AN: I'm finally happy with the revamped Chapter Two: She Rises. So here's a new chapter.

Chapter Eleven: Jason

"Dad."

"Hm?" The tall man barely looked up as he continued folding the clothes from the pile of cleaned laundry on his bed.

"Did something happen?" The teenage boy looked at his father.

"What makes you think that?" his father said lightly.

"The dogs seem down lately."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Check their canned food then, might be something they ate."

Hank didn't budge at that answer, just continued to stare at his father from the doorway. "No…" he said carefully. "They're always down when you're not happy."

There was not a single slip, his father just kept folding, but no reassuring reply came from him.

"You changed your mind at coming over to the wedding," Hank said lightly.

"Something came up at the company, that's all, Hank."

"You said you've cleared your schedule over that day."

"And things change when something comes up, Hank."

"You let Elise buy a fancy dress. You helped pick me a suit. You even bought yourself a new one."

"And?" his father asked wryly.

Hank leaned against the white door frame and inhaled deeply. "I'm saying something had changed after you went on a holiday trip with them."

"You sound like your mother." His father's voice was cold and strange.

"I'm just asking," Hank said in a sullen tone and looked down at the floor.

The rustles and snap of clothes being folded didn't stop.

"Some people you can't help, Hank," his father continued in that same tone.

Like you. Hank kept his gaze down.

"Your mother was one of them," he added quietly. "I thought I could help her, that I could… fix things. Turns out that was the wrong answer. She couldn't stand me after that." He laughed softly.

"Is this really about mom?" Hank asked coldly.

His father sniffed. "No, not really. Just noticing a sense of pattern in my life."

"What happened, Dad? You're acting like an asshole."

Pale hands froze in their task.

"Blood does not make a good excuse for a family, Hank," his father muttered then looked up, his green eyes rested on him. "Much like what I did to your mother, I've done something that would push any decent people away," his father admitted softly as he finally sat down on the edge of his bed.

"But mom still trusts you with me," Hank pointed out. "You mentioned mom had a hard time trusting people before she met you, so… that says something."

His father actually laughed, it was a raspy, shuddering exhale of a laugh. He inhaled deeply and turned around.

"What happened, Dad?" Hank slid down to the bottom of the doorway. "You've never really like talking about these people."

You never really talked. When it came to growing up under Patrick Gordon's house, Hank learned his father was not one to be troubled by something, unless it was football - his father became another person entirely when it came to football. Other than that, he was a calm person, not one to brood. He was easygoing and cheerful in front of others and to his children. Considerate in some ways, assertive when he had to, and watchful. His father liked to read people like how one would read a book.

But when it came to them, he acted differently. He was more aloof yet more… open and honest. In some way less friendly with them, and that was obvious by his father lack of tact in his overstepping behavior at times, but he was comfortable and familiar with these people. Like there was no reason to maintain some facsimile of a cheerful easygoing person he put up in front of others.

Hank merely frowned at that. "What are they to you, dad?"

"I don't know." His father shrugged.

"Do you go bowling with them?"

"No, Hank. I don't go bowling with them," his father said flatly. "I don't think we're really friends, but at the same time we're not an acquaintance."

They weren't frequent acquaintance either since they didn't visit the house, nor were they some family friend. His father though accommodated his time for them.

The only way Hank could explain his father relationship was that they were an estranged family of a sort who was on friendly terms with each other.

"You grew up with them, didn't you?"

His father looked down and shook his head. "No, I didn't. We're just a bunch of strayed individuals who got caught up together, especially me of all. They got each other, I'm the odd one out."

"Oh," Hank said, wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Then do you care about them? Or like them."

His father smiled. "It's basic instinct to look out for your own kind," he answered.

"Isn't that human decency?" Hank asked. "People looking out for others, even if they were strangers."

"A human explanation to a behavior." His father gave a sharp inhale of a laugh. "I supposed you're not wrong about that." Patrick smiled again.

"Do you enjoy being with them at least, bonding and stuff?" Hank said with a pointed look. "Or are you just forcing yourself?"

His father was quiet at that and then he said, "Yes, I do. I do enjoy my time with them."

Hank blinked. "Are you sure sorry won't cut it?" he suggested.

"Sorry works if you're genuine, Hank." His father gave a small amused grin at that. "It won't help, I meant what I've said, and she had made her points."

His father then shook his head before he softly added, "And it's not like both of us is going to take back our words."

"Hank, does this dress make me look fat?"

There was a contemplating pause and then he said, "Yeah."

Patrick heard the sound of his daughter throwing something before rushing to chase after her brother. Hank just sniggered while he got her out of the bathroom.

He didn't smile at the thought, merely continued straightening the sleeve of the shirt of his black suit, folding the end sharply before clipping his gold cufflink. He repeated on his other sleeve before he swept and straightened his jacket, buttoning the last of his white buttons.

He looked at the mirror, a bored-looking man in his forties gazed back.

'You're not happy.'

His eyes turned to the black dog who sat politely at the doorway in the corner of his mirror.

'You do not want to go?'

"And hide away here?" he muttered and smiled. "That would impress no one."

"...honorary… Alex Mercer!" A thunderous applause, a firm handshake and the flash of many cameras. A moment of pride.

Alex stared at the mirror and grimaced at the tanned man in a black suit with tousled mop hair touching the tips of his ears. Chase Kendrick looked back at him, default unimpressed with himself. The similarity was there, he may lack the sickly pallor, the stern eyebrows and the circles under his eyes, but it was there. The nose, the mouth, and the grimacing glare. An awkward look-alike.

But with a smile, the face transformed. It lacked the menace and harshness he always expected. It wasn't a prideful, narcissistic smirk, more of a sheepish smile. Changing the hairstyle, his hair color, even the paleness of his skin wasn't enough. It was his body's signals, how he held himself that needed to change. The memories helped.

He had to smile when Dana grimaced at the real Chase Kendrick. Once he thought having a beard would help. Dana had completely lost it at the image of that.

How did Pariah do it so easily? Pretending to be another person, putting up a perfect mask quickly without muddying it up.

He cracked a smile at that. Well, that wasn't really true. Even the older Runner had flaws in his meticulous mask.

Despite being in another's shoes, the awkward stiff Alex Mercer beneath all the charade still got through. Defeated the point, when he thought about it, trying to distance themselves from who they were to live this life of theirs. She liked this, the honesty, less disconcerting for her when she looked at Chase, and not another person she had to pretend who was her brother. The irony, he was still wearing a dead man's body, a different one that he had mashed with traits of his own and others, what was the difference?

He checked the time on his silver watch and hurried out of his hotel room. The venue was expensive when he thought about it. Unnecessary, obnoxious and overwhelming. It was simple and clean in style as all modern design tended to be but with traditional flair to complement it.

