Chapter 18: August 26, 2012

The Anchor worked. Mostly. It certainly seemed to reduce the number of times Megan got unstuck, and it made it significantly easier to get back when she did—both things she was extremely grateful for. By the time the end of summer rolled around, their lives had started to turn into a more normal simmer, instead of the absolute chaos of the Spaghetti Years.

She still wondered when she would get pregnant with the twins—but she still got unstuck just often enough that she figured it would happen sooner or later, and didn’t worry about it.

So in late August, when Rory came in after doing some yard work and indicated that he’d accidentally gotten cut on the arm, Megan thought nothing of it. Just a normal thing that happened to a normal family, like they now were. Megan was even thinking about how she could finally—finally—start arranging playdates for Xavier and Heather without worrying about freaking someone out. Maybe she could even finally learn to drive!

When Rory emerged from the shower, she saw the outfit he had picked: a light blue shirt with a picture of the TARDIS on it, and tan khaki shorts. A normal outfit for him.

But she also knew what she was wearing: a normal outfit for her. A purple shirt with a low scoop neck and black jean shorts, coupled with an amethyst pendant hanging on a silver strand for a necklace. A gift from Rory at their last Christmas.

It sent shivers up her spine. Both were normal outfits, but the chances of both of them wearing those two outfits the same day? Much lower. And then when he showed her the cut on his arm—nothing needing serious attention, but still very noticeable—she knew what was going to happen.

She immediately went to her phone and dialed Tyrone. He picked up after several rings.

“Megan? What’s up? You never call,” he said. Which was true: she much preferred texting because it was easier to keep up a conversation, even if she always deleted things from her phone soon after, just in case.

“A sphere inverted is a sunburst.”

There was silence for a moment. If not him, she could call Cassandra. Someone. She needed to get a babysitter. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come over here and watch the kids for ... a while,” she said, trying to keep the dread out of her voice. She knew what would happen. What had happened.

“This is very sudden. What’s going on?”

“Spoilers,” she replied. “But trust me. A sphere inverted is a sunburst. That’s how serious I am.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Thank you.” She hung up then went to tell Rory that they were going on a walk together.

Rory was very surprised when Megan approached him right as he was starting up video games at Xavier’s behest, with Heather occupying herself with the blocks strewn across the floor.

“Tyrone is coming over to watch the kids for a while,” she said calmly, though he knew her well enough to know there was something bothering her.

“What’s up?”

“I want to go on a walk with you,” she said.

“If it’s something to talk about, can’t we wait until the kids—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I really just want to go on a walk with you right now. It’s a really nice day compared to what it’s been this past week, and I’d love to just spend some time with you outside.”

It wasn’t something she asked for very often. Even though she’d gotten the Anchor, she still stayed confined to home most days. It was comfortable. To ask him to leave with her... something was up.

“Uh, sure thing,” he said, turning off the console to Xavier’s wails. She gave him a small smile, then walked back into the kitchen.

Confused, Rory still got up and put his shoes on, and then wandered back to put his wallet into his pocket. With Megan apparently otherwise occupied, he took a moment to pull out the notebook he used to track her through time, and flipped through it.

Absolutely nothing about August 2012. He did notice that later that year, she would presumably get pregnant with the twins after taking the Anchor off to take a shower, but he didn’t have much of a date. Still, it was good to know that they would be expecting more chaos next year. It was probably time for another addition to the house.

With the knock at the front door—presumably Tyrone—he put the notebook back and wandered back to the living room, where Megan had answered the door. The kids had run to give him leg-hugs—as kids do—and he had a smile on his face for them.

“Let me grab one thing,” Megan said, heading back to the bedroom on her own accord, leaving Rory and Tyrone together for a moment.

“Uh, hey,” Rory said as they shook hands. “Any idea what’s up with this?”

“I was hoping you knew,” he replied. “Megan called me almost ... panicked? She asked me to come over here quickly.” His voice dropped a little in volume, his eyes looking back towards their room. “Time traveler business of some sort.”

