Roswell Fanatics

Title: Tears of the Son
Author: Karen
Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Pairings/Couples/Category: CC – ALL
Rating: Mature
Summary: This takes place six months after Fathers and Sons. This is the sixth in the series. The Skins have been obliterated, Emily has foreseen peace, and Nate and Alyssa have moved to NY. But can they ever truly find peace?
Author's Note: There is a HUGE clue in Fathers and Sons as to what this fic will be about. Can anyone find it? (And if you think you have it, please PM me with it so as not to spoil others ) Banner by the very talented LongTimeFan



Prologue

Her name was Amanda. Amanda Emma Spencer, to be exact. The name didn’t flow well, didn’t fall easily from the tongue, but her parents didn’t mind. There was meaning behind her names, regardless of their combined clumsiness.

Nate Spencer gently rocked his daughter in the old wooden chair his mother had once used to rock him. The baby squirmed and fidgeted, made little grunting noises as she fought off sleep. Odd, he mused, that sleep was such a dreaded thing to a child. His son, two-year-old Jake, always struggled to stay awake, regardless of how tired he was. Nate, on the other hand, was grateful for every minute that came his way these days.

Amanda was all of two months old and as her young aunt had predicted, she was indeed blonde and blue-eyed. Whereas Jake had been a bubbly, easy infant, Amanda had inherited her mother’s temperament – sometimes demanding, always volatile. Baby Mandy was not beyond screeching her disappointment when she felt she’d been slighted.

Dipping his head and raising the baby higher, Nate placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, smelled the fresh scent of baby powder. She wasn’t in the mood for his affections and immediately turned red and started to scream. Sighing, Nate put her over his shoulder and patted her back, tried to ignore the siren screeching directly into his ear.

A few moments later, Alyssa appeared in the doorway, concern etched on her brow. In his gut, Nate felt a jolt of guilt. He got the feeling that she still didn’t trust him. Not entirely.

“Put a burp cloth on your shoulder,” Alyssa said, adjusting the back of one of her dress shoes. Already slim, she was wearing a simple black dress and the emerald necklace he’d given her on her birthday so long ago. “That’s your only clean suit and if she pukes, you’re going to be in trouble.”

Nate nodded in response and rocked silently as his wife disappeared into the hallway again. Of course, he didn’t retrieve the burp cloth – if the baby threw up, he’d just wave a hand and rid his jacket of the stain. That was the great thing about being part alien.

Of course, the bad parts about being an alien included not being able to use his powers to save the ones he loved and doing dumbass things that still had his wife leery of him.

“What powers are you going to have?” Nate murmured to Amanda, who had stopped screaming and was merely grumbling. “Will you be better at things than your old man is?”

Nate frowned as his gaze shifted out the window, to the chilly April day that awaited them. The sky was overcast, the sun hidden behind layers of gray clouds. The winter chill had yet to leave the New York countryside, leaving a damp, uncomfortable feeling in its wake. He didn’t suppose it was good to drag the kids out in this weather, but they should be there. To say goodbye.

A tear stung at the corner of Nate’s eye and he quickly blinked it away, though there was no dismissing the tightening in his throat. He’d done okay so far, allowing himself to grieve in small pieces instead of falling apart all at once. Today would be the hardest, he was aware of that. The finality of it all, knowing this was the end. Saying goodbye.

There had been too little time. Nate and Alyssa had decided to move to New York to help Jonathan Spencer with his store, give the aging man a break so that he could enjoy life and not have to work so hard. They’d agreed that they’d wait until Alyssa delivered the baby, the move being too hard on both of them. They’d barely unpacked their things when Jonathan was gone.

In his heart, Nate knew that his adoptive father had simply given up on life. Once Nate’s mother, Emma, had passed away, Jonathan had shown little interest in the world, his only joy being spending some fishing time with Nate or playing with his grandson. Another stab of guilt in Nate’s belly – he’d been too concerned about his own family to give his father the attention he needed. He could have spared an extra weekend here or there, couldn’t he? What effort did it take to drive a few hundred miles and fish with the old man a little more often than he had? Wasn’t Jonathan deserving of that?

“Honey, I think she’s out…” Alyssa’s voice drifted off as she stopped before the rocking chair, her arms outstretched as if to take the baby from Nate’s shoulder. Her full lips curved downward and her arms fell to her sides.

Nate looked up in question, realized that his vision was blurry. He’d lost the battle with his tear ducts without even knowing it.

Giving a small sigh, Alyssa sat down on Nate’s lap and laid her head on his vacant shoulder. Reaching up, she brushed the tears from his face. “You okay, babe?” she asked softly.

He nodded and started the motion of the rocker. Amanda had fallen heavily against him, her breathing evened out, the struggles ceased. Nate tightened his grip around her, grateful that she was healthy, if a bit of a diva.

“Other than the obvious,” Alyssa began gently, wrapping her arm around his waist, “what’s troubling you?”

Nate glanced into her dark eyes, then returned his gaze to the window. “It’s raining.”

“It’s been raining all morning.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t take the kids.”

Alyssa caressed his side, offering comfort. “We already decided we would. And that’s not what’s on your mind.”

Nate let out a soft sigh. She knew him so well. “I was just thinking about fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“With my dad.”

She smiled. “He loved it when you went fishing with him.”

Nate nodded, felt the burn of tears again.

Alyssa’s smile faded. “Sweetie. What is it?”

“I didn’t do it enough, Al.”

She raised her eyebrows in question. “Do what?”

“Come here. Go fishing with him. Keep him company. Maybe if I had…” He words choked off in a sob that he quickly swallowed it away.

“Oh, Nate,” Alyssa said sympathetically, kissing the side of his face.

“Maybe if I had,” he forced himself to continue. “He wouldn’t have been so lonely. Maybe he wouldn’t have given up.”

She smiled softly at him. “He didn’t die because you didn’t spend enough time with him. He died because he was old. He died because he hid his heart problems.”

Nate didn’t really want to agree with her. He knew that his father had died of a heart ailment, but not any disease that modern medicine could have healed. The man had succumbed to a broken heart, pure and simple.

Alyssa sat up, ready to negotiate. “Okay, let’s say that he did die because he wanted to. Do you think he’s with your mom now? Do you think he’s happy?”

Nate looked at her in surprise. Something he really hadn’t considered. Slowly, he nodded his head.

“If he really wanted to go, it’s wrong for you to wish anything else for him. He was an old man, Nate. Maybe he was tired of fighting his illness, tired of missing your mom. Maybe all of the fishing trips in the world wouldn’t have kept him here any longer. You have to accept what is. Grieve, Nate. But don’t persecute yourself for this.”

Before she rose, she planted a firm kiss against his lips and gave him a quick embrace. Then she smiled at him and left to retrieve their son.

Outside, a horn sounded. Isabel and Jesse were there to take them to the funeral home. Despite Alyssa’s words, Nate still felt that little spark of guilt, of remorse.

After all, he’d always somehow believed the wrongs of the world were his to right, even if he was powerless to do so.

tbc

Part One

The headstone was simple, unimposing, lacking vanity that many monuments around it held. Gray, granite, containing no words of wisdom or befitting epitaph. Just two names and three dates – the fourth would be added next week when the craftsman came to the cemetery to add it.

Before the stone lay a mound of freshly-piled dirt, which would settle to ground level over the coming months. Nate eyed it with sadness because beside it, the soil over his mother’s grave was still settling, the grass still striving to recover the area. She hadn’t even been gone long enough for the evidence of her burial to be erased, and now Jonathan was with her as well.

The sun was starting to set and the air had a definite nip to it, the end of Nate’s nose stinging with the chill. As they had for his mother, the community had turned out en mass to grieve with him, so many people that it had been once again overwhelming. But this time, instead of escaping to the pier where he and his father had fished, he’d returned here, to where the man would spend eternity.

While the mourners had gathered at the community hall to comfort one another and share a meal together, the cemetery workers had lowered Jonathan into his grave, back-filled the dirt and placed arrangements of flowers over the mound. The cemetery was now empty of those workers, their deed done, and a sense of finality hung heavily in the air. There was nothing left that anyone could do for Jonathan Spencer.

“He was a good man.”

Nate turned at the sound of the familiar voice, couldn’t help a little spark of happiness at seeing Max Evans approaching him. His biological father, yes, but never the man who raised him. Nate nodded in response to his comment.

“I thought I might find you here,” Max said, also fixing his gaze on the stone.

Nate looked at him in surprised, then suspicion. Max knew he’d be here?

Max looked sheepish, one corner of his mouth quivering while he tried not to smirk. “Well, I knew you’d be here after I didn’t find you at the pier. Or at the store. Or at home.” The smirk finally broke through. “So, I knew after looking three other places that you’d be here.”

“That’s not knowing,” Nate bantered back lightly. “That’s a process of elimination and quite a bit of guessing.”

“Well, yeah, if you want to look at it that way.” Max gave his son a wink, then crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. “It’s freezing out here, Nate.”

Another nod.

“Let’s go back to the house. Isabel’s making some coffee.”

Nate looked at him warily.

“It’s just family,” Max clarified. “The others have gone home.”

Grateful for that, Nate conceded and the men turned to leave the cemetery. On the way to Max’s car, he put a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. Nate understood – Max was there if he needed him.

On the way back to the Spencer home, Nate watched the thawing New York landscape slide past the window of the car. The area felt oddly empty without his parents, the only real thing that still tied him to the place. In truth, he had no friends left here, and no relatives either. The only reason he and Alyssa had relocated was so that they could help Jonathan with the store, perhaps help him retire. Now, without the man, Nate felt a little useless and a lot aimless.

As they pulled into the gravel drive, Nate imagined his Aunt Isabel bustling about the kitchen, making coffee, doing the motherly things that were so inbred into her character. He couldn’t help a little smile, thinking about her. She was Amanda’s namesake, that name being Isabel’s middle name. It had taken some work to convince Alyssa to name their daughter after her, but Nate had some solid reasons.

The most important being that Isabel Ramirez had been more than kind and welcoming to Nate, especially in light of things he’d done and who he was. Her door was always open. Not even really knowing him, she’d taken him in and given him a place to stay for free when he’d tried to go to college. In the not so distant past, he and Max had quarreled, leaving Nate bleeding and bruised, without a home to go to because Alyssa had also been angry with him. It had been Isabel who opened her door and bandaged his wounds without judging him. She held a special place in his heart and he’d wanted to name his daughter after her more than anything.

The small bungalow was packed with people – Maria and Michael Guerin, Liz and Emily Evans, Isabel, Jesse and Jeremy Ramirez, plus Alyssa, Jake and Amanda. Regardless of the over-crowding, Nate was happy they were there. He was also happy that Justin and Jason had chosen to stay home in Boston. Times were stressful enough without the Creepy Twins along for the ride.

Isabel broke into a grin upon seeing her brother and nephew. Crossing the room in long, graceful strides, she enveloped Nate into her embrace and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re freezing,” she observed as she wiped lipstick away from his face. “Let me get you some coffee.”

He had no chance to refuse as she’d already turned and was disappearing into the kitchen. Nate felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down to see Emily, his half-sister, peering upward at him. He held open his arms and she scrambled up his body, ending by throwing her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder. Nate gave her a squeeze, then crossed the room to sit down on the couch with her. She never said a word to him, but he knew that Emily was wise beyond her years – she knew he was hurting inside.

