by Julie Cross
I sighed with frustration but couldn’t really argue when I had zero energy left. I pried myself from the floor and rubbed the blurriness from my eyes. “You know when I jumped off the roof … in August 2009 … before I came here…”
“Yeah?”
“I keep forgetting about this question, but I’ve been wondering ever since it happened, and something always prevents me from asking Dr. Melvin or my dad.” I leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes and breathing slowly to fight off the nausea. “There were two Hollys … It was weird, because I assumed it was the 2007 timeline—”
“World B,” Kendrick added.
“Yeah … World B … but, you know … in 2009 … like I fast-forwarded a couple years and jumped sideways…”
“You couldn’t have jumped past—”
“The last date I left in 2007,” I finished, nodding without opening my eyes. “I know. Dr. Melvin explained all that. But then it had to have been a Thomas-jump, right? But it couldn’t be, because she would have remembered seeing me and herself when we fast-forwarded again.”
Kendrick’s forehead wrinkled as she flipped through pages of notes. “What was the date for that jump?”
“It was 2009 … the second time, after I returned from World B. We jumped from August fifteenth and landed on August twelfth … I have no idea of the time.”
“What was your source?”
“Some woman’s newspaper,” I said.
“That was the only source you checked?” Kendrick asked, and I nodded. “Well … from my research on complete jumps, the memory could have come on slowly. Tempest doesn’t have a lot of data recorded from actual subjects affected by a complete jump. It was only, what, like fourteen or so hours before you jumped back to March fifteenth?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” I opened my eyes and looked over the paper in front of me again. “So what you’re saying is … if I’d stuck around, she might have remembered seeing another version of herself three days in the past?”
“She already did remember seeing two of herself … She was there,” Kendrick said. “The only memory she may have acquired would be the memory of that other version of herself getting to Central Park with Raymond and whichever EOTs were around. Some people are just built to handle shock better than others. Maybe Holly is like that. Instead of crawling into a shell and shaking with fear when she gets thrown off a roof and sent through her boyfriend’s time portal, she just stows it away … doesn’t absorb the impact of that moment until much later.”
“That sounds like an agent skill,” I said dryly, hating that Holly had anything to offer the CIA. I wanted her out of there … back to her normal life, worrying about which classes to take and whether or not her old clunker of a car would start in the morning.
“You know the future that Emily took you to see?” Kendrick asked, pulling me from my thoughts of Holly.
“The shitty one that looked like the Zombie Apocalypse had just happened?”
“Uh-huh.” She thumbed through her notes for a minute then finally glanced over at me. “I think I know what happened. It’s a term I stumbled on in the Tempest database while I was studying everything ever written on time travel. A Vortex. That’s what it’s called when the frequency of time travel increases. It supposedly can cause earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes…”
I gaped at her with my mouth half open. “What…? I mean, why wouldn’t anyone have told me about that? Or told me not to time-travel because it may cause an earthquake in the future? That seems like an important detail to not keep secret, even if Marshall and Dr. Melvin were trying to hide things from me.”
“Probably because it would take a lot of time travel to do this. By ‘a lot,’ I mean hundreds of people … maybe thousands … jumping all over the place.” She leaned back against the couch and diverted her eyes from mine. “It’s possible … I don’t know for sure … but this might be Eileen’s data.” She let out a breath and rushed to get the rest of her words out. “It goes with her theory of you somehow opening up World B and allowing the EOTs to bounce off of it, thus increasing the number of time travelers, and as a result, a Vortex was created. Or will be created. I’m not sure which it is.”
Her words hung in the silence that followed this revelation. So, basically it was my fault the future crumbled to bits. I started the Vortex.
“Wow … that’s a fun bit of info to carry around. So glad we had this chat.” I smiled at her to show I wasn’t blaming her, but the timing was a little bad. I had enough shit to deal with right now.
Michael knocked on the door before Kendrick could respond, and after watching her face light up when she saw him, I had to tell her to go. Healy would most likely be sending us all back to France anytime now and she’d have to leave him again and I knew it was on her mind even though she had devoted all her energy to helping me these past two days.
I had about five minutes to myself before Stewart burst in like she lived here. “They’re gone!”
I jumped up from the couch. “Who’s gone? What happened?”
“Not who,” she said. “The photos you told me to find. I got my hands on everything up until four fifty-nine in the afternoon on March fifteenth … and then I found all the photos beginning with six thirteen in the evening—”
“But nothing in between?”
“Correct.”
“So then, Adam was on to something. Those pictures are important.” I sank back into the couch and had to lean forward and put my head between my knees for a few seconds. It hurt to say his name … to remember him bleeding … dying.
“What’s wrong with you?” Stewart asked, flicking the top of my head.
“Time travel … lots of it.”
“And…?”
I lifted my head, slowly sitting up again. “And I suck at it.”
Stewart tried to hide the disappointment on her face, but I saw it. She wanted me to save Mason. I knew she’d been thinking that ever since I’d told her what I could do this morning, but she’d never say it out loud. She’d never ask me to do it because that would mean admitting how much she cared. “I bet you don’t suck at it … You’re just a little too pampered. Not enough experience with mental toughness. The rest of them are full-bloods, so they don’t have the average-Joe genes in them. Probably lowers your IQ about two hundred points.”
