1
During the night, the Doctor and his companions returned to the comfort of the TARDIS. A word was not spoken between them, and as they entered the console room, both Tegan and Turlough headed towards their rooms. the Doctor stood for a moment, pondering the view screen, which was left on. The city skyline was lit up, and even at night, Chicago impressed him.
Then he headed towards the corridor. He wasn't sure where he was going, but decided that he needed to think. The TARDIS was good for one thing, and that was pondering your thoughts. It seemed to know the feelings of the individuals who habituated in her, and tried to help set a peaceful mood. For the Doctor, his time machine was a savior but also burdensome. He enjoyed the time he could spend wandering its endless rooms, yet he knew eventually, it would take him to a place where he was needed; where his destiny was.
He paused at the entrance to Adric's room. The door was like another door in this part of the TARDIS, white and with big roundels. For a stranger, looking at these halls, they would be lost, for everything looked the same. He inhaled deeply, tasting the sweet rose smell the TARDIS gave off. He held it, and his two hearts beat a sublime togetherness. He reached up with his right hand and touched the cool metal handle. He let his long fingers slide around it, feeling the smoothness to it. The coldness.
Adric's face swam into his mind's eye. The boy, his moppet brown hair flowing much longer than the style, covered his forehead. There was that innocent smile, and those dark brown eyes that held a mischievous mind. A brilliant mind of mathematical computation. I wonder what the odds are that he would figure out this situation before I do, thought the Doctor. He suddenly pushed the door open. The room was near dark, with a pale night-light coming from behind the wall by his closet. He stepped in, and instantly the lights came back on. It startled the Doctor, but he regained his composure.
He looked over at the bed, which was made up neatly. A few objects lay on top the blue green covers. Most was things that Adric collected from his brief adventures with him. The Doctor smiled sadly; Adric was always lifting things that did not belong to him. Sill, the memories are sweet.
He wandered over to the bed, and sat down. On the nightstand by the bed was a pad of paper and a pencil. Leave it to Adric to use the old fashion way of calculating the randomness of a CVE. The Doctor picked up the pad, and thumbed through the calculations. He had wanted to ask Adric why he never used a computer to aid him, but realized that maybe even a computer as advanced as the one on the TARDIS, could never figure out the odds of random numbers in an infinite universe.
The Doctor had never second-guessed his inability to save the boy. When the freighter plunged back in Earth's past by 65 million years, he knew that a sacrifice would be needed to make sure that the timeline would unfold like it was suppose to. The one thing the Doctor failed to predict, the one time when he really ignored Chaos, was who would be that person. Why was it Adric? Why was a brilliant boy, who would've probably grown up to be a great mathematical scientist, had to die so young?
Was Tegan right? Could have I taken the TARDIS back to just before the freighter crashed into Earth, and saved Adric? Would of, could of, should of. But the answer was there all the time. He failed to explain it very well to either Tegan or Nyssa. But what would be the point? Adric was dead; was destined to die millions of years before he was born. As he continued to look at the numbers, he came upon some writing. It was Adric's handwriting. The Doctor scanned the pages, totaling nearly two dozen, before he came back to the beginning. But, he didn't need to fully read it. By his scanning, the Doctor discovered that even Adric knew he was fated to die. He didn't say it in so many words, but it was obvious from his musings that he felt he would die young.
The Doctor lowered the pad to his lap, and looked up at the ceiling. He knew he could never save Adric, but could he save this Harrison, or Harit? Could he go back in time. Should he go back in time? Of course, if he has altered something in the past, he'll have to go and find out what it is.
He set the pad back on the night table, and stood up. His Time Lord people had renounced their intervention in other people's affairs eon's ago, mainly due to the destructive nature of creatures through out the galaxies. Though they would admit, from time to time, it was necessary to "become involved" in some planets evolution. These involvement's were done in secret, so if things when dreadfully wrong, as it has before, they could not be blamed. Sometimes, the Doctor wondered who was the guiltier, he or his people.
He stood up and walked out, taking one more brief look at was Adric's room. As he closed the door, the Doctor had made up his mind. If he couldn't help Adric, maybe he could save Harrison from one of the deadliest virus' that ever surfaced in the universe.
2
When morning came, Tegan and Turlough entered the main console room to find the Doctor stooped over the main computer terminal. His blond, thin hair was messed up, and his blue eyes, despite the brightness in them betrayed a weariness that indicated to the two that he had been up all night. Not that the Time Lord needed that much sleep. Indeed, Tegan had guess that the only time the Doctor ever slept, was when he was knocked unconscious. This, she thought with mild amusement, was happening a lot.
The Doctor looked up, and smiled slightly. "I hope you slept good."
Tegan frowned. Far from it, she thought. When they returned hours ago, she felt tired, and run down. Her body had felt like a mechanical toy that had been left on. When she went to bed, though, sleep did not come so easy. She tossed, as she tried to settle her mind, but found her brain wanted to figure things out. After a few hours, she eventually fell asleep, but her dreams were filled with too many disjointed images for her to get a good rest. When she finally woke and looked at the clock, she was thankful it was time to get up.
