2/16/2020 - Note: I split 35 into two chapters 35/36
Gabriel Xavier Quinn was white haired and possessed a thin, lanky build. He had a warm smile, a neat beard, and there was no doubt in Chris' mind that there was a deep bond of love and affection between him and Tilly.
Quinn and Tilly hugged and kissed, and then Tilly shyly introduced two men.
Chris felt like a horse at an auction as Quinn speedily evaluated him. It took a great deal of effort yet Chris refrained from displaying his teeth to show that they were his and they were natural. No doubt that had already been cataloged along with his copious amount of grey (and white!) hair.
A smiling Quinn never revealed once what he thought of Chris. Instead, he hid it behind a façade of geniality.
"You can call me Quinn, Captain," Tilly's step-grandfather stated as he offered assistance with Chris' luggage.
"Only if you call me, Chris," Chris counteroffered.
"Oh, flowers and chocolates for me, Chris?" Quinn quipped. "My favorites, too!"
"For Grand-mere," Tilly inserted.
Quinn laughed and smiled. "You are exceeding smart, Chris. Though I think she might prefer a teddy bear more than…that… abstract looking thing."
There was no doubt in Chris' mind that Quinn had recognized Chester. Quinn had given Chester a double take when he had first saw the stuffed water bug. Not a "What the hell is that THING?" confused stare but more of … a look of uneasy … fearful? recognition.
That's it, Will. You're grounded, grounded, grounded. You need to stop time traveling without supervision.
"It's a tardigrade," Tilly explained. "Its name is Chester."
"Oh, a tardigrade. I should have guessed," Quinn murmured. "And… Chester is a fine name."
"It's for the baby," Tilly stated.
Which meant that someone else had known about Willa before he had. It stung.
"I think I missed a lot," Quinn admitted. "Let's get into the transport, and you can tell me everything. I have some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first?"
"Bad," Sylvia insisted which caused Quinn to smile.
"I'm taking Adele to the opera tonight, so the four of us won't be able to have dinner together," Quinn announced. With a sly wink, he added, "It was simply amazing that I managed to get tickets to this particular opera today before Chris called. Adele and I met at La fille du Regiment and I always try to take her to it whenever it's playing. Our eyes met over Ah! mes amis, quel jour de fête. My heart went ZING! And the rest is history."
"What's the good news then?" Sylvia asked in a very false happy tone.
"Besides, you two having some privacy tonight and not having to entertain a bunch of old people? Your father will be arriving tomorrow to speak with Chris regarding recent events," Quinn stated.
"That's good?" Chris quipped. "Is he bringing a squad of Klingons with him?"
Quinn quirked a smile and then continued on as though Chris hadn't interrupted, "It's better than the alternative. Siobhan was about to descend upon us like a biblical plague of locusts, however, duty called. It seemed that she was requested to be involved with the restarting of diplomatic relations with the Tolerians. Their lead diplomat specifically stated that she had to be included as the Tolerians were very impressed with our Tilly."
"I owe Mikkos," Syliva admitted.
"I think we need to credit the reprieve to the Tolerian Prime," Chris retorted. "He's rather savvy."
"I do like Vaya," she admitted airily. "I need to send him a thank you gift."
"Don't give him jewelry," offered Chris. "You're not getting married to him."
"Them," Tilly stressed the plural.
"Him," Chris stressed. "He's currently solo. I wonder how much alimony he owes his eighteen exes?"
Their witty rapport was overheard by Quinn.
"How many?" yelped Quinn. "So that For the Love of the Tolerian Prime series is actually based in reality? Adele believed it was fiction even though her book club leader SWORE it was true! I can't let her know about the multiple husbands; she might wish to add some!"
"As if," Tilly chortled.
Tilly then took pity on a concerned Quinn and explained about the Tolerian line marriages, even as Quinn exclaimed a very heartfelt, "Vive la difference!"
"Should I be concerned that you know so much about their marriage customs?" Chris asked.
