He loved walking down the street in the morning hours. The venders were putting up their wares as the shopkeepers cleaned the fronts of the stores. Early mornings in the lonely areas of Paris made Mark smile. He looked at the road ahead leading to the river. He was going to try to paint down there today, if NG didn't start to complain again. Two years old and the boy could speak better in French than any of the locals in Paris. He also neglected English so Mark had to struggle to get his point across to his darling son. The funny thing was that the boy was bright with other languages, he knew Welsh from the audio downloads Mark tried to learn from as well as French he needed in Paris. NG just didn't feel the need to speak English, it would seem.

"You're doing it to frustrate your Papa, right? I mean I could just pull it out of your mind, NG, but you get so upset when I try. I know, Papa didn't mean to hurt you so long ago." He patted NG on the head, pulling his youngest into a hug. "Papa hates what happened that day. So if you can, bring a smile to Papa's face and learn to speak English before we head home to your Daddy. Please?"

NG giggled and smiled saying in perfect English for an almost three year old "No!" He laughed as he ran from Mark down towards the water.

"NG, wait up!" Mark slung the backpack over his shoulder and began to chase after his son, who was now as much of a runner as Mark was. NG raced down the stairs becoming a dot on the shoreline as Mark struggled with the weight of his easel and supplies. He didn't see the man as he ran frantically for the steps. The man didn't see Mark for he was reading a book. He also didn't hear the cheers coming from the child on the shore.

Smack! The two men collided into each other. Mark fell backwards, dazed as the other man recovered quickly to notice the train that hit him. He stopped breathing as he saw Mark sitting there rubbing his head. Before the man could ask if Mark was all right, he bolted, leaving his stuff at the man's feet.

"NG! Papa's coming!" The man watched as Mark took the stairs down two at a time, leapt off the last and surged forward to the child that was just about to go for a swim. The stranger was watched as just before the boy was going to dunk himself, the brown-headed father caught him.

"Amazing!" The man said in French as he retrieved his book and Mark's things before he headed down the stairs to meet father and son.

Mark walked over to the man carrying NG. "I'm so sorry. He gets away from me sometimes. You must think the worst of me." Mark said in the worst French the man had ever heard. Mark may be able to read a language out of a person's head and understand it, but he really had a hard time learning the language to speak it correctly. And after over 2 years in France, he was still pathetic. Luckily, he had NG, He could talk to NG and the boy could simply state the meaning. It was also lucky that the people he knew in his neighborhood spoke to him, despite the bad taste it left in their mouths, in English. They just laughed and said French was a unique language and not everyone was meant to speak it. He laughed with them, not minding being a little bit of a joke. They loved his paintings and his smile and they loved NG even more.

The man stood still for a moment before he handed Mark back his belongings. "I was reading and I didn't see you, and I guess the same was for you. It isn't easy being a parent, I imagine." He watched NG look at him with a smile on his face. The boy was acting like he knew he was the source of his father's frustrations and was pleased with that. "Does he understand what I just said?" He watched Mark who was telling NG what to say the man.

Mark laughed at the wide-eyed face the handsome man had. As Mark came to notice the stranger, he realized he was a full 6 to 7 inches taller than himself. He had a rather stocky but well-maintained build, almost that of an athlete. Maybe a skier, yes, Mark thought a skier, it was the thought he brushed as he lightly scanned the man. Black hair, dark olive skin, this man looked almost rugged. Mark didn't let the appeal of the man bother him. He smiled as he replied in English. "NG speaks things better than me. I can only stumble along with the words, though I have been here two years." He kissed NG before putting the boy down to retrieve his stuff. NG translated the words exactly, tilting his head up at the man and returning the same smile his Papa wore.

"That is remarkable! He is so young, yet he can translate so elegantly. But I'm being rude. I should introduce myself. I'm Gerard Lambert. I work at and own the bookshop around the corner from here. But I mainly teach skiing. I use to ski professionally until I broke my collarbone. But I love to teach the fine artistry of the sport to others. I've even coached a few in the sport." Gerard became uneasy as he noticed how simple it was to open up to the pair before him.

Mark smiled at the man. "I'm Mark Perry and this is my son Nigel Gavin Perry-Hart. We call him NG for short. I'm an artist trying to find my voice. I lived in Cardiff for before I came here." NG repeated in French his Papa's words, bowing when it came to his name.

The man went as white as a sheet. "You were there, for the battle? I never met anyone from the city. Is that why you left?" He watch Mark shut down, realizing he somehow had hit a nerve, Gerard stammered a bit before he speak properly again. "Sorry, I talk too much. We've just met and I'm being rude."

