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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❜    ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ,
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ꒱


❝ I WANTED TO SAY, IN
ANOTHER LIFE, I WOULD
HAVE REALLY LIKED DOING
LAUNDRY AND TAXES WITH
YOU ❞

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[ timeline 001 ]

Sometimes the universe doesn't line up exactly right. Whether it's because there's no God or She grows bored of her creation more quickly than other times, they don't get their happy ending right away. They have to fight for it, even if they're not aware that's what they're doing. Sometimes it can't be helped— they don't always come back as people, after all. Sometimes they're not anyone or anything; they just exist.

They exist in a primordial swamp at the beginning of the universe. Nine single-celled organisms without thoughts or brains or instincts float carelessly on the stinking, heaving mass that will one day become a livable planet. Not for them, though. Their matter will have passed on to the trees, to the air, to the very makeup of cosmos.

But in the beginning, there were nine of them. Two of the amoeba float closer together than the rest. Their pseudopodia stretch towards each other as if drawn by a force greater than they can fathom. They move closer and closer, becoming indistinct from one another until the first eukaryote is formed.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 057 ]

They do come back as marigolds once. This is the only time that they're not all the same species. Eight golden flowers cluster together in a park under the shade of a tree while the ninth is a vine that weaves around them, the plant's leaves are dark and shiny, full of life. The vine tangles amongst the marigolds, wrapping around one of them twice more than the others.

When a child comes along to pick the pretty flowers, she finds that the ivy is inextricably woven around the marigold's stem. It refuses to budge from the one it's wrapped around the most, so she has no choice but to take the ivy with her. When she shows her mother the pretty bundle, her mother frowns and tells her that ivy doesn't belong in a vase. The child shrugs carelessly and drops the flowers and the vine, leaving them to wither in the grass.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 103 ]

They're a little higher up on the food chain now. They come back as birds— a flock of nine. They have already caught scientific interest for being such a small group and they're fierce fighters. If another flock bothers them, they're able to successfully herd them off. When it's time to mate, two of the birds pair off. Even though they try, the female never lays an egg, which is an anomaly for the species. What really catches the scientists' attention is that the birds within the flock mate for life— something unheard of for this breed.

They take the birds into a lab for study. The eggless female dies due to the stress of the testing. Her mate pecks at the handlers' hands in revenge until they bleed.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 246 ]

Sometimes they're not even beings— they're inanimate objects. They're nine strands of hair on someone's head. When they remove their elastic, two strands come out attached to the ponytail holder. As the owner of the hairband sets it on the bathroom counter, one of the strands becomes loose and falls to the floor, leaving the other tangled by itself on the hairpiece.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 287 ]

This time they're nine droplets of rain on a window pane. A child, bored from being cooped up inside due to the storm, selects them as unwitting opponents in an imaginary race. They slide down the glass in a rapid fashion, some surpassing the others. One droplet is ahead the most, rushing past its opponents and down towards the windowsill. Another droplet starts out slowly but soon picks up speed, passing by the second, seventh and eighth sprinkles of water. It reaches the fifth one and they merge, forming a bubble that's heavy enough to make it down to the windowsill before the others. The child cheers as that's the one they picked.

But, the rain storm eventually moves on. The sun comes out again and dries up the moisture that it deposited. The droplets are absorbed back into the atmosphere where they first formed, joining millions upon millions of other particles. There's too many of them to fight and the nine go their separate ways.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 697 ]

Now they're nine stars in a distant galaxy. Their light travels across the cosmos, illuminating worlds they've never seen. Eight of them form a constellation, a celestial pattern that inspires myths and guides travelers. The ninth star shines a little brighter and a little farther from the rest. As eons pass, the constellation becomes a symbol in the skies of countless civilizations, signifying unity, love, and the cycles of life and death.

One day, a supernova explosion occurs near the constellation. The ninth star, ever vigilant, absorbs the energy, preventing the destruction of its companions. The constellation isn't the same without the ninth star. As time passes, the universes' constant expansion forces the stars apart and they no longer form a recognizable shape.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 764 ]

They return as nine books on a shelf, each one a different genre and era. The books are a mismatched collection, their spines cracked and pages yellowed. Two of the books are placed next to each other, their covers touching. One is an autobiography of a famous writer, its pages filled with the author's life story. The other is a nonfiction science novel about time travel and the theory of relativity.

