Spot 2: Sara_R_Stark 

 "Have y'all ever heard of the American Civil War?"

Everyone looked up at the sound of John's voice. He hadn't so much as spoken a single word to anyone in the group since his time traveling escapade a few weeks ago. No one answered, so John took this as a sign to continue.

"Not surprised," he sighed. "It was almost as bad as the American Revolution was. I read all about it after we returned home-"

"Don't you dare talk about that," Seth growled. "Your leaving killed off two of our guys and nearly poofed me out of existence."

"I apologized, didn't I?"

"Just don't talk."

"Don't be like that," Anne chided gently. "We've all thought about doing the same thing, yeah? How could he have known how it would end up?"

"It doesn't matter," Seth shot back.

"Come on," Dion mumbled, carefully guiding Seth back down into his seat. "Relax." Only the sound of his friend's soothing voice brought Seth back, and he sat back down with a grunt.

They sat in silence once more. Dion picked his book back up and Seth read over his shoulder, his blood still boiling. John simply smiled to himself and tossed his red rubber ball up into the air, casually catching it in his left hand.

"That's why I was thinking of going back."

"Oh that's it-" Sean shouted, aggressively pushing past Dion to get to John.

It took both Dion and Heiron to hold Seth back as John continued tossing his ball up and down. The American only smirked to himself and ignored the commotion his words had caused.

"What are you, stupid?" Heiron shouted. "You have been at the museum for only a month and already you attempt to escape and plan a second go once the first fails? Do you know how much we have lost by simply following the rules? It is nothing compared to the danger our group has been put in due to your idiocy and lack of caring."

"Why do you care so much about following the rules?" John asked, sitting up. "None of us chose to be here. This is quite a poor way to live, is it not? I bet none of you have ever tried standing up to the agents. You seem too cowardly for that sort of excitement."

Everyone went deadly silent.

John's brows furrowed at the reaction. In the beginning he was simply trying to push their buttons. It was clear the group despised him and he was desperate for them to know how much he hated them in return. Had he unknowingly crossed the line somewhere? John briefly felt bad. He only meant to annoy them, not completely crush them.

"Don't you ever say that again," Heiron whispered. His voice seemed to shake, and it was as if all the energy had drained from his body.

"I'm... sorry," John mumbled, slowly backing towards the door. "I didn't..."

No one made a move to stop him as he drifted back out into the hallway. Once he was gone and the door clicked shut behind him, Heiron stumbled to the ground. It was clear that his composure was nothing more than an act. Within moments, his face was wet with tears as he was once again reminded of the brutal death of his closest companion.

John could hear his quiet sobs through the closed door and he felt immensely terrible. He decided to run back down the hallway to his room to confront Charlie about his troubles. The gangster had had been at the museum for far longer than John had, so if something had happened, he would know.

"Charlie!" he called as he approached the room. "Open up"

Charles opened up their shared room door and made room for John to slip inside. By now the American was breathing heavily, and he flopped down onto his bed with a huff.

"What ya do this time, Johnny?" Charles asked.

"I don't know," John exclaimed. "I musta said something wrong. You know Condos, the big Greek guy?"

"Course I know him. He's one of the strongest dudes at the museum. Why?"

"I think I said something to set him off. What happened to him, Charles? What did I do wrong?"

"Yeah, Heiron's a big softie," Charlie confessed. "A huge scandal happened about a month ago when one of his mates got killed on a mission. Pretty tragic thing if you ask me."

"He's probably not over than one yet, huh?"

"Course not. Those two were inseparable. Any mention of Peter brings that fella to tears."

John felt immensely terrible. He knew what it was like to lose one of the ones you loved more than anything else. He had lost his father as a young boy and was beside himself with grief for multiple years. Eventually he got over it, but the memories and fleeting moments of sadness were a constant reminder of the death.

"Man, I feel terrible now," John sighed.

"Then why'd you choose to hang around them?" Charlie asked, looking amused. "They clearly ain't your type."

"I never chose nothin'!" John fired back. "The agents have them guarding me for another escape."

"That's cute," Charles chuckled, rolling over on his bed. "I've been here for a bit, Johnny boy, and let me tell you... this museum's gone to the dumps. No one's gonna try to stop another escape."

"You're tellin' me I should try again?" John gasped. "That's the equivalent of a death wish! They only didn't fry me 'cause I was new, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah." Charles sat up and snapped his suspenders, giving John a cheesy grin. "Try it again. I dare you, Johnny. You only live once, man, and being in this museum clearly ain't livin'. Why don't you shake it up a little?"

"I'd rather not. Why don't you 'shake it up a little', then? You're harboroing more pent up anger than the rest of us."

"Trust me, Johnny," Charles laughed. "I've tried. You'll be off the hook easy, but not me. One more attempt and I'll have myself in a prison cell for the rest of my days."

"That's brutal," John admitted, "but I'm sure you could escape, couldn't you?"

"Sure. But now's not about me. You gonna try or not?"

"Might as well."

"Attaboy," Charles cheered, clapping John on the back. "I'll get things set up for you. Now beat it, punk. Don't want this to look suspicious."

John grinned and left the room, his mood lifted far more than he expected. He had never been a bad kid before coming to the museum, but Charles seemed to bring out the worst in him. John wasn't sure if he minded, though. Breaking the rules was fun once you got used to it. Besides, he wasn't sure he would be able to survive the museum without Charles' constant enthusiastic presence. It was boring enough standing in his glass cage all day, but with Charles' hearty laugh and interesting stories, everything seemed worth it.

Night came quickly, and John made an effort to be everywhere the other group wasn't. It was a Saturday, giving all the museum cast members free time to roam the grounds. The group tended to frequent a spot in one of the back wings of the museum, opting to sit and talk on plush red couches with warm fires heating them up. John decided to go to the opposite way, sticking to the quieter halls. He found a comfortable window seat by an Egyptian exhibit and people watched. It was comforting to see that life went on beyond the museum walls sometimes.

When darkness fell, Charlie roused him from a light sleep. The gangster wordlessly shoved a backpack into his hands and ushered him out the door, stopping to listen for guards. When it was clear there weren't any, they raced down the hallway towards the machines. Charlie's earlier statement seemed to be right. The museum didn't seem to care that he was trying to leave again. He'd be surprised if there were even guards on duty right now.

Charlie shoved him into a machine and began rapidly pressing buttons on the outer panel. Right before the doors closed, he shoved a small parchment into John's fingers and waved goodbye, grinning as he stepped away from the machine.

"Have fun, Johnny boy," Charles said. Then the doors closed and John was gone.

. . . . . . . . . .

Heiron had difficulty sleeping that night. The images of Peter's corpse still filled his mind, and an empty aching sensation filled his chest. It was as if a part of himself had been ripped away from him when Peter died. The recent trip they had taken helped him repress the memories by filling his mind with new events, but now that they had been back for a few weeks, it was getting harder to repress them.

He tossed and turned until there was light outside one of the small basement windows. Once he was able to see, he pulled out an old copy of his favourite book. It had been given to him by one of the agents who took pity on him after his loss. It was translated entirely to Greek, though he had been given the English copy too in case he wanted to study up on his English. Since Peter died, he had worked even harder to become fluent in the language. It seemed to be Peter's personal goal to help him learn it, but with him gone, the responsibility fell to Heiron.

"You're reading Gone With the Wind?" someone asked, causing Heiron to jump in surprise. He turned around in his bed, sighing in relief when he found it was only Celene.

"I uh..." Heiron stumbled over his words.

"Don't worry," she laughed. "I've heard it's an amazing book."

"It is. I have read it nearly four times."

"Yeesh. Then it must be really good."

Heiron chuckled lightly, slipping his leather bookmark between the pages with a sigh. Celene perched herself at the foot of Heiron's bed, adjusting her light cotton dress so it sat comfortably beneath her.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," she apologized.

"It is quite alright," Heiron responded. "I was not getting much done anyways."

"I just wanted to tell you that something's happened. We fear John may have escaped again."

"What?" Heiron gasped. "So soon?"

"I guess so. No one's seen him since yesterday and Charles refuses to speak to any of the agents. They're holding him under custody until they find John again."

Heiron groaned and fell back onto his pillow, grumbling incoherently. Truth be told, he was tired of these missions. Going back in time freaked him out more than anything else did, and this new kid, John, seemed keen on escaping the museum whenever possible. Heiron propped himself up on his elbows, sighing deeply.

"Maybe they will send another group," he said hopefully.

"I don't think so," Celene admitted. "No other groups have gone out on a mission recently."

"I'm not going out again. No one can force me out of this bed," Heiron said resolutely, crossing his arms. Celene just laughed and sat back.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Three hours later, the group made their way to the time machine. Celene gave Heiron a smug look, and the Greek only responded with a mock stink eye her way. Heiron's spirits were lifted from the gentle exchange to the point where he almost didn't mind being shoved into the time machine. Once everyone was loaded inside, Celene made an effort to force her way over to Heiron in the back, causing the duo to burst into quiet giggles. Everyone else in the machine noticed the behavior but didn't comment on it. It was about time Heiron found some happiness.

The machine bumped and jolted for a few moments before they finally landed. Dion slipped out of the machine first, brandishing his first manilla envelope. He looked mighty pleased to be the one in charge of the information for the first time, and his enthusiasm seemed to rub off on everyone else.

"Alright, Dion," Seth said, feeding into Dion's excitement, "where are we at?"

"Well," Dion began, grinning as he opened the folder. "We're... we're in America again. We seem to be further in the future, though. It says here that we are in the Civil War."

"Another war?" Cassius asked, sounding exasperated. Like Heiron, he had been feverishly working on his English, and unlike before, he was finally able to talk in full sentences.

"America needs to get their stuff together," Celene mumbled, causing Heiron to laugh out loud again. This time, he got some odd looks from his friends, but they still refused to comment on it.

"Anyways..." Dion continued reading through the informational packet, but Heiron wasn't listening. He was too focused on the way the early morning sun struck Celene's hair just right to make it look like a beautiful night sky. The black was laced with blues and purples, and he was enchanted by the variety of colours flowing down her pale shoulders.

"So it's just like the first war, then?" Celene asked after a long period of quiet. Heiron jumped. He hadn't noticed that Dion stopped talking.

"Yes," Dion said, "but this time, they're fighting amongst themselves."

"Rough," Seth chuckled, grinning stupidly. "Why do you think he decided to come here?"

"I've got no clue," Anne said, "but was he not discussing the war yesterday?" Heiron's shoulders slumped at the reminder, but Celene's gentle hand on his wrist brought him back to the present. He smiled gratefully at her, and she smiled back as she quietly laced her fingers through his.

"I suppose. He has no ties to this war, though. It was after his time," Seth reasoned.

"He might just wish to return to his country," Heiron piped up. "We all miss our homes. He visited once and made it clear he never expected to return. Maybe he was keeping his promise."

"You think he already cut ties with his home?" Cassius asked, looking confused.

"Somewhat." Heiron shrugged. "I saw the tapes of his interrogation. He told the agents he would never return to his mother and sister again. I suppose he told his folks that he wouldn't return, and going home after a promise like that wouldn't end well for him. I suppose he just wants to come back to America for nostalgia purposes." Everyone was momentarily silent as they processed this.

"That... actually makes a lot of sense," Dion concurred. "But this means that it'll be even harder for us to find him."

"Isn't that the point?" Seth asked. "He ran away the first time to say goodbye to his family. This time, he truly doesn't want to be found."

"And he has no connections here in America," Cas cut in. "Unlike last time, he might attempt to flee somewhere else. The world is a big place, and considering we don't have transportation like at the museum, it'll be hard to find him as fast as we wish."

"Then we should probably get started," Heiron grunted. "How should we go about doing this?"

"I have no clue," Seth admitted. "This is far beyond what any of us are used to. I would suggest simply calling off the mission and leaving John to do what he wants to, but as we know, that could have massive effects of the future."

"We should start by preparing for the long run," Dion suggested. "It's clear we're going to be here for a while. It's probably best if we make a list of what exactly we need to do because I'm feeling like our group is going to need to split up for this mission."

They all settled down on a patch of dirt a few feet from the machine. Ammon pulled a notepad out of his backpack and handed it off to Dion for notes, and Anne supplied him with a quill and a small ink pot.

"Alright," Dion began, dipping the pen in the ink. "First, we're going to need clothes. Like before, our outfits don't match the time. We're going to need some new ones, and if we're staying here for a while, then we're going to need a lot. Do any of you have any clue what those might look like?" Everyone shook their heads, so Dion shrugged and wrote it down in his small notepad.

"Are we going to need money?" Seth asked.

"I suppose," Heiron said. "We don't understand their currency, though, so we will need to be careful."

"Maybe we can find work somewhere," Dion suggested. "If this takes as long as we're expecting it to, some of us can get a job and keep us on our feet. Maybe one of us can run back to the museum and collect some of these things to start. After that, though, we're going to need to get them on our own."

"We won't be here for that long, will we?" Anne asked, sounding fearful. "You can't expect for it to take longer than..." She nervously eyed Heiron, though the Greek pretended not to have heard her.

"That time, we didn't have a mission," Cassius reminded them. "It was the machine that broke down."

"Yeah," Heiron replied. "This mission will likely be our hardest yet. We need to expect to be away from the museum for quite a while."

"How long is a while?" Anne demanded.

"A month," Seth confirmed. "Maybe more."

"A year?"

"Possibly."

Anne sat back, looking devastated, and Heiron saw Celene roll her eyes. Anne was the type who hated labor or any sort, especially if it meant she would be in any discomfort. She was raised as a lady in her time. She was used to men taking care of her and wasn't used to having to work for herself. In some ways, Heiron actually pitied her.

"Don't worry," Dion reassured her. "It won't be that bad. I believe it'll actually be quite boring. Until we catch any leads about where he is, all we can do is sit and wait."

"Sit and wait where?" Heiron asked. "I just realized that we don't have a house. Building one wouldn't actually mess up a timeline, would it?"

"I don't know." Seth shrugged. "Time travel is a messy thing. If we mess something up, we gotta make sure we fix it. If we burn the house down when we leave, maybe that'll solve our problem."

"We didn't destroy the last house," Heiron said. "I don't believe anything was messed up because of it."

"This is all so confusing," Dion grumbled. "Alright. I'll travel back to the museum and ask them for the supplies. You guys stay here. Do NOT make contact with anyone outside the group. Everything needs to play out exactly as it would without us here."

Everyone nodded as Dion stepped back into the machine. Heiron pressed some numbers on the outer panel and waved as the doors closed. With a pop and a surprising number of sparks, the machine was gone.

"So that's what it looks like," Celene commented, smiling to herself.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Dion was gone nearly the whole day. The group went about setting up a meager campsite. Heiron helped bring in wood for the fire, though his arm was still extremely sore from where he injured it while building their house a while ago. By the evening, they all sat around the fire, merrily telling stories and laughing together. It was the most relaxed the group had been in a long time, and it was refreshing.

When Dion returned, some of them were already beginning to drift off to sleep. For a time machine, it was surprisingly quiet, and they only realized he had returned when Heiron spotted its metal peeking out of the bushes. They all swarmed the machine, babbling excitedly at the prospect of the goodies Dion could have brought back.

When the doors finally opened, everyone was in awe at how much had been crammed into the machine. It was clear the agents were as concerned about their journey as Dion was, as the multitude of boxes littering the floor were plentiful. They overflowed with clothes, supplies, and food of all sorts, and Dion, smirking proudly, presented them all with a grand sweeping gesture of his arms.

"Ta da," he said, grinning excitedly. "Before you swarm me, though, let me tell you how the agents said this would work. There is a box in here for each of us. The clothes inside are fitted specifically for us, and the tools are meant to match what we're expected to be doing while we're here. They gave me a small chest full of some currency from this time period, but they said we're going to need to get our own."

"And a house? How do we get one?" Seth asked.

"I had to do a bit of research on their database while I was there, and I think I might know an estate or two we can buy. The machine landed us in North Carolina somewhere. The estate's in Atlanta, Georgia. We're gonna need to get ourselves some horses with the money we've got now, and once we get to Georgia, we're going to need more. I researched some jobs already, and if we hurry, they can be yours."

"Sounds like a plan." Seth clapped his hands together. "Should we make camp for the night? I say we split the group in half for tomorrow. Some of us can head into the nearest town and look for the horses while the rest of us wait here and go through our supplies."

"That'll work," Dion said, shrugging. "Alright, everyone. Let's get going so we can get to sleep."

They made quick work of setting up camp for the night. The museum had sent them a couple blankets, so they paired up and huddled underneath them. The night was warm with a slight breeze, and everyone was asleep within minutes.

The next morning, Dion woke up early. He made quick work of digging out new outfits for everyone, and once the sun rose, Heiron joined in. The two of them roused Seth and Celene, and left Ammon, Anne, and Cassius sleeping at the campsite. With that, they made their way through the woods, following the vague map Dion had scoured from the museum's archives. Once in town, they spent their small sum to purchase four horses and a wagon, and by midday, they were heading back to the campsite.

When they got back, Anne was going through her box of clothes, holding up each dress to her body and admiring the colouring. The two boys chatted idly by the fire, not seeming to be doing much of anything. When the group arrived, everyone shot up excitedly. Anne squealed happily at the sight of the beautiful horses, running up to admire the pearly white one being ridden by Heiron.

"It's beautiful!" she squealed, petting its mane. "Can I keep it?"

"What-" Heiron began, looking confused, but he was cut off with a sharp look from Dion.

"No, Anne," Dion responded. "That one belongings to Heiron. He was the one who bartered with the townspeople for the animals in the first place, and he has volunteered to help us with the majority of our farming once we settle into our home. Furthermore, he also offered to ride out ahead of us and secure a job before we move in. That way, we can at least afford to live in Atlanta for the remainder of our mission."

"That's hardly fair," Anne huffed, stomping her foot and turning away. Dion rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Anyways," he continued, "we have limited time before sundown, so if we're going to begin heading down to Atlanta, we should leave now. Then, maybe we can find a suitable place to stay during the night. The men in town were saying the weather will begin dropping now that we're nearing autumn."

With that, the men hopped off their horses and tied them to a tree, beginning to pack up all their boxes into the wagon. Heiron had to leave within the hour, though, if he was to get a head start. Celene sadly wished him a good trip, giving him a lingering hug as he went to grab his horse. No one commented on the fact that their embrace was much longer than socially acceptable, and Heiron left.

That's when things started going downhill.

"What are we going to do with the machine?" Seth asked, looking over the bulky metal object. "We can't just leave it here. If we need a fast escape, it'll be like three states away."

"I guess we'll need to put it in the wagon," Dion reasoned.

"Will it fit?" Cassius asked, seeming concerned. "It seems heavy."

"We're gonna have to try."

Cassius, Ammon, Seth and Dion all positioned themselves around the machines while Celene and Anne held open the fabric flaps of the wagon. Dion muttered a quick countdown, and with that, they put all their strength into lifting the machine. It only just lifted off the ground. They all groaned in pain and dropped it back to the grass.

"This is going to be much more difficult than I expected," Dion huffed. "Girls, get over here! We need your help?" The women both gave each other pointed looks but made their way off the wagon anyways.

"It's way too heavy for us to lift," Seth explained. "Can you ladies possibly help us lift?"

"Us? Help you lift the thing?" Anne asked, sounding appalled.

"Yeah. How else are we going to get it into the wagon?" Anne's eyes widened even further.

"I'll help," Celene said, shrugging as she positioned herself near the machine's door. "Come on, Anne. Let's get this done so we can get out of here."

Anne looked physically sick as she stood next to the machine. When Dion instructed to lift, she only barely exerted herself but still complained all the way. In the end, it took nearly three hours to get the machine to the wagon, and another two to actually get it within the compartment. By then, darkness had blossomed over the horizon and the stars were coming out. Dion reluctantly allowed them to stay the night in the clearing so that they could leave by morning.

The next day, Dion woke them all up by sunrise. Anne protested loudly to being forced out of her beauty rest, so Dion caved and allowed her to sleep in the wagon while they travelled. Celene, not wanting to leave her friend alone during the ride, offered to stay in the wagon with her, and Dion ordered Ammon to stay inside as well. It was for protection of the ladies, he said. The other three lead the wagon on their horses. Dion and Seth rode atop one horse and Cass got his own. By early morning, they were on their way, leaving behind the dusty campsite to formally begin their mission.

