Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

xxx

Etta doesn't ask it when she finds a bullet, dulled by time and warped by age, hidden deep in her mother's jewelry box. Or a couple of days later when Olivia notices the bronze hanging from a chain around her neck and sits them down with mugs of hot chocolate and a story pulled from her family's classified past. Olivia talks of how Peter once called it "the bullet that saved the world" and, at thirteen, Etta's enraptured by the idea of her mother saving the world with a single sacrifice.

She stays silent until the end of the story, when she asks her mom if it's weird, if it's okay for her to keep wearing it. Olivia gives her a small smile and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

xxx

She doesn't wonder a few years later, when her dad decides to unload his side of the tale accompanied by strawberry milkshakes on a worn bench within Harvard's limits. Peter's voice is calm and heavy, as he spins a story as fantastical as the ones he used to tell when Etta was a little girl. It's a story of science fiction, of alternate universes and rewritten timelines and Etta's brain might just explode a little bit from all of it, genius notwithstanding. But it's peter's pause in the middle, when Etta learns about his decision, his heroic choice to save not just this world, but the other one too, that makes something wriggle in the back of her mind.

xxx

She doesn't connect the pieces until she's eighteen and facing the world of college and beyond. She's snooping through old case files hidden in her mother's office in the lab at Harvard, bored and self-diagnosed with a severe case of senioritis. It's a video cassette; although Etta's pretty sure she's only seen pictures of them in her textbooks at school. There's writing on it, in handwriting that seems vaguely familiar, that reads "For Peter Bishop Only." but Etta's never been one for the rules as she rolls the ancient television set from its dusty corner and slips the video into its slot.

The video is grainy and skips at random times, but the voice drifts to the front of Etta's mind with the kind of familiarity she associates with her old plush bunny and the nursery rhyme Olivia used to hum in the dark of night.

Her grandfather, with his wiry hair and lined face, makes amends with his only son for his sacrifice to ensure the safety of the world; of this world, of that world. Etta finds herself sinking onto the camp bed placed in the office long ago as Walter's words roll through her mind.

xxx

Etta asks Olivia the next afternoon, the two of them sitting in companionable silence at the kitchen table, Olivia working through a pile of case files and Etta struggling to stay awake through Shakespeare.

"Do you think I'm meant to sacrifice something to?" The inquiry is almost silent, Etta's afraid that if she asks too loudly she'll be sent away with a sad smile and a whispered classified.

Olivia, to her credit, does nothing but remove her glasses from their perch on the bridge of her nose, "Why do you ask?"

Etta shrugs and casually flips a page in her book, not finished just looking for something to do, "You and dad and grandpa all sacrificed yourselves for this world. That's what you've told me. Do you think there's somewhere...? Some universe or timeline where that's my job too?"

There's silence for so long that Etta thinks her mother might have disappeared, but Olivia's still there, looking at Etta but maybe not seeing her. It's uttered with weight when Olivia finally responds, gripping Etta's hand and staring at the necklace still hanging around her neck. "We did all of that, sweetie, so that you'll never ever have to."

The again is silent and resonates only in Olivia's mind and across rewoven timelines.