The Prior

POV: Cass Aboot

He closes the door behind me. I’m several steps ahead, but I catch him watching me from the other side of the room. I give him a quick glance, his face stern in the dim lighting. He quickly looks at the ceiling, as if to play off his staring. After a moment. I shoot him a look of apprehension. We haven’t spoken alone in a while. He seemed fairly hurt after our conversation outside of the barn.

“Elliot,” I whisper. I’m not quite sure what possessed me to say his name. He looks over to me, matching my demeanor. We’re still about 4 feet apart, but it feels intimate. He lifts his foot and takes a couple of heavy steps towards me. At last, he stands right in front of me.

“I’m not mad at you. You know that right?” he says, looking at me, but not into my eyes. I feel a rush flow through me. I raise an eyebrow, scanning him. He doesn’t look angry.

“You aren’t?”

“No.” he just shakes his head at me, his golden eyes now meeting mine, “Honestly, I’m not. I know how I feel about you. You’re still exploring how you feel about me and maybe even how you feel about Max. And that is okay. Do I want you to throw yourself around me right now and tell me that you want me? Yes, of course I do. But, I know that is not realistic. And that is okay. You’re right, too. We need to stay on track. No distractions.” I nod as he speaks.

Elliot always looks kind. That’s the best way that I can describe Elliot Foster. Kind. He speaks kindly. He holds himself kindly. Elliot is kind. And, yes, I’ve been avoiding being alone with him all day today, but every second I’ve missed him. I missed the kind look in his eyes. I missed the weak smiles he gives me anytime I glance at him. I missed talking to him. And, the whole point of not letting myself indulge in romance with Elliot was to make working with him easier. This hasn’t been easier. It’s been harder.

Max is…Max. Max is goofy and intelligent and I know he means well. But, somehow every single thing that Elliot does surpasses Max’s attempts. Elliot’s jokes are funnier. Elliot’s smile makes my heart feel warmer. I never really saw Max as a romantic option. I merely needed Elliot to think that I did. Max gets on my nerves easily. And then, there’s Belle. Belle is just a baby. So, Elliot’s my only real friend. It’s not a good idea to focus on romance with your only friend. But, nevertheless, I can’t help but find myself falling for Elliot. And, I know he’s fallen for me.

“And, if I was wrong? If I regret telling you no?” I mutter.

“Cassidy,” he whispers, “If you’re going to make a decision about this, I want that to be your final decision. I know now that our little trial was merely strategic. Please don’t do anything else for the means of being ‘strategic.’ I’ve already decided that I will help you regardless. Not to mention, don’t you have unexplored feelings for Max? I don’t want you to push yourself towards me because you think it means that I’ll help you more. Especially not if what your heart wants is Max. And, for the record, you don’t have to choose me or him. You can choose yourself too. No one is forcing you to be with me or to be with Max. But, if you truly want me, then I am here.”

I step closer to him until we’re just inches apart. He takes the nape of my neck and pulls me closer until our foreheads touch. He takes a deep breath and so do I. I look straight into his eyes.

“I want you Elliot. No strategy here. My heart wants you,” I whisper. He tilts up my chin and pulls me into a kiss. His warm lips press into mine, each motion more passionate than the next.

He presses his hand into my back, keeping me close, but I take a couple steps back and yank us down onto the bed. I can feel his smile through his kiss. That’s one of my favorite things. Yes, his smile. But, also knowing that I am what brings that smile to his face. I desperately want more. More of him. As much of him as I possibly can have. I don’t allow my brain’s warnings to ruin this moment for me. I deserve to fall in love. I slip my hand under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin, which makes him smile once more. Eventually, I tug at it until he gets the memo and slips it off. I pull away from our kiss just to see him. It never gets old. I notice, for the first time, a tattoo along his shoulder. I reach up and graze the tattoo gently: the contrast of the black ink against his tan skin. Heat seeps out of my skin, coming from somewhere deep inside me. Elliot softly kisses just under my ear.

“Can I ask? Not to kill the mood, but where is this going? I just don’t want to do anything that you don’t want me to,” he whispers against my neck.

“As far as you want to go,” I mutter, nearly unable to control myself.

“All the way?” he questions me, “We don’t have to.”

“If you want to go all the way, I would absolutely love that,” I say, pulling him into a kiss that he almost immediately slips out of.

His lips stay grazed against mine as he whispers, “Okay. Let me know if you want me to stop.” His hands slip over my shoulders and around to my back. I feel his hand mess with the fastens on the back of my dress. The brown of his eyes dart back and forth, analyzing me, or maybe the buttons. Until, at last, the corset of my dress loosens and he slips it off of me. I’m left in undergarments, more conservative ones too, but I still feel vulnerable to his analytic eyes. His kiss melts back my worries. The calluses on his hands softly scratch my skin as he touches it, in absolutely the best way.

