((April 19th, 2143))

It was early. It was far too early. The sun had not even gone up yet. The room was dark and quiet, but, in spite of that, he just couldn't sleep anymore.

He turned from his left side to the right and looked at the clock on his plex. He discovered that, even though he would have sworn it had been at least half an hour, mere six minutes had passed since the last time he had checked it. 'Oh, god, why is it so early?' he thought, burying his head in the pillow.

Having spent the past two hours on-and-off awake (mostly on, tossing and turning), he figured there was no use trying to fall into deep sleep again. 'I might as well get up. Maybe I could go pack.' He had been planning on doing that later, once he would come back from work, but since he could not sleep, anyway…

Rubbing his face, Lucas got up and went to find his backpack.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

It felt weird. He was not sure why, but it felt weird. Every single thing he put into the bag as well as every single thing he decided to leave behind made him feel… He was not sure how. Nostalgic, perhaps. Sad. Maybe even sick. Why, though?

He stared at a shirt he was about to put into the backpack. It was a plain, brown shirt, there was nothing special about it. He did not remember when or where he had got it. It was an ordinary piece of clothing, but as he folded it and stuffed it into the bag, he felt his stomach clench up.

Why?

He did not understand it. Sure, he had been a bit nervous about going to Terra Nova. There was a lot at stake. Were he to fail, he would be stuck in that crazy place full of dinosaurs—stuck with his father—for the rest of his life.

And yet, he could not help thinking that a part of his worries was related not only to Terra Nova, but also to Chicago. Not to the place he was going to, but to the place he was going away from.

It made no sense. He did not feel attached to the city. In fact, less than a year ago, he had been considering moving away. He had been considering it for no other reason than to leave the place behind and start over somewhere else. He should have been glad he was finally going to move for real. Instead, the thought of it made him queasy.

He sighed. He had to stop focusing on his nerves and pick up his pace, otherwise he would not have enough time for breakfast before going to work.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

"In conclusion," he said to a room full of physicists and engineers, "until it's time for the pilgrims to walk through the portal, I suggest we use weaker connection. It'll be enough to get signal through, there's no point in wasting that much power, and—most importantly—the longer we keep it strong, the bigger the chances of overload. And you all know what happened the last time you overloaded the portal…" After those words, Lucas turned off a hologram of numbers and graphs he had created. He looked at the people in front of him, hoping to be met with agreement.

"That is a very last-minute suggestion," an engineer seated at the front of a long conference table stated. "The pilgrimage is scheduled for tomorrow."

"I am aware of that," Lucas replied. "It took me a while to work out the math, especially since I was busy with other work-related things."

"I'd like a copy of the file if you don't mind," the engineer requested.

"No problem."

"However…" The engineer stood up and walked towards the young physicist. "Even though I do understand where you're coming from, keep in mind that the stronger we keep the connection, the better the signal will be. With a strong signal, we'll be able to find the right direction sooner. If we lower the power as you suggest, it will take longer—and the longer it takes, the bigger the chances of overload. Not to mention that if we turn it down, we risk cutting the portal off. If that were to happen, we'd have to wait for months before we could reopen it."

Lucas shook his head. "That won't happen, Ryers," he insisted, chuckling as though it should have been obvious. "It would happen if we lowered the power too much, but why do you think it took me until now to finish this? Because I was making sure that we will neither under- nor overdo it."

"How can you be so sure that you got it just right? That you didn't make any mistakes?" Ryers questioned.

Lucas glanced at the ground for a moment, then looked up and tilted his head. "Let me ask you a question," he said. "Do you know why you overloaded the portal when you first sent people through?"

"Because we overdid it. We opened it too fast—"

"Wrong," Lucas claimed, interrupting him. "The true reason is that I was not there to watch over you incompetent people." While Ryers gave him a look, one of the engineers sitting at the table started to laugh, prompting Lucas to grin. "Hey, I'm leaving soon. I don't need you kids to like me anymore, so I may as well say it as it is," he joked.