It was still tacky, but it was either this or dealing with swarming relatives all in one roof the whole time and a small-knit intimate setting where personal questions and memories get passed around, with the familiarity and awkwardness she shared with her family would surely be noticed.

She took the financially overwhelming option.

"Wise choice." Vanessa laughed.

Alex hesitated before the door of the room. He heard no noises of men and women in there with her, just a soft subtle breathing of a woman, so he knocked then inserted the card into the door's holder. She was standing there in a room with a bed still unmade and covered with clothes and unboxed items scattered all over. The smell of perfume, shampoo, and lingering dampness met his nose.

Dana stood there in front of the mirror, bathed beneath the sunlight, wearing a white strapless dress. No embroideries or accessories, no veil, no jewelry except for the ones dangling on her ears. Simple and short, casual, didn't drape to the floor and hid the subtle bump at her waistline. She wore make-up, her lips soft red and her eyes lined with black eyeliner and mascara, her pale skin toned evenly with her cheeks slightly blushed and accented softly.

There was a simple white bouquet of flower in her hand, but that was it.

He quietly approached and stood there with her.

Both of their hair and eyes in their natural color, but no Dana and Alex Mercer stood before the mirror, entirely different people looked back at them today.

"You know, I never thought I see myself like this," Dana murmured at the twenty-seven years old woman in the mirror standing beside him, her hair up and curled in a bun. "I didn't think there would be anyone, really." She shook her head, smiling. "I didn't think I needed anyone in my life besides what I could get easily."

He recalled a photo from the long-gone apartment destroyed by Blackwatch, young Dana in a red dress with her brother hanging his arm around her on his ceremonial award night. Easygoing, familiar with one another, maybe their last genuine happy moment.

Sometimes he wondered if what Blackwatch had written about her were right, that she was manipulative, evasive and narcissistic. She knew how to make people guilty, knew how to turn the blame away from her, knew how to get them doing what she wanted, believed that she was always right. Even if he won any arguments with her, it always ended making him feel like shit and the villain. She avoided being close to people back in the days when she had no one behind her, owing money and hustling it off from others while trying to support herself in college. It didn't help that her attitude made enemies out of people since she believed she was better off without others in her life.

When taken that all away, when given a chance to start anew, to start it right without being held down by her past and background, Dana took it. Cara Kendrick was still the abrasive, full of negative opinions and unpleasant person to be around, but she was no brother of hers. She had looked up to him, had tried to follow his footsteps and emulate him, but knew better now and hated what he became, in turn… hated herself.

She had not aged one bit from that same college-girl he remembered yet in her stead a somber woman stood beside him.

"Do you think we would be recognized?" she asked softly, he could hear her heart beating heavily in apprehension.

"Pariah had made sure Blackwatch got their Dana Mercer in the end," Alex reassured. "Look-alikes do exist in real life," he said.

She grimaced at that, recalling the switch at the hospital that would even fool Ragland. She still wondered how Alex managed to move her around the States back then what with Ragland under Blackwatch's gaze and her abnormal medical status. Even with the chaos in the government records, clearance to leave Manhattan would have been a bitch regardless if there was a mix-up and her under another's name.

In the end, whoever's name she had taken at the hospital meant nothing and was discarded for the woman who stood before her. How many lives had to die to create the chaos that had made it possible for them standing here? Another could have easily taken their place for this day.

What a fraud of a family.

She heard a chime from her bedside, and Alex immediately went over to pick the phone up. He passed it to her and she looked before laughing a bit at what she read.

She sniffed as she smiled, quickly replying her message then passing the phone back to him.

"Can you hold onto it?" she asked.

Alex slipped it into his pocket as his answer then offered his arm.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Just one more thing," Dana said quickly and hurried to her luggage, pulling out a camera stand and her camera that she let no one touch. She turned to him, slightly sheepish when she asked, "Can you change?"

For a second there, he raised both eyebrows before he closed his eyes. It wasn't difficult since there was no difference between Chase Kendrick's body to that of his. It was just the face and head. Making his whole body not a mass of tendrils and from consuming his clothes was the difficult part. Though, he was amused by the image of it.

What was more disturbing, a body of flickering tentacles, or a walking tux with a mass of tendrils as its head?

Alex opened his eyes, his face back to the familiar contour of Alex Mercer with his sister's eyes still on him, unflinching and hardly pale, the camera and its stand set up properly. Her lack of reactions at times worried him, something like him should not be accepted as an everyday occurrence.

With a press of a button, she hurried to his side and he forced a smile, a proper smile. He wasn't looking forward to what was expected on this day, but he was genuinely happy for her - happy even when there was a familiar emptiness in him as the camera snapped. Alex watched her hurried back, checking the photo. Satisfied, she shut the camera and took the card out.

Dana looked up, the warm smile still on her face and nodded when she said, "Ready."

His family when he thought about it was everything opposite of Dana. Loud, large, intimate, ostentatious, traditional compared to her small, quiet, reserved and distant family. If it could be called a family.

It was a fucking miracle that they were all standing here, trying to sort out a normal life with each other after everything, even after one of them slipped and reminded the fuck-up that was their lives. They were the last kind of people he would expect to meet in an office, behind a desk, or in the street as an everyday delivery guy, but as they say, the Emergency Room brought all kinds of crazy out there.

When he met Chase, he had thought he was the reason why Cara avoided mentioning her family and even ran away from considering her bad childhood. Worst, he had thought he was her kidnapper when she had gone missing for a few days after recently moving in with him. A call from her brother told him not to worry, that she would be returning home soon until they sort out whatever family emergency had occurred. His disdain for him and lack of acknowledgment oddly missing, just pure resignation was in his voice.

It didn't help his opinion on him when he learned she had gone missing just to resolve whatever was broken between them. It was why she had been so antsy when she stayed over with him.

Then… there was Patrick, and he was the opposite of Chase, warm and cheerful yet odd. For a while he never actually met the man properly nor did he like the thought of a stranger he never met invited to their apartment behind his back. He only met the smiling man by accident when he stumbled into him on his way out of their home, introducing himself with a firm handshake before leaving in a hurry. His visits were rare and occasional, always to check up on Cara about her health, leaving home-cooked meals in his place.

He had made a joke that Patrick was her father who was a doctor or something trying to make up for lost time, the man was twice her age after all, but she had looked at him with a completely weirded out expression and muttered she was glad he didn't say that in front of the older man. She quickly corrected him he was a relative, half-sibling to be exact.

Reality though was stranger than fiction.

