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Sergei was stopped and is paying for his crimes.
Time isn't shattered into little tiny pieces.
Somehow, it all works.
I'm packing up my room right now. These thoughts are tumbling through my mind as I hum a tune to myself. I'm happy. I've never been happier. Jack, as the Chief Surgeon now, gets a suite of rooms on the top floor of the building. I'd never actually been up to Dr Crawford's domain. But he had a whole floor to himself up there, including meeting rooms and sitting rooms and a small kitchen as well as a large bedroom, big enough for the Chief Surgeon to live with his wife.
Not that Jack has proposed yet, but I'll let you in on a secret. I've had another dream. A prophetic one, I think. In it, I'm walking down an aisle decorated with lots of pretty wildflowers. My bouquet is filled with wildflowers, too. My bridesmaids have gone before me. I'm surprised that one of them is Carrie because I'm certain the dream is in the 23rd century. All of RATS are there. Even Dr Crawford and Charles. Sally is my other bridesmaid. I can see my parents sitting in the front aisle on the left, and on the right, a couple I somehow know to be Jack's parents.
He's standing at the altar, looking so handsome, looking so proud. Looking like something I could eat. The rest of the dream is as you'd expect, but it always brings happy tears to my eyes.
I didn't come here, to this time, on purpose. I certainly didn't come here to find love and acceptance, a place where I fitted in. I didn't come here to recover from losses. I didn't come here for any of that. It was all a mistake. A happy one. But a blip in Time's waves, nonetheless.
Time planned it, I'm pretty sure. But I didn't. And despite that chance occurrence, that moment of happenstance, I am where I am meant to be and I am so very happy.
A knock sounds out on the door to my room, then. I'm almost all packed now. I'm moving in with Jack. I think he's had the dream now, too. It's set in stone. It will happen.
I open the door and there he is, so gorgeous, so big he fills the room, the entire building. He offers me his signature smile, that one that makes me weak at the knees. I love him. It's as simple as that. And I know he loves me.
"Can I come in?" he says.
"Certainly." I step aside and let him in the room. He takes up so much space, I can barely breathe.
His gaze lands on the bed. It just so happens to be clear of packing. I've stacked all my belongings next to the door. Ready and waiting. Ready and waiting for him. For our future together.
"You're all set?" he asks.
I nod my head.
"You still want to do this? Move in with me?"
"Yes," I say, smiling.
His eyes land on the bed again.
"You know," he says, conversationally. "I'm not sure we've realised that first Prophetic Dream yet. Maybe before you move out, we should address that. To stave off PDR withdrawal, naturally."
We've realised it. We've realised it multiple times now. I know his body better than I know my own. He knows mine just as intimately.
"You know, I think you're right," I tell him and watch a glint of ardour enter his eyes. He looks so sexy. "If my memory serves me," I say, starting a slow striptease that makes Jack flush with desire, "you're a breast man."
He comes toward me, unable to stop himself. His hands are on me in the next heartbeat; hot, desperate, familiar. I move with him, tumbling onto the bed. He lands on top, but doesn't crush me. His lips are on my feverish skin, my neck, my clavicle; kissing, licking, loving me as only Jack can love.
He lifts his head, then, just long enough to make eye contact with me. I could lose myself in Jack's beautiful, smouldering blue eyes. I do so willingly.
In a husky voice that pervades my dreams, he says, "I'm a Mimi Wylde man."
And the rest, as they say, is history.
