Chapter 19
"Get some rest."
"No, let me try a little more."
"Jennifer, you said it yourself, this is dangerous, get some rest!" he insisted.
Jen looked into his blue eyes, so full of concern and so tired. She caressed his cheek tenderly. She had been looking for Wes with her mind, trying to find a trace of him, a clue, anything. So far, she was having little success. "Give me five more minutes," she pleaded. He shook his head.
"No."
"Alex..."
"Listen, you've had enough for today!" he chided, holding both of her shoulders.
"At this rate I'll never find him," she complained.
"That's why all three robots are looking for him, and so are the other Rangers," he said sweetly, but also forcefully. "You don't have to find him yourself."
"They've been looking for him for a month now, Alex. His wife is desperate, not only personally, but also because of the business, it's really hard to keep this out of the press, or so she tells me."
"I won't let you sacrifice yourself for him!" he almost yelled at her, his face dead serious and his eyes throwing fire.
She was left open-mouthed for a few seconds. "What was that?" she asked in disbelief.
"You said this was dangerous," he explained, taking deep breaths as if he was trying to calm himself down. "And I won't let you sacrifice yourself, or go through such danger for him."
"Why do you keep adding the words 'for him' at the end of your sentences?" she asked, even if she already knew the answers. He had always been a little flammable when it came to Wes, and she was amazed he had managed to keep himself cool for so long. He was jealous, and it hurt Jen deeply, because jealousy was a synonym for mistrust.
"You know why," he said hotly. "I don't want you searching for him anymore tonight."
"And since when do I have to do what you want?" she asked him, her temper getting the best of her. She was so hurt.
"Fine!" he yelled and got up from the chair. "Knock yourself out!" He walked towards the door. "And I meant that literally!" he added from the hallway.
Jen was left there, sitting on the bed she had been sharing with Alex, a bed that had grown cold and mistrusting after Wes had been removed from the house, which, from where she was standing, didn't make any sense.
Why was Alex so jealous? Why did he keep hurting her, doubting her? Tears began to run down her cheeks as she stared at the place where Alex had been standing. I love you, she told him telepathically.
Here's a dime, was the answer she got. Call someone who cares.
Jen buried her face in her pillow and cried hard. She wanted to know why her marriage was suddenly falling apart, when she and Alex had been so happy a month ago. She was hurting so much she wanted to wail, but she held back, she didn't want anybody entering the room and asking her questions in that moment.
*******************************
The next morning, Jessica stood on the terrace, her gaze lost in the gardens. The fresh air was caressing her face and the birds were singing, but she didn't feel like smiling, or like thanking the heavens for such beauty. She was sad and worried.
And to add insult to injury, she was holding in her hands something that could trash all her plans. She loved Wesley, with all her being. But she couldn't live a lie, and if he didn't love her staying married to him would be lying to herself, and that was impossible, because she knew the truth and she always would.
She heard footsteps behind her and hid the small plastic piece she was holding. Alex stood next to her, leaning on the handrail, his gaze lost into the gardens as well. Neither said much for a few seconds. Then he spoke, softly, as if he didn't want her to hear him.
"Are you divorcing him?"
Jessica looked at him and took a deep breath. He looked more like Wes than Jen cared to admit. He and Wes were more alike than she and Jen. At least, Jen had brown eyes, whilst hers were green.
"Maybe," she answered in the same shaky voice. She was scared of saying the words aloud. As if speaking about it made it more real. "Why do you ask?" she asked before she knew what she was doing.
"I always thought Jen had gotten over him. I was so sure of it, but now, I see her so desperate to save him, so worried, so scared. I don't think she was ever like that for me," he said.
"Is she proving herself guilty?" Jessica asked, her index finger running up and down the plastic piece she was holding hidden from Alex's gaze.
"I think I'm just trying to separate myself from her, in case she proves herself guilty. I love her so much, and I was so attached to her, to her memory, to the love we had, to our plans, to so many things about her when she broke up with me for Wes years ago. I suffered a lot, I guess I'm subconsciously bracing for impact. I'm half waiting--"
"For the moment she tells you she wants to be with him and not you," Jessica completed, her gaze lost in the garden again. "I know how it feels," she admitted. "It's what I'm doing too."
"You said you may divorce Wes," he began. Jessica swallowed hard. "What does it depend on, if I may ask?"
"This," she said, showing him the piece of plastic she had been holding apprehensively for the past minutes. His eyes didn't flash with recognition, so she explained. "It's a pregnancy test."
