Angel S:2E:4 "Season's Greetings”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2014
Edited by: jeffusually

***Note*** Sorry this is a little late as the Christmas season has ended. Hope you enjoy, some fun stuff in this episode.

"They're here!" Ashley screamed out loud with passionate excitement–her voice passing through the solid wood door, traveling down the driveway where my ears received the minute vibrations. Her cute little face disappeared from the curtain where she had probably spent the last half an hour peeking through in anticipation of our arrival. From further away, Liz yelled out to her, dampening her thrill–imploring her under threat of punishment to wait.

"Ashley Renee, I said don't open that door, you hear me?"

"But Mom, it's Karen and Dr. Megan."

"I don't care who's at the door, I'll open it, not you."

"But–"

"–No buts missy. You listen to your mother, or you can spend the evening in your room."

I froze on the driveway, listening to the drama unfold. Megan was right, Liz was much more tense than I had known her to be. The sounds of Ash's sobbing from her scolding certainly set the evening off in a dull uncomfortable mood for everyone except Megan, who could barely hear the exchange. Liz did overreact considering Ash's actions, but it was based on sound judgement. In light of their experience, my wife was justified, taking on double duty to keep our daughter safe. She made me proud, knowing in my absence Ash was looked after with great care.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, it's all right," I explained as Liz' voice calmed and lovingly explained to the excited kid her reasons for her new rules. The sounds of the two quickly making amends restored my holiday cheer, as glimpses of Liz' loving nature emerged.

"Keep your head up and enjoy yourself tonight. You're going to do just fine"

Megan patted me on my shoulder as I nervously approached the front door. Newly added deadbolts turned. Before Megan could ring the doorbell, the thick heavy door cracked open, Liz' face peeking through to verify their safety before opening her home to her guests.

"Hi Aunt Karen, Merry Christmas!" Ashley was the first to speak, appearing at the door from behind her mother's safety. Liz had made sure to dress Ashley in only the nicest of holiday attire like she did every year. My daughter was absolutely adorable, wearing a burgundy colored knee length dress made of that soft slightly fuzzy material you can draw patterns on by changing the direction of the fibers. To cover her legs, she wore white tights and shiny black leather slippers. Her hair, still long, was pulled back and wrapped in a green bow.

"Merry Christmas Ash. Liz, Merry Christmas."

"Hello Karen. Same to you," she turned to Megan and greeted her. We stood on the porch frozen in place before she finally invited us in. My eyes rapidly scanned Liz, memorizing every detail of her in all her splendor, standing alive as ever before me. My wife wore a long dark green loose fitting, long sleeved dress with shoulder pads that looked like she stole from an Oiler Linebacker. On her left chest was the gold pin shaped like a trumpet that I had given her years ago.

Her smile was forced as she stepped aside, allowing us to enter, while Ashley was glowing. Her face radiated a confident happiness missing on my wife. Children can often surprise you in how well they can handle trauma, Megan had told me as we prepared for this meeting. What would likely take Liz the rest of her life to overcome, Ashley could do in a couple of years. My daughter took my hand, not knowing her father was savoring the feeling of her touch.

"Ash, help our guests carry their gifts inside," Liz politely ordered as she bolted the door shut behind us. Our home's warm tender atmosphere had returned to the lifeless void it had become in their absence. One passing by would be unaware of the holiday cheer contained inside, as the exterior remained without the twinkling of red, white and green illumination. Inside, however, the pleasant fragrance of pine and cinnamon mixed with the heavenly aroma of Liz' kitchen.

Ashley led us to the tree, one of the largest in our family history. It was covered top to bottom with ornaments and twinkling lights. The mantel was furnished with long strands of live pine branches garnished with holly berries and pinecones.

"You can set the presents down here Aunt Karen."

"Thank you sweetie." I stretched my now free arms out to her as I squatted. "You look very beautiful tonight, you know that? Come here, give me a big hug." She fell into my arms and placed her head on my chest. I tightened my hold on her, as I leaned my head down and kissed the top of her head.

"Can I get you two something to drink? Some wine, a cocktail perhaps?" Liz said, interrupting the moment. I stood up lifting the bag I brought with me and handed it to my wife.

"I brought some wine for you."

"Why thank you Karen, that is very kind of you. Please, have a seat and feel free to help yourself to the hors d'oeuvres."
The coffee table selection was different from what I was used to. All the junk food that we snacked on before dinner was missing, replaced by a smorgasbord for rabbits filled nothing but raw vegetables and fresh fruits.

"Can I help you with anything Liz," Megan asked, following her into the kitchen, my sort of wingman for the night, running a brilliant diversion operation allowing me to enjoy Ashley's presence.

"I'm okay for now Megan, just enjoy yourself."

She remained with my wife, beginning the first conversation of the night.

–––

"How was your evening at your parents' last night?"

"It was quite lovely. Little smaller than usual. My brother, sister-in-law and niece are out of town and my sister spent the night with her newest boyfriend's family," Liz thinking ahead to where the conversation would likely lead, a talk comparing this year with last year, so she shifted the conversation.

"Frank came by the other night. He told me about you and Brad. I'm really sorry to hear that. Even worse as to who it was with."

"Liz, don't worry about me. Brad's ancient history, he’s not a concern anymore. Yes, it hurt and yes, Susan’s betrayal hurt even worse." Liz didn't waste a second and began probing.

"So, this mean you found someone else?" Megan's face flustered a bit before she had a chance to contain her feelings. She gave it a quick thought and decided Liz could handle it.

"Kinda. It’s nothing serious right now."

"And do I know this person?"

"Yes. You're not going to believe me, but Gene and I have been getting a little close."

"Gene? You mean Eugene?"

"Yes, Eugene Shephard. That Gene," Megan said with a smile on her face.

"I thought none of you liked him much?"

"He was a jerk at times, but he's gone through many changes and emerged a different man. Spent a whole year on board with him, all the while not wanting to get near him. Now I can't wait until Wednesday when he comes home."

"Comes home, where is he?"

"He's still in Russia."

"Russia, what's he doing there?"

"Oh, Liz, I'm sorry, I never told you. We were all invited to the Soviet Union to continue our partnership with the Russian Space Program and were caught in the middle of a coup. I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for–" Megan's emotions emerged, showing her vulnerabilities briefly.

"-Our special friend saved the day?"

"Yes, but the real heroics were done by Gene and Nikolai. Gene nearly gave his life to save mine, and Nikolai practically toppled the communist party."

"Nearly gave his life?"

Megan pondered how much she should explain, but thought this was a good opportunity to teach, that not all men change for the worse, some change for the better. "Liz, Gene can't walk. He took a bullet to the spine and is paralyzed from the waist down." Liz put her hand up to her mouth as her eyes started to tear up in sympathy.

"Oh my god Megan, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. How is he now?"

"Liz, it's ok. I took it worse than he did. He's full of spirit and a much better man than he ever was."

"You don't mind having a man in a wheelchair?"

"Not at all. It's the spirit inside Gene that I am attracted to, that body he's trapped in, while I love that too, isn't what I am in love with." Megan praised herself silently for finding a way to turn this sad story into something Liz could hopefully benefit from in the near future.

"That's very sweet Megan. I hope I can meet the new improved Gene sometime. You want some more wine?" she asked, lifting the bottle and pouring before Megan could protest.

"So, I take it Frank delivered some good news?"

"I guess. Just money. Ashley and I will do just fine financially, but,” Liz hung her head low, staring at the pot of gravy she was stirring, “it doesn't replace Michael. I would rather have my husband than a pension.”

“Of course you would, and I know there is nothing in the world he would want more, than to be with the two he loves the most.”

“I wonder what he’s doing right now?” Liz inquisitively asked as she removed the roast from oven.

