Hello, munchkins! Gosh, I'm really sorry for being such a rubbish updater! But thanks soooo much for all the amazing reviews and to those who have added to favourites/follows. You do warm a girl's heart. :)

Shout outs to: compa16, harrylee94, SilverTortoise, Loki-licious1121, 4everYoung93, 'Guest', Kiwi, floralpatterned-teacup, Raven AEvans, MacMhuirich, Natasha Alhaurin, 'Guest', Lady Krystalyn, OmgGiratina, Black-Moon-Onaa-Inu, Le Hiddleslover, PhoenixCrystal, PirouettingPixarPixie. You're all fantastic and I love you!

I do hope you enjoy this chapter, my dears! :)


Time Knows No Boundaries ~ Chapter Six

After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
'Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone' – J.K. Rowling

.:*:.

Forget the captain, honey; you're the one who looks dead, Martha thought to herself, staring at her reflection in her bedroom mirror with something close to disgust. Her hair was an absolute mess, her face looked tired and drawn, and there were dark purple shadows beneath her eyes.

And to think he's had to look at me over breakfast like this...ugh...

Martha wrinkled her nose, running a hand through the coppery strands. She was never usually one who obsessed over her appearance but - deceased or not - there was a dashing soldier in her home; a gentleman from 1914 (she still couldn't quite get her head around this fact) who was dressed so meticulously that it made her feel like a complete scruff.

She took as quick a shower as she could so that James didn't have to wait for long. She hated to keep people waiting. Once dried, she raked a brush through her hair, trying to tame the rust-coloured waves into submission before deciding to leave it loose to fall around her shoulders. Her hair was rather prone to frizzing and she prayed it would not decide to pick today to go into frizz-overdrive. After applying some mascara, eyeliner and lip balm, which was the usual extent to her makeup, Martha began to feel relatively human again.

Her taste in clothing was very relaxed; she disliked wearing low-cut tops as they made her feel uncomfortable, and she rarely wore dresses except for maybe on formal occasions. Today's chosen outfit was a dark green long-sleeved shirt and blue skinny jeans. Martha found herself hovering in front of the mirror again rather longer than she normally would, hands on hips and a slight frown playing on her face. Then she had to stop to think to herself, why was she suddenly so concerned about how she looked? Because of him?

Oh, for God's sake, she rebuked herself, shaking her head a little. She was twenty-five years old, not some silly giggling teenager. What did it matter really? If he was to remain here, the captain was going to be seeing women dressed in all manner of fashions he was unfamiliar with and no doubt find quite shocking, so he may as well get used to it. Martha had never in all her life dolled up just to make herself seem anaesthetically appealing to a man, so she didn't see why she should begin now.

She slipped on her new brown brogues, which were already scuffed at the toes even after a week's worth of wear; but considering they enveloped her feet nearly everywhere she went these days, this was hardly surprising. Martha smiled down at them fondly; she loved these shoes. They had a bit of a heel to them so they made her appear taller than she actually was, and she had customised them by re-lacing them with satin ribbon.

Suddenly remembering, Martha quickly checked her phone for any new messages or emails from work. Reality seemed to have taken a back seat during her whole encounter with her new ghostly housemate. But it all came flooding back to her now, hard and fast like a raging tsunami. However, she had nothing pressing which needed to be dealt with straightaway, much to her relief and secret joy. Anyway, she didn't think she'd be able to concentrate on her work even if she tried!

Letting out a faint sigh, she gazed around her cosy little sanctum that was her bedroom, biting her lip in thought as she began to ponder on how she should go about beginning to introduce James to the modern way of life.

Unlike the rest of her flat, which was rather cluttered with all the numerous treasures she had collected over the years from antique shops or car boot sales, her own room was quite tidy. Feminine-looking and neatly-furnished, and the walls were painted in a delicate shade of pink with a set of white fairy lights strung across the window to give it that cosy glow.

Her eyes fell upon her bookcase and she began to search through her varied collection of books, trying to seek out anything which might come in useful. Much to her great disappointment, however, she couldn't find anything which would help James. Martha let out a sigh and straightened up, deciding not to keep the captain waiting any longer and returned to her living room.

She was half-expecting to find him still sitting where she'd left him but he wasn't anywhere in sight. For a few panic-filled seconds where she couldn't see him, Martha thought he had disappeared altogether. She soon relaxed when she spotted him standing over by the window, staring off into space, and apparently unaware that she had re-entered the room. Martha vaguely wondered to herself why she had felt so alarmed at the thought that he had vanished when she hardly even know the man. Shaking her head a little, she watched James for a moment or two.

