Soul of The City Installment 1

by Mike Paterno

This fanfic, the sequel to TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS, is the seventh in a series that introduced Mark Perini as McGinty's bar manager. Mark has the chance to see what the city of Chicago would be like without Gary and it isn't very pretty.

SOUL OF THE CITY

By Mike Paterno

Disclaimer: Early Edition, it's situations and characters (with the exceptions of Mark Perini, Amma Perini, the twins {Gianfranco & Cassandra Perini} and Frank Molina, all whom I created and own) are the property of CBS Productions and Columbia/Tri-Star Television. This fanfic is meant for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

Rating: PG-14 (Language, Violence and Mature themes)

Spoilers: Pilot, The Wall, Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight, Home, Collision and Blowing Up Is Hard To Do

Summary: This fanfic, the sequel to TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS, is the seventh in a series that introduced Mark Perini as McGinty's bar manager. In this story, Gary and Amma plan to get married and Gary asks Mark to be his best man. Mark accepts and later that night, before going to bed, mentions to Marissa that he thinks The Paper has finally done something good for Gary. Mark wakes up the following morning and finds everything that he has known for the past few years has changed drastically, and Gary Hobson, for some unknown reason, has never existed. Mark has the chance to see what the city of Chicago would be like without Gary and it isn't very pretty.

Authors Notes: I dedicate this fanfic to Kade Volz and Rose Kane. I would like to take the time to thank them for encouraging me to continue on with this series of fanfics and more importantly, for being true friends. If you have enjoyed reading this series, please let me know. Your comments, feedback or suggestions of any type are very important to me and always encouraged. They may be directed to: Mpaterno234aol.com

CHAPTER ONE

Gary had just come back from the jewelers with the engagement ring he had got for Amma. He was looking around McGinty's to give it to her, when he spotted Mark behind the front bar, fixing a drink for a customer. With a big smile on his face, Gary walked over to Mark and sat down at the bar.

"Hey, Mark, how's it goin' today?"

Mark smiled back, "Not too bad, future cousin-in-law, how 'bout yourself?"

"Great," Gary replied, "I just picked up Amma's engagement ring and can't wait to give it to her! Oh! That reminds me," his smile became broader and he had a twinkle in his eye, "Amma and I discussed this and we'd both like for you to be the best man at our wedding."

"I'd be honored, Gary," Mark answered, "The two of you make a great couple and I couldn't think of anyone else that I'd like to see get married to each other."

"Great! She's gonna ask Marissa be her maid of honor and her father, your uncle Angelo, is gonna give her away."

"Well, at least he'll show up for her wedding," grumbled Mark, "I'm still mad at him for not coming to Marissa's and mine. The man raised me, and up until I married Marissa, acted like my father. I'm not at all sorry for the way I feel towards him, so don't expect me to go out of my way to make him feel welcome."

Gary shook his head, "That's between you and him, but don't you let it get the way of the wedding. I think Amma said she'd try and smooth things over with him, but if she can't, just remember to keep your cool."

"You know me better than that, Gary," Mark replied, "Or at least I thought you did."

"I know, you'll try and keep it to yourself," Gary smiled and patted Mark on the back, "It seems like The Paper is finally letting me have a life of my own. For over six years, The Paper has got in the way of me having a decent relationship, but now....I still can't believe she asked me to marry her!"

"Maybe this is what The Paper had in mind all along, Gary," Mark smiled back at him, "After all, she got The Paper back in Philly and her life hasn't been a bed of roses, either."

"That's true, I guess you could be right." Gary stood up and began walking towards the office, but turned back to face Mark, "Don't tell Marissa about the maid of honor thing. I think Amma wanted to ask her herself."

"Sure thing, Gary, I won't mention it."

"Mark, pal, one other thing...."

"What?"

"Try to forgive your uncle. I know it's difficult, but this is your chance to show him the reason why Amma and I wanted you for my best man.....because you really are."

"I'll think about it, Gary, I really will."

=============

Marissa and Mark were in the loft, just ready to go to bed. The twins were fast asleep in their crib and Marissa was lying in bed, her fingers reading a Braille book that she kept on the nightstand and read a little each night before going to sleep. Mark came over and began kissing her passionately.

Marissa chuckled, "Isn't this where I say not tonight, I have a headache?"

"I hope not."

Marissa laughed, "I could never have a headache when it comes to you and me."

Marissa put away her book and the two of them began to embrace each other tenderly.

=============

Afterwards, as the two of them were ready to go to sleep, Mark spoke about the wedding, "I'm so glad that Amma asked Gary to marry her. I know it was a bit unconventional, but Amma was never one to stand on tradition!"

Marissa giggled and kissed him, "It must run in your family."

"What do you mean?"

"Mark, honey," she gently stroked his face, "Think about it. Most couples have their children after they get married," she laughed, "Not on their wedding day, like we did."

"Uh...yeah, I, um, know."

"Not that I mind." she kissed him, "This wedding will be much different than ours for a number of reasons. First, Amma's taking the time to plan it carefully, and hold it in a church. Second, she's not rushing into it. The wedding won't take place for another six months and she's going to be a bit more organized than we were. And finally, she's having a few more, uh, relatives show up than you did."

"Gee, I wonder why?"

"Mark, please try and be nice to them. After they meet me and see the twins, maybe they'll change their attitudes towards us."

"I'll try, Sweetstuff," Mark softly replied, "I did promise you that I'd always keep the door open for them."

"Good," said Marissa, "And besides, Amma asked me to be her maid of honor and Gary asked you to be his best man," she smiled, "So your family will have to deal with us as a couple, anyway."

"That's for sure!"

Mark paused a moment to ponder something and then said, "I told Gary today that maybe this is what The Paper wanted for him all along, to meet Amma and fall in love. I really think The Paper has finally done something good for Gary. Lord knows how difficult it's made his life."

"That's true, Mark, and I think you're right, this is what The Paper had in mind for him all along."

"Still, I wonder...."

Marissa was puzzled, "Wonder what?"

"If Gary or even The Paper has made that much of a difference," Mark kissed her, "I know he saves lives, but what if he didn't and just lived his life like a regular guy?"

"Even though he's saved a lot of people, I suppose in the big picture, Gary really hasn't changed that much in Chicago." She giggled, "And knowing you, the next thing you'll probably mention is what the world might be like without Gary."

Mark laughed, "Somehow I could never picture a world, or even Chicago, without Gary Hobson."

"Me, either, Mark," Marissa giggled, "Now let's go to sleep, honey, I'm tired." She kissed him, "Good night!"

"Good night, Sweetstuff." He returned her kiss, turned off the light and began drifting off to sleep, "A world without Gary Hobson," Mark mumbled as he fell asleep, "Like that could ever happen."

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CHAPTER TWO

Mark woke up to the sound of what he thought was Marissa screaming at someone to "Shut the hell up and quit cryin'!" Reaching for his glasses on the nightstand, he was shocked at what he perceived to be a tenement apartment, with cracks in the walls and the aroma of week old garbage permeating the air. Looking around the dingy room with it's torn drapes and broken furniture, he spotted a woman who outwardly resembled Marissa, but was wearing a stained and torn housecoat, no make-up and had a general appearance of someone who didn't care much about herself. Like his own Marissa, this woman was also blind and was bent over a small bed, admonishing a child to stop crying.

"Can't you do anything but cry, you stupid brat?"

"M-Marissa?"

"It's about time you got your ass up, Perini! You have to go to that damn dive of a place you call a bar and chase the junkies off the doorstep!" She shook her head, "Why the hell did I ever marry you? I suppose I just needed somebody to look after Bobby and me, 'cause I sure as hell don't love you."

"B-Bobby?"

"Yeah, Bobby..." she shook her head again, "Have you got a hangover again? Bobby, my six year old brat from that jerk at Strauss who knocked me up and left town when he found out I was havin' his kid. What's with you this morning? Get your ass out of bed!"

Mark was stunned beyond belief, it was Marissa, but not the one he knew, and the apartment, he saw a couple of items he recognized, but this couldn't be their place, could it? This was very wrong, where was he and what happened?

"M-Marissa? What happened to you? What is this place?"

"That's it, Perini," she screamed, "Do I have to slap you with my cane like I do to the brat when he's done somethin' bad? Now you get your ass out of that bed and go to your damn job at McGinty's or I swear I'll slap you, do you understand me?"

"I gotta get outta here," mumbled Mark as he got out of bed and quickly dressed, "Maybe this is just a bad dream and once I'm outside I'll wake up."

Mark left the apartment and immediately recognized the area of Chicago he was in. It was a part of the city that he and Gary had made a save in about three months ago. It was a very poor neighborhood that suffered from high crime and low self esteem for the residents. He checked his wallet to see if he had any cash and after seeing that he did, went to the El and grabbed a train towards the River North neighborhood and McGinty's.

While on board the train, he noticed the seats were torn and there was graffiti everywhere. This was something he had never seen before on an El train, 'What's going on?' he thought, 'Nothing's what it's supposed to be!'

As the train passed north of the loop and approached the Chicago River, Mark looked in disbelief as the Chicago Sun-Times building wasn't there anymore. Instead, there was a big pile of rubble and debris. Judging by how it looked, it was also being used as an illegal dumping ground for all sorts of trash. As he stared out the window of his train, he could see that this wasn't something new and whatever happened to The Sun-Timesbuilding had occurred some time ago. 'My God, what's happened to everything?' he thought, 'This isn't the Chicago I know!'

Getting off the train at the Merchandise Mart Station, he walked the four blocks to McGinty's and noticed that some buildings weren't there anymore. A large parking lot occupied what had been a group of small mom and pop stores, and there was graffiti everywhere on the remaining boarded up buildings. He turned the corner on Illinois Street and saw McGinty's, or at least that's what the sign said. Graffiti was written all over the building and just as Marissa had said, there were people lying out on the sidewalk in front of it.

After seeing the outside of McGinty's, he quietly begged, "Oh, God, please wake me up from this nightmare." Finally getting his wits about him, Mark checked to see if his key still fit the door and opened it. His jaw nearly hit the floor upon seeing the inside of the bar.

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CHAPTER THREE

After entering what appeared to be McGinty's, Mark was in a state of shock. This could not possibly be the bar that Gary and Marissa owned. Looking at the back area, he spied, instead of pool tables and chairs, a small stage and mirrors, surrounded by cheap prints in collapsing frames of scantily clad women in very suggestive poses. The front bar section was falling apart and the side bar had a large gaping hole where someone had apparently kicked it in. The wood floor had all manner of stains and burns on it and was in bad need of varnish. One door to the kitchen was off its hinges and the glass on the office door was cracked from what seemed to be a gunshot.

