The rain was coming down in sheets over the heads of the agents as they trekked through the pouring rain. Cavendish wasn't sure exactly when they were - It was raining so hard he could barely make anything out.

Except Dakota's hand waving in front of his face.

Cavendish pushed it away and just made out the words his partner was saying. "Over there, you see it?"

Cavendish squinted in the direction that Dakota pointed out, but didn't see anything. It was too dark, and the rain was too heavy to make anything out. Dakota muttered, "Poor thing…" and started walking towards what he pointed at.

"What is it, a soaked cat? We have a mi-"

Cavendish laid his eyes on what Dakota had pointed out and almost keeled over from the sharp stab of dread in his stomach. On the ground, frozen stiff in the cold rain, there was a young boy with dark hair curled up in a ball. He was soaked and his face was buried in his knees as he sobbed.

Cavendish clutched his throat as Dakota walked up to the boy.

"Hey kid, what's wrong?"

Balthazar looked up, his eyes stinging and his mouth dry.

Cavendish's head reeled as he started remembering this. It hadn't happened, but now it was happening… This was a time paradox, right?

Dakota didn't look like himself in his memory. He looked -

A strong, tall man stood over Balthazar, staring down at him with soft, concerned eyes. The man kneeled down to his level and shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around the boy's shoulders gently.

"I know it's wet, but anything to get out of the wind, right?"

Even his voice was deeper in the memory, even his voice - it was smoother in the memory. Cavendish bit his tongue to avoid speaking at the same time the child did.

"I got misplaced. I don't know where my mother and father are."

"Aw, small thing. We'll find a police station. Can you stand?"

Cavendish recalled the numbness in his legs and the pure embarrassment and fear of telling this stranger that -

"No…"

The man ducked with his back to Balthazar. "Well, climb on. I'll carry you."

Cavendish watched as the dark-haired boy stumble-climbed onto Dakota's back and let him hoist him up. Dakota turned back to Cavendish, and the boy buried his head in the back of Dakota's shoulder now, so Cavendish was lucky and didn't have to look into his piercing blue eyes.

"C'mon, Cavendish!"

Balthazar tried not to wonder how this man knew his name.

After they left the child with the police and, since the rain cleared up, finished their mission, Cavendish sat down and pressed his palm hard to his forehead.

"What's up?" Dakota asked, noticing that something was upsetting Cavendish, no doubt.

"It's just a headache…"

"Looks bad. You want some medicine, or maybe to go see a doctor?"

"No, it's just - Deja vu…"

Dakota hummed and looked out the window. "That was a cute kid, huh?"

Cavendish didn't respond.