Now, as she stood looking at the Doctor, she wanted to complain, but instead said yes, and thanked him for asking. Turlough said nothing, though Tegan did notice that it appeared he did not get a lot of sleep either. She moved over to him, and looked at the small computer screen. She asked what he was doing.
It was the Doctor's turn to frown. He looked at the terminal, and then at the viewer, which still showed the Chicago skyline. "I've been trying to figure out just how Harit changed the timeline, with out causing a major historical anomaly that CIA never picked up on."
"Does it have to major?" Turlough asked walking over to the view screen. "I mean, Doctor, does every change cause a bump in the timeline?"
"No, your right in some way," the Doctor said cautiously. "But, it really depends on your point of view when it comes to time travel intervention."
Tegan rolled her eyes. How typical, she thought. The Doctor loved to make these obliquely annoying scientific statements, just waiting for some innocent, naive, earthling girl to ask: Why, Doctor, whatever do you mean? So, as not to give him the satisfaction, she stood her ground, waiting either for Turlough or the Doctor himself to continue.
It was Turlough who finally spoke. Tegan was disappointed he didn't ask a question, but maintained the Doctor's line of thinking. "So you're saying that the butterfly theory does not exist."
The Doctor smiled, and looked at Tegan. She just stared back, but before he could say a thing, she spoke up. "The theory being that if you went back in time, and stepped on say, a butterfly, it could have serious effects along the timeline"
The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and let out a slight snort. It seemed he once again had over estimated Tegan. He went over to her, and put an arm around her. "In theory, yes Tegan. Of course, your Einstein once said breaking the time barrier was not possible. Still here we are."
"So how does Harit alter something in the past, with out ever being detected." Turlough wanted to know. He looked at the view screen, then at the Doctor. "Unless, you go with the idea that there are parallel timelines."
"Very, good," the Doctor said, clapping his hands. Tegan moved away, feeling like a patient in an operating room with 20 physicians talking all at one time, with none of the saying anything that could come close to being understood. She sat down in the chair, and watched, helpless, yet strangely fascinated by the conversation. The Doctor turned to her and spoke softly, but not in a condescending tone. "Early time travel theorist felt there was no way you could have a changeable past. That idea even kept early Time Lords afraid to travel, because no one could really prove you could change the past without effecting the future. So, many eons ago, a few of my fellow Time Lords proposed a theory that time did not flow in a linear fashion, because like most, they were trying to cover all the paradoxes that kept popping up. A whole college industry, that would eventually called Temporal Mechanics, was born from that single idea. So they sat around for a while and tried to figure out how you could have a changeable past and avoid those paradoxes. Finally, they theorized that when we traveled in time, it wasn't just forward and backwards along a liner highway, but we actually traveled a different timeline; parallel to the main, linear highway."
"Okay, Doctor, you've got me confused." Tegan moaned.
The Doctor moved over to her and scrunched down on his haunches. "Think of this way, Tegan, for you time moves like a road that stretches far into the distance. Now as you travel this road, you are on a linear path of time that moves forward. And for millenium, it was thought that time travelers just went up and down that road."
"But, you can travel backwards on that same road." Turlough put in. The Doctor nodded his head in agreement.
"Yes, but here it becomes the tricky part, some of those presumptuous Temporal Mechanic students thought up the idea that there is one main road, a center if you wish, but there were also other lanes of his main road; alternate roads where the timeline has unfolded differently. Where people, places, and events are the same, but are unfolding in a completely different manner."
Tegan looked at the Doctor, then at Turlough. For a brief moment, she wanted to holler, and get off this one bus ride to Hell, but decided that once again, she would stay. Still, she wanted to ask a few questions, but thought she would stay silent for the moment.
The Doctor stood and walked over to the TARDIS console and danced his fingers over the touchpad keyboard. "Essentially, Tegan, what happens is someone, we, or what ever, journeys into the past and changes history. Here, then, reality splits into two versions -one road depicting the changed history, and the other road is were the original reality exists before the change."
Tegan sighed. She had been curious, at first, on how all of this time stuff worked. While not a scientist in any sense of the word, she had seen enough of science fiction, been enough science classes, to get the idea that time travel could not happen and that the past was the past; that it was inviolable. Of course, here she was, in a time machine that had just left 12th Century Earth, so what did she know? "So what you are saying is that, according to you, the entire universe is splitting along every alternate decision?'
"Well, we Time Lords are fifth-dimensional thinkers," the Doctor muttered. Tegan had no idea what that meant. "But, yes, you are right. Once the theory of many worlds was proving somewhat correct, the fallout came with the knowledge that there is an infinity of universes being created."
"So how does one find out what the true universe is?"
The Doctor looked at Turlough, hoping that he might be able to help, but saw the young man's eyes had wandered. He sighed. "Most of us Time Lords do not believe there is an ultimate true time-line. Maybe at one time, there was, but because of the interference of many species, which have achieved time travel capabilities, the true time-line has become corrupted." Tegan looked confused, and the Doctor had to admit he himself was getting embroiled in a conflict he did not want to get absorbed in. Time travel theory was one of least favorite subjects, and he vowed he never worry about the implications of altering the past. That's what the Web of Time was all about, and he was sticking to his guns, so to speak.
