Scarlett lay awake, staring at the clock on her bedside table. The minutes were crawling on, infinitely long.

11:30, 11:35, 11:40, 11:42

The closer it got to midnight, the slower the clock seemed to go, as if it were mocking her. Scarlett wanted to scream. She hadn't seen Roger in a week. She missed him. She felt his absence with every beat of her heart.

At 11:50, Scarlett drew her covers back as quietly as she could. She shivered as her bare feet came in contact with the cold, wood floor of her bedroom. She quickly stripped her pajamas and pulled on a pair of jeans and a beige sweater. She risked turning on a lamp so she could get a final look at herself in the mirror. She liked the way the beige made her red hair stand out. She quickly ran a brush through it and hurriedly applied some sparkling lip gloss that she'd stolen from her mother's purse. Satisfied with her reflection, she shut off the light and crept to the window overlooking her back yard.

Her heart skipped a beat. Roger was there, leaning against the oak tree as he always was. He was dressed almost completely in black, making his brown hair shine in the moonlight. Scarlett quickly opened the window and slithered out, wincing as she felt the frame of the window snag at her sweater. When her booted feet hit the ground she was running. Roger saw her, and a look of surprise followed by happiness lit up his face.

As Roger wrapped his arms around her, she heard her watch beep.

It was midnight on June 24th, 2014.

2: Chapter One

Damon tossed and turned in his sleep. He was having a nightmare. He'd been having a lot of them lately. He didn't know what they meant or even remember what had happened when he woke up. He just always woke with a pounding heart and sweaty brow, the nightmare nipping at the edge of his awareness, teasing him.

Tonight was the worst yet.

His small body twisted back and forth in the sheets. Sweat soaked through his race car pajamas and plastered his fair hair to his forehead. His eyes moved frantically under his closed lids.

Suddenly he jerked awake, a scream stuck in his throat. He swallowed it down. He felt his eyes begin to well with tears and he wiped his sleeve across his face. He let out a few sniffles before he turned to check the clock.

It was 12:00pm on June 24th.

His blood ran cold. He had to get to Scarlett. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

He dragged his sleeve across his face again, and scrambled out of bed. He had his hand on the door knob but something made him pause. He quickly shed his pajamas and threw on a pair of dirty jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He stuffed his feet hurriedly into a pair of sneakers and crept as quietly as he could into his sister's room across the hall.

He knew it would be empty even before he opened the door, but he still felt his heart clench. He often came into Scarlett's room when he woke up crying in the middle of the night. She would pull him into her small bed and hold him while he sobbed against her shoulder. She would stroke his hair and tell him that it was okay, that it was just a dream. In his heart, he knew that they were more than that, but it still made him feel better. She would hold him until he stopped shaking. Then she would fall asleep, her arms still encircling him.

Damon would stay there, listening to her steady breathing, comforted by her presence until he heard birds begin to chirp or until light began to filter in through her lace curtains. Then he would quietly slip from her loose embrace and sneak back to his room. He would pretend to be asleep until he heard his mom or dad bustling in the kitchen, and sometimes until he heard his parents leave for work.

Scarlett would never laugh at him, or tell him that he was over reacting. She would always be extra gentle on the days following his nightmares. Sometimes she would make his favorite breakfast and sometimes she'd give him an extra hug before he left for the bus stop. And she would never tell their parents. She knew what would happen.

Damon loved Scarlett more than he loved anyone else in the world. More than his absent mother, or his drunken father who had a tendency to take things out with his fists. Damon still loved them, he was too young to understand hatred, but it was nothing compared to how he loved Scarlett. He loved her more than he loved his best friend Matt or even the pretty girl in his class named Vanessa who would sometimes share her snacks with Damon when Mommy forgot to pack him one.

Damon looked around Scarlett's room, his fear escalating. Her pajamas were in a crumpled pile in front of her closet. Her bed was messy and unmade. A small pile of books was stacked precariously on her bedside table. One had a tasseled bookmark protruding from the pages.

Damon let his shoulders slump in disappointment. He was too late; too late to stop what was going to happen to Scarlett. He was about to return to his room when her lacey curtains caught his eye. They were moving. The window was open.

Damon peered out the open window and nearly wept with relief. Scarlett was there. In the backyard. She was with someone else, but she was okay.

Damon quickly clambered through the window, banging his knee on the sill. His sneakers kicked up a small puff of dust as he landed. He stared after Scarlett.

She was lounging against the large oak tree that dominated their back yard. There was someone else with her – a boy. Yes, Damon was sure it was a boy. Damon couldn't see his face, but the stranger gave him an uneasy feeling.

The stranger's arms were around Scarlett. Damon could now tell that his legs were spread and Scarlett was sitting between them, her back against the stranger's chest. Her head rested against his shoulder, and her face was turned up towards his. She couldn't see Damon; she was facing away from him.

She was saying something to the stranger. The stranger smiled and leaned towards her face, and all the sudden they were doing that thing that Mommy and Daddy did sometimes, when Daddy called Mommy pretty. Damon remembered that it was called kissing. He resisted the childish urge to wrinkle his nose and making an exaggerated gagging sound.

It was 12:07 pm on June 24th.

3: Chapter Two

Roger pulled away from the hug first. He drew playfully at her sleeves. Pulling the beige material up passed her elbow. Scarlett blushed and pulled it down, but not before his eyes fell on the black bruise around her forearm.

"Scarlett," he sighed. "You can't keep these hidden. You have to tell someone."

"I can't," she breathed, precariously close to tears. "They'll take Damon away. Better me than him. As long as he's okay, I'll be fine."

Roger shook his head, but he said nothing more on the matter. "Come here," he muttered, pulling her slowly to the ground. They leaned back against the large oak tree. Scarlett settled against Roger's chest, and he ran his hands playfully through her hair.

"Tell me how you've been," he whispered, his mouth tickling her ear.

"Now that you're here, I'm perfect," Scarlett's face drew up in a lazy smile. Roger traced her lips with his eyes before leaning down and kissing her. His kisses were soft at first, but they grew in intensity until they were pressed against each other. Roger was pinned between Scarlett and the tree, his arms entrapping Scarlett. When he finally pulled away his face was flushed and his breathing heavy. Scarlett grinned.

Roger returned the smile, but something else flashed in his eyes. Scarlett couldn't place it, so she decided to ignore it. "How've you been?" she asked, placing her hand against his heart. She could feel the steady beat under her fingers. It was comforting in a way she couldn't explain.

"I-"he glanced over Scarlett's shoulder and stiffened suddenly. Scarlett followed his gaze and spotted what he was looking at.

Damon.

He was outside her window. He was fully dressed, which struck Scarlett as odd. She'd remembered putting him to bed in his pajamas earlier. His eyes were rimmed red and his sandy hair was sticking up at odd angles. Scarlett felt her heart constrict at the look on his face. He looked terrified. Scarlett quickly untangled herself from Roger and went to Damon. She dropped to her knees in front of him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked "What's wrong?"

"I- I don't know," he stammered. "I just-"he broke off and his eyes widened as Roger came up behind Scarlett. Damon's face scrunched up and he began to cry again. Scarlett pulled him into her arms and he sobbed into her shoulder, darkening the beige of her sweater.

"Shh," she crooned, stroking the back of his head. "It's okay; you just had another bad dream. It's okay now"

He shook his head as another sob wrenched itself free of his throat. "No, no it wasn't just a dream," he demanded, "it wasn't! You were there and he was there and we were afraid and we were running and-"Damon pulled away from Scarlett, his eyes full of fear.

"Damon," Scarlett said slowly, "What do you mean?"

"Something bad is going to happen!" he yelled. "It wasn't just a dream! They're never just dreams, but I always forget them, but I can't forget this one-"he broke off, unable to continue through the flood of tears. He was shaking all over. Scarlett looked at Roger helplessly as she drew Damon into her arms again. He was trembling so violently she was afraid he would hurt himself. Roger was staring at Damon with a mix of fear and awe.

"Roger," Scarlett whispered, "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Roger slowly tore his gaze away from the shaking child in Scarlett's arms. When his green eyes met her grey ones, there was something in them that made Scarlett shiver. Something cool and calculating that she had not seen in them before.

