A/N: I almost don't want to post this; because, as the immortal Dr Watson didn't exactly say in The Final Problem: it is with a heavy heart that I take up my keyboard to write these, the last words in which I shall record the singular outpouring of imagination that has constituted this tale. Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty Six
Complete
Crunching his way through a slice of toast, Malcolm watches as Yseult feeds Erin, her expression one of such tenderness over the suckling child that the pair look, to his eyes at least, almost like a religious icon - albeit one in which the Madonna is adorned with messy brown hair and cargo pants.
"Have I told you recently that I love you?" he asks, quietly.
"Not this morning." She smiles back at him as Erin moves away from her breast, and she rests the little girl over her shoulder to burp her, "But I think you mentioned it a few times in bed last night."
He reddens slightly; in the two months since their daughter was born, their relations have been loving, but chaste, as Yseult's body returns to normal. Keen to not to push her, he has avoided anything more overt despite a real wish to do so; until last night, when the kiss she bestowed upon him had been so laden with intent that what followed was largely similar to the first time they'd been so overtaken with passion for one another. Fortunately, tucked up in her crib, Erin had slept through it. They've been lucky so far on that front; she's been an astonishingly good sleeper - though Elisabeth and Sue have already warned them that it isn't likely to last. Thus, they take advantage of the respite while they may.
Sitting down behind her, he makes room for her to lean back against him, and he looks over her shoulder at their daughter, freshly burped and now cuddled close to her mother's chest, "I never thought I'd be this lucky." He admits, "The thought of having children back in that filthy world was beyond contemplation - but now I have a family again."
His voice catches slightly, and Yseult shifts a little so she can look at him. She is not surprised to see his eyes are brimming; reminded of the loss of his father when he was so young himself. Is he afraid that history might repeat itself? That their daughter might endure the same loss?
"I wish they were here to see her." He continues, his voice wavering slightly, "It's only now that I'm a dad myself that it really hits home what I lost when they took my father away. He'll never know he's a granddad…" a tear escapes and makes its way down his cheek - the grief that he refused to allow himself to feel as a child suddenly surging back at him like a rogue wave.
"Shall we do something?" she asks, softly, as he rests his chin on her shoulder, his eyes fixed upon Erin as though she is all that will stop him being washed away by his emotions, "We've both lost family. Maybe we should have something to commemorate them - some plants in the garden, perhaps."
He nods, "I think that would be a good thing. I assumed that the reason I never felt any overt grief over my father's death was because I'd already worked out that he wasn't coming back. When my mother died, we knew it was coming, and I persuaded myself that I'd already done the grieving. I hadn't - I can't've done - not when I was over-working as much as I was. That was always my way of dealing with something painful." Leaning over, he reaches for his personal plex, "I never looked at these pictures - I transferred the files over without ever opening them. I don't think I've even looked at the folders for years."
Yseult shifts again so that she's sitting beside him, Erin carefully cradled in her arms and drowsing peacefully as Malcolm calls up the files, "We managed to get some time in the western highlands that spring," he explains, "It was the one part of the country that was a little less laden with pollutants than anywhere else because of its wet climate, so there were still some days when you could get something akin to a view. Mam made absolutely sure that these were safe - and I've had them ever since, but I wouldn't look at them. I used to tell myself that it was because there wasn't any point in dredging up the past; but it's obvious now that I was too scared to."
The pictures show a family enjoying a holiday. As promised, there are some views, and the sky looks less ghastly than it did elsewhere by the 2110s. She recognises Duncan Wallace at once - his face was once internationally prominent, after all - but the woman is not familiar, as Erin Wallace was known only in Earth Science circles: as a member of the international scientific consortium that had tried, and failed, to find ways to reverse the damage to the climate. They appear in various images, either alone, or together, though the ones in which they are together seem slightly wonky, and she surmises that their son must've taken them. She catches sight of the file data - from the date, it was taken mere months before the hearings began.
