Warning: Long, slightly important A/N here...

I 'made up' the name Robby Benson, but I have a feeling that there IS someone famous by that name that I completely forgot about. Help? o_O

I feel so bad that this chapter is so yawn-inducing. All your reviews were amazing, and you're all excited for the next chapter and I turn out this. o.o Nobody shot... nobody killed... no death-threats... except for the end; I talk about slightly - maybe - interesting topics such as the (recent) history of England, Will and Kate's marriage, Diana; the entire boring lineage of English Kings/queens. Basically that. If you're a history freak, you might kill me for any mistakes I make, of which I hope are few; and if you're not, kill me for even putting this in here. Either way, in the grand scheme of things, Luke is questioning if I really am from the future and I 'prove' myself. Then Rage /finally/ manages to push the button and you can skip to the second section and read it from there. /is attempting to save her readers time

:'( No telling, Rage, but in this part of the story, I kinda think I made you the antagonist. :''''( PLEASE don't be mad with me. It's just... there needs to be an antagonist somewhere to make it interesting, and I really didn't want my parents in this... o.o

Foulden Delvious? Golden Delicious? Apples? Remind you of anything? XD

Muse, you are the receiver of this dedication; thank you for always pushing me to do my best. Besides, you like history, right? ;)

-=-(*)-=-

Chapter Fourteen

"So, as a maid... you don't knock, and as a fiancée, you do?"

Pulta flushed. "But if I always knocked and then didn't as a fiancée, you'd also find that incredibly annoying, wouldn't you?"

He shrugged condescendingly while going back to his paperwork, and she turned to close the door quietly behind her. Once it shut, she made her way over to to his desk where she looped her arms gently around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

Luke set his pen down and glanced at her. "I never get anything done when you're in the room."

She smiled sheepishly into his tunic. "Sorry. If it's any help, I'm going to bed now."

"How was Winn- Winthrop?"

"There isn't anything bad about nicknames."

"His name is Winthrop."

She gave him a rather disblieving gaze of amusement and amazement he dubbed 'The Look' before shaking her head and turning away. "Whatever you say. He was fine. His Latin is better than mine anyway."

Luke rolled his eyes. "And am I supposed to be surprised...?"

"No. Not unless you want to be."

He snorted.

Pulta let him go with a parting kiss on the cheek. "Good night."

"Pulta, wait." Luke started up. "You promised."

She flushed. "I did nothing of the kind."

"Liar."

Giving him a venemous look, she shook her head. "You'd go bananas."

He ignored the unknown word and quickly caught up to her so she was unable to depart. "I asked."

"Too dangerous."

"Please?" He slipped closer, hoping that just maybe... for a moment- but she slipped a hand over her mouth, causing her voice to be rather stiffled.

"I can't. If... if something happens, it'll all be my fault."

"I have a right to know."

A quirkish smile showed behind her hand. "Nice try. No... you don't."

He crimped an eyebrow.

"No."

"And if-"

"No."

"I command-"

"No."

"Five sugar-"

"No."

He crossed his arms and glared at her. "What then?"

Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. "I can't let you get hurt."

His lips trailed down the side of her face, gently stopping below her cheekbone. "I promise?"

"So says everyone." But she curled in his embrace, allowing him to rest his chin on her hair.

"Purely out of curiosity." He felt her hesitate. "I just... wish to know."

"On my life, you will never tell a soul."

"Forever-never."

"On my life."

"Of course."

She pushed away, a slightly beleaguered look on her face. "Honestly, you just won't 'believe' that I'm from the future?"

"You said you studied history."

"Everyone does. You study history now, don't you? People have always studied history. I'll bet if - mind the 'if' there - the Big Bang actually occurred and man really walked out of the water the first thing he did was record that history in stone and teach it to his kids. History is timeless."

Luke stared at her.

"Ri-ight. Sorry. Blame Darwin." She plopped down on one side of the couch and gestured dramatically to the other end. "What do you want to know?"

He raised an eyebrow, sitting down primly - like she ought to have sat. "The Americas. What happens to them?"

Pulta narrowed an eye and scrutinized him.

"Honestly! You said to ask!"

"Funny you pick that thing first..."

"I wanted to know. Now start talking, will you?"

"Out of all the history in the world - maybe you could've asked what the history of Sri Lanka is even though I have no idea whatsoever - you had to ask that."

"Fine. Stop glaring at me like that. What happens to England?"

"Well... there's an enormous volcanic eruption and it's - quite literally - blown off the face of the planet. Only a piece of Ireland survived, and that's surrounded by a bunch of water like Iceland, and it doesn't look as pretty now."

He stared at her.

"Joking. Really."

His eyes flashed. "Pulta..."

"You want to know what really happens to England?"

"Enough jokes."

She snorted, pulling her knees up to her chest and examining the dress material as if there would be an earthquake at that moment. "Alright... I... don't know all that much-"

"Who takes the throne after Henry?"