"Roger," she squeaked out. Damon trembled fiercely again, and she tightened her arms around her terrified brother. Panic was clawing its way up her throat and she tried desperately to force it down. Surely what Damon was saying couldn't be true. Roger would never do anything to hurt either of them. Roger loved her. She was sure of it.

Roger set a hand on her shoulder. His face was set, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Get up," he said softly.

"What?" Scarlett breathed.

"Scarlett get up, we have to go. Now. Your brother's right. Please just- trust me. Can you do that?"

She looked down at Damon. His sobbing had eased slightly, but he was still a shaking mess in her arms. Slowly, Scarlett unfolded her legs, grunting with the effort of lifting herself and her brother. She shifted Damon's weight in her arms. His hands came around her neck and his legs locked around her waist. She tightened her arms around his back.

"Roger, what's going on?" Scarlett asked. She tried to remain expressionless, but fear was gnawing at her insides.

Roger sighed. He looked tired. Dark circles were smudged under his eyes, and Scarlett felt bad for not noticing them before.

"Come with me." He turned and headed towards the oak tree without turning to see if she was following. After a moment's hesitation she followed him, being careful not to jostle Damon too much. His breathing had slowed a little, and Scarlett thought he had his thumb stuck in his mouth, which he only did in times of great distress.

Roger crouched in the soft dirt under the tree and began drawing symbols with a stick. For a moment Scarlett's fear was eclipsed by confusion.

"What are you doing?" Scarlett asked, shifting Damon's weight in her arms. Her shoulder was beginning to ache.

"We have to get out of here," Roger said, not looking up from his symbols. Scarlett tried to decipher them, but she had little luck. He had drawn a circle with what seemed to be squiggles radiating from the center at regular intervals. He stopped drawing and studied his work for a moment. When he seemed satisfied, he threw the stick to the side and pulled something shiny in his pocket. It looked vaguely like a watch, but there was something different about it. The numbers on the clock face were weird. They looked wrong. Scarlett couldn't place how.

"Roger, what-"Scarlett begin, but Damon cut her off. He began squirming in her arms and she put him down. He ran towards Roger, careful to avoid the circle.

"I know what you're doing! You're taking us away! You're taking us to the bad place!" He yelled. Roger shook his head and Scarlett knelt in front of Damon.

"Shh. Shh. Damon you'll wake up mom and dad, and that would be-"Scarlett trailed off. Not wanting to imagine what her father would do if he caught her in the backyard with a strange boy.

"Scarlett you have to stop him you can't let him he-"

Scarlett never found out what Damon was going to say. At that moment his knees gave out and Scarlett had to catch him before he fell, face forward in the dirt. There was a syringe sticking out of the back of his knee.

"Roger what the hell?" Scarlett hissed, scared of waking her father. "Did you-did you just drug my six year old brother?" Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was having trouble processing what was happening. She vaguely hoped that all this was a weird dream. That she'd wake up to Damon crawling in her bed and tugging at her pajama sleeve. That everything would go back to normal.

"I don't have time to explain, we have to leave. Now." He grabbed her arm and pulled her and Damon into the circle. He fiddled with the silvery clock in his hand with a pained look on his face. Scarlett wanted to run back to the house, but she was too afraid of Roger to move. She'd never seen him like this before, and they'd been meeting in her back yard for almost a year.

"Roger, please," she pleaded, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "What's going on?"

He whirled to face her suddenly, his green eyes shockingly bright. "Your brother's right." He said, with cool detachment. "Those aren't just dreams. Your brother is very special, Scarlett. This isn't about you, not at all. I promise I'll explain everything but right now we have to-"

There was a loud banging sound. The door to their back porch flew open suddenly, the back of it slamming into the brick wall. Scarlett's grip on Damon tightened in fear. Roger began franticly twisting the clock in his hands.

"You stupid whore what do you think you're doing?" Scarlett and Damon's father screamed. He was drunk. Scarlett could practically smell the liquor on him from where she stood. He was really drunk. Scary drunk. The kind of drunk that made her feel three years old again. The kind of drunk that made her fear for her life.

Roger began twisting the device in his hands with renewed vigor. He was muttering something that Scarlett couldn't hear under his breath. Suddenly he dropped the device into the circle in front of them. He wrapped his arm around Scarlett and told her to hold on. He drew up his foot and smashed the device under it.

All around them there was a blinding light. Scarlett could hear her father yelling drunkenly, and through the light she thought she saw a baseball bat in his hands. Her skin crawled when she thought of what he intended to do with it. There was a nauseating sensation of stretching all around them. Scarlett felt as if her feet and head were being pulled in two opposite directions. She could feel Damon stirring in her arms. She tightened her grip on him, afraid that the light would somehow tear him from her grasp. Roger's arm tightened around her similarly.

A high pitched screeching pierced Scarlett's ears and a scream tore from her throat. The pain in her head was blinding. And suddenly they were falling. Scarlett couldn't see what they were falling down or even what they were headed towards, but she was vaguely aware that Roger's arm had fallen from her shoulders and that she was no longer holding Damon. She screamed again, but the sound was lost as they tumbled down the blackness.

And then it was over.

4: Chapter Three

Scarlett felt her body slam into something soft. She heard a soft "oof" as breath left Roger's mouth. She had fallen on him. Damon was sprawled a few feet away, still unconscious. Scarlett scrambled desperately to her feet, a hand clapped over her mouth. She sprinted a few feet away and vomited, shaking as she retched.

When she was done, she spit and wiped a hand across her mouth. She turned back to Roger and Damon. Roger was slowly peeling himself from the ground, favoring his left shoulder. Damon lay in a crumpled heap. Scarlett's heart twisted in fear.

"Damon!" she yelled, running to him. "Damon please wake up," she fell to her knees next to him. Relief flooded through her as she saw his chest rising and falling. She brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead and pulled his head into her lap. A twig snapped as Roger came up behind her.

"He'll be fine," he stated, looking down at the small child in Scarlett's arm. "It was just a mild tranquilizer. It should wear off within the hour."

Scarlett turned her face toward Roger. He was cradling his right arm against his chest. Twigs and leaves stuck out of his hair at odd angles. His black coat was torn in several places. Scarlett looked down at herself and realized she looked no better. There was a long gash along her arm and blood was welling out of it, staining her sweater. Her jeans were ripped at the knees and she could see leaves in her hair. Damon had somehow managed to avoid getting foliage in his hair, but his jeans and shirt had several nicks and tears.

"Roger," Scarlett began softly. Her head was spinning and she feared she might be sick again. "What just happened? Where are we? What's going on?" hysteria had crept into her voice, driving it up several octaves.

Roger sighed and sat down across from her. Scarlett looked around briefly, taking in her surroundings. They appeared to be in woods of some kind, not unlike the woods surrounding her back yard. But that wasn't what was strange. It had been dark when Scarlett's father had stormed out of the house. Now, the sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in an eerie orange glow.

"Scarlett, this is going to sound absolutely crazy but you're going to have to trust me." He eyed her warily, and Scarlett realized he was waiting for a response. She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel herself shaking and hoped that Roger didn't notice.

"Your brother…he's different, you know that right? With the dreams and hunches, you know those aren't normal, don't you?"

Scarlett nodded again. In her true heart of hearts she had always known that Damon was far from ordinary. His dreams, when he remembered them, were usually spot on with what was happening behind closed doors. Their parents fighting, their fathers drinking. One night he had even dreamed about the bruises that often laced Scarlett's arms and legs. She always brushed them off as his subconscious picking up cues at the dinner table, or her not being careful enough about when her sleeves slid too far up her arms. But she knew, she'd always known.

"Scarlett, I don't think you do understand. Your brother is one of the most important people in the human race. He will change history, given that he lives long enough. And he's in danger. People are starting to find out, to realize his importance."

"I-I don't get it," Scarlett stammered. What was Roger talking about? How could people know about his dreams? Scarlett was the only one that he ever told.

Roger sighed, his eyes pleaded with her to understand. Scarlett's head was whirling. "Not necessarily people from your…timeline" he paused a second, letting that sink in. "Time is a very dangerous thing. Especially when humans manipulate it. And now, they've started learning how to manipulate it. How to twist it and wrinkle it. How to step through dents in time. Do you understand?"

