TIME & TIED: ESCALATION

ARC 2.2 - To the Future

PART 36a: QUESTION EVERYTHING 1

Clarke stood staring out the classroom window for several minutes. At last, he turned to face Frank again. "I see why you preferred to tell me this in person," he remarked. The two of them had agreed to meet that morning before classes started.

"You believe me then?" Frank asked.

Clarke considered the question, and ultimately shrugged. "You have no reason to lie," he said. "It also helps explain why I couldn't reach Julie last night. I didn’t really buy her parents’ excuse that she was asleep.”

Frank nodded. "So, what do you think then? Is there any chance that Julie was, I don’t know, coerced or possessed or something?”

"That," Clarke said slowly, "is a very good question." He thought for another long moment. What should he say? Julie had asked him - PLEADED with him - to keep quiet about her family situation. He couldn’t betray that. Not when Julie was no longer here to give permission.

"I can tell you this much,” Clarke yielded. “Julie had a lot riding on a discussion with her parents last night. If that went badly... I'm not sure what mental state she would have been in. However, Julie hasn't even been thinking about Carrie since the two of them split, over a month ago. There was no reason to shoot her. Unless Carrie has done something to annoy Julie recently...?"

"Not as far as I know," Frank said. “I mean, she did indirectly help Corry with research for his flyer."

“Julie would have targeted Corry for that, and even then, non lethally,” Clarke countered. He tapped his foot on the ground. “No, I’m as puzzled by Julie’s actions as you are.”

Frank ran a hand back through his hair. "I see. Damn. I... I guess I thought this conversation was worth a shot. Thanks anyway."

"You know, I appreciate how you didn't jump in and persecute Julie," Clarke added. "Most wouldn't be half as kind right now.”

"Well, while I can’t forgive Julie for some of the things she’s apparently done - this doesn’t add up. And since you’ve always been advocating on her behalf, I figured that had to mean something."

“Thank you." A thought struck Clarke, and he leaned back against the wall. "Though, hold up a sec, you said that after Julie shot Carrie, she took your time machine to try and undo everything. Right?"

"By erasing her own existence, that's correct," Frank confirmed. "I am sorry, Clarke."

"Yet I still remember her," Clarke continued. "You still remember her. Carrie's still in the hospital. Obviously Julie still existed. So if her intention was to wipe herself out, it didn’t work.”

“Which does fit with my timeline theory,” Frank noted. “It's impossible for anyone to affect their prior self that way."

"So if she can't do it, why hasn't she come back?" Clarke questioned.

Frank shrugged. "Maybe she hasn't realized the problem yet. Or has no money to return. Or our machine’s random variance meant she’s stuck in the wrong time period. We have no way of knowing what happened.”

Clarke slowly shook his head. "But we HAVE to know, Frank. We're now in Julie's future. We should immediately know the results of her time traveling."

"Er... okay, good point," Frank yielded. "Well, it could be that the machine broke down... so she decided to take up residence in the past... and is currently living a new life somewhere else?"

"Even if that’s so, we should STILL be able to find out," Clarke insisted. "Right? I mean, in historical records, newspapers, that sort of thing? Maybe Julie even left a message for us somewhere!”

"I... I suppose that's logical," Frank granted.

"That's what I’m going to do then,” Clarke decided. "I'm going to research, and track Julie down. I'll let you know if I find out anything.”

“Not a bad idea,” Frank admitted. “Okay... you can also talk with Luci, Chartreuse or Tim. They're the other ones who know about the time machine."

"Tim??"

"Sort of a long story. Chartreuse related. I’m sure he'd be more than happy to tell it to you himself.”

"He probably would," Clarke agreed. “Okay. One more thing - could we maybe keep on keeping Julie’s name out of this? While I look? Things are bad enough for her already.”

“I..." The first bell rang, warning students to head to their homeroom classes. “Yeah, okay,” Frank agreed. “Talk to you this evening then?”

"Right, until then," Clarke confirmed. With that, the two teenagers headed off to their first class.

***

Hank Waterson dropped his daughter's hand and rose to his feet as the nurse entered the room. "She's still unconscious. Why is she still unconscious?" he demanded of the man. "Is there something wrong? She's been in recovery for over two days now!"

"Mr. Waterson, please, shouting at me is not going to do anyone any good,” the nurse said, moving to check on the instruments by Carrie's bed.

“I’m not shouting!” Hank paused before sinking back down into the chair next to her bed. “Fine, maybe I’m raising my voice. The thing is, I'm starting to get the distinct impression that you all know something I don’t.”

The nurse finished taking his reading and marked something down on a clipboard. "I assure you, Mr. Waterson, we are being quite transparent. Your daughter’s wounds have been treated and there's every chance she will make a complete physical recovery." He made some additional notes.

"Then why is she still asleep?" Hank protested. "Is she in some sort of coma? Are you giving her too much morphine??"

The nurse shook his head. "As far as we can tell, this deep sleep is exactly what it looks like. As to why she’s not waking up... I grant, that is a good question.”

“Is the fact that I don't have a genetic history on her mother's side of the family important? Is there anything there that might allow for Carrie's current condition?"

The nurse sighed. "Possible, but unlikely. Mr. Waterson, why don't you go home and get some sleep? I'm sure it's simply a matter of time until..."

"TIME!”