Rory frowned. Why couldn’t she tell him what was going on? “All I know is she suddenly wants to take a walk. I have no idea why.”

“Let me know after you get back. I’m also curious.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “But she only gets like this for very serious things. I think we can trust her, but...”

“Yeah,” Rory said. They both knew that Megan kept secrets from them. Some of it was warranted, but some of it ... well, they couldn’t be sure.

“Alright,” she said, her hair pulled back with a hair tie, presumably the one last thing. “Let’s go, love. Thank you so much for doing this on such short order, Tyrone.”

She smiled at Tyrone as they left, and she was quiet as they walked to the end of the block. She seemed intent on heading in the direction of campus.

“So what’s up?” Rory finally asked.

“Nothing much,” she replied.

“I can sometimes tell when you’re lying, you know,” he said. “And I—”

“Look, let’s just walk.” She took his hand, and they ambled along for a while. “There’s a new time travel movie coming out next month, in case you didn’t know,” she said finally.

“Looper, right?”

“Mmhmm. I’d love to actually go see it in the theater, now that I might actually be able to do that without causing problems.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

She laughed, totally at ease. This was the woman he was in love with. “I haven’t seen everything in the future, love. And just like the Anchor generally reduces the number of times I get unstuck to other times, I think it might also reduce the number of times I get unstuck to now. It’s slowing down, it seems.”

He nodded; he had to admit that younger versions of her hadn’t been showing up quite as much. “That’s a bit of a shame.”

“Don’t worry, there’s still plenty left,” she said with a laugh, tucking some hair behind an ear. “But this new movie is just one I heard good things about. We should do a date night.”

“I think I can arrange that,” he said.

They continued to talk, easing into the conversations like they had when the kids weren’t around, talking about movies, sports, time, life, and everything. It was extraordinarily pleasant. He almost didn’t notice that Megan very much steered them right onto campus, and they began to walk through that greenery. There were a number of people—a nice Sunday in August, right after all the students moved back in—and the sun was bright and the leaves green, and it was a great place to just take a walk together.

“So are we going anywhere in particular?” he finally asked during a natural lull of the conversation.

“Not quite,” she replied, an edge to her voice. “I mostly just want to walk with you.”

She kept saying that, and he decided not to press the point. “It’s been quite a time since we—”

He was hit by a sudden blast of cool air, and it was as though a dimmer suddenly turned the lighting down several notches. His stomach lurched, and he realized with a start that the trees that moments before had been covered in green leaves were now bare branches. A soft mist hung in the air.

The hustle-bustle of students had also disappeared. A few walked in huddles, most wearing clothes slightly more suited to the cooler weather.

And Megan seemed fine, except with a frown. She looked around, and nodded, then flagged down a nearby student, walking by herself near them. “Hey, can you remind me what the date is today?”

The student looked at her watch, then at Megan. “October 25.”

“Humor me; what’s the year?”

The student looked at her like she was crazy. “2002. Say, you look—”

Megan shook her head. “Sorry, from out of town. I’ll let you get to your study whatever.” The student shook her head and continued on, and Megan turned back to Rory.

For his part, Rory was stunned. Absolutely stunned. They were in 2002?

She’d always danced around the topic of his going back in time with her. Did she knew it would happen, eventually? Why would she keep it a secret?

“I’m sure you have lots of questions,” Megan said to him, a frown on her face. “But we need to keep walking.”

She took his hand and pulled, and it took him several seconds to realize she was doing it, and to get back in step with her. “Lots. Like, how? Isn’t the Anchor supposed to stop this?”

“The Anchor stops me,” she replied, turning to the left. He followed her lead. “But I’m not the only person with time mites in my body.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he said, pulling to a stop. “Are you saying this is me that got unstuck in time?” She nodded carefully, and he continued. “But ... how come this is the first time it’s happened to me?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she replied. “Except that we know the time mites are stronger in my system than yours, and the chroniton flux is somehow tied to them in a way that yours aren’t.” A frown. “I suspect it has to do with the fact that I was having an orgasm when the Accident happened.”

“How do you know that?”