"Man," the laughing engineer said, "I'm going to miss you when you're gone."

"I'll put in a good word for you there," Lucas said, winking at him. "All right, joking aside. Hey, we talked about this yesterday. You agree with me, don't you? About lowering the power, not you being incompetent."

"Yes, I do think it's a good idea," the man confirmed.

Lucas turned back to Ryers. "See? Dan agrees with me," he declared proudly, as though it was a conclusive argument.

"He is not in charge here," Ryers responded.

Lucas nodded, glancing down. "And, of course, the man in charge does not share my opinion…"

Ryers sighed. "The man in charge would like to take a closer look at your math before making a decision."

Lucas eyed him. "Is that so?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"I'll think about it."

The physicist figured that was the best answer he would get for the time being.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

When he came back home that evening, he realized he had nothing to do. He had been planning on spending the evening by packing, but he had already finished that in the morning (he had managed to do that as well as have a bowl of very bland-tasting oatmeal). He went to his bedroom and lay down on the bed. He was not trying to fall asleep. He just stared at the ceiling, thinking in silence.

He was about the spend his last night in that apartment. The apartment which he had moved into with his mother when he had started college. The apartment where he had lived with his father after his mother's death. The apartment where he had been alone for over a year since his father had been sent to a military base and later to Terra Nova.

The apartment where he had been alone… More than just alone—lonely. Walking into the living area and seeing nobody in the room, knowing that the bedroom where his parents were supposed to sleep was constantly empty… It made him sad. He didn't like the apartment. Most people could only dream about being able to afford such a big, nice place, but he just didn't like it. Perhaps it was because he had far too many negative memories associated with it. Memories of emptiness, of arguments, of tears, and even of blood. He did not like the apartment.

So why was it that he suddenly did not like the idea of moving out of there, either? Why did a part of him suddenly want to stay?

He sighed, then sat up. He did not want to spend his last night on Earth by staring at the ceiling and drowning in his confusing emotions. He got up on his feet, and walked towards the door.

Having nothing better to do, he found himself heading to a bar close to his apartment.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

He was sitting on a stool behind the bar, staring at his half-empty glass. He had started out thinking about the day that would come next, then changed the topic to the day that was nearly over. 'I'm going to miss you when you're gone,' Dan had told him. As he thought about it, he realized Dan had been the only one who had said anything of that sort to him. He had been congratulated, he had been wished good luck—but nobody had said they would miss him.

He looked up at the bartender. Given that he had become a regular customer there since he had turned 18, he recognized the man's face. For the first time, however, he realized that he had no idea what his name was—and that the lack of knowledge was most likely mutual. "Hey, uh…" he called out towards the man, getting his attention. The barkeep took a step toward him, asking if he wanted a refill. "No, no," Lucas responded. "Can I just ask you one question?"

"Sure," the bartender replied, nodding.

Lucas glanced down for a moment, then queried, "Do you know me?"

"Yeah," the man told him, "you come here pretty often."

"Do you know my name?" Lucas inquired, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

The bartender shook his head. "No, sorry. Why? What's your name?"

"Doesn't matter. I was just curious," Lucas claimed. He looked down at his glass, pushing it a little to the left with his index finger. "I'm moving away tomorrow," he spoke while not taking his gaze—or his finger—off the glass, "and I was wondering how many people would miss me here. …or at least notice I'm gone."

The barman gave a nod. "Where are you moving to?"

Before Lucas could respond, a young woman walked up to the bar, only one empty stool away from him. The bartender excused himself and went to tend to his new customer. Lucas stayed quiet, watching the two. Once the barkeep took her order, Lucas spoke up, "Hello."

The girl looked at him, sending him a sheepish smile. "Hey."

"Do you know me?" he asked her.

"Uh…" She furrowed her brows. "No. No… Should I?"

