Work Text:
DISChat Post #11042025032214.2731
Server: The Strangeness of Life
CharlieIsOuttaTime
November 4th, 2025
Wow, that last jump was insane! I'd go into details, but… spoilers. Ya know? If you want the story, you'll just have to take a look at my blog. I don't want to ruin it for anyone. Trust me, it's worth the read.
Unfortunately, Molly and I have to move on; we’re forced to by circumstances and a universe that works in strange and mysterious ways. Ever since my eighteenth birthday, on that date and without fail, I find myself in a new place. Unless I'm pulled along by someone else, that is, the pattern has been very consistent.
I wonder how Des is doing… Okay, I digress. Where was I?
Anyway, it’s like a portal opens, sucks me in, and puts me... somewhere and some-when else; that’s the best way to describe it. There’s no sensation, just an eye-blink and I’m not where I used to be. Mostly, it happens once, but occasionally I jump multiple times during the twenty-four-hour period.
One year later, on my nineteenth birthday, I returned to my original stream. So that’s what this post is going to be about. That jump has a special place in my heart... It’s when I got to see Dad for the very last time, something I know Chloe can relate.
November 4th, 2021
Near Seattle
Like I said, all it takes is a blink. I hadn’t expected it, seeing that it was only my second jump; that’s what we call it, though Molly says there’s a scientific name for it, but that’ll take more words than this server can handle, and it’ll put you all to sleep. Anyway, I blinked, and went from being behind the wheel of a big rig, to standing in front of the crimson double-doors that led into my parent’s home. The changes in momentum, I remember, made me lean forward, so I put an arm out to steady myself, landing conveniently on the doorbell. It wasn’t long before the doorway opened, and it was like being body-checked by one of those hockey players as my little sister, she was thirteen, slammed into me.
“Air!!” Gasping, I patted her back. The young teen was squeezing like she hadn’t seen me in a year, which kinda makes sense now. I hadn’t realized, back then, how far I’d traveled or how long I’d been away; I was still too new to know everything. But... I had to admit, it was nice to be home.
“Charlie! Where have you been? It’s been sooo fucking boring since you left.”
“Hey! Language! Who taught you how to talk like that?”
“Uhm... you did.”
Shit, she was right. I’d been a good-bad influence on her before I left, and we’d gotten along amazingly well growing up considering our six years difference in age. She’d been my little mini-punk minion a year ago, and considering all the lockdown shit because of the virus, my sister had needed an in-person friend that considered her a peer instead of just a sister. She was funny, moody, and looked to me like I was the best thing ever. I even learned a bit about my parent’s perspective and how a young person’s life depended on those that were older. The reward was that they grew up, trusting you and developing the sibling relationship that would last a lifetime. It was what family was all about.
So yeah, I could tell Sis was pleased to see me. She grabbed my hand and dragged me inside.
“Mom! You’ll never believe what I just found at the front door!”
“Is it a package? I don’t recall ordering anything.”
“Nope, soooo much better.” She dragged me, now with both arms, until she succeed in tugging me down the hallway and into combined family room and kitchen.
Mom’s back was facing us as she chopped vegetables for the evening’s dinner. I didn’t want to startle her, so instead of walking up from behind, I simply cleared my throat, announcing myself. “Hey, Mom.”
The chopping stopped immediately, and I watched as she set the knife down gently before turning. “CHARLENE!!!! Oh my God!!!”
“Mom... come on, Charlie, please. You know how I feel about being called that!” I scratched my head, a little embarrassed, and was once again engulfed in a full-body hug that crushed my ribs. I wrapped my arms around her, returning the affection. “Happy to see you. Good to be home.” We hadn’t been on the best of terms last year, but my time away had made me realize our differences were petty.
After a couple of minutes just standing there, we disentangled from one another, and Mom blasted me with a torrent of questions. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I’m making Chicken and Gnocchi Soup, there will be plenty. Your Dad will be so happy to see you. Are you staying? Where have you been? What have...”
“Hey! Whoa! Hold up a second, Ma! Heh heh. I’ll try to answer as best I can, but you gotta give me a chance to get a word in. I haven’t even sat down yet.” Of course, my little sister just pulled out a chair from the table and literally pushed me into it. Well... one problem solved.
