*peeks out from behind cushion* Hello, lovelies! Thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing! I now ask you, dear readers, to suspend a bit of disbelief. But then again, you've made it this far right? ;) I'm nervous about you're going to react to this chapter too...eek. Actually to be honest, I get nervous every time I post a chapter but hey ho...
Shout-outs to: Coyoyotie, Fairyflights, RozaLove, Kiley , CaptainArwenPond221B, immysaurus, canis lupus familiaris, The Ginger Midget, Golden28, Sparky She-Demon, 'Guest', Tempest1444, ash, jackiemack916, DarkEnigma322, sieni1, MaraJade13243, AussieMaelstrom, Anthro23, kaia
Time Knows No Boundaries ~ Chapter Fifteen
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?
'Somewhere Only We Know' – Keane
.:*:.
James Nicholls opened his eyes blearily and his first immediate thought was that he had gone blind. Nought but what appeared to be an unidentifiable mass of greyish-white fog pressed upon his vision. He blinked rapidly a few times in order to clear his sight but the pearlescent fog still remained. Vaguely marvelling at the notion that he even had eyes at all to blink with, James raised himself into an upright position – from where, he did not even know. From what he could discern, all that he appeared to be standing upon was...nothing. Once he had established the fact that he had not gone blind after all, his light blue gaze swept around to take in his surroundings. He saw that he was completely encircled by even more of this mysterious swirling grey mist.
Am I in hell? he wondered dispassionately, I might just as well be...
Droplets of dew pearled his jacket, shimmering upon his person like tiny innumerable jewels but looking down at himself, he noticed that his uniform seemed to now be in pristine condition. Moreover, it quickly came to his attention that those terrible pains which had been tormenting him during the last few weeks seemed to have thankfully vanished. Although truth be told, he could not feel very much of anything anymore...only utter despair...
The silence here in this godforsaken place was deafening and it completely unnerved him. Was this what was meant by the phrase, "silent as the grave"? Was this where you were to go when you died? Was this how his soul was to be from now on...to spend the rest of eternity in this...this nothingness?
"I wasn't ready!" he suddenly bellowed, his voice echoing strangely through the gloom, "I wasn't ready!"
Without paying much heed to his actions in his anguish, James pounded his fist against, again what, he could not even begin to fathom for there did not seem anything real or solid about this ghastly place - but he did not care. He only wanted to rage at the injustice and the unfairness of his grievances; that he had been forced once again to leave the world before he was ready to. James pressed his hands over his face, unable to control his emotions any longer and before he knew it, he had broken down and dissolved into racking sobs. His sorrow reverberated in the mist, heard by no sympathetic ear. This was the second time during his existence that he had been forced to leave somebody he loved and now the overwhelming realisation that he was never again to see Martha's wonderful smile, never to hold her in his arms, that he was doomed to be alone again and would be forever more, hit the former Captain with such brutal force. What did he ever do to deserve such cruelty?
After what felt a long time - or perhaps it was no time at all, James did not even know or care anymore - his cries quietened and gradually ceased altogether. He lowered his hands from his face again, the oppressive silence pressing on his eardrums more than ever. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he let out a laboured sigh, gazing around morosely at this bleak, shapeless and unearthly landscape. He involuntarily shivered, even though the temperature was not even cold. Good God, this fog was detestable! He could not bear the idea of having to spend the rest of eternity in this. He would sooner have endured those pains.
"I wasn't ready for this," he spoke in a calmer tone, closing his eyes.
"I know you weren't, James," spoke a distant echoing voice, "and for that, I am most dreadfully sorry."
James snapped his eyes open again and turned his head sharply at the sound of this unprecedented voice, certain he had imagined it at first. He really would not put it past this dreadful place, wherever it was, to play terrible tricks on one's mind. However, the voice sounded oddly familiar to him; they had spoken his name and seemed to have floated from a direction somewhere to his left. He squinted through the vapour, trying to locate the source of the voice but he could see nothing or no one.
"Hello?" he called out warily, "Who's there?"
