A/N: I'm back! So sorry for the super late update! I've been really busy! And I know that that isn't a really good excuse, but yeah, I'm sorry. Thank you so much for all the support and for sticking with me even though I'm the worst updater ever. But I'm back and will probably update more frequently now! Okay, so, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
This one is about Sam's childhood. I made it because I consider Sam as an honorary Loric, and I hope you do too haha. Anyway, feel free to leave your reviews! They are much appreciated. Enjoy!
"Dada!" Sam shouted, throwing a toy block at his father, who's hunched over the computer, typing maniacally. He could see a picture of a big, circular thing hovering over some sort of city on the computer. He did not know what it was yet, but it was a UFO. Malcolm Goode was researching about aliens to help the Loric Garde.
"Not now, Sammy. Daddy's busy." His dad kept mumbling, but little Sammy wants to play. Now.
Ever since he turned four years old, his father had been more distant with him. Always on his computer, researching. Day and night, he would be scribbling things on paper, drawing maps, profiles, and just about anything he could find online. He would ravage through the newspapers, local and international news. On and on, he would desperately look for news, any news about the Garde. He hadn't been the best Greeter, anyhow.
Sam did not understand.
When he was younger, his dad had plenty of time to play with him. They would go outside and swim in the river, or out in the park, running around in circles, laughing, smiling. But now, all he wanted to do was research.
"You don't love me anymowr!" he shouted as he ran outside of the room, looking for his mom. He would play with her instead!
Malcolm was too busy to hear what his son just said.
Sam's mom was at the kitchen, cooking something that smelled nice and warm. It made his stomach go whoosh.
"Hi Sam, what's wrong honey?" his mom asked, picking him up while she stirred the pot which was full of greens and some chicken.
"Dada … he doesn't wuv me anymowr!" he sobbed. His mom gently wiped his tears away.
"Of course he does. He's just busy."
"But he wasn't busy befowr! Befowr, he would pway with me a lot! Now he doesn't. He's mean." He frowned. His mother kept wiping his tears away. She knew what Malcolm was busy about, and though she did not fully understand it, she respected that it was very important to him.
"He's not, sweetie. But if you want, I'll go talk to him later, so that tomorrow, the three of us can all go out and play. Would you like that?"
"Yes, mommy! Pwease!"
Beth gave her son a sweet kiss on the cheek and finished up the family's lunch.
…
"Malcolm, your son is starting to hate you because of all this nonsense." Beth said, stepping into bed. Malcolm was at the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He spat out the toothpaste.
"Don't call it that. You know it's important. The Garde have already spread throughout the Earth, and the Mogadorians are quick on their trails. My job wasn't just to send them to a safer location. I have to keep in touch with them, and help them win this war." He explained.
"I know that. And I know that all of the stuff you're doing is really important. It's just… look, Sam talked to me today. He told me that he thinks you don't love him anymore. He called you mean. I know that all of this is research you're doing is necessary, but could you at least spare a day for your son? I promised him that we would go out and play tomorrow." She begged.
Malcolm walked over to the bed and took off his thick glasses, setting them down on the bedside drawer.
"Oh alright. I guess I do need to get out for a bit." He agreed.
…
"Ahh! Put me down, dada!" Sam laughed as his dad propelled him into the air and spun him around. They're at the park, having a picnic.
"You asked for this!" Malcolm shouted over his laughter, smiling wider than ever.
Beth looked fondly over the two, smiling dreamily. She wished that everyday would be like this; just the three of them, sharing laughs and smiles all over. She wished that Malcolm wouldn't be so stressed all the time, and that Sam wouldn't feel so lonely. But she knew that tomorrow, everything would go back to normal again. Malcolm would be back at the computer, oblivious to his son's raging emotions. And Sam would continue to sob, and she would continue to try and fix things.
Suddenly, a huge guy in a black coat with some sort of blaster in his hands ran up to Malcolm and shot Sam out of his grasp. Sam wailed and cried, and Beth caught him just in time. The man had pale white skin, and dark eyes. He was bald, with black tattoos over his scalp. His teeth were sharp and rotten as he said something to Malcolm.
People around them started running away, holding onto their babies and rushing to their cars. The policemen have also started radioing for backup. None of them knew what was happening, but Malcolm knew exactly what this guy was.
The Lorics told him about them. They warned him of their cruel abilities.
A Mogadorian. An inter-galactic monster. A criminal alien.
Malcolm was frozen in fear. His wife kept shaking him, but nothing was happening. Not even his son's uproarious screams helped him.
It was like he knew he was about to die, and he wanted to die seeing his family. He wanted them to be the last thing he remembers. Slowly, he faced them, his eyes pleading and poignant. He opened his mouth to speak, but the booming voice coming from a megaphone snapped him out of his trance-like state.
"Put your hands where I can see 'em!" the policeman shouted. Four police cars were already parked in front of them, their lights blinking. The Mogadorian shoots his blaster, destroying one of the cars and sending its passengers flying. Green light spreads out onto the air as the Mogadorian shoots again, while the police shot back.
"Go, go, go!" Malcolm whispered. Beth nodded, tears flooding her eyes. Sam's cries grew louder and louder, but they still tried to escape as secretly as possible.
They ran to their car. Malcolm drives away as fast as he could. When he looked back, he could see that the Mogadorian was still busy with the police, and that he had called backup, too. Two Mogadorians against two dozen policemen.
"What was that, Malcolm?!" Beth shouted, still frantic. Sam was sleeping at the back of their pickup truck, tear stains covering his face.
"Mogadorians. And they're coming. Listen, we have to get to the house and get our stuff. I've prepared for this sort of situation. We're moving to Paradise, Ohio. There we'll be safer."
"What?! Why is he after you?! Is he going to take you away? Please, Malcolm. Please just tell me. Please." She begged, starting to cry again.
"I'll explain everything on the way. I need to you to stay here and watch Sam. I'll run inside and get our bags." His words rushed out of him so quickly, Beth barely had time to understand them. She looked over at Sam, who was sleeping soundly.
If only your childhood could be normal, she thought, looking back and forth between her son and her house. She would be leaving all of this now, leaving her friends and family behind. She needs to trust Malcolm. He'll find a way out of this. He'll get them out of this.
He dumps five suitcases in the back of their car, then swiftly runs back inside. He's sweating and panting, but he looks relieved.
…
They've explained most of what happened to Sam now that they're in their new house. Sam still looks pretty traumatized, but he seems fine now.
"But why does the big scary men chase us, Dada?" he asks his father, wide-eyed and innocent.
"They're bad men, Sammy. They want to take Dada away forever. Would you want that, huh?"
"No!" he shouted, starting to tear up. He couldn't imagine his life without his awesome dad around, even if he didn't have time for him most of the time, he still loved him with all his little heart.
"Then be good, okay? Don't bother Dada if he's working. And in return, Dada will play with you every night, before you sleep." He smiled.
"Deal!" Sam smiled back.
And it became tradition that Malcolm would play with Sam every night. He would read to him, play with him, and sometimes they would sleep together. It made Sam feel safe, and even at a young age, he knew that his dad was trying to protect him from the big scary men. He knew that his father would do anything to save them. And even though Malcolm saw a few more of them lurking around, he kept playing with his son. He kept reassuring him that everything would be okay, that he would always be here for him no matter what, and Sam believed him every time.