Then she pauses over a posed picture, taken in the family lounge by the look of it, of a boy in the smartest Highland dress: a neat little Prince Charlie Jacket, and a kilt in a dark green plaid which must be, presumably, his Clan tartan. The boy in the picture is sandy haired, though she can't see if his eyes are blue; he is not overly tall yet, but the look on his face is one of such open happiness that she almost wonders for a moment who he is. She's looking at a child who is loved and treasured, and who knows it. And then, just a few months later, that joyful, carefree world was shattered into pieces. She doesn't have to turn to look at him to know that he is in tears.
"I miss them, Max." He whispers, painfully, "I wish they were still here."
Yseult says nothing, but rests against him. She knows it's because of Erin that his grief is striking at him. Becoming a parent does funny things to people - she's noticed it about herself, too. She'd assumed it was her hormones, but it can't be hormones with Malcolm, so it must be an emotional response that's been triggered by the bond he's formed with his daughter.
It doesn't take him long to regain his composure, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It needed to come out." She smiles and kisses him on the cheek, "Shall we go and see if there are any plant stalls in the marketplace today?"
The one thing that Malcolm has noticed since Erin was born was just how interested people are in them all now. Once, he would have walked to the market place and would've been lucky to have been granted greetings - though that was probably because he didn't offer any himself. Now, however, everyone wants to talk to them; or, rather, stop them to coo over their baby daughter. The truly bizarre thing about it all is that, not only does he not mind the interruptions, he is actually quite happy to stop.
Yseult is, naturally, in her element. She's always been sociable in a way that he hasn't, but he takes his cues from her, and the degree to which their social circle has widened as a consequence is startling - though he finds it a little hurtful that people seem surprised if he's carrying Erin rather than his wife.
The trip to the marketplace takes a while, but is nothing like as extended in length as their actual stop at their destination. Everyone wants to see their little girl, so they move slowly, talk to many, and generally make very little progress. Given that there has been no 'formal' introduction yet, everyone wants to see the Colony's newest arrival. That'll happen sooner or later - even here babies receive some form of ceremonial welcome akin to a christening - but for the time being, people grab the opportunity to see Erin while she's out in public. Their daughter is, for a short time at least, something of a celebrity.
Finding a stall where some plants are available to buy, Malcolm looks up towards the Command Centre as the stallholder takes a moment to gaze adoringly at Erin and ask all the usual questions about sleep patterns, nappies and God knows what else, to see Commander Taylor on his balcony, looking down at them. He beckons, and, rather than call up, Malcolm points at himself, and receives a nod, then points at Yseult - to receive a rather more equivocal response.
"I'm just going to pop up and have a word with the Commander." He interrupts the mutual cooing session, "I won't be long."
Taylor invites him inside, "It doesn't matter whether Max is with you or not - but this concerns you, so I wanted to talk to you about it first."
"About what?" Malcolm asks, his expression slightly suspicious.
"I'm planning to go back out to the Encampment with Shannon."
"Why?"
"Partly to raid any remaining vehicles for parts, but mostly to make sure the damn place is so gone that it's never coming back." He admits.
"Why are you asking me about it?" Malcolm has moved from 'suspicious' to 'confused'.
"Given what happened to you there, I wanted you to know we were going before we went, rather than find out through the grapevine while we're gone, or after we've got back. It's not fair on you to find out something like that from rumours." He pauses, "And I also wanted to give you the opportunity to come with us - if you feel you need to."
"Me? Why?"
"To watch me blow up the remains of the terminus. Assuming there's anything left of it."
Closure. Taylor is offering him closure. He knew nothing of what happened out there after he lost consciousness - but given what he remembers, the thought of being taken back chills him inside. Should he face that? Or is it better to let sleeping dogs lie? Besides, how long will they be out there - would he want to leave Yseult and Erin on their own while he's outside the Colony?
