My parents had died in Russia; I was reasonably sure of that now.

  And Carrie had died in Cape Canaveral.

  I was the last Wylde. But I was not the last Wylde in this reality.

  What did that mean? I couldn’t answer that yet, but part of me wanted to find them, save them, make them mine because to live without my family felt so very wrong. So very alien to me.

  And even if this Carrie was not my Carrie, she’d been good at one stage, because she’d tried to help me back in Cape Canaveral. She had to still have some goodness left in her. Didn’t she?

  But this Carrie was not my Carrie, and my parents had been dead all along.

  Another sob slipped out, and then I was crying and sobbing and holding the pillow to my stomach in an effort to hold myself together, to keep the grief in. To keep something of my family inside me. To not let it slip away on every wretched scream.

  At some stage familiar arms wrapped around me, but they weren’t my mother’s. They weren’t my father’s. They’d never be Carrie’s. Jack held me tight and didn’t let go. He let me cry out my heartache and anger, my loss and confusion. He didn’t offer to make it right. He didn’t promise that everything would be OK. He merely held me up. Kept me together. Let me mourn without judgement. Without having to explain.

  Eventually the tears dried up, the sobs stopped wracking my frame, my breaths eased and I just held onto Jack as he held me.

  “I’m done,” I told him sometime later. A long time later. Longer than his allotted half an hour to get to the meeting room.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Don’t send me back.” There was nothing for me in my time. My family was gone. Gone for good. All I had left was RATS.

  RATS and Jack.

  “I’ll never send you back, Mimi,” Jack said. “You’re mine. We’re meant to be together. Remember the dream?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “It’s happening. We’re in love. We’ve made love and will do so again and again and again. Maybe not today,” he hedged, stroking a hand down my back while I curled into his side, my cheek to his chest, his chin on top of my head. “But we will be in your bed again; I have no doubt. And nowhere in that dream did I see anything that meant you had to return to your time.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I believe nothing but that.”

  He pulled back and looked down at me, and then swept a thumb carefully over my cheek, brushing at dried tears.

  “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much it hurts.”

  “Love shouldn’t hurt,” I complained, thinking of my family.

  “Mouse,” he said, “that’s how we know it’s real.”

  “That’s effed up,” I blurted.

  Jack laughed. And somehow the sound of him laughing made it easier to breathe. The weight lifted, just slightly, just enough. And then I was laughing with him, and he was watching me.

  We both stopped at the same time.

  We both moved at the same time.

  He kissed me like he was starving.

  And I kissed him like he was my everything.

  49

  In Or Out Of My Dreams

  Jack

  The meeting had deteriorated to a verbal slugging match. And we’d yet to make any progress that really meant anything. I rubbed my face and then took a sip of my coffee. Even caffeine was making it hard to stay focused.

  I’d left Mimi back in her room after I’d escorted her there and kissed her senseless on the threshold. I would have loved to progress further with realising our dream, but even though she seemed enthusiastic, I thought perhaps my timing was off.

  She’d lost her family all over again. Her parents she’d thought dead and then alive were now back in the category of probably dead again. And her sister.

  Dear God, how did I help her get through this?

  Thankfully I’d bumped into Sally and Dean on the way to this meeting and been able to subtly suggest a visit to Mimi’s room might be in order. She’d have company even while she grieved and that company couldn’t right now be me.

  The fact that I’d bumped into the new Bryan Fawkes immediately afterwards was no coincidence. He’d been following Sally, or on the way to corner Sally or God, I didn’t want to think what.

  So, I’d gripped his collar and pulled him along with me to this meeting. At least he was suffering about as much as I was.

  His eyes met mine from across the table. Murray and Sebastian were arguing. Belinda and Dave Sanders were throwing their two cents in. Every now and then another Surgeon would add something. It was like feeding time at the zoo; snapping teeth and salivating mouths.

  Bryan shook his head and sipped his coffee. He’d been subdued and wary. Being denied access to his bedroom here at our RATS had brought the situation home to him and part of me felt sorry for that.

  Could I be friends with this Bryan while I mourned my Bryan?

  I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I would keep an open mind on things.

  The door swung open, then, halting all extraneous thoughts, and banged back against the wall as Clive strode in, walking stick thudding.

  Suddenly I was wide awake, and it had nothing to do with the coffee.

  I stood from my seat. All conversation stopped. Clive stared at Bryan and then turned to look at me.

  “I seem to have missed something,” he said in a very low and even voice. He flicked his gaze over each of the Surgeons. “Who did this?”

  “I did,” I said. Where have you been?

  Winchester snorted. “My money’s on the kiwi.”

  It took everything in me not to rise to the bait. But I didn’t even spare Sebastian a glance. Clive was the danger in this room, not that pissant.

  “Are you up to date on what’s been happening here?” Clive asked me.

  I nodded.

