Fanfic Bootcamp

Entry six - Major: Saving Lady Diana

August 30th, 1997 - Paris, France

I fluttered my eyes as I had landed in an entirely different country and setting. My stare wandered the streets, where people wore clothing kind of similar to what we wore in 2018, but a little differently. Women wore velvet, silky suits, and platform shoes.

I looked down on my own clothes: a denim skirt with a ribbed top, a black denim jacket, and white Converse sneakers. Did they even make those in 1997? I doubted it. Perhaps I should've put more effort in my research of this year's fashion.

In the pocket of my denim jacket, I took out a note I'd written with the address I wanted to go to. No, I had to go there. In a scribbly handwriting, the note said:  Hôtel Ritz, 15 Place Vendôme. I had studied Google Maps at home as to where it was, but I wasn't sure where I'd landed. I decided just to walk somewhere. As I turned around, I bumped into someone.

"Putain de bordel de merde!" The man shouted at me in French. I noticed how coffee had stained his white shirt. Some businessman, I supposed. "Je suis profondément désolé!"  I'm deeply sorry, I said to him, unsure what I had to do. The man's angry gaze went up and down my body, "Va te faire foutre!" he shouted as he angrily brushed past me. My French was minimal, but whatever he had said probably wasn't very kind.

I continued my walk and after a few meters, a familiar building came in sight. It was The Palais Bourbon, a government building in the 7th arrondissement of Paris. Meaning, the bridge, Pont de la Concorde that'd lead me to the first arrondissement where the Hôtel Ritz was located, would be close.

The weather was alright for this second to last day of August, and people on the streets seemed happy as they chattered away. Some people laughing, unaware of what would be happening hours from now, if I hadn't been sent out by my boss to prevent someone from dying a most tragic death. 

I checked my watch,  a cheap Daniel Wellington knock-off made in China that I'd bought for only ten quid in Camden Lock two weeks ago. I hoped no one would ask me questions about it, as I remembered the brand was founded only a couple of years ago. The watch told me I had roughly one more hour until she'd leave the hotel. I estimated my walk would take roughly twenty more minutes, so I should be fine.

I worked for Time INC, a secret cooperation in Central London that would conduct time travel operations to change reality, often by request of someone else. I was one of fifteen time travelers. And this mission had been put out for a long time, because of the many uncertainties and all the stories that came out about the woman after her death. Would we be really doing her a favor if we told her to do something that'd change reality in 2018? Was she actually happy now? My boss tossed and turned after none other than Prince William himself came knocking but decided our Crown Prince and his brother Harry deserved his mother in his life. My boss chose me, out of all the people to conduct this mission. I was extremely honored and happily took it upon myself to get this mission where we wanted it to be.

I smiled at a street artist on the bridge, who was playing a nice rendition of The Beatles' Blackbird on his violin. It had been one of my favorite childhood songs, and he did a great job. I took a few French Francs out of my bag and tossed it into his hat. The man smiled and I continued.

I had no clue how the French franc currency worked, I guessed it was kind of like our Pound Sterling. I had been given a lot of money, in order to book a room at the Ritz. I wasn't actually staying there, but as I needed a reason to be inside that hotel, I had to.

I passed the Place la Concorde with the Luxor Obelisk on my left, and The Tuileries Gardens on my right. Many people took pictures with those disposable cameras. I took a right on Rue de Rivoli, now knowing the way. The Google Maps and this version were very much the same, only the stores weren't, obviously. I doubted any store would last twenty-one years in this expensive neighborhood, except for perhaps brands like Gucci or Chanel.

A man passed me, holding a giant block of plastic against his ear while he angrily spoke to it. I realized it was a cellphone. I remembered my mother had kept hers for a very long time. I wondered if they were heavy, as it literally looked like a plasticized brick with an antenna on top.

I passed three streets when I noticed the familiar square at the end of the fourth street. In the middle stood the Colonne Vendôme tall and proud. I was here. 

As I entered the square, I immediately noticed the number of cars and people. I tried not to get angry, as I made my way through the chattering crowd. Many of them held cameras, as they waited for the most famous woman in the world to come out of their hotel. Motorbikes were parked on the sideway. I even saw a touring car parked there. I had to bite my tongue in order to keep my mouth shut.

As I passed the people, I walked towards the front entrance of Hôtel Ritz. A doorman stopped me. He said something in French I couldn't understand.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're saying," I said to the man. His eyes narrowed, probably cursing the stupid Brit for their disrespect towards their language.

"I said, you cannot enter this hotel," the man said with a thick French accent. I could barely understand a word he said.

"Why? I have a reservation at this hotel." I said sharply as I glared angrily at him.

"Fine," he muttered and stepped aside to let me in. I brushed past him and walked up the stairs inside.

I walked inside, taking in the luxury that washed over me. Crickey. I'd never seen so much marble, gold, and luxury in one place.

I went to the front desk, feeling miserably out of place with my fake watch and futuristic clothing. A man smiled at me, and he reminded me of the clerk in Gilmore Girls, the French bloke that hated everyone. I put a big smile on my face.

"en quoi puis-je vous être utile?" How can I help you? He asked me. I smiled. " I'm sorry, my French is not quite there yet, but I'd like to book a room for one night, please," I replied with an upper RP accent, making me feel like the Queen of England in sheep clothes.

"Ah, Anglais. Welcome at Hôtel Ritz, ma'am. One room, of course." He checked his book. " Yes, what name, please?" the man asked me.

"Elizabeth Anne Farlane," I responded. It took him a while but eventually got me a key with a room number.

I couldn't linger along, so I just went ahead for the elevators. I knew what room and which floor she had been in, thanks to Prince William. I took the elevator to her floor and immediately bumped into her. She smiled as she and the man I presumed to be Dodi got in the elevator with me.

"Bonjour," She greeted me. She was prettier than every picture I'd ever seen of her. I could tell why my mother had talked so fondly of her in the past.

"Hello," I responded dryly. She laughed, surprised. "You're English? What a coincidence," she said. I laughed. "I wish it was, lady Diana. I am here for a whole different reason." I pushed the stop button once the doors had shut and the elevator had started moving. 

Shock flashed across her face and then fear. Dodi jumped in front of her, protective.

"I work for Time INC, a cooperation of time travel from the future. I have to warn you, not to get into that Mercedes. You will get chased by French photographers. Your vehicle will collide with the thirteenth pillar of the Pont de l'Alma after the driver loses control. You both will die, you immediately," I said to Dodi and turned to Diana, "And you will die in the hospital, leaving Harry and William behind."

They both stared at each other. "What?" Dodi muttered.

"Don't get in that car. Tell me you won't get into that car." I said, feeling the pull of the future.

"I- I won't." Lady Diana muttered. She had decided. My body slowly faded from the scene, being brought back to the future. 

Mission accomplished.