“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She sank down beside me and turned her head, showing off the dark circles under her own eyes. Holly’s diary rested in her hand and she passed it back and forth between her hands several times. “Maybe if we got someone to throw me off this building you’d have more success…?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
Her expression faltered for a second and I snorted back a laugh. Catching Jenni Stewart off guard was a rare occurrence and I had to appreciate it. Of course, that cost me a hard punch in the shoulder. I got up from the couch and stretched out across my bed, already feeling like I was half asleep. My bones ached and my teeth had started chattering as if I had a fever or chills. I wrestled myself under the blanket, knowing I’d have to rest before anything else could be fixed or figured out.
“Hey,” I said, remembering where the conversation with Kendrick had left off. “Have you heard of this Vortex theory?”
Stewart shook her head so I explained what Kendrick had just revealed and that it was possibly from Eileen’s notes.
“I think we should talk to Dr. Melvin.” Stewart fell next to me on the bed, shaking the mattress and causing another wave of nausea to hit me hard.
“I figured,” I mumbled. “But I need to think about the best approach. He’s easily scared off, and then he shuts down and won’t tell us anything.”
“Yeah, I know.” She rested her head on the pillow next to me.
“What are you doing…?”
“Sleeping. Something I haven’t done in twenty-four hours.” Her voice already sounded muffled and sleepy. “I’ve been too busy helping you with all your issue
s. If you get to sleep, so do I. We’ll be better prepared for Dr. Melvin.”
“Or Eyewall trying to kill us,” I added.
“That, too.” Stewart scooted closer to me, and the warmth of her body kept me from protesting. My blanket wasn’t nearly big enough to stop my teeth from chattering.
“What’s it feel like?” she asked after a couple minutes of silence.
“Like the worst kind of flu … like I have a fever of a hundred and five,” I said, closing my eyes again.
“No, I mean time travel … the actual jumping part. What does that feel like?”
The warmth of her body heat continued to fill the space under the covers and my teeth finally stopped chattering. “The half-jumps feel like everything is being tugged in two … and then when I come back, it’s like the worst kind of jet lag. All this time has passed for me, but not for anyone else in home base.”
“I don’t know if it will ever stop sounding crazy to me … unbelievable might be a better word.”
I laughed. “Yeah, me either.”
She scooted even closer, barely resting her cheek against my chest. “Mason and your dad and I had this really long debate one night … I think it was last year and we were doing fourth-line surveillance for a mission in Costa Rica. Mason was going on and on about some wacko paradox theory and was convinced it wasn’t possible to survive seeing your other self in a complete jump … that the shock alone would kill the person, both of them. Your dad said something and I didn’t think much about it then, but now…”
“What?” I asked, feeling my eyelids getting heavier.
“He said people can handle much more than anyone ever thinks … not in a cheesy perseverance kind of way, but just that we’re made to adapt to our environment. Humans are survivors. I know it seems like basic secret-agent pep-talk stuff, but I got this feeling like he knew from experience, like maybe he had to face himself at some point.” She yawned and leaned against me even more. “Never mind. I’ll explain it better after I get some sleep.”
The mention of my dad seeing another version of himself made me think again of Holly staring at another Holly. She had indicated a possible need for therapy, but other than that she was okay.
“We’re both probably doing the exact same thing—analyzing everything he’s ever told us, like the words are pieces to a big giant puzzle we need to solve.” Without thinking, I draped my arm around her waist, then laughed under my breath when I realized what I had just done. “Are we cuddling? I figured if you ever got this close to me again, I’d either be severely injured or naked.”
“It’s a rare moment of weakness. Pity, that’s all.” She relaxed her muscles, letting out a deep exhausted breath. “You act like I never touch anyone without either abuse or seduction.”
“Were any of your college student characters stable and affectionate?” I joked, but really I wanted to know how far she took those roles. I’d actually wanted to know this since right after she told me her story.
“Not really. I dated a lot of different guys, but I didn’t usually…” She paused for a second, then started laughing.
“Didn’t what?”
She scooted away, just enough so we weren’t touching anymore, but I could see her face now. “Let’s just say I got really good at putting the ax down at just the right moment.”
“Oh, man … you evil bitch.” I laughed lightly. “Was this method reserved for assholes only, or did you prey on nice guys, like Michael?”
I expected her to give me a vague smart-ass answer and end this touchy-feely conversation, but she did just the opposite.
“First of all, Michael’s not a nice guy … he’s a saint. They’re a completely different breed. A guy like him would never end up with me.” Her face stayed relaxed, but she seemed deep in thought and void of the usual defensive edge. “It wasn’t about running over guys or manipulation. It’s just … if you give people everything they want, then why would they need you anymore?”
