A/N #1: Content Alert-the flashback that appears approximately half-way through this chapter contains descriptions of domestic violence. Both the start and end of the flashback are labeled, so you can skip if you prefer.

Chapter Four

Emma poured herself a generous glass of wine while waiting for William to come downstairs for dinner. Wandering around the drawing room as she sipped, the preoccupied redhead paid scant attention to her opulent but understated surroundings, well accustomed to such luxury after living in the mansion, one of the Hearst family's lesser estates, for the past year.

Since Princess Lucy and her infuriating band of misfits had somehow managed to ferret out and destroy two Rittenhouse headquarters during the first year alone of Emma's tenure at the top of the organization, she finally decided it might be better to move operations out of San Francisco and any type of industrial facility. Although notoriously tight-fisted, most of the older, well-established Rittenhouse families boasted deep pockets, something Emma took full advantage of when seeking a place outside the city, somewhere more private, isolated even.

Her lips curved in a faintly triumphant smile as she recalled private negotiations with the current CEO of Hearst Communications, who'd been reluctant at first to financially assist the organization that had made his company one of the wealthiest in America for over a century. Funny how quickly the man's attitude had changed when presented with video and audio proof of his most recent "indiscretion." (I guess it takes all kinds, she mused, with a faint shudder.) The new Rittenhouse headquarters was reassuringly secluded, yet less than a half hour from the city by the bay (even less with a time machine), and quite frankly, a real pleasure to live in, especially to someone who endured ten years in a rustic, one-room shack in the barbaric 1880's wild west.

Of course, if Emma had been able to get her hands on Carol Preston's fortune, she wouldn't have needed to resort to blackmail to secure a new base of operations worthy of Rittenhouse. It was galling to think about all that beautiful money slipping through her fingers, and the fact that Lucy Preston now possessed her family's wealth had been a very bitter pill to swallow.

Rittenhouse had handsomely rewarded the Preston family over the years for their faithful service-and in Emma's opinion-by rights, those assets should have reverted back to the organization. She wondered absently if perhaps her boss had just always assumed her daughter would obediently follow in her footsteps and that the funds would therefore remain within the group.

Unfortunately, it was too late now. In spite of the best efforts of Rittenhouse's most skilled attorneys, as far as the State of California was concerned, since Carol Preston died "intestate" (without a properly-executed will), all her personal assets were to be automatically divided between her heirs. In this particular case, however, ironically enough, since Carol had made sure Lucy's sister from the original timeline wouldn't ever exist again, there was only one heir who inherited everything (dammit), and it sure as hell wasn't Emma Whitmore.

Emma seldom had regrets about any of her actions, but in retrospect, impulsively killing Carol and Nicholas in the heat of the moment in 1888 probably had been a rather foolish thing to do. Unsurprisingly, the little Rittenhouse princess was such a bleeding heart do-gooder she hadn't even touched her inheritance until just a few months ago, and knowing the younger woman as well as she did, Emma assumed it was because she considered the money to be tainted-like that was even a thing. She'd recently learned that in addition to giving away a good-sized chunk of the estate, Lucy had used some of the money to open some dinky little book store near Stanford. What a waste...

Running a finger over the gleaming baby grand piano that took up one whole corner of the room, Emma congratulated herself once more on her wise decision for the new headquarters. She looked up then to see William enter the room, neatly dressed in an Izod polo and crisply-pressed khakis-looking so much like his father, the thirty-year-old could pass for Wyatt Logan's twin. In spite of her hatred for the Master Sergeant, Emma was still female enough to appreciate his good looks, something he'd unknowingly passed down to his only child. For a fleeting moment, she thought pensively how proud Jessica would have been of William, especially his growing involvement with Rittenhouse. He'd grown into a fine person-intelligent, thoughtful, and most important of all, loyal.

"Good evening, Emma," he said pleasantly, going over to the side table and pouring himself a glass of wine before taking a seat in one of the armchairs that flanked either side of the fireplace. She studied him surreptitiously, surprised to find herself harboring just the slightest touch of uncertainty about the conversation they were about to have. From the moment the maternity nurse in that little rural Indiana hospital had placed him in her arms thirty years ago, in some ways, William Logan was the closest thing to a child of her own that Emma would ever have-which was more than enough for her, considering she'd never once felt the urge to procreate, not after the hellish childhood she'd survived.

As he gazed up at her expectantly with his father's deep blue eyes, that tiny doubt continued to worm its way into her brain-what if, despite her methodical, painstaking nurturing of William's personality-what if nature decided to have the last laugh, and this young man, the future of Rittenhouse if all went as planned, turned out to be more like Wyatt Logan than anyone could have anticipated? From personal experience, she was well aware the experienced Delta Force operative could be a formidable adversary, relentless in his focus, but even worse, with a tendency at times to act recklessly just because something seemed right to him. Up to this point, William had been obedient-malleable even-believing in what he was told, basing decisions on logic, but what if he unexpectedly balked at the role she'd been so carefully grooming him for?

