"Everything's going to be fine."

Then there was a small laugh.

Davey's head whipped around, though he could hardly make out the man who had spoken, the tears in his eyes blurring his vision. "W-what?" he managed to choke out, between the sobs that kept clogging his throat. With shaky hands, he tried to brush away his tears and then squinted at the strange man, who had plopped himself down (without asking) on the swing next to him.

"I said, everything's going to be fine. Davey, isn't it?" the man asked, kicking his feet as he swung gently, eyes fixed on the ground. It was a childlike action and, studying him closer, Davey saw the man probably wasn't a very old man. In his twenties, at most. The breeze caught the man's black hair and he raised his head, staring at Davey, who had been surprised into silence. Or perhaps alarmed into silence – Davey was fairly certain total strangers were not supposed to know the names of eight year old boys they'd never met, even if the strangers didn't seem all that old themselves.

But Davey didn't run. He just stared back at the man, trying to read him. One arm appeared to be clutching his stomach, as if in pain. "How do you know my name? Who are you? Are you hurt?" he asked, frowning at him, his tears forgotten.

Instead of going him a clear answer, the man seemed to grimace. Maybe because of whatever pain he was experiencing. "If I told you, you definitely wouldn't believe me. But," the man said, reaching over with his free hand to squeeze Davey's shoulder lightly. "I think you're going to understand someday."

Then, like he expected that to be enough to satisfy Davey, the man stood up, staggering a little as he did so. Davey immediately sprung to his feet, his hands moving to help somehow – but the man waved him off, shaking his head. "Mister, I really think you ought to go to the hospital," he suggested, frowning up at him. The man stared down at him, his green eyes filled with a whole lot of emotion Davey couldn't even begin to interpret, being only eight. There was redness around his eyes, tear stains on his cheeks, for reasons Davey would likely never know. And the guy didn't bother to acknowledge Davey's idea. Of all the things he could have done, he chuckled (did he think he'd made a joke?) and then ruffled Davey's floof of hair.

The man turned and started walking away, leaving Davey speechless, and paused only when he reached the treeline of the woods.

"I'll see you around, Davey," the strange man called back to him.

Too confused, too bewildered to think of any sort of reply, Davey just watched as the man disappeared into the trees.

Even though David had been pretty young in the grand scheme of things, when he'd met the strange man, he hadn't been able to get him out of his head. Despite what he'd said about 'seeing' David around, he'd never seen him again. Not even once. At some point he'd probably have to accept that it was just some weirdo in a park and wouldn't amount to meaning anything of real significance in his life.

Fifteen years on, life was great. He was a camp counsellor at the best summer camp in world! Who wouldn't be happy with that? And, as if that weren't already amazing, there was a new camper arriving that day. It was only the first week of camp and new campers arrived throughout it, but if he was honest, David had started to think nobody else would show up. It'd been several days since Chucky arrived.

The bus screeched to a halt right in front of David and the doors opened.

"New camper is here," Quartermaster's gruff voice said.

Already ready with his speech, David puffed out his chest and opened his mouth, "Gooooood morning Max -" he started, but a sudden bag to his stomach promptly shut him up, leaving him wheezing.

"I don't need any of your shitty camp cheer," Max snapped, hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he stepped down from the bus. "I hate your fucking camp already." Cold green eyes glared at David.

Despite his attitude, David was determined to remain upbeat and beamed at Max. "This way, camper! I'll show you around the whole camp!" he said, gesturing for him to follow his lead and heading towards the tents to start the tour of the camp.

He did his best to ignore the scowl on Max's face, knowing the kid would probably grow to love the camp like everybody else did.

Once the tour was finished, David left Max in his new – well, new to him – tent and headed back to the counsellor's cabin. He opened the door.

And screamed, louder than he thought he could, because Max was standing right in front of him. "Shut up!" Max hissed, smacking his leg. "Jesus Christ. Talk about an overreaction," he huffed.

After taking a moment to compose himself, which took more than a few deep breaths, David stared at Max and allowed confusion to fill him up. "How can you possibly be here? I just left you in your tent," he said, frowning. Max stared up at him and something that might have been realisation passed over his face. It was strange – the boy seemed a little taller than he had a couple of minutes ago and his eyes were...warmer? He certainly didn't seem as hateful as he had when he'd first arrived.

"I'm younger than you," Max said simply, after only a few awkward seconds. He plopped himself down on David's bed with no invitation and no hesitation, like it was something he did all the time. "That means I move faster."

"What, fast enough to not be seen?" David asked incredulously. Max snorted and shrugged.

"Sure. Something like that."

"Well, you can't be in here. Go on, go and get to know the other campers!" David encouraged, stepping fully into the cabin and holding the door wide open for Max. There was quiet sigh from Max and an indistinct murmur, but he got to his feet without arguing.

As he passed by, Max stared up at David again. "Keep an eye on Chucky," he said. Then he walked away, leaving a very confused David in his wake.

There was no denying it; David spent most of that summer, and a good portion of the following summer, feeling confused. Max would jump between being happy to see him – and being a little taller – to being moody and hateful about everything to do with camp. Sometimes it felt like being on a roller-coaster, one that he hadn't asked to go on and had no way to get off of.

