Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own anything you recognize.

KINGS AND VAGABONDS

By Etcetera Kit

Chapter Eleven: Precious Possessions II

Chop. Chop. The knife hit the cutting board in a precise, predictable pattern. He dipped the same knife into the mayonnaise, not caring that the cook would have a fit if he walked in here and saw the haphazard sandwich construction going on. The fluorescent lights in the kitchen buzzed, causing a ringing in his ears. It was one of those times when he was so aware of his surroundings, that he wasn't sure he would hear someone call him over the buzz of the lights, not to mention the buzz of the refrigerator.

He slapped pieces of meat and cheese onto the slice of bread that already held the mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato.

Slap. Chop. Buzz.

It was the rhythm of life.

He gathered all the sandwich fixings and put them back in the fridge, dropping the knife in the sink as he went. Life had become the rhythmic mechanical sense that he was always observing. He based things around what was consistent – what was. Keeping his actions and thoughts grounded in the literal had kept him sane for the first decade. Now, he felt the tentacles of worry and fear slip beyond the force field he had erected around his mind and around his heart.

Jen would have to leave in one year.

The agreement with Time Force had been that she could stay in the present until Sky turned twenty-one. Sky would have turned twenty a few weeks ago. One year left – he could feel it slowly dwindling into nothing. Soon enough, Jen would leave and he would be alone. The cycle would be complete. He had started this cycle alone – Jen rejecting him and comparing him to Alex. He would end it alone – his son and his wife gone.

Alone.

Wesley Collins sighed, staring at the sandwich, no longer remotely hungry. He didn't want to be alone. People had been torn from his life in ones and twos in the last seventeen years. He and Jen had to send Sky away with Eric – he hadn't heard from Eric in close to fifteen years and he could only hope that he and Sky were all right. Then his father had a series of heart attacks, ending in his death. Now Jen would have to leave in another year. He was in charge of Bio-Lab and all the subsidiaries involved. He wasn't a business man, but Jen had helped him. In one more year, he would be alone.

The future… he used to look forward to the future, always wanting a new adventure. His blue eyes went to the large window in the kitchen. The night was inky black, studded with silver stars. The future frightened him now.

Pushing himself to his feet, he went to the window. He rested his left palm on the cool glass and leaned his forehead against it as well. His breath made a small cloud of steam on the window. In the dim light spilling from the kitchen, he could see the pool and the swing set that he had installed shortly after Jen and Sky were reunited with him in late 2002. Sky had loved that swing set, always wanting someone to push him higher. Wes had always obliged his requests to be pushed on the swings, remembering how his own father had tended to be too busy to play games with him.

Where was Sky?

His eyes looked at the darkness of the backyard, seeing it and not seeing. He remembered all the others – the others involved in the experiments at SPD. Three years after Eric and Sky disappeared into the night, Cruger came after the others – the three Grayson kids, Cole and Alyssa's daughter and the Corbett boy. He hadn't talked to the others about it, feeling secure that Eric had kept himself and Sky hidden. Eric had been an army ranger – he knew how to disappear. Besides, they would have heard if something happened to Eric, wouldn't they?

Life had plodded on. He adapted to filling his father's shoes.

He brought his left hand from the glass, studying the plain gold band on his ring finger. They had so little time to be a family. The time jumps had made things difficult – he hadn't been able to be a part of Sky's life until his son was two and a half. But they were all reunited and the future had looked bright.

Involuntarily, he shuddered.

Turning, he glanced back at the untouched sandwich. He wasn't sure why he had made the sandwich now – maybe it had been to give him something to do, something he didn't have to think about. He went to the counter and picked up the plate with the sandwich. He could put it in the fridge or something – no need to waste it.

"Wes!"

He jumped – the plate and the sandwich crashing to the ground. He stared at the shards of broken crockery mixed with scattered parts of the sandwich. Glancing up, he realized that it was Jen. She was staring at him with a look of concern and amazement. Maybe it was because he hadn't broken any plates when she startled him in the past.

