Closed Circle
- Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean... you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. What a night that was! The towers sang, and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why, but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the library...
Professor River Song, The Forests Of The Dead
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I take a last drag of my cigarette, wishing I could do something to that demon that would make her suffer. It is because of her I now have to smoke regularly, and I don't want to. And I wish I could remember what had happened between us, because I am certain that whatever happened between us, because it seems to have been rough. My organics are showing up bruises, and... parts of me feel like they've been misused.
I throw down and tread on the end, before hiding it in the carton. I don't want any of them to know. I smooth down my top, having just changed in the woods as quickly as possible. Derek is helping with the transport of the two creatures. I'm to go back, and prevent suspicions being raised. I hope my glamours hold up, and hide the massive bruising my back is gaining from being thrown into that tree. Not to mention my muscles feeling stiff... When I was – well physically one of... them – I didn't have these problems. Since the time I accidentally was hit by the energy wave that rewrote and integrated my organic and cybernetic components, I've sustained injuries to my flesh more easily. I never bruised before. It still takes a lot of force for me to suffer injuries, but it is still not a pleasant experience...
My booted feet walk up to the back door, an I watch my hand open the door, feeling the coldness of the metal handle. That is one good thing of being more integrated... The sensations... What? John is arguing with someone at the front door. I quietly walk to it, listening in.
"I don't know how your new address was in the school database! Does it matter? I'm just here to give you all of the work you've been missing. John, stop acting like some retarded... freakazoid!"
That voice... I know it... It cannot be... I swallow hard. She really is amazing, and I should have realised that she'd somehow find a way to escape the explosion in the factory she had stayed behind to ensue, to destroy the Victorian Skynet we had discovered, and managed to find a way to get back to the present... to me. That woman, that impossible woman... That's so like Jane... So like her...
I run to the door, and I see her, at the front door in a cheerleaders outfit from school, and John is frowning at her. She notices me in the corner of her eye, and turns to half look at me.
"Cameron, can you tell your brother not to be so paranoid? Sheesh... " She's rolling her eyes, looking very exasperated. I swallow again, as my food processor feels heavy and wants to make me throw up. I can tell. Looking at her, I can tell.
This is Jane, but not my Jane... This is her at some point before we ended up finding her in the woods. In short, I've had the adventure she has yet to go to, and by the looks of it, it will be very soon.
So she hasn't escaped and survived. She hasn't done the impossible.
She... she died.
I fight back my tears, and resist the urge to be sick. Because, for the world to be kept safe, I have to let her die. My girlfriend for my brother. My mother. My uncle. My friends.
Everyone.
I... I have to let her go.
And I hate myself for that.
"John," I say to him with a smile on my face, "She isn't out to kill us. She's just a cheerleader from school."
"I know that... but how did she-"
"He has problems with females. He probably has a crush on you, but is too afraid to do anything. You two could go to the Prom together." Prom... it would be so nice to dance with her at that... but it'll never happen. But I have to keep it together. Have to.
"I don't have a crush on you Amethyst," John says to her. What did he just call her? Oh. Another name change. She created a new identity, to blend in. Why Amethyst, though? I guess I'll never know.
"He has no date to the Prom," I blurt out, enjoying the distraction of seeing John squirm. Seeing him squirm is making sure I'm not thinking of...
"With his social skills, hardly a surprise," she quips. This seems to sting him.
"I wouldn't waste my time with an airhead." The look on her face is that of anger. I can see her pale face redden and heat up, her breathing more heavy. Her nose is twitching uncontrollably. I know what that means... she's furious.
"John, being with an airhead would be good for you. You have a habit of replacing oxygen for pigheadedness," I have to get him to argue with me. Because I don't think this argument is meant to happen. But then I cannot see into the future like she can. Somehow, she saw her own fate, her own death.
I don't want her to die. I don't want to die, either.
If I can get her to live somehow...
But I cannot let humanity die.
I cannot live without her. I do not know how to. I also know I cannot live in a world of bleached skulls, and metal soldiers. Not again. And I don't want John to, either. Or Derek, or Mom... or Morris at school, or Cheri Westin, even those girls who like calling me a Bitchwhore. She dies to save the past, and it is up to me to build the future. But it has to be more than simple choices. This fight may have started thousands of years in the future, and been many Skynets and Connors fighting over the generations... but I'm here now, by his side.
That's a change. In poker, a wild card.