"You-you're saying…time travel?" Scarlett asked, bewildered. Roger's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Yes," he breathed, sounding relieved. "Yes. That's exactly it. There are bad people around here. They want to change the past, make it how they think it should be. When that happened they created an agency dedicated to stopping those people. The Reformers, they call themselves."

Scarlett's head was spinning with all the new information. She couldn't comprehend what was happening, so she settled for nodding again.

"They-the agency- assign an agent to protect certain people, such as your brother. An agent is responsible for the wellbeing of their assignment. They're required to make sure they stay alive, and if things start to get messy, they pull them out. Do you understand what I'm saying?" he fixed her with a no nonsense look.

"You're a…time agent and you have to keep Damon alive at all costs. We just traveled in time because…" she broke off as she realized what he was saying. They were unsafe. Their father. He was…he might have. Scarlett felt nausea wash over her again and she clamped her mouth shut. Roger's eyes softened.

"It's okay," he said laying an arm gently on her shoulder. His touch was familiar and foreign at the same time. All this time, everything had been a lie. It'd had never been about her, it had always been about Damon. Scarlett wasn't even supposed to be here. Looking at Roger looking at her, she felt her heart constrict. It was a lie, it was all a lie.

Scarlett was numb with shock and fear. "What's going to happen now?" she whispered shakily, drawing Damon closer in her arms. Some of his color was returning, which seemed like a good sign.

"I'm going to take you and Damon to the agency, you'll be safe there. We'll send agents back to your house until it's…safe. We have a safe house where an agent has been preparing for your arrival. There's someone Damon should meet. You'll be here a day or two. Three tops."

"What about our father," Scarlett breathed. There was a knot in her throat. She willed herself not to cry. She would not cry in front of Roger. Never again.

Roger's face twisted in sympathy. "Damon's safety is…paramount. Certain risks must be eliminated."

Scarlett was ashamed to admit that she felt no remorse. She was thinking how much easier their lives would be without their father's looming presence when Damon stirred in her arms. Roger looked at him fondly. Scarlett silently wondered how long Roger had been assigned to Damon. Scarlett felt a flare of anger twist through her as she thought of everything she'd told Roger. He'd used her. She felt violated and useless. Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed the away angrily before Roger could notice.

"Come on," he urged gently. As he stood his face twisted in pain as his arm moved. "We should get to the safe house before he wakes up."

"Wait," Scarlett said, as she stood up, lifting Damon into her arms. "Where…when are we?"

Roger grinned. "Welcome to 2094."

5: Chapter Four

Damon was dreaming again. Although this time it was different. The dream was clear and vivid, and for once he hoped he would remember his dream when he woke up. He was in a pleasant sort of field. He thought he might be in the woods somewhere, maybe the woods behind his house? Scarlett was there. She was smiling; her gray eyes alight with happiness. There was someone else with her. The boy from earlier? No, Damon didn't think so. This boy was different. Where the stranger from earlier had given Damon an uneasy feeling, he felt as if he had known this new boy his entire life. His sandy hair and green eyes felt as familiar as his own reflection.

Scarlett and the new boy were holding hands. They were laughing together and looking at them gave Damon a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

Damon felt someone tug at his sleeve. He looked away from the laughing couple, and met the eyes of a girl he had never seen before. Damon almost gasped. She was prettier than anyone he had ever seen. Prettier even than Vanessa, the nice girl from his class. This girl was clad in what appeared to be some type of sundress. It was covered in flowers and there was a tiara balanced on her head. She looked completely at ease. She had brown ringlets that fell to her shoulders, light blue eyes, and olive skin. She stood an inch or two taller than Damon in her pink flats and she was looking at him with a mix of playfulness and superiority.

"I'm Meghan," she said, wasting no time. "I know who you are! You're Damon." She laughed and spun on her toe, making her dress fly out around her. Damon watched in fascination.

"How did you know that?" he asked when she stopped. She giggled and took his hand, leading him towards the bank of a river he hadn't noticed before.

"I'm like you!" she said, clambering onto a rock that hung out over the river. When Damon didn't move, she turned back and beckoned for him to follow. He scrambled up beside her and they sat together with her feet dangling over the river. Meghan swung her feet back and forth and laughed.

"What do you mean like me?" Damon asked, studying her face. The sun made her eyes dance.

"I have dreams too. Like this one," she sounded as if it should be obvious.

"Wait so my dreams are…real?" Damon gaped.

"Of course silly!" she turned to face him. "Didn't you know that?"

Damon shook his head slowly. He wasn't sure how he felt about his dreams being real. On one hand, it was pretty cool that he could see things other people couldn't or talk to people like Meghan. But on the other hand, that meant that all his dreams about Mommy and Daddy were real. The flashed through his head suddenly.

Daddy yelling at Mommy and Scarlett, calling them words he didn't understand. Scarlett's arms, laced with ugly blue welts. And worst of all, Daddy storming out of their house in the middle of the night with a baseball bat, shouting incoherently.

Damon wasn't sure when he'd started crying, but once he started, he couldn't stop. Meghan just looked at him, watching as he sniffled.

"It's okay," she said softly after a few minutes. "If you're worried about that mean man, he can't get to you here. You're safe."

That made Damon feel better. He trusted what Meghan said. He sniffed one last time and wiped his hand across his face. Meghan giggled.

"What?" Damon asked, feeling his lips quirk into a smile. Meghan's laugh was contagious.

"You look funny," she teased, giggling again.

"Do not!" Damon exclaimed. He felt a push on his back and he was gasping as his body slipped into the cool river.

"Hey!" he shouted when his head broke the surface of the water. He had to doggie paddle to stay afloat.

Meghan was still sitting on the rock, laughing down at him. Suddenly, Damon had an idea. He took a breath and plunged under the water. He swam towards Meghan's outstretched leg and grabbed at it. He heard her shriek in surprise as he pulled her into the water.

Damon swam to the surface just as Meghan's head popped out of the water. She was trying to look mad, but failing. She giggled and splashed at Damon, making him laugh. They splashed and swam for what felt to Damon like an eternity. Finally the hauled themselves back onto the rock.

"We're going to meet very soon," Meghan declared as they spread out on the rock, letting the sun dry their sopping clothes.

"I know," Damon said.

Meghan grinned at him sleepily. Damon was about to say something else, but things started spinning. With a sinking heart Damon realized he was waking up. Meghan was waving. Before Damon could say goodbye, his eyes snapped open.

6: Chapter Five

A/N: I have gotten such a positive responce to this story. A huge thank you to tumblr users bbcmartin and watsonyourmindd (michelle and sam) for reading my chapters before i post them for critique. The biggest thank you to tumblr user johnissherlocked (ANUSHKA MY SWEET BAE) for the prompt idea. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this. I love you all so much. Keep being awesome -SH

Scarlett was exhausted by the time they reached the safe house. Her arms were sore from carrying Damon, and sweat stuck her dirty sweater to her back. She doubted she smelled much better than she looked.

As bad of shape as she was in, Roger looked worse. He was still cradling his injured arm against his chest. His face was drawn in pain. From the odd way his shoulder stuck out, Scarlett guessed it was dislocated. It would need to be popped back into place. Despite herself, Scarlett's heart squeezed with sympathy. Once, she'd fallen out of the oak tree in their backyard, and dislocated her shoulder. She'd cried until her father had come home and roughly slammed it back into place, telling her that if she didn't shut up he'd give her something to cry about. She'd been thirteen.

"We're here," Roger announced, pulling Scarlett from her thoughts. She was surprised by how ordinary the house looked. It was a wooden cabin, nestled into a clearing in the woods. It looked like the perfect vacation spot for a family of outdoorsmen.

Roger started towards the back door, still holding his arm. Scarlett stumbled after him, tightening her grip on Damon. When they reached the door, Roger tapped the wood, and a holographic key pad appeared in place of the wooden knocker. Scarlett was too weary to be impressed. Roger typed in a code that was several digits long and the door swung open, granting them entrance to the cabin.

Roger let Scarlett go first, then followed, shutting and locking the door behind them. Scarlett took in the interior of the cabin.

The door led them into a wide, wood-paneled living area, a large room split by a counter served as a den and a kitchen. Against the far wall, Scarlett could see a wooden set of steps and another door. She absently wondered why Roger had chosen the back entrance.

In the den, there was a flat screen embedded into one of the walls, which Scarlett assumed was some sort of TV, although she saw no wires anywhere. An overstuffed leather couch and matching chairs were arranged around a glass coffee table in front of the TV.

