Preserving Will

by Alex Albrinck

He could hear her melodic, telepathic laugh. Silly! You won’t see him. You have to notice him in other ways.

  He thought about that as he gently squeezed Phoebe’s arm. “Phoebe? I… have a hunch that it might be about that time.”

  She opened her eyes, groggy, clearly wanting nothing more than to sleep longer, a symptom he now understood. Or thought he did.

  On the positive side, she wasn’t yelling at him. Yet.

  “What makes you think…?” She broke off, her eyes widening, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Find… the anesthesiologist. Now.”

  Acting like any frantic father-to-be—or grandfather-to-be, in his case—Adam raced from the room to the main desk, where a nurse looked up at him. “She’s asking for the anesthesiologist.”

  The woman tapped a few keys on her keyboard and looked at the readings from the monitoring sensors in Phoebe’s room. Her face registered deep surprise. “Well… that baby decided that now’s the time. When they’re ready, they’re ready, aren’t they?”

  Adam nodded. “You have no idea.”

  He trotted back into the room, glancing around, expecting to see Will. Angel was confident that he was there, but Adam detected no visible sign of the man. Nor was there even a slight trickle of Energy. If Will was there, he’d proven that he could remain undetected by everything, save for his own daughter.

  But Adam didn’t doubt Angel’s assertion. Will was here; it wasn’t just his unborn daughter’s wishful thinking and active imagination.

  After the hours of waiting, the delivery process itself proceeded with little fanfare. Adam thought it rather straightforward, and then caught himself: he wasn’t the one actually doing the work. But Phoebe looked to be in a nearly blissful state throughout. Adam had never delivered a child, but it seemed quite odd that she’d do so without the slightest apparent bit of strain or pain.

  He wondered if Angel was somehow helping her mother.

  Or… was Will?

  Moments later, Angel was there, crying as any newborn would. Her thin hair was a white-blond color, as her mother’s had long been. Her eyes were a deep violet, and seemed to sparkle with an internal light. The hospital staff was mesmerized, and fell in love with the little girl in an instant. None of them wanted to hand Angel back to her mother. But they did.

  For the first time in recent memory, Phoebe looked genuinely happy and content. She gazed down upon her daughter, lost in the vision of the baby girl’s face and eyes, stroking her cheeks and hair, amazed at the child now in her arms.

  “He is here, isn’t he?” Phoebe murmured to her daughter. “I know it as well.”

  A nurse wiped a tear from her eye at Phoebe’s words, and glanced toward Adam with sympathy. He could read her face and thoughts well. The nurse believed Phoebe was recalling her dead husband, the baby’s father, speaking to calm herself and instill in her baby the idea that her father would be watching out for her from beyond the grave.

  That wasn’t far from the truth.

  They heard the skirmish outside, shouts and yelling, and the medical staff left the room quickly to investigate. A moment later, the door opened again. But it wasn’t a doctor or a nurse, it was…

  “Mommy!” Fil said. He looked at her conspiratorially, eyes twinkling with something other than Energy. “I convinced Aunt Eva and Uncle Aaron to bring me here. Uncle Aaron is… I think he called it ‘keeping them occupied.’”

  Eva glided into the room, an unusually sheepish grin on her normally regal face. “I do believe the boy has manipulated two people into doing what he wants, despite being told that what he wants is impossible.”

  Phoebe smiled. “Someone once told me that the word impossible is meaningless. It appears that my son learned that lesson at a far younger age than I did.”

  Eva nodded, unable to prevent the smile from covering her face. She held up a camera. “Fil would like to meet his sister and take a picture. We should do so quickly, before the diversion Aaron has set loses its effectiveness.”

  “What diversion?” Adam asked, curious.

  “Sometimes it is best not to know. Plausible deniability. I did not ask him.”

  Adam snorted.

  Fil moved toward his mother, his face beaming at the physical sight of the sister he’d known for months. She was now a real, tangible person, someone he could see and touch. “Can I hold her, Mommy?”