Turlough moved over to the Doctor. "Of course, if that theory is to work, we are now in an alternate timeline, and not the true time. "
The Doctor looked up. "Yes, however, Earth has always been one to defy the Laws of Time."
"So you are saying that this is an alternate timeline, that Harrison disrupted something in the past, and now all of the Earth has jumped the main road of time, onto another road which runs parallel to the main?"
The Doctor looked at Tegan, and a smile crept over his face. "Now, you've got it"
Tegan looked up in disbelief. She suddenly felt like muttering something about that she really did not know what she was talking about, but stopped herself. She did not want to become in involved in some Abbot and Costello routine that this conversation seemed to be headed too.
"So, now what do we do?" asked Tegan, finally. She stood up and walked over to the doors, which stood open." Harrison's dead. He won't be talking any time soon. And Caleb, has no idea when he arrived."
The Doctor turned to her. "He does, in away. It seems logical that Harit arrived sometime around the Great Chicago Fire."
"Yes, but could he have altered something then, that now has taken a hundred and thirty years to get the TARDIS to notice?" asked Turlough.
"I suppose it was something small, and not major to the future..." the Doctor suddenly stopped. Both Turlough and Tegan stared at him. "Turlough, you mentioned something about our recent trip to 1215."
"Yes, the Master was trying to prevent the signing of this Magna Carta."
"Exactly, a major historical event. If those creeds were never signed, Earth's history would have been different. But we arrived as the event was taking place. Not before or after. So our appearance now means the events that lead up to our arrival today are still going on."
"So, based on your parallel time idea," Tegan intoned, "could there be an Earth where the say Magna Carta was never signed?"
"Not really, Tegan. The parallel time theory contends that most historical occurrences, such as the Magna Carta, did happen only that principles might have been slightly different." The Doctor returned his gaze to the Chicago skyline. "No, Harit altered something, but in the grand picture of historical events, it was just a minor blip."
"A minor blip?" Tegan blurted. "Doctor, if you haven't noticed, one your people, another renegade I might add, has altered a historical event on your self proclaimed favorite planet, and you call it a minor blip?"
"Control your emotions, Tegan, "the Doctor abashed. "We will discover what happened. It's all a matter of time." He shifted onto his right heel and exited the TARDIS, leaving a surprised Tegan Jovanka.
She turned and looked at Turlough, who turned suddenly, thinking he saw something interesting to look at on the view screen.
She pivoted and walked back towards the corridor. Turlough moved over to the Doctor. "So why bring up the Magna Carta," he asked. "If what you say is true, that Harrison altered something minor, what does it have to do with that historical event."
The Doctor thought for a moment, and idly played his hand through his blond hair. "Everything is significant, Turlough. Whether it's the signing of the Magna Carta or..." he stopped, as frustration filled his face. He turned away, once more thinking of Adric. It was his curiosity that got the boy in trouble. He was just a child, really. Like a child, when he found something that peeked his interest, he never figured in the possible problems that might arise from his inquisitiveness. Adric took things at face value, at times. It seemed that the boy just hated to second guess himself. The Doctor hated second-guessing himself, as well. Still, he knew that Adric would never give up. for Adric, there was no problem that could not be eventually solved. Just look at all the calculations he figured out in his head, just trying to locate a CVE, a totally random event. While the Doctor thought that discovering what was altered would be like trying to discover the cure for the virus that killed Harit, Adric would've taken on the job, knowing that there was a solution to every mathematical problem.
The Doctor looked over at Turlough. "I think we have to look at this problem in a new way."
"What do you mean?"
The Doctor opened his mouth, but paused. Turlough just stood his ground, his mind racing with ideas and how to excuse himself from the Doctor so he could get some food. All of a sudden, he was hungry.
The Doctor moved over to the main console, and looked at the computer screen, and watched the screen saver program display little fishes eat other little fishes. He touched the keypad, and the program vanished, replaced by the normal blue, white screen. Ready for input.
"The TARDIS picked up a flutter in the imaging array, " Turlough informed the Doctor. "it indicated a fluctuation within the continuum. Could we trace this wave back to its point of origin?"
The Doctor spoke, but didn't look up from the screen, "We already know when Harit arrived."
"We do?"
"In general," the Time Lord amended. "Still, it would be nice if we knew exactly when he arrived, and knew exactly what he altered."
"As Tegan said, dead men tell no tales."
The Doctor turned to the young man. His blue eyes starred deep into his even bluer eyes. Turlough was cold, self absorbed, spoiled alien. But, much to the Doctors disapproving stare, he had a point.
"What do you suggest?"
Turlough turned and looked at the skyline of Chicago on the view screen. He rubbed his hands together, drawing a little heat into his suddenly cold fingers. "What do I suggest?" his voice was soft, yet had a commanding tone that the Doctor had never heard before. He turned back to the Time Lord. "I suggest we go back in time, and see what we can see."
"Taking the TARDIS back is fine, but we still don't know what we're looking for. And we are not sure Harit looks the same."
"I thought Time Lords regenerated at only times of crisis."
The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Some do. Some, like the Master, had the ability to regenerate at will. If Barusa sent Harit here, it is a good chance Harits appearance was altered. Either by will, or by the Barusa, or by the trip that got him there."