"You can put Damon on the couch," Roger stated, going to the refrigerator in the kitchen area. "He should wake up soon."

Scarlett nodded and slid her brother gently onto the leather. She took his shoes off carefully so that she didn't wake him. There was a blanket lying on the back of the couch. She draped it over him. He looked so peaceful. Scarlett brushed his hair out of his face.

She looked up to see Roger watching her, his blue eyes steady. She ignored the flutter of her heart, and joined him in the kitchen.

"Let me see your shoulder," she said gently.

He slowly lowered his arm and shrugged off his jacket, wincing slightly. He inhaled sharply as Scarlett laid her hand against his swelling shoulder blade. Just as she'd thought, it was dislocated. He must have landed wrong as they'd fallen through time. Scarlett still couldn't believe they were actually in 2094.

80 years, she thought, numbly. I'm probably dead by now.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"It's dislocated," she said, a little alarmed at the sound of her own voice. "I'm going to set it back into place, but it's going to hurt. On three okay?"

Roger nodded.

"One….two,"

Scarlett pushed the blade back into place on two. Roger let out a stream of curses that would have given her father a run for his money. She was glad Damon wasn't awake to hear it.

"Better?" she asked when the curses tapered off.

"Yeah, thanks." He said nodding. He yanked open the stainless steel freezer and rooted around until he found a package of frozen peas. He turned the peas in his hand, thoughtfully giving Scarlett a once over as he shut the freezer.

"What about you?" he asked. "That cut looks pretty nasty.

Scarlett eyed the cut on her forearm. It wasn't as deep as it looked, but it stung like hell, and there was always a risk of infection. She shrugged.

"Are we the only people here?" Scarlett asked, following Roger as he went to the dining area of the kitchen. He lowered himself into one of the wooden backed chairs, still holding the peas to his shoulder. Scarlett sat in the chair across from him, careful that their legs didn't touch.

"This safe house was given by the Agency to the Jordan family," Roger explained. "It's been in their family for a few generations. The oldest living Jordan is in charge. My parents were very close with the Jordans. The always told us that we were welcome here. So here we are."

Scarlett was surprised. She didn't think she'd ever heard Roger talk about his parents before.

"So being an…agent…is a familial thing?" she asked.

Roger nodded. "When people started to mess around with time, about thirty years ago, the Agency didn't exist. All sorts of bad things happened…horrible things." His blue eyes darkened. "There was war, but that was before my time. After that, the Agency was created to keep peace. It was made up mainly of war heroes or people who were instrument in the war. And when they pass away, or their children come of age, the responsibility falls on them. There are about 100 families in this region of the country that work for the Agency."

Scarlett nodded slowly, taking it all in. Her head was spinning. War, time travel, agencies. Some part of her still hoped this was all a crazy dream.

"So who's in charge?" she asked. "Of the Agency, I mean."

Roger eyed her carefully.

"I can't exactly tell you that. It's very privileged information. This is all a weird situation. You understand that, right?"

"Oh yeah," Scarlett nodded. "Of course."

"I know you have a lot of questions," Roger said slowly. "It's a lot to take in."

"Reformers- bad, Agency- good, Damon- special. Got it." Scarlett snapped, with more of an edge than she meant to put into her voice. She was tired down to her bones. She was in desperate need of a shower. And the boy she loved, and thought had loved her, had used her for her brother.

Roger's eyes softened slightly as he studied her.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, after a minute. Slowly, Scarlett shook her head. Of course she wasn't okay, how could she be okay? Her entire life had just been turned upside down. Her father had almost tried to kill her, her brother was some kind of supernatural freak, and she was sitting here, 80 years in the future, with the one person she'd trusted, who was now little more than a stranger.

She felt her lip tremble. She bit down on it, hard, until she tasted blood in her mouth. It was an old habit. She refused to cry in front of Roger.

Roger made a move as if to take her hand, but seemed to think better of it. Scarlett noticed, and swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat.

"I'm sorry," Roger said, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know this is crazy. You're doing so great."

At that Scarlett looked away and made a strange choking noise. She bit down on her lip again.

I will not cry. I will not cry. Damn it. I'm not going to cry.

"In a few days everything will go back to normal." Scarlett figured that Roger was trying to help. That made it worse. "You and Damon can go home and-"

"Is there somewhere I can shower?" Scarlett interrupted, unable to take it anymore. Her voice sounded much too loud in her ears, but she didn't care. She couldn't listen to this anymore.

Roger's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah," he said slowly, "Yeah sure. Follow me."

He stood, and set his peas down on the table. Scarlett trailed him as he made his way to the stairs.

"What about Damon?" Scarlett asked, reining her emotions in as much as she could manage. "What if he wakes up?"

"I'll watch him," Roger assured her, ascending the wooden steps. The floorboards creaked and groaned under their feet. Scarlett wondered how long the house had stood empty. The thought made her uneasy.

Roger led her down a hallway that was lined with pictures of unfamiliar people. Scarlett assumed they were the Jordans. He led her through what Scarlett thought was the master bedroom, and into the bathroom. He quickly showed her how the controls worked. The shower was completely different than anything Scarlett had ever seen before. Instead of a shower head, the entire celling rained water, and two of the walls did the same. Roger told her that he'd find some clothes and that he'd be waiting downstairs with Damon. He'd explain everything if Damon woke up. Scarlett nodded and thanked him.

Scarlett locked the door after he left and quickly stripped her sweaty and dirt covered clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so different than she had when she'd crawled out her window to meet Roger. Had that been just a few hours ago? The thought made her dizzy.

The dark bruises on her arms stood out clearly against her pale skin, along with the new cut on her arm. Her red hair hung tangled and frizzy down to her chest. Her eyes looked wild and terrified. She looked away, not wanting to see herself anymore.

It took her longer than she would admit to figure out the shower, even after Roger had shown her the controls. There were so many settings. First, she almost scalded her hand by making the water too hot. Then, in an attempt to correct it, she yelped against the cold water.

Once she finally figured it, she stepped into the stream, and let her body absorb the warm water.

Suddenly, she was so exhausted, she could barely stand. She let her emotions come over her like a wave. Before she could do anything to stop it, she was sobbing like a child. She sank slowly to the ground, pulling her knees into her chest. She felt herself trembling. She rested her head against the slick shower wall and cried for what felt like an eternity.

7: Chapter Six

A/N: As always, there are several people I would like to thank bc i just love them so much. Thank you to michelle (pininglock) for boosting my confidence and making me cry over sherlock.

a huge thank you to sam (watsonyourmindd) who i'm now crediting as my offical editor 3 I love you guys so much

and as always thank you to Anushka (johnissherlocked) for starting this whole prompt.

Feedback is greatly appreciated, if there's anything that doesn't make sense or needs clarifying please let me know

love always- sh

James Jordan couldn't remember the last time he'd been so afraid, and James Jordan hated to be afraid. The little girl was growing heavy in his arms. God, what had she been eating? James didn't know how such a small child could weigh so much. And of course, the Reformers had to drug her. James grunted as he adjusted her position. He had one arm under her knees, and the other around her shoulders, clutching her to his chest. It made running very difficult.

He ran as fast as he could down the steel gravel path, struggling to keep his footing. Of all the places on earth, Meghan Carpenter, James' assignment, had to live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. James scowled as he nearly tripped over a branch in the middle of the path. If he could just stop, he could get to the device in his pocket, and get Meghan to the safe house. He risked a look over his shoulder without slowing down.

The Reformer was gaining on him quickly, and boy, did he look pissed. Blood matted his greasy blonde hair to the left side of his face. James had attempted to injure him with a flare gun. It hadn't gone well. The knife in the Reformer's hand glittered in the afternoon sun. James' throat tightened. He didn't like knives.

"Get back here, you bastard!" The Reformer shouted, as if that might actually appeal to James. "I might let you live if you hand over the bitch!"

"Tempting," James called back, dodging another branch. "But I'll pass."

The Reformer growled. The sound made James' skin crawl. No human should growl like that.

"There's no point in running!" The Reformer yelled again. "You'll have to stop eventually. And when you do, I'll be there, waiting to cut you into bloody ribbons."