He stumbled over to the first chair he could collapse on and shook his head, "Gary! I've got to call Gary!" Getting up, Mark ran over to a payphone, dialed Gary's phone number and got a recording, "The number you have dialed is not a working number, please check the number you have called or wait for an operator to assist you." He decided to wait and speak to the operator, "Yes, operator?" I'm trying to call a Mr. Gary Hobson of Chicago, but seem to be having some trouble getting through. Could you try and connect me? Yes, I'll hold......what do ya mean there's nobody listed by that name? Gary Hobson, H-O-B-S-O-N! Hobson! I'm sorry, too, operator, thanks for trying." Rubbing the back of his neck, he put down the phone just as someone walked in.

"Mark?" inquired a pleasant looking blond, "Are you okay?"

"D-do I k-know you?" he asked, hesitantly.

She giggled, "It's me, Erica! Aren't you wearing your glasses?"

"Erica?"

"Erica Paget, silly!" She looked him over and could see that he was not himself, "Did that awful wife of yours give you grief again? Honestly, Mark, why on earth did you ever marry her? All she does is belittle and humiliate you behind your back with all of the guys she fools around with. You're such a nice guy, too, trying to take care of her and her little boy. You'd think she'd be grateful to you, after all, not too many men would marry a blind unwed mother."

"Y-you know M-Marissa?"

"I wish I didn't," Erica sighed, "She's the most ungrateful bitch on the face of the earth. Why do you stay with her?"

"You'll have to excuse me, uh, Erica," replied Mark nervously, "I seem to be having some sort of mental breakdown and my whole world appears to have gone haywire!"

"I can understand that," she remarked, "I felt like that when my son, Henry, drowned three years ago. I really miss him," she paused to wipe a small tear from her eye, "And then a few weeks after that, my ex-husband, Mike, gets killed. My whole life fell apart and I've never been able to completely recover."

Mark shuddered, Marissa had told him about Henry, but he had been alive and had moved to Galena with Erica, after she left McGinty's over two years ago!

"I-I don't understand what's happened to me, Erica," he explained, "Ever since I woke up this morning, I seem to be in another world. Everything is topsy-turvy!"

"What do you mean, Mark?"

"I live in a tenement, Marissa's a bitch, the Sun-Times building isn't there and the city...the city is all wrong!"

"Well, if it helps you any," she replied, "You're my best friend and I've known you for about two and a half years or so. You've lived in the same apartment since you came to work here and as long as I've known her, Marissa's always been a bitch. As far as The Sun-Times building, it was blown up by an extremist group more than two years ago and the city is way too broke to put anything else there instead. No company wants to buy the property since most big businesses have left Chicago for elsewhere. This city's dying, you even told me that a few months ago when you said I should think about leaving, too."

Mark shook his head in disbelief. This wasn't his world, he was sure of that now, but he needed to find out why he was here.

"Do you know Gary Hobson?" he asked her, "I can't seem to get in touch with him on the phone."

Erica shook her head, "Nope, can't say I ever heard of him. Who is he?"

"A friend of mine, he's one of the own...." Mark paused for a moment and quickly asked her, "Who owns this bar?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" replied Erica, "I just thought you asked me who owns this place."

"I, uh, did."

"The Rosario family," she answered, "They got it from that real estate developer with the parking lots! Are you trying to quiz me or something?"

"No, I'm just really confused about a lot of things."

"Why don't I make you a hot cup of tea, Mark? You should have something to calm you before the dancers get here."

"D-dancers?"

"You really are out of it," she said, "Mark, McGinty's is a topless-bottomless joint!"

"Oh, my God!" Mark shook his head and ran out the front door, not knowing where he was headed next.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Mark thought he might be losing his mind. First it was Marissa, Bobby and the tenement apartment, and then it was the wreckage and rubble of the Sun-Times building. Now, as he ran down Illinois Street, it was McGinty's. He didn't stop running until he reached Grant Park and sat down on a deteriorating park bench. After finally catching his breath, he looked past a dried out, graffiti covered Buckingham Fountain and noticed some of the downtown buildings weren't there anymore. Trash and litter covered what was left of the grass in the park and everything else looked as though it had been in disrepair for years. Tears ran down his cheeks as he wondered what had happened to change Chicago so drastically, "I just want to go back to my Chicago!" he screamed, "It's not supposed to be like this!"

"Meoww!"

Mark turned to his right and saw the cat, Gary's cat. "Cat! It's you! What the hell's happened?"

The cat jumped off the bench and walked a short distance, suddenly stopped and turned around, "Rowwrr!"

"You want me to follow you?"

"Meowww!"

"I hope you can show me why I'm here," he replied, "And if not that, at least how I can get back to my Chicago!"

The cat continued on it's way, occasionally turning around to see if Mark was following. Mark kept a short distance behind as it led him across the Columbus Bascule Bridge and then to Pioneer Plaza. Once at Pioneer Plaza, the cat ran over to the main entrance of the Chicago Public Library and then disappeared.

"Cat! Where the hell did you go? Why did you bring me here? Why the library?"

Not knowing what else to do, Mark climbed the steps that led to the main entrance and slowly went inside. He looked around and then, out of the corner of his eye, spotted what he thought was the cat near the public access computers. Walking over to the empty and unused area, he turned one of the computers on and began to do a search for the name, 'Gary Hobson'. In a short time, the answer on the screen was 'no match found'.

"It's like Gary doesn't exist, almost like...." Mark bowed his head and remembered his conversation with Marissa the night before, 'Oh, my God,' he thought, 'I wondered what Chicago would be like without Gary!' He looked straight up and quietly said, "Oh, God, I didn't mean it."

Mark then began to do searches on everyone he knew that had been involved somehow with Gary and found some very distressing results. Detective Marion Crumb - deceased, 1997....Detective Antonia Brigatti - deceased, 1998...Detective Paul Armstrong - deceased, 1999....Charles "Chuck" Fishman - deceased, 1996. "Dead! They're all dead!" Mark felt chills go up and down his spine, "His parents! I need to do a search for the town directory of Hickory, Indiana!"

Mark was able to find the directory for Hickory, but there were no Hobson's listed at all, "His parents don't exist, either?" The thought of this being his fault, for wondering what the world would be like without Gary, frightened him, 'Why did I even think it?'

Dejected and not knowing what to do next, Mark stumbled out of the library and wandered back to a bench at Grant Park. He sat down and held his hands to his head in anguish.

"Meoww!

Thump

"The Paper!" Mark jumped for joy until he saw the headline: 'KENNEDY KILLED', the date on The Paper was November 23, 1963, "Is this supposed to be a joke, Cat? How's this gonna help me?"

"Meow!"

A breeze opened the pages to the metro section and the cat jumped on one of them. Mark brushed the cat away and saw the small headline he was supposed to see, 'INDIANA YOUTH KILLED BY TRAIN, Bernard Hobson, 17'.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Mark carefully read the small story, 'Yesterday afternoon, at 3:15 PM, Bernard Hobson, 17, of Hickory, Indiana, was struck and killed by a southbound Illinois Central freight train in the Cicero train yard. The youth was attempting to cross the tracks after having jumped off a stopped Chicago bound freight train that he had illegally boarded somewhere in Indiana. According to an eyewitness, Hobson didn't see the other freight train approaching and was killed instantly. Authorities in Hickory said that Hobson had hopped the freight train in order to look for a job in Chicago.'

"B-Bernie was killed in 1963?" Mark shuddered and turned pale, "That's impossible! Gary was born two years later!" he stared intensely at the cat, "This didn't happen! Gary's father is alive!"

"Meow."

Mark threw The Paper at the cat, but missed, "Is that all you can say? Damn it, Cat, how can I fix this?"

The cat ran off and disappeared into some bushes nearby, "At least I know the how and why Gary isn't here," Mark said as he picked up The Paper, "But there's something else that I can't put my finger on just yet, something that has to do with this paper and that date, something Gary told me, but what was it?"

Mark sat back down on the bench and tried to remember what Gary had told him about The Paper and Kennedy's assassination, when his train of thought was interrupted by a woman's voice.

"I thought I might find you here, Mark."

Mark turned to his left and saw her, "Erica? How did you...."

"You always come here when things bother you," remarked Erica, "And judging how you were acting back at the bar, there's a lot bothering you."

"There is, but there's nothing you can do to help me with it."

"Don't be so sure of that, Mark," she replied, "You're my best friend and that means nothing if I can't help you with any problem you've got. I can't count the times you've helped me, so it's my turn now," she took his hand, "Please....tell me about it."

"I couldn't.....y-you wouldn't b-believe me."

"Try me."

"No," he quickly replied, "First, I gotta call my Uncle Angelo and get my cousin Amma's phone number. She'll know what to do! She gets the pa..." he caught himself before mentioning The Paper, "P-parts of things I don't understand."

"Mark?" she grabbed at his lapels, "What's wrong with you? Amma committed suicide four years ago! You told me about it, don't you remember? A few months back, when we were walking past the site of that building that collapsed in the construction accident on Dearborn Street four years ago. You told me that she had her bank in Philadelphia invest in the building and after it came down in that accident, the bank failed and she committed suicide. You told me that's why you moved here in the first place, to see what was left of the building that killed your cousin!"

"W-what?" Mark felt a sharp pain in his chest, "Oh, no, not her, too!"

He began to cry, "What's wrong with everything?" He picked up The Paper and showed it to Erica, "Somehow, this story in 1963," he pointed to the headline about Bernie, "Changed everything that should have happened! I can't explain it to you, but Chicago isn't supposed to be like this....all because a man named Gary Hobson wasn't born!"

Erica put her arm around him, "I don't know why.....but I believe you."

"Y-you do?"

"Yes, and I think we better start finding a way to for you to put it right."

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CHAPTER SIX

"Erica," said Mark as he shook his head, "I'm not so sure I can put it right! I don't even know if I can explain to you what's happened, at least not without you thinking I'm crazy!"

"You can try."

Mark took a deep breath and placed his hand in hers, "Before I woke up this morning in this, uh, fractured timeline, for lack of something better to call it, Chicago, and my life, were totally different."

Erica was puzzled, "In what way?"

