A/N: Hello! It's been a week, y'all. I've had a migraine since Sunday, finally wearing off. In other news, as far as this story is concerned, I've run out of buffer chapters and with other responsibilities I can't sustain posting twice a week. I'd rather give you guys better quality chapters than try and churn out regurgitated episodes. So until I get a good amount of chapters written, this story is going to post once a week on Thursdays. The last thing I want to do is get creative burnout on this series. Thank you guys for understanding!

-/\-

"Elle, time to get up."

Elle groaned. "Noooo, five more minutes."

"Elle you have a meeting with the fleet admirals in two hours, you need to get up and take a shower."

"Uggghhhh, Boooones," she rolled to a sitting position and glared at him, vainly trying to untangle her hair.

"Don't 'Bones' me," he retorted, handing her a cup of coffee. "You shouldn't have stayed so late going over communiques. I'm telling you, Elle, you need to stick to your shift schedule or this war is going to take over your entire life."

"It already has."

"Be quiet and drink your coffee." He stumped away again and hollered, "Do you want pancakes? I'm makin' pancakes."

She sipped at her coffee. It was surgeon-strong, guaranteed to boil a lesser man's brain. "Ugh." Guaranteed to boil her brain if she didn't eat. Which, probably, was Bones' whole objective. "Fine."

She got dressed and went downstairs, carrying her jacket. HQ was always cold, and somehow she doubted they'd let her in wearing a sweatshirt. Maybe a giant grandma cardigan? According to rumor Captain April wore cardigans all the time except when he was in dress uniform. Anyways.

Bones was a terrible mother-hen and by the time she made it into the kitchen, there were pancakes, more coffee, and chopped peaches.

"Bones?"

"Yeah."

"You are the best grandma."

He swatted her with the spatula. "You are a menace."

They sat down to eat.

"Have you heard from Spock?" Bones asked.

Elle shook her head. "He still hasn't responded to my last comm." She took another bite of peaches. "Do you think he's okay?"

"He's trying to negotiate peace," Bones said. "He's probably fine. Havin' to utilize all that Vulcan calm to keep from stranglin' em."

Elle managed a smile. "Sounds about right."

Bones finished eating first and left. Because of the war, he was still teaching at Star Fleet Medical, and he was lecturing and overseeing practicals three times a week.

Elle followed a half-hour later. She left the house and walked down to the transporter station. It was ironic that she, a civilian, got priority transporter privileges. She kind of felt bad skipping the line, but most of Bones' neighbors were lawyers (ew).

She materialized on the West Coast a few seconds later, and the salty cool breeze slapped her in the face. Ah yes. Jacket. She pulled it on and started the ten-minute walk up to the Star Fleet Command complex. She bypassed the Academy and went directly into Fleet Command.

"Good morning, Elle."

"Good morning." Elle swiped her palm and entered the building. A quick walk through the lobby, a retina-scan at the doors, and into the building proper. She got a chai at the commissary and got in the lift. "Third floor."

There was a new yeoman in the lift, carrying a stack of datapads. He gave her a suspicious side-eye.

She smiled at him pleasantly. "Morning, yeoman."

"...morning." He stared at her some more. "Are you looking for your parent?"

Elle gave him a flat glare. "No. Thank you."

"I didn't know the academy offered aid positions in this complex."

She didn't reply. The door opened and she got out. So did he.

"Which office you lookin' for?" the yeoman asked.

"This one," Elle said, pointing to the one labeled, 'E. W. Civ. Consult.'

"Oh, me too," the yeoman said.

Elle grinned, opened the office with her palm print, ushered him in, and sat down behind the large desk. Just to be irritating, she propped her feet up on the edge of the desk and slurped at her chai. "What can I do for you, yeoman?" she asked, smirking.

He blinked at her. "Uh."

She followed his gaze as it progressed through her office, the maps of the galaxy, the painting of the original Enterprise, a picture of an Iowan farmhouse, a picture of Elle with Captain Kirk and co, and the stack of PADDs on her desk. He focused on her again. "How can I help you?" she repeated.

"I have the latest reports," he said.

She took the stack of PADDS. "Thank you."

"Uh, sir." He performed a half-salute, faltered, and exited rather hastily.

