The night air is sweet. There’s the particular scent of forest, but this planet has it’s own unique smell I’ve never encountered. It’s fresh, heavy as if it’s about to rain, and I breathe it in after several days in my ship’s recycled air.
“Should’ve asked Zane if they have any dogs…” Bat grumbles, crouching against my shoulder.
“You liked some of Lex’s dogs.”
“Yeah, some.”
I pet his ear.
I’m well aware that less than a week ago I wouldn’t’ve been caught dead letting someone hold my hand while we walk. I still want to pull away from Yvonne, want to clamp my hand into a fist. Her finger moves absently along one of the healed wounds that exposed metal in my finger. She’s infinitely breakable compared to me—if she was smart, she wouldn’t be sticking her fingers in between mine. It takes concentrated effort not to yank away. Maybe it’ll make me appear less threatening. Certainly, it seemed to relax Lex when we first met her than Yvonne was comfortable around me. That, and it’s oddly reassuring having her hand inside of mine. I wouldn’t be caught dead mentioning that, but it’s no less true.
Zane is walking back toward us through the grasses. I recognize his limping shape even in the twilight. Anya is already up on the porch with Lalia and their parents. Little gremlin is braver than I am already.
“Come on,” Zane says, and puts his arm over my shoulder.
They’re going to make a big deal out of this. I should’ve stayed in the ship. Hell, I should’ve flow off.
But they’re heading inside. I see one of them—likely the father by the shape of him—glancing our way before Lalia drags him in.
I take the opportunity to say to Zane, “Go ahead and go in. I’ll catch up. Give them time to cry all over you a bit.”
“How did you know,” he mutters, but gives Yvonne a meaningful look I catch even in the dark and heads back toward the house.
I watch him limp and think again how it must be for their parents for them to show up like this. We never did stop for extra clothes since Lalia said they still have some here. So they look worn, and definitely like they’ve been in life-risking situations lately. Not to mention Zane’s injuries. And they’re showing up with a cyborg in tow who doesn’t remember anything or even who he was before Amerov.
For the first time, I can’t decide if it’ll be worse if they do like me or don’t. I usually prefer people keeping their distance, but how am I going to feel when they try to stay as far from me as possible? It shouldn’t matter at all. They’re not my parents. I made it very clear to Zane we’re not claiming that until we all know for sure. And he said they’re aware of that and hinted for us to stop by anyway. They can’t be stupid. They must realize the situation exactly as their children do.
This shouldn’t be any different than wandering the galaxy with Zane and Lalia. That’s the entire reason I agreed to come here. Because it isn’t any different. And they already know all about me.
I shudder at the idea they’ve been telling stories about me. It isn’t any different.
Bat drops off my shoulder to head around the house, checking the perimeter as we always do. The idea has slipped my mind in the ensuring nerves. And the fact we didn’t give anyone any warning we’re coming. It’s not like they could call the authorities on us when they just landed in their yard.
It isn’t cold, but I’m vastly aware of the fact I’m not wearing my coat as Yvonne practically hauls me up the front porch. No hood for me. I consider turning right around and going back for it, but somehow this is where my pride draws the line. At least the sleeves on my shirt are long. I stuff my free hand in my pocket, ignoring how nervous it likely looks.
Yvonne mutters, “You looked less scared by ForceZero.”
“That’s not true,” I grumble. “Close, but not quite.”
She laughs quietly.
They’ve left the door open, and Anya is wandering inside, making herself at home. I suppose if it’s Zane and Lalia’s home, the girl has no qualms about being here. Must be nice.
As it is, I step just inside, glad to find the living room we find ourselves in to be empty, voices coming from off to my left. It’s a cozy house, with reclining chairs and a couch around an open fireplace lit and crackling. To my direct left is a kitchen made mostly of smooth, marbled stone. There are remnants of a meal. We must have interrupted their dinner. Past the kitchen as well as directly opposite the front door, several more doorways and a hallway lead away. I glance at the ceiling, at the beams along the roof, then out the windows behind me alongside the door, and try to imagine myself here. Growing up here. Running around in the forests surrounding it, in the meadow. I physically can’t picture it.
