AN: To anyone who told me that they're enjoying this, thank you, you have no idea how inspiring your words are.

Recap last chapter: She licked her lips, pressed them together then meeting his eye said, "I'm from the future."

"The future?" Hal had learned to read people well and as far as he could see, she wasn't lying, but perhaps she was plagued with madness. He considered how best to reply and decided to play along. "When, exactly?"

"2015."

"The year of our lord, two thousand and fifteen?"

She nodded.

"Six hundred years?"

She nodded again.

"Canst thou prove it?"

Chapter Three

Meg reached into her pocket first and handed him a watch.

"Have you ever seen a clock so small?" she asked.

"I have not," he admitted, observing it closely enough that he could hear it tick. "The small strap and buckle?"

"To attach it to a wrist."

He nodded. "What else have you?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out her purse, handing him a ten pound note again. "Have you ever seen printing so fine?"

"It might not be printing, it might be done by hand."

"Compare them, then tell me they aren't printed." She handed him another note. "Then pour water on them and rub, the ink still won't run."

"Whose image is this?"

"Queen Elizabeth the second."

"No wonder you allow women to be schooled, with a queen for a monarch."

"Women were being schooled long before she came to the throne. But yes, we do believe in equal rights, and that given half a chance, women are just as capable as men."

He looked from the note to Meg.

"Turn it over, you'll see a gentleman from history, well, history to us."

"Charles Darwin."

"He came up with the theory of evolution. Does it have a date?"

"1809 to 1882." He looked at the notes for a few more minutes, then placed them on the table. "What else?"

She pulled the strange, flat box out of the bag and after she pressed the top, the screen lit up. "It takes a few moments to warm up," she explained. "This device does everything, well, it does a lot. It allows us to talk with anyone else who has a similar device, to search the internet, which is like an archive of knowledge. It stores and plays music and books, videos, all sorts. And it takes photos."

"Photos? Videos?"

"Photographs are like electronic, instant paintings, and videos are moving paintings."

"Show me."

The phone beeped to say it was ready, then Meg began to navigate the menus. "We'll start with pictures. Say cheese!"

He frowned and she took a picture, blinking as the flash blinded him for a moment.

"What the devil was that!"

"An electric light, so pictures taken in the low light are still visible." She showed him the phone and he saw an image of himself, almost the same as that which was reflected back at him in a mirror.

"I look different."

"Because you've only seen your reflection, where your features are reversed. This is how other people see you."

She moved around the table and, putting her head next to his, took a selfie of them together, then showed him the image.

"Amazing. And the music you spoke of?" he asked as she sat back down.

Meg opted to play him something classical, presuming that he probably wouldn't enjoy Eminem or Bruno Mars.

She turned the sound down a little, unwilling to lose any more battery than necessary. Her phone was her biggest reminder of home.

"That's beautiful," he said. "What is it?"

"They call it Air on a G-string. I'm not sure of its proper name, but it was written by Bach."

"And you carry that wonder around in your hand?"

"We have other devices like this, but they are larger and not as easy to carry around." She pulled a letter from her bag, a reminder to get her car tax. At least she had done that a few days before this happened, so her car wouldn't be impounded in her absence. "See, it's printed in colour and note the date."

"January, 2015," he said softly.

Air on a G-String ended and the next song on the playlist began. "This is Nimrod, by Edward Elgar… Actually, you might like this," she skipped to the next song. "It's called Zadok the Priest, by Handel, and it's been played at all of our coronations since the 18th century."

Hal sat back and contemplated the music and indeed, the woman before him. She had ample evidence to back up her claim, but was she really from the future?

Could these objects not be from a different land, rather than an unknown time?

"How do you come to be here?" he asked.

"That, I'm not so sure about," she answered. "I was meeting with a friend and I had spare time, so I decided to go early and visit the Abbey, it's a tourist destination now, saved for royal weddings and notable funerals. It's not allowed but I sat in King Edward's Chair and I know I shouldn't have but… I don't know why I did it to be honest, I'm not normally a rule breaker. Anyway, I sat there for a few moments, then I was disturbed and I ran out of the abbey, afraid of being caught and the next thing I knew, I was here and a moment after that, I saw you. I thought it was a re-enactment at first but then I noticed that the landmarks around me had changed, and I panicked."

"Where were you running?"

"I thought that perhaps I had been turned around, then I saw the Jewell tower and I realised I hadn't; Big Ben was gone."

"Big Ben?"

"The palace of Westminster burned down in the 1830s and the replacement has a huge clock tower that we call it Big Ben."

