances back, smile widening now. “We go together.”
She waits as Jenny and Sarah exchange one lasts look and then fall into ranks beside her. They don’t run, and they don’t leap, but they certainly don’t look back as they walk through with their heads held high.
It’s time, Abby thinks as the light consumes her and the energy explodes.
It’s time.
-o-
On the other side, Abby half stumbles out. It takes her a moment to keep her footing, and when she inhales, the sudden physical acuity is almost overwhelming. The keenness of sensation is strange to her, the heat on her skin and the air in her lungs. She’d never questioned the physicality of eternity, but the weight of time is all too apparent all of a sudden, as if the wasting away of mortal flesh is a measurable thing with every beat of her heart.
Next to her, Sarah is struggling with the leap even more than she is, and Abby reaches out, pulling them both upright together. As they struggle to catch their breath, Jenny is already at attention, looking up.
The billows of smoke are impossible to miss, and Abby can feel the heat rolling off the building. Abby’s never been here physically before, but she recognizes it immediately. The ARC. What’s left of it after Helen’s bomb.
“Well,” she says, coming up alongside Jenny, Sarah just a step behind. “Looks like John put us right where we asked.”
Jenny’s face is tight and she gives a short nod.
Sarah’s hand is still wrapped around Abby’s wrist for support. “Then we won’t have much time,” she says. “If we’re on schedule, then most of the building has already been evacuated.”
There’s a heavy moment, and Abby is all too aware of how long it lasts. Time matters now. Time is everything now. She’s afraid that eternity has left them ill-prepared for the immediacy of the needs here, that they’ve forgotten what it is to live with a timeline.
Jenny, however, collects herself. It’s a testament to her strength and her utter composure. Wetting her lips, she nods. “Okay, then,” she says.
Abby reaches out, taking her arm to make Jenny look at her. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Jenny’s smile is tight but there’s still a light that glints in her eyes. “I’ve spent an eternity preparing for this,” she says. “If I’m not ready now, then I’ll never be.”
Sarah nods warmly. “We’ll do this together,” she promises.
This time, Jenny’s smile widens gratefully, confidently. “I know.”
-o-
“So,” Jenny says, leading them around the building. John placed them on the far side, which is convenient for secrecy, but puts them far from the action. “Sarah, you need to get the other Jenny away from the others.”
Sarah nods, keeping pace. “And you’re sure you want to use the tranquilizer?”
“I think it’s the safest way,” Jenny says. “Not to mention the most convenient.”
“Cutter’s going to have questions after all this,” Abby agrees. “If he’s more focused on making sure Jenny is okay, he won’t be as concerned with what happens inside.”
“More than that, it’ll give everyone an excuse as to why Jenny doesn’t remember shooting Helen,” Jenny continues.
“Are you sure she won’t wonder about it herself?” Sarah says.
Jenny smirks. “No, I’m fairly confident that she’ll want to believe she did it.”
“And it’s safe to say no one will question whether or not it was self-defense,” Sarah says.
“Exactly,” Jenny says. “So if you can get Jenny to the far entrance where we started.”
“Will do,” Sarah says.
Jenny slows, peeking around a corner. “And we’ll bring Cutter to you.”
“Just make sure you’re clear, though,” Abby warns. “We’ll meet up just beyond the fenceline.”
Jenny pulls them to a stop. “This is our parting point,” she says. “Around that corner, you should be at the front of the building, Sarah. Abby, this window will give us the best path inside to Cutter and Helen.”
Sarah clasps Jenny’s hands, looking her in the eyes. “You can do this.”
Jenny grins knowingly in return. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “I have no doubts about that.”
With that, Sarah ducks around the corner.
Abby eyes Jenny for a long moment. “No doubts, huh?”
“About my capabilities, never,” she replies. “About what comes after? Well, you can ask me that again later.”
Abby nudges her. “One thing at a time.”
Jenny gathers a breath and lets it out, turning her eyes to the burning building. “One thing at a time.”