But I can’t picture myself at one of the city orphanages, either.
Bat creeps through the crack I left in the door, sitting on my foot as he looks around, glancing up at me. I feel like I should say something, but nothing comes to mind. Plus, I don’t want to draw anyone’s attention.
“Beautiful house,” Yvonne murmurs, running her fingers across the top of the couch. I don’t know what kind of fabric it is, but it looks soft when my eyes stop glitching enough for me to see the texture.
The house is barely lighter than outside, lit just by the fireplace. It’s comforting. This way, they won’t have to see me directly all at once.
Unless they decide to turn on a light.
I’m reminded vaguely of the situation on Yayth and grimace.
I suppose it’s too much to hope they stay in the other room for any length of time.
Footsteps rekindle my anxiety. An older woman comes out of the back room past the kitchen and stops dead, something in her hands I can’t catch in the dark. Her eyes go right to me, and it takes more self control than I’d like not to just crouch behind the kitchen counter like this is a firefight.
Would be easier if it was.
Zane and Lalia owe me big time for this.
I have precisely no idea what to say, and a silence begins building as her eyes continue boring holes in mine.
Thankfully, Yvonne’s not panicking. “Hi, we just came in, I hope that’s okay.”
The woman starts as if just noticing her. If there’s any recognition about the royal lineage, it doesn’t show. In fact, she barely seems interested. “No, it’s fine, Lalia said you were coming.”
Her voice reminds me of the siblings, same slight accent, same tone somehow, though it might be my imagination. She glances once at Anya, then back to me, unable to see Bat where he’s on my feet, hidden by the counter.
What do I say?
Hello, your idiot children think I’m your long-lost son.
You wanted to meet me, this is your fault.
Definitely not.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, hating how weak my voice sounds.
Slowly, she nods, and I wait for something about her to strike a chord. For something, anything, about this place to scream to me that this is where I came from. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even what seems familiar about this woman comes from the nearly direct features she shares with her daughter and son. I’ve been living with those two humans for so many weeks I can practically pick out their shape even in the dark with my bad eyes.
I wouldn’t be surprised if this is what Lalia looks like in a few decades.
Maybe, when the room isn’t nearly black as night and I can see more of her features, something will strike me as familiar. I haven’t seen their father yet, either. It doesn’t prove anything that I don’t remember any of this, but it sure isn’t helping.
She still doesn’t speak to me, which makes me consider if it would actually be less awkward if I simply turned around and ran for it.
Stop being a coward, Aaron.
I’m afraid to actually break eye contact to look at Yvonne for help, but Lalia takes this moment to finally be helpful and emerge from the back room.
“Oh good, you came in,” she says, in the exact same tone as normal, as if this is all fine and good and I wouldn’t be perfectly fine dying right here and now. “Zane’s getting the lecture of his life back here, so expect to hear about it later.”
It’s difficult to tell, but the look her mother shoots her seems somewhere between shocked and offended. I’m not certain at which part.
I nod, since the last thing I said earned me no answer.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” Lalia says, and Yvonne gives a nervous laugh.
Well, glad this is funny to someone.
“Dad, I am fine,” comes Zane’s voice, and I feel a little better when he also escapes from the back room, waving at the man following him. “Good grief, I’ve had worse.”
I doubt it.
He adds, “And I’ve had Lalia obsessing over me for a week, I think I’ve been punished enough.”
That sounds more accurate.
I watch the father open his mouth directly before he sees me and performs the exact same dead stop and silent stare as his wife. Great.
“Aaron, I’m gonna hide behind you,” Zane says, and grabs me by the arm. I let him drag be toward the couch, because I don’t know what else to do. And trying to seem not threatening is high on my list. I don’t want to make any sudden movements.
“Zane,” their father says, in a long-suffering tone, and I’m suddenly certain this is not the first time one of these two has shown up injured, as Lalia said. Probably not even the first time hauling a weird friend along. This time has more weight, I’ll admit, but I make a mental note to ask Zane how many times he’s show up half-dead.
Zane drags me toward the couch but doesn’t quite make it to shoving me down on it, and to my relief, actually stands next to me in a way that puts him between myself and everyone else. Bat slinks behind the couch beside me now that my leg is gone to hide behind.
