The Passing of Time
~ by Lanabana
~ This is my own interpretation of characters created by JJ, however I have created some of my own for my master plan!
~ In this chapter I refer to "Giovanni Donato" he was a brief character from the first season who was skilled in fixing Rambadli's clocks, he let it slip that Rambaldi had promised him an unusually long life, I have drawn my own conclusions in connection to s SPOILER that says Vaughn tells Syd his watch his dad gave him stopped the day he met her.
~ Once again I am fictionalizing actual Russian history that I have studied in school, most of it is true except for Milo and Sophia, and any mistakes I make (shocking I know, yet possible) but I have tried to stick to the facts.
~ Okay this WAS going to be the last PAST chapter but it started to be like TEN pages long, so I'm separating it, its kind'a scary actually because this story is starting to take over and tell itself! So sorry its taking so long, but this part is the whole POINT of the FUTURE chapters!
~ PAST (cont.) ~
Time passed by both Milo and Sophia. Time does that you know, no matter where one lives, or when one lives, time always lives longer.
Milo became a young, restless man, arrogantly knowledgeable. He had no deep passion nor conviction; he was simply a genius, aimlessly searching for meaning.
For all his brilliance he thoughtlessly had a brief romance with the mayor's daughter, Alicia. To rescue her reputation her parents quickly married her off to one of Milo's best friends, Giovanni Donato. Other than his only flaw (his friendship with Milo, who had taught him all he knew about clocks, and how to fix some of his own creations) he seemed as normal as can be, something that couldn't have pleased Alicia's parents more.
In truth, Milo was thrilled, for 8 months later Alicia gave birth to a handsome baby boy with bright green eyes and a familiarly dimpled chin. But she was married, and he was free, free to leave, so that's just what he did.
By the time he was 18 the Pope had heard of Milo's brilliance, and extended an invitation for him to come and live in the Vatican, where he could continue his personal studies and perfect his craftsmanship.
Before he left his humble village, he returned to his favorite spot. It was nestled deep in the valley, where a soothing stream rippled through the middle of a quiet clearing. On the bank stood a small rock formation. The tiny tower served as a sundial that had mesmerized him as a small boy. Here was the birth of Milo's great curiosity with clocks and time.
Mount Sabasio was known for its beautiful peak, as well as its glorious sunsets, but Milo was fairly certain he was the only one who believed his secret spot was the true "beauty of Mt. Sabasio." It had a calming effect that caused one to sit and ponder, and if unable to draw any astounding conclusions, the tower would point their eyes upward to the source of all unanswered questions, or at least that's what the Monks had told him.
He tucked his childhood memories safely away for later use, and began to collect new ones, in a place vastly different from the tiny town of Parma. Rome was alive, spiritually, politically, and most important to Milo, educationally.
When he arrived, the Pope had given him a leather journal as a gift, proof that even the Pope isn't perfect and is in need of Christ's grace, he can't be blamed really. How was he to know the bazaar ideas Milo would begin to write down on the innocently pure white sheets of paper?
Milo started as a simple observer absorbing all he could; he painted portraits and created trinkets, and was the talk of the town. It was talking that he loved best, and he did, with every brilliant mind he could find. He wasn't loud or obnoxious just genuinely curious and overly eager to know everything.
This became his greatest pastime, there was nothing he wouldn't do to please those he wanted to know and learn from. He was obsessed with learning and creating theories, no matter how bazaar they appeared to be, and they soon became VERY bazaar.
So as brilliant people often do, Milo soon became eccentric, quiet and wild- eyed; reclusive in his laboratory, consumed with his creations. He became obsessed with proving himself to his peers, to prove that the rumors about him weren't true, that he wasn't insane but truly ingenious.
And time passed on.
Time, he wanted to stop it, the great unstoppable power. He wanted to freeze time, and stay young and brilliant forever. He wanted to reverse time, to start over, or visit the past and discover who he truly was, find an explanation for his madness. He wanted to make time obsolete, to be its master, to be infinitely immortal - like God.
