Emily

My entry for "E" of the A-Z Primeval FanFic Challenge

Who? Emily (first person)

When? 1867 or post Series 4 (depending which way you look at it)

I step backwards through the gateway, the flickering light pulsing all around me. One more step and I am through and the twenty-first century disappears. It is dark, where I am now, apart from the light given off by the gateway. Horses are nickering and stamping their hooves; I can only assume I am in a stables somewhere.

I feel my way around the dark walls, my fingers counting the slats and grooves in the wood. There is straw and hardened mud under my feet. Finding a dusty window, I look out into a deserted courtyard where oil lamps glimmer and fill the space with a soft glow. It is a cold, clear night with a starry sky.

This is 1867. Only 144 years from where Matt and his colleagues at the ARC are. Yet, it may as well be millions. I will be dead and buried before they are even born.

With a sigh, I turn back towards the gateway and it swells and constricts before me: its pulsing becoming more violent as the forces keeping it together begin to weaken. My resolve weakens too.

Maybe I have made a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed.

With sudden movement, I lurch towards the gateway; towards where I left Matt with tears in my eyes, leaving him to pursue his quest alone. He shouldn't have to do it alone. I can help.

But the gateway is gone.

I am alone in the nineteenth century, stood in a cold, dark stable far from anywhere I can legitimately call home. I left this world behind a long time ago.

I wonder what season of the year it is and whether in this timeline I am yet to be married. Would my husband see me as his wife? Or his fiancé? Or the girl he has recently been introduced to?

I cannot return to that life. I will no longer settle for a husband who does not love me. I am wiser now. I will find my own way, as I have done for three years ever since I stumbled through my first gateway.

I leave the stables and creep out into the night. The streets are deserted and I have no idea what time it is. I look up into the darkened windows of houses. This does not feel like home.

Travelling through the gateways, exploring time itself, had become my normality. In some strange way, I suppose, it had become my home.

So that is what I decide to do: find another gateway. Maybe I will find my way back to my friends. Maybe I will find my way back to Matt. Hopefully, I will not meet Ethan on my way. Still, it has got to be better than the dreary life I can expect here; dreary only to me who has seen more and been more.

The gateways pulse and change and I cannot control them.

But my own destiny, to find my home wherever that may be, is in my hands.