“Mom,” Lalia says in the sudden silence, voice a bit too high. “Do you want me to help you make dinner? You look like you were in the middle of it. Or you could just keep staring at the poor guy until he wants to crawl into a hole and die.”
Anya claps a hand over her mouth, glancing at me, shaking with silent laughter.
This, at least, startles the woman out of her staring. I realize I have no idea what either of their names are, and somehow, it feels like it’ll make it so much worse to ask.
Their mother gives Lalia an eye and finally says, “Have you considered showering this week?”
Well, at least she has the same snark. That’s something.
“I have,” Lalia says, heading for the back room and shooting Zane a look. “Just need a new change of clothes. These ones had a crazy cy—had a crazy dude come after us.”
There’s no way either of them didn’t catch the cyborg Lalia meant, but I appreciate her trying to make it look like our kind aren’t psychotic. Not sure how that’s going to work with Zane’s injuries.
Zane nudges me and points to the couch. Now that he’s up close, I can see his tight expression, the sweat on his forehead, and the way he’s ever so slightly leaning toward me as if he wants to lean his weight against my shoulder. Perhaps he shouldn’t be up walking around.
As much as I want to continue hiding behind him like a child, I force my voice to be as even as possible and say to his mother, “Ma’am, he’s not actually fine, I think probably putting him to bed would be a good idea. I’m afraid mine hasn’t been that comfortable.”
Nudging me, Zane mutters, “Traitor.”
“Idiot,” I mumble back at matching volume.
Their mother stares a solid three more seconds before tromping over and grabbing her son gently under the arm. “Let’s go, I figured you were lying anyway.”
“I am not lying—”
Their father joins in, dragging him for the back room while Zane mutters something about overreacting and Yvonne is grinning at me from the other side of the couch. Her amusement doesn’t comfort me.
But the father doesn’t go with them all the way. Just as soon as I was relaxing a bit with their gazes off me, he returns to the kitchen and stares for a moment before approaching.
The night air is sweet. There’s the particular scent of forest, but this planet has it’s own unique smell I’ve never encountered. It’s fresh, heavy as if it’s about to rain, and I breathe it in after several days in my ship’s recycled air.
“Should’ve asked Zane if they have any dogs…” Bat grumbles, crouching against my shoulder.
“You liked some of Lex’s dogs.”
“Yeah, some.”
I pet his ear.
I’m well aware that less than a week ago I wouldn’t’ve been caught dead letting someone hold my hand while we walk. I still want to pull away from Yvonne, want to clamp my hand into a fist. Her finger moves absently along one of the healed wounds that exposed metal in my finger. She’s infinitely breakable compared to me—if she was smart, she wouldn’t be sticking her fingers in between mine. It takes concentrated effort not to yank away. Maybe it’ll make me appear less threatening. Certainly, it seemed to relax Lex when we first met her than Yvonne was comfortable around me. That, and it’s oddly reassuring having her hand inside of mine. I wouldn’t be caught dead mentioning that, but it’s no less true.
Zane is walking back toward us through the grasses. I recognize his limping shape even in the twilight. Anya is already up on the porch with Lalia and their parents. Little gremlin is braver than I am already.
“Come on,” Zane says, and puts his arm over my shoulder.
They’re going to make a big deal out of this. I should’ve stayed in the ship. Hell, I should’ve flow off.
But they’re heading inside. I see one of them—likely the father by the shape of him—glancing our way before Lalia drags him in.
I take the opportunity to say to Zane, “Go ahead and go in. I’ll catch up. Give them time to cry all over you a bit.”
“How did you know,” he mutters, but gives Yvonne a meaningful look I catch even in the dark and heads back toward the house.
I watch him limp and think again how it must be for their parents for them to show up like this. We never did stop for extra clothes since Lalia said they still have some here. So they look worn, and definitely like they’ve been in life-risking situations lately. Not to mention Zane’s injuries. And they’re showing up with a cyborg in tow who doesn’t remember anything or even who he was before Amerov.