Jen didn't say anything. She just pulled a towel off one of the drawer pulls, crouching by his mess and gathering the broken plate and former sandwich into the towel, throwing the entire bundle in the trash. Wes stood by, frozen to his place, the fluorescent lights buzzing horribly in his ears. He wanted the buzzing to stop.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Wes didn't answer – he didn't have an answer. He didn't know if he was all right.

She stepped closer to him, her palm cupping his cheek. "Can you hear the lights buzzing?" she asked.

He nodded.

Jen stepped over the light switch and flipped it – the lights went off, plunging them into darkness, but stopping that irritating noise. He could see her vague shape moving towards him as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight. Her arms went around his waist. Wes let out a long breath, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her close.

"What were you looking at?" she whispered.

"The swing set," he replied.

She understood the implications of that. Sky… he had always wanted to fly. Wes remembered him thinking that an umbrella would stop his fall if he jumped off the balcony. Luckily, he caught him before he tried it and explained the physics of the act to him. Sky never could settle for an answer of 'you can't do that.' He had to have a reason – and a substantial reason. Things like 'it's not safe' didn't work with him.

"Sky loved the swing set," she said softly, her head resting on his shoulder.

"He did."

He closed his eyes, leaning his cheek on the crown of her head. In his mind's eyes, he could see things as they had been. Bright sunlight streaming into the kitchen – Sky sitting at the table, his legs swinging as he ate his cereal. Saturday mornings spent doing nothing other than sitting around outside by the pool. Those had been the good old times. Did Eric let Sky go out on a swing set or explain the physics of why an umbrella wouldn't work as a parachute? Was Sky even happy wherever he was?

Phillips had packed up the things of Sky's that remained after he left with Eric. It was hard to accept that Eric would probably never be able to contact them. It was so much easier to pretend that Sky had just gone away for a little while and was coming home soon. How much time had he spent in denial? Far too much…

Jen pulled away from him, her eyes meeting his in the dim moonlight. "Are you coming to bed sometime soon?"

He nodded. "I'll be there soon."

He watched as Jen retreated towards the stairs. One bright moment of reminiscing and then things went back to the normal, the mundane, the ordinary. But he knew that neither of them could sit around and recall times past. Moving on… he dreaded it, hoping instead for the day that Eric and Sky would show up on their doorstep or at least call. There never had been much hope – only a fool's hope.

A fool's hope…

It had kept him going all these years. He had that fragile flame of hope that was kept alive with thoughts of how he would like things to pan out. In seventeen years, none of those things had happened. He wanted his family – and his friends – to be whole again, to be around him as they had been once.

He went to the window – the dark, desolate backyard shifting before his eyes. The night melted into a sunny afternoon. The swing set became newer, not in disrepair. A little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes kicked his legs out as the swing fell back, tucking his legs under the seat as he went forward. A man appeared behind him – it was himself, perhaps a little younger and without the gray streaks in his hair. His hands landed on the small of the boy's back, giving him a push as he came back on the swing.

"Higher! Higher!" Sky called.

But not too much higher because the swing set might tip over.

The scene dissolved into the dark backyard that actually was. The swing set had fallen into disrepair over the years, when it had been too long since Eric called them and let them know how Sky was doing.

"I love you so much, Sky," he whispered to the unfeeling night.

His son wouldn't know him, even if they were reunited.

Who was he kidding?

All his hopes and dreams had rested on the tiny shoulders of the three-year-old boy he had known once. If Sky was still with Eric, then he probably viewed Eric as his father by now. A cold stab of anger and pain hit his heart. It was inevitable, but he didn't want it to be. He wished that there was some way for Sky to remember him and Jen.

His heart had been bruised and bleeding since he sent Sky into the night.

He moved from the window, making his way to the stairs in the dark. He knew the way. He had grown up in this house. He knew each and every nook and cranny.

Moving down the hall, he entered his and Jen's bedroom to take solace in the arms of his wife.

Listen… listen with your heart…

He paused, closing his eyes as his hand stroked the silky fur of the golden retriever. The dog's panicked breathing slowed and he could feel the fear subside. He had never been sure how he could hear the emotions of others, but he had. Perhaps, growing up in the jungle had facilitated that – it was always good to know if a predatory beast was just annoyed or looking for a meal. Perhaps, it had meant survival.