"So thou came here through a house of God?" he demanded.

"Well… in a manner of speaking."

"Then we must assume that thy presence here is God's will."

"Are you suggesting I stay?"

"I think you must."

"No," she stood up so suddenly her chair clattered to the floor. "I have a life, a family!" she scrolled through the pictures on her phone then brandished it at him. "Look, that's my brother and sister, they'll be so worried! And I have a house, and bills that need paying, and a job to go to. People depend on me, I can't stay here, Hal."

"I think you must."

"No, I need to get back into the abbey and to that chair, once I get back there, I'm sure I can go home." She couldn't countenance the idea of not being able to go home.

"God does not allow mistakes, Meg, if he brought you here, it was for a reason."

"But don't you see, if I stay here, I'll change history! Oh god," she covered her mouth. "What if I've already changed history? What if you were supposed to die here? No, no, wait… Henry the fifth died in France." She sighed in relief.

"But thou thought me dying earlier today."

She turned to look at him. "I must have been wrong. His treatment was dangerous but obviously, you survived it. I shouldn't have tried to intervene."

"Or, thy presence here was always supposed to be, so thou hast not changed anything because you are already a part of thy history."

"I think I would remember if history mentioned someone called Margaret Hunter, don't you?"

"Is that your full name?"

She didn't realise she hadn't told him. "Yes."

"It suits you well. Margaret is a lovely name for a lovely woman, and Hunter conveys strength."

"Thank you, but I prefer Meg."

"Pray tell me, given thy desire to go home, why hast thou not returned to the abbey whilst I was away?"

"Because they wouldn't let a woman in, so I borrowed some of your clothes and dressed as a boy, I pretended I had a message for the Abbot from you."

"What was the message?" he asked.

"That you asked for the monk's prayers for the upcoming battle."

"And what happened?"

"I was escorted to and from the Abbots quarters and when I tried to wander off, I was caught before I got five meters away."

"Meters?"

"A meter is about a yard."

He nodded. "And have you made no more plans?"

"I was watching the abbey at night to see what time they went to sleep. I was planning on breaking in on the night you returned."

"Why do you not go tonight?"

"Because there'll be no one to make you drink the antibiotic tea."

"You would give up your chance to return for me?"

"The chair will still be there so I haven't given up anything, and I would do it to save anyone's life."

"Hmm," he murmured.

Feeling uncomfortable, Meg pulled the cloth back from the broth she made earlier.

"Drink," she commanded.

Hal finished his tankard of sack and refilled it with the broth from the kettle, drinking it down in one go.

"How does your society know so much," he asked. His desirous gaze unnerved her, but maybe his eyes were not hooded with lust, but lethargy.

"Science, I suppose. Each generation builds on the knowledge of the previous, and we've had 600 years."

He was still observing her with his unnerving expression.

"You should rest," she told him.

"I'll make thee a bargain, Margaret Hunter."

"Oh?"

"My father is sick. Once I am recovered, wouldst thou visit my father with me and see if thou can discern what ails him? For my part in return, that I shall escort thee to the abbey myself, and no one would dare stop me."

She considered for a moment.

"You need not fear arrest or imprisonment if you go in my company," he continued to persuade her. "And you may greatly aid the king, perhaps even save his life also, and it is always prudent to have a monarch in thy debt."

"Fine," she agreed. "But I can't make any promises; even if I can tell what's wrong with him, there's no saying the treatment would be available in this time."

"Understood."

"Now you need to rest and I need to check your leg before you do."

"Thou means to make me blush before the day is ended. I fear my illness will ruin your good name."

Meg laughed. "I don't see why seeing your thigh should ruin my reputation, when I have two of my own to gaze on at my leisure. By that logic, everyone must be ruined the first time they look down. But if it spares your blushes," she said, teased him, "I'll turn my back while you undress."

Hal chuckled but removed his trousers and climbed into bed, although he left this shirt on for now.

"I cannot claim to be decent, but I am ready."

She turned back and leaning over, placed her hand over his wound.

"It feels cooler already," she answered. "It looks like the tea is working. You must keep taking it four times a day, for five days though, if you stop before then, the infection could return."

She moved to stand up but he grabbed her hand.

"Thank you," he said with sincerity.

"You're welcome." She pulled the blanket down to cover his legs and up to his chest. "I'll make you a fresh batch of tea tomorrow morning, I'd hate to save you, only to kill you with botulism or something."

"Botulism?"

"A very nasty bacteria. Don't worry though, the microbes are anaerobic, it can't grow in the tea."

