—September 4th, 2157, 17:59:00—
Four whole days had passed, and she had not come home.
No note. No warning. No goodbye. Just absence—sharp and absolute.
Cam sat alone at the small breakfast nook that overlooked the western skyline. Beyond the glass, the storm clouds finally parted long enough for the crimson sun to bleed through the haze. The rain had paused, briefly, as if even the weather needed to catch its breath.
“Red skies at night…” he murmured.
He finished it aloud, voice hollow. “Sailor’s delight.”
The saying had been one of his father’s favorites. Cam couldn’t remember a time when it had ever actually been true.
His gaze dropped back to the data slate resting in his hands. A photograph filled the display—Tina, younger, laughing, her arms wrapped around him as if the world had never learned how to break things yet. They’d taken it years ago, on one of their rare ventures beyond the protective perimeter of New Verillian. Back when escape still felt possible.
He studied her smile. It was untouched. Unburdened. The smile of a woman who had not yet been told what she would have to become.
Less than a year after that photo was taken, Tina would become pregnant with Evie.
Cam swallowed, remembering a realization that had changed everything.
When Evie had opened her eyes for the first time in his arms—when her tiny hand had curled around his finger—something in him had broken open. In that moment, a vision had forced itself into his mind with terrifying clarity: Tina, twenty years older, the lines of marriage and motherhood etched deep into her face, lying lifeless on the cold floor of the Last Drop.
It was in that moment—staring at this child, her tiny fingers wrapped around his heart—that he understood what would one day drive Tina to her end.
It was always Evie.
That was the lever. The fulcrum. The reason there had never been a choice.
There was no undoing that sacrifice. No alternate version where Tina stayed and allowed this child to go unborn. Cam understood it—not just intellectually, but viscerally. In his bones.
As he stroked the image, losing himself in that memory, his comm unit chimed.
Three tones. He knew that code. His breath caught before he even looked.
The caller ID pulsed with a familiar foil stamp: WASTE MGMT.
“Tina,” he whispered.
Every outgoing call from Temporal Command was masked. She’d used the code sparingly—but often enough that he knew the tell.
Cam accepted the call.
“Hello?” His voice came out rough, scraped raw by days of silence.
“Mr. Vaughn.” A young man’s voice came through. One he recognized instantly.
“Marty,” Cam sighed. “What’s happen—”
“How soon can you get here?” Marty cut in.
–<<<>>>--
The loading bay lights flickered as Cam hurried toward the open man door. A single floodlight cast long, distorted shadows across the concrete. A portly younger man stood holding the entrance, his ruddy face flushed, darker than usual.
“Sorry for the short notice, Mr. Vaughn,” Marty said, breathless. “I didn’t have advance warning. And we don’t have much time.”
Cam followed him into the corridor. “What’s going on, Marty?”
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The hallways of Temporal Command swallowed them—testing bays, briefing rooms, equipment vaults. Marty moved faster than Cam had ever seen him move, his usual sluggishness replaced by something closer to panic.
“I haven’t heard a word in four days!” Cam barked. “Where is Tina?”
Marty stammered. “She…uh…” He panted between thoughts.
“Marty!” Cam stopped. “Tell me what in the hell is going on!”
Marty spun around and threw up his arms, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Cam. She left a few days ago.”
The words hit him like a bombshell. All of the blood rushed from his face leaving him white as chalk.
“But it’s complicated,” Marty rushed to add. “She said to bring you. That you’d understand if you saw for yourself.”
He didn’t wait for a response—just turned and hurried on.
“Where’s Silas?” Cam demanded, forcing himself to keep pace.
“Home,” Marty said. “He doesn’t work Saturdays. I’m covering training today. Alone.”
Cam hadn’t even considered that Silas might have a life outside these walls.
Fear began filling in the gaps. Did they have to abort? Mission failure? A deviation that had never happened before that they hadn’t predicted? And Silas not here to fix it!
They reached the blast doors. Marty swiped his card, hastily. The doors parted with a heavy hiss.
They climbed up the metal stairs leading to the mezzanine that overlooked the Chrono Loom, which rested dormant, still humming faintly as it cooled from a recent jump, only small controlled blue static pulsating between its rings.
“Wait here,” Marty said, gesturing to a small meeting room off to the side.
Cam barely heard him. He paced the room, his mind racing.
His heart hammered until footsteps approached. Two sets. The lighter of the two he recognized instantly.
“Tina!” The word tore itself out of him as she stepped through the doorway.
Cam crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground as if sheer force could anchor her there. She laughed softly through tears as he spun her once before clutching her tight.
“I thought you’d gone,” he said, voice shaking. “I thought you weren’t going to say goodbye.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Marty closed the door quietly and disappeared.
Tina gently pushed him back so that she could reach up and cup his face in her hands, thumbs brushing away the tears he hadn’t realized were falling.
“Cam” she sighed. “I should have told you before I left.”
“What happened?” Cam asked. “Why did you come b—”
“I didn’t.” she interrupted. “I am gone, Cam.”
Seeing his lips begin to spit out more questions, she pressed a finger gently to his lips before he could speak.
“For me,” she said softly, “it was two days ago that I made you that promise.”
Cam blinked. Two days ago? He thought. Her finger still pressed against his lips. You left Tuesday morning! Four days ago!
“For you,” she continued “it must have been just a little over six months ago.”
Understanding bloomed slowly—then all at once. That morning in bed. The day after that wonderful night of reconnection. He made her promise him. A promise he doubted she would be able to fulfil. That she would let him know before she left.
Tina lowered her finger from his lips.
“This is part of your training,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It was a recollection.
She nodded.
Silas had built a program of smaller jumps, and rests between to condition her body before she made the twenty-year leap back to 2137. The training jumps were both backward and forward in time. She had started with minutes, then hours, days, and then weeks. There would be more jumps for her that would extend all the way until sometime in the mid-2170’s, if he understood correctly.
And then—unexpectedly—a smile broke across Cam’s face. Fragile. Joyful.
She saw it immediately. And then she smiled too as a hot tear streaked down her cheek.
“I was hoping,” Tina said, her voice breaking, “to steal a few moments with my husband along the way.”
A choked laugh escaped him—half tears, half disbelief. He pulled her close again, forehead resting against hers.
“My god, you’ve got to be exhausted!” Cam thought back to those nights in their apartment when Tina came home after long jumps and went straight to bed and slept for hours.
She tilted her head and shrugged as she held him. “I’ve got enough energy if you do.” she teased.
“Silas doesn’t know about this, does he?” he said.
“Nope,” Tina replied, a faintly defiant smirk tugging at her lips. “I figured forgiveness would be easier to ask for than permission.”
They laughed together—raw, exhausted, alive.
Cam pulled her in and kissed her. Sloppy. Snotty. Desperate. Human.
She wasn’t vanishing in the middle of the night. She was saying goodbye, one week, one month, one year at a time.
How many more chances would they have together? Neither of them knew.
But for today—they had this one—and that was enough.