The sun had risen properly now, flooding the room with pale autumnal light, though the chilliness in the air had lessened. The sunlight played across his already pallid countenance, making him look almost transparent. It wasn't difficult to see why he had been appointed an army captain; he stood tall and proud with a handsome, dignified presence. He definitely was a fine specimen of a man and couldn't be mistaken for anything but pure male.

He was gazing out of the window but his eyes were unfocused and vague, completely lost in his thoughts. His thin lips were set into a firm line, so whatever he was thinking about, it could not have been of anything happy.

He still didn't seem to have realised that she had come back, so she thought it was about time to make her presence be known...


More out of wanting something to do and to keep his mind from lingering on bittersweet memories of his beloved fiancé, James had been wandering aimlessly around the flat. He wasn't snooping - goodness, no! That would be unseemly and the height of bad manners. He was merely genuinely curious about his new hostess – his new friend – he corrected himself - and what wonders the year 2012 had to offer. Going by his conversation with Martha during breakfast, there was a great deal for him to learn.

Blossom, who was sitting in a sunny spot on the floor and washing herself, had now taken to completely ignoring him. Every so often she would freeze as the shadow of a passing bird flew past the window before she resumed her grooming.

In a large, glass-fronted cabinet, James could see there was an array of ornaments and knick-knacks. Things like Victorian trinket-boxes, a wooden pipe-rack, a delicate crystal cruet set. He even spotted a number of wonderfully preserved fossils; a few ammonites and what appeared to be a gigantic tooth which no doubt had belonged to some ancient creature of immense size.

All of the items he noticed had a second-hand air about them. Treasures which looked like they had been lovingly restored back to their former glory. James looked back at the tabby cat and remembered what Martha had told him about rescuing her from starving on the streets. Picking up waifs and strays and nursing them back to health apparently seemed to be an occupation of hers. He could not help but feel he was another one in the long line of those waifs and strays...

Pushing that thought aside, his gaze shifted to a mahogany desk right next to the cabinet, upon which were untidy stacks of papers and magazines. There was also an odd, slim device which opened up like a briefcase. The top half was some sort of flat screen whilst the bottom consisted of a black tray full of square-shaped buttons laid out similarly to those on a typewriter. Indeed, they were marked with letters much in the same manner, along with numbers and other symbols. Was he in fact looking at the twenty-first century equivalent of the typewriter? It seemed the only logical explanation.

Feeling rather pleased with himself at this deduction, James turned his attentions to the rest of the living room. The other objects in here, however – the television and the CD player - he had no clue as to what they were, though he was sure Martha would explain in time. On the opposite of the room, was a large bookcase, so James ventured over to investigate. There were titles here that he thankfully recognised. He spotted the works of Dickens, a leather-bound collection stacked neatly in a row. There were also titles from the likes of Jane Austen and Conan Doyle, so he could assume that Miss Burton was an enthusiast of the classics.

He turned to look out of the window, out at the townscape below that was both familiar and not so familiar to him. He remembered visiting Taunton several times with his sisters though he was ready to bet it would be very different now. He wondered if his family had lived on happily after his death. He dearly hoped so. Were his descendants perhaps living somewhere in those homes out there?

And his fiancé... James let out a heavy, laboured sigh. He hoped that she had not mourned him for too long; that she had carried on living her life to the full and was happy. Before he knew it, he found it wasn't long before his musings turned to that fateful day at Quiévrechain in France...


(Flashback)

The air was filled with the tumultuous thunder of horse's hooves on grass, their petrified whinnies of pain combined with those of wounded men's cries...

He had never been more terrified in his whole life. He had never experienced open warfare. He was only used to practice drills and charges. Nothing on earth could have prepared him for anything like this, nothing. He felt little more than his small ten-year-old self merely playing at war and soldiers.

He saw the gun swing around to face him, and time seemed to slow down... Everything else seemed to cease to exist... It was like looking into the jaws of Hell itself and there was nothing he could do to escape it, and James Nicholls knew it. He was barely aware of his beautiful steed, Joey, whose powerful muscles moved beneath him, continuing gallantly, obliviously on. The poor creature was no doubt as terrified as he was.

He never used to understand what people meant by "an out of body experience", but in that moment, he wasn't certain how else to describe it. It did not seem real somehow. But it was real alright. Horribly and brutally real.

He could hear the blood pounding his ears as images swam unattainably before his eyes...images of his family...of the young farm boy to whom Joey had belonged to...his promise to return him safely... Images of her...her gentle face, her sparkling brown eyes which lit up whenever she was passionate about something...her beautiful smile... he would never forget the day when he had proposed...how she had stuttered unintelligible words of shock before throwing her arms around him... How he'd thought he might simply burst with joy when she had accepted...