All in all, the journey to Atlanta took nearly two weeks. With the heavy wagon and having to stop for food every few days at the nearest town, they made slow work. Heiron ended up arriving in Atlanta after only a few days of riding, so he went into town and got himself a job as a cobbler with a man named Jack. He worked for the two weeks it took for the others to arrive, and during that time, slept in the store's cellar.

On Heiron's first weekend alone, he went around town to see if he could gather any information about Jack's whereabouts. No one he talked to seemed to have any clue as to who John was, and since most men were out fighting in the war, not many had ridden in. Heiron ended up making himself a map, and as he learned more about the current battles being fought, he was able to make a few conclusions. It was clear John wasn't in Atlanta. Since he left only hours before the group, that meant that he was likely only a week's ride from their original campsite. John would likely either camp out in North Carolina or he would have made his way to one of the surrounding states. Without any money to get by, he wouldn't have a horse and would probably be walking on foot.

Heiron actually felt quite proud of himself for his little map.

Dion ended up meeting with Heiron in front of the available estate on the Saturday after the main group arrived in town. Heiron brought with him his horse and two weeks worth of wages for the purchasing of the building. Together, they met with the current family running the household and came to an agreement as to what they would need to pay for the estate. Heiron was able to offer half of the price upfront, but he would send the rest down to the family's new estate in Tennessee at the end of the month.

After another few days of his cellar home, Heiron was the first to move into the house. The family left behind limited furniture that Heiron spent a while putting together for the group. This included four beds, seats for the seating area, and random scattered furniture for the other rooms. The others moved in a day later and divided up the house for themselves. The two girls took the main bedroom on the second floor, Dion and Seth shared the old children's bedroom directly across the hall, and Ammon and Cassius took the old servants' quarters in a back room near the kitchen. Heiron slept on a dusty couch in the attic as there were no more beds for him to use, but he was promised by Dion that he would eventually get his old bed. The only other claimed room was the study, and Dion said it would be the homebase for their mission.

"We've already been here for nearly three weeks," Heiron commented as he and Dion cleaned up the study. "How much longer will this mission take?"

"I've got no clue," Dion admitted. "I'm honestly lost right now. I've never been to America before these missions, so I don't even know where to start here. What if we never find him? We can't go back to the museum with a failed mission."

"We'll figure it out. It might take a while, but we can do it. I began making a map at my shop while you were gone. I narrowed down some of his possible locations down, but lots of time has passed since then."

"It's a start," Dion said hopefully. "What did you figure out?"

"On foot, he couldn't get further than maybe two or three states away by now," Heiron reasoned, "but considering that no one wants to walk that length, I have a feeling he settled down somewhere. If we make a sweep of some of the surrounding towns, we might be able to weed him out before he gets anywhere."

"How long do you think we have until he tries to move somewhere else?" Dion asked.

"I don't know. I doubt he'll stay there for long if he expects us to come and find him. We probably have two weeks tops to discover his location before he is gone again."

"Then we'll set out tomorrow! You, Seth and I can ride around Georgia. If he isn't here, we'll just move onto the next states. The ladies, Cass and Ammon can stay behind."

"Why leave them here?"

"It's clear Anne isn't going to be any help here," Dion explained. "She's an entitled one, really. Celene likely doesn't want to leave her behind without protection, and in order for them to stay safe, it would make sense to keep Ammon and Cass with them. They don't seem to care about the mission as much, anyways." Heiron shrugged and nodded.

At dinner that night, Dion told the group of his plan. Anne seemed mighty pleased that she wouldn't need to participate in the action, and explained to Dion that she was excited to explore around the town and get to know some people. Dion only rolled his eyes. As he expected, Celene offered to stay with Anne, and both Ammon and Cass said they would stay with them to guard the house. Dion shot Heiron a look at this, but sat back down in his seat and began to eat his food anyways. A lack of participation didn't matter as long as someone was getting the work done.

The next morning, once again at dawn, they took three of the horses out and split off to hit different areas within the state. Dion had them all turn on their museum-supplied earpiece communication devices so they could converse as they rode all over the country. It wasn't as boring as any of them were expecting. Their first run took them two days, but they returned to the house empty handed. Dion allowed a single day of rest before they set off again. This time, Heiron ventured out into South Carolina territory during that trip, yet there were still no results.

After three weeks of the same strategy, no information was discovered, and Dion was beginning to get worried.

. . . . . . . . . . .

John almost felt badly for his hiding out. It was clear that the museum sent a group out to look for him, but he was purposely making it difficult for them to find him. For every town he entered, he was a different person. He never used the same name and always made sure to be wearing different clothes. Within his first week of hiding, he stole a horse from someone's ranch and used it to travel all the way up to Virginia with the intentions of making it up to New York. It was then that he realized how bad the fighting was getting, so he doubled back and hid out in Tennessee.

John ended up meeting a kind family who allowed him to sleep in their attic for free until he got himself his own home, but he knew this wouldn't be enough. They would catch up with him eventually, no matter what he ended up doing. The only option he could possibly see working was to lead them into a trap and send them scurrying. How he would do that, he didn't know, but for now, it was his job to find this group and make them suffer.

It took him a while, but eventually, John learned from some women across the street that a new group had moved into Mrs. Melanie Thomson's old house. Mrs. Melanie was a kind woman with three kids and a husband who was off in the war, and she had sold her old estate in Georgia to move here. It took John a few days to locate her, but when he discovered that Mrs. Melanie only lived down the street from him, he decided to approach her and ask for some information about the group following him.

"Good morning, ma'am!" John called as he strolled past her house. "You wouldn't happen to be Mrs. Melanie Thomson, would you?"

"Indeed I am," the young woman replied. "What might I do for a fine young gentleman like yourself?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but the group that moved into your old estate... I do believe they're some of my old pals. I haven't heard from them in a while and I'm getting mighty worried about how they're doing."

"Oh, that's terrible, darlin'. What could I do to help?"

"I was wonderin' if you could give me directions down to the house so I could pop in and say hello. No one here seems to know how to reach the estate."

"Of course!" Mrs. Thomson replied, beaming brightly at him. "Why don't you come inside, dear, and I can make you a nice glass of tea while I write up some directions?"

"That would be perfect, ma'am," John responded. "Thank you for your generosity."

"It's no deal at all. With Marcus out in the war, I've got little left to do but sit around all day. A little adventure never hurt anyone."

"Trust me," John murmured, his smile dimming, "I know the feeling."

Once John got the directions to the estate, his plan went into motion. He thanked the kind woman and went back to his attic, going over the parchment Charlie gave him when he left. It was a detailed list of every battle ensuing during the American Civil War, as well as dates and locations for reference. John scanned the list for the most current date, and grinned maliciously when he spotted one.

"The Battle of Fort Pillow," he read, "was also known as the Fort Pillow Massacre. It was fought on April 12 of 1864 in Tennessee. That's two weeks from tomorrow!"

John leaned back and pondered hard for a moment. He would need to bait the group into coming to Tennessee right in time for the battle to begin, but how? He could write them a letter, but it might not reach them in time. If he went to deliver his letter himself, he had a high chance of getting caught and sent back the museum, and his whole plan would fail. But which was more risky?

John decided to sleep on it and figure out his plan in the morning.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Heiron was more than surprised when a mysterious letter showed up at their doorstep at 4 in the morning. He brought it to the study where Dion was already waiting, and they opened it together.

"Dear Dion and company," it read. "As you now know, it's been nearly two months since my escape, and, if I may say so myself, it is going beautifully. But I have discovered the error of my ways. I know you will find me, and when you do, I will go back to the museum a criminal. Knowing this, I offer you a choice. I will give up my location to you if you agree to meet with me in a timely, friendly manner."

"That's insanity," Dion growled.

"Just keep reading," Heiron instructed.

"Because of this," the letter continued, "you may be happy to know that I am in Tennessee in a town called Henning. I will meet you on the bank of the Mississippi River on April 12 if you will respect my wishes and come unarmed. Do not bother writing back. Signed, John Marshall."

"Why would he ever tell us his location?" Dion asked once he finished reading.

"Maybe it is as he claims," Heiron responded, shrugging. "He knows it is a lost battle. I say we leave at once."

"It could be a trap."

"But what if it isn't?"

"I don't know," Dion hesitated. "April 12 is only days away. It's really sketchy."

"It's the only lead we've got," Heiron argued. "We can't pass this up. We've been here too long for that." Dion looked uncertain, but Heiron assured him it would be alright.

"Fine," Dion grunted. "I'll prepare the wagon. Do we bring the machine with?"

"Of course. If John is where he says he is, we will need to bring him back quickly."

Dion simply nodded and began to leave the room, promising Heiron that he would have the horses ready to travel by midday. Heiron agreed and left to wake up the other members of their group. They would have to pack up all their belongings in preparation for this trip. In the event of them finding John, there would be no going back to collect them later.

Surprisingly, Heiron felt pretty sad about leaving the house. It was quite unlike his old home, but it was much nicer than the museum basement. No one there was stressed and worried about what would happen that day, and they all got time to relax and lounge around for once. The estate was more of a home than anywhere else Heiron had ever lived in.

"You excited to leave?" Celene asked, suddenly popping up behind Heiron as he gazed sadly outside.

"I-" Heiron babbled, not sure how to respond.

"I'll take that as a no. I don't want to leave either. It's so beautiful here."

"Yeah," Heiron sighed. "I just wish Peter got to see it. He would have loved it here."

"Oh, he's here," Celene said as she stared outside at the rising sun. "His spirit watches over us always. Close your eyes. You can feel him there. He will never you leave you behind, Heiron." A salty tear spilled down Heiron's cheek as he desperately wished for the comfort of his best friend. Just mentioning the death was enough to reduce him to a blubbering mess, but he knew he would never forget Peter and all the sacrifices he made for the greater good of the group.

"It's just so hard with him gone," he sobbed, burying his head in Celene's shoulder. "He was all I had. I miss him so much it hurts. He never deserved to die like that. Now he'll never be free."

"But he is free. The museum is a curse, Heiron. We all know it. He is now free to never return to that wretched place. He watches on from a land far kinder than ours where all you've done is forgiven. He feels no sadness and no torment. He is free to simply exist. That's the most we can ever hope for our friends."

A desperate cry tore through Heiron's throat, and Celene gripped him in a tight hug, murmuring softly in his ear. Heiron hadn't allowed himself to open up like this in a while, and it was therapeutic. The thought of Peter finally being at peace was far more than he could ever hope for. All he wanted now was to meet Peter on the other side so he could finally say how sorry he was for Peter's death. Peter would hug him and command him not to apologize. It wasn't Heiron's fault and he shouldn't blame himself. Peter would pretend to be stern, but Heiron knew that on the inside, Peter would be crying too. Out of everything else in the world, that was all that Heiron wanted.

"I'm sorry. I'm such a mess," Heiron whimpered, wiping off his damp cheeks.

"Don't worry," Celene said, smiling kindly. "I love you as you are."

The rest of the day was easier for all of them. Dion followed through and had everything packed up by midday, and the group set out to Tennessee. None of them wanted to leave, but to complete their mission, it meant leaving behind their happiness to return to the dullness and torment of the museum. Dion was likely the most reluctant of them all to leave. He had grown to love the house, but none of that mattered in the long run. This mission didn't revolve around him.

The trip ended up taking nearly seven days, but they made it to Tennessee with a plan. The date was April 12, and this was their last day in America. Dion made it clear that a few things needed to happen for this to work. For one, only he, Heiron, and Celene would approach John. Too many people would arise suspicion, as would too much male energy. Celene was instructed to tuck a small dagger under her shawl just in case, but other than that, they were trusting John and went in completely unprotected.

The trio parked the wagons behind a small stretch of trees and hiked to the river on foot. Once they arrived, though, John was nowhere to be seen. They stood in shocked silence for a few moments before looking around and still finding nothing.

"He isn't here?" Celene asked, confused. "That means..."

The sound of gunfire punctuated her sentence.

"Back to the wagons!" Dion screamed, and he raced away from the water.

Heiron grabbed Celene's hand and sprinted away, wincing every time a bullet whizzed past his ear. He tried to ignore the little screams Celene let out every time a shot got too close, but after about five minutes of running, he forced Dion to stop.

"It's pointless," he panted. "We have to hide. We aren't going to get anywhere without being caught in the crossfire."

"There's no way we'll make it through this attack by hiding," Dion argued. "I'm going back!"

"You aren't going anywhere."

All three of them turned at the sound of the voice. It was John. In his hand was a glittering silver dagger, and he looked mighty proud of himself to be standing there.

"You got my message," he said.

"Yeah," Dion said, not taking his eyes off the weapon in John's hand. "Put down the knife, John. It doesn't have to come to violence."

"But it does," John argued. "It always does. I'm not going back to that museum. This is my home. If I have to take you out to stay here, I will do whatever it takes."

"So it was all a trick," Heiron growled, standing protectively in front of Celene. "You brought us here to die."

"Perhaps I did. Or maybe this meeting is only a distraction for what's going on back at your wagon." Dion's eyes widened and he made a half step backwards.

"Dion no!" Heiron shouted, but it was too late. Dion sprinted out of John's way, forcing Heiron and Celene to follow him.

"Don't you dare run away from me!" John screamed, pursuing them closely. "I will not let you escape!" With that, he held his arm back and released the weapon in a shimmering flourish.

Heiron didn't see it as it sailed through the air, but he heard the impact as it directly hit something to his left. He slowed his pace, and at that moment, his heart seemed to stop.

The dagger had hit Celene.

She fell to the ground as blood began to soak through her dress, and Heiron felt himself fall to his knees beside her.

"Celene!" he screamed, holding her head in his lap. "Celene!"

Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed weakly up at him. Smiling a faint smile, her lips tinted with blood, she placed a shaking hand on his cheek. Only then did he realize how pale her skin was getting.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, clutching her hand.

"Don't be sorry," Celene cooed. "It will be alright, Heiron." John stopped running only feet behind him, and he watched the scene with sick satisfaction. Neither of them noticed as he slowly began creeping up behind them, but at that moment, neither cared.

"I can get you help," Heiron sobbed. "I can bring you to Cassius. He can help."

"The wagon is too far," Celene said, coughing painfully. "Remember what I told you a week ago when we were leaving the house? Nothing is more freeing than the leaving of this world. Do not fret."

"I can't be left alone again. Please don't leave me alone."

"You are never alone. When I am gone, I will watch you from the heavens." She sucked in another agonizing breath, and when she coughed again, she coughed up blood.

"No," Heiron rasped. "Please."

"I love you, Heiron Condos. Never forget it. Never forget me."

"I won't," Heiron promised, grasping her hand tighter. "I love you, Celene. Please don't go."

But by then Celene was already gone. The final breath left her lungs and her head slumped down onto Heiron's thighs, her blood soaking his pants. Heiron stood down at her body, stunned. He could hardly breathe.

"Sad, isn't it?" John said, suddenly appearing behind Heiron. "Sad how she'll never get to watch you from the heavens. Do you wanna know why, pretty boy?"

Heiron couldn't respond, so John leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"How can she watch you from above if you're down below with all the other sinners?"

With that, he plunged the dagger through Heiron's throat and kicked the Greek to the ground.

Heiron clawed uselessly at his neck as he landed hard on his side. John smirked ruthlessly and ran off to find the rest of Heiron'a group, leading Heiron on the ground with Celene's corpse. As he laid on the ground, struggling to breathe, he watched the fighting across the water. It was the most gruesome battle he had ever seen. The battle wasn't what truly caught his attention, though.

In fact, the only thing he could seem to focus on was the ethereal figure materialising next to his dying body.

It was Peter, still dressed in his pressed uniform. He smiled down at Heiron, and it was a welcoming smile which he hadn't seen in such a long time.

"It's been a while, buddy," Peter said, reaching his hand down towards Heiron's shaking head. "It's time for us to be together again."

Heiron tried to call out to Peter, but the words were stuck in his throat. His surroundings were beginning to fade into white until all he could see was Peter crouched by his face. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced. The pain in his body faded away into nothingness and he was left with the most beautifully warm sensation throughout his limbs. With seemingly no effort, Peter pulled him to his feet and gestured towards a grand set of gates perched atop a staircase in the distance before asking the only thing Heiron could ever hope to hear.

"Will you join me for one last adventure?"

. . . . . . . . . .

It didn't take long for John to be overpowered at the wagon. Dion and Seth tied him up while Cassius inputted the museum's time into the machine's outer panel. They all waited there for nearly an hour for Heiron and Celene to return, but they never did. Eventually Dion left to find them, but when he returned to the river, they were both already dead. Unable to drag their bodies back to the machine, he was forced to leave them on the dirt. The group returned to the museum in silence. 

Spot 3: ariel_paiement1

"I dinnae want to go." Lucia crossed her arms, thinking that she'd had enough of time travel. The Scottish brogue hadn't disappeared since she'd returned, and Kiereth was on her trail again. Nothing good had come from time travel, she thought, and nothing could.

Aetius's shoulders tensed. "Luc, please... Don't make me go without you."

"I hae seen enough war. Dinnae make me see more carnage." She wrapped her arms around herself, ducking her head to hide her tears.

He stepped closer and wrapped her up in his embrace, wondering how much of the fiery woman he loved would remain when this ended. "I know you don't want to go, and I don't blame you. But I can't leave you here when we know Keireth is on the prowl and can access this place with ease."

She sighed and pressed her head to his chest. "Aetius, my love, ye cannae bubble wrap me so ye dinnae hae to worry." He would try, she thought, but he couldn't hope to succeed.

His embrace tightened. She was right, he knew, but on this he couldn't concede. "You'd be alone and easy picking if I leave you here. No one else is staying."

"Surely that's better than gaunnae the Civil War era. There has never been a bloodier war in history, and yer askin' me to help ye ensure it succeeds." She shook her head, her stomach clenching and churning. She couldn't cement into history the deaths of so many fathers, brothers, and sons, she thought.

"You know it's not. So, yes, I'm asking you—no, begging you—to come with me to where I can protect you." He pulled back and held her at arm's length.

Her gaze dropped to the concrete floor. She couldn't deny him that, she thought. Not when he only wanted what was best for her. "Fine. I'll come with ye."

Aetius's shoulders relaxed, and he crushed her to his chest, relief flooding him. "Thank you. It's for the best, you know."

Her fingers splayed across his back, and she held him as close to her as she could. "For yer sake, ye daft man, I hope yer right."

***

The time machine touched down in Virginia with a groan, its ligaments and wires stretching and snapping back into place like a bow string after the tension on it is released. The machine door creaked open, yawning wide to allow its weary occupants to disembark. The machine itself was as worn as the travelers, but it winked out of sight to travel back to the Museum anyway as the downcast travelers examined their surroundings.

The travelers found themselves in an empty field that stretched brown and barren like a gaping wound in the hillsides surrounding them. Birds trilled overhead as they soared past in the still sky above. No breeze stirred their surroundings. The small group stared at the churned dirt of the field surrounding them and then at the house perched like a sentry between the two hills on their far left.

The house in question belonged to the Lee family, the very one from which General Robert E. Lee had come. Fifth son of Henry "Light-Horse Harry" Lee through his father's second wife, Robert had made his living as a soldier and had acquired the home when he'd married Mary Anna Custis, the daughter of the two previous owners. The house had a beautiful view of the Potomac River and the bustling city on the other side. At the moment, the house stood dark and empty while its owner was away with his family for a brief visit to relatives.

As the travelers neared the house, they could see the Potomac River, the sun glinting off the waves that shone like the scales of a silvery fish. Beside the house, the blossoms of various bushes and plants were pushing their ways out of seeds or up through the freshly turned soil. Dark dirt gave way to luscious green grass, which flattened beneath their boots and sprang back into position like rows of sentries snapping to attention as they passed.

"It looks abandoned," Manfred murmured to the rest of the group. "We showed up on April 10, 1861. Looks like the Arlington house to me."

The others stared at the colonnaded entry way with round eyes, wondering how one family could have enough wealth to build such a magnificent thing.

