He stood outside the cottage, empty-handed and numb. He knew that as soon as he turned the doorknob, it would all be over. No more adventures. No more cozy nights by the fire. No more Sam.

Somehow, he found the strength to open the door.

"JB!" Sam flung herself into his arms the minute he stepped inside. "I was starting to worry something had happened to you." Before he had a chance to speak, she wrapped her arms behind his neck and kissed him. "You must be freezing. Let me bring you some tea."

"Sam…" his throat closed up. He swallowed and tried again. "Sam, I need to tell you something."

"I have something to tell you too," she called from the kitchen. "But first, close the door, it's getting cold."

"Okay." He pulled the door shut, grateful for the interruption. He knew he couldn't prolong the conversation forever, but he needed a minute to breathe.

She hurried back to the entry hall, a steaming mug in one hand, a large wrapped box balanced on the other.

"What's that?" he said as she shoved the parcel and warm mug into his hands. He smelled the peppermint steam and feared he might break down right then and there. He exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on the mug. Keep it together.

"It's just a last minute Christmas gift," she said, "to thank you for everything." She smiled wide, showing the little gap between her front teeth. "Also, I've been thinking…"

"Thinking…?"

"I wouldn't mind staying here, you know, forever." She blushed. "I mean not here, obviously. This is someone else's place. But if your time agent friends can't rescue us, I think I'd be perfectly happy living out the rest of my life in the past with you. We could get our own place, I could find work as a dressmaker or something and I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting a job with all your historical expertise…"

"I…" Come on, JB. Say it. Spit it out.

"I guess all I'm trying to say is that I've never been this happy. You make me happy. And I'd be happy anywhere, if I'm with you." She leaned in to kiss him again, but this time he managed to pull away. "What's wrong?"

He gulped. "We can't do this."

She took a step back and her face turned a deeper shade of crimson. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was a lot to take in so soon, I'm sure. I…I just got overly excited and…anyway, we don't have to rush into future planning if you're not comfortable with that. Forget I said anything. We can just get back to—"

"Stop." He cut her off as she turned toward the bedroom. "Listen to me, Sam." She froze and stared at him, concern on her face. "None of this is real. I lied to you."

"What?"

"I didn't need your expert opinion to save time. I didn't need a historical consultant."

Her eyes went round. "I don't understand."

He set his mug down on a side table, an excuse to avoid her gaze. "You're not who you think you are. You're not even from the twenty-first century."

"You mean I'm like you and those kids? I'm someone from history?" For a minute her expression shifted to one of excitement.

JB nodded. "Yes, only, you weren't kidnapped to be sold off in the future. You were an experiment. You've lived as several different people, in several different time periods. Interchronological Rescue 'saved' you from your original death, turned you into a baby, and dropped you off in a different time period. They let you age a bit, then took you again and turned you back into a baby to be placed in another time. Over and over, just to see if it worked."

"Really? So who was I?" She beamed and bounced on her toes, totally misreading the situation.

"I don't know, Sam, that's the problem. I was supposed to investigate and take you with me while I tried to figure it out. All the re-aging and bouncing through history really messed things up with time. When I said our elucidators had lost several functions and we lost sight of tracers and certain years were blocked from view…that was all a result of what was done to you. I was sent to find out who you were originally, and take you back there."

"But then you realized the hooded man was the real problem, right? That's why you risked everything to save me from the fire and cut off contact with Cira?"

Her faith in him made his next words even more difficult to get out. "That was…part of the plan. To get you to trust me. Besides, I couldn't bring you back to your original time if you died in the wrong decade. I was just doing my job."

"No," she said. She made a sound that resembled a laugh, but it was more one of shock, disbelief. "No, that doesn't make sense. Come on, JB, you're telling me that now you're going to take me to my original time and leave me to die? Sure." Her lips quivered, but she was clearly trying to hide it.

"No," he said. "It turns out, I don't have to do that. As long as you stay here, you can live out the rest of your life freely, just like you described."

Her jaw tensed. "I was describing a life with you."

"That's a fantasy," he said. "I don't want that life. My job is done and I'm ready to go home. I'm just doing you the courtesy of explaining it all." He knew that if he looked at her a second longer, she'd see the anguish on his face, so he turned around and made his way to the door.

"Wait, what do you mean? None of what we experienced together meant anything to you?" Her voice was tight, pleading.

It meant everything. "It meant nothing."

"The frost fair?"

Exilerating. "Nothing."

"Waltzing in Baltimore?"

Splendid. "Nothing."

"Singing carols at Abby's?"

Magical. "Nothing."

"Not even…tonight?" He felt her hand on his arm and for a single, agonizing second, he turned and saw her eyes shimmer.

He quickly turned away again. "Nothing."

Her grip tightened. "I don't believe you."

He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. He'd prayed that she would just let him go back to his miserable life without a struggle, but he also knew she was smart. He had one final bombshell he could throw at her that he knew would make her leave him for good, but he did not want to use it. It was too cruel. "Please, Sam, just let me go."

"Not until you look me in the eye and convince me this is what you really want."

JB braced himself and faced her one last time. "Sam, you left Tony in the woods, at the mercy of the cougars. I could never be with someone like that."

He'd done it. Her hand dropped to her side and she collapsed, speechless.

JB rushed out the door as fast as he could, but not fast enough to miss the resounding sobs that ruptured the silence behind him.

...

Everything shattered. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move but to heave another cry of shame into the empty hallway. Had she really been so stupid, to think JB wanted anything to do with her? It should have been obvious from the beginning that she wasn't worth his time, but she'd been so desperate for someone who really understood her that she'd missed the truth. The reality was that she was an outsider who didn't belong anywhere, or with anyone. And she didn't deserve anyone's affection after what she'd done to Tony.

Eventually, morning light began to flood the cottage and the sounds of carriages and sleigh bells poured in from the street outside. Her ribs ached from hours of endless sobbing. She forced herself onto her feet and into the bedroom, hoping to sleep off her sorrow, but the sight of the rumpled sheets only triggered another cascade of tears. She flung herself on top of them and tried to steady her breath. Enough. Stop crying. She couldn't afford to waste time in self-pity. She was on her own now, a single woman stuck in 1865 with no home and no background. She couldn't even turn to Abby without having to explain where JB had gone. He'd left her with nothing but her trunk of clothes and whatever money was left from the agency. It would be enough to sustain her, but where would she even go?

Something flashed in the corner of her eye; something warm and inviting. She knew even before she focused on the source that it was the golden light that she'd come to know so well over the past few months. Before, it had scared her, lured her away from safety and certainty, toward something unknown. Now, nothing was certain, and this light, this mystifying gleam seemed to appear, not as a siren tempting her into danger, but an angel, guiding her home. She exhaled the last of her doubts and plunged into its brilliance.