I'm not allowed to respond here anymore, and with finals coming up I don't have time anyway, but I wanted to thank all the readers of this story, and apologize profusely for taking so long to finish it. It's not exactly how I wanted it, and in hindsight I should have written the entire thing differently, but hopefully it'll satisfy those that I've tortured with its WIPness. Not beta'ed, though, and as my writing style has changed over time, you might notice a shift. The ending is … purposely ambiguous, I guess. It actually wasn't an attempt to make it shorter, I just want to be clear – I'd planned it out this way, roughly, since a year or so ago. But hey! I said I'd finish it, and I did!

Feedback is always appreciated, and apologies once again.


The Taelon enclave on Earth was typical of Taelon buildings – beautiful, blue, and alive. It was larger than the embassies had been, reaching farther into the sky and spread over a greater area. Next to it, smaller, but more intimidating in sharp angles and harsh green, was the Jaridian enclave. Of course, these were only the enclaves on Earth; there were more spread throughout the galaxy, on the Taelon and Jaridian homeworlds. While there weren't many Taelons or Jaridians, their children were growing in number.

Of course, most of those children got a nice course in Humanity as well. As the species that saved their race – providing the crucial link between the two races – humans were very involved in everything. It also kept down fears that while neither the Taelons or Jaridians were strong enough to attack or subjugate humanity, their children might be one day.

But that was one day. Today, Liam was going to see Da'an.

Da'an was one of the Taelons that had chosen to stay on Earth for their remainder of their lives. As much as Da'an loved his homeworld, Earth had become important to him, and so he stayed. He also felt there was still important work to do, that humanity's importance had not lessened at all. Most other Taelons once involved in Earth switched between Earth and their homeworld, rather than choosing one or the other. Attitudes towards Earth and human beings had mellowed over time.

Da'an greeted Liam with a half nod and that strange, alien smile, then gave the Taelon greeting. "It is good to see you, Liam."

"Same," Liam said simply.

"What is it that you wish to discuss?" Da'an queried.

Liam shot him a sharp look. "How do you – never mind," he finished with a sigh. "Sandoval wants to know about his son."

"I see," Da'an said, fingers stilling for a moment.

"I told him I would bring him to his son if he convinced me he wouldn't hurt him."

"Then you have promised?" Knowing how seriously Liam took giving his word, probably.

"Yes," Liam said. He paused, looking away briefly. "Renee thinks that I said that because I do really want him to know. She hasn't said so, but I can tell she's thinking it."

"Do you believe Ms. Palmer is correct?"

Liam smiled wryly. "Maybe."

"If you wish my advice, I do not believe telling Sandoval your true identity is out of the question. Such an exploration might also be beneficial to you," Da'an added.

Liam cocked his head. "Why do you say that?"

"Isolating yourself will not help you deal with your Kimera heritage. I know you believe it no longer important; I disagree. The knowledge you possess as a Kimera hybrid will always be valuable. I believe by exploring your nature, you can better tap into that information." Da'an paused and added gently, "And be at peace. The war has ended, the conflict continues."

Liam stared at Da'an for a few long moments. "I know I can't hide. I just want to rest," he said softly.

Da'an stepped closer to him. "I know. But you ultimately may find more rest in finding yourself and resolving these issues that concern you."

Liam closed his eyes. "So what is your suggestion? That I tell Sandoval?"

"That you resolve it for both him and you," Da'an said. "What that may require, I do not know. You are more familiar with human interaction than I." Another pause. "Ms. Palmer may prove helpful, as well. You are still close, are you not?"

"Yes," Liam said, thinking. Wondering what Da'an was getting at. Taelons could definitely speak in riddles when they pleased; he would have to think about this. Da'an may still be trying to maneuver Liam into something having to do with his Kimera heritage, which the Taelon was still highly interested in. "Thank you, Da'an."

"You are welcome."


