I'd Like to Believe
Chapter 3: Do You Still Believe in One Another
A/N: I own nothin' but Charis. Also, don't set up a thermite glass kiln at home kids. This one's a long-un', the plot kicks into gear.
"I wasn't aware that people could make glass themselves. I've only ever seen pieces formed naturally."
Peabody nodded, testing that the concrete-reinforced steel cup was structurally sound. "Not surprising. It's a fairly new method."
Yes, about a negative millennium old, he thought to himself. He didn't say it, of course. The ancient Greeks were groundbreaking astronomers and mathematicians, but he doubted they were ready for time travel yet. Charis could barely grasp the concept of thermite.
"And you say this metal dust will burn better than wood?"
He finished stirring the silica sand mixture, placing it down on the small stone "altar" Charis had set up on the cliff side. "Precisely. Much better. Have you, by any chance, seen a volcano erupt?"
Charis frowned, pouring the mixture around the sand-filled vessel. "You're starting to worry me. Should we prepare an offering to Hephaestus before we light it?"
Peabody brushed his hands off on his chiton, deadpan. "Only if we're offering the soup."
The woman smiled, backing up a few feet. "Careful; show any disrespect and your glass might not melt. We've spent long enough scraping rust off the swords for that termite powder."
"Thermite, Miss Charis," Peabody corrected gently, though his mouth pursed into a small frown. She was right; it had been quite a long time since they had begun to assemble the ingredients, and there was still no word on the location of the children.
"Erm, Peabody?"
It was possible they had traveled to the cliffs to find him and just missed their ascent, but that would only account for a day. They would've returned to the city by then.
"Mr. Peabody..."
Or maybe they were hiding from the soldiers somewhere in the town. But why would they hide? Sherman had gotten along so well with the Achaeans...
"HEY PEABODY!"
"WHAT, CHARIS?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards his left hand. He glanced down. "Oh. Well."
He had been too lost in thought to notice that his lit torch was hovering just above a small trail of thermite leading to the altar. A tiny ember hit the metal, and in a nanosecond-
FWOOOOMMMMMPH.
The duo flung themselves back to avoid the massive pillar of flames that engulfed the altar. They sat there in a stunned silence, singed but unharmed, for a few seconds. Charis began to cackle with amazed glee, and Peabody allowed himself an upwards glance. "Alright then. Message received. No soup."
They brought out some food and set up a sort of makeshift picnic around the fire, nibbling at goat and cheese as the glass melted. After awhile, Peabody finally posed a question that had been picking at him since he was pulled from the water. "So, why are you here?"
Charis was resting on her stomach, basking in the sun and watching the fire absentmindedly. "Hm?"
"I was under the impression that Spartan women only fought in defense on their home land. Why did you come to Troy?"
"Ah." Charis sat up, criss-crossing her legs and stretching. "That. I am no warrior, Peabody. I am here in the service of Hera."
"How so?"
She continued to gaze into the fire. "I am here to defend the women and children of Troy from the soldiers. As a disciple of the goddess of women, that is my duty."
Peabody was silent, the pieces coming together in his head. Oh. Well that explains the peacock feather.
Charis continued on. "Menelaus is a very ill-tempered man, and the soldiers can be rowdy savages when they get what they want. I have Agamemnon on my side; he owes me a favor, so I am allowed to step in when I think the innocents are in danger. You're a very smart man, Peabody. You are well aware what can happen."
He was very aware. And, if the history books and tragedies were to be believed, he knew what would happen.
The glass was cooling, Charis had gone off to check on Agamemnon and the men, and Peabody realized that only one problem had been solved in relation to his eyewear. The frame was still bent, and he'd need to unscrew them to attach the new lens. He had to get the spare repair kit from the WABAC.
The hike down gave him a chance to continue theorizing as to why the children were still missing. If Agamemnon was to be trusted, then the men were scouring the entire city, if not for the kids, then for their own purposes. He paused at that thought, then shuddered. He needed to find Sherman and Penny and get the hell out of Troy. As capable as Charis seemed, he didn't want to risk his son having to witness the aftermath of a conquest.
In a way, he got his wish. He just didn't realize it until after he noticed two pairs of footsteps alongside the three headed for the city gates. Two small pairs. Going back the way the others came.
The WABAC. They went to the WABAC. Of course.
Peabody began jogging after the tracks, the plight of the city's remaining inhabitants almost forgotten. He could find his son. He could apologize for doubting him, for not trusting him, for the argument. They could go home. They could-
He stopped. The WABAC wasn't shimmering into view. The footsteps stopped short.
...No.
He reached out a paw, unable to believe what he wasn't seeing. He should have come to rest against a cool steel door. Instead, his hand kept going, and he stumbled forward.
They took the WABAC. They left without him.
"...What are you doing?"
Peabody jumped out of his skin, turning to face a very confused Charis. "I..."
"Are you looking for somethi-" She trailed off, noticing the footprints beyond him. She squinted, brushing past the still very stunned dog. She glanced out at the distant waves, too far out to have overlapped with the trail.
"Where did they go..." she murmured in confusion.
"Charis-"
She spun to face him, looking vaguely afraid. "Where did they go? Where's the chariot tire trails? Or the hoof prints? Why do they just stop like that?!"
Peabody sighed. So much for secrecy. "I...I think I know where the children are. It's not here. It's nowhere near here. They went home."