For the first time, I can’t decide if it’ll be worse if they do like me or don’t. I usually prefer people keeping their distance, but how am I going to feel when they try to stay as far from me as possible? It shouldn’t matter at all. They’re not my parents. I made it very clear to Zane we’re not claiming that until we all know for sure. And he said they’re aware of that and hinted for us to stop by anyway. They can’t be stupid. They must realize the situation exactly as their children do.
This shouldn’t be any different than wandering the galaxy with Zane and Lalia. That’s the entire reason I agreed to come here. Because it isn’t any different. And they already know all about me.
I shudder at the idea they’ve been telling stories about me. It isn’t any different.
Bat drops off my shoulder to head around the house, checking the perimeter as we always do. The idea has slipped my mind in the ensuring nerves. And the fact we didn’t give anyone any warning we’re coming. It’s not like they could call the authorities on us when they just landed in their yard.
It isn’t cold, but I’m vastly aware of the fact I’m not wearing my coat as Yvonne practically hauls me up the front porch. No hood for me. I consider turning right around and going back for it, but somehow this is where my pride draws the line. At least the sleeves on my shirt are long. I stuff my free hand in my pocket, ignoring how nervous it likely looks.
Yvonne mutters, “You looked less scared by ForceZero.”
“That’s not true,” I grumble. “Close, but not quite.”
She laughs quietly.
They’ve left the door open, and Anya is wandering inside, making herself at home. I suppose if it’s Zane and Lalia’s home, the girl has no qualms about being here. Must be nice.
As it is, I step just inside, glad to find the living room we find ourselves in to be empty, voices coming from off to my left. It’s a cozy house, with reclining chairs and a couch around an open fireplace lit and crackling. To my direct left is a kitchen made mostly of smooth, marbled stone. There are remnants of a meal. We must have interrupted their dinner. Past the kitchen as well as directly opposite the front door, several more doorways and a hallway lead away. I glance at the ceiling, at the beams along the roof, then out the windows behind me alongside the door, and try to imagine myself here. Growing up here. Running around in the forests surrounding it, in the meadow. I physically can’t picture it.
But I can’t picture myself at one of the city orphanages, either.
Bat creeps through the crack I left in the door, sitting on my foot as he looks around, glancing up at me. I feel like I should say something, but nothing comes to mind. Plus, I don’t want to draw anyone’s attention.
“Beautiful house,” Yvonne murmurs, running her fingers across the top of the couch. I don’t know what kind of fabric it is, but it looks soft when my eyes stop glitching enough for me to see the texture.
The house is barely lighter than outside, lit just by the fireplace. It’s comforting. This way, they won’t have to see me directly all at once.
Unless they decide to turn on a light.
I’m reminded vaguely of the situation on Yayth and grimace.
I suppose it’s too much to hope they stay in the other room for any length of time.
Footsteps rekindle my anxiety. An older woman comes out of the back room past the kitchen and stops dead, something in her hands I can’t catch in the dark. Her eyes go right to me, and it takes more self control than I’d like not to just crouch behind the kitchen counter like this is a firefight.
Would be easier if it was.
Zane and Lalia owe me big time for this.
I have precisely no idea what to say, and a silence begins building as her eyes continue boring holes in mine.
Thankfully, Yvonne’s not panicking. “Hi, we just came in, I hope that’s okay.”
The woman starts as if just noticing her. If there’s any recognition about the royal lineage, it doesn’t show. In fact, she barely seems interested. “No, it’s fine, Lalia said you were coming.”
Her voice reminds me of the siblings, same slight accent, same tone somehow, though it might be my imagination. She glances once at Anya, then back to me, unable to see Bat where he’s on my feet, hidden by the counter.
What do I say?
Hello, your idiot children think I’m your long-lost son.
You wanted to meet me, this is your fault.
Definitely not.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, hating how weak my voice sounds.
Slowly, she nods, and I wait for something about her to strike a chord. For something, anything, about this place to scream to me that this is where I came from. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even what seems familiar about this woman comes from the nearly direct features she shares with her daughter and son. I’ve been living with those two humans for so many weeks I can practically pick out their shape even in the dark with my bad eyes.