The dog sniffed at his hand. He smiled and offered the hand for the dog's inspection. It sniffed to its satisfaction, then settled down on the examining table, content. He took the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the dog's heartbeat – healthy and strong, coming at regular intervals.

"You'll be all right," he whispered to the dog.

This particular golden retriever had hurt his leg and was remaining at the clinic overnight so that they could monitor for infections or complications that might come up. The dog had already been panicky once the anesthesia wore off. He placed a hand on the dog's head once more, the canine exuding feelings of trust and security.

Cole Evans gathered the large dog into his arms and carried him to his kennel – where he would comfortably spend the night. It was another success. He hated it when he had to put an animal down – or when one didn't survive surgery. All the animals here were someone's pet – someone loved them dearly. He felt like he had failed when he lost one of them. His clients never knew about the sleepless nights where he would mull over the case, exhausting every possible route he could have gone with it.

Cole, you can't compensate for what happened a long time ago.

His wife's words floated down to him – he knew she was right. It had been fourteen years and, no matter how many pets he saved, it wouldn't bring Z back to them. He had always loved animals – for as long as he could remember. In the early days of he and Alyssa's marriage, he would bring homeless animals to their garage and nurse them back to health. That had been when he was still a student at the veterinary school. Z's birth had caused him to cut down on the classes, but he had been close to graduating by the time their daughter turned three.

Elizabeth – he smiled at the memory of her. He had nicknamed her 'Z' almost as soon as Alyssa had finished naming her 'Elizabeth.' It was such a stuffy name – and the baby girl was anything but stuffy. She had giggled instead of cried when she was born. She had been so happy and ready for life – and always asserted her opinion about things.

Eric had not known what to do with a three-year-old girl who insisted upon wearing a particular lavender dress to all events she deemed 'special occasions.' The idea had been a good one – Wes' son was already with Eric and the SPD people knew it. They wouldn't dream of looking for Z in the most obvious place.

But too many things came against them.

First, Cruger had fabricated a charge against him, throwing him in SPD prison with the conditions that he would be released if he revealed the location of Z. Both he and Cruger knew that the charge was false – but no one at SPD was going to challenge their commander, who was known to have a volatile temper.

He didn't know all the details of what happened while he was incarcerated, but he did know that Alyssa went to see Z one evening shortly after the arrest. Manx followed her there and, with the infamous threats, managed to make his wife hand over their daughter.

Cole had been released the next day – the terms of the release had been simple. He had to keep his mouth shut about his arrest and their daughter's kidnapping. In return, the arrest would be expunged from his record. No publicity at all…

That hadn't been the end of it. He and Alyssa had gone to court with the others whose children had been taken – Carter and Dana, Mike and Maya. It changed nothing.

Letting out a long sigh, he double-checked the latch on the kennel. It was secure and the golden retriever was almost asleep.

He went into his office, gazing at the picture on his desk. It had been taken a few weeks before they put Z with Eric – it had been Z's third birthday. She had had her 'Z' necklace for a long time, but that was when they gave her the locket. Alyssa had meant to put pictures of them in it, but time and circumstances were against that. The pictures never happened – he hoped that Z still had her necklaces.

He didn't blame Alyssa.

He couldn't blame Alyssa.

Manx would have found another way, if they had denied that Z was in the house that night. The cat would have gotten what she wanted. Cole didn't know much about SPD or the experiments that Alyssa had been a part of, but, when he had met Manx during the time he and Alyssa spent as rangers, he had always liked her, known she had a good heart. Her actions confused him – it was like she was following orders against her will.

Where do we draw the line?

Indeed – where to draw the line between when to blindly follow orders and when to listen with your heart to something.

So much was unknown – there was so much he didn't know. Perhaps, it would be better if he didn't know any of it. He just wanted to see his daughter one last time, even from a distance, to see how she was, how she was doing. Like all the other couples who had their children taken from them, they didn't have any more children. Other children would meet the same fate that Z did… and he didn't want that to happen.

