The man straightens his tie,
“Mrs. McCree, this interview was held with the understanding
that you would give us your side of the story as well as the location of two
key Talon members.” He says.
“That’s what you wanted, even though my arrest was under
false pretenses, I’ve been threatened, multiple times, and as to your promise
of safety for my family, I would like to remind you of the Talon operative you
had working for you?” I say.
He opens the folder where my file is kept; I read over the
contents when the first interviewer left. He clears his throat and sets the
papers down,
“It appears you are correct.”
I nod; La Muerta leans close and whispers, “You’ve got ten
minutes to get out of here. The Talon agent was supposed to check in twenty
seconds ago.”
I grunt, “How about you take my side of the story, as well
as this piece of key information: The Talon Agent you have in custody was
supposed to check in a short time ago. They’re planning to bomb this facility
in ten minutes.”
I can see the man’s eyes widen in fear; a cold chill runs up
my spine. Apparently, I have longer than some of the other people in this
building.
Modern Day
Angel and I enter
the room and stop. Our father is lying across our mother’s legs, his head buried
against her stomach, arms wrapped around her hips.
She chuckles and shakes her head at him, “You silly man.”
Our father grunts, “I haven’t seen you in over two decades.
Cut me some slack.”
Our mother glances up and focuses on us; her eyes are filled
with joy and pain. Torment, when she
looks at my brother, the son she never saw. She blinks back tears and glances
down to where our father lays,
“And what do you think our children would say if they saw
you?” she asks.
“They’d understand. And I know they’re standing in the
doorway, Lia.” Our father says.
I take Angel by the arm and lead him forward, stopping a
moment to tap our father on his shoulder,
“Papa, please move.” I say.
He grumbles about fairness, before rolling to the side and
propping himself up on his elbow. My mother and I stare at each other for a
long moment, before tears blind me and I choke on a sob.
“Baby girl,” she whispers, pulling me into a hug I’m not
sure either of us will let the other go from, “it’s okay. It’s okay.”
Two decades, nearly three, of not seeing her, not smelling
her perfume, or hearing her laughter. And now, she’s right here. My mom is
back. I understand exactly why my father never wanted to let her go. Even with
my eyes close I can tell Angel is retreating, and pull back to face him,
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask.
He flinches as if struck, “I…” he takes a breath, “… this is
your family, hermana. I shouldn’t
intrude.”
My mother clears her throat and waits till he faces her,
“You were stolen from me. When you were taken out of the room not breathing,
they said they would try to bring your back. When they brought a lifeless baby
back, part of my heart went with him. It was only after I’d gotten home from
the hospital, settled in to journal a week afterwards that I saw the future.
That I saw my son fully grown. You can’t imagine how angry I was that you were
taken from me… or how happy I was knowing you still lived. Angel, no matter
what, there will always be a place in this family for you. I know I wrote that
multiple times. Don’t tell me I didn’t. I’m not that forgetful.”
Angel is sniffing back tears by the time she’s done; Michael
steps into the room and gives him a small shove. He stumbles forward into our
mother’s arms. For a moment, my brother is tense, before he wraps his arms
around our mother and holds her as if she raised him from birth. I glance back
at our uncle as he tries to slip away, and finds our father is already standing
in his way.
“He’s not the only one. We will find Simon, Mike, and when
we do, you’re both coming to stay with us. Understand?” He gives his twin a
light punch to the arm.
Michael snorts and repeats the gesture, “Bossy as always, eh
Bossman?”
“Learned from the best, remember?” He asks.
Jesse groans, “There’s two of you? One was bad enough.”
My father glares at him while my uncle laughs; my mother
finally releases my brother and wipes away his tears with her thumb,
“It’s alright miho.
It’s a lot to take in.” She says.
He shakes his head and sniffs; he’s even more of a mess than
I am. He glances at me,
“You’re as bad as I am right now.” He says.
I laugh, “I was the thinking the same thing actually.”
My mother reaches out and takes my hand; a soft squeeze and
I feel my tears welling up again. My mom’s alive. She’s really alive.
I practically leap into her arms again and she hugs me
tightly as I start bawling into her hospital gown. Angel sits down beside her
and rubs my back; after a few minutes she pulls him into the hug too. I’m not
sure who’s crying harder, me, Angel, or our mom.
*************************
Jack manages to find several boxes of tissues. I’m sure
we’ll use them all by the time we stop. He’s not immune to the waterworks
either; as soon as she smiles at him, big, strong Jack starts crying and hugs
her too. At least no one’s going to make fun.
After we can finally part with her, we go into the living
room where the rest of our family is waiting. My father stays behind; I’m not
sure if they need private time or are “Catching up”.
Honestly, I’m okay with not knowing.
Michael explains his half of the events:
She asked him to keep this place up and running, maintaining
it as best he could without making TinTwo mad enough to bite him. After his
first base was attacked, and his husband taken, he and Angel moved here.
Angel’s girlfriend at the time was a spy.
Mid sentence, Angel turns a sickly shade of green and asks,
“You don’t think she was… a reanimated person, do you?”
That thought crosses all our minds, along with a feeling of
sympathetic nausea. There’s no real way to know at this time…
Afterwards, I ask about the journal; Angel retrieves it from
his bags, and hands it to me.
It was one of mothers leather bound writing journals, the
kind she used to keep all the days thoughts in. Instead of her usual relaxed
script, she wrote in tiny letters, detailing everything, from her first visions
of his living with uncle Michael and Simon, to the very moment he handed me the
journal. Oddly enough, she gave him directions, told him where to find friends
of hers, money she’d stashed various locations. Midway through flipping through
the book, she wrote a short sentence for me,
“I helped him because unlike you, he didn’t have a Jack or
an Ana. He was running for his life more times than he was safe. If the fates
were different, you better believe I’d have helped you as well.”
After what I assume is Michael and Simon taking him in, the
journal skips wide chunks of time. Pieces of advice for the break-up, how to
prove his innocence when his friend framed him in highschool, how to set his
nose after he got into a fight.
I realize she was right; Ana helped me through my first
break-up, when the popular girl was picking on me, and Pharah helped me when
that same popular girl sicked her creepy ass boyfriend on me.
The conversation goes on without me, but by the time I come
to the end of the journal, with her wishing my brother the best of luck and
telling me not to worry, she hadn’t gotten weird cravings either, the others have
caught up.
“So,” Sombra says, “There’s a good chance these people have
literally dug up our pasts, right?”
Michael nods, “There’s a good chance, yes.”
Sombra shakes her head, “Great. Think you can teach me how
to hack them?”
Michael snorts, “Yes. But can you keep up, is the question.”
She huffs before throwing out her hand; Michael yawns as
Sombra… fails, to hack him.
Oh boy.
My uncle starts tapping on a holo screen on his arm and
Sombra literally gets a taste of her own medicine. Blinking, we all stare at
him, before he grins and releases Sombra from… what I’m assuming is an entire
body paralytic?
She blinks before saying, “Right. Respect your elders. Got
it.”
Michael nods, “Come on chica.
Let’s give you a crash course in my style of hacking.”
As they depart, I see a flash of crimson and see more bodies
added to the pile surrounding me.
Angel and Michael.
*********
