Time still flies, even when you're traveling through it.

     David couldn't believe that a year had passed since the day his brother was shot. Just like that same day a year ago, David was at work with his feet up on his desk, sharing the empty lobby with Lindsay on Christmas Day. They had both volunteered to work during the holidays again, and agent Fletcher couldn't help but look at David with a face of contempt again as he sat around doing nothing to do but answer calls from people like Maury, witnesses that still needed advice on how to properly cook their turkeys.

     "What?" David asked, as he could tell she was looking at him. "I'm not going to leave this time, I promise!"

     "You better not," Lindsay said, "but why are you even here?"

     "I'm working," David answered, "Same as you."

     "But you have family to be with this year," Lindsay reminded him. "Wouldn't you rather be with your brother, Gail, and the girls? I mean even your grandfather is there, so why are you still here?"

     David didn't say anything and instead replied by giving her a sly grin, saying nothing as he put his Brooklyn Dodgers cap on to cover his eyes.

     "What are you grinning at?" Lindsay said, "I'm never seen anyone so happy to be missing time with family."

     "What makes you think I'm missing it?" David asked.

     "What do you mean?" Lindsay said, thinking about it. "Wait a second; are you at home right now?"

     "Probably," David replied, "Unless Gail asked me to go out and pick something up she might have forgotten."

     "Son of a bitch!" Lindsay said with a stunned face. "You're in the cave!"

     "Maybe," David said, trying not to laugh.

     "You're time traveling to cover a shift!" Lindsay called out.

     "I'm still here, aren't I?" David countered, "I'm just as capable of doing my job as an astral projection no less than if I were really here. I started my travel a few hours before the shift started, so I've got plenty of time to help out. About forty-four hours to be precise."

     "I can't believe it," Lindsay said, "Are there any other shifts you covered for yourself that I should be aware of?"

     "Perhaps," David replied.

     "Unbelievable!" Lindsay said, putting her pen down and looking back at her partner like a mother that was scolding her child. "What other times did your astral projection fill in for you?"

     "Remember the day we had that big car chase," David started, "You got mad because I hit the emergency brake and broke off pursuit?"

     "Yes," Lindsay said, "You were time traveling that day?"

     "I was, but for good reason." David explained, "We got into an accident at the end of that chase, and the bad guy still got away. You broke your collarbone and got a severe concussion and someone in the other car we hit died. I hit the brake because the outcome of the chase wasn't going to change, and I saved a few lives and ourselves a lot of pain in the process."

     Lindsay paused for a moment. "Thank you."

     "You're welcome," David called back.

     Things got quiet for another hour or so before the director came walking into the office to check up on them.

     "Don't get up," Jerry called out as he came in. "The wife thinks I've gone out to get some more eggnog. I poured two cartons down the sink just for an excuse to get out of the house."

     "No prob, boss." David said, "Happy holidays!"

     "What's got you in such a good mood?" Jerry asked.

     "He's not here!" Lindsay said, as she just couldn't help herself.

     "You dog," Jerry said, as he figured it out. "You're using the Portal to cover your holiday shift?"

     "Why not?" David said, "I'll grab you after the shift and we'll hit the tavern later tonight. I can always bail you out and say there's a situation at the office."

     Jerry thought about it, "Sounds good. Is Harv coming?"

     "Fraid not," David replied, "He's with me at Ricky's place, doing the whole holiday thing."

     "That's right," Jerry said, "you sneaky little bugger."

     "Since you're here, I can give you your presents." David said as he took his feet off his desk and hopped out of his chair.

     "You got me a gift?" Lindsay said, "I didn't get you anything."

     "Don't worry about it," David said as got up out of his chair and picked up what looked like a wrapped frame and walked it over to her desk. "You guys have been keeping a very, very big secret and I wanted to show my appreciation for that loyalty by grabbing you guys something for the holidays."

     "I don't know if I can accept it," Lindsay replied.

     "Lindsay," Jerry said to her, "David is a time traveler. You might want to find out what he got you before giving it back."

     "Good advice," David said as he grabbed a medium sized frame that was wrapped up and handed it his partner. "Here you go, Fletcher. Happy holidays."

     She took the wrapping off the frame and looked at the painting and then looked back at David. "Is this real?"