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
When the latest prototype burns out, Abby throws it down in frustration at her workstation. Her lab is three times the size of John’s now, and it is completely sectioned off with a wall and a door. Her work is so filled with minutiae that sometimes she hardly sees the man at all anymore. She’s never had much she actually had to learn from him, and now she has enough confidence to be innovative on her own.
The division between her room and his is a sign, she thinks. Eternity’s implicit blessing for the secret that she’s harboring.
The mission she doesn’t want John to know about.
The mission she currently can’t figure out a way to complete.
Sighing, she runs her hand through her hair, looking forlornly at her device. It’s her best one yet, with more power and more precision. She’d taken care to include more circuitry in order to effectively store more power, but no matter what she did, once it was disconnected from an eternal power source it drained too quickly.
They’d have enough time to save the world, at least. She’d even managed to get enough energy conduction to allow for Sarah’s extra jump in Stephen’s timeline. But by the end, there was never enough power conversion to break through the time-space barrier one last time.
In short, she couldn’t figure out how to get them anything more than a one-way ticket. Once the energy on the device wore out, their time as intrepid time travelers would be up.
In short, they’d disappear. With all future events set, there would be no need for them anymore and the conditions that brought them to this place would never be created, thus nullifying their presence all together.
This journey would only last as long as the device, and that wasn’t going to be long enough.
Her lizards, who are free from their cages for now, scamper across her work area. Cutter and Stephen skillfully avoid the wreckage of her frustrated throw, but Connor stops, sniffing at it.
“You probably have an idea,” she mutters at the lizard. “Connor always had ideas. He was putting things together out of old radios and duct tape.”
Connor the lizard pads lightly across the cracked case, niggling in toward the internal components.
“The idea of a car charger is perfectly feasible, except it’s too slow,” she says. “But even if we are able to make a power surge big enough to charge this thing, the window of opportunity for the viable conversion is too small. By the time we’re able to safely capitalize, the energy source will already be burnt out.”
Connor flicks his tail, dismounting on the other side. He turns back around on it, and nudges it back toward her.
She sighs again, shaking her head. “It’s not that simple, Conn,” she says. “The problem is that the energy burst has to be so crude and the device is so exact that in order to successfully combine the two, it’d basically have to be simultaneous.”
At that, Connor runs toward her, darting up her wrist and stopping short to look at her.
And that’s when Abby gets it.
“Oh,” she says, sitting up a little straighter. She looks at Connor. “A car charger.”
Quickly, she sets Connor safely back down on the table, reaching for her tools again.
“Connor, I swear,” she says, starting to smile. “You’re a genius.”
-o-
She marches into the kitchen, where Sarah is mashing potatoes and Jenny is putting brownies in the oven.
Abby is too proud to engage in small talk. She’s too excited to pretend that she’s hasn’t changed everything.
“I did it,” she announces, rocking back on her heels as she beams.
Sarah looks back at her. “Did you get the steaks, you mean?”
Jenny closes the over and runs her hand along the batter in the bowl, licking her finger. “Mm, I don’t understand how we don’t gain weight here,” she says with another lick. “But it is a lovely thing.”
Abby is downright smug. “I did it.”
Sarah raises her eyebrows. “Did what?”
Abby lifts her device, showing it proudly. “I made it.”
“Is that your latest model?” Jenny asks.
“It’s not just a latest model,” Abby says. “It’s the model.”
When the girls look at her for a moment, Abby waves it at them.
“It’s the car charger!” she says. “Literally!”
Jenny cocks her head. “What?”
Abby is too enthused to be annoyed. “Every time I try to create storage capacity that can be converted from finite time sources, I couldn’t figure out how to hold onto it. The conversion rate degrades too quickly. So even though I know you could make a blast big enough to use, I had no way of using that power before it was gone.”
“Or blowing ourselves up,” Jenny reflects.
“Exactly,” Abby says. “So we need a safe way of harness the energy at the moment of conversion.”
Sarah looks confused. “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”
“A car charger,” Abby says again, even more emphatically. “A car is a perfect conduit. We can use the speed of the car to power the device, and it will serve as a relatively safe haven to make sure we can get through the window in one piece. It’s a little Back to the Future, I admit, but it should work.”
