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Enter The Chronoheart

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her. -part one here

Epilogue

In only the glow of a laptop screen, click-clacking away on a Word document, Bill watched the timer on his laptop turn to midnight.

February 13, 2024.

Three years to the day after his fated journey through time.

That was it. He no longer had any foresight into the future.

While it was nice to have some pocket money made on silly bets, what he really enjoyed was finally hearing Paz’s thoughts and opinions on things she had missed. In the years she was gone, he always wondered; now he knew.

As he suspected, not every day was the same as he remembered over the last three years. It couldn’t have. They were living in a parallel plane. Still, in this new timeline, they were shifting pathways with new decisions. This time around, he chose differently with some things, gambling with other possibilities just for some variation.

He won a lot of the time. A past opportunity that had slipped through his fingers even returned to him. Only this time, he wasn’t considered for Hutter, but now he was Count Orlok, the vampire of all vampires, in Nosferatu.

Paz was so excited for him, but still she bound his books and journals of research to keep the dark energy from leaking out.

“You know,” she said, seeing him, or not, behind the decaying, garish prosthetics under his regal overcoat. “It’s gross.” She circled, scanning him from top to nasty, wretched toe. “But… In some weird way, I’m into it.”

“You are,” he said, shocked, in his own voice outside the one he painstakingly curated for the character. “I’m rotting.”

Later, he’d learn, tons of people would share the same sentiment. Pennywise had some freaky fans, but he thought being a corpse would provide a different result. There was something for everyone, apparently, and it wasn’t his place to yuck someone’s yum.

With that, he was thankful that these last three years weren’t full of grief and confusion, like they once had been for him. If anything, they were substantially happier. Much happier. In both his steady career and, most importantly, his personal life.

He was a father now. To a 22-month-old baby girl, Anaïs.

He didn’t say it out loud then, but he remembered the day she was conceived. He just had a feeling. Paz woke a few weeks later with her own feeling, as well. It wasn’t morning sickness yet, but one quiet morning, she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror that gave her pause. She just looked… different. There was a glow, a certain soft aura she hadn’t seen in years.

The pregnancy test sat on the sink counter while she prepared for the day as normal. It took incredible restraint to finish out her morning routine without a peek, but she wanted to stave off possible disappointment until she couldn’t any longer.

Bill was home, too lazy to take a trip to the gym that morning. Instead, he opted to do sit-ups in the living room just to say he did something—anything. As the morning sunrays flooded in through the industrial windows, he rose and stretched his back when he heard a choked gasp and fast feet coming down the hall.

He laughed, overjoyed when Paz showed him the positive test, tickled that he was right. When she excitedly jumped into his arms, he caught her, holding her tight, and couldn’t help but feel humbled and happy with gratitude that they were having their second chance.

Anaïs was a beautiful baby girl with full lips, a whole head of dark hair, and big, inquisitive brown eyes. She looked just like her mother, and in an instant, she captured his whole heart just the same.

After traveling through time and all the hardship, his respect and love for Paz were immense. But seeing her become a mother was beyond description. There was a point early in their relationship when he could easily see their life unfold this way. Most people could feel overwhelmed by the thought, but he felt a calm deep in his soul. He knew he had picked the perfect person to have a family with. To finally experience fatherhood and give Paz something that, at one time, she believed she’d never have given him a crazy amount of pride.

The arrival of their daughter also showed him that they were in charge of their destiny. She was the mortal link that tied them to this new version of the world they once knew.

As he squeezed his tired eyes shut and blinked, his thick platinum wedding band glinted off the screen light as he continued typing. His first wedding anniversary was soon approaching.

Paz meant it when she said that she didn’t want to wait any longer. A baby and a wedding, it didn’t matter what came first. It just so happened that they did.

Since returning, time just felt too precious to waste. It is often said that time is the only thing you can never get back. Having such an extraordinary opportunity to defy that, they made every second count.

Their wedding was held in the English countryside, at an estate that sat in the valley of lush green rolling hills. The stone exterior clued to its centuries-long establishment. It was practically a castle and was beyond old money.

While Paz had a whole team preparing her in the cottage at the edge of the property, Bill dressed into a classic black YSL suit at the manor. Of course, he was first at the full-blooming rose garden where the ceremony was taking place. The guests greeted him with endearing smiles as he walked down the aisle, with a sleeping Anaïs in his arms. She wore a little white dress to match her mother and hardly stirred when Uncle Gustaf, graciously, took her.

He didn’t dare peep at his wristwatch as he stood in wait at the altar, but he knew Paz was running behind. His beating heart settled once the string quartet began to play, announcing her arrival. The guests rose at attention. Paz stood at the start of the aisle and couldn’t help but match his wide grin.

She was jaw-dropping gorgeous, wearing a sleek, ivory cat-eye bodice gown. It featured a long train that followed behind her, accompanied by a dramatic cathedral veil to match.

The English rain threatened cocktail hour, but the heavy grey clouds passed them by in time for the reception. The skies were clear as they sat under twinkling stars in the conservatory. Where friends and family, jubilantly celebrated love and the flowing open bar.

Even if she slept through the whole ceremony without a care, Anaïs made sure to be awake for the festivities. Clapping her little chubby hands, she stood in her father's lap, screeching excitedly as the disco lights swept across the room to the beat of the music. Franco with his connections in the music world hired two well known DJs to play for the night.

Carrying a bottle of champagne and her heels in one hand, she clung to Bill’s arm as they hastily cleared across the courtyard, snickering. They snuck out of their own party. It wasn’t like anyone would notice anyway. It was early in the morning, and the party could still be heard going strong long behind them.

Once in the clear, their pace slowed. He took her hand then, leading the way as the other held a fat celebratory cigar.

“So… what’s it like being a married man again?” Paz asked.

Bill looked down at her with a playful smirk. “Second time’s the charm,” he said smugly.

“Pfft,” she rolled her eyes.

“Was it everything you wanted?” he asked, as they cut through the side of the manor, shrouded in darkness.

“And more.” Paz smiled, hugging his arm. “It was perfect. I’m so lucky.”

“You kinda seemed nervous about the fire dancer earlier,” he laughed.

“I had to sit and smile while he threatened to set everything on fire! Why would Simon even think of that as a wedding gift?”

“Ah, I don’t know. He’s just like that. It was… kinda cool,” he said, wryly. “How would it have looked for you and Layne?”

“Mm. He was Irish Catholic. So most likely we would have had it at a chapel. Better optics with a religious angle than just getting married at the courthouse, you know.”

“Shit… your mom would have loved him,” he chuckled.

“She loves you,” she said, undoubtedly. “If she weren’t on grandma duty, she’d still be forcing you to dance even more than she had,” she laughed.

“That lady can dance,” he sighed loudly, exaggerating exhaustion.

He could see their chariot waiting to take them to the cottage. Really, it was just a black Land Rover Defender that came with the property. Taking his opportunity, while still under the cover of darkness, he pressed her against the stone wall. Cradling her head as he kissed her passionately. A hand dropped between them, sneaking underneath the short skirt of her reception dress, and pulled her panties to the side. The cool metal of his wedding band pressed against her heat, making her breath hitch. Fingers teasingly circled her entrance, before pushing in to give her a taste of what it was to be a married woman, before giving her the full experience at the cottage.

His fingers stilled over the keyboard when he heard a faint cry from the other room. Then he heard the bed creak as Paz woke before he could get up to check on their daughter. He was in the sitting area of the suite they had been living in for a few weeks now.

Paz softly shushed her daughter and soothingly rubbed her tummy, settling her back to sleep as she lay in the pack-n-play.

“What are you doing?”

Bill slightly startled, having been deep in thought when she suddenly appeared.

“Shit…” he whispered. “Is the baby okay?”

Paz cracked a smirk. “She's fine. It’s late.”

He was expected at the ass crack of five on a new location set. The clock was nearing 1am.

“Yeah, one second,” he said, resuming.

“Okay…?”

“Wait, baby,” he said just before she left him. “Do you remember the name of the youngest kid in that hippy troupe we met at the creek?”

“Cosmo?”

“No, the youngest that they made hold on to their weed.”

“Oh, Moses.”

“Yes! Moses,” he said, typing away again.

He was drafting an outline for a script about the vagabond children they had met. Creating a whole story around them and expanding on who they might have been. Something about being with them touched him. He led a privileged life, and while being on the road sounded fun in theory, he couldn’t last in the way those kids had to.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, looking away from his laptop, only for her to join him on the couch and rest her head on his shoulder.

“It was Arlo, Juniper, Sol, Moses, Cosmo,” she yawned and pointed at his screen. “It’s Sol, like the sun, not Saul.”

“Ah, shit, I’ve been writing your dad’s name as a placeholder,” he chuckled, rubbing his tired eyes.

“I thought you were going to start writing this after the shoot?”

“I got… inspired.”

“You’ve been thinking about today?” she asked, looking up at him.

The whole day prior, he was unusually quiet. Even though he tried not to show it, he reflected on the anniversary of his first journey through time. Remembering how desperate and lost he had been, and how far he had come from that. How good things had been since made him question if what had happened had even happened at all.

