Disclaimer- I do not own Dark Angel, any of its charactors, plots of affiliates. I have mearly borrowed the charactors as a tribute. This is not for profit, and is not intended to be in anyway disrespectful towards the makers of Dark Angel or the show itself.
A/N- This fic is for the Dec 08/Jan 09 title prompt "Three Men and a Baby" from the website: Raising Hell.
Warning: Charactor death.
Caution: Reading any fanfic while tired, inebriated or distracted can cause misreading and confusion. Always read carefully.
Please enjoy! And write reviews!
Three Men and a Baby
Alec was sitting on one of the balconies, drinking scotch, as usual, when the phone rang.
"Mr Mc Clancy?" Asked the pleasant voice of a young woman, who Alec would have guessed to be in her early twenties.
"Yes, Ma'am, How may I help you?" He asked, assuming it was the usual business call or advertisement. They were the only calls he had received for a long time, now.
"My name is Cynthia Wynyard. I believe you knew Max Guevara?"
Max. That was a name he hadn't heard in a long time; a name he'd hoped never to remember, because it brought too much pain. He had been running from her memory ever since the day he'd lost her. Ran as far as Scotland, where he still hid in a remote castle surrounded by green fields and mountains in the north.
--
Logan was at the refuge centre, when the phone rang.
"Hi," Logan addressed the phone, impatiently; hoping it wasn't a call about another late delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn't what he should have been worried about.
"Mr Cale? My name is Cynthia Wynyard, and I believe you once knew a lady called Max Guevara?" A young woman's voice replied. Logan felt the world begin to shake. He had tried so hard to move on, from Max and everything she had meant to him; to make a life without her.
There had been little hope for Eyes Only, and little reason to stay in Seattle, so Logan had left with determination to disprove Max's doubts that he could survive and continue striving for the greater good without the money or penthouse apartment style living; prove that he was more than just a bored rich boy.
A few years later, Logan married a lovely Canadian named Sandra, who ran a small clinic in conjunction with the refuge centre that Logan had started a year after the Max had been found dead. His current abode was far from the luxurious penthouse in which he had lived comfortably for years in Seattle; there were no expensive paintings, no rack of pre-pulse wine, but the small run-down terrace was dry, warm and that's all that really mattered to him these days.
--
Sketchy was working the Friday shift at the sector 3 business, handing out parcels and yelling at the lazy messengers to "bip bip bip!" He still had his quirks, yet the matured man had grown the balls, and learned the manner, to control order amongst the disgruntled youths that worked beneath him. He was married now, to Kate, a lady who worked in retail, and had sired a daughter, Maxine, almost six years old now. His boss, Normal, was not so lucky. The older man had been married once, over ten years ago now, until his wife had left him after less than a year, to play for the home team.
Misty, one of the young employees, was covering for Sketchy, tossing packages to the remaining stragglers yet to get moving, when the phone rang. She picked up, automatically, via the headset. It was company protocol, after all.
"Golden Boy's Delivery Service, how may I help you?" Misty asked, pegging a small envelope at the back of one of the lazier employees' head. She'd never liked him much.
"Is a man named Skechy, or Calvin Theodore, there please? I wish to speak to him." That caused Misty to pause for a moment, taking in a breath before replying.
"He isn't here at the moment, would you like me to- oh, wait," The lady interrupted herself as her employer walked out, through the door of the bathroom.
"Hey, Sketchy, man! I've got a call here, for you!" She called out, gesturing the phone as her boss made his way over. He pulled the head set unceremoniously from the younger woman's head; placing it onto his own before saying,
"This is Calvin Theodore." He heard a young woman's voice on the other end, pleasant and patient as she explained the situation.
"My name is Cynthia Wynyard. I believe you knew Max Guevara, who once worked with you at Jam Pony?" The sound of Max's name cased his heart to stop momentarily; he had been with Alec the day they'd found her body amongst the ruin.
