Hello, darlings! Yes, I know, a new chapter! What is this madness? I'm really sorry for taking so stupidly long to update. Time has just slipped away really fast, and work and 'real life' commitments have stolen me away from writing. Whenever I've tried to sit down and get some done, inspiration refuses to cooperate and there's always something else that needs my attention more. I would much prefer to leave it longer to update than to quickly dash off some half-arsed attempt at a chapter which I know I won't be happy with. Thank you for your patience and understanding, and thank you all for reading :)

Shout outs to: FeliciaFelicis, FireUpTheIQ, 'Guest', DarkEnigma322, megumisakura, The Ginger Midget, jackiemack916, immysaurus, Sloane Raine, CaraIsPretty, QueenDawnmarie, Nightingale9817, AgentofSassArwenFolchart221B, 'Guest', A, canis lupus familiaris, Wolf, IheartStewart20, Anthro23, Sparky She-Demon, 'Anon', Rumpelstiltskin0902, Rhenwir. You are all unbelievably kind, thank you so much for your comments!

And to those of you who also very sweetly sent me private messages, you're the best, thank you! *kisses*


Time Knows No Boundaries ~ Chapter Twelve

You say I'm crazy
'Cause you don't think I know what you've done
But when you call me baby
I know I'm not the only one
I have loved you for many years
Maybe I am just not enough
You've made me realise my deepest fear
By lying and tearing us up

'I'm Not the Only One' – Sam Smith

.:*:.

Elliot Fielding awoke very suddenly with a start. Rolling over onto his back, he wondered what it was that had roused him so abruptly. Reaching up a hand to rub wearily at his eyes, he gave an involuntary shiver; the temperature in his bedroom was freezing cold. He tugged the bed covers up around him in an attempt to warm himself, trying his best to get back to sleep. He had barely closed his eyes, however, when he could hear a slow and steady rhythm of...

Plink...plink...plink...

Great...the tap in the bathroom was dripping. Elliot couldn't stand that noise, quiet as it was. But in the silence of the night, the sound was annoyingly magnified tenfold. Unwilling to leave the warm comfortable confines of his bed, he turned over, hoping to block out the irritating sound.

Plink...plink...plink...plink...

It was no use. Sighing copiously, he reluctantly pushed back the duvet and left the snug cocoon to go and switch the taps off properly. Yawning noisily, he made to rise to his feet but he froze to a halt as something caught his eye. There was something – or someone - standing at the foot of his bed. His stomach gave a horrible lurch, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled unpleasantly and he leapt up from the bed with a panicked yelp.

"Who're you?" he demanded, now feeling very much awake, gaping wide-eyed at this unprecedented intruder, "H-How did you get in here?"

The tall figure was half hidden in shadow, though as far as Elliot could tell they had their back turned towards him. But they gave him no answer, nor did they give any indication that they had heard what he had said. In fact, they did not move at all. Elliot fumbled around for something that he could use as a potential weapon but the only thing he could lay his hands upon was the lamp on his bedside table. Grasping it tightly with both hands, he addressed the mysterious stranger again.

"W-What do you want?" he asked, his voice shaking a little.

Plink...plink...plink...

That damned tap was still dripping... But wait...the noise seemed to be coming from the direction of the shadowed figure at the end of the bed. Although he did not wish to approach this potential lunatic, Elliot's curiosity triumphed a little over his fear and, swallowing a lump back in his throat, he took a couple of tentative steps forward, still holding the lamp aloft, ready to strike... But what he saw next made his blood run cold... On the carpet just by the figure's booted feet was a dark pool of something which looked horribly like blood.

Appalled yet oddly transfixed by this grisly sight, his breath now coming in quick, painful gasps, Elliot's eyes travelled upwards to see that this figure, who for whatever reason appeared to be adorned in some kind of uniform, had a gaping wound in his chest. A steady stream of dark crimson blood was bleeding profusely from the wound and was dripping down onto the carpet, creating a grotesque pool that was growing larger by the second.

Elliot did not know to do or think, he was too paralysed with fear and he had barely registered what he was seeing when -

"Tell her," came a harsh voice...the most terrible, unearthly voice that he had ever heard in his life.

"W-What?" whispered Elliot, surprised that he had the capacity to speak at all, he was that terrified, "I do-don't know what you're talking a-aabout - !"

"You are a liar and a coward. Tell her the truth."

Blood was now pouring from the wound in the figure's chest and now it was flooding the whole of the floor. Elliot let out an anguished yell, trying to get away before he drowned in it...

