Columbus, OH 1892

"So, where are we?" Jeff asked as they dusted themselves off after landing in yet another alley. Bogg looked as though he was waiting for a smart-mouthed comment about the omni's choice of landing places. Jeff tried – for Bogg's sake – but couldn't make the words come out. The visit to see Rebecca has lessened the guilt he felt in leaving her, but his emotions wouldn't stop roiling.

"Jeff, are you okay?" The concern in Bogg's voice was obvious and made Jeff feel even worse. He hadn't been paying attention.

"Yeah. Why?" Bogg, standing with the omni open in his hand, looked skeptical. "I'm fine," Jeff insisted. "Really. What's the date?"

"July 29, 1892," Bogg replied. "Columbus, Ohio. Red light." He snapped the omni shut and put it away. "Any ideas?"

Jeff shook his head. "I haven't been very useful lately, have I? Maybe you would be better off without me." He thought he saw a fleeting flash of pain in Bogg's eyes, but when he looked again the man's face was calm. "Sorry, Bogg," he muttered. "I have no idea." He was having trouble concentrating, his mind too full of the last few days.

From the street they suddenly heard the sounds of a scuffle and punches being thrown. Jeff felt Bogg's hand on his shoulder as the older Voyager ran to help. "Stay here!" the deep voice boomed. Jeff ignored the order and followed his partner out of the alley and into the bright sunlight.

On the street corner, Jeff saw a boy not much older than himself wearing military garb and struggling with two older men. The boy was trying to protect a satchel with one arm while fighting off his attackers with the other. Without a second thought, Jeff jumped into the fray. It felt good to be able to lash out at someone, to expel the anger and sadness and self-doubt in a physical conflict. His right fist connected with one assailant's jaw. As the man stumbled backwards, the other boy stuck out a booted foot, sending the man sprawling backwards. He scrambled back to his feet and ran away down the street.

The fight was over in short order. Bogg sent the second attacker off with a few well-placed punches, and suddenly they were alone on the street with the boy. The stood for a minute catching their breath before the boy broke the silence. "I don't know where you fellers came from, but I'm glad you showed up. My captain woulda had my hide if this got nabbed," he said, patting the satchel. "It's gotta be at the state house afore noon for the ceremony."

Bogg stuck out his right hand. "We're glad we could help, Private..."

"Johnson, sir." The young soldier saluted then took Bogg's right hand and shook it. "Private Stanley Johnson."

"So, Private Johnson, what's so important about that satchel?" Bogg asked.

"You all must've just arrived today if you don't know about the ceremony," the boy said. "This here's a medal of honor. The presentation ceremony's at noon at the state house." He looked from Jeff to Bogg and back again. "Why don't you all come with me? All 'a nature's gonna be there. I'm sure no one'll notice two more. Even dressed as outlandish as you." He grinned at them.

Jeff snorted. " Bogg, come on. Didn't that solve our problem?" Now that the adrenaline rush from the fight was wearing off, all Jeff wanted to do was go somewhere quiet where he could sort out his emotions and think. He watched as Bogg checked the omni, and his face fell when Bogg shook his head. "It can't still be red," he complained. Bogg just looked at him.

Private Johnson watched the exchange with a bemused expression. "I never seen a pocket watch that fancy before. Anyway, I hafta go. Are you all coming?"

Jeff could feel himself growing sullen. He glared at Bogg who quelled the look with two words, "Red light." Bogg then turned to the soldier. "Lead on, Private."

As they walked, Bogg engaged Private Johnson in conversation, and Jeff's mind relived the last few days. He winced remembering his fight with Bogg, but the memory that replayed itself most often was of the choices Bogg had given him while they were in England - time off before entering the academy or quitting altogether. A rest would be nice, but it wasn't going to make him forget how awful he felt leaving Rebecca in Clarion the first time. If he chose to stop being a Voyager, he would forget the pain but would lose other memories as well – Ben Franklin's kite, Edison's first working light bulb, Harriet Tubman's bid for freedom, Bogg. Is the trade off worth it? he wondered.

