Author's Notes and disclaimers:

Yes, it's me again. And I'd better get the disclaimers over now.

begin disclaimer:

As much as I'd like to say the concept of the Tomorrow People belongs to me, it doesn't. Neither do the characters of Adam, Ami, and Megabyte, although all other characters in this story do belong to me. For that matter, so does the story. But the concepts and characters that don't belong to me possibly belong to a bunch of people and companies, including Thames, Tetra, Nickelodeon, and Roger Damon Price.

end disclaimer.

Okay. This is my seventh piece on this list, and yet another new series piece. Quite a few of you have heard of it at this point, either through my "Roll Call" post or through private email. In fact, many of you probably know it by its former title, "Visions Lost".

This is yet another story on the Tomorrow's Future timeline/universe. Anyone interested in finding out about TF can either visit my archive page or email me. (And yes, I do write TP stories that aren't on this timeline.) The events of this story happen concurrently with the events of my previous story, "Telepathic Ghosts". This story can be read without reading Ghosts first, but those of you who read Ghosts will no doubt find some rather familiar characters.

Please note that there are swear words in two or three paragraphs. While they are mild here in the United States, they may not be so mild in other countries.

Back parts of this story will be avaliable on both my archive page or through the TPFICT archive once Wendy gets to update it. The TPFICT archive is at: , and you can also reach my archive through there. If you have email access, or the required back parts don't show up on either page, please email me at smccrory@calweb.com.

Thank yous go to all those people who wrote me on Ghosts and asked me if I was going to write a sequel. Not quite, but it does tie up some of the plotlines on that story. Big thanks, as always, goes to my two beta readers, Wendy Kelley and Kyrie Daniels, who primarily took a look at my first draft and told me I mostly just needed to run the spellcheck. Thanks also goes to Jez, who answered a question I had but probably didn't know it was for this, and the whole TPDIS list, for coming up with some interesting topics to keep me thinking while writing this.

This story will post Friday and Tuesday of each week until I run out of parts.

Comments and questions can be sent to smccrory@calweb.com and are really, really appreciated.

And now that I've babbled my head off, let's get on with the show.

Mistakes

"Ow!"

That was the first thing I was conscious of when I woke up on the dirt. Which was odd, because I don't remember lying down, much less on dirt. I raised my head to look at the block of stone right in front of me. And sucked in a long breath.

"Where am I?" the other voice said nearby.

I raised my head to look at the speaker. A young man. Where had I seen him before? Ah, yes. Mom and Dad's party last night. Tonight? I couldn't remember it ending. But still, I wanted to reassure him. "We're in a cemetery."

"Cemetery? How'd I- how'd we get here?"

"If I could remember, I'd tell you," I said dryly.

"But the last thing I remember is being at the Skye's party...I think I went downstairs."

"I know. I'm Melinda Skye. Their oldest."

"Glad to meet you," the young man said. "Perrin Braxton. Historian."

"I think we already met," I replied. "I'm field. My assignment's in Chicago on a business trip."

"Ah. So, where are we?"

"Well, I *thought* we were in City Cemetery. But Sacramento's way too young to have this stone in here."

Perrin leaned over to look at the stone I was looking at. "Edward Jennings. Died 1749, Age 26. What's weird?"

"Sacramento wasn't settled until the nineteenth century. There's no stone this old there, I would have known."

"You know that much about the local city cemetery?"

"My assignment volunteers there a lot."

"Oh," Perrin said.

"See if you can tap into a location satellite."

"I already tried."

"And?" I asked.

"Nothing. Couldn't get my 'one to work either."

"Wish I had one," I replied. Of course, I had something *much* better, but I couldn't tell him that. I focused, breathed, and sent out a call. [Marm?]

No answer. I wondered how long I'd been out. Surely, it wasn't past midnight. And if I'd teleported, how come I don't remember doing it, and why was Perrin here?

A sudden rustle of leaves caused me to jump. I hissed at Perrin, told him to hide, but he wasn't listening. I hid behind a fairly massive stone, wishing it wasn't so dark out. If I teleported, I'd light the local scenery like a lightbulb.

Perrin was sitting there, stunned, when the flashlight-bearing guard came upon him and escorted him off. I stayed behind the stone, unmoving, until Perrin and his escort were far away. Then I concentrated. I think I saw the guard turn around as the flash registered.

But I didn't care. I was on my way to somewhere safe.

* * *

To my body, it was late. To my mind, it was too early. My mind was grappling with the puzzle of why we were in the cemetery, why the guard had a British accent, and if we were in England, how long we'd been out. It couldn't have been too long; London, as I knew well, was only eight timezones away, which meant that it would have been the early hours of the morning here as we were going to bed for the night.

But as I said, it was late. I had a long day, preparing for the party and such, and it was time to crash. I'd come to the spaceship, since no one cared if you popped up there at three in the morning with depression and insomnia. Since it was on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific, the only ones who knew about it were my kind.

Yes, the island was safe, and the ship was safe. I pulled a blanket and pillow from the supply piles, and went out to the control room (or at least everyone assumed it was one) and lay down.

I was asleep instantly.

* * *

I was dreaming of my upcoming wedding with my fiance and my family when I felt the hand on my shoulder. I grumbled a little, hoping that this would discourage anyone who was trying to bug me. The owner of the hand continued to shake me. I rolled over as a pleasant male voice enquired, [Hello?]

I opened my eyes to see an impossibility. Oh, shite. I was in deep, deep doo-doo, as my grandmother might say. I had to get out of there. I was half afraid she might pop up too.

* * *

London.

My father used to tell me all these fabulous tales about how it was partially growing up there. I knew the city a little, just because some of my playmates had grown up on the outskirts.

I'd retraced my steps from the night before. It turns out that we'd ended up in the middle of London in a historical cemetery. I'd come back when it was open. There had been a break in the previous night and that's why the security guard had been so tetchy.

Since they'd taken him to the police station, I'd go there too. Since I had a much easier way of getting there. I'd ducked behind a block of WCs and teleported to the station. Fortunately, they hadn't moved it in sixty years.

I went inside the station to find out if anyone knew anything about the nabbed intruder. When I got inside, I found Perrin standing there with a smile on his face. "What's up?" I asked.

"I explained the whole business. Why we were in the cemetery. Now they can find the thieves who kidnapped us and stole our passports and such."

Right. In other words, he'd convinced them that we were Americans in London, tourists or somesuch. "That's good news," I said cheerfully. "Can we get out of London?"

"We'll have to. But that's fine. I don't think I could stomach this city again. But right now, they want you to give a statement as well."

"I can do it," I said confidently. There'd be time to ask him what he'd done later.

* * *

"So, what are we doing sixty years in the past?" Perrin asked. "I've never had this desire to actually live history."

"We've time travelled," I said simply, relaxing on the bed of the motel room.

"That's impossible!" Perrin countered.

"Apparently not," I replied, examining the money he'd gotten. "My sister was working on a theory. Didn't think she'd get anywhere with it, but it's possible she did."