"Yes, I did. But that was a long time ago." Sketchy replied, confused.
"She is my mother. I'm getting married, this June, and I wanted her old friends and family to be there because I don't have grandparents thanks to Manticore." Cynthia explained, and Sketchy's heart stopped for a moment.
"Max died twenty five years ago, and she certainly didn't have a child." Sketchy said quietly, hesitantly. As a young lad, he'd learnt the hard way about how some people will try to manipulate you for their own ends, especially where Max and Alec are concerned. It had almost got him killed, more than once.
"Max didn't die in that battle, Calvin. Joshua saved her life, and for his sake she ran. I know how much she regrets not having a chance to say goodbye, or bury the dead, Calvin. It's part of why I want you all there. So she has a chance to say goodbye before she dies." Cynthia explained, patiently, wondering if she was going to hear something else splinter or shatter. Alec had thrown his glass of scotch into the wall.
"You're boss's golden boy, Alec, will be there," She added, smiling slightly. Sketchy caved, realising that there was no reason someone would lie or try to trap him like this. Not after all this time.
"Where is it?" He asked.
--
A few months later Alec was still swearing every five minutes as he packed a few choice belongings. He knew he could very well be walking into a trap, but after all this time it seemed eminently doubtful. He could understand why Max wouldn't have tried to contact him; after all, he hadn't tried to contact Sketchy or anyone else since he'd left that day. For years it had been too dangerous to risk it; the need to keep his head down low and out of site had been too great. And after a while…. It became too hard to even consider it; it was easier clinging onto hope that they were out there, somewhere, than knowing they were dead.
It was almost twenty five years since the Terminal City Siege; since the transgenic population had gone down fighting, and those that hadn't died had fled and hid themselves. Alec had left for Europe, eventually settling down as the wealthy and illusive owner of an international weapons manufacturing company. He was one of the few lucky ones.
Joshua, Mole and the rest of the freaks that didn't look quite human had not made it in the world; many that had survived the slaughter had been hunted down and 'terminated'. All because people were afraid of what they didn't understand. Subsequently, the Breeding Cult had been 'snuffed out' after a suspicious explosion at a certain institute for the mentally ill, during a bicentennial celebration of the Familiars. The select few absentees of the event were hardly enough to keep it going, not after the children and leaders were all dead.
Alec knew Max was his one week spot. He knew what he'd seen, twenty five years ago. That was why he had to go- he needed to know, or the curiosity would kill him.
--
Logan was surprised how easily his wife had condoned his decision to travel across the world in search of a long lost ex-girlfriend. Admittedly, Max would be well into her forties by now, and had a grown daughter and her own life: it didn't seem likely that, at fifty three, he would give up everything he'd worked for and loved. It also helped that Logan had mentioned the virus, carefully leaving out the part about having found a cure. Sandra understood that this was unfinished business for her husband, having, also, lost people she cared about during her youth. Regardless, she was coming with him.
--
"I'm going." Was all Sketchy had said, on the subject of Max's daughter, to his boss. It took three weeks before Normal finally caved, and another two to find a temporary replacement dispatcher. He was still adamant about not paying Sketchy for the days absent, and that should he decide to stay longer then the pre-determined return date, he should not expect to find his job waiting for him back home.
The days and weeks rolled past, and soon Sketchy was boarding a plane, leaving the dreary Seattle weather behind him.
--
Alec walked into the designated hotel in Sydney, slightly jetlagged. There was an attractive young woman at the check-in desk, but the matured transgenic didn't notice that sort of thing anymore; not since he'd lost Max. He hadn't even admitted to himself how much he had loved her-by the time he had realised it, she was gone and it hurt too much, now, to even think about it.
"I'm with the Wynyard party." The clerk nodded and checked her computer, before turning her attention back to the tall and handsome older man. She smiled, flirting slightly as she presented him with a room key and hotel pamphlet.
