"You said this would be canon-consistent," the reader protests.

"It is," Kezhke insists.

"Then how can Harry have a kid Miral Paris's age in Part One? That's not canon! And why doesn't he have any kids in Part Two?"

"Be patient," Kezhke requests. "Your questions will be answered in chapter 10."

When we last ended, Harry had mysteriously wound up sixteen years in the past and had used stolen Borg technology in an attempt to return to the right year…

Chapter 10: Earth, San Francisco

"What are you doing here?" Libby asked, wide-eyed. Harry Kim regarded her with circumspection, trying to look for the wrinkles and gray hair he'd missed the last time she'd asked him that – anything to give away her age. "Honey, what is that face for? I asked what you're doing home so early. I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

Harry's eyes narrowed. It all sounded right so far, but then again, he'd been too easily fooled last time. "Libby, can you tell me the year?"

"The year?"

"The year."

"The Earth year is 2393." She put a hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

He nodded, suddenly completely relieved that his experiment with a Borg temporal transmitter had managed to land him back in the right time. Thank you, Seven. Thank you, Reg. He threw his arms around Libby, and they stumbled together backwards into the apartment. His mouth quickly found hers.

"If this is what letting you go on a mission does," she said happily, "I'll say yes every time."

Harry didn't answer but kept kissing her with a fever. He tried to lift her up, wanting her to wrap her legs around him.

Libby resisted, though. "Honey, Andrew has some friends over."

"What?" he murmured through their kisses.

Libby lovingly caressed his face as she pulled her mouth from his. Her eyes were smiling. "I'm happy to see you, too, but Andrew has friends over."

"Who's Andrew?" Harry asked as he followed her into the living room.

Several teenage boys were sitting on the sofa.

Harry, who had decided he was prepared for all things and that nothing could shock him anymore, felt his heart stop.

One of the young men looked up at him. "Hi, Dad."

Oakland Shipyards, Tertiary Shuttle Hangar, 2393

Accessing the Starfleet database was the first thought that crossed his mind as he shut himself in the bedroom. It was to his great relief that his service record was the same one he remembered living. He next looked up a few friends, hoping that their lives had also not changed, and when he realized that Tom Paris was still in San Francisco – as he had been for the past three years – it was all Harry could do to flee from his home with minimal explanation to his wife…or son.

"This is a surprise," Tom said as Harry charged across the shuttle hangar toward him. "You never visit me at work."

"I need you to tell me something. No, I need to tell you something."

"Okay…."

Harry's jaw clenched slightly. "It's a violation of the Temporal Prime Directive."

Tom whistled. "Boy, I don't know, Har. I've had some nasty run-ins with temporal mechanics." He saw the severity of Harry's expression. "Hey, I was kidding. What's going on?"

"Let's go somewhere private," Harry said, climbing inside one of the training shuttles.

Tom shrugged mentally and followed. Once they were seated in the cockpit, he asked again, "Harry, what's going on? You look like you've just seen a Borg cube."

"A Borg cube? Ha! They don't scare me nearly as much as this does." Harry took a deep breath. "Tom, do Libby and I have any children?"

"Yeah," Tom said easily, "Andrew."

"Andrew," Harry repeated, tasting the word as it rolled around his mouth. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, just a flavor he'd never tried before. It would take his palate a minute to adjust. "And how old is Andrew?"

"The same age as Miral. Sixteen."

Harry shook his head slowly, and his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "No, no, that's impossible. You and B'Elanna got married on Voyager, and Miral was born on Voyager. Libby and I didn't get married until three years later, remember? You came to the wedding. L'Naan was born the next day."

"That's right," Tom agreed readily. His blue eyes turned to Harry, wondering him what the problem was.

Harry nearly flew out of the chair. "So how do I have a child old enough to have been born the same time as Miral?"

"Oh, I don't know," Tom said simply. "You do." It all made sense to him, but he could see that Harry was ruffled. "What's the violation of the Temporal Prime Directive that you can't tell me about but want to?"

"Did I go on a shuttle trip to Pluto yesterday?"

"I have no idea. We can ask Libby. Do you want me to call her?"

"Forget it, I did. I went to repair a communications array, and I encountered a temporal rift, which I didn't know about, and then I flew home. I walked into my house and saw Libby, and then realized it was 2377."

"What?" Now he had Tom's attention.

"So I stole a Borg temporal transmitter from Starfleet Command and used it to return to this time. I got home a little while ago, and I was in the right time. Everything seems to have returned to normal – except now I have a son that I didn't have when I left yesterday." He looked at Tom with a manic intensity in his eyes. "So I need you to tell me how it is that I remember everything about the last sixteen years – and that doesn't include anybody called Andrew."

Tom shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. You have a son. You always have."

