Okay, this was *real* speedwriting... Based on the first line of Tuttle's Accidental Truths!

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Saving My Universe

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There must've been something wrong with the mirror. Or maybe it was just the light playing tricks, for it had suddenly gotten much darker. There was probably a thunderstorm coming on – that always caused the light to look weird. So I finished brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth and...

Wait a sec. Since when was the washbasin made of dark grey stone with darker and white spots in it? And with a pump instead of a faucet?! What the heck...?

Before I had a chance to ponder that conundrum, a soft gasp behind me had me zap around. And I found myself staring back at a slender girl (or rather a woman; she looked at best a few years my junior). She wasn't very tall either – I know I'm tall for a woman, but I towered nearly a head over her shortish dark hair with the contrasting blue eyes.

My mind only just had the time to register that she was wearing rather drab, old-fashioned clothes that looked like they'd been around for quite some time already, before she visibly got a grip on herself and demanded, "Wer sind Sie, und was machen Sie in meiner Küche."

"Küche?" I echoed. Why was she speaking German? I wasn't in Germany anymore, was I? Nevertheless, I fumbled for the somewhat correct words. "Verzeihung. Ich war nicht in der Küche; ich war im Badezimmer, und dann plötzlich..." I glanced around. Of one thing I could be sure: this was not a bathroom. "What happened?" I asked myself more than her. "Where am I?"

That caused her eyebrows to shoot up. "You don't know?" In flawless English.

"No, I don't know. This isn't where I was a moment ago." I looked down at my hand. It was still holding my toothbrush. But I was not in the bathroom I had entered a minute ago; I was in a small, dark kitchen. A rather old-fashioned kitchen, with one of those giant tiled German woodstoves. And traces of soot on the wall behind it. A kitchen slab of dark stone. With a pump. A small covered table with two chairs against the opposite wall. It all looked familiar somehow, but I was certain I had never set a foot in this place. Nor had I ever met the lady in the doorway – or had I? She, too, had something vaguely familiar.

"Then how did you get here?" the lady in question demanded. She gave me a careful, probing once over, as if to determine whether or not I carried anything that could be used as a weapon. Apparently satisfied on that score, she stepped into the kitchen to try the back door. It was locked, with no key in sight.

"Look, I'm really sorry I intruded upon you, ma'am, but I don't know I got here. I was just brushing my teeth."

"Just brushing your teeth." She crossed her arms to accentuate the sarcastic tone, and suddenly it was my turn to gasp.

"The bracelet!"

She glanced down at her left wrist in surprise. "What about it?"

This couldn't be... But the bracelet – the bracelet – and the ease with which she had slipped into English, and the overall old-fashioned atmosphere, and... It couldn't be... "Quick – what time is it?"

She gave me an odd look before glancing at her watch. "Nearly half past seven." Clearly, she had noticed my sudden agitation.

"I mean the date."

"November 4th."

"And the year?"

Now I definitely got an odd look. "1944."

Oh my... "And where are we – in Hamelburg?"

"Yes."

This couldn't be... But apparently it could. Or was I dreaming? I bit at the inside of my cheek. It hurt, so I was definitely not dreaming. This was real. I was in Hamelburg, it was 1944, and less than two meters away from me stood... "Maryse?"

Totally taken aback, she took a step backwards. "How do you know my name?"

"I've..." Wait. I bit my lip. If this was the Maryse from Chameleon Fever, that meant I had somehow ended up in the reality of my own story. Not that this idea really bothered me – I'm the kind of person who sees science-fiction as science we simply haven't discovered yet. But as with all laws of nature, the fact that we haven't progressed far enough to be able to detect or produce it doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. That it's not possible. Like subspace for example. The multiverse. Holodecks. Replicators. Time travel. I'd barely blink if I'd come across it in real life, so used was I to the idea of it.

But there was the matter of paradoxes when you were dealing with time travel. But would that apply, too, to fictional universes? Wouldn't I be altering my own story by inserting myself into my HH universe?

I tried to recall the details of The Neverending Story, but it'd been too long since I read it. And across from me, the girl whom I'd grown to love so much over the course of the story I'm writing had her expression change from taken aback through wariness to straight-out suspicion. I had to say something to explain myself. So, "I've written about you."

"About me? I don't even know you."

"No. I know. But I'm from the future, and I'm writing Karl's biography."

"Karl's biography? Is he that important for..." Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know about Karl? And about me? Have you met us in the future? Then where is your time machine?" Bless her – clearly she was familiar with H.G. Wells, and was a kindred spirit when it came to time travel.

"I don't have a time machine, but I really am from the future. 2014 to be precise."

Her eyes widened. "2014?! And you know Karl in 2014?"

"No, not quite." I'm pondering how to explain this. "There's this TV show in the future – kind of a serial movie that people can watch at home. Just like everyone can listen to the radio at home, only with pictures."

"You mean there's going to be a... TV show... about Karl?"

"No, not really about him. It's about the prisoners in Stalag 13." I hesitated. "You know Stalag 13?"

"Yes..." And after a moment, she adds, "Karl is a guard there."

I can't help a smile. "So it's true! And the senior prisoner-of-war, is that a Colonel Hogan?"

Immediately, her guard is back up. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because he's the main character of the show. The notorious Underground leader operating right under the nose of his captors and all that."

Once again, she's regarding me with wariness bordering on suspicion. "Then why are you writing Karl's biography, if Colonel Hogan is the star of the show?"