A reader, browsing through the library, is drawn to the nonfiction science novel. They thumb through it to look at the complex diagrams. Their major is quantum mechanics, and this is the book they've been looking for. They tuck it under their arm and head for the checkout counter, leaving the autobiography untouched. On one side there is now a gap where the nonfiction science novel stood. The other is a beginner's guide on music theory.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ timeline 855 ]

In the winter, they return as snowflakes. They drift gently from a cloud during the first snowfall of the season. Each flake is intricate, unique, yet they all share the same crystalline structure. They float down, swaying in the wind, closer and closer together as they descend towards the earth.

Two of the snowflakes catch an updraft and spiral around each other, as if dancing in the sky. The others fall straight down, landing softly on a bare tree branch, covering it in a thin, delicate layer of white. The two dancing snowflakes eventually join them, landing so close to each other that their edges touch. The contact causes them to meld slightly, their patterns blending into something new, something that's no longer one or the other, but both.

The day grows colder and more snowflakes begin to fall, covering the ground, the trees, and everything in sight. The nine snowflakes are buried under layers of new snow, their intricate patterns hidden from view. But for a brief moment, they were together, part of something beautiful.

That's okay, though. There is always another timeline.

✧ ✧ ✧

[ the final timeline ]

On the morning of April first, 2019, sunshine filtered through a second-story bedroom window that did not have locks. A desk sat against the same wall with an old-looking, boxy computer on top. A collection of well-used spiral notebooks sat to the right of the computer in a haphazard pile that was in danger of tipping over. A square, wooden pencil holder decorated with three metal flowers was stuffed to bursting with writing utensils. A light blue backpack decorated with a bright yellow marigold rested against one of the legs of the desk. There were so many buttons and pins on the backpack that the original design could barely be seen underneath.

A fuzzy lavender rug covered the space between the desk and the bed, its edges wavy in a pattern that was reminiscent of the amoeba its owner had once been, many timelines ago. There was a bedside table next to the bed, which was cluttered with books, an alarm clock and a thrifted lamp. It had a lavender lamp shade that was decorated with hand painted books, stars and snowflakes.

The blare of the alarm clock roused the sleeping brunette from a foggy, distant dream where she might have inhabited the body of a bird and been given the gift of flight. Her hand came out to pat around her table until the alarm shut off. As much as she wanted to go back to sleep, she knew that her mother would come upstairs and give her a much ruder wake-up call by yanking her covers off of her. So, Dolores Gimbel— who preferred to be called Lola— dragged herself out of bed to get ready for the day.

Although she doesn't notice it, when she brushes her hair for the day, not a single strand is yanked out by her hairbrush. After brushing her teeth, she went to her closet and decided on a pair of jeans, a white, long-sleeved V-necked shirt with black polka-dots and after brushing her hair, hesitated over a choice of hats that she owned. While there was no strict dress code at her school she did like to make a good first impression on Mondays. The rest of the week was up for grabs.

Coming to a decision, she reached for a yellow hat with a navy-blue ribbon around the crown that was tied in a bow and placed it jauntily on her head. The brunette was somewhat known around school for her unique accessories so she'd only been indecisive over which style she'd wanted, not actually whether or not to wear a hat. She then pulled on a pair of black combat boots and picked up her backpack before she slid her deck of cards into the back pocket of her jeans. Lunchtime was usually a boring affair so it was often when she would practice her magic— sometimes with a crowd to entertain.

Her mother was in the kitchen when she came downstairs. "Good morning, mom."

"Good morning, Dolores. There's money on the counter for you to buy lunch," Diana informed her.

The teen grimaced at her mother's use of her full name (as Diana refused to call her Lola), but she was too used to it to make a fuss about it. She nodded in thanks and fixed a quick breakfast for herself of milk and cereal. Her father, Edmund, joined them shortly after and Diana handed him a cup of coffee. He kissed his wife on the cheek in thanks, then went over to his daughter and gave her a hug. They conversed about the usual morning things— how well they'd slept, if they'd had any dreams. Her uncle, Edward, also lived with them but he had likely already gone to work at the retail store that he and Edmund owned.

Once she'd finished eating, Lola cleaned up her dishes, told her parents goodbye and I-love-you, slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked to school. On her way there, she counted fifty-two sidewalk cracks, thirteen pieces of trash, seventeen people wearing loafers and a penny that was heads-side-up (among the other statistics she'd found.) She tucked the penny into the front pocket of her dark-wash jeans. There was a spring in her step as she felt that this was going to be a good day.

It was in homeroom that she began to notice something strange going on. While she didn't much care to spend time with her peers— they found her eccentric, an old soul in a teen's body— she couldn't be completely oblivious to them. The students around her whispered the name Hargreeves amongst themselves like it was a kind of talisman. She didn't know what was important about the name or why it was suddenly causing so much interest, but her ears picked up a few of the hushed conversations.