–––

Kaaren remained still, lying down as the room around her glowed bright yellow. She felt a pleasant warming sensation as the energy flowed through her veins, transforming every molecule. It was a different feeling than it had been before, but nevertheless, she still felt stronger. The dull pain in her shoulder was gone and the gash in the side of her head was fully healed.

She sat up as the last of the radiation ceased, the room returning to its sterile white look. The pain from Michael’s deteriorating bone and muscle mass was gone, leaving her with a sense of strength in his thighs. She reached out with her arms, flexing Michael’s newly developed muscles.

“It worked,” she said in her native tongue. The data was correct, the radioactive material that heated her planet’s core and found its way to the surface was indeed making her frail human body nearly immortal. The council who executed her mother and killed her father would soon be bowing down before Michael.

Kaaren opened the door to the main deck of her ship, looking out the window. Flying through hyperspace was not visually stunning. After opening the wormhole gate, she entered into a void outside of Space–Time, where her ship was no longer within the fabric of the universe. Here, anything with mass could easily break the light speed barrier while taking shortcuts to other parts of the galaxy. Few had attempted to travel to neighboring galaxies, and even fewer had ever been heard from again.

She wondered what became of Michael in her body. Did he succeed? It was only a few hours since she left him, but she knew over a year had passed from his point of view. She felt guilty for ejecting him into the blackness of space and leaving him where she found him, but it had to be done. Kaaren knew she couldn’t risk jeopardizing her mission by allowing herself to become emotional. She programmed the ship to release Michael and keep herself confined until the ship entered the gate. Had she seen herself, or Michael seen his own body, one of them might have changed their mind. It was better this way.

“They won’t be able to stop me. I will have my vengeance, and lead my people to a new home.”

–––

“How old are you Aunt Karen?”

“Twenty three,” I said as I sat at the edge of her bed, quoting the age my legal documents said I was. Kaaren's real age was a mystery to me. She left me on my own without revealing much about her. For all I knew this body I now inhabited could indeed be in its early twenties, or could in fact be far older. Her people might age much slower than humans, making me a senior citizen that appeared to be in the prime of her life.

In the short time since I had walked through the door, Ashley was actively engaged in talking my ear off. Instead of the fathers who sat on the couch ignoring their daughter’s pleas for their attention, I sat listening to every word she said, while asking all the questions I had for my daughter the last two years, “So you’re going to be twelve in June right?” I asked, realizing I was now, at least according to my birth certificate, twelve years older than my daughter, closer to an older sister than her parent.

“June 25th, what about you? When’s your birthday?”

“Mine? I’m in June as well, June 5th,” I said simply, giving her Karen’s legal birthday, shying away from complex explanations I really didn’t know how to answer, “So your mommy tells me you are going to go back to school soon. Are you excited?”

“I’m a little scared.”

“You know, when I was younger, my dad moved around a lot. I always had to change schools. At first it was scary having to meet new people every year, but eventually I realized most were nice people once you got to know them.”

“But what if they don’t like me?”

“Ash, who wouldn’t like you? You are such a pretty girl, extremely sweet and very smart. I hear you like math."

"I guess."

You know, no matter where you go in the universe, no matter what languages you speak, mathematics is the one universal language that all intelligent creatures know?”

“Because the numbers are the same?”

“Yeah, kinda like that,” I said, impressed with her simple explanation. I withdrew some books off her shelf and laid four on the bed next to each other, while placing two apart from the rest, “now, this is very simple, but if I were to add these two books to this pile, that would make six. Regardless of what language I thought in, regardless of culture, there are still six books. Now the characters we draw might be different, but the actual objects they represent don’t change.”

“I get it.”

“You can teach math to anyone in the world and they will understand.”

“Do you like to read?” she asked as if trying to change the subject.

“I do, but I haven’t read for fun in a while. What’s your favorite book?”

“This one, she said,” her hands immediately gravitating to the first book on her shelf and withdrawing it.

“Anne of Green Gables,” I said, reading the front cover.

“It’s one of my all time favorite books. I read it three times this last year. It’s one of my mom’s favorites too. The girl is a redhead like her.”

“What’s it about?” I asked, pretending to not have a clue, but being vaguely familiar. In high school during my freshman year, the drama department produced the play based on the book. I saw bits and pieces of the rehearsals, having gone to see Amber DuPont, a junior I set my sights on. She had won the lead role not only for her acting skills, but also because she had long beautiful natural red hair and freckles that matched the character.

Amber was a nice girl. While she wasn’t part of the elite circles at school, she was higher up the chain than I had been. Many made fun of her for the very features that won her the role, but I liked her. As Liz would attest, redheads always drew my attention and boy did she love the attention I gave her. Soon enough a friendship blossomed. Unfortunately, before I had an opportunity to develop a relationship with her, my dad was re-stationed for his final assignment, forcing us to move yet again, leaving her behind.

For a short while I hated him for forcing me to leave yet again, leaving behind a girl I finally connected with. We wrote each other for a year, keeping in touch, vowing to somehow get together again. Then tragedy struck, my mother, who had always been there, suddenly left, leaving nothing behind to explain why.

It was the worst time of my life, second only to my father’s untimely death. Unlike the death of a parent, the sting of abandonment hurt like no other feeling I had ever experienced. I was a teen, still trying to figure life out, when my greatest support, the one who nurtured me from conception, said one day that she needed a weekend to herself. The weekend became a week before the letter arrived. It was cold and emotionless, without the familiar essence of her love often found on birthday cards. All she said was that she had to leave–it wasn’t anything I did, or my father. She just left.

So many I knew had dads abandon them. It was a common story, but here I was, alone in the world, being the only one with a mother abandoning her only child. It was simply unheard of–Moms didn’t leave. Dads yes. Mothers? Never. For years, I struggled to find answers, but none came. Eventually, my father and I moved on. He retired a couple of years early, sacrificing his full retirement to be there through my teen years. My father spent much time working, but when he was home, he was actively engaged, teaching me to be a man. Those times were my more treasured memories, when he made up for lost time. He would take me to ball games, fishing trips, camping in the woods.

After our small family dwindled to two, we became exceptionally close until his untimely death, two years after Liz and I married.

“It’s about an orphan girl,” Ashley continued as I listened intently. “She is mistakenly sent to live on a family’s farm. They wanted a boy, but got her instead. Eventually they began to like her and let her stay.”

“Sounds like a wonderful story.”

“Would you like to read it?”

Her question shocked me at first, until I thought about it. “Sure, I would love to.”

Might be a great way for me to connect with my daughter. I opened the book and began flipping the pages.

“There aren’t any pictures in case you are looking.”

“No, sweetie,” I said laughing, “I’m reading.”

“Are you really reading, or just pretending?”

“Seriously. I’m at the part where Matthew is at the Bright River Train Station and finds out the girl on the shingles is the really the orphan he’s supposed to pick up.”

Ashley took the book from my hand, careful not to lose the page I was on. She skimmed down the two pages of text reading the story from that point, confirming my claim.

“Wow, you really read all that?”

“Yes.”

I gloated a minute, enjoying impressing her until I realized I was treading on dangerous ground, talking about things I shouldn’t. “Ash, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s okay, I won’t say anything. Besides, some people really can read really fast.”

“You know what? You are right, some people can read. Maybe faster than me. I tell you what, I will take this home and read it slowly, then next time I see you, we can talk about it,” she gazed into my eyes and smiled.

“I would like that. I’m happy you are my friend.”

“Oh Ash, nothing brings me more joy than to have you for a friend as well. I hope you and I will get a chance to spend more time together.”

“Me too.”

“So, what else did you get for Christmas?”