"I'm not sure." He admits, quietly, "Part of me would welcome the sense of closure - knowing that no one'll ever try to force me to repair that bloody thing again - but, I'm not sure I ever want to go back there after what Hooper and Lucas did to me. Besides, I can't agree to something like this independently. I need to talk it over with Max."
Taylor nods, "I won't go until I know whether you're coming or not. If you don't want to, then don't feel that you have to. This is entirely up to you."
The rhino bounces across the rutted, stony ground. After nearly four hours in the back, Jim is feeling distinctly unwell, and is wishing fervently that Taylor would stop the vehicle for a while or - better still - swap places for a bit.
Their departure was slightly delayed when Malcolm had something of a flake-out just prior to departure. Having agreed to participate in the venture, for the reasons of closure that Taylor is keen that he confront, he nearly refused to get into the rhino, not wishing to be in the passenger seat again; as that was where Lucas had seated him on their journey out to the place where he had nearly died of thirst and heat. His discussions with Yseult had persuaded him that it would be a worthwhile thing to do, and it was she who had convinced him not to back out. She seems to agree with Taylor that he needs to know that there is no way that anyone will ever be able to force him to find a way back to the future - not even from within their own group. The one way of doing that is to ensure that the terminus is so gone that no one can ever even build another one, much less demand that he repair it. Once it's done, it's done. There's no going back. Given that the three men going out to the dry waste of the Badlands have no desire whatsoever to go back to the future, it's not as though they're going to baulk at the last minute.
Even so, as the vehicle has left the forests behind, and Taylor uses the thorn bushes that the Sixers left as markers to guide him back to the dread encampment, Malcolm looks very stressed. It could not be more obvious that he doesn't want to be here - but feels that he must be if he's going to loose that heavy millstone from about his neck.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Malcolm knows that Taylor is worried that he's made the wrong choice in allowing his Science Officer to come along. The fact that he had that horrible scorpion nightmare last night proves that it's still something that he's afraid of at the deepest, subconscious level - and, consequently, regardless of how much he's dreading seeing the encampment where he suffered so much, Malcolm is not regretting the decision. Yes, he's afraid; yes, the memories are snapping at him again - but the chance to gain tangible, visible proof that the terminus is gone forever is an opportunity that he can't afford to pass up. That alone will be worth the horrible knot he feels in his stomach, the sense of almost palpable fear. He is not going to be left there. He is not going to die of thirst. When they arrive, they will stay only long enough to do what they came to do, and then he will go straight home to a beloved wife and child, and never think of this place again.
At first, as he rounds the escarpment from which they overlooked the last night of that camp's life, Taylor is astonished that anything is standing at all, though most has fallen down and probably looks invisible thanks to a layer of dusty sand that has covered everything. The few vehicles are still present - as Guzman could only return the ones that they'd left behind themselves - and, while useless, there are bound to be plenty of parts they can cannibalise to bring back.
For a while, they survey the area in silence, looking about at what little remains; until Malcolm turns and walks slowly through the remnants towards one sole structure, and he stares at it, as though hypnotised.
"What is it?" Jim has come over to find out what he's looking at.
"They called that 'the box'." Malcolm murmurs, "It was a punishment cell. Lucas had me put in it twice."
Jim wanders around it, and touches it, tentatively, before snatching his hand back with a sharp curse. The sun is high, and hot - and so is the aluminum. What on earth must it be like inside there? Finding the hatch, he opens it and crawls half in. He does not stay long.
"Hell - that's a real oven in there." He admits.
"I don't know how long I was in it. I think it was an hour, each time - but it's impossible to tell when you're inside. You lose track of time very quickly - I assume that's the case, because I did. I suppose it was while I was in there that I really began to appreciate just how much Lucas had lost touch with reality. Even after a short time in there - you lose the ability to function. I had to be left to try and rest it off, but never for long enough. He expected me to carry on working with the same degree of dexterity and attention as I'd had before - even though I'd had almost no water." He pauses, "Do you think we've got enough explosives to blow this up, too?"
