Ending Two, Part 17 (or Part 93)
The darkness suited him.
For years he had lived in the shadows, literally and metaphorically. They provided cover and protection, for the world and from it. He had never belonged and that was knowledge he had carried with him from the beginning. The planet responsible for his existence held no meaning for him and the fact that no one had ever come for him expressed their desire to see him returned in terms that were unmistakable. Earth had no claim on him. He had been a burden on its social system since his first encounter with humans and they hadn't wanted him either. That had been evident every time he had been passed over for adoption, the prospective parents not even bothering to look at him, every time he had been declared a troubled youth, and with every cruel word, punishing fist, and indifferent attitude he'd come across.
He was, for all intents and purposes, a man who didn't belong. He had been unwanted, unneeded, and generally unwelcome. Until he'd encountered a woman who infuriated and aroused him, who confused and enlightened him; a woman who had taught him what it meant to love and be loved in return. And now, tasked with a mission he hadn't wanted and having its goal in his sights, he was losing his hold on those memories.
With every passing hour, every successful change he made to the timeline, another piece of his memory of his time with her faded. The Granolith had warned him that it would happen, but he hadn't believed it. He relied on his mental faculties as much as his physical abilities, more in certain situations, and it bothered him that they were failing him. He had noticed the effect little by little and he had fought it, but as he sat there unable to remember enough to fill in the spaces he felt like he couldn't breathe.
He stretched his arm out and pulled his bag closer, digging around for the memory device and flexing his hand around it. They were his memories and he had every right to them. When he had first realized he was losing them he had toyed with the idea of using the device since it didn't pose any threat to maintaining their integrity. The Granolith had said that they would remain inside of it until they were no longer needed and until his younger self had accepted the device and put it to use that wouldn't be an issue.
He cradled the alien device in his hands, feeling the warmth of the odd metallic alloy as his fingers closed around it. He closed his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing, dropping his head forward to rest against his knuckles as he tried to connect with it. He didn't understand how the device worked and he didn't care. All he wanted was another moment that belonged to them; a moment to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her and soak up the light and warmth that had been so much a part of her. To feel the love of a woman who understood his differences, knew his flaws, stood toe to toe with him when she disagreed with him, and who, in spite of all that, still loved him.
Sparks flashed behind his closed eyelids, reminding him of fireworks exploding against a pitch black sky. He waited as the flickering bits of light coalesced to form a single image and he felt the hollowness inside of him begin to fill. Maria. He waited and after what felt like hours, images began to imprint themselves on his memory. Their first meeting, first impressions, first fight, first kiss, and the first time they had made love. As painful as the memory of the morning after was, he allowed it to wash over him as well. He had saved every moment with her, even those that had slipped past his walls and wounded him in a way nothing else ever had. Every one of those moments were a part of their brief relationship and he wanted to make sure his younger self would one day understand and avoid the hurt he'd inflicted on her.
She had cared for him in a way no one else ever had. She hadn't needed to like him or care about him to reach her goal. She certainly hadn't been required to love him to succeed in her mission. But she had loved him. With a depth and fierceness he had never expected. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about that. There was proof of that care and love in every memory.
It was there in the way she had cared for him after he was shot. It was there in the way she had made sure he ate meals that were healthy. It was very much there in the way she had held him and comforted him after Stone's death. It was there in the way she spoke to him and tried to get him to understand that regardless of what they both wanted they had the chance to make a better life for their younger selves. It was there in a million small ways and most of the time he hadn't understood or appreciated it. And by the time he had, it had been too late for them.
His chest began to ache when their first visit to the Granolith played across his mind. A dull, heavy sensation constricted his breathing as once again the realization that he was going to have to let her go hit him. His first instinct had been to take her and run, to get as far away from the Granolith and its intent to take her from him. But she had convinced him that they had an opportunity to give their younger selves a chance at happiness and he had agreed to the mission. She had reached something inside of him, brought out a side of him that he had never suspected even existed, and he could only hope that one day his younger self would appreciate the sacrifice that was necessary to give him a full life.
Their last night together began to flash across his mind and the pressure on his chest eased, replaced by a wealth of emotions that he didn't have names for. She had promised there would be no regrets and she had been true to her word. He allowed himself to be caught up in the moment and without any resistance he easily found that he could lose himself in it. He could feel her lips on his, draw in her scent, hear her breathy moans and needy cries, could feel her body beneath him as she rose up, searching, begging, demanding completion.