"Doctor, your splitting hairs, if I got the colloquialism right. Even if he has regenerated, you have said that a Time Lord knows when he sees another Time Lord."
"I've been fooled before," he admitted softly.
"Sir Giles Estram?" the boy asked.
The Doctor looked over at him. "Yes. The Master use of the disguise and the name change fooled me, yet again. Can you wonder why I want to have all the facts before I commit myself to jumping back in time."
Turlough slumped his shoulders. Minor or major, he would have to sift through all the information he had, and discover just what was altered.
3
Hollis Gleason sat on the big couch by the window, with the head of Caleb in her lap. She idly stroked his head, feeling the roughness of his cropped hair.
His eyes were closed, and his breathing was calm and even. It had been many hours since he last slept. He would need the rest, for in a few hours, the final step in Harrison's long slide into death would be taking place: the funeral.
A cool breeze blew in from the open window behind her, and the blinds made an irritating clapping sound as the bumped up against the sill. She looked around the apartment, sensing how everything remained the same, yet now looked different. It was as if with Harrison's death, the whole place seemed to be askew. But what was out of place, beyond Harrison not being here, was beyond her perception. It was like coming into a familiar room, and knowing that something was out of place, but some how, not able to figure what it was.
She looked down a Caleb, and her heart cried out in pain for his loss. She moved her hand to his bare chest, and glided her fingers over the fine hair that covered it. She had always liked his body, the well-defined pectorals, and the flat stomach. She also hated it, because he was one of those people who didn't need to work out for that shape. It just came natural to them.
She looked past the shorts he was wearing, to his strong, and very hairy, legs, and then onto to his bare feet which she so admired. What to do?, she thought. How can I help him? Why am I so in love with him?
She closed her eyes and laid her head back, and let out a small whimper. She remembered the first time they met, back in the bookstore two years before. He was this charming, silly guy who could find the humor in anything. Almost from day one, she fell in love with him. She wrestled with the idea that it was just puppy love, and not true, deep-seated, I'll give up my life for you, type of love. This train of thought only lasted about six months, when she realized that she was madly, deeply, truly in love with him.
The hardest part of it all, was she knew he was gay. She even had spent some time
with Harrison before they spilt up. She had seen several of the other guys that Caleb was seeing after the break up. She just couldn't convince herself to admit the truth.
When Caleb had finally told Hollis why he and Harrison had broke up, she wanted to throw her arms around him, and comfort him forever. It was then she finally told him of how she felt.
He had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. "What do you mean you love me?"
Hollis lowered her eyes for a moment, thinking it was all a mistake. But now that she had spoken the words, there was no going back. "It's true. I love you. I want to be with you."
A slight smile crossed over Caleb's lips. This had been the first for him. All through his life, he had struggled with these feelings he had. He had tried to have a girlfriend when he was 14, but found, while he liked the girl, he didn't like her in that way. It was when he realized that he lusting for the quarterback on the Football team, and not the bouncing cheerleaders, did he finally except who he was. Still, in all those years, and the many that had followed, no one really had said those words to him out loud.
Even Harrison.
Now, his best friend had said those three words to him. He had to admit, it surprised him. He even said that to her.
Hollis shrugged. "I guess I never really let it slip, but you had to know that there was something more between us than friendship."
"Well, that is true, but I never thought of you in that way. I always thought of you as my sounding board, the one person I could bounce off my wild ideas. You did so much for me over these last few months."
"What do you mean?"
He reached over and grabbed her hand. "Once upon a time, my old self esteem was in the privy, and after you started working a the bookstore, you seemed to give me the strength to go on."
"I thought Harrison gave you all that."
"Yes, to some extent, he did." He paused a moment, and let his words fall in the right place. "Think of this way, Harrison came into my life when I needed him most. I was this 26 year old queer boy who couldn't get a man even to look at him, less even consider one as a longtime companion. For that's what I was looking for. I was 26, and I wanted to settle down. When I met him at the that goofy little party, I tried to resist all those feelings."
"Didn't it take a month for you two to actually get together?"
"Yes, but like always, I knew if I saw him again, we would never get beyond hello."
Hollis smiled slightly. She suddenly thought of her brother Scott. It was something he always used to say. He never felt he was good looking enough, never felt he would ever fall in love, because he was clumsy and unsure of himself. Hollis often blamed Scott's unease on their mother. For Margaret Gleason seemed to be a bitter woman, hurt by the world somehow. Or by her own father. Hollis' grandfather seemed like a nice man, but he had a mean streak in him, and it seems his daughter inherited it. She had the capability to make anyone feel lower than she did. She could plant a seed of doubt as quickly as a farmer plows his field. Hollis also believed that her mother hated her for arriving so late in her life.
She was the last of four children, and more or less an accident. Both her parents had stopped having sex after Scott was born eight years before. Their relationship, which had been strong, up until her mother got pregnant, seemed to vanish overnight. Something had happened during those preceding nine months that seemed to change the structure of the whole family .They were separated before Scott's birth, but had never went through the process of a divorce. Scott would tell her years later, of how bizarre their relationship got as the years passed. For they seemed to go out their way to hurt each other, but would sometimes act like to love sick teenagers and spend hours alone with each other. For him, Scott could never understand why they never officially divorced. They just seemed to like to be separated. They chose to live only a few miles from each other, and would visit often. Scott and his two older siblings guessed that a divorce might actually destroy their lives.
