Last Requests by KB
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 5
Ryan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands tucked in behind his head. During the two weeks he had spent at the hospital while Jarod was dying, he had become used to spending the nights with his progenitor, and it was taking time for him to return to his old sleeping habits. Those long hours, when the hospital had been almost silent, but pain prevented Jarod from sleeping, had brought Ryan to a deeper understanding of what it meant to be a copy of someone else, as well as knowing more about the man from whom he had been created. He was determined that, although he would become his own person, he would do his best to retain some of the best parts of the man he had gotten to know, albeit for such a brief period.
When the door softly opened, he raised himself on his elbows to see the woman he called ‘mom’ enter, smiling slightly when she saw he was awake.
“Still can’t sleep nights?” she suggested softly, and he shrugged as he lay down again.
“I’m getting better,” he offered hesitantly. “Nearly three hours last night.”
She smiled. “I can’t really criticize you. I didn’t manage that much myself.”
He couldn’t help grinning at that, relieved not to be receiving a lecture about his behaviour. His mother’s brown eyes suddenly lit up as an idea struck her.
“The fire was still burning a little when I went past,” she proposed. “Why don’t we make ourselves some hot cocoa and play scrabble or something.”
“Sure,” he beamed, throwing back the covers and grabbing his robe as he slid his feet into the furry slippers lying beside the bed. “And maybe some of those cookies Marisa,” this was Emily’s chosen new name, “made last night?”
Kim tousled his hair with a gentle fist as they headed into the kitchen. “You only had a snack a few hours ago and you’re hungry already?”
“Yup!” He poured milk into the saucepan and put it on the stove while his mother got out two cups and a large jug. “I’m a growing boy, remember!”
“Not for much longer,” she smiled, putting several cookies on a plate. “You’ll stop growing soon enough and then maybe we can get you some clothes that’ll last you longer than two months.”
Ryan looked down at his pajamas, which revealed several inches of his lower legs, and laughed as the milk began to boil. After he had been rescued from the Centre, he had begun a belated puberty growth spurt, which a long-term sim he had been given at Donoterase had halted, and he was now as tall as Jarod had been.
Pouring the milk into the jug, he put the cups and plate onto a tray and carried it into the living room, putting it on the coffee table before adding a log to the slowly dying fire. Scrabble was in the front of the cupboard and he fished around for a pad of paper and two pens before returning to the coffee table. Sitting on the floor against the sofa, he helped set the game up and then accepted his drink, sipping the hot, sweet concoction that warmed him down to his toes.
Kim shared out some letters and they began the game. Although they only spoke softly, it wasn’t long before the three other occupants joined them in the living room and the game was restarted to include everyone. Nothing was said about the frequency with which this was occurring, being an almost nightly happening now, but as the following day was Saturday, and thus not a workday for either Kim or her husband, and with no school for Ryan to attend, they continued to play until light was visible over the mountains and a thud on the front porch announced that the newspaper had arrived.
“This should be the last one,” the nurse announced cheerfully as the doctor gave Andrea the shot. “As you were told last night, the virus had barely started to develop, and even if you should need another, you won’t need to come in as a patient.”
“Well, that’s certainly something to be thankful for,” the patient responded pleasantly, feeling refreshed after a night of sound sleep. “I don’t like needles any more than the next person.”
The doctor smiled as he dropped the used syringe into the dish offered by the nurse. After drawing a small amount of blood to be tested and checking her chart, he left the room. Andrea waited for the nurse to leave before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. In addition to her nightwear, the bag Marcus had given her also contained a bottle of her shower gel and her favorite shampoo.
As she slid under the streaming water, she thought longingly of the large tub in her bathroom at Sydney's house and made a mental note to have a good soak in it that evening. She had seen that there was a supermarket and other stores not far from her new home and guessed that she could get anything she wanted from there. She was almost surprised at how natural this whole environment seemed to her, and how easily she seemed to fit into it.
Stepping out of the shower, she toweled off vigorously and then put on clean underwear before dressing herself in the clothes Marcus had provided. They were still stylish and well cut, but warm enough for the season and less formal than her usual attire. Leaving the room, she packed her clothes into the bag and then sat down in the armchair to stare out of the window at the city below her as she brushed her hair.
