"It's far beyond the stars

It's near beyond the moon

I know beyond a doubt

My heart will lead me there soon"

"Beyond the Sea" - Albert Lasry / Charles Trenet / Jack Lawrence

25 April 2004

Clearwater, Florida

Tristan could hear the organ and the choir from the main church building from where he stood in the secondary building. He didn't know the particular piece, though, since it was contemporary. He tried to hum along as best he could anyway as he paced back and forth. The distraction actually helped him think.

I need a trainer. I'm forty-four years old now and I haven't had anyone teach me anything about how to survive as an Immortal since Penance. Even he claimed he didn't teach me much.

What about this David Ashton guy?

But he's in England.

So?

How would you get there? Aren't there options in this country?

There might be, but I don't know who they are. I could get to England many ways. Plane? Boat? Teleporter?

All of those - well, maybe not the last one - need papers, adults, MONEY. You don't have any of those.

Yeah, what about that? The big one is the money. I could make a lot of things happen if I had money.

You're a hacker now, for God's...oops...for goodness sake. You can get money.

But even if I had the money and can get the papers and the transportation, how do I find this Ashton guy? He really does seem like he'd be the best choice to train me or to help me find the person who could.

Well, you do have Jack. He's a Watcher. He has information on all Immortals, doesn't he?

Yeah, but how much can he bend the rules for me? If he starts asking around about where other Immortals are and not just keeping tabs on me, people are going to wonder why.

Yeah, that's a good point.

Hacker skills again?

I doubt it. Just because Jack knows that little bit about what Ashton does in England nowadays doesn't mean he knows what name he's using or where he lives. I guess I could ask, though. Mental note. Ting.

So, after the money, what papers do I need?

Well, a passport, obviously. And if I don't have people posing as my parents with matching surnames on their passports then I'm going to need adoption or guardianship paperwork. Otherwise, it's probably going to get really sticky going across international borders.

Ugh. This is getting ugly.

Tristan found a world map on the wall of one of the rooms. There were pins and labels of all of locations where the church had relief or missionary efforts. Tristan didn't pay attention to those. His eyes focused on the island of England.

I need to get to you, Merry Olde England. How can I do it?

xxxxxxxxxx

Nancy came in with Jack in tow around 14:00 Both of them were carrying takeout trays and drinks from a restaurant. "I'm so sorry for taking so long. Some of the members insisted I go to lunch with them."

"No problem," replied Tristan, standing from his borrowed cot in the one empty room in the secondary building. "I kept myself busy. I had a lot of thinking to do."

"Well," Nancy continued. "I had to do some fibbing. I told the members I was bringings some meals back for some friends, which I guess is true, but didn't say who."

"Where did you go?" inquired Tristan.

"Lenny's."

Tristan brightened. "I remember Lenny's. They were awesome."

"I made them both large meals since I didn't know who would choose which one."

"I can pay," Tristan offered.

"Same here," said Jack.

"Pfft," retorted Nancy. "It's one meal. Just don't make a habit of it."

Tristan waggled a finger. "But you bought the extras for breakfast yesterday, too. "We're starting to cut into your wallet. Let us help."

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Nancy grinned. "Oh, alright."

Tristan reached into his pack, shuffled around, and pulled out a wallet. He opened it and extracted a twenty dollar bill. He took the two trays that were in Nancy's hand and replaced them with the bill. "I'll take this meal. Thank you very much for getting it. And no change. I insist."

"Well, thank you, then," said Nancy, handing him the soda. "That should be the spinach omelette and the tall stack of pancakes. That's six, by the way."

Jack shrugged. "I guess this is mine, then."

They sat on the floor and the two diners opened their trays. Jack also pulled out his wallet and handed Nancy a twenty. "No change for me, either, thanks." Looking down, he added, "My word, what is this beast?"

"That would be The Lenny. It's two half-pound patties with bacon, cheese, and fried onions, served with french fries." Nancy regarded the two twenties in her hands. "Looks like I may have to keep you fellas here longer. I'm making money off of you now." Her eyes twinkled as they chuckled.

"Hey, Tristan," said Jack. "You may have to eat some of this thing. There is no way I'm going to be able to finish it all myself."