I need to do something radical, different. Something that John or Skynet have never thought of. Could never have thought of. Maybe that is the real reason the Future John sent me back. Maybe he saw this possibility.
"Oh, the secretary told me to hand this to you, seeing as I was coming here anyway," Jane, Amethyst – whatever she wants to call herself now – is handing me a bag. I know that bag. I remember it.
"You will. When this war is over. I'll help you. I promise. We'll do magic together. I'll even start making my
own book, if you give me my bag back." she looks at me, confused.
"Which bag?"
"The one with my dress, and the books I bought. When we first met." She seems even more confused.
"But I've already given it-" She stops, then her eyes widen. It's like she's realised something. In a heartbeat, though, she's put on this face I know is masking her true feelings.
"Well, I'm sure you'll get it at the right time. It's not here. But you'll get it. I promise." I look at her, trying to
understand what she's hiding. She quickly looks away, her eyes on both Derek and Jack.
That's why she never gave me my bag... because she already gave it to me. I fake a smile.
"Thanks. I thought I had lost it." I try to sound relieved, to keep up the act for John. I have this feeling, though... As if things are not yet fully slotted into place.
"It's okay. Your homework is in there as well, by the way. Anyhow, I need to get home, so... see you two tomorrow," she says, shoving the books into John's hands, turning on her heals and starts to walk away. She bumps into a guy. Very thing, young, balding... and he is in a very well made suit. And he has a package. Why is he checking his watch? My hand carefully goes for my gun. He smiles nervously at Jane/Amethyst.
"Are you by chance Amethyst Chatrek?" he says in an unsteady, educated voice. She nods her head. He swallows hard, as if he's encountering something impossible.
"I don't believe it... Well, I've just won a hundred and fifty dollars." He seems shocked, and pleased.
"My firm has held this package for over a hundred and fifteen years. Our client told us to deliver it to this address, at precisely nine fifty-eight on this day. She said that we were to hand it to an Amethyst Chatrek, and that you are to open it immediately. You need to give letters to people right away." He offers her the package, and she warily accepts it.
"How could she know that she would be here at this time? We only just moved in here," John points out. The man is looking at him, wide-eyed.
"It has been a mystery at our firm. I was opened just once, and what Mr. Hollis saw in it apparently made him go pale, and silent. He never spoke about the contents. He died with that secret. And he was adamant that we deliver it." Amethyst opens it, methodically and slowly.
"If you don't mind, I would like to see what the contents are. It's not something you witness every day," he says with nervous excitement. She just nods, more interested in opening it. She removes the wrapping, and lifts the lid of the box. She frowns in confusion.
"There are letters... Now I'm getting freaked," she says. "How the hell can she know you two are here? Or that Mr. Hollis would open the box?"
"Why do you say that?" the man asks. She hands him a letter. He pales at the envelope.
"I see your point," he agrees. She shows me and John the letter. Addressed to Mr. Hollis. I open up my envelope, trying to work out who could possibly be writing to me from so long ago-
Oh. That makes sense...
Reginald Hollis,
You really shouldn't be reading this. I paid a hefty fee for efficiency and discretion. So kindly put it all back in the box, and never talk of its contents. And I know you looked at all of it, including the photographs. They have to go to their respective people.
With Regards,
Sarah Delaney.
John looks at it, and frowns.
"What photos?" I look at Amethyst, who is picking out some large hand-made envelopes. Who is Sarah Delaney? I have never heard of-
Oh. I remember this photo, when we took the stupid thing. Jane – Amethyst, whatever – she had been obsessed with having everything perfect. She never explained what made it perfect, or why it had to be perfect. She is looking at it, completely bewildered, sliding a glance at me. I work my hardest to ensue that my look is that of confusion as well. I cannot give her any information, or betray the established events. I want to so badly, though.
"God... You two girls are in it," our messenger says, shocked. As impossible as it is, I can feel John's eyes staring at me. It feels like... lasers. Yes, it feels being attacked by laser beams. And she's staring at me, too. I can see her at the corner of my eye, looking at me with this searching, worried gaze. I think she's suspecting, or possibly even figuring things out. I hope she doesn't ask me any questions... It would be too much for me to have to lie to her... Please, I don't want to lie to her...
"This is completely weird... because the guy in the long coat is an actor in my- and that actor has a World War Two coat on."
"What's a 'Police Box?' There's one in the background," John says. She's looking at the background, the expression showing it is the first time she's seen it in the photo. I remember her being so insistent that the Cathedral be in the background. We all thought it was a horrible idea, and Jack had offered to take off his coat, to not endanger the time-line. She had been obsessed in us all posing for a group picture. She turns her head to look at John.
