Title: A F.E.A.R. Valentine

Origin: F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin.

POV: Michael Becket

Type: Fanfiction, AU

A.N.:

Sorry for posting this so late everyone!

Long story short, I hope that everyone's Valentine's Day was a lot better than mine. Oh well, there is always next year right?

Eh, I will bother you with my personal life some other time.

Read and review if you want.

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. I claim no ownership of anything nor do I plan to profit from posting this. I hope this is enough to avoid legal action against me.

Also, legally, I have to say that I do not in any way condone pranking the White House, defacing national landmarks, mistreatment of children, or public indecency.

"What is this?"

I looked up from Christine's engine compartment and then glanced over to my right. There, I saw Alex in his properly fitting attire that consisted of a now dirtied white shirt and blue jeans. He was glancing at the tools that I had spread out on the worktable that was along the far wall of the garage. I was able to see that he was particularly looking at the "P"-shaped wrench with a black rubber gripped-handle, jointed neck, and thin, curved, metal head.

I smiled slightly and then said, "You tell me." The small boy reached down and grasped the unusual-looking tool in his calloused hands. He examined the tool for a moment as he noted that the neck and the metal-banded head could be adjusted in angle, in the case of the neck, and in size, in the case of the head. Then, he looked at me and replied, "A pulley wrench?"

I congratulated him, "Close, it is an oil filter wrench."

Holding it in his hands, he asked, "What do you do with it?"

Still working with Christine's notoriously problematic automatic transmission, I explained, "You use it to untighten the old oil filter when you go to replace it once a year. The metal band goes around the filter and you pull on the handle to tighten the band so you can get the filter loose enough to be unscrewed from its spot with your hands. When you go to put the new one on, you have to use your hands completely though."

Alex asked, "Why?"

I laughed softly at his continued questioning for a brief moment and then explained, "When you put the new filter on, you have to be extra careful not to scratch or damage it in any way or you have to start over with a new filter. The edges of the metal band, because you tighten them around the filter, tend to scratch the surface. Also, the grooves on the mount for the filter are paper thin and very, very expensive to replace if you ruin them by over tightening the filter. So, what you do is screw on the new filter until just when you can feel it getting tight. Then, you make note of where the filter is and make one full turn exactly with your hands. That makes sure that the rubber gasket seals the gap between the filter and the mount to prevent the oil from seeping out and also ensures that you have not overtightened the filter."

My adopted son inquired, "How do you know so much about cars?"

I replied, "Trial and error mostly." Looking back at the sentient Plymouth Fury, I withdrew my hands from the engine bay and then said, "Alright, try that." Giving off an ominous electric hum, the quad headlamps began to emit their sinister bright blue light while, at the same time, the massive Golden Commando V8 roared to life with its signature deep rumble that rocked the air and garage. I mentally sighed in relief. During a recent mission, Christine had gotten carried away with her rampaging and had inadvertently vibrated her automatic transmission, which was highly sensitive to vibration because of its push button design. Being sentient, she was not affected by her malfunctioning transmission but I had seized the opportunity to teach my recently "adopted" son a few things about automobiles and tools.

After running for almost a minute, the sentient Fury powered back down. As I lowered the hood back into place, Alex asked, "Did your Dad teach you about cars?"

I sighed as I turned to look at him and then replied, "No…"

As I started to put away my tools in the large red tool chest, which was the height of the wall that it sat against next to the worktable, he asked, "Was your Dad a bad person like mine?"

I sighed as I stopped. Without looking at the small child, I explained, "My father wasn't a bad person. In fact, he was a war hero. He served in the 101st Airborne during Desert Storm. More than a dozen service members owed my father their lives."

I started to resume putting my tools away but Alex asked, "So, what changed?"

Pausing once again, I explained, "He did. The war changed him. He literally became unable to distinguish who was giving him orders so he was medically discharged from the service. The man who came home wasn't my father but my mother was too submissive to do anything about it. That was about the time that I was born. I was the unwanted child so…whenever something went wrong, it was always my fault."

Alex remarked with a low tone, "I know what that is like…"

I turned and then looked at him. I smiled at him as he looked up at me and then I asked, "Do you know what the best part of life is, kid?" The young boy shook his head in response. I explained, "No matter how horrible one day might be, as long as you keep going, there is always another day after it."