"It is as though thou were speaking in another tongue."

She smiled. "Sleep well, Hal."

"I have a feeling that will not be a problem, by my troth, I'm exceeding weary." He closed his eyes and on impulse, she bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight."

Standing, she went back to the chair by the table and sat down, unwilling to leave him alone just yet.

Meg awoke in the morning to find herself slumped over the table and with a lot of stiffness as she sat up and stretched out her aches.

"That is positively indecent," she heard Hal say, and turned to see him looking over at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I have had hangovers more debilitating than this, although I still feel most weary."

"I'll get some water to make some more tea and see if I can get you some eggs or something with breakfast."

She mixed some more paracetamol power with last night's sack for him, then took the kettle as she went to request more water and a clean kettle. He watched with interest as she added new mouldy apple peelings, mouldy bread and honey.

By mid-morning she was feeling lethargic from her lack of sleep, and Hal insisted she return to her room and at least nap for a while.

She didn't sleep for long and when she awoke, he was in his room, drinking with Poins. She left them to it and took the chance for a walk and some fresh air, not that the air was that fresh in town but she got to stretch her legs.

Hal improved a little more that day and by the following day, he was almost back to normal, although she insisted he continue taking tea. His leg wound was also much improved and no longer hot to the touch, although it was still red and angry. She cleaned it daily with alcohol and was confident that the danger had passed.

He questioned her endlessly on what life was like in her time, and she answered him as patiently and thoroughly as she could.

They ventured out onto the tavern floor on the third evening but while he enjoyed himself, Hal was easily tired. The next night he was almost himself once more but he did not seem to take the same pleasure in Falstaff's company, although he still enjoyed Poins, and enjoyed watching the two of them banter.

Meg left them to it, sure that Hal must be sick of her company, and went to talk with some of the other patrons.

That night the tavern had music though and Hal sought her out and pulled her up to dance, despite her protestations that he should rest. She wasn't sure what kind of dancing it was, but it was energetic and fun.

He seemed glued to her side for the rest of the night and as the music slowed to background music, he pulled her to a quiet corner.

"We can have some privacy to dance here," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her.

They didn't dance so much as sway gently to the music and with her heart beating a mile a minute and her stomach fluttering with nerves, Meg felt very much like a teenager dancing with her crush at the school disco.

"I should very much like to kiss you, sweet Meg, but I am a feared thou might strike me again."

She smiled.

"You can kiss me because you like me," she assured him. "But try to pay me for it and I'll knee you in the family jewels."

"Feisty," he laughed. "I like that about thee."

Growing a little impatient, she stretched up and kissed him, although it was little more than a peck.

"How forward thou art," he said warmly, dipping his head to claim her lips again. She closed her eyes and gave up the pretence of dancing, content to lose herself in his attentions for a while.

She knew that she shouldn't get too close to him, that she was in very great danger of loving him but after such a fun evening, and her thinking hampered by the cider, she couldn't think of a single reason not to enjoy this.

He deepened the kiss as his hands began to roam her back and she returned his ardour until finally they parted, both breathless even though they had been standing still.

"Let's go back to my room," she suggested.

He raised his eyebrow in question.

"Yes, I mean sex."

"I would not seek to ruin thee," he said seriously.

"You won't," she assured him. "My society doesn't judge women on the state of her maidenhead. Much. Come on." She took his hand and led him back to her room.

"Are you sure," he said as she bolted her door.

"Yes, I'm sure." She had a hormone implant with two years to go before it ran out and given that he'd had a week of antibiotics, she could trust that he was probably disease free.

They quickly divested each other of their clothes, then she pushed him on the bed and straddled him. He seemed shocked when she crawled down his body and took him in her mouth, although his protests were quickly silenced and his hand came to rest on her head, although he applied no pressure. He came quickly and with some surprise, she realised that she was the more experienced of them.

"What was that?" Hal asked as she moved to snuggle into his side for the moment.

"A blow job."

"There didn't seem to be much blowing."

She laughed. "No one's ever done that for you before?"

"No. Is it to forestall pregnancy?"

"No, we have other ways to stop that. We do it because it feels nice."

"Thou must live in very different times," he told her.

"We do," she assured him, rising her head off his chest. "And you can go down on me too."

He frowned in confusion.

"Lick and suck my sex."

He looked surprised but not distasteful.

"And this replaces sex?"

"No," she laughed. "Just enhances it. Believe me, I still intend to have that cock in me, once you've recovered."