“Um..let me see," she said, looking at the pile of boxes Liz likely made her take into her room prior to our arrival. "I got lots of clothes, shoes, books, make-up, and a few other things. Most of my dad’s friends sent lots of gifts, but Mom and I are going to donate them.”

My mind couldn’t stop thinking about the make-up. Part of me wondered what Liz was thinking, letting our daughter wear make-up at eleven years old, “Make-up. You’re wearing make-up already?”

“Just a little. Mom won’t let me have too much. She said I’m too young, but she bought me some basics. The overwhelming sigh of relief was setting in when she asked, “Can I paint your nails?”

I drew my moderately long nails to my face, gazing at them a moment, pondering Ashley’s request. After a year, they rarely came to my attention, but in the beginning they drove me nuts. “It’s ok, maybe another time,” I said, denying her request, not really wanting to have them painted.

“Why not?” She looked at me with a long sad face. I felt a chill come over me, suddenly powerless. The few times Megan tried to convince me to embrace femininity, I quickly expressed my unwillingness. She caught on quick that I had no intention to live as a woman and respected my feelings. Yet, here I was, staring into my daughter’s eyes with a look on her face–a look no dad could resist.

“All right,” I said, caving to her will.

“Great, what color do you want?” she asked, opening a little purple make-up kit. My finger immediately gravitated to the red polish. “That’s my daddy’s favorite color. He always wanted everything in red or black. He has a red sports car out in the garage, you wanna see it later?”

“Sure sweetie, I would love to,” I said as she shook the polish, mixing it up, followed by her carefully opening the small bottle. The strong smell tingled my nose.

"Hold your hand out please," she said, wiping the excess polish off the brush before she carefully applied the first stroke, de–virginizing my nails. Ashley was so cute the way she tried to apply the polish, pretending she was a seasoned pro. Her strokes were slightly off, getting a little of the bright red polish on my skin, "blow on your nails while I do your other hand."

I switched hands, then blew on the wet polish as she instructed. It was a good color of red, a bright cherry hue, indeed like my car.

"What do you think my daddy's doing right now?"

"Ash, your Mommy doesn't want me to talk about that with you unless she's around."

"I know, but I miss him."

"Aww honey, I know you do and right now, he misses you very much."

"I wish I could talk to him." I turned my head, peering through the walls to make sure Liz or Megan weren't around. Their heat signatures appeared to still be in the kitchen where they continued to work preparing the meal.

Determining it to be safe I turned to my daughter, "Pretend I can send him a message, what would you want to tell him?"

"That I love him and wish he was back home. I’m sad I couldn’t see him before he left." I put my hand up to my head, holding the side, pretending I was communicating telepathically.

"Ok, I sent it, now we have to wait a while for an answer."

“You didn’t send anything, you’re just pretending,” she said with skepticism in her voice.

“Maybe I am. What if he says something that only you could know, would you believe?”

"Do you miss your family?" she asked, not really wanting to play the game.

"Why of course I do. I love them very much. Being apart from them hurts, but because I love them so, I needed to sacrifice myself so they could be safe. It’s kind of what your daddy chose to do for you and your mom. He didn’t want to leave, but if he didn’t, none of us would be here right now. You understand?”

“I do. Thank you for saving my dad,” she said, reaching over and hugging me.

“You’re welcome. He is such a great man, your daddy. I’m glad I met him. And because I met him, I got to meet you." She sat on the bed close to me as she finished painting the last finger, I heard a sound in the doorway. My head snapped over to see Megan suddenly there, watching with a slight chuckle on her face.

"You two having fun?" she asked, stepping inside.

"Hi Dr. Megan. Aunt Karen let me paint her nails."

"She did huh? What a great job you did. Would you like to do mine later?"

"I can do them right now."

"We will have to wait, dinner is ready. Why don't you two get cleaned up and come outside," Ashley quickly stood, putting her make-up back in the little purple box as I blew on my freshly painted left hand.

“Come on Aunt Karen, let’s go.”

“Ashley, I’m going to talk to Aunt Karen a moment, you mind if we stay in your room for just a moment?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, tell your mom we will be right there.” Ashley took off down the hall announcing to her mom what she did to my nails.

“You ok?” Megan asked with a smile on her face.

“Yeah, just fine. How long were you standing there?”

“Not long.”

“Pretty stealthy there, got past these sensitive ears of mine.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I think you two are bonding pretty well.”

“Yeah, if you consider getting your nails painted deep red, father/daughter bonding?”

“You know, my dad used to let me do the same thing to him. He didn’t care. He was never worried of his manhood being questioned, having his daughter color his nails. Of course he didn’t go out in public like that, but he was so thrilled to be part of my life whenever his schedule permitted, that he was willing to use that time however I wanted. You know what?”

“What?"

“I love him so much for that very reason. So many men lose out on that special connection because they aren’t willing to learn about their girls. Moms will get involved with all their son’s activities, and it strengthens the relationship. Ashley likes you, she feels safe with you. Don’t ruin that over your insecurities. Just be happy for the time you have with her.”

“I didn’t turn her down.”

“I know, but be careful showing your displeasure. She may pick up on it. Ashley’s still young but she can read things the wrong way. At her age, while dealing with her trauma and loss, she might take it too personally. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I am an adult and she can’t get upset if I refuse to do something.”

“You really wanna be that stubborn? You have any idea what you are risking?” Megan reduced her voice to a whisper,

“Michael, you just remember, it’s a privilege you are here tonight. By no means, did I design this evening, nor put Liz up to it. She’s not ready for you, not in three months. Yet, something stirred in her. She’s trying very hard to reach out to you. This evening, spending Christmas with us was their way of thanking you. If you screw this up, especially by violating Liz’s terms, this might be the only time you get to see them. In their eyes, you have no place as part of the family. Liz is the sole parent and you will listen to her. If she doesn’t want you talking to Ashley about your special gifts, then you zip it.”

“Why are you being a hard ass all of a sudden?”

“Because, you have no idea the shit I am trying to undo on your behalf. What’s his name screwed them up worse than you could imagine and I’ll be damned if you are going to screw up three months of therapy because you’re telling Ashley things you’re not supposed to talk about. Now, make sure those nails are dry, wash your hands, and get your butt to the dinner table.”

“Whatever,” I said, pushing past her, making way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Damn it, I’m doing this because I care about all of you and I want you to be together,” I heard her saying in a quiet whisper as I shut the bathroom door.”

–––

Reid

“Danny! Merry Christmas Cuz.”

“Hey Jimbo, you sorry son of a bitch, how have you been?”

“Doing pretty good. Dan, this is my girlfriend Trish. Trish, this is my cousin Danny Reid. He’s a lifeguard in Galveston.”

“Fucking lifeguard, that’ll be the day.”

“Jim told me you made Sergeant?” Trish said, breaking up the banter between the two cousins.

“That’s right. Got me a promotion six months ago. Nice life, just sit in my car and keep an eye on my officers and the pretty ladies bathing in the sun.”

Jim took Trish’s coat and hung it on the hook in the doorway next to his overcoat.

“Jim told me about your famous beach encounter a few years back.”

“Ahh yes,” Dan said as he motioned the two out of the hallway and into an empty living room. “Two were screwing on my beach like horny pubescent teens burning in lust. Should have seen the look on their faces when I hit them with my light. Took a moment for me to place the face, but damn it was him alright.”

“She’s quite a woman,” Trish shared about the first time she met Liz and her daughter. She was in her cubicle when the call came in. Reid had reported in calling for assistance. Days of misery contemplating worst case scenarios came to a sudden halt. Her worries finally subsided knowing the man she loved was alive and so were the Owens.

