Following Kris into a gigantic room filled with senior army officials and politicians from around the world was so nerve-wracking that Jinsu wanted to throw up her lunch.  It took more than she felt she had in her not to hide behind the tall man.  Given a choice between skipping it and having an in-depth discussion with Kyungsoo about the fact that she was now dating Baekhyun or staying in the room, Jinsu reckoned she might possibly have chosen the former.  Amber stood beside her, now doubling up as the official translator (Jinsu insisted she could speak English; Kris told her that even if she was fluent it was better to have a translator just in case any nuance was lost, and also because it would give her more time to think about her answers) and quietly pointing out the senior figures and leaders of various different countries to Jinsu since there hadn’t been a chance for her to learn exactly who was who.  She had to remind herself over and over again not to show her nerves, however much she wanted to curl up in a ball and vanish.

Things started relatively simply, with questions about who she was, where she’d come from, what had happened to the Attayear and others on it – all straight forward and questions she’d answered before, and that took them right the way up to the first break of the afternoon.  Amber wordlessly passed her a very large bottle of water as people got up to stretch their legs.

Kris popped up beside her.  “You’re planning something,” he said.  Jinsu jumped violently.

“How could you tell?” she squeaked, only realising she shouldn’t have given herself away when the words were out.  She slapped her hand over .

“I couldn’t.”  He shrugged.  “But it was worth a guess.  I know I told you not to look weak, but you’re putting on a very unflustered face for a sixteen-year-old, and from historical records, that is completely un-you.”

Still facing front, Amber rebuffed him.

“I beg to differ, sir.  She’s been on TV before and mobbed by journalists and there is footage in the archives of that.”

Kris rolled his eyes.  “You’ve lost the Rabbit-in-Headlights look,” he told Jinsu.  “So.  What’s up your sleeve?”

Jinsu narrowed her eyes at him.  “What makes you think I’d tell you?  I don’t know if I can trust you to help.”

Kris looked around before taking a step closer and ducking his head to her height, momentarily pulling out a badge that Jinsu couldn’t quite make out before it was hidden again.

“Senior military intelligence official says universally-deemed-potentially-dangerous girl is hatching a plot to disrupt the timeline vs word of said sixteen-year-old.  Who wins?” he asked in a low voice before lowering it still further.  “Or, senior military intelligence official can potentially wing resources your way if we have a deal you’ll put an end to this godd*mn war by getting rid of everything to do with time machines when you go back.”

Jinsu started back a couple of paces to stare at him.  She wasn’t sure what she was more surprised by – the fact that he’d offered or the fact that he was trying to offer in what appeared to be secret.

“Are they really that likely not to let us go home?” she demanded.

“Yes,” said Kris.  “For one thing, it’ll interrupt the status quo here in a manner we can’t anticipate.  Secondly, we don’t actually know where the North Koreans got their blueprints of a time machine from, and with the information that you left your chief engineer and chief technological engineer, who were the brains behind the Attayear, back in North Korea, there’s a high possibility that’s where the blueprints came from.”

“We left them the day the UN forces arrived in the city,” Jinsu said.  “I’m pretty sure Minseok would have been able to get protection from the South and move everybody back into it.  They would have kept low not to cause a grandfather clause.”

“Yeah, but you’re not certain,” said Kris, “and it’s still a problem because you could be wrong.  Thirdly, sending you back with a mandate of ending this war is a time paradox issue.  Either we send you back to the point that time machine technology was viable and ask you to destroy it, in which case you’ll supplant yourself and might destroy your ability to return to your own timeline as we don’t know how that would affect time machines, and you’d also break a gigantic grandfather clause which would also have a huge effect on everybody around you, or you go back to your own time and overlook or miss something when it comes to the time machines.  If they’re nixed in South Korea but not in the North because of something we overlook or don’t know about, we’re putting our past, present and future generations at huge risk of some very, very bad people with no scruples gaining an awful lot of power.  God only knows what that would lead to.  At least in the status quo, we know what we’re doing and what we’re working with, and that the right people are in charge.”

Jinsu watched two delegates from Russia and China talking to each other and tried not to raise her eyebrows.  It was possible that things were better now when it came to other countries’ relationships to the two powers.

“That’s just brutalised my entire argument for letting me go back home,” Jinsu grumped.  “How do I convince them?”

“I’m pretty sure if you’re dating Baekhyun you’ll be able to come up with something.”  Kris ruffled her hair.  Jinsu bristled like an angry hedgehog, at first because only Baekhyun was allowed to ruffle her hair, or possibly Chanyeol or Jongdae or Jimin too, and then because Kris was not supposed to know that.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Amber’s should