  “Good. Then everyone else out.”

  Voices rose in agitation and argument again.

  But Clive only roared, “OUT!”

  OK, so this was how it would be. We’d have it out without witnesses. Perhaps it was for the best. Clive had a lot of secrets. And he knew I’d keep them if it meant keeping RATS safe.

  Plus, if Clive and I were both to stumble, RATS would go down with us. Bryan was not Bryan. Winchester had a chip on his shoulder that he refused to brush off. And no one else was capable of doing what had to be done to keep this place functioning.

  It wasn’t always the right thing but the necessary thing that kept us flying.

  Clive knew that. So, we’d have this out in private, and we’d come to some sort of agreement, and we’d keep this Academy functioning.

  The door shut behind the last Surgeon to leave and Clive sagged.

  “Did he take anything?” he asked.

  “What he was after wasn’t here to take.”

  He studied me and then limped across the room to the bar and poured himself a whisky. He held the bottle up to me, but I shook my head. I’d drink a glass if we both survived this.

  Clive stared at his whisky without taking a sip.

  “How long were you gone?” he asked.

  “Six months.”

  “Is Dr Hoffman OK?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. He was skirting the issue which was unlike Clive.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  “Parliament.”

  I made a sound. He sighed.

  “Home,” he said softly.

  I stared at him and slowly it all made a sick kind of sense.

  “You use the original Orion to go back to your time,” I said. He watched me but said nothing. “In order for Time to allow you stay here.”

  He nodded.

  “If you don’t go back…”

  “Time will send me back, and RATS won’t be RATS anymore.”

  Jesus. I took a staggering step to my chair and sank back down into it.

  “You know this for certain?” I asked, wishing I had that glass of whisky now.

  “I’ve seen it in a dream.”

  “Dreams can change,” I offered. Even Prophetic Dreams could change.

  “Let’s hope this one doesn’t.”

  I looked up at him.

  “If I cease to exist in this time, RATS as we know it will cease to exist in this time. Sergei will be the Chief Surgeon of something that should not be called RATS at all.”

  “Bloody hell,” I muttered.

  “That’s not all.”

  Clive topped up his glass of whisky and then shrugged and grabbed the bottle. With his stash in hand, he limped to the head of the table and took his seat. He looked up at me and then pushed the bottle forward.

  I downed the last of my coffee and replaced it with whisky. It looked like I was going to need it after all.

  “I told you I dreamed of Carolyn Wylde,” Clive said. I wanted to slug from the bottle and to hell with table manners.

  “Yes,” I said tightly.

  “I did. But I lied about what it meant.”

  “Do tell.”

  “She didn’t ask for my help.” He laughed. It sounded dreadful. “She was terrified of someone. It took a few repeated dreams for me to figure it out. I had no idea who she was or who she was talking about. But in the dream, she mentioned Sergei, so I knew it was important.”

  He paused to sip his drink and stare out of the window. Clouds scudded across the sky as the sun settled low over the lawn. A lawn I had seen covered in ash and wild dog paw prints.

  “I finally realised,” he started again, “that the Mimi she was talking about was her twin sister, but not actually her twin sister, but a twin sister from another reality.”

  Fuck. No wonder it took him time to figure out the dream.

  “She was scared of Mimi?” I asked, gripping my mug almost too tightly.

  “Terrified.” Clive looked back at me and said, “Our Mimi Wylde is a portent of Sergei Ivanov’s death, and his Carolyn Wylde knew it in my dream.”

  I said nothing. I couldn’t move let alone speak. Mimi was going to kill Sergei? I shook my head. I tried to think. What did this mean? Would she survive it? She must do because otherwise Carolyn wouldn’t have still been scared of her in Clive’s dream. But how exactly did Mimi kill Sergei and how would she live with her actions afterwards? I didn’t want this for my Mimi.

  “Have a drink, son,” Clive ordered gently.

  “I’m not your son,” I said harshly.

  He’d lied to me. Kept secrets. Had a fucking Orion he used to go back in time and see his family.

  Mimi didn’t have a family to go back and see.

  And oh, bloody fucking bollocks! If Clive had to go back in time regularly to appease Time itself, then that meant Mimi had to too. Otherwise, she’d cease to exist in my time and I’d have no idea why I was going mad.

  Loss of one’s prophetic dream counterpart was a one-way ticket to insanity.

  And Mimi? Alone in her time, equally as mad as me.

  “Damn you, Clive,” I muttered and stood from my seat. I crossed to the window and stared out over the lawn. I could see precisely where Rafe and I had landed in the alternate 23rd Century.

  “The fewer people who know about a prophetic dream,” Clive said, “the less likely it is to be altered. I had to keep this from you, Jack.”

  I shook my head, unwilling to believe that.

  “You manipulate us, place us where you think we’ll do best for your vision of RATS. We’re just pawns to you, Clive. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  He sighed.