She fought every impulse to abandon her post and drive out to meet him. Instead, she remained at the station, partially afraid she would blow the cover on their relationship. It bothered her that Jim wanted to keep the relationship secretive. There were no rules against dating, especially since they worked different divisions. Many times she felt Reid was ashamed of her. Same with his family. He always had an excuse why they couldn’t meet.

Everything changed that day. She had the department’s respect. Jim embraced her, letting the cat out of the bag in front of news crews as he was wheeled into the emergency room. There was no howling by her fellow officers, just a simple nod showing their acceptance of their relationship.

Trish released her grip, letting the ER staff admit her boyfriend. As she stood up, she found herself face to face with Liz Owen. Trish recognized her face from the dozens of photographs she had seen of her. The astronaut’s wife’s pale skin pierced through the trails where her tears washed away the accumulating dirt on her face. Trish reached out and took her hand, assuring her she would remain at her side until her daughter was rescued.

“What a moment that was when we got the call the girl was safe. Liz had just finished cleaning herself up at the station when Karen called saying she had the daughter at the Owen's. That reunion was her single greatest experience as a police officer.”

“Kinda nuts how we all played a part.” Jim added.

“Yeah, well I saw her first and I have proof. Wanna see the original autograph?”

“Not right now.”

Danny turned to the bookshelf and withdrew a small picture frame. He blew hard on the glass surface, kicking a small cloud of dust into the air.

“Sorry Trish, he’s going to show you anyway.”

As Danny handed the framed white citation ticket to Trish, the doorbell rang, indicating more guests had arrived.

“Pretty full of himself isn’t he?”

“He is, but you get used to it.” Jim said, looking at the original for the first time. “Definitely not a fake.”

“How can you tell?”

“Been through enough of the Owen’s finances during the investigation. Saw plenty of Michael’s signatures. It’s legit. See, you have to compare dozens of signatures and analyze them for the same patterns. I’m not an expert, but I worked a fraud case where this scam artist was also one hell of an artist. His forgeries were superb and fooled everyone except an expert we brought in from Dallas. He compared over two hundred samples. At a glance they looked alike, but when you looked closely, you could see minute differences in pen pressure. Turns out this guy was a lefty like a lot of creative types, but the owner of the accounts was right handed. Under a microscope you can see the pen’s ball digs into the paper at a different angle than it would have if written right handed. It’s what we used to convict the guy.

“Interesting. So you're an expert now?”

“Nah, enough to know this isn’t a forgery. I mean, it is pretty darn good and Danny isn’t motivated enough to pull an elaborate scam like this.”

Reid looked up, hearing familiar voices as they made their way inside the house. He took the frame and placed it on the coffee table.

“Well, ready to meet my folks?”

“Jamie, I’m so glad you could finally be home for Christmas and brought Trish along. We were beginning to thing she wasn’t real,” Jim’s mom Janet said as she stood beside her son, filling his plate with mashed potatoes. To most he went by James, those closest in his life called him Jim, but Jamie, only his mom and grandmother got away with that name.

“I’ve been busy working.”

“Every year? You haven’t been home for Christmas in three years, don’t tell me they don’t have a rotation each year.”

“It doesn’t always work like that.”

Truth was, Jim didn’t enjoy hanging out with much of his family. Not while Sarah wasn’t in the picture. His family, with their deep Texan roots, didn’t approve of her lifestyle. At first, Reid didn't either and was chiefly responsible for pushing her away. Jim and Sarah were close growing up. She was the little brother he always wanted, playing just as if she was one of the boys. When the other boys in the neighborhood teased her for being a girl, Jim stood up and defended her.

It was Christmas five years ago when the shit hit the fan. Sarah brought her girlfriend home and mass chaos ensued. Reid suspected his sister's definition of girlfriend was something more intimate than her mother believed. Still his shock when Sarah made the announcement at the family table in the middle of dinner drove him to say hateful things. He found himself no longer defending his little sister, but condemning her. The rest of the family joined in behind him, each taking their turns praying for The Lord to cast the demons out of her that drove her to rebel against God's holy institution.

Jim and his mom spent many hours conversing, trying to make sense of where Sarah went wrong. Their relationships with Sarah deteriorated overnight as every moment with her was spent trying to save her from her sin.

Jim fought the hardest, using his badge to pry into her life. He dug into the girlfriend's criminal record, finding she had several drug convictions, even going so far as to pulling her over and trying to bust her for DUI. The harder he attacked her lifestyle, the more withdrawn she became, running away for weeks on end, always returning when she needed money.

The ongoing battle culminated in her suicide attempt. Jim was on duty when the Sarah called, saying she just downed half a bottle of ibuprofen. She had threatened killing herself many times, but it was always a ploy for attention. Jim suspected this too was a ploy, a desperate attempt to wake him up. Instead of calling her bluff, he called for immediate assistance. He had a bus arrive on scene and had her taken to the hospital for a drug overdose. To further drive the point home, he arranged for her to remain committed for a week under the supervision of a suicide counselor.

It was during that week of Sarah's stay in rehab that her girlfriend found herself alone without her lifeline. Jess wasn't the attention seeker that he suspected Sarah of being and was found dead in a blood-filled bathtub with deep lacerations on her wrist. The Coroner found a fatal level of prescription pain killers and alcohol in her system that would have killed her had she not cut her artery.

It was the first death Reid had encountered involving someone he knew. All the anger and hate he had been dishing out ended that moment he was hovering over the body of his sister's girlfriend. A deep regret fell over him, knowing it was his doing that left Jess alone with no one to turn to, only it wasn't Jess he saw in the tub. The head half submerged in the bloody water was Sarah's face. No matter how many times he cleared his eyes, he couldn't clear the illusion of his sister' sad face on Jess' deceased body.

"Jamie tells me you have a little girl?" Janet said.

"Not so little anymore, she's twenty five."

"Well, not surprising, he must have missed telling me that part. How young were you when you had her?"

"Actually Sam's adopted. She had a rough life, lost her family to a drunk driver when she was young."

"Oh my, how tragic."

Trish spent a couple of moments telling Jim's mom and aunt the story while Jim and the guys talked football, making sure not to give too many details that might trigger a reaction. She had a strong feeling Jim must have warned the family not to talk about her shooting. None of them mentioned it, despite her being in the news.

"I love stories like this. Jim hardly tells us the heartwarming tales of his job. I only hear about the scumbags he deals with."

"How many of you ladies are in your department?" Jim's elderly aunt asked.

"We make up about 9% of the department. Most in doing administrative work. About nine of us on the beat, four detectives, and one Lieutenant."

"That little?"

"Not that many of us, no. One day perhaps."

"Tell me Trish, how did you and Jamie meet?" Janet asked, changing the subject.

"Jim and I? Let's see, this was three years ago in–"

"–June," Jim said interrupting.

"I know, your mom asked me to tell the story. You had your chance Jamie."

"Hey, watch it with the Jamie, you don't get that privilege."

Trish smacked him on the arm and turned back to Janet, while lifting her glass and taking a long tug on her chardonnay,

"We worked a kidnapping case together. Divorce gone bad, dad took off with the kid. Jim arrived on scene, but couldn't speak a lick of Spanish, so he called me over."

"And you translated for him?"

"No, I can't speak Spanish either, I'm half Filipino on my dad's side, white Texan on my mom's. Everyone automatically assumes I'm Mexican."

"I didn't know that."

"Anyway, we ended up helping each other out on the case, eventually finding the father before he hit the border. After Jim asked–"

The sound of breaking glass startled Trish mid-sentence. She looked to her left in time to see red wine splatter all over the white tablecloth. The red liquid soaked into the cloth and spread out. Jim stood up quickly to avoid any of the wine falling on his brown slacks.