Sarah’s face is underlined with wonder. “We should be able to transport tangible objects back with us,” she reasons.
“And I can definitely figure out a way to give a car a little extra kick to get us through,” Jenny says.
“And this,” Abby says, holding the device out at them again. “This is our ticket back home.”
-o-
It comes together quickly, after that. Abby’s not sure it was slow before, but all the pieces are lined up, perfectly like dominoes in a row.
Sarah reads; Jenny fires; Abby tinkers.
It’s funny how long eternity is.
Until you’re about to leave it.
-o-
John makes the dinner that night.
Rather, they go downstairs and find John at the table with dinner laid out around him. Abby has her doubts as to whether he actually cooks or not.
Still, when she takes her seat, she realizes it’s her favorite meal: mango chicken, just like the kind she picked up at the Indian restaurant around the corner from her flat back in London.
She takes a bite and her mouth nearly drops open. It is mango chicken from the Indian restaurant around the corner from her flat back in London.
“Not exactly, of course,” John supplies, as if reading her mind, with a grin. “But close enough, right?”
Abby swallows and then loads her fork up for another bite. “It’s remarkable!”
“And this is the pad thai my mother used to make,” Sarah says. “She never even told me the recipe.”
John shrugs. “Just one of the many advantages of near omnipotence.”
Jenny moans contentedly, washing down a bit of her bloody steak with the crisp red wine at her plate. “This is divine.”
“Good, good,” John says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I wanted tonight to be special since it is our last night together.”
Abby stops mid-chew, her throat suddenly constricting. She has to force herself to swallow when she looks up at John again. Sarah hasn’t managed to get that far, and Jenny’s face is carefully composed.
John nods once and collects a breath. “You’ve trained hard, you’ve studied hard, you’ve worked hard,” he says. “You’ve done everything I’ve expected. And there’s nothing left for you to do except actually finish the task at hand.”
“Are you sure, though?” Sarah asks quietly. “We only get one chance at this.”
“And it does bother me that no matter how much we prepare, there’s no way to stage any actual rehearsals,” Jenny comments. “It’s a lot different being in the field.”
“And I think I can put in a few more modifications,” Abby adds. “Get us a little more power out there.”
John’s smile is kind. “Your device is already more powerful than it needs to be to complete this mission,” he says. “And your training is thorough, Jenny. And your theory is sound, Sarah. Eternity can be an asset, but when you let yourself start repeating the same things, you can get trapped in a cycle you never get out of. If you wait for the exact right time, you will be waiting forever.”
Abby presses her lips together, looking down at her plate again.
John clears his throat. “Enough talk like that,” he says, upbeat once more. “Tonight is not a lecture. I want tonight to be a celebration.”
Abby looks up again. Across the table, Sarah is even more tentative, and Jenny is well schooled.
John holds up his glass. “I always knew you could do it,” he says. “But watching you three is still a privilege.”
He’s being so sincere -- so very, very sincere -- that Abby almost feels guilty. Because this isn’t about John. Despite her initial misgivings about him, she’s grown to depend on him. And no matter what secrets she’s chosen to keep from him, she likes him. He’s an important part of this place, which makes him an important part of her.
In some ways, lying to him feels like lying to herself, no matter what her intentions might be, and there is something painfully ironic about his kind send off.
He’s thanking her for being a hero, and Abby is willing to save lives. She’s willing to save the universe and all that it entails.
But she’s not going to be the one to lay down her life. She’s not going down with the ship, not if she doesn’t have to. Nick Cutter, Stephen Hart, Connor Temple -- they’re heroes, which is coincidentally why they need to be saved. No, Abby has no interest in being a hero.
She has every interest, however, of getting the job done.
On her terms.
Decided, she raises her glass. “To getting the job done.”
Jenny lifts her as well and gives a resolute nod. “And setting things right.”
Sarah joins them last, casting a knowing look at Abby and Jenny. “For everyone.”
