Grayling, Michigan
2019
(six months later
but also twenty years before)

━━━━

"THAT'S ... QUITE a story." Russel Darby leant back in his chair, making it creak. His hands were interlocked over his belly, his tongue in his cheek as he appraised the woman in front of him.

He couldn't say that he wasn't still skeptical, of course -- kids these days would do anything to escape some parental punishment -- but something in Amelia's face made him take a pause. Maybe it was her eyes' hoodedness, something that reminded him of a victim of attempted homicide the year before. Nasty case, that'd been.

The fly that had been buzzing around his office had quieted. While the lieutenant moved backwards, Amelia moved forwards, her gaze earnest. It made him want to look away, and his gut churned nervously with sour caffeine. Gotta tell Teresa to lay off of 'em coffees again, before I get indigestion or cancer.

Russel didn't know which was worse; heartburn from his coffee or the jabbering of his secretary, and he hid his wince.

"So, you believe me?" This Doveare kid sounded so hopeful he almost didn't want to say "No". Almost. Weird how he was firmer with potential schizos and other nutcases in his office than he was with his own teens at home.

Their mother can deal with them, for now.

Russel sighed and scratched his chin with a sniff. "I'm just gonna say that your tale's convincing enough that I'm not gonna throw you into a cell." He tilted his head and met her eyes again as her brow creased with something like disappointment.

If Russel was being honest with himself, he didn't know what to think. He'd expected to go into work that day for yet another mind-numbing session of admin and parking tickets galore, and maybe a few coffee stains down his shirt and a few snaps at Teresa, and then go home to Kimberly and argue with Helen, their eldest, about another one of her crop-tops, and then settle beside the twins, Titantia (who even named their kid Titantia anymore? But she'd been Kimberly's great-great-something and he was honestly too tired with sitting at the hospital when they'd been born to fight with her, though it was ironic because that's all that they ever did lately), who'd wanna show her daddy something, and Casper, who would just keep quiet and let his twin sister run over him like the time she broke his nose in a game of tag - an eight-year-old breaking her brother's bloody nose - and then he'd go to bed and wake up and it would start all over again, for the next eight or so years of his life at the station until he retired.

God, so close already? Eight years. It felt like just yesterday that he'd joined the force, a fresh-faced rookie looking to support his young family.

But now that had all been spoiled. Amelia'd had gotten him thinking. Was it all worth it? Life? If he could time travel, would he start all over again?

But that's not how it worked, he reminded himself, with a quick glance at Amelia. You don't get to 'restart' ... Just ... Watch, I suppose. Watch it all happen again.

Russel cleared his throat, hating how his thoughts had scattered just 'cause this potential psycho was claiming she was a time traveler. And provided him with a decent story, but that was besides the point ... "Either way, how I am supposed to believe you if what you're telling me is true?" Words could only get so far in the court of law, and the fact that he could jail this girl for wasting a police officer's time was suddenly seeming appealing, like that would bring him peace of mind.

Amelia said nothing, but she stood up, making the chair squeal behind her. On instinct, he pressed his hand against his firearm, the cold metal of the handcuffs clinking under his fingers.

But, unlike all his visions of her attacking him or pulling out a gun or laser or whatever came from year-wherever-she-came-from, Amelia merely opened one of her clenched fists.

Russel couldn't help it. His mouth popped open as the fly that was clasped in her palm seemed to shake itself from its stupor and take to the air, buzzing out a familiar drone.

Amelia stepped back and folded her arms, one eyebrow quirked. Russel felt the intense need to say something, anything, but no words would come. His throat was as dry as a desert, his tongue a limp dead thing in that desert.

"Look, I came here because I needed to do some things." Amelia spoke instead, her words surprisingly firm. Suddenly she didn't seem like the victim of abuse he'd mistaken her for before. "And I came here for a reason. You also need to do some things for me, Lieutenant."

Russel opened his mouth and expected himself to protest - to threaten her with the jail card. But he surprised himself as he said "Okay," instead. His stomach was aflutter with butterflies, like he did have indigestion, and his hands were suddenly clammy.

Not with fear, exactly ... Anticipation. Or was it apprehension?

"Good." Amelia tilted her head, like he'd done what she'd expected. "I'm going to leave now. I don't mind or particularly care with what you think, sir, about my story or my journey. But I know your daughter, Helen, will."

"Helen?" His voice was a squeak. Russel blinked at her, feeling his heart and face crinkle up with confusion.

