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September 7, 2007 San Diego, CA

The sand felt strange and clumpy under Rose's feet but strangely comforting. It was as if the sand had been untouched for years, and she was the first to touch it. Her father watched as she cautiously stepped onto the sand, a foreign substance due to their constant travels demanded by the wrestling industry.

Her therapist had advised her father that settling down would be best for her to have a stable home where she didn't constantly feel uprooted. Lately, she had been experiencing night terrors, waking up in tears with uncontrollable chest heaving. No matter how tightly he held her, it never felt like enough.

The nightmares would continue to haunt her night after night. Occasionally, he would feel her relax against his chest, and she would whisper a word that seemed to linger like an everlasting wound.

"Mom"

Her therapist, a caring man with a talent for this situation, was cautious about what he shared with Craig. From their first meeting, he emphasized the importance of Rose's confidence. Unless it were a life-threatening situation, he would speak vaguely and generally about her needs and coping mechanisms. After four weeks of nightmares, he had recommended therapy, linking her trauma to the loss of her mother and the image of her lying unconscious on the bathroom floor.

Craig would spare no expense to help his daughter navigate through her grief, even though he could never shake the memory of holding Rebecca in his arms as she passed away.

As Rose took another step into the sand, her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. Her homeschool teacher had described her as high-strung, not in a positive way. While often praised for being brilliant, rugged, and creative, he worried about how long she could bear the weight of being high-strung.

It didn't take long for the burden to become apparent.

Each step brought her closer to the crashing waves, and Craig followed cautiously. Each step felt like walking on a tightrope, unsure if the ground would give way beneath her. She knew she was born in California, but after her mother's passing, it was difficult for them to return without the memories of her lingering in their minds.

As she approached the ocean water that seemed to call out to her, Craig kept his distance but ensured he was there if she needed him. It was a delicate balance, requiring more intuition and emotion than he was born with. He watched as her pink feet touched the cold, salty water. She didn't flinch. Instead, she took another step. Slowly, she knelt and let the water wash over her hands.

Her body seemed to relax even more.

Rose glanced over her right shoulder and saw her father a few steps away. A smile spread across her face, a joy that had been absent for months. He closed the gap between them and knelt beside her.

"How does it feel?"

She looked at him, her blue eyes reflecting the water surrounding her. He could tell she was searching for the right word, a word that felt unfamiliar to her. The fresh air unexpectedly revitalized her lungs as she took a deep breath. She found it.

"It feels like home," she whispered, a certain happiness in her voice as if the ground beneath her was as solid as it had been five years ago.

February 3rd, 2023 Helena, MT

Rose was seated in a therapist's office in early February, wearing blue jeans and a long black sweater. An oversized jacket lay across her lap, although she was unsure of its origin. Her gaze was vacant as she stared ahead, sensing her father's presence in the room despite his absence.

The drive to the office had been silent, with Rose peering out the window at the towering trees. Her memories of the past six weeks were fleeting. She vaguely recalled her father burying Brian and a long journey to an unfamiliar place that had become their home. The drive was a mystery until they reached an upscale office building.

When Rose inquired about the therapist, her father explained that she had requested this. Rose squinted, struggling to remember making such a request. She could recall sitting on the couch, holding Adeline tightly while sipping coffee, but the details were blurry.

Adeline was happy to have her mother around, but Rose felt a fog rolling in, leaving her confused and more spaced out than she wanted. Mornings turned into evenings, with Adeline asleep on the couch while Craig prepared meals. The first few meals were silent, devoid of conversation. Craig seemed content to let Rose eat in peace, and she was grateful for that because she wasn't ready to voice her thoughts yet.

Rose nervously tapped her fingers on her jacket as she waited for the therapist to open the door. At some point, she had mentioned wanting to talk to somebody, although she wasn't sure how conscious she had been. However, she knew that being honest with herself meant coming here. It was a difficult realization but one she knew she had to face.

The door, a wooden frame with a frosted glass pane, opened, and a woman in her mid-forties stood in the threshold with a warm smile and gray streaks in her hair. "Rose?" the woman asked, and Rose nodded, rising from her seat. She walked to the door where the woman stretched out her hand.