"So, what do we do now?"

I looked up at him, noting the worried features on his face, the confusion in his eyes. They were nothing compared to how I felt. My stomach was in knots. "Keep up with the deception that you put up," I replied brusquely. "Pretend that we're tourists."

"You're taking this so well," he observed.

I shrugged. "I grew up on science fiction," I replied. "Besides, we know Immortals exist, why can't time travel or interdimensional travel or all those other things science fiction authors wrote exist as well? I mean, one of my Grandparents was trying for interdimensional travel, although he never succeeded."

Perrin managed a small smile. "I should take up science fiction when we get back. *If* we get back."

I smiled. If only he knew. "We'll get back. There's got to be a way."

"So, we get to the States somehow. What do we do then?"

I stopped smiling and stared frowning. "We have a problem. Find someplace to hang out until we figure out how to get home. And we have to be careful."

"Why's that?"

"Time travel is a tricky subject. There's this paradox that states if you kill your grandmother before your mother is born, you'd cease to exist. An individual's life or death could have major or minor effects on the time stream. I have no idea, having never had to deal with practical time travel."

He grinned. "Great to know that you don't have the answers to everything."

I blinked. "I think avoiding our ancestors is a good idea. I think avoiding any friends' ancestors is a good idea. You never know what would happen if that ancestor met someone else and you didn't exist."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"Numerous books. Also this old movie about time travel called Back to the Future. The protagonist nearly ceased to exist because his folks almost never got together."

Perrin folded his hands on the table. "But your friends' ancestors?"

"I - ran into my friend Jennise's maternal grandfather. I was a little shaken."

"Okay, no ancestors, no friends."

"We play the tourist game," I said firmly. "Until, as I said, we figure out how to get back."

"And in the meantime?"

"You stay put, I want to go and return a blanket."

* * *

The ship, again.

I didn't want to stay here, but I hoped it was uninhabited. I didn't remember any stories about a missing blanket, and I hoped that I didn't alter the course of history by taking the blanket.

My heart sank as I heard the voice again, this time out loud. "Hello?"

Lovely. I swung towards him, trying to get a better look. He was tall, dark haired. I'd teleported out of instinct the first time I'd seen him; this second time I was able to fully recognize Jennise's grandfather, Adam Newman. He was one of the first of our kind, and he'd spent a lot of time here in his early years. Until he'd gotten married and Jennise's mother Theona was born.

"Sorry," I said, trying to be contrite, but dreading any contact with him. If I talked more with him, was I destroying my future? Would my friends cease to be? I continued politely, "Didn't mean to bother you."

As I prepared to teleport back out, he smiled gently. His descendents had inherited that smile. Good thing that there were no males in my generation. "It's all right," he said.

And how much harm could I cause, how could I satisfy his curiosity if I tried to get out of there? "No, sorry, I'm not supposed to be here," I said, trying to stick to the truth as much as possible.

"Yes you are," my well-intentioned saviour replied. In my head, I heard his thoughts. [It's all right,] he said. [You're home. Nothing can harm you here.]

If he only knew. If he only knew that he spoke the whole truth. Yet the truth can be dangerous. And it was not the truth this time. But how was he to know that I was a time-traveller, and not a new breakout? I certainly wasn't being eloquent.

Suddenly, I was terribly frightened. I *had* to get out of there. [You're wrong,] I said, resorting to telepathy. [This was too risky.]

He started to say something as I dropped the blanket and teleported out.

* * *

"So, did you return the blanket?"

I grimaced. I'd teleported back to London, back to an alley near the motel. When you light up the scenery with an arrival or departure, it's best to be inconspicuous. A lot of my kind got very familiar with alleys. "Yeah, but not without incident. Ran into my friend's grandfather again."

"What'd you do, steal it off a clothesline?" he said, grinning.

"Naah. Her family's always stored their linens in one place. I just didn't know that I was in the past when I nabbed the blanket. Good thing *that* story was never retold."

"Okay, you keep embarrassing yourself, and we'll get over to the States. I've arranged the flight back. Do you have any kin in Chicago?"

"Nope. My family's from Virginia."

"Okay. We should be clear. I can't wait to get back to the States."

"It's not going to solve our problem," I warned him.

"No, but I'd feel more secure if I could get back to the States."

"Understandable."

He leaned back on the bed. "So, your friend's grandfather lived in London?"

"Some of his life. He was Australian, married someone over here. He and my grandmother were friends, and they made sure their kids were close," I said, smiling. "And when it came time for our parents to have kids, we all got raised together."

He nodded, apparently satisfied. I doubted that he'd understand the rest of it. National borders were still too important to most people and they wouldn't understand living in the States and having a babysitter in Australia, or vice versa. When my parents went to see someone, that someone could be next door or halfway around the world. I remember my Dad having to get a babysitter in on short notice because he'd had to go to somewhere in South Africa to deal with a new Tomorrow Person.

"I'm going to get to sleep. You'll be all right?" he asked.

"I'll be fine."

* * *

It was early in the morning when I got out of bed and went to take a walk. I'm a light sleeper, and I typically start my day by walking some of the kinks out.

I was near the front when I heard the motel supervisor talking to the police. The supervisor was from India or Pakistan, and his accent was very distinct. I had this sinking feeling that they were there for us. When I heard our room number mentioned, I was sure. I leaned back and teleported back to the room.

"Wake up, you idiot!" I said.

Perrin grumbled. He was a much heavier sleeper than I was and it took a bit of shaking to wake him up. Fortunately, he was sleeping in his clothes. I'd already grabbed his jacket and tie. "Wha-"

"Put your jacket on!" I hissed.

He put the jacket on while I retrieved our few belongings. "What's going on?"

"The police are almost at our door. We have to get out of here."

"How?"

"Just close your eyes."

"That should be easy," he murmured.

I held onto him and concentrated, hoping that I wouldn't land us underground or something like that. The world flashed out, to be replaced with an unspectacular inside of a small building. It was dark.

"Where are we?"

"A nice little place I found to duck into," I whispered. "Keep your voice down."

From what little light I had, I could tell he was staring at me. I wished suddenly that he was a telepath. One didn't want to speak out loud here. It was disrespectful.

"Looks like a chapel," he said in hushed tones. "Right?"

"Close. It's safe. I've ducked in here before."

"Then where are we?" he asked.

"You really want to know?" I replied. He nodded. "A cemetery."

"WHAT?"

"Shhh."

Perrin leaned against the wall. "We're inside someone's tomb?"

"Yeah," I said casually. A lot of people were spooked by cemeteries, so I was trying to phrase what I said so that he didn't run into the night and get arrested *again*. "Very interesting place. This lady had this place built for her son. If it were daylight, you could see the inscription on the wall. Those over there are where she and her son are buried."

"Great. You know about a cemetery in *London*?"

"You'd be surprised," I said airily. He'd be even more surprised if he knew that he was in Sacramento, not London.