There had been a freedom that night and physically, emotionally, she had been completely unrestrained. She had been his in every way possible. She should still be there, but instead she was… gone. She wasn't dead, she wasn't missing, and she hadn't walked out on him. She had soldiered up and gone to carry out her mission, and when it was finished she had simply ceased to exist. She had vanished, sacrificing herself and everything they could've had together. He didn't know what that meant exactly. Was it like dying? Had it been painful? Had she suffered? Had she been alone? His hands clenched around the device and he had to quickly remind himself to relax.
He dropped his head back to rest against the wall, cracking one eye open when the sun's rays infiltrated the darkness. He didn't need to look at the clock to know it was almost nine and it was past time to get on his feet and prepare for the meeting with the Evans family. They were expecting him within the hour and he didn't like to be late for anything. Punctuality was so ingrained in him it might as well be stamped on his DNA. He snorted at that thought. He had been engineered so for all he knew it was.
He cleared his mind of everything but his immediate mission and stood to get ready. The trip to the Evans home wouldn't take long but he needed time to observe from a distance, to do a threat assessment prior to approaching his target. He readied himself and gathered the few things he had brought back with him from his timeline before doing a final sweep of the room. Satisfied that he had left no trace of his habitation he wiped the key down before tossing it on the bedside table and exiting the room.
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Philip Evans rubbed his wife's shoulder when he felt the tension in her notching up at their visitor's presence. She was still struggling with the overload of information she had recently been subjected to and he knew it would take time to process it. His children on the other hand didn't seem to have any reservations about the man once again seated in their living room.
Max had been chattering nonstop about his mission to save Liz Parker, the local café owners' daughter. It hadn't escaped his notice that his son was infatuated with the little girl, but he'd always assumed at some point the boy would grow out of it and move on. Apparently he was mistaken, considering the girl was one of the key points in ensuring their survival.
His attention shifted to his daughter. Isabel was watching Michael, fascinated by him and so eager to explore the device he held in his hands. It still amazed him how easily his children had accepted the man and other than that slight hitch about little Alex Whitman one day being important to Isabel, there had been no question in their young minds that he spoke the truth.
"What is it?" Isabel asked, gnawing on her bottom lip as she took a step closer, her fingers just itching to touch the object.
Michael lifted his head, his hands unconsciously caressing the device that held every memory he had of Maria and their time together. She had come to his world and she had changed it. She had changed him. "This isn't for you," he said, his tone dead serious as he looked at her. "This device has to be given to Michael. He's the only one who will know how to use it."
"Can anyone else access the information it holds?" Diane asked, unnerved by the man's unblinking stare when he looked at her directly.
"I don't know," he said after a moment. "It requires an individual to connect with it and considering Max and Isabel both have certain abilities it isn't out of the realm of possibility that they could potentially achieve a connection with it." He called upon every bit of the training he'd undergone to prepare him for dealing with civilians. "I'm a grown man, Mrs. Evans. This device contains my memories and I can't imagine you'd want your children having access to what's in my mind."
"No," she said slowly, "no, I wouldn't want that at all."
"I can't stress enough the importance that Michael receive this device and that he uses it. The information contained inside belongs exclusively to him."
Max sat down next to him, his hands tucked under his thighs as he looked between the device and Michael. "Is it like your secret thoughts?"
Michael did his best to hide his discomfort as he looked into the little boy's open expression. He didn't care for discussing such things with anyone, especially someone who was too young to have any idea how important or significant his memories were. "Yes."
The boy studied Michael for several long minutes, his gaze searching the man's serious features and detecting something in his eyes that seemed so sad. He shifted to free his right hand and he carefully placed it on the taut arm next to him as he nodded.
Philip observed their interaction, somehow sensing that Max had just let Michael know that he understood he was not to touch the device. Something in the man eased fractionally at the assurance, almost as if there was some sort of communication going on that the rest of them couldn't see or understand. He turned his head to look at his daughter and he could see the curiosity in her expression and he knew how hard it would be for her to know there was something so intriguing within reaching distance and not be able to explore it.
"The device will be kept for Michael and the kids won't get their hands on it," he promised, giving his daughter a look that indicated she was not to touch it. He had a lockbox inside the wall safe in his home office and he could keep it there. No, he decided, Isabel would figure out where it was hidden and her curiosity would get the best of her. The safe deposit box he kept at the bank would work better. He would keep it there until it was time to present it to the young man who was going to be responsible for teaching his children things he had never imagined they would need to survive.