"I'm Christine; thank you for coming in. You can sit wherever you like."

Rose noticed the modern and cold atmosphere as she entered Christine's office. It seemed the therapist wanted to eliminate any emotions from the room except for the ones she would be addressing. Rose saw several couches spread across the room, each evoking a different feeling within her. She chose the red couch, positioned across from what she assumed was Christine's desk, as it felt the safest option.

She sat down slowly, feeling uncomfortable on the couch. Glancing at the clock on the desk, she saw that it read 1:00. Rose looked down at her wrist, realizing she had forgotten to put on a watch and was unsure of the day or time.

Christine settled on a cream-colored loveseat, positioning her legs underneath her to get comfortable. Rose's eyes darted around the room, searching for details about this woman, but she found nothing that stood out.

"So, my father called and set this appointment?" Rose began. The woman looked back at her, confused.

"Your father?" Christine responded.

"Yeah. An older-sounding gentleman, though can you really tell how old someone is on the phone?"

Christine shifted in her chair. "No, it was a female voice. Your voice, if I'm not mistaken."

"My voice? Why would I call you?"

The therapist wrote something on a notepad next to her chair. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

"Sorry, doctor—"

"Christine, please," she responded with a smile. It unsettled Rose a bit.

Rose scanned the office before refocusing her attention on Christine. "Sure, Christine. I don't have a clear sense of the current time, day, or exact location. So, it's hard for me to believe I called you."

"Why are you having difficulty with time and space?"

"Well, you see, I'm a Time Lord."

"I'm sorry, what?" Christine noted something else down in her notepad.

Rose chuckled to herself. "Sorry, just kidding. It was Brian's favorite show, you know. Doctor Who. And Adeline dressed up as the Doctor for two years in a row, but as different versions. Based on your reaction, I guess you haven't watched the show." Christine shook her head.

"I've heard of it, but you're right, I haven't watched it."

"Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I have a poor sense of time. I don't know where I am."

"Are you in danger?"

Rose considered the question for a moment. "I don't believe so. Why?"

"Well, people who don't know the day, time, or location where they are are usually either on drugs or have been kidnapped."

Rose nodded and noticed that she was tapping her left foot. Interesting, she thought to herself. "Do kidnappers usually let their victims go to therapy?"

"No, not usually."

"So, odds are that I'm on drugs?"

"Odds favor that, although I don't see any evidence when looking at your pupils. I don't see any visual clues that I would see in a drug patient."

"Do you spend a lot of time talking to drug addicts?"

"Sometimes. It's a mix of different cases."

"How many people come to you because they lost their husbands?"

Christine sat straight in her chair and crossed her left leg over her right. "A fair number, although I don't have an exact number for you. Is that why you're here?"

"I think it's part of the reason why I'm here. At the very least, it's why I don't have any concept of time or day currently.

"Did your husband pass away?"

Rose looked away. "Yes."

"Recently?"

It felt like yesterday to her. She remembered the phone call and the overwhelming feeling that washed over her. The space around her seemed to blur, almost intangible.

"Rose?"

The therapist's voice brought her back. "What?"

"Did you recently lose your husband?"

"Well, if I knew the day, I would probably be able to tell you how recently it happened. For all I know, it's three years in the future, so the term 'recent' would be doing a lot of work."

"It's February 3rd, 2023. A Friday, if that helps."

Rose nodded. "Thanks, that does help. So, yes, I lost him right before Christmas, about six weeks ago." Six weeks of grieving, staying in bed, barely talking to anyone.

"How did you lose him?"

What did she do for Christmas? Where were they? Did Adeline now hate her? These questions felt more important in her mind now as it began stretching out, being used for the first time in weeks.

"A car accident. He was driving back from an event with my daughter when a drunk driver collided with him head-on," she explained, her voice trembling. She paused, clearing her throat and feeling a burning sensation at the back of her eyes.

Christine quickly jotted something down, giving Rose a moment to compose herself.

"Is your daughter okay?" Christine asked, concerned.