“Good morning,” a voice announced from the doorway, and she looked around to find Marcus standing there, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a grin on his face. “Looks like you’re up and ready for the day.”
“Well, as I don’t know what I’m in for,” she teased lightly, “I thought it was as well to be prepared.”
Marcus chuckled. “We need to talk about your future here,” he began, “and specifically whether you’d be willing to take over as head of our security department. You’ll find a lot of organizational similarities to what you had at the Centre in SIS.”
She met his gaze steadily. “Do I get time to think about it?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “We wouldn’t do anything definite until we’ve got the latest test results anyway, but take your time and let me know what you decide.”
Andrea nodded and then, when his expression remained expectant, raised an interrogative eyebrow. “What else?”
He sighed. “Probably the most important part of your life here,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to tell you last night, because otherwise you wouldn’t have stayed here in the hospital, but it’s a big thing.”
Her eyes narrowed instantly. “What are you talking about, Marcus?”
The man rose to his feet. “Come with me,” he directed. “I’ll show you.”
Andrea could feel something clenching in her stomach as she rose to her feet and followed him from the room, although she couldn’t understand what she might be scared of, other than the man’s solemn tones. They got into an elevator that carried them down to the ground floor and Marcus directed her down a long hallway too quickly for her to read any of the many signs they passed, before finally stopping outside a door and waving at a sofa that stood against one wall.
“I have to tell you something,” he told her, as they sat down. “Three years ago, several children of some of the first subjects your mother rescued perpetrated a deception against the Centre. We had to use people that the Centre had no knowledge of, because they were forced to spend time being tested and checked to ensure their suitability for the job we needed done. We also had to remove all competition to ensure that we were successful in gaining this project. When it was handed over to the people we had used, they brought it here, and it’s remained here ever since.”
Her mind was playing with the timeframe he had presented and as he finished, the final piece fell into place and her mind was full of the image of the baby to which Brigitte had given birth, as well as the fact that it had disappeared so soon after its birth. She’d imagined that the child had been given out to an adoptive family, as Timmy had been, because his father had no time for it. Part of her had wondered whether, when he reached the age of four or five, he would be brought back to the Centre and put to work. That concept had been painful for her to accept at the time, and she had considered working out a way for that future to be altered, but her workload had become heavier and she had thought about the baby she once believed was her brother less and less. Now she looked up at the man beside her, her eyes blazing.
“Why?” she demanded. “What use is he to you?”
“The use doesn’t come into it,” he reprimanded. “We don’t force anyone to do anything here. But the Centre certainly would have used him as soon as he was old enough to complete the sims.”
“I don’t understand,” she began impatiently. “My f… Mr. Parker had no skills worth exploiting, and I can’t imagine the troll who married him did either, so…”
“That baby wasn’t theirs biologically,” Marcus interrupted. “Bridget was artificially inseminated. If the child inherits his father’s skills, or his mother’s, and we’d left him with them, the Centre would have had another very powerful tool in their arsenal. If it should happen that he displays both attributes and had been still accessible to them, they would’ve found some way to ensure that he never escaped,” he paused briefly, “the way his father did.”
Andrea felt a lump form in her throat as realization hit her like a fist in the stomach, knocking out the air and making her gasp for breath. Jarod's son was on the other side of that door: the boy she had helped deliver and fought to keep Raines away from was the son of the man she had pursued and rebuffed from the emotional attachment he had sought from her for years. An image of Jarod as she had last seen him, cold and dead on the autopsy slab at the Centre, hovered at the edge of her mind’s eye, and, even as she shuddered, she wondered whether he had known about this last, and most terrible, curse the Centre had placed on him. Then her thoughts went in another direction and she looked up.
“So if he belongs to Jarod's family,” she suggested, “why is he here, and not there with them?”
“We were waiting,” Marcus said softly, “to see what happened to his mother.”