My son gave me a slight smile, which was one of the first ones I had seen him give anyone, in response. Later, when we entered the house, Alpha 1 contacted me through our telepathic link, "Brother, we have a big problem." Thinking that one of the resident spirits was threatening one of my family members, I manifested my "Mr. Death" skull ski mask over my face and my Patten assault rifle in my grasp.

I informed Alex, "Stay here."

As I moved forward with my rifle at the ready, I ordered, "Wolf Pack, protect Alex Wade." Almost comically, the hardened members of Wolf Pack appeared and surrounded my son as if he was the President of the United States and they were members of the Secret Service. Moving as a blur, I rushed towards where I sensed my brother. Upon arriving, I was confused to find him standing outside one of the bathrooms. The bathroom door was closed and I felt the distinct trace of moisture in the air that indicated that the shower inside was in use.

Halting beside him, I asked, "What is going on?"

My Heavy Trooper brother explained, "Amara is refusing to come out."

After dissolving my rifle and mask, I knocked on the door with my right gloved fist and then called out, "Amara? Sweetie? You need to come out now."

From inside the room, Amara called back with an irritated tone, "No! I'm not coming out!"

Alma materialized next to me in her child form as she asked, "What is wrong, sweetie?"

Amara explained, "Uncle is being mean!" I turned and looked at my armored friend. However, he simply raised both hands in a questioning manner.

Alma asked her daughter, "What is he doing?"

Our daughter replied, "He refuses to try to peep at me while I am naked in the shower!"

Not sure I had heard her correctly, I asked, "You are upset because your Uncle isn't trying to see you naked?"

I heard her huff and then remark, "You sound just like him, Daddy. Why doesn't anyone see me as a real woman?" Then, she asked with a disheartened tone, "Am I ugly?"

To my surprise, Alpha 1 gently pushed me aside as he moved to stand in front of the door. Then, he informed her, "I do not think that you are ugly, Miss Wade. Anatomically, you are very well proportioned. Aesthetically, you are pleasing. Personally, you are notably charming and enjoyable to be around."

After a pause, she asked, "Y-you mean that, U-Uncle?"

He replied, "Affirmative, Miss Wade."

There was another pause. Finally, Amara asked, "Then why do you not try to peep at me?"

He explained, "Because it would not be proper, Miss Wade."

She asked, "You do not see me as a woman, do you?"

He explained, "My kind does not value gender or age, Miss Wade. Everyone is equal in our eyes. We only judge the quality of the individual, and you are one of the highest quality individuals that I have ever encountered."

Knowing my brother, I knew that beneath his cold exterior, Alpha 1 was very emotional and, in some ways, was more human than Alma and myself. He might as well have been saying that he loved her. Ever since what happened with Akira, he had been more protective of Amara. Perhaps, he blamed himself for what happened to Akira all those years ago.

Amara asked, "Do you love me, Uncle?"

Alpha 1 replied with his disguised voice, "I find your companionship to be more than satisfactory, Miss Wade. In fact, let me prove it to you by offering my companionship to you for the duration of the evening."

There was a very long pause before Amara asked, "A-are you asking me out on a date, Uncle?"

My brother replied, "Affirmative, Miss Wade. Happy Valentine's Day." Moments later, the door opened to reveal Amara with a white towel around her torso and upper thighs. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a faint smile on her childish angelic face. Without a word, she motioned for Alpha 1 to follow her and began to walk in the direction of her room. Alpha 1 followed close behind the young girl, leaving Alma and myself alone in the hallway outside the now empty bathroom.

"Aw…" I looked down to see my companion looking at the two retreating individuals with a faint smile on her pale face and with her hands clutched together against her chest. She looked up at me and remarked, "That's so cute." Lowering her hands down to her side, she continued, "Makes me wonder what you planned for our Valentine's Day together, Michael."

Feeling like a deer that had been caught in a pair of headlights, I placed my right hand against the back of my head as I replied, "Right…Valentine's Day…only like one of the most important days that a husband should remember…"

Alma raised her right eyebrow as she gave me an ominous smirk. Then, she accused, "You forgot didn't you?"

Fear crept into my mind as I began to go through various escape plans. However, my fear was proven to be unjustified when Alma's face suddenly lit up with amusement as she happily informed me, "That's okay, my love. I did too."

Intense relief filled me as I asked, "So…what do you want to do then?"

Alma thought for a moment and then admitted, "I don't know…"

I informed her, "We really don't have to do anything. After all, it is a fake holiday invented by corporations so they can make more money."