~~ Meanwhile ~~
Sophia was biding her time as the wife of a chief Mongolian oppressor. Many were confused by her outwardly pleasant and loving attitude towards her captor. Fellow oppressed Russians believed she was a traitor, and her captors believed she was the picture perfect wife.
But there is much more to a picture than what meets the eye. Behind a pretty painting is an intricately woven canvas, hidden and often forgotten; once the rain falls and the storm blows, causing the oils melt away, its strength and endurance is revealed.
Sophia was earning the trust of her enemies, and in doing so learning their secrets and weaknesses. She had even given birth to a beautiful baby girl; she named her Anastasia, which means "Resurrection." Stasia was Sophia's hope for the Resurrection of her Russian people, and her own salvation from a life of lies and deception.
The two were inseparable; the only genuine source of love in the house was between mother and daughter. But Sophia's love was filtered through fear, fear for her daughter's safety, sanity, and sense of self. Unknowingly Sophia, passed down her fear, accompanied by feelings of distrust and bitterness, hidden well behind a mask of happiness, not a healthy heritage to inherit.
But time passed on.
Stasia was growing quickly into a clever young lady. She rivaled her mother in beauty and had the advantage of a secret education. She was a silent observer of the game her mother played with her unknowing father.
They were all smiles in public, but secretly, her husband grew suspicious. His wife had become, by far, the most beautiful woman for hundreds of miles, many men had noticed and he was insanely jealous. He grew violent at times and took out his frustration on Sophia. After a while she allowed herself to cry only on the inside, she refused to get emotionally attached to a man she swore she would one day destroy.
She longed for the day she would be free, at night she would dream of the future, wishing its arrival to come quickly. Sometimes she wished she could start over from the moment of her abduction, she wished she had fought harder.
But she knew the truth, that truth itself takes time. She couldn't change the past, and she couldn't make the future arrive any faster. No, she would simply have to stand the test of time.
She prayed to a god she didn't know, to save her from the hell she was in. She ached for her daughter, for her safety in the household of monsters. And she waited, patiently for salvation to come.
And one day when she wasn't looking it came, her husband's fist hit her in just the right place on her face, and the last thing she saw was her terrified daughter leaning over her with tears streaming down her cheeks.
When her eyes fluttered open she looked up to see what she thought must be an unearthly being. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and was touching her cheek softly.
"Hello" said the angel, "My name is Daniel, you're safe."
She forced her eyes to glance past him to the area surrounding her; she wasn't at home, and yet she was. It was like the home of her youth; it was damp and dirty, and warm and welcoming all at the same time. She tried to sit up, but struggled and allowed Daniel to help her.
"Thank you" she mumbled, then panicked "my daughter, where's my daughter?"
"I'm here mother," she felt loving arms surround her.
"Where are we? Have we died and gone to Heaven!?!" She weakly attempted humor.
Daniel informed her that both she and her daughter had been found lying lifeless in a field not far from the house. Apparently, in a drunken rage her husband had had his fill of them both and ordered them out of the house and left for dead.
This news did not set Sophia at ease, for she knew that once her husband regained his senses his insane jealousy and selfishness would want her back in his possession. But over the next few days, as she recovered her strength, a plan began to form in her mind.
The family, who had taken them in, was kind and seemed very popular in the community for they entertained many visitors. Sophia noticed that they often held quiet conferences out in the barn. One night, when her curiosity got the best of her, she hid behind the barn and strained to hear the heated debate going on inside.
Those within spoke of revolution, freedom, and a leader named Ivan. Sophia's blood quickened with terror and excitement. She longed to help, she felt that her hour of vengeance was at hand, she buried all feelings of fear and boldly opened the barn door.
"You need my help." She proclaimed in a quietly confident voice.
Some were startled others skeptical, after all she was married to the enemy! The room erupted in commotion and chaos.
"GREAT she'll turn us in for sure!"
"Daniel I warned you, you should have left them where you found them!"
"I knew it, I knew, we'll all be killed for sure, oh I KNEW IT!"
Amidst the angry shouts, Daniel silently studied their intruder, without words he sensed her sincerity and something else he couldn't quite define.