“Time traveler, Rory,” she said, pointing at herself and rolling her eyes. “Anyways. While out walking, we must have hit a big flux, which would normally have caused me to get unstuck, but the Anchor stopped it—meaning that it hit the next most sensitive thing, just like lightning seeking the highest point of conductivity.”

“That would be me,” he said, nodding. It made an odd sort of sense. “But how did you... ?”

She shrugged. “Eddies or whatever. I don’t know; time travel’s weird. It’s also possible there was some sort of resonance effect, and we both got here.”

“But we have the Anchor, right? You should be able to just push the button and pop us back?”

A sigh; she looked away. “I’m not sure, but I know we can’t.”

“What, why?”

“Because I know what happens today.”

That hung in the air for several seconds, and a million things ran through Rory’s mind. Finally he said, “Tell me.”

“Today is the day you take my virginity.”

The puzzle pieces started to fall together. He’d always wondered about that—how she insisted he was the only man she’d ever had sex with, but every past self of hers he interacted with wasn’t a virgin. He’d kind of assumed that she might have lost it after getting unstuck, but she’d never actually confirmed that.

“But why hide it from me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to avoid it. This is a moment that Tyrone refers to as a Pivot. Crucially important—and the thing about crucially important events is that the less you know about them beforehand, the better. Otherwise, you start worrying about it and end up working yourself into a tizzy and then fail to do the correct thing, and it all goes kablooie.” She sounded absolutely guilty. “And because I ... because you’re too good a person to plan for this. This is before I get unstuck, remember? The accident was in 2004; we’re in 2002.”

Rory started to feel the chill of the breeze as they started walking again. “So we haven’t met yet, not even in time travel.”

“Yep,” she said as they stopped in front of a dorm. “So. You are going to have to knock on my door, and then seduce me. That is, you need to convince a college freshman girl that she should give up her virginity to a total stranger who’s over a decade her senior, without telling her anything about the future.”

“Why can’t I—”

“Because if I had been told, I would not have been here when the Accident happened, and it wouldn’t have entangled me, and the whole thing becomes unravelled.” There was an urgency in her voice. “Also, I remember this night very, very well—losing my virginity to a stranger and all. You didn’t tell me. Don’t tell me. Won’t tell me.”

“So, what do I tell you? How on earth do I seduce you?”

She sighed, bowing her head. “I can’t tell you that, or you’d fuck it up. You’d forget some important line, and kablooie.” She made an exploding gesture with her hands. “Sorry, love, but this has got to be entirely improv on your part.”

That was daunting as hell. “And if I fail to seduce you?”

“Kablooie.”

“No pressure,” he laughed nervously.

“I believe in you,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And there is one important phrase you should know. ‘There is no sunburst without the Sun.’”

What a weird phrase. “Is that like that Sphere Protocol thing that Tyrone talks about?”

She nodded. “You can’t just spout it, though, or it won’t work. You have to use it at the right moment.”

He took a deep breath. “There is no sunburst without the Sun.” He could remember that, at least for a while. “Alright, so I seduce you, and then once I’m done, I come back out here and you hit the button and we pop back, right?”

She frowned. “Actually, remember how I have to orgasm before I pop back? Same for you.”

The weight being on him in that regard was ... an unusual feeling, to say the least. “Oh.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant,” she said with a chuckle. “But you need to seduce my younger self, cum, and then get to me before you pop back so I can ride your wake, because I don’t know if I trust the Anchor to get me back, since it was your travel. I will be down the hall from you, to make it easier.”

He nodded. “Alright. There is no sunburst without the Sun,” he practiced again. “Anything else I should know?”

She shook her head. “Room 313. My roommate’s out partying already, so you don’t have to worry about that. Oh, and don’t introduce yourself.”

“You’re not making this easy. I wish I’d had time to prepare.” They started walking into the building, passing by a gaggle of students leaving.

“Would it have done any good?” she asked, stepping into the stairwell. “And you’d undoubtedly accidentally change something that shouldn’t be changed.”

“How are you so sure I shouldn’t have been told?”

