Slingshot

"Cum for me, baby," Gemma said, leaning over David. "You've been waiting so long to cum in me again. So just let it happen..."

"Oh god, you evil..." he managed to get out, while doing something with her clit.

They both cried out at the same time. Gemma felt him cum inside her at the same time she slammed her hips down on him. Stars exploded behind Gemma's eyes and her arms gave out as she collapsed on his chest. Neither one of them said anything for several minutes. Eventually, David's cock slid out of her. With a groan, she flopped on the bed.

"So, by my count, four answers," David said, after catching his breath.

"No way. Three. You came a second or two before I did."

"It was a tie," he said, rolling to his side to look at her.

Gemma flicked sweaty hair out of her face and smirked at him.

"Fine. A tie. Still three, then."

"Tie goes to the home team," he said. "Or the person in the right time."

"Oh, what the fuck? This is a sporting event?" she said, running her hands down her body.

"Just trying to find an analogy to a unique situation. Unless your time traveller handbook has any solutions to this dilemma?"

"Yes, under Appendix FU," she grumped. He laughed. "Fine, four questions."

He gave it a few moments while she turned and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart still beating quickly and smiled.

"Who is the president of the United States?"

She shifted on the bed and looked up at him.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I have no idea how far in the future you're from. It could be 20 years, it could be 100. If it's a hundred, the name is meaningless," he said.

She also figured it was his subtle way of testing to see how much she was willing to tell. He was paying very close attention to her reactions to things. For Christ's sake, a few idle smirks 20 years ago changed physics.

She placed her head back on his chest. Because she liked the feel of him. And to make it harder for him to read her face when she gave answers.

"No, but I will tell you the president is a woman. That's all you get," she said.

"Barely counts as an answer," he grumbled.

"Second question," she said, in a voice she hoped conveyed he was pushing his luck.

"Have the Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup yet?"

"No," she said, and then giggled.

David groaned. "God, if you're from a hundred years in the future, that's really going to suck."

"Third question."

"Is the world a better place?"

"Jesus, David, ask the easy ones," she said.

He ran his fingers through her hair and she shifted up his chest to make it a little easier. In response, she moved her fingers across his stomach. She had no aspirations of trying to get him hard again and go another round. Now that she was coming down from the orgasms, she could feel the signs of chronal rejection. Her skin was tingling and she was noticing a flush that she suspected had nothing to do with sex.

She'd looked at her watch as casually as she could. Gemma was sure it hadn't escaped David's attention that she was naked except for the watch. By her count, she had less than three hours left.

"The Berlin Wall is coming down. Communism is collapsing. For the first time in my life I don't feel like I have to worry about a nuclear war wiping us all out. I'm feeling hopeful for the first time," he said.

"Plus, sex with a hot blonde half your age," she said.

"That too. Now, my question?"

Gemma sighed. "I mean, some things are better, but we find new problems. It's not like I live in a utopia. But it's also not a dystopia and World War III hasn't started...."

"That's not filling me with hope and inspiration, Gemma."

"Jesus, David, I don't know how to answer that. This is a pretty good time to be alive right now. I'd enjoy it. When I am is pretty good too, but there are new, big challenges there too. There's always going to be new challenges," she said.

He kissed her head.

"You have to forgive me for prying a bit. Time travel is....well, there are a lot of different interpretations. It can make your head spin. It's not weird to wonder if you're back here trying to change things because the future is awful. Or you work for a sinister agency trying to make sure the future unfolds in some dystopian way," he said.

Gemma resisted the urge to laugh. His biography said he read a lot of science fiction as a kid. So it was hardly a surprise his imagination went down more dramatic paths.

"I can't talk to you about how it works, David. But the future continues to move along. And I'm not secretly a Terminator."

"Well, that's a relief," he said, making her laugh. If it wasn't for the creeping pain, she could happily fall asleep with him right now. Wake up in the morning, go out somewhere and get some breakfast. Convince him to blow off classes and spend the day with her.

"Fucking time travel," she thought for the 1,000th time.

"Last question," she said.

