He knew exactly what was going to happen. 

So why did it feel like someone kicked him in the gut? 

The second Jim put the gun in his mouth. The second his fell backwards and landed. The second the blood pooled under his head. It was all supposed to happen. It was all there. All of the items on the list were checked in order. Gun, fall, blood. Beat, after beat, after beat.

He wasn't dead.

He knew that.

Seb closed his eyes for a moment. Just one moment. He wasn’t supposed to be watching. Sebastian Moran was supposed to have his eye on John Watson. His gun was aimed, pointed at the ex-army doctor. His vision, however, was stuck on Sherlock Holmes on the roof. 

Seb knew his orders. Shoot to kill. 

He was stock still as the consulting detective approached the edge of the roof. He didn’t even breathe as the man took the step off the building, flailing his arms as he fell. Blinking once, the sniper turned his vision back towards the good doctor. The man was deathly pale. Sebastian watched through the scope for a moment longer before leaning back onto his heels and beginning to take apart his equipment. 

He shoved it all into his bag, threw the back over his shoulder and taking one last look out the window, began his descent down the stairs. 

It took less than ten minutes to get to the top of the hospital. Everyone was too busy with the dead detective to pay him any attention. He slipped right in, moving around the crowd and only pausing once to peek at the sidewalk as he passed. A slippery smear of red-brown marked the pavement. A smirk snuck onto Seb’s lips. Good. The detective really was dead, then.

The sniper hurried his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He threw open the door to the roof with a bang. No one was paying attention to him. No one was supposed to. The sunlight hit him as the door swung open, blinding him for a split second. He stumbled out, looking around for his boss. 

“You’re late.” 

Seb raised an eyebrow, the tiniest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Get up, you bloody bastard.” He tossed the bag at the man laying on the bare cement of the roof. The bag had another suit, a water bottle, a hat, and sunglasses, amongst other things. Everything Jim had told him to get. Seb knew better than to disappoint his boss. He had the scars to prove it. “We have to get going. We don’t have long.”

you.
you who have saved thousands.
and killed millions.

you who have walked this earth in
past, present, and future.

you who have stood a top of the mightiest
civilization and crushed it under your thumb,

you are ready to lay it all down.
you are ready to die for us.
to protect us. to save us.
you would do it, too.

but you seem to think no one wants you here.
that no one would miss you.
that no one would care.

you’re wrong.

you are wrong beyond a shadow of a doubt.
for even if i am the only one in all of creation,
the only one out of anything that has ever lived,
breathed, or died, you would still be wrong.

i would miss you. 

for we have never met, and we never will,
but i have learned more than i could say.
you have taught me that more than anything,
curiosity is important. to never look down on 
someone just because they are different.

to never stop learning. 
or caring, or wanting, or wishing.
to never stop being who i am.

and that, that is something we are born with.
we are told that every day of our lives.
but to learn it. that is something else entirely.

and you taught me.

and so now i am telling you.
you can’t leave.
you can’t leave us here, all alone.

not without you.
not without you guarding us from the night skies.
not without you holding your hands over our earth 
and protecting us with every inch of your body.

don’t you dare.
don’t you dare leave.

there is more for you to do yet.
there is more for you to save.
there is even more for you to learn.

so you can’t leave.

not yet.
not ever.

The machine landed with a rather audible clunking noise, leaving a rather large divot in the mud. The two crew members on the inside let out a bated breath. This was it. They were here. Where ever here was. With a rush of air, the door fell open, revealing the two men as they climbed out. The first was tall, lanky, and quite a bit younger than the second, who was just as tall, but a lot skinnier than the first. The young one took the first step into the dark, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the absence of light. 

“I don’t think we landed on Klom.” The man said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Unless Klom looks like Kansas in the 1900’s, I very much doubt it, Atley.” The older man replied, following Atley out onto the landscape. 

It was quiet, and not in the relaxing, let’s-take-a-nap sort of way. There was something sinister about this silence. It made the night air seem still, even though there was a breeze blowing through the tops of the trees. They were on some sort of farm, but there were no animal noises to be heard. Not even a simple neigh from a horse, or a depressed moo from a cow. Nothing. 