It took Rose a moment to gather her thoughts, the memory of that day etched like a painful scar across her chest. She felt the first tear stream down her cheek. "Yes, she had some scrapes and bumps. It was touch and go for a moment, but she came out of it just fine. My father could provide more information about her current health."

"Have you found yourself disengaged from the world around you lately? Feeling somewhat catatonic?" Christine inquired.

"I believe you're right on target with that. Given everything that's happened, I feel off balance.

The therapist's face wrinkled as she adjusted herself. "With everything that's going on? Has something else occurred? Besides your husband's death?"

Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, she scolded herself.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I discovered that my father has brain cancer and doesn't have much time left." Rose didn't understand why she revealed her feelings to a stranger.

"That must be challenging."

"For me or him?"

"For both of you."

Sure. If that's what you want to call it.

"I can't speak for him," Rose responded.

"Why not?"

Internally, Rose laughed.

"We haven't spoken about it."

The curse of her family: they never really spoke about anything.

"Really?"

Lady, you've hit a gold mine.

"Yeah. I found out, and I wanted to talk to him about it, but then my husband passed."

"Oh, wow. So you've experienced a significant amount of trauma over the past six weeks."

Rose shrugged. "It depends on how you define trauma, but yeah, I would say so."

"How do you define trauma?"

"Are you asking for the textbook definition?"

Christine shook her head. "No, I mean, how do you personally define trauma? How do you process it?"

"You're diving right into it, aren't you? Can I just know what state I'm in?"

Christine looked down at her notes. "I would imagine you're in a state of shock, but those are areas I would like to explore further."

"No, no. Location."

Christine's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, Montana."

"Montana? Why Montana?"

Rose noticed a look of great concern on Christine's face. She wondered if Christine thought she should be sent to a facility.

"I can't answer that question for you," the therapist replied.

"Just... Montana?"

Rose stood up and started pacing around the office, trying to comprehend why her father had come to Montana. Countless thoughts flooded her mind. Was his condition worsening more than they had expected? Did something occur back in Texas? Standing before a window, she gazed at a forest of bare trees. The hazy sun offered little warmth, which explained the chilly temperatures she had been enduring. Rose concluded that Montana was quite cold. Despite their dislike for the cold, they had been in Montana for six weeks.

Christine cleared her throat and turned towards Rose in her chair. "Do you have any connections to Montana?"

A laugh slipped out before Rose could stop it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just... no. We have no ties to Montana. I've never been there. I don't think my father has ever been either."

"Do you think this has some symbolic meaning for your father?"

She took a moment to process the question and looked around the office, hoping for answers to the questions she found herself asking. Unfortunately, none were revealed to her.

"My father isn't a particularly complex man. I mean, he is. He's intense, thoughtful, and caring. It's just... I don't know. The man I've known my whole life has always been a mystery. He's always been there, always ready to support someone and drop everything immediately; whether it was good or bad depends on how you look at it. Most of the time, I was the beneficiary of that, but sometimes I wasn't."

"What about your mother?"

"My... mother?" She felt a sharp sting around the edge of her eyes. Rose thought she might collapse and unravel inside this stranger's office, which would be an embarrassment she couldn't bear.

"Yeah, your mother. Is she not involved anymore?"

"She passed away when I was a little girl."

Christine added to her notes, "I'm sorry to hear that. How?"

Rose, now a five-year-old girl, found herself in a hotel room. Her father's boot slammed into the bathroom door, revealing her mother lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

As Rose became aware of her surroundings, she realized she gripped the back of a chair tightly. The pressure she was exerting was so intense that she feared she would break the chair if she applied any more. Slowly, she released her grip on it.

"She was hemorrhaging in her brain. What started as a small brain bleed turned into a very serious one. No one had diagnosed it or even been aware of an issue with her. One day, she just collapsed, and that was it."

"Was there a trip, a fall, or something similar that you remember?"

"Yeah... Gosh, yeah."

Rose froze as she felt her tenuous grip on the present loosen, and she was transported to years prior.