Pulta thought quickly for a moment. "Edward the sixth - he dies within two years, or something. Bloody Mary. Then Elizabeth - Liz the First."

"Edward?"

"I don't think he's been born yet. But then things start to pick up, and there are a bunch of Georges - first, second, third - Edward the fourth, and it narrows down to Victoria eventually. Since none of his brothers had kids."

"When's that?"

"Eighteen something. Early eighteen hundreds, since it was the Industrial Revolution..."

"And..." He raised an eyebrow and she could feel his impatience eating at her.

"And then she married a cousin-"

"Marries."

They stared at each other, not quite knowing how to annull the unexpected development of time passages.

"It doesn't matter. She married/marries a cousin - Prince Albert, and then they had a bunch of kids." Pulta grinned. "Then as they all got married, they discovered there was hemophilia in their lines."

Luke raised an eyebrow again. "What?"

"It's a disease in your genes; when you get cut, it won't stop bleeding. If you bruise yourself, you can die from blood-loss."

"Interesting."

Pulta reveled in the fact genes had been the one thing she'd actually comprehended and enjoyed in Biology. "Two or three daughters were carriers, actually; they carried it, but didn't have to worry about bleeding to death. Eventually, the gene reappeared through Russia's royal lines and through that, a monk named Rasputin-"

"Wait," Luke held up a hand. "I thought we were talking about England."

"But this is interesting." Pulta realized she sounded like her mother when she was yammering on about different colors of dishcloths. "Okay, back to England. Granted, but can I finish?"

He shrugged, which she assumed meant he was intrigued enough that England could wait.

"Rasputin... Rasputin... oh, right. So Rasputin became Nicolas' - czar of Russia's - right-hand advisor, and all that and everyone felt he was influencing Nick to make bad decisions; and all because of the Czarina and Alexis. So then a bunch of Nicolas' supporters had a party, and they poisoned Rasputin and threw him into the Neva River. But then Russia broke up anyway, and shot the entire family dead."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Wow."

"Right. Anyway, that's one of the only things I've found incredibly interesting in Russian history."

"England."

"Right." Pulta paused. "Victoria... Victoria... Her son, Edward the seventh became king and ruled after her. Then George the fifth, I think. Edward the eighth... and then... Oh, George the sixth. Then came Elizabeth the second; she had a son, Charles, who married the prettiest-"

"Subjugate."

Pulta shot him a glare. "-the prettiest lady I've ever heard about; she was an Earl's daughter and then a schoolteacher. A real princess. Not just one dressed up in rich clothes. And they had two sons before they got divorced and she died in a car crash: William and Henry - who everybody calls Will and Harry, and Will married Kate a few years back. So... anyway. There's your lineage so far. Or most of it anyway. I can't remember the sixes and fives. It would be helpful if they named their children something other than Charles, and Henry, and William."

"Such as Balthazar the third, or Duchingete the fifth?"

She blinked. "On second thought..."

Luke shrugged, grinning slightly. "Enough. They are overused though..." They were silent for a minute, chewing on all the information until he nodded. "So... whatever happens to the Americas? Who rules them?"

Pulta looked at him for a long moment. "Nobody rules them."

"What do you mean? They're uninhabitable?"

"No... there isn't a king. There's a president. But the people rule themselves. It's a free land."

Luke frowned. "But then it's completely lawless. Everybody's constantly stealing everything. Nobody wants to live like that."

Pulta grinned. "Ha. Close, but not quite. See, the President passes the laws made by Congress; Congress makes the laws - supposedly; I've never seen such a bunch of butt-sitters in my life: talkers, they do nothing - and the Supreme Court keeps everything in line. If you're wronged, you can sue - or take someone to court. Then a judge and a jury decides who's right, and who's wrong. You're innocent until proven guilty. Technically. So that's how things are run - mostly. It's complicated. See, there are fifty states; each one has a governor. Then the states are set up into cities, and each city has a mayor."

"Like lords and knights."

"Right. Kind of. England did rule us - for a while. Then you decided to-"

"Not 'me'."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Then they decided to tax us without representation in Parliment. After that, we went to war - we won. We set up the government - etc."

Luke cocked his head, thinking. "Interesting..."

"Not a word."

A smile twitched on his mouth as he returned her glance. "Not one."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Pulta flinched. "Does that quell your disbelief?"

"Sure."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not quite like you could make up five Georges, and then complain about how many names there are."

"Good point," she smiled, letting her knees go to their proper position where they hung over the edge of the couch with her feet firmly on the floor. "Can I go to bed now?"

He opened his arms and she scooted over the couch to lean against him; smiling as he curled around her. "Good night. Sleep well."

"I will," she pushed herself up. "And don't let the bugs bite, silly."

"Ha." Luke tweaked her nose. "Go on."

