Every day, I woke up because I knew I had to. I had to keep looking, I had to keep trying to get home, I had to search and work and take my mind off of everything else, I had to focus, I had to keep going.

Looking for time travel was all my life was in those days. It was the one piece of hope that stood apart from the sickness, the fears, the things breaking apart around me. If I could find it, none of it would matter. It'd all be okay then, everything would all be okay. Once I found time travel again, everything would go back to normal.

First it was only one paper. One article, one claim, one person who I knew had to be wrong. Then another. Then another. They must be a group in denial, I thought. They didn't believe the science in front of them, that was why they held their claims. More articles, more people, a book, even. They must be misinformed, then, poorly researched, poorly managed. More books, more collections, dozens and dozens of individuals and groups, teams and organizations. They're hiding it then, the government must not want people to know. It must be classified information, a hidden, untested science that would cause far too much upheaval if released to the public. We looked deeper. We looked everywhere. Historical accounts, leaked records Ayer found, buried documents, forgotten notebooks.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even disproved claims by conspiracy theorists or cautious speculations by fledgling scientists.

But I knew it was somewhere. I knew, even if it was hidden, I had to try to find it. Because if I wasn't trying to find it, if I wasn't trying my absolute hardest to get out of this place, if I wasn't making every possible effort to find what I knew existed, then did I ever really care about the life I left behind? It would be a disservice to them to give it up. They didn't deserve that. I had to keep looking. I had to believe it was out there, somewhere.

I thought we both believed in it. I thought they had as much faith as I did. I thought, if there was anyone out there who would have as much faith as I did in the possibility of time travel, it would be Ayer. They believed in everything.

And they did believe it, for a while. I didn't think that belief could run out, but looking back, it seems like it did. Maybe even for both of us.

"It really must be top secret information, if they're hiding it this well." I told Ayer one day. It felt wrong, that we hadn't found anything yet. It made me nervous, almost, if I thought about it too much, but I was careful not to think of it. "Are there any other papers here we haven't read yet? Or do we need to search for some more again?" I asked.

Ayer stared at the paper in their hand. I'd thought they were reading it, for a moment I thought it said something different than all the others, something enough to catch their attention.

But they weren't reading it. They were thinking. They were hesitating. And after a moment, they looked up.

"I'm not sure there are many more to find..." they trailed off, looking at the paper covered walls around us. I should have noticed it then, that out of character tone of resignation. If I'd let them walk away then, would things have gone as bad? I shouldn't have insisted, I should have been more like Io, everything I did always went so wrong.

"Of course there are." I'd said. "If this were everything, we'd have found it by now."

They were quiet again. Staring at the paper again.

"You still think it's out there somewhere?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do, I have to."

A pause. "But... what if it's not? What if... what are you going to do, if it's not real? What then?"

I wanted to tell them it had to be real. I was proof it was real, I'd traveled forward in time so I'd have to be able to travel back, right? It has to go both ways, right?

But if it didn't? What then?

No. There is no 'then'. Because there is a way back.

But if there isn't?

There is-

But if there isn't?

Then I'd stay here. That's what would happen, isn't it? I'd stay here. I'd stay here forever and never go back.

But I can't do that. I have to go home. My family's at my home, I have to get back to them.

I missed my family. I wanted to see them again. I'd do anything for it. I only moved forward with the hope that someday, and hopefully someday soon, I'd get back, go back to the way things were, and let all of this fade into the past. Forget it ever happened.

'Don't give it past' they'd told me. That's what I wanted. To have all of this disappear, to be forgotten, to not even have a history in my mind.

I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted it to stop. It had been too long. I can't think there's no way back, I can't, I can't live like that, I can't think that my life is never going to have them in it again, I can't think that their lives went on and ended and I never got back to them again.

I got home to them. I went back in time, I found a way, and I got back to them. It's guaranteed I will, so I did, and back then it's all over and done with and everything is better.

They didn't miss me.

They didn't even notice I was gone, it would only have been for a moment.

They can't have missed me.

I... can't let myself think they missed me.

I can't let myself think that my disappearance hurt them.

But I did start thinking it. And from there it sank downwards, through the hundreds of floors of the building I was in, through the ground so far beneath my feet, crumbling down and down and down into a cloud of dust and smoke.

But what if they did?

Did they miss me?

Did they really miss me?

Did they call my phone a dozen times, and get no answer? Did they wait for me expectantly all night, and go to bed thinking I was just running late?

I shook my head. Didn't Ayer ask a question? I should answer that, I should say something. I feel sick.

Did they wake up to more silence? Did they call my school? My friends? My roommate? My cousins and classmates? Did the panic in them slowly grow, as they realized I was missing?

It was cold, why was it so cold? Is it cold? I'm shaking, is it cold? What's happening to me?

Did they call the cops? Did they search for me? Did they spend nights awake, wondering what had happened? Was I dead? Injured? Lost? Had I left them intentionally? Did they fear I'd been kidnapped? Murdered in a back alley? What if I had run away? What if I had died of my own will? Would they think that of me?

