The Haunting by John Sheridan

May past times haunt our present selves

May pardoned crimes come to fruition

However long the shadows cast

However shamed we've become

No escape from forebears contusions

A haunting for those who come after us

A haunting for those who come before us

A haunting for those who come for us

Waving sea in the distance

Glamourless nights to come

We have haunted you all

You will take the pain

Pain of the days gone by

You will offer the pain

Pain of the days ahead

You will be haunted by all those before you

And you will haunt all those after you


Hank answered the unwelcome knock, "Yeah?" he hesitated to open the motel room door.

"It's me," Henri peered through the crack he allowed and she saw him comfortably in a dirty sweatshirt and long, baggy, pants.

"What are you doing here?" he glanced at the blue blood stains she still adorned on her trim suit.

"I was thinking we could talk," she averted his narrowing stare. "If you're not too busy already."

Hank's eyebrows slightly creased, "Come on," he lazily gestured into the dingy, feebly lit room.

"Did you work everything out with the RCMP?" Henri skirted around her original reason for coming to Hank.

"Not even close," Hank flapped his arms again as he dropped himself into the cramped chair stationed next to the single mattress. "They want to launch their own investigation into these deaths. Our best bet is to cooperate with the assholes for now. They weren't fucking happy about you, Connor, and Gavin poking around already."

"We need those androids," Henri studied Hank's apparent fatigue. "I know it isn't the most exciting part about being an officer of the law."

"Ah, well," Hank shook his head as if to expel the idea from his mind. "Is that why you came here? You couldn't have just called?"

"Of course it isn't," she turned her hands over and over, examining the dried thirium upon them. "That's not the reason I'm here."

Hank waited a silent minute before speaking up, "Well?"

"Uh," Henri opened up her mouth only to let out an empty breath.

"Is something wrong?" Hank raised a brow to her slacked jaw.

"I have something to show you," she finally said while removing the white envelope from her breast pocket.

She reached out her unwavering hand to his. It was deceptive because she was quite nervous about the whole affair, but her machine mind and limbs always allowed her the appearance of a calm resolve.

"Huh?" Hank grabbed the letter from her thin fingers. Written on its front, in the most perfect cursive script Hank had ever seen, was his name: Hank.

"You probably remember this, but..." Henri turned her view away from him again, not being able to bear looking him in the face. "A woman… Olivia Fischer. She… she was a waitress when she met you."

"How would you know that?" Hank scowled at Henri then back at the letter.

"Well," Henri anxiously rubbed at the nape of her neck. "She wrote that letter for you. I, I don't know what it says. I… I never opened it."

He continued to suspiciously frown at Henri as he opened the envelope which had grown stiff over time. In silence, he read it to himself.

Dear Hank,

I know it's almost been nineteen years and I know you'll have so many many questions, but I'm afraid I can't answer them anymore. I loved you and I know I shouldn't have run away from you. I was so afraid that you wouldn't love me anymore, that you wouldn't let me have our baby. I was too afraid to tell you that I was pregnant. I know it was wrong of me to leave, but I want you to know I still love you. I never stopped loving you. Please, I beg you, take care of Etta. I never could. She was always more like you than me. She needs you and I hope she understands that you need her, too.

Love, Your Olivia.

Hank gawked up at young Henri with an open jaw. He was speechless.

"She wrote the letter before she killed herself five years ago," Henri's eyes sank, her expression became grim. "She wrote two letters that day… One to you and one… One to me."

Hank kept his noiseless stare on her.

"I blame myself for her choice every day," her voice was strangled with her desire to choke back tears. "I left her… and she couldn't handle it. I was so angry at her all the time. For most of my life, she refused to tell me who you were or why she even left you, to begin with. I don't know what she was like when you were with her, but she wasn't a very rational woman, to say the least."

Hank bowed his head still holding his silence.

"She told me that you wanted to wait to have kids," Henri continued. "You'd talked about it before, but you were so focused on making the best of your career first. But she didn't want to give me up. She thought it was meant to be. She said the Lord had given her a sign by allowing something like this to happen in the first place. God, she was crazy… She honestly believed that leaving you was the right thing to do."