“IIIIIIII think we should go.” Atley said, his sharp eyes watching the house. Curtains had opened and closed, and now a light was flickering on. Atley was sure that they didn’t want to meet these people. He had a feeling they weren’t going to be graciously welcomed in for an early breakfast. He turned on his heel to look for his friend, and let out a gasp when he found that he was standing alone.

“Bastian! Get back here!” He shouted, stomping around the time machine to see if his friend was on the other side. 

No luck. Bastian wasn’t anywhere near the ship. Or on it. Or in it, Or under it. Atley checked. 

He let out another frustrated sigh, brought up his hands and tugged on his hair. 

“This is not the time to go exploring!” Atley exclaimed, his words running together. He glanced up at the mostly-dilapidated house, and saw that more lights had been turned on. That wasn’t a good sign. 

With a grunt, Atley shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walked towards the house. There were only so many places Bastian could have gone. 

“Bastian!?” Atley whispered into the grass every few feet. “We have to go! I really don’t think these people are ready to meet the twenty-fourth century!” 

He was now just a few yards from the barn door. And still no Bastian. He was about ready to give up and run back to the time machine and hide, when the barn door creaked open. His eyes went wide, and he threw himself flat into the tall grass. Atley had been trained to interact with the locals of all different time periods. Hell, he literally taught the subject. But that training all but left him when he was faced with the probability of meeting a sleep-deprived shot-gun toting farmer at midnight. 

“Atley?”

The breath Atley had been holding rushed out of his lungs in relief. It was Bastian.

“Atley, come look what I found!” Bastian was whisper-shouting, leaning out of the barn door. He had a huge grin on his face. Atley squinted at him. Bastian rarely smiled. 

Glancing back at the house, Atley saw that the porch lights were now on, and there was movement behind the closed shades. He winced. This was going to be a bit risky. He carefully pulled himself off of the ground. Still hunched over, Atley ran as quick as he could towards the barn. He slipped inside and yanked the door shut behind him. 

The dark surprised him yet again. For some reason, Atley had expected it to be light inside the barn. The reality was quite the opposite. The only light inside here came from Bastian’s flashlight.

“What!? What is it! We left the ship out, not camouflaged! What if they find it!?” Atley exclaimed, flailing his arms as he spoke. 

“They won’t find it, calm down.” Bastian said, rolling his eyes. He shined the flashlight at Atley’s middle. He turned away, and stood on his tip-toes, peering into one of the stalls. He moved onto the next one, expecting Atley to follow. He did. 

“Oh, so you think they won’t notice the big gaping hole we left in their land?” Now Atley was the one whisper-shouting, hoping that his friend would finally listen to him. They were in danger. They might be from the very distant future but they weren’t impervious to gunshots quite just yet.

Bastian waved his concerns away. 

“Do you want to see what I found, or not?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He knew Atley’s unquenchable curiosity always had the better of him.

“Yeah. I wanna see.” Atley stared at him, a bit suspicious. “Better be worth it though. I think the farmer’s gonna come in here, to make sure no one’s tipping his cows or whatever they did for fun back then....or...now. Whatever.” He always struggled with his tenses when he was out traveling, and stress just made it all the worse. “I’m not getting shot at because you found a weird shaped barrel of hay.”

“It’s not a ‘weird-shaped barrel of hay.’” Bastian answered, shaking his head. He glanced at Atley, and then, without warning, shot off towards the back of the barn. Hay was flying in every direction as he kicked it up. The grin from before was back in full force on his face. Bastian skidded to a stop. Shining the light at the top of one of the stalls, he fiddled with the latch until the door swung open. “Well, c’mon!” 

Atley hurried towards him, pausing only to  glancing back at the barn door. It hadn’t opened yet, and there hadn’t been any storm of bullets blasting through. They were safe. For now. 

He skidded to a stop next to Bastian, bumping him slightly. “Sorry, sorry,” Atley whispered, leaning around the edge of the stall to look in. “What is it?” All he could see in the dark was a darker blob shaped mass. Not extremely impressive. 

Bastian shone the flashlight into the stall, and the light hit a white wheel, then a black metallic body, and then a long steering wheel, then a leather seat, and then the folded back cloth top. 

