The air in the Blackwood Academy observatory was thick with the metallic tang of ozone, a byproduct of the powerful telescope straining towards the night sky. Alistair’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the ticking clock of his past – now his present. He’d spent the last few days poring over old notes, frantically reconstructing the chain of events that led to the tragic accident involving Eleanor Vance. He knew the approximate time, the location, the contributing factors – a faulty telescope drive, a loose railing, a moment of inattention. But knowledge, he was learning, was a blunt instrument when wielded against the implacable force of fate.

He gripped the cold metal of the telescope housing, his knuckles white. He could practically feel the echoes of the past – the hushed whispers of students, the whirring of gears, the sharp crack that preceded the sickening thud. Tonight, that sound would not be repeated.

He’d tried to warn Eleanor, subtly steering her away from the observatory, suggesting alternative projects, emphasizing the importance of theoretical research. But she was bright, ambitious, and stubbornly independent, qualities he both admired and now desperately feared. Her project, a meticulous study of a newly discovered asteroid belt, required observation, required access to the powerful telescope.

He’d seen the glint of determination in her eyes, a reflection of his younger self's relentless pursuit of knowledge. How could he explain his anxieties without revealing the impossible truth – that he was a ghost in his own life, haunted by a future he was desperately trying to erase? He couldn’t risk sounding insane, couldn't risk being dismissed as a madman. His credibility, already fragile after the confrontation with Thorne, would shatter completely.

So, he’d opted for a different approach, a constant, watchful presence, an irritating shadow that wouldn’t leave her side. He’d volunteered to supervise her work, offering his expertise, meticulously checking the equipment, tightening screws, reinforcing railings. He’d even feigned an interest in asteroid belts, a topic that had previously held all the appeal of drying paint.

Now, as the moon bathed the observatory in an ethereal glow, he knew his time was running out. He could feel it in the oppressive stillness, the almost palpable tension that hung in the air. Eleanor was scheduled to make her crucial observations tonight.

He found her perched on a stool, her brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the telescope's settings. The faint light from the computer screen illuminated her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek, the determined set of her jaw.

"Everything alright, Professor Blackwood?" she asked, glancing up at him. "You seem a little…tense."

"Just making sure everything is up to par, Eleanor," he replied, forcing a casual tone. "This asteroid belt is quite the discovery. Wouldn't want any…technical difficulties hindering your progress."

She smiled, a genuine, trusting smile that twisted his insides with guilt. "Everything's fine. I checked all the connections myself. You don't have to worry."

He knew she was lying. He'd seen the slight wobble in the railing, the faint creak of the aging mechanism. He’d pretended not to notice, waiting for the opportune moment to make his move.

"Just being thorough," he mumbled, fiddling with a non-existent loose wire near the railing. "Safety first, wouldn't you agree?"

He could feel her eyes on him, a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He was acting strangely, even by his standards. But he couldn't explain. He just had to wait.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Eleanor continued her observations, meticulously recording data, her fingers flying across the keyboard. He pretended to read a textbook on astrophysics, his eyes scanning the pages without registering a single word. He was hyper-aware of every sound, every movement, every creak of the building.

Then, he heard it.

A faint, almost imperceptible groan from the telescope's drive mechanism. It was the sound he’d been dreading, the harbinger of disaster. He knew what was coming – the sudden jolt, the loss of balance, the terrifying plunge.

His body reacted before his mind could fully process the situation. He lunged towards Eleanor, knocking her stool aside.

"Get down!" he yelled, his voice cracking with urgency.

She looked at him, startled, confusion etched on her face. "Professor, what –"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground, just as the telescope lurched violently. The drive mechanism seized, sending the massive instrument swinging wildly. The loose railing, unable to withstand the force, snapped with a resounding crack.

Alistair shielded Eleanor with his body, bracing for the impact. The telescope swung past them, missing them by inches. The broken railing, however, wasn't so forgiving. A jagged piece of metal caught him across the shoulder, sending a searing pain through his arm.

He grunted, but held his position, ensuring that Eleanor was protected. The telescope shuddered to a halt, its massive bulk looming over them like a fallen god.

Silence descended, broken only by their ragged breathing. Alistair slowly raised his head, his eyes scanning the scene. Eleanor was lying beneath him, her eyes wide with shock.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

She blinked, her gaze focusing on him. "I…I think so. What happened?"

He helped her to her feet, his shoulder throbbing with pain. He ignored it, focusing on her.

"The railing…it gave way," he said, keeping his voice calm. "The telescope malfunctioned. It could have been…bad."

Eleanor stared at the broken railing, her face pale. "You…you saved me."

He shrugged, trying to downplay his actions. "Just a bit of quick thinking."

But he knew it was more than that. It was a sacrifice, a willingness to risk his own life to rewrite the past.

He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing not just a student, but a life he had almost inadvertently destroyed. The guilt he carried for years, the burden of knowing he could have done something, lifted slightly.

"We need to report this," he said, his voice firm. "And get you checked out. Just to be sure."

He led her out of the observatory, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. As they walked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of profound relief. He had done it. He had averted the tragedy.

But the relief was tempered with a nagging unease. He had changed the past, but what were the consequences? What ripple effects would his actions have on the future? He had saved Eleanor, but had he inadvertently unleashed something even more dangerous?

The Dean was apoplectic. He paced back and forth in his office, his face flushed, his hands clasped behind his back.

"A malfunctioning telescope? A broken railing? And you, Professor Blackwood, were somehow at the center of it all?"

Alistair stood before him, his arm in a sling, his gaze steady. He’d given the Dean a carefully sanitized version of the events, omitting any mention of his premonitions or his desperate attempts to prevent the accident. He’d simply stated that he’d noticed the loose railing and intervened when the telescope malfunctioned.

"It was an accident, Dean," he said, his voice calm. "A regrettable one, but an accident nonetheless."

"Regrettable? This is a catastrophe! The observatory is temporarily out of commission. We could have had a serious injury, a fatality! And you…you were apparently playing hero?"

"I was preventing a potential disaster," Alistair retorted, his patience wearing thin. "Should I have stood by and watched?"

The Dean glared at him. "You seem to have a knack for being present when things go wrong, Professor Blackwood. First the Thorne incident, now this. I'm beginning to wonder if you're more trouble than you're worth."

Alistair clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to lash out. He knew the Dean's suspicions were justified. He was a magnet for chaos, a walking anomaly.

"I assure you, Dean, I have the best interests of the Academy at heart."

"Then perhaps you should consider a less…hands-on approach," the Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stick to your lectures, Professor. Leave the heroics to someone else."

Alistair nodded, accepting the reprimand. He knew he had to tread carefully. He had saved Eleanor, but he had also drawn unwanted attention to himself. He was under scrutiny, his every move being watched.

As he left the Dean's office, he saw Dr. Vivian Holloway standing in the hallway, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you alright, Alistair?" she asked, her voice low. "I heard about the…incident."

"I'm fine, Vivian," he said, forcing a smile. "Just a few scrapes and bruises."

"The Dean is…not pleased," she said, her gaze searching his face. "You're walking on thin ice, Alistair. Be careful."

He nodded, his mind racing. He had averted one tragedy, but he knew that the conspiracy that had ruined his life was still lurking in the shadows. He had bought himself some time, but the clock was still ticking. He had to continue his investigation, uncover the truth, and expose the forces that were working against him.

He had saved Eleanor, but he still had to save himself. And he knew, with a growing sense of dread, that the race against time had only just begun.