"No problem. Would you like some of this, too?"

"Yeah, I'd like to try it. It does look awfully good."

Tristan passed the omelette tray over to Jack and took a bite of the pancakes while he waited. He then traded them. Jack cut off a piece of his burger with his plastic fork, which took some work, and handed it and a few fries to Tristan with his fingers. Tristan happily accepted them. Nancy watched unsure whether to be aghast or amused. Seeing her expression, Jack grinned and explained.

"Nancy, in the infantry, we do far worse than this when it comes to food. This is being polite."

Nancy looked back and forth between the two faces. Tristan just nodded. She pointed at Tristan. "You were infantry, too."

The boy grinned and shook his head, chewing. Jack laughed.

"He learned fieldcraft from people who live even harder lives than infantrymen: special forces."

Letting out a tiny belch, Tristan added, "Jack and I were eating a snake a few nights ago."

Nancy looked in horror at Jack. The Watcher just grinned, said, "It was pretty good, actually," and took a bite of his burger. "Not as good as this burger, though."

Nancy looked like she was about to swoon. "Oh, my. I'm in a room with two barbarians. God help me."

True to Jack's prediction, there was still over a third of The Lenny remaining before the Watcher handed the burger across the Tristan.

"Have at it, kid," he said, putting a fist to his mouth as he belched. "Excuse me." Those last two words were purely for Nancy's benefit. "And thanks again for thinking about us."

Nancy waved a hand dismissively. "It was no trouble at all." She looked at Tristan who was still munching happily away at his pancakes although there was little left of them. "I'm just amazed how a little body such as yours can handle so much food."

Jack scoffed good naturedly as he brought up a knee and rested an arm atop it. "You didn't have to follow him across half of Florida on foot, either. He can burn through the calories as quickly as he can put them down. There was a theory at the Academy, too, that Immortal metabolism, due to their perpetual healing, is higher than ours. He actually needs more calories and nutrients than a "normal" boy would." Jack used air quotes when he said "normal." I asked how many "more than normal" meant during that class and after a lot of "hmms" and "uhhs," finally got the instructor to say five thousand a day for a typical Immortal and as high as ten thousand for a physically active one."

"Ten thousand?" repeated Nancy in disbelief. "That's like an Olympic athlete. They'd have to be eating almost constantly."

Jack nodded. "I said that, too. The instructor said a lot of Immortals who have needs to that degree tend to live in the Western hemisphere where larger meals are more culturally accepted and also tend to hide their need to nutrients and calories by snacks, nutrition drinks, or even alcohol."

"What does Ashton do?" ask Tristan. "Is he one of those?"

Jack laughed. "I did some research on him. He would need quite a bit on a daily basis, probably ten to twelve thousand. He does two, sometimes three Iron Man competitions a year. His daily routine is brutal. He gets up at four in the morning every day except Saturday and works out until six. His aides are there with him, giving him his morning briefing. He then eats a substantial breakfast and plays with his kids. Did I mention he has two adopted children? They're seven and eight years old. He is at work by eight o'clock. He goes for a ten to fifteen kilometer run around eleven which usually takes him about thirty-six to fifty minutes depending on the distance and then showers and has lunch. Sometimes he'll switch up and do a bike ride for two or three times the distance. He works at the PMC until four or five and then goes home. He spends an hour or two with the kids, works out with martial arts for another two hours, and then does work with his other companies until ten or eleven. He then has a cigar, a glass of scotch, and goes to bed at midnight."

"Wow!" was all Tristan could say, leaning back against his cot.

"What's a PMC?" asked Nancy.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Private Military Corporation. It's like a group of legal mercenaries. They do things the military either is too ill-equipped to do, like executive security, or, in some cases, not allowed to do, like direct action."

"That means things like assassinations and raids in noncombatant countries," clarified Tristan.

"Yes," said Jack.

"Oh, dear," said Nancy.

"Yes," continued Jack. "If something happens to them, they're just rogue actors. It's not the fault of any particular country. Ashton's guys, NextGen Corporation, have some kind of strange agreement worked out with British government. Often times, they operate while wearing British army uniforms. This means, of course, they can't do a lot of the sort of black operations we just inferred, but it does give them another sort of benefit."