"Did you see—?"

"They all wear uniforms like they're better than us."

"Why did they join in the middle of the year?"

"I heard that their father is super rich."

And finally, the most amusing (and truthful) one: "Why are they all so hot? If any of them talk to me I'll go into a bi-panic!"

Lola figured they were super famous or something, but she didn't pay much attention to celebrities. She must've had some classes with them throughout the day, but she was either too absorbed in her work or her book to notice them. She was only made aware of their presence once the school day ended and she went to debate club. It hadn't been her first choice— that had been book club— but she wanted to try something new for her first year of high school.

Their English teacher, Mrs. Dot Goodman, was their moderator. She was the overly-friendly sort, but in a way that made people warm up to her quickly. The dark-skinned woman smiled brightly at Lola as she entered the designated classroom. "Lola, I'm glad you're here! I'd like you to meet the newest member of our team and your debate partner, Five Hargreeves."

The brunette turned her attention to the boy her teacher had indicated. His last name rang in her mind as the same one that the other students had whispered throughout the day. Their eyes met.

His were a brilliant, intelligent green. Thick, dark hair flopped over his forehead into his eyes. He had a straight, Roman nose and two dark freckles on his left cheek. What really made him attractive, though, was the sharpness of his jaw, which created an arrogant, all-knowing profile. They didn't know it then— they might never know— but it was the first day of the rest of their lives.

Something sparked to life between them.

It was deeper than like. It was stronger than acquaintanceship. It burned as brightly as a flame that had been fed gasoline. They were too young to know that it was love, so they mistook it for hate. Lola found that she disliked him on the spot, but she could still be civil. She held out her hand. "I'm Lola."

His lips twitched up into what could've been considered a smile had the angle been softer. He stared her down as he shook her hand, unflinching even as warmth rushed up his arm from where their fingertips were clasped together. "Not to me, you're not. That's a stupid name."

"So is Five. What, did your father forget what order he had you in?" she snarked back.

But her retort was mostly just bluster. Underneath the newly-formed loathing, she felt something else: an unmistakable tug of recognition. It didn't make sense, though; they had only just met! That didn't take away the feeling of familiarity she was experiencing. If she had been a religious person, or even someone who believed in astrology, she might have described it as their souls recognizing each other.

They eventually dropped their hands (though if anyone noticed that the handshake had lingered longer than what was strictly necessary, they didn't say anything), but the connection never faltered. They were tied together, as they always should have been. It had taken eons for things to line up exactly right.

And the universe finally breathed a sigh of relief.

A/n: wow. I can't believe Wastelands of Time is finally finished. When I started this series four years ago (over on AO3), I wasn't sure I'd make it past the first ten chapters. I actually tried to write another Five Hargreeves book (longtime followers of my account will remember Feeling My Way Through The Darkness— the first two chapters are still up on my tumblr if you want to go through the effort of scrolling way down through my posts to read that crappy writing, lol) which was the initial iteration of this plot. I quickly lost interest in that story since it was my first original work and I thought the same would happen to this one since it's hard for me to imagine things without some form of the media already existing (I've got object impermanence.) Thankfully, it didn't and it blew up into one of my most popular books! I can't thank you all enough for the encouragement and support you've given me throughout this journey!

That being said, I hope you weren't too disappointed that I (mostly) went with the canon ending. I couldn't think of anything better and, like Five's mentality, Dolores would've changed it anyway. 🤣

This brings me to my last point. As you see, it's kind of cliff hanger-y, ambiguous ending. IF (and that's a big if, so don't get your hopes up) I ever wanted to return to this series, I'd write about Five/Dolores in this new timeline. I'll leave you with a little bit of the what-if plot: it would be a completely new book (like the restart of the universe) called 10,000 Hours (in reference to the rule about achieving true skill in any specific talent.) 10,000 hours is approximately 4 years if you practice 7 hours a day— a typical school day, where Five and Dolores got to practice loving each other and getting over their initial hatred. It would be an enemies-to-lovers, academic rivals, no powers, soulmate AU with a happy ending and all of the proper romantic pairings.

But, for now, if you're craving more TUA content from me, there is always The Side-Effects of Time Travel, which I've mentioned before. It's a bit more of a lighter read than this, but still with plenty of angst. Otherwise, once I've finished the final book in that series, I'm going to take a break from TUA (especially after this horrible season) and focus on my works for other fandoms. (Which you're welcome to check out too, of course!)

Thank you again for everything, and for sticking with me through all the angst. 🤣 Goodbye for now, and happy reading!