Emma's POV

-"What a unique and beautiful name. I'm quite sure it won't get lost in the hundred Michel or Michael variations I've known in my life," I smiled at him sarcastically.

Yes, sarcastically, because I wasn't in the mood to talk now.

The so-called Mike said something after my little comment, but I didn't listen, because my mind was wandering in other places, thinking about my unfortunate fate.

They had taken my sandglass, and I had no other way to go back to the base.

I was stuck here.

For now, at least.

I knew that soon enough, they would find me and come to get me. But that, sadly, would take quite a long time.

Even though results would start coming up a matter of seconds after they start searching, what they find isn't always accurate. That is why, most of the time, a search for a stuck traveler would take hours, days, and even weeks.

-"Pff," I muttered. "Can't it be quick for once?"

-"What can be quick?" asked my new cellmate, seemingly having heard my whisper.

-"Oh, shut up, you." 

-"Umm, rude much?" he observed. "What's your name, anyway?"

I was about to retort with a classic "It's none of your business," but on second thought, I considered the point he made.

And concluded that he wasn't wrong, sadly. 

I was acting quite rudely. Trying to act more softly and less affected by my current state of unproductiveness, I decided to be polite and answer.

-"I'm Emmanuelle Rousseau, but you can call me Emma. Oh, wait, no. You can't."

-"Ya know, I would've replied with an "Awn, what an honor!" thrown at you, but unlike you, I'm no kid," he snarkily shot back and went back to his bed.

I grimaced.

-"So, Rousseau, huh? You're a Frenchie, I bet," he guessed after lying down.

-"What a bright and smart fellow the officers are forcing me to meet!" I quipped. "I can quite clearly see why they had been able to catch you in the first place," I ended and went towards the empty bed.

-"Really? And why's that?" 

-"Because no one as stupid as you would ever be able to escape the police, dear fellow. I'm sure you've left enough evidence for a toddler to know you were the culprit."

-"Vraiment? Et qu'est-ce qui te fait penser cela?"

I choked.

-"You speak French?"

-"Surprise," he mused.

-"Yeah, well. That's nothing too exceptional. Many speak two languages. I, myself, speak three," I proudly announced, raising my head in defiance.

-"The third one being?" he asked.

-"Spanish," I smirked. "I bet you won't get a word out of ten if I talk to you."

-"That's quite impressive. Go ahead, then. Say something. Show me what you know."

-"Alright," I paused. "Umm, Hola, mucho gusto. Como se llama tu madre?"

-"¿Qué carajo es esa pregunta?" He laughed. "¿Realmente no tenías nada más que decir? Pero de todos modos, para darte una respuesta, mi madre se llama Sally. ¿Feliz ahora?"

My jaw practically hit the floor.

-"I, uh... Maybe you need to repeat that," I muttered, taken aback. "I didn't hear it properly."

-"Is that so?" Mike smirked. "Well, then. I'll say it again, no worries. Want me to go slower this time?"

-"No, no. No need for that. I'm an expert."

He raised a mocking eyebrow at me.

-"Alright. Listen intently, this time," he advised me. "¿Qué carajo es esa pregunta?¿Realmente no tenías nada más que decir? Pero de todos modos, para darte una respuesta, mi madre se llama Sally. ¿Feliz ahora?"

-"You know, maybe...," I trailed off. "Say it in English," I asked him and shook my head, defeated.

At those words, the grin on his face widened.

-"Thought you were an expert, babe."

I glared at him.

-"Oh, don't worry, you're not the only one like that. Many speak only two languages, and a broken third one. I, myself, speak all the possible and most common languages in the world," he then satisfactorily added, taking my words and twisting them to his convenience.

-"Yeah, whatever. Wait, you what?"

-"I speak 130 languages, darling."

-"No way. That's impossible."

-"Sanmıyorum, hayır."

-"Huh?"

-"That was Turkish for 'I don't think so, no,' love."

-"You speak Turkish too?"

-"Honey, I'm even better than Google Translate."

-"Goo- what?" I questioned, perplexed, and turned my head towards him.

Suddenly, he straightened his position and sat on his bed, facing me.

-"Hol up. Where are you from?"

-"Umm, France," I started and, rolling my eyes, continued: "You guessed it yourself. Why would you-"

-"No, I mean, which year are you from."

This time, it was my turn to sit up and look at him.

-"Excuse me?" I muttered.

-"Your clothes. They give me mid-1900s vibes. How come you don't know about goo-," he stopped right in his tracks. "Oh, whoops. My bad. Google was like in the early 2000s. Damn. This stuff be hella confusing, man."

-"I'm sorry, what?"

-"Nevermind, nevermind. So, which year you from?"

-"1951...," I started. "What about you?"

-"2134."

-"How does it look like?" I asked him.