"You think you might be.?" he began.
She glanced at her watch and then looked at the small square the plastic piece held. "It has two stripes," she said, her voice resigned. "I guess I won't be divorcing him. I'm going to have to live a lie." Her face was also stricken by tears. Alex put a hand on her shoulder.
"No matter the situation, a baby is always something to be happy about."
"I can't be a mother, Alex," she choked out, as if that fear had been stuck in her throat for days. "I don't know how."
"Nobody does," he assured her. She looked at him, and he was smiling. "I'm sure you'll be a great mother."
"What about you and Jen? Have you tried?"
"For a long time. She got pregnant twice, but we lost both of them in early miscarriages," he said sadly.
"I didn't meant to bring that up."
"It's okay. From the way this is going, I guess it was for the best."
"Alex," Jessica began, he looked at her, meeting her green eyes. "I didn't mean to fire all your doubts up. I really didn't mean to break you and your wife apart." She sounded mortified, so he held her hand reassuringly.
"It's not your fault," he whispered.
Then, the most unbelievable thing happened, those two cold rocks of human beings hugged tightly, as if grasping each other into the deepest, strongest friendship two human beings could have. They understood each other like nobody else did, and that bonded them, in a stronger way than anything else could. Still bound in each other arms, they both broke into torrential tears they had wanted to cry for a long, long time.
**************************************
"Breakfast, cherub," said a childish voice. Wes opened his eyes, and saw Fly-tag, the female mutant that looked like a butterfly, the one that had attacked him and the others in the hospital room. She was carrying a picnic basket in her right hand and handed it over.
"Thanks, Fly," he said drowsily.
He sat up and looked into the basket. Fly-tag sat in front of him, gazing dreamily at him. He smiled timidly at her. He had thought, in the beginning, that only The Mistress was going to call him cherub. He was surprised, not unpleasantly but not pleasantly either, that all the mutants called him 'cherub' as well. The female ones seemed thrilled to call him 'cherub' and they pronounced it in a dreamy voice, something like 'chehrub'.
The male ones, and Wes WAS happy about this, pronounced it in a mocking tone. Fly-tag seemed to lead the Wesley Collins mutant fan club, and was always happy to bring him food, clothes, books or anything he needed. She also provided good company, although that thought was unfair, most of them did.
Wes was amazed at the month he had spent captive in the clock tower. The Mistress had been faithful to her word, and had treated him nicely enough, and all of her mutants were obedient to her orders not to hurt him. But, as if that wasn't amazing enough, Wes had seen something he knew nobody would believe. The Mistress had tried to kill his wife, and her plan was to wipe one of his best friends from the history of mankind, but he had to admit she was very good to her mutants, as far as he could see, he felt more like he was in a boarding school with some really ugly classmates than the captive of a mad scientist who wanted to murder his friends in order to control the universe. Then again, Wes reminded himself, these were 'the children', as she often called them.
He took a bite of the cheese sandwich Fly-tag had brought; he felt like a boy-band member, trying to eat a sandwich while his weird looking, winged biggest fan was staring at him breathlessly. He felt like he was about to start singing 'I don't care who you are, where you're from, what you did, as long as you love me.' right after he was done with his sandwich.
He ate silently, listening to her talk about the news, which she watched every morning and was always happy to share with him. "And The Mistress has gone insane because you were on the news this morning." she said. Wes's head jerked up and he stared at her, surprised, his mind coming back rapidly from the imaginary autograph signing he was doing to a long line of mutant girls.
"What was that?" he snapped at her. Fly-tag seemed hurt by his tone. After all, she's a butterfly, Wes thought.
"You were on the news this morning," she repeated, her voice slightly bitter. "It said that you had been kidnapped, and not on a trip, like your wife had told the media, but also that the information was unconfirmed."
Wes put his sandwich down. He had lost his appetite. Now that everybody knew he had been kidnapped, The Mistress was bound to do something harsher than the things she had done so far. He felt cold fear freezing his stomach.
He was barely done thinking that, when the door opened and The Mistress walked in. Fly-tag and the other two mutants who were in the room rose to their feet. Wes was so dumbstruck by what Fly-tag had just told him, he forgot to stand up. Fly-tag kicked him in the ribs, and he immediately rose.
"Leave me alone with the cherub," The Mistress demanded. They all did as they were told. "Well, reporters are insistent in this time period, aren't they?" she said, standing in front of Wes.