“Rose?” the voice interrupted her thoughts, jolting her back to the present.

“Sorry. You see, my father was a wrestler. Well, he just retired. But because he was a wrestler, we traveled a lot. Most wrestlers didn't bring their wives and kids on the road, but my dad did. It was lovely. I got to spend a lot of time with people. I've seen some of them twenty or twenty-five years later, and they can't believe how much I've changed, and vice versa."

“Okay,” Christine responded, wondering where this was leading.

“And I just remembered a day when I was walking with my father, and we heard a crash. He had just finished a match, and someone who worked in the production area was watching over me while my mother was helping someone get ready. We rushed in when we heard the crash. A guy rushed past us, and my mother was on the ground, holding her head. She had a small cut, and a few people were helping her up."

"And was this shortly before your mother's passing?"

Rose nodded. "I think it was a few weeks later? Wow, I hadn't thought about that in a long time. Actually, I don't think I've ever thought about it."

"And how does it make you feel?"

Rose stood there, silent. Slowly, she turned back towards the window and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Just... sad."

"That's a natural feeling."

Rose chuckled.

"Thanks, doc. I kinda figured."

"Do you want to sit back down so we can continue?"

"Sure."

She slowly returned to the comfortable couch and gracefully sank into the plush cushions, feeling the softness engulfing her body. As she settled in, she let out a contented sigh, reveling in the cozy couch's pure relaxation.

“So, you lost your mother at a young age. Now, you are dealing with the death of your husband and the revelation that your father has brain cancer and has less than a year to live.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I shouldn’t be complaining.”

Christine did a better job than Rose did at containing her laughter.

“You mentioned you have a daughter? Is she doing okay?”

“My dad has been taking care of her while I’ve been…,” her voice trailed off as guilt overwhelmed her. She felt guilty for not being there for her daughter and for not being a better mother. That guilt turned into shame.

“Rose?”

“I’ve just been lying in bed for the past month. Catatonic. Out of it. Grieving.”

“That’s a normal response.”

“Is it? For a whole month?”

Christine nodded. “To be honest, I've seen far worse. Some people turn to drug use, alcohol use, cutting, or disappear completely. Others turn to sexual activities.”

“Okay, yeah. I guess lying in bed doesn’t seem as bad when you put it into that context.”

“It's your way of processing. You can feel what you feel and process it in your way. I suspect that you're processing three things simultaneously, maybe even four if I look closely enough.”

“Four things?”

Christine looked down at her notepad. “The death of your mother, which as a little girl is the hardest thing because those are the years you’re building this lifelong relationship with someone who is mostly a carbon copy of yourself, your guiding light as to what being a woman is meant to be.”

“Well, damn, doc.”

“The death of your husband, your partner, the person you chose to spend a life with. The person who is supposed to be your rock. And then your father. The one person who has never abandoned you.”

Rose began to feel a bit uncomfortable and shifted in her chair.

“You seem to be pretty good at this. You mentioned a fourth thing?”

"Yeah. You are channeling the grief from your daughter. She's approximately the same age that you were when you lost your mother, and now she's losing her father?"

Rose let out a sigh. "Well, damn. I guess you've been doing this for a little while."

Christine smiled. "A little bit."

"So, what do we do?" Rose wanted to fix this situation quickly. She had her little girl to support, and her father needed her.

"We talk."

Rose scrunched up her face. "Is that it?"

"Well, for me, yes. But for you, it will involve confronting things you've never wanted to deal with, handling everything right now, and looking ahead because this roller coaster ride is far from over."

"Well, when you put it like that, I'm not even sure if I need to be here." Rose leaned forward, rubbing the back of her neck as she did so.

"That's up to you," Christine responded.

"So where do we start?"

"Let's begin with your mother."

Rose groaned. "Well, that's going to be fun. Do you have enough time?"

Christine glanced at her watch.

"We have about twenty-five minutes left."

"Then it seems like we'll need a few more sessions, I suppose."

Rose then reclined and closed her eyes, unlocking the drawer that had been locked for the longest time.