“We talked about it—are going to talk about it. Your future, my past. Remember, Rory, I’ve already lived this. Just trust me. I love you.” As they reached a landing, she stopped for a moment to give him a quick kiss.

They were quiet the rest of the climb, and the dorm hall was eerily quiet as they walked along. “We didn’t have an active hall,” she said by way of explanation, stopping at a lounge. “Like I said, 313. I’ll be waiting for you here.” She smiled, and he nodded.

Alright. No sunburst without the sun. He trudged down the hall, looking at the numbers, coming to 313. There were cutesy paper crafts on the door—He remembered those sorts of things from when he was in college—this time of butterflies, one labeled Megan and the other Natalie.

Right, she hadn’t met Cassandra yet, had she? He thought it was hard for him to keep time straight.

With a deep breath and a sigh, he knocked at the door, tugging his shirt down, trying to look as absolutely presentable as possible. She hadn’t even offered him a breath mint!

The door opened, and it was Megan. A mousy, younger Megan, absolutely the youngest he’d ever seen her. A red shirt he’d seen her in a few times before (though it looked much brighter this time), blue jeans, no jewelry. The same intelligence shown in her brown eyes, though, and her brown hair was the same as ever. But she was thinner and less curvy than his wife, with a softness in her jaw and an innocence in her composure. It took him aback for a moment. “Uh, hello?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Uh, hi,” he said, his mind blanking.

How the hell was he supposed to seduce a college girl?

“Can I ... help you?” she asked, obviously a little annoyed. Her hand held on to the edge of the door, and she didn’t fully open it for him. Based on her posture, it was a minor miracle she didn’t just slam the door on him.

An idea came to mind. “I have something important to discuss with you, Megan.”

Her back straightened a little, a frown tugging at the edges of her lips. “How do you know my name? Have we met before?”

He chuckled. “It’s a fifty-fifty shot given what you have on the door.” He tilted his head to indicate the crafts. “But ... it’s complicated.”

“Did Ryan send you?”

Who was Ryan? “No, I’m ... here of my own volition. Please, can we just ... talk?”

Her eyes glanced down at his shirt, then back to his face, then narrowed. “What’s the password?”

His mind blanked. Something about a sunburst? “Uh...”

“Wrong,” she said firmly, starting to close the door.

He panicked; he was about to fuck up, to destroy the space-time continuum! He quickly stuck a foot in, and the door hit his shoe. “Please, hold on one moment,” he said quickly, trying to remember. “Something ... sun ... sunburst? No, that’s not it.” Right, that was it. “There is no sunburst without a sun.”

“Without the Sun,” she replied. “But close enough. Come in.” She opened the door, and then closed it behind him once he stepped in.

It was a lot like any other college dorm room he’d been in. Bare white walls, two wardrobes, two bunk beds, each over their respective desks. He tried to guess whose was whose, but the purple sheets with the starry comforter gave it away as Megan’s. When she sat down on the chair under that bed, he was certain.

Her space was relatively tidy, with an old computer—he’d forgotten how big CRT monitors actually were!—and some notebooks. A small paper cross was attached to the desk, and a ratty black backpack sat to the side.

“So,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I got your letter, though it’s been a hell of a long time since you sent it.”

“My ... letter?” It was awkward standing, but he didn’t know if he wanted to grab her roommate’s chair or what...

Megan’s lips turned into a further frown. “You know. The letter you sent me seven years ago?” She grabbed a notebook off of the desk and paged through it, eventually procuring a folded piece of paper. It was frayed at the edges, like it had been handled a lot. She opened it and showed it to him for enough time for him to see the handwriting, though not actually read more than a handful of words.

Tyrone’s.

What the hell was going on?

Had Tyrone also gone back in time with Megan? Written a letter she took back in time and sent? Why had they kept that secret?

“I think you got confused,” he said, finally. “That wasn’t from me, specifically. It was...” He sighed. “I can’t really explain anything, can I? The best answer I have is that it’s spoilers to tell you.”

