Author's note: This was written for the lovely and amazing Austennerdita2533 for the Klaroline Autumn Exchange! It was a typical vacation; Caroline was traveling back in time to celebrate her favorite author, but then she gets distracted by a ridiculously attractive aristocrat. Imagine her confusion when she meets the same aristocrat on a different vacation back in time...
"If time travel is possible, where are the tourists from the future?"
― Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time
Mankind had made the time-space continuum its bitch by the 22nd century, but the concept of a comfortable corset still eluded them. Caroline's outfit may have been a holographic uplink, but it was intricately woven into neural pathways to ensure both visual and tactile authenticity. All part of the time tourist experience, she reminded herself with a grim smile, ducking into a narrow alley to readjust her restrictive ensemble away from prying eyes.
She was a time tourist, a citizen of the 23rd century, who'd traveled back to 1775, Bath, for a vacation. It was her second tour, and this time she spared no expense (having learned her lesson from her ill-advised 1966 San Francisco trip to see Janis Joplin open for the Grateful Dead and she bought the discount package only to end up covered in neuro-network polyester rashes for a week).
She marveled at the cobblestone road beneath her feet, giddy with the knowledge that Jane Austen was born a few months ago, and now she was sharing the same air with one of her favorite authors. Unfortunately, time tourism had gotten so overregulated that you couldn't go see famous historical figures unless the locations were so crowded that a few extra people wouldn't seem out of place. Most historians and scientists theorized that under-regulated time tourism in the late 22nd century had been the reason statistics of certain battles and other major historical events fluctuated so often in the records.
Austen's birthplace in the rural village of Steventon was off-limits, which is why she chose Bath because it was one of the few real locations that Austen wrote about and wasn't the tourist trap some of the old film locations were.
"My, my, what a tasty bit we have here, lads."
Caroline whirled around in surprise, pulse racing when she saw three men stagger toward her, blocking the only way out of the alley. Dressed in soiled clothes, they stank of sweat and beer. One kept taking sips from a clay jug, muttering curses at the air until he finally leaned unsteadily against the brick building and vomited what seemed like the entire contents of his stomach. Still, it was impressive how he straightened and took another gulp without retching.
She threw back her shoulders, tone icy as she offered them a way out of their foolishness. "Kindly remove yourself from my path, gentleman. I'd like to resume my leisurely promenade."
The man who appeared to be the leader spat at her feet and jeered, "Ah, you hear that, lads? A 'promenade', eh? Looks like we have ourselves a high-born lady from a posh London borough."
Caroline inwardly groaned, wishing she'd paid better attention to the language and syntax simulations of Georgian society during her vacation prep. She must've accidentally loaded aristocratic regional dialect rather than the more favored country languages found in places like Bath. Thinking quickly, she tried to recall the cadence of some of her favorite Austen quotes and channeled Pride and Prejudice's Lizzie to venomously say, "Every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."
Her insult seemed to cut through the drunken fog of their tiny brains and the leader lurched forward, bellowing, "I've ruined many a lass who dared think she was above me! I'll turn you, fair lady, into a whore yet!"
Seriously?! Despite the short, narrow leather boots with the clunky buckle, Caroline's muscle memory of pressure point fighting at the Quasar Nebula Academy snapped to attention, and she sidestepped the lumbering oaf while closing her parasol in one swift movement. In her fury, she didn't care about keeping up appearances with the pricey dialect simulations she'd uploaded, and instead pointed the sharp tip of her parasol at the trio and snarled, "Why is it that no matter how far society advances, a woman's choices are reduced to a lady or a whore? Gentleman can be whores and whores can be gentlemen too — why can't women be afforded the same freedom?"
When the leader lunged again, she gripped the sturdy polished cherry handle and swung down hard on the back of his neck, and as he fell to his side, she delivered a series of decisive taps along his temple, nose, and throat until he collapsed on the cobblestones.
The crumpled form began drooling and trembling with involuntary muscle spasms, but Caroline knew he'd recover — eventually. The other two men looked on in slack-jawed astonishment, taking tentative steps back as she kicked out her heavy skirts and walked over the fallen man. Aiming her parasol at them both as though it were a sword, she growled, "Honestly, why is it so hard to get people to act like human beings?"
They raced away at an impressive speed given their drunkenness, and Caroline jumped slightly when she thought she heard a faint chuckle over her shoulder. Wide-eyed, she glanced all around the narrow alley, but found that she was alone. Weird acoustics. Or maybe it was just nerves. That whole situation with the drunks could've been really fucked up.
Doing her best to put it out of her mind, she anxiously walked to the center of town, stubbornly intending to get back to her vacation. She gaped at the people around her who were just going about their day and had no idea that time tourists walked among them. She took in the sights of strange clothes she'd only seen on holoscreens, biting her lip to keep from giggling at the ridiculous hats decorated with ruffles or ribbons or even fake birds. Although she definitely spied several pleated, patterned silks that seemed to be making a comeback in her time.
She walked along Pulteney Bridge, marveling at how new it looked. She reminded herself that in this time, it was only about a year old. History was revered in the 23rd century, which is why time tourism had become so popular. However, studying it was one thing, but to touch it, to breathe it in, was something else entirely. It was the closest to magic that existed in this world.