Jim stares at him, surprised - but then he sees the intent look on Malcolm's face, and realises that this - more than the terminus - is something that Malcolm wants to destroy. Being forced to work on the terminus was miserable enough, but to have been thrown into that horrible confined space in the worst heat of the day was far worse. Maybe that's what he needs more than to blast the terminus to smithereens.
"Come on. Let's go and see what we can find in the vehicles. Then we can start blowing things up."
Between the three of them, the transfer of workable parts from the remaining rhinos into the back of theirs takes little more than an hour. As he works, Taylor notices just how frequently Malcolm is stopping to drink; having been denied water the last time he was obliged to work in this place, perhaps it's not that surprising that he is rather paranoid about it now. Taylor took great care to over-cater in terms of fluids - so he isn't concerned at how much water Malcolm is using up - but it's very telling just how deeply his experience in the Badlands has affected him.
The work done, the Commander looks through the explosives he has brought with him - again he has overdone it slightly, but he's glad of it now, as Jim has warned him of Malcolm's quiet wish to destroy the construction that he fears even more than the terminus. Having no experience of handling explosives, however, Taylor won't let Malcolm set them, but he seems very keen to watch as first the machinery that he was effectively enslaved to repair, and then the box in which he was cruelly punished for being unable to achieve the impossible, are stuffed with sufficient plastic explosive to ensure that they're all going to have to go a considerable distance away to avoid being showered in shrapnel.
Setting remote detonators, Taylor drives the rhino a good mile distant, and demands that everyone stand on the leeward side of the vehicle before handing the remote to Malcolm, "Here. Just lift the red cover, and flip the switch."
His expression unnervingly set, Malcolm takes the proffered article, and prepares to do as bid, but stays very still for a considerable time. This is it. No more terminus - no more people to demand that it be repaired. No one can build another one, not even me. Once it's done it's done. Even if Lucas comes back from the dead, he can't make me come back here. It's over - and I can go home and never think about this wretched place ever again.
He flips the switch.
For a moment, it seems very quiet - and then there is a bizarre, solid thump, followed a few moments later by the sound of the blast, chasing the shockwave of the detonation. The rhino shakes violently, and then everything seems very still, apart from the distant sound of broken metal landing on the ground on the other side of their shelter, and waves of dust wafting past them.
Without a word, Taylor hands over his binoculars, and Malcolm emerges around the side of the rhino to view the remains. The 'box' is nothing now but a single shard of blackened aluminium, while the terminus as been utterly obliterated. It's pretty clear where the majority of the explosive was set - but it's done the job. There's nothing left to repair now, and no sign of that nightmarish crate in which he thought he was going to roast alive. It's gone. All of it.
Perhaps he should cry - or possibly dance about like an idiot to celebrate the destruction of that horrible place. But he doesn't want to. He wants to go home to Yseult, and Erin, and just get on with his life. Lucas is dead, Hooper is dead, even the bloody terminus is dead - but he isn't. He's free of the whole damn lot of them - he's no one's commodity any more. Just a husband, father and scientist. In that order.
Standing behind the rhino, watching and waiting for Malcolm to report back to them, Jim can almost see it - as though a burden has lifted. Turning, his expression easier than it's been in months, Malcolm hands back the binoculars and nods, "It was the right choice, Commander. Thank you for letting me join you. Shall we go?"
It couldn't be clearer that the explosives did their job - in every context. Nodding, pleased, Taylor gets into the rhino, "Come on folks. Time to roll."
Malcolm returns to the passenger side, and Jim, sighing, clambers into the back.
Despite her insistence that Malcolm should go back with Jim and Commander Taylor, Yseult has spent the last day and night in a state of mildly worried tension. Erin woke several times in the night, perhaps a reaction to her mother's state, and she sits in the marketplace, cuddling her daughter as she waits for the rhino to return.