This same family he was marrying into had a fucked-up, man-made monster that had taken over her brother's body as her brother with an escaped super soldier lab rat as her close confidante. If David was feeling foolish, he would admit he pitied Dana Mercer, but he knew she would throw his pity back at him if he did.

What kind of woman would accept that as her life?

He had asked her this after they return from their trip from Manhattan. He shouldn't have, but he did and she had looked at him with a cold beer in her hand with a sad smile on her face.

"Alex was born in a war, David. His first experience in this world was people hunting him down, trying to kill him. A fucked-up world that wanted a weapon and wanted him destroyed next. Fighting is his first instinct. The things he did, David, I'll be honest, I'm not happy… we both aren't. I guess, I took comfort knowing that."

He had seen the news reports of those hoody gang of criminals. All of them gunned down, all of them dead, in their hangout, in the alleys, each and every one of them hunted down and murdered. People were praising this vigilante, fucking love him.

Chase had even smiled when the radio talked about those deaths in their drive back to Houston before Patrick quickly changed the channel.

The Monster of Manhattan. Those were the words Samuel had slipped and taken a step back at the sight of Cara's brother on the steps of their doorway. The bogeyman of the Outbreak, said to have killed thousands of lives; monsters, men, and everything in between. The whole shelter seemed to hold their breath when Alex Mercer walked into their hall.

Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil.

"Patrick… Patrick is a whole different baggage. At first, I didn't get him. Big giant ball of puzzles. If you think I'm good at hiding what I'm like, then he takes it to a whole another fucking level. He had spent thirty years as an emotionally-stunted kid. I'm serious, David! Growing up, pretending all the time in front of those same fucking people that made his mother into that.

If fight is Alex's first instinct, then his… his is flight. Pretend, regress, retreat than deal with things. Hide. But when push comes to shove…"

The church, those disgusting fleshy web of black tendrils, that cheerful face just utterly dropping into someone else entirely. This same man who had been looking out on her for years, cornered her, threatened her in all but words.

When he woke up, the older man had interrogated him. How was he feeling, what did he dream, when he looked at Cara did he have the urge to say yes and do everything she asks, did he remember any voices in his fever, was he angry, any strong emotions or thoughts besides the normal ones, was there any urge to do something… odd, did he want to smash something or someone in the face?

Yeah, you. But he had kept that to himself.

Do you feel anything has changed, anything that was different from before?

"They're… they're fucked up, David. I'm fucked up." She had cried, she did not sob, she did not burst into tears, only let them slip down her pale cheeks, her face hard but would not break. Even in a moment of admission, Dana Mercer would not allow herself to crack. Her voice was the only thing that betrayed her, it shuddered and cracked as she spoke so softly, "I've killed people, David. I hurt you. I've said things that I shouldn't have. Things that we're all trying to move on from. I screwed up."

But it wasn't your fault, Dana. He had said this, had repeated these words inside his head as she cried herself to sleep. This was not the monster nor killer that had crushed and cut off heads with her own bare hands, this was a woman who was honestly scared of herself, and he was too. He was honestly terrified of her, for her, something that dangerous lurking behind her eyes, capable of doing that to people. But it was not just in her, it was in her brothers as well.

She was surrounded by men who were in just as worse position in life as hers. One who was technically less than ten years old, the other who had been one for a major part of his life. It would explain so much the manchild comments she made about them.

What he saw in Manhattan was just a slip.

That even the best of them could fall.

He was afraid of losing her, that she would take this incident to break away from him and run off.

Sometimes he wryly wondered if the dependency and chemical love was a healthy foundation of a relationship, considering these two traits had fucked over plenty on this Earth into a spiral of toxicity many couldn't break out easily, that this motivation built on the fear of losing the other would make things worse for them and unhappier with each other than without.

David stood waiting beneath the wedding arch. He paid no mind to the cliché song when she walked in with her brother by her side. He saw and held the urge to laugh at the restraint she put up when she almost rolled her eyes at the whole process. Her eyes instead wandered slowly as they passed all those guests she barely knew and blinked in surprise when met with familiar green ones.

Patrick Gordon nodded gravely back, a little reconciliation after months of a rift between them. Her gaze turned away at that and rested on his.

David smiled, but he felt the somber air between the close siblings when Chase gave her quick kiss on the forehead and slowly let her go, hand unclenching reluctantly from hers. Face grim and resolute, he turned and joined his brother's side.

At least he lacked the absolute murderous intent he always shot at him.

He was going to marry into this fucked-up family of monsters and spend the rest of his life with this woman, the sister of the bioterrorist. Former investigative journalist, who wanted to look at the world for what it truly was and uncover the fog that hid the ugly truth. She saw it, and it destroyed her life yet was still able to stand on her two feet, able to bounce back up and kept walking even with a life like this.

She was… as her brothers say, a tough girl.

The kind of woman he knew who would be able to go through the worst with him. But he? Would he be able to for her sake?

She had no father, no mother, no siblings, no one truly because of her fucking asshole no-good sonofabitch real brother decided to be a shitstain and dragged his mess into her life. She had only these fucked up beings who cared for her wellbeing, who would be there for her through all adversity and prosperity, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph, to the very end, untampered to the passage of time.

While he would merely be a lifetime compared to these inhuman beings.

It had occurred to him if that sonofabitch had not decided to be a shitstain, he wouldn't have met this woman who decided to have a normal life with him.

It was kind of amazing, she was amazing. It was also sad and funny too, the truth about their life.

All the vows and cheesy things he could say of why he would still love and marry Dana A. Mercer in spite of almost dying from the storm she had brought in with her, David knew none of them were enough to convince that little voice of sanity in his head and the voice of bitterness within her heart.

He knew there will be a day his devotions would be tested, his love would falter, days where the distance between them would be wider than ever, just as there would be days he would be reminded why he loved her. What kind of man would he be to turn her away after understanding everything, after she had exposed every vulnerable part of herself, her life, her ego, her anxieties, the truth?

"Because she deserves better, Dave."

She did. David kissed her after the exchange of vows and wedding rings. She did deserve better.

"Well, you crazy man. Now you're stuck with me," she said softly with that defeated smile.

"Yeah." He gave a lopsided smile in return.

The hard part about it, he wasn't sure he could be that someone she deserved. He was scared, scared he was incapable, scared of what the future would bring. But he was a part of her, as she was to him whether he liked it or not.

The rope to this small semblance of normal life they have. He was no super-powered being who had incredible strength, nor was he an unaging resolute figure that could stand the test of time, but God damn him if he won't try to hold onto it. He will give them a life both of them deserve.

Away from all of this. From monsters, killers, and the insanity. Most of all, away from her secretly genocidal and murderous brothers.

Because fuck them.