"Right." She sat up again as a funny look slid over her face. "L-"

She disappeared.

-=-(*)-=-

"LAPULTA JANIMA RAGWRINE! YOU- YOU- YOU-"

Pulta blinked, shaking her head to attempt assisting her eyes with adjusting to the pitch-black room. "Rage?"

"YOU IMBECILE! YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED!"

"Wait, imbecile? Killed? Is Robby Benson in this room? Because he really needs a talking-to."

"NO, ESTUPIDO! I'M TALKING TO YOU!" The gray-ish blob with a head leaped forward and Pulta winced as hands gripped vice-like on her shoulders and shook her back and forth. "HOW LONG WERE YOU THERE?"

"Do you want me to have eardrums to answer your questions?"

Rage relinquished her grip, but Pulta could feel her deadly glare even through the night. "What happened now?"

She paused, trying to judge her reaction. "Rage... I need to go home."

"This IS your home. Now get up there and go to bed."

Pulta reached out her arms and found Rage - stiff as a freshly ironed shirt - and hugged her. "You're the best twinsie I've ever, and I ever will. But... I need to go home. He needs me."

"No. I won't let you."

"You have to. Besides, my wedding's in three weeks."

The gray blob turned down two shades of color and became a white blob - not so far akin to a floating ghost-orb. "No," Rage choked. "This is your time, and your home, and you're staying here. You have the stupid Biology test in the morning! For heaven's sake, you have your life HERE."

"And he's there." Pulta squeezed her twinsie's hands. "Can you bring them to meet him?"

"Who?"

"My parents, silly."

"Why? It's not like they're going to disagree. They ought to be plenty happy with the amount of clothing that's covering you."

Pulta flushed. "Please-?"

"No. I won't. And I'm not coming to any wedding. You're not getting married. And not to him."

Pulta crossed her arms, aghast. "You still want me with Foulden Delvious, don't you! Rage von Starling-"

"He's good-"

"No!"

"And sensible-"

"No!"

"And has good grades-"

"NO!"

"He's an average guy!" Rage finally screamed. "Fine! I said it! He's AVERAGE. A-V-E-R-A-G-E. He wears glasses, laughs like a maniac, and MOST IMPORTANTLY, he is NOT IN THE PAST 500 YEARS!"

"Do you care anything about me? He loves me! Luke loves me!"

"So would Ledi if you actually tried him out!"

"But I don't want to try him out! I don't want to change boys like I'm changing clothes!"

Rage shot her a glance. "You're not."

"YES, I WOULD BE THEN! AND I WON'T!"

"FINE," Rage exploded. "FINE. Go off and MARRY him for all I care! Go on, PUSH THE BUTTON! But let me tell you this: I'm NOT going to be pushing it again to bring you back. If you love him, go on; run off. And keep in mind that we had DREAMS. Dreams of US, WRITING; TOGETHER. In YELLOWSTONE, AND MONTANA, AND FLORIDA! And you BLEW THEM AWAY because YOU LOVED-HIM-MORE. GoodBYE. And good RIDDANCE!" The blob turned away, stalking off into the kitchen.

Pulta listened to her walking around, slapping a bottle of juice that had been sitting on the counter since the futuristic 'past week' down so that the plastic bottom crinkled. The refrigerator door slammed, along with a wooden cabinet.

Yet there was no choice.

Grabbing a piece of paper, Lapulta snatched up the nearest pen and quickly scribbled her message while posting it near the red button. Her hand hovered over the later, choosing - hesitating. But there was still no choice. She pushed it.

-=-(*)-=-

Luke was standing by the couch. His eyes scanned her down, immediately seeing whatever turmoil was pounding inside her at that moment. She stumbled forward into his embrace, forcing the tears not to come while managing to thank her lucky stars she'd been thinking with decent timing; she'd probably only missed about a few seconds.

"Good God... what happened?"

"Time," she choked. "Rage..." Pulta swallowed, sucking air back and forth - brutally aware of the stinging pain that came with each gasp. "They... they don't-"

"Don't stay," he slid his hands up, cupping her face in them. "I don't want you here if you're not happy."

"But I am happy," she swallowed again. "I'm just... unhappy because I'm happy."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"No-" she choked on her mixture of laughter and tears. "No- it's just... just... They don't- see."

"Who is 'they'?"

"Rage... my friends. My parents: I'm getting them to meet you somehow."

He kissed her cheek, tightening his grip around her. "They will understand."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, forcing a watery smile on her face. "And how do you know that?"

"Because they always do. They can't not. And then they'll only be left wishing they had this."

"Right," she managed a laugh. "Right. An insane wife, a headstrong husband and a wild son." She then gently touched her fingertips to her lips and pressed them gently on his, sniffing back whatever uncomplying tears were left. "I love you."

"As do I." He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "Off to bed now."

"Good night."

"Don't let the bugs bite."

She managed a giggle.