  Phoebe smiled. “Of course, sweetheart.”

  Fil climbed up onto the hospital bed and nestled up against his mother. Phoebe gently placed the bundled child into his outstretched arms. A look of pure bliss covered Fil’s face, and he bent down to gaze directly into his sister’s violet eyes. “I will always protect you, little sister. That’s what big brothers do.”

  Adam and Eva glanced at each other, both of their faces somewhat damp. Eva reached into her purse and removed a high resolution digital camera while Adam used his sleeve to dry his face. She worked to turn it on as Phoebe took Angel back from Fil. The little boy leaned over his sister, continuing to grin from ear to ear.

  “Smile!” Eva said. When Phoebe and Fil looked in her direction, she snapped the picture, then powered off the camera and dropped it back into her purse.

  “I’ll need a copy of that picture,” Adam told her in a low voice. “It’s needed for… future communications.”

  Eva nodded. Adam would ensure that the picture made it into the diary… and that the diary would find its way into the time machine Will Stark would use to travel to the distant past. It was a photo that both Will and Hope would use, at various times, to maintain their motivation to go on: Hope, glowing and happy; Josh, beaming at his sister as if she was found under the tree on Christmas morning; and a healthy Angel, with her striking blond hair and violet eyes. More than anything else, that image was the one that said everything had come to fruition, that everything they endured and suffered through the centuries was all worthwhile because in the end, their children were born and healthy, that they were all there and happy and celebrating Angel’s birth.

  Adam’s smile tightened. Images spoke volumes, but they couldn’t speak. There was nothing in the picture to indicate that Will wasn’t physically present, or that the family had been forced to move across the country to avoid detection by Aliomenti Hunters who would happily finish the murders they and the Assassin had failed to complete only a few months earlier. And there was nothing to suggest Phoebe’s current mental health. But the picture would serve its purpose. Will’s gift to his wife months earlier—helping her watch her grown children emerge from the time machine to do what they needed to do in their past—was her new version of the photo they’d just taken. When times were at their worst, she’d be able to recall those memories, recall their voices as they spoke to her, and realize that she’d made it through the process of raising her two children. She’d know her children would become the type of people she and Will had been. There could be no greater praise, or motivation, that she could receive.

  Adam glanced at Eva. “It’s probably best that Fil heads back home. I’m sure the hospital staff won’t be happy to find that he’s broken their rules. I’ll take him to Aaron if you want to spend some time with Phoebe and little Angel.”

  Eva’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

  Fil didn’t want to go, but apparently got reassurances from his sister that she’d survive the next few hours in a hospital without him hovering over her. He took Adam’s hand, and the two walked out the door.

  The head nurse, now looking quite harried, spotted the little boy. “How did you get in there?” She glared at Adam. “Sir, I believe we’ve told you that children aren’t permitted in here, haven’t we?”

  “You did,” Adam agreed. “The child managed to sneak away from his guardians. I’ll take him back and recommend that they take him home.” He smiled. “Hard to fault a little boy wanting to see his sister so much, though, isn’t it?”

  The nurse pursed her lips. “Mmhmm.”

  They found Aaron pacin
g in the waiting room, looking around as if he’d lost something. He breathed a sigh of relief when Adam and Fil walked in. “Fil, you gave me quite a scare, running off like that!” Aaron exclaimed, frowning.

  “Sorry,” Fil said, bowing his head. “I just really wanted to see her.”

  Aaron sighed. “I understand.” He glanced at Adam. “They’re talking about… it?”

  Adam nodded. “They are. I should probably get back up there. In theory, Eva should be leaving with you, right?” He tousled Fil’s hair. “See you in a bit, Fil.”

  He made it back up to Phoebe’s room, and was hit with a friendly telepathic burst from the Trask child still in the room before he walked through the door. They’re fighting. I don’t like fighting.

  Nor do I, Angel.

