A/N: I have gotten such a positive responce to this story. A huge thank you to tumblr users bbcmartin and watsonyourmindd (michelle and sam) for reading my chapters before i post them for critique. The biggest thank you to tumblr user johnissherlocked (ANUSHKA MY SWEET BAE) for the prompt idea. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this. I love you all so much. Keep being awesome -SH
Scarlett was exhausted by the time they reached the safe house. Her arms were sore from carrying Damon, and sweat stuck her dirty sweater to her back. She doubted she smelled much better than she looked.
As bad of shape as she was in, Roger looked worse. He was still cradling his injured arm against his chest. His face was drawn in pain. From the odd way his shoulder stuck out, Scarlett guessed it was dislocated. It would need to be popped back into place. Despite herself, Scarlett's heart squeezed with sympathy. Once, she'd fallen out of the oak tree in their backyard, and dislocated her shoulder. She'd cried until her father had come home and roughly slammed it back into place, telling her that if she didn't shut up he'd give her something to cry about. She'd been thirteen.
"We're here," Roger announced, pulling Scarlett from her thoughts. She was surprised by how ordinary the house looked. It was a wooden cabin, nestled into a clearing in the woods. It looked like the perfect vacation spot for a family of outdoorsmen.
Roger started towards the back door, still holding his arm. Scarlett stumbled after him, tightening her grip on Damon. When they reached the door, Roger tapped the wood, and a holographic key pad appeared in place of the wooden knocker. Scarlett was too weary to be impressed. Roger typed in a code that was several digits long and the door swung open, granting them entrance to the cabin.
Roger let Scarlett go first, then followed, shutting and locking the door behind them. Scarlett took in the interior of the cabin.
The door led them into a wide, wood-paneled living area, a large room split by a counter served as a den and a kitchen. Against the far wall, Scarlett could see a wooden set of steps and another door. She absently wondered why Roger had chosen the back entrance.
In the den, there was a flat screen embedded into one of the walls, which Scarlett assumed was some sort of TV, although she saw no wires anywhere. An overstuffed leather couch and matching chairs were arranged around a glass coffee table in front of the TV.
"You can put Damon on the couch," Roger stated, going to the refrigerator in the kitchen area. "He should wake up soon."
Scarlett nodded and slid her brother gently onto the leather. She took his shoes off carefully so that she didn't wake him. There was a blanket lying on the back of the couch. She draped it over him. He looked so peaceful. Scarlett brushed his hair out of his face.
She looked up to see Roger watching her, his blue eyes steady. She ignored the flutter of her heart, and joined him in the kitchen.
"Let me see your shoulder," she said gently.
He slowly lowered his arm and shrugged off his jacket, wincing slightly. He inhaled sharply as Scarlett laid her hand against his swelling shoulder blade. Just as she'd thought, it was dislocated. He must have landed wrong as they'd fallen through time. Scarlett still couldn't believe they were actually in 2094.
80 years, she thought, numbly. I'm probably dead by now.
She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"It's dislocated," she said, a little alarmed at the sound of her own voice. "I'm going to set it back into place, but it's going to hurt. On three okay?"
Roger nodded.
"One….two,"
Scarlett pushed the blade back into place on two. Roger let out a stream of curses that would have given her father a run for his money. She was glad Damon wasn't awake to hear it.
"Better?" she asked when the curses tapered off.
"Yeah, thanks." He said nodding. He yanked open the stainless steel freezer and rooted around until he found a package of frozen peas. He turned the peas in his hand, thoughtfully giving Scarlett a once over as he shut the freezer.
"What about you?" he asked. "That cut looks pretty nasty.
Scarlett eyed the cut on her forearm. It wasn't as deep as it looked, but it stung like hell, and there was always a risk of infection. She shrugged.
"Are we the only people here?" Scarlett asked, following Roger as he went to the dining area of the kitchen. He lowered himself into one of the wooden backed chairs, still holding the peas to his shoulder. Scarlett sat in the chair across from him, careful that their legs didn't touch.
"This safe house was given by the Agency to the Jordan family," Roger explained. "It's been in their family for a few generations. The oldest living Jordan is in charge. My parents were very close with the Jordans. The always told us that we were welcome here. So here we are."
