And what of Leon? Who had fought so passionately for him? Who had sacrificed me for Helios? I thought of the quiet friendship the two of them had enjoyed over the years.
The world blurred suddenly and I had to sit down on the toilet. All of a sudden, my arm ceased to throb moderately and began to throb violently. Everything felt hot and tight. Actually, I felt hot and tight all over. Something wasn’t right. I wiped sweat off my brow and waited for the two of them to finish their conversation. My arm would just have to wait.
They moved to the door and turned to face each other. I could tell from their body language that this was the final goodbye. I tried to concentrate, because Leon was going to need me. I had to hold on to the basin and wait for my head to stop spinning.
I wondered what the two least chatty men in the world would find to say to each other.
Nothing, was the answer to that one. Everything had already been said.
They shook hands. The door opened. He stepped out. The door closed.
I heaved myself to my feet and joined Leon at the screen. I watched Helios walk back through the olive grove towards the tumble of stones that had once been his home. He stopped, turned, and looked back at us. The sun was behind him and I couldn’t read his face. He couldn’t see me, but he knew I was there. We stared at each other. I couldn’t look away and my wet eyes had nothing to do with the bright sunshine.
He turned and walked away.
It was done.
I gently touched Leon’s arm. ‘All right?’
He nodded.
‘What did he say?’
‘He thanked you – us – for the extra years he never thought he’d have. Then he wished us luck. Then he said goodbye. We must go.’
I turned away and sat quietly in the corner. To think. I didn’t know about Leon, but I’d learned my lesson. I would never, ever interfere with History again. The rules are very clear. Don’t interfere. Don’t do anything to change the course of History. The price is always a life. And we’d accepted it as such. Occupational hazard. The price we paid for our jobs. But this time, the price was too high. Way too high. Because this time, it wasn’t us who’d paid it.
He pulled himself together. ‘Computer – initiate jump.’
The world went white.
He spent all day working on the pod. He didn’t speak at all.
I didn’t know where we were. Or when. I didn’t know anything at all. I slept.
Halfway through the afternoon, I wobbled to my feet and made us a cup of tea. It cost me, but I had to get up and start moving around. It was now definitely quicker and easier to list the bits of me that didn’t throb unbearably.
My right foot was fine.
I was trying, one-handed, to comb my hair when he sat behind me and took the comb. ‘You’ll hurt your arm. I’ll do it.’
He combed through all the tangles and braided it in a long plait, tying it neatly with a bit of bandage and finishing with a quick kiss to the top of my head.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak and then cleared my throat. ‘Not bad.’
‘No, it’s not, is it?’ he said, modestly. ‘I must say when I was younger I spent many hours trying to choose between a career in engineering or hairdressing.’
‘When do you think you’ll finally make the decision?’
And because he was so close, and because everything hurt so much, I allowed myself the luxury of leaning against him.
I closed my eyes. Only for a minute …
Dark dreams. Dreams I hadn’t had for years. A relentless procession of my past. And no matter how I ran, or twisted and turned, there was no escape. There hadn’t been then and there wasn’t now. Nothing goes away. It all lies dormant, waits until you’re too sick to contain it any longer, and then it explodes in unstoppable thoughts and pictures. Every detail is presented for inspection. Every memory. Every fear. That’s the problem with locking things away – they never get used. So when they do finally burst forth, every tiny, fear-enhanced fact is perfectly remembered. All the colours are bright and shiny. Every picture is sharp and detailed. As if it happened only last week. Or yesterday. Or now …
Then the past blends into the present. Faces change. What was comforting and safe suddenly is not comforting and safe any longer. The past is here, submerging me. There is no escape. There never was. It is here. Now. Leaning over me as I sleep …
‘Max. Wake up!’
I shuddered. This was not right. I was drenched in sweat. My arm throbbed. Shadows swirled. Was I awake? The past swooped again, seeking to carry me away to somewhere I didn’t want to go.
‘Max. Wake up. Wake up now.’
I opened my eyes and the world resolved itself back into one small pod. ‘Why are you shouting at me?’
‘Because you’re frightening me.’
I said, feebly. ‘No need. I’m fine,’ and he swore. Really, really swore, which he didn’t usually.
‘Let me see your arm.’
He twitched away the blanket and even I could see that someone had stolen my arm in the night and replaced it with a purple, shiny sausage. A throbbing, purple, shiny sausage.
‘Is that my arm?’