Epilogue

Lisa and Erik found themselves lying in the snow in the cemetery in 1919 France. Weird. She'd thought she'd seen something…but couldn't remember what it was. Nor could she recall why they were on the ground.

"Erik, are you okay?"

He sat up and adjusted his mask, looking around in confusion. "Yes," he said. "What has happened?"

"I dunno…but I think we should just go home."

Erik readily agreed.

In the Eye of Orion, the Fifth Doctor groaned and opened his eyes. In the distance, he could hear someone calling him.

Doctor! he also heard in his head. Doctor!

Lisa came running up to him, concern on her face. "Are you okay? I felt something weird." She extended her hand to him.

"What?" he asked, accepting it to pull himself up. He shook his head. "No, really, Lisa, I'm fine," he said with a smile.

"Well, you know I worry," she replied, smiling back, clinging to his arm as they walked back towards the TARDIS.

Three regenerations later, inside the TARDIS, the Eighth Doctor was stirring on the couch he'd been laying on. Lisa came up next to him, looking worried.

"Are you all right?" she asked him. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Was I?" he said, looking around, confused.

"Yeah. Not sure what you were saying, though."

He thought a moment, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Come on, let's continue on our journey."

In a buried ship on a deserted island in 1995, Adam Newman woke with a start, jarring Lisa, who had been sleeping beside him.

"You all right?" she asked sleepily, propping herself up.

"Huh?" he said, running a hand through his hair. "Uh…yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Bad dream, I guess. Can't remember it, now."

"Oh," she said, yawning. "Go back to sleep."

Though still a little baffled, he lied back down and shut his eyes, holding Lisa close.

In Metropolis in 1998, Clark Kent woke and found himself on a collision course with the couch.

Hearing the crash, Lisa came running from the kitchen area. "Clark, you okay?"

He sat up and looked around, now covered in down from the pillows he'd burst open by landing on them.

"Bad dream?" she asked, sitting beside him and knocking some of the feathers off his shoulders.

"Yeah, I think so. I can't remember it."

"Oh. Well, now that you're up, I dropped something behind the bed. Could you lift it up for me?"

In the Massassi temple, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Luke Skywalker found himself being shaken awake by Lisa.

"Hey, you were worrying me for a minute, there," she said, helping him up. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…what happened?"

"I dunno," she said. "We were walking, and you fell behind…I turned around and you were on the floor."

"Was I?" he asked, puzzled. "I don't remember…"

"Luke, we're gonna be late for lightsaber practice."

"Oh, all right. Come on."

In the twenty-fourth century, on the starship USS Enterprise-E, Lieutenant Commander Data found himself sitting in his quarters at his workstation, yet something seemed to be wrong. His memory files appeared to be missing several minutes of information. He ran a self-diagnostic and compared his internal chronometer to the computer's, and found it, indeed, discrepant by six minutes. Though confused, he reset it and started to continue what he'd been doing when his door chime rang.

"Enter," he said.

Lisa walked in, causing the emotion chip within him to activate, filling him with a sense of happiness.

"Hey, Data," she said, coming inside and stopping to pet Spot, Data's cat, who was lying on a couch before coming up next to him.

"Greetings," he said, puckering his lips to allow for a kiss, which she readily accepted. After he and Lisa had fallen in love, he had come to understand that she liked to show affection by hugging and kissing her mate.

"What are you working on?" she asked after the kiss had been broken.

Data actually had to pause to access his memory banks. Lisa must have noticed this.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Usually it doesn't take you so long to answer."

"I seem to be missing six minutes of my recorded memories," he said. "As if they were deleted."

"But the only one who could do that is you, right?"

"That is correct," he said. "I do not understand how it could have happened."

"Hm," said Lisa. "Should we call Geordi? See if he can find anything?"

"I have already run a self diagnostic, which did not reveal any anomalies; however, I believe I shall take that precaution."

"Okay. I'll go with you."

"Of course."

Together, they stood and left Data's quarters, heading to engineering.

In the vastness of space in the fiftieth century, Captain Karkoff woke and found himself still in the cell he'd been thrown in by that winged girl and her companions. He felt horrible…all of his muscles ached. Looking around at his crew, he found them looking much older than they were supposed to.

He cursed under his breath. He designed the ship himself, including the brig. That posed an advantage, because he knew the failsafe, just incase he ever locked himself in. He went to the control panel that powered the retractable seats. He punched in a special sequence of buttons, and then another, and then another. The panel bleeped, buzzed and the force field disappeared.

"Amateurs," he muttered as he stepped out, but was immediately knocked over by an enormous explosion. Cursing again, he scrambled to his feet as a klaxon sounded through the ship. He went to the control panel and found the explosion had come from the extraction room and breeched the hull. He put up the force fields, cursing more. Without the extractor, there was no hope for him and his crew to survive the trip back to their home world.

Minutes later, another explosion rocked the ship, and then another, and more. The computer went haywire, klaxons sounded, and Karkoff looked up just in time to shield his eyes from sparks spraying into his face.

"Warning, core breech imminent," said the computer.

"What?!" Karkoff shouted, rushing back to the console, trying to eject the engine core to stave off destruction. Unfortunately, the clamps had locked, and it was no use. The ship was going to explode.

Shouting every curse in the book, he slammed consoles and pounded buttons.

"This isn't over!" he screamed. "The Warlords will live on!"

Karkoff, his ship and his crew were enveloped by the fire as the ship exploded into a million pieces.

The End