Dylan stared at the woman before him, who he'd named as Julia before she could so much as introduce herself. Okay, so he didn't know 100% for certain that this Julia was his Julia. How could he? They hadn't even met yet.

But he did know and it was her.

All that nonsense about fate and destiny—was this what Regina had been talking about?

Dylan watched the zigzagging of Julia's eyes as she studied his face. A curious, confused kaleidoscope of gold and blue. Hell, maybe she was just questioning his sanity.

That was fair; she probably wasn't the only one.

She uttered a single word, light but loaded. "Problem?"

Dylan didn't have a problem with her. He had a teenage daughter with her, borderline mute and currently under lock and key in the med ward as it were. But no problem.

"Nope."

"Well, you're the only one," Julia muttered.

At that, Rick perked up. Sounding the tiniest bit jilted, he called out, "Excuse me?"

"Okay, almost the only one. Sorry, Uncle Rick."

The affection and familiarity of such an endearment was undeniable and it didn't go unnoticed by Dylan. It didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Gruffly, Gail chastised Julia. "Rick's your superior or did you forget?"

She stiffened and uttered a clipped, "No, sir." Then she looked to Regina. "Ma'am."

The nod of acknowledgment Regina gave her was damn near imperceptible—little more than a tic.

At that, Rick scoffed. He was some mix of annoyed and amused. "That's rich, coming from the guy who called me Junior all up and down Ibis Island."

Gail was unfazed. "You're her superior, not mine."

"We're all on a level playing field here," Regina interjected, and it was obvious this wasn't anywhere near the first time she'd done such a thing. "There are much bigger problems to deal with and they threaten us all equally."

"Like the human race potentially being doomed?" Dylan guessed.

"Bingo," was Regina's finger snap response. "I'd have interrogated you sooner but I just figured it made more sense to have you give your presentation to the whole class."

It did; she wasn't wrong. Although Dylan wondered if the decision was really in the interest of efficiency or if it was a trust thing. TRAT were paramilitary; SORT were spooks. Lack of transparency was par for the course as far as he knew.

"I'm not quite sure where to start." The confession wasn't a stall or a deflection, despite how it probably seemed. So much shit had gone down that picking a 'fact zero' was shaping up to be a tall order. "I probably don't know anything more than you do. Sorry you wasted all those years on me."

Regina's expression couldn't have been sterner, stonier, or her declaration surer. "It wasn't a waste."

If anyone in the room had a mind to protest, this was their 'speak now or forever hold your peace' moment.

Gail did speak, but he didn't contradict. "Whatever you've heard about us, we don't leave our own behind."

But Dylan wasn't one of them. Still, he refrained from correcting the man, because, well, it just seemed like an insanely stupid thing to do. He'd met Gail just minutes ago, yet sensed he was the type who was used to two things in life: being in charge, and being right.

It made Dylan that much more curious how he and Regina not only got together, but stayed together, and why she was the one calling the shots here. She was clearly capable; it was just... interesting.

"Besides, we're professionals." Rick looked to Gail, and the expression they exchanged was serious but conveyed mutual respect. He addressed Gail at least as much as Dylan when he said, "We don't just abandon a mission, either."

"And just what is that mission?" Dylan asked, already dreading the answer. He knew better than to think he was changing the subject when he remarked, "You said there were hidden files on that disk."

Rick nodded. "There were. Detailing a fail-safe to preserve humanity. Well, humans, at least. Humanity's sort of an abstract concept, though, isn't it?"

At that, Gail grimaced and let out a groan. "Christ, don't get philosophical."

"So, we're sending the dinosaurs into the future to oversee their development?" Dylan guessed.

To make sure they thrived, but only so long as they were meant to. To guide them to their inevitable extinction so that humankind wasn't wiped from existence in their stead?

God, was that really their best option?

"You and I lived through the aftermath of that." Regina's reminder was unnecessary. "And I don't know about you but I'd prefer we avoided that this time."

This time. Another one of those abstract concepts.

Regina was firm. "The Noah's Ark Plan is our absolute last resort."

Dylan agreed with that assessment and not just for the tragedy that awaited him if the plan was put into motion. Not just him, but Julia, Paula, and countless others he didn't know yet but would.

"Even if we were planning on going that route, we don't have the tech for a project of that magnitude," Regina said. "Yet."

Rick elaborated, "We have the info to develop it, but even with Kirk's cooperation it's at least 20 years out."

Which meant it wasn't entirely off the table.