For a family of a Latino descent, she was surprised to find it was more of a white wedding ceremony mashed with traditional Spanish Catholic. She expected hour long of kneeling before a priest as he preached and elaborate custom vows exchange not just between her and Dave, but promises to his family members since she wasn't paying any of these and was more along for the ride.

Thank fucking God she didn't have to do that, especially writing a sappy long wedding vow that would impress David's aunties and female relatives. A simple drape of the Lazo cord tied around them during their ceremony by their wedding sponsors - godparents - with David giving her the Las Arras, thirteen gold coins once it was blessed were the only traditions kept.

Though David did mutter his late grandma would have been unhappy they were marrying in a hotel and not an honest-to-God church like any good Latino family.

She had to hand it to her in-laws for all of this, it was a big giant party where she barely knew anyone, but she appreciated the considerations and changes they went through for her. It was nice of them to do that, and it made her feel bad considering all of these were at the cost of their pocket. She had to thank Vanessa the most, since she was the one who probably had pushed for the changes, probably due to her similar experience having to marry into and assimilate a big but close-knit family.

The large number of people did help cover the awkwardness in terms of the bridal side of the family. It was a heavy comparison to think about, and it was more obvious during the wedding toast where Vanessa and her husband talked about David and his childhood, moments in their family photo much to her newly wedded husband's embarrassment.

Her father-in-law was a troll who laughed at his son's face.

She had none of those, her childhood, the people who helped her back then… the family she grew up with. Just him.

"Cara," Alex said gravely into the microphone.

Dana smiled at the slight grimace that briefly past his face. Even in another's form, he was surprisingly uncomfortable with himself.

"I'll be honest with you folks," he began. "I'm not a good person, when I was young I've caused a lot of trouble for my little sister. I've jaywalked, stolen things, vandalized and set things on fire, terrified our neighbors with tasteless Halloween tricks."

People slightly laughed.

"You get the picture," Alex told the crowd a bit too unhappily. "For someone like me, I was heading down a path no one could follow. But when I was lost she was there for me," he said as he stared into her eyes. "You helped me find myself again. You showed me the way. You gave me a purpose. When everyone had turned their backs, you stuck through, believed the best in me. In many ways, you did bring the best out of me that…"

He slightly laughed under his breath. "That I didn't even know I had in me. You were my only grasp of this happiness I had thought was impossible. I would not be standing here, proud if it weren't for you." Alex inhaled.

"I still don't like your new husband," he added quickly.

People laughed. Dana rolled her eyes as she sniffed but smiled.

"But I'm happy for both of you. And if anything and anyone get in between you two-"

She exhaled, waiting for the obligatory threat.

"-just know I'll be there to help you in any way I can," Alex said the last part blandly before he raised his toast then drank it in one simple gulp.

The music snapped back on when he turned and shoved the microphone back as far away from him as possible onto one of the waiters. She watched Alex quickly left the reception while all the guests and family finished their entrees for the evening.

Dana's smile faltered a bit, it was expected he would leave early. He didn't like being around a lot of people after all. She had to commend him for sticking as long as he could throughout the whole wedding and even made a toast in front of all eyes and cameras. She just wished they could have said goodbye before he left.

"Ready?" David asked her with his hand up and waiting.

She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, let's get this show over," she said and grabbed his hand, ready to hit the floor with her new salsa and tango dancing skill for their first dance.

She wanted to kill herself, and her feet. It was fun when alone with David, where they could do stupid shit and laugh at each other's mistakes during the dance lessons much to their instructor's exasperation. But at least it would shut up those bitchy comments, oh she no proper latina and can't dance, cause she a skinny white thing! Bitch, she will show them.

Already people were starting to cheer and whistle, buzzed with alcohol, gathering around them as the mariachi song started. A blur of David hospital co-workers, cousins and conversation with family and friends, the music thankfully slowed down to a more traditional ballroom dance. These people… these people were fucking crazy. Birth, baptism, wedding, anything to excuse a get-together party. What she would give to have this night over and done with.

She would never admit it, but she did enjoy the laid-back money dance far too much. It was something tacky, asking guests to put their money in just to have a moment and chat with the newlyweds on the floor, but at the same time, it was small exchange to the amount that was spent for the grand reception and the meals. Seriously, people who complain about how tacky it was to spend a little dollar while the food they ate cost hundreds were a stingy ass.

It was fun, and nothing could ruin her good mood even when she was startled and met with a resigned thin smile of Pariah.

"Before you ask, my daughter wants a picture of me dancing with the bride else she won't give me my drink," he said.

Not one to turn and run away, she did not hesitate, just took his hand, but he strangely flinched when his hand grasped her waist. His green eyes flicked downward before they turned away, his hand barely resting on her as he made a quick glance around and towards his table, his exit out of this predicament. He was similar in some way to Alex. They never liked their backs to the exits, always liked to face towards them and being close to the doors.

"I'm quite surprised how luxurious your in-laws are going on all of this," he commented as they moved to the ballroom music.

"That's because you're paying half of it."

She kept her smug smile up when he narrowed his eyes. See if this prick knew if she was joking or not, and he smiled back icily. They didn't speak, just dance with eyes and cameras on them. David was frowning in the background, he probably didn't like the fact his wife was dancing with the man that had terrified her a few months ago.

How could she walk and turn away from that, pretending like nothing happened after words of pulling off another Hope, another fucking Manhattan passed his breath? Words of unleashing a virus that destroyed millions of lives, just to get those fucks behind everything - through a cure even. People say awful shit like wanting to murder, to kill and right injustice with some kind of sick righteous fantasy, but none had the power, none were willing or could act on their words.

It shouldn't have been such a shock. He was not human. He was like Alex. Alex the killer, Alex the monster, Alex the terrorist. Monster of Manhattan. The one who hunted, killed and ate people. Who threw people and caught them with a whip and a snap then did that… awful thing. Alex could get creative with his kills.

The sad truth about it all, she was used to it, continuing on with her life, not minding after learning and seeing what people at their worst could be in front of her. That was how she got by with her own abusive mother. Keep her head down, look away, avert her eyes. Had she grown at all from that girl who had looked up to and excused the faults of her brother that caused the death of thousands? Why would she… how could she accept and do the same for these beings who had done and could do just as worst at a moment's notice?

It was easy with Alex because Alex regretted, Alex was different, Alex… cared. But even that was hard to say and swallow when recalling those videos of him killing and consuming people, soldiers, Blackwatch, civilians like it was some stress-relieving outlet. A cat playing with its kill. No one in their sane mind would do that kind of stuff unless they enjoyed it.

Alex that killed and the Alex that cared were one and the same, and she accepted him.