He exhaled. “Technically, I’ve been thinking about the past.”

She rolled her eyes, reached for his laptop, and shut it. Darkness engulfed them. Pushing it off his lap, she placed herself there, straddling him. Her tongue found its way into his mouth. When she harshly ground her hips down, he slapped her ass hard, coaxing her to continue a while more before he stood with her around his waist. Strong arms settled her down on the couch, and he roughly tugged her tiny sleep shorts off. When he plunged into her, a sharp gasp left her lips at the abrupt intrusion, only to be soothed by the even rocking of his hips.

“Oh, fuck! Harder.”

He pistoned into her like she begged for, and she took it gleefully. When suddenly, that same knowing feeling he had when they conceived their first child overtook him. It radiated from deep in his chest.

“Look at me,” he said, holding her chin, slowing his thrusts. “I want to remember this.”

Her eyes fluttered open, appreciating his long, deep, purposeful thrusts, leaving her jaw slack and speechless. Soon her back arched off the cushion, their breaths shallow as he made love to her. So tender. So reverent. She pulled him closer, unable to get enough.

She could feel him tense. On the edge, his hands balled into fists on either side of her head. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, taking him even deeper. The connection they shared was like nothing else. Otherworldly. It transcended time. She knew and felt exactly what he did. She was so sure. But most importantly, she was willing.

…

2029 | Five years later

Backstage at the first Academy Awards Ceremony, now hosted at the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles, Bill was having a light chitchat with his co-star, Semara Weaving. Whom he worked with on the remake of Claudetta, just a year and a half before.

This time, he landed a larger role, as the Duke, the love interest of the Countess. It was due to premiere in two months, and tonight they were introducing the star of the original, Marcia Patton, for an honorary lifetime achievement award.

The icon's appearance became the talk of the night. It would be a rare appearance for her. Since the mid 2000s, she had lived a quiet life in Switzerland and had only agreed to a few sporadic cameos that required ultra closed sets. Quite honestly, as she aged, she decided to bow out with a better lasting impression for the public.

Which was quite ridiculous. She still looked incredible, but that’s just how she was. A part of her knew she aged more gracefully than many of her counterparts. That’s why the stage crew rushed around, stressed because she chose to be fashionably late instead of standing in the wings for her cue.

A stagehand, with a hand pressed against her headset, urgently waved for Bill and Samara to follow them. The orchestra began to play softly and then gradually increased its tempo.

“Three. Two. And…” the stagehand pointed a finger to the rafters before charging it forward. “Go!”

Across town, Paz was hosting a watch party with friends and family at a bungalow suite at the Chateau Marmont. Everyone gathered around the TV, clapping and laughing once he appeared, looking rather dapper in a Tom Ford suit that made him look ever broader than he was.

Paz gasped. “Look, it's daddy!”

Their two daughters sat in her lap, Anaïs and her sister, Solveig, who was two and a half. Both were amazed with wide eyes. They looked so much alike, though Solveig inherited her father's mossy green eyes, which stood out against a rim of dark lashes and her olive complexion.

They were much too young to watch anything their father had starred in, so seeing him on TV was fascinating. Anaïs, especially, found it both funny and quite perplexing. How’d he get in there?

After perfectly executing a very flattering introduction, the camera panned away from them and toward the main screen, where the highlight reel of Marcia’s career began to play. As the lights dimmed, they were ushered off stage. Bill remained backstage, watching as some surviving peers shared a few words about Marcia. One, to his surprise, was Harper Gaines. Still as cool as ever, wearing haute couture Givenchy.

“This could have been me tonight, if Marcia hadn’t beaten me for the iconic Claudetta,” she playfully quipped. “I remember being upset, and yet I couldn’t help but feel elated and honored that I was even a contender. Most importantly, it lit a fire in me to keep going. Hone my craft. It helped keep my focus away from dating skinny British rockstars… I dated a gamut of lousy home-bred rockstars, instead. Thanks, babe! You’re a legend.”

A chorus of laughter from the audience came with adoring applause for her.

And finally, the woman of the hour walked across the stage. Even at 89, Marcia floated across the stage with pageantry grace. She wore a silver dress that looked luminous under the limelight. Still true to herself, she had voluminous hair. Only now it was a snow-white, sleek, styled bob. Bill looked out toward the stage, drawn to her magnetism as the rest. God, did she look even tinier than he remembered as she stepped up to the mic.

“I am honored and grateful to the town that made me,” she began after thanking everyone. Her aged voice still carried such a cute lilt. “Frankly, I wasn’t born for anything else. I couldn’t be anything else—nor did I want to,” she smirked. “I was meant to be on the silver screen, to be seen, to be heard, to connect through magnificent storytelling, but most importantly, to make magic. I am truly the luckiest girl in the world! And it’s been so very lovely. Thank you. Thank you.”

With a hand to her heart, she bowed her head humbly. Her eyes then swept across the room, soaking in the audience standing in fervent ovation, and she blew a departing ruby kiss.

The comedian emcee dutifully approached, offering an arm for her to take, and escorted her off stage when it cut to commercial break.

“Aww, I loved that!” Paz said, with a smile.

“She still looks-looks good, too,” Juliana added, before taking a sip of champagne.

“Who is she, mami?” Anaïs asked, clambering off her lap.

“A really, really good actress from back in the day,” Paz said in time before she ran to play with other children there. Solveig whined and slipped off her lap like dead weight, to clumsily follow suit. “It’s almost time for bed,” she called out to them, but she lightly shrugged, bringing a cocktail glass to her lips after it fell on deaf ears.

Backstage, Bill straightened up, hands clasped in front of him, as Marcia slowly continued down the wing, politely greeting people who lined the wall as if she were a royal. In fact, he even saw a curtsey or two. While waiting for his turn, he took a glance to his right and did a double-take. William Junior stood there, holding fur-lined white leather Chanel mules for his mother to change her heels. He looked remarkably like his father. Fuck, he resembled Bill a bit, too, in a weird way. But no, that was William Sigrid's son; he inherited his distinct bulbous nose.

Samara also waited with him and was quick to greet Marcia as she approached. They both shot compliments back and forth, though Samara remained gracious and humbled in her presence.

When it was his turn, Bill confidently stepped up to Marcia instead of timidly standing in wait like the rest and introduced himself to her. Finally, meeting her as Bill, his real self, something he tried his hardest to make her see. When her head tilted all the way back to meet his eyes, her sparkling, glass blue eyes glistened with a hint of familiarity, which surprised him. It made his breath catch in his throat unexpectedly.

“Oh, my!” she giggled, bashfully. “You look a lot like my late husband.”

“Ah, sorry,” he said, pressing his lips together. Being compared to Willian, with what he knew, put a salty taste in his mouth. It wasn’t a compliment in the way people thought it was.

“No need to be sorry, dear. He was handsome. Can you believe he looked even better dead?”

“Mother.” William Junior shook his head and strained an embarrassed smile toward Bill.

He laughed. She still had her interesting dark humor. “Your speech was great. It’s such a pleasure to meet you. My wife and I are looking forward to reading your memoir. We’ve preordered it.”

“Oh, you’re too sweet! Too sweet. Thank you. It’s got it all, honey. Maybe… I should say sorry, too, for that,” she winked. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she reached out to give a parting shake.

Her hand was so tiny in his, and they both marveled at the fact until she tilted her head to the side.

That look in her eyes returned, making him involuntarily hold his breath. Caught again. It was the same look she gave him when he officially broke things off with her. He tried to make it very clear that he wasn’t who she thought he was, and something finally clicked for her to see the truth in that. He was an imposter, a stranger, but it was too unbelievable to accept. Even terrifying.

“It’s nice to see you again, Billy,” she said, with a soft knowing smile. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, honey?”

His heart skipped. For a moment, he could see the young woman he met all those years ago. Even her eyes sparkled with youth. “Yeah-yeah. It has Marsh. A very long time.”

“Are you still with her?”

“Paz?”

She nodded.

“Of course. Absolutely. We’re married with two beautiful daughters. They’re my everything. My magic, you could say.” He smiled.

“Ah, when you boil it all down, that’s really what it’s all about, honey,” she said, patting his hand as she still held it. “You look complete. I’m grateful you found your way back.”

Even taken aback, he began to thank her for the sentiment, until she blinked. As if coming back to herself after a spell, she cleared her throat. She gently dropped his hand and gave him a polite smile. One you’d offer a complete stranger.

“I’m looking forward to seeing the movie. You were a great choice for the Duke, in my opinion,” she winked. “Have a great night, dear.”

“Thank you. And-and you, too.”

“Honey,” she motioned toward her son. “My slippers, please.”

Bill was finally able to take a real breath once she left on her son's arm.

“Have you two met before?” Samara asked, after witnessing their interaction. “It was quite sweet… like two old friends meeting again.”

“Ah, a long time ago,” he shrugged. “Do you want to get a drink?” he asked, pointing toward the lounge bar.

“You’ve read my mind!”