He paused, which was never a great sign. He was debating how to phrase something or wondering if it violated her rules. Gemma hoped it wasn't going to piss her off.

"Do you care about me?" he asked. There was a tone in his voice Gemma couldn't place. It sounded...vulnerable. She shifted so her chin rested on his chest.

"David...." she started.

"I know it's a stupid, irrational question. I can find out about the future and squander it on foolish questions. I can't think straight when I'm around you. And yes, it's because you're beautiful. And yes, there's the ego stroke of someone coming from the future just to see me. If you were wondering, that will do a number on your head.

"But I.... feel something with you that I've never felt with anyone else. So I guess I'm wondering, is it just me, or do you feel something too?"

Gemma stared at him and couldn't think of a thing to say. It had nothing to do with her brain getting foggy from being back in time too long. She was 22-years-old, but always felt older. She'd slingshotted twice, and only 15 people could say that. And none of them had met the same person twice, let alone the person who would discover time travel.

But she'd never been in love. Not even close. Boys in high school were jokes. She'd been at the Institute for four years. Given the security and lack of men, there hadn't been many opportunities for romance. When Gemma returned from 1970, she wrote off her decision to seduce David as needing to get laid. It was like a groupie hooking up with a rock star.

But looking at him now, and feeling her heart pound in her chest, she knew she'd been lying. It was more than sexual attraction. If she could stay in 1990, she would move heaven and earth to keep him. But she couldn't.

She paused too long. David shifted and moved to get out of bed.

"Never mind. Stupid question," he said.

"Yes," she blurted out. "I must be absolutely insane, but I do care about you. I'm sorry."

David sat at the edge of the bed and looked at her. He looked happy that she cared about him, but sad because he must realize, as she did, it was doomed.

"I don't suppose you can stay? You said you were a bit of a rebel," he said.

The burning in her skin was starting to work its way down, causing new aches and pains. She always thought Allison, the woman who stayed 12 hours in the past and died later, was nuts. But if it wasn't for the recall, she would start downing painkillers by the bottle to stay a few more hours with him.

"Even I can't rebel against physics," she said, regretting it immediately. David was too brilliant not to pick up on that clue.

"How long?"

She pressed her watch and looked at the countdown - 2:31:17

"If we stay here, about 90 minutes."

He looked stricken, hoping for more. Then he straightened up, looked at her, and smiled.

"Can you eat? I can splurge on some overpriced room service?"

Eating was a bad idea and the food would return with a vengeance in about 36 years and two and a half hours. But she was hungry now, and food was a good way to still be with each other.

"Sounds great."

Twenty minutes later, burgers that would be expensive in 2026 arrived at the room. They ate, flirted, and joked. David talked about his work with her encouragement, and she enjoyed listening to him talk. Gemma hoped she smirked less. She could tell he was watching, but there were fewer things to smirk at in 1990 than 1970.

Finally, without having to check her watch, she knew she had to go. If she stayed much longer, it was going to be evident she was in pain. Without saying anything, she got out of bed, washed up, and dressed. She grabbed her bag with the travel suit and looked at him.

"I don't suppose I can come with you?" David asked.

"You can't. And please don't follow me."

And then, the $1 million question.

"Will I see you again?"

"I...I don't know for sure," Gemma said. In fact, she didn't know. They wouldn't tell her before the slingshot. It was as big a confirmation as she had that they knew she set the 1990 date last time.

"Gemma, I'm trying not to pry, but really? Am I supposed to keep going to the Black Bull every February 14 forever, hoping to see you again?" he said, sounding upset for the first time. A 20-year wait was one thing; not knowing was something else. "Why can't you do what you did last time and write down a date three years from now?"

"David, it doesn't work that way. I think they already know the next date and didn't tell me. If I had to guess, it'll be..." Gemma paused, knowing how he would react. "...probably around 2006 or 2007."

He sat down on the bed, the reality of it hitting him. It was one thing to be with Gemma when he was 41. He would be in his late 50s the next time he saw her.

"I'm sorry," she said, starting to go to him. He held up his hand, took a deep breath and then looked at her. His smile was forced.