—---

The sun fades into the bedroom. Elliot gently plays with my hair and rubs my head, which encourages me to stay exactly where I am. Nothing brings me more peace than this. I’m warm. I’m being touched nicely. I’m comfortable. His care is relaxing. With my eyes closed I can enjoy the moment without my thoughts warning me.

I hear a soft squeak of a door hinge. Light footsteps approach the bed where we lay.

“No way,” gasps Belle. I open my eyes to see her staring at us, absolutely shocked. After a moment, I finally process why she’s so surprised. I lie cuddled up to Elliot, my head on his bare chest. I’m sure she can tell that I am also topless. I don’t move from on-top of Elliot until he pulls up the covers for me.

“Belle,” he says. My chest feels incredibly tight, once more. Open eyes, open worries.

“You two are a thing?” Belle questions almost smiling a little, “or… was this just like a one time thing?” I glance at Elliot; he bites his lip. Of course something would go wrong.

“You wanna take this one or…?” Elliot mutters.

“All yours.”

“I mean this wasn’t the first time, but…” Elliot starts before I kick him in the shin. I cringe at his explanation. He glares back at me, “Okay, you take the question then.” The glimmer in Belle’s eyes makes me feel nauseous.

“We’re a thing. Maybe unclarified as to what that thing is, but, yes a thing.” her eyes are still wide, nodding at me. Elliot’s thumb gently rubs my thigh. I glance at him, but he only looks towards Belle.

She laughs, loudly, “I can’t believe it!”

I swallow hard as Elliot squeezes my leg. She takes a step closer, obviously ignorant to how awkward this is for Elliot and I.

“Suddenly everything makes sense now,” she shakes her head, “Oh. My. God! And you were keeping this from me?”

I glance at Elliot, “Honestly, we haven’t even talked about this yet.”

“But, it’s not new? You’ve been together… what? This entire time?” she asks, still laughing with every word. I can’t tell if she’s happy, excited, nervous or angry. Her laughing is almost crazed. I’m just not sure what type of crazed.

“No, no, no,” Elliot says to her.

“We actually hadn’t spoken in a while and talked through everything last night. We had one drunk night a while ago, but nothing had really been official, even between me and Cassidy,” Elliot says to her, a much better explanation of what I was trying to say. His thumb pauses, instead just resting on my leg.

“So, it happened last night?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“And I get to know first! I can’t wait to see Max’s face when we tell him,” she says, clapping her hands together.

“Oh, we are not telling Max. Ever,” I add. To myself, I think We weren’t ever going to tell you either. This entire thing is quickly becoming a regret. Sorry, Elliot.

“Okay, sure,” she says with wink, “Just please make sure I’m in the room when he does find out. But, so so not sorry for intruding! Just come by our room when you’re ready to make a plan,” she says, before turning towards the door. I just look over at Elliot, who winces at me.

“I think we handled that well. Right?” he asks.

“Oh, totally…” I say, before laying back down. He lays down too, facing me. His eyes continue to look into mine. I can feel his breath close to my face. Until finally, his lips meet mine once more. I hook my leg around him. Maybe I don’t regret it that much…

“We should lock the door this time,” Elliot whispers against my lips. I giggle, but neither of us move from our kiss. He gently runs his hands down my body. I feel so relaxed in his presence, even naked. As he touches me in all of the right places, I wonder about his previous dating history. How does he know how to make me feel this good? After we both finish, he touches my cheek and squeezes me. I place a soft kiss on his hand. He rolls closer to me, reaching over to grab his undergarments. The sensation of his skin against mine rushes through my whole body.

“What’s your tattoo?” I say, still somewhat breathless. Elliot raises an eyebrow. I roll over onto my side and touch it softly. He looks down at the symbol and shakes his head.

“That’s not a tattoo,” he mutters. I look up at him, lost.

“It’s some symbol they put on, I assume, all four of us,” he says. I shake my head. I don’t have that symbol on me anywhere.

“I don’t?” I say. He looks at me through his eyebrows, then places a kiss on my forehead. His hands slip underneath my body and he picks me up. I’m still undressed and so is he, mostly. But, he pays no mind to our bareness. He drops me right in front of the mirror, pulling me to face him. His hand softly runs down my spine, then, to the left of my body. It stops and I look in the mirror. The first jump scare is seeing myself in the mirror. I haven’t seen a mirror this entire time. My skin is paler than I remember it being. My hair seems to have darkened a shade, maybe from the caked dirt. Hair grows everywhere I normally shave. My armpits, my legs, my bikini line. I vaguely released this, but seeing it in the mirror startled me. I don’t recognize myself. The second jump scare is that Elliot’s right: I have a tattoo too. The tattoo is inked into the back of my left thigh.

