Turning Point, part 3(Conclusion of "Turning Point")The chimes of Big Ben sounded faintly from above, causing the Inspector to flinch slightly. The odd shapes his life had taken on since he'd found these two had served to insulate him temporarily from events above, but this sound brought that world snapping back into focus all of a sudden.He's still got sixteen hours. The words from a year and a lifetime ago came back to haunt him. Now time was up.He looked up and saw Miss Hammond's eyes flash for a moment at the sounding of midnight."It's time." Quickly she rose and moved to the explosives-laden train."Wait!" The word escaped Finch automatically and he reached out.The young woman turned calmly. "Are you going to stop me, Inspector?"Everything was happening too fast, suddenly. "Just
tell me why.""Because he was right.""About what?""The world needs more than just a building right now. It needs hope.
Turning Point, part 2"Help him."This was the imperative given to Chief Inspector Finch by a woman whom he'd considered, until moments ago, a dangerous and potentially violent fugitive. She'd looked at him for a moment more like through him after his sudden offer of assistance, with eyes that were old beyond her years. Their brown depths held him, reading him, until at last she blinked and returned him to the here-and-now. Evidently she was satisfied with whatever she'd discerned, because those words were the only ones she spoke to him before turning back to her
lover? Somehow Finch didn't think so, in spite of the obvious intimacy between this woman and the terrorist she now protected. ("Terrorist"? Could he use that term anymore, doing what he was doing? What's in a name, his shell-shocked mind tittered at him.)Miss Hammond, as his brain had finally settled on calling her, took the
Introductions"Good evening."We are here, all of us, to celebrate a day that once lived in infamy and has since become the anniversary of our rebirth as a people, and as a nation. Many of us remember the night our futures changed forever, the night of the Old Bailey
even if we didn't recognize it as such at the time. We remember the fall of Norsefire, and that terrible, wonderful moment when we realized that we are the only ones who can control our own destinies."Tonight, I want to introduce you to a person who made all of this possible for us. Without this person's courage, and determination, and love, our world would have been lost. It's taken a long time, but I think now you can finally meet one another
" 'I don't know who you are. Please believe. There is no way I can convince you that this is not one of their tricks, but I don't care. I am me, and I don't know who you are, but I love you
Turning Point[Author's note: This is a one-shot prequel of sorts to "Apotheosis". 'Twould be advisable to read that one first. ]Inspector Finch quickly shut off his torch and held still. He could hear voices further down the tube tunnel. He frowned
There shouldn't be anyone else down here at least, no one foolish enough to allow themselves to be heard. Then again, this section of the tunnel shouldn't even be open.Rounding a corner, he stopped in shock at the sight of an utter impossibility. An underground train faced him at a platform some fifty metres distant not the sleek steel-and-glass construct that had ruled down here for decades, but an elegant gold-filigreed confection from a century long-gone. A shudder rocked him as his brain fought the initial instinct to leap clear of the mechanical behemoth the train wasn't moving. Staying in the shadows, h
AwakenEvey Hammond awoke with a small gasp, her heart pounding. Something was wrong.Her first impression was one of softness and warmth that bordered on the otherworldly; such comfort shocked her terribly. This was followed by an awareness of thick silence where once had been muffled cries and echoing shouts of anger. She lay unmoving in this womb-like state, confused into immobility. Only her eyes moved, reflecting her mind's racing as they darted back and forth with a curiosity that felt alien. Gradually they took in the sand-colored stone curves of the vaulted ceiling sweeping gently above her in the soft light, and with a dull jolt she suddenly remembered everything.The storm... It had been nighttime; the first connection she'd had with a real time of day in she-knew-not-how-long. She remembered the feel of the raindrops on her skin, stinging deliciously and awakening her every nerve ending with their coolness.