"First," he replied with a quivering voice, "I was still married to Marissa, but we had twins...the twins, oh, my God, the twins don't even exist!"

"You told me that Marissa can't have kids anymore!" Erica shook her head, "You said she had an operation to make sure of that after her child was born!"

"Maybe in this timeline," he answered, "But in mine, we were happily married and she's a loving wife and wonderful mother."

"I can't picture that, Mark," she held his hand, "She's a very angry and bitter woman."

"Not the Marissa I married," he answered, "And the city is completely different. Clean, economically strong and very proud," he bowed his head, "And from what I've now figured out, it's all because Gary Hobson was there to take care of things that weren't supposed to happen."

"There you go again with this Gary Hobson person!" Erica grabbed his arm, "Who is he and why is he so important?"

Mark thought about it and decided on telling Erica everything. Although he had never met the Erica in his timeline, he knew that she was aware of The Paper and had accepted it, albeit reluctantly. He hoped that this Erica would accept it, too, once he told her about it.

"Gary Hobson is a very special man. Every single day, he's out there, saving people's lives, preventing disasters from happening and does it without any fanfare or personal gain." A small smile appeared on Mark's face.

"He sounds like Superman," Erica chuckled, "Does he have any special powers?"

Mark gave her a stern look, "No, of course not! He's a regular guy, a sort of reluctant hero. Do you know how he's able to do it?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me!"

"He does it with this!" Mark held up The Paper from 1963.

"With an old newspaper?"

Mark shook his head, "No.....he gets tomorrow's paper a day in advance!"

"Huh?"

"It comes with a cat and...." He suddenly stood up, "What's the use, you don't believe me! The Erica in my timeline knew about it, at least that's what I've been told." Dejected, he began walking away from her.

"Wait! Mark...I want to believe you!" She got up from the bench and caught up to him, "It's just that nothing you said makes any sense. How can anyone get a newspaper that tells the future? Where does it come from?"

"I-I can't answer either question, 'cause I really don't know." He stopped walking away and turned to face her, "But I do know he gets it and it comes to him for a reason. I sometimes help him out with it, or at least I did." He paused for a moment, "I imagine in this Chicago, and this is just a guess, things probably started going downhill for the city sometime after the fall of '96, am I right?"

"Y-yes, things began to get...." She looked at him and her eyes got wider, "Is that when this Gary person should've started getting this paper?"

Mark nodded his head.

Erica continued, "But, for some reason that you don't know, he wasn't born and no one else got that special paper.....and everything's changed. Is that what you're trying to explain to me?"

"YES!" Mark hugged her, "Please tell me you believe me, please!"

"And this morning, at the bar," she quietly replied, "You acted like you'd never seen me before. I'm having some trouble understanding all of this, but are you saying I don't exist in your, um, timeline?"

"You, uh, do," Mark reluctantly answered, "But our paths have never crossed."

"So, until this morning, you'd never met me?"

"I'm afraid so," he gently squeezed her hand, "I really need to know...do you believe me?"

"I-I do."

"Thank you," he kissed her forehead, "I think I've found out why Gary wasn't born." He showed her the story about Bernie, "That's Gary's father, but this accident didn't happen! I've met Bernie and I can't explain this....except there was something Gary once told me about the day that Kennedy was shot in Dallas...I just can't remember it!"

"Well," said Erica softly, "The one thing you do know is, that this Gary Hobson couldn't have tried to stop the assassination, because he wasn't born yet. Maybe his father was supposed to stop it."

"No...wait! I remember now! The guy who got The Paper before Gary! Lucius Snow! I think he flew to Dallas to try and stop it, but couldn't! He was in Dallas! That's why he couldn't save Bernie's life!" Mark was puzzled, "But if Snow was in Dallas on that day, even in my timeline, Bernie still would've died and Gary wouldn't have been born....this doesn't make any sense!"

"I wish I could help you, Mark, it seems like you have a paradox."

"Yeah, I do," Mark sighed heavily, "Maybe I'm not supposed to change things." He slowly shook his head, "After all, how could I? It's not like I could actually go back in time."

"Meowww!"

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Mark turned towards the direction of the familiar sound and saw the cat sitting on the park bench he and Erica had just left, "Cat! You decided to come bac..." Mark stopped in mid-sentence when he saw what appeared to be another newspaper lying next to the cat. Grabbing Erica's arm, he brought her over to the bench, "This isn't right," he said, picking up the regular sized newspaper as the cat ran off, "This isn't the Sun-Times!" He looked at the date, "It can't be! It's the Tribune! It's tomorrow's Chicago Tribune!"

"Mark?" Erica was completely confused, "The Sun-Times hasn't been printed in more than two years! Remember? The building was blown up and the newspaper ceased publishing!" She looked at The Paper he held in his hands, "Oh, my God! It really does have tomorrow's date! It's tomorrow's paper!" She sat down on the bench and began shaking her head, "I only half believed you before, but now..." She looked up at him, "You really were telling me the truth!"

"Not only that, Erica," he pointed at a headline on the bottom of the front page, "This is why I got it!"

Erica read the headline, 'STRIP CLUB FIREBOMBED, 75 FEARED DEAD'.

Mark read the story out loud, "Late yesterday afternoon at four thirty, McGinty's, a bar and strip club located on Illinois Street in River North, was allegedly firebombed from a vehicle that was traveling westbound on Illinois. Eyewitnesses stated that the vehicle, a late model blue Ford, slowed down to a stop and a projectile was either thrown or ejected from the passenger side into the front entrance of the club, causing an explosion and igniting a major fire. The car quickly drove off after the blast. Employees and patrons were trapped inside and had no chance of escaping the 115 year old former firehouse as the blaze moved very rapidly. Chicago Fire Department officials fear as many as 75 people may have perished in the fire and Chicago Police have requested the help of the local FBI office to aid in their investigation. A spokesman from the Chicago Police stated that the firebombing may have been some type of retaliation in the ongoing gangland wars for the control of River North."

Mark looked at his watch and it read four twenty-five, "There's no time to stop the firebombing," he hurriedly told Erica, "But I think we can save everyone inside! Come on!" he grabbed her arm and led her to a pay phone, "I need McGinty's phone number! What is it?"

"Mark....you work there…you should know..."

"Damn it, Erica, just give me the number!"

"555-0126!"

Mark called and told the waitress who answered the phone to calmly, but quickly, get everyone in the bar outside through the back door in the kitchen and to do it now. After she agreed to, he hung up the phone and stared at the headline. It had changed and now read, 'NO DEATHS AT STRIP CLUB FIREBOMBING'. He wiped his bow and looked over at Erica. She had turned pale and was beginning to shake badly, so he put his arm around her and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, "It's fine, they're all alive because of your help. I wasn't sure if the phone number would be the same in this timeline or not, so I needed you to tell me." He smiled.

"W-was it the same?"

Mark took a deep breath, "No."

Erica collapsed on the nearest bench, "Oh God."

"We make a good team, Erica," said Mark as he sat down next to her, "Um, do you think you could tell me why the, uh, Mark, in this timeline ended up marrying this Marissa?" He held her hand tightly, "I mean, only if you know or want to. I'm just a bit curious, she's so different from the one in my timeline."

"I'm not sure if you'll want to know," a small tear ran down her cheek, "You once told me it was the biggest mistake you'd ever made in your life."

"I-I want to know."

"Okay."

She kissed his forehead, "It was about a month after you'd started managing the bar. Your plan was to find a way of convincing the Rosario family to change McGinty's back into a regular bar." She smiled, "That's one of the reasons I kept working as a waitress in that dive. One day, Marissa came in to ask about getting a job." Her expression changed to one of regret, "Her welfare checks were going to stop coming and she was in the process of being evicted from her apartment. She needed to make a lot of money quickly and thought if she..." Erica paused, "Are you really sure you want me to continue?"

Mark silently nodded his head.

Erica shook her head, "She wanted to be a nude dancer, she'd even thought up a stage name, 'The Blind Bombshell', but you told her no. I'm not sure if you felt sorry for her or what, but you gave her a job as a part-time bookkeeper. She still wasn't making enough money to keep her apartment, so you had her and her little boy move in with you. The child welfare people told her unless she married you, she'd lose the rest of her benefits, so you, being the nice guy you are, asked her to marry you. The Rosario's made you fire her, because, well, she wasn't very good at her job and they were upset at you for hiring her in the first place. Because of her, you had to put your bar plan on hold until you got back in the Rosario's' good graces." Erica had a few more tears run down her cheeks, "It hurt me seeing you try to help her and she not caring at all about you. I-I cared a-about you, I-I still d-do."

Mark put his arm around her, "The Marissa in my timeline is completely different. She and Gary own McGinty's and it's a real nice place, as is most of River North. She's loving, kind, has a big heart and is one of the most wonderful people I've ever known." Mark smiled, "We fell in love with each other almost the very minute we met. After awhile, we decided to marry and had the twins, Gianfranco and Cassandra," he chuckled, "Almost right away."

"I-I'm happy f-for you."

He kissed her again on the cheek and wiped away some of her tears, "From what you've told me about the Mark in this timeline, uh, well, um, I-I think he may have married the wrong woman."

"W-what?"

"The Mark in this timeline should have married you."

-------------

CHAPTER EIGHT

Erica couldn't believe what she had just heard, that Mark thought his counterpart in this timeline should have married her instead of Marissa. A smile came to her lips and she put her arms around him.

"Oh, Mark...I-I've wanted to tell you how I felt for so long...I've been in love with you for almost two years!" She attempted to kiss him, but Mark pulled away.

"I-I meant the M-Mark that you know, not m-me!" He stood up from the bench, "Please d-don't get me wrong, y-you're a nice woman and I'm sure you'd make someone a great girlfriend or even a wonderful wife, b-but I'm married to my Marissa and I love her with all my heart."

"I'm confused." Tears formed in Erica's eyes, "You're telling me on the one hand that you should be married to me," she shook her head, "Then you tell me it's somebody who looks like you and that you love Marissa. Mark....I-I d-don't understand!"

"It's this damn fractured timeline!" He sat back down next to her, "Erica, in my timeline, we're not meant to meet and there's reasons for it that I can't tell you, but what I can tell you is this, that if I can't find the way to put this mess right, that because of loyalty or whatever you'll want to call it, I have to remain with the Marissa here, even if I'm stuck in this timeline for good."