No one looks at her as though she's mad - but she is surprised to see Mira standing over her, looking at her with a rather odd expression. Not envy - well, not exactly - not dislike, nor a desire to cuddle Erin. In her need to quell her pain over Sienna, she has done all she can to suppress her maternal instincts; but it's a bit hard to do that in front of a mother and her new baby.
Having had little to do with the Sixers, and living through the occupation largely unmolested, Yseult doesn't view the statuesque, proud woman standing over her with the hostility that others share. With her entirely different perspective, she sees the woman, not the baggage that she is obliged to carry with her, and she smiles, "Hello Mira."
"Max." She seems unwilling to say any more.
"Do you want to sit down?"
For a moment, Mira dithers, then sits in one swift movement that suggests a snap decision.
"This must be very hard for you." Yseult says, after a few minutes' rather uncomfortable silence.
Mira shrugs, but responds with a question, "Are you waiting for Malcolm?"
"Guilty as charged." She admits, with a mild smile, "The last time he went outside the gates, he went out with a man who wanted him dead, and I was afraid he'd never come back." She pauses, "Have I thanked you for helping to save him? I don't know if I have - and if I haven't, then I'm sorry."
Mira regards her, "You don't hate me, do you?"
"Why should I? You didn't betray me - and you didn't harm me; besides, you helped to bring home one of the two most precious people in my life. I could follow the herd mentality like a sheep, but it seems pointless now. We weren't the only ones who lost out when things went the way that they did, are we?" she adds, pointedly.
Rather than answer her, Mira instead extends her finger, and Erin grasps at it, clinging with the astonishingly tight grip that still startles both of her parents now and again. She smiles at the fascinated baby, and suddenly her eyes are filling with tears. She's tried so hard not to let this happen - so damned hard…
Anyone who stops in astonishment at the sight of Mira as she weeps is met with a vicious, hard stare from Yseult, and quickly find something else to be getting on with. No one thought her capable of expressing such powerful emotions; but, strong though she is, she is still human, and no one can be strong all the time. Her daughter is beyond her reach, and cannot be saved from the future world, and she can't go back for her. Now that she has found a place in the Colony, and the grasp of her employers has been broken, the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world has also been denied her, and she has been left with nothing but grief.
Gradually, she regains her composure, though she seems not to have re-erected that veneer of hardness that was present before she sat down. Yseult is, however, likely to be the only person for the time being who seems willing to let bygones truly be bygones - but it is, at least, a start. Her expression softer than it's been for a long, long time, she stands again, "Thank you."
"You helped me - it would be churlish of me not to help you in return. No one deserves to carry grief alone - if you ever need to talk, about anything, you know where I am."
Mira nods, then looks up, "I think your husband's coming back."
Yseult turns to see the rhino approaching at a much more sedate pace than it did last time Taylor returned from the Badlands, and she rises, her eyes alight; though, when she turns, Mira's gone.
As they dine that evening, she doesn't need to ask Malcolm how he's feeling - it's very clear that he's laid some of his cruellest ghosts, and is much, much happier, "Taylor let me do the honours with the detonator." He explains, "I blew up that punishment cell - I think that was probably the most satisfying thing I've done this year. Even destroying the terminus took second place."
"You look better." Yseult agrees, "No matter how happy you were, there was always that slight shadow. It's only really noticeable now because it's gone."
He nods, "I was only really interested in destroying the terminus while we were on the way out there - but that bloody box was still there, which it would be given that it wouldn't have rusted even if there'd been any rain, and the moment I saw it, I knew that was what I really wanted to blast out of existence. Trying to repair that bloody terminus was bad - but lying in that box was ghastly as hell, and knowing that it was there made everything worse. Nothing says more strongly that Lucas had gone out of his mind than the fact that he was willing to incapacitate me to the point of dying because I couldn't do what he was demanding of me - and still expected me to carry on afterwards. The one thing you don't do with the repair man is render him unable to repair anything."