My wife sighed and then said, "There you go again being a downer."

Offended, I shot back, "Hey, I didn't say anything other than we don't have to do anything for it."

After a moment, Alma asked with a somewhat nervous tone, "Would you like to take me on a date? I've never been on one before."

I replied, "Absolutely. Where to?"

She shook her head and then explained while she had a sinister expression, "I want to mess with people."

Delighted, I replied, "Hell yes! Let's do it!"

"Wow the security here is bad." Alma whispered next to me as I ignited the brown paper bag. I nodded in response as the flammable bag began to burn with a small flame. After standing, I pounded on the large doors in front of me with my gloved right hand. Suppressing our laughter, we ran for the tall fence line across the large green field. It was dark because it was nighttime and, therefore, our dark forms were relatively unnoticed by the "guards" of the large white building with the columns in the front.

About halfway to the fence, I heard the front doors open and glanced back. I nearly revealed our presence by laughing as I realized that, by unbelievable luck, the big man himself was answering the door. I heard the man cry out in alarm when he saw the flaming bag in front of him. Without thinking, he began to stomp on the flame to put it out. However, upon putting out the flame, the man paused. Lifting up the foot that he had used to put out the flame, the President saw the fecal matter, which was curtsey of a homeless person, on the bottom of his shoe.

As he cried out in disgust, Alma and I began to laugh. Unfortunately, on the other side of the fence, a group of police officers were waiting for us. As they approached, Alma changed back into her child form and then asked, "Aw, you guys wouldn't arrest something this adorable would you?"

The officers ignored her and, seeing the reporters that had gathered in front of the White House, I pretended to be drunk as the police dragged me towards a waiting squad car and remarked with a faked slurred tone, "Oh…I'm sorry! I thought this was America!"

Having become bored, Alma transported both of us to the nearby Oval Office. With the entire Secret Service on high alert, the building was being evacuated and, somehow, no one thought to look in the now empty presidential office. This was all, of course, part of our plan to gain access to the otherwise inaccessible room. Seizing the opportunity, Alma pushed me back into the chair behind the desk.

Then, in her seductive form, she crawled across the surface of the President's desk. When she had reached the edge before me, she leaned in and whispered with a breathy, husky voice, "Happy Birthday, Mr. President." Before I could reply, she lowered her head down towards my waist while she also unbuckled and unzipped my combat uniform's pants.

Seeing the female British reporter commenting on the newly rebuilt Palace of Westminster, Alma changed into her child form and pretended to be smoking as she walked into the view of the camera. On live broadcast, the British reporter paused as she noticed my mischievous wife. The middle-aged blonde woman asked the raven-haired goddess with her accented voice, "Excuse me, sweetie, but aren't you a little young to be smoking?"

Alma lowered the fake smoking object between the fingers of her left hand down to her side and then smiled brightly before explaining with her child form's voice, "Oh, don't worry. I only smoke after my husband cums inside of me while we are visiting the Palace of Westminster." She then looked down when a trail of my semen appeared as it traveled down the side of her thin, pale right leg. My wife giggled and then looked back up as she remarked, "Oops, I appear to be leaking."

Amused by the comical reaction of the reporter and her supporting crew members, Alma winked at the camera before happily skipping out of view, having dissolved the fake object in her left hand beforehand.

"Michael, I didn't know that you knew how to dance." I smiled as I ballroom danced with my wife beneath the beautiful starlit sky of the rebuilt city of Paris. The pale skin of her healthy adult form reflected the light of the fireworks that were part of the celebration of the completion of the new Eiffel Tower. Despite this, I was able to see that she was blushing slightly as we slowly moved in response to the music that only we could hear.

Across the river, the brightly lit Eiffel Tower was drawing a large crowd so we were left in relative peace as we enjoyed each others company in the open café. Eventually, we stopped and simply observed the new tower together. Alma leaned against my right side with her left arm reaching around my lower back while I leaned against her with my right arm reaching around her lower back.

After a moment, my wife commented, "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

I turned my head to look at her before I leaned in and kissed her on the side of her soft neck. Hearing her giggle, I replied, "It sure is."

"Wow, that's a really great costume." I glanced over to see a woman dressed as an anime character standing before Alma, who was in her child form once again. Somehow, an anime convention was not my idea of a place to go on a date, but my wife had insisted upon it. The woman continued, "It is so realistic. I bet it took you a long time to put it together."

