The Prior
Chapter 13: Seasick in 1857

POV: Elliot Foster

He shoves me into a small compartment of the boat. It’s dark, small and musty. Not 5 minutes later, the door reopens as Cassidy is thrown in with me. As far as I’m aware, Belle and Max haven’t been discovered yet. But, then again, they likely have no idea that we’re in this predicament.

“Ouch,” she says, looking down at her palms. She must’ve landed on them funny.

“How did you get arrested?” I ask her.

“Accidentally asked Ryland’s wife if she knew him. Naturally, she assumed I was the cheating home-wrecker and fist fought me. She got away. I’m here. What the hell did you do?”

“Yeah, funny story, I found Ryland, but because I asked Ryland if he knew Ryland, he assumed that I was the husband of the woman who he was cheating with.”

“Healthy marriage, huh?” she jokes.

I stand up and see a pile of crates. I push one away and manage to free up a window. Cassidy squints over the newly bright light.

I sit down on a crate across from her.

“So, like, do you think we’re going to get out of here or are we stuck until the ship sinks?” Cassidy asks me. I shrug.

“I hope we’re not stuck here when the ship sinks because we’re not exactly high priority and I’m not sure if they’ll even remember we’re down here to unlock the door,” she just rolls her eyes. The ship continues to rock. The longer we’re here, the worse it gets.

We kind of sit in silence for a while. It’s probably around 5pm when Cassidy stands on a crate, looking out the window at the sunset. She’s got a harsh grip on the window sill, due to the constant moving of the boat. I just have to close my eyes. The door opens to both of our surprise and what looks like pig slop is thrown into the cell.

“Well, dinner, I guess.”

Cassidy takes a bite of the bread and immediately spits it out.

“What the fuck?” she whispers. I grab another roll and try a bite. It’s... fuzzy. I spit it out as well. I hold the bread up to the window to see large sections of mold growing off of it.

“Ew,” she says. I sit down on the floor across from her.

We chat for a bit as it gets later. We both lean against opposite sides of the room, holding on as the ship continues to shake.

“So, has Max been as annoying as usual? You haven’t said much about it recently. He finally give up?” I ask, trying to ‘gossip’ as she once told me to.

“Oh, he’s not that bad,” she says with a giggle. My face kind of gets hot, I’m grateful it’s dark.

“You like him now?” I question, trying to seek information as casually as possible.

“I mean. I don’t know. He’s cute. And like my type, I guess, but ya know how that is,” she says.

“You have a type?” I press a little further. She seems cool with the conversation, so I’ll keep asking.

“Yeah. Stupid boys who are assholes to everyone but me. Skinny. Blonde hair. The works,” she says. I strain my eyes to get a better look at her, but I can’t see her in the dark. Which is good because she can’t see me and the disappointment on my face. You know, I had thought, just for a second, that she liked me. I mean, I’m not, like, really into her or anything. But, also for some crazy reason I felt a little insulted when she described Max as her type. I can’t fall in love with her. I can’t be vulnerable.

“Well, you’ve managed to perfectly describe Max. Why don’t you go for it?” I ask, hoping she can’t hear the annoyance in my voice.

“He’s my type, but I need to stop picking boys like Max. It was the first thing I thought when I saw him. ‘I need to stay away from him, he’s like all the others’ I had thought,” she continues, “Because, as cute and as charming as those boys are, it never works out. They find some other girl or they don’t want to settle down or they get bored of you. I usually don’t last but a month with those types of boys.”

“So, you like Max, but you’re afraid he isn’t serious about a relationship?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I just feel like I’m at the point in my life where I need to stop dating Maxes and start dating... well, I don’t know. Maybe Elliot’s. I need to find me an Elliot,” she says. I’m silent for a moment.

“But, don’t take that the wrong way. I didn’t mean like you. Or not you either. I just meant, you’re the opposite of my type. Or the type I’m trying to avoid. You know?” she blabbers a little.

“I understand. I know what you mean,” I say with a chuckle. I don’t mean that though. I don’t know what she means. I never understand girls. But, it’s alright. I’m just along for the ride.

“So, what is your type?” she asks.

I think about it for a moment. And thankfully, thinking silently, because as I’m trying to picture my type, I see a decently clear picture. Blonde hair. Like Cassidy’s. Intelligent, but not nerdy. Like Cass. Extroverted, yet down to Earth. Like Cassidy.

“Oh, I don’t have a type,” I lie. Don’t fuck this up, Elliot. No falling in love. There weren’t very many rules to this job and yet this is one of them.

“Really?” she kind of questions.

“Really. Why? Did you think you knew my type?” I question. She shakes her head. I can barely see her in the dark, but I caught the movement somehow.

“No, no,” she says, “But, you really don’t have a type? I feel like everyone has a type. Or do you just not really date?”

