Martyrdom and Suicide [Psyche]

[Stockmon]

Nora felt Taylor let go of her, and with eyes still closed let go of everyone and took a few steps backwards. With a quick shout from Taylor Nora opened her eyes just as she felt the back of her foot hit something hard. Stumbled backwards Nora found Taylor grabbing her. An arm around her waist and one holding her hand he stabilized her and she reminded herself with a bewildered stare that this was in fact his domain.

“Well, everyone… welcome to my time line.” Taylor said, ignoring the recent contact he’d had with Nora. It wasn’t keeping her from falling out of the large tiled shower house that they’d managed to land in that was making him blush, it was the fact that he’d gotten to hold her close for the jump. This was when Nora realized that Taylor’s clothing had changed. He was wearing a red t-shirt that said “Mother May I” in black lettering, also faded blue jeans, tennis shoes, a watch, and a slightly uncomfortable expression. Nora wondered why his clothing had changed, but glancing at Andrew and Simon she realized theirs has as well, which caused her to look at herself. Nora found herself in laced ballet slippers of a shade between black and brown, dark brown tights, and a skirt that only came to her knees. Actually the skirt stopped just short of her knees, and were in not for the tights she’d have felt entirely too exposed. The black skirt was lace and some sort of satin, topped with a black button up long sleeved shirt. She reached to her neck and found her cross necklace still hanging there. Apparently that had not changed.

“In case you are all exceptionally confused by now… when we jump… well the clothing changes to fit whatever era you are in. It’s so we don’t stand out, in any case. Also, we’re in a shower house. It’s for an abandoned indoor swimming pool. We’re not far from my house just… if you could all follow me… quietly we’ll get to my house pretty quickly and it will be safer there.” Taylor said, his nagging concern reading on his features, though secretly he was still thrown by being so close to Nora.

Without a word after that Taylor stepped over the edge that Nora had nearly fallen over and made for the door. Once outside in daylight Nora starred wide eyed at all the tall buildings in the distance, none were so close she could guess what might occur inside them, but she saw them reaching toward the sky like nothing she’d ever seen before. They passed metal objects large enough to fit people inside, though only a few, and soon the group was walking on gravel, between small houses, next to unhealthy patches of grass and a few scattered trees. Everything was drab and normal to Taylor but Nora could help but stare at everything as she followed closely behind Taylor.

Taylor stopped in front of a relatively average sized white house. Four rose bushes, two on either side of the steps, made the front yard stand out on the street. Most people, if they had any plants, had trees. Taylor had clearly trimmed rose bushes and a well tended, though small, lawn. Nora’s eyes continued to dart around at the other houses. Taylor walked up the small concrete path to his steps, then veered off into the lawn. He glanced at his arm, which caused Nora to drag her eyes from the surroundings to him finally. With reluctance Taylor slowly plunged his arm into one of the rose bushes, a rather pained look on his face all the while and he let out an unpleasant groan when he pulled his arm out. Nora saw several scratches on his arm from the thorns and a keychain in his hand.

A few moments bent over the rose bush and Taylor, who apparently had a pocket knife on his keychain, stepped back with a rose in his hand. Making sure to pay as little attention to Simon’s no doubt disapproving look Taylor walked up to Nora, holding the rose out to her. She took it, blushing as Taylor commented, “Since I know how you adore roses, madam.” She blushed harder when he smirked and said, “Plus you’re adorable when you blush.”

Accepting the thin ice he was tap dancing across Taylor turned and walked up the steps to his house, hoping Nora would not be annoyed at him for his actions. At the door Taylor quickly put his house key to work, turning back to the small group and saying, “Well, if you hadn’t guessed this is my house. Um… yeah, I live alone; I think I have places for all of you to sleep. It’s a fairly small house but I’ll give you a tour and you can decide what you think of it. Please come inside.” He said, gesturing inside as he opened the door, waiting until everyone got in to close and lock the door.

Nora stepped inside first, sidestepping the door and leaning against the wall. Taylor quickly flipped on the lights to rectify the dim lighting in his living room. He could see the wide eyed Victorian’s and hopped he wouldn’t be reduced to explaining the concept of electricity in the average home. He was no teacher and didn’t understand things enough to pass that knowledge on to begin with. Even with a college education, it wasn’t as if he’d majored in engineering. The one window in that room Nora had noticed from the outside, however with a large curtain completely covering it, even the window gave no light to the room. Nora looked around with the new lighting, trying not to seem as a naïve child stepping foot into a castle. It was a small room, but there was a chair, couch, coffee table, bookshelf, guitar, and an object which Nora could not even guess at.

“So this is the living room.” Taylor told them, motioning around the room with his arm. When he supposed they’d have a fair amount of seconds to examine the furniture, which he had less interest in than getting the tour finished as quickly as possible, he stepped into the nearest room, glad when they followed. Other than a table, four chairs, and a chine cabinet in the corner of the room the dining room really had no furniture. The china cabinet didn’t even have a lot of china, but as it stood in the house of an antique collector, son of the owner of an antique store, there were at least some pieces in the cabinet. At the edge of the room was a counter, with a few things on top of it. The counter served as a divider between the kitchen and dining room.

Next Taylor showed them to his bedroom door. He opened it up, glancing inside momentarily and saying, “I highly doubt any of you will want to spend much if any time in my bedroom, so you don’t need to be overly acquainted with the space.” He made sure not to look at anyone when he said that, and didn’t look at Nora soon after. He really didn’t want to know her thoughts or feelings at the moment, for some reason, or especially Simon’s.

The door directly across from Taylor’s room was an office with two couches that folded out into beds. “I would imagine Simon and Andrew, you can have this room.” He said to the two males. He hadn’t planned on using that room, but it seemed a fair idea in his mind. Nora looked around for a second before moving back into the hallway. She couldn’t guess why she room seemed of interest to her, but she wanted to get out quickly, feeling that more than any other room she’d been let into thus far, she didn’t belong there. No doubt being in Taylor’s bedroom would have been worse, as that really was his room, and not just a place he’d be put for an unknown period of time. A linen closest was located between the office that Simon and Andrew had been offered and Taylor’s bedroom. A small bathroom with a shower was between the doorway to Taylor’s bedroom and the kitchen door. Taylor supposed he was going to have to explain indoor plumbing to the Victorian’s, or if he could get away with it, chalking it up to “just accept that it works.”

Finally Taylor opened the door to his laundry room. He gave a brief explanation that they didn’t need to understand how the machines worked, and he would do their laundry for them if necessary. He really didn’t want to explain more about plumbing than the bare minimum, and was rapidly realizing how different his world was from theirs. Lastly he led the group into his basement. Nora found herself relatively weary walking down the staircase as it circled around before landing them all on level ground again.

“This is where I supposed Nora could sleep.” Taylor said just before opening the door to a very large room. Nora looked around as soon as she stepped inside. She spotted a large bed rather similar to the one in her bedroom at home and felt a bit at ease, though she kept her arms uncomfortably folded as she continued her awkward glances around the room she was expected to inhabit. Another couch and bookshelf were found. Apparently Taylor had a lot of books, as this bookshelf was just as full as the one upstairs. Farther down in the room Nora saw a divider, and just past that was a curtain, she couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden there. The divider, clearly standing there just for decoration, had a few things hanging on it, but what could Taylor want to hide behind a curtain, behind a divider, in the far corner of his basement, with the door closed, in his private residence? She didn’t want to ask, though she felt she would probably find out later. As Nora continued snacking the room she realized Taylor used this room for storage, but said nothing as she was unable to speak in general, trying to take everything in.

“Sound alright…? Nora?” Taylor asked, waiting until Nora looked at him and nodded slowly. He felt the need to make her more comfortable, cheer her up, do something to take away that dull deer in the headlights look she’d adorned. “If it helps… I know you like pianos.” She blinked at him, perking up instantly and he felt better, “So… I mean, I can probably clear the piano off you for.” If it would have helped, he’d have cleared it off then and there, but he knew he needed to tend to his other guests as well. Also, Nora was probably too frazzled to play, and would want more information. He hated having to explain things.

“What piano?” She asked quickly, the awkwardness of the day momentarily forgotten. It was nice to see that despite everything, despite her life being in danger, despite finding out that select people could travel through time, despite Taylor showing up at her doorstep that morning and the fact that she was now standing in his basement when there was a piano in the room she had to find it. He hadn’t overestimated her love of music, certainly. Taylor pointed to the side of the room where, under piles of boxes and papers, Nora could hardly identify a piano. “You covered it in junk?!” She asked, sounding nearly offended. Taylor looked down at his shoes sheepishly.

“Well…” Taylor said, glancing at the boys, fully aware he would get no help from them, and then back to Nora, who never stopped giving him a disapproving look, “I don’t play piano. I just collect antiques.” I play the guitar upstairs but… you don’t know that. And I feel like that’s more than a little irrelevant on a day like today. Taylor thought to himself. He’d forgotten that she still didn’t know his correct last name, and that she would get very upset with him when she found that out. At the moment however, Nora was busy ignoring the idea that something current to her could be an antique to him, saying nothing. “Right so, um… upstairs then?”