"I think I understand a little," she wiped away some tears, "And I'm sure you'll find the way to put this all back to how it's supposed to be." She looked at him sadly, "It's just, well, for a moment, my life seemed to have a little hope. I've always wanted to tell you how I felt and now that I have, I feel helpless. If you put things right, we never meet and if you can't fix it, I still can't be with you...I lose either way."

Mark swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and decided on telling her the one thing from his timeline that might give her some comfort, "Erica," he said softly, "If I can somehow put things the way they're supposed to be and Gary Hobson is born," he took her hand in his, "Y-your boy, Henry, won't drown. Gary saves his life and you'll end up managing McGinty's." He placed his arm around her, "So you see, if I can fix this, you won't lose," smiling, he kissed her on the forehead, "You'll win."

"I b-believe you...." She hugged him, "Mark, you've got to find a way of stopping that Gary Hobson's father from getting killed, I'm pretty sure that's why you got that paper from 1963!"

"So am I," Mark replied, "But how? I can't travel in time!"

"Maybe you can't," Erica quickly shot back, "But your paper does! It comes from the future and it seems to me, that if a newspaper can go back in time from it's present to your present, which is it's past, then it should be able to get you to 1963!"

"Uh...the funny thing is, Erica, not only do I understand what you just said," he shook his head, "But I think you're probably right!" Mark lightly bit his lip, "The question is, how?"

"Mark, it's going to be dark soon and they expect snow tonight." She put her arm around him, "Why don't you come to my place and maybe we can think of a way how, together."

"Um, Erica, I, well, uh...."

"Here," she wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him, "This is my address. If you need some time to be alone and think about things, I understand, but I want you to come over later on. You shouldn't stay with the Marissa in this time frame and I don't want you wandering around the city in the cold and snow all night, okay?"

"Fair enough," he said as he placed her address in his coat pocket, "But I'm not sure what time I'll be there, though, I might be pretty late and I don't want you to lose sleep over me."

Erica giggled, "It's not like I have to get up for work in the morning, remember? McGinty's isn't there anymore!" She turned serious, "And besides, I won't be able to sleep until you get there."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, "I'll, uh, see you later, then." Mark began to walk away from Erica and towards the loop.

Erica kept watching him until he disappeared from her view, "You're a good man, Mark Perini," she tearfully whispered, "I love you and I'm probably never going to see you again. Good luck."

=============

The snow had begun to fall as Mark walked down State Street. He passed by the now boarded up Marshall Fields with it's 'For Sale or Lease' sign and shook his head. Gary Hobson had certainly made more of a difference in Chicago than anyone could've realized and as a single tear ran down his cheek, he knew his only purpose in being here was finding out how The Paper wanted him to prevent Bernie's death. Making his way through the empty, cold and dark streets, Mark's thoughts were of how much he missed his Marissa, the twins and even the petty problems he was having with Uncle Angelo. All of that seemed to be light years away as a blanket of snow started to cover the dirty streets of downtown.

A song from his younger days popped into his head as he grabbed the collar of his coat to keep the cold and snow from chilling him even more than he already was:

'Nights in white satin, never reaching the end. Letters I've written, never meaning to send.'

He pictured Marissa as the next verse came into his head:

'Beauty I've always missed with these eyes before, just what the truth is, I can't say anymore, but I love you, yes, I love you, oh, how I love you.'

The song continued and seemingly got stronger as he glanced at a couple walking past him:

'Gazing at people, some hand in hand, just what I'm going through, they can't understand.'

His thoughts were of Uncle Angelo with the next verse:

'Some try to tell me thoughts they cannot defend, just what you want to be, you'll be in the end.'

The song continued a little while longer until it was interrupted by a very familiar sound.

"Meowww!"

-------------

CHAPTER NINE

"Cat!" Mark chased after the quick moving feline as it darted down an alley, "Come on, Cat, I'm in no mood for this crap!" Looking down the alley, he saw it was a dead end and the cat was nowhere to be found, "Damn it, Cat, why the hell did you have me follow you here? It's a goddamn dead end!"

For the first time since he had 'arrived' in this corrupted version of Chicago that morning, Mark finally broke down and began to cry, "I g-guess I-I'm just not meant to stop Bernie from getting killed!" He dropped to his knees, "Please help me, God! I want things the way they're supposed to be! A Chicago without Gary Hobson is a nightmare! P-please help me." He continued to cry.

"People can wake up from nightmares, Mark."

"Huh?" Mark looked up and in the direction of the voice, "Who's there?"

"Choices." said an older man in a tan overcoat, "We all have choices in our lives, some good, some bad, but necessary to make. I had a choice to make over thirty-eight years ago and it wasn't the correct one. The choices you make will not only affect you, but others as well."

"Choices? What do you mean? Who are you?" The man's face was hidden by the darkness, but Mark felt as though he had met him before, "I-I know you, don't I? You seem familiar."

"Our paths have crossed before," the stranger answered, "And you helped me once, so it's my turn to repay you. The way you're seeking is just around that corner." He pointed towards the entrance of the alley. "Remember, Mark....choices."

"I d-don't understand," Mark turned away from him and looked at the alley's entrance, "Please…. tell me what you mean, I don't...." He turned back to face him, but the stranger in the tan overcoat was gone. "Shit! What the hell's going on? People just don't vanish!" Standing up, he heard a familiar sound.

"Meoww!"

Mark saw the cat waiting for him by the corner, "Okay, you damn furball, I'm coming!" He quickly made it over to the cat, "I swear...I gotta be losing my mind! People disappearing, different timelines, Bernie's death in The Paper two years before Gary's birth, what else can happen?"

"Rowwrr!"

Suddenly, the special lenses on Mark's glasses began to darken as the night seemed to turn into day right before his eyes, "What the hell?"

As he stumbled on to State Street, not only was it now daylight, but it seemed to be warmer and all of the snow was gone, "This is insane! I can't....." He noticed the cars on State Street were all of an older type, but they appeared to be almost new. People were walking down street, crowds of people. He shook his head in disbelief, "There's something different here, but what?" He noticed a newsstand and walked over to it.

"Paper, Mister?" asked the vendor.

"Uh, no, I just need to get my bearings a little, that's all," he noticed the date on the vendor's papers and almost went into shock. "Oh, my God!"

"You okay, Mister?"

Mark gasped, as he couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him. All the papers were dated November 22, 1963.

"This is impossible!" His eyes widened while looking around, "I'm in 1963! November, 1963!" He pulled The Paper from his pocket, "I can stop Bernie from getting hit by the train! I can do it! I can..." His joy was short lived, however, as he looked at the headline reporting President Kennedy's assassination.

The cat suddenly appeared out of nowhere, "Meoww!"

He looked at the cat, "I won't ask how you did this, but just show me where I have to go!"

"Rowwrr!" The cat began walking quickly down the street with Mark trailing right behind it.

-------------

CHAPTER TEN

Chasing after the cat in the downtown Chicago of November 1963, Mark had little time to ponder how he had somehow transversed time and instead, just concentrated on keeping up to the fast moving feline. The cat turned west on Adams Street and Mark followed it as far as the Chicago River, but not before passing by the old boarded up buildings that stood where the Sears Tower would be built in eleven years, making him smile for a moment, 'I always wondered what used to be here.'

The cat seemed to wait for him to catch up to it at the bridge crossing the river, then darted across the bridge over to Canal Street and Union Station, where it then disappeared from his view.

After pausing only a moment to catch his breath, Mark searched near the train station for the elusive tabby, "C'mon, you goddamned cat, why the train station?" He pulled the 1963 version of tomorrow's paper from his pocket and again saw the headline reporting President Kennedy's killing, "Is this why I was sent here? So somebody can stop his assassination this time?" He paused to think for a moment, 'Snow couldn't stop it and he flew to Dallas.' He shook his head, 'What can I do?' He could see the large clock outside of Union Station and it read ten-thirty five. In a little less than two hours, President John F. Kennedy would be dead in Dallas, a victim of an assassin's bullet. 'I could call the local FBI office,' he thought, 'But I'm sure Snow already did that before his flight...that's probably why he flew to Dallas in the first place, nobody believed him!'

After putting The Paper back in his pocket, Mark decided to go into the station to see if maybe whatever reason the cat brought him here could be inside. The station was quite crowded, but he assumed this was probably normal for a Friday. Mark sat down on one of the long benches that seemed to be everywhere in the large waiting area and looked around, 'Why did that damn cat have me follow it here? I just don't understand!'

After looking around some more, he pulled The Paper back out of his pocket. Making sure that no one could see the headline, he carefully read President Kennedy's assassination story once again. 'This has to be one of the reasons I'm back in 1963!' he thought, "Maybe if the FBI had somebody else call them, somebody other than Snow, they might believe it! Maybe I'm supposed save both Bernie Hobson and President Kennedy!'

Mark noticed the train station's bar was open and decided to get a scotch. 'I know it's only a little past ten-thirty in the morning,' he thought, trying to justify his reason for wanting a drink, 'But that's only in this timeline. If I was in my own timeline, it'd be about ten-thirty at night and after the day I've had so far, I really need it!'

He sat down at the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks. After the bartender brought it, Mark noticed his reflection in the mirror. He had not bothered to look at the clothes he was wearing, assuming that he still wore the same thing he had thrown on in his rush to leave the tenement and the other Marissa. What he saw in mirror made him shake his head in disbelief. He was wearing a black wool overcoat, which he found was covering a dark gray flannel suit, a white shirt and a narrow black tie. His glasses had thick black frames and looked like something from the "B" movies of the late 1950's. This was a far cry from the gray tweed jacket and black leather topcoat he had been wearing before.

He then checked his wallet and saw that the money he was carrying had also changed and was from this time period, 'Damn," he thought, 'I'm really here...it's really 1963!" He quickly downed his scotch and knew what had to be done. "Choices," he quietly said to himself, "I guess that's what that old man in the tan overcoat meant, that I have the choice of not only saving Bernie, but President Kennedy as well!"

Mark paid for the drink and asked the bartender where the nearest payphone was. The bartender pointed towards the entrance of the bar and Mark walked over to it and dialed "O" for the operator. "Operator? Can you connect me with the Chicago office of the FBI? Yes, I'll hold."

As Mark impatiently waited to be connected with the FBI, he began pacing back and forth, jarring loose The Paper in his back pocket. He didn't notice when it landed on the floor and opened to the page still reporting Bernie's death, along with a headline that wasn't there earlier: 'SUSPECT ARRESTED BY LOCAL FBI IN CONNECTION WITH KENNEDY ASSASSINATION'.