I mean she is right about that. I haven’t dated anyone since undergrad, which was a while ago.

“Yeah, I just don’t really date,” I note.

“So, like you don’t want to? Just can’t meet people? Too busy?” she asks.

“I’m really busy as it is and even when I do meet people, they usually are turned off by me having custody of my niece. Which is understandable, of course,” I explain.

“Girls really won’t date you because of your niece?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s a big commitment, I guess,” I say.

“Well, that’s stupid,” she says. The moonlight shines lightly through the window for a moment. I catch her looking at me.

“You’re a good guy, you know that, right?” she says.

“Thanks? I guess?” I stutter. It’s a weird compliment.

She scoots a little closer to me, out of the moonlight. I can’t see her as well. She still grips the floor to keep from being thrown by the waves. But, I can sense her closeness.

“I just meant, you know, since you were saying it’s hard for you to meet people, that you’re a good guy. And you deserve someone great,” she explains.

“I see. I see. Got any ideas for me?” I joke with her.

“I don’t know man, I live in North Macedonia. Not sure I can help you,” she says with a giggle.

I can’t help but feel pulled to her. I lean forward towards her face and my lips meet hers, but only for a second. Because that was a bad idea and the universe told us so. She flies across the room. I hear a surprisingly loud bang.

“I’m fine,” she says, immediately, and crawls back over to me.

“I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have... It just felt right...” I start before she wraps both her arms around my neck and pulls me back into a kiss with her.

“I don’t know why you’re sorry. I did in fact kiss you back when you kissed me the first time,” she whispers as her lips brush against mine. Her kiss is passionate, almost desperate. The rocking of the boat only makes me pull her tighter.

She pulls away after a second, but keeps her forehead pressed to mine.

“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” she says.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back.

“We can’t do this. Not here. In fucking time travel land,” she whispers back, finally pulling away. Her hand runs down my arms, then takes my hands.

“You’re right,” I say.

“Max wouldn’t be happy,” she mutters.

“And you’re, like, not even sure if you like me like that,” I add. She lifts her arms a little, picking up my hands with it.

“Right. See. Bad idea,” she says, but doesn’t let go of my hands: I’m not sure if out of romance or to avoid getting tossed across the room again.

After a moment she turns and faces the same direction that I am. She leans backwards, into me. I pull her towards me. She sits between my legs, leaning against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, just as we did in the cold woods after I got shot.

“I’m starting to think we’re never going to get out of this cell. It’s been hours. There’s no way Max and Belle are trying to get out of here,” she whispers.

“Yeah. We should probably just get some sleep. The boat isn’t crashing until tomorrow. We can figure it out then,” I tell her. She touches my hands.

“Sorry, but I’ve been thinking. Why are we here? What the hell does this Ryland guy have to do with anything? I’m sorry, but there’s no possible way that we’re making history better. If we were truly making history better, we would be stopping this ship from sinking, not saving one random guy,” she says. It’s making me queasy. Her words, not the boat. She’s making me question things. Why are we here? I feel like I was lied to. But, also, I think I do know everything. She woke up and knew nothing. Of course she’s going to question it. But, me? I know everything. I know why we are here. I need to trust the leaders.

“Must be something for the bigger picture. Maybe his wife becomes a serial killer after he dies or something. I agree that it does seem weird, but they wouldn’t use this technology and send us here for nothing. Ryland’s life must mean something that everyone else’s doesn’t,” I whisper. I feel her lean back into me more. I hope she can’t feel my nervous heart beating.

“I guess. It’s just that every turn feels fishy. Ever since the beginning. Since when does the government not train their operatives before dropping them somewhere? Since when does the US Army buy name brand condoms? Since when does one person mean everything in history?” she says. She needs to shut up. My pocket recorder is still on. I can’t let them here this.

“I think you’re looking into things too much. Not everything is a conspiracy. The government does fucked up shit all the time. And, what do we do? We still work for them. You know just as well if not better than I do. How many times has the government fucked you over? And you stayed?” I ask her.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. A good cue to switch the topic.

“Are you comfortable like this? Or do you want me to move?” she asks. I move my thumb against her waist.

“This is good,” I respond. It’s not the most comfortable but I love feeling her against me and being able to hold her. I also feel safe against the wall. Slowly, I let the storm rock me asleep.

———

My lungs fill with water: salt water. It stings as if it floods my nose. There’s a throbbing in my shoulder as the salt cuts into the fresh wound. I’m choking. I’m definitely choking.

———

“Elliot. Elliot,” Cassidy pats me awake.

I take deep breaths, pouring oxygen into my lungs. She repeats, “You’re okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. You’re safe. With me.”

“Are you okay?” she asks me, following some silence.

“I think so. I was back in the ocean, after getting shot again. Sorry I woke you,” I tell her. That’s so embarrassing, but yet I can’t help but hear her voice repeating You’re safe. With me. With her. With her. You’re safe. With me.