But things only got really weird the night of Parent's Day, and it was that night David started to question, well, everything. Everybody else had gone to bed, the excitement of the day having tired the kids out, and David was the only one awake, or so he thought. He was exhausted himself. Apologising profusely to the parents before they'd all left had been time consuming. Convincing them to let their children stay at the camp had been draining.

Then, as if by magic, Max was standing next to David. Except he didn't look exactly like Max. No, this boy was much older – sixteen, maybe? His face was giving growing a beard an attempt, that was for sure, and when he spoke, his voice was deeper.

His sudden appearance did, of course, make David yelp loudly.

"Don't. Scream. Again," Max-but-not-Max grounded out, hands braced on the desk. His face had gone pale and his eyes were shut tightly. "Give me a second."

David obliged, mostly because he was too dumbstruck to think of an adequate reply. By the time Max opened his eyes again and straightened up, David still wasn't entirely certain of what to say. "What's going on?" he settled on, his voice little more than a whisper. Owlish eyes stared at Max.

"Jesus," was Max's articulate reply. He raised a hand to his nose and pinched the bridge of it. "You don't know. Fucking Christ."

"Um...don't know...what, exactly?" David asked. The confusion was still plain as day on his face.

"What's going on. Don't worry about it. I'm sure it won't be long before it all makes sense to you," Max said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Er, okay," David replied, staring at Max still. "But you are Max. Aren't you?" he pressed.

"Yeah. I am." Max didn't sound happy about it.

It didn't make any sort of logical sense. Was it something supernatural? Was Max a creature or alien that could age up at will? David hoped he was only dreaming. His head was starting to hurt from trying to understand what was happening. With a tired hand, he rubbed at his eyes. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

When he dropped his hand again and looked up, the room was empty aside from himself.

For weeks and weeks, David tried to figure out what on earth was going on. He even asked Max – Max, who was completely normal again, small and definitely not sixteen, and happy on a more regular basis after Parents Day – but was given in return a strange look and a shake of his head.

"David, I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

So, David dropped it. If he asked anybody else, even Gwen, he'd probably get called crazy. Maybe he had been dreaming. But how could his brain have created such a perfect image of an older Max? Then there were all those times Max had seemed just a little older. Was that all in his head, too? And then there was the other thing – the strange man in the park, with the uncanny resemblance to Max, all those years ago…

Time travel, ridiculously, had been the most probable idea David had thought up, and even that was impossible. Completely and utterly. If scientists hadn't achieved it, there was no way Max could've. He was just a kid...at least most of the time.

Then, there's the whole thing with selling the camp. Life got a bit crazy. Max came up with a way to save the camp and David went along with it.

Amazingly, it worked.

Within a week, the camp was back to normal, with the new addition of Max working harder to get along and remain friends with the other kids. It's lovely to witness, and David knows it's not just his own positivity perceiving the camp in that way, because Gwen agrees with him.

David almost forgets about seeing older versions of Max, which is what he's concluded they are, until Harrison decides he wants to put on another magic show with his 'most incredible trick yet!' It's only made better by the fact Max is assisting him, willingly, and though his hands are in the pocket of his hoodie he doesn't look unhappy to be stood on the stage.

"Today, ladies and gentleman, I present to you the incredible time-reversing trick!" Harrison announced, his hands palm-upward above his head. "With my wonderful assistant, Max." He gestured to Max, who gave a half-hearted wave.

The kids all have a little laugh to themselves and David can't help but smile fondly.

"Let us begin." Harrison's voice held an ominous note. "Max, please walk to where the 'x' is placed on the opposite side of the stage." Wordlessly, Max did as he was told. When he was in place, Harrison dropped a box over his head, obscuring him from view. A box of equal size was placed where Max had been previously. "And now, by reversing time with a wave of my hands, I will transport Max from being beneath that box," Harrison said, gesturing to the box Max was over, "to the place he was mere moments prior." A gesture to the other box.

Harrison took a deep breath and furrowed his brow in concentration, waving his hands at the box.

There was dead silence among the audience.

The hand waving stopped and Harrison walked to the other box. Even David was holding his breath. Harrison lifted the box.

Beneath it stood a wide-eyed, trembling Max. There's no time for applause. The terror in his eyes was obvious and everybody gasped at the sight of him. David got to his feet immediately. "What the fuck," Max breathed, stumbling away from Harrison, clearly scared out of his wits. "Whatthefuck, whatthefuck, what are you -" Max gasped out, and then he's running, off the stage, away from everyone, away from Harrison, who looks hurt and bewildered.

Everybody else was confused, murmuring among themselves in alarm.

And something sort of….clicks, in David's mind. Harrison's parents, yelling, "He made his brother disappear!" Max, appearing randomly, looking a ridiculous range of ages. Max, acting as if David should know what's going on. The man in the parking saying "You'll understand someday." Max, telling him, "It won't be long before it all makes sense to you."

Could it be? Could it really be?

It had to be.

Harrison has turned Max into a time traveller.

The curse slipped out of him before he could stop it.

"Fuck."

While everybody else was still muttering amongst themselves, David went to find Max. There was no sign of him anywhere. He's vanished, like he did on stage.

Please not exactly like on stage, David thought.

No, fortunately not like on stage. Max was behind the counsellor's cabin, still trembling, his face buried in his knees. As he approached, slow as he was, a twig snapped beneath David's foot and Max was flinching before David had time to announce it was only him. Terrified eyes jumped to meet his own. There wasn't a snappy insult or sassy comment in greeting. "What's happened to me?" Max whispered instead, staring at David, like he should have all the answers.