She paused, then tucked the letter back in the notebook. He realized that he’d seen that notebook among her stuff, back at the house. Did she still have the letter? “Well, based on the letter, I’m supposed to trust anyone who knows that phrase. I guess I assumed the letter-writer would be the one who said it to me.” She folded her arms back across her chest, looking extremely grumpy. “So, what’s up?”

He really wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, this is going to sound extremely weird, and I know you’re not going to like it...”

“Look, I already know you’re going to ask me to do something, probably unpleasant. What is it? Run naked through the hall? Quit school? I’ve wanted to know for seven years.”

He decided to go for broke. “I uh ... well, I want to have sex with you.” He mentally kicked himself for it. So smooth! What great seduction!

“Excuse me?”

He sighed, rubbing his neck some more. “Okay, that’s probably too blunt. You’re a very pretty girl—”

“And you’re what, fifty?”

He grimaced. “Thirty-two.”

“And I’m nineteen. That doesn’t fly. Two years earlier, and it’d be statutory rape.”

She certainly had a point, but he also know what the much older Megan had insisted he do, so he had to press it. The age gap was a thing in their relationship, and time travel made it even weirder. “Look, you’re a virgin, right?”

One of her fingers pointed firmly at the paper cross. “Uh, yeah? No way my parents would even let me date in high school.”

“And ... were you planning on losing it during college?”

The look on her face told him that she had indeed planned that, though her voice was more reserved. “Maybe.”

“Who do you think would be a better introduction to the world of sex? A college boy, quick to pop off, only caring about his own pleasure, probably just as inexperienced as you? Or someone who knows what he’s doing, because he’s been around the block a couple of times?”

He realized as he said it that he had a way to get her, a way to convince her. He’d been married to her for years, after all. He knew what made her body tick. And while it had changed some over the years, he’d gotten enough variety of her in different ages, he knew what he was doing. Yes, he needed to have an orgasm eventually ... but he could make her extremely happy along the way.

She huffed, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Okay, yes, you’ve convinced me. I’m just going to hop into bed with an older dude for the sake of losing my virginity because he happened to know the special phrase and he’s old. Right.” She tilted her chin down, still glaring at him. “And of course he shows up right when I’m probably ovulating, if I’m counting days right. What a fucking coincidence.”

“I’ve gotten snipped. I have four kids,” he said. Close enough to the truth, since that’s how many he’d fathered in his timeline, even if the last two were technically not conceived yet in Megan’s timeline. “And I don’t want any more. Trust me on that one; they’re enough of a handful.”

“So then why? Why me?”

He decided to be sincere. “Because you’re special, especially to me, for reasons I cannot tell you, but you’ll someday learn. And I know this is extremely weird, and extremely improbable ... but one thing I’ve learned in my life is that you sometimes need to go along with the flow, along with the weird things that happen. It all turns out good in the end.”

“Awfully convenient for you.” She sucked on her lips a moment. “I still don’t see what’s in it for me. You get your jollies after what, stalking me for seven years?”

“It’s not like that,” he insisted.

“Whatever. And I’m supposed to trust that you’re actually snipped? All I see getting out of this is losing my virginity, maybe getting knocked up, and ... what? Yeah, I want to lose it sometime, but to a complete stranger?””

Rory was starting to wonder if the older Megan had been lying to him. What if he had failed, but this conversation was important for other reasons? She couldn’t have told him, or else he would have screwed it up, but maybe he should cut his losses and leave. Masturbate in a bathroom or something; she’d done that plenty of times, after all.

“Well?” she said, still defiant.

But the time mites. He gave them to her, back on that January in 2004 when she showed up pregnant. But she had to have them before the Accident, and the only way for that to happen was ... well ... to give them to her. Now.

He decided to go for broke one last time. “Alright, I know there’s no reason to trust me. Someone could have come in your room and found that letter and I could be using that as an excuse. But the likelihood of that is really low; I suspect that’s the first time you’ve pulled out that letter this semester, if not in years. You have to trust that I know that phrase for other reasons.”

“As evidenced by your inability to remember it properly, which seemed genuine, or you’re a damn good actor,” she said, nodding. She leaned forward a little. “Go on.”

