I am hoping that this fic will become mute as the real thing comes to pass but until then, I wanted a little resolution -- just for me -- maybe others will enjoy too.



There was only darkness; night eternal. The world had spiralled in upon itself creating a brilliant point of light which then winked out.

Only an infinite void remained.

And then, in the nothingness, like the dawn of a new day, the light returned. It was dim at first -- no bigger than a pin-prick. Steadily it grew bigger, stronger, brighter.

At the centre of the light Veronica, the protector stood. She cried out with pain and exhaustion. Gritting her teeth, she thrust the trion higher still. Finally, exerting every ounce of strength she possessed, her sheer will power set the plateau to work healing itself. Completely spent, she collapsed.

********

"Not here," Finn gasped. One second she'd been with Veronica in the middle of a light storm whipping through the tree-house, then she no more than blinked and her she was back in the future; the time where she'd been born and where she had never wanted to return.

Slavers in a frankensteinian vehicle were coming up fast. She rolled to her feet and kept moving, running as fast as she could. She headed for the trees hoping that by the time she reached the tree-house she would be back in the time she had claimed as her own.

Behind her, Finn heard the slaver car slide on the grass and slam into a tree. She didn't stop, slow, or spare a glance over her shoulder. There were always more slavers.

********

Lord John Roxton crouched behind a fallen tree. His gun was useless -- all ammunition gone. The conquistadors were closing in. "Marguerite," he said under his breath, "wherever you are, may it be a better place than this." He shut his mind determinedly to the possibility that she could be in greater trouble than he. Grabbing up a heavy stick, he jumped out and hollered, "Come on!"

Laughing at the English lord's seemingly ineffectual weapon, the Spaniards charged as Ferdinand Perez had ordered.

Swinging wildly, Roxton caught the first conquistador across the face sending his helmet flying. Without any wasted movement, the hunter swept the limb along the ground tripping two more of the determined Spaniards.

The now familiar rippling crawled across the area and Roxton found himself alone. "Well," he muttered, "that was convenient." Just to be sure, he checked behind the trees for any sign of the anachronistic warriors. "Now, Marguerite, just where are you?" He wasn't sure where -- or when-- to start looking for her, but he began his search all the same.

********

In a barren white room, Professor George Challenger lay strapped and unable to move upon a stark metal table. He watched with horrified fascination the scalpel which was steadily, ominously nearing his forehead. "Listen to me," he tried to reason with Icarus, the mindless, once human automaton who bore the surgical knife. "You can't do this."

The poor creature's eyes were vacant and unresponsive.

"I can help you," Challenger pleaded, "I may be your world's only hope."

The mechanical voice with it's false female persona interrupted the scientist, taunting him, "You would save a world but you can not even save yourself."

Icarus stopped and seemed to freeze in place.

"Continue the operation," the machine prodded. But the mute human refused to move. "You cannot defy your superiors."

Once again the scalpel moved. Challenger twisted his head in a vain attempt to avoid the sharp, deadly blade. The scientist was astonished that the scalpel moved on past his face and sliced into the white bands holding him to the cold slab.

"You are behaving inappropriately," the female voice berated calmly. "Stop or you will be punished."

Icarus cut through the remaining straps and dropped the scalpel. Without a glance at Challenger, the pale, bald human approached the tall obelisk which stood in one corner of the white room.

Sounding somewhat irritated, the voice from the shining white pillar said, "Stop now! Icarus, you must obey."

Throwing his arms around the blank obelisk, he ripped and shoved soundlessly until with sparks flying, the machine began to give.

Icarus fell, bearing the pillar to the floor. The machine kept repeating it's litany, "You must stop, you must stop."

Challenger never had the chance to assist the mountainous man because the time ripples grabbed him and wisked him from the frighteningly sterile future.

********