May 23, 2023 San Diego, CA

David sat inside his recently rented house, his mind swirling with thoughts. His mentor's real estate agent found an incredible property on the beach just a few homes down from Craig and Rose's residence.

This fact alone was one of the many thoughts racing through David's head as he stepped onto the balcony and heard the crashing waves just a few feet away.

A bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the wooden railing, tempting him to drink. He mainly had given up alcohol over the past year, but this moment seemed like a worthy exception. The past week, he had been filled with one revelation after another.

Cancer? Check. Craig had it and was only a few months away from dying.

Dead husband? Check. Just days after Craig retired, Rose's husband was killed by a drunk driver. Both the driver and Rose's husband had died.

Comatose woman? Yes, add that to the list. Rose had kept to herself, spending months in Montana before finally opening up. What did she want? To go home. Apparently, this was home.

One heartbreaking story after another unfolded in the most harrowing six months David had ever witnessed. The fact that they were all still standing was nothing short of a miracle. Throughout it all, an eight-year-old girl had nestled herself in the crook of Lorelai's arm in bed, bringing light and joy to everyone.

On top of everything, there was the wrestling gym that Craig had taken over and the men he was currently training to become wrestlers. They were quite a diverse and unconventional group, to say the least.

He had witnessed a match between Cory Kensington and Jamaal Ingram, half-brothers who shared the same mother, on several occasions in the past. Their loyalty to each other was strong, and he admired their life in Peckham, a town south of London. Both of them associated with the Peckham Boys until they got into a fight with the wrong (or perhaps fitting, depending on one's perspective) person, who put them to work setting up wrestling rings throughout the Kingdom.

Evidently, they channeled their energy into wrestling and excelled as high flyers due to their fearlessness. There were no limits to what they could achieve if they set their minds to it. With their fondness for marijuana, they were able to create and accomplish things both inside and outside the wrestling ring that he had never even considered.

The other person Craig had found, Shawn, was a mysterious figure. He sat there quietly, sporting a pair of black sunglasses. David had taken a few glances and noticed tattoos that could indicate gang affiliation, although he wasn't entirely sure. Nevertheless, when Shawn stepped into the ring, he displayed impressive punching skills and proved to be a resilient individual who was not easily knocked down.

Impressive was the first word that crossed David's mind when he saw that trio in the ring together. At the same time, he wondered if Craig had lost his mind in training men who would only reach their full potential after he passed.

Apparently, that's where he came in.

"I need you to train them. My body... I can't get in that ring any longer. They could learn a lot from you."

It took all of David's willpower to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape his throat. What could they possibly learn from him? How to drown their sorrows in alcohol? Perhaps. He might be able to introduce them to some drugs they had never heard of, but then again, maybe not. He had failed at every stage of his life except for this one, where he raised a teenage girl on the brink of going to college.

That was his claim to fame, and he was more than satisfied with it. It filled him with pride, a feeling he had lacked for a long time. His sisters thought he was crazy, but he had distanced himself from their opinions. He no longer needed their constant chatter in his ear.

He reached for the bottle of Jack and brought it closer to him. His hand felt the metal cap as he began to unscrew it. He deserved this, didn't he? After the fucking week he had, he just needed something to take the edge off.

"Care for a visitor?" The voice interrupted his thoughts. The warm tone brought a smile to his face. He turned around and saw his daughter, Lorelai, stepping onto the wooden patio, wrapped up in a beanie and hoodie.

"You're more than just a visitor," David replied.

"Fine. Are you going to stare at the bottle or drink from it?"

"That's still up for debate."

She approached him, and he embraced her, pulling her close.

"Can I have some?"

David gave her a stern look.

"Okay, fine. I'll just do it when you're not watching."

"Just like every almost eighteen-year-old is expected to do."

She smiled. "Are you doing okay?"

"Why? What makes you think something is wrong?"

She gestured towards the bottle of Jack. "Well, for starters, you're sitting out here looking at the bottle of Jack. Look, I'm not one to judge. It's just that you haven't had many drinks over the past year or so."

"Yeah."

"Are you avoiding alcohol?"