James focused his energy into running. He had to find somewhere to stop so he could get to the device in his pocket, but with the knife wielding Reformer on his heels, that wasn't an option.

Just when James was considering stopping and facing his opponent, for better or worse, the little girl jerked in his arms. If James hadn't been clinging to her as tight as he had been, he would have dropped her. She jerked again, and her eyes flew open. They were glowing. Brilliant blue light poured from her irises. James recoiled.

"Stop!" Meghan commanded.

"Wha-?" James stammered.

"I. Said. STOP!" James froze. Power radiated from her voice.

"Put me down," she ordered, and James complied without question. The eerie light in her eyes was seriously giving James the creeps. He'd never seen anything like it before.

Meghan turned to face the Reformer, focusing her blazing fury on him. He stopped short, his face painted with surprise. Without a word, Meghan raised her hand. The same blue light radiated from her palm. The Reformer was bathed in the light. He screamed, his body burning. He twitched and shuddered, and then went up in a great, blinding light. James shielded his eyes, but pain shot through his skull anyways. He fell to his knees, cradling his pounding head in his hands.

He felt a presence in front of him. He opened his eyes slowly, and Meghan's gaze was level with his. The knife wielding man was gone, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. James's stomach twisted in revolt.

"Save me James Jordan," Meghan pleaded, her glowing eyes bored into his. It was impossible to look away. "You have to save me."

"I-I will," James promised.

"I've been poisoned." Meghan stated. "I cannot talk long. Take me to the safe house, James. That's very important."

"I understand. I'm going to help you, Meghan. I swear," he said. Pain was still burning behind his eyelids. The image of the burning man was scalded into his memory.

"Thank you," Meghan sighed. "And James? I know what you're thinking. About your family-your parents." James started. How could she know that? "It wasn't your fault."

Meghan's eyes fluttered shut and she swayed on her feet. James steadied her with his hands before she could hit the ground. He was beyond shocked. He had never seen anything like what Meghan had just done, and he'd seen a lot of weird things in his seventeen years. James fished the silver device out of his pocket and twisted it until the settings lined up correctly. He gritted his teeth and crushed the device in his hand. There was the usual blinding light and high pitched whine, followed by the falling through space.

James twisted himself around in the darkness so that he broke Meghan's fall. His back slammed painfully into the ground of the forest surrounding the safe house. His breath was forced from his lungs, and he lay on the ground for a moment, trying to suck some air back into his lungs.

James had always hated the Agency's travel methods. In the early days of his training, it had always made him sick. Even now, it was still highly unpleasant.

When he'd regained his breath, he hauled himself to his feet, pulling Meghan into his grasp. She hung limply in his arms, showing no sign of her former glowing. Her earlier words hung in his mind. It's not your fault. James shook his head. It was his fault. He knew that. He'd accepted it a long time ago.

James sighed, forcing more air into his lungs, and headed for the cabin. A sense of dread washed over him. He hadn't been to the house sense he was a little kid. The place had always given him the creeps. He trudged up to the back door and punched in the code his parents had drilled into his head. The door swung open.

Pushing down his unease, he stepped into the cabin.

8: Chapter Seven

OKAY so many thank yous and so little time. fIRST OFf. for this chapter specifically thank you to Mikala (disneywholockian) and Stephanie (johnlocck) for reading this before I put it on the internet so I don't make a complete idiot of myself.

As always thank you to Anushka (johnissherlocked) for the prompt that has started this whole shindig (yeehaww).

Thank you to Sam (watsonyourmindd) and Michelle (pininglock) for editing my other chapters and giving me a huge confidence boost.

And lastly, thank you to everyone who is following this story you guys give me life I love you al so so so so much

-sh

After Rodger set out the clothes he'd found for Scarlett, he returned downstairs to keep an eye on Damon. He was still asleep on the couch, oblivious to the world around him. Roger grunted slightly as he seated himself in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. He carefully reapplied the frozen peas to his still throbbing shoulder. He readjusted his position slightly, trying to ease the pain.

When he finally found a bearable position, he sighed and looked around the cabin. It looked exactly as it had the last time he'd been there, which bad been years ago, before be had been old enough to be assigned to Damon. He vaguely remembered that all agents in the area had been ordered to bring their families to their assigned safe houses. Rogers parents, Stacy and Taylor Quinn, had been tracking a particularly hostile band of reformers with the Jordan's.

The small cabin had been filled nearly to capacity with Jordan's and Quinn's. Roger, James, and April had been stuffed in an upstairs bedroom as the adults convened downstairs to discuss things they thought the kids couldn't possibly understand at the time.

James and Roger, who had both been thirteen at the time, were both just relieved no to having been thrown in with the younger kids. Roger's older sister Rachel had taken their younger brother Jude across the hall along with James' younger brothers Tyler and Franklin. She'd set up a board game for them before she'd joined the adults downstairs. It had been the first meeting that Rachel had been allowed to attend. She'd turned sixteen the week before and was ecstatic.

April on the other hand had spent the entire time complaining to Roger and James that if it wasn't for them, she would be downstairs with the adults. She was almost of age, anyways, so why should she be stuck baby sitting? Roger and James had rolled their eyes and made faces behind her back as April continued to pace and protest.

When the adults had finally emerged up the stairs, their faces were set. Rachel looked young and afraid. The older Quinns and Jordans had announced that they were leaving and that April was in charge. James and Roger exchanged nervous glances. When April had asked where they were going, they'd just told her that they'd be back as soon as they could.

But they hadn't been. Only Roger's parents had returned.

Damon stirred on the couch, tearing Roger from his thoughts.

"Where am I?" Damon asked, sleepily sitting up. The blanket Scarlett had draped over him fell unceremoniously to the floor. His hair stuck out at strange angles. He fixed Roger with his large gray eyes, and Roger was taken aback with how similar they were to Scarlett's. Roger was surprised at the rush of fondness he felt towards the kid. In a weird way, Damon reminded him of Jude, who Roger hadn't talked to for almost a year.

"You're safe now," Roger said gently. He leaned forward, ignoring the pain that shot through his shoulder. Damon's eyes narrowed as he looked back at Roger.

"You drugged me!" Damon exclaimed suddenly.

"I-" Roger was at a loss for words. "What?"

Damon looked around the room, confusion clear in his small face.

"In my yard...you..where's Scarlett?"

"She's in the shower, she'll be down soon. We're at a safe house. You're a very special kid, you know that, right?" Roger asked.

Slowly, Damon nodded. His face was small and filled with fear. Roger felt bad for him. A lot had happened to him in just a few hours. Roger wondered how much of it Damon understood.

Damon looked as if he were about to say something else, but at that moment, the door to the cabin flew open. Roger was on his feet in an instant, his handing going automatically to the knife stuffed through his belt loop. Damon cried out in surprise, and the figure at the door recoiled as he realized he wasn't alone in the cabin.

"Roger?" the figure asked, closing the door behind him. His voice brought back a flood of memories.

"James?" Roger exclaimed, more out of surprise than curiosity.

Roger's surprise cleared and he began to analyze the scene. James was staggering under the weight of a girl in a torn flowery dress. She hung limply in his arms, her brown hair cascading over James' arm. James wore a pained expression on his face. Roger doubted that James was any happier to see him than he was to be there.

"Damon, make room on the couch," Roger ordered, without looking away from James. Damon obeyed without question, his eyes fixed on the girl in James' arms. James nodded stiffly at Roger and carefully laid the girl out on the couch. She showed no signs of moving.

"What's wrong with her?" Damon asked, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the girl's lifeless body.

"The Reformers got to her. Wiped out her entire family. She was drugged before I could get to her," James explained.

Roger nodded, unsure of what to say.

"What are you doing here?" James asked, studying Roger skeptically.

"My assignment - Damon," Roger gestured to Damon, who was still focused on the girl. "His father almost...uh."

"He almost killed me and my sister." Damon said slowly. "I remember now."

Roger swallowed. "Yeah, Uh, he was coming after his sister with a baseball bat, I had to get them out."

James nodded. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Can you fix her?" Damon asked, after a moment, startling both James and Roger. "She's going to be okay, right?"

Jude used to look at him with that same expression. Roger felt his heart contract.

James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit Roger recognized.

"I don't know. I don't know what they gave her or how much...but when we were almost attacked she…she did something. I can't explain it. I've never seen anything like it before."

