Sum of His Parts

by weezer42

They say a Man is more than the sum of his parts. But what if you only have someone's else's parts to work with? Another way for Stephen to return. Post S2. Clonefic.

1. At The Mercy of Strangers

21/04/08

Story: Sum of His Parts

Chapter: One – At the mercy of strangers

Author: Squeezynz

Setting: post S2Ep7

Rating: PG13 – later R for some parts.

Pairing: gen, then stabby(what else do I write?)

Characters: S2 and some S3(Becker)but no reference to events in S3(look at the date - written long before S3 was more than rumours)

Summary: A man is more than a sum of his parts. But what if someone else's parts are all you have to work with.

Author's Note: Fourth return story – clonefic - set a year after the end of Season two. The ARC is based somewhere on the outskirts of west London this time, around Maidenhead. Written in UK English (deal with it)

Z Z Z Z Z Z

One second there was nothing and then he took his first breath. It was wet. Warm liquid rushing into his lungs, filling every possible space inside him, then it was being expelled, leaving his mouth in ribbons of fluid. He pulled in the liquid again and revelled in the feel of it filling him up. There was nothing else to feel, to experience, to see, just the process of breathing in, then out, again and again, the liquid flowing easily and smoothly.

He became aware of liquid all around him, of nothing as far as his fingers and toes could reach however he bent or twisted. Nothing above or below him either. He was just there, floating, breathing, existing.

He used his hands to explore himself, felt his face, the hair on his head, at his neck, at his groin, down his legs and arms. He touched his eyes and found them closed. He couldn't seem to open them so he gave them a hand, prising open the lids until they pulled back on their own accord. Faint pinkish light surrounded him, suffused the liquid, he could see his hands, twisting and turning them, watching the fingers flex and bend. Now he floated, and breathed and could see.

He tried to move himself, tried to manoeuvre in the liquid but only managed to roll over, after a great deal of effort, the liquid rushing into and out of his mouth in a stream as he exerted muscles never used before. All of it resulted in him moving nowhere at all, his body remaining suspended and supported, cocooned in the liquid. The effort made a sound start up that he hadn't noticed before, the steady thump beating against his ear drums, his hands coming up to shut it out, but it continued to beat, the pace slowing down until it remained at a constant beat, never varying, never stopping. Exhausted, he felt the need to close his eyes again, letting the liquid buoy him and carry him, his body disconnected from anything solid except himself.

He slept. A simple act of one minute being awake, the next not. No dreams, no thoughts chasing themselves around in his head, no worries, no concerns. Then he was awake again, his eyes opening to the pinkish liquid but this time inhabited by strangely blurred outlines. Noises seemed to be coming from the outlines, some of them appearing closer and less blurry the more he looked. He thrashed to try and get himself closer, to see what they were. More by luck than judgement, he kicked his feet and he seemed to move himself closer to the figures so loosely formed and faintly seen. He kicked again, the muscles in his legs moving in a coordinated fashion, moving him closer to the black outlines and the noises coming from them.

His outstretched hand reached something smooth, solid, impenetrable. He had reached an edge to his liquid world, his fingers splayed against the glass, appearing like a starfish to the people outside.

Z Z Z

"God, it's moving!"

"Today is his awakening day. Didn't you realize?"

"I'd forgotten. Its been so long. Can he hear us?"

"Even if he could, he can't understand us. Nothing but the most primitive understanding has been imprinted yet. He's a blank slate, an empty book. He knows he exists, but that's about all. We can imprint up to level three initially, that will give him the basic skills for eating, sleeping, moving about, co-ordination, waste disposal."

"You mean he'll be toilet trained. What about language?"

"Once he's mastered the basics, we can give him language up to level five. Have you thought of a profession or background you want to give him?"

"Palaeontologist. Subliminal of course. He won't know that he knows, only that he knows it, if asked."

"As you wish madam. It's unusual to leave the subject quite so unprepared, but you're the customer."

"Yes. I'm the customer. What about personality traits? Do I get a choice?"

"To a degree. You can't make him do or be something against the law...but there is scope either side of that."