He was not reassured by Tilly's murmured, "A girl needs to know her options."
Not at all.
And he wasn't jealous.
Not at all.
"I caught the three senior t'Kandranos males plus Vaya in Dr. Nessa's quarters, so I'm not sure how many spouses he currently has, or if Bob and Sarah April are now part of the marriage," Chris informed her, because well, she needed to know her options. Plus, he was pretty sure that if Bob was in the line marriage, Tilly would be scared away.
"Wait, wait, wait….," Sylvia protested even as Quinn bemoaned the fact that Iain Tilly had never shared how exciting space truly was. "Nessa and …."
He refused to say anything. Last thing he wished to experience again was being tongue slapped by a little blue enraged doctor.
"AT THE SAME TIME?" Tilly exclaimed. "And Commodore April? Is there a bed large enough for their egos?"
"I didn't witness it," Pike protested rather primly as you could take the boy out of Mojave, put him in charge of a starship, but he would still have the same country boy morals. "And I'm not sure about April; they did tattoo him and his wife, and called him kin."
"You're blushing!" Tilly then informed Quinn that Adele would adore Dr. Nessa as her grandmother would feel absolutely gigantic next to the petite cerulean doctor.
"Anyway, let's get in the transport so I can get you home," Quinn ordered.
Tilly sat in the back of the transport and Chris debated for a bit, before he sat next to her. It was a two-bench seat transport where the benches faced each other. It was also exceedingly posh, as the bench seats had lumbar support… and yes… the transport had a minibar. He looked longingly at the selection and realized that it would be in very form to imbibe.
"Is this ok?" Chris murmured while Quinn programed the transport.
"I'm sure the transport is safe," Tilly said.
"No, is it ok that I'm sitting next to you," Chris explained. "I could have Chester act as a chaperone and sit between us?"
Sylvia laughed softly and nodded.
"Quinn knows about the baby because I nearly vomited on him," she explained. "So, he'd think it was odd if we weren't sitting together, and he'd tell Grandmere and then… trust me she'd get involved. Right now, be glad Quinn's here."
"So, your grandmother's in charge?" Chris whispered.
"Quinn usually lets Grand-mere take the lead. He's content to watch the fireworks," Tilly admitted softly. "However, he can and will put his foot down when necessary, which could be very bad. I fear that the opera tickets were a preemptive strike which means Quinn outmaneuvered Adele. She couldn't come meet you first as she needs to get ready for the opera. Quinn can just throw on a tux. He'll look dashing, but rumpled, but Grandmere will require more time."
"Are you ok? You look tired." He tried not to be overprotective and smothering, but Tilly appeared pale and wane.
Tilly smiled. It wasn't the full smile that was her norm, but more of an exhausted grimace.
"I am rather fatigued at the moment," she murmured. She patted his arm in a reassuring manner, which almost made him laugh.
Wasn't he supposed to be the one being supportive?
"It's part of the process or so I was warned," she explained. Her nose crinkled in distaste as she added, "Along with the vomiting."
"Why don't you get some sleep?" Chris suggested. OK, he was mother-henning her. Guilty.
"Tempted," she admitted.
"Just close your eyes."
She closed her eyes and before too long, she was asleep, complete with her adorable little snore. Her slumber gave him time to re-center himself and collect his thoughts even though he wondered why Quinn was taking so damn long. He had even managed to put Chester into a safety harness next to him.
After all, he'd need the practice shortly.
"This is not going according to the plan, Chester," Chris informed the stuffed Tardigrade who listened to him intently. "Every romantic action I thought might work just has her retreating. Plus, your great-grandfather Quinn is no doubt busy reporting to Admiral Adele. What are your thoughts?"
The stuffed Tardigade said nothing, fortunately, so Chris closed his eyes, cracked his neck and exhaled slowly.
It had been an exceedingly long day for him. San Fran was nine hours behind Paris and he was close to thirty-two hours with no sleep. Plus, he had thrown all his energy into being charming.