All eyes in the room shifted to Nate and he felt discomfort creeping over his skin. They were waiting for something, a reaction of some kind, and he had none to give them. He didn’t want to talk about his father, at least not in a gathering this large. He appreciated the fact that they were all there, but if the unrest continued, he might be forced to excuse himself.

“I’ve got the store covered,” Jeremy announced, flinching at how loud his voice sounded in the silence.

Nate turned to him. “That’s great, Jeremy, but it’s really not necessary.”

Jeremy shrugged in an easy-going demeanor his father also possessed. “Maybe not, but I’m here so I may as well help.”

The fight was gone from Nate, so he simply nodded in acceptance.

“I can help, too,” Liz offered self-consciously. On her lap, Amanda gazed at her with amazement.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Nate objected. “You’ve got a family and a home to take care of.”

“I want to help too,” Emily chimed in, grinning innocently at Nate.

Liz laughed. “Well, there you have it. If my family is here, there’s no reason I can’t help.”

“I, on the other hand,” began Jesse, “have to be back in Boston for a trial tomorrow.” His tone was apologetic.

“It’s okay,” Nate assured him, desperately trying to keep his patience in place. These people were only trying to help, even if they were beginning to smother him. “Your being here for Dad’s funeral was enough.”

Isabel returned to the living room with a hot cup of coffee for Nate, which she set on the coffee table before him. “I’m staying for a while, too,” she announced. “Liz and I thought we could help clean…um…”

Nate felt a lump form in his throat as Isabel looked away uncomfortably. She and Liz were going to clean out his dad’s belongings, that’s what she’d meant. The two of them had done the same thing when Emma had died so that Nate and Jonathan wouldn’t have to. Perhaps her embarrassment was due to the fact that the man had only been in the ground a few hours and she was already planning on wiping him out of the house.

To ease her discomfort, Nate reached up and took her hand, forced himself to be strong. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

Relief flooded Isabel’s face. “Good.”

“I’m on store duty, too,” Michael volunteered, receiving a surprised look from his wife, to which he shrugged nonchalantly. “Can’t trust Junior Ramirez with all of that responsibility, can we?”

Nate tuned out the rest of the banter that followed. He was beyond arguing that people should go back to their lives – he simply didn’t have the strength to disagree with them. In the end, only Jesse and Maria were returning home. The rest were staying to help in some degree.

Later that night, feeling weary and beaten, Nate undressed for bed while Alyssa put Amanda down for the night; Jake had conked out an hour earlier. When he was stripped to his boxers, Alyssa appeared in the doorway to his loft bedroom and gave a low whistle. He turned a questioning look in her direction.

Feet bare, she padded over to him and stopped before him, having to tilt her head back slightly to look into his eyes. Her fingers grazed his chest, circled his pectoral delicately.

“I remember when you were just a skinny little shit,” she said, her eyes following the path of her fingers. “And look at you now.” She laid a whisper of a kiss against his skin.

Nate gave her a weak smile. He knew what she was doing, he just wasn’t sure he was in the mood for her affections this evening. That doubt flitted away as her teeth sank into his nipple, making him flinch and his insides jump. He would allow himself this distraction. Because he loved her and needed her. Because for a few moments, she would heal his wounds and comfort his soul.

Afterward, they lay in the darkness, arms around one another, Nate’s eyes fixed on the ceiling. The tree outside of his window was casting eerie shadows in the moonlight, dancing across the rafters of the loft.

“You worried me today,” Alyssa said against his chest.

“I did?” Nate replied, his voice a night-time whisper.

She nodded, her silky hair brushing his skin. “When your mom died, you left the post-funeral gathering as well.”

He remained silent, wondering what was coming.

“And then you started hiding things from me,” she continued without accusation.

He closed his eyes slowly, drew in a breath of regret. “I’m not going to hide things from you again, Al.”

He’d apologized. Many times. The fact that she’d been nervous about his disappearance this afternoon only reinforced his belief that she was never going to trust him fully again.

Alyssa propped her head up on one elbow, her dark eyes searching his. “You bottle things up,” she said. “I want you to open up to me, Nate.” She laid her hand on his chest as she spoke. “I want to share your pain.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then back to the ceiling.

“You said you did the things you did because you were having a hard time dealing with losing your mom,” Alyssa said. “If you have a hard time dealing with your dad’s loss, then let me help.”

“I’m not going to do those things again,” Nate assured her.

“I believe that,” she replied. “But what are you going to do this time to relieve your grief?”

His eyes narrowed as he frowned. “You think I’m going to do something stupid.” His voice was flat.

But Alyssa shook her head. “No. I said I believe you, Nate. I believe in you. My concern is for your well-being, not that you’re going to do something stupid. If you need an outlet for your grief this time, what is it going to be? How can I help?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. After a few moments of silence, he wrapped his arm around her and pushed her head back down to his chest. It was easier to tell her some things without her looking at him. “When my mom died, it was different. She was the one who was with me when I was little, while Dad was working. Mom and I did everything together. Dad and I really didn’t. We fished on Sundays and I worked in the store and that was about it.”

“You were closer to your mom,” Alyssa summed up, her voice muffled against him.

Nate nodded. “Yeah. My Dad and I had maybe two important conversations in my entire life.”

His mind skipped back to the pier, to that afternoon when he and Jonathan had discussed Nate leaving to find out his origins in New Mexico. Until that day, there had been no such conversations between them. Discussions were usually one-sided, with Jonathan being the stern father and Nate the obedient son. It had been a glimpse of the man beneath the stoic exterior, a glimpse that came and went all too quickly.

“I didn’t really know him,” Nate said, more to himself than to Alyssa.

She sat up again, sympathy in her eyes.

“I’d hoped that maybe now that we were moving back here, he and I would be closer. That maybe since Mom wasn’t here to keep him company, he’d open up to me.” Nate’s blue eyes drifted to the window and he shook his head. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Alyssa leaned in and kissed away his melancholy, sank beneath the covers with him. Time for Round Two.

As Nate drifted to sleep, he tried to push the many questions swirling in his head to the side. There would be time to deal with selling the house or deciding to stay there. There was plenty of time to decide what to do with the shop, to decide if they wanted to be store owners – after all, it was a life style, not just a job. There would be time.

But as sleep took him, Nate had no idea how short time was about to become.

tbc

Part Two

Cardboard boxes lined the hallway, stacked one on top of the other so that they reached Nate’s shoulder. As he neared his father’s bedroom, he could hear a lot of movement mixed with casual conversation. Pausing at the doorway, he peeked in and found Liz and Isabel folding clothes and putting them in more boxes. On the floor, Jake pounded one of his toys on the floor, happy in his own little world.

“Hey, Nate,” Isabel said with a smile, bending to drop some pants into the box.

“Hey,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets like he always did when he was uncomfortable.

It had been a week since Jonathan had died. Life was trying to return to normal but the room before him was anything but. Drawers hung open and empty. The closet door was open and only a few items – an old military uniform and a dress suit – still hung from the rod. Never had Nate seen his parents’ room so empty, so void of anything that reminded him of them. It left a hollow, empty pit in his stomach.

“Jake’s being a big help,” Liz said in perfect Auntie Liz tone.

At the mention of his name, Jake’s head snapped up and he grinned, waved his toy in the air. Nate couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face.

“Are you sure he’s not in your way?” he asked. There was no way the tot couldn’t be in their way, not plopped in the middle of the floor like he was.

“Of course he’s not,” Isabel laughed, patting the boy on the head as she passed him. “We like having our little man around.”

“After all,” Liz tagged on. “I never got a little man of my own.”

“And I miss all three of my little men.” Isabel squatted down and tickled Jake’s belly, causing him to cringe and giggle.

“Okay,” Nate relented. “But if he gets to be too much, let me know and I’ll take him to the store with me.”

Liz cocked her head, her expression pure “like we’re really going to do that” and resumed her packing.

Nate looked around the room again, realized that the curtains had been pulled down. No wonder it looked so bare. “You took the drapes down?”

Both women looked immediately stricken as they halted their packing.

“We wanted to get them cleaned,” Isabel said carefully. “We didn’t throw them out or anything.”

Nate raised his hands in the surrender position. “I wasn’t accusing. I was just commenting.”

They resumed their folding, but he could tell they still felt guilty, like they’d over-stepped their bounds or something. He struggled to find a way to mend the fence.

“That was a good idea,” he said impotently, then blew out a defeated sigh.

Liz dropped the shirt she was folding and walked over to him to pull him into her embrace. He returned the hug lightly, frowned apologetically in Isabel’s direction. Jake looked at him like he’d never seen a moron before.

“You try too hard,” Liz said as she pulled away, winking at him. “Max.”

Isabel laughed as her friend returned to the stack of clothes.

Nate’s brow furrowed. “I’m Nate…” Then his cheeks reddened as he realized the stupidity of his comment.

“And you’re very much Max,” Liz laughed.

She was right, of course. When it came to guilt, it would be a toss up which man held more. Nate struggled for a witty comeback, then gave up. Entering the room, he gave Jake a kiss on the top of his head and moved to make his retreat.

“I’m quitting while I’m ahead,” he mumbled as he left, an eruption of laughter in his wake.

In the kitchen, Alyssa was looking curiously toward the doorway as Nate entered. “What happened down there?” she asked, referring to the hysterics down the hallway.

“Nothing,” he said, crossing over to her and pulling her close to him. He’d never tire of holding her, of burying his face in her hair. He planted a kiss on her lips before he pulled away entirely. “I’m heading for the store so Michael can get some lunch.”

“Okay,” Alyssa said, then returned to the sink, which was backed up.

Nate frowned. The house was old and hadn’t been updated in many years. In fact, he couldn’t remember the kitchen ever being remodeled in his lifetime. He felt bad that she had to deal with the drain now.

“I can stay and fix that,” he said, motioning toward the sink.

Alyssa looked over her shoulder at him. “I can take care of it.” A wave of the hand later, the water swirled obediently down the drain. She gave him a victorious grin.

“Yes, you can,” he laughed lightly, then looked around the room.

The cupboards were old, the floor tiles faded and worn. If they were to sell the place, this room would definitely affect the selling price. If they sold it. Maybe they’d stay, in which case Al deserved a new kitchen.

“How would you redecorate this room?” he asked her.

“Redecorate?” Alyssa was before the refrigerator now, pulling out items for lunch. “Nate, it’s your parents’ house. I wouldn’t even consider it.” There was a hint of discomfort in her tone.

Nate shoved his hands in his pockets again. “The courts say it’s mine now,” he said softly. “Ours. If you wanted to change things…”

Her eyes softened. “There’s time to think about that, Nate. It’s too soon. The time will come, but it’s not now.”

He nodded in agreement, then gave her one more kiss before heading to the store.

In the years that Nate had been helping his father, he’d learned to cook the books with the best of them. Once the funeral was over and things settled down, he’d located the ledger for the store and had reviewed it. It seemed that the shop was still thriving, its location close to the lake no doubt being a huge contributor. He felt a sense of pride deep within, knowing his father had done so well, considering he wasn’t a businessman by nature. But Nate knew that Jonathan had succeeded by being a fair, honest man. The kind of man he’d taught his son to be.

At the store, Michael met his son-in-law with a smile. On the counter was a five dollar bill; in Michael’s had was an open can of Spam. Nate’s stomach clenched at the very sight of it. Of course, once upon a time the very sight of Michael himself was enough to make Nate’s stomach tumble. But things had gotten better since Nate had helped rid the group of the Skin threat on this planet. It wasn’t so much that Michael was kissing up to Nate for that now, more that he had finally begun to respect him. For everyone’s sake – especially Alyssa’s – Nate was grateful for that.