Atley’s eyes went wide once it all clicked into place. 

“That’s a Model T!”

“Yep!” Bastian’s grin hadn’t left; it had only grown wider. 

“But...but...” Atley stammered, rushing into the stall to run his hands along the car. He had never seen one of these before. Not in person, anyway. All that was left of them in his time period were photographs. “They were all destroyed!”

“In the 24th century. It’s the 1900’s.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Bastian laughed, and moved into the stall to get a closer look at the car. It had been kept impeccably clean, unlike the barn and the house. Whoever owned this car treasured it. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on it - almost as if it had never been driven. 

They were so wrapped up in Bastian’s discovery that neither of them noticed that the barn door had opened. 

The barn door framed the silhouette of a short, squat, fat little man, holding a shotgun. 

“I remember when you could leave your barn wide open at night without worrying about someone stealing your horse. But now that we got them new automobiles, everyone’s worried about someone running of with theirs.” 

The farmer paused to load his shot gun. Atley gulped audibly, turning very slowly to look at Bastian. The older man was looking for a decent exit route. Before he could throw himself through the stall door, the farmer started back up. “I don’t know where you fellas came from, cause I know the nearest village is at least a day away....yer sure wearing some funny looking clothes, too.” He looked them up and down, squinting at their clothing. 

Atley scoffed.

“They’re not funny, they’re regulatio -”

“Shut up, Atley!” Bastian shouted at him, shooting a withering glare in his friend’s direction. Atley scowled right back.

“I don’t what regulation is but I know one thing: You two ain’t walking away with my automobile.” The farmer waved the shotgun in their direction; they both ducked instinctively.

“Technically, we’d be driving it....”

It was Atley’s turn to shout at Bastian. “That’s not important! This man is GOING TO SHOOT US!” Atley was shouting now, his face turning six shades of red while he screamed. 

“Damn straight!” The farmer shouted, raising his gun, ready to shoot. Atley had just enough time to grab Bastian by the neck and throw them to the ground. They hit the hay with a dull thump, just as the bullets whizzed right over them. They shot through the space where their heads had just been, embedding in the barn wall behind them. 

The farmer shot again, sending their ears ringing with the noise. He missed them, shooting at the wall again. At ground level, Atley pushed his friend out of the stall. Bastian wiggled through the hay, barely squeezing through the semi-open door of the stall. 

“MOVE MOVE MOVE!!!” Atley screeched, pushing at his friend’s feet. 

They finally got free of the stall, crouching over in case the farmer tried to shoot them again. The younger of the two took a peek behind them, seeing that the farmer was trying to shoot them. He was out of bullets. He seemed to realize this only seconds over Atley did, reaching into his pockets and fumbling with the shells. While the farmer was taking his time reloading, Atley used the opportunity to flat-out run towards the wide open barn door. Bastian wasn’t far behind. 

Once they were outside, they wasted no time flat-footing it towards their time ship. Halfway through the run back, the farmer finished loading his shotgun and shot off rounds in their general direction. Neither of them were anywhere near the two time travelers, who ducked while running.

“SHIT, ATLEY, HE’S FOLLOWING US!” Bastian bellowed, looking over his shoulder to see the farmer following them at an awkward run. 

“STOP LOOKING! KEEP RUNNING!” Atley shouted back.

It wasn’t far now; the ship was just there at the crest of the hill. The front half was mostly in the mud, having crash landed. The rear end of the ship was sticking almost straight up in the air, with the door wide open. The farmer was still a few yards off - but he was reloading once again, digging in his pockets for more shells. 

Atley was the first to reach the top of the hill, skidding to a stop at the opening of the time ship. He dove inside, throwing himself at the pilot’s chair. Without waiting for Bastian to get in, he started pressing buttons, and throwing levers. 

“BASTIAN!?” Atley shouted over his shoulder, before turning to see what was going on behind him. He could see nothing but the stars above him. Bastian hadn’t been that far behind him, had he?

He didn’t have to worry too long. The second he stood to see what was going on, a tall skinny silhouette appeared against the night sky. The man slid into the time ship. Atley took a step back to give him room. 