"Show me the options, and I'll pick the ones I want included in the basic package."

"Of course. He'll also come fully vaccinated against all known diseases and parasites, and we'll boost his immune system to cope with twenty first century pollution levels."

"How did you....?"

"Please. This is a first class facility, by referral only. Select clientèle"

"Fine. How long before I can uplift him and take him home."

"You wanted him at quite an unusual age, much older than most."

"I had my reasons. I also don't want him to know who I am."

"Again, and unusual request madam, but it can be done. He will be docile, if a little confused and lacking in confidence, but exposure to society and the world will soon bring him up to speed."

"I ask you again Doctor......how long?"

"Three months. Have you picked a name for him?"

"Yes. Stephen. See you in three months then. I'll see your assistant on the way out about those options."

"Of course. Julian will be happy to help. Goodbye, its been a pleasure doing business with you."

Z Z Z

He saw one of the shapes draw closer for a moment, then it was moving away and gone, leaving behind the larger shape who remained where it was, then came close to the surface he had his hand pressed too.

He saw the shape become a body, head and face. For a long moment he stared at the shape and then pressed his other hand to the smooth surface. The shape suddenly did the same and he felt something inside him, a tightening, a squeezing that didn't stop until the shape pulled back, taking his hands with him. Then it was gone.

He wondered if it would be coming back.

Z Z Z

"Stephen!" The sharp voice drew the young man's dark head up, his bright blue eyes, thickly lashed, fixed on the man standing in the doorway.

"Yes sir?"

"Time to go."

It was the day he'd been preparing for. Putting down the pencils he'd been drawing with, he rose to his full six foot one and hefted the bag at his side, onto his shoulder.

"I'm ready."

He followed the assistant down the hall and into a lift. The assistant punched the button for the ground floor and stood to one side, not looking at his travelling companion. Stephen glanced at his reflection in the polished metal panel and hoped he would make a good impression on the person he was about to meet.

The lift pinged and the doors slid open. The assistant led him out into a foyer busy with people all walking in a hurry, the high domed ceiling stretching several stories high, drawing his attention and leaving him gawking like a tourist.

"Stephen...over here. Sit and wait."

He sat as instructed, his bag between his feet. Nobody looked at him, or even met his inquisitive gaze, their business too important to warrant a distraction. The new clothes felt odd, nothing like his usual uniform of blue shirt and pants, entirely disposable and replaced whenever he felt the need. These were real clothes, that weren't burnt at the end of the day, or taken away never to be seen again. They included zips and buttons, the underwear snug against and between his legs. It felt strange, so he fidgeted, biting his bottom lip as he wriggled on the chair.

"Stephen?"

He looked up into a pair of dark brown eyes belonging to a woman he'd never seen before. She was dressed in a snug fitting suit and high heels, her hair styled in waves about her angular face, her red lips pulled into a smile. "Hello.....Stephen?"

"I'm Stephen. Have you come to collect me?"

"I have."

He stood up, slinging his bag once more over his shoulder. "I'm ready." In fact he was nervous, his palms starting to sweat and his throat suddenly dry. He'd never stepped beyond The Center before, the outside as yet a mystery and a source of anxiety just because it was unknown.

"Then let's go. We have a great distance to travel."

"Where are we going?" He walked at her side, her heels clicking against the floor, his own feet jostling to match her smaller pace as they approached the door to the outside.

His first impression of stepping outside was one of noise, then the feel of air moving past his face, then heat from the sun overhead. Then smell intruded and he breathed deeply, drawing air in through his nose and trying to figure out the smells. The woman had paused when she realized he'd stopped just outside the glass doors, his head tilting to feel the breeze and sun on his face.

"Come along....we don't want to be late."

She started walking again and he loped along to catch up, again shuffling his stride to match hers. They walked for some time, passing buildings towering like cliffs, their top floors brushed by clouds, their glass fronts reflecting sunlight down to the road so far below and the people, who must have appeared like ants to anyone looking down.

