Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The First Encounter with John

Time slowed as Dany lunged forward, her arms outstretched toward the child. The carriage wheels thundered against the cobblestones, the driver shouting frantically as he pulled on the reins. The child—a small boy no older than five—stood frozen in terror, his wide eyes fixed on the approaching danger.In the last possible moment, Dany reached him, wrapping her arms around his tiny frame and throwing them both to the side. They tumbled onto the pavement as the carriage rushed past, missing them by inches. The force of their fall sent pain shooting through Dany's shoulder, but the boy was safe in her arms, trembling but unharmed."Thomas!" A woman's panicked voice cut through the commotion. "Oh my God, Thomas!"A crowd had gathered around them, murmuring in concern and amazement. Dany sat up slowly, her head spinning. The unfamiliar weight of her hair—now she realized it was styled in an elaborate updo—felt strange as she moved."You saved my son," the woman said, dropping to her knees beside them and pulling the boy into her arms. "How can I ever thank you?"Dany opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. The reality of her situation crashed over her anew. 1887. Somehow, impossibly, she was in 1887."Miss? Are you hurt?" A gentleman from the crowd extended his hand to help her up."I'm... I think I'm fine," she managed, accepting his assistance. Her voice sounded different—still her own, but with a slight accent she couldn't place. As she stood, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle."You're injured," the gentleman observed. "Allow me to call for a doctor.""No, really, I—" Dany began, but stopped as she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. The face looking back at her was her own, and yet subtly different—her features slightly sharper, her complexion more pale. She was still herself, but... altered. Was she in her own body, somehow changed, or someone else's entirely?"I insist," the gentleman continued. "After such heroism, it's the least we can do. My carriage is just around the corner."Before she could protest further, Dany found herself being escorted to an elegant carriage. The mother of the boy she'd saved followed, still expressing her gratitude through tears. The crowd parted respectfully, some tipping their hats to her.As the carriage pulled away, Dany stared out the window at the unfamiliar city. Horse-drawn vehicles filled the streets. Women in elaborate dresses strolled with parasols. Men in formal attire tipped their hats to each other. No cars, no smartphones, no modern buildings. The reality of her situation was undeniable, yet impossible to accept."You seem disoriented, Miss...?" The gentleman looked at her expectantly."Dany," she replied automatically, then wondered if that name would seem strange in this era. "Danielle," she corrected."Miss Danielle," he nodded. "I'm Mr. Harrington. This is Mrs. Fletcher and her son Thomas, whom you so bravely rescued."Dany nodded politely, her mind racing. Who was she supposed to be in this time? Where did she live? What was her life here? She had no answers, only questions that she couldn't ask without seeming mad.The carriage stopped before an imposing townhouse. Mr. Harrington helped her down, supporting her as she limped slightly on her injured ankle. The interior of the house was opulent—crystal chandeliers, ornate furniture, paintings in gilded frames."Please, sit," Mrs. Fletcher urged, guiding Dany to a velvet settee. "I've sent for the doctor. He should arrive shortly."Dany sank onto the seat, overwhelmed. The reality of her situation was beginning to set in. She was trapped in the past, in a world she knew only from history books and period dramas. How would she survive here? How would she get back?"Some tea while we wait?" Mrs. Fletcher offered."Yes, thank you," Dany replied, trying to remember what little she knew about Victorian etiquette.As Mrs. Fletcher left to arrange for tea, Mr. Harrington excused himself to attend to business matters, leaving Dany alone with young Thomas, who stared at her with undisguised curiosity."Are you an angel?" he asked suddenly.Dany couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm not an angel.""But you flew to save me," he insisted. "I saw you. You were glowing."Before Dany could respond, the door opened. Mrs. Fletcher returned, accompanied by a tall man carrying a medical bag."Here she is, Doctor," Mrs. Fletcher said. "The brave young woman I told you about."The doctor turned toward Dany, and the world seemed to stop.He was perhaps in his early thirties, with dark hair and striking blue eyes. His features were classically handsome—strong jaw, straight nose, expressive brows. But it wasn't his appearance that made Dany's breath catch. It was the look in his eyes as they met hers—a look of shock, recognition, and something deeper. Something like longing."You," he whispered, so quietly that Dany wasn't sure anyone else heard.For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Dany felt a strange sensation in her chest, like a key turning in a lock she hadn't known existed. There was something familiar about him, though she was certain they had never met.The doctor recovered quickly, clearing his throat and adopting a professional demeanor. "I'm Dr. John Ambrose," he said, his voice steady now. "Mrs. Fletcher tells me you've had a fall."John. The name resonated within her like the echo of a forgotten dream."It's just my ankle," Dany said, finding her voice. "I'm sure it's nothing serious."He approached and knelt before her, setting down his bag. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward her injured ankle.Dany nodded, suddenly very aware of her heart pounding in her chest.With gentle hands, he removed her boot and examined her ankle. His touch was professional, but Dany couldn't ignore the electricity that seemed to pass between them. From the slight tremor in his fingers, she suspected he felt it too."A mild sprain," he diagnosed. "You should stay off it for a few days, but there's no serious damage."As he wrapped her ankle with a bandage from his bag, Dany studied his face. There was something in his expression—a controlled intensity, as if he was holding back a flood of words."Have we met before?" she asked quietly.His hands paused momentarily. "You could say that," he replied enigmatically, his eyes meeting hers again."I don't remember," Dany admitted.A sad smile touched his lips. "You never do, at first."Before she could question him further, Mrs. Fletcher returned with the tea. John finished bandaging Dany's ankle and stood."Miss Danielle should rest," he announced. "Perhaps she could lie down for a while?""Of course," Mrs. Fletcher agreed. "We have a guest room prepared. You must stay with us tonight, Miss Danielle. I won't hear of you leaving in this condition."Dany began to protest, but realized she had nowhere else to go. She had no idea where "she" lived in this time."Thank you," she said instead. "You're very kind."As Mrs. Fletcher led her to the guest room, Dany glanced back at John. He was watching her with an expression of such profound emotion that it took her breath away.Once alone in the guest room, Dany sank onto the bed, her mind whirling. The wardrobe had somehow sent her back in time. But why? And who was John Ambrose, who looked at her as if he'd been waiting for her his entire life?A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called.The door opened to reveal John. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him."We don't have much time," he said without preamble, his voice low and urgent. "You'll return soon.""Return? You mean to my time?" Dany stood, wincing slightly at the pain in her ankle. "You know about that? How?""Because I've seen it happen before," he replied, taking a step closer. "Many times.""I don't understand.""I know." His expression softened. "You never do, not at first. But you will remember, Dany. You always do, eventually."The use of her nickname—not the formal "Danielle" she had given—sent a shiver through her."Who are you?" she whispered."Someone who has been waiting for you," he answered. "Someone who will always wait for you."He reached out, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. The touch sent a jolt through her, images flashing in her mind too quickly to grasp—a garden in moonlight, a dance floor, a snowy forest. Places she had never been, moments she had never lived, all with this man beside her."What's happening to me?" she asked, her voice trembling."The wardrobe chose you, as it chose me," John said. "We're connected across time, Dany. Always finding each other, always losing each other.""But why can't I remember?""The memories come back slowly, with each journey." His eyes held hers, intense and pleading. "But I need you to try to remember something now. It's important.""What?""The key. You must find the—"His words were cut off as a wave of dizziness swept over Dany. The room began to blur around her, colors swirling as they had in the wardrobe."No, not yet," John said, reaching for her. "Dany, listen to me. Find the journal. My journal. It will help you understand.""John!" she cried out, trying to hold onto him, but her hands passed through him as if he were made of smoke.The world dissolved around her, John's desperate face the last thing she saw before everything went dark.Dany gasped awake on her living room floor, the wardrobe doors still open above her. She was back in her apartment, in her own time, wearing her pajamas. Morning light streamed through the windows.She sat up slowly, her head pounding. Had it all been a dream? It had felt so real—the cobblestone streets, the carriage, the pain in her ankle.Her ankle.Looking down, Dany pulled up her pajama leg. Around her ankle was a neatly wrapped bandage that hadn't been there before."John," she whispered, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on her lips. "Who are you?"