“This is some good shit,” Michael announced, looking at the blue can.

“If you say so,” Nate agreed warily as he shrugged off his jacket.

“People kept coming in to get this stuff, so I had to try it. It’s not bad.”

Nate hid his grimace as he hung up his coat. He knew that many fishers bought Spam because of its high-calorie, low-spoilage properties – a man could sit in a boat for an entire day with nothing but a can of Spam (and a lot of water) and never feel hungry or depleted. Jonathan had been an occasional Spam man, but Nate could never bring himself to get past the first bite.

“You have no idea what’s in there,” he said to Michael as he picked up a clipboard from the counter.

Michael shrugged. “Don’t care. I like it.” He tossed the empty can into the trash and grabbed his coat. “I’m going to run a couple of errands. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take your time,” Nate said absently as he scanned the clipboard, which held the delivery information from that morning.

“Junior’s still in the back, chatting up some girl,” Michael said as he exited.

Nate lowered the clipboard. Jeremy had been in New York all of a week and he was already working one of the locals.

Nate shook his head and continued surveying the shipment. The bell above the door rang a couple of times, but he didn’t really look up to see who had entered. This time of year, the customers were mostly residents that Nate knew – the tourists would start piling in in another month or so.

“Nate, I finished unwrapping all those pallets,” Jeremy said, pulling to a halt before his friend. Nate mused that it seemed like Jeremy ran everywhere he went, his energy apparently boundless. “What do I do now?”

“You can start stocking the shelves,” Nate suggested. “Start with the beer cooler – that always empties out pretty quickly. Then check the shelves to see what we need most. Go from there.”

Jeremy gave him a wide, eager grin, like a puppy trying so hard to please. Nate watched him race for the store room, then reappear with a cartload of six-packs. On his heels, a very cute blond girl that Nate recognized as the daughter of the mayor. He hid his smile behind the clipboard.

“I like beer,” Jeremy said at the back of the store as he opened the coolers. “Do you like beer?”

Nate couldn’t hear the girl’s reply and probably would have dismissed it anyway. He’d been witness to Jeremy’s charms before and kept a respectful distance. He did find it amusing, however, that Jeremy was very much like his father in that he was proud to announce his love of alcohol to others. In this case, a relative stranger.

The chatter continued at the back of the store while Nate completed his review of the new shipment. Jeremy’s tone changed, causing Nate to suddenly tune in.

“Oh, am I in your way? Sorry.”

Nate looked up and saw Jeremy pushing the cart out of the way as a woman reached into the cooler to get some beer. She looked vaguely familiar, but Nate couldn’t really see her face and shrugged it off. He put down the clipboard and noticed Michael’s five dollar bill still lying on the counter. Nate gave a little snort – like he’d charge Michael for the can of Spam he’d eaten while working for free.

Nate had tried to pay all of them for their help, but no one would accept it. He would have to find other ways to thank them, starting with a complimentary can of Spam.

“Hey, Nate,” a woman said as a six pack of beer bottles was placed on the counter.

Nate looked up and nearly stumbled backward. The woman before him was Chris, Annie’s tourist friend whose father owned the cabin down by the lake. In a memory flash, he recalled the last time he’d seen her, shortly before Annie’s death. She’d had a party to close up the cabin and Nate and Annie had gone there that night – it was the night he’d received a flash of his return to earth, the night that Annie had proof that there was more to him than met the eye.

He hadn’t seen Chris face-to-face since Annie’s demise. He wasn’t really sure why she was smiling at him now. Since Annie’s death had been covered up as a “disappearance”, Nate had always assumed that Chris blamed him in some way.

“Hi, Chris,” he said cautiously, reaching to ring up the beer.

“That’s quite a hot new stock boy you have back there,” she said, giving him a wink.

“You would know,” he said jokingly. After all, Jeremy had once found his way into Chris’s bed, when he was but a minor and exiled to New York for his randy ways.

“Well, that was rude,” Chris half-laughed, half-snorted.

Nate looked at her in confusion. Had he said something out of turn?

“You act like I’d cheat on Eddie,” she pouted. “You know I wouldn’t.”

But she had. With Jeremy. Six years ago. Had she somehow forgotten that?

“Sorry,” he mumbled, putting the beer into a bag. “Don’t mind me – I’m not all here today.” He tried for a convincing smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, playfully cuffing him on the arm as she swept up her purchase. “You and Annie are coming over tonight, right?”

Nate’s eyebrows rose sharply. “What?”

“You know – my annual ‘open the cabin’ party. I told Annie about it last week. You’re coming over, right?”

Nate’s heart started to thud in his chest. Was this a trick? A joke? Was it possible that Annie was really still alive? No, he’d seen the pictures from the desert where she’d been found dead, stricken by a poisonous snake. He’d read the autopsy report. It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world,” Chris joked as she took her change from him. “So, she forgot to tell you. Just come by around eight. Everyone will be there. See ya, Nate.”

As she turned and walked out of the store, Nate looked after her in confusion. If it was a set up of some kind, she seemed very blasé about it. And she acted like she’d been talking to Annie all along, like she hadn’t ever disappeared.

A disconcerting twisting started in Nate’s stomach. Looking toward the back of the store, he saw Jeremy finishing up with the beer and the mayor’s daughter, who was folding a piece of paper and sticking it into her purse – Jeremy’s number, no doubt. Nate waved toward him and he tipped his head in an indication he’d be there in a moment.

After the girl left, Jeremy parked the cart by the store room door and jogged to the register. “What’s up?”

“That girl who was just here,” Nate began.

Jeremy broke into a toothy grin. “Sandy. The mayor’s daughter.”

“Not her. The other one. The one who bought the beer.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah?”

“Don’t you remember her?”

He thought for a moment. “Um, no. Should I?”

Nate looked at him in disbelief. Then again, Jeremy had shared his bed with so many women that it was entirely possible that he had forgotten one from so many years ago. There was no telling how many had come and gone since then.

“She was Annie’s friend,” Nate reminded him. “I think you two hooked up when your mom made you come here that summer.”

Jeremy was looking no less confused.

“You really don’t remember her?”

He shook his head. “The beer’s done. What now?”

Nate felt sick to his stomach. Either he was losing his mind - or something was very, very wrong.

tbc

Part Three

Years of hiding his panic had prepared Nate for making his way through the rest of the day without letting on that something was going on. He managed to goof around a bit with Jeremy until he left to hopefully set up a date with the mayor’s daughter. Even when Michael returned, Nate managed to act normal, waving congenially as the man left for the evening, saying he’d be back to open the store at seven in the morning.

But now the store was closed, it was dark outside and the shadows seemed to press in around him. Shivering as he stood outside of the shop, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked from one dark recess to another. Somehow the world felt off-kilter, like something was out of place. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Aubrey.” Nate’s soft voice sounded incredibly loud in the night air and he winced as soon as the name left his lips.

In the days since the Skins had been destroyed, he’d needed Aubrey’s services less and less. In fact, he hadn’t called on her to perform any sort of duty in over three months. Sometimes, simply because he liked her, Nate would call her out of hiding just to chat. Of course, she wasn’t much for chatting, menial conversation irrelevant to her, but she was an excellent listener. And her advice was always rational. It could be nothing but.

There was a slight whooshing sound and Aubrey appeared before him, token sunglasses in place even though the night was as black as pitch. “Sir,” she said.

“I need you to do something for me,” Nate began, then let out a sigh. It was too easy to treat her like a servant, something he did sometimes and was never proud of. Backtracking, he said, “I’m sorry. How are you, Aubrey?”

Her head tilted to the side like a confused dog. “In good condition, sir.”

“Good, that’s good.”

There was no exchange of the courtesy from her side. Her species was a little thin on pleasantries. “You have a mission for me, sir?”

Nate gave a nod. “It’s not a big task.”

“That matters not, sir. Whatever you wish, I will do.”

Of course she would. It was her lot in life. “I need you to go past one of the cabins, see if there is a party going on.”

She looked around the darkness and Nate wondered if she could see anything behind those glasses. Apparently she could, as she gestured toward one of the cabins that sat near the store.

“That cabin, sir?”

Nate shook his head. “No. A cabin a ways from here. I can tell you how to get there.”

She nodded in agreement.

He started to write down the directions to Chris’s cabin, then remembered that Aubrey never forgot anything and simply told her how to find the place.

“What should I do when I get there?” she questioned.

“Nothing,” Nate instructed. “Just report back to me if there are people there.”

“Understood. May I be on my way?”

Nate nodded and another whooshing sound fluttered through the air as Aubrey vanished.

Disappointed with himself, Nate climbed behind the wheel of his truck and headed for home. Already he was keeping things from Alyssa, while in the meantime trying to repair the damaged he’d done to their relationship that previous fall. But how could he tell her about this? He couldn’t just announce over dinner that his ex-girlfriend might be alive after all and that her best friend was acting like they were still a couple. She’d think he was crazy. Or kick his ass, which would probably be worse.

No, it was better to get information first. Then he could decide how to tell Alyssa what was going on. If anything was going on at all.

At home, he found Jake running in circles in the living room, a waste basket on his head. The tot was shrieking with joy, while somewhere else in the house his sister was shrieking in anger.

Nate pushed the door closed behind himself, then removed the basket from his son’s head before he managed to hurt himself. Jake looked at him with large dark eyes, then gave a big grin. Nate patted him on the head, then moved in the direction of the unpleasant cries of baby Amanda.

In the kitchen, Alyssa was sitting at the table, holding the wailing baby against her. With a shock, Nate realized that his wife was crying too. Swallowing back his fear that something unexplainable had happened to them as well, he knelt before her and reached over to lift her chin.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked sympathetically.

“She won’t quit,” Alyssa choked. “She’s been crying all day, Nate. She won’t eat. She just cries and cries and I can’t make her stop.”

Nate smoothed her hair in comfort. He’d only ever seen her within inches of snapping once or twice. He imagined what her day must have been like with the constant screaming and a baby who refused to eat. Annoyance and worry had to have driven her to the brink.

“Let me take her,” he offered, starting to slide his hands under the baby.

“She won’t stop,” Alyssa cried.

“I know. Let me see what I can do.”

“Is she sick? Why won’t she eat?” Alyssa’s dark eyes were filled with worry.

“Well, let’s see.” Nate pulled the bundle of kicking infant to him and secured her in the crook of his arm. Placing his hand over her small body, he closed his eyes briefly, summoning the power he’d inherited from his father. Then he turned a smile in his wife’s direction. “She’s fine, Al. Just moody, apparently. How about if you go put Jake to bed and I’ll take care of her?”

Alyssa sniffled and nodded, then left the kitchen. Nate watched her with empathy, then started pulling out all the charms to get his daughter to calm down. Sometimes walking with her helped, so he put her over his shoulder and started down the hallway.

There were more boxed in the hall than when he’d left for work. Curious as to how far Liz and Isabel had gotten with packing his father’s belongings, Nate pushed open the bedroom door. The closets were closed and the dresser drawers had been pushed back in. With a twinge of guilt, he noticed that the curtains had been replaced. He shouldn’t have mentioned their absence, he hadn’t meant anything by the comment. But apparently Liz and Isabel had taken his remark otherwise.

