We swiftly walked through the Starfleet HQ building, and I quietly breathed a sigh of relief when nobody stopped to talk to us about anything. We walked out of HQ and into the streets. I quickly hailed a taxi, and we drove off to my apartment.
"Where are we going?" Khan asked.
"My apartment."
"You're letting me go into your apartment?"
"For now, yes."
"Wow, you have changed over the past two months."
"I have not." I deny.
"Yes."
"Shut up." I say, successfully ending the conversation.
"You like to say that a lot."
"Because most of the time, a certain someone," I look directly at him, implying that that "someone" is him. "Likes to talk about things that I'd prefer not to talk about.
"Do you have to go?" I ask my parents, looking up at them.
"We'll be back soon, don't worry." My mom answers, tucking a strand of medium-length, dark hair behind my ear. "We'll only be gone for one second."
"Why do you have to go?"
"We have to...take care of some business. This involves Khan." My dad answers, gesturing to my ten-year-old brother, only a few inches taller than me.
"See you later Natasha." He says, hugging me. "Don't worry, we'll be back soon. We'll be back before you can say 'time travel.'" He looks down at me, smiles, and steps back. My mom fusses with a loose curl of dark hair, but soon gives up, realizing a comb won't fix it.
"Step back, Natasha." My dad says.
I obey, and my mom looks at my dad. They exchange worried glances, nod, and then my father presses the one button on the small device. The three of them disappear in a flash of golden light.
One second goes by, two, three...
I continue looking at the ancient analog clock hung on the boring white wall.
A whole minute goes by.
"Time travel..." I say, hoping that they'd be back before I could finish my sentence just like my brother had said.
Another minute goes by, then an hour, then two hours...
I don't move from my post the entire time, hoping my family will come back soon. Fearing that if I do move, they won't return, ever.
Another day goes by, then two days, I've had to move from my spot by then, but my trips to the kitchen, bathroom, or living room were always less than five minutes. Once I get what I need, I would always rush back to my post as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss anything...if anything did happen.
Nothing ever happened.
Sure, I cried, being a scared, alone eight-year-old girl whose whole family had gone back in time 300 years for some "business that involved Khan, my brother" and now it was possible that they died.
Or did they...?
No. They couldn't have. They wouldn't!
Maybe...I was...
Abandoned? Left alone? I knew at some point, maybe within a week or a month, the police would come looking. And what would I say? I couldn't say that my parents and brother had gone back in time. My parents made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone-including the police.
