The Quotidian Timeline

1 am, June 24th – off Haymarket, London

Someone was suffocating Finch Kinshot. He jerked. I need to breathe! He kicked and pushed in all directions until he fell onto a stone slabbed floor; knocking his head and gasping for air. Wrapped around his neck was his eagle cape. He loosened it as he struggled to recover.

His jaw dropped. There was no attacker! He had confused the stack of white towels, tablecloths, and bedsheets in front of him for his assailant.

***

Finch muttered, shivering with a mix of fear and regret. “What have I done?” His decision to jump into the wormhole was reckless. But he had to find his mother.

“There must be an exit,” he whispered. The door to the street was open. It was drizzling out and his heart raced with fear of being recognised. He used his cape as a shield and ventured into an alley. As he turned the corner, Club 7 was gone! Instead, a five-star hotel named The Brays stood in its place. His return home was gone!

It was a changed building! How do I get back? He surveyed his surroundings, shifting his gaze whenever someone might recognise him. Even from a distance, his bright red hair was always a giveaway.

They transformed Hypermarket!

Maybe I fell into a coma.

As Finch navigated the Quotidian version of Londoom, he struggled to make sense of it.

People were softer. Far more greys than reds. Yellow, black, and white. But the bright colours of home were gone.

Finch cast a weary glance back at The Brays’ entrance, his mind racing to formulate a plan. “Where do I begin?” he whispered. He had no money, no resources. He returned to the laundry room. But the door was shut!

“Blast!” he said, turning red.

He punched the air.

Leaning against the wall of the alley, he covered his ears from the hustle and bustle of the surrounding city. He was going to sleep at home. Except, he had never walked alone in central Londoom! He always had bodyguards and security plans in place.

Disoriented, he returned to the alley. He would head off in the morning. He slid to the ground. A sudden move next to him startled him and he muffled a wail. A rat sliced across the narrow alley. After that, he was skittish. His cape served as a makeshift blanket. Every rustle and movement made him jump.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

He had to find his mother, even if it meant navigating this strange reality alone.

***

Morning, June 24th, off Suffolk Place, London

Finch’s face tingled. He opened his eyes to the pesky rat nibbling on a cracker. His eyes shot wide, and he yelled, dashing through the side streets until he found a library. He leaned on the wall, recovering. It was a busy morning. People in tedious attire waited at bus stops. No one wore capes, and he draped his over his right arm. He needed to pee, but feared being caught. The buildings were so rigid and perfect. He was sick to the stomach.

He forgot to cover his face when a Quotidian walked past him.

“Good morning!” he smiled.

Finch stood there, frozen.

A woman who was dangling keys arrived.

“Morning! We’ll be open in ten minutes,” she said.

It surprised him she was relaxed.

“Thanks, thanks,” said Finch. No one recognises me!

At long last, she unlatched the doors.

“How may I help you?” asked the lady.

She was even nice.

“M-may I use your loo?”

“Of course! Through here, to the left.”

He made a run for it. When he returned, Finch struggled to speak.

“Do come in,” she said.

She led him to a wooden room with small sofas and there he sat, taking everything in.

“Do you have information about - about…” he asked.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Ava Kenler,” he mumbled. “No! Aria Kent?” He blushed as he corrected himself. He surveyed the corridor for new people.

She glanced at him, and he averted his eyes.

“Are you a fan?” She smiled.

Finch stood still.

“It’s awful. She collapsed yesterday. Again! I’ll find you a newspaper.”

He winced, but held himself together. When his mother collapsed in Quotidian, panic erupted in the Solstice Bridge. The portal was fading, leaving him with little choice. Someone suggested the winter solstice, but his father demanded a more immediate solution. As the conflict escalated between the adults, Finch had to jump and rescue his mother in this alternate timeline.

The lady returned with a newspaper.

“Thank you,” he said.

Finch absorbed the details and jumped to his feet. He left the library in search of the King Michael Hospital.

***

An hour later, June 24th, King Michael’s private hospital, 5-9 Bedlar St, London

Upon arrival, Finch cloaked himself with his cape. A tight security line surrounded the hospital. He marched to the entrance. No red lines had ever stopped him. Besides, he was Ava’s son.

“Hi, how are you doing? What can I do for you?” asked a police officer, stopping him.

Finch’s mouth fell open.

“I am going to visit my mother, of course!” he said, scrutinising the police officer.

“Sure. We need to verify everyone that walks into the hospital. Your name, please?”

“Finch Kinslow,” he said, with a flat gaze. He recalled during training that, in Q, their alternate family name was Kinslow.

“Finch Kinslow, huh?” said the officer, inspecting him.

“Yes,” said Finch.

“Hey, can I see your list?” he asked another officer. After twenty seconds, he returned. “Sorry, we can’t help.”

“Wait!” Finch flushed. “Let me through you, dimwit, or I will get you fired.”

But in seconds, the security detail pinned him to the ground.

“If you agree to leave the area, we will let you go,” said the man.

The crowd fell silent.

“I am Finch Kinslow!” he said, shaking from the shock.