Gaby, Patrick, Scott, Jimmy Duran, and any others you don't recognize are mine.
Violet is... ?
Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; violence; sexual content.
Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one.
Wes looked around. Another meeting, the same people, Daryl Gunn and Eric besides Wes himself and his father. This time Dr. Zaskin had joined them, to give them the benefit of his scientific knowledge of cloning. At a nod from Collins he stood up, looking self-conscious, to give his report.
"I can tell you about the normal cloning process, the one that's already been done with mammals. It involves taking a cell from an adult organism, extracting the chromosomes, and inserting them into an egg cell that has had its chromosomes removed. The resulting animal isn't really a complete genetic duplicate of the original, since the mitochondrial DNA in the egg is not replaced. But it's pretty close."
"I remember reading that the clone's DNA isn't normal," Gunn said.
"That's right. Chromosomes age, just like a person does. The telomeres -- the ends of the chromosomes -- get shorter every time the cell divides. When they cloned that sheep, Dolly, her chromosomes were already six years 'old' when she was born. When an animal is created the normal way -- sexually -- the clock is set back, so to speak, the telomeres start out long."
"But Norman used a different process."
"Yes. And we don't know anything about it."
"Patrick and Scott claim they don't know anything either," Eric said. "And we can't trust what they say anyway."
"So if Violet's chromosomes are normal, it doesn't mean anything." Zaskin frowned. "If they're abnormal, it would prove she's a clone. Or maybe not. If they want to hide her identity, they might be able to alter Jen's DNA somehow. If they're capable of growing an adult clone in days..." He looked up suddenly. "Wait, Violet's the same age Jen was, at least physically. If her chromosomes are twenty-seven years old, the same as Jen's, that doesn't prove anything either."
"Hmm." Collins muttered. "So we've got nothing. A DNA test is useless."
"Unfortunately, yes. And I don't have any other suggestions, at least not at the moment."
"Wes?"
"I went out there yesterday. Spent some time with Violet."
"And?"
He hesitated. "I don't know. She's so much like Jen, but at the same time different... Too soon to tell. But I'm seeing her again tonight."
"Good." Wes caught a considering look on his father's face, but he said nothing. "Mr. Gunn?"
"All I've had time for is a very quick check. There are employment histories for both Patrick and Scott Ryder, in New York City. The usual driver's licenses, credit histories, and so on. But..."
"Yes?"
"All of the companies they worked for are now out of business. So is the real estate company they bought a house from. We haven't been able to track down anyone who actually knows them, so far." He held up a hand. "That may not mean anything. It's only been a couple of days. We just have to keep looking."
"Keep at it."
Out of the corner of his eye, Wes saw Eric start slightly and raise a hand to the headset he usually wore while on duty -- and which Wes usually didn't wear. He turned away from them and Wes could hear him speak softly. Then he got up.
"Excuse me," he said. "Steve wants me to check something out."
"Anything wrong?" Wes asked.
"Don't know. I'll call you if it is." With that, he walked out quickly.
"I think the meeting is over, anyway," Collins said. "Thank you, gentlemen. Keep on it."
Wes was up and turning toward the door when his father's voice called him back. "Wes. Could I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure, Dad," Wes said, trying to keep the note of resignation out of his voice.
"I just wanted to say..." Collins hesitated, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "Maybe Eric was right, that you shouldn't be seeing Violet."
"You think I can't control myself, too?"
"No, of course not. I think you're very emotionally involved. You've been through so much, first Jen was gone, then she's not, then she'd gone again... Seeing this girl, whoever she is, may make things worse." He paused, looking at Wes somberly. "I just don't like seeing you get hurt, son."
"I know, Dad." Wes smiled, sadly. "But sometimes you can't avoid it. I have to know the truth. I have to keep trying, until I find it."
"I understand. Just -- be careful."
"Thanks. I will."
He had almost reached the door when his father's voice came again. "Wes..."
"Yeah?"
"If you need to talk, about Violet... about anything..."
"I know, Dad." He didn't quite look in his father's face, and after a moment started out again.
Eric hurried through the corridors. He hadn't wanted to worry the others, or break up the meeting, but Steve's summons had sounded ominous. "Gaby has a visitor. And I really think you want to be there." As his imagination began to take over, he almost broke into a run.