  “Time needs RATS.”

  He was right, but I was furious with him. Furious and scared. What would this mean for Mimi? For Me?

  “You knew her sister was dead,” I finally said.

  “I suspected as such. The dream was difficult to interpret, but when Miss Wylde, your Miss Wylde, turned up at RATS, I understood it all more clearly. The Carolyn of my dreams had mentioned a past that didn’t exist, which could only mean one thing.”

  “Time jumped tracks.”

  “Yes. You understand.” Not really. But I was beginning to. “Every time an Orion surfs Time’s waves it travels down a predetermined path. When it shifts planes, it changes paths. Just like a railway track. And just like a train when it jumps tracks, sometimes it can’t get back again.”

  “The jumped track is the alternate reality; the alternate universe,” I surmised.

  “Yes. Sergei is adept at jumping tracks.”

  “He does it on purpose.” I felt sick with the knowledge. I’d trained him. This was on me.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jack,” Clive said. “Sergei was out of time too. He was always going to behave in ways we couldn’t predict.”

  Just like Mimi. Just like him.

  He sighed, took a swig of his whisky and then set the glass aside. “I trusted him as well.”

  “And I trusted you.”

  Clive said nothing. A heaviness wormed its way through the silence.

  “Bryan Fawkes,” I said.

  “It wasn’t you who brought him back, was it?”

  I turned and gave Clive my best don’t-fuck-with-me look.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, raising his hands placatingly, “it’ll be our secret.”

  “We seem to have a lot of those.”

  “RATS needs secrets, Jack. You know that.”

  I did. It didn’t mean I liked it.

  I sighed. “What are we going to do about him?”

  “What is there to do? He isn’t out of time. The Bryan in our reality is deceased. There is no conflict.”

  “His presence diminishes our Bryan’s death.”

  “Does it? Or is it a second chance at life? For both Bryans.”

  Our Bryan was dead. In body but not in our minds. We could revive him if we accepted this Bryan. He would never be the man I shared so many late night drinks with. Who’d come when I called or needed a hand. Who’d risked his life beside me for RATS.

  But this Bryan had his own stories to tell. His own loyalties to give. I couldn’t turn my back on him. I just couldn’t. He could be a good friend.

  I nodded my head and finished the whisky in my mug.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  Clive sighed and stared out the window, then gave one short nod of his head. He looked ten years older. Who knows, maybe he was. Maybe he’d spent ten years back in his time with his family.

  Which made me think of mine.

  I wanted to check on Mimi. I wanted to check on Rafe and Sally and Bryan. Hell, part of me wanted to check on Dean bloody Jordan as well. I’d seen the way he’d looked at Miss Groves. I knew the type of heartache he felt.

  This was my home. My family. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t safe. But it was all I had, and I’d do my best to keep RATS flying. To keep RATS functioning. To keep it together and find Sergei so we could all be safe.

  I walked to the door and then stopped.

  Looking back across the room, I said, “He’s after something from the Luna Programme that made it onto our Orions.”

  Clive stilled and said nothing.

  “Tell me it’s not important.”

  “It’s important.”

  I closed my eyes and fisted my hands, tipping my head back and staring at nothing.

  “He said we were all doomed,” I whispered. “He said Time was trying to fix things and without this piece of information even RATS would be wiped from history.”

  I opened my eyes and stared directly at the Chief Surgeon. A man I’d trusted and called a friend and who had lied to me and kept secrets.

  And yet, his answer would determine my next step.

  “He’s right, Jack.”

  I held his steady stare and nodded my head, and then walked from the room.

  RATS was down several Orions. We had a fractured and heartsick team. Mimi was going to have to make frequent trips back to her time soon. Which would break my word to her and that just sickened me.

  And Bryan…Bryan was Bryan but not my old friend.

  Despite the hurdles, though, despite the battles we faced, despite the heartache and loss and tragedy, somewhere in amongst our grief we would have to find the strength to help the man who had caused it all. And locate whatever it was that he needed.

  Possibly before he did.

  Because without that information we’d all cease to exist.

  It wasn’t always the right thing but the necessary thing that kept us flying.

  Clive knew this. And so did Sergei Ivanov.

  I just had to convince Mimi.

  She wasn’t going to like it; she’d fight me. But that was what I loved most about Mimi Wylde. Her strength of character, her indomitable sense of hope, and her unrelenting fierceness when challenged by anyone, not just me.

  I loved a woman out of time who I desperately needed to fix time. Who was wrapped up in this mess as much as Clive was. As much as Sergei and the alternate Carrie were too.

  In or out of our dreams, what we faced now would decide all of our fates for eternity.

  But, for me, it would be an eternity with Mimi.

  I’d bloody well make sure of it. I couldn’t think of it being any other way.

  In or out of my dreams.

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