“Hear, hear!” John says before taking a drink.
It’s a toast they can all drink to.
Even if for entirely different reasons.
-o-
It’s a good dinner. The food never seems to run out, and John has not only managed to come up with their favorite dishes, but their favorite drinks and desserts as well. Time, as it is prone to in this place, seems to slow perfectly, allowing them ample time to share for one last night of celebration together.
When John retires for the evening, he does so with his usual panache. If he is a creation from all of them, Abby has never seen it more clearly than that night. He has Sarah’s sensitivity, and Jenny’s idea of a good time. And yet, he knows when it’s time to move, just like Abby.
“Rest up,” he says with a wink of farewell. “Tomorrow will actually count for something.”
Abby watches him go, her stomach twisting inside of her.
He’s right, of course.
Even if he has no idea just how right he is.
-o-
They leave the dishes, just for that night. They end up on the roof, just the three of them.
One last time, just in case.
“We really are ready,” Jenny says, looking up at the sky.
“There’s no reason to wait,” Sarah agrees.
Abby sighs a little, flicking a stray rock off the stone ledge so it disappears into the expanse. “We’re prepared,” she says finally. “But are you sure we’re all ready?”
Jenny arches an eyebrow at her. “This was your idea, remember.”
“I know,” Abby says. “But we all have the option to back out, if we want. I mean, what John’s offering us is a happy ending. Most people don’t turn that sort of thing down.”
“Our ending here can be happy, too,” Sarah points out.
“But you know what we’ll be missing,” Abby says. “The men we’ll never love. The job we’ll never get. The families we’ll never have.”
Jenny shakes her head, straightening her shoulders. “I always promised myself I’d never let a boy dictate my future,” she says.
“But it’s Cutter,” Abby says. “I know you miss him. And what about Stephen? Sarah, I know you’re curious.”
“Curious, yes,” Sarah says. “But that’s one lifetime. Here, we can live infinite lifetimes.”
“And doesn’t that scare you?” Abby asks. “That somehow all this will get monotonous, that we’ll realize an eternity is too long.”
“To discover ourselves?” Jenny asks, thoroughly skeptical. “An eternity isn’t long enough. We’ve already been here an eternity, and I just want more.”
Sarah shrugs. “If we go back, we’ll tell one story. It may be a great story, but it’s just one. Here, we can tell infinite stories. We can fill libraries upon libraries with our stories.” She sighs, shaking her head as she looks out. “I don’t know, it just seems….”
“Right,” Abby concludes for her. “Like there’s no other option that even makes sense.”
“That about sums it up,” Jenny agrees.
They’re quiet for a moment, the three of them lined up at the edge of eternity. It’s a long moment, mere seconds or centuries, they don’t know.
It doesn’t matter.
Because Abby is holding a lizard in her hand. She’s following a little boy into the Forest of Dean. She’s lying her way into a sewer system to catch a giant bug.
It’s a moment when Abby knows, when they all know, exactly what they’re supposed to do with the rest of their lives.
It doesn’t need to be validated.
It just is.
Abby finally speaks. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work out.”
Sarah inches closer to her until they’re arm to arm. “Either way, it’s worth a shot.”
Jenny leans in from the other side. “Besides,” she says. “It’s going to work.”
Abby takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I think it is.”
-o-
They stand like that, together against the expanse. They’ve shared their memories; they’ve solidified their feelings.
It’s not until they’re ready to go inside that the dawn begins to break, someplace far in the east.
That’s the thing about forever.
It lasts as long as you need it to.
-o-
Back in her room, Abby takes just a few minutes in her room tidying up before bed. She does the little things, the inconsequential things. She makes her bed and refolds her clothes. She polishes the mirror, giving herself one more look before she goes back out and puts her lizards back in the cage.
Cutter and Stephen don’t seem to mind, and they retreat to their rock enclave together, circling each other contrarily for a moment before settling down, half curled around each other. Connor, however, clings to her hand, wrapping himself around her finger as she tries to put him back in the glass enclosure.