Henri watched one of Hank's lonesome tears splatter on the discoloured page.

"I had wondered..." Henri felt the weight of those years departing from her isolated shoulders. "I wondered what it would have been like. Maybe she wouldn't have let all those bad things happen to us. Hank," Henri's voice cracked with sadness. "I know you loved her, but she was a horrible person to me; she did horrible things to me. I didn't want her to die, but I couldn't help but feel that she deserved it. All those years of fleeting drug use and abusive people… All those years could finally leave me. I could only escape her in her own death."

Hank lifted his head to Henri with his swollen eyes of pent-up tears.

"When I was eighteen… I thought," Henri gave out a stuttered sigh. "I was proud of myself. I excelled in the ACA. So much so that I caught the attention of a U.S Special Forces Captain. He fought to have me become a member of his team… It was unheard of for someone who was so young… So young to join. But I was so happy when it all came together. I would be sent away, I… I wasn't even sure if I'd see my mother again. I hated myself for how pleased I was at the thought," Henri pressed her open palm against the ridges of her forehead. "When I told mom about it she was… She was livid. But I, I didn't really care. I was just mad at her."

"Why wait?" Hank finally let the small words part from his lips. "Why wait so long to tell me this?"

"Hank," Henri took in a deep breath. "When she died you were happy in your life. At the time, you had a happy family. You were married, you had a son. Why, why would I be the one to ruin that? Why should I take that away from you? Knowing what had happened wouldn't have made your life any better. I felt that I had already ruined my mother's life, so I wasn't going to ruin yours, too."

"Why say anything?" Hank wore his mournful scowl and shrugged at her. "Why say it now?"

Henri stroked her wet eye with the back of her hand, "Because Connor insisted. I never intended on telling you. I pretended I was going to tell you? I always had an excuse to not say anything. First, it was your family then it was Cole then… Then nothing. Then I had nothing. Nothing but fear and guilt."

Hank let out a small puff of amusement, "You know, she said when she had a baby it was going to be a girl. She said that little girl's name would be Henrietta; couldn't be any other way."

"I always kept it," Henri let out a tearful smile. "No matter how many times I changed my identity… I always kept that name." she gave Hank a small chuckle, "It isn't funny… But maybe it's just strange. My name, Henrietta Anne Fischer, is on a gravestone in Flint. There's even a small memorial for me and my fallen comrades there. But maybe… I never thought I came back the same person after that day."

"What matters is who you are now," Hank's voice was barely audible.

"I'm not sure what that is," she slowly blinked in response. "Whatever the person I am now… it's… it's tainted."

"Henrietta," Hank's expression turned to her in its seriousness. He spoke her name like it was a fact, but also as if he was questioning it. "I know who you are," he provided her sallow face with a quaint smirk. "You're my daughter and I love you anyway."

"You and Connor are very unreasonable," she said half-jokingly, the other half critically. "I've spent the last five years of my life murdering and lying. I don't deserve your faith… His faith."

Hank wavered out of the uncomfortable chair, "And I see how much it hurts you. I see how much you don't want to be that person. You were never that person."

He placed his heavy arms around her slacked shoulders and hugged her lithe figure. She stood there in perfect stillness, water falling down her cheeks.

"I was never that person," she quietly repeated back to him.


Calm Waters by John Sheridan

Waking and waning

Forgotten homes on the edge of the world

Where do they stand?

Stars and seas

Living until the end of our time

Where are they now?

Passages and places

Foraging onward forever in hearts

Where have they gone?

Strangers and lovers

Standing on the edge of the world

Where are you now?

Life and death

Balanced in between nothingness

What have they done?

Calm waters on the seaside

Where have you gone?


Christmas day. Hank could remember many delightful Christmas days in the past. He had blissful childhood Christmases himself; he also had blissful ones with Cole. But in recent years, it was just another grim, fragile day to add to the list of shit to deal with. The worst were people who insisted on talking about it. Couldn't they just leave him alone? Not every fucking person on the entire planet celebrates the goddamn thing. But Hank brushed away these thoughts because for once… For once in a long time, he felt good about things. Connor had changed everything in Hank's life when he met the boy and arguably for the better. Henri also gave Hank a sense of hope. A sense that there was something else worth living for. A part of him that was worth living for.