…

Under blinding lights on a blue carpet lined with white petal flower bouquets, Bill and Paz posed together. With a possessive hand on her waist, she turned, showing off the backless dress she wore, and he proudly tilted his chin up as he draped a hand over her rear like a prize by his side.

Shortly after the awards, they attended the world premiere of Claudetta together. The early reviews received it rather well, so it was an exciting affair.

Just before the third act, two reserved seats now sat vacant.

“Which ones did you do?” he asked, as they slowly perused a row of original costumes from the film.

They were on loan for the premiere, and now that most people were glued to their seats in the TCL Chinese theater, Paz could finally have a moment with them. The garments were all pristine, lying as they should, and the dyed fabrics were still vibrant. She was shocked that there were no guards around to protect them. They were only on platforms and bodices, behind a measly red velvet rope.

“I helped with the monsignor's vestments,” she pointed at the purple garment. “This indigo gown Marcia wore, though, still looks so damn good. Wow,” she smiled proudly. “I pricked my fingers so many times…” Her voice faded, and she quickly looked around them, making sure the coast was clear.

Employees were buzzing around, but she went for it. She unclasped a rope and passed it to Bill, who gave her an odd look.

“Paz?”

“Shh. I just want to check for something.”

She crouched as best she could in her Mirror Palais dress and flipped the hem of the blue skirt, eyes traveling up a side seam. Just a few inches up the lining, was a small cluster of rust-colored dots. Embarrassment crept up, recalling how clumsy and incompetent she felt for staining the gown.

“It’s mine,” she gasped. “It’s the actual one I made!”

“Holy shit,” he said, raising his brows.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?” a theater employee asked, fastly approaching.

“She dropped an earring,” he thought quickly.

“I’ve found it,” Paz straightened, touching her ear, before sheepishly stepping out of the off-limits area. “Sorry.”

…

A few weeks later, they were back home in Sweden. It was a nice, sprawling house in the archipelago, where they could see the water from the highest point of their backyard.

They moved in four years ago, even with some construction still active on site. It was kind of a crazy operation, but Bill managed to get the contractors to finish quickly. It helped using Paz as an excuse to tug on their heartstrings, because even if she was away on a work trip in Italy, she was nearing her last trimester with Solveig then. It just really needed to be done before she returned, and they understood.

Instead of stressing, Paz began to feel nostalgic about her first proper home in LA. In the past, she tried looking it up on Zillow, but it had never been listed. While in the car on the way to a meeting, to her surprise, it showed up in a new search.

Bill was checking the progress of the solarium when he felt the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, it buzzed in his hand. Opening Paz’s messages, he scrolled through the screenshots of a home's interior with no context, when a FaceTime call interrupted him.

“What-what am I looking at?” he asked, looking at her on his screen when he answered. “Is that your old place?”

“Yes! The flippers fucking ruined it! Everything’s gray?!”

His shoulders dropped. For a moment, he stressed that she was reconsidering the choices they made for their home with generic bullshit.

What they had was the perfect home. Even with things going so well for them, it also felt so surreal. Almost as if it could all be gone again in the blink of an eye. Here, on their plot away from everything, they finally felt stable. Most importantly, they felt established in this realm.

At the edge of the property, they were foraging for mushrooms and looking out for anything else of use with their daughters.

“This is really good for tummy aches,” Paz explained, crouched down and plucking leaves of wild spearmint. “Smell it, it’s nice.”

Anaïs put her nose into her mother's palm and agreed with a pleased smile.

“Pick a few more for me,” she encouraged. “We only take a little bit; you should always leave some behind so it can keep growing.”

Bill was a few feet away with Solveig, carefully sitting her up on a tree branch. He held her with one hand while he took pictures of her with a film camera. She giggled, excitedly, donning his beanie, when suddenly her face fell. When her little bottom lip quivered, he brought her down. Though secure in his hold, her little arms clutched his neck and wailed. It was time for a nap. They returned home with a nice little haul, though.

After the girls went down for a nap, they picked up their phones from the kitchen bar. They had been left behind. After living in the 60s, one thing they appreciated was the sense of freedom that being disconnected felt. The obligational weight of always being available was gone in a way they didn’t have in the future. So they made it a point to unplug when it felt appropriate.

Paz took a seat next to him in the solarium, tossing her legs in his lap. Both silently scrolled their phones. Paz was texting her sister when Bill straightened up and leaned forward. His brows were knitted together as he rubbed his lips with his hand.

“Shit,” he said, under his breath.

“What?” Paz asked softly before bringing the straw to her homebrewed lavender vanilla latte to her lips.

“It’s Marcia. She-she passed away like… almost two hours ago.”

She choked on her drink, coughing until her eyes watered.

“Christ, baby,” Bill muttered, patting her back.

She managed to settle a bit. “What!?”

He showed her the Instagram post from Variety of a black and white image of young Marcia with the dates 1940 to 2029 written below. She didn’t make it to her 90th Christmas Eve birthday.

“For real?” Paz asked, clearing her throat.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, chewing his lip. “Damn…”

“Are you good?” Paz worried. She couldn’t really read him.

“I mean, it’s sad, baby. It is. It’s just… when I met her, again, there was a second where I think she knew exactly who I was. She remembered me.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Did she seem ill?” She wondered out loud.

“No. No, she seemed totally fine to me—besides that moment. Why?”

“Hmm, well, sometimes when people are close to death, they can gain spiritual insight. Usually, they see familial spirits to help guide them to the other side. But it can manifest in other ways.”

“Maybe…” he said skeptically, twisting his lip. “The look in her eyes, it was the same as when I broke things off with her for good. She knew I wasn’t who I said I was, but she-she, I guess, brushed it off.”

Paz’s brows rose. “Interesting.”

“Yeah!”

“You felt caught?”

“For a moment, yes,” he chuckled. “I thought she would scream in fucking horror. But, uh, yeah, damn...”

“Hm. Let her transition be easy,” she said, holding out her drink to tap his water bottle.

Maybe it was petty not to voice it, but she was glad that Marcia recognized him. She could tell it always bothered him that he never could be authentic with her. It was real closure.

…

vegasgranny: Learning all this has been very disappointing. My father worked in Hollywood. I was a little girl then, but I remember meeting WS at a lavish pool party held by The Ramseys. I found him quite nice, if not a little shy. He was there with another woman. Gorgeous lady. They shared their fruit tray with my sister and me.

b0ddie0ddie0ddie: @vegasgranny Sigrid was a habitual cheater. It’s not brand new info. But him being at a Ramsey party is sus. They’re basically old Hollywood Epstein class types. The fact that your father brought you to their parties is fucking disgusting.

Since Marcia’s passing, her memoir had flown off the shelves, and they were grateful that they had preordered it. She wrote candidly and certainly laid it all out, no holds barred. Dropping the polite, meek, sweetheart façade she presented to the public. The title was even a little tongue-in-cheek, mocking how the public saw her.

America’s Sweet Tart – A Memoir

In it, she revealed several bombshells, which set the twittersphere and the like ablaze with hot takes and discussion. She spoke of her body image issues that stemmed from her pageant days. The grueling days on set when there were fewer regulations. The terrible sexism she experienced and the awful ‘gentlemen's club’ that existed at the studio.

One that hit the news cycle heavily was the truth of William Sigrid's death. The public had been made to believe that his overdose was accidental. Death by misadventure. It was a shock for the public to learn that it was a cover-up and that it was very much intentional.

Just as you felt sorry for him, she spoke of his misdeeds. How terrible he was to her. Even dropping the fact that he was a bad lover.

He hated everything because he couldn’t stand himself. So he lashed out against anyone who couldn’t fight him. As harshly as it’s put, I believe he simply was incompatible with life. Marcia wrote.

He had a darkness that he couldn’t run from, and it probably even followed him to the afterlife. I pray he never reincarnates—if you believe in that kind of thing.

The only good thing he’d ever done in his life was giving me my beautiful, good-hearted son. I know at this point, you’re wondering why I assigned him as a Junior. Well, my only explanation was that it was just the times then, and I was still under the influence of the concoction given to me at my twilight birth.

Learning I was pregnant with Junior just a month after William’s death almost made me mad enough to be commited. From the pain, confusion, and shock, I can not remember much from that time, unfortunately.

Later, through extensive therapy, I discovered my trauma had an acronym. CPTSD. Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which can cause memory loss. It’s unfortunate.

It should have been a happier time for me, yet William also ruined that in his final selfish act.

I hate much of what he has done. From the very moment he courted me, he lied to me. He hurt me, cheated, and violated me. He wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with, even to the very end and thereafter.

Still, I reminisce on the good times. I can not help myself. That man was charming. It's easy to make him the villain, but if I believed that my whole life, then he would have won. It’s very complicated to say the least. But you don’t have to make sense of it—I do.

I will say this one last thing about William Sigrid: at times, he was my champion. He believed in me when I felt I had no voice. Hollywood was such a different beast when I began. Having him in my corner helped tremendously, of course, but he also encouraged me to stand up for myself. Even when I was scared out of my wits, he gave me confidence.