There was no answer except for the echo of his own voice. His curiosity finally triumphing over his caution, he stepped towards the direction from which the unknown speech seemed to be coming from, the mist swirling around his body as he walked, neither cool nor warm...just simply there. He had not ventured far, at least as far as he could judge, when the fog began to lift a little and he was at last able to see what lay ahead of him.
"It's alright," spoke the voice again much closer at hand and this time, James recognised it to be female, "I mean you no harm..."
The fog cleared a little more and he could see the blurred outline of a person, shimmering as though he were looking at them through a heat haze.
Is it an angel? James thought; the figure indeed did appear humanoid in shape, Nothing would begin to surprise me anymore...
However, as he approached, James found himself eating his own words as he was hit with a sudden jolt of recognition. He found himself face to face with somebody who he never believed in his wildest dreams he would ever see again. As she came into sharper focus, she turned her head to look at him and smiled impishly.
"Hello, James," she greeted, "It's good to see you, my dear."
She was wearing a primrose yellow dress of a light, floaty material, which swept to the ground to completely obscure her feet and seemed to billow slightly as though caught in a breeze; the silken bodice and sleeves were embroidered with delicate flowers. Her waterfall of wavy golden tresses was left loose, cascading down around her shoulders with tiny wildflowers also adorning her hair, just above her right ear and a daisy chain hung around her wrist as if she had for all the world just recently picked them while strolling in the woods. To complete this picture of an ethereal fairy creature, it was as though she herself was radiating sunlight; her very person seemed to be shining, breaking through the gloom of the surrounding mist like a lantern.
"Meg?" He stood before her, gaping at the image of the young woman he once knew and loved in complete and utter shock, hardly able to believe his own eyes, "Is it...is it really you? Or are you just some sort of mirage sent here to deliberately torment me further?" he added uncertainly.
The golden-haired woman shook her head, "No, I am no hallucination, it is really me," she told him sincerely, "or at least the "me" that was."
James was speechless for a moment as he gazed over at his long-lost fiancée. She did not look a day over twenty; however, on closer inspection, now that he was directly stood in front of her, he could see that her rich brown eyes belonged to that of a much, much older woman.
"You look...wonderful..." he breathed, not altogether certain what else to say right at that moment, he was far too astonished. At her answering beaming smile, he continued, "But how is it you don't look like you have aged a day since last I saw you?"
"Because this is how you remember me," she answered simply, her smile growing impossibly wider, "Merely a memory of what once was..."
"I don't understand," he said with a dazed shake of his head, still unable to believe it was really her.
"Well, if you take a seat, I shall do my very best to explain everything to you," said Meg brightly, and she patted the space on the bench beside her, inviting him to sit down. At his hesitation, her elfin features split into a playful grin, "It's quite safe. I won't bite, I promise you!"
It came to James' attention that the stone bench on which the ghost of Meg was seated upon was twin to the one currently half buried beneath many years' growth of moss and bramble in Thurlbear Wood, where he had just left. This one, however, was not weathered at all but clean and spotless. At last, James heeded the lady's words and sank down upon the pristine bench beside her just as he used to many years ago as if no time had passed at all, feeling thoroughly confused.
"I don't understand," he repeated, his eyes sweeping around at the eerie whirling fog around them, "Where the devil are we?"
"We are neither here nor there...we are in a no-man's land..." Meg explained, "This is a sort of a gateway, if you like...we are not truly apart of either the world of the living, nor that of the world of those who have passed. We are in – what is the phrase - in limbo..." she finished.
Indeed, as James looked back round to gaze at her, there was some quality about Meg which did not appear entirely solid; her whole being seemed to shimmer and dance as though she were made of nothing more substantial than a beam of sunlight. But for all that, now that he had recovered from his initial shock, since he had since he first arrived in this dreadful place, he felt a great sense of placid calm being in her presence.
"I see that you have become acquainted with my great-granddaughter," she stated conversationally, her eyes glittering knowingly as she looked at him, "Well, well...who could have predicted that, hm?"
James blanched a little at the mention of Martha. He looked back at Meg, watching her expression carefully, trying to discern whether he could hear accusation or disapproval in her tone. There was none, however.
"How do you - ?" he began but she answered him before he could complete his query.