Scarlett was surprised. She didn't think she'd ever heard Roger talk about his parents before.
"So being an…agent…is a familial thing?" she asked.
Roger nodded. "When people started to mess around with time, about thirty years ago, the Agency didn't exist. All sorts of bad things happened…horrible things." His blue eyes darkened. "There was war, but that was before my time. After that, the Agency was created to keep peace. It was made up mainly of war heroes or people who were instrument in the war. And when they pass away, or their children come of age, the responsibility falls on them. There are about 100 families in this region of the country that work for the Agency."
Scarlett nodded slowly, taking it all in. Her head was spinning. War, time travel, agencies. Some part of her still hoped this was all a crazy dream.
"So who's in charge?" she asked. "Of the Agency, I mean."
Roger eyed her carefully.
"I can't exactly tell you that. It's very privileged information. This is all a weird situation. You understand that, right?"
"Oh yeah," Scarlett nodded. "Of course."
"I know you have a lot of questions," Roger said slowly. "It's a lot to take in."
"Reformers- bad, Agency- good, Damon- special. Got it." Scarlett snapped, with more of an edge than she meant to put into her voice. She was tired down to her bones. She was in desperate need of a shower. And the boy she loved, and thought had loved her, had used her for her brother.
Roger's eyes softened slightly as he studied her.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, after a minute. Slowly, Scarlett shook her head. Of course she wasn't okay, how could she be okay? Her entire life had just been turned upside down. Her father had almost tried to kill her, her brother was some kind of supernatural freak, and she was sitting here, 80 years in the future, with the one person she'd trusted, who was now little more than a stranger.
She felt her lip tremble. She bit down on it, hard, until she tasted blood in her mouth. It was an old habit. She refused to cry in front of Roger.
Roger made a move as if to take her hand, but seemed to think better of it. Scarlett noticed, and swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat.
"I'm sorry," Roger said, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know this is crazy. You're doing so great."
At that Scarlett looked away and made a strange choking noise. She bit down on her lip again.
I will not cry. I will not cry. Damn it. I'm not going to cry.
"In a few days everything will go back to normal." Scarlett figured that Roger was trying to help. That made it worse. "You and Damon can go home and-"
"Is there somewhere I can shower?" Scarlett interrupted, unable to take it anymore. Her voice sounded much too loud in her ears, but she didn't care. She couldn't listen to this anymore.
Roger's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah," he said slowly, "Yeah sure. Follow me."
He stood, and set his peas down on the table. Scarlett trailed him as he made his way to the stairs.
"What about Damon?" Scarlett asked, reining her emotions in as much as she could manage. "What if he wakes up?"
"I'll watch him," Roger assured her, ascending the wooden steps. The floorboards creaked and groaned under their feet. Scarlett wondered how long the house had stood empty. The thought made her uneasy.
Roger led her down a hallway that was lined with pictures of unfamiliar people. Scarlett assumed they were the Jordans. He led her through what Scarlett thought was the master bedroom, and into the bathroom. He quickly showed her how the controls worked. The shower was completely different than anything Scarlett had ever seen before. Instead of a shower head, the entire celling rained water, and two of the walls did the same. Roger told her that he'd find some clothes and that he'd be waiting downstairs with Damon. He'd explain everything if Damon woke up. Scarlett nodded and thanked him.
Scarlett locked the door after he left and quickly stripped her sweaty and dirt covered clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked so different than she had when she'd crawled out her window to meet Roger. Had that been just a few hours ago? The thought made her dizzy.
The dark bruises on her arms stood out clearly against her pale skin, along with the new cut on her arm. Her red hair hung tangled and frizzy down to her chest. Her eyes looked wild and terrified. She looked away, not wanting to see herself anymore.
It took her longer than she would admit to figure out the shower, even after Roger had shown her the controls. There were so many settings. First, she almost scalded her hand by making the water too hot. Then, in an attempt to correct it, she yelped against the cold water.
Once she finally figured it, she stepped into the stream, and let her body absorb the warm water.
Suddenly, she was so exhausted, she could barely stand. She let her emotions come over her like a wave. Before she could do anything to stop it, she was sobbing like a child. She sank slowly to the ground, pulling her knees into her chest. She felt herself trembling. She rested her head against the slick shower wall and cried for what felt like an eternity.
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