#thirdtime

This could mean he could ‘take’ any information or knowledge from someone’s mind against their will, simply by touching his fingertips to their head. He could sort through every filed thought or piece of knowledge that they have in stored in their brain.

But… what would be the price?

Without realizing it, he pulls the information but leaves a gaping hole in its place. The wound leaks as Third does not know the consequences of his power. He is not aware that he creates an incision that also needs to be closed. Slowly, his victims begin to lose everything they’ve ever learned or known.

Upon discovering his power, Third is curios about what Time thinks about him: could they really be friends? It’s an innocent inquiry, and yet, by causally pressing his hands to Time’s head, Third discovers that Time sees him as something… more? The realization suddenly makes Third realize he feels the same but the damage is already done.

Time no longer remembers ever interacting with Third nor does he remember his feelings for him. Third has to live with being a stranger to Time. The cost of Third’s question about their friendship has the ultimate price. The very feelings that Time once harboured have been extracted as ‘information’ and while Time can’t place it, a part of him aches whenever he sees Third. The longing is there but there’s nothing behind it.

And so, Third is left with the power to take any information he ever wants but he can never replace the feelings that Time once had for him: that wound will never heal.

Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter are perfect for each other.  The only problem is, they just can’t seem to meet.

A modern Steggy AU in which Steve is a graphic designer, Peggy is a graduate student, and Bucky never gets to ride shotgun.

The story has three parts.  Part One is posted today (February 10th). Part Two will be posted on February 12th.  Part Three will be posted on Valentine’s Day, February 14th.

Third Time’s the Charm

“Peggy? Is that spelled P-e-g-g-y?” the cashier asked as he started to write her name on the cup.

“Yes, that’s right,” she answered.

“I knew it.  I’m on fire today with spelling things. Go ahead,” he said, “ask me to spell something.  Anything.”

Peggy smiled.  There was no one behind her in line; she supposed there was no harm in chatting with him a little.  He was cute, tall with friendly blue eyes, and a shock of hair falling across his forehead.