"What's that?" asked Nancy?

"If they're captured, they can claim to be legal combatants under the laws of war. One of the requirements is belligerents must be dressed in clearly identifiable uniforms with badges of rank in order to be treated as prisoners of war. Ashton's men often are dressed in this way. Not always, depending on the mission, but often. They're an interesting organization."

Tristan leaned forward with interest. "Your Watcher database had all of that on Ashton and his company?"

"It had a lot more than that. I spent a lot of last night and this morning just reading through the database. It turns out the Watchers have as much or maybe even more information than the intelligence agencies of some first world countries. It was mesmerising."

"And you won't get in trouble for reading about him or other Immortals?"

"No, not at all. There are thousands of Immortals in the world. We're actually encouraged to learn as much as possible about as many Immortals as possible so we can recognize them in the field and report on them if we see them. We can't do that if we don't do our research. Anyone who queries my activity in the database will just assume I'm being the typical new Watcher and reading about some of the more interesting Immortals first. The most anyone might say is I should focus on Immortals who are known to be in my part of the world before "playing" around in the database. Even then, since Ashton is known to travel all over the world, and even has several business interests in Florida, I could still claim I had reason to be reading his record. Worst case, I could say I was just interested because of the class we had on the Watcher-Immortal war."

"Wait," interjected Nancy. "The what?" Jack gave her a quick summary of the war. Nancy leaned back on the wall, wide-eyed. "I never knew."

"No one should. Any news reports of anything that happened back then would probably have described the battles as terrorist attacks or gang activity. Certainly not sword-wielding Immortals taking heads."

"Where does Ashton live now?" asked Tristan.

"Part of his agreement when he founded NextGen Corporation was to have his corporate headquarters and his home co-located with the SAS - that's the Special Air Service, the British Special Forces - headquarters in Hereford, England. He lives there. It's about two hundred thirty kilometers west of London."

"Well, then, that's where I need to go," said Tristan definitively.

Both Nancy and Jack stared at him in silence. Tristan just regarded with equal silence, taking a bite of his massive burger and chewing slowly.

"England?" uttered Jack finally.

Tristan swallowed his food. "Yeah, Jack. I said nearly a week ago I might want to do this. I wasn't sure, though."

"Yeah, you did, but I thought it was just idle pondering at the time. I didn't think you'd actually decide to do it."

"Well, I have. I think this Ashton guy and what he could teach me is the best hope I have to stay alive. I need to get to England. The real question now is not whether I am going. It's how do I get there? I've been thinking about it all morning and there are a lot of parts to it. The biggest one, obviously, is money, and I haven't figured that one out yet, but I will. The harder part is all the damn, uh, sorry, Nancy, all the paperwork that goes with it; the passport, the guardianship papers, visa, all of that stuff. How do I get that? And where do I get adults to accompany me on the trip? There's no way I can't go alone. So, you see, I've thought of a lot of the questions, I just need to think a bit longer and come up with the solutions."

With that, Tristan slumped back against his cot and stared blankly at the wall, his food temporarily forgotten. The others did the same for a time. After an uncomfortable minute, Nancy sat up, electrified. Curious eyes turned her way.

"I might have an answer to the accompaniment question, at least, but it would require telling two people about your situation. Not everything, of course, just that you need someone to go with you."

"I kind of knew it would," replied Tristan.

"When I was at lunch with my congregants, two of them, Travis and Donna Needham, mentioned they were going on a cruise next week. I didn't really pay much attention to it at the time, but they are leaving Tampa next Sunday and arriving somewhere in southern England two weeks later. That will at least get you in the country."

"Yeah, that would help," admitted Tristan, "but next week. That's not a lot of time to get the paperwork I'd need."

"Hold on, though," said Jack, holding up a hand. "It's possible to expedite a passport. Maybe we can find a way to do the same with the other things, too. How soon before you could meet with these people?"

"I could call them now and maybe get them to meet me in my office in a few hours."

Jack looked over at Tristan questioningly. "What do you think?"