"Some of them are, yes," he said. "What are you going to do now, Mom?" he had also agreed and kept his word on calling her 'mom'. It didn't harm anyone from where he was standing.
"You don't know much about your wife's life before you," she said in a disappointed voice. Wes was getting more and more nervous. Jen had said the woman was insane and evil and he suddenly understood why they thought she had tried to kill Jessica. So far, he had been unable to truly believe it, even if he kept reminding himself about it.
"Well, I only know what she's told me," he said.
"You mentioned she had a sister, older or younger?" she asked.
"I don't know," Wes said, like most of the times The Mistress interrogated him; he was just playing the 'I-don't-know' game.
"Do you know if they look alike? Jessica and her?" she asked.
"I don't know. I've never seen her; I've only known Jessica for about two years."
"Sit down, cherub," she ordered.
"Yes, Mom," he said, bowing his head as he sat, as he had been taught to do by the other mutants.
The Mistress pulled a small syringe from her pocket. It was so small it looked like one of those preset vaccinations. She removed the cap, and Wes couldn't take his eyes of the tiny needle.
"Side of your head, please," she asked.
"What's that?" he asked her, deciding not to offer her the side of his head.
"It's a new recipe, I've tried it with other people before, cherub, there's nothing to worry about."
"What does it do?"
"You are asking to many questions, cherub," the woman warned.
"I just want to know what you are injecting in my body, Mom" he justified himself.
The Mistress put a hand in her pocket and pressed a little button that popped out of the device hidden in it. Wes's gaze immediately lost focus.
"Side of your head, cherub, please," she asked again. Wes turned his head immediately. She injected the solution behind his ear and waited for about half a minute. Then she pressed the button on her device again, and Wes looked at her, as if nothing had happened.
"Is your wife's sister older or younger than she is?" she asked again.
"Older," he said before he could stop himself.
"Does she look like Jessica?"
"They are twins," Wes's eyes were open in disbelief. Had she injected the substance in his body? He looked for the syringe and found it empty. She had.
"Where does she live?"
"On a farm, in the north area of the city," Wes admitted. A truth serum! She had just injected him with a futuristic version of a truth serum!
"Thanks, cherub," she said, and kissed him on the forehead again.
Wes sat there feeling miserable. Unwillingly he had just condemned an innocent woman and her children to death.
To be continued.
"Get some rest."
"No, let me try a little more."
"Jennifer, you said it yourself, this is dangerous, get some rest!" he insisted.
Jen looked into his blue eyes, so full of concern and so tired. She caressed his cheek tenderly. She had been looking for Wes with her mind, trying to find a trace of him, a clue, anything. So far, she was having little success. "Give me five more minutes," she pleaded. He shook his head.
"No."
"Alex..."
"Listen, you've had enough for today!" he chided, holding both of her shoulders.
"At this rate I'll never find him," she complained.
"That's why all three robots are looking for him, and so are the other Rangers," he said sweetly, but also forcefully. "You don't have to find him yourself."
"They've been looking for him for a month now, Alex. His wife is desperate, not only personally, but also because of the business, it's really hard to keep this out of the press, or so she tells me."
"I won't let you sacrifice yourself for him!" he almost yelled at her, his face dead serious and his eyes throwing fire.
She was left open-mouthed for a few seconds. "What was that?" she asked in disbelief.
"You said this was dangerous," he explained, taking deep breaths as if he was trying to calm himself down. "And I won't let you sacrifice yourself, or go through such danger for him."
"Why do you keep adding the words 'for him' at the end of your sentences?" she asked, even if she already knew the answers. He had always been a little flammable when it came to Wes, and she was amazed he had managed to keep himself cool for so long. He was jealous, and it hurt Jen deeply, because jealousy was a synonym for mistrust.
"You know why," he said hotly. "I don't want you searching for him anymore tonight."
"And since when do I have to do what you want?" she asked him, her temper getting the best of her. She was so hurt.
"Fine!" he yelled and got up from the chair. "Knock yourself out!" He walked towards the door. "And I meant that literally!" he added from the hallway.
Jen was left there, sitting on the bed she had been sharing with Alex, a bed that had grown cold and mistrusting after Wes had been removed from the house, which, from where she was standing, didn't make any sense.
Why was Alex so jealous? Why did he keep hurting her, doubting her? Tears began to run down her cheeks as she stared at the place where Alex had been standing. I love you, she told him telepathically.
Here's a dime, was the answer she got. Call someone who cares.