"Jesus be careful," Danny yelled at his ten year old son seated next to Jim.

"It's okay, it was an accident. He was passing the corn and the plate was heavy." Jim said, defending his nephew. He reached out and picked up the pieces of broken glass off his plate.

"Jamie, pass me the plate, there's glass in there. Let me get you a new plate."

Jim lifted the plate and turned to Trish. She wasn't there. He turned further to find her a couple of feet back, her chair scooted against the wall. She had one hand covering her mouth.

"Trish, you okay babe?"

She didn't reply, just sitting there, eyes wide open, frozen in place. The table fell quiet, everyone turning their attention to her.

"You swallow some glass?" Janet askedm to which Trish remained quiet.

"Sweetie, what's the matter?"

Trish stood up, still covering her mouth, and hurried out of the dining room.

"Guess she doesn't like your cooking hun," Jim's dad said to his wife, putting her down as he often did. Reid set the plate down and ran after her.

"Maybe Jimbo here got her knocked up," Dan's younger brother accidentally blurted out loud.

"David, I can't believe I just heard you say that."

"Sorry, but she looked like she was going to puke."

Dan smacked his brother upside the head. "You dumbass, that's not what's going on.

Reid checked the bathroom door, finding it wide open. He peered inside, flipping the light switch on, flooding the room with light. She wasn't inside. Reid swept a few more rooms before catching a faint smell of cigarette smoke. Trailing the scent to a cracked rear sliding door, he scanned the darkness, catching a glimpse of an orange glow before it disappeared. Reid slid the door open and approached the spot where Trish was standing.

"Hey babe, you okay?"

Reid's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, so he could see details of her face in the pale moonlight. Tiny fragments of the moonlight reflected off her cheek. She looked at him without saying a word, her hand behind her back hiding the cigarette.

"That help?"

Trish nodded. Reid held his hand out. Slowly she reached around and reluctantly handed the smoke to him. Instead of putting the cigarette out, he lifted it and took a deep drag and held the smoke. The calming feeling rushed through his body, bringing a sense of peace. As he blew out the smoke, he handed it back to her. Confident he gave his consent, Trish took another deep drag, holding it a moment before blowing the smoke out her nose.

"I thought you hated smoking Jim."

"I do, but man that shit is great on the nerves. Been so stressed lately with that son of a bitch running around. Every minute I'm driving around, I'm afraid he is going to turn my shop into a barbecue. We've lost a lot of great officers lately and I can't stand to think we might lose another.

"Whithers?"

"No baby. You."

"Yeah, well you know that might be a possibility."

"I know." Jim took a seat on the cold brick wall around the edge of the pool, gently wrapping his arm around her hip and pulling her toward him. She took another drag as she sat next to him. "Had a talk with Brownly. He wanted to know when you were coming back."

"Not sure I want to continue and I don't want to sit at a desk the rest of my career. I've been talking to Sam and I might take an early retirement. So, I won't get full benefits, but she's grown up and will have a job soon."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't know. Maybe I'll talk to Karen and get a PI firm going. I can still do something, but out of the action." Reid thought about Karen and the fight they had the night before. He reached out, signaling he wanted another drag. Instead, she reached into her coat and withdrew another cigarette, lighting it with the burning ember of the first one. She handed what was left of the first to Jim.

"You gonna start smoking too?"

"Nah, just tonight."

"That's what I said a month ago. You don't mind me smoking?"

"Haven't said anything all month have I?"

"You knew."

"We kiss, right? You think those breath mints cover that up?"

"Well thanks. I promise it won't be an ongoing thing."

"Don't worry about it. I understand what happened in there."

"No you don't." Trish said, turning her head away from him.

"Sure I do. I've seen more blood than you have on the job, always the first think I think of when I see something–"

"–Jim, you don't know what it's like, okay, so don't try and act like you do."

Trish stood up, breaking the embrace Jim held her in. She walked to the edge of the pool, staring at the moon's reflection in the still water.

"Okay, so talk to me babe. I'm here for you."

"I don't know. It's kinda hard to explain. The wine looked like blood, but it was a smell that triggered it. I can't place it, but certain combinations of food give off an odor that makes me think of that day.

"Never heard of that before. I know PTSD often creates audible and visual triggers, but smells? You talk to the shrink?"

"Yeah, they're worthless. Might look into some therapy outside the department."

"What about Dr. McCormack?"

"Not her area of specialty. Besides, what the hell does she know about PTSD?"

"More than you think." Reid said, standing and joining his girlfriend by the pool, wrapping his arms around her.

"Yeah, I know about her mission in space and how traumatic that must have been, but that's different from a firefight."

"No, she was in a firefight. Had a Russian point a gun in her face, almost blew her head off...almost shot her."

"Shit, when the hell did this happen?"

"March."

"March? This last March?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Her friend took a bullet to the spine to save her. Why do you think she wasn't talking to Karen. She withdrew, hiding in the American embassy until she returned the day we freed Liz."

"That's why Karen was so upset that day."

"Yeah, I guess so. Rough when people walk out on you. You know, I will never do that to you."

"What are you saying Jim?"

"Just that, you can always count on me to be there for you. I love you."

"Yeah, I know and I love you too."

"You okay to go back inside?"

"Yeah sure, I guess so."

"Good, because I have an announcement I want to make to everyone and I need you there." They turned toward the house arm in arm, both taking the last couple drags before entering the house.

"Announcement, you get a promotion?"

"Maybe something like that."

---------

Miller pulled his cruiser to a stop behind the Old white VW van while humming Jingle Bells, the popular Christmas tune stuck in his head since hearing it two hours ago at the 7-Eleven.

A small dinner rush was in full swing. Patrons too lazy to cook, or those who didn't celebrate the holidays blanketed the streets with moderate traffic. The owner of Fulton's Steak House called in the complaint regarding the eyesore in front of his business. The vehicle showed up midday when no one was around. The beat up POS vehicle was sticking out into the slow lane slowing traffic and blocking the space where the restaurant valet set up their station.

Miller hated his bullshit assignment. Every year since he made Sergeant, he managed to have Christmas off. This year, not so lucky and for what, a few parking tickets? Since the incident with his son, he had been reduced to what the other guys called the meter maid. They littered his desk with feather dusters, even hung a French maid outfit in his locker. He came close several times to decking some of the guys, but resisted, knowing further acts of aggression would land him deeper down the drain.

"89 to Dispatch, need a plate on a white VW van, Texas plate Adam, David, 115, Henry. Vehicle illegally parked along 2400 block of W Alabama St.."

"10-4 89, VW van Adam, David, 115, Henry was reported stolen on November 30th in Dallas."

"Copy," Miller said, peering into the window, searching for any clues. All the windows were intact, leading him to conclude the lock was jimmied. He returned to his vehicle and withdrew his own slim jim from the trunk, returning to unlock the vehicle, "Dispatch opening the vehicle now, stand by."

"10-4 tow truck en route."

"This car's a pile, don't know who would report it stolen," he said as he began working the lock. The notch on the slim jim caught the lock and he gently pulled up. As he did, the window shattered, "son of a bitch," he yelled out. He glanced down at the shattered glass now covering the front seat. The moment he noticed the blood, a warm feeling began to fill his body, followed quickly by pain. He reached up, touching his left shoulder. His right hand was covered in blood and his left arm wasn't responding to his commands. Panic set in, realizing he had just been shot. His body began shutting down as he abandoned his weapon and instead went for the radio.

