The next three days crawled by with excruciating slowness.

She had a premonition that something was going to go wrong, a constant feeling that his previous visit had been their one and only chance. She chalked it up to her overdeveloped sense of melodrama and tried not to dwell on it. But as it got closer and closer to when he should have appeared, the wombats in her stomach tried acrobatic feats unparalleled in the known world.

Sarah called at seven to see if she wanted to join them for a much deserved celebration after completing their project. “Hey, Rev,” she’d said, her voice barely audible over the noise in whatever bar she was at. “Jason said he’d buy your drinks all night if you come.”

She didn’t say it, but Reven heard the underlying worry in her voice anyway. You’ve been acting like a raving lunatic, Sarah didn’t say. Although ‘homicidal bitch’ is probably a far more apt term.

“Tell Jason I’ll take him up on it some other time,” she answered. “I have company coming tonight.”

I hope.

But when 9:59pm came and passed, she knew her optimism had been misplaced.

She sat down with her textbook, but she couldn’t concentrate. She’d known that this could happen, had even suspected it would. And soon. She’d just hoped for one more chance to really say good-bye before he’d disappeared into the unknown oblivion of the future.

For as much as she wished he was here, she firmly believed that he’d been right to go back. All his mumbling about Fate the other night… who was he kidding? If they’d really been meant to be together, they would have been born in the same century. That was Fate. Not some accidental bumbling that resulted in two completely unlikely people falling in love.

Besides, she had no doubt that if he had stayed, it would have set off a chain reaction that resulted in something drastic – whether that was nuclear implosion or a mass outbreak of plague, she wasn’t sure, but it would have been something. So all in all, it was good that he was finally gone.

Four days later, she was still telling herself that as she leafed through her Statistics book, pretending that ANOVAs and t-tests meant something to her, when really studying had been nothing but a waste of time over the last several days.

It was the flash of lights and thunderous crashing that jerked her out of her daze, as Bastian materialized squarely on top of the stereo her parents had bought her for Christmas last year. Unfortunately, the surge of joy was offset by horrified shock.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she half-demanded, half-shrieked.

He picked himself off of the stereo, which now sported several dents and a few disembodied pieces, and rubbed his elbow, gaping at her. “Why’d you have to go and move things, then? Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s dangerous?”

The way he hissed the last word infuriated her. All the frustration that had built up in the previous week poured out of her. “Apparently your memory is faulty because that’s always been there!”

And just like that, his mouth widened in a grin. “Missed me, did you?”

“Terribly,” she admitted, melting back into the couch in something like relief or shock. “You?”

“About the same.” He fell onto the couch beside her. “So we fixed the time machine,” he said.

She’d already guessed that. “Yeah, I figured.”

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “And then I broke it again.”

Twisting around to face him, she squinted at him. “Sorry?”

“Broke it again,” he repeated, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “How do you think I ended up back here?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to have done it on purpose,” she said. “It’s the kind of thing you’d do.”

“Er, no.” He looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m still trying to figure out how to program the stupid thing. Apparently I programmed in the right coordinates for Woodstock, but we’re still trying to figure out where exactly I programmed them in at.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. So it wasn’t your father’s fault?”

“As much as I’d like to blame him, no. He had nothing to do with it.”

His fingers played lightly across her shoulder. “So what will you do now?”

Pale blue eyes dimming, he kept his voice light. “Trying to get rid of me already, are you? You were right, though. I do have to go back. I thought about it, and all the things that could go wrong. Like what if I appeared in the middle of the electrical closet by accident and triggered a blackout that wiped out power across your East Coast and lost all the data that lead to the technological advances that let me meet you in the first place. And then I’d slowly fade out of existence—“

“Please stop being melodramatic.”

“I could still come back to visit.” His lips quirked shyly. “You know. Maybe not every third day at 10pm, but when I could.”

“It was 9:59pm,” she corrected automatically.

He raised an eyebrow. “Know the nanosecond, too?”

She grinned back. “Sorry, our technology’s not that accurate.” Then her eyes turned serious. “I don’t know. It’s just—“ She stopped, regrouped. “It sounds lovely, having you visit when you can for the rest of our lives. But what happens when you come back, and I’ve acquired a boyfriend? Or if we did try to stay together – and I have the feeling that a relationship across one hundred sixty-seven years is a lot harder than one across the country or even the ocean – we couldn’t have a family. What would we tell our kids? ‘Oh, don’t worry, honey. Daddy will be home in three days when he can get away from his job in 2186?’”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to just sit back and enjoy the ride?”

“No, but I have been told that I’m inherently practical. Sorry.”

He tugged her closer, so that she rested in the curve of his body, his fingers tracing swirls over her arm. “I’ve been called worse.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, relaxing in each others’ company.

“Maybe we should try it,” she said suddenly, at the same time he asked, “What do I care if the future’s ruined?”

She burst into startled laughter. “That’s very self-serving of you.”

“Self-indulgence is my vice,” he answered carelessly, but then he turned to face her, excitement lighting up his face. “But really, why not? If I do completely change the future, who’s going to know but us? I can go back when I need to and then pop back here when I’m done.”

“Your family will miss you,” she responded primly.

He waved that off. “My family can visit if they want to see me. They’ve got the means.”

“Unless, of course, you mess up the fabric of time and take away said means,” she reminded him.

“There is that, but I might not exist in the future anyway, so if I ruin the existence of time travel, no one will care.”

They looked at each other. “It’s a bad idea,” they said at the same time.

“Terrible,” Bastian echoed. He shrugged it off. “Back to our first plan, then. We’ll just deal with obstacles as we come to them.”

