Hi everyone! Before we start, I have a few things to tell you. Sorry if it's a bit long, but I won't be bothering you with this again, so let's get rid of it.

First, this is a fic based on the TV series 'Sons of Liberty', and will so far be based on the series, and not the historical facts. I will also change some things of course, but the main events (the Boston Tea Party, Lexington, Bunker Hill...) will appear in this story, though they will be more or less changed as my OCs will interact with the characters of the original series.

I will need to use some scenes from the series, though I obviously do not own any of the characters or events present in the series. All the dialogues coming from the series will thus be written in italic script, to be sure that no plagiarism of any form is intended. It is merely the work of a fan. I will also include in the notes at the beginning of the chapters if I do use some scenes coming from the series. And it is indeed the case in this first chapter.

There is a bit of scientific talk in this chapter, but it is probably the only time the whole principle of the thing will be explained, so don't be afraid, I'm not writing a scientific fanfic, and no more complicated science will be used afterwards, I promise (except if you want me to do so, but I don't reckon you will ;) ).The general principle of wormholes used in this fic is correct, though its uses and creations are not relevent as I have pictured them in this fanfiction. But the general principle is correct. If you have any questions about it, please tell me. I'm far from being an expert, but I'll do my best to explain it to you.

I also mention the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) in this first chapter. It is the particle accelerator in Switzerland, which is used to study the acceleration and collision of particles at high speed. For those who may have heard about it, that's where we discovered the Higgs Boson a few years ago.

Another important point, English is not my natural language (I'm French actually), so there will be some mistakes I'm afraid. Please, tell me if you spot any, or if you have any remarks to make me improve my English. I'll be glad to correct my mistakes. I'm working hard to improve, but I'm not perfect ;)

I know the principle of this fic may sound a bit weird, but it will (or at least should) make sense as my OCs will be part of the events of the series, and others coming from my own imagination.

I hope you like this story as much as I love writing it. Please, tell me what you think about it. All point of views, and feedbacks, and critics are more than welcome. Feel free to review, or send me PMs.

Thank you so much for reading, hope you like it ;)


251 Years, 3 months, 5 days and 6 minutes.

Boston, Massachusetts.

August 13th, 1765.

It was raining. It was raining hard. The droplets were falling down heavily upon him, making him slip upon the rooftops. He jumped upon the drenched roof of the next house, panting, but the cries of the British soldiers down there, in the street, were preventing him from stopping and resting. A warrant had just been issued for his arrest. And why? Because he had refused to collect taxes from people whose only way of payment was to shut their business and sell the whole thing. And then what? Out of work, they would not be more able to pay taxes in the end. But now, their debts had become his own. He hadn't read the warrant, he hadn't let the soldiers close enough to show him, for sure, or he wouldn't be running under the rain, jumping from rooftops to rooftops, he would already be in chains. But he knew what the warrant said anyway, he didn't need to read the manuscript words to know them. The debt of his friends had become his, and though the Crown didn't care about the violence in the streets, or the people out of work, or the families starving out in the outskirts of town, the Crown was very touchy when it came to taxes. And he couldn't say it was surprising. Money was all there was for these men, no matter how many people would suffer in the process, they always wanted more...

Samuel Adams jumped down on the muddy ground, his worn-out boots slipping upon the drenched earth of the dirty street. But soon he was surrounded by men clothed in red again. He climbed up in a new house, entering by a window. He ran through the rooms, without even noticing the couple kissing on the bed. He jumped through a window again, landing on a small roof, levelled with the first floor. The rain hit violently his cheeks again, as suddenly he was feeling someone's grasp around his leg. He quickly knocked out the soldier, hurrying along the roof. He jumped back down in the street, and ran away again. He finally entered the square, where two gangs were fighting for the control of the docks nearby. An Irishman looked up at him, his face covered with blood, both his and his opponents'.

"Sam," Kelly cried over the loud chaos of the raging battle, in his strong Irish accent, "what's going on?"

Samuel pointed out the soldiers, who were hurrying after him through the crowd.

"They're after me!"

Behind him, the Captain and his men were pushing the fighting men away from their path.

"Move! Get out of the streets!" the officer cried.

Suddenly, coming out from nowhere, a soldier arrived behind Sam, and before he could defend himself, the military man hit him hard on the forehead with the butt of his firearm. Sam quickly cleared his mind again, focusing on the soldier clothed in red, and punched him hard on the face, making him fall to the muddy ground. He turned around towards the British officer, speaking in a loud and clear voice, so that everyone in the square could here.

"Why don't you move? These are our streets!"

The crowd roared in agreement, and soon nobody was fighting anymore, all turning towards the soldiers.

"Get back to your homeland! Come on!"

The soldiers backed away, the Captain commanding his men to hold their fire. But soon, the crowd turned into an angry mob, and they were coming for them...

"Go back to the Governor's house! Fall back to the Governor's house!" the officer ordered his men.

And soon they were all running away from the square, hurrying towards Governor Hutchinson's mansion. They closed the iron gates behind them, just in time to prevent the mob to enter after them. Sam followed the angry crowd, quite amazed by what was going on, but happy nonetheless. They deserved what was happening, they were responsible for the anger of the people of Boston.

The soldiers hurried inside the house, whilst men were throwing stones at them, trying to break the gates to enter the house.

And soon indeed the iron gates were falling to the ground...

The mob entered the house, and for several long minutes, the place was torn apart completely. Curtains were burnt, paintings were destroyed, chairs were sent flying through the windows... There was soon not much left unbroken inside the mansion.

Sam watched the house being destroyed, leaning against the corner of a house nearby, the ghost of a smile upon his lips. Only a few words, and sparks were igniting the whole place. It was crazy the power that only a few words could muster...

He heard people walking in the adjacent street, and took a look beyond the corner of the house. The Governor was fleeing, a pile of papers under his arms, his wig lopsided upon his head, soldiers surrounding him, ready to react. He turned around, and caught Sam's glance. And for a few seconds, the two men merely stared at each other, weighting their opponent. For all this was far from over, and they both knew it.

After several more minutes, the men finally came out of the Governor's house, merry, and Sam found back Kelly.

"Let's go back to the tavern," Sam told him, unwilling to stay for too long into the streets, when soon the whole British army would be looking for him.

"That was fun!" laughed Kelly loudly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Sam answered, a small smile curving the corner of his lips.

"What did they want from you anyway?"

"Debts, I'm afraid."

"The uncollected taxes?"

"What else could it be?"

Kelly nodded slowly, before patting roughly Sam's shoulder.

"Well, I'm sure we'll find something. And in the meantime, I guess you'll have to stay at the inn."