It was so very rare when he was genuinely kind, but he really shone in those moments. I wish there were more. I think a good man was itching to emerge from him, but he suppressed it with such stubborn force. I’m sure I am only one of the very few who were lucky enough to have a glimpse of that man. A glimpse of what could have been.

They put their copies down on their respective nightstands for the night after that. They were quiet compared to the other nights when they would discuss the book or just chat about the past in general. A lot of what she described, they already knew, but it didn’t mean that their hearts felt any less heavy.

Paz sighed, resting her head on his chest, and closed her eyes, desperately seeking sleep. Minutes passed before Bill spoke. He had been lying there, twisting locks of her hair around his finger and staring at the ceiling.

“Do you think… Do you think she’s talking about me near the end?” Bill asked.

“I was literally just wondering that… Do you believe he was ever nice to her after marrying her?”

He scratched his shoulder and shook his head. “He was always an asshole. Even if he was nice to her when they were dating, it was an act. He didn’t even fuckin’ know he asked her out!”

“Ugh, I know!” she sneered, disgusted all over again.

“I think…”

“She is talking about you,” Paz said, brushing her fingers over his arm. “It sounds like you. I know exactly what she’s talking about.” She kissed his chest.

“Mm. She makes me sound good, at least,” he chuckled, sheepishly.

“You made a mark. I would hope so, because William wasn’t eating her out the way you were. Or at all, actually.”

He blew raspberries. “Fuck off!”

Paz laughed. She had to, or else, she’d just get jealous all over again. “I’m glad she said something. It would really have been for nothing, then.”

…

2031

It takes a long time to make a movie. That’s the part people don’t mention often. For Paz, it was the first project she helped build from the ground up. From a stolen manuscript to a book, to a script, to a screen, and everything in between. Once Focus Features came on board, pre-production began. Then everything had to align. The timing had to be perfect.

Which was now. Devotion was in production, under the working title Tail Spin, with Bill starring as Abel. His brother-in-law, Franco, set to direct. It would be their first official collab. One, they were excited to embark together. Old promises were now a reality.

Devon Rhys, the author, was on set visiting and had stopped by Bill’s trailer to speak to him privately. He had a few questions for her, just to dig further into the character he’d already painstakingly put research into.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Devon said, agreeing with a point he made. “But he hides it well. This is essentially his second chance. The cult his father headed failed, and he resents that. He’s tried to assimilate after being freed from the cult by the authorities, but he’s never quite deprogrammed.”

“He’s a bit arrogant in his way of thinking, I noticed,” he chuckled. “I mean, he thinks he’s Christ."

“It’s egomaniacal, definitely,” she mused. “But he joined the support group in earnest. There’s something in him that knows how he thinks isn’t correct. It’s warped. I don’t know if I mentioned this in our emails, but I’m sober. For thirteen years now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Sometimes,” she smirked. “But thank you. It was my going to AA that inspired this. The steps are heavily ingrained in religion. For me, it did what it needed to do, but” she grimaced.

“Not your thing?”

“Nooo,” she snickered. “Anyway, being at those meetings, there are very vulnerable people there. And since this particular group in the book is all survivors of religious abuse, well, recovery is very tricky.”

“Right,” Bill nodded. “He just found an opportunity there, it seems. But he makes people do a lot of things that he doesn’t even like for himself. I know it's a control thing—”

“Ah, yeah. Another big thing with cults is sex.”

“Mhmm,” he raised his brows.

“But he doesn’t like it, you’re right. To become the better version of what his preacher father was then, he had to-to… well, for lack of a better phrase, strip them down to nothing.”

“He likes humiliating them, too, but he contradicts himself a lot. He wants to be better than his overzealous father, but—”

“He's worse.”

“Much worse,” he chuckled. “Fun to play though.”

“It’s been fun to watch!” Devon shyly laughed, embarrassed that she said that out loud. “You’re terrific as Abel. Honestly, it’s a bit strange to speak to my character outside the pages like this.”

“Even without the black hair?” He said, mussing his hair, with a smirk. His hair was longer than usual for him, past his ears, and styled boyishly.

“I like what they chose. Less emo, more unsuspecting.”

“Yeah. As long as it’s not the high and tight, he was forced to have his whole life.”

There was a knock at the door, calling Bill back on set. “Ah, I still have questions,” he said, standing up. “Has my wife invited you for dinner with us?”

“She did,” Devon smiled, following him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Okay, great-great.”

Devon Rhys was excited to be on set during the support group sessions. At a point where the group dynamics were beginning to skew. Abel, up to this point, was just a body in a chair. Unbeknownst to the others, he was observing them and silently calculating. Now he was opening up, selling them a melodramatic tale of his life, making sure to toss in points of commonality with his victims. They were swayed and awed by him by the very end. Especially the character Mary, portrayed by Inde Navarrette, who would later become his number one devotee.

“Hell yeah, okay, he’s killin’ that,” Franco murmured, watching from his monitor. “Can we do it one more time, Bill?” he asked, speaking into a mic.

He nodded as the crew came in to reset the scene around him. “You just like looking at me.” He winked and then retreated into himself. Bringing forth Abel, crossing his arms and changing posture in an orange school chair, he sat waiting for action.

Just outside the old church gym in the hallway, Paz and Loch watched the monitors as the scene commenced. Even though they were inside, it was nearly as cold as it was outside. The building owners failed to mention that the HVAC system wasn’t up to par. Even so, Paz shrugged off her puffer coat, feeling uncomfortably warm, then sat back in her equally uncomfortable chair.

On a monitor, the camera slightly zoomed in, and there was a faint, dubious tick from the corner of Bill’s mouth. Pleased that he had captured the room, hook, line, and sinker.

“There it is,” Paz stated proudly.

“I think he got me, too. I’m about to drop trou.” Loch said.

“Please, don’t.”

“Hold it. Hold it. And… CUT!” They could hear Franco shout.

Loch lightly laughed. “Want to rewatch that?”

“Yeah,” she said, shifting in her seat once again.

“We can find you one that’s more comfortable,” he said. “One that’s lower to the ground, maybe?”

“If it’s too low, I won’t be able to get up.”

“Then be like that, I’m trying to help you.”

Her jaw dropped. “David!”

“I take it back. I take it back.”

“Yeah, you better.”

A PA passed Bill’s coat to him as he watched the playback with Franco.

“The zoom is very Kubrick,” he said, crossing his arms, trying to warm himself up.

“In post if we creep it in, I think it’ll be dope,” he said, fist bumping him.

“Uh, what was it in the last take that you liked?” Bill asked curiously.

“Oh, it was just as good as the second,” Franco smirked. “I needed some of the others' reactions to you to tighten up.”

He excused himself then and made his way to Paz in video village. He wanted to check on her. He only saw her in the very early morning and had been busy all day since.

On the way there, he ran into Franco’s kids, Serafina and Cisco, munching on fries from Crafty. Today, Lasso Burger catered. Before he traveled to 1966, he’d never even heard of it; it didn’t even exist in his old life either. Now they are all over the country and rival McDonald's.

“Tio Bill!” Sarafina and Cisco exclaimed when he approached them.

“Hey, I didn’t know you guys were here,” he smiled, accepting their hugs as they asked where their cousins were.

When he spotted Paz, she was away from her post, chatting with a member of the wardrobe team, who was showing her pictures from her phone. At times, he could find her with the wardrobe department, just hanging out. If they let her help, she would. He slowed his pace a little, giving the girl the time she needed before stepping away.

Feeling his presence, Paz didn’t need to look up to know who had walked up behind her. She pressed her back against him and melted, while his hand snaked from her waist to her round, pregnant belly.

“I was about to ask why you weren’t wearing your coat,” he chuckled, feeling warmth radiate from her.

“I had a hot flash,” she rolled her eyes, turning around to hug him, and smashing her cheek against his chest.

This baby came as a surprise to both of them. They were so busy with their careers and wrangling the two they had, they began to believe that they were done. They had even gotten to a place where they were okay with that. The universe thought differently, though.

“Besides that… you feeling okay, though?” He asked, giving her a quick kiss.

She had just reached her sixth month of pregnancy, but unlike the others, this third baby had been more of a doozy.

She nodded. “I’m okay, baby. We’re okay. He’s been moving a lot. I think it’s the orange juice I drank,” she laughed.

…

There wasn’t a moment that Bill didn’t know where Paz was. Though he knew he’d never lose her again, he still carried a bit of that fear. Of course, she always let him know where she’d be, sensing that anxiety. It was very understandable. However, there was also Find My Friends available to keep him in the know, too. Still, that sometimes didn’t feel enough.

When he entered his trailer, he locked the door behind him and sighed loudly. Turning on a brown noise machine, he lazily took a seat on the couch. Lacing his fingers over his abdomen, he dropped his head back, and his eyes fluttered closed. He sat still as a statue, taking deep, even breaths.

Paz was across town tonight. Having a dinner meeting with a textile distributor and her assistant, April. A different April, but the fact that she found someone as suitable and competent as her old friend and collaborator felt like a blessing. And maybe her name helped her application stand out, too; there wasn’t a doubt about that.