"It's a British thing. Back in the nineteen sixties, or earlier, even. Back when phones were not really common. You needed the Police, you could call for help in one. They were also made to be able to hold criminals, for collection later."
"So this is a picture from the nineteen fifties?" the solicitor asks, completely confused. "But it has been in our possession for over a hundred and ten years!"
"That's the thing... This is Southampton before nineteen thirty. Because they blew up the walls either side of the Bargate in that year. Not to mention that there are differences to the present day. They had to repair and replace stone, and the lions got new plinths..." She seems genuinely confused by what she is looking at. Her eyes suddenly widen, her hands moving the image closer, as if she will see it better.
"WHAT?! Those bits are-" she stops, as if catching herself. She looks up, as if her entire world has been turned upside down. John has quickly flipped his copy over, and is seeing something. He looks up at Amethyst.
"Have you looked at the back yet?" She glances at him, and turns it over. Her face grows even more bewildered, her doll-like features screwed up by the reaction. She runs a hand through her jet back hair, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.
"How... 'The one you are looking for. She is Fenes'tol.' Huh? I'm not looking for anyone... " I close my eyes, my memory taking me back to when we were in the police station, so long ago for me...
"I'm clever... because we'd be running out of time about now. But I sped up the possibilities. Fenes'tol.
Why that word, though?" Amethyst says in a whisper, her mind racing.
"What gets me is how she can use a word that only four people know of..." she continues, her brow deeply furrowed from frantic frowning. "That the hell is the connection?" she murmurs. The past keeps on flooding back to me...
"Fenes'tol... What connection is there?" Jane whispers, staring at the floor. She looks up at me and Jack. She looks at me, her face flashing realisation.
"It means prostitute! You're right Cameron!" She passionately whispers. I look at her, feeling confused.
"I have never heard that word before, though," I inform her. She looks at me, as if I have gone mad, then looks to the right, her head tilting forwards something. She's thinking. She looks at me a gain, eyes filled with understanding.
"You're right. Because I went back. So this is the first time you've heard the word, and explains how you could know a word in a language only four people know." Jane takes a step back, looking at me in shocked horror.
"You only knew because I just told you... Paradox." Her eyes are getting tearful. She quickly takes the file from Jack, and turns from us. Jack is looking at her as I scan her vitals. I don't understand her body properly, but if it was human, I would assess it as distressed. Jack walks behind her.
"What's the matter?" he asks in a low tone. I tilt my head to look at her face, hoping to catch her in the eye. Oh. She's crying. She hastily wipes them away.
"Look, we have to act fast. No time to dwell on such boring things like fate..." she looks at us both, her eyes slightly puffy, but serious.
"Prostitute. It means prostitute," I say softly. Her head snaps up at me, shocked.
"What? No it doesn't- Well, there isn't a word in that language for prostitute, we never needed it... I guess you could use it to suggest prostitute, but it's a bad translation-" She stops suddenly, and I see her bright green eyes narrow.
"How do you know that?" she murmurs, almost wonderingly. She looks in the box, to try and find some form of answer. She pulls out four letters.
"One question," she says to our messenger, "What is your name?" He looks at her, startled.
"Sorry! I forgot to say, and give identification! It's just that... this is so unusual, I forgot." He fumbles around in his pocket, and gets out his wallet. He pulls out a card.
"Arnold Winston. Then you need this," she says, handing each of us one. He is looking at her, with shock.
"Look, none of this makes sense to me, either. Although..." she looks like she's thinking hard.
"Based on the pic, it's like I'm being given a message, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was myself. Because the pic, all of this... it's classic me. But this isn't my handwriting, and not the way I say things." She's indicating Reg Hollis' letter. Oh... I remember...
"You'll end up with me asking some questions. Answer them as you wish, but you can't let on that you know me. Because that would be bad," Amethyst says. "Also, don't forget to follow my instructions, or else we won't be able to find you in time." Sarah nods. Amethyst wraps her arms around her and gives the taller woman a warm hug.
She only knew how to find John's great-great-great grandmother, because she had gotten her – also called Sarah – to create this package, telling her the exact time and place she would be here. The memories slot into place, as the realisation crystallises all the strangeness of her behaviour...
"Leave her be. She needs to be alone," Jack says to me. I turn to face him.
