Alice sat at her table, wet hair plastered to her head, shivering slightly underneath a thick blanket. The light birdsong of May filtered smoothly in through the open window, the late morning air a little chillier than would have been comfortable while soaking wet. Alice stared at her hands. "How long was I gone?"

Cable checked the clock on the microwave. "Eight minutes."

Alice didn't nod to indicate she'd heard him. Her face was blank, still slowly processing the change in her environment, still realizing there were more pieces to the puzzle that had been left in the box, but now that she had all the pieces, it was time to reorganize the picture in front of her.

"How did you know," she hissed menacingly. "How did you know I'd be on that boat? I threw the beacon away." Her eyes filled with fury as her head lifted to glare at Cable.

He held her furious stare with his own measure of cool detachment. "The beacon was a dummy. I knew you'd be on that boat because that's when history says Lieutenant Alice Shaw died."

Some of Alice's fury was replaced by naïve confusion. "…what?" her voice took on a disbelieving note. If the beam-me-up button had been a dummy, then… what? She'd never had a choice at all? "So then…" Her hand sought comfort in her usual rifle-round pendant and found it missing. Right. She scratched at the exposed skin of her neck instead. "So… you knew everything?"

"I know everything," he confirmed.

Alice couldn't grasp the idea at all. "How? And how could you keep me from knowing?"

"Everything happened the best way it could, so that's not important now." His easy tone set Alice's blood on fire.

Alice slammed a hand down on the table. "The hell it's not!"

He frowned at her. "Calm down; there's no need to be emotional."

Alice sputtered. "No need to – do you have any idea what I just went through? What you just took from me?!"

"Of course I do," Cable replied slowly. "It was necessary."

"Send me back," she cried desperately, the strong front breaking to reveal a weeping heart.

Cable did not yield. "Not a chance in hell. You did your job, and now it's time for retirement."

Alice grabbed his arm as he approached. "Please," she begged.

Cable's voice softened. "You know why I can't do that." His one eye seemed to be trying to tell her something; something like sympathy; something like regret.

Cable peeled her fingers from around his forearm. "You should take a shower. You smell like the bottom of the English Channel. We'll talk after." He passed her, closing the window behind Alice to keep the breeze out.

Alice barely managed a nod of confirmation as she stood, her head hanging low. The first trickles of despair had started to flow from a wounded place in her soul, pooling inside her skin just above the ankle. The water level rose with every wounded beat of her heart as the reality of her new situation took hold.

"I'll be right back," she murmured.

"Take your time," Cable replied.

The door clicked shut with a creak that stirred up the dust in Alice's memory. She cranked at a dial with a muscle memory that sputtered to start, but still managed to lurch into motion. Alice hissed in discomfort as the hot water scalded her freezing skin. When was the last time she'd taken a hot shower? Eight minutes ago? Eighteen months ago?

The shampoo smelled wrong. The conditioner smelled wrong. Her body wash smelled wrong. But they all smelled familiar. The curve of the tub under her bare feet felt familiar, but her feet arched away as much as they could. The pattering of water against the shower curtain as she rinsed out her hair was familiar background noise, but also sounded too much like distant gunfire. Alice shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

Alice scrubbed at her hair and her scalp and her skin with a fury reserved for a medical technician worried about hazardous waste. Her skin pinked and bled and stopped almost immediately, the rusty color sluicing away with ease.

The tank ran out of hot water and the water began to grow cold. Alice held out for another few minutes, trying to lose herself in the sensory static of a powerful shower. But it couldn't last forever. A cursory pass with a dry towel across wet skin and sopping hair was the only attempt she made before getting dressed in the random clothes she'd grabbed before the shower. Alice pulled a shirt followed by a sweater over her head and yanked on a pair of sweatpants. The fabric felt clingy and sticky on her skin in an alien way.

She stepped out of the bathroom, hair soaking into her shirt. "I hope you've thought out your story pretty well, because I've got questions." She shuffled slightly to her right, hoping to avoid stepping on the pile of wet clothes and belongings that she'd dropped outside of the bathroom before her shower.

But there was no pile at all.

Her pack was gone.

Her wet clothes from 1944 were gone.