She reaches out to take his hand, "But that chapter's closed now. We can start living our lives."
He nods, "That we can." He looks up at the sound of their daughter's wail, "I think Erin might want her dinner. Or changing. I have no idea which."
"Nor do I - but as I'm the only one who can help with the first option, I'll see what it is. You can wash up."
"Thanks." He smiles, "Does that mean I get out of an impending nappy change?"
"That depends on what I find."
Commander Taylor sits alongside Alicia's grave in the early light of morning. Although Commemoration is still another month away, he tends to follow the 'high days and holidays' rule when visiting with his clumsily arranged bunch of flowers, and given that they are formally celebrating Erin's arrival into the community this afternoon, he feels that it counts.
"It's been a hell of a few years, Wash." He says, looking about at the misty surrounds of Memorial Field, "I can't really believe that it's over - the Phoenix Group can't reach us any more, their soldiers are dead, Lucas is gone. Given that half the greedy bastards that wanted to destroy this world ended up as Carno fodder, chances are that no one's going to try to come back. How can they, it'll cost a damn fortune to rebuild Hope Plaza, and take years to re-establish a portal - even if they can get anyone to agree to let them do it. This is the first time in four years that I've really felt that we're not in any danger from the future."
He rearranges the bouquet slightly so that it's a little more central on the plot, "It's hard to believe how things have changed around here. Maddy Shannon all grown up, married and with a daughter. Even Malcolm found a wife - you should see his little girl, Wash - blue eyes just like his, though Max's are brown, so they may go that way before she grows up. Now that we've destroyed what's left of that damned Phoenix camp, it's like a whole weight's lifted off his shoulders as much as mine. You'd be amazed how much he doesn't annoy people any more. Well, doesn't annoy people as much." He adds, as a slight joke.
He sits for a while, lost in memories. In some ways, while he's relieved that Lucas's crazy plan to try and reconnect a fracture to the portal that opened for the eleventh Pilgrimage failed, and wouldn't have worked anyway; if it had, then he might not be having this conversation with a headstone. Having overseen three marriages in the last year, there's one that he would've wanted more than anything - his own. But the woman he would have wanted to marry lies in the grave beside him, and instead he grieves for the opportunity that was taken away. The forest trees wave in the breeze, their leaves set to a whispering that, he fancies, is her voice.
"I loved you, Alicia." He says, simply, abandoning his usual nickname for the woman that he loves - even if she is no longer present, "If I could've saved you, I would've done - your courage and dignity deserved better. I'm proud of the way you faced him down; but if I could've come to get you, then you and I…" he breaks off. What point is there? Regrets won't bring her back, nor will they put a ring on her finger. Lucas took her away from him, and now Lucas has paid for it - his grave far across at the other end of the field, unregarded, unvisited.
He sighs; there is a point. She doesn't deserve to be forgotten any more than she deserved to die - so he won't. He looks at the headstone, "I love you, Alicia." He changes the tense; she may be gone, but that at least, remains immutable, "I'll never forget you."
There's no reply. There never is.
Rising to his feet, he rests his hand briefly on the headstone, then turns and heads back to the Compound. He has a welcoming party to prepare for.
While Terra Nova as a community does not eschew religion entirely, it isn't really a place founded on religious principles, so the presence of a Chaplain is important to some, but not others. He has officiated at all three of the recent weddings, a change from the more usual business of funerals, but today he is a guest rather than officiating. The ceremony is something that Yseult's team have pushed for - partly because she is so liked by them all, but also because the only other ceremony due in the next month or so is commemoration, and they don't want Erin's welcome into the community to be associated with deaths.
Ninette and Jacinta have worked their magic with fabric again, with the assistance of the hobbyist lace maker. While not a christening gown per se, the lovely white dress that Erin wears is a pretty affair of fine cotton and lace, and she looks very much as though she should be being held over a font. Yseult, meanwhile, has opted to wear her green cotton dress again, while Malcolm has dug out the suit he wore for the wedding, as he has nothing else even remotely formal.
