Work Text:
Jade knocks at Tabitha’s front door, his knuckles tapping sharply against the weathered wood. The cold cuts through him, the sun overhead doing little to warm his bones. He shifts his feet, considering turning away. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Maybe this is too much of an intrusion.
The sound of movement comes from inside. A muffled voice. Donna opens the door, her face taut with the burden of another loss, an already broken woman holding herself together because she’s needed. The waver in her chin betrays the calm she’s been trying to hold for Ethan and Julie.
Jade stands at the threshold, his heart thundering in his chest. His mind is still a whirl of new memories, still too raw to comprehend or describe. He struggles for words, wrestling with questions that gnaw at him. How could he explain to Donna why he’s here? What business does he even have being here? Does Tabitha even want to see him? How can he help her when he feels like he’s not a real part of her life?
As the silence drags on, Donna’s eyes soften. She understands without a word needing to be spoken. In her time here, Donna has learned to read grief clearer than any language.
Her voice is barely above a whisper, wavering and uncharacteristically soft. “She’s upstairs.”
Jade nods, both astonished by and grateful for her understanding. Upstairs, Tabitha’s bedroom door is cracked open. Jade hesitates at the threshold.
He releases a slow, grounding breath, and knocks lightly. “Tabitha?”
When there’s no answer, he pushes the door open a fraction, taking a step inside. It feels like a half-remembered dream or stepping into a memory he only partially recognizes.
The room is bathed in the harsh light from the windows. Faint voices of the townspeople filter in from the distance. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of light, caught in the midday stillness. The sharp shadows seem to accentuate the smallness of the room, closing in on Jade.
Tabitha sits on the edge of the bed, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders are hunched in a way that makes her appear small, fragile, the weight of grief starkly contrasted by the sunlight. The room feels both familiar and foreign to him, like a place he’s been a thousand times, yet a space not his own.
He stands in the doorway, feeling outside himself, like an intruder in a moment that doesn’t belong to him. How could he reasonably believe he would know how to approach her, to comfort her– a woman he hardly knows?
Before he can apologize or retreat, she lifts her head. Her eyes, swollen from crying, meet his.
For a breathless moment, his world reduces to nothing but her gaze.
He sees Tabitha– no, an echo of her– the way she was in their first life. A different time, a different version, but unmistakably her. She smiles at him from across a simple wooden altar, her hands in his, and the scent of fresh flowers fills the air. Her pale blue dress is simple, stitched by her own hands from fabric purchased in secret for their union.
A handful of witnesses sit at the front of the small room: the clergyman’s wife and children. The union will be condemned by their families, but Jade and Tabitha don’t care. The only family they need is each other.
He smiles at her, and in response, her eyes shine with a radiance that even a star would envy.
Back in the moment, in Tabitha's eyes, Jade sees the only person he has ever longed for more than breath itself. She sits across the room, devastated and broken. His heart aches for her, to be near her, to ease her burden and bring her the long-sought peace she deserves. There’s no more uncertainty in him. He belongs here with her.
***
Tabitha’s gaze locks with Jade’s, and she’s struck by the depth of his eyes, as if they’ve seen the deepest parts of her across lifetimes. He is a memory etched into her soul, a part of her that time itself has never erased.
Without thinking, she rushes to him. Jade opens his arms, pulling her close. The act is so natural, so familiar, that it breaks down the walls she’s been struggling to raise against the onslaught of memories crashing within her.
Her body trembles with emotions too deep to articulate– grief, fear, and a yearning for something gone, but not fully understood. Loss, relentless and unforgiving, pursues her. In every lifetime, it cuts like a blade to her heart, each wound raw, reopening the scars of past pain.
But this is one loss that rises above the rest, its shadow darkening them all. She and Jade have been drawn to this place again and again– sometimes rivals, sometimes friends, sometimes becoming lovers– only to lose each other in the end. It is the story of their souls, replaying over and over.
In one lifetime long ago, when the land was considered a British colony, they had met and fallen in love before coming to the town. Only that once, they had arrived together to meet their grim destiny. But then, like all of their past selves until now, they never truly remembered who they were. Until now, the pain of each life stood on its own.
Her thoughts turn to the children downstairs who have lost their father. They’re what’s real, what matters most right now. She should be strong for them, hold it together. But as she tries to steady herself, memories of past losses, past lives bleed through the present. Thomas, Eloise, their daughter, and many more. Faces and names, all taken too soon, leaving wounds that have never fully healed.