"Why is it dark?"

Uh-oh. Yeesh. Yuck. I'd forgotten the time zone difference *again*. Whereas it was something like 7 or so in the morning in London, it was not even midnight here. "Because it's a *room*?"

"With *windows*? It's morning."

So much for my bright ideas. "You're imagining things," I said to him.

"We're in Sacramento, aren't we?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked, alarmed.

He indicated the small window on one side. "It's night. When we left, it was morning. You're familiar with the place. So, this must be Sacramento."

I sighed. What a guy. Doesn't have enough sense to hide, but can immediately deduce that we're in a cemetery in central Sacramento. "You're right."

"Lovely. First we're time travelling, and now we get from London to Sacramento in the wink of an eye. What the heck is going on here? You must have quite a sister."

"Must be a side effect of the time travel. And I'm not sure it's my sister's theory."

"I hope missing memories aren't part of the deal?"

"Could be. It's the swiss cheese effect, I think."

"What?"

"Another science fiction thing. This time, an old television programme."

"Great."

I shrugged. "It's not my fault you're not a trivia buff," I said. Maybe I could use the effects that had cause a hole in my memory to cover up the teleportation.

"I had other things to worry about, growing up. Okay, so we can't remember how we got to London. So, how did we end up in the middle of a cemetery in Sacramento? Don't tell me, your sister has all these tales by heart too and is your backup."

My heart sank. "Um, no."

I'm sure he was smiling. "So, explain this one."

"I don't have all the answers."

He leaned over me. "I think you do. And I'm getting rather sick of the run-around here. Stop treating me like an idiot! I got us identities, didn't I?"

I sighed. "You're right. I'll explain as much as I can figure out. But not here."

"You don't want to get caught."

"We're disturbing *their* peace," I said, indicated the two tombs.

"Okay, how do we get out of here?" he asked.

"Let me get a hold of you," I replied, getting up and preparing to teleport. "And close your eyes."

* * *

"Where are we?" he asked.

I opened my eyes and was glad to notice that I'd succesfully teleported in out of sight. Buildings were such wonderful things. "You know, I'm getting awfully tired of that question," I said quietly.

"Then answer it."

"Brisbane, Queensland, Australia."

His eyes almost bugged out. "I'm never going to get used to this."

I grinned. "Get used to it. We might be doing a lot of it."

"This is a nice place. That looks like some gardens over there."

"I know. Those gardens get filmed a lot. I've spent a lot of time there. I mean, I've spent a lot of time here when I was younger. I mean, I've spent a lot of time here-"

"Sixty years hence, when you were younger. You lived here?"

"For a few years. Dad and mom are field, you know. Their assignment moved here before I was born. In fact, I was born in this city."

He whistled. "Whoa. So, you were born here. But what are we doing here? This is the third city we've been in the space of an hour. And we're still out of our own time."

"Okay," I said, sitting down and thinking hard. "I'll tell you part of it. The rest I don't know. Really."

"Well, tell me what you do know...."

"But you've got to promise me you won't tell when we get home."

"Your sister's secret research, huh? I don't mind keeping my mouth shut if it means I never go back in time again."

"It's a little more complicated than that. You must promise that anything I tell you is private. Lives may depend on that."

"Great. I promise not to tell. Just tell me, okay?"

"I'll do better than that. I'll show you," I said, a little mischievously. Telling him *was* a risk, since he'd be one of the few normal people who knew about us. Most who knew we trusted implicitly to keep our secret. But I couldn't keep pretending, not here. Not when I needed everything to be in the open between us.

"What?" he was already looking doubtful. I took a deep breath, spotted a location about ten feet away, and teleported. "Wow," was all that he said.

"That's why we've been circumnavigating the globe," I said quietly. "I don't like getting in trouble."

"That's a function of your sister's machine?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"No, that's a function of *me*," I said.

He looked at me doubtfully. "You can disappear and reappear, just like that?"

"Yeah."

"What the heck are you?"

I smiled. "A being slightly more advanced than you. Not like the Immortals. Mortal flesh and blood, but a more advanced mind and mindset."

He stood there for several moments just staring at me. "You're kidding."

I shook my head. "Nope."

"You're a supernatural being, and you're in our Organization?"

"I am *not* a supernatural being. I'm a person. I have feelings. If you cut me, I'll bleed, and I won't heal any faster than you. I can have kids. I won't live forever. I'm not the stuff that legends are made of."

"Whatever you say," he said, wide-eyed, doubt clouding his voice and features.

"So," I said, wanting to get off the topic. "If I got us back to the States, you'd be able to get us money for a motel?

"Um, sure. Where?"

"Not Chicago, now. Sacramento's safe, if you want to go there. But anyplace but Chicago will do. They might have alerted the police there. Besides, some of my friends have kin from there too."

"Uh, sure."

* * *

We ended up in a motel in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Perrin had been quiet ever since my revelation to him. I hoped he'd adjust to the idea and wouldn't cause problems later. I was sitting at the table near the window while he was watching the television. He muted the sound, and I looked over.

"Melinda?"

"Yeah?" I asked, scrutinizing him.

"How long has this ability been in your family?"

"Three generations," I said. I was reluctant to pass any more information on to him in case he felt inclined to babble back to headquarters when we got back. If we got back.

"And how long has your family been-"

"In the Organization? Three generations, both sides."

"So, there have been people with your ability in the Watchers for two, maybe three generations?"

"Yep," I said.

"Why?"

"One of my grandparents wasn't too thrilled about their abilities and wanted to ignore them. A friend of theirs noticed they had this talent for observation and recruited them. They liked it, stayed on, and raised two more generations."

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Okay, don't believe me. But that's the truth. My family's never been much into it. They prefer to be normal."

"Your family would rather be normal?" he asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not, yes. Except for maybe me, my sister, and my cousins. This generation."

"So, what are you doing in here?"

"What else? Watching."

Perrin smiled. "You'd make a wonderful espionage agent."

I rolled my eyes. "Do I seem like someone who would join the bloody Secret Service?"

"Secret Service isn't intelligence!"

"I wouldn't join the bloody CIA, FBI, SIA, or FSA, either. And Secret Service is somewhat intelligence-oriented. They go after smugglers, you know."

"What have you got against them?" Perrin asked, bewildered.

I looked up at him. "They carry bloody *weapons*, for heavens' sake!" I replied, annoyed. At his continued blank look, I continued, "My kind don't like violence, either."

"Oh," he said finally.

"'Sides, I don't understand violence too well, or so I'm told," I shrugged, picking up a pen. "What do you see?"

"It's a pen. You write with it."

"Yeah. You noticed. But I'm told that people use it as a weapon. I can understand in the abstract, but I can't look at this pen and see it as a weapon, just as a writing implement."

Perrin sighed. "We're in trouble."

"I *do* know what a gun is, you idiot. Even if I don't even want to touch one."

"So, what's next?"

"I figure out how my bloody bright sister intended me to get back," I said.