The sun is low, as they've opted to hold the ceremony in the evening, so that everyone who wants to can attend, but also so that it can move straight into a party once matters are concluded. As the ceremony consists largely of Taylor giving Erin a quick welcome, the party will start rather sooner than it might for an actual christening, but it's the thought, after all, that counts.
In Taylor's mind, tonight is, more than anything else, an opportunity to leave the last few years as thoroughly behind as possible. The spectre of his son has lingered over the Colony for long enough. The young man is dead now, and all his crazy dreams have died with him. He knows that he will always carry the guilt over whether or not he could've got through to Lucas - but the cruelty of his son's attempts at revenge have not impacted solely upon him. Malcolm was brutally caught in the crossfire, and it's taken a year or more for those wounds to heal: tonight is for him, and for his adored wife and daughter - and that was the real reason why he acquiesced so quickly to the Sustainable team's requests to have something more formal to welcome Erin into the community.
As evening draws in, he asks Malcolm and Yseult to join him at the steps up to the Command Centre, as there is no stage for them to use. Despite being considered the Colony's honorary granddad, he is nonetheless nervous about taking Erin, though she seems utterly unconcerned at being handled by a stranger. Not that he's exactly a stranger, of course.
"Back in 2144," He begins, "I met my new Chief Science Officer, and, despite knowing how good he was at his job, he annoyed the hell out of me. He was pedantic, complained all the time and was such a smartass that I lost count of the number of times I wanted to kick that smart ass of his back down these very steps."
People laugh, while Malcolm has the grace to go a little red - he knows that Taylor is hardly making it up, after all.
"Then, in 2146, I welcomed a team of low-tech experts, and they got to work at the far end of the Colony, and I pretty much forgot all about them for the next three years, and I was wondering why I'd decided to get them in given that we'd more or less ironed out our supply problems."
He exchanges a glance with Yseult, who smiles at him.
"In 2149, I found out just how wrong I was about my Chief Science Officer. He faced down people thinking he was a coward, helped my team, and put himself at risk to fight back against Weaver on the inside."
"Hear hear!" Jim calls across. If nothing else, that experience taught him much the same.
"Fast forward to 2151, and I finally remember that bunch of people I brought in on the seventh, who've been busy while I've not been thinking about them. Little did I know that I was introducing the parents of this little one. It took 'em long enough to get together, and they've both been through the mill since then - more than anyone should have to be. But that's over and done - and, like all of us, they're looking to the future. Our future." He looks up at everyone who has gathered - a remarkably large number of people - and smiles, "I give you Erin Leyna Wallace."
Everyone present erupts into cheers and applause. For her part, Erin looks up at Taylor briefly, and dozes off to sleep.
"You look tired." Elisabeth comments, as Yseult sips at some juice and stifles a yawn.
"That's because you were right." She smiles back, "It didn't last."
"How often does she wake?"
"Not enormously frequently, but enough for me to be a bit of a zombie during the day these days. I don't know how Malcolm manages it - he wakes up as well."
Elisabeth smiles, "I have a spy in the camp." She reminds Yseult, "Believe me, it knocks him out just as much - the difference is that he keeps on falling asleep at his desk. Maddy's caught him at least twice."
They look across at Malcolm, who is talking to Jim while Erin snoozes comfortably in his arms, "He's really taken to it, hasn't he?" Elisabeth says.
"He has." Yseult laughs, "Even changing her - though he tends to refer to that as 'engaging in chemical warfare'."
"I've never heard it described quite like that before - but I get what he means." Elisabeth laughs, as they wander over to join their respective husbands.
The folk band is playing again, and people are dancing; but Malcolm and Yseult have withdrawn to the side of the marketplace where they sit together comfortably. He still has Erin, and he looks down at her frequently, as though he still can't quite believe that she's real.
