This choice: Tell Frank about what happened • Go Back...Chapter #6A Past That Never Was by: Seuzz   Previously (alternate past): "Shadows of the Past" 
"I had a visitor, Frank," you say. "Of a kind I've never had before."
"I thought my little man was entirely in character," he replies with a thin smile.
"Leave the sexual innuendo to Joe," you retort. He winces slightly. "It was an apparition."
"Well, this is the place for it," he says, and looks around uneasily.
Yes, it's hard being here in Margaret Dillon's old house. She's been gone for almost six years now, but the house is still hers, and it will be centuries, maybe, before time washes away her imprint. So you hope, for you love it just as it is. There is nothing kindly about it, as there was nothing kindly about her, but it stiffens you and your spirits. You can never step into her parlor without expecting to see her in her old chair, huddled by the fire, holding out her hand and asking you to come pray with her.
"An apparition," you repeat. "It was an apparition of me."
Frank's expression tightens.
"Except it wasn't me," you continue. "It was another version of me."
"That's what you get for hanging around with Joe the last week."
"It's been years since-- Stop trying to be funny. This was something that'll interest Reilly. I wrote it all out after meditating this morning. It confirms some of his speculations about Sulva and the multiverse."
Frank groans softly.
"Look, you asked, and if you don't want to hear--"
"Give me the short version."
You shrug. "It was a me from an alternate universe. Reilly's speculated that Sulva's paths aren't bound to our reality. How this other version of me found his way here I don't know. Maybe he escaped or maybe he was fetched. Escape seems more likely, but I'm worried he was sent here."
"If this is the short version, could you give me the haiku version?"
You look across the table at him. The "Will Prescott" you absorbed last night--
But you are that Will Prescott, a scared and confused kid who got himself into all kinds of trouble with the Libra Personae and threw his life away in a desperate bid to save his world. It gives you a queer turn, then, to look at Frank (as everyone still calls him) and recognize the same Frank Durras who laid his hands upon you in a final blessing before making a dash with the others into the darkness under the protection of Glundandra. Yes, that one and this one are the same, at least in some sense, though the man who is now looking back at you is ten years older. He is still dark and pale and rather severe in aspect, but with a strength that could fold mountains and a grip gentle enough to cradle a butterfly. You feel a hard rush of tender affection for him.
"There are lots of worlds, Frank, each world different, because we all make different choices. Well, that's what Reilly thinks. My visitor came from a world where--" You let your mind drift back across twin sets of memories, searching for the point of divergence. You can't find it, not immediately. "A world where Will Prescott didn't do the things that I did. He got himself in a lot of trouble. And he couldn't get out of it."
"So how did he get here?"
"I told you, I'm not sure. But he wasn't just from a different world. He was from a different past. And the boy who came to me was only that, a boy. Seventeen years old, still." You feel your voice falter. "And he was about to die."
Frank holds still for a moment, then reaches across to clasp your hand. "He needed our help?"
"He couldn't get it. It was too late for him anyway, and the form he came in-- There's no traveling to these other worlds, I think. But he came here somehow all the same, and I used my mirror to capture him."
"Where is he now?"
You hesitate for just a fraction of a second. "Inside me. That's how I know all this. Don't go getting all suspicious of me, Frank," you warn him, and don't bother to hide your irritation. "He was just a silly little kid, and I feel sorry for him, because I feel what he felt. But there was no malice in him. Quite the contrary. He died trying to save you."
"Me?" Frank asks in surprise.
"Yes, you. And Joe and Rick and Nash and some other people it really surprises me to see were mixed up in it. He wasn't part of the Stellae, in fact he didn't really want anything to do with it. But he'd let some things loose, and you and Joe-- Well, you remember how you found me in Saratoga Falls." Frank nods. "Well, your counterparts found him there, too, and they were having to deal with what he'd let loose, and it wasn't going well. He finally threw himself on a grenade to give them a chance, and it blew him all the way into Margaret's parlor." You look over your shoulder. "That's where I found him."