When the group got upstairs and had seated themselves on the couch, with Nora sitting nearest to Taylor, and Simon in the middle. Taylor sat in his armchair, looking at them like the inquisition. “So… that’s my house… Any questions?” He asked awkwardly, being the in “comfort of his own home” did nothing to ease his nerves. Nora leaned back in her seat; hoping one of the boys would say something so she didn’t have to.

[Psyche]

Simon, as they prepared to leave, had been watching Taylor with a skeptical eye that quickly turned sour as the man took hold of Nora. Despite the complete trust the man had gained from both his mistress and his brother in the past hours, he still couldn’t help thinking that all the anticipation the stranger had built up among his friends would end in a sudden disappointment, at least on everyone’s part but his own: He was quite looking forward to escorting the maniac to the door with a patronizing grin and directions to the nearest hospital.

He had been told very little about how the man planned to get Nora to his house, but—when he had denied any sort of carriage and told them all to link hands—Simon had only done so with the belief that in the near future he would be able to laugh at the pair who had relied on him and leave this day behind as only a frustrating memory. Even with this condescending cooperation in mind, seeing Taylor holding his Mistress so closely pushed his patience perilously. He gripped his brother’s hand tightly in agitation and sighed, reminding himself that the charade would all be over soon. Of course the charade, if it had been one, did end just as quickly as he had predicted, but in hardly the same way.

The two figures before him vanished without warning from the familiar room, and Simon was only kept from the urge to run at the spot where they had stood by a strong tugging at his wrist that seemed to throw him headlong into darkness. A cold, prickling sensation traveled from his limbs as if icy water were trickling into this blackness, and he instinctively caught his breath to keep from drowning in this invisible, freezing ocean. When, at last, he did seem to surface, dim light surrounded him from all sides and he had to clasps the nearest object to keep from swooning, the hair still standing up on his arms.

He took in several deep breaths, trying to remember where he had come from, and stared at the shadowy forms of Nora and Taylor with rounded eyes and a stark white face. It wasn’t until warmth had begun seeping back into his frozen joints that he realized he was clinging to Andrew like a lanky lifeboat.

Overpowered by embarrassment, even in his shaky state, he released the boy and took a hasty step in the opposite direction to feign sudden interest in the metallic faucets protruding from the tiled, molding walls and cast a leery glance at Taylor to ascertain he had not witnessed the episode. A series of tremors still coursed through his skinny frame, and he took care to steady them, his back still turned on the crowd, before he showed his face again. When he was finally able to focus on his fellows for any amount of time, he glared at the arm Taylor had wrapped around Nora with a silent, burning disapproval. He glanced to Nora’s face, as if hoping for some sign of discomfort to be written there, and found his displeasure intensified by an image that told him she did not clearly posses such feelings. With this object of extreme repugnance reinstalled in his mind, any fear or curiosity he had held for their circumstances was forgotten, and he crossed his arms in a show of reproach.

Andrew recognized the creeping feeling faintly, as if experiencing an old dream for the second time, and wrapped his arms across his torso in an act of protection against the cold. He closed his eyes against the blackness and felt his knees threaten to buckle underneath him as he landed on a slick, hard floor. A breath of warm air made his eyes open in uncertainty, and he felt a pair of tensed arms like heavy, metal restraints pinned over his chest, his brother’s tall figure leaning unsteadily against his back. There was only a moment of incredulity as to the strangeness of these actions before the man removed his arms and stepped aside, leaving Andrew alone in the cool air. The boy's eyes flicked inquisitively from person to person, guessing by his stance that Taylor had have just caught Nora from a fall, before he slipped into wordless marvel at the difference in surroundings. Noticing the change that had taken place in his companions’ wardrobes, he tucked his hands happily into the baggy pockets of his own burgundy hoodie and surveyed with great interest the khaki cargo pants that had taken the place of his old, black trousers. They seemed to emit a faint, clean smell, and he wondered vaguely where it was that they had come from before being interrupted in his thoughts by Taylor’s deep voice.

“Well, everyone… welcome to my time line.” He noticed some small discomfort hidden in the man’s expression and wondered if it had to do with Nora, who seemed ruffled about something herself, before immediately recognizing his brother’s distress. “In case you are all exceptionally confused by now… when we jump… well the clothing changes to fit whatever era you are in. It’s so we don’t stand out, in any case. Also, we’re in a shower house. It’s for an abandoned indoor swimming pool. We’re not far from my house just… if you could all follow me… quietly we’ll get to my house pretty quickly and it will be safer there.” Andrew listened to these words with wonder and nodded at the suggestion, waiting for Taylor and Nora to pass before making any attempt to follow. Simon, too, walked behind them, clearly dejected, and Andrew stuck close by his side. As they walked into the sunlight and looming surroundings, Andrew grasped for his older brother’s hand nervously and was somewhat glad the action had gone unnoticed in Simon’s preoccupation rather than being rejected as it likely would have under other circumstances. He looked from building to building anxiously, without even the slightest idea where his feet were taking him as his head turned in every direction to capture each alien detail of the scene.

They trudged along at the feet of towering buildings, following a series of paved walkways until, as the structures began to stretch out farther and farther apart and the cement dissolved into a path of loosely packed pebbles, they found themselves before a row of humble houses, most smaller even than those he had known from his own era, and Andrew was delighted to find these modest shelters in an unknown world. Despite some modern alterations, they seemed inviting enough, and Andrew followed Taylor up to the entrance, eager to be inside where he could be safe from all of these strange inventions and people. In the shock, his curiosity for this place had dwindled to little more than the need for a backward glance as he rushed inside.

Simon, unlike his brother, was hardly daunted by these surroundings as all of his attention was focused instead on the pair before him. He felt Andrew’s hand within his own, but this too went unnoticed as he stalked resentfully after his mistress and her suitor, following each nuance of movement between them with the piercing attentiveness of a predator. Once they had reached Taylor’s own abode, he looked it over in smug appraisal before allowing himself to be pulled along by his nervous sibling. When they had reached the entrance, he released the hand that had thus far been guiding him, and stood close instead to Nora’s side as their leader stooped near one of the bushes on his property. He withdrew a key before crouching again to retrieve a bud from the flowering shrub and handing it to Nora. “Since I know how you adore roses, madam. Plus you’re adorable when you blush.” Simon’s hands tightened into fists as he struggled to refrain from an outburst, either physical or verbal, and stomped after the flushing Nora with his jaws clamped shut in acute antipathy. Rather than any of these things he felt like doing to Taylor, though, he followed more closely after Nora, nearly running into her as they stopped at the entrance to heed the stranger’s speech. “Well, if you hadn’t guessed this is my house. Um… yeah, I live alone; I think I have places for all of you to sleep. It’s a fairly small house but I’ll give you a tour and you can decide what you think of it. Please come inside.”

Andrew jumped visibly as the entire room illuminated with their entrance and edged unconsciously nearer to his brother who had rejoined him and who alone seemed to remain impassive at their surroundings. “So this is the living room.” Andrew recognized only a few fundamental items to which he could put a name and merely blinked at the others with intrigue. When the group moved deeper into the house, he went after them dreamily, hardly noticing as his brother distanced himself in order to be closer to Nora. As they passed the man’s bedroom, which inspired a distasteful remark from their guide, Simon pressed closer to his mistress (this being most contact he dared to have with the woman, despite Taylor's earlier careless liberties) in a conscious attempt to move her from the room as quickly as possible.

Andrew looked into the room which he and his brother were to occupy with some doubt, eyeing each object with distrust as if these inanimates might suddenly reject the idea of their company. Simon continued the tour, thoroughly disinterested and waiting for the time when they would be able to move about, free of Taylor’s presence, but endured it with dismal patience all the same. Upon introduction to the laundry room, he felt some distaste at the idea of trusting Taylor with his clothing (noting, with the closest thing he had felt for amusement since leaving the Ashton household, the charcoal blazer and slacks that had replaced his butler's uniform). For their last stop, they trooped down narrow stairs to a cool basement, and Simon only displayed a sign of interest in the unspectacular room when he learned that it would be the one to accommodate Nora. He stole a quick glance at the bed, feeling slightly guilty at seeing it, before turning his attention awkwardly elsewhere. With this, he allowed the others to move away from him in their survey of the room, and stood rooted to the spot, watching the others and their interactions with uncomfortable keenness.

With his brother out of commission, Andrew felt himself huddling instead by Nora as they explored the cluttered basement. It was only when he was rid of Simon’s almost tangible brooding that he began to feel some excitement for all the opportunities that awaited them here. Nora, upon mention of a piano, had spoken the first cheerful words he had heard since entering the household, though the note unfortunately did not last long. “You covered it in junk?!” she demanded with an accusatory glare, and Andrew watched the pair with quieted amusement at the return to a normal set of behavior after the odd silence. Taylor mumbled some excuse, before directing them again upstairs, and Andrew joined the others, too distracted to take note of his brother’s delayed response to the suggestion as the man stood alone and distracted in the center of the large room. Simon had only returned from distant thoughts to the present when they were again in the living room. Nora and Andrew had already found a spot on the couch, and Simon—with a glance to his brother who scooted knowingly over—sat between them. He could feel Nora’s shoulder against his own and calmed himself from his former annoyance with Taylor, though he still continued to ignore a good deal of what was said. “So… that’s my house… Any questions?” With Nora silent and his brother visibly distracted, Andrew seemed the only party with a ready answer and leaned forward after some time to address the host.

