The world didn’t continue on without her. The loved ones she’d had and the memories she’d made with them didn’t just vanish; they were never there to begin with. She’d known that, Snow had implied as much, and yet the sinking realization hit her like jumping into an outdoor pool in the winter. Her sacrifice had created something entirely new: a world where “Jo” had never been. In giving up her own existence, she’d ultimately set everyone she’d ever known down a different path entirely. A new time-line, newreality.
Whichmeant—
“I need to go see Yuusuke,” Jo said abruptly, turning towards the closet door and imagining—no, believing—that the door would appear. It took a second for the sensation to manifest into something tangible, but just as she reached towards the handle, it began toshift.
Which was exactly when a small child, hair almost identical to Jo’s pulled into pig-tailed braids, came frolicking into theroom.
Jo lost the image of the door instantly, turning on her heel with a start, part of her still expecting to be caught. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts, she hadn’t even heard anyone comehome.
Just like the agents in the Ranger compound, the girl paid them no mind, going about removing her backpack and tossing it onto the bed. With a quick flourish, she plopped herself onto the comforter beside it and began digging through the small, purple bag with a determined expression. She looked to be about seven yearsold.
She looked nothing like Jo had at herage.
“Lydia!”
Jo’s heart clenched, her mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen. The little girl—Lydia, not named after her maternal grandmother like Jo had been, but her father’s mother—sunk her hands deeper into her bag. With a grin, she pulled a touchpad from somewhere in its depths and settled into herpillows.
“Mija, no games until your homework’s done,” came her mother’s voice again, this time closer. Jo found herselfpanicking.
She couldn’t see her, not like this. She didn’t want to see how tired her mother looked or how much happier she was. She didn’t want to know anymore eitherway.
A hand on her shoulder had her jerking back towards the closet, Wayne’s other hand was already on the handle; the keypad blinked, waiting for her to plug in a code. When she looked up at him, no idea what expression was written on her face, he only motioned at the door with hischin.
“Let’s make tracks, doll,” he said, voice serious and calming. It was a steady skiff in the swell of panic she was suddenly riding. She took a second to let herself lean into his touch before turning back to the keypad, the code forming like puppet strings tugging at herfingers.
She tried not to listen to the sound of her mother’s approach, keeping all of her focus on leaving that room, that house, and that life behind. Forgood.
Almost too quickly, they were on the otherside.
Yuusuke’s familiar wreck of an apartment was laid out before them. Amidst that wreck was also Yuusuke himself, her friend lounging in an awkward half dangle off the couch. He seemed to be struggling with whatever game he currently had pirated onto his touchpad (Jo would, in any reality, default to assuming he stole it), and the sight was so blissfully familiar, it almost made herdizzy.
He was alive and well. Thanks to her wish, despite the little alterations of the new reality, Yuusuke was alive. Even though he’d never know about her sacrifice, it didn’t make the results any less real, and that made everything she was currently drowning in worthit.
Jo found the tension in her shoulders seeping out, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of her lips. She could go and accept her new life, knowing that he was well. She could make herself believe everything was going to be okay, knowing that she’d accomplishedsomethingwith herwish.
Before Jo had the chance to even turn back towards the door, however, a familiar beeping sound began to echo persistently from Yuusuke’scomputer.
“Finally!” Yuusuke groaned, tossing his touchpad onto the couch cushions and scrambling to his feet. His headphones were in place and his fingers tapping furiously over the keyboard in secondsflat.
Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was jealousy—but before they left, Jo had to know what he was working on. For reasons she didn’t even particularly understand, she needed to see his currentproject.
All it took was one glimpse at thescreen.
“You dumbass,” Jo hissed, taking a step back. Her hands were clenched so tight she could feel the bite of her nails against her palm. “You stupid son of abitch!”
Wayne might have said her name, but it barely registered. All she could hear was the faint music coming from Yuusuke’s headphones, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers working through a reply to the messages—a thank you for this anonymous person’s assistance. All she could see were the start of scrolling files, the thumbnails and open windows depicting every bit of information she was still painfully, suffocatingly familiarwith.
He was, after all, sifting through data that Yuu and she had worked on together for months. It was nowhere near as organized as when he’d had her help in collecting it, but that wasn’t something Jo could even take pride in. He was far enough, and the information was sound. At the rate it looked like he was going, he’d be right back in that server room in under a few months—weeks, even. Mere days, if he was reckless—and he usuallywas.
Yuusuke was still going after the Black Bank,alonethistime.
She hadn’t changed a goddamnthing.
“Jo?” Wayne repeated her name for what could have been the second or umpteenth time, concern evident in his voice. Unfortunately, Jo was still seeingred.
“Will he feel it if I hithim?”
Wayne didn’t answer right away, and when Jo shot her glare in his direction, the look of surprise was etched plainly across his face. “I mean, without time activated? No? But I don’t think youshould—”