"The rooms on the left wing of the fifth floor are booked for the Wynyard party, and there is a dinner booked tonight in the conference room on the second. If you need anything… anything at all," She winked, "You can ask at here, call 2 on the phone in the room, or this number for some 'special' care." She informed him, offering her cell phone number. Alec politely smiled and accepted it, with no intention of ever using it. He had no interest in floosies and one night stands anymore. Max had cured him of that.
---
Logan didn't even recognise Sketchy as he wandered past in search of the conference room, after his wife had fallen asleep; exhausted from the flight. Having arrived the only a few hours before, he was tired but as ready as possible to begin the excitement of the evening. Or, at least, he thought he was.
"Hello! I'm Cynthia." A young, brown eyed lady smiled as he reached the door. She extended her hand politely and Logan accepted it; shaking it, and smiling in return.
"I'm Logan Cale; it's nice to meet you." He offered, and she nodded.
"I'm glad you could make it. Please enjoy your evening and your stay here." Cynthia smiled. Logan returned the sentiments, before turning to walk away.
"Wait," she said suddenly, before he could escape to find his seat. He turned, politely.
"There is a supper later in the side room, over there," Cynthia explained, "I would really appreciate it if you could stay for it- there is something I would like to discuss with you. But please, enjoy dinner." She smiled, and Logan nodded, moving away.
--
Sketchy sat at the allocated table, as they ate the roasted pheasant served for them. While Logan, a few tables over, was enjoying the luxury, Sketchy realised he was better suited to beer and burgers than to wine and five star cuisine. But dealing with the frilly edges was worth the chance to see his old friends again.
"Hi, I'm Brian." Said the younger, tougher looking bloke beside him; offering him a polite hand to shake. Sketchy accepted it.
"I'm Calvin," He introduced himself, preferring his christian name over his old Jam Pony nickname.
"So, do you know the bride or groom?" Brian asked, smiling cheerfully. Sketchy took sip from his glass of chardonnay before answering.
"Neither, honestly." Sketch admitted. "I knew Cynthia's mother." The small talk quietened down after that, as Cynthia and her groom stood up on the stage to give their speech.
"Thank you, every one for coming," the young man started, "as you all know, I'm Case, and this is my fiancée Cynthia." Cynthia smiled and waved before taking the microphone.
"First of all, before we get into the speech, I would like to talk a moment for us to all remember the very special lady that would have given anything to be here: my mother, Max, who sadly died last year." She paused for remembrance, before the speech commenced.
The young couple talked shortly about their history, about the plan for the next few days and about what marriage means, before lending the microphone to a few other friends and relatives, while the guests ate dinner.
The night moved on rather quickly; the guests enjoyed themselves, and each other's company. Alec sat quietly, politely returning the small talk from the guests around him, but not seeking out conversation. While Sketchy had always been rather slow, and Logan oblivious; Alec was a finely tuned piece of military equipment. He noticed more than people around him often did, and had thus always been able to see further into the situation then others could. So, it was habit, now, for his eyes to scan the room, taking detailed mental notes and calculations. It was also instinct that told Alec that he had not been invited purely for old time's sake.
His theory was proved correct as he entered the small room set aside for supper, to see Logan and his old pal Sketchy already sitting there. There was no one else.
"Alec, my man." The bleached-blonde man greeted him, smiling excitedly. Alec returned the smile; surprisingly happy to see the man he hadn't realised he'd missed. Sketchy continued,
"So why are we having supper after dinner?" His face was painted in a matured version of his trademarked confusion, looking towards his friend for an answer.
"Supper, in the Australian dialect, is similar to dessert. However, it is not a part of dinner, unlike dessert which is the final course of the meal," Cynthia supplemented, as she wandered into the room. She looked much more tired than before, more worn out. Alec turned to the beach-bum beside him.
"She means it's Australian for after dinner snacks, Sketch." He paraphrased, recognising the look of confusion still plastered on the man's face, which melted into relief as Alec's words sunk in.