Apart from producing, she also ran a children’s clothing line. It started humbly, making outfits for her niece Serafina. Then, after having Anaïs, she really got into it more. Sewing away during bouts of intense nesting.

Eventually, encouraged by compliments on the vintage baby clothes she made in modern color palettes, she took the jump into the retail fashion sphere. She named it Moon Dream Baby, and the tiny, precious clothes sold remarkably well.

Last year, she launched a 90s line, and that was a big hit. So now she was preparing for a second launch. It would also feature a few adult-sized clothing options, after nostalgic millennial parents expressed wanting to match outfits with their children.

“That colorful teddy pattern as little overalls would be so cute,” said the textile rep, Brittany, taking a sip of her white wine while Paz silently passed swatch samples back and forth with April.

“Do you have any more celestial patterns?” Paz asked. No matter the line, there was always a moon motif.

“Yes! But not with me, I have the mock-ups on my iPad.”

Paz returned to her meal and chewed slowly. She could really scarf the whole plate down, and it was taking so much restraint not to.

“I looked through our inventory and chose the few that didn’t give Spirit Halloween witch,” she said, flicking through the file.

A strange feeling settled upon Paz then. Not because what the rep said was slightly derogatory, though. They didn’t know what she knew. And the table certainly didn’t know that a spy was watching and listening in on them right now.

Brittany smiled, turning the iPad towards her, but Paz turned her head, almost disinterested. Instead, she stared suspiciously toward empty seating nearby. Her expression faltered nervously, seeing her clients lips pressed with annoyance.

“Uhm, if I can be excused for a moment,” Paz said, with a strained smile. “April, could you?”

“I got it.”

Paz grabbed her handbag and smoothed her long, flowy skirt down after shimmying her pregnant belly out of the booth. Going the opposite direction, she started toward the bathroom.

Bending down at the waist, she checked if the stalls were empty, and when she saw a patron stare back at her wide-eyed and awkward through the door crack, she scurried into an empty stall.

Once the toilet flushed, and the click of kitten heels disappeared behind the sound of the shutting door, she peeked out of her stall. The coast was clear. At the sink, she dug into her handbag for lip gloss as if that was the whole purpose of her trip. When she looked up to apply it in the mirror before her, the reflection revealed Bill standing right behind her, as she suspected.

“Girls only,” she snarkily said.

Over the years, they had played around with remote viewing. Especially him once he got it down. The more they did it, the clearer things would be.

Together, they discovered that they could actually see themselves and each other's presence in reflective surfaces rather than only feel it. That made it more fun. As they continued, voices became clearer, but there was a slight caveat: the viewer couldn’t project a sound. Only a few times could he actually project a word or two, but that took some energy and focus that could forcibly rip him out if he wasn’t.

“What is it?” She asked.

He just shrugged. She watched his lips move, trying to read them, when a very lagged, “Bored,” came through.

“Bored? Really,” she said, whipping gloss from the edge of her bottom lip.

He shrugged again.

“I told you where I’d be? Maybe check on the kids with the nanny?”

He silently laughed behind her, and then tilted his head as if to say, should I?

“They’re okay,” she smiled. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Late,” he managed to project, but she had to read his lips for the rest. “Night shoots,” he mouthed, reminding her.

“I know… You can text me this, you know.”

He smirked, shaking his head. She focused on his moving lips again.

“Running behind?”

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. That was just going to make more work for her in the morning. Between this film and her clothing line she was trying to square everything out before her due date.

“Why?”

He mimed, crossing his arms and shivering, before pointing at his ass. He was filming nude scenes and had been freezing his ass off. Paz laughed out loud as he performed, when the door swung open, startling her.

An elderly woman gave her a strange, worried look, but proceeded to a stall. She walked straight through Bill, unknowingly. He frowned and shoo’d her away, before sticking his tongue out at Paz.

She blew him a kiss in the mirror, and when she reached the door, she felt his energy dissipate behind her.

Privately, Paz still practiced. Though her time with her great-grandmother Aracely was brief, she finally found direction with her craft. When she started, she was a bit directionless. She dabbled with this and that, but didn’t feel any real connection with anything she practiced. When she met Zedna, secretly she was excited to have someone show her the way, only to discover that she wasn’t really interested in her take either. Aracely showed the true path for her. A real focus. One that had been waiting for her. Curanderismo, holistic healing.

She navigated it her way, though. She had a trick or two up her sleeve when Western medicine just didn’t cut it. She gave suggestions to friends and family on occasion. Though reluctant, yet still out of options, they’d try and report back, thanking her for the tip.

That’s what it was all about for her now. Just connecting with what Mother Earth had provided to heal.

Bill remained supportive as she delved into her craft. Meanwhile, he dove into a lot of quantum theory literature and the like. It was his way of coping with what happened. The more he did, the more he began to realize that science and spirituality had more in common than he thought. They were all just different paths to the same unknown source.

…

It was the middle of fall in Sweden, and the family was back home with the newest addition to their coven—a baby boy, Thiago. He was five months old and a spitting image of his father.

Bill was up in the early morning, tending to him, so that Paz could have a whole nights break. He rocked him in his arms and leisurely paced the living room, holding a bottle to his lips. Despite the baby waking every two hours, it was a quiet night. He stared out to the clear, blackberry sky from the floor-to-ceiling windows admiring it for a moment, until his son spat out his bottle.

With a cloth over his bare shoulder, he gently patted his son’s back to burp him when he heard a deep rumble. Sleep-deprived, he gave his son a surprised look until he realized it hadn’t come from him. The rumble sounded again, and this time it lightly shook the house.

He turned his head toward the skies and saw a storm form from nothing. His eyes widened, reminded of the same scene he had witnessed from Paz’s old house in California. Before him, dark clouds billowed and bubbled from a point in the sky, like a punctured tire. When lightning branched and pulsed like veins within them, he saw it. A stormy anatomical heart hung in the sky. He rubbed his tired eyes, wishing it away, hoping he was just seeing things, but the scene only morphed into a full-fledged storm.

When Thiago finally burped loudly, his focus returned to him, ignoring what he had seen. He held him much closer, grounding himself in his innocent energy. In his gut, though, he didn’t like what he saw at all.

Lightning flashed as he laid Thiago down in the bassinet, close to Paz’s side of the bed. Instead of slipping in next to her, he silently stepped down the hall to check on their daughters. They had their own rooms, but when they insisted on sharing one day, it was too sweet to deny their request.

Peeking in, his heart sank when he noticed that Solveig’s bed was empty. When his eyes quickly swept over to the bed on the other side, he found her sleeping next to Anaïs. Along with toys, they were obviously playing with instead of going straight to bed like they were supposed to. A soft smile broke his worried expression then, seeing them safe and sound.

Rain pitter-pattered against the house until the early morning light. Bill hardly caught a wink of sleep after what he saw manifest in the skies. Also, because Thiago woke again, needing a change.

Paz stretched against him, humming as she stirred awake. Her hand drifted down his bare torso, while she lazily planted a kiss on his shoulder. He relaxed, waiting for her hand to disappear into his dark gray sweats. Instead, her fingers annoyingly tickled the hair on his lower belly as she paused. Once she registered the sound of rain, she felt the odd energy in the atmosphere. She had a sinking feeling and raised her head to look at him.

“It’s raining?” she asked, looking perturbed. She’d checked the weather app before bed and it didn’t call for rain. “Let me check on—”

“I’ve checked on them, baby,” he assured her with a kiss. “It just appeared,” he said, taking her hand and pushing it into his sweats, impatiently.

Her hand wrapped around his semi-hard flesh without second thought. “Like… out of nowhere?”

A deep hum purred from his chest as she slowly stroked him to life. “I saw it, yeah,” he breathed.

Pulling her on top of him, his hands slipped underneath her black negligee to grip her ass as she sank, taking him all in. Early morning sex was risky now. It had to be done quickly and efficiently since the girls liked to barge into the room. They were so in tune, though, and knew every hot spot to touch, or lick, or nibble.

His hand quickly clamped her mouth shut. Stifling a loud, involuntary moan when he lifted his hips, pushing deeper. He replaced it with his mouth, kissing her passionately as he pumped into her, until he twitched and pulsed, warming her up from the inside.

He felt sleep trying to take him after that. But looking at Paz, she was still clearly pondering the rain as she caught her breath. Her eyes shifted back and forth, and when she opened her mouth to speak, she closed it. She was afraid to express what she felt. For Bill, it was obvious what she wanted to say. Not even some sex could help them skirt it.

“Is it them?” his voice rasped.

“Yeah,” she said, beginning to climb off of him.

“Stay,” he said, taking a firm hold of her hips, still seated inside her. “But why—”

“I-I don’t know, baby.”

“Did they come for us? We did something wrong,” he suspected.

“No… no. I don’t know how I know, but I don’t think the rain was for us.”

When Paz returned from the bathroom, Bill was lightly snoring, asleep at last. She smirked and got ready for the day. Once, dressed in loungewear, she picked up Thiago from his bassinet, with a happy smile matching his.