A few more trips up and down the hall and Amanda started to calm down – though she was still fussing, at least she wasn’t screeching anymore. In the living room, Nate found Alyssa picking up Jake’s toys. Jake was nowhere to be seen, whisked away to his bed for the night.

“Did they get all of Dad’s things packed up?” Nate asked, rubbing Amanda’s back in small circles.

“I think so,” Alyssa answered absently. She looked like she needed a nap, her face drawn and her eyes bloodshot.

“They didn’t have to put the drapes back up,” he said lightly. “I didn’t mind that they were gone.”

She stopped gathering toys and gave him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

“Liz and Isabel had taken the curtains down for cleaning. I made a stupid comment about it. I guess they thought I was offended and put them back up.”

Alyssa sighed tiredly. “They didn’t take the curtains down, Nate.”

He nodded. “They did. They must have put them back up this afternoon.”

She stretched her back and shook her head. “They never took them down, Nate. And I’m too tired to argue with you about it.”

Nate paused, partially because her tone was so clipped but mostly because he knew the drapes hadn’t been there that morning. The uneasy churning started in his stomach again.

“You must be tired,” he agreed quietly. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll see what I can do with Mandy.”

Alyssa looked at him warily.

“Go on,” he encouraged. “I’ll be up in a bit.” He tried to dazzle her with a smile, but she had already turned and was heading up the stairs.

Nate’s smile fell away and was replaced with a troubled grimace. Flopping onto the couch, he slouched back and positioned the baby on his chest. Using just a little burst of his powers, he sent warmth to her, hoping it would help her relax. Surprisingly, her cries calmed down and she began nodding off to sleep. Nate looked at her in confusion. She was cold?

His speculation was interrupted as Aubrey appeared on the other side of the room. Reflexively, he held his finger to his lips, not wanting her to wake the baby or alert Alyssa to the fact that he’d sent her on a mission.

“What did you find out?” he asked quietly.

“There was no one there, sir,” Aubrey reported.

Nate raised his eyebrows. “No one?”

“No.”

“Had there been? Did you see tire tracks? A light left on? Empty beer cans outside?”

She shook her head. “I estimate the place hasn’t been inhabited in around five months, sir.”

So, maybe he was crazy after all. He’d been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe he’d hallucinated Chris coming into the store and insinuating he and Annie were still together. Maybe he’d only imagined the curtains had been removed from his parents’ room. The good thing was, if he was crazy Alyssa probably wouldn’t kick his ass.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

Nate looked up at Aubrey, who never looked at him like he was crazy, and shook his head.

Within a half hour, Amanda had fallen asleep soundly enough that Nate could put her in her cradle. It was puzzling, the way she had fussed all day, refusing to eat. And all she’d wanted was someone to make her warm? Nate looked down on her tiny body and felt no less at ease about the situation.

In his bedroom, he pulled back the covers as slowly as possible, tried to slide into the bed without waking Alyssa. She was lying on her stomach, her face away from him and he knew when she didn’t move at his presence that she was out cold. He felt a wave of sympathy for her. It certainly wasn’t easy being a mother.

Sleep eluded Nate. While Alyssa slept silently beside him, he stared at the ceiling rafters and pondered the odd things that had happened to him that day. There was simply no explaining them, but he was having difficulty letting go of them. His mind simply refused.

Nate’s eyes immediately went to the clock when Amanda’s shrieks filled the air once again. It was two in the morning. Alyssa stirred, let out a weary groan.

“You sleep, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing her back and laying a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll get her.” It wasn’t like he was sleeping anyway.

Nate found his daughter beet red and wailing in her cradle. Reaching in, he scooped her up with one hand and held her against him. She continued to scream, then shoved her fist into her mouth; it made him happy to see her showing signs of hunger. He placed her in her bouncy seat in the living room, then went to the kitchen to heat a bottle.

Yawning, Nate stood before the microwave and watched the bottle rotate in a slow circle. After a seeming eternity, the appliance chimed and turned off. He tested the liquid on his wrist, found it satisfactory, then returned to feed it to his daughter.

But when Nate got back to the living room, fear shot through him like a lightening strike.

Amanda, bouncy seat and all, was gone.

tbc

Ah, WomanofMystery gave away my plot line


Part Four

“Alyssa! Alyssa, wake up!”

Nate frantically shook his wife, his whole body trembling with fear, a fear great enough that he’d forgotten his worry that she was going to kick his ass. Running into one of Annie’s friends was one thing, but losing a baby was quite another.

“What?” Alyssa mumbled irritably, rolling over and shoving her long hair out of her face. “Jesus, Nate.”

“Get up!” he cried, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her to upwards. It was like dragging a bag of wet sand as she resisted being awakened so abruptly.

“Nate, quit it!” she barked. “I’m trying to get some sleep!”

“The baby is gone, Alyssa!” he blurted.

At that, all annoyance was gone and she was shoving him out of the way as she stumbled from the bed. “What do you mean gone?” she yelped, running for the stairs.

“I don’t know what happened,” Nate said as he hurried in her footsteps, both mother and father pounding down the steps. “She was there one minute and then gone the next.”

Alyssa ran down the hallway and to the spare bedroom, the one the Spencers had used as a guest room. Inside, she found Jake sleeping soundly in his crib. That didn’t stop her, however, from reaching in and scooping him up, her breath coming in a harsh rasp. Jake whined in protest of his rude awakening.

“Sh, it’s okay, baby,” Alyssa said, rocking him as she smoothed his back. “It’s okay.” Then she turned on Nate, her dark eyes ablaze. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Nate?”

His mouth simply dropped open. Confusion coursed through him as he watched her stare daggers in his direction. “Alyssa,” he began weakly. “The baby –”

“Is fine,” she snapped, then her emotions turned on a dime as she laid a loving kiss against Jake’s dark hair. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said as she laid him back into his crib.

“Alyssa.” Nate’s voice was a weak croak.

“Wait outside,” she said flatly.

He frowned, then backed out of the room. Waiting for her to put their son back to sleep was wasting time, so he did another quick survey of the house. No Amanda. No bouncy seat. She’d simply vanished.

In a few minutes, Alyssa emerged from the spare room, her eyes harder than Nate had ever seen them.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she said, her tone threatening, her chest rising and falling rapidly with anger.

“Please, Alyssa,” Nate begged. He felt his control over the situation rapidly evaporating.

“How dare you wake me up in the middle of the night claiming someone has taken our baby!” she shouted.

“Alyssa, it’s not Jake. It’s Amanda. She’s gone.” His throat clenched at having lost that tempestuous bundle of joy, the little girl with her mother’s hair and her father’s eyes.

Alyssa’s brow furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Amanda – our daughter! Something’s happened to her and I don’t know what.”

She paused a moment, then let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. “Are you sleep-walking?” she asked levelly.

Nate felt everything inside of him screech to a halt. Why wasn’t she alarmed about this? Why wasn’t she as terrified as he was? Why wasn’t her heart about to leap out of her chest?

“What?” he asked, his voice a disbelieving whisper.

“Well, if you’re sleep-walking – not that you ever have in the time I’ve known you – but if you were, then I could forgive you for what you just did. But if you aren’t sleep-walking then you’re the coldest son of a bitch I’ve ever met and I really can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Alyssa…our baby…”

Her dark eyes were cold as she stared him down for a long moment. Then she let out a snort of disgust and started for the stairs to return to the loft. He followed numbly.

“Amanda –”

At the foot of the steps, she whirled on him. “I’m not finding any of this funny, Nate! What the hell is wrong with you? We don’t even have a daughter!”

He fell back, stunned. “Yes we do,” he said in shock. “She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She has my eyes. She has your temper.”

Alyssa’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sick? Do you need medical attention? Because you’re really not making sense right now.”

“I can prove it!” he said, racing back toward the living room and grabbing his jacket. “I can show you pictures of her!” He grabbed his wallet and started to flip it open, but Alyssa had turned her back on him and was already halfway up the stairs. His coat dropped to the floor.

“Sleep on the couch,” Alyssa ordered over her shoulder before slamming the door behind herself.

Nate’s heart was tripping wildly in his chest. What had gone wrong with his wife? Why wasn’t she a nervous wreck about the baby being gone? Was she just being spiteful because of the mood Amanda had been in all day? No, that wasn’t Alyssa – she loved her children, regardless their crankiness.

Knees shaking, Nate sank to the couch. Just to prove he wasn’t really crazy, he flipped open his wallet, hoping to find the family picture they’d had taken a few weeks after Amanda’s birth. Then he’d know that he was the sane one and that Alyssa was the one who needed help.

There was no picture.

Bile rose to Nate’s throat and he had to choke it back down. Looking around the room, he found no baby toys, no bottle that he’d dropped upon realizing Amanda was gone. It was like she’d never existed.

I’m losing my mind, Nate thought, one hand clamped over his mouth. I’m having full-out hallucinations.

No, he wouldn’t believe that. For starters, crazy people didn’t usually know they were crazy. The mere fact that he was wondering if he was crazy led him to believe he couldn’t be.

The alternative was that the world had gone crazy. From Chris’s appearance in the store, to Jeremy not remembering her, to the mysteriously re-hung drapes in his father’s room, to Amanda’s apparent erasure from the world.

Fingers trembling, Nate retrieved his cell phone and hit the number one on speed dial. After a few agonizing rings, a very tired voice picked up on the other end.

“Max, I need your help,” Nate said, wrapping his arm around his abdomen to quell the discomfort there.

“Nate?” Max asked, his voice hoarse. “You okay? What time is it?”

“It’s around three in the morning, I guess. I’m not sure if I’m okay or not.”

“Do you need me to come over?” The voice was more lucid now.

Yeah, having Max coming over would only wake Alyssa up again and Nate didn’t want to pay the price for that.

“Not tonight,” he said. “Can we meet in the morning?”

“Breakfast?”

Nate shook his head. “No. What I need to say should be said where people can’t hear.”

“Okay.” There was hesitancy and concern in Max’s voice. “Usual place – eight o’clock?”

The usual place – his father’s favorite fishing pier. “Sure. One more thing,” Nate said, holding his forehead in his hand. “Max, how many children do I have?”

There was a sleepy chuckle on the other end of the line. “Are you trying to tell me someone from your past has come forward claiming you’re the father of their baby?”

Nate would have found that scenario funny, if he’d been on Max’s end of the conversation. “No, nothing like that.”

Max sighed. “What’s this about?”

“Can you just answer the question?”

“Okay, Nate. I’m not sure what has you up this early, but I’ll answer your question. You have a wonderful little boy named Jake.”

He waited patiently for Max to continue, which he never did. “Um, okay. Thanks, Max. I’ll see you at eight.”

Nate sat staring into space for a long time. Why could no one remember his daughter? Why was he the only one who recalled her existence at all? And how was anyone ever going to help him find out what happened to her when no one believed she existed in the first place?

He’d never felt more alone in his life.

Sleep never came, but time flew by, the house starting to brighten with the rising sun. Nate felt exhausted, but worry and fear kept him from replenishing his body. He practically counted the minutes until he could meet Max and try to explain what had been going on. Max was an open-minded, understanding guy – maybe he was the only one who could help Nate.

Around seven fifteen, the house phone rang, startling Nate and sending his body into nervous over-drive once again. Maybe it was kidnappers, calling with a ransom to get baby Amanda back. Anxious – and a little afraid that the phone would wake his already-angry wife- Nate dove for the phone and grabbed it.

“Nate, this is Earl,” came a robust, older voice. “I’m at the store, tryin’ to get some minnows, but the place is all locked up. You oversleep, son?”