We were all interrupted by footsteps coming down the stairs. I purposely looked away, knowing exactly who it would be.
“Well, well, well. Welcome home, Charlie. It’s been a while.”
Turning to my first-ever hero, the short-statured man approached. He looked exactly like I remember, a year ago, except maybe with a little bit more grey in the hair, but just along the sides. What was surprising is that he was slowed by a limp, and that his hand was holding a walking cane. Dad had always been very fit, and in the back of my mind a sliver of worry found a space to make a home; I'm sure he'll take me aside and explain things when he's ready. All in all, though, he made his way down, taking care with each step, it didn't stop him from grinning ear to ear. His warm smile was only out shown by his piercing blue eyes which gave a hint to his amazing wit which was combined with a good helping of mischievousness. “Hey, Dad.” In his usual understated manner, he got near, and leaned over, kissing the top of my head. “What's with the cane, Gimpy?”
“Had a little accident during my black belt test a couple of months ago, fractured hip. Docs say if I keep up my exercise and walking, I'll be back to it in no time. But don't worry about me; it's good to see you, kiddo. How was your trip?”
“Amazing! The things I’ve seen...” It all started spilling out before I could help myself. He pulled up a chair, and we all gathered around me as I told my tale. Food was brought out and we ate a crazy amount, all the while I described the world and time I had been in, and what I’d had to do. Hours later, I described the last part almost exactly like I’ve written above. Just a blink of the eye, and I was home.
“And now you’re here, and just in time for your birthday.”
Oh God! I could tell this was going to be a fun, but very very dorky night. "Daaaad… you don't have to go through any trouble."
"Nonsense, Charlie! No daughter of mine is going to show up completely unexpected, and on her birthday too, and not have to suffer the consequences!" His grin never left his face and my sister nodded along; it had been a year since I'd seen them.
“We don’t have any cake.” Mom was always about tradition, and in her eyes, a birthday wasn’t complete without cake.
Dad offered to fix the problem. “Do you want me to go get some? It’ll only take twenty minutes. Doc says I can drive again.” To prove his point, the insanely upbeat man did some deep knee bends, still holding the cane just in case. However, Mom’s tight-lipped frown and quick, sideways glance at him said otherwise. It was an expression I'd grown up with that said a resounding 'No' better than any spoken words. There was a few moments of complete silence until my sister came up with a solution. “We have Pop Tarts. Why can’t we just use those?”
I agreed. I didn’t want anyone to rush around on my account, or do anything special, even if it was a day to celebrate being alive, healthy, and... home. “That’ll work for me. You good, Mom?”
“That’s fine, if it’s what you want.”
"Yup, that sounds great!"
And with that, Pop Tarts were placed in front of everyone, and then the entire family sang the silly birthday song, badly, loudly, and with all their heart. We ended up talking until my sister couldn't keep her eyes open, pleading for Mom to allow her to have an energy drink to stay awake; denied, since it was a school night.
“But, Mom… how am I gonna sleep now? What if Charlie is gone in the morning?”
Sis had a point, but it was Dad that asked the question. “So, how long are you going to be with us, sweetie?”
I shrugged. “I really don't know, Dad.” I turned to the sleepy teen who had moved herself over to stretch out on the couch, peering over its edge at us with half-opened eyes. “It's the truth, dork. I haven't learned all the ins and outs of how or when it happens. Molly doesn't even know for sure.” I fished the portable computer out of the top pocket of my denim jacket.
<Charlie is correct. The situation is not predictable. Ironically, we need more time to work it out.>
“If that's the case, then I have something for you.” Dad got up and waved for me to follow him. Before I did, though, I gave Mom a hug and thanked her for dinner, just in case I didn't have a chance later. I did the same with Sis, telling her to take care, and that I would be back some day, if not tomorrow. I wouldn't forget the little punk.
As I walked up the stairs, the tiny worry poked at my brain.
I followed behind Dad, and we ended up in his office where an envelope lay on his desk. It was addressed to me, just my name because he hadn't known exactly where to send it.
“Don't open it now. Wait until you need to talk to me, but for whatever reason you can't. You'll know when.”