David pondered the question for a moment. "No, not necessarily."

"Because I have a video that suggests otherwise--"

David held up a finger. "Yeah, let's talk about that video. How about you delete it?" A video that, months later, would be made fun of by some of PRIME's biggest stars. But that's in the future, and we're in the past.

"How about I tell you I did but keep it a secret?"

David sighed. "Fine. I'm not quitting alcohol. It's not like I have a drinking problem."

"I think that's what everyone with a drinking problem says," she admonished him.

"That's fair. I mean, I used to. It was the only thing that let me sleep and quiet my mind. It also let me run away from my demons."

"All good reasons to drink," she responded.

He shot her another look.

"Or so I hear. You know, it's not like I have any real problems, you know? Just a dead mother."

David shrugged. "Fair enough. Welcome to the club."

"Yeah, I really found my people, didn't I? Craig, Lorelai, Rose, Adeline, yourself. We could all start a group."

"Let's not, though, okay? Can't ruin my street cred."

She threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. "I'm not sure you ever had any street cred."

"It was there. Not much, but just enough."

"Sure, I'll help you keep the lie alive," she offered.

A moment passed between them. "So, it's been a week. Based on where we are and the fact that you paid a significant amount upfront to secure this place, I assume we won't be going home anytime soon?"

"Is that going to be a problem? We can go back to New York."

"No, no. I'm good. I'm not really into making friends anyway. There's not much I'm missing back home."

"Weren't you dating someone? Allison?" David tried to give his daughter her space; if she wanted him to be part of her love life, she would include him. She didn't want him to be too involved in her romantic life.

"Alicia, but close enough. Yeah, but it wasn't serious. Nothing at seventeen ever is."

"Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know."

"I think you've put your life on hold quite well. It's okay to start living it again." She hugged him tightly, and he gladly embraced her.

"Sure."

"Man of few words," she commented, adjusting herself and removing her beanie to reveal dark brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. "Just to clarify, are you wealthy?"

"Mary-Lynn," David corrected.

"Mary-Jane, Dad. Street credibility is important."

"No, no. I don't deal drugs, Mary-Lynn."

She looked at him with confusion. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"It would mean something to your mother."

A tense silence settled between them, as they rarely discussed that particular topic.

"Sorry," he offered.

“No, no. You’re good. I’m sure it meant something to her, but it still means nothing to me.”

"Mary-Lynn is a former... flame of mine," he couldn't even really remember the last time they talked, much less saw one another.

"No one says flame unless they're trying to mask their true feelings. So, the love of your life?"

She moved to the table across from him and leaned against it.

"At one point, yeah. Mary-Lynn used to run around with Jack Harmen, aka High Flyer, back in the day—those two and the dude with the Game Boy. I can never remember his name. Anyways, we were all together, a group you might say. Nothing formal, but we just ran together. Craig, as well. A long time ago, decades now. Anyways, Mary-Lynn was not only beautiful and charming but also whip-smart. She took care of all her money."

Lorelai processed everything, realizing how little she knew about her father's younger days. This was the most he'd shared to this point.

"Oh yeah? How much?" she inquired.

"A lot. None of us ever need to work again, including wrestling."

"Shit," she breathed.

"Yeah, we all made good money to begin with. We would have blown it all on stupid shit. Craig, probably not, since he had a kid, but the rest of us? Yeah, we would have blown that shit fast."

"Did she go to the future and figure out how to make money off Tesla or some shit?"

"Wouldn't have surprised me. Needless to say, that's why I don't need to work. I haven't needed to for a minute now. My expenses aren't much anyways. My budget was $40 back then, and Mary-Lynn took care of the rest."

"Well, damn. You leaving it to me?" she jested.

"Got no one else to leave it to."

"Well, that's dark."

David extended his arms. "Welcome to the family."

Lorelai glanced at the ground. "Do you ever miss her?"

"Who?"

"Mary-Lynn."

David let out a heavy sigh. "I didn't deserve her. Not then, not now."

"Still," she began, but he interrupted.

"She's married and has kids."

"Damn, that's unfortunate."

David shrugged.

