A Phoenix Rose chapter 3: Turnabout Childhood Memories.

Miles POV

Seven years prior

Ring...Ring...Ring...

I glanced up from my paperwork when I heard the familiar tone of my phone. I placed it to my ear after pressing the call button. The voice on the other end was one I recognized but it still pained me to hear it.

"D-dad?" Dakota's small voice came through the speaker, shaking slightly. Had he been crying again? I certainly hoped not.

"Yes Dakota?" I answered, setting the papers onto the desk in front of me. I heard distant sounds in the background. Was that a heart monitor I heard? I instantly knew why Dakota was calling.

"Are...Are you coming soon? M-mommy's getting worse. She's not responding to my voice anymore... I don't want to be alone..." The last part tore at my heart. His mother's condition must've gotten much worse since he called last. I listened as he tried to control his sobbing. The guilt in my heart grew.

"I will. I'll come soon Dakota. Trust me...You won't be alone." I said, putting the phone on speaker. I opened my laptop as I spoke, quickly typed in the name of an airline into a new tab. Dakota seemed to perk up instantly.

"R-really?! You're coming?!" He nearly shouted, almost seeming afraid to. Like if he did he would wake someone. I then figured that if his mother's condition worsened he would be in the hospital with other patients. I wanted to smack my forehead for not realizing that earlier. I started looking for a first class ticket to Germany.

"Yes. I'm booking a ticket right now. I'll be there in a few days baby boy." I said. I heard his excited squeal on the other line. I smiled at the sound of it and finished booking the ticket.

"Yay! I'll see you soon daddy!" He said, hanging up before I had a chance to respond. I shook my head. I guess I had to go pack some things for this very sudden trip.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

A few days later I found myself at a hospital near my son's home. I've been here before. I never liked hospitals and came to despise them when Krissy's health took a turn for the worst. I made my way to her room, finding my son sitting near her bed. He was holding her hand, his head resting against the mattress near her.

"Dakota?" I asked quietly. He raised his head slowly, his eye lids heavy with sleep. He smiled when he saw me and got up to hug me, less enthusiastic then I think he would have been if he was fully awake. I held him for a while, enjoying being here for him. Krissy was laying on the bed, her body hooked up to a bunch of machines I couldn't place name to. There was no need for words, there was nothing to say. We all knew the situation. Dakota had missed me greatly, I could feel it in the way he hugged me. He wished his mother would get better, I could see it in the way he looked at her. His fingers traced the back of her hand, holding onto it tightly.

Krissy was dying of cancer. A tumor in the brain that couldn't be removed because it was too dangerous. It hurt us because we couldn't do anything but watch as she slowly faded from us. It hurt Dakota the most because my work kept me away and his English wasn't the best yet so he couldn't leave to live with me. Living with me would also mean leaving his mother here, which is something I would never want him to do. He was only 10 at the time...

Krissy died two weeks later. We set up a funeral for her closest family, which was her brother and his wife. Johnathan and Maya. Yes, Ms. Maya Fey. She brought her daughter along, Cersy. That was short for Chrysanthemum. She was 1 but the moment Dakota saw her, he couldn't keep away from her. He kept watch over her for their week long stay. They were like brother and sister.

I could tell that Krissy death was eating at Dakota. He was quiet most of the time, as well as stay to himself. When he went to a new school he didn't make any friends. The only two people he ever cared about were me and Cersy. It worried me. He locked himself in his room at night, taking many law books with him. I knew what he was doing. Studying his heart out to become a detective, just like his mother. I wasn't sure whether it was to do the same job she did, which was helping me in court with evidence and such. Or he was doing it to honor his mother. She was a fine Detective, never missed a piece of evidence and always made sure that the correct person was caught. There were few times that she messed up and that was when she was a rookie. I could tell that Dakota looked up to her and me as well.

It wasn't until late one night that Dakota opened up to me again. It was nearing midnight and I was trying to get some rest before I went to work in the morning. My mind was wondering, which it usually didn't do. After nearly twenty minutes of laying in darkness I went to get a glass of water and some sleep aids. Before I could make it to the bathroom I heard a shrill cry of fear coming from Dakota's room. Worry burning in my thoughts I rushed toward the sound. I accidentally slammed the door against the wall as I entered his room. Dakota screamed again, pulling himself closer.

"What's wrong?!" I asked, rushing to his side. He was shaking terribly, tears streaking his face. He opened his mouth to answer, only to close it again. He did this a couple of times. I just took him in my arms and calmed him as best as I could. He sniffled into my shirt, managing to mumble something to me. He whispered the word "nightmare." I knew what that felt like all too well. Having experienced the same when my father was killed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. Knowing the sooner you get it off your chest the better it feels. I waited 15 years to tell anyone my nightly routine. Dakota just shook his head vigorously. That worried me even more, meaning it must've freaked him out pretty bad. I dropped it though, knowing not to push the subject. "Want to come lay with me?"

"Y-yes. Please." Dakota gasped out. I rubbed his back to sooth his hiccups. I carried him to my room with me. He fell asleep soon after being layed on the sheets. I on the other hand wasn't that lucky...

A few years later Dakota became a detective, at the tender age of 14. He was the top of his class and had a work ethic to kill for. He was just like his mother when it came to collecting evidence. He never missed a spot. The first case he worked on was a case I took to court. He testified for me. When he handed me the evidence prior to the trial I saw a happiness in his eyes I haven't seen there in many years. I nearly started crying at the sight, now understanding why he pushed himself to be what he was today. He wanted to help me. To fill his mother's shoes...