He came over. "I'm sorry I'm not much help," he said.

I sighed. "Take a look at this thing. Maybe you can find something before I decide to dismember it."

"Okay," he replied doubtfully.

I turned towards the bathroom. As I was turning the light on, I heard a cry in my head. [Help!]

"Oh, dear," I said. Someone needed help, and as always, I had to go to their rescue. I concentrated, leaving Perrin behind in the hotel room.

* * *

I materialized in an alley somewhere. The person who cried for help had to have been there someplace. I wasn't familiar with the voice. I walked down the alley, hoping to find the person who had called me.

There were two men and a kid walking my way. The men were in their late thirties, I guessed, and the kid would maybe hit his teens soon. I briefly caught the kid's glance, but he acted as if he didn't see me. Casually, I bumped into the man. He glared at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, deciding to play innocent. I wrung my hands, hoping I looked like I was genuinely distressed. I immediately didn't like the two men, and the kid, well, he looked a bit scared. He must have been the one who called. He didn't look familiar.

"That's okay," one of the men replied. They were trying to be inconspicuous as two men could be trying to hustle a pre-teen down an alley.

"I'm sorry," I said again, hoping to delay the two men. For what, I wasn't sure, but I had a vague hope someone else would notice. As the three looked at me, I tried my best to seem inoffensive. Best way to do that was to act like an idiot.

The two men looked at each other, the boy, temporarily unnoticed, stared pleadingly at me. Even if I knew a bit about fighting, I'm not sure I could do it, hurt someone. And these men were wearing guns, I was sure about that. Finally, one of the men sighed and spoke. "I said that's okay. Now skattle, that's a dear."

Well, they were talking down to me, that was a start, thank goodness. Now, how did I rescue this kid, this redhead, that was looking pleadingly at me? How did I protect him? I decided the best thing to do was draw it out, keep hoping that someone would notice. "I'm really sorry."

The poor men were stuck. You don't want to draw a crowd while kidnapping, and they would if they decided to start beating me up. I guess that same thing was running through their minds. I guess it was, for one of them spoke up and asked me, "Are you deaf?"

I wondered how long I could get away with delaying them. I decided to try one more time. "I'm really, really sorry."

The two men looked at each other. They stared looking a bit nervous. Good. I looked covertly towards the end of the alley. Luck was with me.

One of the two men came up to me and patted my head. I suffered through it, knowing that it would buy the kid some time. I guess I would be getting points for being able to act. I don't know. The other one looked rather on the end of his tether. Time to get out of there. I smiled at the trio, and went around them. The two men turned around to watch me go.

Of course, we'd attracted a crowd. And luck was with me. As I was walking towards the group, one of the shoppers screamed. "He's got a gun!" she screeched.

I relaxed. Inwardly, at least. I turned around in time to see the two men rush off, with the kid unharmed. I leaned against the wall, relieved, and dropped the act.

The kid stared at me, and I realized I'd started laughing. I grinned at him. "I thought that acting class would come in handy some time," I said to him, while waving my hand towards the departing duo. "Are you okay?"

He blinked for a moment, and finally managed to mumble, "Yeah, I'm fine, I think. Thanks, ma'am."

I smiled at him. Such a polite little kid. I didn't get called "Ma'am" too often. I was too young. "My name's Mellie," I said, hoping he'd not remember it by the time I got back home. "No need to get all formal. I was just glad I was here to help."

"Nellie?" the kid asked, sounding unsure. I shrugged to hide my relief. Things would be so much easier if nobody could remember what I looked like or what my name actually was. I stepped away from the wall, determined to see him safe off before going back to the motel.

The crowd was starting to disperse, and no police were in sight. I'd have to walk him back home, or put him in a taxi or something. Just to make sure he was safe. He'd called for help, after all. As we were about to head out of the alley, someone called out, "Oliver!"

Oh, yeucch. For a few reasons. One, I'd figured out who this kid was. Two, one of the two teenagers standing nearby was Adam Newman. Third, I was pretty sure that the teenager standing next to him was Marmaduke Damon, my boyfriend's grandfather. Great. The two teens were walking up to us. I turned to Oliver and said apologetically, "I gotta go."

Adam reached out to me with an open hand and said, "Please. Don't."

I was shaking inwardly. I seemed to be destined to keep running into those I wasn't supposed to be running into. Speaking of running, that's exactly what I did:

I took off.

I didn't have to look back to tell that Adam was on my tail. My, he was persistent. The more I kept running from him, the more persistent he was. I knew he was calling for me to wait, both telepathically and verbally. Fortunately, I got far enough away from him to stop for a moment and concentrate. Then I was gone.

I wonder how close he got.

* * *

Perrin was staring at me when I popped back into the room. I staggered into the bathroom and collapsed on the toilet. Right now I was too exhausted to think about much but the thoughts that were currently running through my head.

"Are you okay?" Perrin's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Just a moment," I said, pausing to collect my dignity. I opened the door. "We're in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" he asked, shocked.

"What else trouble would we be in? It's this danged time travel," I replied.

"Did you kill someone by accident? Someone important?"

I looked at him long and hard. And then I replied. "Just the opposite. I saved someone who should have died."

He gasped. "What happened? All I saw was when you popped out-"

"I heard a cry for help. I couldn't ignore it," I said, and proceeded to tell him about my little adventure. "It wasn't until I heard the name that I realized what had happened."

"This Oliver was supposed to be dead?"

I nodded sadly. "Yep. He was downtown when he disappeared. No one was able to find him. Not even my kind. And he was found dead a week later. No one knows what really happened."

"So, what will happen, now that he's alive?"

I shrugged. "Well, there was this classic show that my cousin's family was fond of, and there was this story about how saving a woman changed history as they knew it. One woman making a drastic impact on the whole world."

"You think that'll happen?"

I smiled glumly. "I have no idea. As I've said, time travel was a crazy theory. I didn't think I'd have to worry about practical options of messing up history. If we're lucky, he just makes a minor dent. If I'm unlucky, I cease to exist. If we're really unlucky, we may not recognize the world when we get back."

Perrin sighed. "D'ya know anything more about him?"

I shook my head. "I barely know about *him*. And I only know about him because my family was talking with some friends about Vessie's time travel theories and someone wished they could go back and rescue him."

"Vessie?" Perrin looked perplexed.

"Vessie. My sister? You know, the one who got us into this mess?"

Perrin's face twisted and he was quiet for several minutes. "Oh. So, what do we do?"

"Unfortunately, the kid's hanging out with some friends of my Grandmother's at this point, so I can't risk going near him again," I said.

"You could ship me over there, and I could take care of it," he said.

"Take care of it how?" I asked, not understanding him.

"You know, kill him."

I think I made a good resemblance to a fish in a fishbowl for several minutes. "You're kidding," I said finally.

"Well, it would solve all of our problems- hey, why are you so pale? Turn into a vampire or something?"

"Killing?" I said. "Taking another person's life? No. I won't allow it."