"Cable?" Alice didn't need to spend much time searching her apartment – there weren't a lot of places for someone of his size to hide. There was a new addition to her table, however. A sheet of plain white paper fluttered gently in the breeze from a reopened window, pinned down at one corner by a porcelain mug.

Kid, the letter began. Alice's hands started to shake and she had to sit down.

You have questions, and I can't answer most of them. Xavier told me you were strong, and I think you should believe him. Forget what's past; there's no going back. There's a lot of future ahead of you.

He didn't need to sign the letter.


The five-hour drive to Westchester did nothing to ease the tension in Alice's shoulders. The letter sat in the passenger seat with her wallet – the only other item she'd remembered to grab as she fled Maryland in a fury. She knew the drive north quite well, and found familiar landmarks rounding every bend.

Gravel spit from beneath her tires as she pulled into the neat drive, sending the occasional ping ringing beneath her feet. Alice wiped slightly sweaty hands on her jeans as she stepped out of the car, looking up at the building she'd once called home. An age ago, she thought to herself.

Her knuckles protested at the hard knock on ancient wood doors. She rubbed them with her other hand as she waited. They might be away on a mission, she thought as the moments grew into minutes. I could have called, Alice realized as she remembered that she had access to proper phones again. That thought tasted bitter. Alice shoved her hands into her pockets and turned away from the door just as it opened.

"Is that little Alice?" a fond voice greeted.

Alice spun on her heel, a friendly smile easily overcoming the scowl that had adhered to her face. "Not so little anymore, Blue."

Alice had always liked Hank, though his naivety left some observational skills to be desired. Nevertheless, he was a sight for sore eyes. "I can see that – come in, come in!" He beckoned with a furry blue hand for her to enter the school's foyer.

Alice clenched her hands around the fabric lining of her pockets, hoping for some stability that her stomach seemed to be lacking. "Thanks. Is the Professor here?"

"He sent me to let you in – come on; you can wait in his office. I think his class should wrap up in a few minutes." McCoy led the way down a series of familiar halls. Alice considered briefly telling him she remembered the way and didn't need an escort, but Hank seemed interested in chatting. "How are you, Alice? We haven't heard from you in quite some time."

"Uh, I'm alright," she responded with the acceptable social pleasantries. She was far from okay. She had driven up to Westchester on an impulsive decision to try to assign some blame for her suffering. Cable's letter had mentioned Xavier, and he kept a far more consistent address than the time-traveler.

Hank seemed appeased by her bland answer. "Well, you look great. Are you joining us for dinner? I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you."

Alice shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe."

Hank held Xavier's office door open for her and Alice murmured a soft thanks. He observed her nervous bobbing from side-to-side on the little square of carpet inside the office and his brow furrowed. "Alice, how are you?"

Alice glanced at him, flashing a neutral smile. "You already asked me – I'm alright."

Hank nodded. "It's just – I know things were… tense. Between you and Jean."

Alice's smile faltered; it wasn't that strong to begin with. "I'm not here about that."

Hank approached, his hands open is a placating gesture that Alice remembered all too well. "I mean to say we were all hoping that you could both just… put it behind you."

"Hank," Alice replied gently. "Now's not really a good time for that. Could you give me a minute?"

"Sure, Alice." He looked deflated.

"It's good to see you again, too," she added as a conciliatory afterthought. It seemed to help a little as Hank grinned just as the door clicked shut.

Alice stood just inside the office as a memory of a fear kept her from leaving the boundary of the carpet. She remembered that room quite well. She couldn't remember ever being in that room for any positive reason. Xavier had evidently accumulated a few other knick-knacks and photos in her absence, and pure curiosity drove her to investigate.

The school photos included children she didn't recognize, and adults she would have cared to forget. She remembered faces that poorly disguised judgement and scorn. She remembered a gut-wrenching loneliness that didn't match how crowded the school could become.

The air still smelled the same, she noticed. It smelled like someone had dusted maybe two weeks ago, but not since. It smelled like books you were discouraged from touching and oiled metal wheels.

Alice heard the motor of the wheelchair and the door creaking open before she heard the Professor's voice. "Alice, so good to see you again."

Alice turned slowly, clasping her arms behind her back. "I suppose you know already, but I just got back."

"I see." Xavier let the door close.