-"Modern, very modern."

-"Wow, thanks for enlightening me," I retorted.

-"But in non-touristic places, it's not so modern. People do be struggling to live there, sometimes."

-"Oh."

-"Oh indeed. I'm surprised you haven't asked me the most important question, though."

-"And what is this most important question, pray?"

He stared at me blankly.

-"Oh, that question! I, umm, was going to ask it. Pfft, impatient jerk. One must take notes of everything and get all the possible information."

-"You do know I could've simply refused to answer or even talk to you, right?"

-"Yeah, but you didn't, so let's get on with it now, shall we?"

-"Okey-dokey, m'lady."

-"Ew, no. I'm not 'your' lady."

-"Chill, girl. I don't even mean it that way."

-"Whatever," I mumbled, shaking my head. "So... How did you arrive here? Are you a time-traveler too?"

-"You can say so, yeah."

-"Can you, perchance, take us out of here?"

-"You think I haven't tried to get back to the future already? Darling, I've been stuck here for the past four years. There's nothing I haven't tried."

This shut me up.

-"No replies? Aw, sweetie, what have I done to you," he mocked.

-"Pff, shut up. I was trying to find a way to get out of here in the first place, but you asking all these questions distracted me."

-"Last time I checked, you were the one asking questions."

-"But you were the one who started- you know what? Forget it."

An awkward, tension-filled silence ensued.

-"Anywho, since we're asking questions and everything, I have another one for you. How did you end up here?

-"Huh? I time-traveled, estúpido."

-"I know, I know. But how did you time-travel? Is it some power in you, a gadget, or what? And why can't you get back to your time?"

I considered whether responding to this question would be wise.

Logically, it shouldn't be. But I was stuck in a Victorian prison cell, with a guy from the future as a roommate. Could things get any crazier?

Not really, no.

So telling him about my sandglass wouldn't hurt, right? Not in the short term, anyway.

-"I travel with a sandglass. But they took it away from me when I got in here."

-"A sandglass? You mean, like the one you have in your left chest pocket?"

-"What? I don't have any chest pock-"

-"Check inside your shirt," he casually told me.

-"Pardon me?" I squealed, my eyes widening.

-"Go ahead, do it."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. But still, I did what he was said.

Turning away from his gaze, I inserted my hand down my shirt, checking for the inside pocket.

And, true enough, there was a voluminous object in it. How did I miss it?

"Might be because I'm a little too used to having the sandglass glued to my chest," I thought.

Well, perhaps that was the reason, and perhaps it wasn't. But either way, I couldn't help but mentally thank Samantha for giving me this specific shirt to wear this morning.

She had insisted on me taking it and told me that she had a feeling I was going to use it. I hadn't known, though, that there was another sandglass in its pocket.

Shaking this memory out of my head, I turned back to Mike.

-"How did you know?"

-"Oh, I may or may not have a fetish for metallic objects," he smirked.

-"Ew, you bastard!" I shouted and, bending down to unlace my shoelace, ended up throwing my boot at him.

-"Hey, hey! Now that, missy, was unnecessary."

-"And it's not even a metallic object, you idiot! It's a sandglass, for Christ's sake!"

-"Ah, but it does have this metallic ring encircling it, am I right?"

-"Pff, yeah. But-"

-"How? I told you, I have my ways," he teased me.

-"Whatever," I brushed him off. "You sure you're human?"

-"Hmm, maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

-"Exactly! Chances are, you're a monster or an unknown creature, and as soon as I close my eyes, you'll approach me on your tiptoes and rip my head off while I'm sleeping."

-"You have no idea how right you are," he joked.

Still, I didn't fail to notice the tiniest amount of bitterness in his words.

Confused by this sudden mood change, I tried to say something to continue the conversation. But just as I was about to do that, I heard Mike say: "But, hey! If you have a second sandglass with you, that means you can get back, right? Mayhaps you could also take me with you, ya know."

-"Mayhaps? What the hell is that word?"

-"It's maybe and perhaps put together," he quickly said, brushing it off with a swift motion of his hand. "So, can you?"

I pondered that question for a while. Could I take him with me?

-"Lemme remind you that without me, you'd have never discovered that second sandglass," he smugly mentioned.

Darn him! He was right. And after all, he didn't seem to be a bad guy. Not yet, at least. And, poor thing that he was, being stuck here for four years wasn't, to be completely honest, what one could call a merry little vacation, and didn't precisely make him feel great.

So I ought to take him with me, at least to settle my debt. As soon as we get out of here, he could go back to wherever he wanted, I didn't care.

-"Alright, you're coming."

-"Yes! Thank you! Ah, finally! You have food, where we're going, right?"

-"Umm, yes?"

-"Wonderful! I can't wait!" He exclaimed excitedly, standing up.