"Oh, I've been watching over her and all of my family since the day they were born. Well, I have to keep myself occupied somehow even if I am deceased. A grandmother's maternal instincts never truly go away, no matter how many years have passed since my death. But I am so grateful to know that you have been there for her..."
"I think she helped me more than I helped her," James said quietly, his eyes cast downward.
"You helped each other," corrected Meg, "She rescued you from spending the remainder of your days being trapped in loneliness and darkness...and in turn, you saved her from an unhappy relationship with her deceitful partner. But more than anything, she was blessed with the greatest friend she has ever known... just like I did," She favoured him with a soft smile, stroking the side of his face affectionately. James closed his eyes briefly at her touch; her hands were ice cold, "She saved you in more ways than I think either of you realise yet," she continued in a murmur. James frowned in confusion and was about to ask what she meant by this enigmatic statement when she added, "That was rather an unorthodox way to give that young gentleman, Elliot's conscience a nudge, was it not?" She flashed him a teasing smile; a smile close to identical with her great-granddaughter's.
James jutted his jaw, his expression hardening and switched to one of great irritation that the conversation had steered towards Elliot and his haunting of him.
"Fielding is no gentleman, that I can assure you. Well, what would you have done if you were in my place?" he asked in slight defence, looking back round at her.
"Oh, don't be so spiky, I was not criticising you!" Meg let out a small tinkling laugh, nudging against his arm with her shoulder in a friendly gesture, "I think you acted wonderfully under the circumstances! I didn't want any granddaughter of mine to be lumbered with such a snake. So, thank you for making her aware of what he was really like... You know, it's a pity that I died before Martha was born," she continued thoughtfully, "I never had the opportunity to get to know her..."
"But you already do know her," James said kindly, his eyes softening again as his irritation melted away, "because you and she are so much alike...not in appearance, perhaps, but in terms of character - "
He trailed off abruptly and turned his head away, swallowing back a lump in his throat; he suddenly found that to speak of Martha now was exceedingly painful beyond all measure, horribly reminding him all the more of what he had just lost. The backs of his eyes were burning once again. As a quiet fell between the pair of them, Meg plucked apparently absent-mindedly at the delicate chain of daises tied around her slender wrist, but she was discreetly pretending she had not noticed his display of emotion. Composing himself, James turned back again to watch her, a small smile creeping onto his face as a great warm rush of affection and fondness for the woman beside him flooded through his being as he remembered how she would love to scoop up wildflowers during their many pleasant strolls through the woods together once upon a time. It was such a strange feeling but it did not feel as if any time had elapsed at all since he saw her last. It now seemed as though it were only yesterday that he had asked the shining woman sitting alongside him to be his wife.
"Do you remember when I proposed to you on this bench?" he asked her quietly.
She gave a soft reminiscent laugh, "How could I forget? Bless your heart, you were so nervous...I often wondered to myself how was it that a man who had an entire regiment of cavalrymen at his command and yet would get so tongue-tied over a marriage proposal!"
"Well, I wanted to get it absolutely right," James said in slight defence, "I had it all planned...I rehearsed it over and over and then what happened? I got down on one knee, all set to ask you...and realised I had just knelt down in a pile of sheep droppings!" Meg erupted into giggles as the memory came back to her. "Certainly not quite the romantic scenario I had imagined in my mind, let me tell you!" James finished, and despite everything, allowed himself a reluctant smile for the first time at the sight of his former fiancée laughing, "It definitely wasn't my finest hour..."
"Oh, I don't know," answered Meg, tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear as she recovered herself from her giggling, "I said yes, did I not?" Her smile faltered at the sudden change in James' countenance; he suddenly looked so terribly aggrieved that she tilted her head to one side to peer at him, "What is it, my dear?" she murmured in concern.
"I am so sorry," he whispered to her unhappily.
"Whatever for?" she enquired in a hushed tone, frowning slightly.
"For leaving you the way that I did," he elaborated, "I would never wish that sort of heartbreak or grief on you for anything in the world."