"I shall endeavour to do my best, my lady," he said with a chuckle. "And in the meantime, I have not much experience pleasing women in such ways, so perhaps thou will show me how to please thee?"

"If you want."

He suddenly flipped her onto her back and she laughed in surprise. He began by imitating her, kissing and licking as he slowly moved down, paying particular attention to her breasts and nipples.

Once he was settled between her legs, he began licking het slit and she decided to explain a few things.

"This is the clitoris," she showed him. "It's as sensitive as a man's cock so tease it as you'd want your cock teased."

He did, showing quite an aptitude by licking and sucking, changing his pace and seemingly making note of what actions she enjoyed more than others.

"Put your fingers inside me," she said as her climax approached.

He slid two fingers in her channel and without her needing to say, moved them in time with the ministrations of his tongue, so it didn't take long until she came, his name on her lips.

"I need you to fuck me, Hal." She called.

Even if he didn't know the word, he seemed to understand her meaning as he moved up her body and she took his length and place it at her entrance. He slid home a moment later, stretching her wide and making her cry out.

"Art thou hurt?" he demanded.

"No. No, keep going," she urged, and he did, thrusting into her. "Harder," she told him. "Harder," until he was pounding her into the thin mattress.

His lips claimed hers and her hands roamed the planes of his back, clawing and scratching at him. He pulled out a moment later.

"No, I want you inside me," she urged.

He seemed surprised but didn't question it and after a few moments to resume his pace, he spilled his seed inside her.

"Thou art like a wild animal between the sheets," he panted.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Twas meant as such," he assured her, rolling off. "Come hither," he said, gathering her against him.

He began to run his fingers through her hair and she felt like putrring with contentment. Once he had recovered himself a little, he began to question her.

"I take it that carnal knowledge is not considered sinful where thou hails from?"

"No. Making love is beautiful and a way to increase intimacy. Even the church has relaxed its stance."

"The church? That surprises me greatly."

"If God made us, he made sex pleasurable so that we could enjoy it," she explained. "There's nothing sinful in doing what our bodies were designed to do."

"Thou may have a point."

A few seconds later, Hal yawned.

"Looks like I've worn you out," she said as she raised her head and smiled at him. "You should sleep, you're still recovering."

"I'm not sure I want this night to end."

She laughed. "Flatterer."

He pressed her head back onto his chest. "Take thyne own advice and sleep, good woman. We can converse in the morning."

On the fifth day of his recovery, Hal ran into Poins, who invited him to the baths.

His conscience told him to return to the castle, but he needed a bath and besides, he had missed his friend. Meg seemed happy for him to go, stating that she had missed baths and couldn't begrudge him. He gave her some coins and he and Poins delivered her to the women's baths, so that she might indulge herself. They offered to collect her but it seems that while he was away at Shrewsbury, she had become quite well acquainted with London and insisted she could find her own way home.

He ignored the fact that he missed Meg while away from her, for she was leaving soon and missing her would be something he had no choice but to endure. He did so enjoy her company though, for she was sweet, and kind, and interesting; full with opinions, knowledge and questions. She showed him none of the deference his rank required. He enjoyed the fact that Falstaff and the other tavern patrons treated him almost like one of them, but they still revered him to a degree.

Not her though. Unlike Falstaff, she did not abuse him or take his name in vain, backtracking when caught out. Nor did she agree with him mindlessly, as Poins often did, and she did not shower him with hollow praise or press gifts into his hands, hoping to be in his good graces, as many did.

If she crossed him, she had her reasons for doing so and she stood fast behind her words. It also seemed to be for his own benefit, rather than hers. She cared for him. Him, not the prince, not the future king, not the merrymaker, him.

He had never had someone befriend him solely for who he was, as opposed to what he was.

He liked it. A lot.

But he had made her a promise to see her returned home and while he may have many faults, he would not break his bond.

He had been thinking a lot about duty recently, knowing that his father was ailing and his country needed him. He needed to stop drinking, to leave this place and these people behind. But when he had the idea to spy on Falstaff, he couldn't turn the thought away, for here was a way to enjoy himself without indulging in sack, women or licentious behaviour.

Only the antic did not have the same draw as it once has. It wasn't as fun to hear his friend dispraise him, not as it had once been, when he had been carefree and careless.

When Peto entered with news that his father was at Westminster, and that messengers from the north had come and trouble was brewing, he felt guilty at leaving his father to bear the burden, especially when he was unwell.

He bid Falstaff goodnight, possibly for the last time as his old friend would away to war soon, and left to find Meg.