So it was a big surprise that eight years later, her Mother became pregnant with Hollis. During the next eighteen years, she would see very little of both her parents. Her mother was Professor at Northwestern, while her Father was a busy executive of financial institution. So, it was up to Scott, and the older brothers to take care of her.
Hollis knew she loved Scott more than her two older brothers, but that still didn't mean she loved them less. Scott just held a different place in her heart. It was one reason why she excepted his homosexuality better than her parents or her older brothers. Scott had often said that Hollis knew long before he did. On her defense, she would say, she knew her brother was different. She could see it in his eyes, and in his nature. He had a compassion that seemed to escape both her parents and older siblings. She had it too, but she assumed she learned it from Scott. To this day, she is convinced that Scott and her came from different parents.
She opened her eyes at Caleb's sudden movement. He was still asleep, and she could tell by the way his eyes moved, he was dreaming. She wondered what was going on in his mind. Was he dreaming of Harrison. Or Harit.
Caleb had told her about his feelings that his lover was not from this world. A year earlier, just after Harrison had ordered Caleb out of his life, he told her about all the things he knew about man. She didn't believe a word of it, at least that what she told herself. But over the last year, she spent more time with Harrison, and began to see things him that made her question what Caleb had said. Now with the arrival of this Doctor and his companions, it seemed there might have been some shred of truth in Caleb's tale of Earth Girls Are Easy.
Gently, she lifted his head off her lap, and placed on a pillow. He groaned and moved a bit, but failed to come fully awake. She stood up and stretched her fatigued body and then went towards the back room where Harrison had left all his books. She sat on the chair and turned on the small antique lamp that sat on a very old cedar chest that Caleb inherited from his grandmother. The light was soft, and only threw a small pool of brightness that was just enough for her purpose, and wouldn't bother the sleeping Caleb.
Picking up a slim volume on the Great Chicago Fire, she set about trying to learn something about this alien.
4
Cameron had spent the better part of the next day trying to find who this mysterious man was.
Sunday, October 1st had broke clear and warm. A stiff, south breeze blew, raising the dry dirt. For the first time in ages, the streets of Chicago were dry, and hard. The City was known for its muddy streets during winter and early spring. One notorious story had a traveler who is discovered buried up to his neck in this ocean of mire. Onlookers, who had come to help him, heard him say not to worry, for he was riding his horse.
Over the years, effort was made to alleviate this problem, but the truth of the matter was that by 1871 only 70 of the 530 miles of streets within the city limits had been paved, with 15 miles of them covered in cobblestones or macadam. The rest were distributed with pine blocks, giving the impression that the roads were covered in brick. Which most people wished, as the spring thaws and late summer rainstorms often made travel through the city a laborious task.
As he stood on the wooden sidewalk, some feet above the street, he surveyed his city, still filled with awe at all it accomplishments in so few short of years, with its majestic buildings that graced the center of town. And yet, it also filled him with an unsettling feeling that something was changing.
He couldn't place his fingers on what was happening; yet this stranger he had run into had occupied his thoughts like bee bouncing against a window. Why, he wondered. It was just an unfortunate soul who had not grown with the city. Once again, he was reminded of Conley's Patch.
He looked at his pocket watch and wondered if he had enough time to get a bite to eat before meeting up with George Francis Train, who was arriving on the morning locomotive from New York. Train was a friend of someone high up at the Tribune, and his editor had asked him, as a favor, if he you pick him up. At first he wanted to back out of it, knowing who Train was, but finally capitulated when he could not come up with a clever reason as to why not to meet him.
Cameron pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket. On the back was the brief description of the man he ran into yesterday, but on the front was an advertisement for a speaking engagement of Train, who was to appear at Farwell Hall on October 7. Train it seemed, was a well-known world traveler and author, who spoke mostly of moral attitudes. He was well known in the South, the bastion of religious ponderousness. Since the end of the Civil War, many leaders in the religion had gone on many travels to the North, to save the souls of "lost" people. Chicago's growth, it appeared, also equaled depravity. So, Train and his followers would gather to tell a city to come back to its moral center and to God.
While Cameron had no real opinion on God, he disliked people like Train. Like some of Chicago's most ethical leaders, some of these people had so many dark secrets; it would shame a lady of the night.
Cameron finally began walking towards the train station; his mind racing over the impending arrival of a man he knew he'd dislike and the man who was stirring feelings in him that made him very uncomfortable.
Then there was Joshua. After Cameron had seen the mysterious man again under his terrace, he became moody. Joshua had asked what was wrong, for he could always sense when people were upset. It was one of many things that made Cam love him even more. He could turn around anyone's mood. But this time, last evening, Cam 's would could not or he would not, let it change. They had an argument, and while Cameron could not remember how it started, he knows how it ended, with him telling Joshua to go to New York
(see if I care).