He had watched Sophia and her daughter over the past few days. One could plainly see that they were close, clinging to each other for dear life. They seemed so warm and delightful, but there was always something else hidden beneath their sweet smiles. They were unlike other royal family members who had intruded upon them before; they were gracious and thankful, very undemanding. They seemed almost too grateful, and in no hurry to leave.
This fact had puzzled Daniel. Why would the wife and daughter of a man in power wish to stay in a humble cottage? But as he studied her now he knew the truth, the answer was in his own question; they longed for freedom as much as everyone else did in that room.
He could see it in her eyes, she had lived in fear, for her life, and for Stasia's life; she was desperate, but more than that, she was determined. If they were to fail in their attempt, or even refuse to allow her to help, she would do it herself; she was just offering them the privilege of her assistance, all of the sudden he knew he'd rather have her as an ally.
"ENOUGH!!!"
The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Daniel, "She can help us, she WILL help us!"
And that was that. She and Daniel came up with a plan; she promised to return to the palace, and help them bring down the Mongolian dynasty from within, if they promised to hide and protect her daughter. Stasia would reclaim her last name, and with it begin a new life, start a new heritage for the Derevko family. The deal was made, and mother and daughter were ripped apart.
"Why!?! Mother please take me with you, I can HELP! I'll help you!"
"No my love, I can only do what I have to do if I know you are safe and well, it is for you I am doing this, for us, so we can be free, I want you to be free and happy, promise me you will."
"NEVER! I will always hate him for this, and if you don't kill him I WILL, I'll kill them ALL!!!"
The violent words coming out of her precious daughter's mouth sent a chill throughout her entire body. Sophia stood stunned watching Stasia run away into the field. She had lost her, physically, emotionally, and worst of all she feared she had crushed her spirit forever.
This possibility was more devastating to her than the job that was before her. She told herself that the quicker she completed her mission, the quicker she could return and repair the damage that was done.
So she left, returned to hell to set the captives free. One wonders if she would have gone, had she known she would never see her daughter again. That in the end Stasia would run away to assist in the revolution, offering her experience and expertise; continuing the life of lies that her mother had unintentionally started.
And time passed by.
~ by Lanabana
~ This is my own interpretation of characters created by JJ, however I have created some of my own for my master plan!
~ In this chapter I refer to "Giovanni Donato" he was a brief character from the first season who was skilled in fixing Rambadli's clocks, he let it slip that Rambaldi had promised him an unusually long life, I have drawn my own conclusions in connection to s SPOILER that says Vaughn tells Syd his watch his dad gave him stopped the day he met her.
~ Once again I am fictionalizing actual Russian history that I have studied in school, most of it is true except for Milo and Sophia, and any mistakes I make (shocking I know, yet possible) but I have tried to stick to the facts.
~ Okay this WAS going to be the last PAST chapter but it started to be like TEN pages long, so I'm separating it, its kind'a scary actually because this story is starting to take over and tell itself! So sorry its taking so long, but this part is the whole POINT of the FUTURE chapters!
~ PAST (cont.) ~
Time passed by both Milo and Sophia. Time does that you know, no matter where one lives, or when one lives, time always lives longer.
Milo became a young, restless man, arrogantly knowledgeable. He had no deep passion nor conviction; he was simply a genius, aimlessly searching for meaning.
For all his brilliance he thoughtlessly had a brief romance with the mayor's daughter, Alicia. To rescue her reputation her parents quickly married her off to one of Milo's best friends, Giovanni Donato. Other than his only flaw (his friendship with Milo, who had taught him all he knew about clocks, and how to fix some of his own creations) he seemed as normal as can be, something that couldn't have pleased Alicia's parents more.
In truth, Milo was thrilled, for 8 months later Alicia gave birth to a handsome baby boy with bright green eyes and a familiarly dimpled chin. But she was married, and he was free, free to leave, so that's just what he did.
By the time he was 18 the Pope had heard of Milo's brilliance, and extended an invitation for him to come and live in the Vatican, where he could continue his personal studies and perfect his craftsmanship.