Some of the weight lifted from my eyelids and I focused more clearly on her face. Finally, after all these months, Jenni Stewart made sense to me. Perfect sense. And the reasons she got along so well with Mason were clear. They had both been rejected. Not that the rest of us agents hadn’t suffered the loss of loved ones, but grief had a very different effect on a person than abandonment. Mason and Stewart felt abandoned. Stewart had been abandoned in her teen years, shipped off to college early to get her out of her parents’ hair, and then the radio silence when she got arrested and really needed them. Mason’s mother had supposedly died in childbirth, leaving him parentless his whole life.
This was exactly why the it’s-not-personal-it’s-business approach had appealed to me from the very beginning of agent training. But right now, talking to Stewart, having someone know my secrets, was as comforting as having 009 and 007 Adam know.
Stewart’s eyes had started to close. I shook her shoulders lightly. “Hey … can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?” She looked right at me, waiting.
The psychoanalytical part of my brain wouldn’t shut off until I got a few more answers from her. “Why do you think it was so easy for us to … you know … hook up? Or almost hook up, until I had my emotional relapse. Then it wasn’t easy at all.”
She shrugged and closed her eyes again. “Because we’re fucked up … both of us.”
“So you’ve thought about this, too? Tried to figure it out?” I prodded, hoping she’d stay with me on this self-discovery ride.
“Yeah. We suck at being friends … with anyone,” she said. “You pull off the act much better than I do, but it’s half-assed. I watched you for two years before you started this job. You were never really close to anyone. I don’t think you’re an asshole or a player, either … You just had lots of lines you weren’t willing to cross.”
She was right. My friendship with Adam was probably the closest I’d gotten to having a “real” best friend. And I didn’t really reveal too much to him until all the bad stuff started to happen.
Not until I got stuck in 2007.
“We suck at being friends,” I repeated, grasping the concept as the words tumbled out of my mouth.
“Yep … and I didn’t learn this from deep self-reflection or any bullshit like that. I figured it out after I read Blondie’s diary.” She laughed again with her eyes closed. “I really wanted to do it to you … get you all hot and excited and then cut you off.”
If I’d had the energy, I would have shoved her off the bed. Instead, I laughed with her. “Like I said earlier: evil bitch.”
“But you totally threw me off my game by trying to get me to talk. Then I had to make you stop.”
I laughed even harder. “Oh, God … we are fucked-up … especially you. But seriously, that’s a technique I’ve used many times. Kissing instead of talking…”
“You never told her you loved her,” Stewart prompted. “Does that mean you would have been better off just being friends?”
I didn’t even hesitate before answering. “I never wanted to be Holly’s friend. And I did tell her I loved her. Eventually.”
“And you meant it?”
I gave in to the heaviness of my eyelids and let them close. “Yeah, I meant it.”
“But is it worth it?” she mumbled, sounding less coherent than she had a few seconds earlier.
I sighed, forcing back the empty feeling I’d been stuck with the past few months. It was a difficult question, because I immediately translated it to: Is Holly worth it? Which would obviously be a yes. Holly was worth any suffering I’d ever have to endure. But I knew Stewart wasn’t asking about Holly or any one person. Just the concept. I could only imagine how much easier this job would have been had the carefree and uncommitted Jackson been the one who joined the CIA. Falling in love had ruined me. Inside and out. It made everything in my life more complicated, and I could never undo it. Ever. I could erase her memories of being with me, take myself out of the relationship over and over again, but I�
��d never be able to change what it did to me.
“No, it’s not worth it,” I answered finally. “Not for people like us.”
“That’s what I thought,” she mumbled. “And this, my friend, is called progress.”
“Meaning … we don’t suck as much as we used to.” I smiled to myself before falling asleep. Stewart was the very last person I ever thought I’d find to replace the void of not having Adam around. “Adam … and Mason,” I muttered to her before drifting off. “I’m gonna fix it … even if it makes me really sick.” Or worse. “I’ll make Dr. Melvin tell me how.”
JUNE 19, 2009, 10:49 P.M.
“Guess who’s tailing us,” Stewart whispered, without glancing behind us.
I, on the other hand, did look over my shoulder. Just for a split second. A streak of a blond ponytail stuck out from the doorway in front of a music shop on Fifth Avenue. “At least we know she’s okay.”
“Did you think she wouldn’t be?” Stewart asked. “She’s a trained agent. That has to mean something.”
“I know.” What I really hated, more than anything, was being so close to Holly, physically, and yet the farthest I’d been from her. Enemies. We’d never been enemies. Even strangers was better than enemies. This thought had been eating at me constantly, a virus infesting my blood and turning my insides to liquid … Holly, my enemy. I just couldn’t swallow it. And even worse, Stewart, Kendrick, and I had to set our investigation aside to do some unavoidable work for Healy and Freeman all day today. Until now.
We rounded a corner, and Stewart stopped and leaned against the wall, fiddling with something on the inside of her jacket. “She stopped following us and now she’s on the phone.”
“How do you know—”
I was cut off by Holly’s voice coming through my earpiece. “You tapped her phone?”
“Pretty nifty, huh?” Stewart said with a grin. She began walking again so we wouldn’t look too suspicious.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I should have told you I quit,” Holly said. “I’ve had so much studying to do for my summer classes.”