Finn was transfixed, unable to look away from the exchange, gripping tightly to Jermaine’s hand. Listening to his younger self chatter to their mom about how pretty she looked and could he go with her?

He looks around the room, trying to figure out what they were supposed to do. It couldn’t just be stand around and watch…there must be something. A door or a piece of a puzzle to solve.

“Now, now, Mommy’s got to do this one on her own,” he heard her say sweetly. Picking him up and giving him a kiss on the nose. “There will be plenty of adventures for young pups when I come back.”

Now, from his older perspective, blessed with the knowledge of what was to come, Finn could hear the strain in her voice. The worry that she was fostering. He hadn’t seen that at all, back then. It had felt like any other time to him, his parents going off on just another expedition.

His baby self was starting to tearfully protest when he notices the clock. Its face so familiar it almost didn’t strike him as out of place…except he’d never seen that clock here, in their parents’ house. He and Jake had decorated that clock when he was young, quite awhile after their parents deaths. He’d probably been eight or nine (time was so hard to pin down when you were young) and on day two of a miserably persistent rain storm that trapped them inside, that had been driving Finn (and Jake, through him) stir crazy. Jake had suggested a project, said it would help pass the time.

So it shouldn’t be here. He nudges his brother with his elbow, pointing in its direction.

“Jermaine…look. That clock’s from our treehouse. It doesn’t belong here.”