I was brought back to the Timekeepers Facility. My captors didn't say a word to me which was unsettling. Once we passed through the main lobby they practically picked me up and placed me onto the elevator pressing the fiftieth floor; I'd never been up there, I didn't want to go.

There was a narrow corridor as the elevator doors opened and going down I saw that there were numerous doors lining the corridor with a glass window in each one I could see a cot and there were what appeared to be miniature dentist rooms in each one. A little unsettling, and confusing. What the hell went on here?

They opened a door of one of the ones in the back and pushed me in. The door locked with a deafening thud and there I was trapped. There sitting on the edge of the odd dentist chair was my dad. I rushed him with a hug and he hugged me tightly back.

"They said they'd let me go. They lied," he held me close and I pulled away trying to figure this all out.

"I was apprehended Dad, they said that I violated my eighteen year probation; they said something about going to deport me back to my native timeline. What does that even mean?" my dad looked at me with widening eyes and reached out to me. I pulled back.

"I'm so sorry," was all he said.

"Dad?" I was even more confused now. What was wrong? Why was he acting all weird all of a sudden? "Dad. You said that when Leila came over she was supposed to tell me the 'truth'. She didn't get to; do you mind explaining?"

"I didn't think that this would ever become a problem, but... I guess I couldn't run from this forever," he ran his hand through his blond hair. Dad didn't look thirty-three anymore, more like an old man. In the light from the thin slit window made his hair looked pale white.

"Just tell me." I sat next him willing him to give me answers.

"I guess the only good way to say this is that, well Charlie, you're adopted." He looked into my eyes with a slight bit of apology and aching. As much as I had readied myself for this, the suspicion I had carried for years, the whispers from my classmates. To actually hear it said from the man I had considered my father for all thirteen years of life was a lot harder then I anticipated.

"I-I figured as much Dad I mean—for goodness sake—look at me! I'm not exactly your spitting image."

"Do you think that mattered to me? All I saw was a baby that needed me," he touched my face. "Thirteen years ago I was stranded in Southampton Virginia, the year was 1831. Aron had tampered with the Terminal sending us back. With disabled Escape Keys we had no other choice but to wait it out."

"Why did he do that?" that part of the story never made sense to me. Why would anyone want to purposely get stranded in an unknown year that wasn't their own?

"Aron wanted to make it rich by using his knowledge of the past to benefit him for the rest of his life. He wanted to break rule number two and fake his death along with actually killing me. Obviously as you can see I didn't let his plans come to fruition. I escaped from him and managed to find myself on the Ash Grove Plantation all the way up in Tysons Corner in Fairfax far from Southampton. The owner, Thomas Fairfax offered me room and board in his grand estate and I was grateful to be alive and welcomed. I held my keep doing chores about the plantation alongside the many slaves. There were two slaves who were particularly kind to me Boone and Anna May they were a kind couple who often let me have a cup of water in my break.

"Some time later—almost two weeks with me living on the plantation—on August 21st a man from south Virginia by the name Nathan Turner held an uprising, he was a slave, and he believed that going to as many plantations freeing as many slaves as possible, and killing as many white masters would eventually lead to slave liberation. Unfortunately, the rebellion was violently repressed but the fear was enough to make all plantation owners shake in their boots. Even the ones in the Deep South in the bottom of Alabama."

"The slave owners retaliated didn't they?" I could see where this story was going, but it didn't ease the numbing feeling through my body.

"They did, and Thomas Fairfax was one of these who felt that he needed to strike fear into his slaves lest they ever think of turning against them," my dad looked at me and touched my cheek gently. "He ordered the overseers to set fire to some of the slave's homes. Not all of them of course, but just enough to send a clear message to the rest. I was just like you, I couldn't stand not doing anything; knowing that Boone and Anna May could have been hurt by the flames and the thought if I didn't do anything made me sick. I raced down to their home, but Boone was dead and Anna May was barely clinging to life; in her arms was their most prized possession. Their newborn infant child." He squeezed my hands and at the point the tears had slipped out of my eyes. "You."

"Your mother told me to take you. She begged me to not let you die there that she wanted you to grow up free." He faltered and cleared his throat that was breaking. "She hoped that I would take you to Canada, where you could grow up free; she begged me to give you another name beside the one that Master Fairfax had given you at birth, Abigail, and to look after you if it wasn't too much trouble. I promised her all of this, and so I took you and I ran from the plantation.

"You and I were stuck for one more day in 1831, but I had run as fast and as hard as I could to Washington D.C. When we arrived we were rescued by Leila and Cole who brought us back to our current year, they told me they had already rescued Aron who had been caught up in the violence of the slave rebellion. I got in trouble for bringing you back; to break the top priority is no simple matter, but I stayed firm in my decision and wouldn't let them make me take you back. I told them what Aron did sabotaging us, and they seemed to find his infraction a greater offense then my own. The Board granted me the rarest of rewards of not taking away my Chroniclers license, and they let me keep you. I named you Charlotte, and adopted you formally. As far as I'm concerned you are my daughter Charlie." He was earnest there was no way for me to deny him my love, after all, he was the only father I knew. The only one I needed.

