Currently no plot bunnies for one shots. Have an idea? PM me!
“Oh, hold yer horses, why dontcha? I’m getting there,” the voice that spat out the words was a little harsher than it was meant to be, but the cacophony of knocks that had quickly escalated to bangs at the door had startled her more than she’d have liked to admit. The poor plate she’d been washing had been the casualty of noise, the poor flowered china shattered on the scarred linoleum that her feet quickly left behind. That was mark one against the mysterious door knocker. With a huff and a roll of shoulders sore from hunching over the sink, kinks were worked out before she yanked the door open with absolutely no ceremony. The abruptness of her action made the mysterious door knocker tumble forward, her own arms flying forward to brace both she and him less they tumble to the floor.
She liked to think that she was an observant person, but any thoughts of his odd attire or frantic eyes were cut off by harried movements as her guest grabbed her shoulders and pushed her through the door before whirling around to slam it behind himself. Hair bounced as he looked left, a looked right, his back braced against the portal as if the very force of his palms pressed against the wood would keep it closed from any invader that may try to enter. Not that it had done much good against him, of course. Dark eyes darted to each window in the small living room before he rushed over and pulled the curtains closed on every single one. Darkness fell around them both, their shadowy forms illuminated only by the aurora of evening light trying to filter through the darkening cloth.
She didn’t know what she could blame her slow reaction time on, but it caught up to her with a flash. A cock of a hip, narrowed eyes tried to spear her quite unwelcome visitor with as much ire as she could muster, “What the hell are you doing? You just can’t storm in ‘ere and-” her tirade cut off before she could even get on a good roll by a hand over her mouth and whispered words shot out from the intruders mouth, very nearly tumbling over one another,
“Quiet you! You’re in danger. I’m in danger. Hell, everyone’s in danger. Do you think I would go through all this hoopla if it weren’t something important? Really, there is nothing more important than this. Life or death baby, life or death. Or, more exactly, your life or death. Oh dear, that makes it sound like a threat, doesn’t it?” As if realizing exactly how the situation seemed, his hand dropped from her mouth and he jumped back a step, palms held in front of him. But his mouth had curved into a self-assured smile, something caught between comforting and cocky with a fair bit of affection mixed in. Just one corner tipped up before he rushed on with what just happened to be an astonishing announcement, “I’m from the future and I’m going to save your life.”
What was a woman to do when faced with a possible madman locking her in her own home? Well, she laughed of course. It started as a small trickle, a tinkling of sound. Then a chuckle escaped before it escalated into full out laughter. Her sides ached after a few moments, making her body hunch over so that she could catch her breath. A single finger jabbed toward him a few times, “Good one. Who put you up to this? Was it Mick? Gettin’ into April Fool’s a bit early, ain’t he?” It was the only explanation she could come up with. It was asinine. Insane. So crazy that if not for her automatic incredulity...she may have believed him.
She could see the impatience, and perhaps a small sliver of fear flash through her visitor’s eyes. His face sobered so quickly that she was nearly shocked out of her joke. His head shook sending his hair shimmying around his head before a small sigh escaped from his lips, “You have to believe me. I know it’s a lot to ask. I storm in. I toss an unbelievable story at you. But it’s true. This time next week you’ll be dead and the future I come from will be in shambles, irreversibly changed. Time travels a tricky lot, you only get so many chances to get it right,” it was almost as if he were talking to himself, reminding himself of his duty. His body launched into motion, sending him pacing across the room in long legged lopes, fingers hooked together behind his back. She could practically see when he came to a realization. His face lit up and a grin flashed before he pointed to her purse, his gaze lifting to meet hers, “In there is a lottery ticket. You never tell anyone you buy them, your own little dirty secret. Your friends would laugh at you, wouldn’t they? You buy them at the same time Tuesday mornings as you head to work,” his grinned softened into something gentler. Something almost...intimate. It was then she felt her first real flash of fear. Was he a stalker? No...no, he didn’t seem the type, but what did she know?
He shifted, his eyes dropping to the floor, “This Thursday, you’ll bring your ticket into the gas station to be checked against the winning numbers. But this time, the clerk won’t end up shredding your little ticket,” gaze lifting, his eyes locked directly onto hers, “Your lottery win will change your life.”
A line was being crossed. You were never supposed to tell anyone you meet in the past of their future. But if the future he knew was to be preserved...it had to be done, “You’ll quietly give backing and start up funds to companies that change the world. Without you, no lenders would touch them. Transportation, medicines, technological advances at a rate that hasn’t been seen in decades. All because of your dirty little secret. Let’s just say...there are those that don’t want that future to become reality. Killing you is the easiest way for them to get you out of the way.” Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, his hands braced on her shoulders and his face tilted down to hers, “You have to believe me.” It was said quietly, pleadingly, everything in him imploring that she just take a leap of faith.
All her adult life, she’d lived in a nine to five back and forth to work world. Go for drinks with friends, come home and clean up. A nice little bubble. Nothing special. Nothing spectacular.
“What are you to me?” It was a simple question asked softly, tentatively, but one she felt implored to ask. Not who are you. But who he was to her. The dishes in the sink fell further from her mind than they already had. The world around her focused on this single point in time, the one quiet question and the potential of the answer.
His smile quirked again as he stepped back, hands sliding from her shoulders, “You’ll find out soon enough.”