"You don't remember how Libby and I tried to have children for years and couldn't? How we almost got a divorce after she had a miscarriage?"

"No. Maybe there's been some kind of residual temporal displacement," Tom suggested carefully. He reached for a nearby tricorder. "I'm not reading any tachyons or chronitons." He closed the tricorder. "Maybe you hit your head or something? Maybe you need medical treatment?"

Harry rose and began backing out of the shuttle. "No, no, I don't need treatment," he said as he walked toward the open hatch. One of his hands was outstretched toward Tom, as if to keep him a safe distance away. "And I don't need you to tell anyone about this."

Tom was concerned, but shrugged his compliance. "Whatever you say."

Residence of John and Mary Kim

Harry knew he hadn't hit his head and, since he hadn't found any temporal anomalies before activating the Borg transmitter, he doubted he'd encountered displacement. The thought that he had accidentally crossed into a different quantum reality didn't escape him – but if that had been a possibility, he would have expected Seven of Nine to have warned him about it.

If Tom and Libby couldn't give him the answers he wanted, then there was only one place he thought he could turn: his parents. It was his relief to find they still lived in the same house, and the same code still granted him access.

"Mom!" he called as he hurried from one room to another. "Dad! Mom!"

Mary Kim emerged from around a corner and smiled sweetly at her beloved only son. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Hi, Mom," he said a little more calmly. He bent down to kiss her cheek.

"Shouldn't you be at work? Is everything all right?"

Harry looked closely at his mother. She was petite and old and gave the impression of being weak, but he knew she was quite formidable in reality. But her smiling eyes were too much for him. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what had happened, to confuse her or, worse, to make her worry about him.

"Everything's fine, Mom," he assured her, taking her hands into his own. "How about a cup of tea?"

His mother nodded and led him toward the kitchen. As she prepared two cups of tea using the antique china set that had been in her family for a century, she commented, "You really shouldn't come running in, screaming like that. For a moment I almost thought something was wrong with Libby or Andrew."

"Andrew?" Harry echoed carefully. That strange name again. He hoped not to draw attention to it, waiting to see what information she would volunteer.

"Libby said he doesn't want any family members at his birthday party," she said, passing a teacup to him. "Your father and I understand, of course, but we'd like to take him out to dinner the day before so we can celebrate with him."

Harry sipped the tea slowly, eyeing his mother over the rim of the cup.

"Of course, Lucille probably wants to do the same," she continued. "So we'll probably end up eating all together, and I'll never get in a word to my own grandson. The way that woman goes on and on – you'd think she never has any friends around to talk to."

"Lucille," Harry repeated. "Libby's mom." But she's really sick. She can't go out to dinner.

"Of course," her mother insisted. "Who else?" She set her teacup down with a clang. "Are you feeling all right? You don't look very well."

"I haven't eaten in a day," Harry confessed, and it was the truth. He was starving, but he somehow doubted that was why he looked pale at the moment. It was too unnerving, hearing her talk about a family life he'd clearly never experienced. He set his teacup down, too. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I have to go." He quickly kissed her cheek and fled.

Kim Family Residence

When Harry arrived back home, Andrew's friends had gone. It was now just Andrew and Libby, playing a game of derada together at the kitchen table. They looked comfortable, almost as if they'd been doing it for years.

Impossible. That kid didn't exist until three hours ago.

"Hey, Dad, want to join us?" Andrew asked as he walked in. "I need a real opponent."

"Very funny, Drew," Libby said with slight scolding in her voice. "You know I'm letting you win." There was a light in her eyes that Harry couldn't remember seeing for a long time.

"Right, Mom. If you say so." Andrew turned to Harry with a smile, and their eyes met.

Eyes like mine. Face like mine. Skin like mine.

Suddenly a wave of memories and experiences crashed over Harry. Changing diapers, helping with math homework and science fair projects, first steps, vacations with Miral and L'Naan Paris and Jeremy and Tony Powell. Andrew, Tony, and Miral teasing the younger siblings. The boys trying desperately to keep away from the girls. A game of Capture the Flag on Tau Ceti III many years ago, Kims versus Parises. The Parises had won. Tom said it was because of their warrior blood. Harry said it was because he and Andrew had been outnumbered.

Harry walked over to the desk and found the silver frame sitting beside the computer. He hastily picked it up and turned it toward himself, holding his breath. The picture of Libby graduating was gone. In its place was a picture of the Capture the Flag game, of Miral and L'Naan rolling in the field with laughter. But to L'Naan's left was a third form, and Harry knew intuitively that it was Andrew. That Andrew had always been there.

He set the picture frame down and joined Andrew and Libby at the table. "You know, Libs," he said, "the reason he always beats you is because you always use the same three maneuvers." She handed him her game pieces. "All right, Drew, get ready to lose. You've never once beaten me, and I'm not about to let you start today."