Nate’s eyes settled on the clock. Michael was supposed to be there this morning. Maybe he’d been the one to oversleep. “No, Earl. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

On the drive over to the store, Nate cursed his father-in-law. Leave it to Michael to fuck with him on a day when he really didn’t need to be fucked with. So far, he’d been a responsible shop-keeper, but somehow he hadn’t shown up this morning.

Nate fumbled with his keys as he rounded to the front of the shop. A half dozen fishermen were looking at him with varying expressions – annoyance, impatience, amusement.

“Morning, gentlemen,” he said, shoving his key into the lock. “Sorry you had to wait.”

He helped each of them get what they needed, then looked around the store. It was in absolute shambles, shelves half-empty. The beer cooler only held a few six-packs. Nate held his head in his hands. He remembered explicitly watching Jeremy filling the cooler the night before. And they certainly hadn’t sold that much beer before closing.

It was only one of many unexplained turns his day was about to take.

tbc

Part Five

Nate had no idea how Jonathan had run the store so smoothly all of those years with minimal help. This morning, with Michael being AWOL and Nate missing a lot of sleep, he found himself struggling to get the place in presentable condition. The shelves were under-stocked, the coolers bordering on empty. The elder Spencer would not have been pleased.

The worst? It was now eight thirty and Nate stood a good chance of disappointing his other father as well – he was a half hour late in meeting Max. Pausing from shuffling cans onto the shelves, Nate grabbed his cell phone and punched in Max’s number. It rang…and rang…and rang. Not even voicemail picked up. Frowning, he hung up and dialed the motel where Michael and Jeremy were staying.

“Can I have Jeremy Ramirez’s room?” he asked when the owner picked up.

“Who?” she asked. She was getting up in years and Nate was getting accustomed to having to repeat himself when dealing with her.

“Jeremy Ramirez,” he repeated, annunciating every syllable.

“How do you spell that?”

“R-a-m-i-r-e-z.”

He waited patiently while she mumbled to herself. He could hear the flipping of pages and knew the woman preferred to maintain a hardcopy guest list rather than to trust a computer.

“No Ramirez here, hon,” she finally said.

Nate blinked. “Did he check out or something?” It was out of character for Jeremy to have done something like that.

“I can’t see that we ever had anyone here by that name.”

He rubbed his forehead, confusion clouding his tired mind. “Okay, how about Michael Guerin? G-u-e-r-i-n.”

Another pause, more mumbling.

“I’m sorry, Nate. No one by that name. You feeling okay?”

Nate drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for your help.”

He clicked off his phone and stood dumbfounded, staring into space. Jeremy and Michael were gone. Permanently? Like Amanda? Did they never exist at all? No, that couldn’t be. At least Michael had to still exist because Alyssa was still around.

Why was he talking about people existing or not existing? There had to be a perfectly good explanation for all of it, didn’t there? Max would know. Max could help him.

Making a managerial decision, Nate flipped over the “Closed” sign at the window, felt a stab of guilt deep within. He knew that somewhere, on another plane of existence, Jonathan Spencer was doubled over in pain. Never in fifty years of operating his store did he close during the day - not for the flu or broken bones or terrorist attacks or fits of really, really bad diarrhea. And here the man hadn’t yet been dead a month and his son was closing up shop in the middle of the morning.

But this wasn’t a normal morning and Nate needed to try to figure out why. Besides, the pier was only a short drive away – he could get there quickly and if necessary, bring Max back to the store for their talk.

If Max was at the pier, which he wasn’t. Nate stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the empty length of planks that made up the dock from which he and Jonathan used to fish. There was still a light coating of dew on the boards that hadn’t been disturbed by someone walking on them.

Max had never been there.

Nate frowned deeply. It was one thing to have Michael and Jeremy let him down – after all, Michael had his own will about things and Jeremy was sometimes untrustworthy because of the latest skirt he was chasing – but to have Max let him down was another story. Max never did that to anyone. Period.

What do I do now? Nate wondered as he walked back to his truck. Max was always there to help him, to give him advice. Without him, who was there to help?

Alyssa.

Nate felt like crying as he climbed behind the wheel of the truck. Yes, he needed Max. Yes, it was true that Max was his voice of reason. But he needed Alyssa, too, in more important ways. Without Alyssa, Nate was lost. She was what grounded him, made him happy, made him whole. She’d given him two children.

One she couldn’t remember. One that didn’t exist in the pictures in Nate’s wallet anymore either. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe Amanda was just a fantasy he’d had. Maybe he’d just overlooked her pictures.

Leaning forward, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. No pictures of Amanda. Maybe he wasn’t crazy.

On the drive back to the store, he felt a dark cloud of doom hanging over him. The world had spun in a new direction, one that he didn’t understand. There was no one here to help him understand either. He was alone in this.

At the shop, a couple of the early-morning fishermen had returned for more supplies, their faces not-so-welcoming this time. With them stood a young man, perhaps of high school age.

“Your dad never closed up shop like that,” one of the older men said as Nate passed them to open the door.

“It was an emergency,” Nate said as he worked the key in the lock.

“Not even for an emergency,” the man retorted in passing, disgust evident in his voice.

Nate could just see it – less than two months after Jonathan’s demise, the store was going under because Nate had issues.

The teenager followed the older men into the store, then hung up his jacket and started putting on one of the store aprons. Nate eyed him suspiciously.

“Where do you want me to start?” the kid asked.

“Who are you?” Nate asked.

“Kevin,” the kid replied, glancing away briefly, perhaps wondering if his boss had gone crazy. “You hired me last week, remember?”

No, Nate didn’t remember. He’d never seen this kid before in his life. Paranoia immediately took hold in his mind. Was the kid a shapeshifter of some kind? A mindwarper? Because events of late would definitely point to some kind of otherworldly activity.

Kevin shifted uncomfortably, then pointed toward the storeroom. “Want me to open the latest shipment like I did last week?”

Nate snapped out of his pondering of alien activities and nodded. If the help was there, why not take it? Kevin scampered off, more than relieved to be out of the weird guy’s presence.

One of the fishers, a man who hadn’t yelled at Nate for being absent, put a six pack of beer on the counter then started rummaging in his pocket for money. Nate mechanically moved behind the register to ring up the purchase.

“Nate, you doing okay?” the man asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Nate looked up at him, saw real compassion in the retiree’s eyes. “I’m fine, Bud. Just a lot going on, ya know?

Bud nodded. “Yeah, I know. Don’t let what that yahoo said back there bother you, okay?”

Nate shrugged lightly. “He’s right. Dad never closed the store, only on Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Bud chuckled. “Yeah, but there were plenty of times he probably should have. And you’re not your father, Nate. You’ve got a lot of responsibility all of a sudden. You hang in there and things will work out fine.” He reached out to take his change and swiped the six pack under his arm. “You give my regards to that pretty little wife of yours,” he said as he moved toward the door.

Nate watched him go, felt no less at ease. Bud had never met Alyssa, as far as Nate could remember.

The rest of the men got what they needed and then Nate was left alone again, except for that Kevin kid, who was singing as he opened cases of goods in the storeroom. Nate went back to the room, found Kevin with headphones on, dancing while he worked. Reaching out, he tapped the kid on the shoulder. Kevin let out a girlie scream and jumped straight upwards, his box cutter skidding across the floor.

“Jesus, Mr. Spencer!” the boy said, whipping off his headphones and putting a hand to his heart. “You scared the shit out of me!”

On that other plane, Jonathan Spencer doubled over again, this time at someone having sworn in his store.

“How long do you work?” Nate asked.

Kevin’s brow wrinkled and was quite possibly thinking his boss was an idiot. “Until four today.”

“Can you run the register?”

The kid nodded and Nate noticed he was leaning slightly backwards, away from him. Subconsciously taking flight.

“I need to run home,” Nate explained.

Kevin suddenly beamed, having the store to himself. “Okay.”

“I’ll try to be back in an hour.”

“No problem!”

He seems too eager, Nate sighed to himself as he left the store. Then again, what fifteen-year-old kid wouldn’t like the run of someplace – any place? He had a fear that when he returned, there would be a hoard of Kevin’s friends in the store, helping themselves to free Twinkies and a sixer or two.

But Nate had to go home. He had to talk to Alyssa, just to see if he could figure out what was going on. Sure, she’d banished him to the couch last night, but he couldn’t let his fear of being slapped back in his place prevent him from doing this. She was the last person who could help him.

As Nate pulled into the gravel drive at the Spencer bungalow, he found a panel van pulled up to the house. His brow furrowed in confusion as he slid his truck into park. On the side of the van were large letters proclaiming “Anderson Remodeling.” They were remodeling something? Not that he remembered.

Fear twisting in his gut, he hopped out of the truck and jogged to the front door. He expected Jake to be there waiting for him, but there was no welcome wagon from the two year old. He could hear voices in the kitchen, a man and a woman – the woman did not sound like Alyssa.

Nate’s heart started to pound double-time in his chest as he hurriedly made his way to the room where his mother had spent so much of her time. As he neared, he caught sight of a man in overalls, holding a clipboard on which he was making notes.

“Hello?” Nate called.

The man looked his direction, then smiled – the smile of a man about to make a mint.

“Hey there,” the man, presumably Anderson, said. “We were just talking about you.”

“You were?” Nate questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

A giggle filled the air, a laugh then sent shivers up Nate’s spine. Standing at the sink, very pregnant and very much alive, was Annie O’Donnell.

tbc

So, no one has discovered the big clue in Fathers and Sons yet You've got one more part and then I'm revealing it


Part Six

“Oh my God,” Nate breathed, took a stumbling step backward.

Annie’s eyebrows rose into an inverted V as she laughed again. “Jesus, Nate, what’s wrong with you? So what – you’re a little late. It’s nothing worth being so dramatic over.”

Nate’s heart was pounding so hard that he felt his head start to become light. Sickness washed over him as he turned his gaze to Anderson the remodeling guy, who was looking at him like he was a little crazy.

“You were supposed to be here half an hour ago,” Annie replied, waving a paint sample in the air, impatience in her tone. “Or did you forget that, too?”

“How…” Nate began, not trusting his voice. “How did you get in here?”

“She let me in,” Anderson said, motioning toward Annie, his expression confused.

“Not you,” Nate said in a clipped tone. “Her.”

Annie withdrew indignantly. “Nate, for Christ’s sake, what has gotten into you?”

Confused and terrified, he covered his face with his hands and hoped that when he removed them, she’d be gone. He hoped that Alyssa would be in her place instead, a typically cranky baby Amanda in her arms. But when he dropped his hands, he found Annie staring daggers at him.

“We need to decide what we’re doing with this room,” she reminded him, so angry she could barely get the words out.

“My mom,” Nate said, feeling dizzy.

“What?”

“It’s my mom’s room. She wouldn’t want us tearing it up right away.”

Annie snorted. “In case you missed it, Nate, your mom’s dead. She doesn’t care what we do with this room.”

Nate felt a stab inside that she could be so callous about the death of someone so close to him. Annie appeared not to notice, however, as she turned her attention to the home improvement man.

“I was thinking of something sunny, like a nice warm yellow,” she said, her tone once again jovial. Just like that, she’d dismissed him.

With the attention off him, Nate backed out of the room and tried to catch his breath. She was dead – he’d seen the pictures, he’d seen the autopsy report that Deputy Valenti had brought him. He hadn’t heard anything from her in over six years, so it wasn’t like she’d been alive and hiding all of this time.