Slowly, David lowered himself to the floor, sitting opposite Max. "I don't really know," he admitted. Max wiped furiously at his eyes.

"But you know more than me, don't you? Harrison's broken me. I just bounced around time like some – some – temporal land fish," and the analogy didn't really make much sense, but it's the wrong time to correct something as simple as that, so David doesn't comment.

David sighed and bowed his head. "I think I do know more than you, yes," he told him. "But I still don't really know, Max."

"You asked all those strange questions. About whether I was an alien or – or some type of creature. Said I looked older, sometimes. You weren't just being weird, were you?" Max pressed.

"No, I wasn't just being weird. I've…I've seen...future versions of you quite a few times, over the years," David explained, rubbing at his forehead.

"So I'm going to keep jumping around. Fuck, I can't be Sam Beckettingaround history, what am I supposed to do?" Max demanded. Upset had faded into anger, the look in Max's eyes verging on accusation.

Surprised as he was that Max has even heard of Quantum Leap, David remained on topic. "Try not to step on any butterflies," he suggested, and okay, maybe that wasn't really on topic. It still beat "Wow, Max, you've seen Quantum Leap? I loved that show as a kid!" because if Max hated one thing in particular, it was when David gushed about anything. Doing something Max hated at that moment was not a good idea.

"Thanks, asshole," muttered Max, glaring back at him. "I'll go off and get back to hopping through time against my will then. What could be more fun?" he snorted.

"It'll be alright, Max," David said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Max's shoulder. "We'll figure this out."

"Liar. You've seen future versions of me. Obviously I'm going to keep doing it. What's the oldest you've seen me at?" Max asked, shaking off the hand and pulling his knees closer to his chest.

The second lie fell from his tongue easily, "Around sixteen. So we must figure it out sometime after that."

"Or I get eaten by a dinosaur," Max retorted, but he seemed relieved. "Sixteen. That's not as long as forever, I guess."

David beamed at Max. "Exactly! Now come on, we should probably let everyone know you aren't too traumatised from your experience in the box."

Lying wasn't one of David's fortes before...this started. It quickly became necessary, though. Max disappeared for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours, at least once every couple of days. Sometimes he reappeared at camp; other times, David had to pick him up hours away. Making up excuses was hard, but somehow, they managed it. Or, they did until he vanished for far longer than usual.

"David, Max has been missing for almost two days and you don't want to call the police? Are you insane?" Gwen was almost screeching at him.

David wrung his hands anxiously. "I know he's safe, Gwen. We can't risk the camp being shutdown," he tried.

"I don't get you. A few weeks ago, you would've gone crazy if any camper had gone missing, never mind Max," Gwen snapped back. "How do you know he's safe? Has the little shit been in touch with you? Because go fucking get him if he has."

"I – I can't do that. Yes, he's been in touch," he quickly added. "But – but he doesn't want me to pick him up yet." No, Max hadn't been in touch. Yes, David was going a little insane with worry. But he was certain he'd get a call soon. He always did.

Then they'd have to deal with this problem, somehow. David could feel himself ageing centuries every time Max vanished.

"He's ten!" Gwen screamed. "Fuck off!" she yelled at the window. A huddle of small heads ducked out of sight. Gwen panted and braced her hands on David's desk. "I don't get you," she repeated. "He keeps running away and you keep making excuses for him. We could go to fucking jail if he winds up dead, David. We'd definitely never get jobs again. I swear to God, if he isn't back here by tonight, I'm calling the police myself." She straightened after a deep breath. "So go and fucking get him." Then she headed over to the door and walked out, slamming the door hard behind herself.

Only moments after she'd left, David's phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it as quickly as he could with a trembling thumb and raised it to his ear.

"Hey, asshole." Max's voice was shaking and hoarse. "Come and get me."

David, like he had every other time Max had called, did.

Whenever they were alone, Max told David all about his jumps in time. He's witnessed a witch being burnt at the stake. Pearl Harbour wasn't a conspiracy. Elvis wasn't half bad at singing at his concerts. He was never in one place for long – usually not long enough to even draw attention to himself – but he's still experienced a lot more of history than the average ten year old.

Max climbed into the car slowly, his hands shaking as he buckled his seatbelt. Wordlessly, David handed him a bottle of water and a packet of cookies. Being lost in a forest for nearly two days had obviously drained Max a lot, because he slept for the majority of the four hour car journey, and when he did wake, he didn't want to tell David about his jumping.

Eventually, however, he murmured, "David? We need to try and do something about this."

David swallowed and nodded. "I know, Max. We will."

He hoped it sounded like a promise.

"Max, I'm so sorry – I don't know how to control it – I don't mean to actually do these things, I swear -" Harrison spluttered helplessly, his expression horrified. The three of them – David, Max, and Harrison – were sat in the counsellor's cabin, discussing the elephant in Max's life: time travel.

"Shut up," Max swiftly interjected. "Apologies won't help me get out of this mess."

"Well, Max, apologies are nice, when they're sincere, like Harrison's," David said, giving Harrison a brief smile of reassurance. "But...more importantly, can you fix this, Harrison?" he asked.