"I guess I will have to, yes."

They entered the square again, along with many of the men who had taken part in the destruction of the Governor's house. Suddenly, there was a strange low noise...

"Did you hear that?" Kelly asked Sam.

Sam nodded slowly, frowning. They all came to a stop, looking around them. They had never heard such a sound before.

The wind started to blow, twirling, and climbing up towards the sky. They all looked up, and their eyes widened.

In the sky, above their heads, a large dark gap seemed to suck everything around it, covering the stars... or rather pushing them away, as if the sky was suddenly distorted...

"What, in the name of God, is that?"


United Nations Headquarters, New York City

November 19th, 2016

"This, is what we usually call a wormhole."

Dr. Yuri Einbrecher cleared his throat. In front of the whole United Nations, he was more than impressed, though he was used to present conferences in the scientific community. But this exercise, before the representatives of one hundred and ninety-three different countries, was much more complicated indeed.

"Wormholes, that we can in this case also call an Einstein-Rosen bridge, can link two different points of spacetime, and thus allow us to travel back in time. Indeed, the impact of two accelerated particles created such an amount of energy, and thus mass, that it bent enough spacetime to create a singularity, which caused the two periods to interact with one another."

There was a deadly silence, and when he looked into the eyes of the politicians around him, he read only questions. Clearly, no one had understood anything... He looked desperately at his colleagues on his right for help.

Dr. Sarah Hugo rolled her eyes. She hated this. This whole thing was a bad idea. Time-travel was too dangerous, too chaotic, too unpredictable. A million things could go wrong, and they barely understood a tiny piece of the ocean of knowledge they would have to muster to reach a basic comprehension of this phenomenon. But Yuri was drowning out there, and though she hated the man, she couldn't let him be ridiculous, it was too cruel.

She stood up, and walked towards Yuri, taking his place in front of the delegates of the whole United Nations. She took a deep breath, before diving.

"I know it's complicated, and to be fully honest, we don't understand much either to this phenomenon."

Everyone was listening to her now. She could hear her French accent even heavier than it usually was as her voice was shaking slightly.

"What you have to understand, it is that time is not universal. Time is merely a coordinate, just like latitudes and longitudes to describe a place on a map. Well, to define one particular place in spacetime, in the entire universe that is, you need to know its spatial coordinates, so latitudes and longitudes if you want... But you also need to know the moment, the time corresponding to this place. Now, in the LHC, we created lots and lots of energy, when we forced two particles that where moving very fast to collide into one another. This energy has created a passage between two different points. It not only linked two points on the planet, but also on two different moments of History."

She walked towards the closest delegate, and picked up a sheet of paper.

"You can imagine that spacetime is this sheet of paper, right?"

She asked the politician to hold the sheet above the desk for her, and he obliged.

"In our period, at this very instant, and at this special place in the world, we are here."

She rested her fingertip in the middle of the piece of paper.

"But imagine now that we have so much energy, that this energy, transforming into a mass..."

She felt that she was losing a few politicians...

"Well this energy, just energy..."

The politicians focused on her again.

"This energy is so important that this sheet of paper upon which my finger is resting cannot carry so much energy, it's too heavy. So it bends. Okay? In a very logical way, if you put something heavy in the middle..."

She pushed with her fingertip upon the sheet, and the paper curved under the pressure of her index.

"...it bends. But if it bends enough..."

She continued to push further on the paper sheet, until finally her fingertip touched the desk throughout the paper.

"... it touches another point of spacetime. So now, my finger not only touches the paper, it also touches the desk. I have just created a passage, a bridge, between the paper, and the desk, because now they're touching. Well, actually, that's exactly what happened. Unless instead of touching this desk, we touched the eighteenth century."

She saw several delegates nodding, apparently understanding at least enough to picture the possibility of time-travel.

"Now, the problem is, we do not understand in which circumstances it happened. It is theoretically not possible. Wormholes are supposed to exist in black holes, and should have never happened in the LHC. We do not know what happens on the other side of the wormhole, and we do not know how to control it. We have managed to stabilize our side of the bridge, but not the other side. We do not know if a living organism can survive to the travel. And more importantly, we do not know what our actions, if we actually manage to send someone there, will have as consequences upon History. It could change nothing, like it could change everything. It could create a time loop, or simply let the time flowing by, we have no idea of what is going to happen."

The delegate for Italy cleared her throat.

"You do not sound very convincing," she pointed out.

Sarah through a cautious look at Yuri, before answering.

"I, for one, do not think it's a good idea. I belong to the minority among the scientific community that thinks that time is too important to be played with. I think there are too may parameters we cannot control, and the stakes are too important. We could change History, create a completely new chain of events."

Yuri cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the politicians back to him.

"It's true, there are many risks," he said slowly in his heavy German accent. "But you must also think about what such a breakthrough could bring us. We could understand not only this phenomenon, but the entire physics. We could understand the evolution of the climate, and act against the global warming. We could not only understand it actually, we could act before it all happens. We could study and witness the greatest events of History..."

"Or prevent them to happen," Sara interrupted him.

But Yuri ignored her, and went on anyway.

"The breakthroughs, if we could study this phenomenon completely, would be formidable. The greatest leap humanity would have ever done. All we need, is your final agreement. Everything is ready to make the first contact. The tests that we ran last night brought us more than we had ever expected, everything worked perfectly. You have already allowed us to build everything we needed to travel, now, you must let us use it, and go there."

"If anything goes wrong, it would be catastrophic," Sarah replied. "And we don't know how the people in the eighteenth century, who don't even have electricity, nor any concept of quantum physics or relativity, upon which all these is resting, will react. And this period is a crucial one, particularly at the place where we could go. We must not take the risk. We could prevent the creation of a whole country!"

The American politician leaned towards his microphone.

"Why do you want to go to this particular moment then. Why not start with only a travel of a few years?"

"Because we have no idea how it all happened, which means that we cannot control where we are going," Sarah replied. "All we can do for now, is recreate the circumstances under which it happened accidentally five years ago. But we cannot chose where we are travelling to. It's like entering in an elevator in a building with a hundred floors, but the only elevator you can use can carry you to the fourth floor. You can either go nowhere, and don't go in the elevator, or take the elevator, and go up to the fourth floor. But that's it. We only can go to this place at this time, and no other."

"Not for now," Yuri added. "And the only way to open up new possibilities is to understand the phenomenon, and for that, we need to experiment."

"And where exactly will you go again?" asked the delegate from India.