And had failed miserably.
"Just closing my eyes, Chester. Behave, please," Chris requested. "No time travel."
"Chris?" Quinn's soft voice woke him from his sleep.
Through hard earned experience, Chris was able to wake and answer coherently.
"Yes?"
"Did I wake you? I must apologize if I did; I know you have had a very long day," Quinn apologized with what sounded like true sincerity.
"As long as you didn't wake Sylvia there's no need to apologize."
"You call her Sylvia? She loathes that name," Quinn said. "I'm surprised you didn't know that."
Long, penetrating glance.
I'm rather concerned that you didn't know that. How well do you know my granddaughter, Chris?
"Blame it on the Breen," Chris explained. "They planted that name in my head, so I use it. More importantly, she lets me call her that."
Quinn nodded, and then gingerly asked, "Adele wished to inquire if you and her granddaughter desire to share a bedroom while you are visiting?"
Chris wasn't anticipating that question, but… Adele was French and extremely cosmopolitan. A far cry from Mojave and Josh Pike's strict morals, he realized anew.
"At this time, no. Sylvia," and he stressed her name deliberately. "Sylvia and I need to have a very long talk regarding a great many things. The status of our relationship is one of those topics. It would be best for the foreseeable future if I have a separate bedroom."
Quinn nodded even as the transport smoothly shifted into flight.
"Since I answered that truthfully, it's now my time to ask you a question, I saw that you recognized Chester," Chris counterattacked. "Have you met him before?"
"Do you believe in ghosts, Captain?" Quinn questioned.
The use of his title was deliberate much as his use of Sylvia earlier had been, but there was a look of profound uneasiness in Quinn's grieving eyes.
He fears that Will's dead.
"When I was on the Janus, I dealt with something some may call a spiritual presence. However, Chester's owner, is most assuredly not a spiritual presence. She's a little girl who needs to be grounded if I can find out a way to do it as she has a tendency to show up whenever and wherever," Chris explained. "I have it on very good authority that she grows up to be a holy terror. I've met her and conversed with her several times. Each time she's a different age. I think the last time we met, she was close to my age, and she gave me a pep talk."
Quinn exhaled a sigh of profound relief.
"Quel soulagement!"
Quinn took a moment to compose himself. "I should explain, Chris. The house is haunted. There's a dozen or so spirits that haven't moved on, so they make their protests known quietly whenever we rearrange the furniture. Adele's first husband is significantly louder as he tried to scare me to death the first night Adele and I were intimate, but now, after twenty-five years, there's a grudging respect. When I saw Chester, I feared the worst.""
"Has Adele met her?" Chris asked.
Quinn shook his head.
"I've only met her once; it was in the middle of the night after I had snuck downstairs to the kitchen. I had to make her Majesty and Chester Chocolat Chaud and serve them Madeleines," Quinn admitted with a warm chuckle.
"I have to make Champurrado and churros," was Chris' contribution. "Our girl's got a bit of a sweet tooth."
"I didn't think she was a ghost, because she seemed … solid… as she clung to me at first, as though she needs reassurance. She sobbed as though her heart was broken, and it took far too long for me to console her. She's a very messy child as she didn't clean up after herself. I must confess that she quite stole my heart when she called me doudou."
"Doudou?" Chris asked.
"I think it's taken from mon doudou de amour, else she was calling me a blanket. But a comfy blanket, so I'm ok with that."
"How old did she appear to you?" Chris asked.
"I'm not sure. Maybe… nine?" Quinn confessed. "I never had children of my own, so I'm not good with estimating ages. Any idea why she decided to visit?"
"She shows up when she shows up, I have no idea as to the when or where or why. I'm just glad that she has you."
It was the truth, because when he was… trapped… in that chair… Will would still have Quinn.
They arrived at Tilly's grandparents' chateau (He was really out of his depth here as it seems Tilly's grandmother had money and a great deal of it, while he was a poor preacher's son from Mojave) and Tilly was still deeply asleep. Her head was on Chris' shoulder and she was still snoring.