"Cool." Sketchy muttered, before Cynthia continued.
"There are refreshments, but that's not the real reason I invited you here." She admitted, subconsciously moving her hand protectively to her stomach.
"I don't expect anything from any of you; I just wanted the chance to meet you. See, I'm pregnant, about to get married and I know so little about who my mother was before she had me." Cynthia explained, awkwardly. She no longer had the professional and comfortable air she'd worn before.
"Right before Mum died, she told me that one of you three was my father, but that she didn't know which." Her last few words fell on deaf ears as a stunned silence filled the room. After a moment, the words sunk in, and both Alec and Logan spun towards Sketchy.
"You slept with Max?!" They both yelled at once, in shock and disbelief that Max had also slept with the bleached-blonde ex- Jam Pony employee; Alec was also a little suprised that Max had slept with Logan- Max had been involved with him for months before the Siege.
"She just needed someone to scratch her itch," Sketchy looked ashamed as he muttered under his breath, not meaning for anyone to hear. He did not count on the amped-up capabilities of Alec's transgenic ears.
"Shit. She was in heat." Alec swore, and Logan paled considerably. Max had always kept her distance during her cycles, and so the man had been able to convince himself that she was sober and sincere, that night.
"I saw her, she was dead." He said quietly, and the whole room dropped into silence. Alec could still see the blood running down the side of her face, her mattered hair caked with dirt; he could still see the end of her barcode on the nape of her neck, where her hair had fallen away.
"She always regretted leaving Seattle. I don't know much about what happened, just that a couple of her friends, Sam and someone she called Big Fella, convinced her to leave everyone behind." Cynthia spoke up, suddenly, unsure of what she was saying but knowing she needed to say it. Her mum had not been so coherent, in her last few days, but had been adamant about wanting Alec to know that.
"Shit." He swore, catching Logan's eyes. The bespectacled man's expression echoed his own.
"It was Sam." Despite the instincts that Manticore had bestowed in him, a tear rolled down his cheek as he collapsed into the closest chair. Alec missed Max more than anything. He owed her not just his life, but his soul. She was the one who had shown him how to be human.
"Cynthia," the matured transgenic whispered, loud enough for only a transgenic to hear. She looked up, and caught his eye.
"Have you ever had a blood test?" He asked, innocently. She shook her head, realisation spreading across her pretty features. She looked so much like Max, despite the paler skin and lighter hair.
"I'm like Mum, if that's what you mean. Like Case. Special." Cynthia said, softly, as she thought out loud.
"Are you special, too?" she looked back up at Alec as she asked the question. He was relieved, strangely, by the answer he had received. Max was not special in the same way as her sister Tinga, he knew. Logan knew. Sketchy was just lost.
"Yes."
--
Epilogue
The next day held a beautiful wedding, followed by much celebration before the happy couple left for their honeymoon. Alec watched with pride as his daughter, his little piece of Max, became the young man's wife. He only wished he could have watched her grow up, and have helped Max raise her. But it was too late now.
Before Case and Cynthia left, he offered them a place to live with him. He had more money and room then he needed or wanted; all he wanted before his time ran out was a chance to get to know his daughter, grandchild and son-in-law. He was tired of being alone.
Cynthia turned him down, temporarily, preferring to be close to Case's father and step mother during the early years of her son's life. So Alec stayed, for awhile, leaving before he out-stayed his welcome. He left knowing that despite both parents had brown eyes, his grandson's were hazel.
Four years later, Cynthia, Case and their young son moved to Scotland. The initial plan was to stay a few months; however, plans change and they stayed on. They learnt the ways of managing the company as Alec had done, while Samuel Alexander was homeschooled by Cynthia from the age of three before attending a private high school. Unfortunately, his grandfather was not around to see him off on his first day of school.
Alec died three months after Samuel's sixth birthday; his experimental DNA cocktail wearing out the same as Max's had a few years earlier. He rests beside her now, in a peace he never knew in life.