"We can go in Boston, two hundred and fifty-one years, three months, five days and six minutes from now," Sarah answered, "We would not travel to one date, but always two hundred years before now. Time keeps flowing in the same way for both our periods. Yesterday, we opened the bridge, it was the thirteenth of August for them. Twenty four hours later, today, if we open the bridge again, we will establish a link between today and the fourteenth of August for them. Do you understand? We don't jump to the same point every time, we always make a jump of the exact same length."

She looked around her at all the politicians. This was not about science, and she hoped they could understand her point. It was not about science, it was about Humanity.

"This is the period of the first sparks that ignited the War of Independence in the United States. We should not take the risk to go to this period of time, and change History. If we change anything, the United States may never be created. All the actions this Nation has taken afterwards would probably not happen either. We cannot know what History will be like if we go back in time and change something. And we can't merely go back in time and hide, the breach created is too big, and we will need lots of equipment. We will need the help of the people of Boston of the eighteenth century if we want to travel through time."

There was a rumour across the room, and soon all the delegates were talking with each other, cacophony filling up the air. Eventually, calm was brought back to the room, and the Secretary-General spoke slowly.

"We should take some time, before taking any decision. We shall all gather again in three days, and we will take a vote then, to decide if we should try this mission, or abort it."

They all started to stand, leaving. Sarah heaved a deep sigh. Three more days to wait...


Boston, Massachusetts.

August 20th, 1765.

John Hancock opened slowly the door of the inn. He finally put the handkerchief he had used to breathe in whilst he was still in the dirty and stinking street back in his pocket. How could people live in such a pestilent place?

The moment he entered the Green Dragon, everyone in the tavern froze, and a deafening silence soon covered the place. Next to the bar, a stout Irish figure stood suddenly straighter, glaring at Hancock.

"Hey you!" cried Kelly across the room to Hancock, who seemed scared that if he touched anything in the inn he might soil his expensive cloths. "I think you might be a bit lost."

He advanced towards Hancock, putting down his pint of beer upon the bar.

"Yes..." answered Hancock in a slow tone that never left his voice. "I am looking for Sam Adams. I heard he might be here."

Kelly walked closer to him, his expression clearly threatening now.

"And where did you hear that?"

"My good man," Hancock answered in his slow voice, trying to calm him down, "I don't want any trouble. I was just hoping I could have a discussion with Mr. Adams about some... business."

Kelly was now very close to him, trying to intimidate him, and it was clearly working.

"Is that so?" Kelly asked him slowly in a lower voice.

Hancock merely nodded slowly in response.

"Is he here?" he asked the Irishman, trying to sound casual.

A voice echoed from the back of the inn.

"Relax Kelly," Sam told his friend.

"Mr. Adams," Hancock greeted him as Kelly was letting him approach Sam and offered him his open hand. "My name is John Hancock..."

"I know who you are," replied coldly Sam, not shaking the gentleman's hand. "I don't know what you're doing here."

"Well..."

Hancock looked around him at all these men who were staring at them, listening closely to the conversation. But what he wanted to offer Sam Adams was not meant to be heard by any eavesdroppers...

"Can we talk in private?"

Sam looked at the men drinking in the inn as well, before nodding to Kelly.

"Would you mind?"

Kelly made them all clear the room.

"Oh, no, no, no... There's no need to clear the establishment," said Hancock, as everyone was passing next to him to get out. "Thank you very much. Thank you very much."

Soon, there was only Hancock, Sam and Kelly left in the tavern. The Irishman walked pass Hancock, heading towards the back of the inn.

"Thank you, my good man," Hancock told him as he was passing next to him.

Kelly turned towards Sam, and gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. Sam nodded reassuringly. He could handle Hancock. Kelly soon disappeared, and Sam went sitting down at a table. Hancock remained standing near the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Adams. I say it was quite the show you put on the other night, with all those men all following you."

His voice was slow and over-polite. It was the voice of someone who was ready to say anything as long as it was in his own interest. And Sam didn't like this voice at all. This man seemed to be too much driven by his own wealth to think about anything or anyone else, and clearly Sam wasn't ready to trust him. But he was still curious to know what in the name of God someone like John Hancock could possibly do here, at the Green Dragon, looking for him.

"So everybody keeps saying," Sam merely answer, offering Hancock to sit down by a quick gesture of the hand.

"Thank you," answered Hancock, hurrying to sit down at Sam's table. "I have heard you were among those who saw... what happened, in the square."

"I was indeed."

"I didn't see it myself, I'm afraid. But I have heard it was quite impressive. The priests say it was a warning coming from the devil."

Sam took a deep breath, annoyed by the conversation. He was merely losing his time for the moment.

"Well, I don't know for one what it was, nor how it came here. I merely witnessed it. God only knows what we were supposed to understand to this... thing."

"I reckon you are right, Mr. Adams, only God knows..."

"Have you really come here to ask me about that night, Mr. Hancock?"

There was a short silence, before Hancock would speak slowly again, looking carefully at Adams.

"It seems you have become quite the nuisance to my friend the Governor."

Indeed, Governor Hutchinson had come two days ago in his own house, without announcing himself, and had clearly threatened him to stop their agreement concerning customs duties if he didn't take care of Samuel Adams. So now, if he wanted to keep making money, he had to make sure that Adams would not endanger the Governor's affairs again.

"Oh... So you're Hutchinson's messenger..." Sam replied slowly, smiling as he was finally starting to understand the Governor's scheme.

But Hancock shook his head, blinking.

"Oh... no, no, no, I mean... no, not really..."

"Then what?" asked Sam quite aggressively, leaning forward on the table, coming closer to Hancock.

"Well, I...," Hancock stuttered calmly. "I am here as someone interested in the continued

peace and tranquillity of the colony."

Sam propped up an eyebrow, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Peace and tranquillity? In Boston?"

He picked up his beer, carrying it slowly towards his mouth.

"Mr. Hancock, I've lived in Boston my entire life... and I think that's the single stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He drank up, whilst Hancock was smiling wryly.

"Some would say I am simply an optimist."

"I heard money would do that to you," Sam snapped back, putting his pint back on the table and leaning back in his chair.

Hancock stared at him, and it was his turn to lean towards Sam.

"I know about your problems," he told him slowly, being careful in his choice of words. "I know about the warrant, I know about the debt... What if I could help you? What if I could get rid of the warrant, pay off the debt... All it would take from you is a quick visit to the courthouse."

"And why..." asked Sam slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Why would you be willing to do that for me?"

"Well, because, in return, you will promise to help end this madness in the streets, and help Governor Hutchinson restore sanity to Boston."

"You... think that I have the power to do that?"

"I know you have the power to do that."