"I hate to wake her," Quinn murmured.
Starship Captain always took care of their own. Chris took a quick lay of the land, and came up with several options.
"What's the layout? Is her bedroom close to the front door – are there any steps?" Chris asked.
"Straight through, up the stairs and to the right. Are you carrying her?"
"Might need to do so," Chris decided even as he tried not to jar her when he removed her from his shoulder. "They both need her to be well-rested."
His best efforts failed as Tilly murmured a soft protest.
"Hey, you're home. Think you can make it to your bed?"
She murmured her agreement, and he offered her his hand for support.
Adele Quinn was small, formidable and distinctively unimpressed with Christopher Pike even as he presented her with the flowers and chocolate. She was dressed to the nines, what with a black and white dress with a splash of red balanced with long black opera gloves. In other words, armor on, shields up and phasers set to kill.
His death was imminent. It would be either a decapitation by a savage slash of her opera fan or her stiletto heel drilled into his heart.
Therefore, he took it like a man. Head held high, and he wouldn't admit his fear.
"Gabriel, we will be late," she enunciated to her husband.
The miscreant nodded his head, made his apologies and dashed away to save his sorry ass.
"So, you're … Christopher."
"Yes, ma'am."
Sylvia murmured a protest and Adele turned her fearsome gaze upon her granddaughter. Her eyes softened as she reached out. "You look tired, you should be resting."
"I can't rest if I'm worried that you're about to vivisect Chris," Sylvia protested.
"I'm ready, love!" Quinn interjected as he returned to the room seemingly having dressed in mere seconds. He was in a penguin suit with a red velvet brocaded vest and matching tie. And yes, Chris was horrified when he realized that Quinn carried it off the entire outfit with a rakish charm, complete with a cape. "Straighten my tie? We'll be late. You will be wearing a jacket? It's a little chilly."
Dear God, what type of family was he trying to marry into? Opera? Tuxedos?
Quinn escorted/manhandled Adele out of the room and to their waiting transport with a cheery, "Be a dear, put the flowers in some water. Don't wait up, we'll probably go out after the opera! Oh! Chris has the green bedroom."
"Wow," was all Chris stated after he confirmed the transport had left.
"Quinn likes you,' Tilly explained.
"He does?"
"Yes," she murmured with a tired smile. "He completely outmaneuvered her with the tickets to the opera and cutting it very fine on the time. Plus, she adores him in the tuxedo cape. He was wearing one when they met."
"Let's get you to bed, so you can get some sleep."
"No, I want to find out what you couldn't tell me earlier. Where's the Discovery?"
"Where's a good place to talk?" was his counteroffer.
"I guess the library?" Tilly informed him.
Oh yes, there had to a library in a chateau this large.
"Let me show you where you can put your luggage," she offered.
As he had assumed, he got the bedroom in the dungeon... sorry... basement.
The farthest away from Sylvia's bedroom.
He hadn't planned on sneaking into her bedroom to seduce her, but they had a great deal to talk about. He'd prefer if he didn't have to skulk through the house to do so.
That done, Sylvia escorted him to the library. The library was a room that he would gladly spend time exploring. Lots of books, real books, made of paper and leather bindings. Yes, there was a large monitor for e-books but there were a few open books spread about the place. It had heavy wood paneling, and there were assorted chairs and a loveseat.
"Quinn never puts away his books," Sylvia murmured. In a fake cheery tone, she asked, "Would you like something to drink? I see we have Calvados or Cognac."
"I'll pass," he stated. He debated and then deliberately sat in a chair, not the loveseat.
"Just because I can't have a drink, doesn't mean you should deprive yourself," she gently chastised him. "I'll pick one."
She pursed her lips, debated and then selected the Calvados, which was the one he would have chosen.
"Excellent choice," he murmured. More out of sense that he needed to say… something… anything.