Silence falls over the table, and you take advantage of it to drink down that smoothie. Not that you need it for your health, since your metabolism is such that food has no real effect on you. But "Marta Hardesty" has an image to keep up, and health food and lots of exercise is part of it, and you are very careful to maintain all the details of each identity, even in private.
"Well, nothing that happens to you should surprise me anymore," Frank finally says, and puts some jam on his toast. "But you should talk to someone who would know more about it."
"I'll talk to Reilly."
"Talk to someone who's got some common sense, will you? Reilly'll just run off and write a short story about it."
"Then I shouldn't talk to Kali, should I?" you retort. Frank makes a face. "But I will. Maybe Rick and Nash, too. Rick can get at the underside, and there's some things about that other world that will interest Nash."
"What about Joe?"
He's avoiding your eye, you notice. You try not to show it, but you blush with pleasure. It's the answer you wanted to last night's question. You pad around the table and put your arms around him.
"Frank," you say softly. "I picked you. Because you're right for me. Joe is fireworks and chocolate sundaes--"
"But I'm health food and hard exercise," he says brusquely.
"And look how much I love that."
"You pretend to. I've seen what you eat when you're not being Marta."
You swing around to sit in his lap, straddling him, and look deeply into his eyes. "Your dad didn't tell me who to pick, Frank. Margaret didn't either. They didn't even tell me what to look for when picking someone. You know what your dad was like, and you know what Margaret was like. They just led me to see it. And I don't just see it, I feel it." The flintiness in Frank's eyes softens. "You are the axis of my universe, Frank. You are my pole star. You are the shaft of my--" You gasp and giggle as you feel the twitching down below. "Stars, you're getting aroused."
He blushes furiously: an adorable reaction, for Frank never ceases to be embarrassed by his own sexual desires.
But you only kiss him gently on the mouth. "I think of you always. I think of you when I'm on a job and when I'm on a retreat. I think of you when I'm laying in a cold bed and when I'm in a hot shower. I think of you when you're on the other side of the world when you're in the next room. And you know when I think of Joe?"
"When?" he grunts.
"When I'm watching Looney Tunes."
He snickers, and you laugh too. "Besides," you add as you lean back so you can drink in his lean, dark features. "He's got Rosalie. You tell me which of the Durras boys is the lucky one."
"Nothing wrong with Rosalie," he says.
"No there isn't, and she's good for him. And I love Joe, but I love him like a brother. I love you like--" And you kiss him again.
* * * * *
You shower and get put together while he cleans up the kitchen, and while he's getting washed up you retreat into Margaret's old parlor. It's warm, though not nearly as warm as she used to keep it, and it's still dark, though you keep the curtains open now. Frank is in the bedroom when the bell rings. It's Mrs. Morris, who keeps the house up while you and Frank are away, and she's already got the door open before you can let her in. "Oh, hullo, dear," she says, and turns a little pink. "I thought you and the gentleman were still out of town."
"We just popped in for a few days."
Her expression turns pinched. "Well, as long as I'm here, shall I give it a quick flick around?"
"It's not necessary, Mrs. Morris, but since you made the trip--" You grab up your purse. "May I reimburse you for your petrol and time?"
"You don't have to do that," she says, but doesn't hesitate to grab the proffered bills. "You still want me to pop in next Wednesday?"
"Do. We'll remember to call you if we're still in town. I'm sorry we forgot."
She smiles tightly and departs. You grumble a little, but it was worth it. You doubt anyone thinks of Margaret's old house as "haunted," but you've had a devil of a time keeping any service to it, for people don't seem to like it.
"You coming with me to meet the new group?" Frank calls from the back.
You don't answer immediately. That "group" would be a new tour group: it's your joint cover to operate an exclusive and extremely expensive wilderness excursion business. It's lucrative and part-time and gives you reason to travel--together or apart--on your worldwide missions for the Stellae. Frank is supposed to meet a new set of clients who want to go hunting in Indonesia.
But you've got people you want to talk to.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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