There was an extended period of silence following this statement, although it took Andrea only a fraction of that time to understand what had been meant. Rather than breathless, she felt a pain in her chest that seemed to get heavier with every passing second. Feeling almost helpless, she looked up at the man beside her, who slid a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“I know it’s hard,” he murmured gently in her ear. “But your son knows – has always known – that you’re his mother. We showed him your photo with several others when he was only about a year old and he knew which one – you – was his mother immediately. When Jarod died, he was totally distraught. Last night was the first time since that day that he’s slept properly, so for his sake, we couldn’t leave it until you’d had more time to settle in before you were introduced, although that was the original plan.”
Tears had begun massing in her eyes, but at the idea of the baby – her son – being upset, she resolutely drove them back and almost bounded to her feet.
“I want to see him,” she demanded.
“Of course,” Marcus agreed, standing also and stepping over to the door, which he pushed open. “In here.”
The sound of babyish babbling and giggling filled the corridor as soon as the door was open, and Andrea’s eyes widened as they hurried down the hallway.
“How many children do you have here?”
“Only four that live here permanently, either because their parents have died, or else because we were able to rescue them from the Centre’s grasp. That’s three, now that you’re here. But we also have daycare for children of the nurses and doctors, as well as for those patients who might need it.”
She nodded, glimpsing very young babies through a window being fed and playing with various soft toys.
“We have one staff member per child for the babies,” Marcus went on. “This increases to figures of five to one for children who are getting close to going school. We also arrange babysitting for those who work nights, like Jon Morris. Most of the teenagers in town are on a roster and we call them up to offer them work when needed.”
Andrea nodded again, but her mind was becoming more focused on seeing her son and wasn’t paying more than superficial attention. As if understanding this, Marcus fell silent, guiding her to the closest doorway and opening the brightly painted door. A group of children, all approximately three years old, sat on the floor around a woman who was reading a book. One little boy’s head turned immediately, and Morgan found herself staring into the child’s dark brown eyes as they lit up and he leapt to his feet, hurling himself across the room to her.
“Mama,” he shrieked in delight.
She froze for a second, before sinking to her knees and gathering him to her, feeling his little arms clinging tightly around her neck. Andrea had never pictured herself as a mother, but was surprised at how natural the feeling suddenly became. Her son’s little visage held only a faint resemblance to the baby she had helped deliver, but she could see her own features in his face, although the hair, eyes and tiny dimples in his cheeks were clearly from his father. Marcus helped her to her feet and guided the mother and son down the hallway to a room in which a kitchenette, tables and chairs had been set up.
The woman sank into an armchair and Marcus took a seat opposite, his eyes traveling from one face to the other. “Andrea, this is Jason,” he told her. “That’s the name he was given when he was handed over to our people, and we find it less confusing for the child to retain that choice.”
She nodded somewhat numbly, feeling that her cheeks were damp from the baby’s moist kisses, and suddenly bent her head to kiss his flushed face. The delight in his eyes made her feel slightly choky and she clutched him more tightly as he continued to babble in his high-pitched voice, telling her all about his favorite toys and books. Her head was whirling with the revelation that she had a son, and her heart was a tangle of emotions so great that it almost hurt to have her son so close to her.
Marcus had watched this scene with a smile. Before he could speak, however, the door opened and Andrea looked up to find Patrick in the doorway. The man’s brown eyes were soft as he took in the scene, before stepping over the threshold.
“It’s all set up,” he said quietly as he sat down next to Marcus, and the other man nodded.
“What is?” Andrea demanded, suddenly suspicious as she clutched her son slightly tighter and felt him cling to her.
Patrick smiled. “We’ve been doing a little… rearranging at home,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling in a way that Andrea had never seen them before. Then his smile became more tender as he watched her. “After all, you wouldn’t want to leave him here, would you?”
As if in answer to this, Jason put his head on her shoulder and snuggled close to her. She felt his heartbeat through the pale blue turtleneck she wore and knew that Patrick was right. She couldn’t leave him now, even though it would take her time to untangle all the emotions his very existence caused in her. Nodding, she rose, her son still in her arms, turning to Marcus.
“I’m interested in the work you wanted me to do,” she told him firmly, “but I won’t be able to start right away.”