I nodded, slipping the letter into the front sleeve of my pack.
“I've also talked to your sister and mother a little about what you're doing. I had to make them understand you'd been offered the adventure of a lifetime and that you were safe as any teenaged adult in this big world can be. So, they understand. Just do me a favor.” He handed me a key.
“What's this?”
“You know me, I like to be prepared. This is a key to a safe deposit box. You can find it at the Federal Archive downtown. To me, it seemed to be an excellent way for you to send news, or receive some from us, you know, in case you're in the local area. It’s set up under the family’s durable trust, and my lawyer has arranged it so it can be passed on over time. Your sister wanted to help, so it's her responsibility to check every month, on the 4th. So, check it as you can, and keep us informed.”
“It might be a bit. I don't control where I end up, or when.”
“All of us understand. But this way we can at least know you're okay, even if it takes a while. We are all really proud of you, and yeah, I'm a little jealous to be honest. Just do me one more favor, please?”
“Of course.”
“Say hey to Max, Chloe, and the rest of them. Still a huge fan.”
That dark piece of worry dug deeper, I didn't know why, but I got the feeling he wasn't telling me everything. I smiled as a tear rolled down my cheek. Wiping it with the back of my hand, I stepped forward and embraced my dad, protector, and hero in a hug, careful not to put him off balance. There, I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.
"Remember what I promised, Charlie. It'll all make sense if you look to the horizon. Take care of yo--…" His words cut off.
December 4th, 2021
Downtown Seattle
When I opened my eyes, everything had changed. I was seated on a plastic bench, in what looked like a subway train. Lights outside flashed passed in the darkness, making crazy shadows that pulsed with the speed of the vehicle. A bell rang and announced the next stop. It was downtown Seattle, the shopping and business district, so I decided to get off and see what I could.
No one was present in the brightly lit tunnel; I seemed to be the only rider which meant it was probably late evening, though I didn't know the date. I headed up the stairs to find the stars twinkling in a clear black sky, buildings and skyscrapers obscuring most of the view. The breeze was light, but chill and crisp; I estimated that it was probably winter. Even the air had that peculiar scent when the moisture in the atmosphere is just about ready to crystallize, and my breath puffed out as a fog.
“How long do you estimate, Mol?”
<I am still trying to connect to the closest network, but the positions of the stars don't suggest very long. A couple of months, maybe.>
Since I was in the business district, I decided to head to the archive. The government building was accessible at all hours of the day, which was unusual for the Feds, but was required due to rules involving access to the stored documents and depository boxes. Having my ID was all that was necessary to gain access, so after walking the four blocks I entered off of 5th Street, pushing through the glass rotating doorway that led to the lobby. I was greeted by an officer who manned the metal detector and was the first line of security.
Politely, the woman asked me the usual questions about the fucking virus, which gave me even more evidence that I hadn't travelled far. She took my temperature, handed me a disposable paper mask, waited until I placed it securely over my mouth and nose, then asked me to walk through the metal detector. After placing my backpack on the table as well as Molly, who turned on a screen that emulated a cell phone, I moved through the passage without trouble. The guard looked through my bag, finding a number of items which she separated and placed under a scanner. After nothing alerted her that I was a terrorist, much less a time surfing teen, she pushed the bin containing the pack and its contents to the other side of the metal table.
"You're good to go. Have a good morning."
Not ever having been inside the building before, I looked around and saw a desk with several touchscreens, each with a camera. A sign next to each gave simple instructions in which to be directed to one's deposit box.
- Enter Name
- Enter Account Number
- Face Camera – Do not smile. Do not say cheese.
- Once verified, proceed to the retrieval area.
I rolled my eyes. Feds… they apparently do not have a sense of humor. Following the steps, I entered my full name and the account number as stamped on the key. Stepping back to the blue line, I looked into the camera; I had to retry three times before I managed to hide the smirk on my face. A ding told me when the photo was acceptable, and the screen turned green, showing a map to the retrieval area, room 1104. Another guard held the door open for me and I headed further inside.
