Tristan stood at the apartment door, keys held in a trembling hand. The keys were in their place, a lock indicating the door was now open. Tristan didn't enter. He raised one of his shaking hands and slowly touched each finger to his thumb. It was bizarre watching someone else do it, weirder still watching himself do it. And yet... it calmed his racing heart. 

He allowed himself a moment, listening to noises around him. He could vaguely hear the neighbors' child as he giggled. On Dahlia's end, however, it was unusually quiet. Cano wasn't squawking or even flying around. No songs were playing.

"Reading," Tristan smiled. 

Dahlia was most likely curled up on her couch with a book in hand. She always did that a little while after dinner. When the sun sunk into the horizon, and the sky exploded with color, Dahlia Garcia opened the window and allowed the warm rays to bathe her in gold.

Tristan slowly opened the door, worries unforgotten but pushed to the side. She was reading. As soon as she heard the door open, however, she slammed the book shut and walked toward him.

"You're here," she embraced him after a light kiss, "I was worried."

"I'm here," Tristan mumbled in her hair taking in the faint scent of flowers. It instantly comforted him. He was home. He was safe.

"Are you hurt?" she pulled back looking all over his body.

"No, my paradise," he kicked off his shoes, "I'm not hurt."

She didn't say anything, just stared at his eyes. She could tell. She knew something was wrong.

"I'm going to change. No," he stopped her, "I'll change alone."

"Okay."

He entered the bathroom. All it took was one look at his reflection and everything came back to him. Leon was dead. Z.E.I.T. was no longer doing good deeds. What was Tristan supposed to do now?

The man could only take off his jacket before getting overwhelmed with emotions. He slammed the door open trudging back to the living room.

"Do you want to tell me?"

He didn't answer. Did he want to tell? Of course he wanted to tell her.

"Sit," she patted her lap when he didn't answer.

"On your lap?"

"Come, my love," she gently pulled his arm guiding him down and into her arms. They faced each other as he awkwardly sat. 

It didn't long for Tristan's embarrassment to fade. Especially since Dahlia pulled his head to her chest, resting her head on his.  She held her book in her hand, continuing her reading session. The other hand played with Tristan's dark locks, nails caressing his scalp lightly now and then. She kissed his head a few times. 

They sat in comfortable silence for minutes. Perhaps half an hour. An hour. Tristan couldn't tell. He was lost in the moment. Lost in Dahlia. Her calm heartbeat. The steady rise and fall of her breasts. The turn of pages every few minutes.

"It's all going horribly wrong," he let out a shaky breath holding in the tears.

"What is?"

"Work. Life," he groaned, "Everything."

She closed the book, "It works out in the end. The world has a way of solving its problems."

"What if these problems don't get fixed?!" a few tears slipped through his tightly closed eyelids.

"It'll be okay, Tristan," she wished she could provide better comfort, but he didn't want to tell her the details. She knew he had secrets. For these three months, she'd accepted him with all his secrets. She knew not to ask about them.

"It won't!" he exclaimed, startling the both of them, "It can't get better!" He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw a tantrum. He was acting like a child. He felt like a child.

She couldn't avoid it anymore. Dahlia held his head, lifting it to watch his face, "Then tell me what happened. Let me help you."

"Everything's gone," he gasped, more tears flowing, "Everyone." It was terrifying. The whole world had just come crashing down. Hopelessness consumed his every cell. There was no way out. No amount of money. No amount of time could solve this.

"I'm still here," she whispered staring into his soul. Everything stopped. Tristan's eyes widened as if realizing that for the first time. 

Dahlia closed his eyes. Then, she kissed him softly, afraid of breaking him. Ironically, that was exactly what shattered his dam. Emotions spilled freely with the river of tears. She slid her thumbs along his face, wiping the tears away as soon as they left his eyes. 

His shoulders heaved as she broke their connection. He could only take one deep breath before sobbing in her arms repeating the same words again and again, "Everything's gone. Everyone's gone."

"Tristan," she called softly when he was no longer crying, "Here," she held water, "Tell me."

"You won't believe me," his voice was even now, grey.

"Tell me anyway."

Tristan scowled, "I can time travel."

"Go on," she wasn't surprised. Or at least, Tristan didn't see any surprise.

"The company I work for creates the machines. We go to different places and years and stop large-scale catastrophes. That's what we used to do at least."

"Then what happened."

"Today. I went there and it was..." he remembered Z.E.I.T.'s terrible state, "They're not doing good things anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"They're providing services, for money. It doesn't matter how that impacts the future. They stop people from dying by getting them miracle medicines from the future. Empty a town of its residents to dig up its natural resources. They pay for deadly weapons."

"Is that what José is too?"

Tristan leaned back, surprised, "Y-yes. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she gave him a small grin.

Tristan couldn't stop a smile of his own from forming, "I can't tell if you're teasing."

"I've already chosen to believe you. Even if you are lying, until that's proven to me, I'll trust you," her smile widens at the awe in his eyes, "Besides something new happens every day. Scientists make an impossible discovery. Engineers make physics-defying cars. What we live in is a miracle for people of the past. Anything is possible."

"I love you," he did. And he'd never love anyone more, "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to make a split-second decision. What are the other agents doing?"

"Some against the head, some are with. There was a huge fight."

"Well, then I don't see why you're so worked up."

"What?"

"They're handling it. A company that tears itself from the inside out doesn't survive."

"Are you asking me to run away from my problems, Dahlia Garcia?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You can't run away from something that doesn't exist."

"You are!"

She nuzzled her nose into his neck chuckling, "I'm just asking that you ignore them for now. You're mine until you leave. If that company exists after your mission is over, go back. Help the other agents fight against the board," she looked at him, "That it what you want, isn't it?"

"I think so."

"Get up, let me get you more water."

"Oh," he got off her lap, feeling the loss of her warmth immediately.

"I thought you didn't want to sit in my lap, Antonov."

"How was I supposed to know it would be so nice?"

"I'll be right back, kid," she giggled sneakily.

"You know what? I'm never sitting on your lap again."

"No, no. I'm just teasing."

"You've got a very weird like, Miss Garcia," he laughed and she joined him. 

The conversation didn't go as planned. Yet it had the best outcome a man could hope for. They joked until bedtime, but even though he wasn't as upset as he could be, Tristan couldn't sleep.

He turned for the hundredth time that night. This wasn't going to work.

"Damn it," he muttered as he sat up. His tense back relaxed when he remembered that he wasn't alone. A smile crept on his lips at Dahlia's laying form beside him. He couldn't believe how wonderfully their talk went.

"Can't sleep?" she scared him out of his thoughts.

"Did I wake you?" he asked

"No, I couldn't sleep either."

Before Tristan could question why Dahlia couldn't sleep, her hand grasped his and she stood up, pulling him along, a cheeky smile decorating her face.

"Let's dance," she said as if it was normal.

"Dance?" Tristan was confused.

"Yes."

Tristan could only laugh as he was dragged out of her bedroom. Their bedroom.

"Will you give me this dance, husband?"

"Of course, my lovely wife."

Thus, they danced the night away. They danced the morning closer. And when they grew tired, they fell asleep on the couch, holding each other. All the while, Tristan was filled with euphoria.

On that day, 801 understood. He finally found the answer to the question that had baffled him his whole life. He knew why his father risked everything for one woman. For he too was ready to risk everything for his woman. His one and only. His paradise. His wife.