He wasn’t my friend. He was my partner. My lover. I used to hate those words, but his father hated them more, so I grew to love them. Elliot’s father, you may have heard of him. Sir Laurence Bishop. No? He owns just about everything in the U. K. including his family. When we first met, Elliot was messing around with boys in the back rooms of bars, all the while dating appropriate women. Appropriate by his father’s standards because they were women. I didn’t mean to fall for him. I’d never fallen for anyone. You see, I-I-I’m quite surprised you haven’t heard of Sir Bishop because he’s a good old fresh and righteous Anglican who wanted his only son to be so, too. It’s his his legacy. You see, we still believe in that kind of stuff where I’m from. But when he found out that Elliot and me were more than friends, he cut him off. Closed every door. Said if he wanted back, he had to come back a man and well, Elliot hadn’t worked a day in his life, so he had nothing. Well, he had nothing but me. And that lasted about three months, and then he was gone. I tried to see him. But I couldn’t find him. His family wouldn’t talk to me. I reached out to his sister, who tried, but they got to her, too, and he stopped returning my calls. So I stopped calling. A year goes by. In the mail, a wedding invitation. “Sir Laurence Bishop invites you to attend the wedding of his son.” And I think, “Is this a joke? Is s-someone someone trying to screw with me?” Or m-maybe it was him, you know? Maybe it was a cry for help. But whatever it was, I didn’t answer. Six months later, I come home from a night out, and there he is, in my house, looking like the wrath of God had hit him. He was a strung out or drunk. Couldn’t tell. Wanted to know if I still loved him. Wanted to know why I didn’t stop him. Couldn’t help him. But whatever I said, it didn’t matter because he realized then that he couldn’t have them and me. He had trapped himself in. There was no way out. And before I knew what he was doing, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and ran himself through with it. Uh well, not once, not twice. Three times. I tried to save him. I did. But there was so much blood.
Do you think that before Flynn stole the mothership he tracked Lucy down at all? I'm sure he would have been curious about the mysterious professor who wrote his journal-from-the-future. So I can picture him finding her at her university and attending one of her lectures or something. What are your thoughts?