Time... His Script is You and Me (A David Bowie Fanfic)

Silhouettes and Shadows

He soon had me back in his grip, leading me again towards his pickup truck as I struggled. All I could think of was that this time, David wouldn't be there to save me.

But then, out of nowhere: a silhouette appears from the shadows. The figure punches my soon-to-be-kidnapper, decking him clean unconscious on the pavement. But I didn't care to stay and chat to my saviour, and instead ran off down the street towards a less sketchy part of town. A hint of civilisation where I could be safe. At least, safer.

I soon found someplace open a few blocks down the road: a quiet diner, with a bright neon sign and white lights that eliminated any shadows from the room. Just how I liked it.

"One whiskey please." I order, sitting at the bench.

"How old are you, love?" The older lady at the counter asks. She had a chirpy nametag that read, 'Hello I'm Maureen, how may I help you?'

I reply, "18," forgetting that the drinking age was 21 here.

Maureen simply chuckled, and instead slid a coffee down my way. "It's no Jack Daniels but I won't be having you underage folk 'round here," She looked at me sympathetically, "We do do the best coffee in the whole of California though."

I agreed to the coffee, even though I knew there was no way in hell I could pay for it. But that was an issue I would have to face later.

"You alright dear?" Maureen asked me, trying to help in the old-fashioned way people used to do.

"Yeah, just a little shaken," I lied.

She gave me a pitiful look, but didn't pry, and instead continued her duties cleaning dishes in the back room.

As I was sipping away, trying not to think about David and my assault, the bell at the front door dinged. I shuddered from the sudden sound and was even more shocked as a male silhouette entered.

David Bowie.

No, not the David I knew, or had known. This wasn't Major Tom, or Ziggy, or Aladdin, or even the Thin White Duke.

He was older, and age lined his pale features even though his posture was still that of a young man. His hair was a spiky red, but different to the Ziggy cut - shorter, more aggressive. He wore a turtleneck and black eyeliner.

This Bowie certainly didn't match up with the timeline I was in. I quickly called Maureen and asked her what the date was, and she confirmed that I was still in 1976 before returning to her work.

Which meant that this David, like me, was also in the wrong timeline - this was 90s Bowie in 1976.

After a quick gaze across the room, his eyes locked onto mine. David's countenance showed a small sympathetic smile, and it was only then that I noticed the knuckles on his left hand were bleeding.

He sat on the stool next to me, and checked to see if Maureen was out of earshot in the back room before speaking; "Florence. Um, Hi."

I was still shocked, and only managed to stutter out, "D-David?"

"Yeah, it's me. I know about all the shit that happened today, and I know that seeing me right now has probably only stunned you more. But there's a logical explanation, and I want to help. Please hear me out."

He was about to continue further when I interrupted him. I just needed to know: "Were you- Were you the one who saved me from that guy just then?"

He looked at his bloody knuckles, and smiled, "That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah a little," I manage to reply, "Thanks. But - could you please explain how you're here? I thought you and I only traveled to each other chronologically? How come you're in 1976?"

He looked at me and said, "Well, it's a long story, but I'll try to explain it all. I come from 1997 and by this point we have been time travelling to each other for as long as I've known you."

I input the date I first met him, "1969."

He nodded, "Yeah, well, I can't tell you too much about what has happened between then and now because it may endanger the whole universe (I mean I still don't have much of an idea about the logistics of our time travelling, but it's better to be cautious).

"But after decades of time travel, we have realised that though we normally chronologically teleport when we need each other most, this isn't always the case. Like tonight - you were in a moment of such immense danger that I appeared here, even though I'm not sequentially from this timeline. Does this make sense?"

"Yeah, I think so," I replied. And in all honesty, it did kind of made sense.

Then I remembered something, "What about the handkerchief?"

"Pardon?"

"The handkerchief. When I was first kidnapped, you found me in Karl's garage because of your handkerchief that had the address on it. It was somehow a duplicate of yours, but older."

It looked like he had to search his mind for the memory, given it had been 20 years ago for him, but eventually his face lit up in recognition. "Yes! The handkerchief. I think that was another non-linear time travel. I can't tell you the exact date, but at some point in the 80s I was sent to 1973, and recalled exactly what I had to do to help my younger self find you in that garage."

"Wow, what a mouthful."

"Yeah, it's confusing. But I hope you can understand a little better now, because just as you count on me in your darkest moments, I will count on you."

He looked at me with a deep cryptic stare, as if he was trying to imply something he couldn't say.

But this was soon broken when he continued on a lighter note, "Anyways, I hope you understand it all, but I don't think I have long here. I can already feel myself slipping back to my time, but I need to give you this."

He handed me a wad of cash, $200, and a set of keys. "They're the keys to the apartment block above this Diner. Floor 8, apartment number 5. Nothing special, but it will do you. I don't have much time to explain but remember that the room-"

David never got to finish the sentence though, as he disappeared into thin air.

***

I felt as if this visit from 90s David had been left me with even more questions than answers.

Trying to figure out my next course of action, I stood up and called Maureen over. "Where's the nice fellow you were talking to? He never ordered anything," She inquired.

I told her he left, and inquired about the room upstairs. As it was almost closing time, she shut the diner early and helped me upstairs after I paid for the coffee.

"Thanks Maureen so much for helping me out. I'm just a little confused right now and needed a place to stay."

"Don't thank me my dear, thank that red-headed man who came in earlier. Was he your father? I'm also the landlady here, and this afternoon he gave me two months' rent to let you use this apartment."

Two months' rent. Was David over-compensating? It was probably just a large sum of money so that Maureen would let me use the apartment so soon.

We were soon stopped off at my door: floor 8, apartment number 5, and Maureen said goodbye.

Standing alone in the hallway, I tried to reassure myself; "Surely I wouldn't be stuck here for that long."

Boy how I was wrong.