I've always thought of myself as courageous. Deep down, don't we all? I imagined myself in a thousand daring scenarios, fighting fearlessly for my family. In my mind, I am brave.
But I am weak. As I realize that I won't make it, that my arms won't be there to catch Nessa, I close my eyes. I am too much of a coward to watch the moment her slender body smashes to the marble. I continue to run towards her in blackness, just the way my life will be from this moment onwards.
I can block out the sight, but I can't supress the sound. The noise is sickening, the sound effect of my most horrifying nightmares. A dull thump, snapping and shattering. My brain fills in the blanks. That's her spine cracking. That's her skull splitting open. That's the sound of her breath leaving her splintered ribcage.
The event has only lasted less than two seconds. My lids pop open again; my feet haven't slowed. Nessa's crumpled form is only a few steps away, lying face up, her limbs in impossible angles like a broken marionette. I close the distance between us, falling to my knees as I pull out my phone.
It's a surreal blur. Emergency services. I talk to them, but I have no idea what I'm saying. My voice is calm for Nessa's sake, but inside my soul is shrieking in unholy agony, willing all of this to be a dream.
Now I know help is coming, I drop the phone and concentrate on my wife. She's still conscious, and I force myself to focus on her face rather than the pool of steadily spreading blood that envelops my knees and fans around her head in a halo. "Hey, Sunshine," I say, my voice steady and light. "What's that old pick up line? Did you hurt yourself when you fell from heaven?"
A smile tugs her lips and tears stream from her hazel eyes, which glow almost gold. She is peaceful, ready. She tries to talk, but she has no breath; a wheezing sound from her chest indicates more wrong than I can bear or believe. "It's okay, Nessa. The ambulance is coming. Everything is going to be alright, I promise."
I know this woman so well. We don't need words. A single raise of her brow and I know what she wants to hear. "The kids are fine. They're as incredible as always. Occy lost his sixth tooth, and Summer's mad, of course, because she's still only lost one. They've been staying with your mom, and everyone in that little town already loves them too much."
Her lips shrug in grief and I rush to say, "They love you so much. I tell them every day that you love them too, Sunshine. And I know Bev knows that you love her, but I'll tell her again, okay?"
I can feel her slipping away, slowing to the point of stillness. I try to be strong, but I fail, my tears falling from my face and mingling with her blood. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough, Nessa. I'm so sorry, baby."
It's too much; the weight of my guilt bends my body down over hers and I press my head beside my wife's, my ear close to her lips, close enough to feel her shallow breath.
"I love you," I whisper. They are only words, but I hope she can feel the truth in them, feel that I have loved her with my entire soul, every neuron in my brain, and that I will continue to love her in every universe for as long as the construct we understand as time exists.
"Tell... M-me..." Her words are so soft, I almost miss them.
"Tell you what, Sunshine?" Whatever it is, I will say it.
I raise my head enough to stare into her calm eyes, which crease in frustration. She tries again, even as she struggles to form the syllables. "Tell other... Tell Nessa..."
Sirens. I can hear them somewhere down the driveway, but I know they will be too late. All I can do is hold her and listen.
Nessa has gone slack in my arms now, her eyes closing over. No! "Nessa, Sunshine, tell you what?"
With her lips barely moving, she murmurs three last words. "Change one thing..."
"...Change everything," I finish for her through my tears, comforted by the proof that we are still the other half of each other's souls, that she has left me with these familiar words. She smiles gently as her body hitches, then falls still for the final time. My amazing wife dies with a smile on her face, and her fingers tight around mine.
I'm beyond logic, but I swear I see Nessa's spirit leave her body as she reaches the bottom of her last exhale. It's only subtle, a shade of yellow that shifts above her form and scatters into the night like dissipated sunlight. It is an odd blessing, to be here for her in this last moment, to hold her so she didn't die alone. At once, I am ripped apart with grief, and yet strangely grateful.
A wretched cry echoes from above me. "No!" Looking up, I see the haggard face of a madman at the window. I'd almost forgotten about James. He shrieks, "Nessa! Nessa, Nessa, no, no!" as he half-hangs from the sill, his arms grasping in futile arcs, his mouth a maw of grief, his normally perfect hair a fright wig. Rather than anger, all I feel is pity for the beast who destroyed the only thing he loved.
