Rewriting Time

Chapter 6

A/N: Part 1 of Round 4

Word Count: 1.5K

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They didn't believe him. They didn't believe him when they told them that he saw Elizabeth. They didn't believe him when he said that Elizabeth was alive.

It's not that they couldn't believe that Elizabeth wasn't dead.

No, sir.

They just didn't want to believe him.

Effing Toledanos! Why do they always drive me crazy?

Sebastian had ran back to the house after Elizabeth disappeared in the crowd. He didn't know how he was able to go back there, but he eventually found himself bounding up the steps of the brownstone. And before he could stop himself he blurted to Solomon that he had seen Elizabeth. He and Tobias questioned him, of course. Extensively. Solomon's queries were logical and expected, Tobias' were voiced merely to irritate him.

After a grueling thirty minutes of 'interrogation', Sebastian exited the room in a huff. It was obvious that the two men were not letting themselves be convinced by his answers.

Are you sure it was her? Solomon had calmly asked.

Yes! He replied.

Absolutely sure? Tobias interrupted.

Yes, without a doubt! The woman I saw across the street is the same one in my memories. It's not a face I could forget easily. He insisted.

Really now? You couldn't even remember that she existed until today! Tobias said, laughing bitterly.

That's when he lost it. F. You. Tobias. I only came back to let you know that Elizabeth's alive. If you don't want to believe me, fine. It's your problem, not mine.

But truly, the reason he had left was because he was starting to doubt his own eyes. He was so adamant in his answers, yet now he wasn't too sure himself.

Did I really see Elizabeth or did I just see what I wanted to see? Was she just a figment of my imagination? Am I really in 1923? Shit! I don't have the slightest idea what to do!

His stomach growled in answer. Gods, how long has it been since he'd eaten? Deciding that his brain would function better with food, Sebastian turned the next corner and went inside a small diner he'd spied earlier that announced the Special of the Day as "Clam Chowder and Cold fried chicken". Just thinking of sipping hot soup and biting down a juicy chicken leg made Sebastian's mouth water indecently, forcing him to step inside with due haste.

Still, his hunger could not stop Sebastian from gawking at the place. It was amazing and just as he'd always imagined a '20s diner would look like. The diner was packed with patrons chatting over their food and a couple of haggard-looking waitresses buzzing about with full trays. Even the peeling Prohibition poster plastered behind the counter could not dampen Sebastian's excitement. A bit of his appetite, yes. He loved washing down his food with cold beer just as much as the next red-blooded male and being told that he's supposed to forego this tiny pleasure irritated him. Good thing he was too famished to protest this injustice.

The booths were all occupied and no one seemed ready enough to leave. Sebastian never liked eating at the counter where he felt too exposed to inquisitive eyes and meddlesome servers. The last two empty seats were also smack in the middle of the counter, his least favorite area. He hesitated, wondering if it would be better if he just went back to the Toledano house. Another angry growl from his stomach settled the matter for him.

Well, there's always a first time for everything, he muttered as he sat on the stool. A plump, red-haired matron with pink cheeks and twinkling eyes was immediately attending him.

"What can I get fer ye today, dearie?" she asked sweetly, her lilting voice betraying her Irish ancestry.

"Uhm, the special please, if you don't mind," Sebastian replied, averting his eyes.

"Ooh, good choice, dearie. Yer not regret asking fer Nana's special. Would ye also like a slice o' blueberry pie wi' it? Freshly baked, as always," she said, flashing her pearly whites.

Sebastian felt strangely at home, like he'd seen that comforting smile many times over. "Sure, that would be great," he said, his mind frantically searching for that elusive memory.

"Comin' right up, dearie," the red-haired matron said, pushing a plate of round, flat biscuits in front of Sebastian. "Have some while I rustle up yer meal. Ye look like ye haven't eaten in days," She gave Sebastian's hand a gentle squeeze before sauntering off to the nether regions of the diner.

"Molly thinks all young men are in need of a mother," a deep voice to Sebastian's left chuckled.