     "It sure is," David confirmed, "You said he was your favorite artist."

     "How did you get this?" Lindsay asked, "Did you steal it?"

     "No, I bought it." David told her. "I went back and met the artist and bought this from him directly. I offered him double for what he was asking, but he insisted on taking just two hundred bucks for it. Here, I took a selfie with him to prove it."

     David took out his phone and showed her a picture that David had taken in the past, a selfie with Jackson Pollack.

     "This thing is worth a fortune!" Lindsay said, "I can't take this."

     "Yes, you can." David disagreed, "Just take good care of it."

     "So where's my Pollack?" Jerry asked, looking around.

     David took a small box out of his pocket and handed it to his boss. "I'm afraid this will have to do, boss."

     His boss took the box from David and unwrapped it. Inside the small box was an old badge, a very old star shaped badge that had U.S. Marshal written across it. He looked back at David with a small smile on his face.

     "Where the hell did you get this?" Jerry asked him.

     "Turn it over and find out," David answered, "It's inscribed."

     Jerry turned the badge over and there was only one word inscribed on the back of it: Earp.

     "Are you shitting me?" Jerry replied, "This is Wyatt's badge?"

     "It's not," David corrected him, "It's Virgil's badge."

     "How the hell did you get Virgil Earp's badge?" Jerry inquired. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

     "No," David replied, "I took a trip to a small town in Arizona, and assisted the Marshal with a few arrests. He was so impressed that he deputized me that same day. He gave me one of his spare badges and said he'd give me my own later on. My time was up before he got the chance."

     "So this was Virgil's." Jerry said, "You didn't get to see Wyatt?"

     "Oh, I met Wyatt," David replied, "And Morgan too."

     "Was Doc there?" Jerry asked, totally swept up in the conversation.

     "He was," David said, happy to share the details, "But did you know that Wyatt was a far better card player than he was?"

     "I don't believe that," Jerry said, "Doc was a professional gambler!"

     "Wyatt didn't play often," David conceded, "But when he did he cleared every table, even when Doc was playing."

     "God damn, that's awesome." Jerry said as he put the badge back into the box. "Let's talk about this more at the tavern. I've got to get back to the house before the wife suspects something. Thank you, David."

     "You're welcome, boss." David said, as he shook Jerry's hand. "I'll see you later tonight."

     David had a smile on his face as he knew Jerry would love that gift. He walked back to his desk and sat back down to assume the same lazy position he had before. He could see Lindsay was still staring at her new painting.

     "I'll escort you home if you worried about riding around with it." David offered, "Just tell everyone it's a fake. No one will believe you unless you provide proof anyway. Yet I can provide that proof if you ever want to sell it one day. Consider it a backup retirement fund."

     Lindsay looked back at him. "I still don't know."

     "Listen," David said as he sat up, "What's the point of being a time traveler if you can't go out and get some really cool gifts for your friends?"

     "I get it," Lindsay said, tossing in the towel. "I'll find a nice place for it."

     "Besides," David retorted, "That's nothing compared to the Van Gough that's hanging up at my place."

     "You have a Van Gough?" Lindsay said, stunned.

     "Not only do I have a Van Gough," David informed her. "It's a commissioned portrait."

     "Of whom?" she asked.

     "Of me," David answered, "I was there and it only took him the better part of a day to whip it up. Not only did I pay him well for it, which he appreciated, but I also took him out for supper and drinks. I even covered supplies so he wouldn't be forced to paint over something priceless."

     "So you have a portrait of yourself made by Van Gough?" Lindsay repeated before deeply sighing. "Of course you do."

     Things were quiet in the office, and when Lindsay took a break from her paperwork to get a coffee, she was surprised to see David doing something either than sleeping at his desk. He was actually reading a book.

     "What book is that?" She asked him.

     "It's a text book," David replied, "I've been working on learning a few new languages."

     "Such as?" Lindsay said, curious about it.

     "Right now I'm focusing on three," David replied, "Those being Chinese, Latin and Aramaic."

     "Why are you studying these languages?" Lindsay said, as the answer popped into her head before he got a chance to answer, "What times are you planning on going back to with these languages?"

     "Pretty far back," David answered, "At least a few thousand years."