Elle snickered. She scrolled slowly through the daily reports, looking for any snippets of news she recognized. Nothing to indicate any episodes caught her eye. She turned her attention to the computer and flipped through her messages. As she scrolled through the list, one new message pinged.

Status update, USS Enterprise, Guinan (civilian), priority two.

Elle opened the comm. It was a simple written communique, detailing various exploits and things that weren't in the official logs. "No sign of Q," Guinan wrote. "I don't know if I'm pleased at the lack of interference or not. Last I checked, Bre'el IV's moon is still in its orbit."

"I know, I checked," Elle muttered. She kept reading. There was nothing else of interest in the comm. She filed it with the others and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "The thing about episodes," she lectured to the cactus on her desk, "is that I don't know how much time passes between each one, so I have no way of knowing where we are in the timeline. But we're close. We have to be close, because Admiral Jarok did defect."

The cactus did not reply.

"Yeah," Elle said. "That's what I thought, too." She stood up, straightened her jacket, and headed for her briefing.

-/\-

Eight months earlier:

She startled awake, hacking up seawater, gulping in air with greedy starved lungs. "Wha-" She spit up more water and couldn't stop coughing - her right leg felt like it was on fire-

There were shouts, noises, the kind of noises that meant "Medical emergency!" There were hands, questions, a firm whack between her shoulderblades which led to more seawater coughed up-

She saw the brim of a purple hat just before her eyes rolled back in her head.

Sometime later Elle opened her eyes. Bland ceiling, harsh lighting on sensitive eyeballs. Sickbay. She closed her eyes.

Her eyes snapped open again, registering the presence of an armed security guard... wearing a burgundy and black uniform. Burgundy. And black.

Elle stared at the 24th century-style uniform. Not again, not again, not again- She swallowed down the panic and settled for, "Um."

The security guard snapped to attention. "You're awake," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Confused," Elle said warily. "Where am I?"

"I'll get the doctor." The security guard went to the door, stepped out for a second, and came back with a redhead in a blue coat and a bald man with the air of a Greek orator.

Elle felt mildly like passing out again.

"Hello," Dr. Crusher said, coming over with scanner in hand. "How does your leg feel?"

"My leg?" Elle stared down at her right leg which was wrapped in bandages around the thigh. "Fine?"

"You had a pretty big gash in it," Dr. Crusher said, evenly. "With traces of a neurotoxin produced by a creature on Zerus III."

Elle gaped. "The whale?"

"Yes... can you tell me how you got it?"

"I was just drowning on Zerus III," Elle said, rubbing her sore throat.

"That's a long way from this sector," Picard said evenly.

"I don't, know, where are we?" Elle asked. "Where am I?"

"You're on the Enterprise-D," Picard said crisply. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Would you care to tell me how you transported onto an active-duty starship near the front lines?"

"The front lines of what?" Elle asked, bewildered.

"The war," Picard replied.

Elle gaped at him. "The what." She rubbed at her scratchy, irritated eyes. "There's a war? Who's at war? The Romulans? The Dominion?"

"Who are you?" Picard asked. "And how did you get onboard this vessel without being detected?"

"I, have an unstable quantum signature, you can look up my file, I'm from the 23rd century. Well, technically the 21st century in another universe but I died there and came to this universe, and I was on the original Enterprise, but then I was drowning and-" Elle shook her head. There was water in her ears. "Who are we at war with?" she demanded.

Picard and Crusher shared a glance.

"We are at war with the Klingons," Picard said. "And we have been, for twenty years."

The blood drained from Elle's face. No really, she even got dizzy. "The Klingons?" she echoed. "Then the Enterprise-C never made it."

Picard and Crusher exchanged another glance. "The Enterprise, C?"

"The-" Elle shook her head, timelines spinning in her brain. "Can we contact Star Fleet Command? And is Ambassador Spock still alive? I think I need permission to tell you about this paradox."

"We don't have time for this," Picard said, glancing at the security officer. "Find her a bunk."

"Sir."

Picard turned back to Elle. "We resupply at Starbase 104 in a week, we can send you back to Earth then. Excuse me."

"Wait!" Elle said, jumping off the biobed. "Wait, captain, I might have information that could end the war, please, just listen to me."