Charis stared at him, shaking slightly. Went home. He didn't mean Sparta. He didn't mean anywhere. She could hear it in his voice. Something was going on that she couldn't understand.
"What are you?"
Peabody stepped forward, hands up. "I'm-"
She backed away, stumbling and scuttling back on the ground in terror. "WHAT ARE YOU?"
"Certainly not what you think I am!"
"And what is that?"
He sighed. "You think I'm a sorcerer. Or some form of evil spirit. I'm many things, Charis, but not that."
The two of them went silent, staring at each other for a long time. Charis, still very unsure, but seemingly satisfied that she wasn't in danger, spoke up. "Where did you come from? The truth, Peabody."
He took a deep breath, then looked her in the eyes. "It's not important where I'm from. It's when. I came from three thousand years from now."
Silence. "Three thousand, two hundred fifty-four years, to be exact," he added.
Charis's face changed, from distrust to something resembling pity. She stood and brushed herself off, shaking her head. "You have the madness."
Oh for God's sake. Peabody threw his hands up in frustration. "I'm telling the truth!"
"Maybe it seems like truth to you!" Charis sighed, her voice taking on a softer tone. "You were badly hurt when the Horse fell. You aren't thinking clearly; can you even hear yourself right now?"
"Loud and clear, and I can prove that I'm telling the truth!"
Charis rubbed her temples. "How? How exactly can you prove to me that you're from the future?"
Peabody tried to think of something, anything, that he could only know if he was right. But he was at a loss. It had to be something personal, something Charis herself would know and few others. How was he supposed to think of something when he had never heard of her before meeting her? She wasn't in the textbooks, or the legends. She might as well have not existed; tales of holy beings providing a deus ex machina were common, but none of the stories mentioned...
Of course.
"You rescued Iphigenia," he blurted out, "didn't you?"
Charis froze, olive eyes going wide. "...what?"
He found it. He found his proof. "Almost a thousand years from now, a man named Euripides is going to write about it. Agamemnon was made to sacrifice his daughter, but she was replaced with a deer and sent to Tauris to worship Artemis. You're the one who did that, didn't you? You rescued her! That's why Agamemnon owes you!"
The woman before him was stunned, barely able to respond. "I...nobody knows that. Not even Iphigenia's own mother; how-"
Peabody placed a hand on her arm, looking her in the eyes. "Because thousands of years from now, people still tell that story. They say it was Artemis who saved her, some divine will. But it was you."
Charis stood a little straighter, and let out a shaky breath. "I...Alright then. I guess...I think I believe you. What I don't understand is how you got here."
Oh boy. This was going to be a fun talk. "It's...a bit of a long story."
She shrugged. "It's a long hike back to the city."
Peabody managed a smile, which she gladly returned. "Alright then. From the beginning. You see, when I adopted Sherman..."
The sun was just starting to sink below the horizon by the time they made it back to level ground. Peabody was surprised how receptive Charis was to his story; though she was visibly confused by the science behind the WABAC, she accepted it readily. "Of course, now that the children have taken it," he made a gesture of frustrated futility, "I'm stuck here. Unless they return, but I can't imagine why they would."
Charis considered it for a moment, then offered, "Well...why not build a new one?"
Peabody shot a questioning glance, and she continued. "If I'm understanding, all you need to get it moving is spinning it really fast. We could assemble something to do that for us."
"Hm. Possibly...the problem is how to navigate once I enter the time stream. An escape pod we could certainly accomplish, but it would take years to recreate the instruments with present day materials." He sighed. "We don't have that much time."
Charis smiled, raising an eyebrow. "So the great mathematician who can, in a second, calculate the angle to fling two children out of a falling horse and onto the very edge of safety, can't figure out how long a trip back home would be?"
Peabody skidded to a stop. "...huh..." He glanced up at Charis. "You're a genius, Charis."
She smiled. "A lot coming from you, apparently."
As satisfied that Charis was to know the truth, something was itching at the back of her head. Peabody's knowledge of Iphigenia's survival, while proof enough that he was telling the truth, implied something that unsettled her. She opened her mouth to ask about it, when she heard screaming.
Peabody froze, realization setting in. He knew he had forgotten something. "Cassandra at the temple..."
Charis didn't even take the time to ask what he meant by it. She charged into the city walls with all the fury of an angered bull. Whatever was happening at the temple (she could guess), it was sacrilege and criminal and she would not stand for it.
"Charis!" Agamemnon. Damn it all!
"In a moment, your majesty!"
"Charis we need to talk!"
She whipped around, still backing towards the temple. "Agamemnon one of your men is..."
Her words slowed, and tumbled back down to the bottom of her throat. Agamemnon looked uncomfortable, like he'd rather be anywhere other than there. He held a Spartan shield in both hands, the wood warped and splintered. Peabody caught up, noticed the situation and it's implications, and murmured a soft "oh no" as he glanced towards Charis.
The woman took a step forward, reaching out to the shield. Her fingers brushed against it, and it felt as if a stinging cold ran up into her arm. She had almost hoped she would've gone right through it; that it would be revealed as an illusion.
"...Hieronymos..."
Her knees gave out, and both Agamemnon and Peabody were at her side in a second.
In the temple of Athena, something crashed, and the screams fell silent.