And how on earth had she gotten pregnant?

Nausea churned in Nate’s belly. Painfully, he recalled a dream he’d had after finding out who he was, a dream where people were experimenting on a child that looked a lot like him. That dream had led to a fear that Annie had only been put into his life to “steal” his sperm, so that the FBI could try to create another alien baby. Was that what had happened here? Was that child in her belly only a lab rat in the end?

Nate’s breathing became shallow. He was going to pass out. Staggering over to the couch, he put his head between his knees and tried to calm down. His heart ached for Alyssa and Jake and Amanda. His being cried out for those who were like him – Max, Michael and Jeremy.

A thought occurred to him and he jumped to his feet quickly – too quickly for his present state of mind. His world spun and he fell back onto the couch, then he made himself stand up slower. He could still hear Annie and the contractor talking in the kitchen as he made his way down the hallway. As he suspected, all of the boxes that Liz and Isabel had stacked there were gone. Could Purple Hearts have picked them up already? With a trembling hand, he pushed open his father’s bedroom door.

The room was in shambles – clothes flung across the bed, drawers hanging open. The closet door was agape and Nate could see all of his father’s clothes still on the hangers. It was like Liz and Isabel had never been there – and it looked like someone had been looking for something.

Nate had to get out of there – fast. Putting his head down and not even looking up when Annie called him, he ran for the front door, down the steps and across the lawn to his truck. He didn’t give the house a second look as he threw the vehicle into reverse, hit the gas and sprayed stones all over the grass.

Once on the road, he commanded himself to breathe slower, forced his heart to slow down. He was going to have an accident if he didn’t get a grip on himself. He drove for a couple of miles, constantly checking his rearview mirror to see if he’d been followed, then he pulled off to the side of the road. Staggering from the truck, he fell to his knees and threw up violently in the ditch.

A seeming eternity passed, while Nate regained his breath and tried to calm down. Sitting back on his haunches, he wiped the tears from his eyes and drew in deep, cleansing breaths. He glanced either way down the country road and realized that he was in the middle of nowhere. Alone. Not a good situation, all things considered.

“Aubrey,” he said, his voice coming out a choked whisper. When the protector didn’t appear, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Aubrey?”

A few long moments passed and the usually-prompt Aubrey didn’t appear. Frustration took its hold and Nate felt silent tears seep from his eyes. He’d lost his mind, plain and simple. People didn’t just appear and disappear on command. Maybe he’d been dreaming for the last seven years. Maybe he’d only imagined this other life, where he was part alien and running from the bad guys.

Or maybe there was something more evil at work here.

Prompted into action, Nate jumped to his feet and climbed back into his truck. Determined, he found the motel where his relatives had been staying, but he knew better than to go inside and ask the clerk – she already thought he was crazy from when he’d talked to her earlier. Instead, he sat in the parking lot of a drug store across the street from the motel and kept his eye on the room Liz and Isabel had rented together. There was no point in waiting for Michael and Jeremy – he’d already gotten confirmation that they’d never been there.

An hour passed, but Nate’s gaze never left the door of the motel room. Nothing was going to get past him. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he’d left young Kevin in charge of the store for a very long time, but he couldn’t be concerned with that right now. A few stolen Twinkies and a missing six pack or two were the least of his worries.

Another hour went by and still there was no movement from the room that Liz and Isabel shared. No one came, no one left; their rental car wasn’t in the parking lot. All Nate needed was confirmation one way or the other that they had been there.

After twenty more minutes, a pick up truck with Maine license plates pulled into the motel parking lot and stopped in a parking space before the room. Nate sat up in his seat, his palms sweaty and his nerves frayed. It seemed to take an eternity for the person to exit the vehicle.

But when they did, he saw that it was Liz or Isabel. It was a middle-aged man and a young boy, chatting amicably. Nate knew who they were – at least in generalities. A man and his son, scouting out vacation spots for the coming summer; he saw their kind every day.

Hope deflated inside of Nate. During the time he’d sat waiting for his beloved aunt and stepmother, he’d defiantly concluded that he wasn’t crazy. Something was going on here and he needed to figure out what it was.

There was just one more thing he needed to check. Starting the truck, he pulled out of the drug store and headed east. His mind was racing and his body was trembling from the strain it was under. After a few moments, he reached his destination – the cemetery.

Swallowing back his anxiety, Nate got out of the truck and headed for the spot he was coming to know all too well. A light rain started to fall, splattering against his cheeks and dampening his hair. Out of respect, he kept his pace slow and held back the urge to run. On the far side of the cemetery, a small group of people were gathered around a hearse, preparing to say goodbye to one of their own.

Within a few minutes, Nate had found what he was looking for. At his feet lay the graves of his parents, Emma and Jonathan. The ground over his father’s grave was still mounded high, arrangements of flowers, some wilted, some still fresh-looking, spread across the earth. The engraver had been out, the year of Jonathan’s death added to the granite headstone.

Of all of the things that had changed, one thing remained – his parents were both still gone.

Nate drew in a breath and released it as a choked sob. The rain mixed with his tears and washed them from his face. Why didn’t he understand what was happening to him? Why was there no one left to turn to? What would his father have done?

Lifting his face to the sky, Nate blinked back tears and raindrops. The air smelled fresh, the rain wiping clean the slate of winter. He needed answers and he wasn’t going to get them here.

Mind made up, he turned on his heel and headed back for his truck. Paranoia and anger flared within him – he knew that someone or something had caused this change of events and he needed to find the answers so that he could put things right again.

In the truck, Nate pulled onto the road and headed for the New York Thruway, on his way to Boston.

tbc

Well, here it is - the big reveal I want to thank all of you who PMed me with guesses. Some of you were very close, so excellent detective work on your part! I'd also like to thank Christy (crc1228) for giving me the absolutely wonderful idea of using Alex's bike (you'll see what I mean when you read the chapter ). The idea was all hers and she deserves all the credit!



Part Seven

The road to the coast had never seemed so long. The New York Thruway stretched endlessly before Nate’s headlights, a light cloud of fog and rain muting his path. The air was brisk, but he knew that it wasn’t the nip of spring that was chilling him to the bone.

Relentlessly, his mind replayed the events of the last few weeks, over and over until he found himself slowly going mad. And he knew he wasn’t mad – he had a wife and two beautiful kids. Annie O’Donnell was not his wife. She was dead, stung by a scorpion or bitten by a snake in the sands of the New Mexico desert.

Then how had she gotten into his kitchen?

Nate ran a hand through his hair and grimaced – his stomach was doing flip-flops and every one of his muscles seemed stretched to the breaking point. He knew that his present state of mind was not good for his health, but there was little reassurance that his stress wasn’t warranted. Something was very, very wrong in his world.

It was after ten o’clock at night when Nate reached Boston. He should have planned better, knowing that if his family had returned to the city they might be in bed by now. But his problem was urgent – they had always answered his call regardless of the hour. He chose Max and Liz’s house first; Max would be his grounding force, the one to reason with him.

Nate pulled his truck into the drive of the brick bungalow and saw that there was still a light on in the living room. Briefly, anger flared deep in his chest – if Liz or Max had wanted to return home, all they’d had to do was say so. Why had they fled without so much as a goodbye? He cut the engine, then pushed open his door and climbed out.

Until the stood, Nate hadn’t realized how entirely spent he was – his knees wobbled and he had to put a hand to the truck door to steady himself. Too many hours on the road, too much stress, and not enough food. As he neared the door, he fantasized about Liz giving him some warm coffee and asking him if he was hungry. It would be like going home.

But when he rang the doorbell, he knew something was amiss. The curtains at the picture window parted slightly, a face appeared and disappeared so quickly he couldn’t tell who it was; there had been only a flash of dark hair that could have belonged to either Liz or Max. Nate’s brow furrowed as he heard footsteps inside, then nothing. He reached out a weary hand and rang the bell again.

After a long period with no response, he rapped on the door with his knuckles, calling out to Max and Liz by name. Worry was replaced with irritation, a result of the exhaustion.

Finally, the door opened, but only as wide as the safety chain would let it. Through the crack, Nate could make out Liz’s face, her expression wary.

“Liz, thank God,” he said, relief flooding through him that she was actually there.

At the mention of her name, Liz withdrew in surprise, then her eyes hooded over in suspicion. At that moment, Nate realized that there was something hard about her face, a look of the battle-worn. She wasn’t warm and pretty like she’d always been – she was marked by time, worn down by life. The realization startled him.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low and timid.

“I need to talk to you,” he pleaded. “Or Max. Is he home?” He tried to look over her head, into the house, but as soon as he did so she closed the door a little.

“Who sent you?” she asked.

“Who sent -?” Nate’s words drifted off and he shook his head in confusion. “Liz, please. I don’t know what’s going on, but everything seems really messed up and I just need some help. Can you let me in? Or can you tell me where Max is?”

Liz’s dark eyes narrowed again. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” Overworked, Nate’s heart started to slam into his ribs again and once again he felt dizzy. “Liz, I’m Nate.”

“How do you know who I am?”

He fell silent for a moment, wondering if this was some cruel prank. The look on her face confirmed otherwise. “You’re Max’s wife,” he explained slowly, thinking that perhaps Liz was the crazy one, not he. “Max is my father.”

At that, Liz let out a gasp and stepped backward, her dark eyes round. Nate knew she was about to bolt.

“Liz, wait!” he said, reaching a hand through the crack of the door. “You have to help me! Get Emily – she’ll know who I am!”

By now, Liz had backed a good six feet from the door. She shook her head violently. “I don’t know anyone named Emily!” she shouted, her voice panicked.

“Liz –she’s your daughter!”

As soon as the words left Nate’s mouth, he saw a shift in Liz’s expression. Grief and agony filled her brown eyes, then more pain than he ever thought possible. Without another word, she charged the door and he wisely pulled his arm out of the way before the door slammed on it. He heard the deadbolt click into place, then Liz’s muffled voice through the wood.

“Go away.”

Too stunned to move, Nate stood on the porch for a long moment. What just happened couldn’t possibly have happened. Sure, maybe Liz was the most cautious about welcoming Nate into the group, but she’d never been hostile to him. And how could she not know who Emily was?

He had to find Max. Only Max could make sense of this. Exhausted and confused, Nate descended the steps and climbed back into his truck. Instead of starting it, he sat staring at the bungalow for awhile, trying to make sense of it – of anything, really. Because nothing made sense.

Like why Liz didn’t know Emily. Not to mention her reaction to being told Max had a son and she had a daughter. It was almost like she hadn’t ever met Nate. And like Emily had never been born.

Could that be possible? Nate put a hand to his chest. His little sister had clung to him when she was born, struggling for life. As a result of that, he’d always been able to feel her with him, except for the time not so long ago when she’d been kidnapped and taken to another planet. He concentrated, reaching out with his mind, summoning to him the little girl with the curly hair and bright eyes.

Nothing.

Sickness twisted in Nate’s gut again. Was it possible someone had Emily again? Or had she never existed at all?

He didn’t have time to contemplate that as he saw the curtains pushed back once more, caught a glimpse of a telephone in Liz’s hand. She was probably calling the police because there was a stalker in her driveway. Without further thought, Nate started the truck and backed out of the drive. Before he pulled onto the street, however, he got a glimpse into the Evans’s back yard – there was no swing set, no sandbox, no sign that they had a child at all.