“So, my goal here is to make you feel good. Let’s not even worry about me. Let me give you an orgasm, and then we can see how you feel, okay? And if at any point you want me to stop, I’ll stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “That’s still a lot. No one else has ever touched me like that.”

“I know. But I’m asking you, please give me a chance. I want your first time to be special, and I can give that to you, if you just let me.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, almost in resignation. “Alright. Let’s start with just ... kissing. I want to see if you can keep your hands off of me for ... five minutes. Just kissing, light rubbing, no naughty bits.”

Rory flashed back to the number of times Megan wanted to just kiss, to just make out, to just cuddle. Yes, she liked sex, but she always seemed enthusiastic about just kissing.

Had she been grooming him for this very thing?

“I agree,” he said, feeling a little edgy, standing up straighter. What was the best way to do this?

She stood up, and awkwardly stepped up to him. “So uh ... fun fact. I’ve also never been kissed.”

“Well, then I’ll make sure your first kiss is also special,” he said, leaning in. He swept her into his arms. She was the same girl, even if she felt just a little different. But he knew how to drape his arms around her, how she liked to be held.

And his lips found hers, and he kissed her passionately, with all of the love he felt for her across all of time and space.

It took her a moment, but she began to respond. It wasn’t with the same affection it would be later in her life, but it was still a response as she melted into his arms, their tongues beginning to play.

As they broke the first time, she looked at him, a new admiration in her eyes. “You’re a good kisser,” she said.

“I was taught by the best,” he replied, hoping she would get the joke years later, and not be mad at it now.

“Give her my compliments,” she said with a chuckle, then pushed back into him.

They made out for a while, and he kept his hands in safe places around her body, despite the growing stiffness between his legs. He knew how to wait, how to be patient.

He did feel bad for older Megan, waiting out in the lounge. But she would have known how long this would take. She would be fine.

And besides, he had a nubile Megan in his arms, whose body was pressing into him harder. For all her resistance, she was getting into it.

Before he knew it, she pulled away and smiled. “Alright, handsome stranger. It’s stupid—ridiculously stupid—but I’ll let you touch me. I know it’s probably not a good idea, because of everything, but...”

“But your body wants it,” he said, nodding. “I understand. And I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t—”

“No, do it. You’re right; I might as well learn something.” Her hand dropped to his side from its position on his shoulders. “And we’ll see how far I’m willing to let you go. How stupid I get about this.” She sighed, a small chuckle. “The truth is, handsome stranger, that I am an extremely horny girl, especially tonight. And as an extremely horny girl, I’m inclined to do something extremely stupid. I wanna make a mistake.” The last sentence she sung, and he gathered it was from a song he was unfamiliar with.

He felt a sense of protectiveness for her, thinking about how that urge could get her in other trouble. “Better me, here, right now ... then out there at a party, right?” His hand came down to her hip. “You have no reason to trust me, but I’m more trustworthy than any frat boy.”

“Frat boys don’t know the passphrase,” she replied, leaning back in, ready to kiss. “Make me cum, just with your hands. Show me your patience.”

He was more than willing to oblige her in that, and swept her into his embrace again, kissing her. One hand wandered down to her jeans, unsnapping them, then slowly—delicately—slipping beneath them, beneath her panties.

He knew what turned her on, and how to tease her. So he did, brushing just by her clit so gently, then sliding down to the bottom of her slit. It was harder in her jeans—they were tight on her body—but he was still able to do it, to touch her and feel her growing wetness. He traced her labia with his middle finger, being gentle, being slow, intentionally dragging her on.

Meanwhile, he continued to kiss her, continued to let their tongues duel, to give her time to adjust.

His fingers found her clit, and he rubbed slowly in circles, playing with her. She whimpered as they broke a kiss, her eyes closed.

He knew that sound. She was his.

A finger began to furrow itself into her labia again, tracing it out, slowly pushing, slowly finding her channel. Right where he was used to finding it—unsurprisingly—though it didn’t yield as much as he was used to.