"Is it supposed to hae someone livin' in it?" Lucia propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

"Right now? Yes. Later in the war, the North confiscated it, and Lincoln built a graveyard for Union soldiers on the land behind the house right where we're standing. Ruined all the gardens to build it too. He wanted to ensure that Lee could never live in the house again without remembering all the casualties he caused with his reckless strategies." Manfred chewed his lower lip, thinking that he had no idea where to start in this task of determining what was wrong with the time line. "But that hasn't happened yet. We need to find out what's going on."

Aetius examined the empty house and the bustling city across the river. He tapped his chin, thinking that if they could reach the city, they could inquire about the situation there. As the case stood, the city was indeed their best shot at finding the information they needed, but reaching it required them to take a boat. Fortunately, the house overlooked the Georgetown-Alexandria Turnpike, where a boat could be acquired with ease. Manfred spotted this moments before Aetius began to voice his opinion, and the Prussian released a bark of laughter, pointing at the turnpike. The placement of the house, he thought, couldn't have been more helpful in this case. "And here I was wondering if we'd make it across." Manfred shook his head.

The group cast glances at him and each other, and the main thought on each of their minds was that Manfred seemed unusually jovial about this. The joviality he displayed was more of a response to the pressure than true mirth, but the others brushed off the odd behavior before they could come up with this reasoning. So, when Manfred began marching down the hill the house was situated atop, the group followed him, curious about his good mood and the strange structure that had caused it.

***

Finding a boat that would take them for the few coins Manfred had wasn't difficult, and the three found themselves in the growing metropolis of Washington City. They meandered for a while, taking in the sites and trying to orient themselves to the area before turning their attention to the reason they'd crossed the river.

The information they needed was at their fingertips now, but acquiring it wouldn't spell the end of their troubles. Those were only beginning, and the complexity of the issues they were to face would keep them in the time period for some time. The group wandered the city in search of someone who looked like they'd offer information. The first few people they stopped refused to speak to them, and the group was becoming disheartened with the lack of progress.

"My feet are achin', and nobody's talkin' to us. Mayhap we're lookin' in the wrong place..." Lucia flopped down on the grass and watched the people bustling about nearby. They were in the process of building up Washington's Civil War Defenses, which were nothing more than sod, earth, and timber constructions that protected the city well.

Later on in the war, around 1865, these fortifications gained sixty-eight forts, twenty miles of rifle pits and covered ways, and thirty-two miles of military roads all along the ridges rising up from the lower river terraces of the Potomac and Anacostia Rivers. For now, however, the work was only in the beginning stages. Lucia watched the workers as they hauled dirt and timber to various locations below and continued the process of building their defenses.

"Look, we're going to have to split up..." Manfred rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that Aetius wouldn't like the plan much because it would involve leaving Lucia by herself and vulnerable to Kiereth's attacks. "I'll go talk to people further into the city, Aetius can talk to people along the river bank, and Lucia can try the market to see if any of the women around here will talk."

Aetius's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. He hated the idea of leaving Lucia defenseless, he thought, but there might not be a better option. Two people asking questions was more suspicious than just one.

"Will that work?" Manfred bit his lip and prayed that the other two would agree.

Lucia shot Aetius a brief glance before she turned her attention to the strings of her apron instead. "If Aetius agrees, it's fine with me."

Manfred's burning gaze turned on Aetius alone then, and Aetius pursed his lips. "Fine. I don't see a better option."

"Then it's settled. Meet back here in an hour." He slipped a hand into his pocket. "And keep in touch with the holo pads."

The three of them stood there, staring at each other for a few moments. No one wanted to be left to themselves in this wide, unknown world, but all of them knew there wasn't another choice. Lucia was the first to move. She threw her arms around Aetius, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She might never see him again, she thought. Too many people had already been lost to these missions. His arms wrapped around her too, and he held her close.

"Stay safe," he murmured into her hair.

"You too."

Manfred cleared his throat. "We'd better get a move on if we want to go home any time soon."

The couple pulled away from each other. Lucia's shoulders rounded, and she ducked her head, staring at the ground. It was too much, she knew, to hope that nothing was wrong in this time line. Not when she knew Kiereth was on their tail. That was, for good reason, her largest concern on this journey. Kiereth had already shown up once to ruin her attempts to make history better. Would he show up and ruin their attempts to fix the time line too?

Manfred's heavy hand settled on her shoulder, drawing her gaze up to his. "If you run into Kiereth, get out of there and find one of us. You'll be fine. And so will we."

She bit her lip, unconvinced. "Of course."

He removed his hand, taking the reassuring warmth with him. "Alright, folks. Time to find out what's going on here."

Lucia nodded, turning to head back toward the inner city and the shops that lined the market's streets. Aetius watched her walk away, his chest tightening. If he never saw her again, he thought, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. She was everything to him, and he wouldn't let anything take her away. Not if he had a say.

"She'll be fine. Stop worrying so much." Manfred turned his back on Aetius, his jaw clenching. "She's armed, and she knows how to take care of herself."

Neither of them believed his words. After what they'd seen in Scotland with Kiereth, neither man could fully trust that she would be fine on her own. Kiereth had dissolved her into a shaking mess, ripping away the strong front and unyielding will she usually displayed. Still, neither of them would admit that they feared for her safety. Admitting a weakness wasn't in their nature. That same stubborn refusal to cave to weakness had led Manfred to take the flight that would've been his last if not for Kenneth, and it had led Aetius to fight until he was the only one left in his legion as the Ottomans overran his home.

Aetius grunted in response, unable to manage anything more as he continued watching Lucia's rapidly disappearing form. Without another word, he headed off in the direction Manfred had assigned to him, determined to finish his task so that he could find Lucia while she did hers. This plan, though well-intentioned, would've caused them more grief as it would've kept Lucia from finding out the truth of what was going on, so it was fortunate indeed that his plan never came to fruition.

Manfred waited a moment, struggling with the urge to call them back and insist they stay together. It wasn't efficient to stick together, he reminded himself. If they did, they'd never make any progress, and anyway, surely they would be safe in such a bustling city. This was a miscalculation on his part, but as he walked off to go hunting for information, Manfred hadn't considered the possibility that the sheer number of people in the city might prove an obstacle rather than helpful.

***

Lucia wandered down the alley, perusing the names of shops, which lined the streets. Some signs were little more than blocks of wood with crude, hand-painted lettering on their pitted surfaces. Others were more ornate with their scrolling letter work and vivid painted logos. People thronged in the streets, chattering and dodging other passing shoppers. Carts trundled through the center of the street, carrying wares and produce.

She drank it in, thinking that if she wanted to find out what was going on, this was the place to do it. Shouldering her way through the crowd, she looked for a tea shop or a general store. If any place would have women gossiping, she thought, it would be one of those types of stores. Locating one proved a more difficult task than expected. It required her to wade through the stream of people, fighting through like a fish swimming upstream.

The time it took to cross the street and locate the store she wanted seemed like an eternity to her. In reality, it took her a mere ten minutes. She stepped into the general store with a sigh, resting her back against the wall beside the door for a moment. Her behavior garnered a few odd looks from the women and men milling about the shop's interior. She offered them a weak smile, praying they'd ignore her for the moment while she recovered.

Behind the counter, the shop's owner—a pudgy old woman with a squinty-eyed gaze—examined the newcomer with a narrowed gaze. She decided she'd need to keep an eye on this one. The girl looked like a thief, she thought, or perhaps like a crazed person. She'd never seen anyone who was crazed, but she was certain this girl matched the description. Huffing, she leaned her elbows on the counter and returned to talking with her friend, who was purchasing a bolt of fabric.

Lucia wandered through the store, looking at cast iron skillets, cooking supplies, bolts of fabric in all colors, and sweets. When she reached the counter, she lingered to look over the selection of candies, knives, and chewing tobacco.

The cashier shot her a hard stare before returning to her conversation with the woman buying fabric. Lucia listened in, keeping her gaze focused on what was on display nearby.

"You think the President will keep them from seceding?"

The young woman buying the cloth shrugged. "Not likely. I heard he's going to let them go."

"Let them go?" The cashier snorted. "Is he daft? They're the biggest source of cotton and produce. Does he want prices to inflate?"

"How would I know? Anyway, I can't really say I'm upset that he isn't taking us to war over it. I like having John right at home with me, and I'm fairly certain you'd like to keep your Jim with you too."

"True, Polly, true. Still, I'd rather not pay exorbitant prices for food and cotton." The pudgy woman shook her head. "And those Southerners are a wild lot. They'll charge us prices no sane person would pay out of spite over their slaves."

The younger woman laughed. "Oh, Liza, you're always complaining about something. I'm sure it won't be so bad. Certainly, it must be better than war."

Lucia bit her lip, thinking that it wouldn't because if the Civil War never happened, history would be in worse shape than it already was. She was beginning to see, she thought, why it was so important to ensure the war occurred. She listened to the two women gossip until another customer came up to the counter to pay for his pipe and supply of tobacco. Realizing she'd gathered all she could about the situation from this place, she turned and hurried back out onto the streets.

The noise hit her in a roar, buzzing around her like a swarm of hornets. She winced, wishing she didn't have to be in the city by herself. She was a country girl at heart, and this environment was the worst possible place for her. Clenching her fingers into fists, she dug her nails into her palms and gritted her teeth, determined to escape the throng without panicking.

This task was accomplished quicker than expected. As she walked down the side of the road, she noticed an alleyway that seemed to lead to another quieter street on the other side. Shoulders slumping, she turned down the street. Her knees shook with the adrenaline pumping through her system. Crowds, she thought, were the Devil's invention. Sighing, she stopped halfway down the alley and rested her back against the building on her side of the alleyway. She let her head fall back against the brick wall of the building on her side of the alleyway and shut her eyes. The noise of the crowd filtered down the alleyway, bouncing off the walls like an invisible ping-pong ball. From her location in the middle of the alley, the noise was muffled, and no one passed by to invade the sanctuary.

As it happened, the calm was temporary, and danger was following on her heels even as she stood in the alley and pulled the holo device from her pocket. Her nimble fingers flew over the screen as she typed out what she'd learned. Hitting send, she slipped it back into her pocket and slid down the brick wall until her butt hit the cold flagstones of the road. The choice to sit was one she would regret later, but for the time being, her legs thanked her for the break. She groaned, rubbing at a crick in her neck. She would be on her way home soon enough, she thought, provided they could convince Lincoln to start the Civil War on time.

April 12th was only two days away, and in that time, they had to find some way to convince the president to start a nation-wide war that would claim more lives than any other war in the country's history. This was actually an easier task than she assumed, but she wasn't to be of much help in the situation. In fact, she was to be a hindrance to the mission rather than a help, and by the end of it, she would wish that she had insisted upon staying home like she'd wanted to.

The danger approaching was in the form of a certain man dressed in a worn suit coat, vest, and a new pair of black slacks. His shoes and cane were the only things that would've told a passerby that Kiereth Von Muren was not the low-income city dweller he appeared to be. The shoes were in mint condition, polished and reflective as all black dress shoes ought to be. As for the cane, close inspection would've revealed that its top was pure silver shaped into the snarling head of a timber wolf with two rubies embedded in the eye sockets. The piece was imported from Scotland, and he'd acquired it during his time with the Jacobites on the same trip that he'd run into Lucia and her companions. However, unfortunately for Lucia, the people milling around Kiereth Von Muren noticed none of this and, in fact, hadn't even noticed him. They seemed to bend around him as though their unconscious mind knew he was there and avoided him when their conscious minds did not.

Lucia had enough time to hear the tap of a cane approaching and to open her eyes before Kiereth was on her. She bolted to her feet, turning to run, but his fingers closed around her upper arm, wrenching her to a halt. A cry fled her lips, but the crowd at the other end of the alley passed on unheeding, her screech of despair lost in the hubbub.

Kiereth spun her, slamming her back against the wall with a laugh. "Thought you could escape me, did you?"

She released a guttural snarl not unlike that of some wild animal and thrashed against his grip. "Let go of me, ye savage!"

Kiereth grinned, thinking that she hadn't lost the fire or the accent even after all she'd been through. The idea of winning their little game, he thought, was becoming more attractive by the second. And it was certain he would win, wasn't it? Here she was without the blasted Roman and chillingly calm Prussian, and she clearly had no intention of going for the weapon he felt jutting out of her apron pocket.

This assumption that he would win was a fool-hardy one, but he couldn't be blamed for thinking so. After all, in their current position, it seemed impossible for him to lose. He shifted, pressing against her so that she could no longer move without gaining attention he knew she didn't want.

The idea that her struggling would only bring him more pleasure hadn't yet crossed Lucia's mind. She continued in her attempts to buck him off her, and she even managed to free one hand from his tight grip, but he restricted it again before she could lash out. Reason gradually asserted itself on her panic-hazed brain, and she stopped fighting him, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. "L-let me go." This time, the demand was softened by a muted whimper.

"Are you done, love?" His hot breath fanned over her cheek, gaining a strangled mewl of despair.

Her lower lip trembled, and she stared at a cracked brick in the wall across from them. Throat tightening until she could barely breathe, Lucia shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn't flee anymore, she thought.

His fingers caressed her throat, a silent reminder of his power over her very life. "You're going to come with me, yes?"

A tremor ran through her form.

He smiled, a shot of joy rushing through his body at the way she trembled. She was his again, he thought, and there was nowhere she could run. "If I were you, I'd be a good girl and do as asked."

She shook her head, her mind running back to the days they'd traveled together. Those days had been wonderful, she thought, until he'd shown a crueler, emotionally harmful streak in his dominant behavior. Then she'd fought, and he'd left her stranded in pre-Rome Greece.

He dug his fingers into her shoulder, gaining a whimper from her. "I know you don't mean that."

Lucia threw a glance toward the busy street, praying someone would see what was happening and care enough to do something. Kiereth's bruising fingers gripped her chin, jerking her face back toward him. "They can't see you. Not with the tech I brought."

"Kiereth, please—"

"Shhh." He pressed a finger to her lips with a smile. "No more. Save the begging for later, love. It'll do you no good here."

Tears glittered in her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. The urge to bite his finger, which was now tracing her full lips, had never been stronger. She wished she were strong enough to hurt him, but she wasn't. Anger and humiliation burned in her veins like alcohol, making her legs wobble. "I hate ye, Kiereth Von Muren. Yer a pig."

"You didn't used to think that." He grabbed her by the waist and scooped her up in his arms, pinning her arms to her chest with one long arm, which looped around her back.

She swallowed back a scream, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Let me go."

"No." Kiereth tightened his grip, thinking that if she could just learn to obey she'd be perfect. "Stop asking."

She sucked in a deep breath and opened her mouth to scream.

Kiereth guffawed, pausing in his steps. He cut her off mid-scream, slanting his mouth over hers to swallow the scream. She went rigid in his arms, the scream dying in her throat. He knew she hadn't expected this gesture, and he took advantage of it, taking the kiss further by plunging his tongue into her warm mouth. She was perfect, he thought, even if she wasn't obedient. In fact, that disobedience added to the thrill of having her under his control.

He released her reluctantly, knowing he needed to move before the other travelers came looking for her. The equipment he'd brought worked wonders on the inhabitants of that time, but other travelers could still see him, and he hadn't yet worked that disadvantage out of the prototype.

Her eyes drifted shut, her tear-soaked lashes brushing her cheeks. More tears dripped down her cheeks, and he bent his head, kissing away the salty tears. "I don't want to go with you," Lucia whispered.

"Doesn't matter."

"I know it doesn't. What I want never mattered to you." She turned her face away from him, thinking that if she could, she'd stab him in his sleep or shoot him first chance she got.

He strode down the remainder of the alley, carrying her out onto the quieter street she'd been intending to reach. Reach it she had, but not in the way she'd planned. Kiereth held her tightly, eliminating any chance she had to escape his grasp.

She kept her eyes open, watching shop fronts, houses, and taverns pass as he strode through the streets. A small hope remained in her heart that she could remember the surroundings and somehow escape to find her way back. This wasn't a solid plan, but it was the only one she had, and it was better than nothing.

***

Meanwhile, the message Lucia had sent arrived on the holos of her companions. Manfred and Aetius had shown up at the meeting place just as the message arrived and Lucia didn't. Manfred opened the message and scrolled through it before showing Aetius, thinking that convincing the president to start such a war might prove difficult.

"Well, we've got our starting point." Aetius bit his lip. "But where is Lucia?"

Manfred shook his head. "Maybe she's just running late."

Aetius frowned and flopped down on the grass to wait. His fingers ran through the verdant grass, tugging strands free and scattering them to the wind. Concern lanced through him as the minutes ticked by and Lucia didn't arrive.

Manfred began pacing, agitation flaring and twisting in his stomach just like it did in Aetius's. Aetius's grass-picking became more frantic as the time passed. Fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Lucia.

"We need to go after her." Aetius scrambled to his feet. "She's not late. She's missing."

"I know." Manfred ran his fingers through his hair. "She said she was at a general store on Jefferson Street in Washington Square. We can start there."

Aetius's lips pressed together into a thin line, and his jaw worked back and forth. He wasn't sure he wanted to voice his concern, but it was likely best to get it out on the table, he thought. "Do you think she ran into Kiereth?"

Manfred shook his head. "I told her to run and message us if she saw him. She's smart. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Aetius nodded. "Of course. She's probably just lost or something."

Lucia was indeed lost, though the reason for it had more to do with her current situation as Kiereth's captive. But this was something that Aetius and Manfred had no way of knowing, so the two of them headed out to look, praying that they found her before too much time passed.

The two trudged through the streets, asking people if they'd seen anyone matching her description. They had little success. Some people had seen someone looking much like her, and some had seen nothing. But none of them had actually seen Lucia.

It wasn't until they reached the general store that they found any real information. They stepped into the store, looking around for any clues that Lucia had been here. At this time of day, the store was nearly empty. One or two individuals milled about looking at various wares. A mother tugged a whimpering child away from the sweets display, shushing the girl as she began to wail. The two men stepped aside to let the woman and child pass before they continued further into the store.

The woman at the counter twisted graying strands of hair around sausage link fingers, her deep-set, squinty eyes fixating on them as they strode up to her. Aetius's eyes trailed over the store, drinking in the odd sights. He'd seen many strange things in his travels by now, but they never ceased to amaze him with their foreignness and intricacy. The shop sold things, he thought, that his people could only have dreamed of. And here it sold for inexpensive prices, at least compared to what he would've paid in his day.

Manfred leaned on the glass counter top, smiling at the portly old woman. "Hello, madam. My friend and I are looking for my sister. She's blond with big blue eyes, and she's about five foot, five inches. Looks a little gangly at first sight." He raised a brow. "Seen her at all? She said she was going to come here."

"Yes, I saw her." The woman pursed her puffy lips. "You say she's your sister?"

"Yes, ma'am." Manfred shook his head. "She's a bit absent-minded, if you catch my meaning."

The woman nodded with a loud guffaw. "I saw her. Thought she was a thief, mind you, but she slipped out of here without making any trouble."

"You haven't seen her since, then?"

"No. How long has she been missing, kid?"

Manfred sighed and pulled out his pocket watch, flipping it open. An hour, he thought. They'd been looking an hour and still were no closer to discovering her location. "Almost an hour, ma'am."

"Poor girl must be terrified. Well, I wish I could help you more, but I don't know anything else. She didn't say where she was going." The portly woman smiled, revealing a gap between her front teeth that could have fit a spoon handle if she'd been inclined to put one there.

Manfred covered his wince with a tight smile. "Thank you. You've been most helpful."

"You're welcome. I hope you find the girl."

Manfred turned and walked away with a parting thank you, dragging Aetius with him.

"So, we have no further idea where to look for her?" Aetius tugged free of Manfred's grasp and pulled up alongside the other man with a grunt. He was going to strangle Kiereth if she'd been hurt in any way, he thought.

"No." Manfred shook his head with a glare. "Where could she have gone?"

"No clue."

The crowds had thinned out since they'd stopped by the general store, and they scanned the few passing faces for any sign of Lucia.

"I think we have to face the possibility that Kiereth has her, Aetius." Manfred stopped at the mouth of an alley, which led to a quiet street in the housing division beyond.

"We have to find her!" Aetius tugged his fingers through his hair, his brow furrowing and his nostrils flaring.

"We don't have time. Not now. We have to make sure this war starts on time." Manfred sighed, thinking that it was always his job to be the bearer of bad news.

Aetius paced into the alley, scanning the brick walls and praying for any sign of his lost lover. He couldn't leave her lost and alone out there, he thought. He couldn't abandon her after all they'd been through together.