Underneath the headline was his photograph.

-------------

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The operator connected Mark with the local FBI office and someone picked up the ringing phone, "FBI Chicago office, Agent Molina speaking."

Mark spoke nervously into the phone, "Uh, hi, I-I'm calling to tell you there's going to be, uh, an attempt to kill President Kennedy in Dallas today," he looked at his watch, "In about an hour and twenty minutes. You, uh, have to either change the route of the motorcade or make sure he uses the bullet-proof bubble top on his limo!"

"Uh-huh," answered Agent Molina, "And how did you find out this information? Did somebody tell you they planned on killing the President today?"

It was obvious to Mark that the agent didn't believe him, "No, nobody told me, I-I just know, t-that's all!"

"Listen, buddy, making threats on the President's life is a serious matter and could put you behind bars for a long time!"

"I'm not making threats! I just know it's going to happen!" Mark tried thinking of a way to convince him, but was too nervous to think straight, "I'm no crack-pot! The President's life is in danger, please believe me!"

Molina motioned to another agent and wrote down on a piece of paper, 'trace this call'. "So you say this attempt on the President's life will be at..." Molina looked at his watch, "At about twelve thirty?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I said!"

"We had somebody else call our office early this morning saying something similar. He wouldn't give us his name and just hung up."

Molina paused for a moment to check on the tracing status and another agent shook his head and silently mouthed, "Not yet."

"So," continued Molina, "Are you going to give us your name or will you just hang up, too?"

'That must have been Snow,' Mark thought to himself, 'Maybe if I tell them my name, they'll believe me.' He decided on telling them, "My name is Mark Perini and what I've told you is the truth."

"Good! Now we're getting somewhere! I'll tell you what, Mr. Perini, why don't you come down to our office and we can talk some more. I'm sure you'll want to help us in any way you can."

Mark was about to say yes, when he heard a faint "Meow" at his feet. Looking down, he noticed the cat and The Paper on the floor. Picking it up, he saw his picture and the headline reporting his arrest in connection with the assassination, "Maybe another time, Agent Molina, 'bye!" He hung up the phone and a single tear ran down his cheek after suddenly realizing his only reason for being in 1963 was to save Bernie Hobson's life. "Choices," he quietly said, "That's what the old man meant. I'm not here to change history, or at least this part of it." His heart became heavy with regret as he knew what tragedy the country was going to suffer today, "I-I don't understand this paper sometimes, both Snow and I were given the chance to stop it, and yet, we weren't allowed to. It-it makes no sense to me." He wiped the tear from his cheek.

"Meoww!"

He sadly looked down at the cat, "Okay, furball, you win. So I'm not supposed to save Kennedy. I guess some things, even the horrible ones, have to happen. I just wish you could somehow tell me why." He sighed, "So why did you bring me to the train station?"

The cat scampered towards the Illinois Central ticket counter.

Mark shook his head, "Train tickets?"

=============

"Damn!" shouted Molina, "The son of a bitch hung up on me! Were you able to get Bell to trace the call?"

"Yeah," replied the other agent, "It's a phone booth at Union Station!"

"Let's go," replied Molina angrily, "I'm gonna bust that Perini bastard if it's the last thing I do!"

"I've already called the Chicago P.D.," said the other agent, "And they've got somebody in the vicinity they're sending to the train station," he shook his head, "A rookie uniformed cop we gotta meet there."

"What's his name?"

"Crumb."

-------------

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mark looked at the destination sign hanging behind the Illinois Central ticket counter and saw something that caught his eye. Smiling, he knew at once why the cat had him follow it over here.

"I'd like one, one-way ticket to Hickory, Indiana, please," he told the ticket agent, "On a train that leaves sometime after four o'clock this afternoon."

"Let me see," answered the ticket agent while he glanced over the schedules, "The only train going to Hickory after four o'clock is a southbound local leaving out of Gary, Indiana. You'd need to change trains in Gary and take the number 42 local. It departs the Gary station at five fifty-five and arrives in Hickory at seven thirty-five. The connecting train from Chicago is the number 151 eastbound local going to South Bend. It departs the Randolph Street Station at four fifteen and arrives in Gary at five thirty. The fare is seven dollars and twenty five cents."

"That's fine," replied Mark as he handed him some money, "I'll take one ticket, please."

"Here you go," said the agent, as he handed Mark the tickets and his change, "Now remember, the train to Gary leaves from Randolph Street, not here."

Mark nodded his head.

"Thank you for choosing Illinois Central today and have a pleasant trip."

Mark smiled, "It's not for me, it's for....um, a friend of mine."

The ticket agent smiled back, "I hope your friend has a pleasant trip, then."

"I hope so, too," answered Mark, as he left the counter, "I really do."

Mark walked over to a bench and sat down, taking a quick glance at his watch. He knew in roughly forty-five minutes, President John Fitzgerald Kennedy would be the victim of an assassin's bullet and what made it even worse, he had to let it happen. Bowing his head down, he realized America would lose more than it's innocence and the dreams of "Camelot" today. It would lose it's charismatic leader and the hopes of the free world along with him. Mark carefully took The Paper out of his pocket and placed it on the bench. 'I still don't understand why,' he thought while looking at the assassination story, 'But if it has to be, I guess it has to be. I tried, Snow tried, but now I realize what that old man meant. That old man...good Lord! Th-that must've been Lucius Snow and the wrong choice he mentioned....it was his going to Dallas! He was supposed to save Bernie that day, but made the choice of trying to save the President instead. I know I'm here to correct that,' he paused in thought, 'But why me? Surely The Paper could've sent Snow back in time, too, I'm certain of that.' His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound.

"Meowww!"

On the bench next to him was the cat, sitting on The Paper and sniffing at an article in the business section. Mark gently brushed the cat away and read the small headline, 'GM to open parts plant in Hickory, Indiana'. He smiled after realizing that Bernie needed to be back home for another reason. 'He didn't need to come to Chicago to get a job after all,' he thought, 'I gotta mention this to him!'

Mark reached inside his coat pocket, feeling for his pipe and found it, only it wasn't the nice imported Italian bent stem briar pipe Marissa had got him for his last birthday. It was a plain, straight stem pipe that, to him, looked more at home with Ward Cleaver. "Oh, well," he mused, "Any port in a storm." He began to leave and go outside to smoke it, when he noticed men smoking cigars, cigarettes and pipes inside the station. 'It's 1963," he thought to himself, 'And they haven't invented the non smoking area yet!'

After lighting his pipe, Mark looked around the station and was trying to figure out what to do next since he didn't have to be at the Cicero train yard to save Bernie for another three and a half hours. He decided to relax for a bit, and was smoking his pipe for the first time since this unsettling adventure began, when he heard a remarkably familiar voice ask,

"Is that your cat, mister?"

"Huh?"

Looking up and somewhat astonished, Mark bit his lip to keep from laughing as he couldn't believe who was standing in front of him, "Uh, w-what cat?" He answered with a slight chuckle.

"The one sitting next to you, buster!"

"It's not mine, it, uh, it must have followed me here."

The cat jumped off the bench and disappeared into the crowd.

"It better not have been yers, buster, we got laws against unattended pets in train stations, ya know."

"I'll, uh, remember that," Mark replied, still chuckling, "Thanks for pointing that out to me."

"Just doin' my job."

Mark continued to chuckle as a very young and surprisingly thin officer Marion Crumb went into the crowd, looking for the cat. "I guess even Crumb must've been young once!"

-------------

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As Mark sat on the bench smoking his pipe and young officer Crumb was searching in vain for the cat, two FBI agents, Frank Molina and Kirk Parker, entered Union Station. Parker noticed a uniformed cop searching furiously for something and said to Molina, "That must be the rookie we're supposed to meet."

The two men walked to where Crumb was looking under a counter, "You Crumb?" asked Molina.

Crumb stopped his search and looked up at two men dressed in dark suits, "Who wants ta know?"

"Molina and Parker, FBI," Molina answered while flashing a badge, "Whatcha looking for? Did your doughnut roll under there?"

"Very funny," Crumb replied, "I happen to be lookin' for a cat."

"Chicago's finest!" grumbled Parker, shaking his head as Molina did likewise.

"It was breakin' the law!" answered Crumb loudly, "No unattended pets allowed in the station!"

"Do you know where the bar is, Crumb?" asked Molina tersely, "Or maybe you don't, 'cause they don't serve doughnuts."

"A little early in the day to start drinkin' boys, ain't it?" Crumb angrily shot back, "Or don't you feds care about crap like that?" He stood up and pointed, "It's over there."

"Come on, Crumb," replied Molina, "We gotta find the bar's phone booth and ask a couple of people if they witnessed somebody make a phone call."

"They bring in the feds for a friggin' phone call?"

"They do if some idiot makes threats on the President's life," answered Molina, "Especially if they're false and the idiot wants the FBI to participate in some wild goose chase. So, uh, I'd suggest you put your kitty corralling on hold and give us a hand in finding this guy."

"Yeah," Crumb replied, "I'll give ya a hand. This idiot gotta name?"

"The name he gave us was probably a fake," said Parker, "So it doesn't matter. We just need to find somebody who eyeballed him when he called us."

"Whadda we waitin' for," said Crumb anxiously, "Let's go!"

The three of them walked over to the bar and went inside. Molina flashed his badge and asked the bartender if he could recall anyone using the bar's phone booth within the last hour or so.

"Yeah," replied the bartender, "Some guy came in about ten thirty this mornin', drank down a scotch on the rocks and then asked me where the payphone was. He was the only one to use it today." His eyes lit up, "Hey! You guys are the feds....is this guy you're lookin' for some type of commie pinko?"

"Maybe. Can you describe him?" asked Parker.

"Um, let me see," answered the bartender, "Um, he was about five-eleven, maybe five-ten, in his late thirties, had dark hair and wore glasses with thick black frames. He was wearing a black wool overcoat and, I think, had on a gray flannel suit with a black tie."

"You just described half the men in Chicago," replied Molina in disgust, "Nothing else to separate him from anyone else?"

"No, I don't think so.....wait! There was something else I remember!"

"What? What else do you remember?"

"He had this cat hanging around him," replied the bartender, "And after he hung up the phone, the cat scooted out and he chased after it!"