“Eh… when do we eat?” he asked with a blush.

[Stockmon]

Although Simon had spend the majority of their short trek into the future his younger brother seemed to share and multiply Nora’s wide eyed confusion with his own curiosity. Nora was so distracted she didn’t even realize how close Simon was during the entire tour of the house. Taylor noticed, but didn’t feel the need to think about it, he had other things on his mind. Nora did feel Simon somewhat pushing her away from Taylor’s bedroom, as if by sheer force of will, and small nudges. In the basement as well Taylor noticed Simon’s interest perk up, from less than nothing to actually existent, upon the mention of it being Nora’s room.

When Nora sat down next to Andrew on the couch she was relatively calm and distracted, however for some reason Simon magically made Andrew move away, putting him between the two. She supposed Simon did know them both the most, yet being nearer the enthusiastic youth should have been a bit more comforting than the brooding butler. Luckily for Nora she still felt at ease having someone next to her, and had she felt it wouldn’t have been entirely inappropriate she probably would have grabbed his hand for comfort. Propriety and logic kept her hands in her lap though.

Finally Taylor asked if anyone had any questions and Nora remained silent. Simon said nothing either, and finally Andrew scooted forward, “Eh… when do we eat?”

Taylor laughed a little, relieved really, to find that one of his guests was able to think of normal things, instead of staring at him blankly. Taylor stood up and shrugged, “We can eat now if you’d like. I don’t have all that much in my fridge, but I’ve definitely got enough to make all of you some sort of lunch or brunch or breakfast or whatever it is at this point.” Taylor said, his voice becoming more relaxed with every comment. “I’ll make something; you can all do whatever you’d like.” Taylor said with a shrug, wandering off to his kitchen.

Nora glanced at Simon, but unsure what she wanted to say she got up and followed Taylor. Nora positioned herself near the doorway entering the dining room, and Taylor had already made his way into the kitchen, rummaging through some white object. He grabbed a towel from the door handle then a bag of something, wrapped it in the towel, and put it to his face. Nora looked at him curious and he commented,

“The cold… will take down the swelling on my…” He sighed, “Never mind.”

“Alright… do you need help?” She asked, her mind beginning to run at a more normal pace,

“Sure, but I get the impression you’re plotting.” Taylor said honestly, Nora looked at the floor, “Go ahead, enact your plan, I don’t mind. I’d suggest you getting more acquainted with the basement though… just… because I know you need to have a space that you’re comfortable with and… never mind, I’ll stop talking.” Taylor sighed; Nora left the room without another word.

“Andrew,” Nora said, walking to the middle of the room and avoiding looking at Simon whatsoever, “would you like to help Taylor in the kitchen? I’m fairly certain you like cooking, from our conversation. He could use some help…” She said distractedly. Once Andrew had left she finally did look at Simon, “Would you help me move some boxes in the basement? I’d appreciate it.”

With that Nora went to the basement, put her hands on her hips and looked disapprovingly at the piano, “It’s a waste of a good piano.” She mumbled. Grabbing one of the boxes from the top of the piano Nora put it against the far wall, directing her attention back to Simon, “So… are you alright with all of this?” She asked, leaving it open ended so he could fill in whatever blank he wanted.

[Psyche]

Simon stared blankly at the strange objects before him, more out of fatigue than any sort of curiosity, and listened to the conversation taking place about him without any real conviction. His thoughts, like a seasoned sailor returning to land, were finally beginning to cope with this unfamiliar terrain, and he was at last able to consider the events of the past hour with some soundness of mind. He could feel Nora’s presences beside him, and, though he couldn’t force his eyes to focus on her, his mind was more than willing to provide the endearing expression with which she was regarding her former lover in the next chair. He crossed his arms weakly.

So, this is the future, he thought with quieted spite. Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, he couldn’t help regarding the whole situation as just some intricate ruse. None of this story made the least bit of sense, or at least any sense that he was willing to recognize. Time travel was an invention of the creatively starved mind… The work of cheap science fiction writers, trying to make a quick fortune by entertaining those poor souls with no grasp of logic or reality. It existed merely within the pages of those simple novels, a physical impossibility. Still he recounted everything he had witnessed since Taylor’s arrival without even the hint of an explanation that would support his theory. He sighed.

Nora was listening attentively to some question Taylor had just posed, and Simon took the opportunity to look at her without fear of being discovered. If at all possible, she seemed even more discomfited than he did, hands tensely folded in her lap and a weary expression fixed on their host. He felt somewhat sorry for her position, but—even in this sympathy—couldn’t help feeling that she held a good deal of the blame. How could she run off with this man without telling either of them? His eyes darted darkly to Taylor before returning to their former spot on the carpet. He experienced such a pang at this remembrance that any pity he had felt for the girl vanished. He tried to recount the time in their life when this affair had supposedly taken place to see if there had been any hint, any intimation that such a terrible thing was being done. It frightened him to realize that he had taken barely any notice of a difference.

Apart from a feeling of relief at her sudden good cheer, he had been too busy with Nate’s plots and the management of the household to really pay any attention to her change of mood. If I had been closer to her… he wondered painfully, if I had been nicer, would I have been able to see this sooner? It occurred to him then that he was as much to blame for this blindness than she had been in all her secrecy. How had he become so caught up in his own comings and goings that he had failed to see such a transformation in her? How much more had gone unnoticed? What else didn’t he know about her? He glimpsed the silent profile and couldn’t help mourning all of the wasted opportunities he had had to get to know her in the years they had lived together. Excuses could be made, of course, but it seemed almost blasphemy to claim he cared for her so much and yet have so little to show for it. He frowned. So what did he expect? How could he blame her for turning to someone else? As much as it hurt…

Andrew’s voice was the first to break the silence. ”When do we eat?” Simon suddenly realized his own nagging hunger and turned to Taylor with inquisitiveness. “We can eat now if you’d like. I don’t have all that much in my fridge, but I’ve definitely got enough to make all of your some sort of brunch or breakfast or whatever it is at this point. I’ll make something; you can all do whatever you’d like.” Whether it was the promise food or the stranger’s willing absence, Simon felt his now aching muscles begin to relax for the first time this strange morning. His brother stood upon Taylor’s departure to the kitchen, and Simon at once felt a kindling of hope for some time alone with Nora. With Andrew gone, he became aware of their closeness and was caught between the urge to move guiltily apart and a comfortable happiness. This feeling, however, proved to be quite fleeting as Nora got to her feet as well. His eyes followed her nervously to the kitchen before falling on the floor. Despite the repugnance he felt at allowing the pair to be alone together, he couldn’t summon the strength to follow. What right did he have? He knew Nathaniel would argue, but—in reality—he knew any intervention he would feel the need to enact would hardly be for Nate’s benefit. Besides, the two had had months of perfect privacy… This could hardly be some novel opportunity. Sulkily, he looked to Andrew, who was still standing with undecided eyes trained on the kitchen.

The ridiculousness of his question in the midst of all that had happened struck Andrew even as the words still reverberated in the air, and he felt himself blushing hotly under the stares of the others. He worried, at once, that such a brainless question would upset Taylor or his brother, whose patience already seemed dangerously thin. The kind laughter that he had received instead was a welcome relief, and Andrew offered the host a meek, grateful smile for it. When the man rose, Andrew rose with him, feeling a pang of guilt at making him prepare everything upon his request, but stopped immediately in doubt. Would he consider it rude? Caught in this conundrum of social responsibility, he was beaten to the gesture by Nora who confidently followed in their host’s steps. Gradually, he became aware of his brother’s attention and was debating the urge to sit back down when he heard his name. He nodded wordlessly at the offer to aid Taylor in the kitchen, and—glad to have direction—made his hasty exit. Around the modern appliances he found in the kitchen, however, he was just as much out of his element. Eyeing each one uncomfortably, he waited in the doorway for Taylor’s command.

In the awkward silence that had filled the room upon Nora’s exit, Simon tried numbly to come up with a topic of conversation. His mind, preoccupied with his mistress and hardly primed for any sort of interaction, was obstinate against the task, but—seeing Andrew as his sole ally in this crazy world—he attempted nonetheless. Just as he was about to introduce some particularly paltry subject to alleviate the silence, the attention of both was arrested by Nora’s reappearance. Simon watched her with a hesitant optimism that began faintly to grow when she led Andrew out of the room. “Would you like to help me move some boxes in the basement? I’d appreciate it.” Without waiting for a response, she quit the room and left a pleasantly perplexed Simon to puzzle together her intent from where he sat, unmoved, on the couch.

Once she had been absent for some seconds, he followed in content obedience and took his silent place next to her in the basement. After surveying the room for some moments, the woman attempted to remove a large box from atop the piano, and Simon rushed to help her with it despite her obvious capability. It was only when the box was safely deposited at the edge of the room that Nora acknowledged him. He brushed the dust from his hands self-consciously and awaited whatever important thing it was that she felt the need His eyes could hardly meet her gaze. He had done his best not to seem too antagonistic toward their host, but he knew that his ability to disguise such feelings were severely lacking in this instance. Whatever it was, she had made obvious effort to get him alone for its reception. This alone worried him. “So… are you alright with all of this?” He raised his eyebrows in clear disbelief.