Looking back, it was easy to judge her desperate. A stupid crazy person, no different to those people who rather be stuck in a toxic and unhealthy relationship than be alone, fooling themselves about their loved ones like she had, telling herself her brother she grew up with was in there, somewhere. The kind of people she had looked down when reading their stories, willing to forgive the actions of a monster, willing to understand the bloody pursuit of another's, wanted to connect with them as she had hoped with her real brother.

Except that was the past now, Alex didn't know any better. She didn't know any better.

But him, the PARIAH? The escaped lab rat who hid behind a mask, who she hardly understood when she thought about it, even forgot who and what she was really dealing with. Yet, she knew more about him and what he was like, the goods and bads, more than his kids and anyone close to him besides Alex.

And what about her, she was no exception to this ugly truth now. She had killed people at Manhattan, had wanted and spoken the words of using the virus. She was no different to them.

Alex could look straight at the truth even after everything, had come to accept it. Hundreds, thousands of lives died for the sake of his hunt after all. Sometimes she wondered how he was able to bear this godawful realization until she reminded herself he carried those weights of thousands of lives literally in him. It wasn't something she should be envious of.

Pariah… Pariah just looks away from it, turned his back on his mother, on Blackwatch, on Manhattan, even now pretending it has no part in his life. Given the chance, if the worst was to come, she wouldn't be surprised if he cut his ties from them.

She could only look down with guilt for everything, for her brother, for Alex, for Gentek, for Elizabeth Greene, for Manhattan.

Some family they were.

She should be less forgiving.

She had to laugh at herself, forgive what exactly? Hold it against the son of Elizabeth Greene for not wanting anything to do with his mother's legacy? She shouldn't even blame him for that, he was right in that way. She shouldn't have wanted anything to do with what Greene has left behind. She should have been repulsed even, but what does it say about them standing here, dancing with each other for God's sake?

She smiled ruefully at Pariah. Even now, the man was putting her in a circle. It infuriated her, made her swallow the bitter regrets of saying those words at Manhattan. She was still eating those worms, while this insufferable prick probably had moved on.

"You might want to leave early," Dana told him.

"Why?" he asked politely.

"Family photo shoot," she said. "As of right now, my in-laws are searching for my brother. He probably left already."

She may have been buzzed with high-energy, but she was not blind. She did not miss the fact the dorky first dance she had with David and how quick her father-in-law took her hand as her new relatives joined in a circle around them after, hid the father-daughter dance that should've happened. She couldn't hold it against Alex for that, he had done so much already.

Patrick gave a knowing smile. "I wouldn't say that." Then he moved away from her as a man stepped in his place.

Her empty smile turned into a full grin, how the two coordinated so smoothly at times should disturb her considering they were the opposite of getting along.

"How did you even know how to dance?" she asked Alex as the music turned extra sappy - her in-laws aggressive micromanaging again.

Gotta work the professional cameraman and capture the moment.

"Do you really want an answer to that question?" he asked.

"In retrospect, I probably don't."

"Just... a lot of Blackwatch guys actually know how to ballroom."

"I really don't need to know." She laughed softly as his feet led hers. "Your speech, it was good," she finally said.

"I had some help," he conceded. His blue eyes glanced at Pariah, who was nonplussed at the fact aunty Caroline had snatched him before he could disappear. She was probably going to keep him in her sight and on the dance floor until the photo shoot happened.

"Thank you."

Alex turned his gaze back to her. "For what?"

"For staying," she said. "For being here."

"Hey, no matter what, you're still my sister," he repeated her words. "Nothing is going to change that." Alex smiled.

"David?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily.

"I'm pregnant."

"That's nice," he murmured.

"That's it?" She stared at him incredulously. "That's nice?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked when he stared emptily at her. "That's bad?"

Pregnancy was hardly a glorifying experience of parenthood. In fact, it was stressful for both her and David. Especially when reading the news about pregnant mothers amongst those Outbreak survivors.

Hope's babies were but one sad tale. There was the Manhattan's version. Post-Outbreak, pregnant mothers who survived either lost their child through miscarriage or… lose them in their infancy. A small mercy considering the mess the virus made them into. Malformed, crippled from syndromes, if not carrying tumors and cancer the moment they breathed into this world.

All of the mothers moved past the latency stage regardless of their asymptomatic state.

He didn't need to dig deep for this. This was a public report, a recording of the news visiting the government-mandated quarantined wards for those asymptomatic infected; the cause of paranoia and the still-festering wounds left from the Outbreak.

Asymptomatic was the reason why there were cases of newly infected, why a part of Manhattan was still under lockdown despite years have passed. The lack of symptoms though… was but a phase to the virus cycle. Sooner or later, the disease would develop into tumors, cancer, and mindless rabidness.

Not monsters though…

But the time it took was random, baffling researchers.

It was hard not to think of the image of a ticking time bomb, or his worst fear whenever he looked at his wife.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Dana looked at him as they wait up for their ultrasound session.

"Well, that's what we're here for," David said reassuringly. "See what we're dealing with."

"What if it's a dinosaur?"

"I've always wanted a dinosaur since when I was a kid." David smiled back at her.

"Be serious here, David."

"You're talking to a guy who thought his wife was a tentacle alien and still find her sexy."

Her reply was a deadpan stare, but there was a tiny smirk on the corner of her lips.

"Look, whatever happens, I'll be here. Okay?" He held her hand and squeezed it. "You're not alone."

Something sniffed heavily onto his ear and David was quick to turn in his bed, covering his head with a pillow. A cold wet nudge kissed the back of his neck instead, he grumbled in his sleep and scooted away.

Fed up, the Golden Retriever stared at the useless human that slept on the bed. Snowflake howled.

"Jesus Christ!" David sat up with bedraggled hair and wide eyes. He turned and looked around only to frown at her dog sitting beside him. "What?" He sighed.

The dog seemed to stare at him then looked at the empty pillow beside him.

"It's two o'clock in the fucking morning, Snow…" He groaned and laid back down on the mattress.

Snow replied with pulling his pillow right out from under his head. David turned and glared at the dog. "Seriously?"

Snow dropped the pillow at the empty spot beside him without care. David frowned when he finally noticed then blinked once before sitting up. He slipped off from his bed and rushed to the apartment's bathroom. The light was not on and was empty. Turning around, he stared at their empty bed, the covers flat and hid no body beneath them.

"Cara?" he called out.

Nails clicked on the floor, Snow nudged him frantically before pulling him out of the bedroom with the tugging bite of his pants. David obliged before his heart sank at the gaping doorway of his apartment's entrance.

"Oh shit," he whispered.