"On the upside, I know I live until 2007. Not everybody can say that," he said, the joke falling flat.

"I really am sorry," she said. Part of her wanted to run over and comfort him. The other part wanted to run back to the alley and get the hell out of 1990. There was no choice. She started to move towards the door.

"It's ok. I'm glad I saw you now. See you next century," David said. She could hear the bitterness.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she ran out the door and fled back to her alley, and 2026.

Location: Classified

Time: December 1, 2026

"You've got to be kidding me with this bullshit," Emma said, tossing the tablet across the boardroom table towards Chair One. She stopped it before it reached her with an authoritative slap of her hand. Around the room's walls were monitors outlining information about her impending trip to 2007.

"Yes, because I am famous in the Institute for my sense of humour. Sit down, Emma. I may have a higher tolerance for your dramatics of recent months than the others, but not an infinite amount," she said.

Emma, or Gemma when she was time travelling, reluctantly sat down. With less force, Chair One slid the tablet back to her.

"Now, what is it that offends you so much?"

Emma took a moment to compose herself. Chair One wasn't wrong; she'd been off ever since she came back from 1990 back in February. First, it was recovery for six weeks. Then she got a month of leave, before returning to classes and work. Even when she wasn't prepping for her slingshot, she still had to study and help others with theirs.

She'd been miserable to be around. It was careless and stupid. The three Chairs were always looking for reasons to not send someone. She was giving them all the excuses in the world. So she had to tread carefully.

"I'm slingshotting back to ruin his life," she said.

"That's the job," Chair One said impassively. "It can be argued that you did that the first time you went back to 1970. You slingshot back and make sure things stay on course. And in this case, your slingshot involves him having to make sacrifices."

"There has to be something we can do to help him. He could end up on the streets, homeless because of this. For certain, his scientific reputation will be destroyed," Emma argued.

"Was destroyed," Chair One said, pointing at an article from 2009 on the wall screen. It showed a picture of David from Wired, calling him a quack who had taken millions from a tech entrepreneur. "It happened, Emma. Now, the question is, will you be the one to do it, or do I have to call in one of the others?"

Emma fumed but remained silent. She needed to go back and see David again. She owed him some closure in his life.

Chair One sighed.

"You are hanging by a string, Emma. Two doesn't want you to back. She thinks you're emotionally compromised. Three thinks that as well, but is curious to see what happens when you slingshot," she said.

"She thinks I'll explode or something?" Emma said.

"Well, we don't know what will happen, do we? We've never attempted a slingshot where the younger version of the traveller was already born."

The critical event she had to talk to David about was in 2007. At that time, Emma was three years old and living in London, England. The theory was there should be enough geographic distance between the two versions of herself that the slingshot would work. She was a test case.

The best-case scenario was a successful slingshot, no big deal. Gemma would have six hours in 2007. It was also her last one. Scenarios after that ranged from a shortened amount of time in the past, to the slingshot failing.

There was also an outside chance she might explode when she landed in 2007. At least now she knew which way Chair Three was leaning. Bitch.

"He deserves to hear it from me, so I'll go and do my job," she said.

"Good," Chair One said. "But, as a precaution, I'm reducing the slingshot from six hours to four."

"What?!"

Chair One ignored the outburst.

"At this point, you have a relationship with him. He kept going back to the same pub on the same night every year in the hopes he'll see you," she said. That meant she knew more than she was letting on. "It means he should do what you say without arguing too much.

"It's also a protective measure. We have no idea what kind of shape you'll be in when you land. And finally, it'll give you less chance to get into... trouble."

"I never get into trouble," she said. Chair One looked unconvinced.

"It's four hours or not at all. That's final."

Emma wanted to argue, but could think of no justification beyond, "I'll barely have time for a quickie with only four hours."

So what she said was, "Fine."

"Good," Chair One said. "Take a few moments to compose yourself. We'll continue in 15 minutes."

After the older woman left the boardroom, Emma wanted to scream. Cathartic, but it wasn't going to help much. She already had one long-shot plan in motion for this trip. Now she had to add another one. Because no matter what those bitches thought, there was no way she was going back in time and leaving him high and dry. There had to be a way.

