A/N: still not over yet. sorry. enjoy!

I may have been speechless, but Priyanka was not. "Hey, who's this?" She slid back into her seat with a book that read, Fun with Hitler in the Meadow, and another that read, My Years Among the Dancing Nazis.

I gaped and sidestepped the question. "How did that get published?"

"Lax standards."

I grabbed it. "Fun with Hitler in the Meadow?!"

She snatched it back. "Very lax standards. Anyway, who's your friend?"

"Priyanka, this is Richard. Richard, this is Priyanka." Priyanka raised her eyebrows incredulously just as Richard very politely stretched out a white-gloved hand for her to shake. I shook my fist dramatically and looked heavenwards. "Curse you, Cassie Tallis! May you forever be plagued by frogs and other slimy amphibians!"

"Abigail… this is an amazing coincidence!" I couldn't look at him. I was too afraid of what I would see.

I turned to Priyanka. "Do you see him too?" My voice became a hushed but vehement hiss. "Do you see the anachronism sitting right here, in this room? Or have I gone nuts?!" I rapidly crumpled up a piece of paper that was probably something important. My voice was strangled sounding and shrill to my own ears. "Somebody shoot me!"

She didn't look at me, staring doubtfully at my dearly beloved. "That won't change the fact that he's definitely here." Her eyes flicked up. "Top hat and all. Besides, it's the library; imagine the scene you'd make."

I barely managed to bottle a scream. I thought for a moment that perhaps I was hyperventilating—but no, that's when you breathe too much, and I wasn't breathing at all…

Just as Richard shouted, "Abigail," Priyanka cried with something like exasperation, "Emily, you're turning blue!" The latter person slammed into me, knocking us both over, and I gasped suddenly for the air that I had lacked.

"Abigail, what's wrong?"

Priyanka hastily rolled off of me as I cried into the library's hideous carpet, my voice muffled. "I don't understand! I saw you lying facedown in the dirt!" I hiccupped loudly and gave a pathetic sniffle. "You were dead; I saw you!"

I froze as the surroundings began to melt away. The carpet is— Slowly I sat back up, staring at the carpet. "What the—" I stopped. It was the hideous oriental carpet. We were in the Swann's library; I knew it. I little by little lifted my gaze to Richard who was wearing—oh my god—

The same outfit he wore the day he died.

I looked around for my schoolbooks. They were gone. My eyes narrowed. "Where's Priyanka?" I asked, shuffling clumsily to my feet.

Her voice came from behind me. "Right here. The real question is where are we?"

Richard laughed. "That's easy, the Swann household." He paused, tapping his cane against the floor. "An extensive library you have here," he commented, taking a few steps closer.

My body went completely rigid. I felt as if I were reading lines from some sick twisted play. "N-n-not mine," I managed to stutter shakily. I must be dreaming. I sank quickly into the nearest chair, my knees knocking together in shock. A hefty book lay open on the old fashioned desk in front of me.

"Hangover cures?" he read over my shoulder, mildly amused.

I blinked dazedly at the melting candles and the tall, imposing shelves. The air smelled of polishing wax, dust, and old books. This is impossible. Everything was the same. I looked down—I even had the correct clothes on—an old robe and a chemise. It was like a replay of the day that Richard died, only a very confused Priyanka was at my side, sending me questioning glances every now and then.

"If you've a headache some ground willow bark would probably do the trick," Richard suggested, just as he had on that day.

I felt like I was watching a video of myself. My mind was like a scampering mouse in a too small cage, darting around frantically, trying to find the misplaced wire, trying to find the loophole that had led to the whole mess. He looked at me expectantly. I shook myself. "Where might I find some willow?" I asked almost robotically. Oh God, this can't be happening.

"There's probably some in a cabinet somewhere," he said considerately. "Ask Elizabeth, or one of the servants. They'll likely know."

I shut the book like a ghost, rising, replacing the book and then turning back to Richard. I was just going through the motions, disbelieving. "So. What brings you to the Swann's house at such an ungodly hour?" I asked, glancing down at my fraying robe. I forced some life into my smile.

He laughed. "The hour is not so ungodly. It's nearly half past nine."

"Really?" I exclaimed, just as I had before. Priyanka gave me a piercing look that demanded an explanation. I sent her a pleading look in an attempt to appease her. "Da—Drat!" I said to Richard.

"Good luck with the willow," he said. "But I'd best be off." He nonchalantly tipped his top hat, suavely kissed my hand, and then was gone, leaving with the click of an urbane boot-heel and the swish of a dashing cape. I let him go as before, staring off, dazed.

Enter Elizabeth, upstage, I thought. "Emily was that—Mr. Carlton? What are you doing in the library?" Elizabeth asked, looking flabbergasted.

"What's going on?" Priyanka demanded, rounding on me with an expression fit for violence.

I finally was brought back to sickening awareness like a punch to the face, feeling the need to hurl. My stomach dropped. I answered neither question as the blood drained from my face. "Oh my God… I've made a terrible mistake." I pounded out of the library with Priyanka and Elizabeth at my heels, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, my stomach fluttering. I had one chance to save him, and this was it.

I frenetically sought out the garden, coming to a screeching halt at the white door and bursting violently through it just in time to watch Cassandra Tallis pull out a gleaming gun from the folds of her coat. "No!" I screamed, hurtling towards her like a flying bullet. I was so slow—and the gun was so fast—I could hear the click of its popping safety as I neared her. "Richard! Watch out!"