"But-"
"Here's something you all don't realise: she herself has admitted to being stuck inside a Paradox. She's in a kinda time loop that's yet to sort itself out. If she were, as you lot call him, The Lord of Time, then it'd be different. She'd have the training and the knowledge to work out a quick and effective solution. But she's not from that world. She's lived all her life on Earth, as a human. She's then ended up on this crazy journey, like Alice down the rabbit hole. Give her time to sort herself out. Besides," he adds, clearly sounding a bit hurt, "If you go now, you'll never have the chance to taste my breakfast. And that'd hurt my feelings," he says in a more joking tone than a serious one.
One after another, they visit me...
Jane stirs, and her eyes fly open, her body awake and alert in the time of an eye-blink. She's out of my bed in a swift, fluid movement. I look at her, the feelings of hurt and confusion inside me. She's looking at me in utter sorrow. I've noticed the change in her. The ageing. The look of sorrow that has grown in her eyes. Like she's someone who knows too much. Like she's someone who has become ancient before her time. I want to know what has caused it. I want to protect her, keep her safe. I want the happiness to return to her eyes, the sense of wonder and hope that she had when I first met her. She's so different now. And it hurts. She shakes her head.
"Don't. It's not happening. Last night was a mistake. I'm not getting with you. I'm not going to be the reason that causes the sadness in your eyes. Please... Don't let me be that. Don't make it be me that kills the happy, optimistic, bright-hearted girl you are..." She's got a tear rolling down her cheek now.
"I don't understand." she sniffles a small smile.
"Hopefully, you never will."
I close my eyes, to fight back the tears. How can I be happy? How can I have optimism? How, when all there is in the world is pain, misery and selfishness? I should have died, not her. The letter. I need to read the letter.
I feel the slightly yellow parchment in my fingers. I see the elegant script of the handwriting, curving and sloping my name onto the envelope. I turn it over, to open it. Oh. There is writing on the back, telling me to wait until I am alone. I guess I am not the only one, because the only one opening their letter is Mr. Winston. He frowns in confusion.
"She is thanking me for my services, and that you need to have you need to have your phone in your hand straight away," he says, as if he's in a very strange dream. I look at John, realising that he is also experiencing all of this. And judging by his reaction, he's just as shocked as the others, but he's staying calm. And I can see he's silently thinking about it all, and probably working it all out. He's quietly watching all of us. Watching me. Watching me watching him. Oh. The look in his face... he knows something.
I now know. He isn't a boy. I don't know if he ever was. Because Mom has been training him from birth. Training him to be The Legend. I cannot lie. Not to him. With a look in my eyes, I tell him I know more than I'm letting on. A small nod, hard for anyone at all to notice tells me he knows. A finger carefully slides to his watch. The look in his eyes tells me he understands. The slight smile, so, so tiny, tells me he's keeping it all quiet.
Its very quiet.
I look at Amethyst, wondering why the name change again, and how she kept it together, hiding what was going to happen from us. But... if the letter tells her, then she would have had to have known somehow beforehand, and I didn't know... None of us did.
Something is missing. A crucial element, a detail that will bind everything together.
Oh. My photo. I never looked at the back of it. I swallow hard when I see what is on the back:
Every song ends.
I so badly need to write a note. A long one. Because I have so much building up inside of me. The ringing of a cell phone makes my head jerk sharply. Amethyst is there, looking at her phone as if it is the bringer of Doomsday. Maybe it is. With a sudden motion, she slides it open, and puts it to her ear.
"What is it now, Bennet? What have I meant to have done this time?" She sounds annoyed. She frowns in confusion.
"What? That's mental... we were all there. There were no cheerleaders missing. You should know, moosehead, because you were there." Her nose screws up, her lips pressed together tightly. She is getting really angry now...
"They said that... Our school? Huh? They were being chased by an invisible monster? Oh... it could turn itself invisible. Why didn't I realise that sooner?" she says sarcastically. "They're looking in the woods for the monster now... Right... Let me get this straight... you had a group of kids having some sort of party, and they were attacked by some sort of predator creature that could make itself invisible. And they were saved by a teenager with long hair, in a yellow spandex cheerleader's outfit, and fought the monster like Superman." She's deeply sarcastic. After another pause, I can see her start to get annoyed again.