They stared at each other in the eyes for while, before Hancock would speak again, shrugging.

"The Governor is a... a friend of mine."

A grin appeared on his face, that was probably supposed to be seductive somehow, but was merely ridiculous. Sam stood up, and turned his back to Hancock, his head low, thinking. He couldn't say that he trusted the man, he seemed to self-centred to be trustworthy. But who else could make his debt disappear?

"What say you?" Hancock asked him after a while.

Sam spun around, facing Hancock again.

"I think it sounds fair enough," he answered, offering Hancock his opened hand.

Hancock rose quickly, shaking enthusiastically Sam's strong hand.

"I also think that sounds fair enough," he said. "Very good. Thank you, good day Mr. Adams," he added, heading for the door.

He turned one last time towards Sam, snapping his fingers.

"It is as easy as that."

He walked out of the inn, a satisfied smirk on his face. Hutchinson wouldn't have to worry about Samuel Adams anymore, and he wouldn't have to worry about taxes and customs duties. Everything was ending well, very well indeed...

Kelly reappeared behind Sam.

"What was that?" he asked his friend.

"I think that might be my ticket out of jail..." Sam answered slowly, his narrowed eyes still fixed upon the wooden door.

Sam turned quickly towards Kelly, the ghost of a smirk upon his lips.

"Drink?"

Kelly smiled back at him, but before he could pick up a beer for him and his friend, doctor Joseph Warren came rushing into the inn. He was out of breath, his brow wet with sweat.

"It's happening again!" he cried.

There was fear in his blue eyes, and his voice was shaky.

"Where?" asked Sam urgently, knowing perfectly what the doctor meant.

"In the square again. You have to see this."

Kelly threw a hat at Sam to hide his face, and they strode out of the tavern, heading towards the square, Sam keeping the collar of his coat close to his cheeks, his head low.

In the square, a huge crowd had already gathered. Most of them were praying, and when the three men took sight of the thing that had appeared above the ground, they couldn't blame them to do so. A gigantic, dark hole was levitating there, a few feet above the dirty pavement. It was like a flat sphere of darkness, standing in the middle of nothing. The Governor was there as well, along with the British Captain who had run after Sam a few nights ago. But before such a thing, Sam was pretty sure the officer wouldn't have cared about him, even if he had presented himself to him, offering him his wrists to be chained up. The wind seemed to be drawn into the dark gap, and suddenly, the phenomenon seemed to be even stronger. Sam's hat flew away, but no one was looking towards him anyway, and all in the square were transfixed by the sudden roar that seemed to be coming out of the hole.

And suddenly, something came out of it...

Shouts echoed throughout the crowd, everyone was terrified at the sight of the white cubic chest on the ground.

A second later, there was a thud noise, and the dark sphere was gone.

The priest commanded to pray even more, and many did. Hutchinson turned towards his Aide, and ordered to the soldiers to go take a closer look at the chest.

The Captain sent one of his men, who walked slowly towards the object, pale as sheets.

He touched it with the tip of his boot, but nothing happened. He kicked it, but the chest merely slipped slightly upon the ground, and remained motionless in the mud.

"Try to open it," ordered the officer.

Indeed, the chest could clearly be opened easily, and the soldier rested the tip of his fingers upon the lid, and again nothing happened.

"No!" cried the priest. "It must be the making of the Devil, we must not touch it. We must resist temptation..."

Hutchinson turned towards the soldier, who was looking questioningly at him.

"Open it," he commanded.

And slowly, the soldier lifted the lid...

He frowned when he saw what was inside.

"What is it?" asked Hutchinson.

"It's a letter, and... what seems to be newspapers, Sir."

"Newspapers?"

Hutchinson walked towards him. Indeed, inside the chest, was a quite big envelope, with several newspapers, but the paper and the ink seemed strange... His eyes grew wide when he read the date upon the first page.

"Close it back," he ordered. "You, help him carrying it to my house."

The designated soldier hurried to help his fellow military man.

"Now, everyone please, go back to your homes," ordered Hutchinson to the crowd. "We will study this... chest, and inform the King, who will undoubtedly know what we ought to do. For now, please, get back to your homes."

The crowd dissipated slowly, and Sam, Warren and Kelly hurried away before the soldiers could notice Sam's presence.

"Do you think the priest is right? Do you think it comes from the Devil?" Kelly asked the two men.

Warren only shrugged.

"I do not know any form of science that could explain such a thing."

Sam shook his head.

"Whatever it may be, it can't be anything good for us."


LHC, Switzerland

November 25th, 2016.

"Five..."

The countdown had begun, the scientists were about to open the wormhole again. Sarah heaved a deep sigh. This whole thing was madness.

"Four..."

The danger was so great, anything could go wrong, they had no idea about the consequences of their actions, they had no idea about the impact of their actions on the past, and thus upon the present too.

"Three..."

But as always, no one was listening. She was a scientist too, she wanted to know, to discover, to study, like every single person in the room. But there were things in the universe that deserved to remain untouched, for the cost to knowledge was too high.

"Two..."

Yuri rested his hand upon the backrest of her chair, and she looked up at him. God, she hated this man... With his selfish smirk, and his ridiculous moustache, and this glint in his eyes that seemed to keep telling you that you were nothing to him but scum. He was playing the role of God in a risky play he had written himself, but to which he had no ending yet.

"One..."

This was the biggest mistake in the history of Humanity.

"Engage procedure."

A second later, the wormhole was formed in the giant tunnel of the LHC.

"The structure is stable," Sarah said out loud, analysing quickly the stream of data that came rushing upon the screens before her.

"Phase two," Yuri ordered.

Soon, a robot was approaching the bridge, a white chest held in its mechanical fist.

"Deliver the package," Yuri ordered again.

Sarah glimpsed at him over her shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked one last time.

"This is the future, right before us Dr. Hugo," he answered in his heavy German accent. "Of course, I'm sure."

The rest of the team was already guiding the robot closer to the dark hole anyway. And Sarah closed her eyes.

The next second, the white chest had been sent more than two hundred years before, in Boston.

And it was too late to go back now...


"I can't believe we've done that. We should have never participated to the whole thing anyway."

Michael Redcraft drank up a new glass of Vodka, the liquid burning his throat, and drowning his anger. The little pub sounded so loud all of a sudden...

"If we hadn't, we would have no power whatsoever to try to convince them," answered James Williamson.

"Well, that was very useful!" answered Michael wryly. "Now, they have sent... no sorry, we have sent a box asking to our ancestors to welcome us to their time period!"

His voice broke, tears blurring his vision.

"And we're taking the risk that my country would never be founded..."