Harrison bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, barely. "I can never undo my spells when I cast them, at least not intentionally. I can just do new ones."

"So do a new one that stops me time travelling," Max demanded, face twisting in annoyance. "It can't be that hard."

"Magic is more temperamental than that, Max, it doesn't bend to my will the way I want it to. Some stuff works, some stuff doesn't," Harrison explained and sympathy rippled through David. Obviously Harrison's powers were almost completely out of his control and David knew deep down Harrison couldn't reverse it – if he could, he wouldn't have saw A Future Max so many times.

David took a second to ponder. "Could you make it safer for Max to jump? So that he doesn't end up hours away from here?" he suggested.

"I...could try? Maybe..." Harrison bit his lip this time and his brow furrowed, in what David hoped was deep thought. "Give me something that belongs to each other you," he finally said, holding out a hand to each other them.

Carefully, David undid his neckerchief and handed it to Harrison. Max looked more sceptical, his eyes remaining narrowed the entire time he was pulling his hoodie off. He balled it up and pressed it into Harrison's free hand. As soon as he was clutching both items, Harrison shuffled backwards and took a deep breath. There were unintelligible murmurings from Harrison's mouth and then he pressed the pieces of clothing together. There was a tiny flash, and then he passed the hoodie and neckerchief back.

"I think I've tied your souls together," Harrison explained. "So when Max jumps, he should appear by your side."

"Great," Max snorts. "I get to see this guy whenever I hop somewhere. Just what I need to make this better."

But there's a smile on Max's face – a relieved one, David would dare to argue – and in unison, they say, "Thanks, Harrison."

It was weeks before Max jumped again, a long enough gap sate Gwen's anger at both him and David. Keeping secrets from Gwen wasn't something David was entirely comfortable with but he and Max had agreed, the 'situation' had to stay between them. For one, who would have believed them anyway? It was crazy – even for Camp Campbell.

"Wow," Max breathed out behind him. "It worked!"

David whipped around, the letters he'd been clutching dropping out of his hands. "Max! Did you just jump?" he asked, allowing himself a smile. "I saw you just thirty minutes ago."

"Yeah, I guess I wasn't gone that long!" Max exclaimed, and David had rarely seen him so excited. It was enough to hype him up, too. There was no doubting that Max's grin was a happy one. "You wouldn't believe where I've just been."

"All the times and places you've described to me, you think I'll not believe you this time?" David asked, amused.

He got a shrug in reply. "No, but I guess Harrison's spell was really effective. I appeared back at the first day of camp," Max told him. "Near you. You didn't have a clue what was going on. Seriously, you didn't think it was a little strange that I'd magically appeared in your cabin?"

"Max, really. It was years ago for me. Why would I assume you were bouncing around time?" David asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Max waved a hand. "I don't know. You're strange. How am I meant to know how your brain works?" he challenged. David tutted at him, but didn't pursue the matter.

"What's more important is that Harrison's spell worked. No more showing up in random places!" David enthused, unable to stop his smile widening into a grin. Max mirrored him, but shyly, scuffing his shoes on the ground at the same time.

"Yeah, it worked. Guess it is nice having a familiar face around, even if it's yours."

The jab brushed by David. There was no coldness in Max's eyes – it was all warmth, so David knew he didn't mean it.

Gwen was freaking out. Big time. David had no idea how to fix it, because Max was gone – and all of the parents had collected their kids.

"Oh my God, what are we going to tell his parents? What will we tell the police? We should've seen this coming, David, that little shit hates his family -" Gwen was saying. The words were washing over David, who had been through the disappearance act too many times. "And I can't believe you aren't panicking. You've made me turn into you, because at least one of us needs to take this seriously!"

While David sat on the ground, Gwen paced. "His parents aren't even here, Gwen," David pointed out, tiredly. "Relax. Maybe they picked him up last night," he suggested.

Gwen stared at him incredulously. "Maybe they picked him up last night?" she repeated, aghast. "What, without Max saying a word? Oh, come on, David, I know you don't believe that. I know you know the truth," she insisted.

So what if David did? He couldn't tell her. All he could offer her was a small reassuring smile in explanation. "I trust Max. He'll be fine."

It was only the two of them, left at the camp. Every child had left, even Neil and Nikki, after no small amount of protest because they hadn't said goodbye to Max. Eventually their parents had dragged them away. Candy hadn't even paid Nikki's biting much mind.

"I know you know the truth," Gwen said again. She stopped pacing and just looked at David, an exhaustion in her eyes. "And I wish you'd tell me. I thought we'd really connected this year, but maybe not." She sighed and shook her head when David said nothing, because what was there to say? He didn't want to lie to her again. "I'm going to go. Good luck living with whatever the truth is, David. Don't get yourself in trouble."

When the taxi arrived, half an hour later, Gwen didn't say another word to David. Not even goodbye. But they shared a final look before the taxi pulled away – Gwen's eyes, full of frustration and sadness. David's, full only of regret.

"Christ, what a dump. This is where you live?" Max demanded. "It's tiny!"

An argument budded inside of David before he'd started to compute that Max was in his apartment, then he met Max's eyes and any fight drained out of them both. "Thanks, Max," David said simply. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Max tilted his head and moved over to the oven, where David was frying up a breakfast. "Smells good. I've been gone a little while, haven't I?" he replied instead of actually answering David's question, but the look David fixed him with quickly rectified that. Max sighed deeply. "I'm fine. Jumped around more than usual, but I'm alright now. Ended up in the present eventually, huh?" He prodded David in the side. "This is the present, right?"