"Holy crap!" shouted Crumb, "I saw the bastard! He was sittin' on a bench near the Illinois Central ticket counter! I even said somethin' to him!"

"When?" demanded Molina, "How long ago?"

Crumb shook his head, "About twenty minutes ago," he answered, "The cat was sittin' next to him and he was smokin' a pipe!"

"I think I see him!" yelled Parker, "Is that him over on the bench, Crumb?"

Crumb quickly went over to the bar's front entrance and glanced in the direction where Mark was sitting casually smoking his pipe, "Yep! That's the guy!"

Molina brought the bartender to the door, "Is that the guy who made the phone call this morning?"

Looking at Mark carefully, the bartender answered, "Yeah, that's him."

"Good!" said Molina angrily as he rushed out of the bar, "Now let's go grab the son of a bitch!"

=============

Mark had almost finished smoking his pipe and was preparing to leave the station when he heard a loud voice from behind him.

"Freeze! FBI, you're under arrest!"

Two men in suits and the younger version of Crumb had their guns pointed at him.

Mark raised his arms over his head, "Oh, boy."

-------------

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The situation surrounding Mark was something of a total surprise. Not only wasn't he expecting this, but also to compound matters, young Crumb was in on it and he immediately wondered if this might corrupt the timeline even more. 'Crumb can't find out who I am,' he thought, 'If he does, I probably won't be able to get back to my own time.' Another thought suddenly shot through his brain like an arrow hitting it's target, 'Bernie! If they put me in jail, how can I save him?' Mark knew he was in serious trouble and Gary's very existence would matter on how he handled what was now happening to him.

"Wh-what am I being arrested for?" Mark asked nervously.

"Did you, or did you not," demanded Molina, "Call the Chicago field office of the FBI this morning at ten forty-five AM with a threat on President Kennedy's life?"

"I-I called to tell you of an attempt to assassinate him in Dallas today at twelve thirty," Mark answered, "Not that I was going to kill him!"

"Be that as it may," replied Molina, "You made a perceived threat and...."

"Whoa, whoa," interrupted Crumb, "This guy called to let you know of an attempt on the President's life and you're arresting him? Did you jerks even check out his story?"

"Why?" asked Molina, "We deal with nuts like him every day. What makes him so special?"

"What if he's right?" shot back Crumb, "Did you even bother ta think of it? I may only be a rookie beat cop, but I spent four years in the United States Navy, and most of it in the Military Police, what you asswipes call the Shore Patrol. You FBI guys are supposed ta be the best friggin' investigators in the world, but I think you may've missed the boat on this one!"

"Rookies!" said Parker disgustedly, "They think they know it all!"

"Ain't that the truth," replied Molina, "Come on, let's get this scum to interrogation, I know they've got some holding cells here in the station."

Mark glared intently at Crumb and thought, 'Even in this time, you always sought the truth. You're not only a good cop, Zeke, but a good man and I now understand why Marissa wanted you to give her away at our wedding.'

Molina and Parker handcuffed Mark and took him away to the police holding area in the basement of the train station.

=============

Mark looked at his watch and knew in less than ten minutes, President Kennedy would be killed by an assassin's bullet in Dallas. 'Crumb's gonna find out my name and then the whole time-space thingy is shot,' he thought, 'What in the hell can I do to stop it...wait!" Mark smiled and looked at Agent Parker, "You guys probably can't stand that damned know-it-all rookie, right?"

"Maybe....so what does it matter to you?"

"Well...you guys don't want him steppin' on your toes, do ya?"

"No."

"Well....send him out for doughnuts and coffee...you know he'll know where to get 'em!"

"You know," answered Parker slowly, "That ain't a half bad idea! Frank! Send the rookie out for some coffee and doughnuts!"

"Heh-heh!" smiled Molina, "Good one, Kirk!" He turned towards Crumb," Hey, rookie! Go get me and Parker some coffee and doughnuts, okay?"

"But...."

"We're in charge, rookie boy, now go get us those doughnuts!"

"Damn!" Crumb grunted, "Plain or frosted?"

Molina smiled, "Your first command decision....you make the call!"

Crumb walked out grumbling and Mark felt a little better, but how much longer could he keep Crumb from finding out his name?

"Okay, jerk, who the hell are you?" asked Parker, "I want your last name first and your first and middle names next!"

Mark looked disgusted, but he knew at least Crumb wasn't here for his interrogation. "Perini ....Mark Vittorio Perini." He looked up at the clock on the wall and it read twelve thirty-five.

Molina noticed him looking and smugly said, "It's now twelve thirty five and nothing's happened. Kirk, write up a false threat report. We're gonna nail your ass to the........"

At that moment, the phone in the police area of the train station rang and Parker answered it. His jaw dropped upon hearing the news on the other end, "Frank...th-the President's been shot in Dallas."

"Dear Lord." Molina stared at Mark, "How....how did you know?"

"Does it matter?" replied Mark angrily, "You didn't act on it. I friggin' told you!"

Molina looked at Parker, "Oh, shit!"

-------------

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Molina glared at Mark as he sat motionless in a chair close to the agent's desk, his arms handcuffed behind him. The furious FBI agent quickly grabbed Mark by the lapels of his overcoat, picking him up out of the chair and slamming him against a nearby concrete wall. He slammed Mark so forcefully that his glasses flew off when the back of his head hit it. Molina then drove his fist hard into Mark's stomach just as Crumb entered the room. "Take that, you son of a bitch!"

"What the hell are you doin'?" screamed Crumb, dropping the doughnuts and coffee as he raced over to pull Molina off of Mark, "That ain't no way to interrogate a suspect, no matter what the hell he may be accused of! You fellas might be the feds, but this is Chicago, not Moscow, and this guy's got rights or is that somethin' you feds suspended while I was gone?"

"Kennedy's been shot!" yelled Molina, "And this scum's involved!"

"What? shouted Crumb, "It really happened? J-just like he said it would?"

"Yeah," chimed in agent Parker, "So if we need to, we'll beat a damned confession out of him!"

"Izzat so?" defiantly replied Crumb, "Not in my city ya won't, and besides, he tried warnin' ya or did you forget? The way I see it, you FBI guys really dropped the ball on this one and are lookin' for a patsy to cover your asses. I asked you fellas earlier if ya even bothered checkin' out his story and ya just laughed it off like it was nothin'. Well guess what? It really was somethin' and if ya don't want your Washington bosses to know you jerks maybe coulda saved the President's life in the first place, you'll release this guy into my custody." Crumb put his hand near his service revolver, just in case the agents had other ideas, "I meant what I said.....release him to me."

Molina grimaced and glanced over at Parker. "I'll say this for him, that rookie's got some balls."

"Yeah, Frank, he does," replied Parker, "But he's also right. If Washington finds out we knew about this and didn't mention it to them, not only would it be our careers, we just might end up doing some time ourselves."

Molina unlocked Mark's handcuffs and Parker handed him his glasses. The phone on the desk rang and Parker answered it, "Parker, FBI. Yes...uh-huh, I understand..." He shook his head and looked at his watch, "I'll tell Molina...yeah, we'll leave right away." He turned towards Molina, "The President is dead. We're being sent to Dallas to assist in the investigation." He walked over to Mark, "Somehow, you knew....you knew it was going to happen. So...do you know who did it?"

Mark thought for a moment and decided it wouldn't do him any good to say anything else. Slowly shaking his head, he quietly answered, "No, I don't know."

"Nah," said Molina, "I didn't think you would." He turned to Crumb, "He's all yours, rookie, and as far as we're concerned, none of us have ever met." Molina ripped the arrest report out of the typewriter and tore it to bits, "This never happened. Now get his ass out of here."

"My pleasure." replied Crumb as he began taking Mark out of the office. Just as he got to the door, Crumb stopped and turned around, "Do me and the nation a favor, fellas...just find the son of a bitch who killed the President, okay?"

Molina and Parker nodded their heads.

"Come on," Crumb said to Mark, "Let's get the hell out of here."

The two of them left the police holding area and silently made their way back upstairs to the main lobby of the train station. Mark finally broke the silence and asked Crumb, "So, officer, what are you going to charge me with?"

"Nothin' to charge ya with," replied Crumb, "Ya did try and warn 'em and they chose to ignore ya. Besides, you're here and shooting was in Dallas. If ya had any part in it, ya wouldn't have tried to tell 'em about it in the first place."

"Aren't you gonna ask me how I knew it was gonna happen?" inquired Mark, innocently.

"Nah," answered Crumb, "I got a feelin' it might be some mumbo-jumbo crap I don't wanna know anythin' about." He looked at Mark, "It is, ain't it?"

Mark made a slight smile, "Yeah, I guess it is."

"So," asked Crumb as he escorted Mark to a door leading outside, "Where ya headed?"

Mark looked at his watch, "I, uh, have a train to meet in Cicero."

"Okay then," replied Crumb, "Uh...what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," answered Mark, "And, uh, trust me...I don't think you'll want..."

"More mumbo-jumbo?" interrupted Crumb.

Mark nodded and as he exited the station, said to Crumb, "Take care and I'll see you around, Zeke."

"Yeah, right!" Crumb turned around and walked halfway across the Union Station lobby before suddenly stopping. "How the hell did he know my nickname?" he said to himself, "Nobody's called me that since I left the navy!"

-------------

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As Mark walked outside of Union Station to hail a cab, he noticed people with tears in their eyes and some crying quite noticeably. A paperboy was holding some newspapers and shouting, "Extra! Extra! President killed! Read all about it! Kennedy Shot in Dallas!"

Mark silently shook his head and thought to himself, 'I could've stopped it...why wouldn't The Paper let me?' After pondering that question a little more, he sadly thought, 'I guess whoever or whatever sends The Paper needed for it to happen and I'm not supposed to question it. I'm sure it was much worse for Snow, after all, he was there and more than likely saw it as it took place. To me, it was a tragic part of history that I couldn't change, to him, it was a blown save he took with him to his grave, probably second guessing everything he did that day for the rest of his life.'

Getting the attention of a large yellow Checker cab, it pulled up to him and the driver asked, "Where to, sir?"

Mark climbed into the back seat and said, "The Cicero train yard, please."

"Sure thing, sir." The cabbie turned towards him, "Didya hear? The President's been shot!"

"Yeah," Mark answered quietly, "I-I know."

"Ya know," said the cabbie, trying to start a conversation, "It was probably them commies. They're just lookin' to..."

"I'd rather not talk about it...or anything right now, if you please," interrupted Mark, "I'm not really in the mood to talk."