Having said that, I hope the police make it here before I get my hands on him. It's a safe bet; flashing lights dance around us now, casting Nessa's pale face in shades of azure and scarlet. "It's over, Sunshine," I say, brushing the hair from her forehead.
It's over for her, but not for me. There will be interviews and debriefs. I dread informing Nessa's mother that she'll never see her daughter again. I am at a loss for how to help my children understand that mommy is isn't ever coming home.
Worst of all, how in the hell am I supposed to tell the woman I love about her own death?
*
With heavy limbs, Nessa dragged herself off the floor of the hall. She'd been sitting and waiting beside the elevator, staring at Dan's door and waiting for feeling of déjà vu for the last four hours, and now that it was finally here, the accompanying dread didn't bode well. Fatalism cloaking her, she walked unsteadily towards his apartment.
After racing out of her safe house the night before, she'd recklessly roamed around their bridge, willing him to appear. Their café opened at 5am, where she camped out, ordering cup after cup of their crummy blend of camomile, waiting for a husband who never arrived.
Finally as the afternoon grew late, she made her way to his building. A lack of sleep and an overwhelming feeling of unease had her seek out a dark corner, where she sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself and waited.
Now he was here; she knew it. Making her way to his door, she knocked. "Dan?" she called softly.
"Come in," was a resigned reply.
Frowning, she let herself inside. Dan always came to greet her. Hugging herself a little tighter, she scanned the apartment until her gaze fell upon him crumpled by the windows.
He didn't lift his head as she approached. With closed eyes, he said, "I'm being punished for something."
"What do you mean?" She lowered herself to sit beside him, unable to look away from him, even if he refused to make eye contact with her.
"I must have messed up bad in another life. Maybe I was Hitler, or Trump, or the guy who invented pop-up ads."
"I don't think so." Nessa wasn't sure where she stood on past lives, but she believed that souls didn't change that much. "You're good, Dan. You're selfless and loving. Why are you talking like this?"
"Because. It's the only thing that explains why..."
She had to know, but she dreaded the answer. "Why what?"
He finally opened his clear eyes and unshed tears spilled out. "Why I had to hold you in my arms last night and watch you die, and then tonight you're here again, one last time to torment me before you leave forever."
She wasn't that shocked, and that in itself was shocking. Her spirit knew it, before he'd even spoken. Gently, she reached for his hand. "I'm so sorry, Dan."
"I just... I don't know how much more I can bear..." He broke down, sobbing into his hand, still interlaced with hers. Words weren't needed; she pulled him against her and he wept as she soothed him by running her fingers over his hair.
Nessa wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. Time was already so fluid, she couldn't tell how long any moment was anymore. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and she said, "Where are the kids?"
"With Bev. She knows. They don't. I was in police interviews all day today. I'll go to them tomorrow, tell them what happened."
"Tell me what happened."
Haltingly, he related the conversation with Professor Espino. A heated nausea flooded Nessa. "Oh no. I've been thinking the worst of him. Poor man."
"You make it up to him," Dan said.
"James, though... I just, I can't believe it..."
Dan stood suddenly, tearing away from her and raking his hands through his hair. "Well, believe it, Nessa. They found another body in his house, and evidence of other murders there – the police are saying they can pin at least half of the lady-killer murders on him. James, much as you want to believe the best of him, was a serial killer. The guy kidnapped you, held you hostage until your only choice was to escape out and window and plummet to your death from a four story fall."
"You were there." She rose and approached him carefully.
"I watched it happen. I... I couldn't save you." Striking out, Dan's fists thudded against the window. "I should have figured it out faster, run quicker, spent less time with you and more looking for her."
"Did... Did you get to say goodbye?" Tears had begun, blurring her vision of him.
His bearded face twitched into a half-smile. "Yes. I told her I loved her, that the kids love her, and that I'll remind them every day how much she loves them too..."
"Oh, Dan," she said, grief overriding all other emotion. She hugged him from behind, leaning her cheek against his back, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating through to her, and together they wept.
"Maybe," said Dan, his voice thick, "we were too perfect to last for long. Maybe ten years was enough, more love than most people experience in a lifetime. Maybe we used up our allotted share of happiness."