He was but a lone small form that sat on the swing set. His body slouched, still and unmoving, leaning slightly towards his left hand and tentatively holding onto the swing's chains. His only company was the restless black Labrador pacing around the area, sniffing scents old and new. A few pigeons strut closely near his pale bare feet, but he paid no attention to them.

A six-year-old-boy out of his place in a lonely suburban playground surrounded by an empty field. It was not quite dark from where he sat despite the stars above him blot out by the distant city lights. At least the city planner was prudent enough to leave trails of street light on the park's footpath that the playground was placed right beside.

He recalled many things, memories that weren't his, lingering thoughts and feelings of those he had stolen and taken their place on a whim as he sat there in a despondent state. He remembered a little girl he had snatched once, she slept soundly dreaming her small little world, living her life, learning and noticing little things with time slowly went by. Like staring into a mirror, she watched a being who mimicked her thought by thought down to her little smiles and tears, experiencing the whims of a being who stepped into her shoes for a day.

For that day, he remembered her voice, laughing and squealing, her thoughts infectious as he repeated her laughs in his head. He remembered being pushed by her mother on a similar swing set like this. He remembered the warmth and scent of her mother when she comforted him with a hug. He remembered the hollowness beneath all that layer of emotions while he played her role and smiled like he had never smiled before in his life. He was her. He was a human child. He had a family. He had a mother and a father. Only for a day. A stolen day belonging to a little girl who slept through it all, oblivious as she dreamt what he did and saw.

Her mind couldn't even tell the difference between his experience and hers when she remembered that day.

He recalled taking a man's place, his girlfriend none the wiser when she kissed and bit his lips. He played the role for barely three days, a domesticated doppelganger going through the motion of a deep relationship. He exasperated, he grinned, he glared, he stammered and yelled, he cooked and cleaned, had to sit through her sudden amusement of wanting to put food in his mouth.

He kissed her for real. For a moment there he was curious and let that small tempting compulsion that whispered and murmured constantly in the minds of human slipped in. A driving force that encouraged human to be social, and helped spread them, ensuring the survival of mankind. It gripped and messed up a deep passive part of him

He almost killed her. At least she wasn't like the little bird he naively thought he could make better or that dog he thought he could make it listen.

He was a strange monster that lurked in the streets, a doppelganger that will steal his victim's place for a few days of their life just to play house. If not, he was a symbiotic mind-parasite who watches, listen and feel every move, every thought, every emotion of those that struck his curiosity… and even shape them to the whims of his strange mind. The nervous system of the brain his paper of scribbles he could draw on and change – identities, traits, tastes, moods, memories, the superficial constructs human put themselves in shaken, a comforting box transforming beyond their control.

He made a sister who had not once experience the emotional bonding of others what it was like to feel the pain of another. Her family loved her enough to deal with her sudden distress and struggle, and she took the change well. But it was amusing to watch something so calm and confident stumbled a lot as the doubts and thoughts of what others would think crept into her mind in place of her lack of empathy. There are those who were less lucky than her who could not bear nor understand the new change in them in the moment of self-discovery, and if not, seemed not to mind and took the small changes in their life for granted.

Even out of the lab, humans nothing more but beings on the other side of that glass wall, behind a layer of mask that stood between him and them – something to observe, something to prod… something he just couldn't help but touch and hold much like that one dumb pretty dove he was always so fond of watching.

A whine cut into his thoughts, a black Labrador nudged him by the elbow. He released his hold on the chain and scratched her head slowly.

Many faces, young, old, men, and women lost and set in life. Mandy Lin. Dana and Alex. His children. What were they? A series of faces behind that glass. Just another whim that struck his curiosity no different to those days and lives he snatched and played with – another experiment, another play pretend with his mind the one going through changes, and this time how long would it last?

He tilted his head at his dog as he rubbed the spot beneath her ear. She wagged her tail.

How many days, how many years, how long could he keep this game up? Manhattan was a warning, he should nip it in the bud, twist the neck of the bird, go back to being Philip Greene. He would still be Patrick Gordon just without all the nuisances.

A coward's way out.

He dug his fingers deep into her fur.

Squonk yelped and pain stabbed in him. For a moment there, he recalled an image of the melted flesh of a dog oozing away from its bones. He remembered the warmth of its flesh dripping from his small fingers. He remembered its brief pain, a sharp yelp that spiked his dull unmoving mind.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

He got off his swing set, quickly taking the confused dog into his arms and burying his face into her neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he repeated to her. "I didn't mean to."

She shook away and ducked under his arms, running off to the distant and hid behind her legs. He slowly stood up from his crouch on the ground, his eyes grew cold and guarded.

"You know, I would have thought a baby would stop you from pulling this kind of stunt," he said when she sauntered over with her bare feet.

Dana Mercer stopped and easily stood tall in front of him, his head barely reaching her waist. He had to lift his chin to match her gaze.

"There better not be glasses in your feet…" he muttered, remembering the last time he had to clean out small chips of shards that had cut into and healed within the soles of her feet.

She may not have to worry about infection from killing her, but there was still the discomforting pain she would have to deal with later. She also has a baby in her now.

Dana stared at him emptily, watching with a blank out gaze typical of a Runner. She suddenly grabbed him and lifted him up to eye-level.

"Bee…" His voice was now of a sulking young boy as he dangled in front of her by the arm-length. "What are you doing?"

David was huffing and sweating heavily when he rushed across the field, chasing after the Golden Retriever racing ahead. He made a quick check to his phone; the GPS coordinate still marked on the map not far from his. He finally slowed down to a halt and gasped for breath when he reached Chase who was standing in watch at the scene playing out in front of him.

"Are you… are you going to do something?" Dave asked weakly.

He just shrugged.

"Seriously?!" David looked at the scene before him with aghast.

It looked like an innocent fun, a woman who was swinging her boy around as she spun – if it weren't for the fact he was sure said boy had the expression of someone who had given up on life and was not amused one bit.

"That's Patrick?" Dave asked.

"That's his original form," Alex said.

It was kind of weird to think a six-year-old boy was the same man from the church that had spoken of genocide and threatened his wife into a corner. The same horrifying abomination was also being bullied by a pregnant woman that could break bones like twigs. She was laughing too, a disconcerting laugh entirely different to Dana's.

Then she threw and smashed the boy to the ground, a curled-up form that sat in the crater of dirt and humiliation.

"Oh fuck," David said.

"He had worse," Alex drawled without a care in the world.

"What's worse than her?!"

Alex stared back at David, he began to smile, a creepy smile that was verging on a maniac grin. Somewhere in the background, Dana was running around, being chased by two barking dogs, Snowflake and one of Gordon's.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" David asked and violently gestured at his pregnant wife running away from them.

"She's having fun."

"Are you serious?!"