"If the last time you were in the present before this was the day before camp ended, yes. You're in the present," David assured him. "Do you want some?" he asked, gesturing to the pans in front of him.

"Oops. Missed that, did I?" Max asked. He watched David skilfully flip a pancake over, hunger obvious in his gaze. "I shouldn't steal your food. So how many days since camp ended?"

With a small laugh, David put some extra bacon into the other pan. "It's not stealing, Max. I'm offering. Go on, sit down. You're always hungry after a jump." When Max opened his mouth to argue, David pointed his spatula at him. "Sit. It's been three days since camp ended."

"Three days? Jesus. What did you tell my parents?" Max asked, plopping himself begrudgingly at the incredibly small table in David's kitchen. There was only one seat.

Although he'd been expecting the question, David had procrastinated thinking up a suitable answer. Nothing got by Max that easily though. David's pause was long enough for Max to reach his own conclusions and he snorted and hung his head. "Right," Max said. "They didn't show."

David bit his lip, unable to read Max's reaction properly. He served up the pancakes and bacon and placed one of the plates in front of Max, then lightly touched his shoulder. "Maybe they just got delayed or forgot when -" he started to suggest, but Max cut him off by shrugging away his hand and shaking his head.

"No, David. Parents don't just forget things like that," Max huffed out, picking up the fork and tucking into the food, taking tiny bites. "Thanks for the food. I'll be out of your hair when I'm finished, don't worry."

Confused, David blinked at him. "Don't be silly, Max. You can stay here as long as you need." He leaned against one of his few counters and started to eat his own food.

"I'm silly? You live in an apartment too small for one person. If this is all you can afford, you definitely can't afford to support a ten year old time traveller on top of that," Max argued. "Plus you'd probably get arrested for kidnapping."

"You're going to keep ending up next to me," David reminded him. "I might as well look after you. Leave accommodation to me. This is just temporary, anyway."

For several long, painful seconds, Max stared at David. The expected further argument didn't happen. "Whatever, David," Max muttered, stabbing at his pancakes. "If you end up poorer, don't blame me."

"Never."

Satisfied, David beamed at Max and then started eating his breakfast once again. After only a few seconds, Max copied him, shooting him an odd look every now and then.

The apartment, ultimately, was too small for the two of them to live comfortably. The little house in the woods they moved to, a few months after Max 'moved in', wasn't much bigger – but it at least had two bedrooms, a bigger kitchen, and no neighbours who could question why there was a ten year old living with David.

Then there was the issue of work. Knowing a child could appear at his side at any moment, working wasn't ideal. There'd been a close call when he'd been inside of a supply cupboard and Max had appeared. The next day, David had handed in his notice and announced to Max he was becoming a writer.

Guilt filled Max's eyes immediately. "You don't have to do that, David," he said, frowning. "Seriously, I'm not worth it. You need a job."

"Nope!" David said, shaking his head and clasping his hands together. "I love writing! And it means we can spend more time figuring out how to control your little ability," he pointed out, beaming. Max did not need to know he had blubbered slightly when he'd been handing the notice in. "It'll be great!" he enthused.

"You're insane. All of this, just for me?" Max's frustration and confusion was obvious.

With a sigh, David crouched down in front of Max, who half-turned away from him. The floorboards creaked beneath his knees. Enthusiasm alone wasn't enough to get through to someone like Max. "Max, you are worth it. I'll write. Even if I have to write really bad articles anonymously. Even if I have to go and sell my kidneys on the black market! Technically kidnapping a ten year old wasn't how I saw my life turning out, but it was my choice. I don't regret it and I won't regret it. Ever," he said firmly. "I'd go as far as to say we're family now."

Max glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then switched his gaze back to floor. "Okay, Christ, don't make it sappy," he huffed. He kept his eyes on the floor and flung himself at David, his arms momentarily hugging him, but pulled away as quickly as he'd approached and headed towards his room.

"But don't expect me to start calling you 'dad'," Max called over his shoulder.

"I have a theory," Max announced, flinging open his bedroom door. At his desk, David startled. The bedrooms connected directly to their sitting room...which also acted as David's 'office', where he did all of his writing.

David spun his chair around to face Max, who was verging on the age of eleven – or maybe not, with all the time travel, but according to documents David didn't have, that would be Max's age in a short few weeks. "Hit me with it," he encouraged.

Holding a notebook in his hand, Max stood right in front of David. "I started pinpointing when I jump the most, and I think it's when I'm stressed," he said. He lifted the notebook up to read from it. "The day before camp finished. I was stressed because I didn't want to go back to my parents, and I jumped around loads," he explained. "And before we got tied together, I was stressed because I never knew where I'd turn up. And even the initial event – I was stressed as soon as Harrison put the box over my head, because let's be honest, we already knew he could do some weird shit."

As Max listed each point, David nodded along. "I think it's plausible," he agreed. "So maybe, we work on helping you control your stress levels," he suggested, turning back to face his computer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Techniques to make situations seem less stressful."

"I'm not sure Google is going to know how to deal with that when it comes to temporal bouncers like me," Max said dryly, flipping the notebook shut and moving to David's side, watching the screen.