Suppressing a slight shiver at that troubling thought, Emma smiled grimly. No, it wasn't possible, not after she'd so carefully conditioned him to despise not only his father, but the woman he was engaged to, Lucy Preston, as well. As far as William was concerned, Wyatt Logan was a selfish monster who'd turned his back on him when his newborn son was most vulnerable, mere hours old when his mother succumbed. And now, decades later, it was time for Rittenhouse and it's female leader to reap the benefits of her machinations.

"Dinner is served, Ms. Whitmore." The quiet voice of the mansion's housekeeper, Mrs. Lawrence, interrupted her musing.

Inclining her head in acknowledgment, Emma looked at William, who rose gracefully to his feet and offering her his arm, escorted his aunt to dinner. Setting his wine glass down, he pulled out her chair at the head of the long, polished table, before sitting at Emma's right. Loathe to spoil their pleasant meal, she kept the conversation light, drawing William into a discussion about the newest exhibit at the MOMA because she'd discovered that, oddly enough, for someone born in 1949, he possessed a surprising affinity for modern art.

They were lingering over dessert and coffee when Emma decided to stop stalling. Thirty years in the making (more or less), the time had come at last to reveal her future plans for Rittenhouse-and William Logan. And while she had never been the spiritual type (Because really, where had God been when her father had been hurting her as a child? Hurting her mother?), she found herself uttering a silent prayer that the young man beside her would be receptive to what she was asking (expecting) him to do. Hey, it couldn't hurt to ask-maybe God would finally remember he owed her a favor…

Flashback

No matter how tightly five-year-old Emma shut her eyes or held her small hands over her ears, she could still see and hear with devastating clarity certain sights and sounds that no one should ever have to experience, particularly a child. Like the dark purple bruising in the shape of a large cruel hand that mottled Mama's slender throat or the way her lip puffed up and bled on a regular basis or the muffled sobs she tried to hide at night from her little girl. Emma was a good girl and smart as a whip (her Mama said so), but she just didn't understand. Why did her Daddy get so mad all the time?

She had been little more than a toddler the first time he hit her, barely old enough to be toilet trained. It had been spring, and Emma had been delighted to find a cheerful patch of dandelions in the back yard. After picking a small bunch for Mama, she'd run in the back door and right into Daddy, and made him spill his cup of coffee on his pants. She never saw the backhand coming-one second she was intent on giving her mother the pretty yellow flowers, and the next, she was flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her, too stunned to even cry. Mama had cried, though, especially when Emma sat up and gagging, had spit out a baby tooth.

And on that momentous day, young Emma Whitmore learned several very important life lessons that she would never (ever) forget:

Don't be a clumsy girl and make Daddy spill his hot coffee...

How to be quiet as a mouse when her father was trying to sleep…

The best places to hide when he got that ugly gleam in his eye and was spoiling for a fight…

Pretend not to see the bruises and scratches on Mama's pale, soft skin...

There was no such thing as the tooth fairy (or Santa Claus, for that matter)...

And most importantly, Michael Whitmore was a very bad man who deserved to rot in the deepest recesses of hell…

The intervening years between that day and the one when Emma and her mother finally escaped had been permanently etched on her childish soul. She and Mama endured near-daily verbal, emotional-and frequently physical-abuse from her father, always living in fear of something (anything it seemed at times) setting him off (would this finally be the day he killed Mama?), not to mention the shame and isolation of being aware from a young age that this life they were trapped in wasn't normal, wasn't right, but feeling helpless to do anything about it. And once she and her mother were free, Emma Whitmore swore to herself that she'd never live like that ever again.

That she would never give any man power over her again.

End flashback

Setting aside her napkin, Emma stood abruptly and said, "There's a matter I need to discuss with you, but somewhere slightly more private," and ignoring the somewhat curious expression on his face, she led William back to the drawing room, closing the double doors behind them. Gesturing for him to take a seat, she took a few seconds to gather her thoughts.

"Before we get started, I want you to know how pleased I am with the way you handled today's assignment. I am not unaware that being transplanted into the future forty years has been an adjustment, and so far, you seem to be coping admirably," and only the faint blush staining his cheekbones betrayed William's pleasure at her unexpected praise. He regarded her somberly. "More importantly, I can certainly understand how difficult it was for you to see Wyatt Logan for the first time, in person as it were, considering how you feel about the man." Watching him closely, Emma thought she detected only a slight reaction at the mention of William's father. That was promising.

"Thank you, Emma, I'm glad you were satisfied, although, can I ask a question?" When she graciously nodded, he inhaled deeply and asked, "Will you tell me the real reason that I was brought from the past-my past-to this time and place? I understand and respect that as head of Rittenhouse, you aren't able to share everything with me, but now, I get the feeling that there's something you're not telling me, or more specifically, something you need from me. And let's be honest, I care for you very much, but I don't think you pulled me out of my own time because you were suddenly missing me. So, Emma, are you ready to finally tell me the truth?" The stubborn set of William's jaw was so much like his father's it was uncanny.

