Everywhere Else and At No Particular Point in Time, Monday

[endsthegame]

The Nothing did not care for vacations-- though it had rolled over a Newfoundland on an Earth, but where and which one it was less easy to determine. It didn't matter, for very little mattered once it touched the Nothing: it simply ceased to be, in all times and all minds, though perhaps not in all worlds

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[one_who_goes]

With the way Henry existed on the edges of time, he was practically daring the Nothing to reach out and swat him away -- he might be a smart mouse, but he was still a mouse at the mercy of a large, patient cat. It took no effort at all when the Nothing reached out a paw and took him as he staggered nude through the Wisconsin woods in 1972. His last jump through time had been fresh; he barely stopped vomiting and took three steps over the crunch of dead leaves before darkness descended and he was gone. Only a squirrel took any note of the sudden arrival and just-as-sudden departure, and the squirrel was soon gone too.

Back in his present, Clare had the usual mix of confusion, worry, and disappointment when she went to look for her husband and realized he'd gone traveling. He always came back, but she always worried: It was how this worked.

Then her concern went away and Clare was fine. If anything, she was freer than she'd ever been. After all, as far as she was concerned, she'd never known Henry. Never loved him, never married him, never had his child. How could she have? There had never been a Henry DeTamble in her world to begin with.

The time traveler was gone from time entirely.