The theory, it turned out, seemed to be fairly accurate. They did everything the Internet suggested, from meditation to breathing techniques, to even writing 'Stress Journals' together.

On Max's eleventh birthday, they baked a cake and decorated it as obnoxiously as possible. In the weeks since Max had declared his theory, he hadn't jumped once. At the top of their lungs, with nobody around to hear them, they sang 'Happy Birthday' and Max wished as hard as could as he blew his candles out.

David wished with him. Please don't let Max time travel again.

But David knew there was a piece missing. If it was this easy to stop Max jumping, there was no way he could have seen him at sixteen – and if he was right about the park when he was eight, even older than that.

At that moment though, on Max's eleventh birthday, all that mattered was Max enjoying himself. The future wasn't to linger over on that day.

For the next few years, life was fairly easy. Max rarely jumped.

They enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays together. More books were published, enough for David to justify ending his 'journalism' career (he had never managed to improve much, anyhow). It wasn't normal, by any means – Max was, technically, a kidnapped child and it's for that reason they don't go back to camp. No cell phones and no forwarding address at David's old apartment meant nobody tried to track them down. It was an isolated life, but it kept them safe.

Then Max hit fifteen.

There was a massive, ugly crash from the kitchen. David sprang to his feet, toppling his desk chair in the process and hurried through. His eyes landed on Max immediately – he was sprawled on the floor, eyes closed, too still for David's liking. Words lodged themselves in David's throat and it took him a few seconds to propel himself across the room, to Max's side. "Max?" he choked out, reaching out lightly shake him, first aid training be damned. Had he been injured in his jump?

Max groaned and relief flooded through David. "Fuck me, this hurts," Max muttered, blinking open bleary eyes. His eyes roamed around before settling on David's panicked face. "What happened?" he asked, gingerly trying to push himself up.

"No, hey, hey, don't move," David warned him, quickly grabbing Max's arms and pushing him back down.

"Get off me," Max snapped, yanking himself away from David and groaning as soon as he did so. "Fuck."

"Don't. Move," David snapped back, though he didn't attempt to grab Max again, instead lightly touching his shoulder and guiding him to lie flat on the floor again. "Did you faint?" he asked. "Did you get hurt?" he pressed, when Max didn't answer fast enough for him.

"Shut up, David," Max whined, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. "I don't know what happened, okay? One minute I was in the past or future or whatever, next I'm here on our lovely kitchen floor."

David frowned. "That hasn't happened before."

"I know but I'm not a scientist or doctor, am I? Fucking hell," Max huffed. "Can I get up now?" he asked, frowning back at David.

"Do you feel like you can?" David questioned.

"Yeah, I just ache," Max said, tentatively starting to push himself up again. David helped him and this time, Max didn't dismiss the assistance. When Max was finally manoeuvred onto his feet, he swayed, but didn't go down again. "I'll be fine once I've rested for a bit."

With agonising slowness, Max pulled away from David and started the trek to his bedroom, bracing himself on parts of their house as he went – the doorway, the wall, a shelf. David's heart thumped painfully in his chest, hoping it was a fluke and not about to become a regular occurrence.

"We have to see somebody about this," David croaked out. Max was lying in bed, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever before. It'd taken David hours to wake him up. "The vomiting, the fainting, the aching – it's not normal, Max, we have to do something."

A long-suffering sigh escaped Max's lips. "David, being a time traveller isn't normal. There isn't a handbook. This could be perfectly 'normal' for somebody in my situation," he argued, the same argument he always made.

"It's been going on for a year and it's only getting worse," David said quietly. "You're getting worse."

"Gee, thanks."

"Health-wise, Max. What if you die? What then?" David demanded.

Green eyes flicked to the ceiling. "Then you get your normal life back and I get some peace."

David sucked in a breath and raised shaking hands to his mouth, then dropped them again. "You're not funny. This is serious. We've been through this so many times, Max. I don't want normal. I want you to be okay."

"I'm being serious too. Who the fuck could we go and see? For one, you're technically my kidnapper. We walk into any hospital and they'll arrest you within hours," Max argued. Another argument he often reminded David of. "Then they'll ship me off to some lab and start poking and prodding me. There's nothing we can do. You're going to have to deal with that."

"I shouldn't have to deal with you dying!"

"We don't know that's what's happening!"

The yell left Max breathless and he dropped back against his pillows.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Max spoke again. "If you want me to leave, I get it. This isn't what you signed up for," he said.

Swallowing hard, David shook his head. "Of course I don't want you to leave. You'd only end up back here."

Max snorted. "True." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And because you're my kid, Max. I've told you before, I don't regret my choice. The only life I'd trade this for is one where you're healthy."

With another snort, Max swatted at him. "And I've told you, don't get sappy."

It didn't matter what he had said. There was no denying the smile on Max's face.

Whenever Max was gone, the house was quiet – too quiet for David's liking. As what David would go as far to call being a parent, not having Max around felt wrong. There was nobody else to cook for, nobody else to laugh with, and nobody to say goodnight to before bed.

Scratch feeling wrong; it was wrong, and David wished there was a way to keep Max safe from time travelling.

"Wow. Of-fucking-course you live in the woods." The voice was too high, too scathing to be Max's. Wasn't it?

But the kid was unmistakable. He was even wearing a blue hoodie.

