"Do you believe in soul mates?"

Jaime groans. "Oh, come on, Brienne! It's late and we're still waiting to run this fucking experiment! Can we talk about your love life later?"

Brienne glares. "I'm not talking about my love life, you idiot."

She leans back, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"This experiment should, hopefully, prove the multiverse theory and I was just wondering..." She nervously chews on her bottom lip. "Do you think there are people who are destined to be together no matter what universe they're in? No matter what paths their lives may take?"

Jaime leans back and thoughtfully considers her. "Not in every universe," he says and her face falls. He grins. "Look, if there truly is a universe for every possible outcome of every decision point in a person's life, then, obviously, there would be universes where people who are together in one universe never meet in another." He cocks his head and considers her, his face softening with sympathy. "But there would also be universes where we all end up with the loves of our lives. Who those people are, however, will be different depending on the universe. You and Renly—"

Brienne winces. "This isn't about me and Renly," she says, but she's flushed, a sure sign she's lying. Jaime chuckles.

"Sure it isn't. Look, there are probably universes where Renly isn't gay and falls in love with you instead of Loras. But even if there are, we can't get to them. We're stuck where we are."

Brienne's face sets into familiar mulish lines. "If our experiment is successful, then it's just a matter of time before we can get to them."

Jaime shakes his head. "Opening a portal to a different universe at the quantum level is vastly different than sending a human into a different universe. You know the equations even better than I do! But keep dreaming, Junior. It's amusing, if nothing else. Are we ready?"

Brienne glances at the computer and shakes her head. "Almost," she says.

They're alone in the control room of the particle accelerator, alone in the entire facility, in fact, and will be for the entire week. This kind of private access is unprecedented.

It pays to be a Lannister, Jaime thinks smugly. Money and reputation never fails to succeed.

Plus they and their families have signed every waiver known to man so the people who run the facility can deny responsibility if something goes wrong. Not that anything will, of course, because they've taken every precaution to mitigate the risks.

They've chosen this specific particle accelerator located in the desolate North because of the enormous amount of energy it can generate, and for its ability to create an electromagnetic barrier around and over the entire structure. That electromagnetic field will protect everyone outside of the Wall if anything goes wrong with the experiments. That protective barrier is why the facility is called the Wall in jest, a reminder of the mythical Wall that once guarded Westeros at this very spot.

Not that the electromagnet barrier will help them inside the Wall.

And yes, there's a slim—very slim—chance that they're going to destroy the facility and everyone in it. Which is why they insisted they have the entire facility to themselves and have endured two weeks of intensive training on all the safety protocols before being left alone. Not that they're really worried. It's far more likely the experiments will fail to produce results or—and he can smell the Samwell Prize for Physics already—they will result in definitive, empirical proof of the multiverse.

"Are we ready yet?" he asks again and Brienne rolls her eyes. Her eyes are her one claim to beauty: blue and bottomless, sharply intelligent and as guileless as a child's. But right now, they're annoyed and he gives her an innocent smile.

"You can always leave," she snaps. "Why should both of us risk death for science?"

Jaime laughs. "And let you grab that Samwell Prize all by yourself? Not a hope in the seven hells, Junior. I'm here until the bitter end."

Brienne's glare only sharpens. "Fine, but stop whining about it! You're worse than a child on a road trip!"

Jaime's grin only widens. "Are we there yet?" he whines in a high-pitched, child-like sing-song. "Are we there yet? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

"Don't make me kill you, Jaime," Brienne sighs but a smile tugs at the corners of her usually solemn mouth.

"Aw, would you miss me when I'm gone?"

"It would be tough to explain away your lifeless body if we don't blow this place up tonight."

Jaime just laughs again.

Brienne rolls her eyes. She glances at the computer and abruptly straightens in her chair. "It's ready."

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime scrambles to his feet to stand behind her, peering intently at the computer screens. He immediately morphs from teasing-Jaime to serious-physicist-Jaime and Brienne envies—again—his ease in moving from one to the other. No matter what she does, she's always serious-Brienne, uncomfortable in her own skin, who had pined for one man who's gay and is pining now for another man who's so far out of her reach, she can only see him with the Luwin telescope.

She risks a glance over her shoulder at Jaime and allows herself to momentarily admire his far-too-handsome face. If this week of experiments is successful, they'll write their paper, accept their Samwell Prize, and go their separate ways. When she thinks on it, she finds it oddly thrilling that if they're successful, their names will forever be linked in history. A shiver runs down her spine, and then she, too, becomes serious-physicist-Brienne. Her reactions to Jaime Lannister are unsettling and sometimes painful and she doesn't always understand them; but physics...physics she understands.

She turns away from the annoying man and says, "Ready?"

He leans over her, so close she can smell his cologne and laundry detergent and him, and suddenly wishes with all her heart that she could find a universe where he doesn't exist and escape there.

His strong hands grip the back of her chair.

"Ready," he says.

She hits enter.

*/*/*/*/*