He swore that he heard somebody shouting his name. It might have been Jamie's voice but he couldn't be sure. He may have imagined it -


"Would you believe I don't even own a single decent history book?" a different voice suddenly spoke as though from far away. Then, after a moment or two, much closer this time: "Hello? Earth to Jimbo!"

The tone was cheery and sing-song and James started slightly as he was broken out of those distressing memories for which he was most grateful for. He turned dazedly, visions of his beloved's brown eyes melting away only to find himself looking into Martha's green ones instead. She was now standing before him, looking up at him in concern. He had not even noticed her return.

"Oh, um...forgive me, I was miles away," he apologised, blinking a few more times to try and rid those awful recollections of the charge from his mind's eye.

"Somewhere nice, I hope," Martha said. When he didn't respond, she tilted her head slightly to one side to get a better look at him. He seemed most troubled over something.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes...yes, I'm quite alright," he assured her, forcing a smile. He did not wish to worry her unduly. The events which had brought about his death was something he was not willing to share yet awhile. It was still too raw. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he asked.

There was a fleeting look of doubt laced with concern on her face as though she wasn't quite buying it when he said that he was alright, but then she shrugged a little and her expression cleared.

"I said, I can't believe I haven't got a single decent history book that you could read..."

James was looking curiously at her outfit. She was now sporting a simple green shirt, which set off her red hair much better, and was a bit more pleasing to the eye than her previous attire had been. His eyes then involuntarily widened a little. Were those trousers she was wearing? They were shockingly form-fitting, highly accentuating her – he couldn't help himself – rather shapely legs. Was this considered normal for ladies of this era to wear?

She was now browsing through her bookshelf on tiptoes, but the nearest she could find was a book all about dinosaurs and natural history. He wasn't that old. That wouldn't be any good.

"I guess we'll be needing a trip to the library or bookshop," she said.

"Listen...you really do not have to put yourself out like this – " James started.

"No, don't be silly, it's no trouble," Martha answered, turning to look at him and waving a dismissive hand. "I know you could easily look up anything you wanted to know on the internet or on the history channels on telly, but I think there's nothing quite like reading a book somehow."

The words "the internet" and "history channels on telly" were strange to James' ears; he had no inkling of what they meant at all.

Emitting a light sigh, he murmured, "I suppose this will all mean something to me eventually."

Martha walked back over towards him, a sympathetic smile on her face and she patted his arm bracingly, despite his peculiar icy temperature.

"They will, don't worry...you've just got to take things one step at a time, that's all."

He nodded mutely. He still seemed rather saddened about something, and Martha hated seeing people so unhappy.

"Hey...cheer up, peacock..." She lightly nudged him with her shoulder in a friendly manner, and she was glad to see the corner of his mouth quirk into a little smile at this new nickname she'd given him. "How about I show you some things round the flat, eh? Slowly familiarise yourself with new technology first before catching up with what's happened since you die – I mean, uh – you know..."

She realised she was rambling again and trailed off in embarrassment.

"That sounds as good a plan as any," replied James with a nod and her face then broke into a grin.

"Righto...um, what should we start with?" Her eyes travelled the room before she led him over to the machine he had puzzled about earlier.

"Okaaay...let's start this. This here is a CD player. You listen to music on it. You know like gramophones?" At James' nod, she continued, "Well, this works kind of in the same way only with discs instead...we call them CDs, which stands for compact disc..."

He watched curiously as she gathered up a handful of what looked like shiny thin boxes that had been sitting on top of the machine and began to shuffle through them.

"Led Zeppelin...Queen...Pink Floyd...no, no, those will never do," she muttered under her breath, and James wondered what on earth she was talking about. "Methinks we should introduce you to today's music slowly. Better stick with something familiar... "

She took another one of those cases down from a rack and pressed a button on the front of this so-called music player. A little tray emerged from it and James watched closely as Martha placed a disc onto this tray and pressing a button again where it promptly disappeared. A moment later, the room was filled with the soothing sounds of a piano. He immediately recognised the beautiful opening notes of Beethoven's Für Elise.

James let the calming melody wash over him, pleased to at last hear something that was familiar. The music was so beautifully clear; clearer indeed than listening to a phonograph. It was as though there were a concert pianist right there in the room with them, playing for their entertainment. He remembered how he and his sisters enjoyed going to concerts and operas when he was alive.

"My sisters and I loved going to concerts to hear music like this," he said, unwittingly voicing his thoughts aloud.