  He walked into the room and could feel the tension. Angel rested comfortably in her bassinet, or at least appeared to do so. Eva stood near the edge of Phoebe’s hospital bed. Phoebe had folded her arms, a look of sheer defiance on her face, which she’d turned away from Eva.

  Adam cautiously approached the bed, and glanced at Eva. “Problem?”

  Eva’s eyes flashed, though there was sympathy mixed in with the anger. “She resists my recommendations.”

  “I’m not a child, Eva.”

  “I have never claimed you were. Yet the fact remains that most of the concerning behaviors observed by those who care for you and your well-being began shortly after you became pregnant with Fil.”

  “I don’t regret the decision, Eva, regardless of any ‘observations’ that might be made.”

  “There was no reason not to resume fruit consumption after his birth, Phoebe. You had the means necessary to enable Angel’s birth, just as you did with his.”

  “You’re wrong, Eva. There was only a single dose. We’ve been through this. Again. And again. And again.”

  “There were two vials, Phoebe, for a reason. You still have the second, do you not?”

  “What if it didn’t work the second time, though, Eva?” Her head snapped around. “I’d never take chances with the life of my daughter. Even if all of you are correct, I’d never take that chance with Angel.”

  Adam held up his hand. “This conversation is upsetting Angel. Let’s move beyond old arguments we’ve had many times.” He paused. “Phoebe, I understand your rationale. You did not want to take chances with Angel’s birth. You didn’t want to take a fresh dosage while still pregnant, because while what happened to James and Elise might well have been pure chance, it might not be. Being risk-averse with your children’s very existence is very commendable.”

  Phoebe sniffed. “Thank you.” Her tone was heavy with sarcasm.

  “But she’s here now, Phoebe. Angel is here, and she’s healthy. The danger from possible side effects is in the past. Won’t you reconsider?”

  “Why do all of you act like something’s wrong with me?” Phoebe snapped. “Stop trying to find something wrong with me!” And she burst into tears.

  An alarm began to sound, and moments later two nurses raced in. “Her pulse rate and blood pressure just skyrocketed. What happened?”

  “We were engaging in conversation about post-pregnancy nutrition,” Eva replied.

  “It appears that’s a stressful topic for the new mother,” the nurse observed. “Perhaps an alternative topic of conversation would be best going forward?”

  “They were just leaving,” Phoebe said, loudly. Her glare had an intensity they’d rarely seen from her. Adam and Eva exchanged worried glances.

  “That might be best,” the nurse said. “I’m sure you mean well, but she does need her sleep. Perhaps give her a few hours to rest and come back later?”

  Adam nodded, slowly. “Take care, Phoebe. We’ll be here when you need us.”

  In answer, Phoebe rolled to her side, facing away from them. They could see her sides rise in fall in staccato fashion, as she cried in silent heaves.

  Eva and Adam moved to Angel’s bassinet to give a parting touch to their “niece” and “granddaughter,” and as Adam’s hand made contact with the newborn, her frantic thought reached him.

  My Mommy is sick. Please help her.

  I know, Angel. And I will. I promise.

  They moved down to the lobby, where Aaron and Fil were engaged in a high-stakes game of checkers. The prize for the winner—a chocolate bar—rested on the table near them. They glanced up, and Aaron frowned at the sight of Adam. “I thought you’d be staying with her.”

  “I got kicked out of the room.”

  “By the hospital staff? Sorry, that’s probably my fault.”

  “No. By the mother.”

  Aaron frowned, but said nothing as they left the hospital building. Fil seized the chocolate bar, tore open the wrapper, and took a big bite before anyone could protest.

  They stopped for dinner. Conversation was forced but light-hearted, focused mostly on the fact that Fil would be starting school on Monday. He’d done a bit of socializing with the children in the neighborhood, but Monday would be the first day he’d truly interact with others and be out of the direct sight of his mother or a member of the Alliance.