“Alright with what?” came his initial response, though the specification was hardly necessary. There were plenty of things he could reasonably Not be alright with in this situation, but it didn’t take a clairvoyant to know to which issue she was referring. What he couldn’t piece together was what his opinion had to do with it. Whether he liked it or not, the situation remained the same. There was nothing they could change, the time for that had gone the moment Nora had agreed to give Taylor an audience. After that, there had been no convincing her otherwise, though their options were admittedly few. He wanted to say all of this to her, but couldn’t find the words. After all, this was the first peaceful moment he had been able to spend with her since the beginning of this whole mess, and it seemed more than foolhardy to waste it with petty arguments.

“Well, there is nothing we can do about it,” he said finally, trying to sound as judicious as possible. “Of course I don’t like it… But I suppose fighting won’t make it any better.” Even acknowledging this simple logic, he doubted the sentiment would prevail for long. He could at least sound magnanimous for the moment, though. “How do you feel about it?” He was more curious about how she felt about one thing in particular… one person to be exact, but he supposed the voiced question would get him the best answer he was willing to fish for under the circumstances.

[Stockmon]

When Nora suggested Andrew come help Taylor the older hadn’t minded at all. He didn’t know if he wanted time with Nora or not. He’d been haunted enough by breaking her heart, time with her seemed like putting an already numb wound in ice. It might hurt if he could even still feel. Instead Taylor was with the young and cheerful Andrew, “What do you think you’ll want to eat?” Taylor asked casually. He looked inside the fridge and saw sandwich meat, potato salad, a few oranges, milk, eggs, and a jar of pickles, “I… need to go grocery shopping sometime soon apparently. Sandwiches and potato salad sound good?” He asked, before pointing to a cabinet near Andrew, “there are bowls in there, and cups, if you wouldn’t mind getting them.”

Meanwhile downstairs Nora ignored Simon’s self-conscious behavior as she continued uncovering the piano, “Alright with what?” Simon asked after Nora addressed him. She chose not to answer him, he could easily figure it out on his own, she finally had the piano uncovered and started looking for a rag of some sort to wipe it off, “Well, there is nothing we can do about it. Of course I don’t like it… But I suppose fighting won’t make it any better.” Nora hardly believed the statement, but Simon could make it all the same. It wouldn’t take him long to get back into his antagonistic and argumentative state, and she planned to enjoy this while it lasted, “How do you feel about it?”

Nora sighed, grabbing up a towel and started to wipe off the piano, “Simon I… feel like I’m…” she stared intently at the piano. She wasn’t pleased with him overall, but he was her closest confidant. She knew and trusted him most of anyone there, and it was difficult for her to keep everything inside, at least until she could get the piano operational again, “drowning. Have something… crush your spirit, then tie yourself to it in a foreign land. That’s how I feel. I am confused and distressed, but it’s nothing to concern yourself with,” she told him, content that she got as much dust off as possible.

[Psyche]

Glad to rid himself of the tension which had collected like a storm cloud in the suddenly silent living room, Andrew followed the older man into the kitchen, happy that there was finally going to be a solution to the one problem he did comprehend: lunch. He stepped silently in his elder's footsteps, tired feet whispering along the thick carpet, until at last he was through the doorway into something altogether new. Light glinted off the clean, shining surfaces of each futuristic appliance, and all at once struck Andrew with the gravity of his situation. Here he was not miles, but centuries away from home with a pair of strangers and a brother who might as well count as such. He eyed Taylor and the metallic equipment from the doorway with some anxiety. The man pulled back a door to reveal some oddly wrapped food on a row of shelves, and Andrew ventured farther in to grant himself a better view.

Taylor inquired as to what he would like to eat, but Andrew could do little more than stare dumbfounded at the odd assortment. It was perhaps the nonchalant arrangement of items he recognized near others that were completely foreign which made the scene most surreal. He shrugged, belated, in response to Taylor's question and looked upon him in surprise when he admitted the need to go shopping. Surely this is more than he could possibly need. Mother and I could live off of this for a week. As he drew nearer to the man, curiosity now replacing any timidity he had once maintained, he noticed a coolness emanating from the cabinet which had just been opened.

"Sandwiches and potato salad sound good?”

"Sure," Andrew shrugged. He was surprised at how casual the whole interaction seemed. When Taylor directed him to the dishes, he complied automatically, selecting a set for each of their companions and placing them on the countertop below. When he returned his eyes to Taylor, the man had removed some items and was already working at them in silence.

"Do you make your own food?" he asked, astounded. Of course, Andrew had always been in the situation where a cook was out of the question, but surely a man of Taylor's stature was better able to afford help. Bachelor's especially couldn't debase themselves with such menial tasks, even in this era. He looked around for some sign of a maid. He found that he couldn't even make out the sounds of Nora and Simon in the other room. They were completely alone.

"Surely you don't live all by yourself, do you? Where is your family?" Andrew checked himself at this. Surely they weren't just out. He recounted his brief tour of the house and recalled nothing to suggest that anyone but Taylor resided here. Though it struck him as odd, he couldn't help feeling a tinge of pity for the man. He couldn't imagine how lonely it must be. Even he had his mother. How could one live in a house that was so full yet entirely empty?

Simon felt his tension melt as he descended with Nora into the basement. Without Taylor, without Andrew... things could return to some semblance of normalcy. When she spoke to him, he became conscious of how very alone they were. He watched her slender form carefully as it bent over the piano, for the first time realizing just how fragile it was. She addressed him without any real reserve. He tried to remember the last time she had spoken to him so plainly. For someone of his rank, opinions weren't exactly a common request, even in the Ashton household. He could sense her distress and managed to drop the veiled pretense of bitterness he had maintained since Taylor's arrival, in exchange for a more sensitive answer.

“Simon I… feel like I’m… drowning. Have something… crush your spirit, then tie yourself to it in a foreign land. That’s how I feel. I am confused and distressed, but it’s nothing to concern yourself with.” He was surprised, and somewhat embarrassed, by the complete honesty of her answer. What was he expected to do? In this instance, was he her servant or her friend? He breached the distance by some strides, but still maintained a healthy distance. An expression of mingled sadness and desperation tore his face.

"Nora," he said, gently. I love you. "Of course, I care."

He crossed the remaining length in slow, cautious strides, terrified to lose her confidence. He was aware of the weight of his every movement, viewing this chance as a frightened, fragile bird: One wrong move, and it would fly away, lost, forever out of reach. The things he wanted to say to her, in this stillness, he longed to think he might. Even as he reached her, though, Nora's eyes remained unfocused. She had enough on her mind. Simon smiled weakly and swallowed his hopes with a pained wince. I love you. The words died within him. He placed his hand on the piano next to hers, the tips of their fingers touching. He stared at her poor, pale face and frowned.

"Please, believe me," he whispered, taking her hand delicately in his own. "I only want what's best for you."

[Stockmon]

Taylor should have known how confused and in awe Andrew would be. He however didn’t get that from the boy. He just knew that Nora Ashton was in his home, he had two male guests he hadn’t prepared for, and of course, he needed to be a proper host. So while he made sandwiches Andrew oohed and awed in his head, or that was what Taylor would have assumed had he been paying more attention. The teenager agreed that Taylor’s suggestion would be a viable option to eat and then asked if Taylor made his own food.

Taylor chuckled, “Of course. Or… well that’s normal now. It’s easy to make my own food, and unlike when you are from, it would be odd for me to have servants. I don’t mind at all,” he assured Andrew, enjoying the curiosity. Then Andrew asked about Taylor living alone and his family. He smiled for a moment and then sighed, “No, I certainly do live alone. It is also normal in this society. Basically you live with family until you get older, go to a university to learn things and get a job, then live alone or with a few friends until you get married. If you get married. If not you just stay alone… like me. Maybe I’ll always be alone…”

Taylor sighed again. The girl of his dreams was downstairs miserable all because of him. He probably deserved to be alone. He didn’t want to think it, but it was true. He mentally changed the subject as he kept putting together sandwiches, “Can you make the table? We just need plates, forks, in that drawer, and glasses there.”

“Regarding my family,” which wasn’t a better subject, but was on the surface far easier to discuss, “I only have my mother. I’m an only child,” he said, obviously not disturbed by opening up his life to a complete stranger. Andrew had a calming and friendly atmosphere to him, and Taylor had already opened up his secrets and his home, why not talk about his family? “My father died when I was eleven,” there was the hard part, “but it was a long time ago. So I take care of my mother, yet another reason I am single,” he said with a slight smile, “But you don’t really want to hear about all of my unhappy childhood, now do you?”

Nora was a mess of course. She seemed to be unable to escape that fate lately. A mess. A beautiful and solemn mess. But she was alone with Simon in a world where propriety was not so important, and it was as if she felt it in the air with the confusing and casual nature Taylor had. With all the new surroundings and the idea of being in a house with only three men as her companions. Without the judging eyes of every society lady condemning her for breathing incorrectly. She was not a piece of the wall, and she wouldn’t act like it.

