by Geonn Cannon
“I’m sure that’s not true...” Trafalgar said.
“Oh, of course it’s true! They had to send you to come fetch me like I’m a disobedient child. My career is effectively over. The only thing that might have saved me is finding the Pratear. But that dream...” He trailed off again and looked out the window. “It felt as if I was living it. As if I was actually there. I felt the elation, the pride of knowing I’d finally succeeded. But I was covered with blood. I was soaked in it, and there were bodies piled at my feet. The cost is already much too high.”
Dorothy nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry it has to end this way, Captain Neville. But you should know that if the RGS turns its back on you, there are others like us who know this type of obsession all too well. Your only sin was trusting your instincts. We’ve all been guilty of that while in the field.”
“Some more than others,” Trafalgar said.
Dorothy glared playfully at her. “The Mnemosyne Society won’t turn its back on you. Whatever help you may require in the future, you can count on us to provide it.”
“Thank you, Lady Boone, and Miss Trafalgar. I know it would have been easier to just lock me in the hold and commandeer my ship. I’m grateful you let me come to this conclusion on my own.”
Trafalgar said, “If we’d forced you to leave, you would have just come running back at the earliest opportunity. At least that’s what I would do.”
Dorothy said, “As would I.”
“I still have some work to do before this vessel is seaworthy. I’m willing to let the two of you ride along with me just to ensure this isn’t a ruse and I don’t turn around in the middle of the Atlantic.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dorothy said. “If you don’t show up in London in an expedient manner, we’ll just send a few of our meaner members to fetch you.”
Neville managed to smile. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He stood and extended a hand to Dorothy. “Thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank us for, Captain.”
They both shook his hand, then left him to continue preparing for his voyage. Trafalgar waited until they were back on solid ground before she looked back at the ship.
“Do you believe he’s truly seen the light?”
“I do. That haunted stare... I saw the same thing in Cora’s eyes when she institutionalized herself. I would never wish that sort of pain or anguish on anyone, but I think he’ll get through it since there are no actual corpses in conscience. He may be right about his future in our profession. We can invite him into the Society, but he may not be accepted by the other members. I can’t imagine anyone else working with him after this debacle. Even if they knew the details of every timeline, the simple fact is that he went rogue.”
Trafalgar said, “Pity. From all accounts he seemed like a good explorer.”
“Mm.” Dorothy slipped her arm around Trafalgar’s. Trafalgar looked down but said nothing. “Speaking of having a corpse on your conscience, I’ve been thinking about Desmond.”
“You have? When?”
“When you were getting dressed. You took ages. Anyway, my mind wandered back to the cave. You saw me die. And I actually accepted the fact I was going to die before that rock hit my head. I was completely helpless. There was poison in my blood. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, I could barely speak. I thought there was a possibility we would survive, that we might somehow reset to a new timeline, but that was in no way a given. And I still accepted it. I threw myself at Captain Neville knowing it might be my last act in this life, and I was content. Because it was for the greater good. My death was preventing something very bad from happening to the world.
“I think, if he had been given the choice, Desmond would have accepted it as well. He wasn’t able to voice his opinion, but I knew him. I knew his courage and selflessness. I believe if there’s an afterlife, if he’s looking down on us and telling me to stop blaming myself for what happened.” She realized she was crying but she didn’t want to draw attention to it by wiping at her cheek. “I thought I’d found peace before we left, but I don’t think I truly had it until just now.”
“This is also the second time since we’ve started working together that you’ve come within kissing distance of death.”
“Third,” Dorothy said.
“The necropolis, and...”
Dorothy said, “Fighting the Minotaur. It all worked out well in the end, but I had no illusions of surviving that encounter.”
“Ah. Well, I’m referring to actual loss of consciousness and employing extreme measures to bring you back to health.”
“Fine. I’ve only been on Death’s door twice. Happy now?”
“Yes.” Trafalgar kissed Dorothy’s hair. “For what it’s worth, I wholly believe you’re correct about his point of view. And from what we’ve learned on this mission, there’s almost certainly a timeline where Desmond lived. We could go back to the cave, skip back in time...”
Dorothy swatted Trafalgar’s hand. “Don’t even joke! I think we’ve done quite enough toying with the past for one week.”
“Agreed.”
They walked along down the main drag of town, no destination in mind. They passed a shop and Dorothy glanced inside, almost stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Rute inside.
The other woman was buying melons. She felt eyes on her and looked out the window, but her gaze slipped right over Dorothy when scanning for the threat. Trafalgar kept walking and Dorothy was pulled along by her until Rute was out of sight. Dorothy faced forward, as shaken as if she had just seen a ghost. The lack of recognition implied the other members of their party didn’t necessarily recall the other timelines. That was definitely a good thing.
“Everything all right?” Trafalgar asked.
Dorothy smiled and patted Trafalgar’s hand. “Just eager to get home, that’s all. It’s been a very long trip.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
London felt stunningly urban after their stint in the jungle, although Dorothy still recalled spending a relatively relaxing few days in the bustling streets of Belém. Their long trip home had helped her arrange the conflicting accounts in a way that she hoped would prevent her from being confused in the future. Her time in the jungle, cutting through vines and swatting at mosquitos, was no less real to her than what she now accepted as reality. Though her “town” memories, as she’d come to call them, had become stronger and more vivid with time, the “jungle” memories remained just as clear.