Tristan blinked once and sighed. "It's worth trying, at least." Turning his eyes to Nancy, he added, "Please call them."

xxxxxxxxxx

Jack sat in his hotel room tapping away on his laptop. He was amazed how much the internet had progressed since he had left high school. Back then, it had barely been more than a means for email and instant messaging between people. Actual research had been cumbersome and aggravating. Of course, many people were still on America Online or some other pay-by-the hour service, as well. Now, things were zooming along at far greater speeds and information was much easier to find.

The information he wanted, for example, he had within seconds. Yes, he could get an expedited passport in only a few days. It would be outrageously expensive, but it could be done. He was pretty sure he could justify it with the higher ups, as well, as a necessary cost of tracking his Immortal if he followed up with a report of Tristan's travel plans. Now, the other things the boy might need were going to be harder, he was sure.

Jack wasn't sure what kind of software the Watcher organization might have on his laptop to track his internet activity. He hoped there was none. Since his hotel did not have a business center with computers he could use, he did not have much of a choice but to use this one anyway. His next search was for the documentation requirements for a minor to enter Great Britain. That turned out to be relatively light in nature, no visa if the child was coming into the country for education or tourism for less than six months and was accompanied by at least one parent or guardian. The parent or guardian had to have documentation from the other parent granting permission for the trip.

Jack thought for a moment. Tristan obviously wouldn't have parental consent for this trip. His brow furrowed. What about something a little shadier. What if the adults with him were his adopted parents instead? Jack's mind then spun in a spiderweb of directions. There were all manner of things which could go wrong with that idea. What if British customs tried to verify the adoption order, or Tristan's date of birth, or even the name that Tristan was using, with the American government? Oh, man, this just got nasty.

Jack closed his laptop and stood, pacing back and forth in his room, chewing on a knuckle. Break the problem down into its individual parts. Don't focus on the whole. It's mission analysis, just like in the Army. He made several more circuits of the room.

His mind blanked. Then it flashed and his pace slowed. He stopped pacing. His knuckle fell from his mouth. Slowly, a grin spread across his lips. He took two steps to his chair, tore a sheet from the notepad on the table, and seized the hotel-monogrammed pen. He began scribbling furiously, pouring his thoughts onto the page. It was quickly filled. He tore off another page and continued.

He was halfway through the third page when he finally dropped the pen and sat back, examining his work. He placed all three pages side by side. He scanned each one, looking for anything he might have missed. He nodded. It was all there. Perhaps Nancy or Tristan could add to it, but it was an excellent start. He glanced at his watch. 1625. He gathered the note pages, folded them in half and put them in his jeans pocket. Walking to the bed, he sat while dialing Saint Matthias's number.

Jack's foot tapped impatiently as the first ring tone sounded in his ear. "Saint Matthias Lutheran Church," he heard over the line.

"Hello, Nancy, it's Jack. I have some information for you. I'll be there in twenty minutes. I just wanted to let you know."

He listened briefly.

"Yes, I'm fine with that. I'll be there soon. Goodbye."

Setting the phone down, Jack flexed his shoulders. No taxi for this one, Jack, old boy. They keep records. You're hoofing this one. It's only two kilometers, though. That's nothing. Let's get moving.

xxxxxxxxxx

The only thing Nancy really knew about Travis Needham was he tended to be a very punctual man. They had arranged to meet at four o'clock and his car pulled into the parking lot three minutes before that time. Travis and Donna both emerged from the vehicle and approached toward the church slightly slower than they normally did on Sunday mornings. I guess that's normal, thought Nancy. They're wondering what I'm about to ask them. Nancy stepped through the church entrance to greet them.

"Travis, Donna, thank you for coming here on such short notice." Nancy had changed into more casual attire and was glad to see the Needhams had done so, as well. It would make things easier if everyone were more comfortable.

"We're glad to help any way we can, Nancy," answered Travis, taking her hand. "What's this about?"

"Let's go to my office and sit down first, can we?" she asked, shaking Donna's hand, also.

"Sure, sure," replied Travis.

Nancy led to way down the hall until they reached the offered and then allowed the couple to enter first. She then followed them and stood near her desk. She had a pitcher of water and several glasses nearby.

"Would you like some water?"

"Yes, please," said Donna.