Despair quickly filling his soul, Nate drove to the freeway and headed north, toward Cape Cod. His mind whirled and his soul grieved at the thought that Emily had never been. Was it possible that somehow he’d never found Max, that no one was aware of him? Could it be that Emily couldn’t find him as her stronghold in life when she’d been born small and sickly? The thought devastated him, imagining the tiny life struggling, fighting and then losing in the end.

One more stop, he told himself. I will make one more stop before I panic…who am I kidding? I’m already panicking.

The drive to the Ramirez home seemed even longer than the Thruway had, though the distance was far shorter by comparison. Nate knew that at the end of this leg of his journey laid the final answer – he was crazy or he wasn’t, something bad had happened or it hadn’t.

As he pulled into the circular drive at the estate, a voice he’d only heard a few times drifted through his subconscious, its tone sad and aggrieved.

Oh, my sweet boy…

There was so much despair in that voice that it shook him to his core. Why was she speaking to him now? What awful thing was to come?

Dread filled Nate’s body as he pulled the truck to a stop and got out. His knees trembled as he looked at the impressive mansion, then at the garage above which he used to live. Would Jeremy be home? Aunt Isabel would welcome him in, wouldn’t she?

He got a quick answer as the door swung open and his aunt appeared in the doorway. He smiled when he saw her, but that was short-lived when he saw the look of utter anger on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her tone harsher than he’d ever heard it. He immediately recoiled. “Were you at my sister-in-law’s house threatening her?”

Nate shook his head in defense. “No, I just need some help. Please, Aunt Isabel.” She had to help him – she always helped him when no one would.

“What did you call me?” she demanded, taking a step outside, obviously not afraid of him one bit.

Behind her, Nate caught sight of the twins and shivered. They looked no different, they were acting no different, but their mutual dead-fish stare send hot pokers of panic through every limb of his body.

“You’re my aunt,” he stammered, returning his attention to Isabel. “Max is my father.”

“You need to leave,” she said sternly. “Now.”

Nate took a step forward. “Something happened,” he pleaded. “Everything is wrong. Please, you have to believe me.”

“No, I don’t. And if you don’t leave now, you’re not going to live to see tomorrow.”

Nate retraced his step backward. She meant it. He’d seen her dragging Annie into that cave in Roswell and he knew she was more than capable of kicking his ass.

“I need to find Max,” he said in a final attempt.

Isabel’s jaw set and he saw her right hand flinch, as if she was getting ready to blast him. “My brother is dead, you insensitive fuck. Now get off my property!”

Her hand shot up and Nate scurried quickly to his truck and tore down the driveway. He was a good mile down the road before he realized that tears were streaming down his face. Inside, he was wounded in many places – the loss of Emily, the harsh treatment by both Liz and Isabel who had never been anything but kind to him, and the death of Max.

It wasn’t possible. Max couldn’t be dead. What fucked up thing had happened to the world that allowed Annie to live and Max and Emily to die? This was a bad dream. He’d wake up soon and all would be well.

But he was awake. The churning in his belly assured him of that fact. Realizing that he was starting to drive erratically, Nate pulled his truck into a parking lot and turned off the engine. The motor pinged and popped as it cooled in the night air. Feeling claustrophobic, he got out of the truck and started to walk.

Numb, traumatized, he walked several blocks before he came to the park where he took his kids to play. Unable to make it any farther, he sat down on a bench and held his head in his hands.

What had caused this? What had he done? Had something in his time travels caused a rip in time and things were just now catching up with him?

He’d saved Emily. He’d saved Max. Unless somehow things had been changed. It had seemed that his time traveling hadn’t had that much of an effect on the world as a whole, but what if he’d been wrong? What if he’d changed one small thing and that thing had rippled out in changes that were just now reaching him? What was that small thing that he’d done wrong?

Realization hit Nate and he sat up quickly, letting out a gasp. He’d stolen Alex Whitman’s bike! Was that it? Was stealing a soon-to-be-dead man’s bike enough to alter everything? Of all of the things he’d done, of all of the things he’d reversed – did it all come down to a geek’s ten-speed?

“Hello, Zan.”

Nate didn’t even need to turn around to put a face to the voice behind him. Defeat washed over him and he closed his eyes in resignation. In his mind, he saw her, in the guise of a television anchor, taunting him and the ones he loved.

A piece of a conversation he’d overheard, spoken by a Roswell Sheriff’s deputy, came back to him in a rush.

“You know what I think? I think you need to get that cone and destroy it. As long as the temptation is there, something like this is going to happen. I’m serious, dude. That thing is pure evil. What happens if it gets in the wrong hands? What happens if someone decides to go back and save Nazi Germany or something? It’s a serious problem, Max. I think before you catch your flight, you should take a road trip and put an end to this.”

In the end, things had changed not because of something Nate had done, but rather something Max hadn’t.

tbc

Hello everyone! Sorry for the slow updates - RL and working on 2 stories at the same time is a lot to juggle Thanks for reading!


Part Eight

Nate’s world was reduced to two simple words, spoken by an enemy he’d been foolish to believe he’d eradicated. In her greeting, he felt his doom and the fate of all of those he held close to his heart.

She rounded the park bench, her long legs clad in black boots, which matched her leather jacket and gloves. His first instinct was to flee, but he knew he stood no chance of getting even three feet away from her. So he watched warily, wondering if any of his powers could neutralize her. How did he summon that fireball thingie last time? As with all of the powers he’d obtained, he never knew how to conjure them at first.

“Well, well,” she said as she stopped before him, her hands clasped together before her, her grin irritatingly evil. “It’s Zan’s little boy. All alone.”

Nate didn’t say a word, just looked at her silently.

“And you are all alone, aren’t you?” She grinned a little wider, the smile macabre on the pretty face of Susan Moore, aka Christy Carmichael, local news anchorwoman. “All alone and defenseless.” She gave a whimsical sigh.

Nate remained silent.

“Aren’t you curious?” she ventured, though her tone was more taunting than inquisitive. “Don’t you want to know how it can be that I’m here?”

“I have a guess,” he said quietly.

“Ah, a guess.”

Turning, she sat down on the bench beside him and he resisted the urge to scoot away from her – to shy away would be to show his fear of her. Not that he wasn’t afraid. She crossed her legs and leaned back casually.

“Want the details instead of a guess, little Zan?”

Nate shrugged. Yeah, that was it – look disinterested.

“Well, it all starts with a very basic thing,” she said. “You’re so human that you’re predictable. And weak.”

He didn’t allow her a reaction.

“That little thing in the woods – you really think you killed all of us? You really think all of our eggs were in that one basket?” She cocked her head. “Dammit – I’m picking up earth clichés. I hate when that happens.”

He supposed that was her attempt at humor, but he found nothing funny in it.

“I have a better question for you, little Zan. Think you were ever followed?”

Nate swallowed hard, Kyle Valenti’s words coming back to him again. He knew where this was heading and he didn’t really like it.

“Know what my men found?” she asked, still affable. “A nice shiny black cone.”

He tried to prevent his eyes from widening, but he somehow felt like he’d failed. His heart, already beating too hard, kicked into another gear entirely. He’d expected that the cone had somehow been found, but to hear the words terrified him.

“You’re a nervous one, aren’t you?” she half-laughed. “I can feel your fear all of the way over here.” Her eyes drifted to his chest. “I always wondered what it was like to have a heart, to feel all of your terror there. You know it gives you away, right?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t have a heart,” he answered quietly, hoping to divert attention from the fact that she could sense the changes in his body.

She cocked her head to the side. “Speaking in metaphors, little Zan? I’m sure you aren’t talking about anatomy.”

He didn’t reply to her.

“Your reaction circles right back around to my original assessment – your humanness will be your downfall. Not just yours, but everyone’s’.”

“Where is Max?” Nate asked.

“Who’s Max?” She looked momentarily confused. “Oh, you mean Zan Senior. He’s dead.” Her words were blunt and matter-of-fact.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. Didn’t your aunt tell you as much already? Nice homecoming, by the way.”

Pain twisted in Nate’s gut at having his beloved aunt treat him so harshly. “Fine. Then tell me how he died.”

“I killed him,” she said simply.

“I don’t believe that either.”

Her eyes grew round, though he knew it was dramatics and not necessarily out of surprise. “Do you believe anything? What do you want – you want to hear how I did it?”

No, he didn’t. But he needed to keep her talking until he figured a way out of this.

“I’m not going to believe you until you tell me,” Nate replied, setting his jaw in determination.

“Huh. Well, let’s just say that he took a vacation to South Dakota that didn’t end so good.”

Memories of an archeological dig closed for renovation zipped through his mind – painful memories of finding Max dying beneath a wooden walkway. Nate had been summoned by the spirit of Darmon, Max’s protector at the time. Nate had gotten there just in time to save his father, the first showing of his healing abilities.

A sudden realization hit Nate. Max was dead. That made Nate the heir. As the heir, he would get a protector of some kind, wouldn’t he? Maybe in this timeline, Max hadn’t been dead very long – it had taken Aubrey a while to show up the last time. And maybe this time his protector wouldn’t be Aubrey, rather someone else. Though, he did hope that it was her since he’d developed an affection for her.

“I killed him before, too, you know,” his tormentor was saying when he tuned back in. “Oh, yeah. And then you had to come along and bring him back.” She wrinkled her brow. “What were you thinking?”

“Why do you choose to look like the newswoman?” Nate asked in an attempt to throw her off guard.

She paused a moment, then shrugged. As she completed the action, she transformed before his eyes, taking the shape of his dead birth mother. “Like this better?”

He shook his head and she shifted back to the form of Susan Moore.

“I chose her because I want your attention,” she explained like she was addressing a child in kindergarten. “I don’t want you to be distracted by my appearance. You know I know everything about you, little Zan.”

“Could you call me Nate?”

“Why? I see no reason. You were born the son of Zan, you were named Zan by your mother and that’s what I’ll call you.” She studied him for a moment. “I held you on my lap once. Did you know that?”

He shook his head.

“I did. Back on the old planet.” She looked into the distance, as if remembering a better time. “I bounced you on my knee.”

It was hard to imagine this hard creature enjoying the company of a baby. When her expression turned cold, Nate knew that she hadn’t enjoyed any part of it.

“I was seconds away from slitting your little throat when that cur of a mother ripped you from my arms.”

Nate shivered, horrible visions of a clueless, helpless baby happily receiving some attention, only to be butchered in the end. He couldn’t imagine the horror Tess had experienced in fleeing their home planet.

“I should have killed the bitch first,” she said harshly, then snapped her gaze to his. “But I wanted her to see her baby boy die. I wanted her to see you bleed. And I failed. But not this time, little Zan. Not this time.”

Nate pushed back another wave of fear. “Why don’t you just get it over with then? You could have done it when you snuck up behind me. Like you said – here I sit all alone.”

She gave him a wicked smile, a mirthless laugh. “All in good time, your majesty. Aren’t you enjoying this world I’ve created for you?”

“Not especially, no.”

“You should. It won’t last much longer.” She gave a satisfied sigh. “I like it here, in your messed up life. And it is messed up. Trust me.”

“Did you change time?” he asked. “If you’re going to kill me, there’s no point in keeping the truth from me, right?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t.”

“But you used the cone.”

“Are you sure there is only one use for the cone?”

No, he wasn’t sure, but it was the only thing he’d ever used it for. Not that that was a good thing.

She waved him off with a hand. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“But how come I can remember the old time, if you changed time? And why do you remember it?”