Z would be seventeen now…

God – the future he had been dreaming of for a long time had come to pass and he was just now realizing it. The first time he had held Z, he imagined what it would be like when she got older, when she started dating and going to dances. That time was here now – and the years when she would be a little girl, dressing up and playing with her friends were gone.

He sank into his desk chair, the weight of the years sitting on his shoulders. It should not have come to guilt and trying to make up for something that he could not have prevented. Their family should have been whole. What did Cruger hope to accomplish with taking the children away? It seemed rash and an overreaction – but to what, no one was sure. The dog was veiled in mystery and no one knew anything about him besides what all the others knew.

And then there was Alyssa…

He knew that she tried to blame herself solely for what happened. She let that guilt weigh down on her until there was just a ghost of the person he had married. He knew what she told herself in mirror – I was the one that gave Z to Manx. I was the one involved in the experiments. It is entirely my fault.

Reason, logic, heartfelt pleas – there was nothing he could tell her that take away some of that pain and some of that guilt. He had tried everything and all his efforts had yielded was a wide canyon between them. Oh, their marriage was in no danger nor was their relationship, but there was some things that they could no longer talk about. Z was one of them…

Their daughter haunted his every waking and sleeping moment.

He saw her as she had been, since he had no idea what she would look like now. He had an idea, but, even though he didn't know what she would look like, he knew that he would be able to recognize her, no matter what.

Glancing at the clock, he pushed himself up from his desk, knowing that it was time to head home… and still have time to make the stop that he always made. He checked on the attendants who were working the night shift, before going to his car. He drove almost on autopilot to the small house that he knew so well.

The road signs announced the town before he got there. Newtech City was not far from Turtle Cove. It had been the last place he saw his daughter. He knew that Eric and Taylor still lived there, but had been forbidden to share that information with anyone, especially Wes and Jen. He had to claim that he didn't know where they were – where Sky was.

Slowing down the car, he turned into a residential area. The houses here were small, old, remnants of a cheap neighborhood constructed in the eighties. They had been built when Newtech City was nothing more than a suburb of the next, larger city. With the advent of SPD, the town had grown and this neighborhood had been added on to and expanded so that it was one of the prominent subdivisions. But those little, old houses still stood proud in the heart of the wild-turned-planned neighborhood.

Eric still lived in that house – his car was in the driveway.

There was no way that the former Quantum Ranger would know that he drove past here almost daily, hoping… He wasn't sure what he was hoping for – maybe that Z would vaguely remember the last house she had called home. Perhaps that he would get a glimpse of Sky, who he remembered only as the six-year-old that he had been.

Communication wasn't allowed, but it was tempting to just park and knock on the door, asking Eric how he had been, asking what he knew. Death didn't frighten him – but the death of his daughter did frighten him.

He drove past the house, not slowing the car, just heading for the side streets that would lead him to the main freeway and then onto Turtle Cove to his home. Z had only been three when she had been taken. She would have nothing of them other than insubstantial memories that she probably thought were from earlier in her adopted life. It hurt to think about that – it did. But now, he just hoped she was happy wherever she was. Maybe she was looking for them and would come home one day.

The lights of the freeway glowed in the early evening light.

It was a routine – one that he couldn't break.

Did Eric know something about his daughter – about any of the other children? He obviously knew where Sky was, but, by this time, Cruger might have brought all of the kids to SPD. It didn't matter – Cruger had a restraining order on all of them that extended through the academy grounds and to most of Newtech. He shouldn't risk going to Newtech like he did.

But everything has a price.

Author's Note: I'm updating as soon as humanly possible:) I know it's been over a week - a long time for me. Thanks to Jepoliant for beta reading (although, through file mix-ups, she didn't get the second half of this chapter. It might be reposted with possible grammatical errors corrected later). Also, thanks to those of you that are sticking with me throughout the summer! You are awesome! Now, I'm off to go catch up on the stories that I missed during the past week and go sleep before Sunday rolls around. :) Cheers!