"Oh, James," she sighed, "Why would you say such a thing? It was hardly any fault of yours now, was it?" She emitted another heavy sigh, "When I received that awful news that you had been killed, I shut myself away, believing my life to be all over. I could not ever imagine that any man could replace you in my heart. But then out of the blue, there was Edward – Martha's great-grandfather - this young, unassuming beekeeper who used to leave me jars of honey on my doorstep instead of flowers..." Despite himself, James gave a soft chuckle at this, "...and as much I grew to love him, I kept trying to deter his affections, thinking that I was somehow betraying your memory. But then I told myself: you would not have wished for me to put my life on hold. I knew deep down that you would not disapprove, that you would not have wanted to lock my heart away and to be miserable."
"Of course I wouldn't, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy," James told her earnestly, "It gladdened me so much when I heard from Martha that you married after the war."
"I freely admit that Edward was never the sort of man who I imagined myself wed to," Meg confessed, "A simple beekeeper? My mother was horrified at the time! But as you are now fully aware, my darling James, you cannot plan who your heart chooses to fall for...can you?" She looked at him meaningfully, her eyes glinting knowingly once again.
They were back upon the subject of his feelings for Martha and James could not bring himself to speak of the matter, or perhaps he did not need to; Meg seemed to be fully aware of everything concerning her great-granddaughter.
Steering the conversation away instead, he murmured quietly, "I would just like to know something... Were you happy? I mean - did Edward make you happy?"
A tender smile graced Meg's face, "Well, we muddled along in our own way, we had our fair share of trials and tribulations as does everybody but ultimately, yes...he made me very happy," she said brightly and James could tell that she truly meant that.
"Then I could not ask for anything more," he smiled, "I know a family of your own was all that you ever longed for."
"Children and grandchildren were such a blessing to me," nodded Meg, her eyes alight with the love she obviously felt for her family, "They still are. And I know you really shouldn't have favourites," she added hastily, "I loved all my grandsons dearly but I always did dote on little Gregory. He did me make laugh, that boy - he was really naughty sometimes - but he had a heart of gold. That's why I bequeathed to him your painting of Joey..."
"I never imagined I would see that old portrait again," James said, shaking his head in wonderment as he remembered the evening Martha had returned to her flat with the painting of Joey in her arms and the truth about their connection had come to light, "I cannot believe that you still kept it after all those years."
Meg gazed back at him, her own chocolate orbs wide with slight surprise.
"Of course I did," she said as though it were obvious, "I would never part with something so beautiful that you sent, it was far too precious to me..." After a moment's pause, she said, "James, I think you have the right to know what became of the real Joey... " James looked up at her warily, mentally preparing himself for the worst. "Don't despair, my dear," she added assuredly, seeing his expression, "He did not perish in the charge although many did. After all that they endured, he and young Albert Narracott were reunited in the end."
James stared at her, aghast, hardly daring to believe it.
"He survived?" Then for the first time since he had arrived in this infernal place, a true smile of delight lit up his features, transforming them immeasurably, "Well, I never..." he said with a slight shake of his head, "Good old Joey! I always knew that he was a miraculous horse...So he had a future, after all..."
"Everyone is entitled to a future, James," Meg said softly, "As for me, I was a very old woman who had lived a good, full life. When my time came and death came knocking upon my door, I welcomed it with open arms. But you...you deserve to have that chance too; to have a full life and spend it with those you hold most dear to your heart."
At her words, James' smile vanished as quickly as it arrived. His eyes grew sombre, shadowed by grief and resignation.
"You and I both know that cannot be," he murmured.
"Ah, yes...now then," she said briskly, almost business-like in manner, straightening up in her seat, "as lovely as this trip down memory lane is, let us return to the issue at hand: what is this nonsense I am hearing about you being under the impression that it is time for your spirit to pass on and leave the physical world, hm?"
James turned his head sharply to look around at her, his eyes wide with incredulity. He could not have been more shocked if his former fiancée had spontaneously grown a second head. It had been so casually said, so matter-of-fact, as if she were speaking of the weather, that James could have sworn that they were simply discussing the matter over afternoon tea such as they used to enjoy together once upon a time.
"I beg your pardon?" he whispered, not certain he had heard her correctly.