Walking down the middle of the wide marbled corridor, it felt like I was entering a vault… or a tomb; it was a place that seemed ancient and out of character for a government building. The solid stone walls shone with reflected lights from bronze sconces beside each doorway, giving the pathway a warm glow, yet allowed for shadows to gather. The effect made the hallway’s length seem to stretch far past my ability to see, like you see when you place two mirrors in front of each other. The contrasts of light and dark were quite photographic, too, and even a novice like myself would be able to frame an interesting picture. My footsteps, echoing softly, only enhanced the otherworldly feeling. Eventually, though, I found the correct door, it's brass plaque showing the number that I sought, and for a moment, while my hand hovered over its matching brass knob, I contemplated the twist of fate that it’s number was also my birthdate; I'd learned in my travels so far that coincidence was rarely the case.
After inserting the key and turning it, I paused, my hand hovering over the handle as I wondered what I'd find on the other side. Twisting the knob, I pushed open the heavy wooden door, and entered the rectangular room which was bigger, I estimated, than the combined area of three of my bedrooms back home. It seemed a comfortable place, quiet and richly appointed. Around the perimeter stood smooth wooden floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with an amazing variety of novels, from futuristic science fiction stories, to books about quantum dynamics and the theory of time; there were even some self-bound stories about pirates trying to save the universe.
As I slowly walked around the room, I discovered small trinkets, too, placed on small tables and displays throughout the space They were collections of items I remember as a kid, and much more. A model rocket with its nose cone slightly crushed, a stuffed bear, a blown glass owl that I had named ‘Hoot.’ On one shelf, I found a piece of obsidian we’d collected set next to a glass display case filled with polished gems Dad, Sis, and I dug in the mountains of Idaho. Over there, a photograph of his three girls on the edge of the Grand Canyon, and another as I received my engineering degree; he’d pulled some strings as a most-distinguished alumnus, presenting it to me personally, one accomplished engineer to another. Over there, Dad’s wings, next to Grandpa’s Silver Star. A copy of his photography company’s license “David Petersen Photography, LLC” was beside Mom’s favorite cookbook, which itself leaned against a recipe box that’s sides were frayed, her mother’s own secrets to amazing meals. There were maps and biographies, papers and stories. Turning in a full circle, I took it all in; everywhere I looked, there were bits and pieces of our family history, hundreds of years. Each a part to a puzzle that told of who we were, builders and artists, kids, parents, thinkers, authors, engineers and scientists. All our successes and mistakes were right here to see. I began to realize this was a place that had been prepared specifically for us, and generations to come.
The revelation woke the doubt and concern in my mind. I sat down in the expensive-looking wing backed leather chair in the corner and was surprised at how soft it was. Beside me was a square table which matched the deep tones of the cases. On its top was a crystal decanter filled with a sparkling liquid and matching glass; beside them lay a red envelope with golden edging and my name written on it, and an empty picture frame. Curious, I looked closer and read the inscription on its base.
“Look to the horizon, and you will find what you seek.”
My worry and trepidation grew, so I poured myself a glass of the cool liquid and took a sip. Simple water, with a slight hint of strawberry, trickled down my throat, relieving my stress a bit. I finished the cup, set it down, placed my fingertips lightly on the rectangular note, pausing and still undecided whether I wanted to open what my back-brain dreaded would be Pandora's Box.
I gulped but gathered my courage to slide the envelope to the edge of the table, where my equally cautious other hand gently clasped it by its corner, transferring it to my lap. Honestly, I don't know how long I stared at my name as its silver lettering glittered in the room’s inset lighting. Yeah, I know I would eventually have to unseal it, but… my hands weren't following the commands I sent them. On their own accord, my fingers simply caressed the sharp edge of the stiff cardstock while I watched on, unable to muster even an ounce of courage.
Tick, tick, tick…
I hadn't even noticed the pendulum clock on the wall beside the entryway, but its rhythmic sound became my focus, making me remember that I was still within my personal twenty-four-hour time range and that I might blink to another place; I found the strength to turn the note over, the tips of my fingers sliding under the slight seam to unseal it.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
December 2nd, 2021
Dear Charlie,
If you're reading this, then my worst fears have happened. I must have passed away, though I'll probably never know exactly when. I'm writing this to you from bed, and I don't think I have a lot of time. The doctors say it's a blood clot, which has settled in the artery leading to the brain; it's inoperable, so after talking with your mother, I've decided to spend the last of my days at home with my family instead of being hooked to a bunch of machines.