Something inside her hurt more when she explained to Simon how she felt, however detached she was from the statement. Saying it did not help. She was vulnerable and sad. She felt like her relationship with Taylor drove Andrew away from her, drove Nate to hating her, and Simon was always awkward so it merely made it worse. She felt like crying, but only in the back of her head. Simon walked closer but she hardly noticed as she kept cleaning off the piano. This was her escape and she would have it soon enough.

“Nora,” Simon said in a voice she found odd from him; odd from anyone except maybe Taylor in his more tender moments, “of course, I care.” It was true. He probably did care. They were friends, almost family. She had only meant he shouldn’t worry about it. Then he kept coming closer, slowly. Slow enough that she noticed it but did not flee. He was acting with more care than she expected of him and it confused her, but she was too distracted to give it much though. She saw his hand near his and felt it a moment, before he started speaking and he took her hand. “Please, believe me, I only want what’s best for you.”

Her gut response should have been to pull her hand away and walk upstairs so as not to be left alone with a similarly aged man. She couldn’t be left alone with him. That was inappropriate, but she forgot to care about that. She was sad and tired and vulnerable and looked up at him slowly as if she wanted to cry, though it was more evident on her face than in her mind. She wanted to speak but words didn’t form in her mind, so instead she gulped slightly, not awkwardly, but she felt a sinking feeling of discomfort.

“Thank you, I’m… not sure what I am doing. You just don’t need to worry about my problems,” she said, sounding weak and open before looking away from him back at the piano as if looking at it would cause it to clean itself.

[Psyche]

Andrew neatly stacked the designated dishware on the countertop, each clink of fragile porcelain against the shined surface ringing out like a clap of lightening in the empty, unfamiliar room. His movements were slow and deliberate as he attended the man's answer. Despite the stranger's unusual openness, Andrew was vaguely aware that he could not meet his eye. His story was all at once both keenly intimate and abysmal. It was hard to know how to respond. They hardly knew one another. Too strong a reaction would surely embarrass Taylor, yet not enough of one would cast Andrew as indifferent and unfeeling. The boy glanced over, hoping to find some sign in his expression, but the stranger's eyes were distant. The stranger continued without pause for feedback, and Andrew was more than happy to maintain his expression of silent sympathy as he tried to word a proper response. As the topic segued to family, Andrew felt the blood drain from his face, and he turned away, fearful of what the sudden change in his features might communicate. To alleviate some expectation, he feigned an intense preoccupation with aligning each utensil against an imagined line upon its corresponding plate.

"If you get married. If not you just stay alone… like me. Maybe I’ll always be alone…”

"What about Nora?" he said, suddenly, feeling an acute obligation to reintroduce cheer to their conversation. "I thought you were in love." Andrew forced an uncomfortable smile in hopes to banish the dismal subject for good. At the mention of Nora, Andrew again grew conscious of their travel companions. He wondered what discomfort his brother must likewise be suffering in the presence of his self-made idol. It was apparent to him the moment he had seen them together that Simon was infatuated with the mistress of the Ashton household. In some ways, he felt guilty for encouraging this stranger with her, but--unlike his brother--Andrew was not inclined to merely eliminate her options.

Upon request, Andrew transfered the dishes to the table. He arranged them the best he could, but having never been rich enough to afford a servant (which he might have observed) nor poor enough to be employed as one, he found that the proper arrangement escaped him. He debated a moment on which side to place the fork, before returning his gaze sheepishly to the host.
Taylor described the situation of his parents, Andrew felt a small kinship of mutual affliction
.
"My father died when I was eleven, but it was a long time ago. So I take care of my mother... yet another reason I am single." Andrew frowned. "But you don’t really want to hear about all of my unhappy childhood, now do you?" After a considerable pause, Andrew finally ventured a reply.

"Not at all," he said quietly. "My father died, too. I wouldn't even say I knew him... That's better, I guess." The boy bit his lip and stared solemnly at the table, wondering how true the man's statement was. Surely he didn't have to be alone. Still, he supposed the man would know better. There were several years of experience that lay between them. He wondered vaguely if the man might not be a future version of himself. They had so much in common, after all... Andrew dared a glance before writing the thought off as foolishness.

"You don't really think that, do you?" he inquired, half for his own benefit. "That we'll... you'll always be... alone." He tried to put forth a line of encouragement, but found his own experience equally lacking. This stranger had been presented as an enemy for his interest in the mistress, but suddenly Andrew couldn't help hoping he succeeded in stealing her away. What crime was there in love?

"Shall I go get the others, then?"


Simon froze as Nora's eyes turned upon him, a small quiver of doubt racing up his spine. He wasn't sure what had come over him, nor how he would defend himself should she decide to challenge this sudden boldness. Had they been anywhere else, he was sure he would not have gotten away with such actions; however, whether it be the unfamiliar surroundings or the weakness of her state, Nora reluctantly accepted his address, and Simon relaxed somewhat. He withdrew his hand, the slow realization that he may be taking advantage of the situation discouraging him, but held his stance, not wishing to lose all of the ground he had gained with her.

“Thank you, I’m… not sure what I am doing. You just don’t need to worry about my problems.”

With this, Nora turned away from him, and he fought the urge to shout. For a reason he couldn't quite comprehend, the loss of her attention terrified him. How long had she been drawing away from him? How long had he been blind to it? As kids, they had been inseparable. It had only been natural, with their life situations, for them to grow apart somewhat. As he looked at her now, though, it terrified him just how much he didn't know. He supposed, in his naivety, that she would always be there. He never supposed that things would be the just the way he wanted, but at least they would be the same.

The news of this affair had finally wakened him up to the reality of things, and, through all the bitter pangs of betrayal, he knew it was his fault. How could he take back the years of insincerity and unspoken jealousy? Society may have restrained their relationship, but he had destroyed it. How could he, who had seen this woman nearly every day of his life, not have spotted hints of what was to come? Had he been there for her, it may never have happened at all.

He stood so near her as to detect the sweet aroma that he so often associated with the love of his mistress at home. It was a wonder that such a faint reminder had not been erased by the chaos. Though he didn't dare to return his hand to hers, Simon fixed a gentle expression upon his visage and allowed for one last entreaty.

"Nora, please don't shut me out..."

[Stockmon]

Taylor hardly noticed Andrew’s silence. He was more than acquainted with the silence of his home. Although he rarely wasted time stewing in noiselessness he knew it was a quiet life being a bachelor. Then Andrew asked about Nora. His tone sounded almost hopeful for some brighter disposition but Taylor’s muscle tightened a little at the next part, “I thought you were in love.”

“I…” Taylor said in discomfort, “I am, but it doesn’t matter,” he added hastily, “I broke her heart because we can’t date and I’m not stupid enough to encourage anything again.” He didn’t want to explain how he met her and was immediately taken by her beauty and charm. He didn’t want to explain bringing her to tears after all their secret encounters. He felt it went without saying how being from different times meant they couldn’t be together. Their children would die, their marriage would fade, and even if she could survive in his time, he would grow ill in hers. It wasn’t fair to fall in love with her, not fair to either of them.

After that Taylor managed a far happier mention of his family and Andrew replied, “Not at all, my father died, too. I wouldn’t even say I knew him… that’s better, I guess.” He said in a sort of sat tone.

“Maybe, but then you have to wonder. Neither is any good,” Taylor said, finishing the sandwiches and moving over to put them on plates. “I am sorry, in any case, for your loss. At least you have a brother, right? I’d like to think it’s nice to have siblings,” with that he offered a smile to Andrew, hoping to cheer them both up. The two in the basement were obviously not going to be resident balls of sunshine, so someone had to.

“You don’t really think that, do you? That we’ll… you’ll always be… alone.” Andrew asked surprisingly. Taylor blinked at him and then took a deep breath, giving it thought.

“Probably. It depends on if I try. Right now I’m not rushing to find someone, but if I try, I’m told I’m nice enough. Your brother would no doubt argue against my merit… but maybe. I guess I’m just not in the state to be looking. I’ll worry about you all first, then my love life.” When Andrew asked if he should get the others Taylor nodded slowly, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I will finish setting up and just wait up here.”

“Nora, please don’t shut me out…” Simon said in the most honest and sad voice Nora could imagine. Of course it could have been her imagination, but she could still feel where his hand had been as she stared quietly at the piano. What did he expect from her? What did he want from her? Didn’t he know she shut everyone out? But here she was, with a boy who earlier in the day thought she was insane, a man who broke her heart, and Simon. At least Simon hadn’t left when she chucked a hairbrush at his head. In fact he has returned it to her, she remembered with the fainted softening in her frown.

Nora turned to Simon, looking at his face as if for an answer to his behavior, “Right now…” she said very quietly, thinking of the entire situation. Not knowing who else to talk to, what else to say, or where to hide, she added, “I don’t think I could if I tried.”