Manfred caught up to him with a huff. "Look, I know you're upset. But if we don't get this war started on schedule, things as we know it will cease to exist, and who knows what will happen. We'll get her back as soon as we sort out this mess."

Aetius shook his head, smacking a palm against the wall. This move was one he regretted instantly as the brick dug into his palm, drawing blood. He hissed, leaving his palm against the wall and ignoring the pain. "I can't do this, Manfred."

He really hadn't signed up for this, Manfred thought, but he couldn't let his team member go off the deep end. Grabbing Aetius's shirt front, he smacked him back against the wall. "Listen here. I know you're upset, but pull yourself together, man. Lucia is used to fending for herself, and we have a job to do! Once we've done what is necessary, we'll get her back. But not until then. You hear me?"

Aetius shoved him away with a glare. "Loud and clear. But I can't do what you're asking. By the time we finish this, he'll be long gone with her, and you know it."

As it happened, this would've been wonderful thinking if Kiereth had been anyone else. But Kiereth was not anyone else. He was Kiereth Von Muren, and he enjoyed a game. As such, the man had no intention of being long gone by the time the other two finished their work, and in fact, he planned on being very much involved in the events here. However, since Aetius had no way of knowing this, he made the reasonable assumption that Kiereth would disappear with her and was, also rather rationally, panicking.

Manfred, on the other hand, was keeping his cool as usual. He rarely caved under pressure, which was what had made him such an excellent commander when he'd flown with his Flying Circus. At this moment, however, he was struggling to keep the lid on his anger, which was coming to a rapid boiling point. "If he's going to disappear with her, he already has. Your moping and running around looking for her with no plan in mind won't help anyone, least of all Lucia. So, come help me fix this, and then we'll try to get a trace on his machine with the tech Kenneth left us."

Aetius's shoulders slumped as the first point Manfred had made sunk in. She was indeed long gone, he realized, and if Kiereth had her, he likely wouldn't get her back unless she managed to escape Kiereth again. "Fine. Let's get this war under way."

Manfred clapped him on the back, thinking that getting a war this bloody under way was the very last thing he wanted to do. But someone had to, so he might as well be the man for the job. No one else would, certainly, because no one else knew about the current predicament, he thought.

***

"So, noo that I'm here, ye screwball man, what's yer grand plan?" Lucia glowered up at Kiereth as they crossed the threshold to his time machine. Now that she was no longer shocked by Kiereth's appearance, she thought, she was going to go down fighting or not at all. Obedience to tyrants wasn't a concept she understood, and she didn't intend to start doing so now.

As it happened, Kiereth had been hoping for this very thing, and he was more than happy to oblige her in her attempt to pick a fight. He strode into his bedroom on his time machine and dropped her into the bed. His glance fell on the two pairs of gleaming metal cuffs on the bedside table, and his lips curved into a wicked smile. "My plan is to keep you here where I can ravish you any time I wish."

Her upper lip curled, and her brows drew together. "Aetius is gonnae kill ye when he finds us."

Kiereth shrugged and began fastening her wrists to the bed post above her head with the cuffs. "He isn't going to find us on his terms, so I'm not terribly concerned, love."

She bucked against the restraints, yanking at the cuffs, which still firmly fastened her hands to either bed post. He watched her struggle with crossed arms and a bemused smirk. "Yer a savage, Kiereth Von Muren!"

"So you've said, lass."

"How dare ye treat a lady like this, ye beast?"

Kiereth snickered and tapped his chin. "Hmmm. Probably because I'm a beast?"

She gaped at him, unable to find a good response because that was the crux of the matter. He was a beast, she thought, and so he had no problem with taking whatever he wanted with no regrets whatsoever.

"Cat got your tongue, love? If you don't close your mouth, there might be a repeat of earlier." His smile widened, taking on a roguish slant as he settled on the bed beside her and traced his fingers up her side. "And I might be tempted to think you want me."

Her cheeks flushed, the heat creeping down her neck and over the shell of her ears. She closed her mouth, her teeth clacking together audibly like the teeth on a trap snapping shut. She'd never met a more odious man, she decided, and she didn't know what she'd ever seen in him.

Kiereth laughed, enjoying her consternation. This was much more fun than bedding the other women he'd had since ditching her, he thought. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue over the rim of her ear and moved down the shell to nibble on her ear lobe, snickering when she arched her back and tugged on the handcuffs, trying to escape him. Thrashing about was perhaps the most useless thing she could do, but in that moment, she wanted only to have her hands free so that she could have the liberty to claw his eyes out.

He applied a bit more nip to his kiss and was rewarded with a whine from low in her throat. "Like that, do you, love?"

Lucia gritted her teeth, anger flooding her. Even after all he'd done, she still responded to his touch. She hated him with a passion, but at the same time, she knew he'd never hurt her physically. He wasn't truly capable of doing something that odious, though his cruelty knew no bounds in other ways.

The man was hardly a gentleman, but he'd never been one to pleasure himself without also giving as much as he gave. Frightening her a bit was one thing. Raping her was quite another and was beyond even his scope. This was the one thing that gave Lucia some measure of peace, but at the same time, this knowledge was also her downfall because she remembered the way he'd made her feel so wanted and needed even in the midst of dominating her entirely.

She growled, wanting him away from her so that her body would stop sending such mixed signals to her brain. If he didn't stop what he was doing, she feared she'd give in entirely, and then where would she be? She wanted home, she reminded herself. Home and Aetius, not Kiereth Von Muren and traipsing about time and space with a madman.

He didn't take the hint. Instead, he moved to hover over her, trapping her body between his and the mattress. The heat radiating off him seeped into her, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut in an attempt to deny the need clenching in her gut. "I swear on my mam's grave, Kiereth... Get off me or I'll kill ye first chance I get."

His breath fanned over her collarbone, and then his lips followed it, pressing to her fevered skin. His stubble scraped against her skin like coarse sandpaper, and she whimpered. "Kill me if you can, love. It's a risk I'll take."

She arched into him, frustration mingling with anger. "Stop, ye hardheaded brute."

His tongue traced her collarbone. "Are you sure?"

"What are ye playin' at? I willnae take ye back."

"I think you will." He smirked, working his way up her neck, knowing that she was losing her resolve. "Want to hear a secret?"

"Naw." She yanked at her restraints, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. "I want ye off me so I can breathe."

"I told you that you'd take me back. You're already breathless, and I haven't even begun—"

She brought her head up and drove her chin down on the top of his skull. This, as it happened, was another poor idea in a string of poor decisions. His skull was harder than her chin. Her teeth rattled, and the blow brought tears to her eyes. He growled against her skin, nipping her shoulder to express his displeasure.

"What are ye really playin' at, Von Muren?" She ignored the pain pulsating through her chin.

He rolled off her and lay on his side, playing with a long honey-blond curl. "I'm here to make sure things go the right way with the war, obviously."

She lifted her head to look at him. "What?"

"I'm here to ensure the Civil War happens like it should." Kiereth propped his head up on his palm. "I'd rather not cease to exist, thank you very much."

"Yer not here because of me?"

"Nope. You just have very bad luck." He tapped his chin and scrunched his nose. "Or maybe you have very good luck, depending on how you see it."

She swung her elbow out, trying to clip him in the nose. This succeeded better than the first attempt, and he grunted, slapping a hand over his nose. "What was that for? I would've thought you'd be happy to hear that!"

"Yer an oaf, Kiereth."

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Naw. I'll manage fine on my own if ye let me go, thank ye very much."

"You always were a fiery one." He snickered. "But I'm not a fool despite what you may believe. You're not going anywhere."

"The others are out there tryin' to fix this too, and yer in here with me, ye dunderwhelp. If yer really intent on fixin' anythin' ye'd be out there helpin' them."

"And work with your lover who likely wants my head right now?" He scoffed. "Not a chance. I'll do it on my own."

Lucia huffed, dropping her head back against the pillows. "Men. Yer all so bloody arrogant that ye can't see past yer own egos to the greater good."

He sat up and crawled off the bed. "I'm going to ignore the rebellious attitude behind that statement, love. Be in a better mood when I get back, would you?"

"Not a chance, ye bloomin' scunner." She turned her gaze to the smooth metal wall of the machine, which was in far better condition than the ones from the museum were.

He huffed. "Scottish women. You're all hellions."

"Then save yerself the trouble of dealin' with me and let me go."

A sly grin crept onto his lips. "Not a chance, mi'lady. You're stuck with me now." With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the machine, leaving her to scream insults after him and to fight with the cuffs. Neither did her any good, but they made her feel a great deal less powerless in her predicament, so perhaps it did more good than it seemed.

***

"There!" Manfred blew on the ink on his letter to dry it, a satisfied smile slipping over his lips. "We've done it."

Aetius eyed the letter Manfred held. He wasn't at all certain that they'd done much of anything, but Manfred seemed pleased with himself. "Done what, precisely?"

"Written the letter to start the deadliest war in American history. Written the letter that will end the lives of 625,000 men and boys." The smile faded to be replaced with a sick feeling. "This job is bloody awful."

Aetius grimaced. "Literally."

Manfred glanced at him. "Now isn't the time to make puns. Tell the first people you see at the White House that the South has declared war and that you intercepted this missive."

"Believe me, I'm well aware it's not the time for puns. That's why you made the pun instead of me." Aetius snatched the letter out of Manfred's hand. "I hope this doesn't result in getting all of us killed too."

This, fortunately, wouldn't be the case, though it wouldn't have been any surprise given the number of deaths time traveling had already caused. He stared at the letter for a moment before folding it up and slipping it into his satchel. "I'll bring back news as soon as I deliver it."

"Yes, do that. If they don't shoot you for being the bearer of bad news."

Aetius sighed. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

Manfred snickered. "You're welcome. Go on then. No time to waste."

Aetius turned and ran through the empty streets, his footsteps slapping on the cobblestones. A few people poked their heads out of the shutters in the houses lining the streets, but everyone ignored him. A man running through the streets was, apparently, no great or unusual sight, and they moved on to more interesting things such as what was for a late night snack or what they would finish doing before bed.

This made the journey to the White House at the center of the city much simpler. Even so, by the time Aetius reached the inner city, he was gasping for breath, and his sides ached and burned. He bounded up to the gate, screaming to the guards who stood watch. They snapped to attention, eyeing the man approaching with narrowed eyes. This man approaching, they thought, must certainly be a raving madman. That thought was to amend itself in short order upon receipt of the news he brought.

"The South has declared war on us! The South has declared war on us! I intercepted this letter."

This caught the attention of the two Union soldiers guarding the gate. Their eyes widened, and they rushed to him, snatching the letter he was waving. They unfolded it and perused the contents, panic rising as they scanned the words. When they finished, they clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done, man. We'll take this to the President right away. Get off the streets now! This'll mean war!"

Aetius gave them a tight smile and a brief salute before rushing back to where Manfred had been waiting for news. He found the run back quicker than the first now that he knew the letter would spur the North to action. They were set back on their course of action. Negotiations would never happen now.

"Well, what'd they say?" Manfred grabbed his arm and dragged him into a dark alley as soon as he reached the meeting place.

"They said it'll mean war. What'd you write in there, anyway?"

Manfred pursed his lips. "I told them the South would attack Fort Sumter on April 12th, but I severely underplayed the South's forces so the North would under fortify and still lose."

Aetius raised his brows and nodded. "Impressive. Better hope it works."

"Somehow, I think it will. Unless the South doesn't attack Fort Sumter, it'll work."

***

The possibility that the South wouldn't attack Fort Sumter was a very real possibility. What Manfred and Aetius had no way of knowing was that the negotiations between the North and the South had been going quite well, and the South had no intention of attacking the North. The secession of South Carolina had gone undisputed, and as a result, Major Robert Anderson had been planning to draw out of Fort Sumter as the South Carolinian government had requested. Unfortunately, the letter Manfred had sent had said that the South was planning to attack Major Anderson despite the current negotiations going on. This had been a long shot as Manfred hadn't been certain that the Major was even at Fort Sumter, but fortunately for him, Major Anderson had remained there and had yet to leave.

This was where Kiereth came in. He had left the North alone, assuming correctly that if he got the South's leaders riled up enough and ruined the negotiations enough, they'd start the war and his work would be done for him. This was the better course of action, though in combination with Manfred and Aetius's stroke of genius, the plan Kiereth was enacting had a much higher chance of success now.

After leaving the time machine hidden securely in the sewers of Washington city where he'd landed initially, Kiereth took the horse he'd acquired upon arrival and made his way toward the position where General Robert E. Lee was currently located. Of course, at the moment, the man wasn't the general at all, but was in the United States army as lieutenant colonel of the newly raised Second Cavalry in West Texas. In just a few more short days, Lee would be in charge of the Army of Northern Virginia, which he would command through the rest of the war.

For now, the man was dealing with a slave revolt on his plantation and had finally returned home after capturing the three main perpetrators. The altercation had occurred mainly on account of Lee's slow action upon his father-in-law's will, which stated that all his slaves were to be emancipated in a time period not exceeding five years. Two years had passed since Curtis's death, and the slaves still weren't free owing to Lee's cruel management of the plantation and the chaos to which it had descended.

Kiereth pondered this as he was riding, wondering if the man had ever paused to consider the possibility that his own behavior was at the root of his problems. Likely not, Kiereth decided. And at any rate, it didn't matter right now because all that mattered was ensuring that the Civil War happened according to schedule.

He galloped up the drive of Arlington plantation, heading for the house. The horse's flanks shone with sweat in the moonlight, and the chilly wind stretched its icy fingers down his back. His horse clattered to a stop, and he jumped down from the saddle, leaving the horse to do its own thing. The beast wandered to the lawn beside the porch and began lapping at the rainwater pooling in puddles at the edge of the drive. Kiereth bounded up the steps and pounded on the heavy wooden door, thinking that if Lee didn't answer the door, he'd knock the door down to get in.

The message he was carrying had something to do with the rumors that had been circulating around the capital when he'd gone to see what the uproar was. The bells had begun tolling out a warning, and everyone who wasn't inside already had rushed home. He had, true to form, done the opposite and headed to the White House to spy out the situation. Apparently, a letter had come from a messenger detailing plans to launch an attack on the Northern forces garrisoned at Fort Sumter. Guessing correctly that Manfred and Aetius had something to do with this, Kiereth had set out to make sure that Lee knew about the new development. The new development was a bit of an exaggeration, but it served his purpose.

The door flew open just as he was about to knock again, and he was yanked inside by an irate looking Lee. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

Kiereth raised a brow and glanced down at Lee's fist, which was still curled in the front of his shirt.

Lee released him. "Well, answer me, man!"

"I'm here to tell you what I heard in Washington. The Yankees are planning to keep Fort Sumter and launch an attack from there. You need to get men there to take the position from Major Anderson before they send fortifications." Kiereth brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt.

Lee's face turned red. "Those two-timing Yanks! They'll pay for this." He spun on his heel, charging back toward the stairs that led to the second floor. "You ride on ahead and take the message to President Davis. He and his wife Varina are at the Confederate White House in Richmond. Get a fresh horse from the stable."

Kiereth nodded and turned, striding out the door with a smirk on his face. A two hour ride to Richmond was all that was left and all would be restored to how it should be. After all, in the original time line, Lincoln had sent ships to Fort Sumter to restock it without telling Davis, and that had been the act that finally incited the war in the first place. Now, essentially the same thing would happen all over again with a little help from himself and the other two men who'd come with Lucia. And when this was done, he thought, he'd have Lucia to return to.

***

Davis and his cabinet sat around the table at the Confederate capital in Richmond, discussing the situation surrounding Fort Sumter. Kiereth sat in the back of the room, sipping his beer and letting them discuss the situation as they pleased. If they didn't move more quickly, he thought, they'd never attack Fort Sumter on time. Of course, the fact that he'd ensured their possession of a telegraph line twenty-four seven with Sumter in case of an emergency like this one helped the situation immensely, so he chose to sit back and remain silent for the time being.

The Confederate secretary of state, Robert Toombs, banged a fist on the table, thinking that if Davis went through with this the disaster would be unspeakable. "The firing on that fort will inaugurate a civil war greater than any the world has yet seen," he warned them. "You will wantonly strike a hornet's nest which extends from mountains to ocean, and legions now quiet will swarm out and sting us to death."

Davis waved him off. "Point taken, Toombs, but we have to remain strong. If we let Lincoln get away with reinforcing that fort and double-crossing us after making the agreement to withdraw from Fort Sumter, we concede the battle. We send a message to the North that we will let them walk over us like ants."

"I can hardly believe the man would notify Pickens of such a plan when it's in direct defiance of all they promised us." Alexander Stephens, Davis's vice president, shook his head. "That dog Seward will pay for leading us on when Lincoln clearly had no intention of following through."

"Leroy, what do you think?" Davis turned his attention to his secretary of war.

Leroy Walker cleared his throat, thinking that they were in a very bad position no matter what they did. Still, he thought, attacking Fort Sumter was the only way they'd send a clear message to the North that they meant business and wouldn't be easy to stamp out. "I think we should give Anderson a chance to surrender. If he refuses, order Beauregard to fire on Sumter."

Kiereth resisted the urge to applaud the man for managing to think of the brilliant idea twice in a row, and in two different time lines no less. He tossed back the rest of his beer.

Stephens stroked his chin. "Seems like a solid plan to me."

Davis nodded. "To me as well. But how will we get him the missive on time."

Kiereth hid his eye roll behind the rim of his tankard. The telegraph was, he thought, right in their grasp, and someone was set to pay attention to it on the other end in South Carolina at all hours.

"Use the telegraph Kiereth supplied." Robert E. Lee finally spoke up after remaining silent and observing the proceedings. He'd shown up shortly after Kiereth had and had stormed into the council meeting with a look on his face that told everyone in the room where he stood.

Kiereth reined in his snicker. Yes, the telegraph was the way to go, he thought. And he had so kindly supplied it for exactly this purpose. As the men turned to the telegraph and began working out the message, he slipped away, satisfied that his work was done.

***

"Can we look for Lucia now?" Aetius shoved his hands into his armpits, shivering in the dank wind blowing off the harbor.

"Not yet. We have to follow along and watch to be sure that battle takes place on time."

"That won't happen for a day yet."

"And it will take us time to slip onto one of the boats taking fortifications over to the island fortifications where the battle's supposed to take place. We don't want to be landing as the Confederates do, I promise you." Manfred shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No one wants to be caught up in that mess. The Confederates are going to swarm that place like a cloud of angry bees when they find out that the Union double-crossed them."

Aetius winced. He recognized there was a good deal of truth to Manfred's statement, though he wished it could be otherwise. More than that, however, was the need and desire to have Lucia here with him where she'd be safe. Or, safer at least, he thought. "Good point. But after that, we're looking for Lucia, no questions asked."

"Glad we agree." Manfred sighed, thinking that they'd be lucky to make it out of this alive in the first place.

"What do we need to know about the Battle of Fort Sumter if we're going to stay alive?" Aetius fell into step beside Manfred as the other man began the long journey across the city on foot to the harbor where the ships would be sent from.

"First off, there's already been an altercation with the North and South of Fort Sumter from what I heard last night in the tavern after you went to bed. Northern President James Buchanan sent two-hundred soldiers and supplies to Fort Sumter on an unarmed merchant's vessel called Star of the West in January. The Confederate artillery in South Carolina started firing on the supply ship, and it turned around. So, those men in Fort Sumter don't have much longer before they have to leave anyway. Lincoln was supposed to send them supplies, and that's what originally started the war." Manfred ran his fingers through his hair, which was much longer than it had been when he'd first arrived in the museum. "But this time, Lincoln didn't send that supply ship, so now we have to recreate the Battle of Fort Sumter for other reasons."

"Wonderful." Aetius sighed.

"Precisely. If all goes according to plan, Davis will send General Pierre Gustave T. Beauregard to man the attack. It'll last for three-and-a-half days, and over that time span, the Confederates will shower the fort with over 3,000 shells. Anderson ends up surrendering."

"Wise decision."

Manfred paused to look at the scenery around them. People were out and bustling as always, though there was a muted tone as if the entire city understood the gravity of the upcoming conflict and waited with bated breath to see the end of it. The only problem was, if all went as planned, the end wouldn't come until many good men had lost their lives in the bloody affair. "The ironic thing," Manfred said, "is that Beauregard developed his military skills under Anderson's command."