“I suppose I will be stuck with the conflict,” Dorothy said. She and Trafalgar were lying in bed together, not long after waking and on the verge of finally getting up in search of breakfast. “I shall always be able to remember two contrary versions of events for the same trip. It’s odd, but it will be manageable.”
“One of the many outlandish things we’ve filed away for the sake of our continued sanity,” Trafalgar said.
She’d also spent much of their voyage considering the nature of memories. How strong was the mind, at the end of the day? The days training with her grandmother were vague, but she could still picture the older woman well enough to paint a portrait of her. But events from just a few years earlier were dim, as if all the colors had been drained out of them.
“All of our memories are redrawn every time we visit them,” Trafalgar posited on their final day at sea. “Each time we go back, the actual memory changes just a little. It becomes vague, or we forget something. Eventually we’re not remembering the actual experience, but the memory we created of it.”
Dorothy said, “That’s a bit frightening. Think of how easy it would be to ‘remember’ something that never actually occurred.”
“That’s why it’s so dangerous to spend this life alone. Friends and lovers help remind us what is true.”
Dorothy had smiled at that. “Loneliness... now that is something I doubt I’ll ever have to worry about in this life. I have an abundance of people in my life.”
Now, though, back on solid ground and in familiar t
erritory, Dorothy was terrified that she was about to lose one of those people. Trafalgar suggested it would be best not to be present when Dorothy and Beatrice reunited. “Until we know for certain how she’ll react... I don’t wish to be the recipient of a warm welcome that is immediately regretted.”
Instead, she summoned a cab which would take her to check on Cora Hyde. They’d had the benefit of “waking up” still in Brazil, but to go from the Pratear cave all the way back to London must have been utterly disorienting. There was also the danger that Cora may not know if her dueling memories were true or not. Trafalgar could, at the very least, confirm that she wasn’t going insane.
Dorothy hesitated on the front steps of her home, envying Trafalgar’s errand. At least she would be delivering good and comforting news. Her relationship with Beatrice had always been free and open. But perhaps it had been an unspoken rule that true feelings would never enter into her dalliances, that she would never carry on with a lover after the mission ended. She finally summoned the courage to open the door and step inside.
“Beatrice?”
She appeared on the second-floor landing so quickly that she must have been in motion before Dorothy spoke, probably from the moment she’d heard the door open. She wore her uniform shirt, suspenders, and slacks, but the shirt was untucked and her feet were bare as she hurried down the stairs with an enormous smile on her face. Dorothy felt a swell of love, almost brought to tears by the sight of the woman she loved being so comfortable in her... in their home.
“It’s about time you got home, Lady Boone.” Beatrice threw her arms around Dorothy in a hug, then pulled back to greet her properly with a long and slow kiss. “I’ve missed you, love.”
Dorothy put her hands on Beatrice’s sides, just above the waistband of her slacks. “I’ve missed you as well, Trix. Kiss me again.”
“If I must.”
Dorothy closed her eyes, brow furrowed. Every time she kissed Trafalgar, a part of her had twisted as if it was a betrayal of Beatrice. Now, with Beatrice’s arms around her, she felt the reverse. She hated herself for betraying them both and, with great effort, pushed Beatrice away.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
Beatrice’s joy turned to concern. Her eyes darted across the exposed parts of Dorothy’s body in search of scars or bandages.
“Are you all right? Were you hurt?”
“I’m... well, I was hurt, but I’m completely fine now. It’s a very long story and it’s not what we need to talk about.” She lowered her head, unable to meet Beatrice’s gaze for what she was about to say. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Beatrice.”
“You can tell me anything, Dorothy.” She cupped Dorothy’s cheek. “Please, just tell me.”
Dorothy steadied her breathing but could do nothing to calm her heart. “Trafalgar and I... on the mission, there was... god, it’s a long story, but... we slept together.”
Beatrice dipped her chin and raised an eyebrow. “You and Trafalgar?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She tucked a hair behind Dorothy’s ear.
Dorothy finally found the strength to look at Beatrice. “We were intimate several times in Brazil, and we continued on the trip home. I don’t... know if we intend to continue now that we’re home. But I also know that I don’t wish to stop. I have feelings for her. She has feelings for me. And when we’re together, it feels... it’s...”
Beatrice’s jaw was trembling. “Do you... wish to stop... w-with me?”
“No. God, no. If I was that callous, it would be simple. I may have feelings for Trafalgar, but I have no idea what they are. I know that I love you, Trix. I feel so selfish saying these things. I know how it must sound.” She squeezed Beatrice’s fingers. “I can walk away from her. She and I can go back to the way things were before we went to Brazil.”
“Stop,” Beatrice said. “I don’t care.”
Dorothy waited silently, watching Beatrice work through what she wanted to say. When she finally spoke again, her words were halting and quiet.