"And you're my dad, Dad," I hugged him and we waited for whatever absolution awaited us in the long run.

***

Morning came and I woke up. My dad had elected to sleep on the hard stone floor. I didn't want to complain but the awkward chair had only succeeded in giving me a stiff neck. Our cell door opened and two new Board guards came to retrieve us.

"Flint Lore, you will be present for your daughter's hearing today. Please come with us, the both of you." Throwing a black jumpsuit to me, I put it on and both my dad and I followed. The jumpsuit hung from my skinny frame sagging at belly and leaving unnecessary folds. It might've said XS on the tag, but these jumpsuits were made for grown-ups, not children.

They took us back to the elevator and they pressed another floor, the twentieth floor. This floor looked like a courtroom I'd seen on TV once, with the shiny tile floor and the wooden designs on the panels of the room. Going through the large wooden double doors I was brought into a room where a high raised portion of the room held twelve people, each one in a silver robe with the Chroniclers sigil on the front in gold thread. These were the members of The Board of Quality Control. I hadn't even known until this morning that the hearing was for me. My palms grew clammy as I tried to breathe steadily.

I was brought to a pulpit in the very center of the room and left to stand there alone. Acutely aware of other people in the room I was too scared to see who else was here; forcing myself to look I saw sitting in orderly rows far from me was Leila and Dale along with Jean, who like me, was wearing a black jumpsuit. My dad was brought to a box on the opposite side of the room, and made to sit there.

"Charlotte Lore," began one of the Board members a thin wisp of a man who seemed more asleep then awake, "you are brought before the Board of Quality Control for your hearing for the violation of the top priority. On Sunday, the 28th of July in the year 2058 you and your father, Flint Lore went to the date of Friday, the 14th of February in the year 1794. There you disobeyed the rules of the top priority and brought back with you fourteen-year-old Jean-Pierre Lafaille of Vendeé, France. Do you have anything to say for yourself as to the actions of this infraction?"

A tickle in my throat was brought down as a result of me clearing it and I took a deep breath.

"Yes, I do. When my father and I went back to that event in 1794 we knew we were going to encounter horror. We knew we were going to see bloodshed, but we didn't know—at least I didn't know—that we were going to witness such heartless brutality." I shifted in my spot as the Board members murmured amongst themselves, I swore I heard one of them say: "And so history repeats itself." Another one spoke up so they could hear me over their chatter.

"I may only be thirteen, but in my time I have seen a fair share of war, battles, and horror. I saw the Battle of Bunker Hill when I was ten years old. I was mortified, wowed, but somber. It wasn't a tragedy for me because to me it was seeing to groups of equal people fighting with the knowledge that they might not all survive. The Vendeans however were innocent defenseless civilians targeted by an equipped army to systematically slaughter each and every one of them until nothing remained.

"A year ago you, the Board, fired Elliot Jones for being a part of the hidden network system for passing Jews out of Nazi conquered territories during World War II. Thirteen years ago you almost fired my father from saving me from a slave massacre that happened in 19th century Virginia. You punish us for being human, when in reality, you should allow us to do the good we do since it makes a greater difference." One of the Board members glared harshly at me.

"The top priority was made—"

"I know why the top priority was made!" I took a deep breath trying to keep my cool, "I know we as Chroniclers can't save everyone. It's not our place. All I'm saying is you're punishing us for the wrong reason. Being human isn't wrong, and it's nearly impossible to deny if you have good-hearted people like the us, the Chroniclers. Now if you were to ask my opinion—which I know none of you are, but I'm going to speak my mind anyway—you should punish people like Aron Adler. I might not have any definitive evidence, but I'm sure if the Board checks the security footage for Terminal #13 you'll see that son of a bitch—"

"Charlie!"

"Sorry Dad. You'll see that sneaking greasy weasel tampering with our Terminal settings. I'm no detective, but to think my dad, a seasoned Chronicler of fifteen years would make an erroneous mistake like that, that would've cost us our lives seems unlikely." More murmuring from the Board and I held my breath. Then they got quiet, their attention focused back on me.

"We the Board of Quality Control have reached a decision," the head Board woman said. "The minor, Charlotte Lore will be dismissed with a penalty of not being able to take her Chronicler entrance exam until age twenty-one. Flint Lore's Chronicler license will be suspended for one year; henceforth, an investigation will be placed on Aron Adler, and a Board meeting will be held to discuss a possible revision to the Time Traveler's Code. Jean-Pierre is allowed to stay in the 21st century for thirty days, if a legal aged guardian cannot be found for him in those thirty days he will be deported back to his native timeline. This hearing is now dismissed."

Leila sighed with joy jumping over the wooden railing to race to my dad's box and kissed him throwing him off completely, but he responded by placing his hands around her waist.

"Charlie!" Jean shouted, and he tumbled over the side to my side and smiled. "Did we win?" he looked like an anticipating puppy.

"I think we did Jean. I think we did. I guess we'll just have to wait and see for now though."