Sarah patted encouragingly his shoulder.

"I know Michael, but it doesn't mean that we can't act anymore."

James furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean? Maybe you will be able to analyse data, as you're one of the main physicists on the project, and as both Michael and I are engineers, we will keep an eye on the equipment, but we have no power on their decision, or at least not enough to make them see reason."

"James is right," Michael shook his head. "There's nothing more we can do to stop them."

But Sarah shook slowly her head, a determined glint alit in her blue electric eyes.

"They will not stop there, the next step will be to send people, a whole team, to study both the world at this period of History, and the Einstein-Rosen bridge. And I'll volunteer."

Her two friends were frozen on the spot.

"You can't be serious..." said James, a nervous smile upon his lips. "This is so risky!"

"Well, for once, I have to agree with the Queen," Michael answered, drawing a kick from James under the table, but he merely ignored him.

"It's the only way to keep an eye on what they're doing. And I won't let the fate of Humankind in the hands of someone like Yuri! He's selfish, and will probably not hesitate to disturb the timeline to protect himself."

She shook her head again.

"Maybe it's dangerous. If I survive to the journey, I could probably die of a toothache there, but it's not what is important. I can't let History be influenced by someone like Yuri, and in particular in such an important period. If things don't happen as they have already happened in our timeline, the United States will never exist. And I can't let that happen."

She stared at her empty glass of Vodka.

"The United States may not have always taken good decisions in their history, but they are among the most defining nations in the world. If this country is not founded, everything could change. We could lose the two World Wars, and James like myself would probably be German instead of English and French. The whole History would be changed, and I'm not sure it would be changed for the better. Anyway, I won't take the risk to find out."

Michael and James exchanged a glance. They knew her by heart, and they knew this look in her eyes. Nothing and no one on this Earth would make her change her mind, she was way too stubborn. Michael heaved a sigh.

"I can't believe we're going to travel through time..."

Sarah looked up at her friends.

"You're not coming!" she stated.

"If you're going, we're going too," replied Michael.

"No way, this is too dangerous!"

"It's precisely why we won't let you go there on your own."

James took her hand in his.

"Do you remember, our first in the U.S.?" he said slowly. "Michael took us to this horrid pub downtown, in Boston."

"That was the worst hangover of my life..." Sarah smiled, remembering the day she had met her two best friends.

"We've never left each other since this day, we were only students by then, we were in college..."

Michael took her other hand.

"We stick together, right? Always."

"'One for all...'" James smiled.

And Sarah smiled back at him, tears in her eyes. This two men were her best friends, and the most extraordinary persons in the world. And when she answered, finishing the famous line from Dumas's novel, her voice was made hoarse by emotion.

"'...Et tous pour un.'"


Boston, Massachusetts.

August 26th, 1765.

Governor Hutchinson was beginning to be slightly panicked. He had no idea whatsoever of what he was supposed to think about the documents lying upon his desk. It was crazy to believe, and yet he couldn't find any other explanation to what he was witnessing. The documents came from the future... The dates upon the newspapers, but also the illustrations that were clearly not paintings or engravings, and yet appeared in vivid colours, the type of paper, even the length of the newspapers in itself, everything... Everything seemed to be unexplainable, except by this mad theory. And the letter was quite explicit. He had witnessed the phenomenon with his own eyes, and could attest of its veracity, all this was real, and not a product of the mind, it was palpable, tangible, just like the ground under his feet. And he couldn't believe this was happening, and happening to him... As if he had not enough problems with the Colony already. In London, many were those who were after his head, and the new problem with Samuel Adams was far from improving the already delicate situation. And now this... But he had no choice, not with the chest. He had to send it to London, like it was asked in the letter he had found in the white chest, and do it quickly. With Samuel Adams, well, he had asked to John Hancock, and he merely hoped the businessman would get rid of him soon. He couldn't notice the King of more trouble in the Colony, or they would have his head this time, for sure.

Suddenly, he was torn away from his thoughts, as someone was knocking on the door of his office. The servant announced Mr. Hancock, and Hutchinson hoped to finally hear a good news after these horrid two weeks.

"Ha, Mr. Hancock," he greeted the gentleman, offering him a seat.

"Governor."

Hutchinson forced a smile. God, how this slow and polite voice was annoying...

"Welcome. How is it with our problem?"

Though Hancock was now sitting comfortably in a chair, Hutchinson remained standing.

Hancock snapped his fingers, a smirk on his face.

"Resolved."

Hutchinson propped up an eyebrow.

"So soon?" he asked, surprised.

Hancock merely nodded.

"Good..." said Hutchinson, his face neutral again. "Please, share a glass of wine with me."

"Well, thank you."

Hancock looked cautiously at the Governor while he was pouring down some red wine in two crystal glass. He had to be very careful in his choice of words for this indeed, very careful...

"Now Governor," Hancock said slowly, "I made a deal, you see..."

"A deal? What sort of deal?"

He could hear in Hutchinson's voice anger already. And he couldn't say he liked it.

"I have paid off Mr. Adams's debt..."

"You did what?" cried the Governor, aghast.

"...and in return," Hancock went on, ignoring Hutchinson's outburst, "he has promised to keep his mob under control."

"He has prom..." started Hutchison, but he was too amazed to continue.

"He has promised," Hancock repeated.

The Governor was now furious, his voice shaking with anger.

"I appointed Adams to collect taxes for me, for the Crown, a noble profession," he said to Hancock, his face reddening with outrage, whilst the merchant was merely nodding. "And instead, he gives the money straight back to his debtbeat associates, he eludes a warrant for his arrest, and leads an angry mob to destroy my home, and you reward him with immunity!"

Hancock rested his gaze on the corner of Hutchinson's desk, as the tone of the Governor was not at all to his liking.

"Governor," he said slowly, trying to ease Hutchinson's mind, though his own tone sounded annoyed, "I have solved your problem. Adams and his men will not be bothering you anymore."

"Where is your guarantee for that?" asked Hutchinson in an angry, breathy voice, resting his palms upon his desk, leaning forward towards Hancock. "Do you realize what you've done? How can you be so naive?"

"Governor please..."

Hutchinson heaved an angry sigh, before chasing the businessman away with a quick gesture of the hand.

"Be off with you!"

"Well, very well..." Hancock merely answered, standing slowly.

He walked in a slow pace towards the door, and Hutchinson pressed him to leave by walking close behind him, but it didn't seem to bother Hancock, who merely walked out of the room at the slow rhythm that seemed to characterize his whole persona.

"Good day," he told the Governor, before finally exiting the room.

Hutchinson closed quickly the doors behind him, and strode back towards his desk, furious, taking off his wig.