"What about Tasha?"

David looked at Lorelai, aware of the strong friendship between them. "Tasha is an amazing person."

"Do you feel like there's something more than friendship?"

"I don't know. There comes a point when you're content with what you have and just want someone to share it with. She's a wonderful woman who makes me happy, but I'm unsure if there's anything deeper there."

“Because of her or because of you?”

David raised an eyebrow. “Careful, you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you blocking yourself off because of Mary-Lynn?”

David shook his head.

“And what is your most important relationship since Mary-Lynn?”

David looked at Lorelai.

“I don’t count.”

David wanted to argue but knew the point Lorelai was trying to make.

“Fair enough.”

“Deal with that shit before you go hurting Tasha.”

“I guess I should talk to her, fill her in on what’s going on here.”

“That would be a good idea. She’s understanding, but not that understanding.”

Another moment passed between them as the waves filled the gap.

"I can't believe the level of shit they've gone through these last six months," Lorelai said.

"No kidding. It's impressive that they're still standing and moving forward."

"Well, I guess they have some experience in that department."

He nodded. "Yeah, they do."

"And yet, Adeline...," her voice trailed off as she thought of the little girl she had put to bed an hour ago.

David snapped his fingers. "I know. There's something about being that age. You don't have the context of everything else around you, the impact it can have, and you just keep moving forward."

Lorelai shrugged.

"Do you have a different thought?"

"Yeah. She's just really strong," Lorelai shot back.

"That goes without saying."

"I don't think you understand what it's like to be a kid and lose a parent."

David raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you don't count me being an orphan, sure."

"Half-orphan," she joked.

"Fair enough. My mom left her husband for my sperm donor. It's complicated on a whole different level."

Lorelai smiled. "Indeed, and you're semi-normal— nope, you're fucked."

David laughed. "I appreciate that."

As they stood there, chuckling, Lorelai narrowed her eyes and walked towards the railing where David was leaning. She looked out, and something caught her eye. David slowly turned around.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"Is that...?"

David then noticed what she had spotted.

"Yeah, that's Rose."

"On that note, you have fun with that. I'm going to go check on Adeline," Lorelai said as she moved away from the scene.

"I can't go hang with Adeline, and you deal with Rose?"

"Nope!"

"Traitor!" he yelled after her as she disappeared back into the house.

Dark brown hair, curled professionally yet effortlessly, highlighted the figure as it approached the inviting ocean. Squinting his eyes, he tried to get a better look at her as her toes sank into the soft sand as if hoping it would carry her away.

"Rose?" he whispered, feeling confused. The wind seemed to carry his voice to her, and she turned around, shielding her eyes with her hand as if looking into the sun.

"David?"

Yep, it was Rose, out and about. Every time they had crossed paths in the past week, she seemed like a woman trapped in despair.

She smiled at him before removing her shirt. David rolled his eyes and turned his back to her.

"Come join me!" she called out.

He vigorously shook his head. He had known her since she was a little girl, and this was a situation he wanted to avoid at all costs.

"David, come on. I'm not the same little girl anymore."

Shit. Could she read minds? He didn't know what abilities a wounded woman could possess, especially someone who had lost her husband and was months away from losing her father.

"Come up here, Rose," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, adding a touch of fatherly tone that he had picked up from raising Lorelai.

"Ugh, fine," she groaned, grabbing her shirt and shaking off the sand it had picked up before putting it on. She danced towards the wooden dock attached to David's house and reached the gate. She tried to pull it open but had no luck. Pushing it didn't make any difference either. She lifted her leg over it and straddled it briefly before walking towards David with an evil grin.

"I thought you would want to have some fun. Skinny dipping in the ocean, not your idea of fun?" she teased.

"No, I can't say being swallowed by the Pacific Ocean and dumped three thousand feet in the middle of nowhere is my idea of fun."

"Fine, party over, I guess."

He gazed at her, noticing her hazy brown eyes. With each step she took, her feet seemed on the verge of giving out. Raising his arm, he offered it to her, and she accepted, collapsing into his embrace. David caught her, feeling frustrated by the situation.