This was, sadly, to be the first of many devastated relationships and families in the Civil War, but it was a necessary sacrifice if history was to be put back on track. This was a fact that Manfred understood very well, though he sometimes wished he didn't because he thought it might be easier to be ignorant and therefore able to make a less responsible decision.

He had made his decision, and it was the only decision he could make because saving the lives of millions in the future was more important than preventing one horrific war started by the foolishness and greed of two sides that refused to concede or work things out. Except that in this time line, they had, and Manfred regretted his inability to do something differently to avoid the conflict. If there had been any other way, he thought, he would've taken it.

Beside him, Aetius was thinking similar things. He too couldn't quite come to grips with the fact that the two of them were responsible for one of the worst wars in history and the worst war in American history. No country should have to go through the conflict Manfred had described to him. No matter how pragmatic he was, he couldn't help the twinge of guilt that wormed its way into his heart over the actions they'd taken. It was necessary, he told himself, and they hadn't had another option.

The two of them continued in silence, wading into the crowds and crossing streets before coming out into emptier streets only to repeat the process all over again. In this manner, they managed to work their way across the city to the location where the ship was taking off.

"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" Aetius bit his lip, eyeing the ship.

"I know."

"We could go down with the ship if the Confederate artillery fires on us."

"I know." Manfred gritted his teeth, thinking that this wasn't the way he'd planned to go.

"Are you sure we can't just watch from the shore of the Charleston Harbor? We're probably going to get ourselves killed along with most of the fort's occupants."

Manfred rounded on him, wondering how the man lived with constantly thinking about the worst case scenarios. "I said I know! Now will you please shut up?"

Aetius swallowed hard and raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I just don't see why we don't travel the rest of the way up to the shoreline of North Carolina and watch from there."

"If I thought we could get to a spot where we could see it by 4:30 a.m. tomorrow morning, we would."

"Guess we'll be getting on that boat then."

Manfred eyed him with a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, I suppose we will."

***

Kiereth returned to his time machine late in the afternoon to find Lucia sitting on the bed, still cuffed and looking extremely worn out. This was due to the fact that she had spent most of the night and part of the morning trying to escape the cuffs. Her wrists were raw from her efforts, but she still hadn't managed to free herself. Eventually, she'd worn herself out and had fallen into a fitful sleep, praying that someone would find her, though she'd had a sinking feeling that no one was looking thanks to everything going awry in the time line.

She had woken up shortly before noon, which was when Kiereth arrived. His dark eyes roamed over her, and he flicked her a lazy smile as he wandered into the kitchen adjoining the bedroom and began rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.

"You hungry, love?"

"Naw. I'd rather starve than take what ye'd give me."

"Come now, what happened to being in a better mood when I got back?" He turned his head to look at her with a raised brow.

She shook the cuffs, wincing as they scraped against her raw wrists. At this point, she thought, even if he released her she wouldn't have the energy to run or do anything else.

He sighed and turned to a drawer by the stove and the microwave. Rummaging through it, he found some clean cotton bandages, cotton puffs, and rubbing alcohol. She wouldn't like this, but it was necessary, he thought. He should've known she'd do this and considered padding the cuffs with cotton. Walking back to his bed, he sat down beside her and pulled the key to the cuffs from his pocket. She eyed him with narrowed eyes as he reached up and unlocked the cuffs.

"Relax, love. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not more than necessary anyway." He pulled her hands closer, examining her battered wrists. Letting out a low whistle when he saw the damage, he shook his head. "You know, you'd have been better off sitting tight until I came back to un-cuff you." He released her hands and unscrewed the cap on the rubbing alcohol. "Because with that kind of damage, this is going to sting like the dickens."

She glowered down at her wrists, her bottom lip trembling as the cool air hit the raw skin and stung like a thousand needles were being stabbed into her skin over and over again. He poured the alcohol onto the cotton puffs and took her left hand in his. "You ready?"

She lifted tear-filled eyes to meet his. "Do I look ready, ye dunderhead?"

He pursed his lips and shrugged. "As ready as you'll ever be, I suppose." With that remark, he began dabbing the alcohol-soaked cotton puff over the raw, broken skin.

She sucked in a breath and released a sharp cry when the alcohol began seeping into the sores.

"Breathe, love. I know it hurts." He tried to keep the pressure light as he swiped the wounds clean. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have cuffed you. The lock on the machine would've been enough to keep you in here."

Gritting her teeth, Lucia resisted the urge to punch him, knowing it would only hurt her even worse. "Ye better be sorry, ye dolt! And what do ye mean ye didnae need to cuff me?"

He bit his lip. "Exactly what I said. But I wasn't thinking when I did." He took her other hand in his and repeated the process, running the fingers of his free hand along her unmarked palm to soothe her.

Another yelp issued from her as he pressed too hard on a cut and the alcohol smarted in the wound. Both wrists now hurt worse than ever, and instead of simply stinging, they now burned. "How dare ye do this to me? Hae ye no heart?"

He winced, releasing her hands to gather up the cotton bandages. "I said I was sorry."

"Sorry does nae cover this, Kiereth. Yer a bloody diddy, you know that?"

"I know." He dropped his gaze from her accusing gaze to her hands and focused on wrapping them up as tenderly as he could.

She fell silent for a long moment.

He taped the bandages up and let go of her but didn't move off the bed. His chest clenched as he surveyed the bandages. He never meant for this to happen, he thought. Despite his capacity for cruelty and insensitivity, he really hadn't wanted her to get hurt. He'd wanted her back, he reasoned, and he'd been willing to go to extreme measures for it, but this was beyond what he'd planned for.

"Why are ye doin' this?" Her voice was soft and held a plaintive note, her own heart aching at what had been lost between them.

He shook his head, not sure how to answer that. "I want you back."

"So ye kidnapped me to make yer point?" A bitter laugh escaped her, and she dropped her head into her hands, the laughter strangling into a cut-off sob. "Dear Laird, yer a ninny, Kiereth."

Kiereth hung his head. "I know. You only remind me every chance you get."

She groaned. "Well, I'm remindin' ye because ye seem to forget ye have a functionin' brain the majority of the time. For the love of all that's holy, why would ye think kidnappin' me was the way to get me back?"

"Because if I hadn't, I never would've been able to talk with you again."

"Ye could've sent me a letter and said ye wanted to talk. This is a bit extreme, dinnae ye think?" Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. "This is why I fought with ye. I'm not a bird ye can cage or a beast ye can tame."

"I know you don't like being treated the way I treated you." He scratched his head, trying to determine what he could've done differently to get her attention. A letter, he decided, would've ended up in the trash can unopened. "But I can't help the urge to dominate. When you fight, my instinct is to treat you like the hunter does the hunted. Those instincts drive me to dominate, to force submission."

"And I'm tellin' ye I dinnae need a man who willnae dominate me by makin' me happy to submit." She scrubbed her hands down her face. "Kiereth, I loved ye. And all I wanted was for ye to be my protector, the one I could rely on to be there in exchange for my submission. But I willnae allow ye to batter me emotionally. Yer no better than Charles became if ye do that."

"I see." Kiereth stared down at his hands. "Then perhaps I could start now on loving you like that."

"After all ye've done, why should I let ye?" She scooted away when he reached out for her hand.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted to her face. What he found there surprised him. For the first time since he'd found her, he didn't find a jaded woman who wore her masks like armor. Instead, he found a woman who was hurting too deeply for words to express. He found a woman who just wanted to be loved. In her eyes, the pain she felt over their rent relationship reflected back at him.

She let him stare, not caring if she was emotionally vulnerable. There wasn't anything left for her to lose, she thought. He'd hurt her to the greatest degree he could, and any pain he inflicted now dulled in comparison to the day he'd told her he no longer loved her and had left her standing on that hillside in Greece. Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared back at him, thinking that she would've given anything in that moment to have back the carefree days they'd spent frolicking about different time periods, always with the utmost care not to change anything. Even the ending that had come with her and Charles hadn't broken her heart like this man had.

He reached out to brush the tears from her cheeks, his fingers trembling against her skin. "I hurt you more than I realized, didn't I?"

She nodded, shutting her eyes and leaning into his palm. The rough touch of his palm against her skin brought back many memories, some good and some bad.

"I always thought you were titanium. Unbreakable. Unyielding." He brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. "This isn't what I wanted when I tried to break you into submitting."

"But it's what ye got."

He yanked his hand away, standing and pacing to the counter. Bracing himself over the sink, he shook his head. "I've ruined everything by being a callous fool, haven't I?"

"Maybe."

"I have to return you to him, don't I?"

Lucia dropped her gaze to the bed. "Ye should. Will the war go on as it was supposed to?"

He nodded, keeping his back to her, unable to accept what he'd seen in her face.

"Where do ye think they are now?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm taking you back to the museum. I'll leave a note for them in the machine. It's the only way they can track me, so they'll know you're safe."

She remained silent.

"And after that, I'll leave you to be content with him."

Lucia fiddled with the blanket, her heart aching at the pain and defeat in his voice. "You don't have to leave entirely."

"Yes, I do." He spun to face her and stalked to where she sat on the bed.

She cringed, expecting him to say something nasty as he usually did.

He didn't. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of her, bringing her face level with his. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he crushed his lips to hers. The kiss was as rough and wild as any of his kisses, but he didn't take more than she gave. Inside the kiss, she could sense the goodbye through the way his grip remained tight on her waist and his lips molded with hers desperately. The taste of salt from his tears and the hot dampness of them against his cheeks was the final straw. She wove her hands in his hair and returned the kiss. She realized then why he had to leave.

If he didn't leave, Kiereth Von Muren knew he was in danger of losing his heart to her even though she could never give him hers again. And that fact killed him more than anything else.

***

Manfred and Aetius ended up compromising. The compromise involved jumping ship into the middle of Charleston Harbor at 4:10 a.m. and swimming for shore. As the two dragged themselves out of the water and wrung the harbor out of their clothing, they watched the first shells hurdle through the early morning gloaming to strike the walls of Fort Sumter. The barrage picked up speed, and the two men's shoulders slumped.

Aetius sighed, stripping off his soaked shirt. "Well, I guess we can safely say this was a success."

"Feels like the worst thing in the world, somehow."

"Of course it does. We just condemned 625,000 men to death." Aetius tried to squeeze more harbor water out of his shirt and hair, watching the siege of Fort Sumter continue. "No one would feel good about that no matter how important it was."

Manfred sighed and pulled the time machine's remote from his pocket. "Good thing I bagged this before we left. Otherwise it'd be water-logged just like us." He shook the water off the plastic bag, thinking that the journey with Columbus had taught him one good thing—to be prepared. Opening the bag, he clicked the recall button on the remote.

The time machine shivered into view, and the two men stared at it, thinking that this was the last thing they had to do before they could go home.

"You think it'll work?" Aetius bit his lip, thinking of all the ways the plan could fail.

"To find Lucia and Kiereth?" Manfred scratched the back of his neck. "I hope so. If it doesn't, we'll never see her again."

Aetius sucked in a deep breath and strode to the door. "Well, let's see if there's any good news amid all the bad stuff that's gone on this trip." He yanked the door open and entered the machine.

Manfred hovered outside, unsure whether he wanted to attempt this right now. If they failed, he thought, would he be able to handle that?

"Manfred, get in here!" Aetius's shout spurred his companion into motion.

Manfred shot through the door, slamming it shut. "What? What's wrong?"

Aetius waved a piece of paper at him. "She's safe." He sank to his knees on the floor of the time machine, his eyes welling up with tears. "Thank the Lord, she's safe."

Manfred snatched the paper from Aetius's limp fingers.

Aetius,

I have returned Lucia to the museum. Next time, keep a better eye on her. She's a very special young woman, and if you don't take care of her, you'll have me to compete with again. Do the right thing by her. I didn't, and it's the greatest regret of my life. Don't repeat my mistakes.

~K

Manfred crumpled the paper in his fist. "Let's go home, then."

Aetius nodded, wiping away tears and going to sit in the co-pilot's seat. "Let's do that. I have someone to apologize to."

Spot 4: MusicgirlXD

A moan escaped Eletta's lips. Sitting up, the room swirled around her. Nausea forced her eyes closed. Once her stomach settled, the pirate reopened her eyes. Eletta noticed she was resting in her old room, back at the museum. Glancing about, Eletta noticed Miyamoto sitting on his knees meditating. Pulling her sheets back, a sigh escaped her lips.

Lifting up his head, Miyamoto acknowledge the pirate. Before Eletta could mutter a word, the samurai rose to his feet and made his way towards her. Miyamoto appeared by her side. "I have grave news." The Samurai started. Eletta remained silent wishing to hear more. "Inoia told us he saw Blair sneaking into a time machine. He sneaked on board and she took him to the American Revolution. While there, she ran into some of Kenneth's agents. Inoia tried to save her, but he was too late."

Turning her head away, Eletta closed her eyes. "I don't like what is going on here. People are dyeing everyday. It's growing to be too much."

Reaching down, Miyamoto grabbed her hand. "Everything will be fine. You will see. We just need to fight and power through this."

Eletta went to respond, but the door slamming up cut her off. Inoia strode in. The pirate and the samurai ceased their conversation. Inoia smiled at Eletta. "Glad to see someone's back to their old self."

"Yes, I'm feeling much better thanks."

The doors to the bedroom flew open. Kenneth marched in with his goons following close behind. "Good She's awake. Now the fun begins." Miyamoto pulled his hand away from hers. "We have received word that the American civil war is being won by the South. We need to send our best fighters to sway the sides.

Inoia crossed his arms. "I doubt I'm the best pick."

"Don't question my pick, just go." Jumping out of bed, Eletta put her boots on and rushed out the door. Miyamoto and Inoia flowed her lead. The pirate ran through the hallway. Arriving at the door, Eletta hopped on board, settling the course for American Civil War. Arriving in a woods, the machine crashed under near by brush. Gun shots echoed in the distant.

Miyamoto left the vehicle first. Eletta flinched at the sound of gun shots. Coming up behind her, Inoia pushed her out of the time machine. The pirate glanced back at him. "I'm coming no need to push." A smile spread across Eletta's face as cannons echoed in the distant. "There's a sound I love to here." With that, she rushed into the forest and towards the sound.

Screaming, Eletta reached the battlefield. It was a rock land covered with the bodies of both sides. Blood stained the grass red. Shaking her head, Eletta drew her sword. "Kennth told us to help the North so we need to kill the South."

Miyamoto remained silent. "We should let them fight it out and not get involved."

"I come from a south state. I'm already am." Inoia stated. Eletta turned in time to watch him pull a pistol out of his pocket. Inoia raised the point at the back of Miyamoto's head. With a quick action, the samurai pulled out his sword and swept it over his head; cutting off Inoia's left arm. Eletta's eyes widened. Inoia grabbed his arm crying out.

Looking back, Miyamoto glared at him. "I fear that one day my end will come. But it won't be because of you." The samurai turned to face the field once more. "I will fight the grey coats. They appear to be winning." With that, he rushed into battle with his sword drawn. Blood splattered about the fighter as he whipped across the field.

The last Eletta saw of the samurai was a cloud of smoke. The pirate teared up. Another one gone. Gripping her hilt toughly, she turned towards Inoia. "You tried killing Miyamoto. How did Blair die? Tell me!"

Inoia was the ground grasping his arm. "Kenneth's minnons ordered me too. I had no choice."

"You always have a choice." With those last words, Eletta swung her sword, chopping off his head.

Spot 5: JesterheadJohnSnow 

"How long is he supposed to be under house arrest?"

Paul crossed his arms as one of Kenneth's agents, known to Paul as Wheeler, scrunched up his face deep in thought. "I am not sure if I'd refer to it as such, but he ain't going to be let out of sight anytime soon, especially with that stunt he pulled. If Kenneth would have learned of it, it would cost us our jobs."

"Good point." Paul nodded. " Although there should be an alternative."

"What are you suggesting?"

The two were standing outside a room in the south end of the basement where unruly employees were to be kept. It was here that Thomas Parrish was being held for breaking protocol with his unauthorized time traveling. If Akh and the squad hadn't intervened, who knew how Tommy boy could have botched history.

"There is something you should know."

The tattooed agent frowned, his bright blue eyes gazing at the American soldier. "Oh, and that is?"

"If Thomas hadn't gone back in time, then you and your colleagues may have been stranded indefinitely."

"That may be so," Wheeler mumbled. "Nonetheless, that ain't a good reason to break rules. Actions have consequences, dude."

"Ok then." Paul turned to reunite with his group. He glanced back one last time, staring at the agent standing like a guard dog in front of the steel door with glowing green and blue lights. "Just ask yourself if anyone would have done the same for you."

Without waiting to gauge the agent's reaction, Paul sauntered off to report to Akh.

---

"Pssh!" Akh chuckled."It serves him right for acting like an individualist. He could have doomed us all, to say the least. If you ask me, he got off easier than expected. For all it's worth, Kenneth might have had us put to death for endangering the lives of-"

"Vell, he had zhe true zpeereet of a varrior." Viktor glanced up from his cards as he played a round with Chenggong, Kepler, and Paul.

"You mean the true spirit of an arrogant donkey." Akh scoffed.

"Vell, eef I recall from Egyptian heeshtory, you vere never involved in a military conflict, vhich may be vhy you shpeak lowly of warriors." Kepler smirked at the Pharaoh.

"Hey now!" Akh frowned. "A lot of battles are won without bloodshed, right?" The disgraced Pharaoh glanced over at Chenggong and Xinyi in the corner where the group was resting and regaining their bearings after yesterday's ordeal.

"I don't know where you heard that." The Ming rebel shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, no Chinese pheerosopher ever suggested taht. Perhaps Xinyi may know as he hairs from the ancient dynasties."

Akh watched from the chair he was perched in as the two Chinese men conversed. He felt like he was back in Amarna on his throne, presiding over important matters as a Pharaoh should. After what seemed like minutes, the Ming pirate turned to address him.

"No, I am afraid Xinyi has no recorrection of such a proverb. Perhaps you shood check your sources next time."

Akh seethed as the rest of the squad, minus Thomas, laughed at him. He heard Lanre, who was leaning against the blue wall, mutter something. Tutankhamun, or Tutankhaten as Akh liked to refer to him as, stared up at his father, looking like he was holding back laughter.

"What's so funny, Tut?"

Tut, who couldn't reign in his laughter much longer, burst out howling. "Lanre says that you should take up a sword some time. If only you had half the gall Thomas had, your reign would last much longer than it had."

"Urgh!" Akh slammed his hands down on the chair handles in frustration. How dare they mock him! "We will see whose methods are more prone to success once you guys get yourselves killed in fruitless violence due to your headstrong natures."

Above the motley crew, the bright lights dimmed a bit, signaling that evening was approaching outside the walls of their prison, known to the public as the Museum. As Akh went over to his makeshift bed located between the area Tut and Paul claimed as their own, he thought he noticed Chenggong stand in the middle of the basement's hallway. Peering closer, he thought he saw the Chinese rebel glancing longingly at one of the time machines down the hall, its lights simultaneously flashing various colors .

"Is there a problem?" Akh strolled beside the man.

Chenggong jumped as if an enemy warrior had snuck upon him. "No, there is no probrem at arr. I was having frashbacks to my warrior days. Taht is arr. Nothing more, nothing ress."

"Alright, I apologize for scaring you like that. Dear Aten, you men of war just love to gloat, don't you? Is it my fault that I prefer to preserve the ways of my kingdom by peaceful methods rather than scuffling over every small slight?"

Akh harrumphed as he returned to his quarters, lying down in the linen mattress cover, decorated with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. He preferred ones where Aten was shining his bright rays down on the people, but there was no alternative to the one he had salvaged from the Museum's gift shop. It didn't take long for him to descend into a deep slumber.

---

After lying prone on the blanket that served to make the cold hard museum floor easier to bear, Chenggong glanced over to his left to see Xinyi on his side of the room, snoring quite loudly. Since the Ming leader had no other roommates, he convinced himself that the coast was clear and no one would halt his advance. Rising from his resting place, the pirate stored his sword and some provisions inside his leather bag before making his way toward his destination.

I hope I am making the right decision. If Thomas could attempt it, why can't I?