"Unbelievable..." he muttered under his breath.

He sat down, and started to write quickly his note for London.

"Sir, I'm not sure it is quite prudent," his Aide pointed out.

"I'm the damn Governor!" Hutchinson replied. "Anything I do, or say, is prudent."

He quickly folded the letter, and handed it to his aide.

"Put it on the first ship."

The Governor took a look at the white chest right next to his desk, before quickly folding up the newspapers and the long letters he had found inside, and putting them back in the chest. He closed the lid.

"And this too. On the first ship, and quickly. The faster we'll get rid of it, the better."

But something was telling him that he would get rid of nor the chest, nor Adams so soon...


"Thank you Abigail," Sam smiled at the ginger woman who was handing him a piece of pie.

She smiled back at him, whilst her husband was still trying to focus upon the document of his court case.

"What is it all about anyway?" Sam asked his cousin.

John Adams looked up at him.

"You know perfectly I can't answer that question."

"Oh yes, of course, secrecy..."

"Exactly."

"The guest quarters are ready Samuel," Abigail Adams told her husband's cousin.

"Thank you."

Samuel looked down at his pie for a while. He didn't like to have to stay at his cousin's house, but he didn't really have a choice. He had to keep a low profile for a while, try to get back on his feet, find something to do. Now that Hancock had taken care of the warrant, he could think about the future again. Or well, try to at least. He glimpsed over at the painting of his wife upon the wall, and felt his throat tightening again. Since she had died, he had been nothing but a drunk, and he knew it. But despite what Abigail said, he wasn't ready to settle down again. He didn't want anyone else, and he wasn't sure he would ever love again. It had hurt him too much to lose her. And though he was trying to get back on his feet, he simply couldn't forget the life he had almost had, and it was slowly killing him.

"Have you heard what Hutchinson said this afternoon?" John suddenly asked him, finally giving up his case. "About the chest?"

Sam shook his head, chewing his cake.

"He said it came from the future."

Sam froze, before exploding in laughter.

"You can't be serious..."

"I'm deadly serious Sam. Now, think about it. Who knows what we may have invented in the future, we may have invented a... a machine, or a device to travel through time."

"Of course not..."

"Then what the whole thing was?"

Sam merely shrugged.

"It is not a less plausible explanation than the theory of our priest, who says it's a portal created by the Devil," added John.

"I don't know John," Sam answered, his voice bitter again. "But I don't see why anyone from the future would like to come here. There's nothing here, except starvation and suffering."

John and Abigail exchanged a glance.

"You can't keep thinking like that Sam," John told him.

But Sam shook his head.

"What should I think about all the families who have no money to eat then? About all these people out of work? About all these taxes? About all this injustice?"

John merely sighed.

"That's how things are, and you can't do anything against it. It's the law Sam, and the law is the only thing that protect us from chaos."

"These laws don't protect us from anything, they're only unfair."

"They are still laws."

"Well...Maybe if a law is unfair, we should change it. And if the King doesn't want to turn it into something fairer, we should change it ourselves."

Husband and wife exchanged another look, before Sam would finish his glass of wine, and start to rise from his chair.

"You don't want to finish your meal?" asked Abigail, nodding towards the piece of pie Sam had barely touched.

"Thank you Abigail, it was delicious," he answered. "But I'm not that hungry anymore."

He walked out of the room, and hurried upstairs to his room.

"He's so angry all the time..." John said, more to himself than to his wife.

She stood up, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing his back against her stomach.

"He just wants things to be better, for everyone."

"But he speaks about breaking the law... He could get into trouble, big trouble. And God only knows how he managed to find the money to pay his debt."

Despite the strict tone he often used with his cousin, Abigail knew he was close to him, and cared about him more than he would ever admit it.

"I'm sure he'll be just fine, sooner or later..."


London, England

October, 1765

Benjamin Franklin hurried throughout the corridor. The young lad who was guiding him across the Parliament was impressively quick, and the elder man had to admit he would have enjoyed quite handsomely a slower pace. But he couldn't really complain. He had finally been called, undoubtedly concerning the mysterious chest that had appeared in Boston, and had arrived a few days ago in London. Though the members of the Parliament were not really to his liking, the excitement of this scientific mystery was rising his mood. And if the price to pay to examine the object was a quick talk with the members of the British Parliament, then it would be a quite fair price indeed. He took a deep breath, before nodding to the young boy to open the doors, ready to dive into the pool full of sharks...

He walked towards Lord North, smiling.

"Ah, Dr. Franklin," the Lord greeted him. "I am glad you were able to attend to this meeting so quickly."

"It is always a pleasure to help, your Excellency. In whatever ways you may be requiring my services."

"Actually, I will require your help in several matters today."

Franklin merely smiled, holding back his disappointment. This little voice in his head was telling him he wasn't going to hear what he had come here for.

"I have received a note from the Colony a few days ago. And I have to say that it's content let me quite... uncertain."

The Prime Minister looked at Franklin as if he was already blaming him for all the things that were troubling him.

"It would seem that there has been an unbearable unrest in the Colony, and particularly in Boston. An angry mob has destroyed the Governor's house, tearing the place apart. Apparently, they would have even destroyed the painting of our good King!"

Fury was burning in his little beady eyes, his cheeks reddening under the powder.

"Your Excellency," Franklin answered with his most diplomatic tone, trying to calm Lord North down, "for every miscreant or troublemaker in Boston, there are a hundred of tradesmen and merchants, loyal to the King."

"Then why all this unrest?" asked the Prime Minister, still outraged.

Franklin answered slowly, offering his opened palms in sign of appeasement.

"Too many taxes, and too little work. People are hungry..."

"And so they destroy the Governor's house...?" interrupted Lord North.

"If the populace isn't given a chance to prosper," Franklin tried to explain slowly, "why then, unrest and even violence... is inevitable."

"Our source has been telling us of a charismatic leader involved..."

"Allow me to correspond with my contacts in Massachusetts," Franklin proposed."And I will gladly get to the bottom of this unrest and... put an end to it."

"Actually Dr. Franklin, you will go yourself to Boston."

Franklin couldn't refrain his eyebrow to arch up.

"Indeed, you will," Lord North repeated. "I think your presence there could improve the complicated situation with the Colonists. But your services will also be needed there for another matter."

He picked up a letter upon the long table around which he and his colleague used to sit to take the decisions that would dictate the laws throughout the Kingdom.

"I am sure you have learnt about a mysterious chest..."

Curiosity ignited Franklin's gaze again.

"Indeed, I have, your Excellency."

