“I’ve been thinking.” He pushes the glasses up his nose. “You put all of humanity at stake for me. It was, arguably, a decision that was too risky, and I got shot in the process.” He looks ruefully at his bandaged thigh. “But your belief means a lot, and I don’t want to let you down. So I asked Bandit to search for the gun, and he found it in Cristela’s car.” He pauses. “I want you to have it as collateral.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You want me to shoot you again?”

“Of course not,” he says. “But we all know the sudden interest in me isn’t going to last. I’ll do my best not to sink back into my head. Maybe I’ll even go back to the therapist. In the meantime, Charlie’s been released from the hospital. He’s on his way to a full recovery—for the time being. Five years from now, in one of the future’s failed attempts to stop me, Bandit will fire this gun at Charlie and kill him.”

I gape. There’s a lot to process in his words, but I can’t get past the image of Bandit killing his uncle.

Archie clutches the bear, six years old once more. “Maybe that won’t happen anymore. Maybe you’ve succeeded in wrenching us onto a new time stream. Maybe our lives will unfold in ways we can’t predict.” He moves his shoulders. “We won’t know for sure until Cristela invents her time machine. In the meantime, we can destroy Charlie’s research. Every last bit of it. Bandit’s already started the process. But if that doesn’t work…”

He swallows. “If I’m foolish enough to invent the virus, if we can’t stop the future from barreling down these tracks… Well, I want you to turn in this gun to the authorities. I’ve wiped off your fingerprints and pressed mine in their place. When and if the time comes to kill Charlie, tell Bandit to wear gloves. To not smudge my fingerprints. And this gun will be your insurance policy.” He peers at me through his glasses, his eyes desperate and young. Oh, so very young. “If I’m in jail, then I can’t hurt anyone, right?”

A chill runs up my spine. I made my big move, but it might not be enough. I always knew that. There was never any guarantee. All we can do is try, every moment of every day. Try and love and believe.

“Oh, Archie, I hope so.” I squeeze his hand.

He leans back on the pillow, as though the conversation has exhausted him. “I’m going to take a nap. See you at dinner? We’re having chicken tikka masala.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Dad’s cooking?”