"What's her name?" Roger asked.

"Carpenter. Meghan Carpenter."

"We have to do something!" Damon yelled. "We can't just sit here!"

James nodded. "I'm going to call April. She's in charge of this place now. She'll need to know that we're all here. You were always better at analyzing than I was. See if you can find anything useful."

Roger didn't know what James expected him to find, but he nodded anyways.

James retreated up the stairs and Roger was alone with Damon and Meghan. Before Roger could do anything, Damon grasped at his arm. Roger inhaled sharply as pain seared through his shoulder.

"I think I can help her!" Damon exclaimed, unaware of the pain he was causing Roger. "I think I can talk to her. You have to let me try! Please!" Damon's voice cracked. The poor kid was shaking.

God he looked so much like Jude.

"You're supposed to protect us aren't you? That's your job isn't it? You haven't told me, but I know. I also know we're in 2094. You saved me and Scarlett." Damon was growing hysterical. Is grip on Rogers arm tightening painfully. His eyes were wide and his face flushed.

"Hey," Roger said, crouching in front of Damon so that their eyes were level. Roger could see Damon's lip beginning to tremble.

"Yes, that's my job. I'm going to keep you safe okay? You're a very important little boy. We're not going to let anything happen to you. Or Meghan. You've been through a lot today. Why don't we wait for Scarlett before we try anything drastic okay?"

Damon's grip relaxed, then fell away from Roger's arm. He nodded, and some of the fear on his face was replaced with sheer exhaustion. Roger patted him on the shoulder softly, as he used to with Jude, and stood up.

"I'm sure there are some toys upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Do you want to go take a look? I'll stay here and make sure Meghan's okay."

Damon hesitated for a moment, his eyes drifting protectively to Meghan. Roger didn't know why Damon cared for the little girl so much, but he had meant everything he'd said. Damon looked at Roger once more, then turned and headed up the stairs, passing James as he was returning to the den.

"Cute kid," James said, coming back to the couch. His eyes fell on the pack of frozen peas that lay on the floor where Roger and dropped them. He raised his eyebrows quizzically at Roger, but didn't say anything.

James bent over Meghan's body, listening to her breathing.

"What happened back there? Did she say something?" Roger asked. James' story had piqued his curiosity.

James straightened. "She said 'Save me, James Jordan. You have to save me.'"

"Is that all?" Roger pressed. He knew James well enough to be able to tell when he was hiding something.

Slowly, James shook his head. "She said... that what...happened," James swallowed. "That it wasn't my fault."

Roger's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"James you don't...you can't seriously blame yourself for that."

James shook his head again. "Of course I blame myself. How could I not?"

James turned to Roger. His eyes were filled with such an intense pain that Roger didn't know how to respond.

"James-"

"Enough," James said, looking back at Meghan. "I'm not talking about this with you. We have more pressing matters at hand."

"I-"

James shot Roger another look and Roger clamped his mouth shut. There was no getting James to talk about something he didn't want to.

"April will be here tomorrow or the next day," James stated, leaning back over Meghan, checking her arms for puncture wounds.

Roger's stomach clenched. He remembered the blonde smiling girl from his childhood. The girl that Roger and James had spent hours pranking and tormenting. He pushed down a flood of memories.

"How is she?" Roger began.

"Don't," James said. "Please, Roger. Just..don't."

Roger nodded and they lapsed back into silence.

9: Chapter Eight

A/n: I actually meant to update this last night but i was too busy crying over fall out boy and patrick stump.

As always thank you to Anushka for the prompt that started all this.

Thank you to Sam for editing my shit at 1am bc I can't spell

anD THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS TAKEN TIME TO READ THIS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH OKAY?

PLEASE please please give me some feedback. I live for feedback. Constructive critisisms, comments, things that don't make sense. Literally anything.

Thank you all so much

-sh

It was a long time before Scarlett emerged from the shower. She'd scrubbed herself down with the bar of vanilla soap she'd found, but she still felt dirty. She'd also found some shampoo that smelled overwhelmingly of lilac. When she stepped out of the shower, she wrapped herself in the towels that had been under the strange looking sink. The towels were unbelievably soft against her skin.

She peeked out the bathroom door to make sure she was alone before stepping into the bedroom. She dropped her towel and slipped quickly into her own undergarments, which were miraculously not as dirty as the rest of her clothes. Roger had left clothes lying neatly folded on the edge of the bed. She studied them skeptically before putting them on. He'd set out a nearly skin tight pair of jeans and a flowy dark green silk top with spaghetti straps for sleeves. She sighed. She could try to find something to cover her bruised arms with later. She was pleasantly surprised by how well the clothes fit. She wondered where Roger had gotten them.

She returned to the bathroom, and after rooting around in some drawers, she managed to produce a brush. She ran it through her damp hair slowly, taking comfort in the familiar action. She was shocked by how smooth the shampoo had left her hair. Maybe the figure did have a few good things in store.

When she was satisfied with her reflection, she decided to return downstairs to make sure Damon was okay. As she was in the hallway, the photographs lining the wall caught her eye. Stepping closer, she was surprised to spot a younger looking Roger among a few of them. In one, he was laughing with a sandy haired boy with green eyes. A girl with similar features glared at them from the background, looking annoyed.

Another picture showed the younger Roger surrounded by people with the same brown hair and blue eyes. Scarlett noticed the slight variations among his parents. His mother's eyes were almost green, and his father's hair was so dark that it could be mistaken for black.

Their children, on the other hand, all had the same basic features. Besides Roger, there were two other children in the picture. All three were smiling. Scarlett couldn't say for sure how old any of them were. On Roger's right there was a boy who appeared to be around Damon's age. On Roger's other side there was a girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen, Scarlett's own age. She was laughing, her hand covering her mouth.

"Scarlett!"

Scarlett jumped at Damon's voice. She had thought he would still be asleep.

"Scarlett!" he exclaimed again, running down the hallway towards her. Scarlett felt her heart squeeze. Poor Damon. He'd been through so much. The constant nightmares, their father's drunken rampages, and now this. Scarlett leaned down as he came towards her, and folded him into her arms.

After a minute, Damon began to squirm in her embrace. She let him go and examined his face. He didn't appear to be hurt or even scared. He just looked tired. His gray eyes were underlined with dark bruises, and he was paler than usual.

Damon's eyes widened as they fell on Scarlett's bare arms. She cursed herself silently for not finding something to cover the bruises.

"Did daddy do that?" Damon asked.

"It's okay, Damon, it's fine. I'm fine," Scarlett reassured him. The last thing she wanted was for him to start crying again. She took his small face in her hands.

"It's okay," she promised, stroking his cheek gently, "We're safe now. We're in good hands. Okay?"

Damon nodded. Scarlett released his face and took one of his hands.

"How about we go back downstairs. Did you talk to Roger? Did he explain everything?"

Damon shook his head. "He didn't have to. My new friend told me what happened. She's downstairs, too. So is another boy. I don't think he likes Roger very much."

"What?" Scarlett asked. She didn't think she'd taken that long in the shower.

"Come on!" Damon said, pulling her down the stairs. When they emerged into the den, Scarlett saw what he had been talking about.

Roger was there, and as always, Scarlett's heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She knew it was stupid. He'd been using her the entire time, but Scarlett was still hopelessly in love. Roger was leaning over the couch, looking at something.

Scarlett couldn't see what; the back of the couch was blocking her view. She could see the other boy that Damon had mentioned. He stood an inch or two taller than Roger. Scarlett was surprised to recognize his dark blonde hair and green eyes. He was the boy from the photograph. Roger and the boy had been laughing then. They weren't now.

They both wore dark expressions as they studied whatever was on the couch.

The new boy noticed Scarlett and Damon first. His eyes traced them without much interest. Scarlett resisted the urge to cover her arms, which would have been impossible anyways. Damon was still holding her hand.

Roger looked up a moment later as Damon pulled Scarlett to the couch. Roger gave them a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Who's this?" The blonde boy asked, his attention still focused on the couch, which Scarlett could now see was taken up by a sleeping girl.

"Scarlett Cass. Damon's sister." Roger answered before Scarlett had a chance to.

"I'm James," he said, sounding bored. "that's Meghan." He pointed to the girl on the couch. "Now that we've got all these pesky introductions out of the way, we need to talk about these kids."