Confused, but compliant, he ducked, and the too-familiar flintlock pistol began to go off just as I rammed into her, throwing her off to the side so that the bullet glanced harmlessly into a rose bush. I grabbed her scrawny wrist. "This woman should be arrested for attempted murder!" I shouted wildly, grabbing the other hand and pinning them behind her back.

All the screaming had attracted the attention of the functional equivalent of a police force, and in no time, Cassandra and I were surrounded with a thousand gleaming muzzles of guns, glinting in the sunlight. There were a million clicks as every man cocked his gun to fire and blast our heads off. "Don't shoot!" Priyanka cried. She waded through the armed men, pointing at me. "This girl apprehended a potential murderer."

Elizabeth, not to be outdone, was right behind her, radiating the air of a queen. "Lower your weapons," she ordered sharply, elbowing her way to the center. "Do as I say, or you'll all have the devil to pay," she threatened.

They looked around dubiously at each other, until finally they pushed one forward, who was fiddling somewhat nervously with the hem of his finely pressed lobster-red coat. "Begging your pardon, but who are you, to give us orders, miss?"

She gave him a look that would have melted the polar ice caps and boiled all the lakes and rivers into nothingness. "I am Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter. Put your weapons down this instant!"

Reluctantly, they complied, lowering their guns with questioning glances at me as I fought to keep the Nameless Wanderer from bolting. "We all saw it—this woman tried to kill Richard Carlton, that man over there," I said breathlessly, gesturing in various directions while trying to maintain control over the Nameless Wanderer. Two men grabbed her as the others (the other witnesses to the attempted crime, that is) nodded their assent. In this time period, it was enough for a death sentence, but I did not think about the woman I had just sent to death.

Priyanka tilted her head ponderously to one side as the guards carted the obscenely screeching Nameless Wanderer away. "How did you know that she was going to try to murder him?"

I grimaced, handing the gun to one of the guards left as if it were something particularly disgusting, not wanting to touch it. "It's… complicated." Finally the last of the guards left, leaving Priyanka, Elizabeth, me, and Richard behind. Priyanka and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances and then quietly left, tiptoeing back inside the house.

Psh, as if I didn't know what they were up to. "Abigail—" he started, but I interrupted him.

"That's not my name." He raised his eyebrows and I sighed. "That's an alias." I shrugged. "What can I say? I lied."

He blinked. "Evidently."

"Your consolation, I suppose, is that I lied to everybody, not just you," I ruminated jokingly. "Basically everyone thought my name was either Abigail or Cara."

"Which is it?"

"Neither. My name is Emily Cheng." I flashed him my most sardonic smile. "Nice to meet you." I looked down at the ground. "So… Do you hate me?"

He grinned. "No."

"Are you sure? After all, I lied to you," I put forth as a mild reminder.

"I can live with that." The grin grew wider and he snatched my hand. "What kind of marriage would it be if it couldn't survive one little lie?"

I gulped, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. "Marriage?"

He shrugged. "I think we'll get along quite well."

He said it as if it was already bound to happen; I couldn't help but notice. I frowned, half tempted to say, 'That's irrelevant.' Instead, I said something just as practical. "What do your parents think?"

"My esteemed mother and father both think that I enjoy hunts, as I recall," he supplied cheekily.

I scowled and he relented, amending his statement and slipping his arm about my waist. "We'll just recount to them how you courageously saved my life; that should do it."

I snorted, letting him steer me into a different section of the extensive rose garden. A chill rippled down my back like a phantom of what could have happened in the innocuous setting and I shook it off, scoffing, "Courageously? You're joking. I was out of my mind with fear."

"Even so. Your devotion will impress them." He looked vaguely like he was trying to convince himself.

I smiled sardonically. "Right. And they won't notice my lack of decorum and inability to dance."

He began to hum and twirled me in a circle as if to prove me wrong. "One of your most endearing traits, I'm sure," he comforted me. He smiled, twirling me again and making me lightheaded. "Don't worry. I'll break it to them slowly."

One last spin in a tight circle and he placed me on a very conveniently located stone bench, seeming to enjoy having me slightly off balance (literally). As I gasped in air, trying to regain control of myself, he got down on one clichéd knee and pulled something from his pocket. His eyes shone and his hands were cupped, hiding their contents from view. "So, Emily, will you marry me?"

I was dizzy, relieved that Richard wasn't dead, emotionally zapped and tired. I wanted to cry, so instead of trusting my undependable voice, I opted to just nod. My first serious relationship, and I was being proposed to. Not only that, but I was agreeing! I had never even imagined. "Close your eyes," he said quietly, and as I complied, his fingers closed gently around mine, singling out my as of yet plain, unembellished ring finger. But instead of the smooth kiss of metal against my skin, the simple, obscurely pleasing roughness of what felt like hemp wrapped carefully around my finger. "You can open your eyes now."

I looked down and smiled almost shyly (since when am I shy?). "A piece of string, Richard?" I teased, fingering the tight knot.

He smiled, his hand closing over the makeshift ring. "It's the best I could do on such short notice." His eyes were strangely bright and his voice was quiet. "Now may I kiss the soon-to-be bride?"

I swallowed hard. "You're asking me?" As far as I could remember, I had only been kissed once—and that was by Jack, so of course he hadn't asked me as if I had an opinion. Richard nodded, but I couldn't speak once more, and found myself nodding.

His fingers laced with mine like the weave of cloth and his breath whispered across my lips as he leaned slowly in. His lips captured mine in a gentle kiss, warm and affectionate, full of promise and tenderness, so heartrendingly, achingly beautiful that I felt like I might cry.

And I did. But at least I had someone there to hold me.