"Great. The possible end to life as we know it, and you balk at killing *one* person," he said, sitting down heavily on the bed.

"Death is never the answer. Killing is never the answer. Violence is never the answer. Can't you see it? There must be another way!"

"Yeah, right," Perrin said doubtfully.

"Sometimes I wonder if humankind is going to survive long enough to evolve," I grumbled. I turned to Perrin. "You can't see, can you? Humankind is not going to survive if we think killing another person is the answer! "

Perrin was tapping his foot. "Are you done with the sermonizing now?"

"Sermonizing?"

"You know, that wee bit of preaching that you were doing. We have to find practical ways of dealing with this problem. Maybe if we could use it to go back, stop you from doing what you did. Let him die."

I rolled my eyes. But I had to admit, it wasn't a bad plan. Except for a few things. "Well, maybe, if you forget the Blinovich Limitation effect and paradox."

"The what what and paradox?"

I sighed. "The Blinovich Limitation Effect is when you meet yourself in another time. Causes heck with the time stream. Ditto for a paradox." I hoped he wouldn't know that about half of it was pure nonsense that I'd picked up from another programme.

He nodded. "So, if *I* went back and warned you not to save him, we'd be fine."

"No."

"No?" he exclaimed.

I hastened to explain. "That's the paradox. If you go back and warn me that I shouldn't rescue Oliver, then you can't have gone back in time to warn me because you wouldn't have needed to, because he would be dead."

"Huh?"

I cracked a grin. "Don't worry, confuses me, too."

He smiled back. "Glad to hear you admit that. So, what should we do now?"

"Did you figure out anything about the device?" I asked eagerly. "Maybe we could figure out something to use it."

Perrin shook his head. "Not a bit of it. I'm a historian. I use devices, I don't take them apart and do brilliant things with them. Maybe you should look at it again. I know you're not your sister, but-"

I smiled even wider. "Yeah. Well, I may not be interested in tinkering around, but I hang around with Vessie a lot. Well, maybe not that much, but I do know the difference between a resistor and a transistor. And I'm the one usually explaining what Vessie's doing. Unfortunately, this time I didn't think she'd really make it work, which makes it difficult to figure out what I'm supposed to do with this thing."

He sat down on the other chair and stared at the device in my hand, which I'd found clipped to my belt and kind of nicknamed the Omni, but not to Perrin's face. He'd only get more confused. Perrin had mistaken it for numerous other devices that one clipped to one's belt. I was sure that it had been my sister's radio, the one she built for me, but it turned out not to be that when I examined it.

"If this does have to do with our travel, I assume we do something with it, but I don't know what. I'd have to take it apart."

* * *

Which was, of course, the reason we ended up in an antique store. We'd actually gone to the electronics store nearby, but I didn't want to garner curious looks when I started talking about antique parts, so we'd walked in. Fortunately, this huge antique store, or mall as its sign proudly proclaimed, was a good place to confer. And how, of course, we ended up looking at a glass display.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, looking at a piece of goldish tinted glass. The item in question was a small ovalish glass dish, with four stubby legs and a design of leaves and flowers.

"What?" Perrin looked over from where he was staring at a shelf of strangely- arranged junk. "Oh, it's just a dish."

"Don't you see the beauty?" I asked, stung by his lack of enthusiasm.

"All I see is this piece of oddly-shaped glass with a label that says, 'Floragold Candy, $7'."

I glared at him. The moment we'd gotten in, he'd started looking for weapons. We'd had a quiet disagreement about that. "Why don't we buy it, break it, and you can have your weapon," I said sarcastically. "Or do you need a gun or knife?"

"Anything that works," he said quietly. "I just want to come home to someplace I recognize."

I sighed. I understood, all right. He knew I understood that. He knew that I wanted to go back to a recognizable home.

But I couldn't let that happen to anybody. Perrin might be willing to do the deed, but I was unable to let him do it. Not in my place, not with my knowledge. I couldn't kill. I didn't like killing.

If only I could make him understand.

"Come on, let's get out of here," I said.

We left.

* * *

Cheyenne turned out to be a safe place. Despite its history, it was a throughly modern city, with tons of skyscrapers. I'd never been to Cheyenne before now.

Perrin had gone to do some research on some project or other. I'd gotten irritated with him hanging around. He promised me he wouldn't go for a gun. I didn't ordinarily trust him, but I had a little trick of my own:

I read his mind.

I don't ordinarily do that. For some reason, it gives me headaches. It gives everyone I know headaches at the very least. The headaches seem to have developed with our parents, for our grandparents didn't have them. But we do.

Anyway, I knew that he knew that I'd figure out a weapon pretty easily. I'm a telepath, but that doesn't make me an idiot. So, he decided to pass the time doing some research and trying to find ways to convince me that our existences depended on this kid dying. Or at least for the moment. I hadn't told him about where Oliver lived. If I had, I'm sure he could have looked him up.

And he left me to look at the device. I'd been looking at it for several days, going out with him to sightsee when I grew frustrated with the small thing. Just because Vessie was a mechanical and Physics genius didn't mean that I, her sibling, would know the heck what to do with something she'd made. Still, I think I had an idea. Given a few more days, I could figure out what I needed to do to get back home.

Which lead to the problem of Oliver. We needed to do *something* about him, before he really did mess up established history. I doubted that Perrin was in any danger of poofing out of existence. However, if I fouled up, I wouldn't exist, my sister wouldn't exist, and I would have never travelled back in time to save him. Paradox. Kind of reminded me of that movie that I wasn't fond of where a soldier would travel back in time and become the father of his leader. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

I honestly didn't know.

* * *

It was a few days later that I figured out how to use the device that I'd found clipped to my belt. It was actually ridiculously simple, and the only impairments that had prevented me from knowing its true function were that I'd bumped it when I'd landed in the cemetery, and that my cute baby sister had forgotten to label the dials. Fortunately, she *had* labeled the inside, although it had taken a magnifying glass, a lot of patience and a lot of guesswork to figure out what she had meant.

Now that I knew, I didn't know what I should do with it. I don't know if we'd go into our own future, or a different one. Would I have family, or would I have never existed? As sure I was of Perrin's existence, my own was rather more linked to whether Oliver lived or died.

Perrin was a very typical, ordinary person. He didn't understand the value of life the way my kind do. I wish I could have made him understand the ways my kind understood life, how each of us was so precious.

On the other hand, I understood full well his willingness to kill Oliver. When you knew that your very survival depended on killing one person, you might be willing to kill them. Unless you were unable to kill. But could I stand by and watch Perrin kill Oliver? I was a Watcher. I watched Immortals fight and kill each other, and though it bothered me, I had survived. Maybe it was because I knew that they would never kill the whole world off. Or maybe I'd desensitized myself by telling myself that their ritual beheadings were just that, ritual.

It was a scary thought.

A deep philosopher would say we were all killers. My kind were, for the most part, not vegetarians. But I couldn't kill another human being because I wanted their food. They would survive. I wouldn't. Perrin would have no problem killing Oliver if it meant going home. I understood him. I just couldn't agree.