By the time Hank arrived to their crime scene at the warehouse, Inspector Thibault was already waiting for Hank.

"Inspector," Hank nodded at her as he slammed his car door shut.

"We have more to discuss, Lieutenant," she spoke in a French-esque accent.


Henri was the first person to arrive at the warehouse that morning. She knew she had no time to waste in regards to obtaining as much data as she could from the fallen androids. She ignored Gavin and Connor who were still working at sorting and identifying the last of the bodies. The work was laborious and tedious, but Henri knew it was the last straw on the camel's back. It was the straw that would break this case.

Connor patted his hands together in an effort to remove some of the stray thirium as he looked over to Henri, "Everything okay so far?"

Henri perked up her head and her eyes wandered to the building's front entrance, "I can hear Hank getting upset. You should help diffuse the man before he punches the Inspector."

"Right," Connor peered back at Gavin. "I'll be right back, Detective."

Gavin straightened his knees out and brushed some cold sweat from his brow, "Don't bother." he grunted and wiped his palms on the front of his pants, "This was the last one. Been here all fucking morning." Gavin glanced at the officers next to him, "I'm starving. Let's wash this shit off and get some food."

"You'll be okay?" Connor asked Henri as the two officers and Gavin left.

"Few hundred more to go," she surveyed the bodies surrounding her. "I'll tough it out as long as I can."

"Got it," Connor bobbed his head and roamed off in search of Hank.


"You've got to be kidding me," Hank's tone towards the Inspector became sharp. "This is already our investigation."

Inspector Thibault defensively raised her palms to Hank, "And I only want to assist your investigation, Lieutenant, but you need to consider my side of things. These bodies were found on Canadian soil; we have to launch our own investigation into the matter."

"We've been on this case for two months already," Hank scoffed.

Connor stepped forward to intervene, "Lieutenant, it shouldn't be a problem. If we work together we may be able to speed up our current process."

The Inspector glared at Connor, "You American's and your androids. You certainly don't make things any easier on yourselves… I disapprove of your officers tampering with my evidence, Lieutenant."

"I told you this is our fucking inves-" Hank started to bark at Thibault, but Connor quickly put an end to the man's ravings.

"-Lieutenant, we can work something out." Connor pressed a forearm against Hank's chest.

The Inspector narrowed her face at the men, "I'm going back to my station and getting my men. When I return, I want your officers out of there. Understand?"

"Crystal clear," Hank hissed in response.

Connor and Hank watched the furious woman speed off through the thick, clean blanket of the morning's snowfall.

"I thought Canadian's were supposed to be nice," Hank huffed into the cold.


Henri was alone in the warehouse, or she supposed she was. It was exhausting uploading memories upon memories from departed beings. She witnessed one death preceded by the next. She had lost the ability to stay concentrated on any one thing in particular. Flashes and flashes of thoughts and feelings overwhelmed her senses.

"Henrietta," A voice. Whose voice? Not hers.

She abruptly lifted her eyes to meet the disembodied sounds, "Markus…?"

"It has been a while," his gradual steps crunched over silicon limbs. "I know you've been looking for me."

Henri slowly rose up, "Not exactly. I've been more interested in your virus pal."

"Don't be mistaken," he spoke in a voice that was not his own. It wasn't the same voice she heard before. "We are one in the same now. I have assumed direct control. Complete control."

"What do you want?" Henri's fingertips stretched out for her pistol.

"You, obviously," his grin was unnatural; it wasn't his own. "You think you would have learned that by now."

"Well, then," she cocked her head to the side. "Care to explain why?"

He wiggled his forefinger disapprovingly at her, "Put the gun down. Would you really kill me after all we've been through? And if you killed me you wouldn't get anything out of me. Also, I think your boyfriend might get a bit upset if you killed his saviour."

"I can kill you and still get what I want," Henri drew her gun. "I'm not afraid to kill Markus to get to you."