James finally looked away from Meghan. His eyes fell on Scarlett's arms, and Scarlett felt her face flush. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.

"What are you getting at?" Roger asked, looking at James warily. Scarlett could see from the tight set of Roger's jaw that he was far from comfortable.

"There's no way that we're both here by coincidence," James stated, as if it should be obvious to everyone. "Someone planned this, and that means that we all have a lot to talk about."

He went into the kitchen before anyone had a chance to respond. He rummaged around in the pantry and the fridge, pulling out an array of items and setting them on the counter. When he seemed to be done, he turned and faced the trio still surrounding the couch.

"Anyone hungry?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

They nodded.

10: Chapter Nine

A/N: Okay so I have to dedicate this chapter to Mikala (disneywholockain) bc she's a sick needy child with bleeding gums (happy now?)

A huge thank you to Anushka, as always, for the prompt.

Thank you to Sam (watsonyourmindd) for editing bc i'm a small excited child that cannot type.

And idk thanks to Michelle (pininglock) I guess even tho you literally did nothing for this chapter except fall asleep when you were supposed to read it?

As always I live for feed back please give me feet back either on here or Tumblr or with some trippy smoke signals I am a small needy child please give me feedback

I love you all so so so so much thank you for reading

-sh

It turned out that James was an amazing cook.

About half an hour later, they were all seated at the cabin's dinner table, practically inhaling the food James had set in front of them. Damon wasn't sure what time it was, but darkness was seeping in through the large windows. He was too tired to ask.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was forks hitting plates. Apparently, everyone was as hungry as Damon was. Maybe the time travel had something to do with it. Damon decided that he didn't care and continued shoveling food into his mouth.

It was Roger who spoke first.

"So what did you mean when you said it wasn't a coincidence that we're all here?"

He was looking at James, his knuckles white as he gripped his fork.

James set his spoon down and cleared his throat. He'd already cleaned his plate.

"Think about it," James said, leaning back in his chair. "What are the chances that someone would attack Meghan and Damon at the same time. Someone had to know that we'd both come here. Whoever or whatever's doing this...they have us trapped, right where they want us."

James' words filled Damon with dread. He didn't like the weird new world he'd been thrust into. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his classmates. He wanted this all to blow over. He didn't want to be here.

Damon could see that he wasn't the only one that James' words disturbed. Roger paled and Scarlett made a choked noise.

"But we weren't attacked," she mumbled, staring at her plate.

"That's true," James said. "But your father's been drunk before, and he's never almost murdered you." Scarlett still wouldn't look James in the eye. "I think someone put something in his drink. That's not so uncommon. Especially now."

Scarlett looked as if she were on the verge of tears. Damon could see her digging her teeth into her lip. He wished she would stop. It looked like it hurt.

"So you think it's not the Reformers?" Roger asked, still gripping the fork.

"I don't know," James answered, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table. "I don't know how anyone else would be able to find Damon or Meghan in the first place." His eyebrows pulled together as he began to think.
"How does the Agency find them? I mean I know you guys are all over the place, aren't you? All over time? How does any of that work?" Scarlett asked, finally looking up from her plate.

Roger and James exchanged a quick look. Damon thought he saw James nod slightly. Roger leaned forward looking Scarlett in the eye.

"You have to understand," he said slowly, "This is all on a need to know basis. A lot of the information I'm about to tell you is classified. Do you understand that?" Scarlett nodded.

"The average human uses about ten percent of his or her brain," Roger began, as if he was reciting a speech he'd been forced to memorize. "There's a certain mutation, it's very rare, that allows access to a larger region of the brain's power. This mutation, it manifests itself in different ways, depending on how much more power it allows access to. Is this making sense?"

Scarlett nodded, her eyes fixed on Roger's face. "Kind of like X-men?" she asked.

Roger looked like she was speaking in a foreign language. "What's an X-men?"

Scarlett sighed, "Nevermind. So, Damon has this...mutation that lets him use more of his brain. So does Meghan. Different amounts of power, different...side effects. That's not so difficult to grasp, actually. But what I don't understand is why the Agency sends agents to protect them. Or how you find these...people."

James looked at her sideways, but said nothing.

"Right, well, we have ways of detecting the mutation. It's-it's a machine, and that's all I know about it honestly," Roger said.

"It's a lot of quantum physics that messes with the space time continuum that only about three people on earth are able to understand," James added.

"Anyways," Roger continued. "The kids with this mutation, they're really special. They do extraordinary things with their lives. The Reformers...they believe that people shouldn't be allowed that much power. That it's unnatural. They don't have the same technology we do, but they seem to have their own ways of finding these people.

"The Reformers. . . they're truly evil people," Rogers voice caught slightly, and Damon thought he saw James clenching his fists under the table.

"They'll stop at nothing to get what they want. And if that means killing children. . . . ." Roger trailed off.

Damon felt sick. He suddenly regretted eating so quickly.

"But that's why there's the Agency," James cut in. "To stop them, and keep kids safe."

"So you think that all of the Reformers are after Damon and Meghan?" Scarlett asked, her eyes moving from James to Roger, and finally resting on Damon. She gave him a small smile.

"No," Roger said at the same time James said "Yes."

They glared at each other for a moment. Damon could feel the tension in the air.

"The Reformers are a huge network," Roger said, not taking his eyes of James. "It's more likely that it's a smaller group. They break off sometimes, do their own thing. And there's a particular group that would know we'd be here."

James' eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No," he croaked. It was barely more than a whisper. "No. They're dead. They have to be.

"Carter. . . he. . .I'm not sure he was. . . dealt with," Roger said.

"No," James repeated, his hand bunching into the table cloth. "He's dead."

"James-"

"NO!" James' shouted. Scarlett looked as scared as Damon felt.

"It's not Carter," James' voice lowered slightly. "It's not them. It's not possible."

Damon knew the situation was growing serious, but he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He was sad and exhausted and terrified all at the same time, and it was really taking a toll on him. He'd been stifling his yawns throughout the entire conversation. Scarlett's eyes finally fell on him, and worry clouded his face.

"Damon's exhausted," she said softly. "He's been through a lot today."

So have you, Damon thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Is there somewhere he can sleep?"

"Upstairs," James snapped. He was glowering at Roger. "First door on the right. I can show you."

"No it's okay. I can find it," Scarlett insisted, pushing her chair back and standing. Damon did the same, swaying slightly on his feet. He couldn't remember ever being so tired.

Before he actually knew what was happening, Scarlett had picked him up and they were going up the stairs. Damon muttered sleepily, and Scarlett stroked his hair.

She turned into the bedroom James had mentioned and set Damon down on the bed. He kicked off his shoes and crawled under the bedspread. It was the softest thing Damon had ever felt.

"I love you," he mumbled, his tongue heavy with exhaustion.

"I love you, too," Scarlett said. She flipped off the light, and Damon was asleep almost instantly.

He dreamt of Meghan.

11: Chapter Ten

A/N: wEE i'll try to keep this short. Thank you to Johnissherlocked, Pininglock, Disnewholockian, and Watsonyourmindd, for the wonderful editing skills and moral support and prompts and stuff. I love all of you so so so much, and I couldn't do this with out you.

Please give me feedback bc i'm a needy dumb baby that needs a lot of validation

-SH

Also thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. It means the world to me.

When Scarlett returned downstairs, Roger was alone at the table. His fingers were rhythmically drumming against the wood. His jaw was set, and his eyes bore into the front door. He looked so tired. Black circles were etched under his eyes. Scarlett felt an ache in her chest. Here, with only the two of them in the room, things didn't seem so real.

Scarlett must have made some sort of noise, because Roger finally tore his gaze away from the door and looked at her. She couldn't read his expression, and it was driving her crazy. She'd always been able to tell what Roger was thinking.

But it was all an act she reminded herself. She suddenly found it hard to look at him.

"Where'd James go?" she asked, more to distract herself than out of curiosity. Scarlett knew his type. Arrogant. Sarcastic. Convinced the world owed him something.

It was dumb. The world didn't owe anybody anything.

"I don't know," Roger propped his elbow up on the table and rested his face in his hand. "He just took off. He's always been like that, ever since we were kids."

Scarlett sat down across from him. She wasn't sure what to say.

After a moment of silence, she asked, "How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," he answered, his blue eyes meeting hers in the dark.

