Chapter 12 - Treason of Fate
Harry tells it like it is
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Sunday June 13, 1688
Even with the uncomfortable bed and pain radiating from her arm, Monica slept like the dead, waking in exactly the same position she’d last remembered being in. Lying on her left side, staring at Syed’s back as he slept beside her.
He wasn’t hers, would never be. But there was something about a man, any man, lying beside her in bed that made it instinctual to press herself against him, breathing him in until he rolled over and wrapped her in his arms. It was tempting, especially since Shannan had never come back into the room last night. But Syed wouldn’t like it.
Not appropriate, my dear, he would probably say.
And he would be right.
She didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark and the inn was quiet, no shuffling of the maids in the corridor. That probably meant Charles was still asleep and Harry was still gone.
No maids meant no breakfast and no hot water for bathing, but it also meant no one asking her questions, which suited her just fine. She had errands to run and could always stop at a cookhouse for breakfast when they opened.
As quietly as she could, Monica slid out of bed, tiptoeing out the door and into the corridor, hoping no other guest woke early and saw her in her filthy shift. The last time she’d worn her dress, it had been in the pouring rain, bringing Dr. Storm’s body to St. Mary Abchurch to be buried. The heavy fabric had been soaked through, plus it was stained in blood, so Harry had insisted it be hung to dry in his room instead of the line outside. It was still soaked when she and Syed had traveled to the future.
She tiptoed as quietly as she could on the back staircase, the wood groaning beneath her feet despite her efforts. The third floor of the inn didn’t span the full length of the building; it was just big enough for a short corridor, a tiny privy closet, and the two bedrooms. She passed Charles’s room first, seeing the door opened a crack.
She looked inside to see Shannan sleeping in his bed, Charles’s arm draped over her middle. Shannan was sleeping soundly, the stress lines in her face finally relaxed.
She continued on to Harry’s room, swallowing the weird stab of jealousy she felt at the sight of Shannan snuggled up with Charles.
Guess even the gay ones like her best.
She walked into Harry’s room, not bothering to close the door behind her, as she could see her dress hanging right where she left it, the dim light of dawn illuminating it from behind.
“Bit early for an outing, wouldn’t ya say?”
With a squeal, Monica wheeled around, raising her arm to strike out at the unexpected voice from the corner.
Pain shot through her arm at the sudden motion, causing her eyes to water as she stumbled back.
A candle flared to life and she breathed out in relief at the sight of Harry sitting up on his bed, fully clothed and ready for work.
“Fuck’s sake, love, what happened to you?” The big man stood and lumbered over to her, his footsteps like cannon fire in the silent inn.
“Charles bandaged it last night,” she winced, cradling her left arm against her body and sucking in deep breaths until the pain receded.
“That’s not what I asked. You abscond without a word and the night watchman brings you back in your skivvies? Didn’t even leave me a note.”
Monica recoiled as he reached for her, terrified he’d squeeze her broken arm. But all he did was take stock of the bandage, and give her a once-over, probably looking for anything else that had fractured while she was gone.
Seemingly satisfied she was in good working order, his face returned to his customary scowl. “Our friend Syed back with us too?”
She nodded, biting back her confusion. How long had Harry been back? And where had he gone?
“He’s still asleep. And we have someone else with us. My friend, Shannan. I’m not sure if Charles told you.”
“Oh, he told me, all right. Put your dress on and meet me in the cellar.” He jerked his head at where her dress was hanging and left the room without another word, closing the door behind him.
Monica listened to his retreating steps, waiting until she heard him go down both sets of steps before shimmying out of her shift, leaving her naked in the cold room. She didn’t have another one to put on, and it seemed unlikely Harry had one in his wardrobe. So she would have to do without, though her dress would likely itch without the cotton barrier.
It was better than spending one more second in that filthy garment.
Since she was posing as a Quaker, her dress was simple, with none of the corseting, lace, or frills common at the time. She could put it on by herself, and in record time too. She knew better than to keep Harry waiting.
Once dressed, she left her dirty shift on the floor, knowing the maids would be by to pick up the washing, and hurried downstairs, not bothering to tiptoe this time. She had no idea what Harry had in store for her, or how he felt about her jaunt through time.
His lack of anger had been reassuring, she supposed.
Unless he was saving it for when they were safely in the cellar… where no one could hear them.
The last time she had come to the cellar, she had found Syed there, bloody and bandaged, sitting on a stool in the center of the dirt floor. Now as she descended the creaking stairs, that same stool sat empty at Harry’s feet, waiting for her.
He leaned against a beam, his fleshy arms crossed over his massive chest, no palpable anger or signs he was ready to explode. But he didn’t look happy either.
“Is she your girlfriend? Shannan?” Harry asked as she sat down on the stool.
“What?” she laughed, looking up at him, only to see he wasn’t joking.
“I asked if she was your girlfriend. Or you wish she was. Because I can’t point to any motivation other than head-over-heels love to make you risk your fucking life the way you just did.”