“Let’s go.” Bastian wheezed, leaning over and holding his knees. Gasping for breath, he waved for Atley to sit and start up the ship. The younger man turned on his heel, plopped back in his seat, and threw the lever to shut the door behind them. It shut with a metallic clang. They were safe now - time ships were bulletproof. 

Bastian lowered himself into the chair beside Atley’s, leaning his head back and taking deep breaths. Red in the face and wheezing, the older man buckled himself in and waited for Atley to do what he was known for.

Atley threw his friend a blinding grin, pulled a lever towards him, pushed three buttons and shouted a loud, “WOOOOO!” as the time ship whirred to life and pushed off the ground with a kick. They hovered in the air for a moment before blipping out of the 1900’s. 

Once they were in Time, Atley turned to Bastian, who was still wheezing a bit.

“So can we try for Klom now?”

The machine landed with a rather audible clunking noise, leaving a rather large divot in the mud. The two crew members on the inside let out a bated breath. This was it. They were here. Where ever here was. With a rush of air, the door fell open, revealing the two men as they climbed out. The first was tall, lanky, and quite a bit younger than the second, who was just as tall, but a lot skinnier than the first. The young one took the first step into the dark, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the absence of light. 

Hello again.

Not that we’ve ever spoke before. But I’ve a feeling that says you know everything about me, love. Probably has something to do with the fact that I live in your head. Lovely place, really. Could do with a bit of dusting, though. Just a suggestion.

Well, darling, I’m hoping that perhaps you’ll tell me where I’m headed. I’m sure you’ve got a whole big plan for me and everything. That’s fine. Just dandy. I just have two requests. One, that I do whatever I’m doing in a well-cut suit, and two, that you don’t kill me. 

Please.

I quite like living up here and well, death just doesn’t hold the promise of a new suit, beautiful girls, handsome men and a good vintage. 

You can make me the bad guy. The traitor, the sneak. I don’t care. Just don’t kill me.

Thanks, pet.

Jasper

FIVE MINUTES, PG, 1,011 words

“Five minutes, five minutes,” He muttered under his breath, in his new voice. This body was still cooking, still developing under his skin. But he had met Amelia Pond, and her too-big house with it’s too-empty rooms. He was hooked, now. There was no leaving her there. There was something he was missing. It was right there, right in front of him. What was it?

I have a photo of a man who’s name I don’t know.

It’s wrinkled around the edges, and torn on one of the corners, but the photo itself isn’t damaged. Someone has kept this photo close. Someone has never left this out of their sight. Until now. 

I found it. It was on the ground, laying as if it had merely fallen out of someone’s hand, unnoticed. There’s no sign that someone wanted this photo gone. It’s not ripped in two, it’s not wadded up. It’s as if it’s been forgotten. 

The man in the photo has brown hair. 

He is young, or perhaps only looks it. It’s his eyes that give him away. They are impossibly old. They have seen things that no one would ever wish upon another soul. 

And yet, there’s a smile on his face.

It doesn’t reach his eyes. Not in a cold way, but in the way that you smile when you’re about to break horrible news. The way that you smile when you know you’re going to break someone’s life in half. When you’re about to crush someone’s soul. When you know that you’re about to shatter someone’s life, but you don’t want to.

You have to.

There’s a fondness on his face, hidden amongst the smile and the hopelessness. He must have liked whoever took the picture.  Which makes the not-smiling eyes all the worse. 

A strange sort of sadness radiates off the photograph. As if this man is mere moments from telling someone that they can’t. That they won’t. That it’s impossible.  

That he has to go.

I wonder if he misses them.

Or if they miss him.

Or if they even think about each other anymore.

UNTITLED, PG,  94 words

He lies.

He hopes.

Despite everything, he hopes.

He’s lost them all time and time again, and yet he keeps going back to them. 

The humans. His friends.

His ultimate weakness. 

There’s something about them that’s worth protecting, though.

Is it their capacity to forgive? To learn? Is it their eagerness to see something new? Their blind reach for the stars? 

He’ll never know what it is that he loves so much about them. Maybe it isn’t just one thing.

He’ll never get done saving them.

He knows it’s worth it though.