"Several of our finest scientists have inspected the content of the chest, and they are unanimous. This chest seems to be coming from the future, as hard as it seems to be conceived by our minds, it seems to be true nonetheless. The King has decided to take part in the establishment of a relationship between their men of science and ours. And... I think I recall you describing yourself as a man of science, Dr. Franklin."

"I think I could be described that way, indeed."

"Then, you shall leave next week for Boston. You will help Governor Hutchinson restore peace and obedience in the city, and will also be in charge of establishing communication and trust between people of the two times."

He handed him the letter.

"You will have full access to the content of the chest, and can study the items before your departure."

Despite the fact that he was sent in his homeland to stop an insurrection he agreed with, Franklin was more than excited at the idea of studying this whole strange event of dark portals and chest travelling through time. He bent slightly to the gentlemen, and walked out of the room, both anxious and content.

But the excitement caused by the content of the chest was soon not enough to ease his mind and draw his thoughts away from the fate of his hometown. Indeed, only two days after his interview with Lord North, a note from the Parliament was sent to his house, noticing him of the day and hour of his departure for the Colony. And when he recognised the name of the warship, he knew only evil things would come out of it. His anxiousness became actual fear when he learned before the end of that day that a new decree had been established, giving full right to the officers and soldiers of His Majesty to enter any shop, or seize any ship or good that would have listed as prohibited, or upon which full payment of customs duties would have not yet been made. He had tried to explain them, but the Lords were too blind to the need of the people in the Colony to see the truth. When the Colony would have needed help, they were receiving only punishment. They were tightening the knot around their throat that was already to tight for them to breathe. And there was only one thing a choking man could do: struggle to resist.


LHC, Switzerland

June, 2017.

"Structure stable, we're good."

Sarah's voice was shaking. She hoped they would not answer. In the missive they had sent through the wormhole, they had asked them to send back a response into the very chest the group of scientists had used to transport safely their own documents. If no response came at all, it would mean that they either didn't want to work with them, either had not dared to open the chest. And she hoped nothing would pass this dark hole.

She looked at the screens before her again, checking the stability of the bridge. They couldn't maintain the passage open for more than a few minutes, the huge solenoids they were using to create an electromagnetic field powerful enough to keep the gap open were consuming too much energy already. She noticed the numbers slowly decreasing on the screen on her right.

"We're losing power," she said.

"Wait for it," Yuri replied.

She exchanged a glance with Michael, who was sitting on her left, checking the screens as well.

"We won't be able to keep it stable for long now," the engineer said.

"Wait," repeated Yuri.

On her right, James held her hand.

Nothing could pass this bridge, nothing could pass this bridge, nothing...

A white chest flew out of the hole. Everyone cheered, except for the three friends.

"I'm closing it now," Sarah announced above the chaotic noises.

Only a few minutes later, the scientists were getting down into the large tube out of which was made the LHC, and carried out the chest. Yuri put it on a large table, all his colleagues gathered around him. After a series of measurement, James nodded. There were no dangerous radiations emanating from the chest, Yuri could open it.

Slowly, he unlocked the chest, and lifted the lid.

A new unbearably long series of measurements, whilst everyone in the room was staring eagerly at the single sealed letter that was resting in the bottom of the chest.

James nodded once more.

Yuri hurried to pick up the piece of paper, and broke the seal. He read it through twice, barely believing the words he was reading, his eyes wet with tears.

"They're accepting to help."


She knocked on the door of his office, and he grinned at the French scientist when he recognised her.

"What may I do for you Sarah?" Yuri asked her as she was entering his office.

"You've asked for volunteers, to organize a first expedition," she said, sitting down.

"Indeed, I have."

"Well, I volunteer."

He propped up an eyebrow.

"Well... To say that I am surprised would be a euphemism," he answered, still amazed. "You have always fought against the very idea of time-travel."

"And yet, here I am..."

"I cannot accept your candidacy though..."

"You will do more than accept my candidacy, you will take me in your team," she interrupted him, her voice deadly cold. "And James and Michael are coming with us too."

"I can't do this," he shook his head.

She leaned forward in her chair, staring at him. Her gaze was alit with fury, her jaws clenched, but when she spoke her tone was calm and her threat was cold and terrible.

"We both know you can't say no. I reckon that after everything that has happened, you can't say no."

"And yet, I can hardly take with me three scientists who are opposed to the very project, not when there are dozens who are more than willing to come."

"If you don't take us with you, I'll tell everything to the journalists."

Yuri froze.

"You have no proofs, you're bluffing," he answered, but his voice was shaky.

"I'm not an idiot, of course I have proofs. Did you really think that I would not cover my back?"

Yuri struggled to swallow.

"If you don't take us with you, I will tell everyone the truth. And I don't reckon you will like the consequences of such a revelation to the entire scientific community."

She nodded towards the Nobel Prize on his desk.

"You'd better take a good look at it while you can. Because I don't think they will leave it to you, once they know what really happened in the LHC that day."

Yuri clenched his jaws.

"And you will also include in your next message to the eighteenth century that you are stating that we are all going to remain out of their business. We will not give them any information about anything that has not already happened during their time period, and we will not take part of any military, political, or social movement whatsoever. And if they don't agree, then we won't come."

"Do you realize what you're doing?"

"Yes, I'm doing what is necessary to preserve the timeline."

"You're blackmailing me!"

"You've done much worse than blackmail Yuri."

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"I guess I don't really have a choice then," he answered through gritted teeth.

She stood up, a disdainful expression on her face. He hated when she looked at him like this, with so much hate and pity.

"We always have a choice Yuri. You're just too selfish to do what is right every single time."

She walked away, and he stared at her silhouette disappearing in the corridor.


Boston, Massachusetts.

March, 1766.

Everyone had gathered around the square again. Benjamin Franklin was waiting excitedly alongside the Governor, who seemed quite annoyed by the whole thing. It was just one more problem to him. Through the crowd, he caught sight of Sam Adams, leaning against the wooden wall of a dirty house, his arms crossed upon his chest, his dark hair badly tightened, his long coat covered with mud and dust, his tired hat resting nonchalantly above his determined face. He seemed to feel the Governor's gaze, and looked at him, his dark eyes piercing Hutchinson to his very soul. God, he hated the man, he was such a thorn in his side...

"It should soon be time," mumbled Franklin next to him, holding tightly his quill, his eyes fixed on his watch, ready to note precisely the time of the opening of the bridge, like it had been asked in the letter they had received from 2017. 2017... Franklin could still hardly believe it, though everything was fitting perfectly, every piece of affirmation was proven, leaving no place whatsoever to doubt. He had already seen the hole with his own eyes, had thrown the chest back through time, and since, though the idea seemed still as crazy as the first time he had heard about this theory, he couldn't deny the truth.