He paused. "The end of the war?" he asked.

"If this is just the future and not a true parallel universe then this war wasn't supposed to happen. We might be in the middle of a paradox."

He hesitated.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Elle asked, dredging up memories of the episode, of the state of the Federation. "We're losing, aren't we?"

"Yes," Picard said, after a long moment. "If something doesn't happen, if we lose any more major battles, Command estimates we have not even two years. Possibly eighteen months."

"Eighteen," Elle repeated. "And you told Captain Garrett, six. Six months? Yeah." She nodded firmly. "If I'm right, then the Enterprise-C will appear in the next year and a half, and we can send them back to stop the war before it ever even starts."

"Who are you?" Picard asked.

Elle grimaced. "I really, really think you should contact Star Fleet Command."

-/\-

A shower, a change of clothes, and a TKL ration pack later, Elle was with the captain and Commander Riker in the conference room, waiting for either Fleet HQ or the Vulcan embassy to answer the call.

"So there aren't any civilians on this ship?" Elle asked Riker, rocking back and forth on her toes.

"None except Guinan," Riker replied. "She's our bartender."

"Ah." Elle bit her lip. "She'd know. If this was the alternate timeline or not."

"Once we get confirmation of your identity we can ask her," Riker said.

The Vulcan embassy insignia blanked out, to be replaced by a familiar face. "Spock!" Elle cried.

"Elle!" He stared at her, a frown wrinkling his brow. "It is agreeable to see you again. Though I wish you were not so close to the front." He turned. "Captain Picard."

"Ambassador. You know her?"

"Yes, I do. This is Eleanor Wilcott, a civilian consultant for the original Enterprise in her time. I ask that you rendezvous with the nearest starbase to drop her off and send her to Earth as soon as possible."

"But Spock-"

Spock fixed Elle with a grave look. "You cannot stay there. The war is dangerous and as your legal guardian I will not allow it."

She subsided. "Do you want me to come to Vulcan?"

"No," Spock said, and his grave look softened just a tad. "Doctor McCoy recently complained to me that the last of his great-grandchildren moved out and he is rattling around in his home with 'nothing but his bones' to keep him company."

Elle smiled. "I see."

The Fleet HQ symbol was replaced by an older, exhausted-looking admiral. "Captain Picard, why are you asking about clearly classified material?"

Elle waved.

The admiral looked stunned. "Ah."

Between Elle and Spock, they explained Elle's universe-hopping and episodic foreknowledge of events. She also explained the events of Yesterday's Enterprise. "If we can get the Enterprise-C back to the Klingon outpost, then these last twenty years, the whole war, will never have happened in the first place."

The adults in the room shared a look. "It'll be worth it, if it's true," Riker said.

Elle was too tired to be insulted by his lack of faith. After twenty years, she guessed she'd be skeptical too.

Spock and the admiral signed off, leaving Elle with the Enterprise officers. "Elle and I will go speak to Guinan," Picard decided. "Commander Riker, you have the bridge."

"Yes, sir."

Elle trailed after Picard down to Ten-Forward. The ship's hallways were the same, wide, spacious, but there were three times as many people as she'd ever seen in one episode, filling the hallways. The stark uniforms, the tense shoulders. Everyone was carrying phasers.

Ten-Forward was no better. Picard approached the bar and gestured Elle to a stool. She sat.

Guinan glided over. "You look better," she told Elle, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Sorry about the mess," Elle said awkwardly.

"Not the worst that carpet has seen," Guinan replied. "Captain, how can I help you?"

"Was this war supposed to happen?" Picard asked. "Was this timeline even supposed to exist at all?"

Guinan froze. She swept her gaze from the captain to Elle and back again. "No," she said slowly. "No, we're not supposed to be here. It's supposed to be different. I've always felt that way, but it's been stronger lately. I've been more, uneasy."

"The closer we get to the start of the episode the stronger it'll get," Elle said. "You're right. There was never supposed to be a war."

"Thank you, Guinan." Picard escorted Elle away. He showed her to her guest quarters, little more than a bed and a tiny bathroom. "You are familiar with Star Fleet operations," he said, after a moment, "so you may go between Ten-Forward and these quarters for meals, and nowhere else. Understood?"

Elle nodded.