“Jade, I can’t. Not again.” Her voice breaks, and a sob escapes her throat.
He hushes her gently. “Shhh…” His voice is soft, soothing as a lullaby meant only for her.
Her tears soak through his sweater. He holds her tighter, anchoring her to him to stop her from falling apart. He murmurs words of comfort that are as old as their souls– words that belong only to them, their own secret language that they both comprehend as intimately as when they’d devised it as children centuries ago.
With a gentle hand, he guides her to sit on the bed. She curls into him, head resting against his chest as he pulls her closer. His warmth surrounds her, and as her body eases, she allows herself to relax into his embrace. As she does, the room feels haunted by the ghost of the man who used to share it with her, the love she mourns in this lifetime.
The comfort she finds in Jade’s embrace is laced with guilt. It’s too soon. A day and already her soul clings to his, as though the fabric of their lives was rewritten in a single moment. She feels like a betrayer.
Jade places a comforting kiss on her forehead. The moment is tender, and it unwinds a thread, memories, not of this life, but of another– their first life, before they set foot in this cursed place.
She’s a child again; her yellow dress is worn and stained from play. Her long black hair lays in braids framing her face. Her hands gather wooden dolls off the dust-laden village street. As she follows the other girls heading home for dinner, a boy, blond and foreign, hurries up from behind her. His words are a mystery to her as he shyly holds out a carved horse she’d accidentally left behind.
A few years pass. Now, she and the same boy run hand-in-hand over cobblestone. Laughing, they slip into a shop and hide behind the shelves. They peek from their hiding spot, keeping their voices low as they speak a secret language all their own. Her heart flutters as she presses her first kiss on his cheek, a fleeting moment stolen just before another playmate’s shout breaks the spell.
As teenagers, they climb to the roof of a neighbor’s shed, the one her father has told her a thousand times is no place for a young lady. Yet, here they are, defying the world’s expectations beneath them. The evening sky wraps around them as they choose their own names for the stars. When they share their first real kiss, her heart soars.
More years pass. She’s grown now, and the memory shifts. His blond locks are replaced with Jade’s raven waves. His soft smile is Jade’s. Her memory of her first love is now indistinguishable from Jade.
Her father insists she abandon the idea of marrying him. Her parents, steadfast in their beliefs, refuse to accept a marriage to a man whose faith doesn’t align with theirs.
She doesn’t need his permission, but even with it she’d be ostracized in their community. It’s Spain at a time where there’s a tenuous and unspoken– sometimes violently spoken– agreement by those of differing religions to keep to themselves. Without her father’s blessing, to marry him would leave the two of them entirely alone.
To force her hand, her father arranges an engagement to a man approximately her age from their church. Fearing her own will may cave to the pressure, she fashions a bracelet, the same one she makes over and over again each lifetime, always with the same flaw.
The bracelet, flawed like their love, becomes a symbol of her devotion. She gives it to him along with a pledge to run away together. In the new world, they’ll build a life together free of judgement.
They’ll never be apart. They’ll love only each other, forever.
With her memories of the pledge made long ago swirling through her mind, Tabitha sinks into Jade’s embrace. Her body relaxes into him, the tension of countless lifetimes easing as she settles into his warmth. The fog of memories of nights spent with him like this fills her with a comfort she hasn’t known in years. It feels like the fulfillment of a promise.
Exhausted, Tabitha soon falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.
***
Jade lies in bed, watching Tabitha’s chest rise and fall with the gentle rhythm of slumber. There’s no tension in his body, no urge to pull away. The soft way she leans into him, as if her body remembers the curve of his chest, makes Jade's heart ache. It feels like a lifetime ago that he last held her, but yet, it feels like just yesterday. She’s more familiar than anyone he’s known in this lifetime.
Soon he feels his eyelids growing heavy.
Jade stirs at the sound of a soft knock on the door. He blinks away sleep as the unfamiliar surroundings come into focus. It’s Donna, standing in the doorway with a thoughtful expression, one brow slightly raised. He must’ve fallen asleep.
“It’ll be dark soon, but if you need me to stay…” Her voice is gentle, her tone revealing more concern than judgement. If she disapproves of the sudden closeness between Jade and Tabitha, she doesn't let It on.