Suddenly, there was a thud noise, and all the air seemed to be drawn towards the centre of the square. A second later, the dark hole had appeared once more.

Franklin wrote down the time. They were less than a minute late.

A white chest came out of the bridge again, and after only a few seconds, the wormhole was gone again.

Franklin hurried towards the chest, and two soldiers helped him to carry it to the Governor's house. The rest of the British soldiers remained around the square.

"How long do you think they will stay here?" Kelly asked Sam in a low voice, nodding towards an officer who was walking next to him.

"Warren heard them talking as he was in medical inspection for them, when they arrived at the harbour," Sam answered, almost whispering as well. "Apparently, they're here to stay, at least several months."

"They have been here for less than a week, and I already have a bad feeling about the whole thing."

"You're not the only one."

"They' re finishing to settle down, apparently. And whatever they have come here for, once they're settled, they'll be attending to it."

"And it can't be anything good for Boston, for sure."

Dr. Warren walked towards them, alongside John Adams.

"Is it true?" Sam asked his cousin. "About the law enforcement? Can soldiers come into any shop they want?"

John sighed, throwing a cautious look at Sam.

"I'm afraid it is."

"I can't believe it," mumbled Warren.

"Why? It's nothing surprising really," Sam replied to the doctor, his tone wry. "You're a doctor Joseph, you see what's going on in this town. They don't care if we don't eat, as long as we pay our taxes. But when you can't pay, instead of waiting for you to gather the money, they steal everything you have. As if you could pay their taxes once you're out of business..."

The four men remained silent for a while, looking at the soldiers walking through the crowd.

"Perhaps it won't be that bad..." mumbled John, more to reassure himself than addressing to the others.

"Don't get too much hope," Sam replied. "I don't think it's going to get better. Worse maybe, but undoubtedly not better."


LHC, Switzerland

June, 2017.

Michael and James carried the chest through the room and put it down on the table. Now that things had been arranged with the eighteenth century, everything was going incredibly fast. They had had six months between their first message and the answer of the English government to prepare everything they would need for the first human travel. And anyway, they had been working on this phenomenon for years, now all they needed were some experiments. In their last package, they had sent a mouse, testing the effect on a living entity of time travel. Yuri quickly opened the lid of the white chest, and pulled out some notes, and a cage. Behind the bars of metal, the little white mouse was eating peacefully. Roars of cheers echoed throughout the room. Only Sara was remaining silent. She took a step closer to the table, examining the little animal. She felt both disappointed and guilty. She had never wished for anything to die in her life, until this very day.

Yuri put a hand on her shoulder.

"The chest is working, we can use this box we've created to travel ourselves. In three days, we'll be good to go."

Sarah nodded slowly, shrugging his hand off her shoulder.

"I just hope everything will be fine."

"Of course it will! We've prepared everything, we're ready to go. We'll be just safe."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes piercing right through him.

"I wasn't talking about us Yuri. I was talking about them," she said, showing him Benjamin Franklin's notes.

She looked down at the graceful writing of Benjamin Franklin. She had never thought she would ever hold the notes of such a man in her hands.

"I just hope they will be alright..."


The results of the tests on the mouse arrived the next day. It was perfectly healthy. They were good to go.

Along with Sarah, James, Michael and Yuri, Dr. Yoko Mori, from Japan, and Dr. Pablo Abril-Montoya, from Spain, were coming as well.

A rectangular box had been built, exact copy of the chest in its materials, only big enough to protect an adult. It had been equipped with wheels and a system of remote-controlling that would allow them to guide the box inside and outside the bridge. To this equipment they had already tested upon the mouse were added suits similar to those used by the NASA for its astronauts, that had been adapted to their use in the box, and would provide a good insurance, in case the box presented any lick or other problem during the trip. Photos and drawings were sent over to the old Boston, and distributed throughout the city, to make sure no one would panic at the sight of the coming scientists.

It was stated that the Einstein-Rosen bridge would be opened every three weeks, on Wednesdays, at six in the afternoon. For, to create the wormhole, they needed to recreate the collision of the two particles at high speed, which meant that they could only do it in the LHC. Once they would be in 1766, the six scientists would be on their own.

And finally, the big day arrived.

Everything was ready in both sides of the bridge. Ben Franklin, along with the Governor, had organized everything for their arrival, and the last tests and calculations were over. It was time for the departure.

After an exhausting morning surrounded by journalists, Sarah was now in her suit, checking one last time the bag she would be taking with her. The rest of their equipment would be sent over in the coming days. James sat down next to her, quickly followed by Michael.

"So..." James said slowly. "Ready to do the craziest thing in your life?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Not really."

"I'm kind of exciting actually," admitted Michael. "I mean, the whole thing is a terrible idea. But... we're going to travel through time! We could probably see some of the Founding Fathers!"

"We're going to meet Benjamin Franklin," Sarah nodded. "I have to admit, it is pretty cool!"

"Well, we will meet him if we survive, that is," replied casually James.

"Thank you for that one, mate," Michael answered wryly. "You can always count on our loyal Brit over there to lighten up our mood!"

"There's still one thing that is quite a shame I think," said Sarah, staring at the wall before her.

"What?" asked James.

"Well... we'll be travelling through time in a Box. I would have rather travelled in a DeLorean!"

They burst into laughter.

"Would you like us to call you 'Doc' then?" Michael teased her.

"That would be great indeed. At least I'll have the impression of travelling through time in a cool way."

They were still laughing when Yuri, Pablo and Yoko arrived.

"Are you ready?" asked Yuri.

They all nodded, and Yuri presented to them a little bag.

"We should let chance decide who goes first," he said.

They nodded, and all picked up a piece of paper upon which a number was written, defining the order in which they would travel. They all looked at their paper at the same time. James was fourth, Sarah second, and Michael...

"Well, looks like I'll be the one who's gonna be remembered as the first time-traveller!"

He forced a smile, but fear was shining in his eyes.

"No, I'll go first," said Sarah, offering him her paper.

But he shook his head. He would have rather taken the risk than let one of his best friends try first.

"I'll go, it's alright."

He took Sarah in his arms, and then James, before shaking hands with the rest of his colleagues. He put his helmet on.

Michael took one last look at his friends, before entering the Box, ready to go.

Inside the LHC, the two photons collided at full speed, and the wormhole appeared once more.

Michael guided the Box inside the bridge, and whilst holding hands, Sarah and James looked at their best friend disappearing into the dark circle.

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.