February 15, 1992 — Moon Surface
1:24 PM, EST

Shelby never thought she'd get paid to dig dirt, but there she was.

Of course, it wasn't any ordinary dirt - no, it was moon dirt, to be exact. It didn't seem too different from the terrestrial stuff Shelby knew back home, but beyond the fact that she was, in fact, on the moon, there was something undoubtedly unfamiliar about the substance.

Either way, she'd never had so much fun playing in dirt in her life.

She bagged up the last sample and sealed it, tossing it over to Wilson, who was loading the samples into their returning module.

"Catch, Swampy!" She laughed as it floated through the air, very much enjoying the feeling of low gravity.

Swampy lunged as if he were running in slow motion, further characterizing the effect of the moon's gravity.

"Did someone say catch?" Dr. Feldstein popped up beside Shelby, a ball he'd smuggled on board the shuttle in his gloved hand. Shelby couldn't see his face behind his helmet, but she could practically hear an uncharacteristic childish grin in his voice.

Shelby grabbed the ball from Dr. Feldstein's gloved hand and chucked it at Adam. He prepared to catch it, but as he was used to catching things in Earth's gravitational field, it floated a bit longer in the sky and created a comedic delayed effect that Shelby thought was only possible in movies.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the Tenacity team's headsets as the group finally began to relax, having just endured perhaps the most stressful event of their lives.

The redhead peered in the direction of Earth, wondering how in the hell it was even possible that they'd left the surface of the Blue Planet. They were some of a handful of individuals that wouldn't spend their entire lives on Earth's surface. The feeling was overwhelming, yet Shelby had never been happier.

She glanced at her watch, noticing that they only had about a half hour left on the moon's surface before they would have to start preparing for return. Her stomach lurched with sadness. She'd never touch the surface of the moon again. Would she ever see space for a second time? Would she ever again leave Earth's atmosphere?

"Colewell, Feldstein: say cheese!" Walker had been put in charge of the camera for the mission, and though the rolls of film had mostly been reserved for taking pictures of the moon's surface and other interesting finds, he had managed to convince the launch team to let him have a few extra rolls for documenting the journey, and also, of the team enjoying themselves once they'd landed on the room.

Dr. Feldstein wrapped his arm around Shelby's shoulders, throwing up a cheesy peace sign as their helmets bonked together due to their proximity. Shelby knew no one would be able to see them smiling due to the reflective nature of their face shields, but she knew that image would serve as a lasting reminder of how happy she was.

"You won't even be able to tell them apart!" Wilson joked, jumping through the air as he made his way towards his other crewmates.

"Sure I will," Walker said, snapping a picture of Wilson as he bounced through the air. "Shelby's a tad shorter than Dr. Feldstein, and you should be able to make out their name patches."

Shelby glanced down at the patch on her suit: S. Colewell.

It was surreal to see her name down there, on the suit of an astronaut. She was still having a hard time believing she'd even been hired by NASA, and now here she was, on the moon.

"Everything okay, Colewell?" Dr. Feldstein asked, having switched his radio so that it only transmitted to Shelby, and Mission Control, of course, who always listened.

"I, uh," she stammered. "We've only got thirty minutes."

Dr. Feldstein chuckled. "Shelby, you're the first woman on the moon. Stop worrying about how much time you have left here, and just enjoy it. When are you ever going to get a chance to play soccer on the moon?" He gestured to Adam, who had brought a soccer ball, or football, as he said, along, and the other boys were playing with it.

Shelby smiled, knowing that it would be a gift for his little brother, a huge "football" fanatic. A football that had touched the moon.

"You're right," she laughed and patted her mentor on the arm. "You're always right."

"Well, now, don't let my wife hear you say that," he joked. "She'll confirm for you that I am, in fact, often wrong."

February 15, 1992 — Moon Surface
1:59 PM, EST

"Tenacity, this is Houston. Do you read?"

"We read," Shelby responded, flipping a switch as the crew prepared to leave the moon's surface.

They saw, they came, they conquered. Now, it was time to leave.

She glanced out of her window one last time, seeing the footprints of her crewmates that would stay there until another group of humans came and stepped over them. It was like leaving a vacation destination, with that sad feeling of all of the fun being over, and now she would return to a normalcy that would never feel like the normal she'd known before the moon. Plus, this was a "vacation" she knew she would probably never take again.

"Tenacity, you are a go for launch. See you back on Earth."

"Roger, Houston. See you then," Dr. Feldstein answered, glancing around at his crew one last time before they left the moon. "It's been an honor exploring the moon with you all."

"Here, here!" Wilson hooted, pumping his fist into the air. "I can't wait to toast to you all when we're back home." He pointed out their windshield, where Earth loomed in the distance. "See you soon, Little Blue."

The engines roared and the shuttle began to shake, and the team got to work preparing for takeoff. Soon enough, the return shuttle lurched into space, and Shelby glanced behind them, saying a silent goodbye to the moon.

"Status update, Tenacity?"

"We're golden, Houston. Flying beautifully," Guppy responded.

Shelby watched as Dr. Feldstein eyed the gauges carefully. "And that will do it. I've got to hit the head," he said, patting the dashboard. "Houston, this is Feldstein. Wilson will be taking over momentarily."

"Roger. Wilson, do you read?"

"I read," Swampy responded, taking over as Dr. Feldstein made his way to the back half of the shuttle, where tight sleeping quarters, a food storage area and the bathroom receptacles were kept.

Shelby kept watch on the moon as it gradually became smaller and smaller, and the earth in front of them crept closer. She monitored the panels in front of her, as was her job.

"Hey, Guppy!"

Wilson's yell brought Shelby to attention. She glanced towards Wilson and Walker, who were seated in the front, now that Dr. Feldstein was going to the bathroom.

"What the hell is that?" Walker questioned.

"What do you mean?" Shelby called out, leaning over her seat to see what the boys were looking at her.

"Sit down, Shelby!" Adam called out from next to her, panic rising in his voice.

"What do you --"

The shuttle lurched sideways, as if it had been hit by a large, blunt force. Shelby flew forwards, the front of her head coming into hard contact with the dashboard in front of her. Darkness overtook her sight, and over the rush of blood pumping in her ears, she thought she heard a faint explosion.

February 15, 1992 — Cape Canaveral, FL
2:30 PM, EST

Tony was asleep in Shelby's bed, having stayed up half the night corresponding with his assistant back in New York. It was tough, trying to manage a multi-million dollar company from Florida, but he'd promised to stay in Cape Canaveral until Shelby got home, and nothing was going to pull him away from seeing Shelby as soon as she stepped foot off of that return shuttle.

Shelby's pillow was squeezed tightly into his arms as he tossed and turned, his eyes fluttering wildly under his eyelids as he slept. His heart raced and his body was covered with a thin layer of sweat.

He was having a nightmare.

He had them often since his parents' deaths, though they'd stopped whenever Shelby was around. Now that she was in space, they had intensified.

This time, he didn't dream about his parents. He didn't dream about their car crashing on Long Island, or the hush-hush words he'd heard indicating that their death hadn't been an accident.

Tony's eyes flew open, and he sat up straight, the pillow still tightly clutched in his hands. An image that felt much too real burned brightly into his mind: the smell of smoke, flashing lights and a bundle of red hair resting in a pool of blood.

"Shelby."