Her brow furrowed. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that? I don’t have the answer to everything. It’s not like I’m some all-seeing being. If I was, then you wouldn’t have killed me. And I would have killed you the first time you decided to go time-leaping.”

Nate was startled. The first time he’d used the cone was after his failed attempt to make the hybrid race public. It had all been a trap and she had killed everyone he loved, save Alyssa. Traveling to Roswell, they’d retrieved the cone and Nate had made his first quantum leap. He’d always assumed he was the only one to retain memories of the time he’d changed.

“Yeah, I’m not so clueless, little Zan.” She rolled her eyes, as if to chastise him for not knowing any better.

“What are you going to do with me?” He hated to ask the question, but he needed to know.

“We’re going to travel.”

“Travel? Time travel?”

“Oh, no, those days are done. At least for you. I have something else in mind.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get what I wanted back on our home world. I didn’t get to watch your mother see the only thing she loved die.” She gave him an icy smile. “So I will get it on this world.”

“My mother’s dead,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m not talking about watching her suffer. I’m talking about watching you suffer, little Zan.”

Nate’s blood ran cold.

“In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m going to pick off the ones you love, one by one. I think I’ll save the best for last. What’s her name? That little blond chick, Rath’s daughter.”

Alyssa, Nate thought, grief filling his soul.

She waved a hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter what her name is. We will go to Roswell and you will watch her die.”

“You’ll never get me on a plane,” Nate said defiantly. “I’ll cause a scene so big you won’t be able to believe it.”

She cocked her head, her expression one of pity. “Oh, little Zan. Haven’t you figured out yet that you don’t need a plane to travel?”

He withdrew slightly, but she seemed unmoved by his words or actions.

“We will travel,” she said. “Eventually. For now, there are things here to tend to.”

tbc

Hello everyone. Thanks for your patience. The next parts are going to be brutal and in truth, I haven't been in the mood to write them But I've forged ahead and here is the next installment. Flashbacks are in italics.

Warning: contains graphic violence


Part Nine

“I like the red sprinkles better than the blue ones,” Emily announced, crimson crystals dropping from her stained fingertips.

“Oh yeah?” Nate replied. “Why’s that?”

“Because they’re pretty.”

“And the blue ones aren’t?”

“Nope.”

“But what if I like the blue ones?”

At that, she gave a little-girl giggle, appropriate for her five years of age. “You’re a boy - you’re not supposed to like pretty things, Nate.”

They were decorating a cake – Liz’s surprise birthday cake as it were – and there was a mess of sugar sprinkles all over the counter, on the floor, and in Emily’s dark curly hair. Her lips had a decidedly rosy tint to them, evidence that she’d obviously been licking her fingers. She was standing on a chair Nate had pulled over from the kitchen table, and yet her head still barely reached his armpit.

“But I think Alyssa is pretty,” he protested playfully. “And I like her.”

“That’s different.”

“How? You just said I can’t like pretty things.”

She gave him a look like he was a complete moron. “Because she’s not a thing, Nate. She’s a person and you should respect her.”

He hid his laugh behind his hand. She may have only been five years old, but she had the wisdom of someone ten times her senior.

“When I grow up, I’m going to have two kids just like you,” she proclaimed, dousing the cake with more red glittery flakes. “Only, I’ll have the girl first.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yep. And I’ll name her after you.”

“You’re going to name a girl Nate?”

Again with the condescending, patronizing, you’re-a-moron look. “No. I’ll name her Natalie. Don’t you know anything?”

Memories that were his alone kept assaulting Nate’s mind. He could see Emily as plain as day, as if he’d just talked with her that morning. And yet in this world he knew she didn’t exist. He knew she would never exist because of what he had just seen.

While he still held out some hope that Max was alive somewhere, the other half of Emily’s parentage was now gone. Without a doubt. He’d seen her die with his very eyes and the images were slowly driving him insane.

“What’s wrong, little Zan?” the Skin asked, her voice condescending. “Why do you cry like that?”

Nate was beyond shame at his emotions. Curled into a fetal position in an alley, he was letting himself sob freely. His brain really couldn’t process what he’d just witnessed – all at once he’d felt fear and panic and grief and confusion. The result was devastating on his composure, resulting in the condition he was now in.

Not twenty feet away, patrol cars had gathered on the slick Boston street, their lights circling in blues and reds. Radios clicked off and on, mechanical voices interspersed on the airwaves. And still, none of those people could see him huddled at the end of the alley, his clothes wet and soiled. She was hiding them, making him watch without being able to interact.

“You’re going to miss the best part,” the Skin said. “Don’t you want to see them scrape her up?”

Nate clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Maybe he really was insane. Maybe if he let himself believe this creature wasn’t real, then she’d go away and he could be free again. Maybe if he believed hard enough, Liz would still be alive.

Cold fingers wrapped around Nate’s wrist and wrenched his hand away from his ear. When he cracked his eyes open, he saw that his tormenter had squatted before him and was leaning close to his head.

“Covering your ears won’t help,” she whispered. “I could just walk into your brain instead. Is that what you want?”

Nate shuddered under her touch.

“And I never care about being too gentle, just so you know.” She dropped his hand, then tapped him in the thigh with her boot as she stood. “Really, I want you to watch.”

Nate shook his head furiously, rolled up tighter. That earned him a boot in the ribs.

“I said watch!”

“Oh, here, Liz, let me help you with that,” Nate said as he reached over her head and pulled down the box of laundry detergent she was struggling to reach.

She gave a light laugh in embarrassment at her small stature, then placed the box in her cart. “Thanks,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s a good thing you came along or I might never have reached that.”

Nate gave her a boyish grin. “Glad I could help.” Glancing in her cart, he saw strange items for the Evans household – beer, potato chips, a sandwich tray from the deli. It almost seemed like they were having a party, which was odd since they knew so few people who could drink and even odder since he wasn’t aware of any plans they’d made.

Liz’s eyes shifted to the basket as well and her cheeks turned a deep red. “Oh, that. Um, well, Max was going to have a few people over…”

Nate raised his eyebrows. A few people? It wasn’t like Max had friends outside of his tightly-secured circle. In short, Nate’s friends were Max’s friends. Was Liz trying to gently tell him that he’d been excluded from a gathering?

Finally, she blew out a sigh of resignation. “All right, it’s like this. It’s been five years since you found us, Nate. I wanted to give you a little surprise party – kind of an anniversary gathering.”

His eyebrows shot up quickly. “Me? You wanted to give me a party? Why?”

At that, Liz’s gaze softened. “Because you mean a lot to all of us. I wanted to celebrate having you in our lives. I’m glad you’re here, Nate. I’m glad we could be family.”

There was nothing left in Nate’s stomach, but he couldn’t quit retching anyway. That evil bitch had made him watch them putting Liz into the body bag – and when she’d used the term “scrape her up” she hadn’t been so far from the truth.

Like a nightmare that was out of his control, Nate had watched as two of the Skins had burst into Liz’s house, breaking down the door and totally invalidating the chain and deadbolt she’d had installed. His captor had hidden them both and even managed to keep his voice from being heard – he’d yelled for Liz to run, but she hadn’t heard him.

In his mind, he could still see the terror in her dark eyes. She’d been too frightened to move, cowering in a corner like a frightened rabbit, as the Skins had descended on her. Just when Nate thought it was over, she’d jumped to life, springing past her assailants.

And then the chase had been on. Through the streets they ran for a seeming eternity and Nate had to give Liz credit for her endurance. He had hoped that she would just keep running, running until the Skins chasing her could run no more. All too late, he knew that catching her wasn’t their plan – they wanted her to run. They were leading her right where they wanted her –

Onto a busy Boston street.

It had taken mere seconds. Nate could still hear the sound of the truck’s horn, the squeal of brakes pressed too hard, a scream and a sickening thud. And then nothing but silence.

And now he’d witnessed the aftermath, the limp, lifeless shell of what had once been Liz Parker-Evans bundled into a body bag. Given what they had done to her, Nate didn’t even want to imagine the fate of the rest of his relatives.

Drawing in a deep breath in an attempt to ward away the next wave of nausea, Nate sat back on his heels and tried to clear his head. He had to find a way out of this situation. He had to prevent anyone else from dying the way Liz had.

Out on the street, he could hear the nearly-incomprehensible mumbling of the driver who had struck Liz and felt another stab of guilt. That man’s life was changed forever, knowing he’d taken someone’s life, even if the accident hadn’t been his fault. He was another innocent victim and Nate felt his hatred growing tenfold for his captor.

“Now now, little Zan,” she said, picking her fingernails. “You know what happens when you lose your temper.”

He blinked, not really sure what she was alluding to, then remembered his fireball activity in the woods that night. Maybe he could do it again! Maybe if he concentrated, he could toast the bitch once and for all!

“Do you really want to do that?” she asked, looking at him pointedly.

Nate withdrew slightly, his brow furrowed. Could she read his mind?

“I know how your stupid little human brain works,” she said with a sigh. “Somewhere deep down inside, you think you can still get out of this. You think you can come up with a way to stop me. I doubt that you can, but if there were a way to defeat me – would killing me give you all the answers? Would killing me put things back the way they were?”

Nate frowned, fought off another wave of tears. No, killing her wouldn’t help. He needed her for information, so he could figure out how to fix things. She knew that and it was a huge advantage for her.

Strolling casually across the alley, she stooped to pick up a piece of debris, a small tree branch that had blown between the buildings. “Do you know what I liked best about that?” she asked, smiling toward the carnage on the street. “I just love the way human bones sound when they break.”

With that, she snapped the branch in half and Nate’s gag reflex betrayed him once again.

“Goodness,” she said with mild disgust. “Do you usually do that so much?”

Nate looked at the pavement between his hands, realized that he’d thrown up nothing, not even stomach acid. He couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t keep depleting himself if he was going to fight her. And he would fight her – there was no way he was going down without a fight. He just needed to find an angle…

At the far end of the alley, he saw a shadow, one that moved so quickly he barely caught its existence. A sixth sense told him not to look that way, not to let the Skin know he’d seen something. He wasn’t sure yet what the thing was, but somehow he knew it was on his side.

“Do you like stories, little Zan?” the Skin asked as he tossed the broken halves of the stick into a trashcan.

As usual, Nate didn’t honor her with a response.

“I like stories,” she confirmed. “Even when I was a child. I loved it when the elders would tell us of our heritage. Or maybe they’d recite something that was just a myth. I didn’t care. I loved hearing the stories.”

Nate had told Emily hundreds of bedtime stories and he couldn’t imagine this monster tucked into bed anxiously awaiting the next installment with big brown eyes like his baby sister. He could only guess that her idea of childhood stories involved maiming and pillaging.

“In fact,” she continued, “I think I’d like you to reenact a story I heard here on earth.”

He looked at her warily but made no comment.

“Do you know who Cassandra is? Greek legend?”

Nate bit his lip and didn’t admit his ignorance. In truth, he’d hated mythology and never really paid attention. He knew who Zeus was and that was about it.

She waved him off with a hand. “Ah, no matter. You’ll find out soon enough. Get to your feet, little Zan. We have others to visit.”

In a moment of defiance, Nate set his jaw and refused to move.

Her eyes narrowed. “Move, or I will hurt you.”

And he couldn’t afford any more injuries – not if he wanted to overtake her at some point. As he was rising, however, he found that moving wasn’t going to save him. Before he could fully gain his feet, a black boot struck him in the jaw, catapulting him backward and into unconsciousness.

tbc