"No. I don't buy that." Nessa wiped her face angrily. "We didn't fall apart, we were ripped apart. Tell me... Dan?"
He'd turned pale at her words. "Tell me..." he echoed.
"What is it?"
"Nessa... Her last words..."
"What were they?" She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together, as if she could intertwine their souls the same way.
"She reminded me that we have the power to change one thing: this moment."
His fingers gently ran over her lips, and despite herself, Nessa shuddered. "What do you want to change?" she asked breathlessly.
"The sadness. I've lost you, but here you are." He pressed his forehead against hers. "Make love with me, Sunshine. One last time. One last memory."
How could it be that her body could respond so powerfully, heedless of the grief, the danger? Her skin flushed, her hands taking over and crawling over Dan's body, beneath his shirt, seeking out his smooth flesh. Dan's arms held her tightly, his fingers gripping her and keeping her present in this future as his lips melded against hers.
It was unlike any other time. As they disrobed each other, it was as though they were saying the longest goodbye without ever uttering a word. Tears rolled from both of their faces as the sadness coalesced with the beauty of their bodies fusing together. Each moment held a memory, a silent mantra: remember me, love me, miss me...
They sank to the carpet beside the windows. The night was dark as they made love in full view of a blind world. Nessa's senses swirled as she strained to keep her eyes open, pleasure and sorrow washing through her like alternating warm and freezing waves. Dan's gaze never left her for a second, not even as their bliss peaked and they both cried out, synced and yet already drifting apart.
Dan reached for a throw rug from the back of the sofa, covering them both with soft cotton. The weight of his stare was dense, and Nessa felt him trying to catalogue her every feature and movement for the last time, to preserve into a future bereft of her. Agonising sorrow snapped taut in her chest, a bubble of panic that would burst if she didn't say something. Pressing her back against Dan's front, she curled into the little spoon while saying, "That was a moment I would never change."
"Me neither." He kissed the back of her head, and said, "I wouldn't change any of our time together, not a single moment."
Change. Moment. A little tremor of intuition thrummed through Nessa as she asked, "Dan... What exactly did I say to you?"
"When?"
"My last words. What did I say? Not what you think I was trying to say, but what the exact wording was."
He frowned as she tilted her face up to watch him think. "You said... You said 'tell me.' Then you repeated that, sort of, then you said, 'change one thing,' and I responded, 'change everything,' because that's kind of our thing. You wanted to show that we were still the other half of each other, that we could still finish sentences, that we will always be somehow in sync."
"Right." She went to dismiss it; after all, finding out her own final words was beyond messed up, and it really was a private moment between her future self and Dan. But that prickle stabbed at her, stronger this time. "Wait, when you said, 'repeated that, sort of,' what do you mean?"
"Well, you said, 'tell me,' then you said, 'tell other, tell Nessa.'"
"Dan." She sat bolt upright, clutching the blanket to her chest. "Don't you see? That wasn't a message to you – it was for me!"
"What?"
"Tell me. Tell other – other me. Tell Nessa, me, not her." A slap of realization belted her across the face, making her whole body smart. "'Change one thing. Change everything.' She's telling me to change this – that this future isn't fixed!"
Dan shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure that's it..."
"You are, though," she countered. "Dan, this is why I'm here. This is the whole point of me being here – not so you could teach me how to be good in the sack, although that was awesome - but to fix this, to change it! For whatever reason, we are being given a second chance to change this future, and to live out the one we deserve."
She leapt up and began to hunt for her clothing, saying, "I'll go to James in the past, find a way to incriminate him. If the murders have been happening at his parents' house, I'll go there and look for something to report to the police. I can get him arrested in my time, and that will save all those women's lives in the future, including my own!"
"Nessa, wait!" Dan's voice rose, anguished. He pulled on his jeans, then pulled her close. "What if you make things worse? What if it all goes wrong?"
"What if. What if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, or the whole planet gets wiped out in a giant asteroid collision?" She shrugged and smiled. "We don't know anything, but I believe. I believe there's more to this life than random chaos. I believe that someone, some power watches over us, and maybe, if we listen very quietly, we can hear the universe talking to us, telling us the path we're destined to go down."