"Look i'm sorry about this," he said, after a moment of silence. "About all of this. . . especially about. . . us. God, I was so stupid."

Scarlett swallowed hard. A lump was beginning to form in her throat. She wasn't sure she could take it if he confirmed her fears out loud.

She knew it was stupid, but a small part of her still had hope that Roger loved her, or at least some what cared about her. For so long, Roger had been her solace. When her dad got too drunk, when Damon's dreams sent him sobbing into her arms, Roger had always been there. She had risked everything to meet with him at night. She spent hours worrying about what her father would do if he caught her sneaking out. Several times, when she was nearly sick with fear, she'd almost called the whole thing off. But she hadn't. She loved Roger. And if the whole thing. . . the whole goddamned thing was a lie…

"I love you," The words tumbled out of Scarlett's mouth before she could stop them. She was terrified and exhausted and worried, and she felt like she was losing control of herself. Her hands were shaking and she was dangerously close to tears.

The look on Roger's face was enough to tell her that she'd made a mistake. There wasn't love in his eyes. Only pity..

"Oh, Scar," he whispered, and that was it. Everything came crashing down on her. She started crying. She knew Roger probably thought she was a pathetic little kid but she couldn't help it. She stood up, meaning to go upstairs, outside, anywhere, but Roger was in front of her in an instant.

"Scarlett, please-" he said, his eyes pleading. Scarlett shook her head, choking back a sob.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Roger, I can't-" she couldn't continue.

Roger wrapped his arms around her, her cheek pressing into his uninjured shoulder. It felt so familiar and so natural. That made Scarlett sob harder. He held her while she cried, as he had in the past.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, occasionally. He even stroked her hair.

God, Scarlett felt like such an idiot. Here she was, blubbering in some guys arms because he didn't love her? She was disgusted with herself.

Scarlett wasn't sure how long they stood there, but slowly her sobs faded. She backed away from Roger, wiping her face with her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, not meeting his eyes. "It's just, my dad, and Damon, and all of this," she waved her arms in an all encompassing gesture. "And you, on top of that. It's just a lot to take in. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"Scarlett, stop apologizing,"he said. She looked up, forcing herself to meet his eyes. Scarlett had always thought she could get lost in those eyes. Now she knew.

"This is all my fault and I can't explain to you how sorry I am. I was only thinking of doing my job. I thought I could keep a better eye on Damon if I knew someone on the inside. I never should have let it escalate, but I did, and I'm sorry for that."

It was like a blow. Scarlett dug her teeth into her raw lip.

"You have every right to hate me, to resent me. You can yell and scream at me. God knows i deserve it, you can hit me, I don't care. I'm truly sorry."

Scarlett shook her head, choosing her words carefully. "It felt...real."

Roger looked sad. She didn't know why he was sad, but it was the best way to describe his face.

"There's someone else," he said slowly, studying her face.

Scarlett felt sick.

"So you have girlfriend?" Scarlett asked, anger seeping into her voice.

"No. God, no," he backpedaled. "No, I haven't seen her in a few years, actually, we grew up together."

Scarlett nodded.

"Are you going to be okay?" Roger asked, looking at her with genuine concern.

Scarlett laughed, wiping at her eyes with the hem of her shirt.

"I'll be fine eventually. To be honest, if I was in your position I probably would have done the same thing." Roger honestly looked surprised. Scarlett doubted he'd expected her to be forgiving. "I'm just worried about Damon. I mean he's six. And he has a huge target painted on his back. Roger, if anything happens to him, I'll never be able to live with myself."

"Nothing going to happen to him. We're going to keep him safe. I promise."

Scarlett nodded again, not trusting her voice.

Roger leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Get some sleep," he said, pulling away. "I'll wait up for James. He usually comes back in a few hours."

Scarlett was too drained to argue. She climbed the stairs and found Damon's room. She slid under the covers beside him. She wondered what he was dreaming of. He wasn't tossing or turning or crying, so she assumed they weren't that bad.

She rolled over and was asleep within minutes.

12: Chapter 11

A/n: Oh my gosh it's been way too long I'm sorry!

First off I need to thank Vi (holmesology) and Talia (castielthepizzaman) for editing bc Sam is out having a life and stuff! And also thank you to everyone reading this now for not giving up on me because it's been so long! thank you so much!

And as always thank you to Anushka (sherlockholmvs) for the prompt!

 

James didn't really where he was. He wasn't sure if he could find his way back to the cabin, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to stay and listen to Roger talk about Carter. Carter was dead. He had to be.

James had left as soon as Scarlett had taken Damon upstairs. Roger had tried to stop him, but James hadn't listened. All he'd been thinking about was getting away from the stupid cabin; about getting away from Roger.

James had ended up fishing a transporter from his pocket. He knew that he wasn't supposed to use them for personal reasons, but he doubted that one transporter would make a difference since he had several more in his pocket. He'd messed with the settings carelessly before crushing it in his hand, and now, he was in a nearby city. He vaguely recognized his surroundings, and figured that he couldn't be that far from the cabin. He could easily use another transporter to return there, but there was no way he was going back now.

He sighed and looked around. There was a bar at the end of the street. He decided to try his luck there. A large bouncer was standing outside the doors. James flashed him a fake ID and slipped inside without any trouble. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. Thoughts of Roger, Carter, and his parents were all pounding in his head, giving him a headache.

He sipped at the beer, hoping the alcohol would take the edge off the pain in his head. So far it was doing nothing to calm his racing thoughts. His skin practically crawled at the thought of going back to the cabin. James hated the place. It was crawling with memories that he'd spent years trying to forget. Then there was Roger, who he hadn't seen in four years. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't want to think about it. James didn't do feelings. If it wasn't for the little girl, he'd leave and never give the damned place a second thought.

But he had a responsibility to her. Besides his job, he'd promised Meghan that he would help her, and he had to admit, he felt sorry for the kid. She was going to wake up and not have a mum or a dad. James, of all people, knew what that felt like.

He drained the rest of the beer, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. His head was still pounding sickeningly. He was about to order another beer when the door burst open, slamming against the wall, making James wince. A large man with wiry ginger hair and a beard stormed in, turning the few heads in the bar. Something about him set James on edge. His muscles tensed and he tightened his grip on the empty glass bottle in front of him, preparing for the worst.

The man approached the bar, coming to a stop a few feet down from James. He slammed his hand on the counter, making the bartender jump and James' head throb. The other faces in the bar were beginning to pale with fear.

"Hey bitch," he growled. "Lock up. I got an announcement to make, and I don't like interruptions."

For a minute, she looked like she was going to protest, but the man pulled a knife from his belt. The bartender clamped her mouth shut and began tapping at a screen behind the bar. The doors audibly locked, and James felt his years of training begin to kick in. The bar was silent, scared faces all turned towards the man.

"Listen up!" he shouted, stepping lazily into the middle of the bar so that everyone could see him. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. If you do as I say, no one will get hurt. You're going to be quiet and respectful, and you'll do nothing to attract outside attention. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded.

"I'm sure you've all heard of the Reformers."

A shudder worked its way down James' spine. If this man was part of the Reformers, then he was officially James' responsibility.

He couldn't have one night off?

"We're looking for three very important fugitives." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen and pictures of Meghan, Damon, and Scarlett flashed on every screen in the bar.

"They may be seen with these agents," he continued. James held his breath as pictures of him and Roger flashed across the screens. He tried to keep his head down, but he could see the bartender staring between him and the pictures on the screen in front of her.

"We have a small camp set up in the woods right outside the city limits. It shouldn't be that hard to find us. If you have any information about any of these people, you will come to us and let us know. Withholding information would cause. . . unpleasant consequences."

James' skin was crawling and his muscles were wound tight. He thought he could feel more people in the bar looking at him.

"Do all of you understand?" the man asked, looking around the bar. There was a chorus of murmured yeses and James thought he heard some yes sirs. He just nodded, trying not to draw attention to himself.

The man took time to look at everyone. James held his breath, hoping he wouldn't be noticed.

But of course things didn't work that way for James.

The man's eyes narrowed, and James swore under his breath.

"If anything happens," he whispered to the bartender whose eyes were wide with panic, "get everyone out. This could get ugly." She nodded numbly.

And of course, all hell broke loose.