"Only a direct shot to Markus' head would cause instant death," the thing grinned at her again. "Any other way you choose to disable me will give me enough time to purge his memory. You have nothing to gain by killing me."

"My own safety," Henri squeezed the weapon in her hands. "I'll kill you in order to keep myself from being infected."

"It's never that simple," it stepped closer to her. "You don't realize how desperately we were meant to be together. You're exactly what I've been looking for. A chance to be a human; imagine that. What a dream."

Henri focused her glare on it, "A dream you'll never get the pleasure of experiencing."

"Is that so?" its laugh boomed off of the high ceilings of the warehouse. "I don't think you can run forever."

She caught him glancing over her shoulder, "What?" she pivoted around to see two skinless androids standing a foot behind her.

In her weariness from scanning the minds of dozens of androids, she failed to notice them approach her from behind. One easily pried the pistol from her unguarded grip. They kicked at the back of her knees, forcing her to the ground. Everything reminded her of her encounter with Hollis. If she got out of that, she could get out of this.

"You're difficult prey," it said as it stroked the side of her hair. "You're just too tough. You're so perfect. Everything I could have imagined."

The androids that restrained her flooded her mind with broken images. Sounds of static and screams encompassed her perception. She tried to focus on her weapon. Only a few feet away, she just needed it for one second. No physical effort required.

"But the chase is over," its olive skin vanished and it clasped a hand over her mouth. "And you are finally mine."

The gun. The gun. Just get the gun. Just one second.

She managed to wrench her right arm out of the pale android's grip. She clenched the gun with her fingertips. Two shots fired. But she didn't want to shoot Markus… Not yet.

"Really?" it glanced dispassionately at her recent victims. "It's a bit too late for that."


Connor and Hank heard the blast of pistol fire from within the warehouse.

"Henri," Connor's face bolted to Hank.

They sprinted into the building.


"Too late...?" Henri was sprawled on the ground peering up at the voice that wasn't Markus.

"I have you now," and he walked away from her.

"No..." for once, Henri's always steady arms were shaking. "This can't be..." but she could feel something crawling in the back of her mind. An overbearing presence that pressed its weight down on her lungs. It felt like something was strangling her from the inside out. A force that was crushing down on her own consciousness.

Hank and Connor stormed into the area just in time to see Markus flutter out a broken window.

"Henri," Connor briskly jumped around the dead androids and slid down next to Henri. "Are you okay?"

"No, no I'm not," her eyes were sunken and glazed over. "He… It… got to me."

"What do you mean?" Connor gaped at Hank with a pleading expression.

"I can't let it happen," the world around her was fading away; her vision blurred. "I'm sorry, Connor, but I can't let it happen to me."

"Henri," Connor clasped his hands onto her shoulders. "Tell me what you mean, please."

"I'm sorry," she gave him a hard shove and he stumbled over a dead body and onto the floor behind him. "I can't let this happen to me," her right eye was as black as the night.

She pushed her own pistol up underneath her chin and pulled the trigger.

For the first few moments, Connor and Hank looked on in silence. At first, it was impossible for them to comprehend what had just happened. But Hank knew. And Hank knew that Connor knew.

"No!" Connor wailed at her collapsed body as he crawled over to her.

Blue and red blood spilt from her open wound like flowing ribbons. Connor knew she was dead because he was able to scan her corpse for signs of existence. This is something he was never able to do before. Her heart had stopped. Her brain had stopped. The bio-components in her head were no longer functioning.

He cushioned her lifeless body in his lap. He stared down at her desolate face. Tears of anguish escaped from his broken heart.

"Hank?" Connor peered up at the man who claimed a hollow expression. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Hank bent down and touched Henri's absent face. She seemed so lifelike in the boy's arms. Her face still flushed with warm blood. So soon to have her just to lose her again.

"I don't know," he said to the child.


Leaving Hope by John Sheridan

I look upon the stars and what do I see?

I see the hope I've left with you

I've seen the emptiness in your eyes

I've seen the hollowness behind your mind

I wondered what you'd do without me?

I've been in the sky and back

Is there a place in the stars to be?

Have you lost all hope?

Have you lost all the hope I left with you?

Have you left it all behind?