But rather than point that out, Dylan just asked, "Then what the hell are we doing here?"

"Trying to right a 25 year old wrong," Regina explained. "That is, you are. Rick, Gail, and I aren't going in, for obvious reasons."

"Those reasons being..." Rick's voice trailed off as he pointed first to himself then his comrades. "That we're all well past our 'being chased by damn Velociraptors' prime."

Gail, seeming irked—insulted, even—insisted, "That isn't the reason."

Ever the peacemaker between Rick and Gail, as far as Dylan could tell—the middle ground between opposing viewpoints—Regina said, "It isn't the only reason." She granted Dylan her attention again. "You're going to Ibis Island."

So that was the where. Dylan didn't need to ask when.

"I'll see to it that you're as well-informed, not to mention well-equipped as possible."

Dylan's eyes involuntarily narrowed. He needed to see more, to understand better, yet a part of him wanted to block it all out. To only let so much information—truth—seep through and take root inside of him. "I have a feeling you aren't just talking about firearms."

"That's right," Regina said. "The more access you have from the get-go, the better. Unless you'd prefer scavenging for disks and key cards?"

"Not especially."

Regina chuckled. "That said, there are limitations to what I can do for you."

"That's fine. I can handle it."

Even if he couldn't, Dylan had no other choice.

"I trust you can." Regina's features and tone transformed, cool confidence giving way to lukewarm lament. "You won't have Rick's technical expertise at your disposal like I did."

Rick seemed to accept the compliment earnestly, but then his smile thinned—tilted sideways and turned sly. "Or our fearless leader's stone cold strategic prowess."

It was clear who that remark was directed at. Rather than rise—or perhaps stoop would be more accurate—to responding to the remark, Gail simply said, "But you aren't going in alone."

Dylan knew what that meant even before Julia stepped forward and coolly declared, "I happen to be in the middle of my 'being chased by a damn Velociraptor' prime."

And that just could not be the reason she was here.

There were loads of things that needed to be done in the name of mission prep. The majority of it was out of Dylan's hands—not the sort of thing a soldier should annoy command worrying about. His work began when his boots hit the ground on Borginian soil. But there was one thing to take care of before leaving that he wasn't about to let anyone else do.

Someone had to explain it to Paula.

He trusted she'd understand. At least from a comprehension perspective. It was just her ability to speak that'd been compromised. Just her ability to speak. He wanted to kick himself for even considering such a thing.

Dylan stepped into her room. She immediately perked up over his approach. Someone else had obviously been by to see her first, given the stack of magazines on her bedside table. Everything from Guns & Ammo to Seventeen. Guess whoever it was wanted to cover all the bases, as they'd also given her a pen and pad.

Dylan sat down at the foot of the bed and tried to ignore the bruising on her legs. Deep purple extended from her shins to her thighs. He hadn't meant to lie when he told Regina she wasn't injured. That she was trapped was just the most pressing point in that moment. Pinned under one of those supercomputers, the likes of which Dylan and Regina's combined strength was no match for.

"Hey, kiddo."

Dylan cringed inwardly. He wasn't sure how she'd feel about being called that. Fuck. His own daughter and he didn't even know how old she was.

Paula's eyes, already impossibly wide and bright, somehow opened further as she uttered one of two words he'd ever heard come from her mouth. "Papa?"

It was the only speech she'd retained, or maybe fought to regain, aside from her own name: who they were to each other.

Before Dylan could begin to explain, Paula was reaching for the notepad at her side. The scratching of the pen against paper seemed so harsh, so loud. Until it was too quiet, and she turned the pad for him to read it.

What's wrong?

"What makes you think something is wrong?"

Paula didn't dignify that with a written response. Then again, she didn't need to for the look on her face. Dylan could see Julia in her expression. Himself, too. He could even see his own mother and the sister he'd named her after. All of them knew he was deflecting.

"Alright, alright. Stupid question."

Paula shrugged. She still hadn't written anything else down.

"You'll be safe here. That's what matters," Dylan insisted, unsure just who he was trying to convince. "Regina, everyone- they'll make sure you're alright."

Paula put pen to pad again.

What about you?

"There's something I have to do. Somewhere I have to go."

Where?

"That's kinda difficult to explain."

When?

Dylan felt something tugging at the corner of his mouth. He supposed it meant something that he could draw even the tiniest bit of amusement from it all. "That's even tougher to explain."

Why?

"And that's damn near impossible to explain."