[Psyche]

With Nora and Simon downstairs, an almost peaceful stillness filled the house for the first time since their arrival, exaggerating the silence in the intermittent breaks between conversation and reminding Andrew of the oddity of his position. The boy watched blankly as their host undertook the last of the preparations, and allowed himself to reflect on the bizarre sequence of events that had so rapidly unfolded to lead them here. The unexpected appearance of this stranger had sent all around him into frantic, chaotic motion. Like actors in a play, his friend’s took up unexplained roles of anger, distrust and fear, while he was left to puzzle at what he had missed. He was alone and unknowing, an island amidst a crashing sea, caught without qualm or cover in a sudden, raging storm. He had endured the tumult in wordless confusion, truly unable to do much of anything else. Now in the aftermath, he was relieved to find a glimmer of normalcy breaking up the dark sky.
In spite of the Taylor’s unprecedented arrival and the ensuing madness, Andrew began to feel a kindling of kinship with the unusual and outlandish man before him. From where he stood, he could see nothing but the stranger’s back, though every movement made apparent the fear and frustration that must be tearing at him from all sides. Andrew’s face wrinkled with concern, searching to find words of comfort for a situation to which he was still mostly blind.
With astonishing honesty, Taylor admitted his love for Nora before hastily dismissing it. “But it doesn’t matter. I broke her heart because we can’t date and I’m not stupid enough to encourage anything again.” The implication dumbfounded him.
"Why?" he inquired, almost reluctant. He knew of his brother's feelings for the woman in question, and even this seemed a betrayal, but he could not passively witness Taylor's brokenness. In his seemingly short life, he had never had more than a glimpse into the aspect of Love, and he still regarded it with the naivety and grave respect of a child. It was against his nature to pry into a subject so clearly wrought with pain, but the concept of not simply being with the one you love had astonished and dismayed him into speech.
When the subject of his father was breached, he received the condolences without feeling. He had come to identify the emptiness, but never felt the sting. Simon, who had been old enough to recognize the change, carried this loss around him like an invisible shroud. In spite of the coldness with which he viewed his previous life, Andrew was always able to recognize a twinge of remorse in him at the mention of their late father. He knew from this and the looks that he, without fail, received when the fact was unearthed, that he was supposed to feel something, but he had never decided what.
"At least you have your brother. I’d like to think it’s nice to have siblings." Andrew felt himself laughing.
"Have you met him?" He asked with an ironic grin that was very much unfamiliar to him. Within moments, it evaporated, his features flattening out to their usual openness. "Yes. It is, I suppose. He rarely visits." Tactfully, he left out his knowledge that the slight was intentional. "He must be busy. He sends us part of his wages every month." He paused for a moment to look at his hands before continuing thoughtfully: "It's all that keeps us afloat, really. Mum can't work, and I have a hard time holding down a job. I have to stay home with her whenever she's ill." He smiled at his elder sheepishly. Sympathy made him uncomfortable, but he expected that Taylor had his own experience in this respect. Suddenly, it struck him as odd to speak so openly with a stranger, but he was surprised at his own lack of shame or reserve. He supposed if there was anyone in the world with whom he could empathize, it was this man. When the meal was set out, he offered to fetch the rest of their party. He paused, before going, to leave Taylor with a warm, grateful smile.

Simon sighed. He watched Nora with sad eyes, noting her careworn, fragile expression as a personal failure. Her eyes were averted; He couldn’t remember the last time she had met his gaze. His posture slumped in defeat, and he let the words he had tried to say die unvoiced. He knew her reserve: he could tell by the tension when he had taken her hand that he could not hope as he had to win her. It was foolish. He knew it now as he had known it all along. For a moment, he couldn’t recall what possessed him. His heart ached bitterly, the pain an old companion.
Her pale face turned toward him in reply, and he forced an encouraging grin to spite the disappointment growing like a cancer within his chest. He wasn’t sure which of them looked more miserable. He was gripped by the urge to hold her, but years of practice had made this easy to put aside. Movement overhead shattered what was left of the intimacy, and he took an unconscious step away from her, fully professional save the silent longing in his eyes. Someone was descending the stairs, but he held desperately to the moment, refusing to withdraw his gaze from her until their encroacher had arrived on the landing. Simon looked him over passively and waited for someone else to break the silence.
“The food is ready,” Andrew announced into the stillness. Simon could feel his younger brother surveying the situation and tried to stifle his annoyance at the intrusion. Unable to speak, he willed him away with frustrated thoughts and was stubbornly grateful when the boy returned upstairs without another word. He glanced to Nora again, allowing himself one more fleeting show of emotion before surrendering to the loss.

[Stockmon]

Taylor was used to his house existing in a state of calm. If his mother came over, which was infrequent at best, it was very a quiet meal. It was just to remind him that she was willing to come to his home. He kept it to no more than once a year. He did not lead a safe life, as recent events had reminded him. He went to work with his mother and to tend to her, but he didn’t usually want her coming to his place. He sometimes had his friends over, but that was also infrequent, just not nearly so infrequent. Suffice to say, the stillness was nothing new, but the tension was entirely abnormal for these walls.

Taylor did not guess that things were so calm downstairs. Quiet, most likely, but not calm. He had seen the looks between Simon and Nora. There was so much unspoken between them it could start at car with the buildup held back tension. He didn’t even know if the jaded Victorian lady was aware of that. No doubt if she were aware she would want to do something about it, right? He felt he knew her, and she was not like other ladies of her time. She prefer to deal with things than bury them if they didn’t fit her picture perfect world. Her butler’s looks when he addressed her, those were not picture perfect, and made Taylor jealous, though he knew he had no place to speak to them.

The young Victorian man in the kitchen with Taylor did seem oddly similar though. Taylor didn’t know all the details of Andrew’s life, or almost any of them, to be blunt, but there was an energy there. Taylor couldn’t say what he should make of it, but he did feel a fondness there, and not simply because Andrew was the only one in the house without an aura of displeasure infecting the air near them.

“Why?” Andrew asked. Taylor sighed.

“Because… you don’t just hurt someone you care about and ask to do it again. If I stay in your time I will get sick. If I want to be with her, she has to stay here. I’m not going to kidnap her to be selfish, or ask her to leave everything… I’m sorry,” he said, realizing he really needn’t have said any of that. He had to watch his mouth. This boy had something to him. The energy of a puppy perhaps. It just made Taylor want to talk to him, to explain his life. It wasn’t just that Taylor would be explaining his life, but he wanted Andrew to understand, so he wouldn’t be hoping for something impossible. That must be fair, right?

Perhaps it was good that Andrew felt so little regarding the loss of his father. It made things easier if both men were not standing there internally suffering. It was not merely the loss of Sam Godfrey that hurt Taylor, but that he had died for no good reason. He was healthy and hardworking, and doing everything for his family, and reckless and frightened people killed him. Shot him. And now his son was an escapist with a skill with guns. It was all quite abnormal and perhaps unfortunate. Well, more unfortunate than the actual death.

Then Andrew laughed at the mention of Simon being a good person to be related to. ”Have you met him?”

Taylor smirked, “Yes, but he wasn’t the one who punched me… although no doubt he would have liked to.” That much was more than clear. No doubt it made Nora feel better than Simon hadn’t also hit Taylor.

“Yes. It is, I suppose. He rarely visits.” Andrew explained. That certainly was unfortunate. Even when Taylor went on trips, or kept his mother from his own house, he saw her frequently enough. He even saw Ann, one of his friends, frequently enough. “He must be busy. He sends us part of his wages every month. It’s all that keeps us afloat, really. Mum can’t work, and I have a hard time holding down a job. I have to stay home with her whenever she’s ill.”

“Well it sounds like he cares. If he wanted to forget about you all, he could stop sending the money. It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said, mostly due to the era. If you hadn’t wanted to deal with something, you lifted fan, and shut it out. The polite thing to do was pretend you didn’t see other people suffering, or ask them to remove themselves, because they were ruining your evening, right? Maybe he was biased. “Perhaps he is just not comfortable showing familiarity. I don’t know him well enough to speculate.”

At least the boy went downstairs to get Nora and Simon. They would only make the upstairs more complicated, but it had to be done. They could eat, and then maybe sit in uncomfortable silence some more while Andrew proved the only one capable of interacting with others healthily. Delightful.

Nora abhorred the mere thought of being fragile. She could not be so weak, but right now she seemed locked out of her own defenses. All she could do was stand there, feeling so unlike herself, and yet so confusingly familiar with Simon, even as she kept him at a distance. She saw him crack a very slight smile, and her lips lifted very slightly. Perhaps not even in a smile, but more in a weakening of her general sadness. She could have used more from him, more closeness, more familiarity, more something, but then Andrew was here, and Simon had stepped away.

“The food is ready,” Andrew told them. Nora broke her eyes from their attachment to Simon and looked at Andrew. She gave a small nod. She could had fled the basement with Simon easily enough. She could have, as a lady she was more apt to walk ahead of him. The idea of simply walking out and leaving him down there was impossible to accept, but she could neither wait for him to walk ahead of her.

Nora took the few steps it required to reach Simon, and in the foreign show of affection, if it could be called affection to anyone from this strange new time, she touched his shoulder and uttered a quiet, “Come on then, Simon,” before heading up the stairs after Andrew. Upstairs Nora found a bowl of potato salad on the table, glasses, plates, silverware. Taylor. She hesitated near the stairs, not even sure why, but feeling the need to wait for Simon to come up as well. He might hate what she had with Taylor, but she still felt oddly more secure with Simon around her while dealing with her ex-lover.