Alex ignored him and walked over to the crater. He peered over the shallow hole and heard the mope of a boy, "Leave me alone, Zeus."

"Just get up, Pariah."

Labor was a haze, never-ending hours of haze and contractions that just didn't stop. By then, she was overdue by a week, she had a feeling the kid inside her just didn't want to get out of her at all. Apparently, the haze was so thick she actually called Patrick during his business meeting just to say this:

"Can you tell the kid his vacation is over?"

David said she had cried, she was so fucking miserable at the constant back pain and her hips aching. Home birth became too much.

They had given her drugs.

The drugs did nothing, of course.

Then she slipped in. She, of course, decided that no… she wasn't having her kid at a hospital surrounded with strangers. She was going to go somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere that was away from all the noises and people she could hear through the walls and floors.

She even agreed with that sentiment, had smacked Alex in the head when he carried her right back into her room and had to restrain her. She broke David's hand as well when she squeezed it during the transition.

David said he should have heeded her brother's word regarding that. Though, he seemed quite cheerful about it despite his hand being in a cast.

Frankly, she was thankful she didn't lash out at the nurses when they touch their son right after he was born. She had thought they would at least take their son away even if it was to clean and weigh him, do the standard hospital procedure. Something, she could imagine, would be a recipe for a disaster, considering what Elizabeth Greene did when General Randall separated him from her.

But they had quickly given her son to her immediately when he was born, cleaning him with a warm towel before leaving her to doze with her son together.

He was smaller than she thought he would be, but then babies do grow big in just a few months. A small red wrinkly thing that has yet to focus his eyes fully. For the first few weeks, he would be sleeping most of the time, then the fun begins!

Her mother-in-law had said that while laughing.

She would be devoting most of her time to this little guy from now on. Part of her was still conflicted at that, giving up part of her time, a big part of her life and everything to revolve around him. It wasn't something she could walk out or just stop. Once she was a mother, she would stay as his mother for the rest of his life - for the rest of her life. It was adjustments everyone said she would get used to. It made her nervous, was she giving up too much, was it enough for this little guy, was she ready?

She wanted to give him the best he could have, not just what was enough for him.

To be honest, she never planned for children in her life. She knew there were some women in real life who could not dredge up a single maternal instinct or bond when they look at their children, would forever struggle even. Before all of this… she just couldn't see herself as one of those women with a family, a devoted husband, and rambunctious kid. The thought made her balk, even laugh at those people, at herself. She didn't even like kids.

Who would want to spend the rest of their life with that bitch, Dana Mercer? Let alone want to stick around with the shitty baggage that was her life.

Her brother clearly didn't.

She wouldn't make for a good mother.

The thought unnerved her, it scared her, to read about those Hope's children, something so small, something that couldn't be seen by the naked eye, inside her, capable of destroying lives and futures just like that. Her future. There were stories in Manhattan, of asymptomatic mothers never realizing they were infected until they saw their children in the womb and what it would mean to them if they continue their pregnancy.

Yet here she was, two rings on her ring finger with a supposedly healthy baby sleeping on her lap and in her arms, worrying and eating her heart out at their future. A fresh brewed hot coffee sat on the apartment's counter beside her with the opened letters containing the lab reports.

He has inherited those viral elements. He wasn't infected, but the viral DNA integrated into her germ cells, he has it. Each and every DNA in him carried Greene's legacy. Endogenous Retro-Virus, there were studies of those younger integrated ERVs were associated with diseases. Considering the mutations in Hope's children, it wasn't hard to believe that. If the virus wasn't destroying them, then the instabilities in their DNA and mutations were. When compared to the hundreds of thousands of generations old ERVs, such harmful changes would have been stabilized and negated due to time and mutation.

Hope's children had only three years and less.

If a future with children balked her, then a future of burying them in a small grave scared her shitless. Her hands unconsciously tightened on the white wrap around him.

"If I have to infect, then it would be to kill a parasite."

It was something he had bluntly said when she asked him before… before there was a sore thorn between them.

"Redlight changes everything. It was destroying cells, assimilating into them, mutating, splicing to find the right strains, the right codes to… something. Not all cells succeeded, not all strains were the one Redlight sought after.

The process was killing my mother slowly, eating her from the inside out just to correct and replace those errors and mistakes. Just to keep me alive.

You could even say it hijacked my conception, constantly infecting that growing embryo..."

Consuming the baby, just as Blacklight did to her brother's body as it shut down.

"It… was consuming her." His hand had rested below his stomach as a brief flash of discomfort past his face. A phantom pain. "In a way, I do carry a part of my mother, just as she was carrying me. Makes me wonder why I'm not born a girl what with all the changes I carry. I'm more made out of my mother and of the virus than that of the cells from the conception."

"Well, you do have a girl's back."

From the glimpses she had seen, whenever he rolled up his sleeves and exposed a little bit of his pale skin, when he stood up to his full height without his typical suit jacket on, he came off too lithe and slim for a man. His choice of clothes though made him appear as a lanky person, even her brother had a stronger and sturdier physique than him.

He had given her a pointed look for that before his green eyes rested on the mother of four; Sasquatch with her litter of three similar female dogs and a despondent male Golden Retriever, Snowflake trying to avoid his rambunctious sisters.

He had a point though, with all the changes his mother and him went through, shouldn't he be more like her? It was her genetics that changed the virus, it was Greene that was special, it was Greene that made him possible, and his report made no mention or note of the father side.

A child of Greene and Redlight.

"I supposed that does say I have a father." A distant reminiscing smile lingered in his staring. "There's no other way for me to inherit the SRY gene unless it's from another male."

"You're saying you could have easily been a girl if Redlight had rid that one gene?"

"Not just rid but mutate it like any others."

What were the chances of that?

"Why not a girl then?" It made an odd domestic image, in place of him, she imagined a woman with an uncanny resemblance of the girl that haunted her dreams, discussing with her like any two women out for a coffee with each other.

The older man had smirked. "Because my mother wanted a boy."

She wondered what it was like for a boy growing up, recalling those memories of a previous life that was his and yet not, memories of a woman, of Hope, his mother pregnant with him, perhaps even remember the days from before, when she was still human. The closest thing to a reincarnation for Elizabeth Greene.

Could it be said the same with Alex?

"To treat all those changes, I have to undo a lot… almost everything, from the start even. And by then, whose child are you carrying?" He had laughed. "Yours, or mine mimicking yours?"

One incestuous tale was enough, that was something Alex had said.

The apartment's phone waited as she stared at it. The phone number already inserted and just needed one push of a button to call him. What could they say, what could they discuss? They've already gone through each and every possibility.