"Because I like him. He wasn't on the show much, but the guy who portrayed him made him clumsy, scared and cute. I thought he was rather sweet, actually."

"Sounds about right for Corporal Langenscheidt," Maryse muttered under her breath, and I barely suppressed a grin.

"But the guy who portrayed him had a few other guest roles in the show as well – one of which as the Underground leader Oskar Danzig, also known as the Master of Disguises."

Maryse's head snapped up. "They know about that?"

"Well, it was never said that it was Karl, but Danzig was played by the same actor as Corporal Langenscheidt. And once I realized that, I began to try and connect the scattered dots. And discovered indeed that all of Jon Cedar's appearances in the show could be explained by having Danzig and Langenscheidt being one and the same."

"Oh." She frowned. "Who is Jon Cedar?"

"The guy who portrayed Karl. And Danzig."

"And am I in this show, too, then, since you know my name?"

"Once or twice." I shrugged. Better not mention that her name was never mentioned in the show, or I'd be faced with having to explain something that baffled me, too: how on earth had I gotten her name right? Divine intervention?

But Maryse was already jumping ahead. "And how does this show end? Is there a happy ending?"

I sighed. "It doesn't really have an ending. The show was simply cancelled in the end."

"So you don't know if Karl survives?"

"He does in my story." Oh boy, should I really be saying this? Better build in some precautions. "But anything I've written beyond what's in the TV show is stuff I made up myself. I've never met or even heard of the real life Karl Langenscheidt. He could have died by the end of the war for all I know – he'd almost certainly be dead in 2014."

She gives me a sad, rather upbraiding look, before moving on. "But the war – is it over where you come from? The Nazis and all?"

"Yes." I want to take her in my arms, but I'm painfully aware that even though I feel like I know her inside out, to her I'm still a perfect stranger. From another time no less. "And I think I can safely tell you that if it's already November 1944 here, it won't be much longer. So you just hold on. Take care of him, watch out for him, as you always have. If my writings come true just because I write them, then you and Karl will survive this war. But there is no evidence whatsoever that my writing has any influence on your reality, so I can't guarantee a thing." For the good of everybody, I'd better ignore the findings of Fanfic Court for now. Can't have them losing their vigilance and ending up dead after all...

She seems to think over my reasoning for a moment; then she scowls. "Couldn't you at least have kept me out of the hands of the Gestapo?"

I shake my head. "That was in the show; I didn't make it up." I hesitate. "Is that why you dyed your hair? I kind of pictured you as blond."

A nod. And a short silence ensued.

"So how are you going to get back to your own time?" Maryse inquired at last.

I shrugged. "I have no idea. Since I don't know how I got here in the first place... But I guess I better stay out of sight for now. I mean, I don't have any papers or anything."

She nodded. "Maybe Udo will have an idea on how to get you back. He might have come across such things in his studies." A frown. "Do you know Udo? Udo Steinmetz? Is he in this show, too?"

"Not by name. He could be one of the anonymous guards. But he's in my story." I hesitate. "And Karl – do you think I could meet him, too?"

"Maybe tomorrow. He's out on a mission tonight." She heaves a sigh and averts her eyes. "Picking up some message from Papa Bear and taking it to this big shot contact in Düsseldorf."

"You mean we're close to Düsseldorf?!"

That gets me another odd look. "I'd sooner call it close to Hagen, but yes, Düsseldorf isn't that far from here. Why?"

I can't help feeling a little triumphant. "The fans of this TV show have always been bickering about the location of Stalag 13. The only thing we know for sure is that the nearest town is called Hamelburg. The show isn't very consistent in its other clues, but the Düsseldorf area comes up quite a lot. But there are also people who insist it's got to be Hammelburg with two Ms in Bayern."

She doesn't make a reply, but her face is an open book – just as I always described. Obviously, she thinks we're nuts squabbling about such things. Maybe she's right...

Suddenly however a chill goes down my spine. What did she just say? A message from Papa Bear to be taken to Düsseldorf?! "Maryse!"

"What?" She immediately reacts to my urgency.

"That message Karl has to pick up – is it something about Panzer divisions?"

"I don't know." A slight frown. "This guy in Düsseldorf is mainly interested in troop maneuvers, so it could be." She looked up sharply. "Why?"

"Because..." I take a deep breath. "If this is the occasion I think it is – the occasion shown in the TV show – then Karl's going to get shot tonight!"

"What?!" All colour drains from her face.

"In the show he survives, but..." I take her by the shoulders, forties' etiquette be darned. "You'll need to be there, Maryse. Do you know of a place where he's planning to stop on the way to Düsseldorf?"

"Yes." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "He was going to exchange the numberplates for Düsseldorf ones. But..."

"Then go there. And if he does show up with an ugly shotwound, call Colonel Hogan and get him to bring you some penicillin. It's a new wonder drug that cleans up infections. He'll need it – without it, Karl probably won't survive."

For a moment, she's paralyzed with terror. But the next moment, she races out of the kitchen and mere seconds later I hear the front door slamming shut.

And suddenly I'm back in the familiar white bathroom at home.

I look up at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath. Did I just save my HH universe?

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Note: I still have to clean this up a bit; I'm aware that especially the tenses are a bit of a mess. But considering that I wrote this story in a few hours' time with a looming deadline...! Still, I believe I made it; the world clock says it's 23:15 in Hawaii at the moment!

Oh, and in case you wonder: Maryse's capture by the Gestapo is something that comes in one of the later seasons. I'm not there yet in the story by a long shot, but the chapters on it are already written.