Jeff was so involved with his thoughts he didn't notice when they entered the state house, and Private Johnson left them. It wasn't until a loud voice started speaking that he began to grow aware of his surroundings. About a hundred people were crowded in a long room. Curtained alcoves were spread out at intervals on each side. At the front of the room stood two men, one of about thirty in the uniform of a United States Army colonel and another of about fifty in a plain dark suit who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. The colonel was reading from a paper in his hands. Jeff strained to listen over the murmuring of the crowd.

"In the battle of Chancellorsville, he was one of a party of four under heavy fire. They voluntarily crossed the enemy lines to capture and bring back to the Union lines a wounded Confederate office from whom valuable information was obtained concerning the position of the enemy. For that action taken on the second of May, 1863 in Chancellorsville, Virginia the medal of honor is hereby awarded to Henry Heller who held the rank of sergeant in Company A of the 66th Ohio Infantry." The colonel placed the medal around the older man's neck, and saluted him. The room erupted into thunderous applause. Jeff stood silent, stunned, and shaken.

"They named him for Rebecca's grandfather," Bogg breathed. He pulled out the omni and checked the lights. "Green. I guess someone thought we needed to see this." Jeff remained frozen in place. "Jeff," Bogg said gently, "we can go now."

Jeff shook his head. "I need to see him," he said in an unsteady voice. "Please, Bogg. Just a minute."

Bogg nodded his assent, and they slowly worked their way to the front of the room where Henry Heller was having his picture taken by a news photographer. As they got closer they could hear him answering a reporter's questions.

"Yes, I was a Gettysburg. It was... indescribable." The man's eyes grew distant as he remembered. "Even after all these years I can still smell the smoke and hear the cries of the wounded and dying." He shook his head and came back to the present. "My brother, Jeffrey, lost an arm at Gettysburg." Jeff's stomach lurched. She named one of her children after me. "It took a while to get the news, but eventually I found he had been sent to the Cuyler Hospital in Germantown and got leave to see him." Heller smiled at this memory. "I was afraid of what I'd find, but once I got there, I knew he'd recover. I found him in a bed at one end of the ward being nursed by my sister, Essie. On the other end of the ward, I found the doctors being loudly scolded – all of them – in the most unladylike language imaginable. By my mother."

The reporter laughed. "It sounds like your mother is a woman of strong convictions."

"Yes," Heller agreed, "and an impressive vocabulary to go with them." His expression softened. "May her name be a blessing."

Jeff suddenly found breathing impossible. Henry Heller had used the same phrase regarding Rebecca that his grandmother had used when speaking of her husband, his grandfather. But that would mean Rebecca is... Jeff could hear the reporter's voice continuing to ask questions, but the words were distorted as if the man was speaking from under water. The room got blurry and dark around the edges, and the floor felt as if it were sinking. He heard someone shout from very far away, "Give the boy some room!" Then he felt Bogg's arms around his chest, half-dragging and half-carrying him away from the crowd.

"Jeff. Jeffrey?" He was placed in a chair and could vaguely make out a curtain in front of him. "Bend over. Put your head down between your knees. Breathe!" It was Bogg's voice, concern coursing through every word.

Slowly things came back into focus. As Jeff sat, gaining control over his breathing, another voice broke through the fog in his brain. "Is the young man subject to these spells?" Jeff recognized the voice as Henry Heller's. He picked up his head and found the man kneeling by his chair, watching him with Rebecca's eyes. Jeff sat transfixed.

"He's had a bad shock," Bogg was saying. "He'll be fine in a few minutes. Thank you."

The man placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder, squeezed it once, and went back to the reporter. Jeff watched him walk away then felt Bogg lean over him. "Jeff?"

"I'm okay," he said weakly. "Bogg, can we go somewhere quiet? I need to think. Please?"

Bogg regarded him, locking his blue eyes onto Jeff's dark ones. Then he took out the omni and carefully set the dials. Then he put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and activated the device. A second later the chair was empty.