Jade sits up slowly, careful not to disturb Tabitha as he slides his shoulder from beneath her. Her head lolls to the side, but she doesn’t wake.
His first instinct is to beg Donna to stay, to help him watch over two traumatized children, but everyone in town is on edge not knowing what happened to Tillie and now Jim, both being killed during the daylight. Donna has a whole house full of anxious people to manage. He needs to do this without her. He’s prepared for this. At least, he thinks he is.
“You can go,” he says, his voice low, careful not to shatter the silence.
Donna nods then turns for the stairs.
Ethan is asleep on the sofa, the peacefulness on his face disguises the grief that had driven him to slumber. Julie sits beside him. Her gaze vacant, she flips through the pages of a book without truly seeing it. As Donna puts on her coat, she says she’ll be back in the morning. Julie simply nods and continues flipping pages.
Jade lingers near the living room entrance, unsure how to bridge the gap between the children and the unfamiliar role he now finds himself in. The weight of his centuries-old love for Tabitha feels light compared to navigating the complexities of a grieving teenager. In this life, he’s never been good with kids, and any experience he’s ever had with raising children is more than five decades out of date.
For some reason, his mind goes back to the moment in the diner after he first arrived– when he felt like he was losing his mind, repeatedly drawing that symbol. Tian Chen had set a cup of tea in front of him, making a demand with her eyes. The hot liquid had smelled like jasmine. The steam washed over him and the warmth brought an immediate sense of peace.
Without any other ideas, he clears his throat and whispers, “I’m going to make some tea.”
He finds the kettle in the same place as it was kept when he lived here. He picks up a canister of tea leaves, the same one Tian Chen had always used, and the familiar scent hits him, a bittersweet reminder.
Moving to put the kettle on the stove, he notices a pot on one of the burners. He lifts the lid. Vegetable soup, still hot. Donna must’ve made dinner before she left– always taking care of everyone in need. He’s relieved by her forethought.
***
Tabitha wakes slowly, hearing the sound of a whistling kettle followed by glass shifting around downstairs. She stirs, disoriented. As her eyes flutter open, the darkness of the room surrounds her.
Memories of recent events come flooding back– her current reality. It’s dark, and panic grips her chest. How long has she been asleep? Her thoughts immediately jump to Ethan and Julie. Are they safe? Hurried, she scrambles out of bed.
At the top of the stairs, she hears voices from below, Julie and Jade. Their voices are low and calm. She stops and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and brushing her hands over her face then sweeping her hair behind her ears. The kids are fine.
As she carefully descends the stairs, a few words filter to her, “timeline” and “paradox”. She can’t hear enough to make sense of the conversation. The topic isn’t one of her daughter’s usual interests. If not for the things Tabitha knows about this place, she would mistake the discussion for science fiction, but here, it might be something she should be concerned about.
Careful not to make a sound, Tabitha passes Ethan asleep on the sofa. She crosses the living room, staying out of sight, approaching just far enough to see into the kitchen. Julie sits at the table, small and tense, her brow furrowed as she fiddles with the edge of her teacup. Jade sits across from her; his features are soft with concern.
Tabitha freezes, the moment triggering a memory of long ago.
A soft firelight flickers across the walls of a one-room cabin. She’s sitting on a rough-hewn wooden bench, her fingers working a needle in and out of fabric as she sews.
Across the room, Jade sits on a dusty floor in front of a fireplace. Their daughter, no older than five, sits beside him. The pair are humming as they make up the lyrics to a lullaby in the language that she and Jade had invented as children.
The fog of Tabitha’s memory is broken by Julie’s voice rising; her tone is almost pleading. “But it’s possible, right? Someone could go back and fix things?”
Jade leans forward, his brows knitting together as he watches her. “Hypothetically?” He exhales slowly before answering. “Yes. But no one really knows how time travel really would work. The temporal paradox would have to resolve itself somehow.” He meets her eyes. There’s an urgency there which is out of place under the circumstances. “Why do you want to know about this?”
Julie swallows hard and takes a sip of tea. There’s a slight tremble in her hand as she shifts in her seat. “I just… I need to know if it’s possible.” She sounds so unsure, desperately searching for some unknown answer.
As Tabitha watches them from the living room. Julie’s eyes flicker between Jade and the cup of tea in her hands, the subtle wariness in her posture telling Tabitha that there’s more happening here than meets the eye. Julie’s fingers tremble ever so slightly around the cup, betraying the tension she’s trying to hide.
