6 months ago

As Lydecker and Alethea headed down the wooden path of the harbor, Alethea couldn't help but notice the name of the vessel toward which they seemed to be walking. There would have been no point in trying to hide the vessel's name from her, especially if that's where he kept the text which needed translation. The Anastasia was a beautiful boat, and she could tell by the way it gleamed with the water's reflection from the moonlight that he maintained the craft with care. She glanced at him from beneath long, dark lashes, grateful that her mother had someone in her life who loved her like he had. She could sense that depth.

What had her perplexed, though, was how vague he had been about this weird text Dr. Adair had worked so hard on translating before she was murdered. Dr. Adair had been tight-lipped about it too, apparently rightfully so considering what had happened to her. She again, belatedly wondered how Dr. Adair had been discovered, since she'd been so secretive about the program she'd been developing to read the language. She had entrusted Alethea with parts of it, instructed her never to let the program leave her office, for her to never talk about it with her friends or anyone else. Dr. Adair would ask for her opinion on a single marking, whether Alethea had any ideas about which way it faced, whether she thought it meant something particular or something suggested. Lydecker might not have been willing to risk bringing the text with him, but he seemed to trust her enough to bring her to it. But that was where the information stopped.

She wanted to ask Lydecker more, but he had been fairly quiet all the way back to the harbor. She'd forgotten how people cut themselves off from her when she perceived them, as if turning their gazes from her or turning their backs to her or closing their mouths would prevent her sensing their emotions, their truths, from feeling the way the tall waves of their guilt crashed into her as if she was its shore. When she perceived their truths, they felt emotionally naked, and they didn't like that feeling. It left Alethea isolated.

As The Anastasia bobbed gently in the water, she fought the urge to philosophize into the space between the water's reflection on tiny crests and the depths below. There was a truth to be discovered, but it was masked by vast deception – by the way the surface was not a mirror to what was below, but a vision of the endless nature above, so easily captured in a shiny fragment of ocean.

Suddenly, the parallelism struck her, changing her expression from glassy-eyed sadness to mysterious deduction. Perhaps the markings were like the water's reflection. Just as The Anastasia was both a vessel and a person, she realized and vocalized, "The markings are not in a book."

Reaching the vessel, Lydecker climbed aboard and turned to hold a hand out to the young woman. She accepted and stepped onto the deck.

And naturally, he wouldn't have left something so valuable alone and vulnerable. There had to be another person on board with the person who had the text. "Do they know we're coming?"

His eyes danced across the dark water, a refracted sliver of light from the surface in the blue of his irises the only twinkling suggestion of a smile. "They heard us."

She nodded. Maybe a normal person's response would be one of confusion, but it was as if she'd gleaned his honesty in every statement.

She followed him down the stairs into the cabin, and though she could see in her periphery that there was a table with a map spread out on it, tiny multicolored paths jagging through it, it was the authoritative aura of the young man's presence that gave her pause.

He stood tall, protectively, his larger frame blocking most of the young brunette woman behind him. His arms folded across a broad chest, his stance firm and muscles tight. His jaw ticked expectantly, an echo of a raw heartbeat, but when she met his stare, the opaqueness dissipated. He exuded power, and she understood immediately. It wasn't until it had niggled up through her veins, searched the corners of her senses for the rightful egress before discovering her mouth, that she realized she'd said out loud the very word she hadn't been able to conjure. "Champion."

Alethea saw the flash of shock which smoothed the coarse hazel of his irises, but would not mention it. His mouth fell open and he took a breath, looking to Lydecker for verification, but the older man wore a matching expression.

"Max, Alec, this is Alethea Sarantis, Dr. Adair's protégé," Lydecker introduced.

Max's hand wrapped around Alec's bicep from behind and nudged him aside. She walked forward.

Alethea's blue-petaled brown eyes betrayed her own sense of marvel as she stepped forward gracefully and lifted Max's chin a fraction of an inch. They locked eyes a moment and Max relaxed under her touch. The younger woman swept Max's long hair behind her left shoulder and thumbed at the block of runes on her shoulder. "She Will Deliver," she said aloud.

Max turned to look at Alec, a silent question running between them of whether or not anyone had told her about this particular translation. Alec shrugged.

Alethea then pulled Max's forearm between them and turned the underside of her wrist up, rubbing the unmarred skin with her fingertips. "Are more missing?"

This time, Alec sensed Max's nervous panic. How this girl could possibly know that was beyond him.

"May I see the rest?" Alethea asked.

Max gave Lydecker an embarrassed look.

"We'll wait out here," Alec offered. He knew she would be uncomfortable showing anything more than was strictly necessary while Lydecker was in the same room.

Max led Alethea into the back bedroom, and Alec found himself grateful for the military training he'd had, since he didn't want Alethea to see the aftermath of his and Max's intimate coupling.