“Of course not,” he agreed, standing also. “But a certain amount of the basics – learning about the system and choosing your staff, among other things – can be done at home, and we’ll get the information delivered to you within the next week or so. Still, there are other things you’re going to need. Your new car is waiting for you down in the carpark. There’s also a catalogue of clothes for you to choose from – both work and casual clothes. You can either use it or go shopping. Patrick can tell you details about opening hours and all the other etceteras. There’s also a list of phone numbers including mine, so you can call when you want to start work or if you have anything else you want to ask.”
The group left the room and headed back down the hall while Marcus finished telling her all this, the younger man only stopping to pick up two bags that stood outside a room, through the partly open door of which Andrea could see several small beds and guessed that it had been her son’s room until today. As they continued past it, the child again lovingly kissed her cheek, nestling up against her neck with a sigh. She gently rubbed his back and felt his hands tighten around the collar of her top.
“You can follow me back home,” Patrick told her as he packed the baby’s bags into the trunk of the dark-colored Mercedes-Benz convertible that Marcus had said was Andrea’s new car, before he got into his own vehicle and left the carpark. Andrea nodded as she strapped the boy into his car seat with a somewhat worn teddy bear that he told her gleefully was his ‘fav’rit’.
The trip was only a short one, but it gave Andrea a chance to appreciate the attractiveness of her new surroundings. Soon, she was following Patrick into the double garage beside their house and getting her son out of his car seat. He cuddled her around the neck so tightly that she was able to hold him with only one hand and carry one of his bags into the house with the other. Patrick led her down the hall to her set of rooms and opened the door to what had been her office. The desk, bookshelf and other furniture had been rearranged in one corner of the large room, leaving space for a small bed and change table, chest of drawers and large toy-box.
Andrea stopped short in the doorway, staring at the new objects in the room, before stepping in to put the bag she carried down beside the small bed. Patrick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at him.
“I prepared something for lunch before I left for the hospital. Want to come and have it? You can unpack everything afterwards.”
She was startled to find that it was already after one o’clock in the afternoon, but nodded as they turned back into the hallway and headed for the living room, Jason still cuddled securely in her arms. In the kitchen, she put him into the highchair that was standing in one corner and drew it up to the table, taking a seat beside it.
“Jarod's family have invited you, me and Jason for dinner tonight,” Patrick told her as he stirred a pot of soup on the stove. “They want the chance to be a part of Jason’s life, although they realize that you’re his mother, and as such have the right to have him live with you.”
Accepting the small bowl of plain tomato soup that he handed to her, with a small spoon, having firmly tied on a protective bib, Andrea began feeding her eager son, considering the offer. It would be the first time she had seen most of those people, and she could only guess at the feelings they had for her, suspecting that if her son was not also related to them, they would have ignored her completely. Understanding that, this offer caught her slightly off-guard.
“Did they really invite me,” she began skeptically, “or did you…”
“Please, P – Andrea,” he corrected himself quickly, “I’m not going to force anyone into a situation that difficult. No one would be able to deal with something like that being foisted onto them right now.” He sat down opposite her. “They – we – are all still trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened. We’ve all lost someone important to us, and who played a major role in all our lives. We need a chance to get over that without more emotional turmoil”
She looked up to meet his gaze. “Did you tell him that?”
“Yes,” he responded quietly. “Fortunately, I had that chance.”
He stood again and poured some juice into a baby cup, which he put on the tray of the highchair, smiling as Jason immediately picked it up and thirstily began drinking the contents.
“How… was it?” she asked jerkily.
“Peaceful,” Patrick replied somewhat unsteadily. “He died in his mother’s arms, just as the sun rose, the day after you saw him. I’ve sometimes wondered,” he added in a firmer voice, turning back to her, “if he was only waiting to see you before he let go.” He smiled again. “I think he was.”
Her gaze dropped to the bowl in her hands, and she spooned the last of the soup into her son’s mouth before accepting the more seasoned substance in the bowl he placed in front of her. There was silence in the room for the rest of the meal, apart from soft comments made to Jason, the two adult occupants immersed in their own thoughts.