“You’re right,” I catch myself whispering. I turn my head away from the mirror and look at him. He stares in the mirror, scanning and analyzing the reflection. I kiss his neck. He looks down at me.

“We should get ready, Cassidy,” he whispers, gently stroking my face. I smile at him as he slips away from me. My body is cold in the absence of him. He gently slips on his pants and throws me his shirt. I fasten the buttons just enough to be decent. He slowly reaches for the recorder.

“Wait. Before you do that…” I say. He looks up at me and drops the recorder. His soft eyes glistening in the sunlight that fades into the window. I look at him, “Can we talk about something?”

“Sure, Cassidy,” he whispers.

“I figured out how all the events are connected,” I whisper. He inhales sharply, keeping an intense eye contact. After a moment I sense that he’s not planning to react yet. I take a deep breath too, “All of these events are critical events where the country came together with humanity.” I watch his eyes dart back and forth, slowly nodding towards me.

“Zimmerman gathered support for the war effort… Lincoln’s assassination brought together a divided country… The constitution was the very first time Americans got together to make our laws…” he pieces together. I nod with him. He freezes, “But, what about the boat?”

“Which boat? The one where you got shot? So many people were devastated by that crash and we stopped it from even sailing,” I explain. He shakes his head at me.

“No, the next one. Where we saved that John Ryland guy… What was that? That’s the black sheep,” he says.

“John Ryland must be somehow related to the leadership team you talk so much about,” I suggest.

He squints at me, “But, if John Ryland died in the original timeline and the entire leadership team was alive in the original timeline, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Right,” I sigh. Elliot takes a step closer to me and slips his hands around my waist. I accept his hug, resting my chin on his chest. He gently kisses the top of my head.

“We’ll figure it out, Cassidy. I promise,” he whispers before severing our hug. I watch him walk away with his head down. He takes the recorder and dramatically clicks the on button for me to see.

We walk across the hall to Belle and Max’s room. I knock on the door, but my soft knocks swing it open. Elliot and I walk in. Belle and Max both stand, looking out the window. Belle turns to face us.

“Hi,” I say. She looks between us and raises her eyebrows.

“Hello, sleepyheads,” she says, with a wink. I shudder. I absolutely do not want the high schooler to know about my sex life. And, yet she does. Soon, Max turns around too. The four of us leave the hotel and walk through the city. I supposed that we have to wait for the letter to be sent and received before jumping years.

“Just out of curiosity, Belle, what’s the next event anyway?” I ask, trying to use the information to piece together why we’re here.

“It’s quite vague. Something to do with the Jim Crow laws in the South. We have to find President Harding and give him a letter that will appear when necessary,” she says, scanning the paper. I glance at Elliot, but he doesn’t seem to notice. A letter? Fascinating. I wonder what it is. I wonder if Elliot knows. I have to find a way to ask him.

“Okay, thanks, Belle,” I say. We end up walking to the market area. I can’t read any of the signs, but Belle does an awesome job of navigating us and translating. We find the library and take a break, waiting for the afternoon sun to warm us up. German winter is no joke.

Elliot and I sit next to each other, across the tablet from Belle and Max. I grab a book, which to Belle and Max, I claim is for the purpose of looking less suspicious. Upon grabbing the book, I remember that it’s in German. My great idea just got a lot harder. After a few minutes, I give the book to Belle and walk back over to the shelves. International books must not have been popular at this time. Or maybe they got rid of all the English books when the war started, in protest against the British. Finally, I work my way into what looks like the dictionary section. On the shelf sits a small, worn Russian to German dictionary. The Germans are fighting against the Russians too? But, maybe that’s why they have the dictionary. They probably don’t have Russian books either… just the dictionary.

Careful to avoid librarians, I walk back to the table where the others sit. Elliot glances up at me. I sit down next to him, strategically scooting my chair close to his. I open the book and flip to the first word: ‘you’ in Russian. I hold my index finger over the word for several moments before Elliot notices. He nudges me under the table. I flip to the next word: ‘think’ in Russian. He nudges me again. I continue to spell out words, softly drawing question marks and dashes with my finger.

You. Think. Hard. President. —- Leadership?

Elliot adjusts slowly in my chair so that his hand can reach the book. I flip to the pages where Yes and No are outlined. He points:

Yes.

I take the book back.

We. Need. Talk. Him. Maybe. He. Know. Leadership. Or. Secret.

Elliot points to ‘yes,’ once more.

Later. Want. Talk. You. Me. No. Recorder.

Elliot points to ‘yes’ for the third time. My hand hurts from the pointing and my brain hurts from trying to alphabetically find so many words. Elliot steals the book from me.

Bathroom. Later.

I nod at him. After a while, Belle suggests moving. A librarian had been stalking us for a while. We leave the building.