If Lydecker realized Alec's embarrassment, he didn't cut the X5 any slack. Looking toward the map, the colonel asked, "Did you and Max plan any new routes?"

"Uh," he started ineloquently. "We, uh, got distracted." In fact, just thinking about the distraction made him further distracted. He searched the map's roads and waterways without focus.

This time, the older man let the topic drop, but not without a shake of his head.

It was just under half an hour when Alethea completed what would soon become her initial examination of Max's runes. Their conversation was minimal as the lighter-eyed girl turned Max's arms over in gentle hands and her eyes traced over the runes as if they, too, needed to be handled like precious, fragile gemstones.

Still, Max hadn't felt as if she were under anyone's scientific microscope, and Alethea hadn't asked her to strip down to nothing – just to pull up her sleeves, pull the neck of her shirt away from her body – to only show her what Max felt comfortable revealing.

Which, she realized to her own credit, was quite a bit. Everything except what was covered by her underwear and bra. And to Alethea's credit, her focus blanketed Max, calming her. The girl obviously knew something about this language.

That knowledge was confirmed each time she ran across space where runes had been. "It's like half a letter," she'd said of the empty plains on Max's shoulder. "The puzzle is missing another piece," she'd said of the runes no longer on her wrist. "It is like a map without legend," she'd surmised.

Max was astounded that she'd known parts were missing, unsurprised when she'd asked if they knew why some sank back into her skin like invisible ink, and appreciative when she'd asked if Max or Alec could draw the missing runes, or the runes in more intimate places, rather than have Max show them to her.

Alethea excused herself to let Max get dressed, closing the door softly behind her.

Even with so much going on, and such a monumental battle on the horizon with other transgenics and transhumans and White, Max felt relatively at ease with Alethea in the room. It was as if someone had sent her to help them. She had no doubt that Alethea would be able to help them, but there was a strange déjà vu feeling creeping around in Max's head.

For starters, when she saw Alec, the very first thing she'd said – champion – was just… right. Alec felt it, too, she was sure.

And her eyes… there was something so familiar about them. The gentility, kindness, carefulness, intelligence. The far-off look she'd get when she touched a few of the runes during the exam.

As Max pulled up, zipped and buttoned her jeans, her hands hesitated as her thoughts jumped wildly in another direction.

What if…

Alec had basically freaked out (albeit mentally) once he'd said out loud that the condom had broken. She saw the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth as he roared inwardly that he was too well-endowed to be restrained by the latex. But then that confident, wild-eyed pride dissolved into something she'd only seen in him once before: fear borne of uncertainty. She saw it in the bunker, and she saw it here.

She witnessed the way his eyes darted around to nothing in particular, as if they were trying to figure out and solve the maze, and she wanted to reach out to him, capture his hand and put it on her skin, somewhere, anywhere. Remind him she was there, they were real, that they could do anything, even have a baby and raise a child. But before she could extend her hand, he jumped up out of bed and went to the bathroom.

Naturally, she followed him, the onset of a slew of thoughts plaguing her own mind.

Maybe Alec was scared to be someone's father. Maybe he didn't think he had the capacity to be a good one. He hadn't exactly had great examples of father figures growing up in Manticore – who did he have to choose from? Lydecker? Sandoval? Guards? Normal?

And hell, she hadn't had the greatest of parental figures either. With the single exception of Hannah, her experiences with mother-types was pretty abysmal.

Suddenly, she'd realized she wasn't sure she had the capacity to be a parent, herself. How could she protect an innocent little baby if she couldn't protect her unit, her friends, her fellow transgenics?

She saw her own runes in the mirror, mocking her. How could she be this 'one,' this 'bearer,' and also be a mother?

It was at that exact moment that Alec turned to face her, positioned himself between her and the mirror, blocking her panicked path, and gave her the comfort and confidence she needed. He told her he'd protect her, protect them. His entire being radiated his belief.

But then, last time, they hadn't even used a condom. They hadn't even thought about it. They'd made love, and it was perfect. If anything resulted from their lovemaking, it would be perfect, too.

She smiled to herself, palming her stomach, imagining a life blossoming inside her, getting bigger and bigger each month. Of course, she imagined her baby bump without the runes, but even if the runes were there... Our baby.

A knock interrupted her reverie and she quickly pulled her shirt back on as Alec called from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting on the bed to put her socks and boots back on.

Alec's bright eyes found hers and held them for a moment, offering his quiet if she wanted to talk. When she didn't offer up anything, he spoke. "So, Alethea tells us she thinks she'll be able to help."

Trying to cover up her blush from thinking about their possible future lovechild, Max looked down to tie the laces on her boot. "Yeah, I think so, too. Something is so familiar about her. Did you notice that she looks just like-"

"Tony?" Alec interrupted. "Yeah, except for the blue-"

"Gray," Max said at the same time.