Coming to Kincaid's apartment unexpectedly was a good idea.

Kincaid looked . . . unsettled, Sandoval decided.

That was probably a good thing. Kincaid was usually a complete mystery, so having him unsettled could possibly help Sandoval see through that barrier.

"I wasn't expecting you," Kincaid said, no surprise in his voice or face.

"I can see that," Sandoval said wryly, noting that Kincaid was fully dressed and had a coat on.

Kincaid glanced down at himself and grimaced. Then he stepped to the side, gesturing for Sandoval to come in.

"Have you decided?" Sandoval asked bluntly.

Kincaid glanced at Sandoval, then plopped onto his couch. "No."

"Major . . ."

Kincaid merely looked at Sandoval. The unsettled demeanor had faded, and he was in control once more.

Sandoval sat opposite Kincaid on a chair. "How did you keep your identity as a Resistance agent secret?"

Kincaid blinked, looking startled.

Sandoval wanted to smile in satisfaction, but shifted his gaze to be more direct and intense.

Then Kincaid answered his question. "Da'an knew." He smiled smugly.

Sandoval could only stare at the Major in surprise. Da'an knew? Then Da'an not telling the other Taelons was virtually treason; was that even possible within the Commonality? But no wonder Da'an had always been so protective of Kincaid; suspicions didn't matter, because Da'an knew the truth and was actively hiding it. Why? More damnable mystery.

"Zo'or didn't," Sandoval finally said, voice flat.

Kincaid shook his eyes, eyes going dark. "No. It would have been . . . disastrous if he had."

"He would have had you arrested."

"Worse, probably," Kincaid said matter-of-factly. "But I suppose you would know."

Sandoval narrowed his eyes. A reference to the dirty work he did for Zo'or; was that a hint that taking down Operation Blackbird wasn't enough? That Kincaid had already decided?

As if reading his mind, Kincaid continued. "I haven't made up my mind yet, Sandoval. You can leave the weapon in your jacket," he said wryly.

"Was Ms. Palmer involved?" Sandoval said, deciding to take this at another angle.

Kincaid didn't answer for a moment.

"I don't intend on telling anyone else. My days in that game are long over. This is so that I can understand what happened," Sandoval said, almost gently.

"She was," Kincaid said finally.

Sandoval nodded. "I thought so. You spent too much together on your off time, and then acted too much like strangers the rest of the time."

Kincaid blinked. "Did we? I always thought we were careful."

"You were," Sandoval said simply. "Just not enough." He paused. Added, "Actually, for a time I believed you were having an affair and that was the cause of at least some of your secrecy."

"An affair?" Kincaid blurted, then laughed. Then he sighed deeply and put his head in his hands. "We were close." He looked up and cocked his head. "You must have suspected me, even if you couldn't prove it."

"Of course," Sandoval said. "But regardless of that, there was still opportunity for personal entanglements – and that could reasonably be exploited."

Kincaid said nothing, merely stared at Sandoval with a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he finally murmured, "Yes, you're right." He paused, seemed to shake himself out of his fugue, and asked, "And Renee? Did you think you could use me against her, as well?"

Odd question, Sandoval thought. I could swear … Surely not. "Perhaps. Though she always struck me as being attuned to the realities of life than you, Major."

Kincaid's mouth quirked into a smile, as if Sandoval had said something amusing. Then he nodded, more to himself.

Sandoval watched him, judging him, trying to ascertain what was going through Kincaid's head. If there was anything here he could use.

"We used to fight about that. I suppose I was idealistic," Kincaid said at last, and Sandoval was startled by the openness, the relaxed look in his eyes.

"Are you still?" Sandoval asked, and wondered if that was in his favor.

"I … yes," he said at last, and it was surprising he would give such unequivocated answer. "You know, even if I do tell you about your son, it won't ever be simple. Or easy."

"I know," Sandoval said quietly. "But he's my family nonetheless."