“Hi, mi corazón! Were you waiting for Mami?” she cooed, kissing his chubby cheeks.

Even with a strange energy looming in the air, things proceeded as normal. No need to freak out until they found out what the time keepers were up to.

It was after lunch, and at the upright piano in the den, Paz sat with Anaïs helping her practice until she got fed up. Since she woke, she seemed irritable, which wasn’t usual for her. Being nine, she craved independence these days. Paz didn’t fight her today and instead let her watch Matilda. A film she’s watched obsessively since she was four.

“I love you, Anï,” Paz winked at her.

She grumpily shoved the disc in the DVD player, but still, she bashfully smiled.

A lot of the kids' media was old. Or at least old to them, their parents grew up with DVDs. If anything, they should be happy they didn’t start them with VHS tapes. It wasn’t like they weren’t ever on an iPad. It was unavoidable, but they wanted to stress the importance of taking care of things. Slowing down, especially. Something that Paz and Bill realized they had taken for granted when they lived in the 1960s.

Solveig shortly woke from her nap, with frizzy French braids. She was unusually sleepy today, but her spirits remained high. She was their rambunctious child, always happy and always getting into things.

While they were preoccupied, she sat on the floor nearby, folding laundry with Thiago, who was having tummy time right next to her. One perk about having a children’s clothing line, they technically didn’t have to pay for clothes. The downside was that they had too many.

Stomping through shallow rain puddles during a brisk run, Bill hit his U-turn point and started back home. He stopped briefly, looking out across the water, toward the same spot in the sky that he had seen the stormy anomaly. The day looked like any other. People, plans, and the earth still turned. He shook his head. Something was up.

When he returned home, he made the girls a snack for them to enjoy with their movie.

“Papa, can T-go play with us?” Solveig asked, wiggling around on her bottom as she nibbled a slice of cheese.

“Hm, I think he’s busy being a baby right now.”

Anaïs giggled. “All he does is sleep.”

“That’s all you did, too,” he laughed, patting her head.

They whined after telling them he was taking a shower, but he promised to be quick. Meanwhile, Paz was sitting on Solveig’s bed. After putting her clothes away, Juliana facetimed her. They chatted while she packed for a trip with Daniel as she nursed Thiago. When the call ended, she got sidetracked, stuck scrolling idly on her phone until he had fallen asleep.

After putting him down in his bassinet, she checked on the girls, who started playing dress up with repurposed prototypes from past collections of Moon Dream Baby.

“I want to be the witch princess!” Anaïs argued. “You were it last time.”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“You can be a kitty princess, instead! It’s better.”

Paz smiled. Watching them just reminded her of growing up with her own sister. Even if their arguing felt nostalgic, she didn’t like it when they did.

“Are you two going to be okay?” She pointedly asked.

They went mum and wide-eyed after being caught bickering.

“Yes mami.” They both said, even if they quietly argued with their eyes still.

“Okay… talk nice. Mommy has to work, so you know where to find me.”

Staying back a moment, she watched them dress up. Solveig put on a cat ear headband, and Anaïs wore a polkadot shirt over her head, acting as a hood for a cloak.

Paz actually tried to get work done, but she just couldn’t focus. The day still felt off. It even felt as if she were being watched. Even if she knew in her gut the mysterious rain wasn’t a warning to them from the time keepers, it was a warning nonetheless.

Choosing to trust her instincts, she rose from her seat and closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for a brass key that rested atop a tall antique cabinet that housed her apothecary. As she gathered the appropriate ingredients, her phone buzzed on the desk.

She sighed and picked it up. Again, she got distracted and scrolled through Twitter instead of responding to Max. She shook her head, annoyed with herself, but just before putting the phone down, her timeline refreshed.

The third tweet from the top, made her jaw drop.

Bill was washing his face clean after shaving in the sink when he heard her. It made his stomach flip.

“No! What the fuck?! Nooo!”

He almost threw the ensuite bathroom door off the hinges the way he opened it. When he saw Thiago asleep in his bassinet, he caught it just as fast before it could slam into the wall, waking him.

“Fucking how?!?” Paz cried, gripping a fistful of hair.

“How? What?! What happened?” Bill said, standing in her office with only a black towel wrapped around his waist.

“She’s here.”

“Fucking who?” he huffed, frustrated. “Fuck. You scared the shit out of me,” he said, running a hand down his smooth face.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s Zedna! Look!” she said, putting the phone in his hands.

A tweet from a celebrity pop culture account posted paparazzi photos of Zedna on a night out with an established actor on her feed. She had come to live her life as the actress she always wanted to be, apparently.

“What the fuck is this?” Bill said angrily. “Is this for real?”

Paz shook her head, her jaw clenching. “She came here. To this realm last night.”

His nostrils flared. “She’s un-fucking-blieveable,” he spat. “We worked hard to balance ourselves here. She could topple it over fucking with shit again.”

“I’m not trying to defend her—”

Bill pressed his lips, tilting his head stubbornly.

“I’m not. But she’s connected to the time keepers in a way… in a way even we can’t fathom. We know exactly who she is, though. Our memories haven’t been messed with.”

“And everyone else?”

“Probably so, but… god damn it, Zedna.” Paz groaned.

“Don’t-don’t say her name. I don’t want her to Beetlejuice her ass here,” his eyes drifted to the cabinet and returned to Paz. “What were you doing?”

“I just had a feeling. So I was going to reinforce our protection spells, but… I think I have to do a little extra now.”

“Like what?”

“I’m going to have to cloak you and me—especially the kids. She can roam around this realm, but she won’t be able to find us.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded. “Do your thing, and later we can buy a gun,” he said in jest, making Paz shake her head with an amused smirk.

…

2032

The spells were holding up. The holidays came and went without an unexplainable occurrence to make them question their potency. Paz really gave it her all. Even calling on her ancestor Aracely for help. There was also a jar in the back of the freezer with Zedna’s name trapped in ice. It was a magical version of a restraining order.

Still, while back in the states, they heard murmurings about Zedna, the actress, through the grapevine. She had been fraternizing around and building up her star power. Bill worried that even with Paz’s spellwork, he’d inevitably run into her. Every industry event, or gala, he kept a watchful eye out.

Paz kept tabs. It was so bizarre when she found her Instagram. How was that even allowed? On it were pictures of her at events, nature shots from hikes, on-set selfies, and behind-the-scenes photos.

She honestly looked great. She was always a pretty woman. Tan skin, high cheeks, and hazel eyes. And young. It was obvious to Paz that she had cast a glamour spell for herself. She wondered just how old she was now.

On her profile, there were also pictures of her little esoteric trinkets and pendulums. She wasn’t secretive about being a spiritual person at all. Based on the comments, it added to her appeal.

After leaving the kids in Chicago with Juliana and Daniel, they found themselves in LA again. It was the end of Summer, and a series of press junkets and photoshoots were ahead of them before the premiere of Devotion.

Leaving the restaurant, where they had dinner with Franco and Inde, camera shutters nearly blinded their way to the waiting blacked-out SUV. With Paz’s hand in his, he navigated them through them, standing tall with his strong chest puffed out.

The photos would find themselves online. Unfortunately, it would also find itself on Zedna’s feed. Spellwork was tricky outside the real world; the internet was its own realm with algorithmic spells and hyperlinked incantations.

Zedna sat smoking a clove cigarette with a smirk in the luxury townhouse she was staying at. She kicked her feet up on a fur upholstered ottoman and clicked the tag that linked to Paz’s professional Instagram, pazvvillanueva, and she cackled wickedly.

“Ah, I found you,” she said, scrolling through with her pointer finger. “Boring,” she grumbled.

The majority of Paz’s posts were just promoting her projects and clothing line, but there was a sprinkling of red carpet photos. Other than that, it was strictly business. It was very guarded, too. Comments were restricted to people she followed and likes and shares were hidden. There wasn’t anything in her tags either.

She hummed, blowing smoke, when a thought came to her. After discovering Franco’s Instagram, she scrolled through his short following list.

“Goddess, I pray,” she murmured, trying to find a private account that could belong to Paz.

There was a profile, with a crescent moon as the profile picture, that made her head tilt.

User: 000x0ps

Then Zedna blocked her.

…

Bill and Paz were lounging around after a busy day. He had a photoshoot with Paper Magazine and did an interview with Max for his podcast, Unverified. Paz also did a joint written interview with her brother about the movie and their long decade of working together.

“The girl interviewing us had seen the movie already, you know?” Paz said.

“Yeah?”

“And she kinda asked Frankie if it was strange to direct you nude.”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked. “What’d he say?”

“He said there wasn’t much to see,” she laughed.

“That motherfucker,” he cracked up. “And you didn’t defend me?”

“I’m not advertising your big dick!”

He plopped down on the bed and crawled toward her, resting his head on her midsection, where he groaned tiredly. Paz ran her hands through his hair, while she took a quick looksee through Instagram before hitting Do Not Disturb and putting it away for the night.