"You are a coward," spoke the voice again, "A coward..."

Elliot woke up with a muffled yell, gasping for breath, the word "coward" echoing in his eardrums. His t-shirt was clinging uncomfortably to him and he realised that he was drenched in cold sweat. He looked around frantically before reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with a warm yellow glow.

"What's up?" asked a muffled sleepy voice from beneath the duvet beside him.

Elliot did not respond immediately, he was too occupied with checking his surroundings. The room was not icy cold. No eerie figure standing at the foot of the bed. No pool of blood. All was as it should have been. A blonde-haired woman poked her tousled head out from under the covers, peering bleary-eyed at him.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," Elliot muttered finally, "Bad dream. Go back to sleep," he told her.

The other woman did not need to be persuaded further and buried herself back under the duvet. Elliot switched off the light and flopped back against his pillows, covering his face with his hands, exhaling a shaky breath mingled with a slight laugh of relief. It was just a dream... just a stupid dream... But it had felt so real. Horribly real. That weird ghostly figure had known that he had been lying to Martha... No, that was ridiculous... Ghosts weren't even real. And that one certainly wasn't.

Yet, as he rolled over to get comfortable again, Elliot could not help but remember that other bizarre occasion when he had thought that he was being haunted before...


Christmas and New Year had a disagreeable habit of slipping by far too quickly for Martha's taste. The period which followed thereafter tended to give her a flat, deflated sort of feeling. She wasn't overly fond of winter at this time now that the initial excitement of the snow and the holidays had passed, and she always felt it was rather a depressing task to take down the Christmas decorations.

The less than picturesque view from her flat was made even less appealing than usual by the grim weather. Outside, it was a cold, dark January evening. The snow which had fallen over Christmas had long since melted away, and any that remained had been trampled down into horrid grey sludge. The sky had been heavy with iron-grey clouds all day while freezing cold raindrops the size of bullets hammered upon the windows. Every once and a while, an ominous rumble of thunder sounded in the distance like some great beast that was slumbering in the clouds. Overall, it was not a welcoming sight and although she knew she ought to be accustomed to the winter's gloom by now, Martha still found herself longing for the spring and the sunshine to arrive.

On that particularly dismal evening, Martha was sat at her dining table, busily tapping away at her laptop, working on ideas for her budding novel. At least, that was what she was trying to do... Every now and then she was hindered by her cat, Blossom, who had climbed up onto her lap and in a bid for attention would either playfully bat at Martha's hands with her soft little paws or nuzzle under her chin. When neither of these tactics succeeded, the tabby simply attempted to lounge right across the keyboard.

"I suppose you think that's your idea of being helpful, missy," Martha told her, lifting her out of the way and onto the floor but she couldn't help but laugh and smile affectionately at her pet's antics.

A great sigh of annoyance and a growled oath from behind her made her glance over her shoulder. Elliot was bustling around the flat in a state of great agitation, apparently on the search for something, moving aside piles of magazines on the desk, peering underneath things and uttering sounds of great frustration when he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"What have you lost?" Martha called over to him.

"What?" he answered irately, jumping a little, "Oh, uh...my phone... I swear I just left it on the table there..." He gestured vaguely at the coffee table, "Ugh, I really don't have time for this, and I'm late enough as it is..."

"I'm sure the after-school science club will survive if you don't get there in time," Martha answered patiently, turning back to her laptop and then spotting Elliot's Samsung on the tabletop beside her. "It's here, by the way," she added, picking the silver device up and waggling it in the air for him to see.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Elliot demanded testily, snatching the phone from her grasp with much more force than was strictly necessary and quickly stuffing it into his coat pocket, momentarily forgetting himself that this behaviour may have looked suspicious.

Blossom hissed angrily at him, disliking his harsh tone and slunk underneath the table away from him.

"Alright, calm down...there's no need to snap. I only just noticed it was there," Martha said in defence, staring at him. Close to, she could see that Elliot looked paler than usual and there little shadows beneath his eyes. "El, are you feeling okay?" she added in concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" he demanded.

"No reason, it's just you seem very...jumpy."

Elliot seemed to freeze on the spot. Then the hard lines of his angular features relaxed and his expression softened a little as he appeared to have realised how curt he had been. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Sorry, babe, I'm just knackered, that's all..." he apologised, hoping yet again she would believe this.

"You got the January blues too, huh?" she said.

"Yeah...something like that," he mumbled. He hesitated for a moment or two. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Coward, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Pushing it impatiently away, he said as casually as he could, "Hey, um...you know those weird dreams you said you were having, just before I went away that time? Have you had any more recently?"

