The smell of burning rubber tingled in his nose; the screech of brakes rang in his ears. He heard the thud of metal hitting human flesh. He shuddered, and clung to the man who he had stopped from running out in the street seconds before. He squinched his eyes closed in an attempt to block out the image of the crumpled body on the pavement. Don't cry, he told himself. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and streamed down his face despite himself.
Chaos in the street contrasted the near-empty sidewalk where he and his two companions stood in horror. He only heard the noise of the people, a dull roar flooding his brain, but not hearing the words. The faces of the pedestrians who had run to the street to help mirrored his own. Stricken with grief, he turned away. Had his heart been ripped from his chest? It felt to him like it had.
One of his companion's words from earlier that week-what seemed to be a lifetime ago now-and resounded in his head. Edith Keeler must die. Edith Keeler must die. Edith Keeler must die. The words became a chant in his head, keeping time with the sirens of emergency vehicles that were closing in on the scene. Closer, closer, the sirens came. Coming to take her away.
He could have saved her. He could have been happy here. After meeting her, he hadn't felt so out of place in this century. For the first time in his life, he realized that having a family sounded nice. Better the warmth of a woman's arms than the cold vacuum of space. He shuddered again, not out of coldness or horror, but of the thought of what he had nearly done by saving her. His companion, who was now holding him, spoke. His voice thick with emotion, he said,"Do you know what you just did?"
A pause filled the air, stealing the very life-breath from him. He knew his companion had had the same thoughts as he. Then a voice, normally ever so stoic, whispered gently, "He knows, Doctor. He knows."
And both he and his companion knew. Her death was the precipice on which all future history rested upon. Alive, she would have changed their century beyond recognition. Dead, and all future history would remain intact. The love of a woman was not reason enough to change an entire universe's stream of time. For the love of a woman, he could have let her live and saved thousands of lives. But for the love of a woman, he let her die, and thus saved millions of lives. In a twisted, sordid way, that was, in fact, the best fate for her. It was that knowledge that gave him the strength to stand on his own two feet again. It was that knowledge that was keeping the guilt at bay.
It was at that moment, the three men found themselves coming back through the lopsided doughnut-shaped rock that called itself the Guardian of Forever. As his fellow comrades gathered around him, he looked up at the stars and silently thanked Edith Keeler for her sacrifice that day. For it was because of her that his life, though forever changed, became right again.