-"Calm down, sparky boy, calm down," I rolled my eyes.

-"Oh, crap," Mike then suddenly uttered, falling back down.

-"What is it?" I inquired.

-"I forgot about DogFace," he whispered.

-"Who?"

-"My friend next door."

-"You mean the criminal next door," I raised an eyebrow.

-"Hey, he's not that bad, once you get to know him!"

-"Uhuh. Well, what about him?"

-"I can't leave him like that. It's... It's selfish. Can't we like, take him with us?"

-"Is he a time-traveler too?"

-"No, but he's met many like us."

-"I see."

And right then and there, an idea struck me.

-"So, what are we gonna do?" Mike asked.

-"You'll see," I replied.

I got the sandglass out of my pocket, and putting it around my neck, took Mike by the arm.

In a matter of seconds, we were out of our cell and into the one right next to us.

-"Sweet mother of God! How did you... Who are-," the guy in the cell started, nearly having a heart attack. Then, turning his head to my left, he yelled a little more: "Ahh! Mike! Is that you?"

Mike simply nodded in response.

-"Jesus, you look uglier than I thought you'd look like face to face!"

-"Geez, man, thanks."

-"Hey, hey, no, I don't mean- You're still handsome, lad. Don't worry about that. I mean, if you weren't, how could this woman be standing with you, right now, huh?"

At these words, I immediately took a few steps away from my former-- although I only met him half an hour ago-- cellmate.

-"I... We're not-," Mike started.

-"Yeah, it's not what you think it is. We're in no way involved. I was just-" I continued.

-"She's my new cellmate. Or rather, she was. She's a time-traveler, so we're getting out of here now."

-"Mike mentioned you just before we leave, and I thought maybe you'd want to come with us."

-"Hey! I was the one who suggested that," he cut me off.

-"Whatever. I was the one who got the marvelous idea to travel a few seconds later, inside-"

-"Dear Lord, can't you two shut up?" sighed DogFace.

-"Oh, right, right. Sorry," we both muttered together-

-and exchanged a surprised look after that sudden moment.

DogFace cleared his throat.

-"So, you're saying that I can get out of here?"

-"Exactly, yeah."

-"Yeah, exactly."

-"Can you stop saying the same words I say, for God's sake?" I groaned.

-"Shh, love. Doggie was saying something."

I glared at him and, reluctantly, turned again towards DogFace.

-"Do you want to come?"

-"Hell yes! I mean, I can finally be free again!" He paused. "One question, though. Where will you be dropping me off?"

-"Umm, you get to choose?" I suggested.

-"Oy. Mind dropping me a few blocks away? I miss my family."

-"Sure thing! I definitely will."

-"What about you, Mike?"

-"Take me to a lab. Whatever lab you know."

-"Alright," I said frowning at his strange request. "Come closer, everybody."

They took a few steps forward, towards me.

-"Now, I need to flip my sandglass and hold both of your arms. But sadly, I don't have three hands. So it might be better if you were the ones to grab my arm instead."

-"That's fine by me," Mike said, and DogFace agreed with him.

-"Ready?" I asked them.

-"We sure are, baby."

I rolled my eyes. And on that last note, I flipped the sandglass thrice and landed a few blocks away, the open sky spreading above us.

-"We're out!" Mike exclaimed happily. "We're finally out!" He went on dancing and cheering, hugging DogFace and congratulating him.

-"Well, that's awkward," I remarked, amused.

Getting back to their senses, the two boys stood apart, clearing their throats.

-"Guess that's where I tell you goodbye?" Mike told his friend.

-"Aye, lad. I believe that's the end."

-"It was an honor to have you as a friend, pal."

-"The feeling's mutual, mate."

-"So, we'll just, you know, leave now, by turning and going the other way, and yeah..."

DogFace laughed whole-heartedly. It was a wild, joyous sound, that filled the air around us.

Suddenly, I felt happy. This man was a total stranger, but seeing him like that after years and years of being locked in a cell was enough to lighten a whole country's mood.

-"Goodbye, Mike," he finally said.

-"Bye," the latter replied with a smile.

As to me, I waved my hand at him. After bidding our farewells, we turned on our heels and started to leave.

At the last moment, we heard DogFace shout from afar.

-"Hey, Mike! If you ever wondered, my real name's Robert. Robert DeGusto."

***

1) Vraiment? Et qu'est-ce qui te fait penser cela? = Really? And what makes you think that?

2) ¿Qué carajo es esa pregunta?¿Realmente no tenías nada más que decir? Pero de todos modos, para darte una respuesta, mi madre se llama Sally. ¿Feliz ahora? = What the f*** is that question? Did you really have nothing else to say? But anyway, to give you an answer, my mother's name is Sally. Happy now?

In case y'all needed the translation ;)