Before he left his humble village, he returned to his favorite spot. It was nestled deep in the valley, where a soothing stream rippled through the middle of a quiet clearing. On the bank stood a small rock formation. The tiny tower served as a sundial that had mesmerized him as a small boy. Here was the birth of Milo's great curiosity with clocks and time.
Mount Sabasio was known for its beautiful peak, as well as its glorious sunsets, but Milo was fairly certain he was the only one who believed his secret spot was the true "beauty of Mt. Sabasio." It had a calming effect that caused one to sit and ponder, and if unable to draw any astounding conclusions, the tower would point their eyes upward to the source of all unanswered questions, or at least that's what the Monks had told him.
He tucked his childhood memories safely away for later use, and began to collect new ones, in a place vastly different from the tiny town of Parma. Rome was alive, spiritually, politically, and most important to Milo, educationally.
When he arrived, the Pope had given him a leather journal as a gift, proof that even the Pope isn't perfect and is in need of Christ's grace, he can't be blamed really. How was he to know the bazaar ideas Milo would begin to write down on the innocently pure white sheets of paper?
Milo started as a simple observer absorbing all he could; he painted portraits and created trinkets, and was the talk of the town. It was talking that he loved best, and he did, with every brilliant mind he could find. He wasn't loud or obnoxious just genuinely curious and overly eager to know everything.
This became his greatest pastime, there was nothing he wouldn't do to please those he wanted to know and learn from. He was obsessed with learning and creating theories, no matter how bazaar they appeared to be, and they soon became VERY bazaar.
So as brilliant people often do, Milo soon became eccentric, quiet and wild- eyed; reclusive in his laboratory, consumed with his creations. He became obsessed with proving himself to his peers, to prove that the rumors about him weren't true, that he wasn't insane but truly ingenious.
And time passed on.
Time, he wanted to stop it, the great unstoppable power. He wanted to freeze time, and stay young and brilliant forever. He wanted to reverse time, to start over, or visit the past and discover who he truly was, find an explanation for his madness. He wanted to make time obsolete, to be its master, to be infinitely immortal - like God.
~~ Meanwhile ~~
Sophia was biding her time as the wife of a chief Mongolian oppressor. Many were confused by her outwardly pleasant and loving attitude towards her captor. Fellow oppressed Russians believed she was a traitor, and her captors believed she was the picture perfect wife.
But there is much more to a picture than what meets the eye. Behind a pretty painting is an intricately woven canvas, hidden and often forgotten; once the rain falls and the storm blows, causing the oils melt away, its strength and endurance is revealed.
Sophia was earning the trust of her enemies, and in doing so learning their secrets and weaknesses. She had even given birth to a beautiful baby girl; she named her Anastasia, which means "Resurrection." Stasia was Sophia's hope for the Resurrection of her Russian people, and her own salvation from a life of lies and deception.
The two were inseparable; the only genuine source of love in the house was between mother and daughter. But Sophia's love was filtered through fear, fear for her daughter's safety, sanity, and sense of self. Unknowingly Sophia, passed down her fear, accompanied by feelings of distrust and bitterness, hidden well behind a mask of happiness, not a healthy heritage to inherit.
But time passed on.
Stasia was growing quickly into a clever young lady. She rivaled her mother in beauty and had the advantage of a secret education. She was a silent observer of the game her mother played with her unknowing father.
They were all smiles in public, but secretly, her husband grew suspicious. His wife had become, by far, the most beautiful woman for hundreds of miles, many men had noticed and he was insanely jealous. He grew violent at times and took out his frustration on Sophia. After a while she allowed herself to cry only on the inside, she refused to get emotionally attached to a man she swore she would one day destroy.
She longed for the day she would be free, at night she would dream of the future, wishing its arrival to come quickly. Sometimes she wished she could start over from the moment of her abduction, she wished she had fought harder.
But she knew the truth, that truth itself takes time. She couldn't change the past, and she couldn't make the future arrive any faster. No, she would simply have to stand the test of time.
She prayed to a god she didn't know, to save her from the hell she was in. She ached for her daughter, for her safety in the household of monsters. And she waited, patiently for salvation to come.
And one day when she wasn't looking it came, her husband's fist hit her in just the right place on her face, and the last thing she saw was her terrified daughter leaning over her with tears streaming down her cheeks.
