A Time For Sacrifice [Inamorata Fan Fiction]

Chapter Two: Boats Against the Current

Caroline was sitting down next to a table in a strange room. Her head ached, and she felt a strange throbbing in her skull. Where was she? She saw her reflection in a mirror on the wall and touched her face in slow marvel. She looked younger and finely dressed. 

Her heart leapt. She did it! She could change the past. But she had to be careful. One wrong move could change her son’s newfound freedom.

Before she could set up with a logical plan, the door flew open.

“Here she is, all for your enjoyment, Ms. Bure,” a man with an annoying voice announced.

Then Caroline saw her—a familiar, beautiful curly-haired woman wearing a languid smile, glimpses of something predatory peeking through…Nightingale. So that man must be Bobby. Yes, that’s right… Caroline remembered him in the files and that fateful night when Clarence died. This is the room where David first met Nightingale. 

The way Bobby stared at Caroline unnerved her. She knew that man only saw lust and dollar signs.

“Get out of my sight,” she ordered. She wanted nothing more to wring that man’s neck for everything he represented and killing her friend in cold blood. If she stared at him any longer, she might murder him and really paint this so-called Red Room red.

As Bobby went to leave, Caroline could see Nightingale fighting hard to hold back a grin. But Caroline was worried. She didn’t change anything in the time stream to ruin the freedom of Inamoratas, did she? God…what if she did? What if she cost Steel everything by badmouthing the owner of the York Bordello?

Nightingale’s strange expression broke Caroline away from her thoughts. Nightingale wore her brothel mask, looking seductive, and opened her mouth to speak. “Hello—”

Caroline held up a palm. “Please stop, this is making me uncomfortable. I’m Agent Caroline Bure, and I’m not here for sex. I’m here to end this immoral business, and I need your help.” 

“Wh—” Nightingale started. 

“Here,” Caroline interjected, fished for her badge and handed it to Nightingale as proof.

She felt a lot more forgiving of this younger version of Nightingale and couldn’t help but act mellower. Then Caroline went into a spiel about the investigation that she could’ve said in her sleep. Because yes, it’s all been said and done before, hasn’t it?

Nightingale appraised her steadily. “So, I’m to be the determining factor? To see if I have emotions?”

“I’ll be spending time with you,” Caroline cut in. “Observing how you live.” She already knew this conversation from the transcripts. “The choice is yours to make. I won’t force you to do this. I can find someone else that’s willing to help me if you don’t want to.”

Nightingale stilled and sagged into her seat. Moments went by and she nodded, “I’ll do it.” A cautious hope lit her features. It reminded her of the hope that Steel dared to have when they found him. It made Caroline’s heart ache.

Caroline noticed she had a book on her lap the whole time.

“Oh yes, I remember you liking books.” Crap, why did she have to word it like that? But judging by Nightingale’s expression, she didn’t catch onto the significance of Caroline’s phrasing. Caroline placed Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake on the table. “Here. I think you’ll enjoy this.”

But for some reason, Caroline took back the book and opened it to see her own handwriting and signature. How was this possible?

Caroline smiled, hopeful, and handed the book back to Nightingale. “Sorry about that.”