"Oh, James," she sighed, shaking her head in an almost exasperated way, "Don't you see, my dear? Those pains that you were experiencing, they did not mean you were not long for this world..."
"What...what on earth are you talking about?" James demanded in confusion, hardly daring to believe his own ears, "What do you mean?"
Meg shifted herself on the bench a little so that she was facing him properly, taking hold of his hand and continued more seriously, "Cast your mind back... When your soul was trapped within the pocket watch, it remained intact...the watch kept your soul safe and it did not die; it still lived on. Your body may have been damaged but your soul was not. For years and years, as you know full well, your spirit was trapped in the watch until...?" she trailed off, encouraging James to finish her sentence for her.
"Martha discovered the watch at the antique shop," he continued, and he recalled instantly that moment when he had heard Martha speaking as she had first plucked his pocket watch from out of that tatty cardboard box full of other unwanted artefacts. After what seemed an eternity of wandering hopelessly along an extremely long and lonely dark tunnel, just when he was resigning himself to the horrible fact that he was doomed to remain imprisoned there forevermore, the sound of Martha's voice had shone out to him like a beacon of hope. "And although she heard my voice, she did not wish to acknowledge it, believing she was imagining things."
"Which was hardly surprising given the circumstances...but think now," Meg prompted, "...what was the reason your spirit came to be finally freed from the watch?"
James pondered this for a moment or two, his brows furrowed and then something stirred in his memory.
"She spoke to me directly...that was how I was released..."
"Exactly!" nodded Meg enthusiastically, "That was the start of it... And when you revealed yourself to her, she could very easily have turned you away. Considering how frightened she was when she first met you, it would have been understandable. But she did not. She welcomed you gladly into her home and her life, and that was before she was even aware of your connection with our family... However, as the weeks went on, the more time you spent in her company, you were gradually gaining strength and your body began to repair and restore itself back to life..."
James gaped at the shining woman, his blue eyes wide with shock.
"That's not possible! How?" he demanded in a choked whisper.
"Remember what I said earlier about Martha saving you in more ways than either of you knew?" Meg reminded him, "You opened your hearts to one another, you shared a bond and without either of you realising it, her kindness toward you, her good, honest heart began to heal yours, making it stronger...strong enough to restore you back to your old self again. That was the reason you were experiencing those pains..."
James found that he was suddenly trembling like a leaf. Such a confused frenzy of thoughts were scurrying around his mind like a swarm of busy spiders. No, this was absolutely preposterous, absurd! It could not be true...could it?
"You mean to say – she – that I'm - not passing on?" he said slowly, his mind reeling.
Meg shook her head. "Quite the opposite, in fact," she said softly, "If you wish to have proof of the matter, why don't you take a peek at your wound there?"
She nodded in the direction of his breast pocket where there once had been a raggedy hole. James quickly unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt to look down at his bullet wound, where the pain had been worst... only there was no wound. The skin there had miraculously healed over, unblemished and whole, without so much as a scar. It was almost as if there had been no injury present at all.
Without paying much attention to his movements, James rose from the bench and began to rapidly pace up and down in great agitation, the horrid fog swirling about him. His mind was in utter turmoil... No, no, this just couldn't be! It couldn't be true, this made no sense whatsoever! He brought his hands up to his face, steepling his fingers. He was torn between utter disbelief and awe at what Meg was saying was even possible; sheer joy at the revelation that he was not passing on at all, that he was in fact being restored back to life...which then, curiously enough, swiftly turned to a rush of anger.
How could he have been so blind? He could not think straight; he just could not take it in. This did not make any sense at all and yet... No, but wait a moment...James halted in his pacing as he remembered...now he came to think of it, the pains which he had been experiencing had been much more intense recently whenever he had disappeared or reappeared as though his body had been struggling to cope with such a task; he recalled when he had been comforting Martha after her upsetting confrontation with Elliot, how she had reached up to stroke his face as he cradled her in his arms and he had felt a great lurch in his chest...and he had experienced little jolts in the place where his heart ought to have been even before he felt those awful pains on Christmas Eve; sometimes whenever Martha so much as smiled at him or if they happened to touch...though he had always put those little nagging feelings down to his reactions of his growing attraction toward the redhead...