My only regret, Charlie, is that I won't get a chance to hear more of your amazing adventures, just as I won't be able to see your sister grow into the amazing woman I know she will be. Otherwise, I have none; my life has been full, this time has been prepared for, and my next adventure will be… fantastic! So, don't worry about me, I'll be fine.
Now, as you're no doubt aware, the place you are seated is not as ordinary as a simple safe deposit box. It is far more, and as you return to this place over the years you will discover valuable insight. You are my oldest daughter, so you deserve to be let in on a tradition that has spanned as far back as I have been able to determine, and yeah these are almost exactly the same words your grandfather said to me, back in Northern Michigan, the day he died. This room is intended to record the history of our family, no matter which branch; be it Petersen, Matthews, Reh’nahld, or any of a hundred others, it is the job of the heir to assume the role. We even have a few Smythes somewhere in the ancestry. Heh heh. Doesn't everyone?
Just as the universe requires a Watcher, it also needs Keepers, a group of extraordinary people who are sworn to gather, protect, and Keep the history of humanity; one family at a time. For us, that means my time-hopping teen gets the role.
Of course, you get to choose. I raised you and your sister to think for yourselves, make your own decisions, and you can elect not to accept the responsibility. That's completely fine, and I won't be disappointed, should you decline. Some don’t want the job, but most change their minds later and dedicate themselves to the task. The choice is yours alone, but as your father, I would weigh the opportunity with the incredible path you are currently walking; the two are complimentary. Plus… and I may be a little biased here, I can't think of anyone better than either of my girls to keep the tradition alive.
Like I said, it's your decision. Just think about it, okay?
Finally, and yes, this is the hardest part, I want to wish you a happy birthday, merry Christmas, and all the other holidays that I'm going to miss. You’ll find a drawer underneath Grandpa’s military awards. I've gathered as many different thoughts as I could in each note, one for each of your special days for a really frackin’ long time. There's even one addressed to someone I'll never know. It's my way of extending my welcome to a certain someone, should you happen to meet your perfect match during your travels.
Now… don't give me that look, and yeah, I know exactly which one, and what you're thinking; I wouldn't be your father if I didn't. Don't worry, Charlie, I'll be good, promise. But when you find your soul mate, whoever they are, give them my message. You already have my blessing. It's my way of reminding you that even death can't change how much I love you, or how proud I am. You and your sister are my finest accomplishments, and I'll always want the best for you.
In closing, while I know you’re probably crying like I am, I want you to remember what I taught you, and some day in this strange and wonderful universe, I hope to see you on the other side.
All my love,
--Dad
P.S. Your mother and sister also have roles in our continuing story. You’ll see. ;)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
I think I stared at the parchment for hours, or maybe time stood still while my heart throbbed in my temples. The tears had long since dried, but I honestly didn't know what day it was anymore
He was gone.
It's hard to explain my feelings to folks that have not been through losing a parent. Try to think of the person that you trust most in your life, your mentor, protector, an individual that will gladly give his or her life to save yours, and yeah, throw in that they are your first and only true hero. Put that in your mind, think of the love and dedication that's needed to successfully pull it off, and then suddenly find, in the blink of an eye, that you’ll never share a laugh, a cup of coffee, tell of your latest success, or seek advice about a recent failure. Life is Strange in this way, ripping away the ones most important to you, and no rewind can bring them back. Ever.
Got the picture? Now multiply that loss by a billion, and you’ll begin to understand how I feel.
I gazed around the room once again as the hazy fog of sorrow lifted from my eyes. Once again, the story of my dad, our family, and our passion for creating, building, and making things better for those to come was all the convincing I needed. I vowed right there that I would accept the legacy and the responsibility. With conviction in my soul, warmth flowed through me, like the heavy weight of those that came before accepting me as one of their own and making me part of something greater. Today, I met my destiny.
Look to the horizon…
Dad’s words whispered in my brain, and I was reminded of the empty picture frame on the table beside me. I thought it strange that he'd have prepared such an elegant place, rich with our past, and forget this particular photo.