"89 down, officer needs assistance, taking fire from unknown position. Need assistance," Milled said into the radio with a weakening voice as a second bullet arrived striking him in the upper leg. A woman screamed, halting traffic as his blood spattered all over the side of the white van. He turned, grabbing his weapon, searching for the shooter. A third bullet impacted his right hip, the energy from the bullet tearing through the hard bone of his hip and forcing him back against the car. Dispatch was trying to confirm his report while his body slid into a seated position, his back against the van. He picked up his 9mm and began firing blindly, still not able to locate the shooter.

"Help Goddamn it, someone help," he yelled. Everyone was frozen in place, afraid to approach.

"89, come in, over." Miller dropped his empty handgun, and grabbed the radio. As he bled out, a shape moved at the end of the alley directly facing him. The figure, a large white man dressed in tattered rags, stood from a trash pile along the back wall.

"It's him," Miller mustered up all the energy he could in order to speak clearly through the mic. He drew in a deep breath, preparing to communicate the next words when a quick flash of light appeared. The bullet traveled the distance in less then a second, hitting Miller between the eyes, blowing the back of his skull all over the already tarnished white door of the van.

---

"That was a wonderful dinner, it was absolutely fantastic,” I said as I strolled down the street with Liz just as we used to do after dinner. The meal was, without exaggeration, amazing as always. I began cautiously as certain foods I have always loved sent different signals to Kaaren’s brain, her taste buds slightly different. Some, I found desirable in a whole new way, while others became inedible.

Dinner tonight was a heavenly experience. Most of the main dishes were just as I remembered them. Liz’ Irish side of the family traditionally prepared a savory pot roast with a rich brown gravy mixed with potatoes, carrots and onions. Liz, the last in her immediate family, was now the sole keeper of her great grandmother’s recipe.

The creme de la creme was her quarter Polish contribution to the holiday dinner, pirogi. A time-consuming dish to prepare, it begins days before, where Liz and her mother used to spend the entire day kneading dough, rolling it into a thin sheet, and cutting it into small circles. A mixture of potatoes, sautéed onions and cheese is placed on the individual circles of dough, which are then folded over and sealed. They would be boiled shortly before dinner, then sautéed in rich butter and onions.

Because of the time they require, dining on them came but once a year. It was the one day of the year my strict diet was ignored, knowing my body could tolerate pigging out one day of the year. Tonight was no exception. For two years, I dreamt of my wife’s cooking and I ate as if it were my final meal before my walk down death row.

"I could tell, you had three helpings and then some. Never seen a woman with a figure like yours eat so much, then again, you're not like most women."

"No, definitely not."

"Another super power all women want. Not gaining weight after eating like a man."

"I actually don't eat that much for sustenance, rather enjoy–"

"–Stop, I don't wanna hear that."

"Sorry. Your cooking was amazing. That was what Michael wanted upon his return, right?" I already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Yes, that’s what he wanted, but you know, that was more of a secret code."

“Yes, he told me you would find comfort in those words, as silly as it sounded.”

Liz briefly chuckled. “I know it was silly. It was the only thing we could think of last minute.”

We turned the corner heading around the circular neighborhood, enjoying the pleasant sights of the brightly lit homes, all in competition to outdo their neighbor’s Christmas display. My hands were fidgety, fighting hard to keep them from instinctively reaching out and taking my wife’s hand.

“Did you enjoy the time you spent with my daughter? She couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“Yes, I had a great time. She’s a great kid isn’t she?”

“She’s my pride and joy. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost her. She kept me going on so many levels. I have nightmares of that plane crashing with her in it. I–”

“–Liz,” I said looking down into her eyes, sparkling from the dancing array of festive Christmas lights all around, “I couldn’t imagine losing her either, but she’s home and safe–”

“–Karen, you don’t know what it’s like. You’re not her parent and you people don’t have to worry about dying. It’s rather naive of you to think you understand how a mother feels.”

“I do, where I come from, I am mortal, just like you.”

“Listen Karen,” she said, pausing near the park, “my precious daughter and I are very broken. Right now, deep down, there is a battle waging in the depths of my heart. I’m bitter and angry. The nightmares of being confined or my little girl dying with that bastard visit me every night. I am doing everything I can right now to be sane and have a normal Christmas, when I really want to scream. Last year, Ashley and I spent it confined in a dark shelter around a half dead tree we thought he salvaged from a post apocalyptic Texas hillside. He lied, told us we were all alone, my beloved Michael was dead. You changed everything for us, you freed us from his clutches and returned hope that I will see my husband again. This night is about you. I want so much to get to know you, but please don’t lecture me about details, I don’t want to hear about where you come from right now because it makes me think of–.”

I watched as Liz buried her head in her palms, unable to contain to tears any longer. I reached out and pulled her close, offering myself to cry on. My eyes watered as her pain triggered my emotions. The watery trail, chilled in the brisk night air, did little to tingle my senses, but I felt its presence nonetheless.

“I’m sorry. I would love nothing more than to be part of your lives. It’s not my intention to hurt you in any way. It’s like walking on eggshells as I don’t know what to say.”

“Pretty damn good English.” Liz said, pulling away from my embrace.

“I’m sorry?”

“Walking on eggshells. That’s an idiom, those aren’t easy to pick up and used by non-native speakers.”

“Oh, thanks.” I replied, not offering anything more, afraid of giving her useless details, most of which I myself was taking wild stabs at guessing.

“Look, I know you want to be part of us, whether to fill the void in your life, or a genuine need to fulfill your promise to Michael. I want you and I to spend some time together, but you have to understand something Karen. Tomorrow I will wake up, this night will have never happened. I won’t be happy, but will spend half my day depressed, locked in my room crying while hating you for sending my Michael away–away during the time in my life I need his loving tender care the most.”

‘God Liz, I’m standing right in front of you,’ I thought to myself and had to restrain myself to keep from blurting the words out loud. How I wanted to chuck it all, go for broke.

"I am sorry for sending him away. But I didn’t really. You should know, Michael left of his own free will, willing to sacrifice himself so that the two he loves most can go on living. He placed his trust into my hands, his only demand that I serve as your Guarding Angel, keeping you safe from harm. In his absence, he sent me as a vessel containing his undying love until he returns." I opened the small bag I carried with me, withdrawing the wrapped object inside.

"What's that?"

"Liz, I want you to have something.” I handed her the cylindrical object wrapped in a red silk cloth. She unwrapped it, finding the pink colored crystal Kaaren left me. Liz listened as a tear ran down her face while I explained the purpose of the crystal to her, bestowing unto her first rights of Kaaren’s return signal.

"Karen, that's very thoughtful of you, but, let's be realistic. I'm not going to place this on my fireplace mantel staring at it every day, reminding me that my husband is in a galaxy far far away."

"My world is within this galaxy, it's only–Never mind."

"–The logistics don't matter to me. This crystal won't be glowing for another eleven years. Hell, according to Megan, he's only halfway to your planet." She was correct, Kaaren hadn't even begun her conquest. Eleven years was a long time for a married woman to spend apart from her love; I was finding it a daunting task myself to persist without her embrace. But for me, the advantage was mine knowing she was in my presence, while Liz was unaware I was standing only a foot away hidden within the impenetrable flesh of this strange body.

"Karen, I'm sorry you had to meet the new me. Before Michael left, I was sweet and loving, but now, I am a hardened woman. I hope she will go away and the old Liz will return so that you and I can be close. I want to get to know you better. Michael trusts you, Megan trusts you, and that's all I have to go on. Perhaps later in the week you and I can spend some time together. You can share with me all that happened between you and Michael, but for right now, I have to stop thinking about everything. Let's get back, I need to clean up before dessert."

“Nonsense. You relax and enjoy yourself, I can take care of the dishes.”