"None for me, thanks, replied Travis.

Nancy poured the water for Donna, handed to her, poured a glass for herself, and then sat behind her desk. Taking a sip first, she eyed the two. "I have to be honest with you two. I don't really know much about you other than what I heard you talk about at lunch this afternoon. I do have something I'd like to ask of you but I'd like to start by just asking about you. What do you do first of all?"

Donna grinned. "Oh, my. How much time do we have. If you let Travis start talking about his job, we could be here all night."

Travis smirked and nudged his wife's knee with his own. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

Donna took a sip of her water and replied, still grinning, "Sometimes. I'll go first and then you can take the rest of the evening. Okay?"

Travis made a show of rolling his eyes, nudged his wife's knee again, and said, "Okay," while pretending to pout. Nancy chuckled at this.

"Well, I'm the senior accountant at KefTech Industries in Tampa. We both work at KefTech, actually. Travis will tell you all about what they do in a moment. I track all the financial activity for the corporation's operations in the United States and report them to corporate headquarters. That's it in a nutshell."

Nancy leaned forward, elbows on her desk and fingers interlocked under her chin. "So KefTech is an international corporation?"

Donna turned to Travis. "You're on."

Travis sat up in his seat. From his expression, there might as well have been a spotlight on him. "Oh, yes, KefTech is one of the leading information technology manufacturing companies in the world. It has operations on every continent except Antarctica, and it's even looking at how it can benefit from expanding to there, as well."

"Here we go," announced Donna, with another grin and sip of water.

Travis smirked and continued. "KefTech is currently a powerhouse in Europe and Asia, but its influence is rapidly expanding in both North and South America. In the next ten years, it will rival the other IT giants and be a household name."

"And what is your part in this company?" asked Nancy.

"I am one of the Assistant International Operations Managers in the corporation. Donna and I both have an interesting arrangement in that the nature of our work does not chain us to an office. Sure we sometimes have to be somewhere for a meeting, but we can pretty much be anywhere. We primarily work from home.

"That's the reason we're able to take this two week cruise, actually. It fits with both of our corporate plans, as well. There's a major corporate meeting in London on the twentieth of May. We can take this cruise, keep up with our work while having a bit of fun along the way, go to our meeting, and then fly back home. It's beautiful."

Nancy smiled. "And deductible."

Travis smirked. "Well, some of it anyway. Not all of it. The rest is vacation expense, playtime."

"Those are impressive positions for people so young."

Travis grinned while Donna blushed. "Yes, I'm thirty-five and Donna is a year younger. The philosophy at KefTech is talent trumps age. If you're better than someone who is senior to you then you get promoted over that person anyway. Age doesn't matter. The president of the company is very firm on encouraging keeping the best people rather than having someone simple ride a desk for forty years."

Nancy's expression turned serious. "That cruise, and more importantly, its destination, is why I asked you to come here tonight. Before I go any further, I have to ask for your confidentiality. Nothing, and I do mean absolutely nothing, we discuss here can go beyond the walls of this office, not even to other members of the church. Can I have your guarantee on that?"

Travis and Donna stared at her for a moment. They then looked at each other. Finally, they nodded. Turning back to face their pastor, Travis said, "Yes, Nancy, we can guarantee it."

"Good." She took another sip of water. "What I'm about to say is complicated and is going to be difficult to believe. There is a lot I can't even tell you. You'll just have to take it on faith, if you can." She took a deep breath.

"I am wondering if you would be willing to take another person with you on your cruise."

There was a long pause.

"What kind of person?" asked Donna.

"A twelve-year old boy. He needs to get to England quickly. There are people there who can take care of him."

"What about his parents?" This came from Travis.

"They are not in the picture anymore. Haven't been for a very long time."

Donna queried, "And he has no guardian, no one who can accompany him?"

"No one."

"What about these people in England?" asked Travis. "Can't they help get him there?"

"No, there is nothing they can do until he is there."

"But," Travis continued, "it's not as easy as just buying another ticket on the boat for him. He'll need a passport, guardianship papers, visas, all manner of documentation, or he'll never clear customs. Hell, sorry, I got excited, anyway, he might not even be able to get onto the cruise ship without the right documents."