Then he was at her door. Steve was outside, nodding to him silently as he raised a hand to knock, then opened the door without waiting for an invitation. What he saw sent a chill through him, and then a wave of anger. Gaby, sitting in her chair, tensing at the sight of him, a man sitting next to her desk. His head had turned as Eric came in.
Norman. The thought flashed through his mind, quickly followed by denial. Not Norman, it must be Patrick or Scott. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, a little more angrily than he intended.
"I thought it would be polite to apologize to Ms. Butler for what my brother did to her," he said mildly.
"It's okay, Eric," Gaby said. "He's been very polite."
"Yeah? Which one are you, anyway?"
"Patrick," he said, adding to Gaby with a smile, "Most people can't tell us apart."
Eric glared and came closer, stepping between them. "You could have written a letter, instead."
"But that would be so impersonal. And frankly, I wanted to meet the woman Norman found so -- fascinating."
Eric felt another surge of anger. "Well, now you've apologized. Why don't you leave?"
"I was just passing the time. Being sociable. But I don't want to step on any territorial toes." There was a faint trace of mockery in his voice. He got up, standing face to face with Eric.
"Good. Then get off my toes and stay away from my girl."
"Eric..."
"That's quite all right, Gaby. You don't mind if I call you Gaby, do you? I'm going." Eric watched, fists balled, as Patrick sent a last glance back at them, his face smiling but with a darker emotion behind it, before closing the door behind him.
"Really, Eric, that was totally rude." Gaby was on her feet, staring at him angrily.
"We don't know who that guy really is. I don't want him around you. Next time, if he tries to see you again, call me."
"You're talking like I'm your property. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."
"Like you did when Norman kidnapped you?"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Not fair."
He sighed. "I'm trying to protect you. What did he say to you, anyway?"
"Just what he told you. Said he's sorry for what Norman did. Offered to do whatever he could to make up for it. He was very nice."
Eric snorted, faintly and angrily. "I'll bet he was. What else did he say?"
"Just small talk. Conversation." She crossed her arms, looking thoughtful. "He really was nice. Not at all like Norman, even before he took that treatment and changed himself. I always thought identical twins had similar personalities, but -- certainly not in this case."
"I don't care how nice he was. I don't want him making small talk with you."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Are you jealous?" she demanded.
He regarded her coldly. "That's ridiculous."
"You are, aren't you?" To his surprise, she grinned.
"I'm just concerned. Look, please... don't let Patrick get you alone. Or Scott. I don't trust either one of them."
Her expression softening, Gaby sat down again. "Okay. But next time, please be a little more diplomatic? At least try?"
"Diplomatic's not my style."
"No, it sure isn't." She frowned.
"Look, sorry if I overreacted."
She smiled suddenly. "I have to admit, it was sort of exciting, in a Neanderthal kind of way."
"So now you think I'm a caveman?"
"Mmm. You've got the body for it, at least."
He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. "Maybe one of these days I should drag you off by the hair..."
"Just try it, buster."
"You'd love it."
"Dream on!" she laughed.
He grinned, leaned farther to kiss her quickly, and took the image of her answering smile with him as he left.
Wes pulled up again, and watched the farmhouse for a minute before getting out of his car. He was nervous, as nervous as any guy on a first date. It's not like that, he told himself sternly. It's worse. Not only did he have to keep her liking him enough to keep seeing him, he had to worry about her guardians, and what they might do to both of them, and wonder if she really was who he thought she was, and that wasn't even counting wondering if Norman was really dead...
Too much, he decided. One thing at a time. Just worry about tonight. Hope she can go out, hope she'll enjoy the evening. And I'm back to the first date scenario. To his relief, the door opened to reveal Violet, dressed in a soft pink blouse and jeans, again before he could ring the bell. She smiled. He smiled back, until he saw someone behind her.
"Good evening, Wes. May I call you Wes?" the man said. He seemed to notice Wes's hesitation. "I'm Scott," he added.
"Hi. Sure, call me whatever you want." He held out his hand.
Scott held up a very grimy pair of hands. "Sorry, I've been working in the back." He smiled and lowered them again. "So, you want to take Violet out tonight."
"Yes. Just dinner, maybe a movie if we have time."
"You realize there might be questions if anyone recognizes her."
Wes was prepared. "I've already thought about that. We'll go someplace outside of town, where we won't run into anyone we know. And if anyone does recognize her, I can say she's Jen's sister. Twins, that should sound familiar."
"Yes..." Scott eyed him with a not entirely friendly expression. "I expect you to get her home early."