"Look, Claire, I really doubt that any superhero would be seen dead saving the world in yellow spandex. No, they wouldn't." She snorts. "Right, so not only can one of our squad fight invisible monsters, she can be in two places at once-" She pauses as she looks down. She picks up her copy of the photo, and looks at it. What for, though? Wait... my copy. They are all the same. What could she be-
Oh.
Oh...
The Catherdral. To the others, it will be just a blue Police Box, but...
Two places at once. That is possible, if you can time travel. And she did, to investigate.
"Look, I'll see you at school tomorrow." She slides the phone closed, ending the call. She picks up the package, and takes a final look inside of it. She picks up out of it a small package. There is writing on it, telling her not to open it until a certain date. Oh... it's the information on how things originally happened. I remember her mentioning it... She picks up her items, and looks at us.
"Well, thank you for the really weird night... I'll see you folks tomorrow," she says, looking at Mr. Winston. She gives him a small smile. "Thanks for doing this. Maybe we'll see you soon," she says, smiling slightly to ease the tension between us all. She looks at me, and for the first time, sees the look on my face. She seems so confused.
"What's wrong? You see so... sad," she says, shocked at what she's seeing. With her typical impulsiveness, she hugs me, a warm, friendly, caring hug. I put my arms around her, trying not to give anything away.
"I'm still pissed off with you, but that can wait... Cams, I've seen things. I've been careful about the future, because of what happens, but I've done things, made a difference. Enemies other than Terminators... I've been in the heart of disaster, saving people from creatures calling themselves Cybermen, been there when the spirit of humanity failed... that was heart breaking, seeing whole governments do that... to children... but all it takes is one person to make a stand. One person, in the right place and time, they can make a difference." She pulls back slightly, to give me a reassuring smile. I smile back, trying hard to make it seem she has reassured me. Because as incredible as her past has been, she has very little future left. One last story.
She pulls away, and get her car open, an old bettered Mini. In faded silver lettering on the scratched and chipped black paintwork, I can make out the name "Bessie." I do not know... I think the name is better suited to an old fashioned yellow car for some reason. She turns to pack the given items onto the back seat, and turns to go into her car, just as Riley appears at the door.
"What's going on? You've been down here ages," she says sulkily. "I've been having to keep myself amused with this lame-ass book that's in your room..." Amethyst's head turns to see Riley there, and gets out of the car, and approaches again.
"Hey, I dropped off the work you need to catch up on at your foster parents. You might want to call them... they're getting worried about where you are," she tells her. Her head tilts slightly. Oh. She's looking at the book. The author... Sarah Delaney... the same as... Oh...
"However, this time-line is a better result for her. It's like she was inspired. Wrote and wrote these books. Of course, it was under a pen-name." She hands to me a book. "The big thing about them was her uncanny ability to predict future events. Like she almost knew what would happen. Adventures through time and space, a woman adventurer in this blue wooden Police Box." I look at her in realisation.
"The Cathedral. You," I say. She nods with a small smile.
"Imagine my shock and confusion seeing that bloody thing. Freaked me out that it existed at all. Then there was guessing what could have happened." Jack smiles, and leans closer.
"So, I have to ask: How big a shock was it when you realised it was Sarah who'd written them?" Jane just looks at him and shrugs.
"Didn't get that far. Things were quite mental at the time. And I was in a rush, so I never sat down and read any of her stuff until we were here, in the Cathedral. Then I realised what had happened. Which is why I've been telling her so much. Because she is meant to help fill in the void left by the loss of so many writers. Because there is a distinct lack of creativity in this time-line."
"Yeah... weird story, though I think it was the last one she wrote," Riley says, frowning slightly. Mr. Winston is gasping.
"The name... the cover..."
"That's what I'm thinking," Amethyst is murmuring. She stumbles to her car, and gets in.
"See you in school," she shouts as she drives off. Riley is staring after her. We all are, but she's frowning in annoyed confusion.
"What's her damage?" she asks out loud. Mr Winston takes the book from her, and looks inside.
"Shit," he whispers, and with shaking hands, passes the book to me and John.
Oh. The dedication...
Oh...
To Amethyst and Cameron: Many thanks for the wonderful time we spent together, so long ago. It has inspired me to do so much with my life, and I hope you two do the same.
I've had a message from my Spiritualist circle, for you two, it seems: Two songs are ending, one in fire and metal, one will grow harsh with the sound of drums. The drum-beat marks the ending of the second song. The first song needs sisterly love to continue. I hope this message gets to you, and it is of use.
"That's freaky," Riley says, peering over John's shoulder.
"Certainly is," he agrees.