Then a thought hit her. She scrolled through the tablet, looking at some of David's biographical information. They always kept details of his life under lock and key. She didn't know everything about him, despite what he might think.

She hadn't told him that he was anonymous. It seemed cruel to say to him the inventor of time travel wasn't world-famous. Only a half dozen people in the institute knew who invented time travel. Less than that knew where she was going and who she was seeing. Once you have a Time Machine, you will want to go back and meet the person who created it. Or do things to drive them off his path. That's why so few people knew.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. And smiled. It was a small thing, but even scientific geniuses need some amusement.

If she could swing it, this one might save his life.

Location: Classified < slingshot > Toronto, Canada

Time: February 14, 2027 < slingshot > February 14, 2007

On the upside, Gemma did not explode when she arrived in 2007.

Conversely, 2007 quickly figured out she was here and wasn't supposed to be. And it was pissed off.

She begrudgingly had to admit Chair One was right to reduce her time in 2007. Gemma was going to have a hard go of it at four hours. Six might get her name on the "In Memorium" wall after all.

She got dressed, with Costuming, for once, not making her look like she was a hooker. Jeans, t-shirt, a pale orange sweater, a Canada Goose coat, winter boots, and a hobo bag to stuff things in. Even her bra and panties were not embarrassing. Now, she had to move. Fast.

By the time she made it to the Black Bull, she was sweating despite the cold. She looked towards the bar and, to her relief, there was David. She didn't know what she would have done if he wasn't there.

He smiled, but then saw the look on her face. Rather than wait for her to come over, he grabbed his coat and made his way over. He was 58 years old and still looked good to her. The hair was all white now and thinner. So was his beard, but it was neatly groomed. The suit he was wearing was also more expensive. Gone was the rumpled professor look. Now he gave the appearance of a man with money. Which was true.

He ran up and hugged her and she melted into it. Only a year, she reminded herself. She shouldn't miss him this much after just a year.

"Are you ok? You look...frantic."

"Please tell me you have a hotel room booked or a place nearby. My time is...limited," Gemma said.

He didn't argue or ask what she meant. Instead, they left the pub. They walked quickly towards the hotel, but not before he kissed her. It surprised Gemma. She thought there would be debate about the appropriateness of doing anything with such an age gap.

"How long do you have?" he asked.

"Three hours at best," she said. "I'm sorry."

He looked stricken.

"Jesus Christ," he said. "Seventeen years and all we have is three hours?"

Gemma felt like crying. He knew they only had a limited time together. But discovering that time was even more limited than he thought hit hard. She could see he wanted to protest, but the scientist part of his brain put it aside. She wouldn't lie to him, not about that.

"Why are you here? Why now?"

Before she could answer, he pulled up short. They were at the hotel. They quickly and quietly went through the lobby, up the elevator and to the door of his room without saying a word. When they finally entered the room, he sat on the bed and looked at her.

"Why?"

Suddenly, slingshotting back to 2007 seemed like a terrible idea. Gemma wanted to slingshot back to December last year and get Chair One to bounce her. Anything other than telling David what she had to say to him.

"You can't give your research to Miles Page. No matter how much he threatens you, no matter what he does, you can't give him your research," she said, leaning against the door. She couldn't run, but found she wanted some space from him while giving him the news.

If anything, he looked more stricken than when Gemma told him she only had a few hours.

"Why? He's done everything for me. When the university and government grants dried up, he brought me in. Gave me a huge salary, money for staff, equipment, everything. I'm not where I am now without his support over the last three years," he said, his voice rising.

"I know."

"Of course, you know. Now tell me why I can't give this to him?"

The last two times she came back with David, she was coy about how much she knew and how things would work out. This time, she resolved to be as honest as she could with him. She was about to make a huge ask from him.

"We have a kind of AI in our time, David," she said.

His eyes got wide. "Holy fuck."

"Well, baby AI. It hasn't gone all Skynet on us yet. It helps scientists take huge amounts of data and develop solutions in hours that would take years. But it's also excellent at predictive models," Gemma said.