Koxinga appeared in the hall, taking care to tiptoe so his footsteps wouldn't arouse his fellow time travelers or Kenneth's security forces. Scanning his vicinity, the Oriental warrior noted that the hallway was as dark as a shadow, the only source of light coming from the time machine ahead. Soon, he came upon his destination and gazed at it with a giddy expression. He hadn't felt like this since he and his forces had expelled the Dutch occupiers from the island of Taiwan. He would use the lull in missions as an opportunity to resume command of his forces and hopefully restore the Ming empire to its former glory.

I've spent too much time with my group. While it is true that I may miss their company, I have an objective to attend to. Once I am successful in my bid to overthrow the stinky Manchu pigs, I will return to assist in liberating them from this prison.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Startled by the outburst, Chenggong drew his sword and turned to face the speaker. He relaxed slightly as he recognized the speaker as Mr. Chan, one of Kenneth's agents whom they had rescued from Thomas's period. Upon seeing Chenggong, the agent frowned as he shined his flashlight at the Ming warrior's face.

"What are you doing up at this hour?"

Seeing the agent revert back to the simplified form of Chinese, Chenggong was able to understand him better, but only slightly.

"Well...I had trouble sleeping so I decided to-"

Upon seeing the agent reach for one of the pockets of his blue and red combat uniform, Chenggong poked his sword at the man's throat.

"Please don't make me hurt you, Chan. You are a good man and it is shameful to put down a good man."

Mr. Chan glared at mischief-maker as the sword nicked his throat a bit, drawing some blood. "You are in big trouble."

Suddenly, Chan's eyes grew wide before he crumpled to the ground, bleeding profusely. The space where the time traveling agent once stood was now occupied by a familiar figure, brandishing a bloody katana.

"Hijikata-san!" Chenggong greeted the samurai with a polite bow. "What brings you here in the dead of the night?"

The tall samurai, his long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, sheathed his weapon."I have an important mission awaiting me that I must undertake. What brings you here?"

"The same thing, more or less," Chenggong replied, his eyes on the twitching body of the agent. "I really don't think taking him out was imperative. I would have talked him out of ratting us out."

"I am sure Kenneth's dogs would still be loyal to their master or otherwise they would be like ronin, lost and without a cause. They are no different from samurai warriors like myself." Hijikata entered the time machine, glancing at the colorful interior of the machination.

"Where to you plan to travel?" Chenggong entered the time machine as well.

"Back to my period on the year 1868 when the Boshin War claimed the lives of many of my countrymen and brothers. I intend to make sure this war's outcome doesn't end up the way it did. We have the power to alter the past. Think of how many lives we could rescue from the clutches of death." The bright lights of the control panel gave the Shinsengumi warrior's determined expression an ominous appearance.

"You have a good point, but I plan on returning to my own time period to tackle my own issues." The Ming warrior glanced longingly at the controls.

"We can do that after we pay my era a visit." Hijikata bent over the control panel, ready to operate the machine. "Besides, how long has it been since you last set foot in Japan?"

"Not since my mother committed harakiri." Chenggong felt a dull ache in his chest. "I relent. I will accompany you to your period first. You sure no one spotted you on your way here?"

"I am positive." Hijikata Toshizo entered the coordinates. "Are you ready?" The doors slid shut with a metallic clang and the machine started to vibrate.

"Hai!"

--

"Akh, get your lazy bum up! Mr. Chong is gone!"

"What?" Akh groaned as his eyes shot open. Still a tad groggy, the Pharaoh rubbed his eyes and noticed Paul and Tut over him. "What is so important that you rouse me from my essential slumber. A Pharaoh needs his sleep to garner his strength."

"Don't give me that crap!" Paul rolled his eyes. "In case you are hard of hearing, Mr. Chong is missing and there is a dead guard taking up the space where a time machine previously occupied."

"Dear Aten, don't tell me Chenggong lost his marbles as well." Akh let out another groan before reluctantly rising, "Is there something in the water fountain that's causing everyone to go berserk?"

"Oh, you haven't seen berserk." Akh glanced to his side to see Starkad chuckling. "Apparently, Chenggong isn't the only one missing. It came to our attention that the Hijikata lad from another squad has vanished as well. It is safe to assume that the two might have been collaborating in their escapade. "

"For the love of Aten, how much more trouble can they get us into?" Akh moaned. "Very well, do we have to go after them like hounds and force them to return?"

"That's easier said than done." Paul spoke up. "For one, we have no idea where the two are trekking at the moment. I think we need to touch bases with the other team."

"You know what? I think you have a splendid idea for once," Akh concurred with the soldier. "Let's go seek them out at once."

---

"You guys know anything about this incident?"

Members of both Hijikata's as well as Chenggong's squads faced Wheeler, who was flanked by three security guards dressed in black riot gear. Starkad couldn't help but shudder at the sight of the three men standing over the body of Chan, already covered by a white shroud-like blanket.

"We weren't aware of what Hijikata or Chenggong had done or if they were even conspiring until we received the news this morning," Leonardo explained.

"I knew that dirty Jap was up to no good, " Joel, another member of Hijikata's squad, grumbled.

"For all we know, they might not be involved in the same plot," Akh explained.

"Let me remind you that the camera captured their images last night." Wheeler's eyes narrowed. "Yes, they are in big trouble now, but they will face far worse consequences if they aren't returned to the Museum. Kenneth is going to have our heads!"

"Then I assume you would want us to go after them with a time machine in order to retrieve them?" Akh inquired.

"No, they want us to sit tight until they return. Of course we must go after them!" Thomas cackled. "If I am not allowed to go back to my period, no one shall be granted the same right!" The colonist was only released from his imprisonment on the condition that he join the extraction force.

"Oh boy!" Tut exclaimed with glee. "Another mission! Who else is excited?"

"Oh, we are all thrilled." Starkad sighed as the two groups made their way to the time machines, blinking in the dim light like the Northern Lights.

---

"Here we are. Assuming that I typed in the correct coordinates, we should arrive within the grounds of Kyoto, the Imperial capital. This is also where the Shinsengumi was formed by the Bakufu."

The first thing Zheng Chenggong did as he exited the time machine was glance around his immediate vicinity in awestruck silence. The sun was shining at its zenith, only a few fluffy clouds out and about in the firmament. Cherry blossom trees, or sakura as the locals called them, dotted the grassy ground, their pinkish leaves standing amid the darker colors of the area. The Ming rebel deduced that it was almost springtime in southern Japan.

"Is this era referred to as the Bakumatsu era?" Chenggong asked.

"Hai!" His samurai companion nodded as they trudged on through the green grass toward the bustling city. Around the duo, several people milled about. Chenggong spotted a few women near the river, donning kimonos. He felt a lump in his throat as the dress reminded him of his late mother. "The Museum's Holofiles referred to this era as the Edo era, but I think of it as the late Tokugawa Ieyasu. This is around the time that the Satsuma and the Choshu made their move against the Tokugawa shogun,sparking the war that would claim the lives of many Japanese, including my brothers. "

"No reasonable-minded man ever dreams of war." Chenggong stopped to glance at several children run past the legs of working adults to put pieces of colored paper shaped like cranes into the river. Origami really brought back memories of his youth. "If the war kicked off here, where is the battle?"

Hijikata smiled at his companion as they entered the massive city. The occupiers of the streets were mostly civilians going about their routine and merchants selling their wares, but the former governor of Taiwan noted several samurai, dressed in light-colored kimonos, patrol the streets.

"Of course," Hijikata addressed the Ming rebel. "I was just getting to that. As soon as Tokugawa Yoshinobu withdrew from the city, the Shinsengumi withdrew as well under the supervision of Wakadoshiyori member Nagai Naoyuki. The shogun had fled to Osaka and then to Edo. You wonder why the shogun had run with his tail tucked between his legs on the Kaiyo Maru?"

"I am not sure, but you are going to tell me anyway." Chenggong snickered. He bumped past a man carrying a bucket of water, but never faltered in his steps.

"Alas, you know me too well." The samurai smiled. "It's due to the modern weaponry supplied by foreigners that turned the tide of the battle against the shogun. It was the reason we lost the opening battles."

"That's a shame." The Ming pirate sighed. "I was hoping we'd get to participate in the battles."

"Oh, fear not, we will." Hijikata fingered the hilt of his weapon. "Once we meet up with the rest of the Shinsengumi, we can go alleviate what remains of the shogun's army at Osaka. I trust that your resolve and your devotion to Bushido will be trusted, Tagawa Fukumatsu."

Chenggong's spirits soared upon being referred to by his Japanese name. "Hai! I couldn't ask for a better opportunity."

---

"You better not have goofed up this time, Akh."

The Pharaoh shot Starkad a dirty look as the group disembarked onto the foreign land. Since no one knew exactly what period of the war the two deserters had traveled to,each group decided to split between the two-year conflict. Chenggong's squad had traveled to the beginning of the conflict while Hijikata's traveled to the conclusion to see which squad could locate and extract the deserters first. They were to report their progress to Wheeler or the other agents on tablets handed to them. It took a lot of cajoling to keep Wheeler from accompanying the groups or sending agents with them.

"Hold it!" Akh raised a hand. The squad members turned their attention to him. "We will be walking in the middle of a war zone so keep your guard up. Keep any weapons you have with you as you may need them." Att that moment, the Pharaoh stepped on something wet. Glancing downward, he noticed a red substance staining his sandal. That was when a coppery scent came up to his nostril.

Oh Aten, I pray to thee that I did not just step on what I think I stepped on.

"Is that blood?" His son, Tut, pointed out. "It must have come from that corpse."

"Vell, vhere elze deed eet come from?" Viktor sniggered.

As the crickets chirped through the night, Akh glanced where everyone's eyes were glued at. On the blood-soiled earth lay a prone body. Upon scrutinizing the dark-garbed corpse, Akh noted that the man's face was indistinguishable. It was as if a boulder had crushed his face. As if the chilly night wasn't bad enough, the ominous appearance of a mutilated corpse caused a chill to run down the Pharaoh's spine.

"Ach! Zhere are more!"

Akh glanced up to see where Kepler had pointed and spotted the corpses littering the field they had come upon, causing the Pharaoh's fright levels to rise.

I have a bad feeling.

A loud explosion echoed across the field, causing the group to dive down to the floor. In a matter of seconds, the sounds of weapons discharging filled the air. It wasn't long before the shouting of combatants rocked the ground. Glancing up, Akh noticed individuals dressed in either blue and white or dark clothing rush out into the middle of the bloody field and clash. They were reinforced by cavalry as well as heavy weapons on the sides.

I assume we found our war, but where is Chenggong? It will be like looking for a needle in a haystack, as the Museum patrons always say.

"You better use that wit of yours and quickly, Akh!" Thomas shouted. "The screamers are heading our way. "

"If you are so smart, why don't you assume leadership? Oh wait, you are diagnosed as a loon," Akh fired back.

"Widdershins!" Thomas cursed as he reloaded his musket. "If you refuse to give the order to fire, then we will have to make our own choices. We are all granted the right to bear arms for good reasons."

"Hey, I'm the Pharaoh, not some turncoat!"

"Guys, shut up!" Paul snapped as he crouched on the ground and aimed his Browning semi-automatic."We have crazy gooks almost upon us and you have the nerve to yammer back and forth? Why don't you use that chance to mow them down like blades of grass?"

"Kid eez right." Viktor smirked. Soon, the shouting wave of samurai donning light color kimonos were upon them. Akh was pleased to see that the group had cut their gibberish and united in pushing back the assault. If only Akh had a gun, he would gladly join the party.

"On your right!"

Akh glanced up to see a samurai bring down his sword. Thinking quickly, the Pharaoh rolled to his right and used the sword Starkad had gifted him to slice through the enemy's tendons. Seeing the samurai warrior collapse, Akh crawled over to him and finished him off.

Aten's rays! That felt so good.

The Pharaoh, his ego back in full gear, smirked as he rose. "Who's next?"

---

I will teach these Western dogs that resistance is futile!

Letting out a shout, Zheng Chenggong swung his newly acquired katana at the Choshu samurai, meeting the enemy combatant in battle. To his left, Osaka castle loomed large, its white and red tiles silhouetted in the waning sunlight. Pagoda buildings were yet another reminder of his home.

I will display to my foe what the true meaning of Bushido is. After all, it seems that Western teachings had corrupted his mind on what the life of an Eastern warrior is ought to be.

Bellowing out in fury, Chenggong unleashed a flurry of strokes, disarming his foe. Before the enemy samurai could retrieve his weapon, the Ming warrior fell upon him like a snake and ended his life. Glancing up, he spotted several of what was left of the daimyo's foes engaging the Meiji forces. According to Hijikata, the Meiji restoration was ruining the samurai way of life and now Chenggong was so immersed in the cause that he'd die before letting the samurai disappear from the pages of history. After all, his mother's side of the family consisted of samurai.

"Death to the emperor!" Chenggong screamed as he came upon two Satsuma militiamen and gave them a taste of his new katana. As the soldiers crumpled to their death, Chenggong glanced up to see a few Aizu and Kuwana soldiers arrive to back him up. He had great respect for these soldiers as they had made their way all the way from their provinces to reinforce the Bakufu's beleaguered forces.

"They are about to fire!" One of the soldiers pointed at the cannons brought forth by the modernized enemy. Suddenly, gunshots rang out and the Aizu soldier that had made the outburst, fell over in a bloody heap. Chenggong and a few others had thrown themselves onto the ground as the cannons boomed out their responses in succession. As the dust cleared and the ringing in the Ming rebel's ears cleared, the sight of several enemy reinforcements on horseback greeted him. It wasn't long until the Kangun forces overwhelmed the outnumbered Bakufu warriors. As the screams of his fellow warriors reached his ears, Chenggong glanced around frantically for Hijikata, he saw the Aizu and Kuwana warriors falling to enemy fire.

Goodness! How could this happen?

Suddenly, a hand yanked the Ming soldier away from the advancing Imperials. Chenggong's heart leapt with joy as he noticed that the owner of the hand was none other than Hijikata.

"Tagawa-san, we need to leave now. The daimyo has defected and we are outnumbered by the enemy. The castle will fall soon enough. It is time for us to board the Fujiyama and regroup with the Shinsengumi, my brothers. The shogun is aboard the American warship, the USS Iroquois, before he joins us in Edo. We will be accompanied by Jules Brunet and Admiral Takeaki in this tactical withdrawal."

"Wait, I thought you said the shogun had escaped in the Kaiyo Maru." Chenggong crossed his arms.

"Hai!" Hijikata nodded. "He did, but not before spending a night on the American ship. Come now! We risk throwing our lives away if we remain here for much longer."

As the two fled toward the nearest port, Chenggong glanced back to see the enemy forces now stabbing the bodies of what used to be his allies to make sure they were dead. Blood-curdling screams of dying soldiers brought the pirate chills. He had been forced to witness that ghastly scene during Fujian's fall to the Manchu barbarians. Chenggong forced himself to glance away from the gut-wrenching sight of the ongoing massacre and fixate on the yellowish and violet sky of the early twilight ahead.

---

"Hah!"

Lanre and a samurai exchanged blows with their swords. Lanre's longsword may have contained a stronger blade, but what his opponent lacked in his weapon was made up by his dexterity.

This warrior may lack any sort of armor, but his speed and skills with that tiny blade make him a dangerous opponent.

Lanre gritted his teeth in as pain shot up his left shoulder like a crossbow bolt. His opponent had cut through his left shoulder, leaving a bloody gash.

Argh! Alright, enough playing around. It's time to end this!

Parrying two more blows from the enemy, Lanre cut his opponent's side, causing the samurai to falter in his attack. Seeing his chance, the Knights Templar kicked the wounded enemy against a tree. Before the samurai could absorb his fate, Lanre pierced his chest with his sword, ending his life. As he retracted his weapon, he glanced to his left to spot Starkad cutting through the enemy with his battleaxe as if they were trees. Beside him, Akh engaged the enemies who tried to blindside the Norse warrior.

That lazy Pharaoh possesses more adeptness than I thought possible. Kudos to him. That is how you lead your people.

Hearing movement behind him, the Templar whirled around to face a samurai dressed in dark Western-like attire approach him, his weapon drawn. If he had recalled correctly from Wheeler's briefing, that man must have been a Satsuma soldier. The Satsuma and the Choshu had become the pawns of the Imperial government as a result of the Satcho alliance and now they were had joined forces in order to defeat the traditional Japanese forces under the shogun in an effort to modernize. The war didn't concern the Crusader as long as they were able to extract their friend.

Come hither and meet your doom, man of war.

As Lanre drew his weapon to claim another victim, the Japanese soldier cried out as he fell to the ground. Behind him stood Xinyi, Chenggong's pet. Lanre raised his hand to show gratitude as the men resumed battling the enemy.A couple blasts, coming from cannons similar to the ones from Thomas's era, thundered through the darkness of the field. The French warrior then saw a glimmer of blue making a dash to the nearest cover, one of the few trees bearing cherry blossoms which had yet to bloom. Dodging and parrying blows from the enemy, the Medieval warrior pounced on the startled man, placing the tip of his sword at the man's throat. What stuck out to the Crusader was that the man had the appearance of a European rather than an Asian citizen.

"Who are you?" Lanre questioned the man. To his surprise, the man grumbled in French. The Crusader decided to revert back to his mother tongue. "What is a Frenchman doing in Japan amid a civil war?"

The man cocked a brown eyebrow, the same color as his shoulder-length hair. "I am merely advising the shogun's troops in order to fight the Imperialist scum. Tokugawa Yoshinobu and Enomoto Takeaki pay people like me to ensure that their troops have an edge of Prince Akihito and his Satcho lackeys. Our British rivals, on the other hand, our aiding the Empire of Japan against us. "

"Is that so?" Lanre mused."I have a question for you. If you can answer it, then I may spare your life."

The Frenchman gazed up at the knight with bright blue eyes. "What can I do for you?"

Lanre took a breath and listened to the shouts and screams of the dying warriors before speaking. "We are looking for a man that looks like the locals, but is dressed in armor like this." He reached down to his pockets to retrieve the photo.

---

"Remember to aim for the cavalry or the men with the firearms that turn our way. Keep your eyes peeled, especially for the soldiers manning the artillery."

Tut nodded as he crouched with Paul, Thomas, and Viktor between some of the shrubs in order to stay out of sight. Thomas just snorted.

"Since when did you start giving orders, soldier boy?"

"Shhh! Here zhey come!"

Heeding Viktor's warning, Tut lay low among the shrubs and as the Japanese soldiers drew closer, he let out a burst from his submachine gun, gifted to him by Paul. Thankfully, the soldier had trained the young Pharaoh on its usage. It filled the young man with glee as he watched soldiers fall like leaves to his weapon. Beside him, Thomas knocked men off their horses with his musket while Paul aimed for the nearest cannons that were a bit too close for comfort. The battlefield was a chaotic mess, bodies and weapons littering the grass.

"Hey, isn't that guy Mr. Chong's buddy?" Paul pointed toward the tree line.

Tut peered out through the tall blades of grass and noticed a samurai dressed in blue dueling one of the Westernized soldiers. "I don't think so, but it sure does look like him. Could he be one of the warriors they call the Shinsengumi?"

"Maybe." Viktor took careful potshots at soldiers who drifted too close to their position."Perhapz vee keep heem alive and zhen question heem about Chenggong's prezence. Tell you vhat. Let uz azzizt heem." Tut watched curiously as Viktor took careful aim and fired his rifle. However, the Russian sniper's elbow had shifted by a bit, resulting in the shot to go wide and strike the samurai's shoulder by mistake.

"Chert!" The Soviet cursed."At leazt zhe force of my bullet zheefted him, zparing heez life."

"Um, okay then, if you insist." Paul glanced at Tut and shrugged. "I think we should focus on getting out of the battlefield now. Seriously, whose idea was it to get involved in a war that doesn't concern us."

---

"So this is Edo? It is even more alluring than Kyoto."

The sight of towering buildings bearing red and black tiles amid paved roadways greeted Chenggong's sight. The Japan of his childhood before his move to Fujian Province seemed to have morphed into a country with larger cities overtaking smaller villages. This was what the people back at the Museum referred to as gentrification. Nonetheless, it was a welcome sight as opposed to seeing his fellow soldiers being massacred by a tyrannical force. He wasn't even sure that he could shake their screams off of his mind.