He stared down at her, the anger finally revealing itself in his features.
“Saving Churchill meant erasing the future she had been taken to. Was I supposed to leave her there?”
“Yes, you bloody were!” Harry exploded, coming off the beam and flailing his arms. “Your first and only priority is the timeline—its sanctity and preservation. Specifically, your job was the guard it against being fucked with by the stupid boy in your charge. It was forgivable that you lost sight of Alfredo after your professor got smashed. No one could fault you for that. But using an unauthorized device to travel to an alternate future that should never have existed in the first place is as un-fucking-forgivable as it gets. I can’t even imagine what you were thinking!”
Monica clamped her jaws as tight as she could, desperately trying to avoid the humiliated tears from spilling down her cheeks. “You were gone. You weren’t here to ask or get advice from…”
“You didn’t need my bloody advice! You knew what you were doing was wrong. And I’d bet good money our boy Syed told you it was a mistake as well. I’ll be interested to know what line of malarky you told him to get his help.”
At that, Monica clamped her eyes shut, burning in humiliation at the thought of confessing she’d leaned into Syed’s religion—his childish belief in the all-father who was personally invested in humans—to get him to help her. She’d thought she was so clever, using her interrogation and compliance techniques to get what she wanted. But she saw now that absolutely no one would be impressed with her if and when she got home.
Far from it.
She didn’t bother wiping away the tears as they slipped down her cheeks. She’d completely torpedoed her career to go and save Shannan… and she wasn’t even grateful for it.
She kept her eyes closed as Harry sighed, the air around her stirring as he squatted down in front of her with a grunt.
“I know why you did this, love. But you’re in deep shit.” She squeezed her eyes tighter as she felt his handkerchief drag across her face.
“Can you fix it? Please?” She opened her eyes, needing him to understand how desperate she was.
Harry sighed again, shifting his weight on his haunches. “Fix is a strong word. I can’t exactly chat on the phone with your adviser, now can I? Truth be told, I don’t know if I feel comfortable writing a letter on your behalf. I know you’re young, but this lapse of judgment…”
“I’ll do anything!” she cried out, grabbing him by his vest.
He jolted back, his fleshy underchin shaking as he eyes her in surprise. Did he really not understand that she would rather die than expelled? How many people she would kill if only it kept her life on track?
“I. cannot. lose. this,” she whispered, leaning close to his face. “Whatever I need to do to show you I am trustworthy, that I’m a good candidate, that I’ll make a great security agent, I will do. Please.”
Harry stared back at her, a flash of satisfaction glimmering in his eyes. Did he believe her? Was it going to be okay?
“I’m glad to hear you say that. How long til Alfredo’s meant to kill Churchill?”
“The 21st,” she said, loosening her grip on his vest.
“Plenty of time to find him,” Harry nodded. “Plenty of time for you to show me what you’re made of.” With a long, exaggerated groan, Harry stood up, his knees creaking and popping. “For now, you go upstairs. Have some breakfast, then do whatever you were planning to do when you scared the shit out of me this morning. When you get back, we’ll talk about what to do with Syed and your totally not-girlfriend, Shannan.”
Monica heaved herself off the stool, letting out a groan of her own. “What do you mean? And she’s not my girlfriend. I like dick.”
“If you say so, butch. I mean it might be better if Syed stays here. If he goes back with you… who’s to say he won’t say something compromising, no matter what kind of flowery letter I write for you. Honestly, I can’t even promise they’ll let him live.”
“Wa- What? But they have protocols for time refugees.”
“Yeah, refugees from another time, not another timeline. You think Warner will risk it getting out that one of their students fucked with the timeline? Do I need to impress upon you how serious this is?”
She shook her head, picturing Dr. Sato’s face as she tried to explain who Syed was and why he should be trusted with what he knows. Her heartbeat skipped as her mind formed the all-too realistic image of Sato drawing a pistol and shooting Syed dead on the spot.
No…
“What about Shannan? They cut out her temporal displacement implant. She can’t go back on her own.”
Harry held his hands out to his sides, impatiently moving toward the stairs. “To be honest, I don’t give a shit. If she’s without a retrieval device, you can tell Warner to send a team to collect her later. Or she can stay here. I’ll give her a job, if she’d prefer. She can marry Charles; that would be one headache remedied. But you tell me. She’s the cause of all this trouble, yeah? Is she worth causing more?”
Monica’s mouth went dry, the sour taste of bile rising in her throat as she remembered Shannan’s little hissy fit last night.
Her arm throbbed, the break not properly set, despite Charles’ best efforts. To say nothing of how she’d been choked out, kidnapped, and nearly killed. All for her.
All for nothing.
She leveled her gaze at Harry. “Actually, no. I don’t think she is. She’s a Warner candidate too, so you have just as much say over her as you do me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, finally feeling able to breathe fully since all this started. “I’ll go along with whatever you decide is best.”