The nurse physically recoiled as Carrie’s eyes snapped open. Hank barely registered the man’s shocked expression, attention already back on his daughter. "Carrie,” he said happily, grasping her hand again. "Carrie, it's me, it's your father! A-Are you all right?"

Carrie sat bolt upright on the hospital bed, her eyes wide, yet unfocussed. "Time," she repeated. "Time, time... I can see it, oh God, why can I see the flow of time..."

Hank exchanged a brief glance with the hospital official. Now the man merely looked nervous. "Carrie, stay calm," Hank continued slowly. “Lie back, you've been through a somewhat traumatic..."

Carrie's unseeing gaze snapped over to him, bringing him up short.

"It's all wrong," Carrie continued. She started to shake. "This is the wrong timeline. You... you've got to fix it. Please, you've got to fix this for me." Her heart machine began to beep faster.

"I’m going to get someone," the nurse decided, hurrying away.

Hank Waterson squeezed Carrie's hand a little harder. "Okay hon, don't worry, whatever it is, I'll fix it. First, please lie back down."

"No, no, no," Carrie said, shaking her head. Tears began to well up in her eyes. "It hurts, it hurts, you've got to fix it now, please, PLEASE someone's got to fix it NOW.”

"Okay," her father soothed, not sure what she meant, but hating to see his daughter in such pain. "We can give you stronger painkillers. Don’t worry, the doctors have assured me you'll make a full..."

"No, no, it huuuuuuuuurts,” Carrie sobbed, yanking her hand free from her father's grasp and pressing both palms against her temples. She began to rock back and forth. "Change it back, you've got to change time baaaaaaaack... please pleeeeeease someone change time baaa-aaa-aaack..."

"Change what time back?" her father asked. “Like Daylight Savings? Does your head hurt, dear, is that the problem?"

"Huuuuuurts,” Carrie sobbed. “They can't change the past, they can't change..." She threw back her head and began laughing hysterically.

"Carrie... Carrie, honey, what's wrong? What’s so funny? How can I help you?” Hank asked desperately.

She didn't even seem to hear him, she merely kept on laughing. He started to stand up, to try and get that nurse to come back.

Her hands had grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt before he realized it. Carrie now silently stared up at her father, tear streaks on her cheeks and a haunted look in her eyes. She spoke again. “There IS no NOW. But she's NOT supposed to be DEAD. WE... MUST... CHANGE... TIME... *BACK*.”

And the glass of water next to Carrie's bed inexplicably shattered into a hundred pieces. With its contents no longer confined, the liquid unceremoniously spilled out all over the tabletop and down onto the floor.

Hank Waterson jumped at the noise, and with his attention diverted, it took him a few seconds to realize that his daughter had fallen unconscious once more, her fingers still twisted in against his shirt.

"Dear God," Hank whispered, gently lowering her body back down onto the hospital bed. "What... what was all that about?"

***

"It's a mystery," Frank decided.

"No, it's not," Luci countered. She reached out to point to the equations. "See, this chemical acts like a catalyst, that's why we were able to observe the change."

Frank blinked. "Oh, right. Uh, I knew that."

"Yes, you did," Luci agreed. "What's wrong, Frank? You've never been this inattentive about your science homework before."

He was unable to hold back a sigh. "I'm sorry, Luci. I suppose I can't get my mind off of the whole time travel mess.”

Luci rested a hand on his shoulder. "Frank, there's nothing more we can do about that. It's been over a week since the shooting. Time to start thinking about living our normal lives again."

Frank could scarcely believe she’d suggested it. “HOW?" he protested. “You know Carrie's condition! The few times she’s been conscious, she’s been raving about time and disrupted timelines. And her physical state remains poor due to the apparent mental strain she's under. Now, there's got to be some connection between that and our time trips.”

"There probably is," Luci acknowledged, her grip on him tightening. "But we have no way of knowing what it might be. Nor do we have the time machine, so telling anyone about our trips is liable to get us locked up in some psychiatric ward."

"Along with Carrie, you mean," Frank said dejectedly.

“No, Frank, I don't mean that,” she asserted, pulling her hand away. “Carrie’s not there yet.”

"She probably will be soon." Frank slammed his own hand down onto his sitting room table. "Damn it, Luci, if only I hadn't left the time machine out. Hadn’t let Julie get her hands on it! If we had it now, we'd be in a position to DO something.”

"And maybe we wouldn’t. And maybe you’d be dead. Besides, you warned me Julie was headed for the basement, I’M the one who let her activate the damn thing. So it’s my fault than anything!”

"Don’t be silly, you..." Frank stopped as he looked over and finally registered the pain in Luci’s expression. "You're feeling guilty too," he realized.

"This surprises you? Don't forget, I also suspected everything was too perfect with Julie. Yet I wasn't able to determine what was really going on! Now look where we are because of it."

"But Luci, you couldn't have predicted this," Frank protested. “No one could have predicted this!”

"Maybe, maybe not." Luci’s expression became a wry smile. “For instance, Chartreuse thinks she could have. And Clarke’s upset he hasn’t found anything on Julie yet, and Tim wonders if he should have been more involved, and trust me, Frank, there's enough guilt to go around our little group already. Too much, if you ask me. Which is why I wanted to work on chemistry. Why I wanted to avoid thinking about it for a change.”

Frank looked back down at the science questions. “I see your point.” He swallowed. “But I don’t think I can do this. Not yet. I’m sorry, Luci - could we give it another go tomorrow?"