Emma licked her suddenly dry lips. Now that the moment was here, the one she'd been mentally preparing herself for what seemed like forever, she was alarmed at a mild feeling of dread that rose in her chest. Best to just spit it out. Summoning a tight smile, Emma responded with a shrug, "Yes, William, you're right. The time has come for me to explain a few things. While I have never shied away from telling you the truth about your parents, I am guilty of keeping the knowledge of your father's growing threat to Rittenhouse from you. That was by design, of course, From the day you were born, I've felt that you deserved to grow up without the added burden of knowing that everything your late mother believed in, held dear, has been in jeopardy, threatened by Wyatt Logan and his new fiance, Lucy Preston, for going on five years now in this timeline."

She noted the mild surprise that flitted across William's features, but pushed ahead. "Some time ago, Wyatt Logan, Lucy Preston, and their comrades gained access to a second time machine. That machine's computer systems are linked to those of the Mothership, and they have been using that link and that machine to follow the Mothership in order to thwart Rittenhouse's plans-to try to destroy us. I'm sure I don't have to tell you the significance of this issue." She stole a quick glance at him then, but William remained still, quietly absorbing the information. "The obvious solution is to break the link between the machines, and I, along with Rittenhouse's other top scientific minds, have been working on that. But it's proved more difficult than we first imagined. We were able to create a type of short-term cloak, but that could only be used to hide a single geographic location from them. It's what I used to protect the location of your home in the past, all those times I came to visit you. Honestly, I thought it would be only a matter of time before we would find a way to expand that cloaking capability-but we can't. In other words, to put it bluntly, it seems we have used up our one opportunity to travel without their knowledge on protecting you. That may sound harsh, but in reality, it should tell you how important you are to Rittenhouse, William. But, this also means that we have now reached an impasse with time travel-Rittenhouse can't be successful in shaping the future while being constantly followed by Wyatt Logan and his crew in their bucket-of-bolts time machine."

His dark brows drew together as William wordlessly contemplated this new revelation. Rather encouraged by his lack of response, she sought to press her advantage. "But in addition to your father actively trying to destroy Rittenhouse, I'm afraid there's more, William. Not only is Lucy Preston engaged to marry Wyatt Logan, she is actually descended from two of Rittenhouse's oldest, most respected families, the Prestons and Cahills. Despite numerous efforts by her family, especially her mother and great-grandfather, this woman has turned her back on her illustrious heritage-her destiny, if you will-and has joined forces with your father, determined to wipe us from existence."

Practically holding her breath, the redhead waited as patiently as she could for him to digest the information, fairly confident William would come to the only reasonable, logical conclusion-Wyatt and Lucy must be eliminated if Rittenhouse was to survive, let alone thrive.

Several seconds ticked by at a seemingly glacial pace as Emma watched the subtle play of emotions on William's face before he raised his gaze and spoke. "While I certainly understand that these people must be stopped from inflicting any further damage to Rittenhouse, I don't want to jump to any erroneous conclusions. Are you suggesting a permanent solution to the Wyatt Logan problem?" His bright blue eyes were fixed intently on Emma, and she was relieved to note his matter-of-fact demeanor, despite the rather rigid set of his shoulders. He was almost there mentally (if not emotionally), the place where she needed him to be for her plans to work. After all this time, and so close now to fulfilling her objective she could practically taste it, it mattered little to Emma that William had never taken a life before or what effect such an action might have on her "nephew" when one of the intended targets was his biological father.

Composing her features, she returned his gaze dispassionately, inwardly willing him to say the words. And then in an even, measured tone, he finally broke the tense silence, and everything in Emma's world was right again. "I understand. My father must die in order to keep Rittenhouse safe, and you want me to perform the deed. Is that correct?" Had she not been so focused on securing William's capitulation-perhaps paying closer attention-Emma might have noticed the traces of raw emotion underneath the almost clinical manner in which he described taking his father's life, the momentary flash of pain in his blue eyes the young man couldn't quite hide...

A/N #2: Poor William! You know the old saying "never ask a question you don't want to hear the answer to"? Yikes! How awful to finally learn what Emma REALLY wants from him :( thanks so much to everyone who's still hanging in there with us, especially those of you kind enough to leave a review, it's much appreciated :) as always, extra special thanks to my writing partner, Qwertygal, who's such a pleasure to work with...

A/N #3: And were back! Thank you everyone for waiting patiently for this chapter, and for all of your kind reviews on the previous chapter. And a huge thank-you to the always amazing and generous Gracielinn for taking on the lion's share of this chapter when the ideas just weren't flowing for me! Loving working on this with you!