IT TOOK every single molecule of Lale's being to keep from throwing Ichabod away from him. The anger that had exploded before he could even think about stopping it had spiraled upwards into a tornado of fear.

Despite the fact that Lale was tightening his hands around Ichabod's neck, the marine realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, he had never felt so out of control in his life — not even on the battlefield, when every moment counted. Lale felt a bead of sweat tremble down his neck.

"Look around you, Lale," Ichabod's words were a shout as Lale pushed him away, flexing his hands and staring at the ground.

Coward, a voice in his mind whispered. You had your moment of vengeance. What did you give it up for? Her?

In his peripheral vision, Lale could see Amelia staring at him, her eyes seeming glossy. Tina was at her side, but she was glaring at Ichabod. Killing Ichabod in front of her ... In front of all of them ... Ichabod's threat lilted through his mind.

You really can't afford to.

Lale's stomach was stirring in his gut. Ichabod was too loud to ignore, putting on a show full of extended arms, like he was a man of the people he would kill in a heartbeat if he could.

"Your brave fellow rebels ... These men and women who have decided to follow you instead of me," Ichabod's voice was filled with quiet venom that seethed through Lale's veins. He straightened and stared a hole into the traitor's skull as he turned a full 180, surveying all of the rebels.

"They're dying, Lale." Ichabod stopped and met his eyes. Lale dug his toes into the bottom of his shoes to keep himself anchored against the truth in the Brit's words.

Amelia. His throat dried up. Tina.

"Surely, you'd wanna save them at any cost, right?" Ichabod tilted his head back to the way he had come. "I have medical supplies at my camp. Antibiotics that some of you," in a move so subtle Lale barely noticed but locked on immediately, Ichabod's eyes flitted to Amelia, "need."

There was a pause. Even the birds and bugs and whatever other hellish beasts from the Jurassic had quieted. He knows, was all Lale could think, desperately. He knows Amelia's sick. He knows we're all starving — all tired.

But how?

"Well, Lale?" Lale's eye's whisked up to Ichabod's own. The other man had extended a hand, like it was a friendly handshake instead of a deal that could save or doom lives. "What do you say? I can offer you protection and food. I can save the lives of your little rebels." Lale spied a small smirk growing on Ichabod's face. "Just stop your little protests, and accept that you have lost. The world will thank you for it."

"Or the world will die because of it," someone spat. Lale twisted on his heels, and saw the spite on Amelia's face. The blood in his own drained as he twisted back to Ichabod, his mind buzzing with too many thoughts to come up with a reasonable response.

Ichabod responded with the pricking of his brow. "Is that so?" He took a step forward, towards Amelia, but Lale forced him backwards.

"Don't you touch her," he growled. I won't let you hurt anyone else while I'm around to stop it.

Lale could feel Amelia's gaze in his back, but he didn't dare look to her. Ichabod knew so much already ... What if he figured out Amelia was his weakness? Because she was, Lale realized, feeling the revelation sink into his bones and feel right.

Ichabod backed off with a huge smile, raising his hands like Lale was a gunslinger about to shoot him. "Alright, alright. You're the boss here, after all. So," his grin sliced right through Lale and any semblance of calm he was trying to maintain. "What d'you say? Join me?"

Lale felt his eyes narrow. I can't let anyone else I love die ... But is the world worth it?

Was the dying, soon-to-be-abandoned 2039 worth potentially losing Amelia? He could feel the answer rumbling in his skull: No. It was not.

But what would Amelia herself say? Amelia, who could have family there, waiting for her?

Say no, Amelia pleaded to the silent Lale. Her eyes were pinned to the back of his head, and her fingers were white with her ever-tightening grip on her crutch.

The whole of the Jurassic — no, the whole world, past, present, and future, because it would affect everyone — seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for his reply. Amelia felt the back of her eyes smart with furious tears. Lale, if you agree, I'll never forgive you. Her heart stung with the poison in her own thoughts.

Please.

Lale knew what she would say. He had known all along — had known her.

"No." He wished his eyes could sink daggers into Ichabod's flesh, but his words would have to do. "You're wrong, Ichabod. We are not weak. And the world is worth more than a couple thousand dollars."