  Fil’s excitement over the birth of his sister and the prospect of school left him exhausted, and he didn’t protest his early bedtime. Once he fell asleep, after hearing stories about his father battling the Hunters, the adults retired to the living room.

  Eva looked at Adam. “You saw it, did you not?”

  Adam nodded. “I did. This is getting serious. We may be forced into more drastic action.”

  Aaron glanced at both of them. “Care to fill me in?”

  “We are fairly certain that what Phoebe is experiencing is due to her long-term withdrawal from the use of ambrosia after so many centuries of usage,” Eva explained. “The moodiness, the fatigue, the tears, the unexpected bouts of anger… they have increased in frequency and intensity the longer she has gone without. She was correct to be concerned about the possibility that she might not be able to reverse the effects of ambrosia a second time. Or that taking it during her pregnancy with either child might have resulted in pregnancy issues, including miscarriage. We are fairly certain that is what happened with James and Elise centuries ago. Now, though, we must convince her to take ambrosia again, and soon, or the results… well, they are getting far more severe.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning as we left and she rolled away from us, we both noticed a clump of her hair on the pillow.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s worse than that, Aaron,” Adam said. “It wasn’t just that her hair had fallen out. It’s that the clump left on the pillow wasn’t jet black, the color she’s using with her current public image. It also wasn’t the platinum blond we’re so accustomed to seeing.”

  Eva shook her head. “No. The hair she had lost was gray, Aaron. She’s not just suffering the symptoms of what might be considered severe clinical depression. She’s aging. Rapidly.”

  Adam turned a somber face away from them. “If we don’t do something soon, she’ll die of old age.” He breathed deeply. “And she might take some of us out in the process.”

  ●●●

  He’d had nearly four decades of isolation to perfect every skill and technology he’d developed over his previous thousand years of life. He’d learned to alter the very signal of his Energy, so that it would appear to someone like Porthos that he was someone other than Will Stark. He’d enhanced the nanobots he’d owned for centuries to something beyond what they’d been, coating them with scutarium, and bolstering their strength and speed of transport. Those enhancements had enabled him to be present at, and prevent, many of the attempts on his own life. He’d been there to watch his son’s birth, his own wedding, and he’d been there, watching, as the events of January 7th unfolded. Those nanos had turned his wife and son invisible to the Assassin without any telltale expenditure of Energy, deflected the flame and debris of the killer’s anger-induced inferno, and c
hoked the Assassin until he’d lost consciousness.

  Today, they’d allowed him to witness the birth of the daughter he’d never truly known.

  Her perception of him, her recognition of his presence, astounded him. She couldn’t be fooled, not by his altered Energy signal, and not by the shield of nanos that made him invisible to three powerful Alliance members in that room… including his wife.

  Only Angel, then, recognized his horror at Hope’s decline.

  He couldn’t call her Phoebe, any more than he could call her Elizabeth. She would always be Hope to him. And watching Hope’s descent over the past few years, watching as she crumbled before his invisible eyes, knowing he could do nothing but remain hidden and hope the others could help her… that was a pain that tore him apart. It was an agony much like Hope had suffered, knowing her suppression of Josh’s Energy had rendered the boy mute to him until now.

  The graying hair, the worsening mood swings and bouts of tears, the debilitating fatigue… they needed to take action, and quickly.

  If not? If they weren’t able to convince—or force—Hope to consume the ambrosia to reverse the withdrawal effects?

  Will set his invisible jaw. If they couldn’t succeed, then he’d be the one to take drastic action.

  He’d kidnap his wife to ensure her survival.

  Dear reader:

  Thank you so much for reading Preserving Will. The story continues in Book Six of the series, which at the time of this upload is not yet available.

  If you want to know when the next book is released, the best method is to sign up for my mailing list by clicking here. You’ll get emails about new releases, and by signing up you’ll get access to content not available elsewhere.

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  Thanks!

  Alex

  alex@alexalbrinck.com

  http://www.alexalbrinck.com

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