“Hey,” Abby says, gently prying his little feet off. “You know it’s time to get back inside.”
He evades her, though, scampering around and climbing up her arm.
“Don’t be so feisty,” she scolds, even as he slips through her fingers again and makes his way up to her shoulder. She turns her head, pinning him with a look. “Honestly, you know this is something you have to do, so why would you make it so hard?”
Even as she finishes speaking, her stomach flips. It’s not guilt, and it’s not anticipation, but something else entirely. Before she can place it, there’s a knock at the door.
Startled, she plucks Connor off her shoulder, slipping him inside the case before he has the chance to escape again. She’s composed when she opens the door, but almost falters when she sees John on the other side.
“Oh,” she says, for the lack of something more intelligent or useful to say.
He smiles. “I wanted to stop by to let you know that I’ll look after them for you.”
Abby tries to pretend like she knows what he’s talking about, but she honestly doesn’t have a clue.
“The lizards,” John says. “The three in there, and Rex Jr. in the library.”
“Oh,” she says again, feeling somewhat ridiculous now. She glances to the glass enclosures. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She’s thought about everything else, it seems, but the sudden practicalities of it all have eluded her. Will time pass in her absence? Can time pass here? Will there be time for her pets to miss her? What about John?
She frowns somewhat. “Though wouldn’t Sarah argue that they’d just disappear without me around anyway?” she asks. “A problem that fixes itself.”
In her mind, it’s an adequate comeback to justify her omission. But the idea jars her more than she wants to admit. It’s funny how easy it is to take existence for granted, and how much harder it is to consider the opposite. It’s not just life or death. It’s nonexistence.
The most unsettling thing of all.
John is watching her, more carefully than she realizes. “It would be just that,” he agrees. “If you weren’t planning on coming back.”
She’s distracted, so much so, that she doesn’t catch his tone until a second too late. Her eyes widen before she can stop herself, and she opens her mouth to protest.
He shakes his head. “It’s cute that you thought I wouldn’t know,” he says. “If somewhat willfully obtuse.”
“So you’ve known?” she asks, somewhat dumbfounded by the revelation. “The whole time?”
He shrugs, far more nonchalant than Abby would have expected. “You might argue that I’ve known before you did.”
“Then why did you try to talk us out of it?” she asks, unable to mask her growing incredulity.
“Because I’ve been created to protect the integrity of the timeline,” he says. “That is my only, singular goal. I’m not going to encourage other risks.”
“But it’s not a risk,” Abby says. “We’ve figured it out, John. All of it. Sarah’s theory and Jenny’s logistics and my--”
He holds up his hand to stop her. “There’s also the fact that the most important decisions aren’t the ones that are made for you,” he says. “Resolution needs conflict first. If I had told you what you’d be capable of doing, you’d never have accomplished it at all. Besides, if anything is true, it’s that it’s not the end that matters. It’s the story you tell as you go along.”
He’s not angry -- he’s anything but angry. He’s calmer than she’s ever seen him, more self-assured and collected. And that’s saying something. Because all John’s ever been is self-assured and collected.
But then she realizes.
This isn’t the start of his story.
This isn’t even the middle.
This is the end.
“Wait,” she says. “The theory is Sarah’s thing, but if we do this. If we fix the timeline, it’s not just the timeline that we change. We’ll change you, won’t we?”
“Change is natural,” he says.
“You’ll cease to exist,” she concludes, surprised by the pang of pain that spikes in her heart. “Because the future conditions that created you will have changed.”
“My story will be over,” he says. “My entire purpose was derived from the skewed timeline. When it’s fixed, there will be no need for me because the events that precipitated my journey will have changed. This place is eternal, but it isn’t separated from the finite world. That’s the way these things work.”
“But it doesn’t have to be,” she says, her voice starting to build again. “If we can save ourselves, we can save you, too.”
“Abby,” he says, looking almost surprised. “I won’t stop you from jeopardizing the timeline because it’s your story to tell. You get to decide. I realize that I’m not like you -- I’m not human, maybe I don’t have a soul -- but I like to think I still get to choose. And I choose to accept this ending.”