He wondered is he should have asked her name, but he was unsure if it was alright for him to know. She turned off the main walkway and was heading down a narrow lane, the sunlight cut off once they left the main thoroughfare, the air colder as a consequence. He shivered and hunched his shoulders, wondering is she felt the chill as he did.

"Wait here, I won't be long." She directed him to stand outside a doorway, the painted metal unmarked by number or letters, no names to tell him who lived there. "Don't move from this spot." Was her last instruction before she left him standing in the narrow lane.

He waited, looking longingly at the distant end of the lane where people still bustled past and sunlight still shone. Looking up, he could see a strip of sky, the blue broken up by scudding white drifts of cloud, the sensation of the buildings moving making him giddy.

The door opened at last and the woman appeared again, looking quite different from before. She had let her brown hair down so it hung loose about her face and shoulders. She'd changed, out of the smart suit, into what looked like dark green overalls, belted in the middle and tucked into robust boots at her ankles. Over that she wore a battered leather, zip front jacket with slashed sleeves. He stared at the collection of weapons and other paraphernalia hanging about her, the pink bandanna at her neck the only spot of colour on the drab outfit.

"Do you want me to get changed as well?" he asked, puzzled as to why she'd needed to get into a different outfit.

"No need, you're fine as you are." She reached up and flattened her hand against his shirt, bunching the material slightly, whether to feel the material or fondle the flesh underneath he couldn't be sure. Her eyes met his, and this close to, he could see fine lines about her eyes and mouth.

"Are you older than me?" he asked, not appreciating the gravity of his faux pas. The brown eyes turned glacial and he almost flinched at the anger in them.

"Haven't they taught you never to ask a lady's age?"

He felt confused and wary. "No. Why aren't I supposed to ask?"

The brown eyes softened, the ice leaving them as she patted his chest and turned to leave. "Never mind. They can have the fun of explaining all those little nuances to you."

"They? Who's they?" he asked, walking beside her, but endeavouring to see her face as well, so that he almost walked sideways to manage it. "Are you taking me to meet them?"

"Not exactly."

He fell back to walking at her side, no longer having to shorten his stride to match hers.

The lane suddenly opened out into a courtyard, an air of neglect evident in the rusted metal work and peeling paint on the walls and doors. Weeds had inveigled their way into every crack and crevice, the glass in several windows cracked or missing altogether. The woman at his side pulled out a black box which she waved around, watching the liquid crystal display closely.

"Follow me and keep close."

He followed her down another narrow alleyway barely big enough for them to pass, the air feeling progressively damper and more musty the further along they travelled At a door, she paused to read her detector, then put it back in her pocket.

"Help me here."

He put his shoulder to the door, both of them together forcing it inwards until there was a gap big enough for them both to squeeze through. Inside the building they found the interior lit by a sparkling ball of light, Stephen gazing at it open mouthed.

"What is it?"

"The door to your new life, Stephen," she explained, standing and watching his face, her ennui put aside as she viewed the phenomenon through his eyes. He was completely engrossed in watching the diamond shapes floating weightless in the air, the coruscating light reflected in the blue of his eyes. He turned to look at her, his face showing delight and amazement at the vision before him.

"Are we going through that?"

"We are. Just need you to roll up your sleeve for me."

He did as she asked, wincing when she applied a sonic needle and injected him. "I've had all my shots.....what was that one for?"

"Nothing you need worry yourself about. Roll your sleeve down and we'll start our journey."

"Where are we going?" He rubbed his arm, after rolling down his sleeve, to ease the sting.

"A little history trip Stephen.....to the past."

She walked confidently into the light, and he followed, his hand reaching out to try and touch the light, but instead passing through. For a second or two his vision was filled with spinning, sparkling fractures of light, then he was through and standing on damp grass instead of a concrete floor.

The woman was standing off to the side, her hands on her hips, watching him as he took a step towards her. He stumbled, his balance off even as he tried to correct himself.

"I feel dizzy...I can't stand up." He lurched towards her, his hands outstretched as he tried to compensate for his wobbly legs.

"Then don't try," she told him, watching dispassionately as he stumbled to his knees, his eyes wide in fear.