"Well, David, is that your cell phone, or are you just happy to see me?" Her eyes locked with his, inviting mischievous thoughts. He felt concerned and put off. In a rushed moment, he had grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels, intending to hide it before she approached, but his attempt had failed.

"Jack."

"You call it Jack?"

He rolled his eyes. "No," he replied, lifting the bottle of Jack Daniels that he still held.

"Oh, that makes much more sense. See? You are fun."

He chuckled. "I really am not." He sniffed and was hit by the strong scent, indicating that she was heavily intoxicated. "And I don't think you need this." He promptly closed the bottle with its lid.

"Why are you ruining my fun, huh?!" Her tone shifted, becoming more aggressive. Her hands found his chest as if she wanted to push him away, but then she stopped. He noticed her eyes becoming suddenly clear as if she had sobered up instantly.

"David," she started. "Can you help me?"

"Get you a sponsor? Join AA? Sure."

She shook her head.

"No, something much bigger than that."

Then she told him what she wanted, and he looked at her as if she were the craziest person he had ever met.

And then he began to help her do exactly what she had asked.

August 15, 2023 San Diego, CA

His house was quiet, and as he sat at the dining room table, he was startled by a knock on the door.

David slowly reached the front door and opened it to find his mentor, Craig, standing there.

"What are you doing here?" David asked, and Craig shook his head before entering the house. He leaned against the wall in the entrance hallway for support and slowly approached the dining room table.

The past few months had taken a toll on Craig's strength. He needed more assistance to get around, and he knew it was a combination of chemotherapy, medication, and the tumor that was slowly taking away his life.

Craig sat down, slowly leaning back into the chair.

"Sorry," he said. "I just needed to sit down."

David sat across from his mentor and smiled at him. "You're looking good tonight."

Craig rolled his eyes. "I don't need the false compliments right now."

David raised his hands in defense. "Fair enough. So, what brings you here?"

Craig took a moment to gather his thoughts and looked past David. "First, I want to thank you for taking the time to be here for my family."

"No problem," David responded.

"Still, I know it's not easy. I'm just glad you answered the phone."

"Have I ever not answered your calls?"

Craig chuckled softly.

“I’m stopping the chemo and medication, David.”

David shook his head. “Why?”

“It’s not doing anything and is just leaving me like… this every day.”

“You have to fight this thing.”

Craig stared at David. “No, I don’t. Not if it’s taking away whatever I have left with my daughter, my granddaughter.”

David wanted to tell Craig to keep fighting back, but looking into his mentor's eyes, he could tell he was resolute on his decision and quickly shut his mouth.

“You still have the bag I gave you a few months back?”

David nodded, remembering the early encounter with Shawn and Craig the first week he came to San Diego.

“There’s going to come a time, David, when I’m too weak and in too much pain. I don’t want my daughter to watch me fade away.”

David’s eyes narrowed.

“Craig—,” but he stopped him with a simple lift of his right hand.

“I’ve thought this through. That medication was designed to be my ‘just in case’. And that ‘just in case’ is quickly coming up. There’s going to come a point when even talking will become too painful. When I tell you to, I need you to bring me that bag.”

David’s head dropped. “Why is it with me?”

“Because I can’t let Rose or Adeline find it.”

David looked up at Craig and took in his appearance. His full head of hair nearly a year ago was completely gone. The wrinkles were more profound than they should have been. His skin was weathered, and his eyes were sunken.

“What is the medication?”

“You know what it is,” Craig responded sternly.

“Yeah, I do.”

He felt his throat constrict, and he looked away from the only man in his life who’d loved him.

“Can you do that for me? A request from an old man?”

David could only nod, afraid to speak.

“Thank you,” Craig responded.

The pair sat there for a moment before David looked over.

“It doesn’t hurt much to speak now, does it?”

Craig shook his head.

“Good, then you can tell me about your past with Lindsay Troy. It’s a story I’ve always wanted to hear.”

He groaned. “Fine, but you better pour me something strong if I’m going to get through this.”

David smiled. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

FIN.