She wants to argue with him. She wants to knock his bloody head against the wall. Her chest is tight, and she wills herself not to sniffle. “You’re a man just like the lot of them,” she says. “Stupid until the end.”
He smiles fondly. “That’s why we need you three.”
She takes a breath, and then forces herself to take another. “You’ve seen the end of this. Does it work?”
He tilts his head. “There are some stories you have to find out for yourself.”
In the moment that follows, Abby’s not sure what to do. She’s not sure what to say. A thank-you seems too simple. An apology sounds too trite. This isn’t John’s project, and he’s not the leader of it, but he’s been important to it. Saying goodbye to him is like saying goodbye to part of herself, and it’s a task she’s not even sure how to start.
Instead, she reaches forward, pulling him into a hug.
“Take care of my lizards,” she whispers into the crook of his head.
He hugs her back, a little slower than she had but just a little tighter. “You know I will.”
-o-
Abby tries to sleep, just because it seems like the right thing to do. But when she closes her eyes, there is nothing to dream.
There is only the real world left for her.
-o-
They don’t eat breakfast; they don’t make small talk. Jenny packs on her gear, wearing extra ammunition inside her special jacket, tailored for just such a purpose. Sarah hesitates over her books, packing just a few into her knapsack while looking pained at the ones she is leaving behind. For her part, Abby packs light. The device she’s built is streamlined and simple. Part of her would like to bring some spare parts, but if it comes down to that, she thinks they’ll be out of time anyway.
That’s the ironic part. After all this, they’d be out of time.
“I can make the first jump for you from here,” John explains, nodding to the equipment in his office. “That’ll save you some energy in your device and give you a bit more time as you try to navigate in the past.”
“And you’ve got the time coordinates I gave you?” Sarah asks.
John nods. “I’ve already input them.”
“And you’ve controlled for our location,” Jenny presumes. “We want to be close to the ARC, but we don’t want anyone to see us.”
“I’ve compensated for all variables as best I can,” John says. “There’s no way to guarantee, of course, but I’ll admit I’m pretty good at this sort of thing.”
These are nervous questions, because they’re the ones they’ve gone over every day since this task was entrusted to them. Not that Abby’s not thinking them, but this is no time for doubt.
Not when Abby is so certain of her purpose.
“It’s not a question of how good you are,” she says, running a hand loosely through her hair. “I think it’s more a question of how good we are.”
“Remember why you’re there,” John warns.
Abby sighs. “John--”
He shakes his head. “Don’t mistake this for condescension,” he says. “You have to set the timeline right, you have to correct and maintain these three fixed points or all of this is for nothing.”
He looks at them each steadily in turn.
“All of this,” he says again, the words heavy with meaning. “And all the rest that is to come.”
He’s not just talking about the timelines. He’s talking about the universe. He’s talking about them, the three of them. He’s talking about this place and eternity. If the timelines fall apart, if the universe implodes, they’ll have no way of making it back here. Just because this isn’t a suicide mission anymore doesn’t mean it’s not a question of life or death.
This isn’t a charge just to save the world.
But to save themselves, to save this place where they found each other.
To save everything.
Sarah is fretting, and even Jenny swallows hard. They’re not certain.
But that’s okay.
Abby’s certain. She’s more clear on this than anything else in the entire world. Her fortitude will be enough for all of them.
“Then we better get moving,” Abby says definitively. “Sounds like there’s no time to waste.”
-o-
It looks like an anomaly.
The sight is almost painful in its familiarity. It seems so long ago that she saw her first anomaly, all the way back in the Forest of Dean. People with common sense probably would have run in the other direction, then and now.
Abby’s not so keen on common sense.
No, instincts are much better.
And hers are telling her to make the leap, to take the plunge.
“So,” Jenny says. “Who first?”
Sarah glances at Abby with trepidation. “If we do this, there’s no turning back.”
That assumes they’d want to.