"No it is okay, things just are a little hard to explain. I just needed to find myself. It was nice to meet you, but I should go. Come on NG, say good-bye Gerard. Thank you for bringing my stuff down." He smiled while NG spoke his father's words ending with good-bye in French before grabbing his Papa's hand as they walked away from Gerard.

Gerard watched, feeling bad that he chased Mark away. He also had the strangest of feeling that it wouldn't be the last time he saw the artist and his son.

Working all night made Mark sore. But some nights he love to just paint and it was worth being tired. He knew NG would be up soon. The boy rose right before sunlight. It wasn't too unusual if Mark was asleep for NG to crawl into bed with him for a bit. But if NG wanted something, like attention he would pull Mark's eyelids open and say in Welsh, "Open your eyes!" Mark would grumble while he saw his son's demon smile spread wider, knowing he had his Papa's full attention.

But on nights like this, NG would fall asleep on the settee waiting for Papa to turn off the lights. The boy had a habit of humming himself to sleep. Oddly enough it was similar to something Jack use to hum as a boy. So with the past coming in to his present, Mark would create visions from his childhood, that buyers called futurist. Mark became known as a Futurist, putting together science fiction scenes that were really based on things yet to come. So his work sold, sometimes that is.

He made a decent living off the painting. He even had a gallery that sold his work. The manager and owner Silvia Longo was a real American in Paris. She lived in the city for almost forty years, so she went a little native. She smoked clove cigarettes and her love of pastries showed on her hips, but she was still a class act. Dressing in black with white pearls, she left a grey streak her black hair, giving her a gothic look. Black nail polish with purple lipstick over lips that were part of a white powered face made up the rest of her features. But don't let that image fool you as Mark learned. Silvia was down to earth. She also had a different lover for every day of the week. She said it cleared her head for business knowing she could have her needs met without getting attached or having someone become needy for her affections.

"So how does this add up for sales for my stuff exactly?" Mark teased about her confession about her love life. He liked his agent and she didn't ask questions even when they had a little too much wine. It just didn't matter to her what had brought the man to Paris with his baby in tow.

"You could try sleeping with them, they might by more willing to buy your stuff." She thought it was a joke, until Mark's face fell.

"Hey, I didn't mean that." She poured him another glass. "Mark, I didn't mean to hit at something that close to home. You are into men right? I'm not reading you wrong, right?" She looked at his son snuggled up on a big pillow she had on the floor of her living room.

"I had to do that a long time ago, not in the way you think. Yes I prefer men. I've never been with a woman. Do you fancy me Silvia?" He batted his eyes at her flipping his hair back over his shoulders. "For you, I could make an exception."

She broke out in a fit of laughter. Tears rolling down her cheeks she answered, "If you want, darling, I'm game. But really, who was he, the one that broke your heart, and how did you get NG, there is no doubt that he is yours?" She watched Mark closely as he tried to think of answer that would work. He settled for the truth.

"I needed time to grow a bit. I have seen and been through enough to know that I have had my life taken from me too many times. So I decided to leave my lover, John, for a bit. He wanted to get married. NG is his and mine and as strange as it sounds, I'm able to have children. I know it is weird. I'm an alien, kind of, well not where I come from."

Silvia took it in stride, making Mark not believe she took him seriously. "I see. I have friends in Cardiff and they say it is a strange place, full of things that go bump in the night and such." She stood up and went for the kitchen. "I think I need another bottle of wine."

He waited for her to return, not wanting to hear good bye from a friend now that she must think he was nuts. "I should go. It is late." He went to stand but Silvia pushed him back down.

Getting his full attention, she stated. "I don't care what your story is, if you say you gave birth to NG, then I believe you. And if you have some one waiting then I won't make jokes. But one day I want to meet this John of yours. Just so I can see that he didn't hurt you and that is why you left. Now if you don't mind, pour this drunken female more wine and tell me more about your life. It will help me be creative in selling your art!"

From that moment on, Silvia was like a sister to Mark and a daughter to Jolein. And to NG she was an affectionate Auntie.

It wasn't easy being away from John. Mark was never able to sleep well without him. That could explain the all night painting binges he went on for weeks straight. He hardly got any sleep. It was like that with the "creatures." They didn't allow sleeping the day away. But he really started to think he developed his sleeping habits as a young kid. Blue used to keep him up for most of the night when he would sneak in and stay over. As they got older it was almost second nature not to have any more than 4 hours of sleep a night. He only changed his habits when he found John. Their bedroom antics would have him sleeping like a baby. He did that after NG was born, but when John was in the coma, Mark went back to the four-hour pattern. Now alone again, he was finding those wee hours of the night to be the time he got the most done.

