Slightly shorter chapter here, because I've had a busy week. It's a bit of a filler, but it picks up with the action in the next couple, I promise. Hope you're still enjoying the story though, and reviews are love.


"I promise you I will learn from my mistakes"

-Coldplay, Fix You


Sam stumbled through his front door and was greeted by the smell of chicken. He slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the bottom stair, head between his knees and breathing deeply.

"Sam?" Annie appeared in the hallway, a glass of water in her hand. "I'm just cooking dinner, I assumed you'd be alright with whatever as it was all in your kitchen. I'm doing a nice Sunday roast like my parents always do."

"Whatever." Sam mumbled into his knees.

"What's happened?" Annie asked, crouching down beside him. "You're soaked, look at you."

"My girlfriend was screwing one of the other DCs."

"Screwing?"

"Shagging, fucking, whatever word you used in the nineteen bloody seventies. She was sleeping with another man, alright?"

"I'm sorry." Annie held out the glass of water. "Have a drink, it might help you calm down."

Sam batted it out of her hand, spilling water all over the carpet. "Unless it's a stiff one in the pub, I don't want a drink. I'm going to take a shower. I won't be down for dinner." He stood up and ran up the creaking stairs.

Annie picked up the glass from the floor. Sam had obviously had a bad morning, but she wasn't going to pry. She'd just have to be a friend and support him like he had been there for her the night before. She owed him that much.

Once the dinner was cooked, she served up her own plate before putting Sam's in the turned-off oven to keep it warm. The radio kept her company as she ate, and she was washing up when Sam eventually entered the kitchen.

"Sorry for snapping at you before."

"It's fine. Your dinner's in the oven to keep it warm." Annie didn't even turn away from the sink.

"Annie, please."

"You're not the only one in this room with problems, you know. Your girlfriend may have cheated on you but in case you've forgotten, I'm stuck in a different century to the one I belong in."

"Oh, you and your time travel. That's right. I'm beginning to doubt that story more and more, as it happens."

"It's true. As mad as it sounds, I promise I'm not making it up."

"And Maya promised she'd never cheat."

Sam ate his dinner in silence as Annie finished the washing up then retreated to the living room. There was a newspaper from a couple of days ago in there and she read it, trying to understand as much as she could about the year she had found herself in. She would have gone out into the garden for some air but the pouring rain ruled that out as a possibility.

"Annie." Sam appeared in the living room and sat down beside her. "Look, I've been out of order to you. All you've tried to do is help me since I got back, and I've been a pig. Thanks for cooking, you really didn't have to."

"You helped me yesterday, and I just wanted to repay the favour."

"If you don't hate me enough that you want me out of your sight, I'll show you how to use a computer this afternoon."

"I'd like that."

"Right, an IT lesson it is then."

"IT?"

"Information Technology. Computers, basically. They call it IT in schools."

"They teach you how to use computers in schools?" Annie was stunned. "How long have they been around for?"

"Only since the late nineties properly. But they get better and better all the time."

"Where's yours? I didn't see one in the house earlier."

"I've got a laptop; it's in my room." Sam stood up and stretched out his arms. "I'll go and get it. This could take a while."

Annie fetched two glasses of water from the kitchen while Sam brought the laptop down. He put it in front of them on the small coffee table.

"Right, turn it on."

Annie leant forward and scanned it for a button. There was a big circular one in the top left corner, so she pressed it. The screen jumped into life with colour, and she turned to Sam, a grin on her face. "Now what?"

"Wait for it to load."

Annie sat back for a couple of minutes. The screen eventually changed to one which asked for a password. Sam typed it in, and the screen changed once more to a photo of him and Maya on the beach.

"I need to change that." Sam picked up the laptop and tapped a few keys before setting it down again. The picture was now one of him and a couple of other men in a club. "I don't want to look at her face."

"Who are they?"

"The one in the middle's Lee; that's Kate's brother. You'll meet Kate tomorrow, she's on my team. The other one's Damien. I went to school with them. This is Damo's birthday last year."

Annie nodded, committing the faces to memory.

"Right," Sam told her. "Main thing you need to know is how to work the internet. Click on the orange button on the side."

"How do I do that?"

"Use the mouse pad."

Annie ran her finger over the mouse pad, moving the arrow to the orange button. She clicked on it and the screen changed to one with a thin box in the middle.

"Right, now you type in what you want to search for. Just type, it'll work"

Annie began to type, hitting each letter individually. She was a lot slower than Sam was, because the way the keys were laid out confused her.

"Annie Cartwright 1973" Sam read aloud.

Annie's cheeks reddened. "I want to find out what happened to me. Can I do that on here?"

"You can try. Now, hit the 'enter' button."

Annie did as she was told, and a list appeared on the screen. She read over them, but there was nothing that seemed to indicate what had happened to her.

"Click on one of them and read it. Move the mouse."

Again, Annie obeyed. She brought up a screen and began to read it.

Manchester Gazette

February 3rd, 1973

A policewoman has been seriously injured after a fall while pursuing a thief. WPC Annie Cartwright, 27, was pursuing William Chatsworth on Saturday when she slipped and hit her head on the canal path. Chatsworth was later arrested by DC Chris Skelton, but WPC Cartwright remains in a coma in Manchester General Hospital.

"That's me," Annie gasped. "I was in a coma."

Sam's eyes were unmoving from the screen. "Billy Chatsworth," he mouthed. "Tell me, Annie, what do you know about Chatsworth? How old was he?"

Annie shrugged. "Younger than me. Early twenties, maybe not quite as old as that."

"So if he was alive now he'd be about sixty, possibly."

"Yeah, he could be. Why?"

"Because your William Chatsworth is our Billy Chatsworth, who's on the run after mass murder."