     "Can't Ousla build you a machine from the future that can just translate everything for you?" she sarcastically asked.

     "Probably," David replied, "But I prefer to know the language rather than depend on tech all the time. I also think it could be very dangerous to take something that sophisticated that far back into the past."

     "Uh huh," Lindsay said, walking back to her desk with her coffee. "But I'm sure you plan to take your cell phone with you so that you can get a selfie with Julius Caesar, right?"

     "That's not a bad idea," David said, "But odds of me getting him alone for a selfie are not good."

     "What do you tell these people when you take the selfies?" Lindsay asked.

     "I tell them it's a new prototype camera that's not on the market." David replied, "You'd be surprised how often that works. You should have seen John Lennon's response, it was quite interesting."

     "I'm sure it was," Lindsay said, getting back to her work. "You get back to your language homework so I can finish my paperwork."

     "Yes, Ma'am." David said, opening his book back up.

     The office was eerily silent as the two went back to their own work. This blissful silence was broken when a young man no older than his late teens came walking into the office. He was a handsome kid, with middle length hair and a slender but lean frame. He was wearing boots and a jumpsuit that didn't look very familiar, but that wasn't the thing that concerned David the most. What was bothering him the most was what the young man had in his arms, the gun he was carrying when he walked into the Marshal's office. The young man was carrying the very same futuristic gun that David had used to fend off Ferguson and his men earlier that year. It looked exactly like the one that Ousla gave him, so David knew exactly how dangerous it was as he immediately hopped to his feet and pulled his own gun. He didn't want to shoot the young man because he wanted to know who he was and what was going on before jumping to conclusions. Still, he pointed his gun at him and called out to him before the young man could say a single word.

     "Freeze!" David called out, which startled Lindsay who didn't even notice that someone had walked in.

     "Hey there," the young man replied, seeming very easy going, despite the fact that David had pulled his gun.

     "I don't know where you're coming from," David continued, "But I am well aware that the gun you're carrying isn't invented for at least another five hundred years. Drop it!"

     "I'm not here to hurt anyone," The young man called back.

     "I believe you," David replied, "Prove that to us. Please put down that impressive piece of technology, and then we can talk."

     The young man responded by slowly putting the big gun down and when he stood back up, he did so with his hands up to let the Marshals, of which both were now pointing their guns at him, that he wasn't a threat anymore.

     "I come in peace," the young man said, hands still up.

     "You've off to a good start," David said, gesturing to the gun on the ground. "What do you want?"

     "I'm really sorry, but I had no other choice." The young man said, "There was really no one else I could trust."

     "Why?" Lindsay asked, still trying to figure out who he was.

     "Because I need your help," the young man replied.

     "Why me?" David asked, as he was started to suspect something.

     "Because I'm your son," he called back, "Who else should a kid turn to when the chips are down than his parents?"

     David and Lindsay looked at each other and then back at the kid in the middle of the room.

     "Parents?" Lindsay repeated, trying to process the statement.

     David sighed, as his suspicions were confirmed. "You're in the damn cave, aren't you?"

     "I am," the kid replied, "And right now I need my parents."

     "Oh boy," David said as he looked over at Lindsay, who was still trying the process the fact that this was the second time the kid had said parents, as in plural. It was clear to David that Lindsay's mind was having a hard time handling the statement as she fainted, and fell to the floor rather hard.

     "Mom!" the kid called out.

     "Shit!" David cursed, as he walking over to check on her.

     David checked to see there were no serious injuries, and then used a coat from her desk to cushion her head. "She seems alright, for the time being."

     "What's up with her?" the kid asked. "Isn't this the year two thousand and thirty?"

     "Fraid not sport," David replied, "Two thousand seventeen."

     "Damn, sorry about that." The kid replied, "I hate spoilers."

     David turned to face the kid, who was his own. "Give it to me straight... what's your name?"

     "Oh," the kid replied, "I'm Thomas, but you call me Tommy."

      "Okay," David said, trying not to freak out, "What are the hell you doing here in my time Tommy?"

     Tommy looked back at David and took a deep breath. "It's the people who Ousla ran away from. They found her in my time and took her back. I need your help Dad, we have to rescue her!"