Martha looked round at him. Immediately, his demeanour had changed. His eyes had softened and his face had relaxed into an indulgent smile.

"You had sisters?" she asked him, and his smile widened.

"Yes, I did. Two younger sisters: Olivia and Katherine. They drove me to distraction at times, they would tease me unmercifully – Livvy especially. But we were the best of friends..."

There was obvious love in his eyes but also underlying pain and longing there as well. He would have given anything to be able to give his dear sisters a hug right now. Anything.

"You must miss them terribly," Martha murmured as the track came to an end.

James cleared his throat, and then cast around for a change of subject. It pained him deeply in his heart of hearts to think he was never to see his sisters ever again. His gaze fell upon Martha's Breakfast at Tiffany's poster on the wall nearby.

"The lady in the portrait... Is she a relative of yours?" he enquired.

Martha noticed he did not seem very keen on talking about himself, hence the change of subject.

"Pfft...I wish!" she laughed, switching off her CD player, "That's the fabulous Audrey Hepburn. Wasn't she beautiful? She's one of my favourite actresses. Hey, did you start to have films back in your time or not? Well, now people can enjoy them in the privacy of their own home. Here, I'll show you... "

She then endeavoured to show James the workings of the television and did her best to explain the concept of movies and DVDs.

They spent the rest of the morning continuing to make their way around the flat, Martha showing him this, pointing out that. James did his best to try and remember it all, what these various undoubtedly ingenious inventions were and how they functioned. He felt a bit foolish having to keep on asking questions but Martha was patient with him and was happy to oblige him with answers where she could. But she was no expert of things like electronics, cables, satellites or radio signals, not without consulting a book.

She paused to check her phone to see if Elliot had texted but she had no messages. Though she didn't really expect to hear from her other half just yet.

"What is that exactly?" James asked her, and Martha glanced over to see he was referring to her phone.

"Oh, this? This is a mobile. It's a portable telephone," she explained. She held it out to show him.

"That is a telephone?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He took the slim, metallic object from her to gaze at it in wonder. It was unbelievably small and lightweight. "But it is so small..."

"I know, crazy, isn't it?" Martha said with a little laugh, "But they come in dead handy, you can get in contact with anyone practically from anywhere – provided of course, you can get a signal."

James shook his head a little in faint disbelief as the front of the phone emitted a white glow and he could see a number of colourful little squares on the screen, though he had no idea what they were for. Martha had been right when she said about technology advancing so much in what was quite a comparatively short period of time. As he was busy marvelling over all this, the redhead was tapping her chin in thought.

"Hey, uh... how would you feel about going out for a bit?" she suggested, "Not for long. Just to the library and back?"

The library, she felt, was the ideal destination as a first trip out to see the modern world for the first time. It was usually quiet there on a weekday. In many ways, it was a good thing him being a ghost; at least she didn't have to worry about dressing him in modern clothing so that he could blend in with everyone else. That way, she could take out as many books as she liked so James could sit and read at his own leisure.

James considered her question for a moment. His spirit had been trapped in the pocket watch for so long now. On the one hand, he was mighty curious to see how the world outside the refuge of Martha's home looked nearly a hundred years later. But was he quite ready to experience it firsthand? He looked back at Martha, who was wringing her hands, awaiting his answer.

He shifted his feet, a little discomfited. All this dependency on a young woman left him in an inner turmoil. Here he was in a time where nobody knew either his name or his position; he had little understanding of how the way of the world now worked and surrounded by all this strange, new technology. Here he was, a fully-grown man, who just so happened to be a Captain of His Majesty's Cavalry, now somewhat co-dependent on a young, unmarried lady who lived alone. He knew he would just have to swallow his pride about this for the time being.

He favoured Martha with a smile.

"I believe a trip to the library sounds an excellent idea," he agreed, and Martha grinned widely again.

"Yay!"

She clapped her hands enthusiastically and scurried over to a sideboard to grab her keys before going to fetch for her leather jacket, scarf and bag. James couldn't help but smile at her animated eagerness, and picked up his cap which was still sitting on the counter where they had eaten. Even though he was sure that nobody else was able to see him, James still felt the need to at least look the part of a gentleman, even if he was a ghost.

As Martha locked the door behind them, James found himself in a long, very shabby-looking corridor. There were a number of other doors further along which he presumed led to other homes. The two of them managed to make it all the way down to the ground floor without meeting anyone thus avoiding any awkwardness. Before opening the front door, Martha looked round at James.

"Ready for the world, Captain Nicholls?" she asked.

James, who had in fact been trying to mentally prepare himself the whole way down from her flat, answered, "Ready as I'll ever be, Miss Burton."