Joshua had stood there, framed in the doorway to the terrace, once again the sheer drapes fluttering in the evening breeze. His eyes had become saucers, and his mouth-hung open is surprise. Never, in all those years, had Cameron ever raised his voice to him, and never in such a contemptible way. Hurt, and confused, Joshua left the apartment. Cameron tried to stop him, but he realized he had said the wrong thing.
When Cameron woke up, he realized Joshua had never come home. He lay in their bed, his hand on Joshua's pillow. He wanted to cry out, to yell to him that he was sorry. But, like his own father, all that appeared to be left, was a ghost of what once was and never will be again.
Then he remembered his task and got up. As he cleaned himself and dressed, he sensed that someone had been in the apartment since Joshua left. It took him only a few moments to realize that it must've been the boy himself. Cam had noticed a few articles of clothing were gone and saw his letter that his brother gave him from his mother laying on the floor, discarded.
He picked up the letter, and folded it back up. He stuffed it back into its envelope and finished dressing. At the moment, he did not know if he would see Joshua again. And while that hung over him like stale perfume, he had to put those thoughts away. He had a job to do, plus he had to find a mysterious stranger.
* * *
It was nearly 1 PM when Cameron finally got to the Tribune. His time with Train had not proven all that eventful, for he just let the strange little man ramble on. Forced almost, Cameron had joined him for an early lunch. Sitting in the restaurant, Train prattled on about how the city was doomed (he had mentioned several times how the fires that had been breaking out were really God's punishment for all the depravity that was going on through out the states). Cameron smiled and nodded his head and ate. While he had to agree that the city did seem to be in danger of burning, he never concluded to Train that it had anything to do with places like Conley's Patch.
He went to his desk and sat down. The offices of the Tribune were located on the west side of Dearborn Street at Madison. It's a big, five-story structure, with their press machines in the basement. Offices and a library made up the first floor, with a composing room located on the fifth. It had been built two years ago, for a hefty cost of a quarter of million dollars. Published by Joseph Medill, the Tribune had grown in popularity during the Civil War. It had published many articles on the war, and many found that they could get reliable and unflinching look at the conflicts of the time. It was now one of the most influential newspapers in the city.
It was an airy place to work. It had pleasant cross breeze ventilation and seldom became too warm to work. Only the smell of the ink and paper could drive someone to distraction. He reviewed some of his messages that he gotten, though he had no secretary. He often question Robert Jones, his editor, how they came to be on his desk. But, Mr. Jones just threw his hands up and muttered something about the young kids of today.
He hastily scanned the messages, shuttling the six or seven notes into a pile on his desk. Most of the messages were from people who had to see him about what other people were doing. It seemed a lot of Chicagoians were very interested in what everyone else did. Maybe Train had a point. Didn't one of those Ten Commandments say something about not coveting anything of your neighbors? As a reporter, and one with growing popularity, he was always being asked to investigate acquaintances and friends. Most of these stories were nothing. People just jealous of what others have. Still, on occasion, one of those stories would pan out. Like the one that involved questionable practices at a lumber factory his father had invested in.
Something suddenly caught his eye, and he quickly went back to that one message. It was a brief police report -he had a source at the police station who passed on some of the more unusual activities to him. He had forgotten about the message he had sent to his secret expert. He scanned the note, and his face lit up. It told of a stranger, matching the description Cameron had given. It was about a man who had escaped police custody but had been recaptured hours after the incident at his apartment. His first smile of the day crept over his face. Shoving the paper in his pocket, Cam made his way out of the Tribune building and towards some answers he hoped that could make his life much easier.
5
Tegan Jovanka had decided that if she couldn't beat the heat, she would join it.
As the Doctor and Turlough argued over timelines, alternate realities, paradoxes and other fifth dimensional gobbly-gook, she changed into a bathing suit and with some directions from a very nice and very handsome police officer, she made her way to Oak Street Beach.
As she sat in a beach chair, she marveled at the future. Every time she arrived in Earth's future, especially an unfolding time that, in theory she would be a part of, she tried to ignore what she saw. The reason being was she knew that when she departs the TARDIS crew (whether it was next week or next year) she would leave at almost the same time she left. On the other hand, she reflected there was way too many questions asked her when she did return to London in the winter of 1982. Mostly, where the hell had she been and how could she leave at such a tragic time. It appeared the unusual death of Aunt Vanessa had caused quite a stir.
She remembers telling her family and the police about being abducted and forced to travel with the killers of her Aunt. It was so Patti Hearst, she thought. The only problem with the story was everyone continued to ask her questions. Even when she got her job with Virgin Airlines, she was still asked about the missing period of her life. She would smile, and try to explain, but she learned eventually to claim that it was all a terrible time in her life, and she wanted to forget it.
Eventually, her wanderlust got the best of her. In early 1983 she was sacked from her job. Angry at first, she sulked around her flat before getting a call from Colin to meet him and Robin in Amsterdam. The rest, as they say, is history.
By her calculations, it was late 1983 for her, but as she looked out at Lake Michigan, it was summer 2001. A whole new millenium had begun, with sights and sounds that could boggle the mind. Should she stay in this time or return to 1983? What would be the consequences of reappearing after nearly 20 years? The one fun part about arriving in a time that spanned your own life, was to look up friends and relatives and see how they've gotten on. Of course, she had just a few family members living back in 1983, but it would be nice to see if it has grown.