"How's ten o'clock?"
"Good." He smiled again, at Violet. "Have a good time. Run along to the car now, I want to say something to Wes."
She seemed annoyed for a moment, frowning at him. But all she said was, "Okay. See you later."
They both watched her walk to the car. Then Wes turned back. Scott's face no longer held any attempt at warmth; it was blank and hard. "Don't try anything, Collins," he said softly. "Violet means a lot to us."
"Don't worry, I won't kidnap her. I've never forced anyone to do anything they don't want to." He smiled coldly, not feeling too friendly himself. "Except criminals, of course. But I'm sure you don't have to worry about that." As Scott stared at him with no change of expression, he about-faced and started back for the car.
Sliding into his seat, he smiled at Violet as he started the car. "So, you like Italian?" he asked.
She looked at him, eyes wide. "I don't know."
"Scott and Patrick won't let you leave the ranch? What do you do with yourself all day?"
Violet shrugged. "Watch TV. Do some exercise. Walk around in the back. Read. Talk to Scott and Patrick."
Wes watched her. He hadn't missed the trace of unhappiness. "Sounds kind of boring. You're... you seem like a very active person."
"Maybe. I'm still only two months old, remember. Still busy learning things."
"I suppose." He picked at his food for a moment, hardly noticing it. They had ended up in an Italian restaurant after all, since Violet had no idea of what she did or didn't like. Another possibility to pursue, he resolved, find out if her tastes in food were the same as Jen's. So far, so good; Jen liked pasta primavera and so did Violet. "Violet…" he continued. "What do you remember? I mean when you first woke up? If you don't mind talking about it."
"I don't mind." She looked thoughtful. "There was nothing… then I opened my eyes and there were voices. I asked them, 'who am I?' And they told me."
"Who was it who told you? Did you see them?"
"I'm not sure. It was all foggy, sort of. I don't remember much, just weird images."
"Like what?"
She moved a little in her chair, making an uncomfortable face. "I don't know. It's all confusing."
Wes hesitated, unwilling to push for more, at least not at the moment. "How about later? The first time you saw Scott and Patrick?"
She smiled. "I just woke up and they were there. They were nice. I was scared, and they told me everything was all right. They've taken care of me ever since."
"Did they tell you anything about Norman?"
"They said he was sick, he did some bad things. Committed crimes. But now he's paid for them, because he's dead." She looked up at him, her expression slightly nervous, before he could ask another question. "They didn't say anything about Jen. But after a few days they told me I was a clone. And that the woman I was cloned from was dead. Norman had killed her. The same thing they told you."
"Yeah. The same thing."
"I'm sorry."
Wes summoned a smile. "Not your fault." He watched her closely again as he asked, "If you knew anything -- anything at all -- about Jen, or if Norman was still alive, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
"Sure." She was looking at her plate, not meeting his eyes.
Deciding it would be wise to change the subject, Wes said, "We don't have time tonight, but maybe tomorrow I could take you for a drive through the city?"
Her face lit up. "Oh, yes, please!"
"All right. We can go by Bio-Lab, where I work. And the house where I live."
"That would be great." She smiled. "Now tell me about you. About the city, and your job, and everything."
"Well, let's see. I've lived in Silver Hills all my life, except for school. My father owns Bio-Lab. That's a big pharmaceutical company, the biggest company in town. I work there, as commander of the Silver Guardians... Eric -- you remember him -- is my partner..."
Wes smiled, told her a few stories about life at Bio-Lab, watched her laugh. He could afford to make small talk and just enjoy the evening. There would be a next time.
Violet smiled into the darkness of her bedroom. She couldn't sleep, feeling as if she was floating in a haze. The excitement of getting out, away from the only surroundings she knew, being with someone different, it was almost too much. She wondered when Wes would come back. How long they could spend together next time. Why she felt as if she had always known him... She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep again.
But she did. Some unknown time later, sounds pulled her out of a pleasant dream. She opened her eyes, becoming aware of voices, Scott and Patrick, downstairs, talking, something in their tone pulling her to full awareness. After a few more moments of listening she climbed out of bed, pulled on a robe, and padded out and down to the main floor. They were just inside the front door, Scott with his hand on the knob. Both of them turned to face her, showing a flash of alarm, quickly hidden.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "What are you doing up?"
"Patrick and I have to go out for a while. We want you to stay in your room. Don't go out."