Jen buried her face in her pillow and cried hard. She wanted to know why her marriage was suddenly falling apart, when she and Alex had been so happy a month ago. She was hurting so much she wanted to wail, but she held back, she didn't want anybody entering the room and asking her questions in that moment.
*******************************
The next morning, Jessica stood on the terrace, her gaze lost in the gardens. The fresh air was caressing her face and the birds were singing, but she didn't feel like smiling, or like thanking the heavens for such beauty. She was sad and worried.
And to add insult to injury, she was holding in her hands something that could trash all her plans. She loved Wesley, with all her being. But she couldn't live a lie, and if he didn't love her staying married to him would be lying to herself, and that was impossible, because she knew the truth and she always would.
She heard footsteps behind her and hid the small plastic piece she was holding. Alex stood next to her, leaning on the handrail, his gaze lost into the gardens as well. Neither said much for a few seconds. Then he spoke, softly, as if he didn't want her to hear him.
"Are you divorcing him?"
Jessica looked at him and took a deep breath. He looked more like Wes than Jen cared to admit. He and Wes were more alike than she and Jen. At least, Jen had brown eyes, whilst hers were green.
"Maybe," she answered in the same shaky voice. She was scared of saying the words aloud. As if speaking about it made it more real. "Why do you ask?" she asked before she knew what she was doing.
"I always thought Jen had gotten over him. I was so sure of it, but now, I see her so desperate to save him, so worried, so scared. I don't think she was ever like that for me," he said.
"Is she proving herself guilty?" Jessica asked, her index finger running up and down the plastic piece she was holding hidden from Alex's gaze.
"I think I'm just trying to separate myself from her, in case she proves herself guilty. I love her so much, and I was so attached to her, to her memory, to the love we had, to our plans, to so many things about her when she broke up with me for Wes years ago. I suffered a lot, I guess I'm subconsciously bracing for impact. I'm half waiting--"
"For the moment she tells you she wants to be with him and not you," Jessica completed, her gaze lost in the garden again. "I know how it feels," she admitted. "It's what I'm doing too."
"You said you may divorce Wes," he began. Jessica swallowed hard. "What does it depend on, if I may ask?"
"This," she said, showing him the piece of plastic she had been holding apprehensively for the past minutes. His eyes didn't flash with recognition, so she explained. "It's a pregnancy test."
"You think you might be.?" he began.
She glanced at her watch and then looked at the small square the plastic piece held. "It has two stripes," she said, her voice resigned. "I guess I won't be divorcing him. I'm going to have to live a lie." Her face was also stricken by tears. Alex put a hand on her shoulder.
"No matter the situation, a baby is always something to be happy about."
"I can't be a mother, Alex," she choked out, as if that fear had been stuck in her throat for days. "I don't know how."
"Nobody does," he assured her. She looked at him, and he was smiling. "I'm sure you'll be a great mother."
"What about you and Jen? Have you tried?"
"For a long time. She got pregnant twice, but we lost both of them in early miscarriages," he said sadly.
"I didn't meant to bring that up."
"It's okay. From the way this is going, I guess it was for the best."
"Alex," Jessica began, he looked at her, meeting her green eyes. "I didn't mean to fire all your doubts up. I really didn't mean to break you and your wife apart." She sounded mortified, so he held her hand reassuringly.
"It's not your fault," he whispered.
Then, the most unbelievable thing happened, those two cold rocks of human beings hugged tightly, as if grasping each other into the deepest, strongest friendship two human beings could have. They understood each other like nobody else did, and that bonded them, in a stronger way than anything else could. Still bound in each other arms, they both broke into torrential tears they had wanted to cry for a long, long time.
**************************************
"Breakfast, cherub," said a childish voice. Wes opened his eyes, and saw Fly-tag, the female mutant that looked like a butterfly, the one that had attacked him and the others in the hospital room. She was carrying a picnic basket in her right hand and handed it over.
"Thanks, Fly," he said drowsily.
He sat up and looked into the basket. Fly-tag sat in front of him, gazing dreamily at him. He smiled timidly at her. He had thought, in the beginning, that only The Mistress was going to call him cherub. He was surprised, not unpleasantly but not pleasantly either, that all the mutants called him 'cherub' as well. The female ones seemed thrilled to call him 'cherub' and they pronounced it in a dreamy voice, something like 'chehrub'.
The male ones, and Wes WAS happy about this, pronounced it in a mocking tone. Fly-tag seemed to lead the Wesley Collins mutant fan club, and was always happy to bring him food, clothes, books or anything he needed. She also provided good company, although that thought was unfair, most of them did.