"It should be. It is the Tokugawa shogun's birthplace and seat of power," Hijikata replied.

As the sun set behind Mt.Fuji, lanterns glowed like fireflies amid the shops and homes of the city as the two Asian warriors hailing from different eras strolled through the street before stopping at what Chenggong assumed was a dojo. Hijikata slid the door open as they entered the structure.

"Hijikata-san! Long time no see!It is good to have you back, brother!"

The speaker, a man with a shaved head, stood among a few other men inside the bright dojo. The Ming commander noted that the men were dressed in similar attire to Hijikata, marking them as members of the Shinsengumi. If he recalled correctly, Hijikata Toshizo was the vice commander.

"Indeed, Saitou-san." Chenggong's samurai ally chuckled. "I hope I didn't miss much."

A second samurai spoke up. "You are just in time to join us for a new campaign in Katsunuma."

"Nagakura-san, you know I love a great battle." Hijikata then placed a hand on Chenggong's shoulder. "My friend Tagawa Fukumatsu will be accompanying us if that's fine with you."

The one called Saitou cocked his head to the side as his eyes fell on the newcomer. Chenggong tensed as he felt all eyes inside the room bore on him. "Is your new friend trustworthy?"

"Hai." The vice commander nodded. "I have seen him in battle a couple times with my own eyes. He will make a fine addition to our force."

"If Hijikata-san trusts him, I have no reason not to."

Zheng Chenggong peered into the back of the room to see a tall man with his arm in a sling. "Forgive me for being so candid, but what happened to your arm?"

The wounded man chuckled. "Oh, I took a bullet from one of the foreign guns supplied to the enemy. It seems to have come from one their weapons that has a longer range, as opposed to the ones our Satsuma and Choshu foes use."

Zheng Chenggong bristled a bit. He recalled that Viktor's gun had a scope and could fire a bullet from several leagues away. It couldn't be!

"The man you just spoke to is the founder of the Shinsengumi as well as my friend Kondo Isami," Hijikata informed the pirate. "Come,let us go prepare for the long battles ahead of us. I will make sure that things will go our way this time."

Chenggong wondered what the samurai had meant, but shrugged it off. He had bigger fish to fry.

---

"Guys, I have received a message from Wheeler."

All eyes turned to Paul, who was sporting the book-sized tablet in his hands. Ever since the Battle of Toba-Fushimi had concluded, the group had taken refuge inside the time machine before setting out to scour the area for their comrade and possibly his accomplice. It was safe to stay out of public eye for a while as anti-foreigner sentiment was high due to the involvement of the British and the French in the war. Not long after they had camped out in the country, samurai had massacred several French sailors in the Sakai incident while most recently, Sir Harry Parkes the British ambassador to Japan had been roughed up by samurai as well. It was getting dangerous in the country and it was in their best interest to nab their renegade friend and hightail it out of this accursed land.

Why am I back here again? I feel like I had journeyed this exact same era and location, only it felt different.

Thomas gritted his teeth as he felt his fists clench. Something about this era was making him uneasy. He might have acquired what modern-day people referred to as post-traumatic stress disorder.

Alas, I am losing myself to my emotions yet again. I need to regulate my breathing.

"Vell? Vhat doesh he vant?" Kepler inquired.

"Come and see." Paul held up the tablet.

Thomas peered over and noticed a wall of green text on the black background of the device. It seemed that the agent in charge of their operation wanted to touch bases already.

Well, have you found them yet?

"What shall I tell him?" Paul gulped.

"Say we are working on it." Akh grumbled. "Chenggong has proved to be an elusive prey."

Paul typed in his response.

We are working on it, sir. Just a little longer, please.

After the soldier selected the send button, the text disappeared with a popping sound. Thomas gritted his teeth as the irritating sound pierced his ears. Soon, a ringing sound signaled a response from their commander.

You mean you haven't found those deserters yet? For Pete's sake, how hard is it to find two fugitives? Work harder because Gregory is literally breathing down my neck. If you don't find those two soon, I may be forced to generate a report to Kenneth about this incident.

Akh seethed as he read through the response. "He acts as if this game of cat and mouse will end the instant we spot our targets.Dear Aten, if he thinks it's that easy, then tell him to get his hands dirty as well."

Paul typed a response and sent it to their recipient with a popping sound. Akh's skin paled as he took it all in.

"Did you just send my diatribe to the agent? You numbskull! Why would you do that?"

"You didn't say not to. " Paul shrugged. "Besides, we share your concerns, your highness."

Thomas turned away as the bantering started. Recently, they had fought through a couple battles and witnessed a naval battle they later learned from their database that it was called the Battle of Awa. It was already shocking enough that the Japanese possessed modern arms like howitzers and Gatling guns, but now that they had frigates and even an ironclad ship, this spelled a recipe for disaster.

"Ve musht conshider our rationsh," Kepler spoke up. "Ve are running low at zhe moment. God knowsh how much longer ve musht linger until Chenggong ish dischovered."

Lanre muttered something before Tut used his device to translate. "The German is correct. We are running dangerously low on supplies. Who will take the first shift?"

---

"Run for it, my brothers!" Kondo shouted. "Flee now and live to fight another day!"

"No!" Hijikata shouted. "We are brothers till the end! I will not leave you!"

Chenggong glanced over as he cut down two Satsuma infantrymen. The Shinsengumi captain was outnumbered and encircled by the Ishin Shishi. The Ming warrior and Hijikata attempted to fight their way over to him, but for every enemy soldier they had cut down, three more took the place of their fallen comrade.

"Hijikata-san, as a samurai, this is my destiny. I have lived the life of a warrior and I am fully prepared to die like one. That is the way of the warrior. My life in exchange for you and the rest of the Shinsengumi. Go now!"

Chenggong blinked back tears as he sliced through the Imperial forces, coming to engage him. It was not long after the battle of Utsunomiya castle where Kondo Isami was captured by the enemy yet the memory still stung like a fresh wound. Here, the Shinsengumi as well as what remained of the scattered Bakufu troops reinforced their Aizu allies against the siege of their land.

How is it that I just recently met Hijikata-san's companions and I feel like I have known them as long as Hijikata-san himself?

Chenggong felt a lump in his throat as he squared off against enemy swordsmen in the snowy battlefield. He had made sure to leave the enemy marksman to the archers who were positioned either behind their ranks or to the side. He had promised himself that they would rescue Kondo from Imperial hands and make sure he lived long enough to fight by their side. Instead, the Ishin Shishi decapitated him and hung his head for their enemies to see on a pike at Itabashi. Chenggong vowed to personally disembowel the executioner, Yokokura Kisoji.

I will make sure they pay in blood. All of them. Who in their right mind trades their unique culture in order to compete with the rest of the world? I fought tooth and nail to keep the Qing and the Dutch from taking what remained of my beloved China and now I'll accomplish the same feat for my Japanese brothers.

Letting out a loud shout, Chenggong struck his katana across the chest of the nearest soldier as the used his left foot to catch the second off-balance. He made sure to finish off both of his opponents with deep thrusts to their stomachs. He let all of his fury power his strokes. The thundering of the cannons resounded across the valley, sending snow spurting into the air. Hungry for the blood of the traitors of Japanese identity, Chenggong pounced upon an Imperial as he leaded his firearm, cutting him down in the process. Hearing clicks, the bloodthirsty avenger turned to see several Choshu and Satsuma soldiers aim their guns at him.

Could this be it? Will I meet my end as a warrior?

Letting out cries of shock and pain, Chenggong's would-be killers collapsed, staining the snow with their blood. Byakkotai samurai, native to Aizu, emerged from behind a nearby snowy brush as they pounced on the Ishin Shishi soldiers, tearing into them like tigers. It seems that the meaning of Byakkotai, literally 'The White Tigers', suited these young men well. They needed to be fierce in order to survive as the Bakufu, more specifically Otori Keisuke, had abandoned these young warriors after their defeat at the Battle of Bonari Pass and they were left to fend for themselves in the siege of Tsuruga Castle with only Chenggong, Saito, and some Shinsengumi samurai as their reinforcements.

The Bakufu has made a grave error in judgement by abandoning these young men. Their prowess in battle is vital to the cause.

Chenggong wished that Hijikata was able to fight alongside himself in this battle. The reason for the vice commander's absence was due to an injury he received in the same battle that they had lost their leader. This had resulted in the Shinsengumi to be scattered and on the run, but that didn't stop them from partaking in the fight against the Imperialists. The Ming rebel had vowed to fight until the end for a cause that wasn't necessarily his own, but one that he could relate to.

"Get down!"

Hearing the order, Chenggong knew better than to second guess it. The warrior threw himself to the ground as the Ishin Shishi's Gatling guns rattled off responses, throwing snow in the frigid air. The sunny sky was a foil to the storm of battle raging below. Two Satsuma militants bustled around the snow-covered vegetation and the bodies staining the snow red to take advantage of the confusion created by the Gatling guns and finish off what little remained of the Aizu forces and their allies. It wasn't long before they came upon the Ming pirate crouched in the bloody snow, stained by the bodies of soldiers cut down by the guns. Letting out a shrill yell, Chenggong leapt up to strike them before they could make a move. He disarmed the first with a quick stroke of his sword before decapitating him. The second tried to blindside him, but he parried a blow and kicked his legs out from under of him. Aiming his sword at the man's throat, Chenggong took a couple breaths to steady himself before speaking.

"How can you let your culture become soiled with influences by foreign influences?" He demanded. "It's this reason that my beloved Ming Dynasty fell apart to the barbarians. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Before the wounded soldier could open his mouth to reply, the sound of a horn went out. Everyone stopped what they were doing and froze. The battle, which was raging on seconds earlier, ceased. Chenggong took his attention away from his downed opponent and glanced around, trying to discern what was going on. His eyes then fell on Saito, who stood among the bodies of the fallen near the base of a hill. Catching his eye, the Shinsengumi's third unit captain motioned him over.

"What is going on?" Chenggong demanded. "Why did the battle halt?"

"It appears that Katamori Matsudaira has reached his limits after a month-long siege."

Chenggong seethed as he registered the older samurai's response.

This can't be happening. If our losses continue to mount, then the Bakufu and Hijikata-san's men are done for.

---

Merciful Aten, how long do we have stay camped out in this chilly night? I don't know if I can take one more night.

Inside the time machine, Akhenaten was accompanied by Kepler, Tut, Thomas, and Xinyi as Lanre, Starkad, Paul, and Viktor were searching for supplies. After that major battle, it had been some months that they had remained in the isolated Japanese countryside, awaiting any sign of Hijikata or Chenggong, but all they received was radio silence. To add salt to the wound, Wheeler was constantly nagging to them about their progress, or lack of, and threatened to report them to Kenneth or Gregory.

I swear that I am going to strangle Chenggong once we find him. It started off with Thomas and his stupidity. Now, we find ourselves in the same situation with Chenggong. Oh me, oh my!

"Guys, we have a message from the other squad!"

Akh's head perked up at his son's outburst. "Did they find him?"

"They had managed to recover Hijikata, but Chenggong managed to elude them," Tut explained. "They have sent us the coordinates of his whereabouts and it is up to us to track him down. "

"Itsh about time zhey found him." Kepler steadily rose from where he was seated in the machine and stretched. "I need to move my shtiff legs."

"We should be contacting the others." Thomas adjusted his hat. "We mustn't dilly dally much longer lest we lose him. Who knows if we will ever recover him again?"

"You are one to talk."Akh glared at the colonial defector. "You lead us on a wild goose chase yourself not too long ago."

Xinyi shouted something. It took a second for Tut's device to translate.

"Here they come!"

---

"Urgh!"

Chenggong used all of his momentum to ram into the Imperial soldier and send the both of them tumbling over the snowy hill. The wind had tossed Chenggong's long hair around as he rise to his feet. After a string of defeats, the newly formed Ezo republic, consisting of the remnants of the Bakufu troops as well as their French advisers, had moved up to the island of Hokkaido where they were taking a beating from the Meiji forces.Despite being against foreign forces stationed among the Japanese, Chenggong knew they were essential to match the modernized military the Imperials possessed. After all, he had an Italian and a Dutch adviser who had assisted him in fighting the Qing and retaking Taiwan for China.

If they could come for HIjikata-san, then they will likely come for me next. I will make sure that the war will turn in the Ezo's favor.

According to what Hijikata had informed him of his era, this was the battle he was supposed to have been killed in action and it would lead to the subsequent dissolution of the Shinsengumi. The Ming warrior was dead set on winning this battle. It might not make much of a difference at the moment, but if they can buy time, maybe they would receive more foreign aid from their French allies as well as recruits from like-minded Japanese people. He knew that he would have to race against time in order to accomplish it before he fell in battle or his companions arrived to abduct him from this beautiful country.

Akh and the others want to take me back to that prison, let them try. I won't go back without a fight.

Shaking the snow off of his blue cloak, Zheng Chenggong proceeded to skirmish with the Imperial soldier, trying to nail another kill. His katana's blade as stained blood red from the countless Imperial scum he had slain. A few strokes and parries later, he had claimed another life.

It's time for me to regroup with the main force.

As he climbed up the snowy foothill, he came upon a familiar object blocking his view of the battle. Freezing up in terror, he had recognized it as the time machine.

It can't be! How could they have appeared at the worst time possible?

The doors slid open, revealing his squad standing in the doorway. Akh stepped forward, his shivering frame wrapped in a sheepskin cloak.

"Chenggong, you have played quite a game of cat and mouse with us, but I am afraid it is over. You will return home with us or we will drag you by force. This has gone on too long."

"Never!" Chenggong rose his weapon in a challenging manner. "You wirr have to kirr me first."

"We don't have time for this!" Akh sighed, tightly wrapping the cloak around himself. "If you won't come, we will do this the hard way."

"So we sharr." Chenggong was prepared to fight until the end. "My peopre have suffered for too rong and I wirr arreviate teir pain."

"Excuse me, did you call denizens from a different era your people?" Starkad's bright blue eyes narrowed. "In case you didn't know, switching the outcome of this battle will deter history forever with possibly disastrous effects for the rest of us."

"Indeed tey are. I wirr be damned if I ret the old ways witehr away in the pages of history!"

"If I may?" Tut detached himself from between the throng. "I studied some logs about you as we were searching for you and I read that your doctor had diagnosed you with depressive insanity and syphilis. Perhaps this is interfering with your logic."

Chenggong was livid as he clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. The wind flapped his hair in the air as he stared down his companions. "How dare you accuse me of such nonsense! I wirr kirr you if you interfere wiht my mission!"

"Yep, he has gone off the deep end." Paul nodded. He glanced at Akh. "Shall we knock him out?"

Bellowing in rage, Chenggong charged at the throng of his former friends, swinging his sword, only to be met with a challenge from Xinyi. The two Chinese men stared each other down for a while, anger radiating from each other like fire from a kiln.

"Stand down or I'll kill you," Xinyi countered.

"Step aside!" Chenggong hissed.

"That does it!" Thomas took a step toward his former friend. "If I can't return to my era, nobody shall receive the same right!"

With that, he zapped the Ming rebel with an oblong object. Chenggong felt as if a million lightning bolts ran through his body, shuddering for several seconds before being pacified. His eyes landed on the horizon where the white met the dark blue evening sky. The landscape was dotted with the broken and bloody bodies of what used to be his close friends in his short time in this period.

Goodbye, my brothers. I am sorry I failed you. You as well, Hiijikata-san.Now the old way of life has vanished, never to be found again. May my ancestors curse my name forever.

"Guys, help me take this big lug aboard. Perhaps Wheeler will not rat us out to Kenneth."

Feeling his eyes glisten with unshed tears, the defeated warrior passed out.

Spot 6: RondaRayl

***

After Jackson lost his wife and child, he couldn't sleep, so he went to the training room and started punching the punching bag. With each blow, he muttered about everything that angered him.

Catalina still missed Thomas and especially speaking with him. They had been through a lot, so she took the time to shower, eat, and rest.

Astrid was worried about Jackson, but decided to give him his space and let him grieve alone.

Richard and Marcus both talked about battle tactics from each of their own eras.

Alan explored the Museum until he found more Frenchmen from his time period. He found some servants and convinced them to fix him a meal. So he sat down to eat the large meal that they presented.

Norman was at the computer doing research on future timelines and he tried to figure out where they would go next. During his research, he found out about the Native Americans and learned that they were oppressed and mostly killed and put on reservations. This made Norman angry because he, too, understood what it was like to be oppressed. After being on a concentration camp, he wanted to finally do something to help.

He found Jackson and Astrid and told them what he had learned and told them his story. "I can't just let this happen. We need to go back and change history."

Jackson immediately agreed. He told them how he was a slave in America and was more than happy to see it changed in favor of the Native Americans.

Astrid, on the other hand, understood what it was like to be called barbaric when she wasn't. Neither were the Native Americans, so she agreed too.

Norman told them that the Battle of the Little Bighorn was the biggest battle with the soldiers and that the Native Americans won because they had been united. If they went back and kept them united after the battle, then it could change their history.

Together, the three of them went to the time machine. Norman set the date to June 21, 1876, just before the Battle of the Little Bighorn began.

Meanwhile, Catalina had overheard them so she ran and told Marcus, Richard, and Alan what happened. The four of them rushed to the time machine and snuck inside just before it left.

***

When they all landed, Richard confronted Jackson, Astrid, and Norman. "What do you think you're doing? You cannot change history!"

Jackson said, "You butt out of this. This is something we all have to do."

Richard said, "You're wrong. You cannot do this!"

Jackson growled. "I will kill you here and now. Nothing is going to stand in my way!"

Richard said, "Oh, you think so, huh?"

Jackson lifted up his right hand and swung it which knocked Richard to the ground in surprise. Richard jumped up and swung his right hand to hit Jackson. Jackson saw it coming and blocked it. Jackson took his left hand and hit Richard in the stomach. Richard bent over, acting like he was hurt. He grabbed Jackson and flipped him over.

Richard leaned on Jackson's chest and pounded his face several times.

Catalina ran up and told them both, "Stop it! Grow up! We cannot change the timeline. Thomas died with us trying to keep the timeline intact."

Alan and Marcus both threw up their hands in surrender. Alan said, "You guys do what you want. We're leaving."

Richard yelled, "You can't let them do this because we can't change the timeline!"

Astrid grabbed the back of Richard's collar and threw him off Jackson. "You... have no choice. You... outnumbered." Norman stepped up beside her as Jackson got to his feet.

Astrid, Norman, and Jackson left the machine and ran off.

Alan looked at Richard in the eyes. "There are other ways to stop them."

Richard said, "Yeah, you're right. We can help Custer and keep things the same."

***

Astrid, Norman, and Jackson ran across the open praire. The moon and stars were out; it was a lovely night. They could hear the water from the Bighorn River running nearby.

Norman said, "We don't have much time. The fight is going to start soon. We have to hurry. This is the Bighorn River so we are not far away from the camp. We should be coming up to it soon."

At that time, a Native American woman walked alongside the river with her baby. She shouted, "Wasichu! Wasichu!" At that time, some of the warriors heard her and they ran to her to see what was going on.

Jackson raised his hands and said, "We're here in peace."

One of the warriors was broad-shouldered, long hair braided with a bow and quiver on his back. "Why have you come here?"

Norman said, "Custer is coming to attack you soon."

The warrior said, "I need to take you to my chief."

***

In one of the tipis, a medium-sized warrior with feathers in his hair sat in front of a fire going in the center with all the warriors gathered with them. He wasn't in any hurry to talk. He pulled out a pipe and smoked it for a while. After he finished, he passed it to Norman, who reluctantly took it and handed it to Astrid and then Jacskon.

When they were finally finished smoking the pipe, the chief asked why they were here.

Norman said, "Custer is coming to attack you soon."

The chief asked, "How do you know this?"

Norman said, "The Great Spirit has showed me a vision of your future. If you don't stand together in unity, you will die and will be put in white camps under their control."

The warriors started talking all at once.

The medicine man stepped up and motioned them to be quiet with his hands. In their language, he said, "Everyone leave except for the tribe leaders and we will discuss this on our own."

Norman understood him with the translator. Norman said, "You don't have much time to discuss this. We need action. Now."

The chief noticed that Norman understood their own language, so he thought maybe the Great Spirit really did speak to him in a vision. Then another warrior came up and said, "Custer and his men are coming!"