Alma giggled before she replied, "Not really, I just threw it together at the last minute." She then remarked proudly, "I'm on a date."

The woman asked, "With who?" She noticed me and was silent for a moment before she looked over at the security guard.

Trying to diffuse the situation, I informed the good-intentioned woman, "Oh, no, no, no. She looks eight but really she is in her forties…so…it is okay."

To my complete shock, the woman replied, "Oh…wow…that's hot." Then, shocking me even more, the woman asked shamelessly, "You guys wouldn't happen to be in the mood for a threesome would you? I am a submissive, if that is your thing…"

Alma casually remarked, "Oh how I love Japan."

I cried out, "Alma!"

My wife said, "Oh, don't be a prude, Michael."

The woman was silent for a moment once again before she asked, "Wait, are you two the real Alma Wade and Sergeant Becket." Before the curious woman's eyes, my wife changed into her healthy adult form and then back to her child form. Crying out in delight, the woman rushed forward and wrapped her arms around my companion. As the spectacle drew the attention of the nearby convention participants, the woman exclaimed, "It is the real Alma Wade!"

Seconds later, Alma was surrounded by a large group of fans, much to the delight of my wife. However, little to no attention was given to me. Feeling left out, I remarked out loud, "Whatever…"

"Ah…Michael!" The raven-haired goddess cried as she climaxed beneath me. The feeling of her muscles tightening around my throbbing manhood pushed me over the edge and I joined my wife as I held her soft frame closer to me. As my ever increasing fatigue hit me once again, my companion crawled forward just enough to allow me to rest for a moment as I lowered the left side of my head down onto the comforting spot just above her right breast.

She knew that it was my favorite place to rest my head whenever we cuddled and she enjoyed having me so close to her because she could gaze at me in an adoring manner. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally began to retreat from me. When we both stood with our clothes once again manifested over our frames, as we were too lazy to put them on like normal people, Alma pulled out the list that she had made before our departure from Fairport hours earlier.

The title of the list was "Places to make love" and most of the locations had been given a check mark. With the list in her left hand, she moved her right index finger down the list until she came to the name "Great Wall of China", which was below the already checked off "All four heads on Mount Rushmore" and above the checked off "A dark alleyway". As she willed a check mark to appear next to "Great Wall of China", Alma remarked, "Well, that is the last one outside of Fairport, my love."

She then looked up at me. Noticing my labored breathing, she asked with a worried tone, "Are you alright?"

I tried to put on a brave face when I replied, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired is all."

My wife offered, "Well, we are out of places to have sex outside of our home and it is getting late. Do you want to go back now?"

I replied, "Not until you do, Alma. I want you to have a perfect first date. Don't worry about me."

The raven-haired woman smiled in a loving manner before she assured me, "Oh, Michael, this has been a wonderful date. I think we should go home now and finish the list. The last place is in our bed."

I agreed, "That sounds great…" My wife giggled in response.

Such was my intense exhaustion and soreness that I was unable to leave our bed until the following day. In that time, Alma had informed me that Amara and Alpha 1 had traveled far north to enjoy the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, in peace together. I found it interesting that Amara would want to see the Northern Lights because Akira and Alpha 1 had witnessed the Aurora Australis, or Southern Lights, together.

When I finally did manage to get out of bed, I retrieved the small object that I had obtained nearly a week prior without Alma noticing. I finally found her gazing up at the hellish red sky from where she was standing on the small deck outside Amara's room. As I stood next to her, she teased me, "Good morning sleepyhead."

However, her teasing attitude ceased when I handed her the small object. She gasped softly as she took the seemingly ordinary circular, antique picture frame in her thin feminine hands. Inside the protective grasp of the frame was an old picture of a young woman that possessed staggering beauty with her raven-hair, deep blue eyes, small nose, pale skin, and heart-shaped face. Alma shook as she held the picture in her hands and began to cry softly as she looked upon the face of her mother for the first time that she could remember.

Harlan had attempted to erase her from existence but he had missed this picture. So now, this simple, humble photograph was the only remaining image of the being that many had known as Athena but my goddess had known simply as her mother. Alma held it against her chest as she asked, "You…didn't…forget…did you?"

I admitted shyly, "No, of course not. I just kind of panicked when you put me on the spot…I'm sorry." Then, I added, "Happy Valentine's Day, Alma."

Smiling happily, my wife leaned against my right side as she looked at the face of her mother and replied, "Happy Valentine's Day, Michael."