When her eyes fluttered open she looked up to see what she thought must be an unearthly being. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and was touching her cheek softly.
"Hello" said the angel, "My name is Daniel, you're safe."
She forced her eyes to glance past him to the area surrounding her; she wasn't at home, and yet she was. It was like the home of her youth; it was damp and dirty, and warm and welcoming all at the same time. She tried to sit up, but struggled and allowed Daniel to help her.
"Thank you" she mumbled, then panicked "my daughter, where's my daughter?"
"I'm here mother," she felt loving arms surround her.
"Where are we? Have we died and gone to Heaven!?!" She weakly attempted humor.
Daniel informed her that both she and her daughter had been found lying lifeless in a field not far from the house. Apparently, in a drunken rage her husband had had his fill of them both and ordered them out of the house and left for dead.
This news did not set Sophia at ease, for she knew that once her husband regained his senses his insane jealousy and selfishness would want her back in his possession. But over the next few days, as she recovered her strength, a plan began to form in her mind.
The family, who had taken them in, was kind and seemed very popular in the community for they entertained many visitors. Sophia noticed that they often held quiet conferences out in the barn. One night, when her curiosity got the best of her, she hid behind the barn and strained to hear the heated debate going on inside.
Those within spoke of revolution, freedom, and a leader named Ivan. Sophia's blood quickened with terror and excitement. She longed to help, she felt that her hour of vengeance was at hand, she buried all feelings of fear and boldly opened the barn door.
"You need my help." She proclaimed in a quietly confident voice.
Some were startled others skeptical, after all she was married to the enemy! The room erupted in commotion and chaos.
"GREAT she'll turn us in for sure!"
"Daniel I warned you, you should have left them where you found them!"
"I knew it, I knew, we'll all be killed for sure, oh I KNEW IT!"
Amidst the angry shouts, Daniel silently studied their intruder, without words he sensed her sincerity and something else he couldn't quite define.
He had watched Sophia and her daughter over the past few days. One could plainly see that they were close, clinging to each other for dear life. They seemed so warm and delightful, but there was always something else hidden beneath their sweet smiles. They were unlike other royal family members who had intruded upon them before; they were gracious and thankful, very undemanding. They seemed almost too grateful, and in no hurry to leave.
This fact had puzzled Daniel. Why would the wife and daughter of a man in power wish to stay in a humble cottage? But as he studied her now he knew the truth, the answer was in his own question; they longed for freedom as much as everyone else did in that room.
He could see it in her eyes, she had lived in fear, for her life, and for Stasia's life; she was desperate, but more than that, she was determined. If they were to fail in their attempt, or even refuse to allow her to help, she would do it herself; she was just offering them the privilege of her assistance, all of the sudden he knew he'd rather have her as an ally.
"ENOUGH!!!"
The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Daniel, "She can help us, she WILL help us!"
And that was that. She and Daniel came up with a plan; she promised to return to the palace, and help them bring down the Mongolian dynasty from within, if they promised to hide and protect her daughter. Stasia would reclaim her last name, and with it begin a new life, start a new heritage for the Derevko family. The deal was made, and mother and daughter were ripped apart.
"Why!?! Mother please take me with you, I can HELP! I'll help you!"
"No my love, I can only do what I have to do if I know you are safe and well, it is for you I am doing this, for us, so we can be free, I want you to be free and happy, promise me you will."
"NEVER! I will always hate him for this, and if you don't kill him I WILL, I'll kill them ALL!!!"
The violent words coming out of her precious daughter's mouth sent a chill throughout her entire body. Sophia stood stunned watching Stasia run away into the field. She had lost her, physically, emotionally, and worst of all she feared she had crushed her spirit forever.
This possibility was more devastating to her than the job that was before her. She told herself that the quicker she completed her mission, the quicker she could return and repair the damage that was done.
So she left, returned to hell to set the captives free. One wonders if she would have gone, had she known she would never see her daughter again. That in the end Stasia would run away to assist in the revolution, offering her experience and expertise; continuing the life of lies that her mother had unintentionally started.
And time passed by.