Wes was amazed at the month he had spent captive in the clock tower. The Mistress had been faithful to her word, and had treated him nicely enough, and all of her mutants were obedient to her orders not to hurt him. But, as if that wasn't amazing enough, Wes had seen something he knew nobody would believe. The Mistress had tried to kill his wife, and her plan was to wipe one of his best friends from the history of mankind, but he had to admit she was very good to her mutants, as far as he could see, he felt more like he was in a boarding school with some really ugly classmates than the captive of a mad scientist who wanted to murder his friends in order to control the universe. Then again, Wes reminded himself, these were 'the children', as she often called them.
He took a bite of the cheese sandwich Fly-tag had brought; he felt like a boy-band member, trying to eat a sandwich while his weird looking, winged biggest fan was staring at him breathlessly. He felt like he was about to start singing 'I don't care who you are, where you're from, what you did, as long as you love me.' right after he was done with his sandwich.
He ate silently, listening to her talk about the news, which she watched every morning and was always happy to share with him. "And The Mistress has gone insane because you were on the news this morning." she said. Wes's head jerked up and he stared at her, surprised, his mind coming back rapidly from the imaginary autograph signing he was doing to a long line of mutant girls.
"What was that?" he snapped at her. Fly-tag seemed hurt by his tone. After all, she's a butterfly, Wes thought.
"You were on the news this morning," she repeated, her voice slightly bitter. "It said that you had been kidnapped, and not on a trip, like your wife had told the media, but also that the information was unconfirmed."
Wes put his sandwich down. He had lost his appetite. Now that everybody knew he had been kidnapped, The Mistress was bound to do something harsher than the things she had done so far. He felt cold fear freezing his stomach.
He was barely done thinking that, when the door opened and The Mistress walked in. Fly-tag and the other two mutants who were in the room rose to their feet. Wes was so dumbstruck by what Fly-tag had just told him, he forgot to stand up. Fly-tag kicked him in the ribs, and he immediately rose.
"Leave me alone with the cherub," The Mistress demanded. They all did as they were told. "Well, reporters are insistent in this time period, aren't they?" she said, standing in front of Wes.
"Some of them are, yes," he said. "What are you going to do now, Mom?" he had also agreed and kept his word on calling her 'mom'. It didn't harm anyone from where he was standing.
"You don't know much about your wife's life before you," she said in a disappointed voice. Wes was getting more and more nervous. Jen had said the woman was insane and evil and he suddenly understood why they thought she had tried to kill Jessica. So far, he had been unable to truly believe it, even if he kept reminding himself about it.
"Well, I only know what she's told me," he said.
"You mentioned she had a sister, older or younger?" she asked.
"I don't know," Wes said, like most of the times The Mistress interrogated him; he was just playing the 'I-don't-know' game.
"Do you know if they look alike? Jessica and her?" she asked.
"I don't know. I've never seen her; I've only known Jessica for about two years."
"Sit down, cherub," she ordered.
"Yes, Mom," he said, bowing his head as he sat, as he had been taught to do by the other mutants.
The Mistress pulled a small syringe from her pocket. It was so small it looked like one of those preset vaccinations. She removed the cap, and Wes couldn't take his eyes of the tiny needle.
"Side of your head, please," she asked.
"What's that?" he asked her, deciding not to offer her the side of his head.
"It's a new recipe, I've tried it with other people before, cherub, there's nothing to worry about."
"What does it do?"
"You are asking to many questions, cherub," the woman warned.
"I just want to know what you are injecting in my body, Mom" he justified himself.
The Mistress put a hand in her pocket and pressed a little button that popped out of the device hidden in it. Wes's gaze immediately lost focus.
"Side of your head, cherub, please," she asked again. Wes turned his head immediately. She injected the solution behind his ear and waited for about half a minute. Then she pressed the button on her device again, and Wes looked at her, as if nothing had happened.
"Is your wife's sister older or younger than she is?" she asked again.
"Older," he said before he could stop himself.
"Does she look like Jessica?"
"They are twins," Wes's eyes were open in disbelief. Had she injected the substance in his body? He looked for the syringe and found it empty. She had.
"Where does she live?"
"On a farm, in the north area of the city," Wes admitted. A truth serum! She had just injected him with a futuristic version of a truth serum!
"Thanks, cherub," she said, and kissed him on the forehead again.
Wes sat there feeling miserable. Unwillingly he had just condemned an innocent woman and her children to death.
To be continued.