"Max," David said, his mouth dropping open at the sight of the ten year old, far younger than the Max he now knew.

His hands tucked in his pockets, Max regarded David with an expression edging on bored. "So, what year is it? You look old," he said, walking in a small circle around the living room, standing on tiptoe to peer at the shelves. "Huh. You keep your own books? Didn't even know you could write," he commented.

A look of indignation had already settled on David's face. "I'm thirty!" he squeaked out. "And of course I can write."

Max just snorted.

David pouted before he could stop himself, folding his arms across his chest. A younger Max was easier to relax around. The bags under his eyes weren't as emphasised. David knew he wasn't going to collapse in front of him, or throw his breakfast up all over the couch. It was relieving, as bad as it seemed to think in such a way, knowing that this Max was okay.

"Camp ends tomorrow," Max said.

"Oh," was David's eloquent reply.

"Yeah," Max sighed. He scrunched up his face and peered up at David. "I'll still see you, obviously. How's the future?"

Was David supposed to lie? Make up a story? Or be honest? His gaze focused on his shoes and his shoulders shrugged non-committally.

"It's good. Better than the past."

Well, it wasn't a complete lie. There were a lot of things that'd improved in their lives.

There was no reply. When David looked up, Max was gone.

He wondered if he'd actually heard what he said.

David broke the news days after Max's eighteenth birthday, by placing the bag stuffed full of money down on the bed in front of him and doing his best to ignore the confused look Max was giving him.

"What's this for?" he asked.

Nervously – because Max hated it whenever the topic was broached – David fiddled with the zip of the bag. "Money I've saved up," he told him. Max raised his eyebrows and David sighed. "I've offered a...cash...lump...sum to...well, a doctor," he explained slowly.

"You've bribed someone?" Max demanded.

"No!" David quickly exclaimed. "Not...exactly. You need to be checked out, Max."

"You have bribed someone. Oh my God, are you insane? Do you want to be arrested?" Max asked, his expression one of total shock. "You've kidnapped me and now you're bribing doctors!"

"That's why I waited until you were eighteen. It's technically not kidnap now," David pointed out. Well, that was his own logic at least; whether it'd hold up in court, he wasn't really sure.

"Holy shit. Call them right now and cancel it, David, or so help me, I'll-"

"You'll what?" David cut him off sharply. "Run away? Hide? You aren't a child, Max, and that probably wouldn't do anything for your health. Please. Just let the doctor check you over," he pleaded.

"I'm not a child, but you aren't a criminal," Max argued, folding his arms across his chest. "No. Call them, right now, and shut this down."

The words had only just left his mouth when there was a loud knock from the front door.

Max scowled. They never had visitors. "You piece of shit. Today?" he asked.

Sheepishly, David shrugged. "I was worried you'd react like this."

"Fine. Let's do it. But if you get arrested, I'm not going to vouch for you." There was a coldness in Max's eyes David hadn't seen in years, which made his stomach twist.

Swallowing hard, David went to open the front door.

After he showed the doctor to Max's room, he was instructed – by Max – to leave the room, a grumpy snap in his voice. David did, his heart lingering somewhere near the pit of his stomach, gutted to have lost the trust of Max once again.

All David wanted to do was cry. With his head buried in his hands, his eyes burning, heart aching, he knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before he gave into the tears. Max had been gone for two entire months – longer than he'd ever been gone. Each day that passed caused David more pain, as it had since the day the doctor had examined Max.

"He's dying. I couldn't tell you why. This boy needs a hospital."

The answer to that, of course, had to be a no. A bag full of money had convinced the doctor "No" was an acceptable answer, too. Then, after he'd left, Max had laughed until he was breathless and David had cried until he had no tears left – alone, obviously, where Max couldn't make fun of him.

Two years on from that day, life was unbelievably hard. Deep down, David knew that eventually, Max wouldn't reappear. Being okay with that was difficult. David would go as far as to say it was the most difficulty reality he'd ever been forced to accept, to the extent that he didn't want to accept it, even now.

The loud crash from behind him and a groan made David turn around, his eyes popping open in awed disbelief. "Max," he breathed, jumping to his feet and hurrying to his side. Max was barely conscious, using the entire bookshelf to support his weight until David took some of it. "I've got you," David murmured. Max's head lolled against his shoulder and then drooped, his breaths coming in shallow pants. He gave no reply.

By the time David manoeuvred Max into his bedroom, he was a dead weight, his feet dragging along the floor and offering no help. So, it surprised David when Max spoke up, his voice raspy and quiet. "Thanks," was all he said, blinking blearily up at him.

"We're going to try the relaxation techniques again."

The words spilled out of him in a ball of determination. It was a decision David had made in the two, empty months without Max. Whether it worked or not, David knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he actually tried.

Where there usually would've been stubbornness and anger, there was only resignation. "'kay," Max muttered, his eyes sliding shut again.

"I mean it, Max. We're going to stop this," David said firmly, gripping Max's shoulder.

There was no reply. Max was out cold.

Against all odds – if there were any – the relaxation techniques started to work again, sort of. Max was still in incredible amounts of pain, some days, and yes, he was passing out even without the time jumps and vomiting even on the days he hadn't managed to eat anything. Most importantly, though, he was jumping through time less frequently, far less frequently, and the symptoms didn't seem to be getting worse.