Sylvia smiled shyly and then she sat down in the chair closest to him. She handed the drink to him and for a moment, their hands touched. He pulled away, as he had to keep his wits about him.
He took a sip, savored the drink, and then he spoke. "This is really good."
"Quinn has quite the taste for liquor," Sylvia explained.
"What I'm about to tell you cannot be discussed again, under the penalty of treason. I have been given official dispensation to tell you this much," Chris explained. He leaned towards her and tried to be as soothing and compassionate as possible.
It was a brutal conversation even though Chris attempted to soften the brief synopsis of the last month since she had left the Discovery. The situation with Spock. Michael was the Red Angel? Saru and his Kelpien heritage. Airiam DEAD? Time travel? Gabrielle Burnham alive? A battle between Control, the Enterprise, Kelpiens, Klingons, plus Commodore April commandeering the Tolerian fleet for extra firepower.
"They're gone?" Tilly whispered.
"Into the future, I hope," Chris explained. "I asked Michael to send us a signal when they got there, but…"
"Who went to the future?" Tilly questioned.
"Saru, Owo, Detmer, Rhys, Bryce, Linus, Nhan, Georgiou, Stamets, Culber, Reno, Pollard …" Chris informed her.
Each name was a blow to her heart.
"I'm… not supposed to ever acknowledge them?" Tilly whispered. "They're my family…. The only time I felt like I truly belonged. They were the only people who've ever accepted me for me. I should be there with them."
She failed to notice that Chris took to heart her comment of how the Discovery crew had been the only people to ever accept her for herself. He pulled away from her and made a deliberate effort to hide his reaction.
Her thoughts were racing in a thousand different directions and she felt Chris grasp her hands. The physical contact shocked her and grounded her. He was kneeling in front of her, and when had he done that?
"Hey, talk to me. You've gone completely inward on me," he requested. His voice was soft, soothing and comforting.
"I have a picture of me and Michael… I guess this means, I have to hide it?" Tilly asked as she looked away from him. She couldn't look at his eyes, full of empathy and compassion because of her resolve to NOT CRY IN FRONT OF CHRISTOPHER PIKE. "I don't have to destroy it, do I?"
Her voice grew shaky and she realized that she was near tears.
"No, you don't have to destroy your photo," he whispered.
The understanding in his tone caused her resolve to crumble, and she wept. To her surprise, he embraced her and whispered, "Go ahead and cry, Sylvia."
She wept as though her heart was broken, because it was.
"Good, good… you let it out," Chris whispered. "Good, good."
He pulled away from her, and he brushed some of her hair from her face. It was a lost cause, as her hair had a mind of its own, but still, he tried.
"Why don't you get some sleep? You've had a long day, and you need to rest."
She looked at her, so completely lost and alone that his heart broke.
"Would you stay with me?" Sylvia whispered.
That's what she said, but he knew what she meant.
Hold me, console me… make love to me.
"I can't, dear," was his response. "Staying with you tonight, I'd just be taking advantage of you."
"Oh, so your marriage offer was to be … sexless?" she questioned. She shrugged her shoulders in a futile attempt to appear uncaring, but he knew.
"In time, if we came to an understanding that we both wanted a physical relationship, and our relationship was healthy… for us to do so… I'd be delighted…" Tilly retreated and he refused to permit her withdrawal, so he continued to speak, "There's a very unhealthy power balance in our relationship… and right now… I don't feel that you trust me…in reference to that balance."
"I trust you," she pleaded. "I do."
"You ran… for good solid reasons… you were terrified, you were overwhelmed, and instead of viewing me as someone who would have your back, who'd help shoulder the load, you ran for the sake of your mental health. For that, I'm blaming myself, as I failed you… when you needed me most… I hadn't proven myself as someone to whom you could turn. For that reason, … I can't spend tonight with you. I'll spend as much time as I need to prove myself to you."
"You have ten years," Tilly reminded him, pointedly.