Sebastian grunted noncommittally, more interested in attacking the plate of biscuits before him. They tasted like cinnamon and honey. Heavenly!

"Don't eat them all. Molly would be pissed if your appetite is ruined," the voice chuckled again.

This time, Sebastian turned to his nosy neighbor, ready put him in his rightful place - miles away from Sebastian's face and business. He half-expected to see a rough-looking construction worker dressed in dirty coveralls like most of the diner's clientele were. He stopped short when the man turned out to be a chap wearing a clean and neatly-pressed dark gray suit that seemed tailor-made for him. Even his fingernails were perfectly manicured. That did not deter Sebastian from being his lovable, sarcastic self. In fact, the man's obvious wealth encouraged it to rear its gracious, horned head even more. Probably because the stranger reminded him so much of Tobias - rich, cocky, and totally insufferable.

"Did you hear me asking for your opinion? I don't need it, in case you're wondering," he said, raising a brow in challenge.

The man raised his hands in surrender. "Just trying to make conversation here, nothing more," he said, smirking.

Sebastian didn't like that smirk. It felt... familiar.

Crap! I know this guy! But from where? Or more importantly, from when?

"Do I know you?" he said, squinting at the man. It was a futile effort, of course. Squinting did not make one's obscure memories more accessible.

The stranger's eyes hardened, losing its previously playful glint. "Do you?" the man asked, pinning Sebastian with his slate gray stare.

"Here ye are, dearies. Nana's special to warm yer bellies. Now, enough chatter and eat up, both o' ye, before the soup freezes like 'ell," Molly said, dumping a large tray filled with soup and fried chicken on the counter. She divided the food between Sebastian and the stranger, her eyes darting sternly between the two men, making Sebastian squirm in his seat. When she finished with her distribution, she snatched up the tray and scurried back to where the kitchen must be located. "I'll come back later with the pies," Molly threw over her shoulder.

They turned to their respective plates and ate Nana's special with gusto. Or at least Sebastian did. The soup was so good he almost forgot about his unwelcome companion. Unfortunately, the stranger wasn't as affected by the soup as he was.

"So, have you found the answer to your question?"

The fried chicken really was cold, but it was the best he'd tasted in a very long time. The skin was crispy, the flesh juicy and tender. He just wished he could have some salad with it. Even better if he could wash it all down with beer...

"I was just wondering if-"

Damn it! Can't a man have a decent meal without you nagging the hell out of him?

The sudden hush in the diner told Sebastian that those words were said out loud. Glancing to his left, he saw the stranger snickering behind a half-eaten chicken leg while everyone else was glaring at him. Sebastian laughed in spite of himself. And that broke the tension in the air. His dwindling laughter was soon drowned out in the returning babel of voices.

"Alfred Wolf," the stranger said, offering Sebastian a greasy chicken leg in lieu of a handshake.

"Sebastian Chase," he said, bumping his own chicken leg against Alfred's.

"Doesn't my name ring a bell?" Alfred asked.

Sebastian couldn't tell if the man was serious or not. He decided to not think on it so much. For now.

"Nah. Didn't hear any bells," he shrugged. Alfred nodded and returned to his fried chicken. "Were you expecting it to?" Sebastian continued.

Alfred gave him a sidelong glance before shrugging. "Not really. I just thought it might since you seemed to recognize me. Or maybe my face is just too common," Alfred chuckled.

Sebastian didn't think Alfred's face was common. His eyes alone, an unusual blend of gray and blue, made his face memorable. So, it couldn't be that. A tiny voice at the back of his head, however, told him not to say that to Alfred.

"Yeah, maybe that's it," he said instead, giving Alfred the once-over. "Yup. Too common. No doubt about it."

The two men laughed at that. Yet, when they returned to their meals, the ensuing silence was tense and awkward as both became lost in their own thoughts. Sebastian was so busy chasing his own evasive memories he didn't even notice Alfred rising and walking away.

He left something on his seat, though.

A red envelope with the words 'Sebastian Chase' written in bold script.