"Is it talking now?" asked Dan, fear and hope making his voice youthful and small.
"Yes, my love. Can't you hear it?"
She kissed him fiercely, feeling the truth in her words, and in the kiss, she felt Dan yield to this changed destiny.
Pulling back, she ran her fingers over his bearded cheeks. "Dan, if this works, it won't be like when I tried to break up with you. I'm going to alter this timeline, and I don't know what that will mean for you. You may not remember any of this." An unexpected sob caught in her throat. "You may not remember me."
With certainty, he kissed her again. "Not possible. I may not remember it was real, but I will remember this, you. In my dreams, all of this will still be here, and when I hover between sleep and awake, I'll remember everything."
"I love you, Dan."
"I love you, Nessa." One final time, he joined their lips, breathing his breath into her, and it gave Nessa hope to know that atoms from his air would fuse with her own. She would carry him with her forever, come what may.
*
I walk her to the door, but we don't speak again. I want the last words between us to be of love, not fear. I know she knows all the unspoken words anyway: be careful. Be safe. I also know how she'd respond. He won't hurt me.
It's true. Regardless of the end result, I know James didn't mean for Nessa to get hurt. God knows what he actually intended, but he loved her in his own warped way.
As Nessa smiles and slips out the door, her scent lingers in the air, traces of my wife, past and present everywhere. I am alone, and yet she is all around me.
Now what? Do I watch TV and pretend everything's going to be okay? Go to my kids and tell them not to worry, because soon Mommy should be just fine again, because past Mommy has a plan?
How does this even work? Will I feel it when Nessa changes the past? Will the universe around me snap sideways, like a slide in an old-school projector changing over? Or will it be more of a subtle shift, with memories blending and altering over the course of weeks or months?
Reaching for the light blanket that was covering our naked bodies only minutes before, I bring it to my face and inhale Nessa's distinctive camomile perfume. I know nothing except the force of our love is stronger than time and space. I have to trust that Nessa, and the universe, know what they're doing this time.
James is only one guy, and Nessa has the future on her side. It's all going to be fine. I've only just decided this, when the phone rings.
"Mr. Marty? We need you to come to the station immediately."
"Detective," I say suspiciously, "I've given my statement. I need to be with my children now. Whatever it is, it can wait."
"Actually, it can't."
"What is it?"
"James Slater. We've been interviewing him for hours, and he has indicated that there is more to this case than we know. We're at a dead-end unless he talks."
Exasperated, I say, "Isn't that your job? Get the information, interrogate suspects? Why are you calling me?"
"Because you're the only person he says he'll talk to you." The detective's voice is ragged, a man in desperation. "We wouldn't normally ask a civilian to step in with a suspect, but if he talks, we can wrap this case up, have him prosecuted and avoid a messy, painful trial."
I don't give two flying farts about how messy or painful the trial will be. Part of me wants to sit in the front row every day, to stare down James and watch his life break into pieces forever. The other, less pessimistic part still believes that it'll never come to that. Nessa is going to fix this, and the trial will have already happened by now, ten years in a distant past.
I'm about to find a comparatively polite way to say 'hell no,' when the policeman goes on to say, "Mr. Marty, Dan... He says he wasn't working alone. You may still be in danger."
As if I've been kicked behind my knees, I buckle, falling to the sofa, clutching the blanket. Not me. I'm not the one in danger, but somewhere in the past, the woman I love may be walking into a situation more dangerous than either of us could have predicted.
Through a mind filled with terrified screaming, I say to the detective, "I'm coming," hoping this time, this time, I won't be too late.
Hello again, beautiful reader! Thanks so much to everyone who left words of encouragement on the last chapter - my honest intent wasn't to drum up sympathy for myself, I just wanted you to know I didn't stop writing out of laziness - but to have so many of you reach out with kind thoughts, it was lovely :) Thanks for your support.
Please remember to vote - it's always about this time in the story I ask readers to share this book on their profiles or add it to their public reading lists if you haven't already. Cheers!
A story is always more fun when you can discuss/obsess over it with others, which is why comments were invented. So - did Nessa's death move you? Can young Nessa save this future? And what the hell does James have to say for himself?
And how long can you wait until the next chapter...? xxoo Kate