"What's happening....am I dying?" He collapsed onto his side, his eyes sliding shut, his chest rising and falling as he hyperventilated in panic. "Help me?" he pleaded, blinking up at the woman standing over him, his fingers reaching for her.

She didn't answer, watching until his eyes stayed closed and his body slumped completely, not moving even when she nudged him with her boot. Crouching down, she patted his cheek, then pinched the skin on the back of his lax hand. Getting no response, she pulled the bag from under him and rummaged inside it. Putting it to one side, she moved down to his feet and started to unfasten his boots, pulling them off and placing them to one side, systematically working her way up his body, pushing and pulling his limbs until she had him stripped bare.

Briefly she ran her fingers over his body, toying with his senseless form until eventually she tired of it and stood up. "So sorry Stephen. But I promised you I'd find a way, and I did. Good luck."

Z Z Z

"Ambulance four five to base, we've arrived at the football grounds. Where is the victim?"

"Base to four five. We were told he was in the middle of the centre pitch."

"Right.....four five out." The driver replaced the radio in its holder and looked at his partner. "Break out the torches Karen, we're going on a body hunt. Bring the kit, I'll carry the de-fib, just in case."

"Any idea what we're looking for?" Karen asked, picking up the substantial emergency trauma kit.

"Report said he was laying naked and unconscious at the football grounds." He shrugged. "Could be a drunk or a druggie Pity the poor bugger naked on a night like this."

"Better snag a blanket or two then."

Side by side, they approached the wire fence surrounding the soccer field, their powerful torches stabbing swathes of light across the short grass of the pitch, highlighting the white lines marking the edges.

"I see him....over here!" They both jogged over the grass to the crumpled figure sprawled naked and soaked, his face and body beaded with moisture from the persistent drizzle.

"Christ, he's freezing, quick....pass us that blanket."

"No obvious signs of trauma, if it wasn't for the fact he's unresponsive, I'd have thought he was sleeping."

"Run back to the ambulance and bring the stretcher, and inform base we've found him and bringing him in."

"Right. Won't be long."

Cameron watched Karen jog across the grass towards the flashing lights of the ambulance, then returned his attention to the young man laying unconscious at his feet. After checking him over for any sign of broken bones or, for that matter, any sign of trauma at all, he tucked the blanket around the man and waited for his partner to return.

Together they managed to lift him onto the stretcher, along with their gear, and squelched they're way back to the waiting warmth of their ambulance. Once inside, they gave him another check over, but apart from being insensible, there was no other obvious cause for his state of unconsciousness.

"Ambulance four five to base. We on our way in now....be there in fifteen."

"Base to four five. Any identification on our mystery victim?"

"No I.D, no clothes...nothing."

"Alright four five....will log as a John Doe...see you in fifteen. Base out."

Z Z Z

Nick Cutter fiddled with his pen, staring down at the form but seeing nothing. He was supposed to be filling in a requisition log to replace supplies lost during the last foray into the past. In truth, they'd been lucky to get back with their skins intact, let alone any of the gear they took with them to record and research the other side. It was only because the military escort carried all their stuff attached to their outfits that they came back with anything at all, while Cutter and his team had opted to dump their packs and leg it at top speed to avoid being eaten.

There are certain situations when speed is of the essence, and being hunted by a nasty pack of Staurikosaurus that looked like bloody great Goanna's the size of a man, speed was very much the order of the day.

Which left him filling out forms to replace what was lost.

Throwing down the pen he sat back in his swivel chair and stroked his chin, his pale blue eyes unfocused.

He flicked his gaze to the small desk top calendar beside his computer screen. He looked at the date and couldn't stop the lurch when he realized it was coming up to a year since Stephen had died.

"Where the hell did that time go?" he mused, his glance dropping to his desk drawer. He knew what was in there, but still couldn't bring himself to open the envelope lying ignored in the drawer.

A knock at the door proved a welcome distraction, Nick dragging himself forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Come in."

Connor Temple poked his head around the door jamb. "Abby and I are off now Professor. Thought we'd stop for a curry on the way home. Fancy joining us?"