"I'm working on that, too, Travis. What I need to know from the two of you is whether you would be willing to let him travel with you."

"Well, I don't know. It's a lot to consider," said Donna.

"Would you like to meet him?" asked Nancy? "He's in the other building right now."

The phone rang. Donna and Travis looked at each other inquiringly as Nancy answered it.

"Saint Matthias Lutheran Church."

A pause.

"Yes. I'm meeting with some people at the moment. They may still be here when you arrive."

Another pause.

"Goodbye."

She hung up.

Nancy leaned back in her chair and looked back at the Needhams.

"So, what do you say I go get our little man and bring him over to meet you?"

xxxxxxxxxx

Donna gasped when Tristan entered the office ten minutes later. Both of the Needhams stood and regarded the tiny boy.

"Oh, you poor little thing," said Donna. "You look like you're straight out of Oliver Twist."

Tristan had prepared for this moment with a little bit of theatrical flair by wearing his dirtiest set of clothing and messing up his hair somewhat. It was nothing too dramatic, he hoped, just enough. He couldn't resist a bit of charm, though.

With a small grin, he looked up at Donna and asked, "John Davies or Mark Lester version, ma'am?"

Tristan was relieved that everyone in the room got the reference, or at least acted like they did, since they all laughed. Donna replied, "Oh, Mark Lester, definitely. He was the cuter of the two anyway. And he had a better voice. Nancy, you didn't tell me he was a little Romeo, too."

Nancy smiled. "Some things are best experienced rather than said."

"So you need to get to England, do you, son?" asked Travis.

"Yes, sir." Tristan looked into Travis's eyes. "I'm Tristan, by the way. It's nice to meet you." He took a step forward and extended his hand.

Travis was clearly surprised. He took the boy's hand and shook. "Wow. Good grip for such a little guy. I'm impressed." He looked at Nancy. "He and Martin would get along, I think." Looking back at Tristan, he asked, "What is in England that's so important to you?"

"There are people, one particular person, there who can help me if I can just get there. The hard part is getting there, sir. I'm all alone."

Beside Tristan, upon hearing "I'm all alone," Donna could be heard to gasp softly again. Travis looked at Tristan with soft but serious eyes. "And you know this person can, no, not just can, but will help you? And there is no one in the U.S. who can?"

"I've looked in the U.S., sir. I've found no one. I know this man can help me. I know he will help me. I know this because he has already helped a boy just like me. I just need to get to him."

"And you know where this man is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

"Herefordshire, sir."

"We're just going to Southampton on our cruise and then to London."

Tristan stood up straight and as tall as he could. "Sir, if you can get me to England, I can get to Herefordshire myself. That won't be a problem."

"Wow!" said Donna. "Travis, we should get him to present at some of our conferences. With that kind of confidence in his voice, he could sell anything."

Travis put a hand to his chin and studied the boy in front of him. He smiled. "I think you're right, Donna. I think you're right." He extended his hand to Tristan. "Kid, you have yourself a ticket on a cruise ship to England. Congratulations."

Tristan grinned toothily and shook. "Thank you, sir."

"And call me Travis."

"Yes, sir. Travis."

"And I'm Donna."

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Donna."

Jack appeared at the office door. Seeing all the smiles, he remarked, "I see I arrived at a good time?"

"Yes," said Nancy. "Tristan just got himself a trip to England."

Jack pumped his fist. "Yes." Stepping into the office, he said, "Now we can move on to the other stuff."

"Who's this?" asked Travis.

"This is Jack," answered Nancy. "He's going to help Tristan with the documentation requirements. We hope."

Jack shook hands all around and produced his notes. Travis asked another question. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I don't know. What do you do?"

"We work at KefTech International."

"KefTech? The IT manufacturing company?" There was a slight upturn of his lips.

"Yes, exactly," responded Travis. "You're well informed. So what do you do, Jack?"

"I'm a historian," Jack said simply, kneeling by Nancy's desk, spreading out his notes. Tristan moved around to get a better look. "And, yes, there may be something you can do. Let me think about it. Nancy has your number, right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

A knock on the office door interrupted them. A new voice said, "Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you, Nancy. I saw your car and, since you're not normally here at this hour, I wondered if you might need any help."