The fears that had plagued the back of my mind for months rose to the front full force, staring me in the face, suffocating me with a grief I'd tried so hard to ignore.

How long did they search for me? A month? A year? Their whole lives? Did they die knowing nothing more than that their daughter had just disappeared off the face of the Earth one winter evening? Did they presume me dead? Did they hold a funeral? Did they mourn for me like the lost child of theirs I was? Did they wait for me, did they work so hard to find me like I'm working to find them? Did they ever give up on me? Did they think I deserved that? Do I?

I was standing back from the table now, away from them, now leaning against the word-covered wall, wanting to pace, wanting to walk, to knock these thoughts out of my head and tear the ice out of my heart.

I have to hold still. I have to answer their question. Say something, snap out of this, I feel sick, say something, I can't breathe, what's happening, I have to fix this, how do I get it to stop.

I remember hearing words in the background... Ayer was talking to me, asking me something, trying to get me to stop, to snap me out of it, but I moved away from them.

I can't let myself think that... I can't let myself think I hurt my family... but I dream of them waiting for me and I dream of them claiming me gone, claiming me a disappearance, claiming me dead.

What did they say about me?

Would they accept my death quickly?

Would they move on like I can almost hope they would?

Or would they hold onto the hope that I was still alive?

How long would they hold it?

Would my mother be on her deathbed, still not knowing what happened to me?

If she got old and her mind started to go, would she ask for me?

What would they tell her?

How could they tell her I was gone?

Am I going to do the same? Am I going to live the rest of my life here without them, and in my final moments relive over and over the fact that they're gone?

I left all of them behind. I'm never going to see them again.

And they died without me. They died. They all died and I wasn't there. Every single one of them.

They're all dead. They're all dead. I left them behind and now they're all dead. I can't find a way back to them I can't get home and now they're dead and I can't see them anymore and they're dead I feel sick they're all dead.

"I'm sorry..." was all I said aloud, out of all the painful words in my mind. "I'm so sorry..."

I still don't know who I was apologizing to. My family, for leaving them without a trace? My colleague, for crumbling into burning dust at a simple question? Myself, for all the things even now I hate myself for?

I could hear Ayer talking to me, but I couldn't understand their words. It was like there was something between us, a wall, a valley, a thousand years worth of time.

For hours it felt like I sat there against that wall, shaking in the face of the grief that hit me so suddenly, trying to get it to stop, Ayer was upset, I remember one point I thought the building was burning, I tried to go out the door but I couldn't find it, I really thought there was smoke in the room I could barely breathe.

They must have found a way to open the window at some point, because slowly, slowly, the smoke in the room cleared and I was able to breathe again. Shakey, shakey, I tried to push away the bad thinking, the things I couldn't bear to consider, wait for them to go away, you have to focus again, come on, you have to focus now, come on.

"I'm sorry." I said when I could, still shaky but it was all I knew to do, so I held onto those words, pretended they'd make it better, pretended they'd help me and make it all go away, even if I knew it wouldn't.

"No, no, please, don't be sorry." Was the first thing I could hear them say. "I should be the one who's sorry, I did this, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I don't even know, I didn't know this could happen, I'm so sorry."

I didn't want them to be sorry. They had no reason to be. It was my fault. I could have just lied. I could have just brushed it off. I could have just said I didn't want to talk about it. I knew the right answers, and I knew the wrong ones, so why did I insist on choosing them over, and over, and over again?

How could I fall apart so badly at such a simple question? What is wrong with me? Why do I always ruin things, again and again, even after all this time?

It was never their fault. They never should have felt sorry. They didn't deserve it. What kind of person was I to make them feel that way?

"It's alright. Don't feel bad, it's alright now. I just... I just need to take my mind of it. That's all. Then it'll all be better, I just need to... think of something else."

"Are you sure? Then... let me help. I want to make it up to you. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad, maybe this can help make it better. There's something here, in this world, that you can't do in your time. It's... it's something really important to me. It always makes me feel better, no matter what happens. Maybe it'll make you feel better too. I want to try it, at least. I want to help, somehow."

I stared at the floor. This was my chance to make it better too. If I did this, then they wouldn't have to feel sorry anymore. I'd act like it made me feel better, and then they would feel better too. This was my chance to make it right again. To finally, finally do something for them in return, after all the things they'd done for me.

They deserved this much. Whatever it was, I would do it for them.

"Sure. I'll do it." I said aloud. "If it'll make things better." I was determined to do it. Whatever it was.

"Great!" They said, helping me up from where we sat. "If we hurry we can get there before it closes for the day."

They grabbed their things and handed me mine, and as I followed them out the door they finally filled me in on where it was we were going.

"I really am so excited to show you this." They said as they pressed the button on the elevator. "It's usually my go-to for when I want to take my mind off things, so I'm sure it'll help you too, if that's what you need."

I was exhausted, nearly shaking on my feet, but I tried to match their enthusiasm. "Well, what is it then? How can you be so sure it’s something new?"

"Well, Io," they said, and I could sense the excitement in their voice. "Haven't you ever wanted to fly?"

And knowing Io, I'm sure she did.