"Not tonight thanks." He indicated the form still sitting unfilled in front of him. "Got some paperwork to finish up before I turn the lights out."

Connor pushed the door wider and leaned against the door frame. "Paperwork. Yeah....Abby said to remind you that Lester is calling a debrief tomorrow at eight in the morning, and not to forget this time."

Nick smiled, remembering the peel Abby had rung over his head for his last excuse for bunking off. "I'll remember. Tell Abby thanks from me."

"I will. Sure we can't tempt you to some Tikimasala or Butter Chicken? Our treat?"

"Must be paying you too much if you're giving it away. No thanks...another time maybe."

"Right. Okay then...I'll be off. Lucky the anomaly shut before those damn great lizards mowed us down."

"Wasn't it. Sorry you lost your lap top."

Connor waved his hand dismissively. "I keep a back up on an external hard drive, plus here at work, and at home, so nothings lost. I'll be adding what we learnt today to our fund of knowledge. Not that I want to meet those again in hurry..." He shivered dramatically.

"Your time in the gym is paying off Connor...you had no problem keeping up, in fact I think you managed to beat me to the anomaly this time."

"I did...didn't I?" He preened for a moment, then grinned. "Better get off, or Abby'll be sending a search party. Night."

"See you both tomorrow."

The door swung shut and Nick was alone again, facing the prospect of Lester's wrath if he didn't complete the blank form, and Abby's wrath if he didn't set his alarm to get up in time. He glanced down at the desk drawer and suddenly felt the need to get out of his office, and the building itself. Leaving the form sitting unfinished, he grabbed his jacket and left. If he hurried, he might just catch up with Connor and Abby before they left the car park. He really didn't feel like being on his own tonight after all.

Z Z Z

Lester glanced at the notification and wondered how he was going to act on it. On one hand he could simply ignore it, or at least put it off to another day to deal with, or he could bring it up in the meeting and see how the others reacted, and decide then how best to deal with it.

The door opening to let in his four tame civilians decided the matter for him. It was ironic that the first anniversary was only days away, given what he held in his hand. He waited for them all to sit, Jenny included, before interlacing his hands and starting the meeting.

"Before we launch into what will undoubtedly be a highly implausible account of the debacle involving a substantial loss of equipment, I have another matter which you might be interested in pursuing".

Lester paused, looking up to meet the four pairs of eyes. Cutter looked bored, shifting restlessly in his chair. Abby was trying to look interested, but it was obvious her mind was elsewhere. Connor was frowning down at something he had in his lap, Lester only needing to straiten his spine to see far enough that it was an ipod, the ear phone cable snaking inside his shirt to hide it. Of the four, Jenny was the only one able to meet his raised eyebrow with any sort of reaction, her cheeks turning a fetching shade of pink when his eyes met hers.

"Right. Well as I have your undivided attention, I'll read this out to you." He ignored Jenny flicking her foot sideways to clock Cutter on the ankle, his frown at her diverted when she nodded fractionally in Lester's direction, Cutter taking the hint and sitting up a bit straighter. "This was sent to me from the Central Metropolitan Hospital who have a mystery John Doe on their hands."

"A John Doe? Are we missing a member of our personnel?" Jenny asked, looking surprised.

"Not exactly," Lester hedged, clearing his throat before he spoke again. "The man in question was found, naked and unconscious in the middle of a football field. No obvious sign of trauma and no identification or distinguishing features to aid in finding out who he is."

He had their attention now. Cutter still slouched, but his blue eyes were fixed on Lester, as were the women, Connor glancing at the other two before lifting his head to give Lester his full attention.

"Why come to us with this?" Abby asked, looking understandably confused.

"It seems the man, when he finally came round, babbled about coming through a sparkling doorway of light before passing out again. Sound familiar?"

"He came through an anomaly?" asked Nick, glancing at Connor and Abby before turning back to face Lester. "Did he give a name, any indication of where...or when he came from?"

"He did give a name....but it's not one you'll want to hear."

"What is it?" Abby asked.