This was when the Doctors voice would invade her thoughts. He would often say that she should ignore what she sees, because this could impact her future when she returned to her own time. She would argue that there was no way anything she saw in Earth's future could effect how she would live. Of course, she had some inkling about this disease that was ravaging the planet. But because it impacted her so little, she ignored a lot of the news reports. Which was ironic, considering she worked in an industry that had a lot of gay men. The Doctor thought her naïve, and maybe he had a point.
Picking up some sand, she tossed it in the air, and watched the wind pick it up and settle it down at a new location. Like the sand, she herself always felt like a shifting dune. She was sure that this nomadic lifestyle would eventually pass and she would settle down with a house, a husband and 2.5 children. But now, at age 21 with a whole universe literally before her, submerging herself in such a lifestyle was far from ever going to happen.
Her thought migrated to what was happening now. She really did not know how feel about all this time stuff. For the first time since she wandered in, the issue of alternate universes, and such had reared its head. Why was this suddenly all coming up? Where had she been since joining the TARDIS crew? Lets see, she thought raising her right hand to count on her fingers from Earth 1981 to 1666 to 1925 to 1982 to 1977. On too her left she started with 1983 to 1215 (she couldn't even calculate what time period Gallifrey existed in) to 2001.
She jammed her hands, suddenly, into the sand; frustration pumping through her body like hot tea. Time, she thought. This was not a time to discuss time.
Of course, she was wrong.
6
When he was a child, one of the things Caleb Parker remembered was that he could spend hours playing by himself. He became a loner at a young age; something he continued most of his adult life. Even after he met and stayed with Harrison, he took much pleasure in being alone.
But most of his childhood had vanished down a dark pit, just like the white rabbit in Lewis Carroll's story about a girl named Alice. His memories of that time were mixed. He had often told Harrison that most of his childhood memories came from his mother and their extended family. It appeared that the death of his father at age five had sent him spinning out of control. Only later, when much water had passed under many bridges, and many blue moon's had come and gone, did he learn of his odd, and really bizarre behavior. He was told that when he spent time in school, anytime the teacher left the room, he would scramble into a corner or the washroom and hide, afraid that they would never return like his father. He also easily attached himself to other people, in particular his Aunt. She was married to his mother's brother, and for some reason, Caleb found her more comforting than his own mother. Caleb could never put into words how he felt about her, accept that maybe she would save him from the cruelty of his Uncle and Grandfather. Or, because she had two girls, maybe he was giving her the opportunity she would never have until her grandson was born decades later. Or maybe she knew he was different for all the other kids. He certainly was more emotional than any other man within the family was, and she seemed to enjoy that.
And it wasn't like he hated his grandfather. It was just he never really new who he was. A few years ago, on one of his rare visits with his mother, she showed him some old photos of his grandfather and his grandmother before they were married -images that even she had never seen. She showed him a love letter that her Father had written her Mother in the years before they wed. It was amazing, for it demonstrated to Caleb that his grandfather -at least before he was married- was able to write with great emotion. Why he hid that for all the years he had known him, he was unsure. Even Caleb's mother was surprised; saying that she too never knew her father could be so passionate. They had such a tenuous relationship and she admitted years later -over both her parents' graves- that she never felt his loss as with her Mothers.
Now he had to face a loss without his family support. But it wasn't because they could not, it was just they all lived out of state. And he never bothered to call them. He was aware that his mother disliked Harrison, but he could never figure what it was that drove her crazy. While at times his mother voiced her opinion whether you wanted to hear or not, she decided that her conclusion's about the man her son loved would never be mouthed.
In the bedroom they had shared for so many years, Caleb Parker sat in the chair that faced the bed. After Hollis had departed an hour or so ago, he had showered and decided he needed to get to the funeral home and conclude all the arrangements. Hollis and Big Bob were going to meet him there.
But that was another three hours from now. At this moment he wanted to be alone and try to piece all his thoughts together. The last 48 hours had proven the most bizarre. From Harrison calling him after a 6 months silence, his passionate plea for Caleb to be at Mom's and his meeting with an alien who could help him reverse his lover's errors. And then Harrison's death to a surreal conversation about time travel.
Only later, after the Doctor and his companions had left and Hollis had maneuvered her way into staying the night, had Caleb got a chance to understand what was going on.
Time travel.
It was so Star Trek. What was the old theory they proposed in that movie with the wales? Their stolen ship went into warp by using the gravity of the sun, sling shooting them into time travel mode. Was it possible?
Caleb, having no science background beyond watching his favorite sci fi TV series like Star Trek, knew that time machines were impossible to exist. But he also knew that time travel was not against the laws of physics. It was just not a reality, as of yet.
As he sat in his favorite chair that was once his grandfather's, Caleb shook his head and tried to sort this time travel stuff out his head. His eyes came to rest on a picture of an old friend, a childhood friend who had vanished from his life like the dinosaurs. For a moment, he wondered why he kept the picture, let alone display it. But the moment passed, because he knew why he kept the picture. Max was his name, and as long as Cameron could remember, he was madly in love with him.