The warriors all jumped on their horses with rifles, bows, arrows, and tomahawks. They were going to fight the soldiers to protect their families and their land that the soldiers were wanting to take because of gold in the Black Hills. This was their homeland and they were prepared to defend it to the death, to every last man.

The camp itself was stretched for ten miles along the Little Bighorn River, so they had over 10,000 warriors to help defend everyone, and plenty of rested horses to switch out during the upcoming battle.

***

Marcus, Alan, and Richard decided to stay together and go help Custer. When they found the army, the soldiers took them to Custer's horse.

Custer said, "Who are you and where are you from?"

Richard said, "We are from the future and we have seen that all of you get killed."

Custer said, "Yeah, right. We're all going to get killed. All these savages will do is run. We've caught them napping!"

Richard knew it was a lost cause.

Custer put the three of them in custody and had soldiers walking with them. While the soldiers took a small break, Richard told the soldiers he had to go. They escorted him to a group of bushes where he surprised them and knocked them out. Marcus and Alan had too many soldiers around them, so he was forced to leave them behind.

***

General Terry and Custer were ordered by the United States to find and destroy the Native Americans. Their first plan was to trap the Indians between their two forces. Then on June 25, Custer decided not to do the plan when he located a large group of Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Natives and came up with another plan to attack them from three sides. He thought the Natives would run and not fight, so he thought that he, Captain Benteen, and Major Reno would have an easy win.

On June 26, Major Marcus Reno attacked first. He was surrounded by a large group of Native Americans that was three times as large as his. This caused him to retreat. He was then joined by Captain Benteen's troops.

Another large group of Indians rode to attack General Custer.

During the battle, Marcus and Alan fought with Custer and his men as the Indians surrounded them on a hilltop. Custer said, "Fight or die!"

So Custer gave them both a horse and a rifle as they fled from the Native Americans. Neither of knew how to use the rifles very well. They rode hard and fast but the Native Americans had rifles of their own and were firing shots at the soldiers.

As they turned to go up a hill, Marcus was shot in the back. He fell off the horse and Alan hopped off his horse to check on him.

Marcus coughed up blood and Alan knew it was too late. He grabbed Marcus' hand and leaned over him. He said, "I'm here, my friend."

Marcus couldn't say anything. His eyes stared out at the blue sky above him. Alan felt tears swelling in his eyes as he jumped back on his horse. A Native American shot his horse and it collapsed onto his leg.

He tried to get the horse up, but he couldn't move it, so he was trapped. Several dozen Native Americans ran toward him. He scrambled to fire his rifle, but missed. One of the Native Americans threw a tomahawk at him and it landed in his chest. Alan screamed in pain.

Another Indian came yelling as the warrior used a knife to scalp him alive. Then the Indians ran, chasing Custer and the rest of his men.

In the end, all of Custer's 231 men, including Custer, his two brothers, Tom and Boston, his brother-in-law James Calhoun and his nephew Auntie Reed, were massacred.

Hours after the battle, General Terry arrived with 450 men to discover Custer's battalion dead at the scene of the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Their bodies were stripped of clothing and ritually descrated. Reno lost 47 men.

At this, so the United States was angry and sent 2500 soldiers to the area to overwhelm the Indians and this caused the Indians to flee.

***

Jackson, Astrid, and Norman's plan failed. The Native Americans all split up according to their tribes in history the way they were supposed to.

Marcus and Alan were both shot with arrows and died slow, painful deaths during the battle.

Richard survived and returned to the time machine just as Jackson, Astrid, and Norman arrived.

"The three of us met up with Custer and tried to warn him but he wouldn't listen. We were taken into custody and I escaped but I had to leave Marcus and Alan behind. After I survived the battle with Major Reno, I went to the scene of the Battle of Little Bighorn. I found Marcus and Alan's bodies near each other. Marcus was shot and Alan had a tomahawk in his chest. He had been scalped!" he shouted in a furious voice. "They died slowly, painfully, surrounded with no hope it's all your guys' fault! They died because of you!" he screamed at them. "I hope you live with this for the rest of your life."

Catalina had stayed in the time machine to avoid the fighting. She cried and said, "More loss. First Thomas and now Marcus and Alan."

Jackson was still grieving over losing his wife and child. Now he thought about the loss of Thomas along with Marcus and Alan. He was overwhelmed with guilt; they died because the three of them tried to change things. To release his guild, he screamed loudly and punched the wall of the time machine.

Norman and Astrid both stayed quiet without saying anything, but they both felt just as guilty.

Richard said, "Let's go back. You three have lost my friendship and my trust forever."

The five of them used the time machine to go back to the Museum.

***

Spot 9: Several7s

"Something is happening in the 1800s." Rebeckah handed Naoki the tablet she'd been searching through. "Look." She gestured to the article she found and Kenneth's records alongside.

He frowned. "America becomes two separate countries?"

"Something went wrong here, and the South won the Civil war." Rebeckah chewed her lip. "My husband... so many people lost their lives fighting for America's independence. We can't let the history of my homeland be destroyed."

"Rebeckah, I do not know if we should travel there with you. It's your future, in a way. Knowing too much might destroy your chances of being able to go home. I can look at it with the others if you want."

"No." Rebeckah knew the look in his eyes. It was the same worry she saw all the time in Ezra's eyes. "I want to help fix my country's history. If I learn too much, I just won't say anything when I get back."

He sighed. "I will get the others."

***

When the group assembled at the time machine, Ujarak noticed they were short three. "Where are the others?"

Khen glanced back down the hall. "Akiko and Tia are staying behind. Tia needs time after... well..." She shoved her hands into her pockets and stared at the ground. "Akiko is staying behind with her. Naoki and I thought it would be best if she did not experience the Civil War."

"And Mary?" Rebeckah poked her head out of the time machine. "I haven't seen her all day."

"She went with Leo's crew. Something is going down in Japan. Naoki wanted to go, but she convinced him not to and went in his place," Khen explained. "It is just us this time."

"Great. Maybe Kjell can come with us? Have they gotten back yet?" Ujarak couldn't help feeling more anxious about his missing son. Nafanua and her team hadn't shown up in nearly a week now.

Khen shook her head. "No. I am starting to think..."

Rebeckah stepped between the two of them. "Stop it. They'll come back. I'm sure whatever happened, they just got sidetracked and forgot to let us know what's going on. Let's just focus on the issue at hand, alright?"

Ujarak nodded, but her words didn't put his mind at ease. Something had happened- he just didn't know what.

***

According to the documents that Rebeckah dug up, the Civil war ended far too soon, with the South's victory, instead of its defeat. Although for much of the war, the South didn't have a navy, on October 4th, 1861, they began construction of an ironclad ship — the CSS Virginia. The North couldn't sink it, but they found out about the project shortly after it began and started one of their own. When the South brought out the CSS Virginia, the North responded with the USS Monitor — a boat with a similar ironclad design.

Unfortunately, due to Kenneth's men, the spies that were supposed to report the construction of the CSS Virginia never made it back to the North, and the USS Monitor was never created. The way Naoki explained everything, the plan sounded incredibly simple- they just had to pose as spies and give the information about the CSS Virginia in time for the North to create the USS Monitor. Otherwise, the CSS Virginia would rip through the North's navy and win enough key battles to turn the tide of the war completely.

"So, we just have to pretend to be spies?" Khen slumped into her seat. "I am not a spy, Naoki. I do not think I would pass for one either."

Quiet tapping echoed through the room as Naoki drummed his fingers against the time machine's instrument panel. "That doesn't matter. We only need to convince the North that we're spies. They'll take more interest in the information we carry, anyway. But there's something else."

"What?" Rebeckah reached for the tablet. "I thought this was the only issue."

He shook his head. "One of Kenneth's men was left behind when they made the mess. Instead of trying to fix things... he found a way to broker peace between the North and the South, allowing them to remain separate and ending the war in 1863 instead of 1865."

"He found a way to cut the war in half." Khen crossed her arms. "Do we really want to do this? We are talking about doubling the length of a war, Naoki. There must have been countless deaths during that time, and we could just let it end. Maybe we should."

"No. These are my people, and I don't wish to see them suffer any more than you do, but... America fought so hard to become a united country of its own. We cannot let history change here, or all of that will be for nothing."

"Rebeckah, maybe now the South deserves to be allowed to win that same fight against America." Ujarak glanced at Khen. "Maybe Khen is right."

"It does not matter," Naoki interjected. "The only reason we haven't gone home is because we need to fix history, and that is what we must do."

***

When Naoki walked out of the changing room in uniform, Khen shivered. He looked like a soldier, and it didn't entirely sit well with her. Still, he looked nice. His hair had been tucked up into a slouch hat, so it looked like it was cut shorter than normal. His gray jacket was buttoned all the way up, without a wrinkle in sight. Below the jacket, Khen could see blue pants and a pair of black shoes.

"You look like a soldier," Rebeckah commented.

"I feel ridiculous. This material is already making me hot, and it itches." Naoki picked at the sleeve of his coat with a frown.

"It's wool." She swatted his hand away. "Now, let's go."

When they stepped out of the time machine, it was nighttime, and Khen could hear people talking nearby.

"It's a camp."

She peered through the darkness and made out a group of figures. One of them was pointing to something. When Khen followed the man's gesture, she saw a line of what looked like tents at first glance. However, she noted the distinct lack of fire, or any movement besides gentle swaying among the tents. It's just trees.

The group ran off, presumably to report the 'camp' they had found. Khen grabbed Naoki's arm. "Those men are about to report a camp that doesn't exist." Worry crept through her. This was a war- surely such a report would turn out badly for everyone involved.

"I know." He looked at her, and she could see sadness in his eyes. "But we can't stop them. Our job is to tell General Stone about the CSS Monitor and stop Kenneth's man."

Rebeckah and Ujarak stepped out of the time machine and glanced around. "What time is this?"

"October 20th, 1861. The day before the battle at Ball's Bluff." Naoki gestured to the area where Khen had seen the scouting party. "Let's follow them back to their camp."

***

It took several long conversations to get access to the camp. Having Naoki and Ujarak dressed up in Confederate uniforms didn't help either. Naoki suspected that if Rebeckah and Khen hadn't been with them, the Union soldiers would have shot them and been done with it. Instead, they were surrounded, giving them the opportunity to explain their position. After some convincing, and the mention of sensitive information about a new Confederate weapon, the soldiers agreed to escort the group to General Stone.

Walking through the Union camp, Naoki felt guilt eating at him. Most of these people would die or become prisoners of war within the next day or so. If he just told the General that the 'tents' were trees, it could all be prevented. Even so, those feelings were nothing compared to the guilt that came with knowing he had almost single-handedly destroyed his own clan.

"Stop it." Khen slipped her hand into his, speaking to him quietly in Japanese. "You have that look again."

"What look?" He glanced at her. "I don't have a look."

Her brow raised ever so slightly. "You are drawing parallels between this and your clan. You cannot blame yourself forever."

"It was my fault. I caused it. And now, when we could be saving lives — when we could even let Kenneth's men bring peace — we are forced to stop it instead. I hate that we have to be the bad guys." He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad I have you."

"And I you." She smiled up at him. "We can save people too, Naoki. Not everything we do is bad. We've prevented unnecessary wars too."

"You're right. I shouldn't focus on the bad parts."

"The soldiers are giving you guys weird looks," Ujarak interrupted. "And it's weird when you two start spouting off in Japanese like that."

"The General is inside." One of the soldiers prodded Khen forward. "She can go in. The rest of you, wait out here."

"Wait..." Naoki stepped forward to protest, but Khen held him back.

"It should only take a minute." She squeezed his hand. "I'll be fine."

***

In the tent waited a tall man, dressed in a blue uniform that closely resembled Naoki's. His hair was carefully slicked back, and he sat staring at a sheaf of papers, stroking a short beard. When he saw Khen, he set the papers down and stood.

"So, you are the spy I heard about. You aren't the person I was expecting. What happened to McClellan's man?"

"He was killed, sir." Khen fingered the cloth on the dress she was wearing and kept her eyes firmly focused on the desk. "My companions and I took his place."

Stone nodded, his brow wrinkling in a frown. "Well, what information have you brought me? My man told me you have information on a new weapon."

"The Confederates are making a special boat, sir. An ironclad."

She went on to briefly describe what she knew about it from the articles Naoki had shared. When she finished, Stone dismissed her with a wave of his hand and began hastily writing a letter.

Outside, the others stood anxiously waiting, still surrounded by Union soldiers. When she exited, the soldiers relaxed and moved away from the others. "We are to wait here for reassignment," Khen lied.

The soldiers moved away after that, leaving the group to talk. "What now?" Khen glanced at the soldiers hanging around nearby. "We have to find Kenneth's man somehow."

"Actually, we know where he'll be." Naoki pulled out the tablet. "According to some records I found, he was at the battle of Ball's Bluff and survived."

"So, we just have to shoot him during the battle, then leave?" Ujarak cracked his knuckles. "Easy enough."

"We shouldn't just murder him in cold blood," Rebeckah protested. She looked at Naoki. "He is only trying to help by ending this war sooner. He shouldn't have to die for it. Can't we just take him back? Maybe he can help us."

"He was in league with Kenneth once." Naoki tucked the tablet back into his shirt. "I will not take someone back to the museum when they are a clear risk to everyone's safety."

"We do not know that he is." Khen laid a hand on Naoki's arm. "I do not like Kenneth's men either, but we should not judge him so harshly. Can we not take him back as a prisoner? At least then, he might prove himself."

Ujarak scowled. "I don't like the idea."

"Neither do I, but they have a point. We will take him back, then, if we can. But I am not risking our safety for him. If we must, we will take him out."

***

Ujarak hefted his gun and looked down the barrel. Point and shoot... that was all there was to it. Or, that's what Naoki seemed to think, anyway. Ujarak wasn't so sure. These weren't like the guns Kenneth's men wielded. The gun he had been given was much longer — nearly six feet in length — and heavier too.

"It's time." Naoki appeared from behind a tree and gestured to the assembling ranks of men.

"The women?" Ujarak hadn't seen them since the army picked up their tents and began preparing to march.

"They will wait at the time machine. None of the men here would let them go anyway, and I am not so sure I want to either. This way, neither of them will be hurt."

"Good idea." He looked at his gun and tried to imagine Khen or Rebeckah wielding one. It wasn't a normal image — not even close.

***

They weren't fortunate enough to find Kenneth's rogue agent before the battle, leaving Ujarak and Naoki to march all the way back to the area near where they parked the time machine. In the light of day, it was soon obvious that the man who reported the Confederate camp was completely inaccurate.

When the company of men sent to raid the camp started back, gunshots echoed from the tree line. Screams of agony erupted from the front lines, and Ujarak watched as the battle descended into chaos. Union soldiers formed ranks and began to shoot back, but the Confederates had already organized and had the high ground.

A bullet whizzed by Ujarak's head, and a thump sounded behind him. He backed up, trying to get out of the firing zone, only to trip over the soldier who had died behind him. Naoki grabbed his arm and hoisted him up again.

"We have to find Kenneth's man before things get bad!"

Ujarak nodded, preoccupied with aiming his musket at the oncoming Confederates. This is wrong. Blood soaked into his clothing from the soldiers falling all around him. We could have stopped this. He pulled the trigger, unable to see well enough to aim through the smoke.

Even as he fought, he couldn't find it in him to appreciate the battle. Nothing about this was right. Soldiers weren't meant to shoot their enemies from afar. Fighting like this was meant to be up close and personal. It was a warrior's job to remember the lives he had taken, and this left no room for that. It was nothing but senseless killing.

Things deteriorated quickly. Soon, soldiers were splashing into the nearby river and trying to swim away. Ujarak saw several soldiers die there, shot down from behind. Many more drowned in their attempt to cross the river. With only four boats, escape was impossible. Blood clouded the water, causing it to run red, and still the killing did not cease. Reinforcements arrived slowly, prolonging a battle that should have been much shorter.

Hours after everything started, Ujarak couldn't stand it anymore. "We have to go!"

Naoki fired another round into the smog and lowered his rifle. "We haven't found Kenneth's man yet!"

"There's no time. If we stay, we'll die with everyone else! We can get him somewhere else!" Ujarak pulled on Naoki's arm. "Let's go!"

He stood there for a long moment before nodding his agreement. They fought their way through the battlefield back up the hill, spending most of their time hiding behind whatever they could — even dead bodies. It took time, but they managed to get back to the time machine.

Khen threw open the door as soon as they knocked, practically dragging them inside before punching the buttons to take them back to the museum.

"You guys were supposed to capture him, not kill him. Whatever you did caused him to die in battle." Rebeckah pushed the tablet across the small panel in the middle of the machine. When her eyes landed on the two of them, her jaw dropped. "You're covered in blood! Are either of you hurt? I'll get the first aid kit."

"We're fine." Naoki slumped into a seat. "Just some cuts and bruises."

Ujarak leaned against the wall, trying to quell the anger that kept growing in the pit of his stomach. "How many?" He clenched his fists. "How many died out there, Naoki?"

Naoki closed his eyes. "1,157 men. 1002 Union soldiers, and 155 Confederate."

Khen drew in a sharp breath, brown eyes wide. "So many?"

"We could have stopped it," Ujarak snapped. "Why would you let this happen? How could we let this happen? All he had to do was tell Stone that his man gave him false information. These people didn't have to die! If we hadn't interfered, maybe Kenneth's man would have stopped this senseless war and all of this killing."

A loud chime interrupted the argument. Khen picked up the tablet. "It's from Nafanua's group! It looks like it's for you, Ujarak."

Ujarak took the tablet eagerly, relieved to have word from his son. The relief gave way to horror as he read his son's words.

Dear father,

I hope this note gets to you. We don't know if anything will work. Falerius won't say it, but I know there is nothing we can do and no hope of getting back to anywhere or anytime.

We almost died before in Jamestown. Last time I didn't have a chance to tell you anything before I died. I spent weeks thinking of what I would say and how I would say goodbye. In the end, I can't say it. I don't want to die. I don't want to go to Valhalla without knowing you'll be there. That's the way it's supposed to be. I was supposed to become a man.

You taught me so much, even when you weren't with me. I know I grew. But am I truly a man? I still don't know, and I don't know if I ever would. I just know that you are the greatest man I have ever known, and your example is the one I follow. Thank you for being strong when I forgot to have courage.

Get back to mom and Sigurd for me. Tell them what I've done, and I hope I am worthy enough for you to be proud of me. When Sigurd grows up, embrace him and tell him it was from me.

Also, Turgen does not fully know what our fate will be. He feels it, but we keep him hopeful. He should not die afraid or sad. Tell Khen he is very happy she finally found love and family. I think it fulfills him to know she did.

I love you.

Kjell

Tears dripped down Ujarak's face as he finished reading the note. A lump formed in his throat, and he found it hard to breathe. His son... his only family member in all this chaos... was saying goodbye. It wasn't right. Surely Kjell had been rescued somehow. Ujarak would get back to the museum and find his son waiting in the basement. Yes... that had to happen. Kjell couldn't be dead. Nafanua had promised she would keep him safe.

An equipment failure? He swallowed, his tongue feeling dry and papery in his mouth. We fixed everything.

"Ujarak?" Khen reached across the instrument panel and took the tablet back. "What's wrong?"

"Kjell..." He couldn't get the words out. Couldn't find the courage to say that his son had said goodbye. Questions arose as he tried to understand the situation. Had Kjell suffered? Starved to death slowly while stuck in that tiny time machine? Died of dehydration?

It felt like the walls of the time machine were closing in on Ujarak, until it finally landed, and he crashed through the door into the museum basement. When he was finally free of that prison, he found himself surrounded by sympathetic eyes.

Hijikata stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Ujarak's. "I'm so sorry, Ujarak. Kenneth's system told us."

Ujarak shook his head. "No. No, don't say it." Tears formed in his eyes. "Don't say it. Please."

"Nafanua... Kjell... their group was stuck in one of the time machines when it self-destructed. We don't know why, but... they're gone."

"Turgen..." Khen burst into tears and buried her face in Naoki's chest.

Gone. All of them. My son. Dead. Ujarak's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor, a scream bursting from him. His son was dead. He would never see Kjell again.

~~~

Spot 11: Shermanblook

DROPPED OUT