"Sure," the cabbie replied, "We all need to grieve in our own way. If yours is silence, I'll respect it."

"Thanks." Mark sat in the back seat and tried to think of something pleasant to get his mind off what had happened, not only Kennedy's assassination, but the Chicago in the future without Gary. He had to save Bernie in less than an hour and a half and needed to get himself mentally prepared for it. He remembered something Marissa had told him about how she would snap herself out of a bad mood or major problems by thinking of a pleasant time in her life. The worse the problem or situation was, the more pleasant the moment she would think of. He remembered laughing at her for it, but as with most things, she was probably right and he was now willing to give it a try.

As the cab drove on, Mark began to reminisce about the first time he had asked Marissa out on a date and how he almost didn't because of his nervousness. He slowly drifted back to when he first began working at McGinty's and started escorting Marissa when she walked home at night. He smiled as he remembered one chilly night in particular. He began re-living that precious moment in his mind.

"Mark," Marissa smiled, "I'm sure you have better things to do than walk me home every night."

"No," he replied as they slowly walked down the street arm in arm, "Uh, not really, what I-I mean is...I-I know if anything was going to happen to you, you know, uh, in The Paper, Gary would either drive you home or make sure you got a cab. It's just...um...well, I, uh, like talking to you."

"You talk to me all day at the bar."

"Uh, I don't talk too much, do I?" He was nervous, "I t-try not to...I mean, I try to keep it to business, mostly, don't I?"

Marissa smiled broadly, "You do."

"If you'd rather I didn't walk you home," he replied, somewhat crestfallen, "Um, I-I won't."

"It's not that, Mark," Marissa said to him, "I'm just concerned that you don't seem to have a personal life outside of the bar. You should go out....out on a date with somebody. You've never mentioned to me if there's anyone you're interested in and I know that at least two of our waitresses have expressed some interest in going out with you."

"Th-there is someone I-I'm, well, very attracted to."

Marissa chuckled sweetly, "Really? Who? I want details!"

"I-I can't tell you her name."

"I can understand that, Mark," she replied, "Would you at least describe what she's like to me?"

As they continued making their way down the street with his arm wrapped around hers, a light snow had begun to fall and a gentle brisk breeze blew against both of their faces.

"I-I suppose s-so," Mark nervously answered, "She's the most intelligent woman I've ever met. Sh-she's kind, considerate and has a heart of gold. She has a smile that lights up a room whenever she's in it. She's simply the most wonderful woman I've ever known." He stopped walking and turned towards her, "Of all the souls I've met in my journey on this God's earth, hers is the most gentle."

"You're in love with this woman, Mark," she replied, smiling, "And you should let her know how you feel."

"I-I can't," he answered, regretfully, "I'm sure she wouldn't return my feelings."

"Are you sure of that? Any woman would be proud and honored to be loved by you," she paused, "Any woman."

"No, not me....and besides, I'm sure she wouldn't be interested."

"Mark! You listen to me! You have a lot to offer to someone and if this woman isn't smart enough or willing to realize that, then it'll be her loss." Marissa was adamant, "You need to tell her!"

The snow began falling a little heavier and the breeze became more brisk. He swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat and got closer to Marissa. Overcoming every fear he had of telling her his true feelings, Mark quietly said, "I...I j-just did."

"What?"

"I just told her." He let go of her arm and stammered, "It-it's y-you."

Mark began to shudder, Marissa was strangely silent and this frightened him. "If-if I've offended or upset you in any way, Marissa, I really didn't mean to. It's just, well, I've felt this way for the past few weeks and was too afraid to tell you. I was afraid I'd lose you as my friend."

He lowered his head, "If you want me to resign as bar manager and leave, I will."

Marissa smiled, "You're not going anywhere, Mark! It took you long enough to finally say something to me!"

"You-you knew h-how I felt?"

"Of course I did! I may be blind, but even I could see you were in love with me!"

Mark smiled back, "You knew and so you sorta forced my hand tonight so I'd tell you, didn't you?"

Marissa smiled sweetly, "Uh-huh. I was getting a bit impatient with you. You're not upset with me for doing that, are you?"

"No, of course not." He nervously placed his hands on hers and quietly asked, "Do-do you think you could ever return my feelings?"

Feeling for Mark's face and then gently wiping a few snowflakes off his nose, Marissa kissed his lips, "I already do."

"Y-you d-do?" His heart now filled with joy, he shyly asked her, "Would it be alright if I now asked you out on a date? I mean...would you go out with me sometime?"

As the snow fell heavier, it began to create a small blanket of white around the two of them. Marissa kissed him again and replied, "I'd be delighted."

"Here we are, sir! The Cicero train yard."

Mark was jarred back into reality by the cab driver's voice, "Uh, how much do I owe you?"

"A buck thirty, sir."

Mark handed him two dollars, "Keep the change."

"Gee, thank you, sir! Have a good day."

"I'm gonna try," replied Mark as he walked towards the freight yard, "Boy, am I gonna try!"

-------------

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mark poked and prodded around the Cicero train yard for about thirty minutes until finally finding the Illinois Central freight tracks that ran to Chicago from northern Indiana. The train yard was unusually silent and he attributed this to Kennedy's assassination. The train yard workers were union employees and had heavily supported Kennedy in the 1960 election. Mark was fairly certain most of them were listening in shock to their radios or may have even gone home to watch the news reports on TV.

'It's no wonder why Bernie was going to be struck and killed,' he thought, 'There wasn't anyone around to warn him the other train was approaching.'

Glancing at his watch, Mark knew he had less than fifteen minutes before the northbound freight train would enter the yard. Taking The Paper out of his pocket, he tried seeing if the location of Bernie's fatal accident was in the story. "Yard Section 31," he read, "Is where the Indiana youth's death occurred." Looking up, he spotted a sign that read 'Section 31'. "Well, at least I'm in the right place," Mark said to himself, "And after I prevent him from being hit by the oncoming train, the bigger problem is convincing him to go back to Hickory without saying who I am or that I know who he is."

Mark felt the train tickets for Hickory in his coat pocket and suddenly smiled as he knew how he would get Bernie to go back home.

"I remember Bernie telling me about how as a kid, he used to love watching 'Twilight Zone' and that a few of the episodes seemed very real to him." he said quietly, "And If my memory is correct, there was an episode that had some peddler guy telling people I have what you need and gave them things they really needed at the time. There was this one guy who the peddler gave a bus ticket to Scranton. The guy who got the bus ticket laughed at him. He was unemployed and had no reason to need a bus ticket going anywhere. At that moment, the phone rang and he was offered a job...a job in Scranton. He turned back to thank the peddler, but all he saw was the door closing after the peddler had left out of it."

Mark grinned and thought, 'I'll act like that peddler and ask him why he's in Chicago. When he tells me it's to look for a job, I'll ask him where he's from. When he says Hickory, I'll act surprised and mention that I had bought a ticket to go there because of the new GM parts plant that's gonna open and show him the article in The Paper! I'll give him the train ticket and tell him to go get a job! This'll work!'

Mark had a look of confidence on his face that slowly began to fade when he spotted the freight train approaching. Taking a deep breath and then exhaling, he said to himself, "Okay, Perini, you know what you've got to do." He slowly shook his head and then looked up, "God, please help me do this right. So many people will live or die depending on what I do next...Bernie...Gary...and hundreds of others whom I don't know. Please give me the wisdom to say and do the right things."

The freight train slowed to a stop and as it did, a boxcar door opened and out popped a lanky kid who seemed very out of place. Mark smiled softly upon seeing it was a seventeen-year-old Bernie Hobson. Racing over to him, he pulled Bernie back from the track just as he started to cross.

"Hey, Mister!" yelled the young Bernie as he tried breaking away, "What the heck are you tryin' to do?"

"Kid, what I'm trying to do..." Mark's reply was cut short by the thunderous sound of a freight train barreling down the track that Bernie was about to step on, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and rushing past the both of them.

After it passed by them, the younger version of Bernie had a look of shock on his face, "If-if you didn't grab me out of the way...I coulda been hit! Wow! Thanks, pal! I don't get it, though...I didn't see or hear it comin' and you were right here with me....h-how did you know?"

Mark quickly thought of an excuse, "I come here all the time and know the schedules. That was a freight bound for Indianapolis. It always zooms through at about this time of day and when I saw you jump out of that boxcar, I knew you wouldn't see it. I had to stop you from maybe getting run over."

"Thanks, pal, you probably saved my butt."

Mark grinned, "Probably. So tell me....what's your name and why are you hopping freight trains?"

"Bernard Hobson," the lanky youth replied, "But my friends call me Bernie. I came to Chicago lookin' for a job. Where I live in Indiana, there's sure as heck ain't much in the way of work."

"Where you from?"

"Hickory," Bernie answered, "Hickory, Indiana. The middle of nowhere."

Mark grinned, "Ya don't say....."

-------------

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Come on, kid," said Mark with a grin, "Let me get you a cup of coffee and we'll talk a bit about your hometown. In fact, I'm on my way there today."

"I could sure use a cup," Bernie chuckled as they walked, "There wasn't a dining car on the freight I hopped."

The two left the train yard, walked the short distance to the El stop at 54th & Cermak and boarded a train bound for the loop. While on board the El train, Bernie looked puzzled and asked Mark a question.

"Why would anybody in their right mind want to go to Hickory? No offense, mister, but the town's in a bit of a slump and there ain't no jobs."

Mark smiled at him, "That's what you think, kid! I just read that GM is gonna open a parts plant there and start hiring guys right away." He took tomorrow's 1963 paper out of his pocket and showed Bernie the article in the business section, "See, it's in The Paper! Hickory was selected for new GM plant and it's expected to create sixteen hundred new jobs!"

"Well, whadaya know?" replied Bernie, "I didn't need to come here after all. Shoot! I don't have the money to get back home! I guess I'll have to hop another freight train."

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, kid," said Mark, "I already bought a train ticket to Hickory and it leaves this afternoon at four fifteen from the Randolph Street Station." He pulled out the ticket from his pocket and handed it to Bernie, "You take it and go home. Get yourself a job at that plant and settle down with a good woman. I'm sure a good looking fella like you has a girl back home."

"Yeah, I sorta do," replied Bernie, embarrassed, "Her name is Lois, she's sixteen and a bit of a pain in the butt, but I suppose I like her." He looked at the ticket, "Are you sure about this? What about you?"