Life, in many ways, was easier once again. Painkillers diluted the pain sometimes and they got to try a wide variety of herbal teas to attempt to dull the nausea, if nothing else.

"David."

The one, broken, pained word immediately snapped David out of his relaxed trance. Max was standing right in front of him, bent double, and oh Christ, he was crying. Those were the worst days – the days when Max cried, when the pain didn't go away and David was powerless to do anything.

"Max – I can't give you anything else, you have to wait a few -" he started, his voice gentle, but Max cut him off with a pained cry and dropped to his knees.

"No – not after painkillers – I'm – I'm going to jump," he choked out.

Ice seemed to fill David's veins. The jumps were never like this. Desperate, he crouched down next to Max and grabbed each of his arms, swallowing hard. "No, you're not," he said, like he had the power to stop it.

Max didn't seem to have the strength to even speak, but he nodded several times and cried out again. He would've toppled, if not for David's hands holding onto him. Maybe if he held on tightly enough, he could keep him here, stop him travelling any further…

No such luck.

An agonised, piercing scream tore from Max's lips. "No – no – you're not going anywhere," David was saying, over and over again, like a mantra. The scream continued and every part of David hurt along with Max.

There was no time for goodbye.

The scream cut-off abruptly.

And just like that, Max was gone.

Sometimes, the speed at which technology had evolved amazed David. Hospital machines were so amazingly compact; they were no longer the bulky equipment of the past. And they were so quiet, too. Silent, in fact.

The bed in the hospital was comfortable, comfortable enough that David didn't even want to think about leaving it. If he was honest, he was too tired to leave it, anyway. He was old, he knew that. Painfully old, at ninety-two years old. There were moments when just drawing in a breath took a world of effort, his chest aching constantly.

It'd been – horrifically – fifty-eight years since he'd last seen Max. Since he'd last seen his son. Eighty-four years since he'd seen him for the first time, nonsensical mathematics in the nonsense that had been their lives together. It was a life that, despite everything, David wouldn't change for anything. Max had deserved a family that cared and David hoped – hoped more than anything – he'd managed to give him that.

A sob started to tear its way up his throat and David struggled to hold it back. Was it so much to ask to see Max one more time? Death, he could feel, was calling for him – but surely, if he just held on…A few stray tears slipped free and David's heart gave a pang in his chest.

Maybe he really would never see Max again.

Sleep came slowly, as it always did when he thought of Max, and it was many hours before he woke again. Dying, it seemed, took more energy than one might think.

When he did wake, it was in time to hear a voice choke out, "David." Opening his eyes felt like it was taking years and when he did manage to open them, there he was. His son. Max. Looking shattered, looking ragged, looking…no older than he had when he'd disappeared in front of David's eyes for the last time, all those years ago.

No older than he had when he'd sat down on the swing next to him in the park.

"Max," David said, and his voice was just as wobbly, but also croaky from disuse. There was little reason to speak in hospital, unless it was to thank those caring for him.

"I couldn't stop – I couldn't – I tried so hard, David, I swear to God I tried to hold on, I'm so sorry." Max was sobbing, more distraught than David had ever seen him. His hand grabbed onto David's, as if it'd be enough to keep him in time. Too weak to reach out and hold him, like he would've so many years before, David just made a gentle shushing noise and squeezed Max's hand as tightly as he could.

"It's okay," he said eventually, when Max had calmed enough to actually hear what he was saying. "Max, I swear, it's okay."

Max was hunched over now, his expression twisted with pain. "It hurts so much," he whispered.

"I know it does. I hurt too," David said, his lips turning into the smallest of smiles. His hand felt ridiculously small and frail in Max's, though they seemed to be as cold as each other. It didn't make much sense, to David, that they were both dying, when Max looked so much younger and healthier than him.

"I've been gone, all these years, haven't I?" Max asked, looking up at him. Rather than giving his answer verbally, David gave the tiniest of nods, and Max's expression crumpled again. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I never – I didn't ask for this – I didn't want this," he said bitterly, his gaze fixing on the floor.

"Max, I won't deny that you deserved more. More time in the present. More time in life," David said, his voice so quiet Max had no choice but to lean in to hear him properly. "But every second I had with you? Those were the best moments in my life," he told him. "I was, and still am, so proud to call you my son."

The waterworks seemed to be starting up again and David had to admit, there were tears budding in his eyes, too. "No. No more crying," Max said, sucking in a deep breath and wiping any tricky little tears. "I think we've done enough of that." He swallowed. "I used to think you'd lied to me, all those years ago. But I guess the future wasn't so bad, with you." He took another deep breath, grimacing in pain as he did so, and David could only wince in sympathy as he momentarily doubled over. "We're both reaching the end, aren't we?" he asked, and rhetorical though it was, David still answered.

"Yes, I think we probably are," he whispered, his heart giving a painful twist in his chest. Breaking, bit by bit.

The only warning, this time, was a slight widening of Max's eyes and a quiet, "I don't want to leave you." David could feel his hand fading out of his, and he squeezed while he still had the chance, swallowed hard, and mustered up the biggest smile he could for his son.

David took a shallow breath, the most his lungs would allow, and tried to push as much comfort as he could into what he knew would be the last thing he ever said to Max – in his lifetime, at least.

"Everything's going to be fine."