Only, it wasn't. In fact, Paula was about the only person Dylan didn't have to explain things to. She was there—really there. He asked, "You remember what I was working on? Back home?"

Or whatever that place was supposed to be to any of them.

Paula just nodded.

She was the one who cued up that recording after all. The one that introduced Dylan to... Other Dylan. The one that told him what it had all been about, been for.

Now if someone could just convince him that it was worth it.

Paula looked down and away from him, suddenly. She scribbled on the notepad once more.

Coming back?

It was the worst question yet.

Dylan could hear and feel paper crinkling between them as he pulled Paula into a hug and murmured, "Of course. Of course I am," into the top of her head. Pulling back, he squeezed her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. For everything."

Paula shook him off, but then scrambled for her pen and pad yet again. Her response was sloppy with hurry. With desperation and worry.

Dylan looked to the creased paper; she hadn't so much as tried to smooth it.

It's not your fault.

It was, though.

Dylan swallowed. "Just because you don't hold it against me doesn't mean it isn't my fault."

It'll be alright.

"Hey, that's my line." Dylan stood up, acutely aware of Paula's eyes on him. "It'll be alright."

They exchanged a nod then Paula cast her gaze downward, toward the one-sided conversation in her lap. So did Dylan. All questions, no answers, and she still seemed to believe everything would be alright.

He turned for the door. He imagined he felt the breeze against his back as it shut behind him. He leaned against the wall just beside it. He couldn't walk away just yet but he also couldn't go back. The last thing he wanted was for that damn door to whoosh open again and taunt him. He closed his eyes and leaned back.

A voice forced him to open his eyes and stand up straight. "I had a feeling you'd be here."

Dylan wasn't sure how to feel knowing Julia been able to get so close without him noticing. He had to admit that sentiment only had so much to do with how quietly she'd approached. He also knew that if she knew what—rather, who—was really behind the door, she wouldn't have just shown up here to fetch him.

He dawdled, or maybe he just plain zoned out questioning if he should tell her. Tell her what? If you think it's wacky that teenage girl in there is my daughter, wait 'til you find out who her mother is.

In the end he decided against divulging anything. The last thing this mission needed was even more baggage. He just said, "I'd compliment your instincts but it was kind of a no-brainer."

Julia chuckled.

Dylan asked, "I take it we're ready to go?"

"More or less. So..." Julia leaned forward a bit, locking her arms behind her back and putting her weight on the balls of her feet.

Dylan pretended not to grasp the meaning in her body language. He echoed, "So?"

"So, if there's anything you wanna get off your chest, now's the time."

"Maybe later."

"And if there is no later?"

"There is." Dylan's tone was resolute, although he'd have been more convincing were he willing to look Julia in the eyes.

There was a later and she was dead there.

"That's right." Julia wagged her index finger at Dylan. But it was a gesture of recollection, rather than a taunt. "Mom said you saw the future."

"One version of it," he responded, a half second before realizing, "Wait- your mom?"

"Sorry." Now Julia was flippant as she offered an explanation. Sort of. "She doesn't like it when I call her that on the job. Dad, either. One of very few things thing they actually agree on."

"Regina-" Dylan barely got the word out.

"That's right."

"Is your mother." It was supposed to come out like a question.

"Uh huh."

"Then your father...?" He was doing it again.

Well, what couple worth their salt couldn't finish each other's sentences?

"Gail."

Dylan already knew who Julia was—to him, at least—but he didn't think about who she might be to anyone else besides himself. Or Paula. Julia was Paula's mother. But she was also the little girl in the photo on Regina's desk. Which meant Regina was his mother-in-law.

Fucking hell.

It was just so ridiculous. So beyond anything Dylan's mind could've ever entertained. He laughed.

Julia did, too. Only hers was soft, wistful, genuine. The sort of sound Dylan would make a utter fool of himself to encourage and then strain his ears just to hear again.

Julia took a breath if only to buy herself a moment of contemplation. "Well, that's not the reaction I was expecting but I can't quite bring myself to be mad about it."

"I didn't mean to-" Dylan sort of stammered, his words like tripwire. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears burned. "It's just a lot is all."

"I'm sure. Mom—Regina, that is—was my age when you saw her last. Now you're about to go on a mission back in time to Dinosaur Bloodbath Island with her daughter."

Julia's assessment, intentionally ridiculous as it were, wasn't inaccurate. Somehow, Dylan still believed it was better than the Noah's Ark Plan.

A/N: Welp. To quote Barret Wallace, "There ain't no gettin' offa this train we're on."