Perrin would call me wishy-washy. Maybe I was too innocent. But no, I wasn't, not by my kind's standards. Our kind grew up fast once we got our powers, since there were too many threats to our existence and our planet's.

Of course, we still didn't really understand violence. I know even we get kind of jaded occasionally, but we couldn't quite understand it. I remembered one day where a friend and I had gone to a rally where the President was. Jen had taken a pen out of her purse, hoping to get the President's autograph, but they hadn't let her, even telling her to put her pen back in her purse. She'd cried so much, and we were so mystified before Mom pointed out the pen's potential as a weapon. She even had to explain it to Dad, it was that obscure a use.

"Hey! You there?"

I turned around to Perrin's too-cheerful voice. "Why don't you just say, 'Hi honey, I'm home,'?" I replied sarcastically.

"You're in a bad mood," he observed. "I take it you still can't figure out what your sis did?"

I kind of growled at him. I didn't want to share my discovery with him, not just this moment. I really didn't want to be around people. Along with trying to come up with new reasons for Oliver to die, he'd also taken it upon himself to entertain me, or at least humor me. "Oh, yes. The Phoenix Gate would be easier to figure out than this little gadget."

"I'm not even going to try to understand that one," he said airily, plopping himself down on the bed. "I never thought I'd be stuck with an inventor's sister, who's always grumpy and who constantly makes references that I don't understand."

"Brush up when we get home," I said. "What about dinner?"

"I suppose I could find a bit of something to eat," he replied. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm stuck in the middle of a strange time with the only person I can rely on thinks violence and killing is the answer and the key to getting us back is staring me in the face. Of *course* I'm fine."

"I'll find something. Hamburger okay?"

"Yeah. Now shoo, and let me work."

* * *

I was in a considerably better mood when he got back. In fact, I was smiling as he came in. "I hope that's good news," Perrin said.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"Did you figure it out?"

I grinned wider. "I think I finally did," I replied. Actually, all I needed was time to reflect. I think I was in a really good mood for the first time this trip.

"So, what do we need to do?" he asked.

I indicated a small button that was recessed behind a panel. "It's a recall button, I think. It should home in on whatever Vessie built and return us back to the time and place we belong."

Perrin looked at the device. "Are you sure?"

"Hey, sis may have forgotten to label the outside, but she labelled the inside. The inside says 'return' in little tiny letters."

He snickered, and then turned sober. "So, we'll go right back to the party?"

"I haven't the slightest," I said. "I hope not."

"Oh?"

"Well, I don't know what effects our return will have on the time stream, but I don't want a large audience there just in case something explosive happens."

"I suppose we could have a problem."

I snorted. "'Problem' could be an understatement."

"We're not going to get home unless we deal with the kid."

"Oh, we'll find some way of dealing with him," I said casually.

Perrin's eyes lit up. "We're going to do away with him?"

I shuddered slightly. What *was* it about one's own survival that made people willing to kill when they wouldn't ordinarily dream of doing it?

"Well, I think that he should be removed so that he doesn't foul things up," I replied, inspecting the case of the device. Of course, *my* idea of dealing with the problem probably wasn't what he had in mind. But I could get him to listen. Maybe.

He bounced up and down on the bed. "Glory hallelujah, she's seen the light!"

"Speaking of light," I said, glancing around, "I think you're going to bounce that light into breakage."

He blushed, reaching to steady the lamp on the bedside table. "Oops, you're right. So, when did you figure out this fabulous switch?"

I grinned at his attempt to change the subject. "Well, about five minutes after you left to get dinner. I got bored. Then, for some reason, I started thinking about my grandfather. And then I figured everything out. As I said, I was bored."

"I'd hate to see you really bored!" he laughed. "So, you sat here for several minutes while I got the food?"

"Well, I did all the touristy things. Read brochures, watched the television, wrote postcards-"

He was giggling at this point. "You've got this great sense of humour, when you display it."

"Thanks. I think," I replied. "However, what I've got right now is this desire to lie down and relax."

"Yeah. I don't want to deal with this tonight. Can we do it tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

Perrin was in a good mood. He was whistling, getting me breakfast, that sort of thing. I was hoping that he wouldn't shoot Oliver in cold blood when I got both of them together. I hoped he wouldn't have the nerve.

He didn't strike me as the kind of person that normally contemplated shooting anything. And, like most average people that I knew, he wouldn't normally think of killing another person. But, unlike me, he still had the killing instincts, even if he didn't exercise them most of the time.

Of course, I had to find Oliver without running into anyone who was seriously interested in having a long, complicated discussion with me. Adam Newman, for example. I didn't plan on staying here. For one thing, if I stayed, I would disrupt the future in the same way that Oliver could, but much worse. If I somehow fouled up my parents or grandparents, I wouldn't exist. I wondered if great-aunt Kate had met them yet. I think she had, so I couldn't foul *that* up.

I shouldn't say we had breakfast. It was actually lunch, but I'd wanted to sleep in a bit and Perrin hadn't argued. After all, we hoped that today was the last day we spent in the twentieth century. It was kind of funny that we were spending it in a fast-food restaurant.

Perrin came to the table, holding two salads and two iced teas on a tray. He put the tray down, placing the salad in front of me and removing the lid. I picked up the fork as he put my tea down and swiftly set up his own salad and tea.

I was on my third fork full of salad when I heard the call. [Adam? Megabyte?]

"Oliver," I said out loud to Perrin. He looked up, startled, but I was listening hard to the voices in my head. Others were calling Oliver. I joined in, as softly as I could, hoping no one would notice. [Oliver?]

[Nellie? Please answer me.]

The voice wasn't Oliver's. Why in the world did I keep having to run into Adam? I ignored him, finding it easy due to Oliver's fear washing over me. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of death.

I had to have help, in case I didn't manage to rescue him. Even if it meant the end of my own existence. [Find Oliver....Please? Before they kill him.]

I severed the contact, despite Adam's continuing calls to me and Oliver. Perrin was looking at me. "You okay?"

"Be thankful," I said heavily, "that you're not telepathic."

He shrugged, trying to hide his too-apparent impatience and confusion. "So, what's up?"

"We can find Oliver now. But I'm going to need your help before we do anything else with him."

"Is it something *other* than feeding you?" he asked.

"Well, depends on how good you are at rescues," I replied casually, stirring my salad.

"I don't know. What do I have to do?"

"I'm not a precog," I replied, irritated, and scooped at another forkful of lettuce. Noting his mystified look, I swallowed and added, "someone who can see into the future."

He sat still for about a moment, and then said, "Oh."

"Sorry," I said, feeling contrite for a moment. Poor Perrin, he was used to Immortals, those he could deal with. But our kind he wasn't doing so good with.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I wait for Oliver to call again," I replied, looking at a sign near our booth.

"You can't locate him?"