"Why? What's happened?"
"Please, just go back to bed, Violet. We'll take care of it."
"But..." Scott stepped closer, took her arm and started to lead her back to the stairs. Violet set her feet and resisted, twisting her arm out of his grasp. "No!" she exclaimed. "I want to know what's going on!"
"Don't worry about it. It's none of your concern."
"Of course it's my concern!" She squared her shoulders and glared at each of them. "I'm getting a little tired of you treating me like a child! If something's wrong, I want to know! Maybe I could help, if you'd give me a chance!"
They exchanged a long glance, some communication she couldn't share passing between them. Then Patrick smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, Violet. We can't tell you. You must trust us."
She stared at him, then at Scott, at their blank, cool, unyielding faces. Her brief life was already long enough for her to know arguing would do her no good. They had their secrets, and they wouldn't tell. They asked her to trust them, but they didn't trust her. She schooled her face to show as little as theirs. "I suppose I have no choice," she said, turning towards the stairs. She didn't say goodnight.
It was quiet at Bio-Lab. Steve Miller had taken a late shift, staying in his office, taking advantage of the absence of the usual interruptions to get his paperwork up to date. He yawned, glancing at the clock. Wes would have been back from his date with Violet hours ago, in bed asleep, lucky bastard. Eric was even luckier, in bed with Gaby.
Only a couple more hours to go, then home, close up the blinds against the morning sun and try to get some sleep. He yawned again. No real need for round-the-clock coverage, but it made him feel better, with the Ryder brothers showing up. Something creepy about them, something he couldn't quite put his finger on...
Maybe a walk around the building would wake him up. Might as well see that everything was in order, anyway. He got up and left the office. The hallways were darkened with night-level lighting, silent, except for the echoes of his footsteps. Kind of spooky.
He was yawning again when he saw it. Lights, where they didn't belong. In one of the laboratories. The main lab, where Dr. Zaskin worked. He slowed, and approached silently, sleepiness vanishing as he peered into the large room.
A pool of light illuminated one corner of the room. A lone figure bent over the workbench along the back wall. A man, in street clothes, not a laboratory coat. Dark hair, average size and build. That corner of the lab belonged to Rick Quinn, the most brilliant young physicist at Bio-Lab, the one who had built his own time machine, based on Jen's wrecked timeship. The time machine that had gotten them in so much trouble a few months ago. For a moment Steve wondered if it was Rick himself, doing some late night work -- but it wasn't, this man's hair was lighter and straighter, and his skin wasn't Rick's shade of light brown.
He stepped into the lab, hand on his blaster, and got closer -- only a few yards away when the man heard him and whirled, an expression of almost savage surprise and anger on his face. They stared at each other.
"Norman!" Steve whispered, mostly to himself. Somehow he felt it, felt a gut conviction it wasn't Patrick or Scott. But... his coloring was normal, not the silver hair and eyes and the purple skin he remembered so vividly. So it couldn't be Norman... he hesitated, confused.
"Norman's dead," the man said, straightening and smiling coldly. "It's Patrick. You're Steve Miller, right?"
Unconvinced, Steve tightened his grip on his blaster. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Came to visit Wes. To give him my condolences again. He said I could stay and look around."
"You're lying. He left this afternoon. And he would have told me."
Patrick -- or whoever he was -- smiled again and shrugged. "I've been around for hours. Didn't realize it was so late. He must have forgotten to mention it." He moved away from the bench and stepped closer.
Steve blocked his path. "Why here? This is a restricted area. What were you looking at?"
"Is it? I didn't see any signs. I was curious about the scientist who invented the time machine my brother based his transporter on."
"Time machine? I don't remember anyone telling you anything about a time machine." Steve pulled out his blaster. "Get moving. We're going to have a nice long talk."
"You're making a mistake."
"I don't think so." Steve stood aside, gesturing with the blaster. It was all connected somehow, he was sure of it. Patrick, or whoever he was, showing up here, where Rick Quinn had indeed built his time machine. The machine Norman had wanted to duplicate.
He followed Patrick out, watchful for any sudden move. But when it came, it was from behind; he saw movement and whirled, caught a brief glimpse of two forms coming at him. Just enough time to recognize them, to raise his blaster before they grabbed his arms and held him helpless. Another flicker of motion, the man he had discovered in the lab was behind him, swinging something at his head, a burst of pain, a flash of white, and then darkness.
TBC...