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Date Posted: 00:06:00 11/28/08 Fri
Author: Odelle
Author Host/IP: CPE0013f7f24246-CM0013f7f24242.cpe.net.cable.rogers.com / 99.234.121.213
Subject: When A Time Comes (Chapter 3)
In reply to: Odelle 's message, "When A Time Comes" on 11:10:52 11/24/08 Mon

Michael was terrified. So nervous, he was literally quaking from the inside out. Shaking like his bones had frozen solid – the cold of it emanating like a pulsing beam from his core. He cursed himself for it. This was not how he had planned this. Dreamed about this. He was supposed to be strong, courageous, humble, and apologetic. He wanted her to see him return as a whole man. Not this sweaty-palmed coward.

In his favourite fantasies, she would be swept away by the sight of him. Overwhelmed at his calm and reassuring presence.

The truth of it was how overwhelmed he, himself, was; so emotional he could cry, anticipating seeing her so much he could run the length of France that moment, and so angry he could vomit.

Now that his duty with Adam was done – now that the boy was a man, successfully having completed a full year of Harvard, and moved into his new house with his school friends – all Michael wanted to do was ensure she was safe, and then crawl into a hole and die.

Flight or fight manifest: and he wanted to find the farthest corner of the earth.

It would be so much easier, require nothing but his surrender, if he found her successful, happy, and in love with someone else. And truth be told, if he hadn’t made that promise, he probably wouldn’t even show up to check on that much.

As it was, though…

He sighed and levered himself up over the concrete barricade. He couldn’t wait to see her. To hold her. Just once – just enough to carry him into the next world, should the circumstances of her life turn him away.

Ten sentries stood at the entrance to what was clearly something needing to be hidden – the door he knew would walk him back into the old world. The operatives reeked of Section, and his face froze in sudden recognition. So many years, he hardly noticed his mask had gone on vacation, too. It slammed back into him with a force that caused him to step back.

An intentional numbness seeped in to replace the fear that had reined moments before. Control fell into place like a guillotine. Every muscle became deliberate, and his emotions floated away into the inaccessible.

In full mission gear, he ran through ingress like a split-screen. The efficiency in his movements and his mind startled something within him. Each step was a memory, his presence a ghost. He felt absent, like he was watching a home movie of himself on the living room couch; different man watching the same. Identity challenged, ignored.

Five minutes later, he was descending on top of the elevator, undetected by any man or machine. A part of him may have declared pride in the sheer competence of the result, if that part hadn’t been eradicated decades earlier by the very creators of himself.

Counting meters, he knew the destination would be Comm level. Patience suffused him, and made him motionless. Undetectable. He felt the doors slide open and then closed. In a moment, he had silently removed a panel on which he lay, and swung effortlessly down onto the platform.

He had hardly landed when the doors slid open with surprising suddenness.

Fifteen little red dots painted his face and heart. He looked up to the hole above him from which he slipped, and was greeted by an additional swarm of muzzles.

Slowly, absent any feeling, Michael raised his hands to the back of his head, and turned around.

************

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