At first, it doesn't look that different than when Alfred had first left the planet; it looks familiar and in some ways, even better after years on Mars, working hard to transform that planet into a livable version of its self.

Yet, there's something odd here, something a little strange as the lady leads him off of the ship, not really offering much of an explanation, just that he had some work to do here, that there is a break from where he's been working, where finally he can come home.

Home just feels off. And Alfred isn't quite sure what to make of that as he finally walks off the ship, ready to go give Earth another shot, ready to find his wife and settle back down into the kind of life that is familiar to him. The woman that acts as his guide leads him easily enough to a small apartment building, one that looks a little more worn down, but otherwise familiar.

Just, as he steps in, Daina's there, and that's a relief amid the hustle and bustle of the trip to come home. She looks the same, a little worried perhaps that he'd come home maimed in some way, but happy enough. Her eyes are creased from worrying over him, and even though his job was intense, and he'd had to go it alone, it didn't mean that he didn't ache thinking of his wife waiting her all this time for him.

And there's a little girl, blonde haired, about the same dark sunshine shade that Alfred had atop his head, and bright green eyes, a tad dark like the forests in the countryside. And she ducks behind her mother, hiding, and it feels normal. Sort of. A lot like coming home after years apart, a lot like new beginnings.

And Alfred takes it for what it is. His guide all dressed to accent her twenty something body, all dressed in a way that probably did wonders for many men before him, but meant nothing to Alfred just the same. Daina's the woman who stole his heart years ago on Earth, when he was just beginning to study Science, and she'd worked the library that he'd frequent.

They'd gotten married right before he'd graduated, and yet it took years of struggling with infertility, and the vague idea that just as Alfred was heading out of the planet to be one of the few scientists giving humanity a new start, that she'd been feeling a little different. They'd speculated that maybe, just maybe, they might be parents.

But Daina had ushered him off just the same, "Go save the world like you've always dreamed. It's okay; it might just be another false alarm." Just the idea that maybe they weren't about to become parents had hurt like it always did, but it hurt just the same, the intensity had never went away. And there hadn't been a mail system made to travel that far.

It was the year three thousand and forty seven, and life wasn't exactly perfect on Earth. Now it was almost a decade later, and Alfred felt elated to see that he had a little girl, and that his wife was still fine, that nothing had happened, that she hadn't been harmed in any way.

After dinner, as they laid down, a little too unused to each other for anything other than a chance to lay side by side, Alfred wondered just why things felt so off. Dinner felt light on his stomach like it had on Mars. It didn't taste quite the same as he remembered Daina's cooking to taste. And their little girl had never been properly introduced to him.

It was like she was nameless. And Alfred wondered just why that was. He'd never picked out a little girl's name or a little boy's for that matter. He'd long since forgotten about their young talks of just what they'd name their future babies back when they were in their young twenties. Now, older, he wishes he could remember. Though he remembers the first time that Daina cooked for him; it was some Lithuanian dish that he still can't pronounce, but it had tasted amazing.

He remembered their first date, and the ice cream they'd had for dessert, how sweet it had tasted on his tongue, but most of all how weeks later, their first kiss had tasted on his tongue, how that was so much sweeter. He remembers their wedding night and the nervous jitters, and how instead of anything else, he'd pulled her close and cuddled with her the whole night long, just relieved to feel her warmth beside him.

Maybe the years apart had made it hard for her to remember, as Daina was on the other side of the bed, so distant, that he isn't sure what's wrong. Just something's off, and it feels impossible.

When he dreams, Alfred pictures Daina, beautiful and young, just the way he'd first met her, the way she'd laughed at his corny joke behind the library counter, how she'd still smiled even when he'd looked away, embarrassed. She'd been the prettiest woman he'd ever met, and that hadn't changed.

He'd kept her picture with him on Mars, and on the most lonesome nights, he thought of her. Maybe she'd have a baby on her hips, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she still loved him, maybe she'd already moved on. Tonight though, it feels different. Her green eyes are a little too bright, a little too wild, and then she isn't Daina anymore.

She looks like one of those translucent aliens, the ones that can mirror human anatomy so well, that you'd mistake them for human, except for the faint glimmer of silver tone to their eyes, and he's scared. Because it feels as if he hadn't fallen in love with Daina, but with some cheap knock off, lookalike, that didn't care how he felt.

It's too much; Alfred wakes up with a gasp.

Daina's scooted a little closer on the bed, but the only part of her that touches him is her hand, pat, pat, patting his arm as if telling him it's okay. That it was only a dream.