“Maybe we should go check with Zimmerman?” Elliot suggests. I nod at him. We walk the three or four blocks to Zimmerman’s building. The sun has warmed up, but for me at least, the weather is miserable. I think the other four are all from Northern states and must be used to the cold, but I am not. I haven’t been in Macedonia for a full year and thankfully missed winter. Elliot and Belle walk up the steps, but he signals for Max and I to come with. Thank god. I cautiously walk up the iced stairs as Elliot knocks.

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The man who opens the door has the most ridiculous mustache that I’ve ever seen. The man speaks in German briefly before switching to English. He invites us in for tea.

The building is warmed solely by a fireplace in the center of the main room. We all sit down at the table. Elliot introduces Max and I, me as his wife and Max as his brother. They speak briefly about the letter. Zimmerman sent the letter on a direct trade boat from here to Florida, which will be telegrammed to Mexico by a spy of his. Zimmerman does not expect to hear back for several weeks. My stomach sinks. Do we have to wait for a response for that long?

Elliot explains to Zimmerman that he’s interested in working with him directly more often. Zimmerman agrees, as Elliot’s information was incredibly helpful. I’m starting to get impatient with how long this is taking. Zimmerman invites us to dinner with other German officials later tonight. Elliot agrees.

Despite Elliot trying to discuss as much as possible, it was obvious that we were overstaying our welcome at Zimmerman’s and we ended up on the cold street once more. We wander around the city.

“Are you cold?” Elliot asks. I nod. He reaches over to put his arm around me. I tense up: Max.

“Stop,” I whisper. Elliot freezes and knits his brow. I lean my head slightly forward and shake my head. I mouth at him: ‘Max.’ His lips form into a soft o-shape. He looks down at his feet, lightly nodding.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“Group hug for warmth?” I suggest. Belle smiles and opens up her arms. I pull her in on my left and grab Elliot onto my right. Max closes the circle on the opposite side of me. Belle giggles after a second.

“So, guys, how’s life?” she jokes. It makes me smile. Genuinely. Her innocence will always make things easier.

“No, really, we should use this awkward amount of time in the freezing cold to get to know each other,” I suggest after a moment. Elliot’s arm extends across my back and his hand holds me along my rib cage. He delicately squeezes my side.

“So, what kind of car does everyone drive?” Max asks. I laugh a little. What a silly question.

“I have a jeep,” Belle says, “a white Jeep. I miss it.”

After several rounds of stupid questions about cars and pets and music and sodas and movies, the sun begins to set. I can barely feel my toes; they feel foreign in my shoe, like little rocks stuck to my feet. We walk to dinner, which thankfully isn’t far from our huddle spot.

Elliot links arms with me. Max and Belle walk just behind us. There’s a large table in the middle of the room. Everyone’s speaking German. Someone questioned the presence of Belle, but Elliot explained it somehow. I wish I spoke German.

After several painstaking hours of conversation that I did not understand, Elliot tells me that he needs to use the bathroom.

“I need to go too,” I reply. He takes my hand once more and we go outside to the outhouse. He reaches into his pocket and pauses the tape recorder. We both go into the outhouse stall and Elliot locks the door.

“We need a game plan for the next mission. I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk like this again,” I say.

He nods in agreement, “Yes. So, we need to interrogate Harding. And, we need to open the letter before we give it to him.”

“But, how are we going to open the letter without Belle or Max seeing?” I ask. He shrugs at me. His expression is dull.

“Maybe we should just tell them,” he sighs. I sigh too.

“I mean, we just can’t. I don’t feel confident that Max isn’t a spy,” I say.

“You’re completely right,” he whispers back, “unless we interrogate him.”

“Let me think about that,” I reply. He looks directly into my eyes with an intense stare.

“The way you interrogated me. I have never been scared so shitless in my entire life,” he whispers. I nod. He hesitates for a moment, “Just think about it.”

“Also, I think you’re right about that Ryland guy being something to do with leadership. I think that leadership isn’t a new band of spies. Maybe it’s been around longer than we thought,” I say.

“I mean, they had enough resources to build a headquarters that I fully believed was a CIA safehouse. That doesn’t come quickly,” Elliot says.

“But, Ryland wouldn’t still be alive now, though,” I say, “There’s no way this has been around for that long.”

“Do you think Ryland was working on time travel?” Elliot asks.

“Oh,” I mutter, trying to piece it all together, “Maybe. I wish we could go back and interrogate him.”

“Me too, Cass,” he mutters.

We return to the dinner and I fight to keep my eyes open. But, I’m thankful that I’m in a warm building and not in the snow. Belle and Elliot speak to the men. Max and I stare at each other, in boredom. Eventually, it comes to a close and we end back up on the cold, German street. Suddenly, I no longer want the dinner to be over.

We walk back towards the hotel, hopeful that we’ll be able to book a reservation late. Belle looks over at us:

“Finally.”