He could feel the soft exhalations behind him, and he turned slightly to meet Amelia's gaze over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were bright and burning, and Lale felt his corded muscles relax slightly. He'd made the right choice.

"You face utter destruction," Ichabod scowled. His dark face contorted. "I am offering you salvation."

"At the cost of the rest of the world?" Lale scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. Ichabod may have been in control before, but the Brit looked anything but in that moment. Lale had to fight back a snicker as the other man whirled around, his eyes wide as the rebels started closing in.

"You know if you kill me now that the marines will come!" Ichabod's words were tinged with desperation. It was the most natural he had sounded since he had arrived; too filled with calm and the void, like he was on drugs.

Lale's ears pricked, and he could hear the truth in what Ichabod had said. War was inevitable ... But they needed more time. He felt his heart constrict between his lungs. More time for them to prepare gave Ichabod more time to construct his time machine. It was futile either way, a yin and yang of a fifty-fifty chance of survival.

"Let him go," Lale called, over the clamor. He knew the men and women around him wanted Ichabod to die and die for good, but that couldn't happen. Yet.

"Let him go back to his marines and his volt-guns." Lale tilted his head. "Next time, we'll be ready." He didn't know whether he had directed these words to Ichabod or the crowd, but the effect it had was immediate.

Ichabod was forced from the tightening circle of vengeance-seeking Learners and marines, and he twisted one last time to meet Lale's gaze. He held it, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He had bought he and his fellows time more time ... But at what cost?

"Enjoy your last night of peace," Ichabod sneered. "Tomorrow, we're coming for you." He jerked his head. "James, your work is done. Come on."

Lale felt his throat tighten. James stepped away from the rebels, his head down, like he was sorry. But he couldn't be sorry. He was a traitor — the very marine Lale had trusted with all of their plans!

Lale swore to himself. All the times James had offered to go on night guard ... Had he been sneaking intel to Ichabod? The fact that he had been called out alone was comforting, by a smidgen. That meant Ichabod was ready to sacrifice any other spies in war. He could trust those remaining, could he?

The two men careened down the waterfall's side, and were gone in the late afternoon light.

Lale released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, then lifted a shaky hand to his face.

"You did the right thing, Lale." A woman he didn't know the name of gazes earnestly up at him. He jerked a little with surprise, then caught himself.

"Thanks."

Others caught on and followed the woman's lead, forming a line that went past him. Men and women telling him he made the right choice ... That he'd done well ... That they'd teach those brainwashed devil-spawn a lesson they wouldn't forget ... One after the other, their faces were lit with hope.

Was that what a leader was? Someone who inspired hope for them to live another day? His hands were clammy, but he knew the answer was yes. He had made the right choice, and everyone was behind him on it.

By the time Amelia reached him, his eyes were burning with tears. The fact that the very people who might die beside him were so ready to do so was too overwhelming to bear, and to be responsible for it, well, Lale was reminded of Fereledson. Thinking of her made him grit his jaws together at the onslaught of other, more unwelcome, memories.

Amelia took hold his hand, her fingers interlocking with his. Her touch was tender, and he only realized how much he had missed it at that moment. Lale looked down at her — at her pale face and glowing eyes — and then she kissed him.

Slowly, gently. It was a thank-you that he felt against his lips, and then she drew away. Lale furrowed his brows, feeling his disappointment pool in his chest.

"Before Ichabod tries to kill us," Amelia whispered, leaning in close. Lale was tempted to kiss her again, but knew she almost certainly would not like that. "I just wanted to say that I'm ..."

She paused, and Lale felt his brow crease further. Say it, he wanted to whisper. He watched her lips quiver, and felt his heart give a slight dip when she looked away instead.

"I'm sorry."

Lale bit his tongue against his disappointment, and looked away too. "I know. It's okay. We'll make it out of this."

She turned back to him, her gaze inscrutable, and Lale knew that she could hear the lie in his words. "You can't promise that."

Amelia sighed and brushed her hand against his chest before moving away. He watched her go, feeling the loss of her in every cell of his body. Lale'd done the wrong thing in her eyes, again.

I wish I could promise it, he thought to the back of her curled head. "But I can promise I'll do whatever I can to protect you," Lale called after her, hope blooming like a flower in his veins.

Amelia gave no indication that she'd heard, nor did she look back, and it broke his heart.

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