"And is blood thicker than water?"

Sandoval hesitated, torn between being truthful and getting the desired reaction. "Sometimes," he allowed. "Does he hate me—my son?"

Kincaid looked away. "I think it's not that easy."

"That's not an answer."

"He's not a child. There is no answer," Kincaid retorted, meeting his gaze with a glare.

"Not a child? You said hybrids grow faster … are you speaking literally?" Sandoval pressed, and knew as soon as he spoke, as soon as he saw the wariness in Kincaid's eyes, that he had pushed too far.

"I haven't –"

But it was time to push, Sandoval concluded, a sick feeling in his gut. "Decide, Kincaid. I'm not magically going to become a boy scout; you know enough of me."

Kincaid stared at the floor. "All right." He took a deep breath, and clasped his hands in front of him, staring at his palms like they held the secrets of the universe. "All right."

Sandoval stopped breathing for a moment. "Is that your answer?"

"Yes," Kincaid said, looking up at him. "Yes," he said again, with a sigh, appearing pale. "I'll – I'll give you something," he said slowly. "To let you know how to contact your son. Is that agreeable?"

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because," Kincaid said flatly, eyes dark, and somehow sad.

"When will I get the information, then?"

"By tomorrow," Kincaid assured him, some color returning to his face.

"You know where –"

"I can find out," Kincaid said wryly, and there was a shared moment of enemies respecting each other.

"Very well." Sandoval paused, almost heady with the thought of finally knowing his son. "Thank you," he said stiffly, and walked out.


As soon as he left, Liam watched him leave the building via the security cameras, then went to take a shower.

God, what was he doing? Faced the reality that Sandoval would know, he felt like throwing up. Sandoval had hurt him. In so many ways. He had admitted to Sandoval he had been idealistic, and he still felt he was, in certain respects. But he couldn't afford to let himself hope for a good outcome, not here. He had wanted to believe in his father in the beginning, in those first months, but reality was not kind to children. Even ones that appeared to be adults.

But he was an adult, he thought, letting the water stream down his face. He thought of Sandoval's words, of Renee. Renee's quiet assurance, not really joking, that Sandoval could be dealt with if he reacted badly. Renee's own reaction had been … enlightening. But she had always treated him as an equal, if an odd one. Augur wanted to protect him, Lily had been his big sister, expecting a lot of him and pushing him if she didn't get it.

But Renee. What held them together now, that he had such a sick feeling when he heard of the assassination attempt?

Liam had never been a child. Sometimes he thought Renee hadn't either.

Turning points. They converged into one moment, it often seemed. He needed … he needed to talk to Renee.

And copy a security feed.

He opened his eyes and breathed deep.


Renee was ready to be discharged when he arrived. Media surrounded the hospital, but Liam knew it was a futile effort; her security was efficient and they wouldn't get close. And they knew him well enough to just let him pass through.

Renee was dressed and sitting on the hospital bed when he entered, talking to her doctor, who looked like he was being streamrolled from the vaguely wild look in his eyes.

Liam repressed his smile until he looked at Renee.

"Just sign the release papers," she finished, glancing at the doctor then greeting Liam with a raised eyebrow. "Hello, Liam."

"Leaving already?" he inquired, walking up and sitting beside her, to her unamused glare.

"Yes," she replied shortly. She looked at him sideways. "What is going on?" Then her expression cleared; he knew he wouldn't have to answer, she was always quick. "You told him." Pause. "No. You're going to?"

He nodded. "I think – I think the most thorough explanation would be to just show him."

"Show him how?" Renee asked, leaning closer, watching him.

"The security feed from my birth," Liam explained. "And … when I grew up, as well, I think." And his mother's memory being wiped. Liam had never known, still don't know, how much of the last conversation Sandoval had heard between Liam and his mother.

"I'm sorry," Renee said softly.