But, it took him years to know that. They had been childhood friends, living only a half block from each other. Max was tall, a lanky with dark brown, wavy hair. He wasn't athletic, but was into many sports. Both playing them and watching them. A while they never really had the same interests, they could spend hours together doing whatever. They both appeared to need each other. Caleb's father was dead, and Max's Dad was one those typical males that showed no emotional depth what so ever. Caleb began to think that the reason they hung around each other was because they gave each other emotional support. And then physical support. And some where in their friendship, and even Caleb is not sure when it started, they became romantically involved. Perhaps it was mutual causes, in the sense that his parents were strict as was Caleb's mother. Perhaps they were drawn together because there was a missing link in their relationships with their parents. Or it was just a need to feel loved.
When his parents divorced a few years later, Max moved with his Mother to Texas. They would write each other, and Caleb would treasure those letters, reading them many times over, and keeping them for years. A few years passed, and Max returned to area. It seemed he was going through his teenage rebel years, and Mom was not putting up with it (she started her own business, and became very successful. She even remarried), so Max came home to live with his father. They both restarted their relationship, but Caleb noticed that Max was becoming increasingly unsure about where things were going. He started to have a string of girl friends. And the girls he did go out with usually came from well to do families. Caleb often thought that because Max had little money, these girls, with Mommy and Daddy's money, would pay for the many things his own father could not give him.
During the later half of their teenage years, they both grew distant from each other. For Caleb, it was the understanding of who he was, and for Max, maybe it was he knew what he might be. It was that unspoken issue that seemed to drive a stake through their friendship. That and the fact Max had joined the army, for a four-year tour.
If there could be one defining moment in their relationship, it had to start there. From then on, they had little physical contact. It became an unspoken part of their friendship. They could hangout together, but no sex. It was like a child who finally decided that they were done playing with their toys and it was time to grow up. Time to put away childhood crushes. Time to act like an adult.
When he packed up and moved to southern California, their friendship did come to an end. They still kept in contact, but it was like they were strangers in a crowed room full of family. Caleb followed him to San Francisco a year later, when he called offering a great job and a fantastic place to live. Caleb was like a giddy schoolgirl, hoping against hope, that things could return to the way they were.
But they were dashed, just like the San Francisco Bay does to the Rock. Bashing its hard rock walls with cold, and bitter seawater.
So, Caleb started to hate him, tried to hate him. He made comments on how he walked, how he talked, how he ran this business as manager of a local movie theater complex. Eventually, tired of all the problems, Max gave up and decided to study sports medicine back in Chicago. He moved, leaving Caleb to defend for himself, until 6 months later, he too returned home. But the would see little of each other. And by now, Caleb was accepting that he was gay and when he finally told Max a few years ago, that revelation opened a gap bigger than when Moses parted the Red Sea in the campy Ten Commandments movie.
About a year ago, in a revaluation of his life, Caleb finally discovered that Max was his first love. And his anger at Max's departure from his life was based on that fact. But, Max could not accept that he Caleb loved him. He was involved with a school doing sports medicine (Caleb had visited the facility, and was convinced then, as he is now, that this was Max hiding in plain sight) and was seeing this girl. Max had told Caleb he was going to marry her. And as far as Caleb knows, he did. He was not invited, for Max felt his boyhood friend might make a scene.
Love is a bitch, all right.
The phone rang, startling Caleb from his drowsy memories. He grabbed the cordless. It was Big Bob, and he was asking if he could do anything? Caleb got up from his chair and walked around the apartment, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. He wanted to say yes, how about bringing my love back? Then he decided that might not be a good idea. What he didn't need was people descending on him, thinking he might be suicidal. Thanking him, he said no. Then Bob had asked what time he should pick him up. Caleb looked at the kitchen clock, and noticed that cat tail pendulum had stopped moving. The clock had stopped at 2:45, on or about, the time of Harrison's death.
Caleb's heart began to pound in his chest, fluttering against his ribcage like a bird. He told Big Bob to call back in an hour, and he'll tell him when to pick him up. Quickly punching the off button on the phone, Caleb walked over to the wall, and to the black cat clock. He hated the thing, but Harrison loved it. For the life of him, he could never understand why, but he liked it.
The battery must have died reasoned Parker. But it was odd that it stopped then. Wasn't? He took the clock off the wall, and turned it over. There was no batteries in the slot were there should be. As a matter of fact, there was no inner working at all. It was smooth as a go-go boy's chest. He dropped the clock, and it smashed onto the floor, scattering pieces in every direction.
He stepped back, feeling as if the room was spinning. He stepped on the pendulum tail of the clock and he nearly toppled over. He regained his footing, before he fell. He backed out of the kitchen, as if the walls were slowly peeling away from the frame of the apartment. He turned and ran down the hall, his towel fluttering to the floor like a bird with its wings clipped. He reached the bathroom and doubled over as he threw up into the toilet. Nothing much came out, because he had not really eaten in two days. As he dry heaved into the bowel, tears welled into his eyes.
As moments passed, and his sickness feeling had passed, he lowered himself to the cool floor. There he lay there, naked, on the floor. His breath grew ragged and he suddenly did not want to be here anymore. He suddenly felt the need to escape, to leave this empty house. To escape all this death.
He needed to find the Doctor.