"Yeah, ten years. I figured, in ten years, you'll have hit your sexual peak. I'll be old then… really, really old and you might want to trade in on a younger model. I am…closer to fifty than I am forty, and you're turning twenty-five shortly. It would destroy me, to turn your marvelous brilliance into an old man's nurse… and… and… dear God, I've slipped in Speech Mode which means I'm talking entirely too much and not doing enough listening."
"You are," Sylvia admitted. "I'm telling you right now, if Willa's anything like me, Captain Pike Speech Mode will not work on her. My mother did a great many speeches and I ignored all of them."
"You took them all to heart," protested Chris. "Which is why I'll need your help in learning to be a good parent. You look tired, why don't you get some sleep?"
"I'm feeling a little weary," she confessed. "Maybe I should turn in."
"May I walk you to your bedroom?" he asked. With what he hoped was a charming air, he crooked his arm, so she could take it.
"Really?" Sylvia didn't bother to hide her amusement.
"Really. My mama always told me that I should escort my date to her front door. In this case, that is your bedroom door, and perhaps, if my date desired, she might permit me to bestow a good night kiss."
His response confused her.
"You have no desire to have sex with me, but you want a kiss?" Tilly asked.
"I never said that I didn't want to make love." He gently chastised her. "If… my main concern wasn't an overwhelming fear how easily this relationship could … turn into something profoundly unhealthy… for you… Well… you would have been completely enervated from sexual pleasure by now."
He paused and gave her his best slow, smile. Plus, a deliberate wink.
For the next ten years he'd give her the absolute best he could. He had always been quite fond of her, before the Janus… and… if she wanted sex with an old man, well, he'd do his damnest to satisfy her…
After the ground rules were put in place.
She flushed.
Not a blush, but a flush.
"Sorry, I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?"
"I'm feeling…. Overwhelmed." With her free hand, she played with her hair, a nervous gesture that showed her unease.
"Understandable. Completely understandable. Tomorrow, you need to tell me how to best handle your father. You never really talked about him on the Janus. You just mentioned your mother," he prompted. "What do I need to know?"
"Mom and Dad complete and utter mismatch," Sylvia explained. Her response was succinct but he felt the unspoken pain.
"Like Quinn and your grandmother?" he offered that when the silence grew too great.
"Yes and no," she admitted. "Quinn is …. Quinn. Things roll off his back, like… water off a duck? I wasn't born when he married my grandmother; however, I've heard that my older sister….and my mother absolutely loathed him. Their dislike didn't daunt him one bit because he adored my grandmother. He thought that my grandmother was worth putting up with my mother and Ninette. My parents got divorced because they decided it was best to separate while they still cared for one another. They decided that their relationship wasn't worth the effort."
"You never mention your older sister? At all," Chris prompted.
"Well, she's my mother's favorite daughter. Rising star in the diplomacy corps, and then there's me. I got Dad's hair, Dad's complexion, I like science. She's built like a super model, I am not."
"You're really good in science," he interrupted. "Brilliant in fact."
They were at her bedroom, so he freed his arm. Regretfully.
"I'll see you in the morning. I'm in the dungeon, if you need anything." He quirked a smile which Sylvia didn't return.
"Good night," she whispered.
Silence.
"Do I get a good night kiss?" Sylvia asked.
He leaned towards her and kissed her on the cheek. Then, he whispered, "I am taking this very slowly with you. You said you feel overwhelmed and I don't want to scare you into flight."
Sylvia nodded her head in agreement, but he could tell that he had just made a major faux pas.
It seemed as though he had just collapsed in his bed as it was been a very long day, after all, and he had scarcely closed his eyes when the communication device beeped. It took him a moment to focus and he realized it was two am.
Well, at least the warp drive wasn't critical.
Chris – Meet me in the kitchen. IMMEDIATELY. Quinn.
Good God, or should he say, Merde. What the hell would Quinn want to chat about? Opera?
Quinn met him before Chris got to the kitchen. Quinn's tuxedo was askew as his bowtie was undone and the first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. His cape, jacket and vest were nowhere to be seen.
