Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Matter. This story contains a nod to the Seinfeld episode "The Seven". I don't own Seinfeld either.
Author Note: For purposes of this story, Titch is One. It's just funnier that way.
They should have been laying low.
"It'll be fine. No one's gonna believe Portia Lin and Marcus Boone would just be causally wandering around town."
"It's not worth the risk."
"You aren't a little bit curious what this universe has to offer?"
Two still couldn't believe she'd let Three talk her into this. She was just about to drag Three back to the ship when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her instinct to grab the hand and throw the body connected to it to the ground kicked in, but somehow Three was faster. His left hand, already holding her right hand, tightened its grip and he pulled her closer to himself. His right arm wrapped around her and in a half-hug, half-spin, and she soon found herself facing the owner of the wayward hand.
She stood slack-jawed for a moment. It was too much, too suddenly, to process at once. She knew the face. Not that it was familiar, exactly. It was not the one that had shared her ship—and her bed—but she'd seen it before. She knew exactly who he was.
The words he'd spoken while carelessly invading her space processed a few seconds later. "Won't you join us?" But the words didn't make sense—she knew him; he did not know her.
"What?"
"They said," Three looked more embarrassed than confused, and she hated him for it, "If we're willing to sit with another couple, we can get seated right away. Otherwise, we're in for a long wait. What to do say, honey? They seem like nice people. We can spend a meal with them, right?" His grip was still tight around her hand.
Three turned to the other man. "You'll have to excuse her. She doesn't get out much. Gets a little overwhelmed when she meets a celebrity."
"Oh, we're hardly celebrities." A woman joined the man, putting her arm through his.
"You—you're alive." Two didn't mean to say it out loud. She just really wasn't prepared to see her. Them. To see him.
"Should I not be?"
"She must be confused. I'm sure she's thinking of… some other CEO's wife who recently bit the dust. She spends way too much time reading the tabloids. It's starting to scramble her brain." Three looked at Two with an expression that clearly suggested she needed to pull herself together.
"About the table?" That voice. His voice was exactly the same. So it was startling all over again to look up and see his just-barely-recognizable face.
"Sure," she finally managed.
"Excellent!" His face lit up in a way that was almost, but not quite, familiar. She'd meant to say no, but somehow she didn't regret triggering that expression.
The waiter led them to a table. He sat first, then his wife beside him. Two slid into the booth across from him; lastly, Three sat beside her.
"My apologies, we haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Derrick Moss, and this is my wife, Catherine Moss."
The introduction from that side of the table was obviously unnecessary, but meant to elicit an introduction from her and Three. Two didn't speak fast enough.
"Name's… Titch. And this is… Becky."
Two threw a glare at Three, but it was quickly interrupted as Derrick Moss half-stood and reached for her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Becky."
"Titch?" Catherine smiled brightly as she stood and shook hands with Three. "That's so funny—that was Derrick's nickname when he was young!"
"And a fine name it is." Derrick smiled as he reached over Catherine's arm to shake Three's hand, while Catherine shook Two's hand.
"Derrick! Catherine!" someone called from across the restaurant.
"It's Earl," Catherine said to Derrick. "We should say hi."
"If you don't mind, this will only take a minute."
"No prob." Three reached for his menu.
Two tried to hide the relief in her voice as she replied, "Please, take your time."
Once Derrick and Catherine were gone, Two leaned toward Three, holding a menu up as a shield to the rest of the restaurant. "Becky?! What the hell are you thinking? And Titch?!"
"Staring at his face, it's the only name I could think of. And, well, Becky's better than Rebecca, right?"
"Not much."
"That means it is a little bit."
"Just let me do the talking."
"You gotta open your mouth if you got something to say."
"Just—shut up," Two hissed as Derrick and Catherine returned.
"I have to be honest," Catherine began as she took her seat, "You two look a bit famous yourselves. I could almost swear you were Portia Lin and Marcus Boone. I guess you must get that a lot."
"Just one of those faces," Two muttered while sinking behind the menu she held in front of her.
"Ol' Marcus doesn't have this wicked cool scar." Three pointed to his cheek.
Derrick laughed. "I'm not too worried. Becky and Titch hardly sound like names of ruthless mercenaries."
"They don't, do they?" Three asked, looking meaningfully at Two.
"You look warm. Maybe you should take your jacket off." Derrick looked genuinely concerned.
Two's first thought—that Derrick was hitting on her—was quickly nullified when Catherine added, "It's okay. They won't mind. You're with us."
Catherine's words also anticipated Two's second thought—that her backless top with plunging neckline, by itself, was not appropriate for the fancy restaurant.
Her third thought was that she must have been sweating pretty significantly for Derrick to have said something. She wanted to believe the restaurant was overheated, but Three looked perfectly comfortable in his leather jacket. She couldn't believe how flustered she'd gotten, but she was determined to regain her composure.
Not sure what else to do, but very aware that Derrick and Catherine continued to look at her with concern, she stood and shrugged her way out of the jacket. As she did so, something fell out of the pocket. She sat quickly, but wasn't fast enough to prevent the rest of the table from seeing what she'd dropped.