"-And brown eyes," he finished.

Max thought for a moment of the portrait Joshua painted of Sandeman. The slate blue of his eyes, his calm expression and gentle nature. But plenty of people had slate blue in their eyes. And Alethea's outer iris was brown, where Sandeman had no brown at all. And plenty of people were calm and gentle. Like Joshua, for example. She shook the thought away and steered her mind back to how similar she and Tony appeared. "You think they're related?"

"It's possible," Alec trailed. "Tony is Lydecker's illegitimate son."

Max looked up. "He's what?" It nearly knocked her over with surprise that Lydecker had a son. Information like that would be on record somewhere, and this wasn't. Guess that's the illegitimate part.

"Tony doesn't know that, though. Lydecker realized it when I went to get our IDs, recognized him, I guess, from having known Tony's mom, Anastasia Antonopoulos."

Max's stare widened as she realized the name of the boat they were on, and catalogued Alethea and Tony's similarities. Was Lydecker Alethea's father, too?

Alec nodded as if she'd just come to the same question. "Yeah, I know. I didn't think the guy had it in him. Let alone two."

Max made a face. She didn't want to think about anything Lydecker had in him. "Twins? Separated at birth to keep them safe? Or maybe Anastasia had a kid later with someone else."

"Which would mean Alethea is Tony's half-sister. Sister from another mister."

Standing, Max adjusted the sleeves of her shirt and hummed, thinking. "If Anastasia was Tony's mother, and Lydecker was Tony's father, then Anastasia and Lydecker would have had an affair while still employed at Manticore." Lydecker's life seemed to be Manticore, and once one became Manticore, there was only one way out.

"That's exactly what happened," Alec confirmed. "He didn't know Anastasia was pregnant or that she'd given birth to Tony. Says Anastasia disappeared, considered her missing until he figured Manticore had probably put her down, but never found any evidence to suggest otherwise."

"So Anastasia bounced, pregnant with their son, had the kid, and then, what? Gave him up for adoption?"

He wasn't sure. Tony had never really gone into his own history. Their relationship was based on business and monetary needs. "Probably," he settled, since Tony's last name was not Antonopoulos. Maybe Tony wasn't even really his first name.

"He didn't know she was pregnant, which means somehow, she was able to get out of Manticore unseen. That seems impossible."

"You did it," he pointed out as if it was some kind of proof.

Max grimaced. "Sort of. We broke out with the Pulse, and then you kind of help break me out the second time. I guess what I'm saying is, both times, I had help."

"Maybe Anastasia had help, then," Alec said. He'd just made her point for her. "But if it wasn't Lydecker, who was it?"

"And since Alethea couldn't be Lydecker's, then who is her father?"

"She doesn't know she has a half-brother, does she?"

"I don't think so. And Deck asked me not to tell her." He could see the wheels turning in her head.

It seemed like a terrible thing to Max not to let someone know they had a sibling, to deliberately withhold that information. She folded her arms over her chest, hope sparkling in her eyes.

Alec stepped forward, imploring with his eyes. "No, Maxie. We can't. He asked us not to."

Max narrowed her eyes at her lover and felt the ire boiling up through her being. "She has a brother, Alec. Don't you think they deserve to know each other? Don't you think they deserve to have a chance at a relationship?"

It aggravated him that she let her own history color the situation, when really, her family was nothing like Alethea's. Max loved her family, her unit, her brothers and sisters, sure. She grew up with them, to a degree, and they'd bonded over things children had no business bonding over. When she'd escaped, she found a new definition of family in the friends she made, sometimes, the people she helped. And all of those people who were lucky enough to be in Max's innermost circle understood the risks they took in knowing her secrets – that they might sometimes be put in danger – but they each made their choice.

And now, Alec and Max were already on enemy radar, as were any others they considered cohorts. As far as they knew, Alethea was a secret; Tony and Liv were secrets. No one knew about them, yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Keep them out of danger. Max reuniting the possible siblings would tie them to her, to him.

"If we tell them, aren't we painting a big ol' bullseye right on them? Alethea, Tony, and his live-in baby mama? Doesn't that put all of them in a greater danger? Dr. Adair was murdered for her attempt to translate a language written on your skin. She didn't even know it was on your skin, Max, but she chose to help Logan, to help us, and someone found her. Probably White. They made her pay for that." He took a deep breath. "I'm all for the reunion of family, but maybe we could wait just-"

"You're all for the reunion of family? Really?" A cocktail of sarcasm and anger was Max's preferred weapon of choice when someone questioned her intentions. "Where's yours, Alec?"

Alec looked down with frustration, nodding angrily. "That was a really shitty thing to say, Max."