"Don't be," Liam said. "I'm not." He'd had … not enough of his mother. But where he was at his life now, with the decisions made and the costs calculated, he wasn't sorry.

Renee tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"Anyway, that's not what I came here to talk about," Liam said, shaking his head.

"You think Sandoval will react well?"

"I can't predict," Liam said honestly. "But … I've made my decision." His mouth quirked into a smile. "Don't distract me."

"Okay, what then?"

"I wanted to talk about us, our relationship," Liam said quietly, watching her carefully now. Several things passed, like quicksilver, through her eyes.

"I'm not sure –"

"We're not enemies, Renee. Not now, and not even friends by circumstance. And do you even want to be?" He paused, but she didn't reply, looking away. "I don't think so." It was his turn to look away, as he said his next words: "I don't want to live with regrets. I have enough of those, and I think you do as well."

"Kincaid –"

He looked at her, and she stopped. She met his gaze, and he saw the vulnerability there.

"It won't be easy," she whispered. She was cold and hard, having shaped herself to be. And his life, even now, was one of uncertainty. As close as they were, there was an ocean of both understanding too well, and not understanding enough of each other. That which had marked him marked her.

"It never has been," Liam said shortly.

"True." A moment passed. Then she stood up, and with a sharp smile, held out her arm. Both of their breathing was uneven, excited, uncertain. Smiling back, Liam took her arm, escorting her out. "Okay then," she said, and they walked out together.


Sandoval had watched the recording three times, and checked the authenticity five times. Save for the fact that it was two files spliced together, it appeared to be totally accurate, not fake at all.

Damn you, Kincaid.

Damn you, Liam.

His son was Liam Kincaid. Finding out his son was partly alien hadn't been so much of a shock, not more so than finding he had one at all. But to discover his son had been his enemy, his son had worked with him, had known the worst parts of him …

Liam had still given him the recording. He'd wanted, Sandoval could see clearly now, to have a relationship with Sandoval; he just hadn't been able to trust Sandoval enough to take that step. It was obvious in hindsight how Liam had watched him, not always critically, but almost curiously. As an adult would, not a child, skeptical but hoping.

He wondered briefly how many times he had dashed that hope of friendship, and didn't want to count.

He wondered if he wanted to know his son at all, this irritating … He wondered if this was why Da'an had been so careful, so protective of Liam. It explained everything: Liam's Kimeran heritage had been the reason for their relationship. Confusing edits and cover-ups suddenly made sense. Liam had survived what many would not have, what a human could not have, because of just that: he wasn't human.

The odd dichotomy made sense, too, of the child-like idealism and the hardened core that Sandoval had always thought was because of his being a soldier. But Liam had never been a soldier, but a fighter.

He had so many questions. How was Liam involved in uniting the Taelons and the Jaridians? He had to be, given the Taelon's near terror of the Kimera, and the easy acceptance that existed now. How had he grown up so quickly, with such ease of interacting in the human world, when he should know nothing of it? Had he joined the Resistance because he was literally born into it, or because … ?

Other questions Liam had answered. The more important ones, he supposed. He didn't hate Sandoval, and that was a mercy, for all that Sandoval wasn't sure anymore if he wanted to know his son as his son. He wanted …

He'd wanted his son, and Kincaid had delivered.

He had known this wouldn't be easy. He hadn't anticipated it would be this difficult, but what had been over the past decade? Why would it get any easier? It wouldn't be easy for Liam either, he was perfectly aware; he had enough self-loathing to know just how much. To know of a father's past misdeeds and to have experienced them personally were two entirely different things.

The recording was an offering as much as an explanation. It demanded nothing, it was not a face-to-face revelation, there was time. Time. And there had been time enough without his son; and he supposed Liam had had time enough without a father, having lost a mother. His grief, his tears, holding her in his arms made so much more sense.

Sandoval got up. Took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and picked up his global.

And he thought through how he wanted to say that if Liam wanted a relationship, he was willing to try.

finis