”Weird…”
I kept rolling his words through my head, convinced that until recently he’d never said them to me any time growing up. Instead, he’d always gone on, often at length, about how vast, timeless, and mysterious the universe was, and that we really had no idea of what was really going on, but whatever it was, it was… he always used the word ‘fantastic.’ And I'd found it was fantastic in ways only few do. But still…
“It's not like him…” I reached for the water and that's when it hit me.
“Oh my God!”
He'd said the words when I spoke with him last, just hours ago in my own personal timeline, and he'd handed me a birthday card. I fished into the front pouch of my pack, and withdrew the envelope, my second for the day. Again, made of stiff paper, this one in blue with silver edges, I carefully withdrew the card. Contained within, just his simple words.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
November 4th, 2021
Happy birthday, Charlie.
Your gift is included, and I think you'll know what to do with it.
--Dad
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Inside the folded paper was a photo I'd seen one other time. It was of people I I'd only briefly met, though my memory hinted otherwise. Hundreds, if not thousands of perfectly matched pairs, each a Max and Chloe that belonged together no matter the situation, time stream, or fragment of universe. All of them looking to the horizon across a sea of ships, and a monster of an aircraft carrier. Destiny was there too, and so was Rachel; it had been the culmination of the work to save them all. Des and I had talked about it at length, and the photo brought tears to my eyes once again.
See you on the other side…
Something, I don't know what, made me flip the picture over. There I saw the typical date and timestamps embedded in the paper; this portrait had been taken with real film, and not a digital camera. I looked closer; Dad had taught me a bit about his interest in photography over the years. It had been like a second career for him, so I knew an original when I saw it. The photographer’s name or company would be watermarked on both sides of the image to keep it from being copied.
Squinting in the dim light, it all finally made sense. Just like he said it would.
Original Print
Copywrite <X>
David Petersen Photography, LLC / Retro Image, Seattle, WA
A subsidiary of M3
All rights reserved
Everything seemed a little less heavy, now that I understood. When Dad said things had been prepared, I'd naturally thought this archive was it. But, he had grasped the clue on the back of that photo during my time away. He’d known that it wasn't his end, but a new beginning.
I'm going to miss him so much… I can only imagine what Mom and Sis feel. I'll have to check in with them if I have the time.
Still, while I knew Dad wasn't gone, as in gone gone, I would eventually have to deal with my feelings.
“What would Dad do?” I asked myself the question as I placed the photo in its proper place, making it my first contribution to the continued story…
… a story?
That could work. He always told us, whenever the darkness threatens to drown you in a sea of despair, to flip it on its head. Do something creative to channel the energy.
“… You'll look back later,” he'd say, “and realize you have something to show for the effort while you come to terms with your feelings. Turn the pain into a creation…”
He always found writing to be his outlet, and I already blog about my time jumps, so I knew a thing or two about how to do it. Why not try something from the heart? Maybe a series of stories. I'll have to think it through, but it could work. Heck, I can already feel ideas starting to gel in my head. I thought more and decided to focus on the beginning… a fundamental, yet difficult, part to any story. I had the same issue when I started blogging.
What to call it. I needed a title.
Hmm…
DISChat Post #11042025032214.2731
Server: The Strangeness of Life
CharlieIsOuttaTime
November 4th, 2025
So yeah, that's the story. I still miss Dad; there's not a day that goes by that I don't find myself wishing that I could just talk to him, tell him about the amazing things I've seen. But as they say, time is the great healer. I've been busy over the past years, and I've come to the conclusion that we absolutely will see each other again. Am I over my feelings? No… not at all, but I can at least try to follow through on the tasks before me, looking more towards the future, the horizon… just as he would want.
Anyway, thanks for reading. Me and Molly gotta go soon. If you want to leave comments, feel free. I'll answer as I can.
Cheers!
--CharlieIsOuttaTime 💙
P.S. Just so you all know, I did eventually write those stories. It took the whole year after Dad passed away. You can find them on AO3. Just search for…
“Life is Holidays”
They helped me a ton. Maybe they can do the same for you.
See ya! 💙