"I'll get by," chuckled Mark, "Just do me a favor and get one of those jobs."

"I will!" grinned Bernie, "By the way, mister, what's your name?"

"My name?" answered Mark, "That's not important. What is important, is getting you to the Randolph Street Station on time. That train to Gary leaves in about half an hour. After it arrives in Gary, you'll then transfer to a south bound train going to Hickory."

Bernie laughed loudly.

Mark was puzzled, "What's so funny?"

"I always thought they should've called that city somethin' else," answered Bernie, chuckling, "Gary's a name you call your kid, not a city! If I ever get married and have a son, I swear I'm gonna name him Gary, so I'll be able to remember this day!"

Mark's expression suddenly turned serious, "I'm afraid you'll remember this day for another reason."

"And what reason is that?"

He decided not to tell him of Kennedy's assassination, "You'll find out when you get back to Hickory."

"Okay, maybe I will, but I'm still gonna use that name."

Mark thought to himself and smiled, 'So that's how Gary got his name!'

They continued to have a conversation about nothing in particular, just something to pass the time as their El train continued towards downtown Chicago.

"Mister, we're in the loop," said Bernie, excitedly, "What El station do we need to get off at?"

"Washington Street," answered Mark, "And then you walk three blocks east."

"Don't you mean, we walk the three blocks?"

He shook his head, "No, just you. You're the one with the ticket and your train leaves in less than twenty minutes." Mark pulled out his wallet and took out some cash, "Here's twenty bucks, Bernie, you'll need some money to help you get by until the plant opens."

"Gee, thanks, mister! " replied Bernie, happily, "Maybe I'll take Lois to the movies tonight!"

Mark smiled, "You go ahead and do that....on me!"

The pair got off the El at Washington Street and shook hands, "Take care, Bernie."

"You, too, mister, whoever you are."

Watching the young Bernie Hobson walking towards the train station, Mark finally realized why he was in 1963. "In the other timeline, Erica said she thought I had a paradox," he quietly mused, "But I'm sure there never really was since I guess I was supposed to be here to save Bernie in the first place. It's just a coincidence that Marissa and I mentioned a Chicago without Gary." He shook his head, "At least I hope it was!"

Mark's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound, "Meowww!"

"Hey fella," Mark said, "It's sure good to see you! Now can I go home?"

The cat looked up at him and cocked it's head to one side, "Rowwrr."

"I do have a favor to ask you, though," said Mark, quietly, "Just one little side trip before I'm back in my own time. There's a little something I want to do for somebody who helped me out once."

The cat meowed and scampered over to an alley with Mark trailing right behind. He turned around the corner and found that he no longer was in 1963, in fact, he wasn't even in Chicago.

-------------

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"It's a park in a small town! The Cat or whoever sends The Paper was able to do it!" Mark barely had the time adjusting to his new surroundings when he heard a familiar sound.

Plop

"Meoww!"

Immediately turning to his right, he spotted the cat about ten feet away, sitting on a park bench with a small newspaper underneath it's paws. He walked over to bench, picked up The Paper and grinned when he read the masthead and date, 'The Galena Gazette, August 10, 1999', He saw the story he was hoping to change, 'GALENA WOMAN ARRESTED IN EMBEZZLEMENT SCAM'. Underneath the headline was a photograph of Erica Paget.

"I remember Marissa telling me why Erica couldn't come to our wedding," Mark said to the cat, "I'd never met her, but she told me how Erica was the bar manager before me and had dated Gary. Marissa felt badly for Erica's son, Henry, because of his mother being jailed. Nobody knew why Erica did it, but there was talk that she'd been trying to get the money to cover her ex-husband's gambling debts." He slowly shook his head, "Whatever her reasons were, I figure I owe her this. She proved to be a real help to me in the fractured timeline and maybe she isn't the witch that Gary always told me she was. All I have to do is go to the restaurant where she works, warn her that not only will she get caught and go to jail, but also lose custody of Henry. I think that should be enough to dissuade her from going through with it."

The cat looked up at Mark as though it understood every word as he read it part of the story.

"According to authorities, the restaurant owner noticed Paget replacing the restaurant's books with some forged ones at four thirty in the afternoon. The forged books showed a net loss of $17,000 instead of the actual net profit of $34,000, which Paget was then going to wire transfer into her bank account."

Mark paused for a moment, looked at the cat and then continued reading.

"The restaurant owner got wise of the scheme after checking the books and called his bank. Galena Police arrested Paget before she could complete the scam and charged her with one count of felony embezzlement and two counts of felony attempted grand theft. Paget is being held on $100,000 bond, pending her formal arraignment hearing."

Mark looked at his watch. The time was now two thirty PM and he had plenty of time to warn her, so he decided to go to the restaurant and see if she was anything like the Erica he had met in the other timeline. 'I'll take my time and casually watch her at work. You can learn a lot about someone if they don't know you're observing them.'

He found a phone booth and read the yellow pages for the address of 'Ted's Galena Grill'. After finding the restaurant's location, Mark asked for directions on how to get there at a gas station and walked the three blocks down Main Street where they told him it was.

He entered the bustling restaurant almost unnoticed and sat at a lunch counter that doubled as a bar. The wait staff seemed to be quite frazzled and acted as though they were frightened of doing anything wrong. It didn't take Mark long to find out the reason why. In back of the counter, standing next to the kitchen doors, was Erica, screaming and threatening each member of the staff with dismissal if they didn't work faster or harder.

"Management by intimidation," he said to himself, "Is the worst way of running any type of business. I don't understand this at all. In the fractured timeline, she was timid and shy, even somewhat loveable. In the real timeline, she's..." He stopped to rub his forehead and then continued his thoughts, 'She's just the way Gary described her. Even if I did try warning her, she would probably think of another way to steal the money. Just like the Marissa in the other timeline was so completely different than the one I married. This Erica is exactly opposite of the one I met and liked. I suppose this means your personality is shaped by whatever events have happened in your life, good, bad or ugly.'

Mark then thought about what Lucius Snow had said to him in that alley, 'Choices. The choices you make will not only affect you, but others as well.'

Mark pulled tomorrow's Galena Gazette out of his back pocket and read Erica's arrest story one more time. Getting up from the counter, he looked over at Erica, still yelling at her staff and thought, 'I really feel sorry for you.' He walked away from the counter and tossed The Paper in a trash can as he left the restaurant.

-------------

CHAPTER TWENTY

As Mark walked the streets of Galena, Illinois in August of 1999, he came to an abrupt realization. 'Some things are meant to be,' he sadly thought, 'And, after being put in jail, hopefully Erica will learn humility and how to be the type of person that I know she has the capability of deep inside. I just hope I made the right choice, I mean, what or who gives me the right to change things from what's supposed to happen? I know Gary gets The Paper inorder for him to do that, but he saves lives and prevents accidents. The things I wanted to change had already happened..... Gary changes things that haven't really occurred yet, so I guess that's the difference.'

"Meoww."

Mark glanced down and saw the cat looking up at him.

"I was supposed to find that out for myself, Cat, wasn't I? I mean, it's okay to change the future as long as it's for the right reasons, like saving someone from getting hurt or making sure something tragic doesn't happen." He shook his head. "I was selfish and wanted to change the past for the wrong reasons. Bernie Hobson could've been killed because I didn't realize that until it was almost too late."

The cat continued looking up at him.

"I wanted to believe that Erica was just like the one I met in the other timeline, but she wasn't. Her arrest has to happen and I can't stop it, nor should I. I'd lost sight of my real reason for being sent back in time in the first place, which was to correct the timeline and make sure Gary Hobson exists."

"Rowwrr."

"I'm glad you agree, Cat. Now, please....get me home."

The cat ran towards an abandoned building, turned a corner and disappeared. Mark followed suit and suddenly found himself outside the front of McGinty's. His face lit up as he looked around the building to see if it was the same as he remembered. 'Home! I'm really home!' Checking the angle of the sun, he knew it was early in the morning and glanced at his watch to see the time. "It's six thirty in the morning," he chuckled, "I guess tomorrow's paper isn't the only thing the cat delivered on time today."

After entering McGinty's, he immediately climbed the stairs to the loft and went inside. Marissa was still sleeping, as were the twins. Mark silently walked over to Marissa and gently kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Sweetstuff," he whispered in her ear, "A lot more than you could ever know." He then made his way to the twins' crib. Bending down, he softly kissed each child's forehead, 'Frankie and Cassie,' he thought, 'You little guys are my life and it wouldn't be worth living at all without you both in it.'

=============

Marissa awoke to the sounds and smells of breakfast being made. Mark was probably playing with the twins at the same time, she guessed, judging by the giggling and joyful noises they were making.

"Good morning, my love," said Marissa, cheerily, "You're up early."

"Good morning, Sweetstuff," Mark happily replied, "I hope you don't mind, but I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed today."

Marissa smiled, "Now why would I mind something as wonderful as that? Any particular reason?"

Mark walked over to her as she sat up in bed. "No reason." He sat down on the edge of their bed and took her hand, "Well, maybe there is a special reason."

"Now I'm curious, Mark," she replied, somewhat puzzled, "What's this special reason?"

He kissed her. "Because I love you, I'm married to you and have the most wonderful kids in the world. If that's not special enough to make you breakfast in bed, I don't know what is."

She felt for his face and returned his kiss, "You're right, my love. It is special."

"I'm going to get your breakfast tray and bring it over. I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes and sausages."

He brought the tray over and told her the locations of the food, "The pancakes are at three o'clock and the sausages are at nine." Generally, he didn't need to tell Marissa the food locations on her plate, but since she was not used to eating in bed, he wanted to make it easier for her.

"Thanks, Mark, I don't want to make a mess in bed with my breakfast."

"Hey! Anything for you!" He kissed her. "I, uh, have a somewhat stupid question...if it's none of my business, you don't have to answer it."

"I'd never conceal anything from you, Mark, you know that. What's your question?"

"When you were at Strauss and Associates..." Mark took a deep breath, "Wh-when you were, um, a receptionist, did any of the brokers ever, um, try to, uh, hit on you. You know, pester you for a date?"

Marissa smiled, "Why the sudden interest?"

"No reason. I was just interested in knowing, that's all."

Marissa's smile faded, "Well, there was this one broker, but no...I don't think you'd be interested in hearing about it since nothing really happened."

"Try me."

"Okay," she answered, "His name was...."

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