Let the Continuum fandom rise, my pretties! We need more fic in this fandom, especially for this pairing! ~II
It's January and he hears a woman's voice asking for backup over an experimental frequency that no one's supposed to know about. She thinks the year is twenty-seventy-seven and she knows his name. Her son has a dentist appointment tomorrow.
It's February and he's finally meeting her face-to-face. She almost shoots him. He'd forgotten that she wouldn't have any idea what he looks like, and maybe breaking into her apartment wasn't such a genius idea.
It's March and the spike of fear he gets when he loses contact with her is way bigger than it should be for such a short period of time. And then he's racing to keep her from shooting her partner and he can't help the faint stab of—wow, is that jealousy?—when he doesn't get the credit for it, even if the misconception is only from who doesn't even know he exists.
It's April and she's at his home, and he can't suppress the thrill he gets when he finds he can now show her where he works from. And then he is a prisoner in his own home and he knows he's screwed when he feels more fear for her than he does for himself, and it's so hard to pretend he doesn't know her.
And then his step-brother gets his step-father killed and the over-whelming shock is all he can feel when she awkwardly tries to offer comfort.
(Sometimes he wonders if he gets along with her so well because she is occasionally more like a computer than other people.)
It's May, and he's not sure he wants to, but it seems like the right thing to do so he goes to try to talk some sense into his very mislead step-brother. Of course he doesn't get that far and only ends up having a very strange conversation with a man who he hasn't really formally met yet and won't for another sixty years or so.
And then he's trying to warn Kiera about the bomb and they have another frustratingly obscure conversation with this man who he shouldn't even be talking to and Kiera is looking at him with this tiny spark of fear in her eyes that he has definitely never seen before. He wants to smooth out that little wrinkle in between he eyebrows and assure her he has no idea what this man is trying to place on his shoulders and whatever it is he doesn't want it.
And then he is fleeing a raging inferno as it rushes too fast towards him. Just as he is certain that he is going to die here and now—there will be no twenty-seventy-seven for him—the fire doesn't reach him. A force field flickers into existence and arms clasp around him as he slams into the ground.
He's dazed and sore and his ears are ringing and for a moment he is confused when there's hands running over him checking for broken bones and worried blue eyes searching his face.
And then after he repeats that he's okay at least ten times, he watches her mourn for the people she tried and failed to save and he's suddenly and inappropriately reminded just how screwed he really is.