"And Cable left me a letter," she waved it lazily. "Did you know?" Alice asked, her voice far past bitter.

Xavier was taken aback by her tone. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. You heard me and I'm sure you're in my head trying to figure out the context – get the fuck out," Alice hissed lethally. "Did you know what Cable was planning? Did you know what he knew?"

Xavier examined her, tapping his fingers contemplatively. "When Cable arrived at the school and asked for you, I wasn't sure what to think. He explained what would be asked of you, and how important it was that you not fully understand the entirety of the mission. I agreed."

Alice laughed. She sat back against the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, the laughter becoming a light, hysterical thing.

Xavier approached, his tone soothing. "Alice, I know how you must be feeling,"

Alice uncrossed her arms to grip the edge of the desk like a hawk grasping at a perch. "How? How exactly can you know what I'm feeling?"

He reached out to rest his hand on hers in some attempt at a comforting gesture. "You're young, Alice – this will all fade."

Alice withdrew her hand. "Charles, I'm twenty-eight years old. I traveled back in time to save one life and doom another. I stared death in the face and told him to go fuck himself. I worked through gunfire and mortars and cut off limbs from men who begged me to kill them. And I killed people without an ounce of regret."

Alice held his gaze, hoping he could feel the chasm of pain that opened in her chest as her thoughts shifted. "And I lost something precious when Cable brought me back." Alice could have wept if she had felt anything at all. "If he somehow described to you that all of this was going to happen, how could you let him do it, Charles?"

"Because he showed me that you had already done it. Cable showed me a photo – unmistakably you, Alice – from 1944." He looked patronizingly proud of her. "And you did – with as much strength as I could ever have hoped would grow in you."

Alice collected herself. "I think I should go." She took the time to straighten her jacket, and check her pockets to make sure she still had her keys and wallet. All of this gave her time to tamp down on the bitter, sharp response that had burned on her tongue.

Instead, her voice was calm and level as she replied, walking towards the door. "You wanted me to be strong? I hate to be the one to ruin your dream, but I'm as broken on the inside as all of the rest of your students." She turned, hand still on the doorknob, to smile at Xavier. "But it's nice to know you're still the same old fool that I remember."


A/N:

It looks like I picked up some more readers just from this being posted on the Avengers tag. Hello! Welcome to your new personal emotional hell!

Alice doesn't have anyone who can relate to her experiences. To Alice, she just spent a year and a half in an insanely stressful time period and lost Bucky. To everyone else, Alice went from a relatively easy person to deal with to a strong-willed an (in their opinion) obstinate and hysterical ninny. For them, nothing changed except Alice. For Alice, everything changed.

Theme song for this chapter: Il bell'Antonio, Tema III by Giovanni Sollima – Yo-Yo Ma & Kathryn Stott

A few guest questions:

Are you going straight into TWS?

No – Alice has a little reconciling to do, and a new friend to make first. She needs to come to terms (as best she can) with being removed from 1944 before she was ready.

How did Cable know to pick up Alice there if she wasn't wearing the beacon?

See above chapter.

Is Steve and/or Bucky going to recognize Alice if/when they meet again?

Well, I can tell you that when [REDACTED] meets up with [REDACTED] at [REDACTED], [REDACTED] will [WHO ARE YOU KIDDING THIS IS REDACTED].

What does it mean that Bucky remembers Alice's voice?

It means that my readers have no patience for plot points, but I love when they ask anyway because it means they're paying attention.

What's your updating schedule for RITD?

I won't post a chapter until I'm finished writing the chapter that comes after the one I'm posting, so your guess is as good as mine, buddy. I tend to write more when I'm traveling for work, and my next work trip starts March 26. When I'm traveling I can sometimes post four chapters in a week. Once per month when I'm home is also normal. I'm also working on a YYH story, so my attention is split.

Hey, I think I figured out some subtext in your story, am I right?

Message me and find out! There's a lot of stuff that's limited to subtext because explaining it out entirely would suck, but does explain some motivations.

I love my reviewers! : Kittywoof, TimeLordsRule, Sanguinary Tide, QueenOfCloud, TikiKiki, SomebodyWhoCares, Mia, Silvia, Emmarichalar, SunnySides, TastelessHooligans, Lu Mach, and Lucy Jacob!

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