Seeming to forget himself, Derrick reached for the fallen item, a small photograph.
"Is this your daughter?" he asked.
Two often kept the photo of Five with her. If Five ever failed to return from a trip off-ship, she wanted something to identify her, to help in tracking her down.
Figuring she wasn't likely to come up with a better explanation on the fly, Two simply responded, "Yes."
Catherine leaned into Derrick, to get a better look at the photo. "She's adorable. What's her name?"
Two glanced at Three. "Emily."
"You must be very proud." Derrick handed the photo back.
Three intercepted the photo. "She's adopted."
"Titch," Two admonished.
"It's true."
"You don't have to tell everyone that."
"We're too young to have a teenage daughter. I don't want them thinking I got you pregnant in high school." Three turned toward Derrick and Catherine. "We love her just the same as we would a normal kid."
Derrick beamed at Catherine. "They're parents. We have to tell them now."
Catherine, seeming amused by her husband's excitement, nodded. "Okay."
"We're pregnant! We just found out today. That's what we're here celebrating. We don't want everyone to know right away, but it's too much to keep just between us."
Two stared blankly. "…Congratulations."
There was silence as Derrick and Catherine gazed adoringly at one another.
Three finally spoke, breaking the spell between the soon-to-be parents. "What are ya gonna name it?"
"It's all still very new. We haven't given that much thought yet."
Two placed her hand on Three's wrist. "Let's not pester them about it."
"Oh, we're happy to talk about it! You've been parents so much longer than we have, we'd love any advice you have." Derrick took Catherine's hand and she nodded as he spoke.
Don't, Two mouthed to Three. Of course he ignored her.
"Well, you know, our little bundle of joy was half-grown when we got her, so you kinda already blew my first bit of advice—get 'em older, after someone else has already dealt with all that diaper and potty-training mess. I mean, who's got time for that crap?"
Derrick and Catherine looked a bit taken aback. Two dug her nails into Three's wrist. "He's joking, of course. We're just sad that we didn't get to know Emily from the very beginning. Right, Titch?"
"Of course, sweetheart." Three gave Two a toothy grin before turning toward the others. "And it was a little disappointing, not getting to pick a name."
"I can understand that." Derrick's expression was pleasant, though perhaps a bit wary. "Names are important. We probably should start thinking about it."
"Yes…names…" Catherine glanced around, probably looking for the waiter. Two guessed she was regretting sharing their news.
"I got one," Three declared with a look Two knew meant trouble. "You should name the kid Seven."
"Seven? You want us to name our baby Seven?" Catherine asked.
"Yeah! It's a wonderful name. It could work for a boy or a girl."
Derrick narrowed his eyes. "Seven? As in, the number seven?"
"Exactly."
"I suppose it does have a certain ring to it…"
"I mean, a lot of numbers could work. Two, Three… Five. Just not One. Unless you want him to be a total dweeb."
Derrick frowned as he sounded out the word. "Ssseeveenn. Seh-vahn. Se-ven. Actually, that's not bad."
"We'll think about it," Catherine said. Then, waving to the passing waiter: "Check, please."
"She's the difference. Catherine."
Three looked up from his plate. They'd gotten dessert to go—he wasn't about to not get dessert when CoreLactic Industries was paying, despite Catherine's sudden insistence on getting a good night's sleep—and Two and Three were currently alone in the mess. Three was sitting at the table, Two was pacing the floor.
"Catherine isn't murdered, Derrick Moss doesn't impersonate Jace Corso, so we space Five, kill Six, and never lose our memories."
"So you're saying this jacked-up universe is my fault?"
"No. Not you. But…"
"So I don't kill someone, and that makes everything worse?"
"We don't know for sure that you—Marcus Boone—killed Catherine at all. He was just a suspect. But even if he did, Marcus may not be the difference. Maybe he wasn't hired. Maybe Catherine, or Derrick, didn't do something to piss someone off in this universe."
"Still, Catherine lives, so Five and Six die, and we're still terrible people. Doesn't seem fair."
"And One lives," Two adds quietly. "He and Catherine have a baby."
" 'Cept he's not One."
"No. There is no One. Or Two, Three, Four, Five, or Six."
"Is this making you feel good?"
"Of course not."
"Then why are we doing it?"
"Just... trying to make sense of it."
"It don't make sense. It just is."
Five entered the mess and sat down across from Three. "Are you guys okay? You were gone for a while." She grabbed a spoon and took a bite of Two's dessert.
Two sat down beside Five. "It's nothing. Just discussing Three's attempts to collapse the universe by suggesting a couple name their baby Seven."
Three, finished with his dessert, reached his fork across the table for Two's. "Not meant to collapse anything. Just a tribute, to what could have been."
"In their universe, or ours?" Two asked.
Three shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Five didn't seem to hear, distracted by the dessert that she hurriedly scooped up and shoved into her mouth, trying to finish before Three could get to it.
Once the dessert was annihilated, Five looked up. "Hey, that's kind of a cute name! Why couldn't I have been Seven?"