Julie is so much like her– perceptive, determined, but also fragile in a way that makes her protective instincts rise. Tabitha stays still, not wanting to interfere in case Julie is willing to share her concerns with Jade.
Tabitha feels a shiver in the chill of the house and wraps her arms around herself. The movement leads Jade to shift his gaze. When he notices her, his face lights up in the way that has made her heart melt in more than one lifetime. For a moment, there’s a quiet exchange between them, an unspoken connection.
Julie, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, finally glances up at Jade. Her expression falters for a split second, but she quickly looks away. “Forget it.”
Tabitha’s voice is steady, but inside, her mind is racing. “Sorry to interrupt. What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” Julie answers immediately.
Tabitha knows better than to press her daughter when she doesn’t want to talk, so she turns her attention to Jade instead. “Can I get a cup of that tea?”
“Yeah.” Jade jumps up, and hurries to the cabinet where the teacups are kept.
Tabitha takes his seat next to Julie. There’s a handful of silverware in front of her, which she begins distributing around the place settings on the table.
“Sorry. I didn’t quite finish setting the table.” He points to the pot at the center. “But Donna left some soup.”
Tabitha takes the cup of tea Jade offers her, their fingers brushing. The touch is soft, a fleeting reminder of the connection between them. She places her other hand over his, fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It’s a comfort, and it feels like an unspoken promise. But one they can’t quite keep– not yet.
Tabitha pulls her hand away, her gaze darting across the table. Luckily, Julie remains lost in thought, oblivious. Uncertainty seeps into Tabitha’s voice as she asks Julie to wake Ethan up for dinner.
When Julie is out of earshot, Jade takes a seat next to her. “This is awkward.”
“That’s an understatement.” Tabitha feels the urge to reach for his hand but instead wraps her arms around herself. “We should be careful around the kids.” Understanding crosses his face, but with a hint of sadness. She adds, “At least until we figure out how to explain this to them.”
He nods. “Yeah, I get it.”
She reaches for the pot in front of her. “So, what do we have here?” Not that she’s hungry. She just needs a distraction.
As she lifts the lid, her hand stills. A flash of memory fills her mind.
She’s back in her first life, at the settlement. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and decay. The weather this year has been colder than usual. The yield from the crops won’t last the winter, and the indigenous inhabitants that had been previously willing to trade have only enough for themselves. Food is getting scarce; the villagers are growing desperate.
She hears voices calling from outside, sounding confused and panicked. She and Jade hurry out the door to see what the fuss is about. Their daughter tries to rush past for a better view, and Tabitha catches her. She holds her daughter against herself as she casts her gaze to where the other settlers are pointing.
It’s a man at the edge of the settlement. His complexion is pale, much paler than the surrounding inhabitants, but no other Europeans have arrived here. No ships have been spotted close enough that another settlement could have recently set up nearby. Yet, this man arrives from what must be a great distance with no mode of transportation, no horses, no oxen. He carries no supplies with him. He has nothing but the pristine clothes on his back, a gleaming cloak of yellow.
His presence sends chills through her bones.
His movements as he approaches are smooth and deliberate. When he nears, those around him gasp. His eyes are black as shadows. He raises a hand, and everyone falls silent, as if he were conducting an orchestra. No one moves. They listen with rapt attention as he makes promises of salvation for an unnamed cost. His Spanish is flawless. Eerily, his accent sounds as if he were from the same area from which the settlers departed.
Jade breaks from whatever hold the stranger seems to have them. He speaks first, declining the help. Whatever this man will demand in return, it can’t be trusted. Another man objects; they should hear the stranger out. The ominous man smiles and waves his hands. It’s no matter. He’s arrived too early. He’ll return when the time is right.
Tabitha shivers, and the memory abruptly fades, leaving her in the present with a lingering sense of foreboding. These are not just memories; they’re still living the consequences of the bargain that the other settlers had struck, falling for false promises of salvation. Eternal life in exchange for their children– children who would otherwise starve. All would be rescued. The only cost was that the children would be his.
She wipes her hand across her face, but the weight of the past still presses in.
She can feel Jade’s presence beside her, steady and grounding. His hand reaches for hers, and this time, she doesn’t pull away. The past is a shadow behind them, and though the future looms uncertain, they have this moment. They’ll face whatever comes next– not alone, but as two halves of the same soul, unbroken and intertwined forever.