He tried to sound offhand about it, like it was a throwaway question of no real importance. Martha shook her head, turning back to her laptop.

"No...why?"

"Just wondered," Elliot muttered distractedly, a frown marring his face as he pulled a scarf around his neck, "It doesn't matter... You working?" he added in a lighter tone, eyeing her short figure hunched over the computer as she typed a few more sentences.

"Nope, I'm jotting down some notes for my book," she answered vaguely, without tearing her eyes away from the screen.

"You're not still stuck on that idea, are you?" he said, letting out a slightly incredulous laugh as if he found her desire to want to write absurd.

"Yes, I am," she said, irritated at this less than supportive remark.

"Yeah, I mean but seriously?"

"Seriously," she nodded emphatically, "and it's for a ghost story, actually," she added.

Elliot's fingers slipped slightly as he zipped up his jacket at these words, as he recalled with horrible vividness that dream he had had a few nights ago of the strange figure dripping with blood... He stared, wide-eyed, at Martha for a moment. It was almost as if she knew... But no, that was nonsense, she couldn't have known. He mentally shook himself, not wishing to linger on that dream any more than necessary.

"Really? Does it even have a title yet?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Well...alright, no, it doesn't, not yet," she admitted and was answered by yet another sceptical laugh.

"Oooh, I bet Stephen King is quaking in his boots right now."

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to show a teensy bit of encouragement," she said waspishly but there was no disguising the hurt in her voice.

"I'm just teasing you, you know that!" Elliot told her, ruffling her fringe in what might have been a gesture of affection had Martha not found it so patronizing.

"I thought you said you were late?" she reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, I am...Right, well uh, I've no idea what time the science club's gonna finish so...I'll catch you tomorrow, yeah?"

Pecking her briefly on the cheek, Elliot took his leave as fast as he dared, hoping that he had managed to get away with it once again.

"Okay...bye..."

Martha watched him go with a heavy, leaden feeling weighing in her stomach. There was something definitely amiss about him and it she had a sinking feeling it had absolutely nothing to do with the so-called "January blues".

Leaning back in her seat with a weary sigh, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, cat-like, to ease the stiffness from sitting in the same position for too long. She winced when she felt her vertebrae click as she rose to her feet, padding over to the kitchen with a mind to seek something sweet to snack upon. She was just delving into her biscuit jar in the hope that Elliot had not pilfered all of the best chocolate ones for himself, when the familiar ghostly appearance of James materialised into the room beside her.

Her mood lifting immeasurably at the sight of the soldier, Martha smiled widely at him.

"Hey, Jimbo!" she greeted brightly, "How's it going?"

James was not entirely certain how he could answer this query with a just few mere words. To be perfectly honest, he found himself in a complete dilemma.

That terrible, terrible pain which had pierced him like a knife in the chest so unexpectedly on Christmas Eve had not unfortunately been the last. During the days that had followed, he had found himself plagued by this mysterious agony and it was getting worse and worse, especially in the very same place in the wound which had ultimately lead to his death. At first, he did not understand it; he could not fathom what it all meant. However, as time went on, the captain knew instinctively, without knowing how he knew it, that it could mean only one thing. He was forced to come to the harrowing conclusion that some unknown force was telling him that the time for his spirit to remain upon this earth was fast approaching its end, and the knowledge was torturing him. James wasn't ready to leave the physical world, not yet. But more than anything else, he wasn't ready to leave...Martha.

He gazed down into her smiling, expectant face and he could feel something inside him die. Knowing that he was going to have eventually depart from this world and not be able to look upon that wonderful sunny smile again was too painful for him to even contemplate. He treasured their time spent together more than anything, the joy and the fun they had shared on Christmas Eve with the snowball fight in the park, and their dancing in the living room...this woman who had come to mean so much to him and had felt so wonderfully right in his arms as they had swayed together...and yet he knew it could not possibly be.

He was determined to fight this pain for as long as possible, for her sake at least, as there was another moral dilemma which needed to be dealt with in regards to Elliot Fielding. James had been wrestling with his conscience. Haunting Elliot did not seem to be making any sort of impact on him at all. Was the man in complete and utter denial of what he was experiencing or was it he just a halfwit?

Most likely the latter, James thought to himself with a snort.