Diseases weren't something she had to worry here, nor rampant mutations even how hard it was to believe that. It was the subtle changes in his brain and his body she had to look out for. For now, he was as human as any human baby, but children grow up, and as they do their body undergoes changes as with their mind.

He could grow into a Runner. Latent like his mother.

She was running ahead of herself again, Dana frowned. When virus successfully integrated and inherited in offspring, they tend to lose their abilities to become a virus. He couldn't be latent because of that. She was more likely to deal with a creepy human kid perchance to behave like a Runner, then well... a Runner.

Probably would like to sit around the house in some corner, keep to himself, say cryptic weird shit from horror movies and touch people in creepy invasive manner. She laughed at that image and sniffed, her blue eyes rested on her sleeping son in her lap.

He would like to sleep for one.

He won't react to stimuli as much as any other kids.

Or be as active as one.

Remember things he shouldn't have known.

He stirred in her arms then opened his brown eyes slowly. They wandered around briefly before they rested on her, he squeezed his eyes shut again and made a sucking sound, tiny limbs began to wriggle around slightly in his swaddle. Already hungry.

"Hey Jason," she murmured.

He mumbled at the sound of her voice just like any baby and she smiled. It was so stupid how an unintelligent noise could make her happy. Normal, she told herself again as she lifted him up and rested him against her beating heart. He was her normal baby boy.

My son.

He crawled. He made a mess. He put things into his mouth and suck them. He was a mess. He smelled. He laughed and yelled, was a loud little thing. His first word was, 'Dah!' His favorite word was, 'Mah' which became mom to mommy! At three, he was able to stand up and walk on his own, Snowflake right behind him if he dropped behind.

An excitable and exhausting child who loved moving around a lot, and loved saying, "I love you, mommy!"

He liked those words, sometimes saying more than fifteen times a day, sometimes less. Sometimes he would say it quietly, sometimes loud and laughing, other times it was meaningless repeated pokes for her attention like an inside joke between him and her. He always said it when he was unknowingly in deep trouble for the mess he had made.

Dana merely smiled and gave him the hug he wanted, or ruffled his hair, or played and kissed the boy's bubbly face before tickling him, or demanded an explanation over what he did, but never spoke the words back.

He would keep trying to snatch a hold of her hand even at the most inappropriate time when she needed her hands the most, and always, always wanted his father to pick him up and carry him around. Never underestimate the needs of a child, her mother-in-law would say.

He had a bad habit of feeding their dog when he didn't like the taste of his food. When he threw tantrums he would scream and yell bloody murder to the point he would not breathe in after losing his breath (and gave her a fucking heart attack while at it). When the meltdown was over, he would sulk in a corner and wouldn't want to talk or look at any of his parents, that or he would hide behind Snowflake, then promptly forget his moping when he gets his hug and comfort later.

A shy little boy in front of strangers, always hid behind her legs whenever Alex came by.

"He's scary," he would mumble.

It was a pity she couldn't see Alex's face when she voiced this opinion over the phone. Until one babysitting session resulted in a collapsed Alex on the couch with a dead look on his face but a happy sleeping boy and dog on top of him. After that, uncle Alex equals fun! With the boy asking his uncle to throw and catch him every time they meet, and he did like to mimic Alex's stern glare and practice it in front of Snowflake.

Snowflake wasn't impressed one bit.

While he remained shy around Alex at first, he warmed to Patrick easily. Too easily.

"I hear you've been taking care of Snowflake," Pariah had greeted with a smile. "His mother is very pleased with you, you know."

The boy had peeked over her legs and stared at the four black dogs waiting patiently behind the man.

"Snowflake has a mom?" he had asked quietly.

The smile on the man's face widened and one of the dogs moved in front. "This is Snowflake's mother, Sasquatch," he introduced the lolling dog who sniffed at the boy. "You can touch her if you want," he told him when he saw the small hand of his hesitating.

"Go ahead, introduce yourself," she said softly as her hand absentmindedly tidied his hair. She watched patiently when the boy leaned over and did just that.

"My name is Jason," the boy said, hand still firmly around her fingers while the other rubbed behind the ear of the black Labrador.

"My name's Patrick, you could say…" He briefly looked at her. "I'm your uncle," he finished. "Today you're going to play some games with me."

The boy peeked up at that.

He was ridiculously smart and knew more vocabulary than a boy at his age should know but he only showed this in front of Patrick in their games and testing. Probably because if he impressed the elder, he would get his choice of his favorite dessert snack.

A clever boy too, too clever at times.

"Mommy, am I sick?" He had looked at her with his brown eyes, his face stained from gravy with his hand sticky with the sauce.

"No, why would you say that?" she answered him as David leaned over to him and helped him wipe his face.

"Grandma says it's odd for me to go to the doctors so much." He frowned quizzically.

"Doctors are not just for sick days, you know," his father spoke out. "Doctors are there to prevent from being sick," he reassured the boy.

"Will I be sick if I don't go?" he asked.

Her heart thundered in her ears. "No, Jason." She smiled at her son as David rested his hand against her back. "In fact, you won't be getting those checkups as often as before."

"No more needles?"

"No more needles." She shook her head.

At hearing this, he gave his father's crooked grin back at her.

He was a brave boy when she thought about it.

They had tested every month, always trying to check for any trace of unusual growths and sign of the virus. His third year had the most checkups. Not once he had suffered any sickness or had any problems, nor remembered anything but his own memories. He was not like Hope's children. He was not going to stop breathing in his sleep. He was not going to grow weak all of a sudden.

"He's going to be fine," David had whispered to her as she watched their son sleep in his bed.

Her mouth was dry, the words were unusual, so heavy and they came out stiffly when she rasped at her sleeping son, "I love you too."

Omake: Kids

"Y'know, there's something that's bothering me," Dana said, scratching the back of her neck. "You had a kid, right, Alex?"

"What?" Alex looked at her confusedly.

"Y'know, the… Supreme," she made a dramatic deep voice, "Hunter."

"Well, that really depends how you look at it, Bee," Pariah butted in. "I mean, does giving my mom AIDS counts as having a kid?"

"What!" Dana burst into laughter.

"The way I see it," Pariah continued. "It's like mosquitos. They carry disease and transfer it when they inject their needles."

"Stop it," Alex snapped as Dana continued to lose it in the background.

"When you think about it, it's technically also your brother, Zeus," he teased. "The cancer was synthesized from my mother's strains and… was returned to my mother." Only for her to vomit it out and gave birth to it again. "It happens to be a bit like you because you happen to have the only sample of it taken from you."

"Wait, wait." Dana held a hand up. "Does that mean it's our sibling as well?"

Pariah shrugged. "Sure. The rotten fruit of the rotten fruit branch," he muttered.

"What the hell was that supposed to mean!"