Lester shuffled the paper and cleared his throat, suddenly not sure this had been such a good idea after all. "He gave the name..... Stephen."

He'd always wanted to have the opportunity to test the theory about hearing a pin drop, and this was certainly one of those moments, for about three seconds.

"Rubbish. It's just a coincidence," Nick snorted.

"Surely that's all it is....isn't it?" Jenny asked, giving a nervous laugh.

"Is there a picture with that report?"

Lester gave Abby a small smile for asking the pertinent question. He held out a sheet for her to take, Abby getting up and reaching for the piece of paper. She held it in both hands, Lester noting the slight tremor of her fingers that made the paper shimmy slightly.

"It's true," Was all she said, standing frozen in front of his desk clutching the paper, her eyes wide.

"Can't be..." Connor exploded out of his chair and darted forward, snatching the piece of paper from Abby, Cutter and Jenny only seconds behind him.

"It is him..." Nick passed the sheet to Jenny, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But he's dead...we buried him...you saw him..." Connor choked out, sitting down heavily in his chair and staring at Lester with distressed eyes.

"I saw him die Lester, this isn't...this can't be that Stephen. He might have his face..but it's not him."

"I agree with you Cutter." Lester chimed in, "it's highly improbable it is the same man we knew as Stephen Hart. I would ordinarily dismiss it as a cruel coincidence, a shabby hoax, but there is no reason to doubt the medical staff at the hospital, nor is there a reason to doubt this man's story about the anomaly. We don't know enough about the situation at this time, so I'm sending someone down to interrogate this man to find out more about him, about how he arrived here."

"I want to go," Nick said abruptly.

"I do too," Abby chimed in, standing beside Cutter, her arms folded over her chest.

Connor remained seated until he realized he was likely to be left out if he didn't speak up.

"And me!"

Only Jenny remained where she was, shaking her head when Lester raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Right then, just the three of you. Fair enough. So far, his story is being put down to confusion and possibly hallucinations. Find out all you can about him and report back to me. If you think we need containment, we'll take the necessary steps. If it's some sort of hoax, I'll have the police down on his neck before he can think about phoning the media. I want any conversation you have with him recorded, so go down to the armoury and gear up with surveillance equipment."

"I'm not a bloody spy!" said Nick, curling his lip.

"Bugs or you don't go," Lester told him, glancing at the others to get his point across.

"Whatever.....do you have a contact at the hospital?" Nick took the sheet Lester held out, including the photo.

"It's all there. Don't make a rash decisions Cutter. You're just going to observe and pump him for information. Understand?"

"Don't take out adoption papers, got it."

Not waiting for a dismissal, Nick hurried out of the office, Abby and Connor on his heels.

Jenny hung back. "Is it entirely wise to send the Professor and the others to do this? Wouldn't it be better to leave it to special branch or someone to debrief this man?"

"It's a waste of time to send anyone but Cutter and his crew. Our people have already tried to debrief him and come away scratching their heads. Either this man is the most incredible actor imaginable and able to fool the best, or he is what I suspect.....a clone of some sort."

"A clone?"

"I wouldn't put it past Helen Cutter to have popped into the future and created this thing and sent it back to torment her ex husband some more, as if watching his best friend of nine years being torn apart wasn't enough." The pencil Lester had been rolling between his fingers suddenly snapped, making Jenny jump.

"But that would mean all the more reason to keep Cutter out of this – wouldn't it?" Jenny spread her hands to indicate her confusion.

"Or it could mean that somehow, someway, Stephen Hart has been returned to this time...a twisted way for Helen to make reparation for getting the first Stephen killed. She probably didn't plan on the young fool being so damn heroic..."

"Or maybe she did plan on just that," Jenny retorted. "Either way, I wouldn't want to be this man...this Stephen, whoever he is when Nick gets his hands on him."

Lester looked startled for a moment. "Rubbish. If what I've read is true, Cutter will have the wind taken out of his sails as soon as this thing....clone...whatever opens its mouth."

"Why?" Jenny asked.

"You wait until you get to meet him, then you'll understand."

Z Z Z