Being in LA, she had been monitoring Zedna's profile. She could be anywhere, and that was daunting. When she tried now, though, her profile didn’t show up for her. Suspicious, she changed profiles to her professional account, which she was seldom on, and checked. Her stomach dropped. She had over a hundred notifications from Zedn444 spamming likes to get her attention.

She clicked her profile picture, highlighted with an orange circle directing her to her stories, showing a single post from 16 hours ago.

PAZ DM ME 🧿

“Oh my, fuck!” she gasped. “She found us.”

She showed her screen, but the story timed out. So Bill took it and clicked it again. His eyes widened.

“No way,” he shook his head adamantly. “No.”

They were out of bed then, standing around stressed and debating on what they should do.

“You contact her and then what?” Bill asked. “We had ten years unbothered. Why now?”

Paz sighed. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t want her around you. At all. I don’t trust her.”

“I know you don’t. But she’s not evil, Bill.”

“She’s evil to me.”

“Really?”

He rolled his eyes. To him, it seemed she wasn’t taking this seriously at all. “Paz, it’s different now. It’s not just us we have to worry about. Our kids are coming to town in a few days. I don’t trust her. I fucking don’t.”

Paz took a deep breath. “I feel the same, baby. I would never put them in a position—”

“I know,” he cut her off. It didn’t need to be said, he didn’t doubt her that way. “It just worries me.” It worried him to death, in fact.

“Me too. But…”

Bill’s jaw clenched, shaking his head.

“Just listen for one second. If I DM her.”

He groaned and tossed his hands up, frustrated.

“Just one second! If I DM her. She’s going to ask to meet us. Say we do, we can tell her to fuck off in person. Otherwise, she won’t stop. Without meeting her, she becomes way too unpredictable…”

Bill sighed, scratching his neck. She had a point. If they didn’t come to an understanding or draw a line through the sand, who knows what she’d do to get their attention?

“I don’t forgive her for what she did either, but she brought us back, too,” Paz said. “If it weren’t for us, she wouldn’t have the power to live her life like she always wanted. But this is our realm, not hers.”

Though he would rather not meet her at all, Bill puffed his lip and nodded. They had claimed stakes in this life. She didn’t make the rules here. They did.

“Fine. Fuck it. Alright.”

While having cocktails at a rooftop bar, Zedna picked up her iPhone. Opening her Insta DMs, she giggled happily.

Pazvvillanueva: You summoned me?

Zedn444: You just love taking your sweet time, don’t you?

Pazvvillanueva: Delete your story. Then we talk.

…

Tucked in a corner booth, a lit candle sat atop their table in the dimly lit restaurant. It was a fairly private place, where the staff was taught discretion, and a no-phone policy was strictly enforced for patrons.

“She’s fucking late,” Bill grumbled.

“Do you find it annoying as I do that she’s trying to go by Zedna only? We already have fucking Zendaya here.” Paz put down the menu she had been scanning through. “She’s coming through the door now.”

The door chimed, and they could faintly hear the hostess greeting before escorting Zedna to their booth. As she approached, they watched her with scolding, unimpressed expressions. They were both dressed in sleek black designer clothing. Bill in a quarter-zip polo beneath a blazer, and Paz in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress. They looked incredible, but to her, they looked like stuck-up assholes.

“So,” Zedna smiled, standing in front of their table wearing a long, flowy embroidered dress. “Long time, no see.”

“Could have been longer,” Bill muttered under his breath as he motioned for her to take a seat.

Zedna side-eyed him, displeased as she slid in on the other side of the table. Once she settled, they all just stared at each other in the glow of the candlelight for a moment.

“So… what do you want?” Paz urged. “Why’d you come here?”

“Hmm. Well, you made the future sound so nice, I wanted to see for myself. Could I have some?” she asked, pointing at the bottle of red sitting on the table.

Bill poured her a glass and set it close enough for her to grab herself, then pass it directly. “It’s been over a year since you’ve been back. How much more do you need to see?” he asked.

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” she facetiously retorted. “I like what I have going on, honestly. But fine, okay… maybe I wanted to see you two.”

“You hardly like us,” Paz reminded her.

“I’d like to say—complicated,” she shrugged. “I… I used to peek in. I’m not a wicked witch. I wanted to see if you two were okay. It became a lot harder to do, and then after a while, I couldn’t at all. Your gifts have gotten a lot stronger, Paz. Irritating, but good for you.”

“What-what happened after we left? Do you know anything about Mavis?” Bill asked. If he had to sit at a table with her he’d like all the information he could get.

“Ah, well, things finally returned to normal once you left. Mavis and I worked to return the other two that I accidentally banished through the ether, and then… she was just gone one day,” her gaze cast down, biting the inside of her cheek when she felt emotion well up. “She was hiding who she really was from us, you know? Watching our every move on behalf of the time keepers. After that, I took a break from it all. I went to auditions, and I got a few bitty roles here and there. For me in that life, I think that was all it was ever going to be. So I—”

A waiter politely cut in to ask if they were ready to order.

“You can start with our guest,” Bill motioned to Zedna.

“What are you having?” She leaned toward Paz.

“The salmon.”

“I’ll have that as well,” she said, passing her menu to the waiter before he walked off. “So, as I was saying, I began communicating with the time keepers again. I did more research. Soon, I started hopping around.”

“To different times?” Paz said, concerned. “And what about the balance? You’ve been making a scene here and putting yourself out there for the world to see.”

“Because this is where I was meant to be.”

“Bullshit.” Bill shook his head. “People will start to wonder why you don’t age.”

Zedna rolled her eyes. “How old do I look to you right now?”

He pressed his lips together; he had no rebuttal. She looked the same as the last time he saw her. He could say she even looked more refreshed.

“Exactly. Besides magic, there are plenty of cosmetic options I can happily deny.”

“You had to come to this realm, though?”

“This might come as a surprise, but it’s the best one there is.”

“Did you choose it when you sent us back?” Paz asked curiously.

“No, later, I learned that was the timekeepers doing. It’s almost as if they did a little course correction. Seeing you two now, it seems they knew what they were doing. You have your charms, so it’s still hard for me to know anything about you two. I knew your premiere was coming. I’ve seen the TV trailers. But only until a few days ago did I even know you were starring in it, Bill. But it’s not hard to guess what you two have done in the past decade. You’re married,” she said, staring directly at Paz’s engagement ring before giving Bill an impressed nod of approval. “Probably have a home in Sweden. Maybe an apartment in Chicago?” They had been discussing the possibility lately. These were hardly guesses at all. Finally, having them before her, she could read them. “Kids. Four? No, three. Two girls and a boy… for now. And a—”

“Okay, stop. We’re not here for fucking parlor tricks,” Bill put a hand up, and then pressed a pointer finger on the table. “Why did you come here? For real.”

She looked between them both, chewing on the inside of her cheek again. “Could I have more?” she asked, pointing at the bottle again, to which he just pushed closer so that she could serve herself. “I know I was a very old woman when I met you, Paz. I felt like you could help me then, and I think you can help me now.”

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“You… you found us, so that Paz could help your career?”

“Well, she hired you for a project. Can’t she help anyone else? Look, I know what I did was wrong. But I fixed it. Excuse me for looking for a favor. Honestly, even having to ask is offensive.”

“You being here is offensive!” Paz snapped. “I don’t have to owe you anything. I gave you three years of my life. That’s enough.”

Zedna pressed her lips and huffed.

“You don’t need me,” Paz continued. “I noticed that you’re doing fine. Your lineup is steady. Believe in yourself a little fucking more.”

“Easy for you to say, nepo sister and nepo son,” she sneered, before sitting back and sighing in resignation. “I’m sorry. I am. I just think that with what we know, we can benefit from it greatly.”

“Zed, we’re fine with what we’ve made for ourselves here. It’s not worth messing with.” Paz stated, definitively.

“I understand. You two have a lot more at stake than I. I just… maybe we could be friends? Or… hmm,” she blinked her eyes rapidly, feeling herself tear up. “Maybe one day we can put it all behind us. Living with this gift has been very lonely. In every decade— in every realm, except this one… You two are the only ones who understand.”

Their heartstrings were pulled, despite their hard feelings. They understood the intense loneliness too well. It could be soul-crushing and alienating to be in a state where no one understood you because you were too ahead of your time.

Bill swallowed and looked down at Paz, who sniffled her reddened nose. He felt conflicted. He wanted no parts, but he wasn’t heartless.

“If you decided to stay here right now,” he began evenly. “Maybe we can reach a place where we can finally be cordial.”

Paz looked up at him, surprised. She thought he’d vehemently disagree with her proposal and tell her to fuck off like they planned. A small part of her wanted him to.

“No more time hopping?” Zedna asked for clarification.

“No. No more,” he shook his head. “Our kids are here. There’s too much at stake for you to rip the fabric of fucking time on a mistake that didn’t need to be made.”

She nodded slowly, considering.

“I never had plans to leave,” Zedna smirked. “It took a lot of energy to find my path here. It’s… I don’t know how to explain, but it’s hidden. We live on top of and between two planes. And I understand you find me untrustworthy, but I hope one day I can prove you wrong. But yes. Yes, okay,” she put her hand out for a shake.