Caroline leaned over the side, admiring the three graceful arches that spanned the Avon River, marveling at how in another 23 years, Jane Austen would be inspired by this place and write Northanger Abbey. Caroline sighed in contentment, imagining Austen's stubborn characters, Catherine and Henry (Caroline refused to acknowledge Eleanor was a part of that scene), carrying on a witty, biting conversation as they walked through the center of town and following the path along the river all the way to Beechen Cliff.
"If you're thinking of jumping, it would be of more benefit to move further upriver where a heartier depth would ensure a swift and proper end," a wry voice suggested from beside her.
Caroline jumped slightly, straightening from her precarious position at the bridge's edge to scowl at the stranger beside her. "Presumptuous — perhaps I wish to suffer," she retorted, valiantly fighting the rosy blush that threatened to creep up her neck. Dimples. Jawline. Smirk. At her obvious perusal, he even gallantly removed his high-crowned hat in a sweeping gesture and then bowed. Smug bastard.
"Although from your finery, I doubt you'd know much about suffering," she added with a hint of distaste, recalling the deep divide between the classes was even more pronounced in this era. She spied a beautifully crafted gold pocket watch chain dangling from his waistcoat pocket that likely could feed a family in this village for several months. Unfortunately, Freedom Food Centers wouldn't be established until the mid-21st century.
Steel flashed in his gray eyes and he replied frostily, "For such a modern lady, you certainly are quick to judge another with quite narrow perceptions."
"Modern lady," she squeaked in a panic, taking a step back and wondered if she'd be forced to use her passphrase for the safety biolink that instantly would pop her back to her time period.
Raising an eyebrow at her odd reaction, he explained, "Forgive my impertinence, but you appear to be a lady of some means, strolling about town without benefit of an escort. It's not difficult to assume you prescribe to a rather modern outlook."
Calm the fuck down and stop scaring the locals. "No, I...I shouldn't be so presumptuous. Especially given my own irritations when others judge me with nary a second glance. Apologies for my earlier rudeness. I'm Caroline." She winced, realizing she'd completely forgotten the string of peerage titles the Time Tourism Bureau had provided in her vacation dossier.
He chuckled, brushing his lips across her knuckles in a way that made her shiver pleasantly. "Since we're absconding with the tiresome labels of peerage, you may call me 'Klaus'." With a conspiratorial wink, he added, "Although you'd be surprised at my rather humble beginnings."
Caroline could hear the flirt in his voice as easily as she could see the way he studied her with frank interest. Fuck it. It's not like she couldn't protect herself if he got a little gropey...although perhaps she wouldn't mind...
"Care to tell me about this unorthodox upbringing? I've a bit of a walk ahead of me as I wish to visit Beechen Cliff and could use the amusement." She didn't miss the way his handsome face lit up with delight at her invitation. He was surely a gentleman of some significance, but for him to take time away from his important business matters to walk with her secretly thrilled her.
"I was of a free-born family whose numbers barely faltered in times of plague. We farmed when the seasons were favorable, but hunting kept us fed better than most. I still recall fashioning my longbow from a yew sapling, burning my clumsy fingertips in the fires to soften the beeswax for shaping."
Huh. The 1700s were more primitive than she realized. And here she thought she knew everything about Austen's world. Thinking fast, she put Klaus' age at no more than 30, which meant they were in the middle of King George II's reign. "It must've been hard on your family when the king declared much of the land to be part of the royal forests."
Klaus looked momentarily confused, so she half-asked, "King George II?"
"Right. Of course." As he gallantly led her down to the river, he cleared his throat, asking, "And what of your childhood? Given your forthrightness of thought, I imagine your own education was admirably unorthodox?"
She couldn't very well wax poetic on the marvelous universal education system that benefitted everyone in her time. In fact, historians already referred to the 23rd century as the 'Age of Knowledge'. "I was fortunate to have...private tutors who focused my education in a variety of avenues so that I could reap every benefit."
"And what of your family?"
Caroline pretended to stumble a bit as they began to scale the steep, sloped path up to Beechen Cliff, giving her a chance to come up with something plausible. "My father is..." A genetic engineer splicing bioforms with robotics. "A...natural philosopher. My mother is..." A holoscreen spacecraft architect. "An...artist."
Klaus nodded as though unsurprised, replying, "You've a curious mind; it's obvious that your parentage would encompass both intelligence and creativity."
Damn. That was a really good line. Caroline could feel her face getting hot and ducked her head, hoping her bonnet with the ridiculously wide brim blocked his view of her reddening cheeks. If this was a normal meet-cute at her local hover pub, she'd consider dragging him to a good-time pod. It wasn't a violation of time tourism policy to hook up on your vacation; in fact, half the handbook was devoted to addressing the Bureau's safety precautions to ensure a consequence-free hookup that wouldn't accidentally unravel the fabric of time.