He wheeled back around to face Meg's ghost, who had been watching him pace with apprehension.
"So why," he spoke slowly, deliberately, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "why in God's name have I been brought here? Why was I not made aware of this before? Why was I led to believe that I was to leave?" he thundered, his voice rising in his anger. He honestly did not mean to lose his temper but he was finding it exceedingly difficult to control it. After what he had just endured, who could entirely blame him?
For the first time during this reunion, the radiant smile vanished completely from Meg's face. She did not flinch under his sudden wrath for she had honestly expected it. But her bright, cheerful exterior crumbled, her brown eyes cast downward, looking so desperately sorry that James felt almost quite ashamed that he had raised his voice to her. His anger had been directed at himself more than anybody.
"Oh, believe me, I tried!" she told him emphatically, "But Lord...I had forgotten how stubborn you can be! You were immovable; once you get an idea in that head of yours, there's no shifting it. When I realised that you had jumped to the wrong conclusion and Martha was going to let you go, I just had to think of a way in order to speak with you and explain everything somehow," she said, looking back up at him, a note of pleading in her voice, "So I had you brought here to this place... Please believe me, I truly am sorry that it had to be so cruel on you both! Timing never was my strong suit, and I know it doesn't excuse it but drastic times call for drastic measures."
For a moment, James merely glared at her, his cerulean eyes ablaze in his fury. Eventually, however, his gaze softened and he bowed his head, nodding in appeasement. Little by little, he felt his anger gradually dwindle away as he slowly processed all what she had just told him. He could not believe that all this time he had thought that the pain meant that he were to leave... How could he be so terribly mistaken? He buried his face between his hands.
"Oh dear God, I have been such an absolute fool!" he uttered, his voice muffled against his clasped fingers, shaking his head in bewilderment and self-admonishment. Numb with shock and utter consternation, he resumed his seat beside Meg on the bench. "Is that the reason Greg was able to see me?" he asked, as he remembered suddenly, "All this time, we imagined this to be something unique only to Martha."
"To begin with, yes, it was..." Meg replied, "but I daresay the longer you stayed, more and more people would have begun to see you, as well."
James lowered his hands and as steadily as he could, he asked her, "Why was I really brought here, Meg?"
"To be given one last opportunity to make a decision...a decision which can only be made by you and you alone," she told him seriously, "But this is not an opportunity given to many, I'll have you know. You could, if you wish it, continue as you are and allow your soul to pass on to the world of the deceased and rest in peace once and for all. Lord knows, you'd deserve it after all that you have suffered... but I know you, James Nicholls...do you really wish to spend the rest of your existence looking over your shoulder, wondering "what if?" all of the time? If you ask me, it would be an awful waste... You could go back, if that is what you wish...?"
James was silent, deeply immersed in thought. When he had initially been granted his freedom from his timekeeping prison, his every thought had been consumed with desperate yearning to discover what had become of his dearly beloved Meg; it was all he had ever hoped to know right from the very beginning...and now after all this time, against all the odds, they were finally together again. Not so long ago, if he had been given the opportunity to allow for his soul rest in peace and spend the rest of time with Meg, he would have grabbed it with both hands with no hesitation at all... But now? Here he was being granted the incredible, impossible opportunity of having the future that he was robbed of nearly one hundred years ago...
Meg, who had been watching him carefully, now stood up from the bench, her shining, graceful figure shimmering amongst her misty surroundings. She turned back to face him.
"I had my happy ending, my dear James... I believe that it is high time you deserve to have yours as well. So...which of those endings is it to be?"
I ummed and aahed a lot over this chapter and I still don't know if I'm entirely happy with it. I noticed that quite a lot of you mentioned in your reviews that you hoped Jim's pains were in fact his heart 'fixing' itself and it meant that he was becoming alive again, so there you go! Like it or loathe it as you will. I wanted to find a way to weave Meg into a scene somehow as she's been a big presence throughout the story, she meant so much to Jim and I felt (in my view anyway) it was appropriate that she'd be the one to explain the situation to him. The next chapter's ready, so I'm posting that one straightaway. Much love to you all :)
