He passes it off as being for science, the reason there are three. A good scientist always has more than one test subject. It's how one determines if results are from the desired variable or outside causes. Then there's the simple fact that three is just a good number. With two it's nearly impossible to configure all the data correctly; with three one has a better chance to correctly guess patterns.
Three; there are three simply due to the scientific significance. The data. Or perhaps it had been merely a collection of various factors beyond his control which determined the number. Nothing more. Davenport reminds himself of this almost every day, and yet deep down knows the truth.
She'd always wanted three kids.
[-]
Donald Davenport is purely a science geek, and always has been. His world is research. It's an existence created by necessity, to keep him out of the prying eyes of those aiming to bully him. He learned long ago how to block everything that held no use for his studies and research. Facts and figures, numbers and technology are all he needs. Well that, and the occasional Star Wars marathon. Oh and the toys, the ones he creates and tests. Those are cool.
Then she happened.
It is the moment he still looks as that which changed it all. Suddenly the world became bigger, more fascinating, and more adventurous. For seemingly the first time he saw the blue sky, heard the songs of the wind, learned to enjoy the moment and not just push ahead. People became his fascination; or at least, one in particular.
He wanted to give her the world. Or at least a decent ring, one she deserved.
Yet he never gets the chance. And it was then he learned another sobering truth: sometimes the world is just cruel.
[-]
Just as quick as it came, the world swallows itself back up. Davenport returns to his books, to his research. Tries to bury everything . He goes back to his lab and his computers and his experiments. Curses that he even had a taste of life outside his bubble, because really it was harder that way.
So he works. He researches and calculates. He makes deals and plans with a fervor he'd never had before. He works and he plans and he keeps it up with all he has, because this is all he has left. Five years and much more money spent than he wishes to think of, and finally it's at the cusp of becoming reality. It's impossible, unbelievable, and yet he's actually done it. Dare he say miracle? Sure.
And here, on the day where it becomes reality, the day when everything finally happens – that pure moment of grasping possibly what once could have been and having it – Davenport can't even be present. Instead he's in his lab pacing around and doing busy work. He gets the call on his cell phone.
"A boy," the voice on the line tells him. He can hear the cries; good, strong lungs already.
"Very good," he replies. Any more will give him away. So he ends the call and sits back in the chair, closing his eyes and fighting the feeling daring to rip into his soul. The thought which he cannot allow to formulate anymore.
How while here it is, the very thing he - and, more importantly, she - had wanted, this is wrong.
[-]
It takes him nearly a week before he can come see the boy. One look and Davenport nearly loses it. The resemblance is almost uncanny. He bites his tongue, drawing blood to keep from stringing a slur of words he'll later regret. It's all nearly ruined, leaving Davenport to nod swiftly before leaving to the hall, his mind screaming the whole way.
Thankfully there's enough difference, and no one else says a word. Still the fear returns. Davenport can't help but brace himself that one day someone might just wise up to his ruse.
Still, the project continues. A girl comes next and looks so much like her… he can't even say it, can't let himself even think it for a moment. Still it's so painfully obvious he'd be blind not to notice. Later he comes to see the personality is almost spot-on, too. The spunkiness, the desire to fit in and make friends. And the strength, the raw desire to do good and not take any sort of crap from anyone else when she's really needed.
One boy, one girl. Perfectly symmetrical. No reason to continue. Yet it nags him, and so comes number three. Another boy, one who as he grows ends up a good mix. His intelligence and drive with her kindness. And her eyes; those green eyes. How hard it is even now not to stare.
Three. A, B, and C. It works. He's fine with that. Really. It's better to stay as emotionally dethatched as possible. Yet the nagging becomes louder, the feeling in his gut becoming worse until it rises to a level he can no longer ignore.
A, B and C become Adam, Bree and Chase.
Of course, if it was up to Davenport there would be no missions, no training. Yet that thinking doesn't get sponsors. So he equips them the best he can – Adam with strength; the strength Davenport himself had lacked that night. Bree with her speed, allowing her to run faster than any threat possible. And Chase with his intelligence, his defenses and of course Spike, the Hyde to the boy's Jekyll, the one who can - and will - fight to the very end if pushed to it. Together, they are invincible. Together they can face anything and everything.
So why can't he shake the fear?
Because he knows just how quickly fate can change. How cruel life can be. How quickly everything can be gone. Yet still, Davenport wishes they could know. Maybe one day. Lord knows he's come close, so very close, many times before.
Yet he's in too deep to ever actually say it.