Her hands tenderly touch my cheek, wiping below my eyes.

“It’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re alright,” she whispers before leaning back into my chest. I breathe in her scent, which lulls me back to sleep.

In the morning, I wake up. She’s still leaned against me, but she’s awake. Staring at something.

“Good morning,” I tell her. I feel her smile, but she doesn’t face me. “I’m sorry for last night. I hate that I woke you,” I apologize again.

“Not your fault. I’m always here if you want to talk, you know.”

We sit in silence for a while until she finally turns to face me. When she bursts out into laughter and touches my hair.

“Oh, your hair is all messed up.” I smile at her as she tries to fix my bed head.

“You know, maybe we could make this work,” she mutters.

I raise an eyebrow, “You think so?”

Her right hand touches my face. She nods. The boat is still crazed, but not as bad as last night. However, I bet it’s filling with water now.

“I mean, we don’t have to tell anyone. You and I end up alone more often than anything. So, I think it could work,” she says, her face now close to mine.

I’m not worried about Belle and Max finding out. I’m worried about the leaders finding out. I’m breaking a rule. But, maybe I could play it off to them.

“And if it doesn’t? I don’t want to lose our friendship, you know. This is important,” I add. She nods.

“How about a trial period? No commitment, at the end of the trial we can decide if we want to take things further or not. I can figure out if I’m into you, you can figure out if you’re into me like that and if it doesn’t work out after, there’s no hard feelings. Let’s say 3 time jumps, then we’ll just be friends,” she elaborates. I nod.

“Yeah, that sounds good. You know, if we make it past this one,” I mumble. She nods and pulls me into a kiss. Her lips are soft, yet her kiss is powerful. I can’t get enough of her. I need more. I needed her closer. I place my hand on her back and pull her closer. Her leg slides over mine, until she’s essentially sitting on my lap. Our chests are pressed together. My right hand is resting on the back of her neck, keeping her locked into our kiss. I place my left hand onto her lower back. I simply can’t get enough.

I’m not falling in love with her. The rule is ‘no falling in love.’ This is merely strategic. She’ll be less suspicious if she loves me. I mean, I can’t love her. But, there’s not a ‘no letting people love you’ rule. And, if the leaders ask, it was strategic. I was making her less suspicious of me, obviously. I’m here to keep them in check. This, if anything, will keep her the most in check. She’ll trust me more than anything, if she loves me. And maybe she’ll stop questioning things.

We hang out and sit for a moment, just waiting for the door to open or the ship to sink. She watches out the window some more. The rocking is making both of us queasy. We still haven’t been brought breakfast or lunch hours later, the shaking is only getting worse and work. I begin to hear commotion on the other side of the door. We’re about to go down. I can just feel it. I can.

Before I can even process what’s happening, I hear glass shatter. I grab Cassidy and yank her away from the window. Saltwater rushes through the broken window, quickly filling the entire room. We’re going to die. We are.

“Let’s go out the window,” she screams. I’m not convinced it’ll work, but she seems determined. She laces our fingers together and takes a deep breath from the remaining air. I do the same. Her head dunks under the water. She flings her body towards the window, now underwater. Her leg hooks the edge of the window seal and sends most of her body out the window. Through mere contortion, she bends enough to fit completely out the window and yank me with her. I’m starting to run out of breath, I have to breathe out. She does too. I get a glimpse of her air bubbles floating to the top of the ocean. The ship sank deeper than I expected. Cassidy lets go of my hands and pushes the water down, trying to get to the top.

A mouthful of saltwater meets my lips as I pop up into the bright sunlight. I see a lifeboat ahead, and start to make strokes towards it. But, I don’t see Cassidy. I rotate around. I don’t see anything other than the lifeboat ahead. Did she drown? Maybe she’s on the lifeboat. Never have I possessed so much strength. I swim to the lifeboat. Blonde hair. I see blonde hair. Cassidy?

This woman’s dress isn’t the same. Cassidy’s was blue. Or purple. I don’t remember, I just know it was absolutely not black. I keep swimming anyway. I grab a small leather handle on the boat.

“Hi. Ma’am,” I said to her. She turns to face me, her eyes wide.

“Hello,” she said softly. Her eyes are reddened. Saltwater? Crying? The wind?

“May I join you on this boat?” I ask her. She just nods. I carefully throw myself into the boat. I look for Cassidy. Where is she? Where? Did she make it onto another lifeboat? Did she drown? Is she with Max and Belle? Did they make it?

We haven’t jumped years yet. It must be because Belle and Max didn’t save Ryland. So, then what? Are we just stuck here? Forever?

The woman I’m on the boat with asks me if I saw any other surviving men. I told her no. And then I asked if she’d see a blonde woman in a purple dress. She told me no.

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