I shook my head. "Normally I could...but I think he's been drugged, and it's messing him up. I can't find him unless he's speaking."

"Great."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. "Oh, and he's not too good with his abilities yet."

"Melinda?"

"Yeah?"

"If we do find him, is he going to be able to- get away?"

"That's a nice way of saying it," I replied. "I haven't the slightest. It's been a week since I messed up in the alley. He could have learned how to control his abilities, easily. But if he's this drugged, he must not be able to use them."

Perrin folded his hands on the table. "Great. So we can't find him to kill him because he can't use the abilities to make you able to find him."

"That's about the size of it."

"I liked it better when I didn't know about any of this. Not about you, your sister, or anything else wierder than Immortals."

I shugged. "I guess I had it easier. I've known all my life."

Perrin put his chin on his hands. "I can't wait to get home."

I put a hand on his shoulder from across the table. "We'll get home. Trust me."

"Yeah. I guess so," Perrin's shoulders sagged. I wondered if he was having second thoughts about trying to kill Oliver.

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this," Perrin exclaimed as we walked through a shopping district. "We should be worrying about the kid, and you're admiring the latest fashions. Has he called yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "Perrin, you're worse than some of my cousins. I'd tell you if he called. I can't call *him* unless I want to attract the attention of certain people and foul up history even more."

"I'm sorry. It's just...I can't wait to get home. And this whole thing makes me nervous. But I don't want to make things worse."

I grinned, feeling just as nervous. "Well, I suppose if we see a police box, we should start worrying."

"A what? I think you lost me again."

"A tall blue box that says 'Police Box" on it," I said gently. "On the other hand, we should also keep our eyes out for two airheads in a phone booth, as well. Maybe even a guy talking to a credit card."

"Um, okay," Perrin said after a moment. Poor fellow.

I spoke too soon. I thought I heard someone moan, but upon looking around I couldn't see anyone in any distress. Then I heard.

[Anybody?]

I practically staggered to the nearest bench, fortunately unoccupied. For a moment, I'd picked up Oliver's mood, which was very weird, probably because he was drugged. I focussed on him, trying to reach only him. [Oliver, this is Nellie. Where are you?]

If anything, a futile question. If he was as drugged as I felt, he wouldn't be able to tell me where he was. And I was right. He replied, [Don't know. All I know is that I'm tied up in this chair.]

Well, what did I expect? The kid was in trouble, after all. I noticed Perrin staring at me, half-worried and half-expectant. "I'm talking to him now," I said. He nodded. I turned my attention back to communicating with Oliver. [Stay still. I'm coming to rescue you.]

His hazy thoughts came back to me. [My lady in shining armor.]

"I think he's a little bit drugged," I said to Perrin. I snickered inwardly. Perrin had no idea what I was up to. Well, neither did I, but I don't think we had the same plan. [I guess so,] I sent back to Oliver.

"Um, Melinda, can we find him now?" Perrin asked anxiously.

I looked at him, while keeping my mind open for Oliver. "He's a bit hard to get a fix on. Be patient."

"I'll try. I can't wait to walk back home. If we walk."

"I haven't the slightest," I replied absently. "Take it up with Vessie."

He rolled his eyes, while I kept calling Oliver, as quietly as I could. "So, how do we get this kid out of there?"

"Dunno. How good are you at diversions?"

"Lousy."

"We'll have to see what's up when we get there," I said, hoping that it wasn't a case where Oliver's continued breathing was a moot point in my case. [Oliver! Keep thinking at me.]

At least the kid was probably throwing the effects of the drug off. I felt I was able to get enough of a fix on him to get myself and Perrin over there. "Perrin?"

"Yeah?"

"I've found him. Let's get out of here."

* * *

We materialized inside a warehouse, and I immediately started to look for places to hide. Perrin, being the idiot that he was, just stood there. I made a mental note to recommend him for some field training when we got back. People that say that *I* have no self-preservation instinct have never met Perrin.

Oliver wasn't that hard to miss. A twelve year old redhead that looks tied up with his head drooping and a bandana around his eyes is very easy to spot. I pushed Perrin into a secluded rack, hoping he could stay still and do an imitation of a box. To add to the authenticity, I dropped an empty box on top of him. He grumbled when I told him to stay.

I then popped over to where Oliver was, hoping that the bright flash of the teleport hadn't attracted attention. He raised his head slightly as I started working on the ropes. "Nellie?" he hissed excitedly.

His head obviously hadn't cleared. I groaned inwardly, and then tried to get him to shut up. [Shh. Use telepathy. They can't hear us this way. Darn teleporting flashes....]

He leaned back while I quickly tried to loosen the ropes. I had hoped that he would be awake enough to teleport with a little help, but obviously, that wasn't to be. I kept working at the bonds, hoping that no one would see me.

* * *

I nearly had the bonds undone. Oliver had woken up more, but he still didn't sound coherent enough to teleport. He was making a lot of sense, but every so often I knew he was feeling topsy-turvy. Why?

He was projecting. Most of my kind can pick up feelings if they work on it, but at least one could project their feelings. I wondered if Theona would be able to train Oliver on their shared ability. Of course, I had to get him out of here alive and prevent Perrin from shooting him.

[Why don't you teleport?] I asked Oliver.

[I can't, I don't think. I think they drugged me. I'm not sure. Besides, they'd see you.]

Yep, he wasn't thinking straight. But I was inclined to humor him. Maybe if I pointed out the obvious to him. [I can teleport too, you know.]

[Keep working on those knots.]

I rolled my eyes. I don't know where this kid's mind was going, but I hoped to be done before his feelings knocked me out of commission. [Okay. But any sign of trouble, I teleport you out. Why do you want me to untie you, anyway? I was just going to loosen them so that you could concentrate.]

[I can't. I just want to feel free of these ties before we go. Besides, they'll just assume I escaped normally that way.]

I wasn't going to win by arguing with him. I'd have to just untie him and hope we got away. Luckily, no one seemed to be around at the moment. [Wise idea,] I said finally. [We don't belong here.]

As he spoke, I knew I'd projected that last comment. [Huh?]

I ignored him to work on the bonds.

* * *

Some thugs had come in, but I'd retreated and Oliver was doing a very good imitation of a drugged kid. Which wasn't too hard. It looked like they were setting things up, but once they made sure Oliver was still there, they hadn't paid much attention to him. I scrambled back behind Oliver as a large, heavily-built, red-haired man who had to be some relation to the kid walked into the room.

The boss of the thugs spoke. "Trevor. How nice to see you again. I see you've got a bit of grey."

The big man, Trevor, growled. "What have you done with my son?"

Oliver, I could tell, was excited. [Dad!] he told me. The man had to be his father.

Trevor spoke again. "What do you want?"

"Your death." The boss sounded pleased with himself. I wondered if I should have been watching gangster movies instead of all the science fiction.

A second later, that proved moot. Another familiar voice spoke in my head. [Nellie!]

Great. Adam Newman. And probably others of this time, as well. How many of them were there? I think it was five or six. I decided that I'd ask when we got back.