But it still felt like a cheat. For Caroline, intimacy only seemed right if she could be herself with a lover. Other than her name, Klaus could know nothing that was truly real. She hated the wave of sadness that came over her, feeling foolish at becoming so attached to someone she'd just met. Putting on a cheerful smile, she changed the subject to ask, "Besides escorting ladies with a curious mind, what other business are you on today?"
He pressed his lips together, and Caroline had the impression he was thinking very fast. Maybe it was rude in this time period to ask a stranger about their business interests? "I've a Bulgarian...shipment that recently was spotted in the area and I journeyed here to secure my holdings."
She made a commiserating noise; for all of her century's impressive technological advancements, lost luggage was still a bullshit thing in the future. She lightly teased, "You make it sound as though your shipment purposely fled."
"Indeed — it's proven surprisingly cunning," Klaus replied with a devilish smirk.
They laughed together, and Caroline gazed out of the beautiful green valley that Beechen Cliff overlooked. Eventually, this view would inspire Jane Austen to create the scene where Catherine fell in love with Henry. She sighed happily, imagining all of the joy her favorite author's works would bring readers one day. This was everything she'd hoped her vacation would be — a chance to connect with a literary giant by experiencing her world firsthand.
Klaus gestured toward the brilliant, uninterrupted sky that surrounded them and asked curiously, "You were quite determined to see Beechen Cliff — does it hold special meaning for you?"
Caroline was too excited in that moment to care about social decorum. Boldly planting a kiss on his cheek's stubble, she replied enigmatically, "One day it will."
Many of the mysteries of the universe had been unraveled in her time — Atlantis had been found, dark matter thoroughly studied, the recipe for Coca-Cola had been revealed — she even could project her conscious across the infinite void and reach the furthest star in the known universe. And yet, for the month after her vacation, nothing had captured Caroline's attention the way that the afternoon walk with Klaus had. He'd been frustratingly well-mannered, keeping a respectable distance away. But oh, how he'd flirted with that dimpled smirk. And when he brushed his lips across her hand, she'd almost swooned, for fuck's sake!
She'd lost her damn mind. Logically, their moment had happened centuries ago. She'd assumed he was in his 20s when they met in 1775, but even if he'd beaten the odds and exceeded the average life expectancy of 50, he still would've died four centuries before she was born. Best to forget. She'd even had the Time Tourism Bureau flag the years she'd estimated he would've been alive, just to avoid the temptation of traveling again and again to see him. Time junkies lost entire fortunes that way.
Not that the Bureau had been able to locate Klaus in the historical data files — despite numerous attempts by their staff and Caroline's own fruitless research, they'd found nothing. How many Klauses could there have been in England in 1775? Maybe he gave you a nickname. Or a fake name. Just move on from that Georgian-era fuckboy.
Which is what she was doing. A nice weekend trip back to 1941 to the set of her favorite movie was the perfect distraction. The Wolf Man was a cinematic masterpiece and she was really excited to lose herself in the bustling chaos of the movie set. She carried several bolts of fabric, cleverly fading into the background as a costume assistant. While the Time Tourism Bureau had blocked tourists from directly interacting with the movie's stars, she still could observe and relish her role as a giddy, eager witness to history.
Lon Chaney, Jr. seemed to be not only a gifted actor, but generous to a fault. In the middle of one of his most iconic scenes in which he's told about the curse, he spied an elderly extra who was shifting uncomfortably, and shut down the set to demand the woman be given a chair and a well-deserved break. And Bela Lugosi had managed to charm most of the camera crew until they lingered on his face even after his scenes had wrapped.
Caroline was thoroughly enchanted by this golden era of Hollywood, and was just congratulating herself on the perfect distraction from things she refused to think about when suddenly, her whole world changed. Klaus was here.
It defied all logic, but there he was, 166 years later, with the same dimples and devilish smirk. She admired the clean lines of his beautifully cut pinstriped suit, noting that from the expensive fabrics, he hadn't needed to ration despite the ongoing war. How was he here? Caroline knew he couldn't be a fellow time tourist because their biolinks alerted them if they came across each other during vacation.
What was going on? When Klaus wandered upstairs to where the studio execs' offices were, she marched after him, determined to get answers. He was waiting for her, shiny two-tone dress shoes cheekily propped up on the enormous desk. Fingers resting in a steeple under his chin, he drawled in that delicious accent of his, "My, my, isn't this a lovely surprise, Caroline?" Strangely sniffing the air as though sampling it, he added, "You're human, so I assume you're a witch."
She let out a bark of laughter, telling him, "Of all the ridiculous things to say, you go with witch? There's no such thing!"
Suddenly the air was displaced around her, blowing back her curls as Klaus stood right in front of her. Klaus watched Caroline with great interest, black veins crawling underneath his gray eyes as he gave her a fangy smile. "The world is a far more mysterious place than you can imagine."
Huh. That was...unexpected. She blinked at him, taking in the monstrous visage curiously. He seemed surprised by her calm demeanor, especially when she shrugged and favored him with a sly smile. Turning over her wrist, she accessed the biolink and entered her passphrase. As the hologram of her 1940s dress dematerialized to reveal her common 23rd-century dura-opal filament garments, Caroline relished Klaus' slack-jawed expression.
She replied, "It looks like my world is just as mysterious as yours."