NG would nap and sometimes his Papa would join him. The boy was nice to sleep next to. Since Mark wasn't able to read NG he wasn't prone to his thoughts. So sleep was dream free and Mark liked it that way. Plagued with bad dreams his whole life, he somehow found peace with his little dream catcher child.

But NG had his own dreams that left an impression on a child's mind. Mark could never get the boy to tell him about them. When they were bad, NG would shake for hours afterwards, clutching onto his Papa until he fell asleep again. For the most part Mark believed NG never remembered them. That wasn't true; NG just didn't know how to talk about them. So over time he just kept them to himself.

Mark found Leon and Jolein to be easier in this way. He could just go into their heads, find the hurts and soothe them away. He taught John how to do this before he left, explaining to John that it was a better way for them to get over the dreams and it helped them not to fear whatever monster they imagined. But what Mark didn't know because he couldn't see what NG's dreams were it wasn't just monsters that NG dreamed about. It was parts of people's lives that were yet to come. So for even an intelligent little boy like NG, these images haunted the boy's mind because he didn't know what they meant or what even brought them up in a dream.

Those nights NG didn't go back to sleep that easily. He sometimes had to pretend to fall asleep in his Papa's arms. NG didn't want to upset his father anymore than Mark already was. So he faked sleep and kept the nightmares to himself.

Living in Paris, the boy soon was able to forget the nightmares that he had sometimes. He was a child and that part of his brain for analyzing was still underdeveloped so he locked them away with each morning and laughed at the world as all children did. NG was a happy boy. He made friends of all ages and he had a Papa and Nana that loved him very much. Though Jolein had her reservations about the boy. She loved the Twins just a little more because NG was growing up spoiled. Mark catered to him too much, giving in to the boy more often than he should.

"It isn't healthy for him to think he can get away with things. John wouldn't let him. When you return home, NG and John will have some conflicts in personalities. I can see you stepping in a lot." His mother would warn.

"I understand, Mama. NG is different. I hurt him when he wasn't even born. I have to treat him differently. As Loyalwin said, we don't know what the moonstone's power did to him. I know it sealed him off to us and that has to alienate him, making him feel alone. It is up to us to bend the rules with him a little, right?" He paused from his painting to look at his mother.

"Being different for the rest of us isn't an excuse for him not to have boundaries, my dear. But you do what you want, just don't expect me not to get angry when he breaks something again." She was mad that he had ruined the bottle of perfume she had received from a beau.

"Mother, it was perfume. It isn't like he slammed a car into a building. Little kids do that type a thing all the time. You don't want to know what Jolein and Leon did to Jack and Ianto's secret drawer they found hidden in their nightstand. They thought the different color lubes were paints and repainted all of their bedroom furniture. I think we still have the picture we took of Ianto's face." Mark started to laugh, his mother joining in.

"Okay, maybe I'm just not used to kids like yours. You were so good. Never a bad word or deed." She saw the look on Mark's face realizing she may have went too far.

"Until I got older, then that changed. I used to hear you and Dad fighting over my condition. Mama, I'm sorry for that." He paused with the brush over the spot he was working on. He knew if he let himself do that brushstroke, it would ruin the painting. His mood was now darker and this was a happy painting. He rested his brush down instead and turned to his mother.

"Oh Andy, you know we loved you. It was just your father was so upset. He wanted you to go off to school, find yourself. Blue loved you, I got that, and he would have let you do anything you wanted. But your father didn't see the baby as I did. We fought because I wanted him to understand you." She had her son in a hug, rubbing his back as he held onto her.

"I know Mama, it is just I'm not that type of parent. John is like Dad sometimes and it bothers me that maybe history will repeat itself if we walk the same way our parents did."

"You two won't. You are far different then we were. I'm so proud of you. I'm sorry for bringing this up." She pulled him tighter into her arms.

"I know, and in a way you are right, but NG is different. He will do things greater than the rest of us. I just have a feeling about it. I want him to fly, if he needs to."

"I understand that, but will John? You should go home and see him. Or have him come to Paris. It is time you faced him and told him that you miss him. The astral plain is only a fantasy for the both of you. Ben is with Nick and John is nothing but a workaholic now. Go home; you proved you could live your own life. If not for you, then for the children, think of NG, he needs his family."

"Just give me a few more months. John is letting the twins come for a visit. Ianto said he would bring them. So let's take it from there." He smiled at his mother before kissing her and returning to his painting.

Jolein was still worried for her son but at least she knew he now had the idea of going home in his head. It was all she hoped to achieve with him. After all, family should be together. John loved her son. They were the perfect match. That was how the Universe planned it and she fully believed it was true.

End Chapter One

TBC