I wouldn’t be surprised if this is what Lalia looks like in a few decades.
Maybe, when the room isn’t nearly black as night and I can see more of her features, something will strike me as familiar. I haven’t seen their father yet, either. It doesn’t prove anything that I don’t remember any of this, but it sure isn’t helping.
She still doesn’t speak to me, which makes me consider if it would actually be less awkward if I simply turned around and ran for it.
Stop being a coward, Aaron.
I’m afraid to actually break eye contact to look at Yvonne for help, but Lalia takes this moment to finally be helpful and emerge from the back room.
“Oh good, you came in,” she says, in the exact same tone as normal, as if this is all fine and good and I wouldn’t be perfectly fine dying right here and now. “Zane’s getting the lecture of his life back here, so expect to hear about it later.”
It’s difficult to tell, but the look her mother shoots her seems somewhere between shocked and offended. I’m not certain at which part.
I nod, since the last thing I said earned me no answer.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” Lalia says, and Yvonne gives a nervous laugh.
Well, glad this is funny to someone.
“Dad, I am fine,” comes Zane’s voice, and I feel a little better when he also escapes from the back room, waving at the man following him. “Good grief, I’ve had worse.”
I doubt it.
He adds, “And I’ve had Lalia obsessing over me for a week, I think I’ve been punished enough.”
That sounds more accurate.
I watch the father open his mouth directly before he sees me and performs the exact same dead stop and silent stare as his wife. Great.
“Aaron, I’m gonna hide behind you,” Zane says, and grabs me by the arm. I let him drag be toward the couch, because I don’t know what else to do. And trying to seem not threatening is high on my list. I don’t want to make any sudden movements.
“Zane,” their father says, in a long-suffering tone, and I’m suddenly certain this is not the first time one of these two has shown up injured, as Lalia said. Probably not even the first time hauling a weird friend along. This time has more weight, I’ll admit, but I make a mental note to ask Zane how many times he’s show up half-dead.
Zane drags me toward the couch but doesn’t quite make it to shoving me down on it, and to my relief, actually stands next to me in a way that puts him between myself and everyone else. Bat slinks behind the couch beside me now that my leg is gone to hide behind.
“Mom,” Lalia says in the sudden silence, voice a bit too high. “Do you want me to help you make dinner? You look like you were in the middle of it. Or you could just keep staring at the poor guy until he wants to crawl into a hole and die.”
Anya claps a hand over her mouth, glancing at me, shaking with silent laughter.
This, at least, startles the woman out of her staring. I realize I have no idea what either of their names are, and somehow, it feels like it’ll make it so much worse to ask.
Their mother gives Lalia an eye and finally says, “Have you considered showering this week?”
Well, at least she has the same snark. That’s something.
“I have,” Lalia says, heading for the back room and shooting Zane a look. “Just need a new change of clothes. These ones had a crazy cy—had a crazy dude come after us.”
There’s no way either of them didn’t catch the cyborg Lalia meant, but I appreciate her trying to make it look like our kind aren’t psychotic. Not sure how that’s going to work with Zane’s injuries.
Zane nudges me and points to the couch. Now that he’s up close, I can see his tight expression, the sweat on his forehead, and the way he’s ever so slightly leaning toward me as if he wants to lean his weight against my shoulder. Perhaps he shouldn’t be up walking around.
As much as I want to continue hiding behind him like a child, I force my voice to be as even as possible and say to his mother, “Ma’am, he’s not actually fine, I think probably putting him to bed would be a good idea. I’m afraid mine hasn’t been that comfortable.”
Nudging me, Zane mutters, “Traitor.”
“Idiot,” I mumble back at matching volume.
Their mother stares a solid three more seconds before tromping over and grabbing her son gently under the arm. “Let’s go, I figured you were lying anyway.”
“I am not lying—”
Their father joins in, dragging him for the back room while Zane mutters something about overreacting and Yvonne is grinning at me from the other side of the couch. Her amusement doesn’t comfort me.
But the father doesn’t go with them all the way. Just as soon as I was relaxing a bit with their gazes off me, he returns to the kitchen and stares for a moment before approaching.