Without any further hesitation, she tugged on the door, which creaked as though in protest, and they both stepped out into the chilly October air.

The wind immediately stung fiercely at Martha's face. She wrapped her scarf a bit tighter round herself, her breath mushrooming out and fading into the bitter air. James, of course being dead, was unaffected by the sudden harsh temperature. A small flight of steps led down from the front of the huge building.

Just before they reached the pavement, Martha's ankle gave way on the last step and she tripped. She let out a yelp but she found her fall broken by a pair of strong but freezing cold hands. She gasped, both at the added coldness and the sudden close proximity she found herself in with the ghost. It felt like she had just been plunged into a bucketful of ice.

"Are you alright, Miss Burton? Are you hurt at all?" he asked quickly.

"No, no, I'm fine, honestly," she babbled, smiling at his concern, "I'm always tripping over stuff, I'm a total klutz."

James let go of her arms, satisfied she was unhurt, hoping he hadn't seemed too forward. Martha straightened up, inwardly cursing her severe lack of gracefulness and tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Um...shall we?" she said, her cheeks turning pink. Though whether that was due to the cold or because of him, it was difficult to tell.

They began to walk side by side along the pavement, James' booted footsteps making not so much as a sound on the concrete. Martha hesitated by the garage compound but then thought better of it to fetch for her motorbike. Another day, perhaps, she thought. Thankfully, the library was within walking distance of her flat and Martha thought it may be best for James to observe the world around him on foot the first time around.

As they walked, James took the opportunity to take in his new surroundings. It was the one of seediest locations that he had ever set eyes upon. Some nearby community bins overflowed with used nappies and bags filled with all sorts of disgusting household waste; and what didn't fit inside was left to decompose on the ground, gusts of wind blowing the reeking mess into the doorways of neighbouring flats. A small group of unattended children were noisily playing nearby with a football. Tangles of weeds thrived beneath the unkempt hedgerows which divided one small patch of grass from the next. Several plastic bags skittered along the road even as James watched.

The sight gave him yet another pang of yearning for his home back in 1914. Flickers of his life danced tauntingly in his mind's eye. He missed his family's house in the beautiful Somerset countryside, with its warm crackling fires and rolling green fields where he spent many a happy hour out riding. Those were the things he longed for right at this moment.

Low laughter met their ears and James glanced up sharply. A group of teenage boys stood gathered around a lamp post on the pavement opposite, hoods pulled up over their baseball caps to hide their faces as they conversed together, heads bowed. A thin plume of smoke shivered in the air above their heads. Martha wrinkled her nose at the smokers as the stink of tobacco drifted towards them as they passed. She eyed them with their waistbands of their jeans halfway down their backsides and the torn hems dragging on the ground. She couldn't help but compare them to the smartly-dressed officer beside her, looking positively resplendent in his uniform by comparison.

Oh, how times have changed, she thought to herself wistfully. Unknown to her, James was thinking something along those same lines. She looked sideways at him to see a slight frown crease his forehead as he looked out at the area before him with an expression of mild distaste.

"I know...horrible, isn't it?" she said.

"Well, it's very...it's very..." James trailed off, unable to find the right words, trying to be diplomatic to the young lady. He did not wish to insult her.

Martha, however, let out a soft laugh.

"It's okay, you don't have to lie. I hate it here on this estate," she added to him in an undertone, not wanting the boys to think she was talking to herself. "If I could afford it, I'd move for sure."

At last, they arrived onto the main road, and James suddenly found his senses assaulted by an onslaught of noise and colour. Cars whizzed along the road, their engines revving and horns blaring from impatient drivers. A low rumble of an engine made James start and he watched as a bus crawled to a nearby stop. A number of people emerged, chattering, from the vehicle. He noticed that some of them were wearing similar articles of clothing to Martha's as they each went on their own way.

Smiling slightly at the mixed expression of shock, awe and perhaps a bit of horror on James' face, Martha said, "Welcome to the twenty-first century, Captain."


A/N: Okay, so after reading a couple of people's reviews, I just want to ask...how would you, my readers, feel if there WAS some kind of romantic connection between James and Martha? I wasn't sure about going down that particular road; I didn't know if it would be considered too creepy. After all, he IS dead. If I was to include it, it definitely wouldn't be anything major. But I don't know... Should there be any romance or should they just stay friends? I'd appreciate your thoughts and opinions, dears! :)

Anyway, I hope you beautiful people enjoyed this chapter. This time, all reviewers can have their own Loki in a suit and scarf to have their way with (ehehehe) ;)