"Listen to me, Chris," the older man intently stated as he blocked the entrance to the kitchen. "Right now, I am your only ally in this household. I can't do much for you, but I will do whatever I can to help you. I was just informed by the High Command… Siobhan and Ninette are arriving today. Iain will be here shortly after breakfast, and you need to get him on your side before those two harpies arrive. Siobhan is out for your blood, and she is absolutely furious that Adele has you in the same house as Tilly. I thought she would be sidetracked by the Tolerians insisting on her being part of the Federation delegation but for once in Siobhan's life, Tilly is more important than Siobhan's blasted career. Normally, I'd be delighted but not now. You don't want Siobhan here until you get another ally in this house."
Chris took the intel, digested it and then asked the important question. "Why are you helping me?"
Up until now, Chris would have declared the sovereign state of one Gabriel Quinn as (chaotic) neutral with a prejudice towards Sylvia Tilly. At no time, had Chris thought of him as a potential ally, yet here Quinn was, the older man giving him a succinct lay of the land, plus a suggested plan.
"You'll see," Quinn explained. "We have company. Very special company."
Quinn walked into the kitchen and there was an all too familiar girl sitting in a chair. She was the absolute picture of misery, as she appeared completely cried out. For a wonder, there was no stuffed Tardigrade who tagged along for the ride. Her hair was neatly braided in a single braid and her outfit reminded him of the Tolerians. What with the cut and color?
"I'll make you some Le Chocolat Chaud, ma lutine," Quinn informed Willa as he placed a plate of cookies on the table. "I think your father and I will need something a little stronger. Cabinet to the left, Chris, third shelf. There's a bottle of D'ussé that I save for special occasions."
"Papa!" Willa exclaimed. Her face lit up in joy when she saw him.
"Shh… we don't want to wake everyone," Quinn chastised her quietly. "You'd be rather hard to explain. God knows I can't explain you."
She ignored him as she raced toward Chris. She embraced him tightly and whispered plaintively, "Please don't be mad at me."
"I won't, I promise," he whispered.
"I'm really bad though."
"Impossible," was his immediate reassurance. "Tell me what the problem is."
"I can't find my sisters."
"What?" Chris asked. In his defense, it was 2 AM, after all, and he had not met her sisters. Not yet.
"You told me to keep an eye on them and I promised you that I would," Willa explained. "I can't find them. And …" Tears filled her eyes, as she whispered, "I can't find my little brother. I looked EVERYWHERE. I can't find him. Please don't be mad at me. I love my little brother and I can't find him."
Chris embraced her tightly even as he reassured her that he still loved her.
"Did you talk to your Mama?" he asked, because Will seemed to be similarly aged to when he would be sentenced to his support chair.
She nodded her head and she tighten her embrace.
"Mama was angry with me," she whispered. "She doesn't remember them. She yelled at me… she said that I was making them up, because you two never got married, so it was just the two of us as it had always been, and that I had never met you… because she had kept me from you … but I remember them. I remember you. You were my best friend… and I can't find them and I can't find Chester… and Mama screamed at me for telling lies… and then she cried really, really hard …. And I was scared… and Uncle Vaya said that I had to find you. I have to give you his message."
"What's the message?" Chris asked.
She leaned towards Chris and whispered, "He said, that … we were experiencing a time pair of ducks. Because he remembered my sisters."
"The word is actually paradox; it's a very complicated word. Was that it? He didn't say anything else?" Chris prompted. "Like what I need to do?"
"Uncle Vaya said that he was sending you assistance to help with the pair of ducks. Then he said… bad words. Mama says I can't say them though she does."
"It'll be our secret," he promised. "I won't tell your Mama."
His daughter whispered in his ear, "There are those that think Time is merely a concept. Then there are people who understand Time is fucking, fickle bitch… Control wounded Time when it ripped it apart… and the universe is not done with you yet, Christopher Pike."