"Yes. Once I leave, you're going to call her, and you're going to tell her what I've told you. Every detail. Got it?" She pursed her lips, and then a beep from her wrist rose louder than the hum of the fly and the overhead fan's lazy turns. She checked her watch, then looked back at him expectantly.

He didn't know what to say. What to think. Helen? His skepticism was heavy on his tongue, but Russel felt a weird sense of obligation. Helen was his daughter, after all. Why was he acting like Amelia was asking him to take a bath with piranhas rather than tell his daughter a story?

That did it.

Russel nodded sharply. "I'll do it."

Amelia smiled, and it seemed to relieve a weight from her shoulders. "Good." She gave a two-finger salute, her face crinkled in amusement, as he continued to watch her. Who was this girl, who gave him orders and claimed to have time travelled?

Russel didn't know. His database hadn't come up with anything for her.

"Oh, and lieutenant," Amelia turned on her heel just as she began walking away, and he straightened from his slumped position, alert as her brown eyes locked on his. Her gaze was lit with mischief, and she'd lost some of the solemnity of before. "In approximately nine minutes, your car is going to get towed."

━━━━

Amelia's watch beeped again when she stepped out of the station, and she checked the digitalized green numbers. Twelve fifteen, on the dot.

She couldn't hide her smile as she looked up, meeting the grey gaze of Lale across the street. Right on time.

All around her, pedestrians were bustling, their jackets larynx-high as they walked hunched over, like they knew the struggles of life. It was ironic that they shot Amelia strange glances in her ripped jeans and navy bomber jacket, just emerging from the police station. Millennials, they were probably thinking, looking away once she returned their gazes.

If only they knew. But Amelia wasn't going to lie; she liked being seen as normal. She'd never thought she'd say it, but ... Being seen as a young person that didn't know any better for once in her life was actually more comforting than she was willing to admit.

After glancing up and down the road for any cars, Amelia crossed the tar to greet Lale, who held a Starbucks cappuccino in each hand. "How'd it go?" He asked, once she'd taken a sip of the warm liquid that quickly chased away the chilly October breeze that nipped through her clothes. Still, the weather was warmer than she would've expected, like a premonition of the drought and famine to come.

Amelia tilted her head on her shoulders, thinking back to Russel. That, at least, had gone as planned. "I think it went well," she said, once she'd swallowed. She leant beside Lale against the Ducati Scrambler he'd managed to buy. While she had opted for the watches they both wore, Lale had gone and bought a bike. (Not that she minded, really. It was amazing to ride behind him, and watch the world pass in a blur. Such carefreeness wasn't a thing that was easily found in 2039.)

Lale wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she leant into him with a contented sigh. They'd done what they'd had to do - so far. It had been a mission by itself to trace the illusive Dr Samson back to her roots, but they led to the very policeman Amelia had met. More specifically, his seventeen-year-old daughter, Helen Darby, who would grow up to marry Roderick Samson in 2024, and who would become the very founder of P.A.S.T.

Not that she would've shared that with Russel, of course. Amelia's chest was warmed by the Starbucks, and her heart by the company she kept. Helen had her own destiny, and they'd just set her on the right course.

It was weird how everything had turned out, Amelia reflected. It still hurt to think about Zoey ... About all the people they had lost ... And the baby Tina would've had by then. Her lungs tightened a little, and like he was reading her thoughts, Lale kissed the top of her head reassuringly.

But it was getting better. Slowly but surely. At the very least, Amelia reassured herself with Zoey's last words, that she had a purpose.

This is my purpose. She wrapped her hand around Lale's own warmed one as she finished the last of her Starbucks contemplatively. Once they'd both thrown away their cups, Lale swung his leg over the motorbike's seat and offered her her helmet.

She smiled at the illustration of the feathered dinosaur on the side, and the leaves that covered its sides, before she put it on and clasped it under her chin.

"So," Amelia prompted, once she'd climbed on behind Lale. She slipped her arms around his torso, and he looked over his shoulder at her, his grey eyes warm and nose a little more crooked than before. Her own heart heated with her feelings for him, and she returned the smile she could see softening the edges of his eyes, more quizzically.

"Where to next?"

"Anywhere, and everywhere," Lale answered, and his eyes flashed with the same carefree playfulness she felt her own mood lighten with, and her heart thumped a little faster.

Lale rev limited as she felt the prospect of another adventure flood her veins. Sounds good to me.

"After all, we have all the time in the world."

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