Nancy looked up from her desk. Her face went ashen. "Oh, hi, Martin."

Everyone had frozen in place. All faces turned to take in the newcomer. There in the doorway, his fingers still curled and at ear level from knocking on the open door, stood Martin Dahl.

"Sorry to be such a busybody," continued Martin. "Like I said you're usually not here this late on a Sunday, so I was just wondering if…" It was Martin's turn to freeze as his eyes fell on Tristan. He blinked once, twice. "I'm sorry for staring, young man," he said to Tristan. "It's just that you bear an amazing resemblance to my son when he was your age."

Tristan hesitated to speak for moment, then said, "It's okay, sir. I under…" Upon seeing the recognition of his voice in Martin's eyes, he turned to Jack and whispered, "There's no getting around this now, is there?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he whispered back.

Tristan turned to face his father fully. "Hei, pappa." (Hi, daddy.)

Martin stepped back, stunned. He put a hand to his chest and went pale. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Er det virkelig deg, Tristan?" (Is that really you, Tristan?)

"Ja, det er meg, pappa." (Yes, it's me, daddy.)

"Jeg forstår ikke. Hvordan?" (I don't understand. How?)

"Jeg skal forklare senere. Er momma her?" (I'll explain later. Is mommy here?)

"Ja, hun er i bilen." (Yes, she's in the car.)

"Hun burde se meg og kanskje alle av oss skulle gå til huset og snakke." (She should see me and then maybe all of us should go to the house and talk.)

"Jeg skal hente henne." (I will get her.) Martin took another breath, finally dropped his hand from his chest, and turned to leave.

Travis looked down at Tristan. "For those of us who don't speak, whatever that was, what just happened?"

"Norwegian," said Tristan, "and it's a long story that you're not going to believe right away. I'll explain it when we get to their house." He looked at Jack. "I'll need your help, I think." Jack nodded. "And yours, Nancy." She nodded, as well.

"Let me call my husband and tell him I'll be a bit later than I thought."

Dana Dahl came into the office, thirty years older but, like her husband, completely recognizable. Her hair was still even the same color as Tristan's with only the slightest hint of grey. Like Martin, at first she just stopped and stared at the boy in front of her.

"Hi, momma," Tristan said in English, mostly for the benefit of everyone else in the room.

"Tristan?" she said in disbelief.

"Yes, momma."

"Is it really my little boy?"

"Yes, momma"

"But it's been thirty years and you haven't grown."

"It's a long story, momma."

Dana sniffed and continued to study him. "But we saw the police photographs. We saw what that man did to you. You died. How can you be here now?"

Travis and Donna stared as well now.

"Like I said, it's a long story, momma. If we can go back home, I'll explain everything." He took a tentative step toward her, his eyes misty. "Can I give you a hug?"

She knelt down and reached out to him. Her own eyes were welling up, as well. "Of course, you can, my dear."

Tristan ran into her arms and accepted her crushing embrace. Everyone could see his tiny body quiver with silent sobs. When he stepped back from her, tears were flowing freely from his eyes. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted.

He looked over at Martin. "Daddy?" Martin waved him over to him. Tristan ran to him and Martin picked him up just like he had thirty year before, tears in his own eyes. Tristan wrapped his arms around his father's neck and held him close. Martin lightly rubbed his son's back and squeezed his legs tightly. Tristan, closed eyes still dripping with tears, sighed happily.

Unwillingly, he sat back in his father's arms, looking into the man's eyes, and giggling lightly. "I've missed you, Daddy," he admitted, rubbing the back of his father's head with his fingertips.

"We've missed you, darling boy," said Martin.

Tristan swiveled slightly to face the others in the office. "Sorry, guys. It's time everyone knew what is really going on. Would everyone please get your things and get in your cars. Let's follow," he paused and looked at his dad, "Mr. Dahl to his house and I will explain everything." He looked specifically at the Needhams. "Travis, Donna, after I tell you the truth, if you decide you don't want to go through with our agreement, I will understand."

Tristan patted his father's shoulder. "Dad, just let me grab my backpack and I'll ride with you and Mom, if that's okay."