“There’s no point in eternal life if we don’t live,” Abby replies, almost smiling now as she steps closer. She can feel its electromagnetic pull, charged like electricity across the surface of her skin. She glances back, smile widening now. “We go together.”
She waits as Jenny and Sarah exchange one lasts look and then fall into ranks beside her. They don’t run, and they don’t leap, but they certainly don’t look back as they walk through with their heads held high.
It’s time, Abby thinks as the light consumes her and the energy explodes.
It’s time.
-o-
On the other side, Abby half stumbles out. It takes her a moment to keep her footing, and when she inhales, the sudden physical acuity is almost overwhelming. The keenness of sensation is strange to her, the heat on her skin and the air in her lungs. She’d never questioned the physicality of eternity, but the weight of time is all too apparent all of a sudden, as if the wasting away of mortal flesh is a measurable thing with every beat of her heart.
Next to her, Sarah is struggling with the leap even more than she is, and Abby reaches out, pulling them both upright together. As they struggle to catch their breath, Jenny is already at attention, looking up.
The billows of smoke are impossible to miss, and Abby can feel the heat rolling off the building. Abby’s never been here physically before, but she recognizes it immediately. The ARC. What’s left of it after Helen’s bomb.
“Well,” she says, coming up alongside Jenny, Sarah just a step behind. “Looks like John put us right where we asked.”
Jenny’s face is tight and she gives a short nod.
Sarah’s hand is still wrapped around Abby’s wrist for support. “Then we won’t have much time,” she says. “If we’re on schedule, then most of the building has already been evacuated.”
There’s a heavy moment, and Abby is all too aware of how long it lasts. Time matters now. Time is everything now. She’s afraid that eternity has left them ill-prepared for the immediacy of the needs here, that they’ve forgotten what it is to live with a timeline.
Jenny, however, collects herself. It’s a testament to her strength and her utter composure. Wetting her lips, she nods. “Okay, then,” she says.
Abby reaches out, taking her arm to make Jenny look at her. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Jenny’s smile is tight but there’s still a light that glints in her eyes. “I’ve spent an eternity preparing for this,” she says. “If I’m not ready now, then I’ll never be.”
Sarah nods warmly. “We’ll do this together,” she promises.
This time, Jenny’s smile widens gratefully, confidently. “I know.”
-o-
“So,” Jenny says, leading them around the building. John placed them on the far side, which is convenient for secrecy, but puts them far from the action. “Sarah, you need to get the other Jenny away from the others.”
Sarah nods, keeping pace. “And you’re sure you want to use the tranquilizer?”
“I think it’s the safest way,” Jenny says. “Not to mention the most convenient.”
“Cutter’s going to have questions after all this,” Abby agrees. “If he’s more focused on making sure Jenny is okay, he won’t be as concerned with what happens inside.”
“More than that, it’ll give everyone an excuse as to why Jenny doesn’t remember shooting Helen,” Jenny continues.
“Are you sure she won’t wonder about it herself?” Sarah says.
Jenny smirks. “No, I’m fairly confident that she’ll want to believe she did it.”
“And it’s safe to say no one will question whether or not it was self-defense,” Sarah says.
“Exactly,” Jenny says. “So if you can get Jenny to the far entrance where we started.”
“Will do,” Sarah says.
Jenny slows, peeking around a corner. “And we’ll bring Cutter to you.”
“Just make sure you’re clear, though,” Abby warns. “We’ll meet up just beyond the fenceline.”
Jenny pulls them to a stop. “This is our parting point,” she says. “Around that corner, you should be at the front of the building, Sarah. Abby, this window will give us the best path inside to Cutter and Helen.”
Sarah clasps Jenny’s hands, looking her in the eyes. “You can do this.”
Jenny grins knowingly in return. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “I have no doubts about that.”
With that, Sarah ducks around the corner.
Abby eyes Jenny for a long moment. “No doubts, huh?”
“About my capabilities, never,” she replies. “About what comes after? Well, you can ask me that again later.”
Abby nudges her. “One thing at a time.”
Jenny gathers a breath and lets it out, turning her eyes to the burning building. “One thing at a time.”