Oliver, meanwhile, was getting rather agitated. [Dad! They're going to kill Dad! Please, Nellie, get Dad out of here!]

[We've got to get you out first!]

[No!] he replied urgently. I tried to figure out which one of them to save.

And, just to make my life easier, I had to do all of this *and* get away from Adam and his bunch. And their lives were in danger too. [You've got to get out of here! You've got to get Mr. Tilton out of here! This is going all wrong!] I projected to Adam. If we weren't careful, Oliver would be dead, I would be dead, and Adam and anyone else would be dead. It would be an extreme foul-up, to put it mildly.

[Get Oliver out of here!] Adam told me.

[I'm trying! But you need to get Oliver's Dad out of here! He won't go unless his Dad is safe.]

I could tell he nodded. Good. Two birds with one stone. My kind are lovely at coming to the rescue. They'd get Mr. Tilton out of there, and I'd get Oliver. I saw him grab Mr. Tilton, and a brief image flashed in my mind. I nodded.

* * *

I teleported Oliver to the place that Adam had pictured for me. Actually, I think I homed in on him, and landed in the backyard. I laid Oliver down on the grass. [Rest,] I said. He nodded. I popped back to get Perrin.

Perrin was more or less where I'd left him, except he'd abandoned the box. "It's time?" he said quietly, below the chaos that was the warehouse.

I nodded. "Hold on," I said, grabbing him and shifting him to the backyard.

We materialized a few feet away from where Oliver was resting. I flopped down on the grass. He was removing something from his waistband. "So, are you ready?"

"To go home?" I asked. "Yes, but I need to talk to you about something first."

"Well, we'll deal with the problem first, and then we'll talk," Perrin said gruffly.

I looked up at him and gaped. And then I shut my mouth. "Put the gun down. You can't really kill him in cold blood, can you?"

"I don't have a choice," Perrin said. He looked liked he was as tired as I felt. "He's standing in our way of getting back."

"Yes, but have you considered an alternative?"

"What?"

"Removing him, not killing him."

"I don't get it. You're the one that was so paranoid about the time stream. How are we going to get out of here if you keep messing it up? You said it yourself, he was going to die in that alley."

I glared at him, unable to believe that he didn't understand me. "All right, I goofed. It still doesn't mean we have to kill him. We could take him with us, back home."

"Are you crazy, Mellie? Why didn't you just let them kill him?"

And he still couldn't understand. "I couldn't. I can't. Besides, we just have to take him out of here, so we don't mess history up."

He lowered the gun a little, and I hoped he saw the light. But he put the gun back up again. "That's it. I'm going to shoot him. They can blame it on this mob boss or whatever."

"No," I said firmly, standing between Perrin and Oliver. Perrin moved so that he could get a clear shot, but I moved with him.

"Excuse me, who's the elder?"

Actually, he was behaving more like an idiot. "Who was *not* stupid enough to get arrested in the middle of a cemetery for trespassing?"

"Well, things have changed. And if you won't kill him, I will," Perrin said, pointing the gun loosely at Oliver.

I moved to stand between the two once more. "Please reconsider, Perrin," I said, getting ready to activate the return button.

"No," he said, and pulled the trigger. I wasn't figuring on him actually shooting me, but he managed to. And it hurt. Terribly. It was all I could do to press the button.

I only hoped we'd get home, where he couldn't kill Oliver publicly. And then, the pain was too much.

I think I fainted.

* * *

"Oooh..." I groaned. The ground felt remarkably soft. In fact, it felt like my bed. I wondered if I should open my eyes or not. Had I died? It didn't hurt anymore.

"Are you sure she's going to be okay?" a voice came from one side. Dad. I felt warmth coming from nearby. Warm emotions, that is.

"Dad healed her shoulder," a voice replied from the other side.

"Dad? Theona?" I said, opening my eyes and hoping the light didn't hurt.

I was, indeed, lying on my bed. Mom and Dad were sitting on one side, with Theona sitting on the other. I suppose she was there because she's a professional counselor.

"Honey, you made it back," Dad said warmly.

"I'll be in the other room if you need me, Michael, Elizabeth," Theona said to my parents, and walked out.

"How long have I been out?" I asked Dad.

"About two hours."

"I guess the party's finished, then," I said weakly, shifting in the bed.

Mom laughed. "Baby, the party finished last *week*. Vanessa's been down in the basement since then, and your Grandpa even came over to help. Greer's been having fits. Everybody's popped up at the house, hoping to lend a hand."

The door to the room opened. "Marm!"

He sat down on the edge of the bed, hugged me, and then kissed me gently. "Melinda. I missed you."

I smiled at him. "I got back, didn't I?" I asked.

"Yeah, wreaking havoc and destruction in your path!" he grinned.

"It's a talent of mine. Speaking of havoc and destruction, how're Perrin and Oliver?"

Mom and Dad looked at each other, and shrugged. Dad replied. "Oliver's fine. We bundled him up into a spare room and didn't tell him much, in case he needed to go back. Perrin's sitting around in the living room. I take it he knows about us?"

"Yeah. He does. He'll need a little help, Dad. Especially as soon as he realizes how much of a mess he could have made, since Oliver didn't need to die."

"Why would poor Mr. Braxton need to kill Oliver? He disappeared, he didn't die," Mom said.

Dad nodded. "Yeah. He and Nellie just disappeared. Last anything was heard of them was this postcard Nellie sent."

Marm cleared his throat. "Speaking of postcards," he said, drawing a postcard in a plastic sleeve out of his pocket, "Greer wants to talk to you about this one."

He handed me the postcard I'd sent, addressed to a G. Lewis in London. "Oliver and I are safe. We'll get back in touch as soon as we're able," I read. "Nellie. M.C.S."

"Let me see that," Dad said, reaching out to look at it. "Your handwriting and initials?"

"I didn't want anyone to worry," I said. "I remembered it worked in the movies."

Marm shrugged. "They didn't," he said. "Greer says the postcard helped."

"So, what's wrong?" Dad asked. "What's she upset about?"

"Well," Marm replied, "Not really upset, but now that she knows that Nellie is Melinda, she's going to have to fix her records."

I groaned. Greer and her records. Oh well. I could survive. "That's not the only thing that needs fixing. I'd say Vessie's little Way-Back machine needs a good sledgehammer taken to it."

"Why?" Marm asked.

"It's a long story. Needless to say, it's too easy to make mistakes in the past."

Dad, Mom, and Marm looked at each other, and shrugged. "Whatever you say," Dad finally said.

"I'll explain later, Dad," I said, sinking into the pillow. "But there's too much to do. Oliver's not going home, and he needs to talk to Theona, and -"

"We'll get it straight later," Dad said. "Rest. You've earned it."

"Thanks, Dad," I said quietly. Mom and Dad left. Marm lingered for a moment.

"You're really okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just tired. And happy. It's been a long day. Now, let me rest."

And he did.

=End