–––

In the two years since I had seen Ashley, she had certainly matured. Her face betrayed her, giving away her true excitement, but nevertheless, she took her time, carefully peeling the wrapping paper away. Their year living on bare minimum taught them the value of togetherness, the true joy of the holidays, while turning away from the socially ingrained norm that Christmas was all about material possessions. At eleven, she was still a kid at heart, and they joy of opening presents was still exciting to her.

“Show Mommy what Dr. Megan bought you.”

Ashley held up the box with a smile on her face.

“It’s a camera. Thank you, I love it,” she said, already opening the box.

“Wow, that’s pretty neat, purple too. I love it Ashley.”

“Ashley, I’m glad you like it,” Megan said, happy the gift was a success. Ashley had the camera out and was withdrawing a film container Megan added to the box before wrapping it. If you want, I will show you how to load it and you can start taking pictures right now.”

“That’s a great idea honey, you can start taking pictures to share with Daddy when he comes home,” Liz suggested.
Liz paused a few, letting me set up her new camera, knowing what was coming next. I walked Ashley through the process of loading the film and warned her what would happen if she opened the door before winding the film roll up. She slid the black switch on the side, sliding the two thin doors protecting the lens. The ready light told her the flash was charged and ready for her to take her first exposure. Naturally she turned the camera toward me, but I insisted Liz be her first subject. After taking five exposures, Liz asked Ashley if she could take a few, cuing me it was time for Cosmo.

"Excuse me, I left something in the car," I said while navigating through the mess of torn wrapping paper.

"Ashley honey, be a good girl and throw the paper in the trash while Aunt Karen runs outside."

Ashley, still in the excitement of the moment, groaned at the idea of doing work, but listened to her mother. Outside, I turned, walking around the garage door, finding my way to the gate. My plan was slightly foiled, finding Liz had padlocked the side gates to increase her personal security. I tried the keypad on the garage, finding Liz changed the code. Instead of going back in the house, I performed a quick sweep of the neighborhood, then pulled myself up over the fence, landing in the side yard. Fortunately, Liz had left the side door into the garage open as planned. Cosmo was just waking up from a nap when I reached in and adjusted the red and green bow around his neck.

"You ready to meet your new family?"

As I said the words, my calm happy emotional state rapidly changed. I fought as hard as I could, but teared up anyway. Life seemed so unfair, finding myself envious of a beagle pup. He was about to become the man of my house, living there full time, the recipient of my family's love, while I needed permission to enter my own house.

"Come on Michael, get a grip. Don't screw this up. If they see you emotional, you might ruin the mood and Liz will pull the plug," I said quietly to myself, finding a towel on the dryer to wipe my face with. After a moment of breathing exercises, I felt calm enough to proceed, psyching myself up, eager to see Ashley's reaction.

I unlatched the garage door and pulled it open as opposed to hopping the fence again. After Cosmo relieved himself, we stepped inside. A conversation between Ashley and Megan abruptly ended upon hearing my return. Through the wall I could see Liz' body heat. She was standing up, pointing Ashley's new camera at our daughter, hoping to catch the expression on her face.

"Where did you go Aunt Karen?" she asked. Her inquiry was short-lived, her face lighting up with excitement, connecting immediately what it was I had around my wrist. Her eyes traced the leash down behind the couch and waited eagerly for the puppy to emerge. The flash fired followed by Ashley yelling out, "You got us a dog!?"

Megan and Liz laughed as Liz loaded the next frame, hoping to catch her daughter's first moment with the puppy. Ashley ran over, falling at her knees, meeting her new dog half way. Liz pressed the shutter button, capturing the moment Ashley lifted him from under his front legs.

"You like him?” I asked.

Ashley shook her head rapidly up and down, “I love him, he’s so cute,” she said, setting Cosmo down to hug me, “thank you Aunt Karen.”

“You’re welcome sweetie. You take good care of him, you promise me?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to name him?” Liz asked.

Ashley put her finger to her mouth, her facial expression clearly that of one in deep thought. “I don’t know, what do you think we should name him?”

“He’s your puppy, you and your mother should be the ones to decide. I’ve been calling him Cosmo for the time being.

“Cosmo’s a cute name, but I’m a little biased,” Megan said, throwing her two cents in.

“Reid of all people came up with the name.”

“What’s Cosmo mean?” Ashley asked.

“Cosmo like in Cosmos. It’s Greek for universe. Don’t the Russians call their astronauts cosmonauts Megan?” Liz explained the origin of the word to Ashley.

“Yes, that’s exactly correct.”

“Daddy’s an astronaut, but you can call him a cosmonaut too, right?”

“Very good Ashley, yes they mean the same thing,” Megan answered.

“I like Cosmo. What do you think Mom?”

“Aunt Karen is right, let’s think about it tomorrow sweetie. Why don’t you get Aunt Karen and Dr. Megan’s gifts out from under the tree?”

Ashley let her mother hold the unnamed puppy then knelt down under the tree, grabbing the last of the presents. “Here Aunt Karen, these two are for you,” Ashley handed me two large giftwrapped boxes and handed a third to Megan.

"Why thank you Ash," I said, taking the box and shaking it, hearing nothing hard inside moving around.

"Go ahead, don't be shy." Liz held out an inviting hand, letting me know it was okay to start unwrapping the gifts. I began stripping the paper away, revealing a large cardboard box from Neiman Marcus. 'Shit,' I thought to myself, bracing for what was about to come, 'keep calm, act surprised Michael.'

My hands trembled as I lifted the lid, finding pink tissue paper folded over. I looked up and faked a smile before moving the paper out of the way, finding a yellow dress with thin little shoulder straps and purple flowers.

The flash of Ashley's new camera fired as my daughter snapped a shot of me lifting the short dress out of the box, forever imprinting my shock on the film. The dress couldn't be any longer than my knees.

"We really didn't know what you like, so we thought you could use some nice clothes. That's more for spring, when the weather gets warmer. Under is a cardigan to go with it."

"A what?" I asked Liz.

"A thin sweater," Megan said, restraining her laugh with all her might. Next in the box rested the matching button up sweater. It was a thin garment, light purple in color that perfectly complimented the flowers on the dress.

"I love it,” I replied while thinking it would be perfect for waxing my Porsche, rather than wear this in public. Instead, I lied through my teeth, plotting terrible acts of vengeance against Megan should she be found guilty of putting them up to this.

Liz took the sweater and dress from me, expertly folding them up while I continued explore the contents of my box. Below the sweater was a long, red sleeveless dress. The upper part had two cups joined by a loop that I supposed wraps around your neck, acting as support. The dress was long and baggy, easily extending down to my feet despite my tall stature. I was quite pleased with the color, but again I had little desire to wear it.

"Ashley insisted on this one. I personally though blue would go better with your blonde hair, but I couldn't argue with her."

"No, I love red, it's my favorite color."

"Same with Michael. He bought me that gown of mine you were wearing, thought I would like it as much as he did."

"I'm sorry about that by the way, I hope I didn’t ruin it."

"Yeah, well it's ok, I wasn’t fond of it. I’m just happy someone enjoyed it. Turns out your affinity for higher end women's fashions ended up saving the day as we struggled to pick out your gifts. Keep going, there's more," she said, waving her hand at me to continue.

‘My affinity for what?’ Oh boy did she read that wrong. My mind wondered just how much money she blew buying me clothes I would never wear. The last item in the box was a black dress made of some kind of synthetic material that ended above my knees.

"Every woman needs one of these in her closet. When in doubt, it works for most occasions." Liz said, educating me.

‘Not my occasions,’ I thought as the flash fired again. Ashley was having a field day with her camera, snapping pictures single-handedly while holding Cosmo in the other. The thought of hurting them as they sifted through the photographs and seeing my disappointed look inspired me to relax a little. Thoughts of pleasing my wife and daughter began to flood my mind, thinking back to previous Christmas mornings. I imagined the look I had holding up the new watch Liz bought to add to my collection, or the artwork Ashley crafted with her own hands. By no mean’s worthy of a museum, but knowing it was made with her love for me made the work a priceless masterpiece. A genuine smile lit up my face.

