In the meantime, I pin up Captain America on my corkboard, next to Thor and Loki. Underneath my collection of Avenger heads is the photograph of which I’m most proud, the one with a little Asian boy pushing his grandmother in a wheelchair. There was a time when Bandit looked at this photo every day. For that one moment, it helped him breathe more easily. And that’s enough to motivate me to continue taking photos.

I’ve all but given up my foodie account. While I have the utmost respect for food photographers, it’s not my dream, not my passion. I want to spend my time doing something I really care about: photographing people. Exploring culture. Learning about animals. And if I never make it to National Geographic? Well, maybe it was never my true path.

I let out a deep sigh. Maybe there’s no one thing—or person—that remains unshakable across time streams.

I should know.

What does the love of my future do when he watches me put a bullet in my brother’s thigh, right after I declare that he will one day father my child?

He stays away. Far, far away.

Who can blame the guy?

When we first went to the hospital, and I set up camp in the waiting room, Bandit never left my side. For twenty-four hours, we took turns picking stale snacks from the vending machine. We played a massive, best-of-seven tournament of Scrabble. And in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t sleep, he read out loud to me from his favorite book, Flowers for Algernon.

Once we heard that Archie’s operation was successful, however, Bandit was quiet. Contemplative.

“You said you loved me,” he spoke up when Dad went to visit Archie in the recovery room.

I smoothed a hand over the bird’s nest disguised as my hair. “Did I?”

“Yes. Before the ambulance came. You were practically delirious, and you said you loved me. Not the man I’ll become but who I am now.” His tone was almost accusatory, and I blushed. Because he wouldn’t sound so upset if my confession were a good thing.

“You said it yourself: I was delirious.”

He shook his head, not letting me off that easily. “Is it true?”

I wasn’t ashamed of my emotions. If there was one thing I learned from the Voice, it was to embrace my heart. Time can make all things transitory, even love.

So I looked right into his solemn eyes, and the universe clicked into place. It was all the evidence I needed of our rightness. If only such proof were sufficient for him.