[Psyche]

The stillness had been full of tension. Even as he was descending the stairs, he tried to prepare himself for the scene. Regardless of this expectation, Andrew was struck by the feeling that he had walked into something he had no business seeing. Simon had the stiff, forced expression of a guilty child feigning innocence. Nora, too, seemed to be hastily repairing walls that had been worried away just prior to his intrusion. Hurriedly, he announced his reason for the interruption and, after a brief second glance, hastened back feeling strangely guilty. He raised his eyebrows to Taylor, as if in warning, and seated himself at the table to await the others.
Sitting complacently in his chair, he recalled what Taylor had told him about the relationship he had held with Nora. Having already asked one too many questions, he felt, Andrew allowed the judgment to pass untried. Still, the thought made his stomach turn. This ability Taylor had… He knew, though he was unable to claim it aloud, was one he also possessed. Having been too afraid to explore it or even for that matter accept it as reality, there was very little about it of which he was certain. The idea of growing ill, of relationships being torn apart by this force, made him uneasy. Now that there was this solid proof, he surely couldn’t commit the whole thing to his imagination. It was real, and it had its consequences.
Simon listened to Andrew’s footsteps die. He couldn’t speak with Nora as he had before. His brother’s presence had reminded them all of the gravity. Still, he waited. Even in his hopeless state, he was reluctant to make the first move, reluctant to let the first frank moment they had had disappear. Up there, he felt like an outsider. Here, with Nora, he felt almost sane. He exhaled his disappointment when she told him to follow. He watched her departing figure, uncertain. It was hard to imagine anything more unpleasant than seeing her with Taylor: their history, the strain, the subtle glances he had to pretend not to notice. Imagining the two of them as they had been, behind his back, pierced him with the ease of a freshly sharpened knife. He knew Nora owed no loyalty to him, but the knowledge that it had all occurred, him unaware, left him helpless. He debated declining, but knew it would serve no purpose. After the shock of the affair, he was keenly confident that he would rather witness the truth, with all of its pangs, than be utterly blind to it.
Once everyone was seated, Andrew looked to all of the faces and, deciding they were otherwise indisposed, began helping himself quietly to the food their host had prepared. His plate was piled high before the teenager considered it satisfactory. The mood, however, made it difficult to enjoy his portion, and he aimed to turn their attention.
“I hope I set the table right,” he spoke deferentially to their host. “The food is wonderful. Thank you.”
Simon studied the contents, almost suspicious. In spite of his empty stomach, he found it hard to muster any sort of an appetite under the current circumstances. He watched the others before grudgingly dishing a small amount onto his own plate. Not even bothering with the appearance of eating, he set his hands in his lap and stared blankly ahead, Nora pinned consciously in his periphery.
“How long do we have to stay here?” he asked flatly, to no one in particular. In his defeat, he could not force himself to look at Taylor. ”I have to…” He searched for some excuse. “I have to see some things off by the end of the month.”
“It doesn’t work that way...” Andrew began, before realizing he was just as clueless. “Does it?” In a near panic, he remembered all of the responsibilities he had left at home. Every second his mother was alone, unable to care for herself. What if he never came back? Who would take care of the house, pay for the rent? He could imagine their landlord, already tired of their excuses, finally turning his mother on the street as he had so long threatened. His mother would think he had abandoned her. He set down his fork and frowned at Taylor with genuine concern.
Simon could almost see the flurry of anxiety that had overcome his brother’s mind and felt sorry for having mentioned it. Of all of them, Andrew was the one person who deserved no part of the trouble. It was merely by unfortunate chance that he had been involved at all. He cleared his throat and shifted guiltily.
“Mom will be fine,” he promised, uncertain. He was surprised at the hostility with which Andrew met his gaze.
”You wouldn’t know a thing about it,” he started, years of frustration bubbling to the surface before he could stop it. ”I’m sorry.” Andrew looked to the others, shocked at his own words. ”I didn’t mean it.” But from Simon’s frozen features, he knew that it was too late. His older brother retreated behind a cold mask, the display of sympathy gone just as quickly as it had come.
As silence settled over them, Simon struggled to keep his features in order, terrified to show weakness. He was outraged that Andrew would bring up such a subject in front of them, but even more, he was ashamed that it was true. He refused to think about it. Not now. He would not make apologies in front of a stranger. When he was no longer able to stand the atmosphere, he pushed himself from the table, food untouched.
”Well, I think I’m off to bed. He avoided their eyes and walked to the room Taylor had earlier designated for their use. Andrew stared at the remaining guests in shame and amazement. ”I’m sorry,” he repeated. ”I didn’t mean to… He looked toward where Simon had left, as if at a loss for what exactly he had done. He could recall only a few times in their entire lives that his older brother had shown any outward sign of his true feelings. Simon’s exterior was ice, impenetrable. He guarded himself from the world as if no one could be trusted to see anything more in him.
Lately Andrew had become convinced that the only thing Simon truly cared about was Nora. Everything else he addressed with complete impassivity. When challenged, his first reaction seemed always to be anger. It had often seemed that, where feelings of guilt or sentiment should grow, in Simon there was nothing but a void… as if he were afraid to admit it even to himself, that he was wrong, that he could be harmed by anyone but himself. As difficult as his brother was, Andrew found himself questioning whether he really understood him at all.

[Stockmon]

The stillness was not the only thing full of tension. Their existence was full of tension, they existed only to float from one tense situation to another, it seemed. Nora’s life had not been pleasant. Taylor’s either, but he would have considered hers, of late, to have been more difficult. Difficult was a key word. Not all-in-all horrible, but simply difficult, and tense. She had fallen in love, only to be broken hearted. She was raised to be scrutinized and live a life as part of the wallpaper. She refused, and so she was criticized. One of the few men she held dear, in fact probably one of three before meeting Taylor, was not continuing the trend of tension. Even while Nora wished she knew a way to let down her raising and just let someone comfort her, Simon was being his usual intense self. No, not just intense, but upset as well. That was the worst part. Even if she had her own problems, knowing that Simon was suffering, that he was suffering in a way that made him seem almost human, which was something neither Simon nor Nora were especially good at being, that broke Nora’s heart in a wholly different way than it had already been.

Andrew certainly had no business in this affair, and he left quickly. When Andrew came back up Taylor could only assume things in the basement had been tense. Well of course they had been. Nothing between Simon and Nora could be anything but tense, right? Still he felt strange when lady and butler came upstairs and say down.

Taylor would be happy, if that was the word, to explain their joint power to the younger boy. It might not be enjoyable, but Taylor had learned a lot from his travels and his companions. The travels might lead to some unpleasant tensions, but Taylor couldn’t say he resented it. He made his own way in life, and he would own up to it. Besides, he couldn’t honestly say that he wished he had never met Nora Ashton. His look expressed some of this, the gentler, no doubt unfortunate look of affection he had for her.

Even with Andrew’s interruption reminding Nora that she ought not be so familiar with Simon, she really did not care. If she didn’t care in Victorian England where there were repercussions, she should not care here and now, where Simon seemed to almost ask for it, and almost need it. She knew she needed the familiarity right now, so she willed herself to unlearn her own lessons in restraint. It would be difficult.

Nora took her seat at the table, across from Taylor, so she could be closer to Simon and Andrew. So they could be a barrier, and because she still felt a slight pang at what she’d been saying to Simon, or what she hadn’t been saying to him. Suddenly, as if to shake Nora from her general melancholy fixation, Andrew was getting food. He heaped on several helpings, and Nora just watched. Her frown lessened, as was the minimum around Andrew. He was a good person to be around, and it was nice to see him just moving along with things instead of being so stuck like she was. She slowly took some food herself, followed by Taylor, and the very reluctant Simon.

“The food is wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not much. Maybe I’ll actually cook a proper meal sometime for you all,” Taylor offered with a generous smile. Nora knew he was trying to be pleasant for Andrew, but it also seemed like some of Andrew’s good spirits were rubbing off on Taylor as well or perhaps it was something she had missed.

“Yes, thank you, Taylor,” Nora mentioned idly, though she mostly poked at her food. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but she could make herself eat. She was more concerned with Simon. His hands in his lap, his demeanor as hostile as ever. He was not about to play nice for the sake of the meal.

“How long do we have to stay here?” he asked, his tone devoid of any lightness to ease the tension. Nora took a bite of her sandwich and chewed it slowly as Simon refused to look at Taylor. He seemed to be making a general inquiry, though of course only Taylor could answer. “I have to… I have to see some things off by the end of the month.”

Nora considered making a comment to Simon, but instead she swallowed slowly and took another bite of her sandwich. How tense and exclusive could Simon make his attention in a house of four people, himself, his brother, and his mistress included? He was surprisingly good at this sort of thing.

“It doesn’t work that way… does it?” Andrew ventured before Taylor intervened. Taylor frowned as Andrew suddenly looked very concerned.

“Time passes there as it passes here. Basically everything is on a constant… stream, and the first time you jump to a time you land at any given point, but then if you come home for ten weeks, and jump back, it is ten weeks from the last time you were there. “ That was his shorthand. He was not used to having to explain this, especially to people who so clearly thought he was mad earlier in the day. And people who hadn’t the power to accomplish these tasks. Yes, it was all a bit strange for him, and that was why he missed some of Andrew’s anxiety.

