Intermission

Annie looked down from the window of the apartment on the street below. The view was not so overwhelming as the fact that she knew where she was standing, knew where she *had been* standing; the knowledge that they were the same place, separated by decades of time for some people, but less than a year for her, was enough to make her almost physically ill. She wondered if it was something a person could become used to.

She could hear Sam rummaging in the next room. He had left her side the instant they had materialized in this place. Perhaps he didn't feel like explaining anything to her just yet. Perhaps he too was overwhelmed to be back in this place that he thought he would never see again. For her, this was merely an almost impossible place. She wondered what kind of emotions it held for him.

Annie turned away from the window and surveyed the rest of the apartment. It was everything that Sam's flat in 1973 was not; sleek, modern, uncluttered, shiny, it seemed almost as if it were not even lived in. Perhaps he spent so much time working in this time that he didn't think of this place as home at all. Perhaps he never did really live here.

She bent down to examine the sole decoration in the living room, a small framed photo of Sam with a dark-haired young woman. As she was wondering if this was perhaps 'Maya,' she suddenly realized that the sounds from the next room had ceased. She turned around to locate Sam and found him standing still in doorway, staring at her in a faraway manner. Straightening up abruptly, she stepped away from the photo, hoping that he hadn't seen her looking at it.

"Nice place you have here," was all she could think to say.

"You saved my life, you know."

"What?"

"You saved my life. That day on the roof."

"It was only the right thing to do. I couldn't just stand there and let you jump." She suddenly felt awkward. It didn't seem right to her to be talking to Sam about this. She began to turn away, but Sam stepped towards her urgently, taking one hand in his and turning her back to face him.

"No, that's not what I mean. If I had jumped, my transporter would have activated anyway. And I would have ended up...I don't really know for sure where or when I would have ended up. Maybe back here, or maybe back at base. I don't know, but that's not the point. Annie, I wanted to be a policeman because I wanted to help...people. I thought I could make a difference in the lives of families, of children. And I joined this program when I had the chance because it seemed as if..." His voice trailed off, the look in his eyes betraying the emotions he had been fighting to keep in. He shook his head and his eyes cleared.

"But somewhere along the line, it became just a job. Just a series of names and dates and facts. I was bouncing around from place to place without really going anywhere. I lost sight of what I was doing and why I was doing it." He dropped her hand. "I was tired of the life I was living, but I didn't want to die. And then I found you. You reminded of what was important, of why I wanted to do this job in the first place. You gave me a reason to live." He brushed her cheek lightly with his hand. "How can I ever thank you for that?" Then he turned away and added angrily, "Why did I bring you here?"

"We came here to find some answers. So let's find them. If that can let you leave this place in peace, that's all the thanks I need."

_____________

She remembered now why she had stopped working in the field. It was this direct interaction with other people, these complicated social customs, the messy emotions, the sheer untidiness of it all that had finally driven her from the front lines to behind a computer terminal. She liked to keep herself and her relations with other people under control, that was why she had opted to be a Controller, for heaven's sake! So what was she doing here, face down on a table in a pub, head aching, as she listened to these inebriated neanderthals droning on about a woman's place? She was not drunk, far from it, for she had only ingested one of the noxious brews that Nelson was handing out. But since she was not in the habit of partaking of any intoxicating beverages under normal circumstances, merely one had had been enough to induce a distinct feeling of discomfort. She was not in control of the situation, and she didn't like it one bit.

She held her head up slightly to see if there might be any way she could slip out of her seat unnoticed, but Ray, who had been going on loudly to Chris about something or other, suddenly turned to her with an intense stare. "And what I want to know, is..." He stopped awkwardly in mid-question and leaned closer to her face. "What did you say your name was again?"

That flustered her. Her name? She hadn't gone by any name for so long she wasn't even sure if she remembered it herself. But in her semi-smashed state, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "I don't have a name, I am the Controller!"

Ray jerked his head unsteadily towards Chris. "She what?"

Chris strained to gather his concentration, and after considerable effort finally offered blearily, "Connie? I think?"

Ray turned his gaze back to her and continued his tirade, "Right, Connie, what I want to know is this, who were you talking to back at the station earlier? Him or me?" And he pointed an unsteady finger at Gene, who was gently gliding towards the floor even as they spoke.

The controller was confused. "What on earth are you on about?"

He leaned even closer. "Who were you talking to when you said 'pretty boy' earlier?"

Oh, that. Perhaps it was the lack of practice with social skills, or maybe it was the influence of the 120 proof alcohol, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from saying it. "I was talking to you," and she leaned over and gazed into those eyes. "And what's more, I might even consider kissing you if I thought I could find your mouth amongst all that foliage."