Bill finally reached across the table and shook her hand.

“It is bound,” Zedna said, bowing her head.

Suddenly, the din of chatter and clinking of silverware on dishes in the restaurant roared back to life. The waiter, midstep, unfroze and arrived with their food without a clue he had been petrified. Paz looked at her wide-eyed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“That’s an unrelated trick, I swear,” Zedna quickly said with her hands up. “It was for privacy's sake. Everything I’ve said is honest.”

“Maybe… don’t do that too much either,” Bill said, annoyed.

“How do you even do that?” Paz asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Maybe one day I can show you,” she winked. “Before we dig into this beautiful dinner, I was wondering if I could have an invite to your premiere?”

Bill pursed his lips. To her core, she’d always be an opportunist. “Fine, yeah.”

“Thank you. You’re so kind!”

They chatted on lighter matters as they ate. Zedna talked about how she had been adjusting as she passed a year since she traveled through the kaleidoscope tunnel. In turn, they spoke of their decade so far since returning, giving her enough, but not too much. They were still a little guarded, aptly so, but they knew in their hearts she wasn’t as malicious as their very valid feelings made her to be. Nobody at the table owed each other anything, yet without each other, none of them would have the life they all deserved now. One in which they all had to coexist.

Dinner concluded on a better understanding, but it wasn’t without another trick up Zedna’s sleeve. This time, no magic was involved. She just picked up a phone before their dinner and tipped off the paparazzi so they could all be photographed leaving together.

When their car pulled away from the total bombardment, Bill draped a hand over Paz’s shoulders, pulling her close to kiss her head.

“If you hadn’t told her about vibrators, she probably wouldn’t be here,” he whispered in her ear.

…

Bill answered questions down a line of press, one after the other, after taking photos on the red carpet. Paz was trailing a few people down with Esquire, speaking to them as an executive producer, when she was plucked out of the row by her publicist, who bumped her ahead of Bill, with Franco to speak with Rolling Stone together.

“I’ll come back,” she said, waving at Max as she passed him by.

“Hello, Bill, how are you doing?” Max said, pointing his pink rhinestone mic toward him.

Bill smiled, chuckling under his breath as he stepped up. “Hello, do I know you?”

“No, not at all.”

“At least not at work, right?”

“Exactly. So this has been a highly anticipated movie by Francisco Villanueva. It’s one with many interesting collaborations. One I find most fascinating is the family collaboration in this film. Could you talk about that experience?”

“Uh, yeah, well, it’s been a long time in the making, really. Franco and I have been friends for twenty years, and we’ve been wanting to work together ever since. We just needed the right project. It was my wife, Paz, who-who, well, she got her hands on Devon Rhys’ book,” he laughed, giving Max a pointed look as he was the one to smuggle the manuscript from their old workplace. “But, um, how had it been? Yeah, it’s been great. I get to work with some of the best people I know.”

“Any family arguments?” Max smirked.

“I get along with everyone,” he said, putting a hand to his chest acting as if he’d never argued with anyone in his life. “That’s really a question for Paz and Franco.”

Max laughed. “Tea! Thank you, Bill.”

“Yeah, thanks, Maxi. Are you coming inside soon?” he asked, as the camera still rolled.

“Are you saving me a seat?”

“I’ll save you one between Paz and me.”

“Ooh! Princess seat!”

“Best in the house. I’ll see you inside.” Bill patted his arm and moved on to the next reporter.

Down the line, Paz was speaking to an independent publication. “I understand you and Bill have a production company together, Chronoheart Productions. Are there any collaborative projects in the near future?”

“He’s really hard to book,” Paz laughed. “But yes, we would like to. I think he wants to get behind the camera again.”

“Yeah! You’ve seen him transform and get lost in so many roles, does it ever feel like personalities get crossed?”

“Hm,” Paz wondered how to answer that. “Um, no? I mean, he’s my husband the majority of the year, and I guess you could say I have like two or three boyfriends for the rest. And they just happen to all be the same man.”

The reporter laughed when a commotion between the photographers could be heard. It made her and Bill glance over. Zedna had arrived wearing a very modern slinky black dress. Compared to how they met her in the 1960s it was shocking and obscene to see her dressed in such a way. She confidently basked in the flashing lights with a bright smile when she felt their eyes on her. She turned to them and winked.

…

It was an easy, leisurely day back home in Sweden after the busy premiere ruckus. In the backyard, he sat on the outdoor couch, texting his brother, who would come by for dinner later. Paz and the kids were close by, playing with the mud kitchen they had built for them. She always found it fascinating when her daughters paired certain herbs or flowers that went together. They had an instinct, they didn’t quite understand yet.

“Those are pretty sprinkles, Sol,” she exclaimed, as she showered the top of her mud pie with lavender petals.

Anaïs walked up to the porch, dusting her hands off, and curled up to the side of him.

“You don’t want to play?” He asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

She just shrugged against him.

“Too babyish?”

She looked up at him and nodded, making him chuckle. It also made his heart hurt a little. She was still a baby to him. Time was truly a thief. The other day, when she asked to try his black, dark roast coffee, he allowed it, believing she’d find it nasty, but to his surprise and disappointment, she liked it. That’s how it starts, he thought dramatically.

“Can we play a game?” she asked, pointing at a deck sitting on the table nearby.

“The cards, again?”

She nodded. Next thing she’s going to ask him for a cigarette, too.

“You think you’ll beat me this time?” He asked, chuckling as he followed her to the table.

As he shuffled the deck, he looked out and saw Paz wiping dirt off Thiago’s face while Solveig laughed at him because he kept trying to lick the rag. He had to watch out for her, too. She was quite mischievous, but for now, she still enjoyed being a kid.

“Okay,” he passed the deck to Anaïs, “you deal.”

“Seven each?”

“Mhmm. Count it,” he encouraged.

There was a slight rustle in the hedges nearby that caught his attention. He was about to ignore it when he heard a curious meow, and a white and orange spotted cat emerged. One green eye and one gold stared directly at him before pouncing onto the table.

Anaïs screamed, startled at first until it turned into excitement. Paz stood up, tilting her chin to see what was going on. Her eyes widened when the cat’s striking gaze whipped back right at her.

“Is… is that—”

“It’s the cat!” Bill exclaimed in disbelief.

“Cat?” Solveig said, running toward the porch.

“No, it’s not. Are you serious?” Paz said, picking up Thiago and following suit.

The cat’s gaze locked on Bill’s and bowed its head. As if to say, yes, it is I.

“Is it a girl, too?”

When Bill tried to look, the cat raised a paw, ready to thump his hand away. An flashed an annoyed glare that they were so disbelieving.

Paz’s familiar had returned. But it was never hers to begin with; she was always Bill’s. She waited for him, knowing he’d come. She watched over Paz while he couldn’t.

“Can we keep it?” Solveig asked.

“Mm,” Paz pressed her lips together, hating to crush her hopes. “I don’t think she likes to be kept, baby.”

The cat jumped off the table, then did a round of figure eights around Paz’s ankles, and then jumped into Bill’s lap, bowing its head for pets this time. “No. Sorry,” he said as his daughters pouted. “She’ll just be around when we need her,” he said, sharing a look with Paz.

When the girls asked to pet the cat, they allowed them. It would sniff their dirty hands at first and then obediently bow its head, taking the attack of pets. They were gentle, but there was no pattern to them. Still, the cat took it without complaint.

Late at night, while all the kids were sleeping, they were out on the back porch looking for her after she ran off to catch a crow.

Pspspspspspsp

After trying to lure it back with a piece of sausage, they had given up. For a moment, they wondered if it even happened at all. But the kids being aware, helped prove to them it did.

They sat on the outdoor couch, making out when she broke them up by jumping onto them. When they made space for her between them, she dropped the bit of sausage they had left out and began to eat it.

“It is you,” Paz said, stroking the big orange spot that covered half her head just like she remembered. “If you stick around you have to have a name now.”

She licked her lips clean and then crawled onto Bill’s lap, nudging its pink nose against his chest.

“She wants you to name her, I think.”

“Me? Hmm,” he cupped the cat's face in his hands and thought. As he gazed into its heterochromatic eyes, a telepathic image of a uniquely scared face showed up in his mind's eye. “Mavis?”

She let out a pleased meow and pushed her face out of his hands to rub it against his chest.

“Mavis? Mavis! Oh my god?!” Paz’s eyes watered, and she reached to pet her affectionately as she swayed her tail.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Bill laughed.

From then on, they could always find Mavis patrolling and sleeping on the windowsill of their children's rooms at night. Keeping watch.

Since being back, it wasn’t even worth it to question the strange things that followed them. Meeting Paz, he knew she was special. He was drawn to her immediately; it scared him. Now, after everything, there wasn’t much that did. Instead, his life was filled with such magical moments. None of them could he have without her, and he wouldn’t change a thing for the world.

In fact, he’d do it all over again. And again. And again. Shifting time and space for it. In every lifetime. On every earthly plane. Every iteration, only getting better and better each time because he’d always find her. Because with Paz, the magic will follow.

FIN

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