“Marriage... is... the most unappealing thing in the world to me. I see people with their wedding bands and I think that a shackle is no less confining because it happens to be forged from gold. I believe it’s a strange sort of madness to ask another person to love you before all others for eternity. It’s a contract and a vow for something which should be given freely every day. You slept with Trafalgar. And you care for her. And it’s causing you so much pain right now. What good is that?”
Dorothy closed her eyes and felt tears on the lashes. Beatrice cupped her cheeks with both hands, and the tears fell free, rolling over her fingers.
“Say how you feel about me.”
“Beatrice Sek, I love you,” Dorothy said.
Beatrice kissed her lips. “I love you, too, Dorothy Boone. Trafalgar is a wonderful woman. I care for her myself. I’m not surprised by the idea you would eventually share a bed. I’m not surprised you would be reluctant to go back to just being colleagues after taking that step. I’ve always been willing to share you, because I know you will always come back to me. The only difference now is that you’re being shared with someone who is sticking around.”
“And you’re honestly okay with that?”
“It may take a while to adjust,” Beatrice admitted. “And I would hope she’ll allow you to spend the night with me tonight, because I have missed you so terribly.” She smoothed the collar of Dorothy’s coat. “We may have to revisit this once we’ve had a chance to live with it for a while, just to confirm the theoretical lives up to the reality. My life is tied to yours, Dorothy. Whether you’re only sleeping with me, or if you’re sleeping with me and half the Mnemosyne Society. As long as you have a place in your heart for me, I will guard it with my life.”
Dorothy kissed Beatrice’s lips, then her cheek. “Beatrice,” she whispered. “My Trix... you are the best thief I have ever encountered.”
“How so?”
Dorothy pulled back and ran her hands through Beatrice’s thick, dark hair. “You broke into my house with the intention of stealing only what you could carry. And now I’m standing here willing to give you everything I own. I’m sorry I can’t offer you my entire heart.”
Beatrice flattened her hand on Dorothy’s chest. “I’m content to take only the part I can carry.”
Dorothy pulled Beatrice to her, kissing her before guiding her upstairs.
#
Trafalgar had only visited Cora’s house once. Dorothy wanted to check in when she returned from her stay at Wraysbury. On that visit, the curtains had been tightly drawn and the mood of her parlor lived up to its name. It had been a house in mourning. Now, however, every window was open wide to let in the early afternoon sunlight, and Cora greeted her with a smile which put that brightness to shame. She hugged Trafalgar hard enough to hurt, which made them both laugh. She was dressed in a pale blue blouse which accentuated the color of her eyes, and her dark hair was pinned back to expose her face. Trafalgar had never known her before the tragedy, so she’d had no idea how heavily it weighed on her appearance. She was seeing Cora’s true smile for the very first time, unmarred by haunted eyes, and it was a beautiful sight.
“I knew you would be bald,” Cora said when she finally let her go. She gripped Trafalgar by the upper arms and squeezed occasionally as if trying to confirm she was real. “If what happened was a dream or a hallucination, I wouldn’t have known that. But I did. You look smashing, by the way. Did I say that before? Simply marvelous.”
Cora served them both tea and explained her version of the past few weeks. “I remember the ocean journey as well as any I’ve ever taken. But I was also here. I had dinner with the Keepings. And yet, at the same time, I nearly died in the jungle with the two of you.” She shook her head in amazement. “How do you and Dorothy recall everything?”
Trafalgar explained the conclusions she and Dorothy had come to, their conflicting accounts of parallel timelines and the days they s
pent with two versions of Felix Neville.
“I was ill,” Trafalgar said, “and you took very good care of me. Even if that didn’t actually happen in this timeline, I want you to know how grateful I am.”
“It was my honor. And I believe it did happen. All of it. And not just because those experiences helped me overcome my mental strife, but because it feels more real than anything that happened here. We lived those days. And then, by setting things right, we forced the universe to manufacture a separate version of events. Think about it... the days you spent in Brazil. Did you do anything particularly out of the ordinary?”
Trafalgar thought. “We went sightseeing. We tried to convince Captain Neville to come home.”
“But what did you see? Who did you meet?”
At the moment, she couldn’t think of anyone in particular. “There were, ah, shopkeepers. Hotel staff.” She tried to think of specifics. “There wasn’t much of note, really.”
“And my days here were mundane. I read books. I had dinner with old friends. I went to the same shops, I slept in the same bed. But the other timeline, the one where we discovered the Pratear... that is full of unique and singular events, new people. You must have done things in that timeline you’ve never done before.”
“Dorothy...”
“Pardon?”
“I... Dorothy and I were, ah... intimate.”
Cora sat up straighter, her eyes widening. “You what? When!”
“In the caves.”
“Well, I never.” She leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. “How was it?”
Trafalgar said, “It was private.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun. But it proves my point. That was the real timeline. That was everything that really happened, even the bad parts. You and Dorothy fixed things and this timeline was created to take its place.”
“I like that version.” Trafalgar reached out and put her hand on Cora’s. “If for no other reason than it gave you closure on what’s been haunting you.”
“I don’t think I’m completely myself yet. But the experience healed wounds I didn’t even realize I had, so I’m confident that I’m on the road to recovery.”