"Sweetie, it's alright, it's alright." It's the least Daina like thing to do. Normally, she'd envelop him in a gentle hug, wrapping him up with as much of her as possible. She never called him 'sweetie' not once, not once in her life. She considered it cliché, and often she just called him, 'Al,' but sometimes a little Lithuanian pet name would roll off her tongue, almost without thinking about it.

Sweetie was Americanized, was the common sitcom endearment, and Alfred suddenly felt sick to his stomach. This couldn't be Daina; maybe, maybe his dream was something subconscious slipping to the surface, a little premonition that he couldn't shake off.

"Alfred?" She tries, and she looks so much like Daina that it pierces straight to his heart, an arrow well aimed.

"You're not Daina." He gasps out. It's hard to breathe all of a sudden, even harder to speak.

"What do you mean?" She looks taken aback, as if he'd stabbed her or something, "It's just a nightmare. I'm still your wife."

"No, no, no!" The third 'no,' is almost a yelp. Daina doesn't sound quite like that; there's something like the hint of an accent missing from her voice. This isn't quite right, not at all.

"Alfred, it's just another conspiracy theory." She reprimands, "What do you think happened?"

Daina's never patronizing; they'd had dreams once, discussed them like anything was really possible. This isn't her. It can't be.

"No, this is real." Alfred breathes out, hating the way his heart aches, "Who's that little girl, the unnamed one, the one that lives here too?"

"What do you mean?" The not Daina looks completely startled, "That's our daughter. I really was pregnant when you left. And everything went well. We're parents now, Alfred." And she really smiles, like an excited new parent, like she was actually pregnant.

"What's her name then?" Alfred hisses out. She has to answer that or this really is a big, fat lie.

"I was waiting until you got back home, but it really took years, and I was hoping we could name her together."

"That's bull!" Alfred snarls, unable to stop himself, "You'd have to sign a birth certificate, and changing a name is a hassle, and you know it!" Alfred can't help the loud roar of his voice, though it's piercing when he hears the little girl cry in the next room over.

"What do you want me to be like?" Not Daina's voice has dropped to a softer tone, "You can have everything you've ever wanted right now."

"No, because it wouldn't be with Daina." And Alfred isn't kidding; he loves Daina more than he knew he could love, before he met her. It's as if she played a tune that only his heart knew, and before he knew it, he was playing right beside her. This woman doesn't strike that tune in him, because she isn't Daina. No wonder it felt off.

"I'd look like her, and with your help, I'll act like her. It won't be like anything's changed." She tries to plead, tries to calm him down, tries to make this all okay.

"When did it happen?" He's defeated, too worn out to ask for more than just this much.

"A few months after you left, maybe a year, we took over." She finally admits, "And your wife, she, she wasn't pregnant."

And that's devastating. They never would have a kid together; Daina, who looked so bright eyed at the thought of motherhood: the calmer joy compared to Alfred's uncontrollable energy at the thought, the pride that would light up his face, when he'd talk with her about the kids that they were going to have.

Daina never got to be a mother, probably didn't live long after they took over, just long enough for them to complete their takeover. Just long enough for Daina to realize with horror that her husband likely wasn't coming home, and if he did, it wouldn't be to the planet as he'd known it.

Just, how could they do this? He knew rationally, they'd needed a new place to reside, a new place to live, themselves, too. But Alfred had always thought that maybe he really was a hero, not an accidental ally to the enemy. Just he'd always thought he'd come home a hero, and Daina would be so excited for him, and maybe there would be a little kid that Daina named something beautiful and maybe Lithuanian.

She had always been the best at names, even at the way that they could roll off her tongue, more beautiful than anything he'd ever known. Just she isn't here to say Alfred jokingly, to let him know that it's all okay, speaking to him in the way that always hit right home to his heart just enough to let him know that they'll get through this, whatever it is.

They'd never went to the doctor to find out which one or if it was both of them that was keeping them from having kids. They didn't want to know. It would hurt too much, and as Alfred had told his wife, it didn't really matter. He'd be by her side whether she was infertile or not or whether he was. Because he loved her more than even the tempting thought of fatherhood. But if it was him, he'd leave to secure her happiness if she wanted it.

Daina had been in tears so much that day, and had hugged him so tightly, with a sealed promise spoken so desperately in his ear. "I couldn't leave you. I love you too much." She was just the same, hopeful that maybe one day they'd have kids, but unwilling to leave and give either of them a better chance at having children. So, they'd never known.

Alfred still felt like he was at fault, that he'd made both of their dreams shatter, and as he sucked in a desperate breath amid raging sobs, he realized that maybe he'd shattered their happiness two fold. And he really wished that he hadn't left to try to be a hero, that he would have or could have died with his wife.