Lucas eyed her before answering. She must have been about his age, perhaps just a year or two older. She had blonde hair that reached to the bottom of her back. Her face was oblong, and her eyes looked doe-ish. She did not appear familiar to him. "Actually, I don't know you either," he said. "Do you come here often?"

"No, I've never been in this bar before," she answered. "I only moved into the city a few days ago."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Oh, rub it in my face, will you?" he muttered, turning his gaze back to his glass.

"Excuse me?"

He picked the glass up. "Oh, don't mind me," he told her. "I haven't been sleeping well lately, so I'm a bit cranky." He drank the remaining liquid from the glass, then put it down with a grimace on his face. His throat was burning. "You see, I'm moving away tomorrow," he explained, looking at the girl again. "It's only temporarily, but… I don't know, it just feels strange. I don't even know why. Maybe it's because I've lived here for so long… Five whole years. I've never lived anywhere for that long before."

"Really? Do you move that often?" she asked.

"Yeah. My dad's in the military, so we had to move, like, every two to three years," Lucas said. "You'd think I'd be used to moving by now, but…" 'Used to moving.' He should have been used to moving. No, he was used to moving. Used to leaving his home behind and starting a new one. "…I guess I'm not."

He had done it multiple times in the past: getting used to a new, unknown place, and forgetting the old, known one. He had always been fine with it before. He had always been able to quickly adapt to having a different home. As a child, he had sometimes been nervous about the unfamiliar people he would meet, but he did not have a problem with that anymore. And the change of the actual place—that had never bothered him. …until now.

But why? He was used to it, wasn't he? His family had moved for the first time when he had been a mere toddler, and they had done it a few more times since then. He was used to it. He was used to leaving and changing his home.

Changing his home…

"Well, where are you moving to?"

He heard her ask the question, but his brain did not process its meaning. He was too busy realizing why it was he had reservations about leaving. Leaving and changing his home—that was it. That was the thing he had to do but could not afford to do at the same time.

He was used to moving. He was used to leaving his home behind and starting a new one. This time, however, he could not do that. He could not move. He could not allow himself to forget about Chicago. After all, it was going to be only temporary. He would come back once he would finish his job. He could not allow himself to forget about Chicago, and even more importantly, he could not allow himself to feel at home in Terra Nova. He absolutely could not allow that to happen. He needed to hate Terra Nova. He needed to hate it with all his heart since he was going there to destroy it.

He smiled to himself, finally understanding where his queasiness was coming from. He did not have a problem with leaving the known and adapting to the unfamiliar. He did not have a problem with loving the old and hating the new. What he did have a problem with was doing both at once. He would have to get used to Terra Nova without really getting used to it. He would have to forget about Chicago without really forgetting it. He would have to move without really moving. How the hell was he supposed to do that? He had no idea. He had no idea, but he didn't care. He'd figure something out along the way. For the time being, he was just glad to know why a part of him did not want to move—it was because he couldn't.

He heard her speak to him. He blinked and returned his attention to her. "Oh, excuse me, I got a little lost in thought," he apologized. "What were you saying?"

"I asked where you're moving to."

Lucas smirked. "Hell." She gave him a look, but he ignored her. He did not respond when she asked him what he meant. He paid for his drink, then went back to his apartment to spend one last night there.

One last night on Earth—for the time being, anyway.

Author's note

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will enjoy the other ones as well. Also, if you find any mistakes in the story, I would appreciate if you could help me fix them (let me know in a review or a PM).

One more note: dragonlots, who was kind enough to review, pointed out that Ayani died in Somalia, while I mentioned she lived in Chicago. I didn't forget where Ayani died, I just didn't explain the situation clearly. Here's how I imagined it: In 2137, the Taylors were living in Somalia, but Lucas got accepted to college in Chicago. Given that he was just a kid at the time, Ayani did not want to send him halfway across the globe alone—so she went to Chicago with him (Taylor stayed in Somalia because of the war). However, since they were in Chicago only for his studies, Ayani and Lucas could and did go back to Somalia (to be with Taylor) for school breaks—which included the fateful August.