“Nathaniel promised to handle everything at home, Andrew,” Nora said gently, wanting to comfort him. Nathaniel took his promises seriously, and he took his responsibility to Simon seriously as well. He’d said he would handle it, and Nora was certain he would. He would pay any bills, and would no doubt move the woman in for the time being at least. She felt a bit sad that she didn’t already live with them. It was such a toll on Andrew, and Simon was like family, which made Andrew like family. She didn’t let herself dwell on this too deeply, it was just inopportune, and she was trying to spare everyone the tension at the moment, not feel more.

Simon even tried to comfort his younger brother, “Mom will be fine,” he said, but that only caused Andrew to snap. “You wouldn’t know a thing about it.” Nora sat up a little straighter. Andrew… he… he has his reasons… Nora thought sadly, and apparently Andrew had not meant to be so harsh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” The moment was dead though. Simon had his shields up. He had tried to offer some vulnerability, some company in the concern, but now it was gone, and Nora knew he must be hurting. It was painful in the silence now. Not just tense, but painful. It gnawed at Nora and she swallowed with difficulty. She put her sandwich down, feeling the weight on her hands, and tingling on her skin even once it was gone. Nora couldn’t help but stare at Simon. Taylor was looking at Andrew, since he was the one to speak, but Nora was unable to stop looking at her friend.

Simon abruptly pushed back from the table with a curt, “Well, I think I’m off to bed.” Nora’s eyes softened in that uncomfortably familiar sadness. He didn’t want her to shut him out, but would he even be willing to return the favor? Definitely not in front of Taylor. Simon was gone in a moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Andrew said weakly. Nora finally looked to him, feeling so frighteningly human on his behalf.

“Andrew he… he has reasons… I’m going to go see him,” she said. She’d taken all of two bites of her food, and lifted herself from the seat easily.

Once Nora had left the table Taylor sighed, “Well I don’t imagine I expected quite this amount of tension… Andrew, if you want to know more about being a jumper, I can explain it… I’m sorry about what just happened,” he said quietly. He did not want to intrude where it was not welcome. It wasn’t for his own sake, he just didn’t want to upset Andrew more, “I believe… if I had to trust my mother to someone, it would be difficult, but I believe yours is in good hands, if that helps.” It probably didn’t. He felt helpless, again.

Meanwhile Nora knocked on the door Simon was behind quietly. She could not hear the men at the table, and they could not hear her, or her knocking. “Simon? Can I come in? I need to talk to you,” she asked him, her tone sounded concerned. Not the restrained bit of concern, but really sounded concerned, and she really was. Maybe it was less difficult to unlearn her lessons of self-control with Simon suffering.

[Psyche]

Simon covered the distance between the table and his room in deliberate strides, already conscious of the scene he had created among them. Their concern, more than anything, frustrated him. Was it possible to do anything without critique? He vied for footing and was met with unease. He tried to retreat and was viewed as a martyr. He didn't need their sympathy. All he wanted was out of reach. His interventions made no difference. Peace was his only relief.
His face burned in shame. Slowly but inevitably, his allies were turning against him. The image of Taylor loomed before him like a taunt. Simon cursed him under his breath, and shut the door firmly behind. He collapsed carelessly on the bed and fixed his steely glare on the ceiling. Let them enjoy themselves, he decided stubbornly. Their charming host and their fascinating new world. They had already made their choice. Nora when she decided to sneak off with such scum, and Andrew when he spurned his help. Let them do what they want. We can't stay forever. Soon enough, we'll be home, and I'll be the one celebrating. The thought of being rid of Taylor filled him with dark triumph. A knock at the door jolted him from these inner musings.
"What? he demanded. Could he not even be allowed a moment of solace? At the sound of Nora's voice, he felt guilty. After a moment of debate, he stole across the room to allow her access. He looked at her with measured distrust, the door between them like a shield. What could she want? What could she possibly have to say. He looked at her with stranger's eyes. At home, he would not have dared deny her entrance, but here they were equals. They were equals, and she had hurt him. It took only a glance at her genuine expression for his guard to drop in a sigh. He widened the opening of the door in silent acceptance, though did not verbally invite her to follow as he returned to his spot on the bed. The act was by no means confident, but he forced himself to return to this position as if her presence held no consequence.
"What?" he repeated, decidedly gentler. He was surprised at how easily the insolence came. His intention was not to appear overly rude or callous, but it was remarkably freeing to view her simply as a woman, and he was happy exercise his newfound position. Outside her house and her timeline, truly, she was just as powerless as he was and groveling had never become him. He smiled at the thought, before reminding himself of her purpose. If she was here for a truce, surely there could be no joy in demeaning the effort. Reluctantly, he sat up to signify that she had his full, if not somewhat reluctant, attention.

Andrew looked guiltily to their host as Nora, too, disappeared from the table. He was amazed at how quickly the dinner had been ruined. They had been bickering for hours, yet he had managed to disband the last of the feigned companionship with a single outburst. He wanted to apologize again, but he knew it would be too late. Unwilling to let his feast go entirely to waste, Andrew managed a few more spoonfuls of the meal before setting the utensil down with a graceless clatter.
"Why does he have to be that way?" Andrew asked at once. Taylor seemed to be the only composed member left of the group, and he was glad for the calm force. "He acts like he's the only one hurting." He recognized the chasm his brother had tried to span in his gesture, but the fact that he expected familiarity after so many years... Sympathy had never seemed so false. He knew he should just have accepted it. It would have been better for all of them.
"I know," he acknowledged, as Taylor recounted the promises that had been made during their preparations. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just worry." He offered a quiet grin. "I really do appreciate this... You saving us, I mean. I don't know if anyone has said that, yet." He doubted it would be foremost on their mind. He doubted even more that his brother, in all his stubbornness, actually would be grateful. I would rather have died, thank you very much. The words came to him as if spoken by Simon himself. He laughed.
"I'm sorry," he grinned. "We must make such terrible guests. I can't even imagine..."

[Stockmon]

It was totally a viable option for Nora to ridicule, disrespect, and generally insult Simon. He worked for her. He was her because of her. Had she wished, she could easily dismiss him. He owed her his home, his paycheck. Nathaniel could contest Nora’s control, but he would not. Nora was in charge, and that meant she had power. But with Simon, that power was meaningless. What did she care if she had this power over him when Simon was suffering? It didn’t matter. Mattered. It was confusing, conflicting, troubling, but whatever it was, it was life. She couldn’t change that.

Simon’s tone was demanded, and then when he knew it was her, he calmed down. She stiffened slightly at his insulting behavior, but couldn’t be too cold. This was Simon. This was someone Nora knew, and cares for. He was not just someone she could dismiss, could fire, could rebuke and ignore. This was Simon. He mattered, and that was where Nora forgot what she knew how to do. She knew society, she knew her own rules, and then… then there was Nate, and Simon, and Taylor, and she just did what she felt with them. And it was confusing, for her, and probably for them as well.

Nora uncomfortably closed the door and sat at the very edge of the bed. It was all inappropriate, but she didn’t care. Simon was upset, and he was not someone she knew how to comfort. Someone she cared to comfort, but didn’t know how. That was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and honestly somewhat frightening. She must have looked as such for some of those emotions. “Simon… I’m sorry things…” I’m sorry your brother insults you without meaning, I’m sorry we are lot, I’m sorry we are alone, I’m sorry my relationship is hurting you, I’m sorry I’m human, that’s foolish. I ought not be. I’m sorry…. I’m sorry I can’t… I can’t just… She realized her cheeks were wet and she’d started crying, and she turned her head decidedly to the side, away from Simon, hoping to spare him the sight, “I’m sorry for how things are. And what… happened,“ she dried her eyes. What good would it do to say she was sorry for Andrew not understanding? Simon hadn’t told her his opinion on things, she just assumed. All she could do was offer her emotions, and that was not her strong suit. So she just sat there, not quite sure what to say, not sure what to do, just willing things to improve.

Taylor was oddly unimpressed with the display. Simon, who hated Taylor was unhappy? Nora, who couldn’t stand to be near Taylor, was unhappy? Shocking. Truly. Not even a little bit. Nora was, of course, a woman, and she had her loyalties. Taylor could not fault her for them, and he could not argue with them. He felt worse for the poor boy when his brother left, than for anyone else.

“Why does he have to be that way?” Andrew asked. Taylor just sighed. “He acts like he’s the only one hurting.”

“I don’t know him,” Taylor said simply. That was mean to imply that as he didn’t know the other man, he could not say what Simon’s motivations were. Apparently it seemed Nora was an expect. It had hurt to see her defends Simon, no doubt, but Taylor was not selfish enough to dwell.

Andrew offered a sincere comment of appreciation and Taylor just sighed, “The sentiment is appreciated, but I’ll admit it is my own fault. I just don’t want to ruin your all lives. I’ve done more than enough of that,” he said. His tone was serious. He felt serious. He hurt them all, in his own way, but he wasn’t about to detail the events. It was true, if Andrew needed the details, he could have them, but Taylor wouldn’t offer. At least not yet.

When Andrew laughed, Taylor just smiled slightly, “I imagine I bring it upon myself. You are far more agreeable than I’d imagined, but me… well, knowing Nora, brought trouble to you, so I’m sorry for that. Anything you need, I will try to make it happen,” he said, meaning every word.