Elliot had had every chance to be honest with Martha and he had not taken it. The man was an utter fool! James had already tried hinting about Elliot's trustworthiness to Martha and she had dismissed him. Ought he to tell her openly and honestly and to risk breaking her heart, or otherwise allow her to discover the truth the hard way and let her heart be broken anyhow? She did not deserve it and he wished with all his heart that he could protect her from this but either way, it was going to result in tears for somebody. There was one thing he was absolutely certain of: he could not - would not rest until Martha knew the truth about her deceitful partner. What sort of friend would he be otherwise?

"Choccy biccy?" Martha said now, pulling him out of his morbid thoughts, picking up the biscuit jar to proffer it to him.

"No, thank you..." he politely declined.

"Suit yourself!" she chirped, shrugging, helping herself to another.

Rallying himself, James started, "Martha, can I - "

"Aha, I knew you couldn't resist," she said, "I know how much you love your chocolate!"

"Martha – "

"Just one won't kill you. I mean – no," she rambled, "That came out totally wrong, you know what I mean, I didn't – "

James cut her off, taking hold of her hands in his gloved ones, "Please, Martha, I am trying to say something to you. "

Martha caught the sudden edginess in his tone and noticed his serious countenance, which made his already deadened eyes seem even more haunted-looking than ever. The smile on her own face slowly disappeared and her mouth suddenly felt very dry. She swallowed her mouthful of biscuit with great difficulty, her light, whimsical mood vanishing on the spot as quickly as it had arrived as she waited for him to continue.

"I am so sorry...I had hoped that it did not have to come to this. I wish I could spare you from what I am about to divulge to you but I feel I must speak."

"What is it?" she asked softly, feeling worried now.

"It's about Elliot..." he said, deciding that it was best all around to come straight to the point. It was going to be painful enough for her to hear as it was. "Martha, I am so very sorry but he has not gone to this alleged science club at his school. I have every reason to believe that he is deceiving you..."

Her apprehensive look immediately switched to one of great exasperation and it was all she could do to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Aw Jim, no," she let out a frustrated sigh, dropping her hands from his, "We're not seriously going over this again, are we? I thought we agreed to drop it?"

"I did not agree to anything," he countered, "How do you account for his behaviour just now? He was determined that you did not look at his telephone. Here..."

He reached a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrew out a small silver object and held it out towards her, his palm facing upwards. James never would have imagined that he would see the day where he would have to resort to something as low as pick-pocketing, but desperate times called for desperate measures as the saying went. Martha peered down at the item in his hand and recognised it immediately as Elliot's mobile phone. Her brows pulled together into a confused frown.

"But didn't Elliot just take that with - ?" Her eyes flew up to his blue ones in realisation as she cottoned on to what he must have done. "Hang on...you took his phone?" she said indignantly.

"Yes, I did, and believe me, I do not condone my own actions but if you are not prepared to take my word for it..." James told her.

"You think I should read his messages? Ah, no!" she said adamantly, shaking her head, "I might be many things but I'm not a snoop."

James bowed his head, inwardly battling with himself. He sighed, set his jaw and then decided to just go ahead and throw caution to the winds. The time for fear of overstepping the mark was past, not when a friend's happiness was at stake, a friend who he cherished with all his heart.

"He isn't the man you think he is, Martha. I overheard him myself talking on his – his telephone," he said, gesturing to the gadget in his hand, "and whoever it was that he was speaking to, it was indubitably obvious he did not wish for you to hear him."

"He could've been talking to anybody. You're over-thinking things," she said and James could not help but hear a note of desperation in her voice.

"Am I?" he said quietly, raising his eyebrows at her, "Do you really mean to tell me that you have not noticed anything dubious about him at all?"

Martha opened her mouth to try and argue her case further, to convince James of Elliot's innocence but found herself quite unable to. Elliot had seemed tense and very jittery about something earlier. She could not deny that. But to suggest that there was a possibility of him betraying her...no, that was too much.

As though reading her thoughts, James asked her gently, "Do you really imagine that I am saying this for my own amusement, or that I am deliberately trying to cause you trouble? I thought you knew me better than that? I would not lie to you over something as important as this."

Martha bit her lip, looking down at her wringing hands, saying nothing. She did not want to believe what he was saying was true and yet...

"I gave him the opportunity to tell you himself but it seems he can't bring himself to be honest with you. Believe me when I say – "

"I think you've said enough," Martha said flatly all of a sudden, wrenching the phone out of his grasp. She was avoiding looking at him but her expression had hardened, and James noticed that the usual warmth in her green eyes had dimmed. He made to reach out a hand towards her but she evaded his touch, folded her arms tightly, her posture suddenly defensive and tense. "No, don't...I need – need time to think...please can you leave me alone?"