"I never believed this would happen." He says, yet again. He's lost count of the number of times he's expressed his astonishment at finally procreating, "But I'm looking at it. You, and Erin. I still can't believe how lucky I am."
"Nor can I." She snuggles against him, her hand stroking softly over Erin's head, "I thought my life was over when Niall died - but it was just on hold until you came along."
He leans back against the wall, looking out across the marketplace. Jim and Elisabeth are attempting to waltz, Maddy and Mark are sitting close together with Mark gently bouncing Elisabeth Rose up and down on his knee, while Josh and Skye are so close together that everyone's wondering when he's going to do the honours and present her with a ring. Taylor is back up on his balcony, watching over proceedings with that remarkably paternal air, and the atmosphere is one of such celebratory contentment that he feels almost as though nothing bad could ever happen again.
There's nothing left from the future to harm their world now - no one understands as much as he does that rebuilding Hope Plaza is a pipe dream that will almost certainly never come to fruition. The only people who would be able to fund such work wouldn't want to establish the place as a refuge, being interested solely in financial gain; but given the disaster that befell their first attempt, particularly after all they'd put into it, who would want to risk it again? Being slaughtered by a dinosaur is not the kind of return on investment that corporate fat cats would be looking for, after all. No. He can't see it happening. Besides, where the hell are they going to find another Lucas Taylor? They'll need one if they're going to succeed in such an endeavour. Who would be able to replicate his work now that he's dead? Regardless of his crazed obsessions, he was a mathematical genius, the like of which is not likely to come again for years, if ever. There was, after all, only one Einstein, one Hawking…
No. It's over. They're safe. He's safe. No one will come to take him away from his family. His days of being a valuable commodity are done, and he can look forward to a future as a husband and father in a clean world full of opportunity. Cradling Erin in one arm, he sets the other about Yseult's shoulders, and kisses her on the top of her head. He is free, he is secure; and he is home. Smiling with quiet contentment, he watches as the colonists dance.
From his vantage point, Taylor maintains his watch upon the community over which he presides. For the first time, he feels a sense of freedom from the threats that crowded about him from the moment he discovered the intentions for his new world, and the precipitate actions he took to prevent it. The second chance he had hoped for now a true possibility. Whatever it was about the Badlands that the Phoenix Battalion were so keen to find, not to mention its strange, wooden delivery - that's a problem for another day. There was no point in doing so while their enemies were out there - but now they are not; and, should he wish to do so, he can go and see what it might be for himself.
For the first time in a few weeks, he allows himself to think of his son. Did he know what it was? Would he have been able to do something beneficial had he not been so obsessed with revenge? It's impossible to know - and certainly, for Taylor, impossible to guess; the scientific concepts involved go way, way over his head. Maybe, if he ever feels up to going back there, Malcolm might be able to figure it out. If he doesn't - would it even matter? What possibilities might it offer, or what dangers might it impose? What if it were possible to change what's past...
Don't think that...what's done is done.
"Would I be that crazy, Wash?" he addresses the empty air, "risk throwing everything to hell just for my own personal benefit?" Lucas tried that - and look where it got him, and everyone else, for that matter. No - if nothing else, he is one to learn from mistakes; his own, or others', "Even if I tried - and succeeded, something tells me it'd be godawful, and you'd never forgive me for it."
There's no reply; but behind him, the leaves whisper softly in a passing breeze - so maybe, just this once, there is.
And so, we are done...thanks for reading, and I'm glad so many people have enjoyed this story; thank you for your lovely reviews and messages.
For those who'd like to see, you can view the various tartans associated with Clan Wallace at the Clan Wallace Society Website (just select 'Tartans' from the menu at the top of the screen). Anyone who reads the blurb alongside the 'Wallace Blue' example and doesn't snort with amusement has more laughter control than I do...