“Sure,” she agreed. And if you don’t come back to me one day, I’ll never know why. “We’ll see what happens.”

Through lowered lashes, he asked slyly, “Can we seal it with a kiss?”

“Lech,” she teased him good-naturedly. He blinked in confusion, but before he could ask what that mean, she leaned over and kissed him. He tasted like minty oranges this time, and she’d guess that he’d taken the time to brush his teeth. Her hand slid up to cradle his head, brushing over the smooth line of his jaw.

Wait, smooth?

“You shaved!” she exclaimed, pulling away from him.

“You just noticed?!” He looked crushed.

She sat back so that she could look at him, taking in the strong bones in his jaw and the slight unevenness of his cheekbones. “You’re not scruffy anymore.”

He stared at her warily. “Is that a bad thing?”

Peering at him in shock, she answered, “I suppose not. Just different.”

“What does ‘scruffy’ mean?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. You’ll get offended. But for the record, I liked it.”

His brow creased even further. “Records? Like vinyl? What do those have to do with it?”

She gave up. “Never mind. Just consider it a good thing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but apparently decided to let it go. She could feel him smile against her hair as he pulled her in closer. “I’m not ready to leave yet,” he stated. “Do you think we could watch a – what do you call it? A movie? – before I go?”

“Um, you realize it has to be in 2-D, right?” He nodded. “And you’re okay with that?” He nodded again. “Okay, then, let’s.”

It ended up being a romantic comedy, something he didn’t even sneer at when she suggested it. They spent an enjoyable two hours watching the movie once he minimized the snarky comments and stopped laughing over the flatness of the images.

Far too quickly, it was over. She stretched languidly and looked at the clock. “It’s getting late,” she said.

“I could spend the night?”

She actually thought about it. “I have a test tomorrow at eight in the morning.” His face fell. “Maybe next time?”

He perked up considerably. “Next time it is. I’ll be going then, yeah?”

“Just don’t reset that thing accidentally,” she joked.

She expected him to recoil in horror, but instead he just grinned. “As far as that goes, I’m safe. It’s got a built in history log that should work as a fallback. Haven’t tried it yet, but my father showed me where it was.” He picked the remote up from her coffee table and frowned at it for a few moments before his face cleared. “Here it is, look.”

She peered over his shoulder while he pressed a series of buttons. “What am I looking for?”

“Er, that didn’t work,” he responded, sounding bewildered. He pressed the button again. And again.

“Do you want me to try?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it.” His eyes lit up. “It’s this one, I think,” he said and pressed a button.

There was an innocuous puff of smoke.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he frowned. He poked at the time machine and then jerked back, swearing. “Bloody hell, that’s hot.”

Reven felt a sense of foreboding wash over here. “Bastian, maybe you should let me look at it—“

But he’d already pushed another button. She watched in open-mouthed horror as the thing sizzled and sparked into a ruin of melted metal. He swore again, dropping it onto the cheaply carpeted floor, and stepped back.

“Oh, no.”

He stared at what had been his time machine. “That’s one way of saying it.” When it stopped steaming, he bent to pick it up. “This isn’t good.”

It certainly didn’t look good. Most of the buttons had melted together and the inside wires were a twisted silver sculpture – more art than function.

“Can you fix it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Can you manufacture a clispot?”

“A what?”

“Yeah, exactly.” His brows drew together in a frown. “I think it has something to do with wires.”

The implication of what had just happened washed over them and Reven was suddenly horrified. “Oh, Bastian, I’m so sorry—“

She shouldn’t have been surprised when a mercurial grin broke out across his face, but she was anyway. “Oh, well,” he said, with far less concern than she had expected.

“Excuse me?”

That smile widened. “I said, ‘oh, well.’ Too bad. A shame.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Are you in shock?” she inquired carefully. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What a second. Did you do that on purpose?”

He flushed deep red. “Er, no?”

“I’m not kidding.” She tugged him around to face her. “Did you?”

He sighed, ran a hand through messy hair. “No, I really didn’t. But I can’t say I’m sorry about it.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It doesn’t work like that. What if this messes everything up? What if …?” she let her voice trail off as all the possibilities washed over her. “What if we end up hating each other? Or if we realize we’re really not suited at all?”

“Then we move on,” he said.

She shook her head. “Ten minutes ago you were all set to follow the plan, and now you’re happy about being stuck here? Sorry, Bastian, I just don’t get it.”

Decidedly unapologetic, he shrugged it off. “I was mostly just agreeing with you. Figured I have plenty of time to change your mind. Besides, I’m not stuck. I left a note. My father’ll be able to find me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” she demanded.

“Because you’re hot when you’re angry?”

“Asshole,” she huffed, but secretly she was pleased. “You could at least pretend to be upset about it, too.”

“Why bother? I told you, you can’t fight Fate.” He winked. “Or in my case, an atrocious lack of technical skill.”

The End.

---

Yes, you saw right. The end. I know I will probably get a lot of, "But what happened? Did they stay together? Did Bastian go home?" but unfortunately, the dictators that I usually bounce my ideas off of told me I wasn't allowed (Kidding, M&M, you know I love you!).

The good news is that this opens it up for a possible sequel; the bad news is that you will probably never see it. I'd like to reiterate here that this was generally designed to be fluff -- Myrika told me "no angst," and it was never meant to be more than five hundred words, let alone thirty-eight pages.

So, enjoy, I guess, and let me know if you love it or you hate it, or if you just want to read it and not tell me anything, that's perfectly fine, too.

Much love,
-K