"Martha, I – "

"Please, Jim, just go!" she cried, and for the first time in all the time James had known her, she sounded on the verge of tears.

James had had a feeling she would react somewhere along these lines. He knew that he had done the right thing even if Martha did not see it that way yet. But it still did not make it any easier.

"I am really sorry," he told her quietly before fading from sight.

Martha gazed back at the spot where he had disappeared, not entirely sure whether to feel angry, upset or humiliated or all three. Her emotions were all in total disarray.

Clumsily, barely aware of what she was doing, she resumed her seat in front of the computer but now no longer felt any desire to continue her work; her mind was too abuzz with her conversations with both James and Elliot. She leaned her elbows on the table, tenting her fingers together, trying to make sense of everything.

She glanced over at Elliot's phone lying innocently on the tabletop next to her, pondering over his behaviour over the last few weeks. He had indeed been blowing very hot and cold; one minute he was all charm and smiles, nothing was too much trouble for him and sometimes almost over-enthusiastically affectionate, especially in the bedroom; the next he could be most infuriatingly insensitive or would bite her head off over the smallest thing – just like earlier with his phone. And now that she came to think about it, he did seem to be finding more and more excuses not to spend time together, either due to work or exhaustion...or at least, those were the reasons he had given her. No, no, no... There had to be an innocent explanation for all of that, there had to be...hadn't there?

In a desperate if not futile attempt to try and distract herself and to think of a different topic, Martha returned her attentions to her laptop and clicked open a window to read her emails, checking for any new ones for her advice column which needed to be answered.

'Dear Martha,
I don't know if I'm just being paranoid or not but I think that my girlfriend might be cheating on me – '

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Martha let out a frustrated growl and closed her laptop with a snap and buried her face in her hands.

She glanced warily around the room, as though making certain that she was definitely alone. Her hand hovered over the phone, but froze in mid air. It would be the easiest thing in the world to just take a peek at a couple of Elliot's text messages. No! I'm not going to look at it, she rebuked herself, pushing the phone to the very end of the table away from her as though it were a dangerous insect that might bite her if too close. If she read it and discovered there was nothing untoward to be found, then that trust would be broken between them. However, it drew her eyes like a magnet and she felt almost as if it were mocking her.

She knew in her heart that James was right about one thing: he was her friend, her dearest friend, and she could not imagine any reason in the world that he would lie to her for the sake of it. It just wasn't in his nature to be malicious. But then again, she could not imagine Elliot would do something so terrible as to cheat... Unbidden, the words that Cath had asked of her a few weeks ago suddenly echoed back to her: "Who do you trust more?"

Martha sat up straight, steeling her resolve. Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she made up her mind once and for all and picked up the phone...


The shiny black motorbike skidded to a rather haphazard stop, nearly causing its rider to tumble off in their haste. Pulling off her protective helmet, Martha shook out her river of wavy red tresses, the bitterly cold evening air hitting her face harshly but she took little notice.

Gazing up at the shabby apartment of flats before her, she sought out the window she knew to belong to her boyfriend. Just as she had predicted, a light shone from within, confirming that somebody was home. With an unusually steely glint in her eye, she strode with purpose across the short expanse of car park, pausing only to side-step a small group of people accumulated on the pavement who had braved the harsh elements to queue up outside a nearby Italian takeaway.

It did not take her long to tread the familiar route to Elliot's abode and she paused outside the door (which she vaguely registered was in dire need of a fresh coat of paint) listening carefully. She could hear a low rumble of voices from behind the door; one of which she recognised instantly as Elliot's but the other was completely unknown to her. All that she could discern was that it was most definitely a woman's voice. Raising a slightly trembling fist, Martha knocked twice upon the peeling door. There was a sudden silence. Then all at once from inside, she could hear frantic thuds, scuffling about and poorly-disguised shushing noises. It was clear that the occupants within were trying to make as least noise as possible and were not doing it very successfully.

Cold dread gnawed cruelly at her insides but she knew that she could not put off the inevitable any longer and just put herself out of her own misery. Martha exhaled a great, shuddery breath and without waiting for an invitation, she turned the door handle and let herself in.


Do you think she really read his phone? My goodness, I've missed working on this story so much. If I still have any readers, we're coming to the tail end of this fic now. There's about four or five more chapters to go. Reviews would be greatly appreciated as always and I'll do my darn best not to leave it so long until my next update! Love to you all, dear hearts! :)