“Thank you, it looks rather sexy. I can’t wait to wear it.”

“Try the red one on,” Ashley called out. Liz and Megan froze, staring at her. The good feelings keeping that new smile going were rapidly diminishing. Needless to say, I hadn't given any thought to immediately donning my new wardrobe.

“Ashley, Karen’s not finished opening her presents,” Megan said, standing up for me, reducing my suspicion that she turned traitor.

“Please.”

“Ashley Renee, stop whining. Dr. Megan’s right, we are still opening gifts. After we are done you can ask Aunt Karen if she is willing to change.”

My stay of execution was short-lived. I finished opening the rest, finding two more boxes of girl clothes. Adding to my feminine attire, I acquired a couple of skirts with colorful neon tops, one light blue, the other hot pink. They had a wide opening, reminding me of the popular trend where half of the top would slide down one shoulder. These for sure seemed soft enough to buff the wax on my Porsche to a mirror shine.

The last of the gifts were some belts and a variety of bracelets also commonly worn by girls to compliment their clothes.

“I hope you like everything. If something doesn’t fit, let me know, and I can exchange it for you.”

“How did you know my size in the first place?”

“That’s what we are good at, clothes shopping. Had a hard time finding jeans for a woman of your hight, so I stuck with dresses I thought you would like. I found some of the clothes you wore in my dryer, so I figured that would be your taste.”

She had me pinned all wrong. Thanks to Megan’s recommendation that my remote viewing remain a secret from Liz, my wife misinterpreted my dressing up as something enjoyable to me. Megan’s advice has always been sound, pretending Liz’ insights were correct was far safer than the paranoia she would live with with the constant thought I was invading their private lives.

“Well that was very thoughtful, thank you very much Liz. I don’t have much of a wardrobe.”

“Good. I figured of all we could get you, clothing would be the most practical. I know it’s nothing compared to what you have done for us, but please accept it from the bottom of our hearts.”

–––

We finished dessert and sat around the table enjoying our coffee while watching Ashley play with her new puppy.
"Are you going to try this dress on Aunt Karen?"

"Oh sweetie, maybe another time," I replied, trying to get out of changing. Worse, get out of putting on a dress. I was drunk when I slipped on Liz' evening gown and high on the excitement of having my family back when I voluntarily wore Liz' white dress. It was more to hide Kaaren's suit that it was anything else. After that moment, my distain for feminine clothing returned and I thought nothing further about giving it another try. Now I sat, holding boxes of what I would consider the worst Christmas presents ever. A box of socks and ugly ties would gain more of my favor than the wardrobe Liz picked out for me. All because of a false signal I sent her.

"You do like what we picked out don't you," Liz asked, making me feel a sensation of guilt. You're going to blow it Michael if you don't suck it up. Stop being such a sissy, I thought to myself.

"Quite a bit so. You have a wonderful taste for fashion," I mustered.

"What do you usually wear?"

"Pleated slacks, jeans, stretch pants, I have a couple suits and a–"

"–No, I mean what to you usually wear in–" She said point up towards the ceiling.

"Oh," why thats a good question. I had no idea. Both Kaaren and her father seemed to wear fancy white clothes. Upon waking in what I had thought was heaven, I too was clothed in what had to be her father's clothing.

"Mostly generic clothes. We have little in the way of fashion and use clothing for practicality rather than announcing our social standings or for means of attraction."

"Rather boring. I can see how you would become fascinated by it. Well I am pleased you like it. If something doesn't fit, let me know so that I can exchange it."

Megan just sat there in utter silence, holding Cosmo in order to distract herself from the conversation. She knew better than to say anything that would side with the girls.

"Please Aunt Karen, I really want to see you try this on." It was like Liz forcing me to try on the new shirts or slacks she used to buy me. Ashley looked at me with this sad puppy dog face, cute and she knew it. Somehow she guessed that the same face she made to reduce her father to putty in her hands would work on this strange alien being. Maybe it was the same face she gave everyone else, I being the only one who was unable to resist.

How could I live with myself if I choose this moment to crush her? My standing in her heart would be forever ruined, and Kaaren's chances of bonding with her would fail before they began. She would be an adult before I could be with her again, having been pushed away until I could escape this dreadful body. No, I couldn't risk it. Be a man Michael, don't hurt Ashley. Not tonight, not ever.

I turned to see Megan staring at me. She gave an ever so slight nod to convey her approval. She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. Liz and Ashley both sat waiting for me to respond.

“Of course Ash. Anything for you.”

“Really?” She said excitedly.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” I carefully withdrew the long dress from the pile of new clothing and made my way down the hall.

“You can change in the bedroom if you prefer,” Liz called out. “Just be careful with the new mirrors.”
I laughed out loud, surprised she managed to get a joke out. “Thanks, I’ll be careful. I already have enough bad luck.” The last part I said to myself.

My alien pump was beating a mile a minute. Why the hell was this so bothersome? I’m not my male self putting on a dress in front of my guy friends. This gown is perfectly appropriate for this body to wear. What’s there to be afraid of? There are no men to make snide remarks, just three women who I care deeply about.

“Stop being such a wuss man,” I said quietly to myself as I stripped off my suit coat and carefully laid it across the bed. Next I kicked off my shoes, a simple pair of black leather loafers similar to a style I preferred in men’s formal dress shoes. They had a matte black finish and sported a small buckle across the top and had a quarter inch raised heel. They were fashionable, complimenting my business suit without appearing feminine, nor raising my tall stature.

One thing I found was a lack of pain associated with wearing formal shoes. The leather no longer blistered my ankles nor caused other forms of foot pain associated with such footwear. It boggled my mind thinking how women subjected themselves every day to such painful footwear.

My baggy pleated suit pants slipped down my legs after I released the fastener and lowered the zipper. I slipped my foot through one pant leg and lifted the pants with my other leg; then I took them and quickly folded them neatly before placing them on the bed with my coat. Kaaren’s long slender legs reflected in the mirror, drawing my attention. The red silk blouse I recently purchased to complement my pants suit draped low against my bare thighs. For a minute, my eyes remained fixated on my reflection, drifting back to the night that made this night a possibility.

My wife and daughter are free because of my strange desire to dress up in Liz’ clothes. The two I love more than anything else in the world have been returned to me. How can I allow myself to be such a fool? My small delicate looking fingers began working the buttons of the blouse until finally I was stripped down to my sports bra and panties. I still had a strong disdain for those uncomfortable-looking bras with the wires and snaps and such. The soft lycra fabric of the sports bras made them more than wearable and provided enough support for my ample sized breasts. I was picking up the dress when a soft knock on the door sounded.

“You ok in there?” Megan’s voice said.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I think I can manage.

“Ok, let me know if you need me.” I watched as her body heat disappeared down the hall. I turned my attention back to the dress, examining it closely, hoping I could figure it out. It was a thick soft cotton material and not made of the shiny satin material Liz’ evening gown was made of. After a bit of fussing, I determined the proper way to enter the garment was to pull it over my head rather than step into it.

I pulled it over my head and pulled it down my slender body, finding it easier than the evening gown. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I would have to remove the bra and go bare as the built-in support wasn’t compatible with what I was already wearing. As I turned to the mirror, I pulled the dress' strap over my head and let it dangle while I pulled the bra off. I stood at the mirror gazing closely at the reflection of Kaaren’s full-sized breasts. I took them into my hands and lifted them while running my fingers across my firm nipples. The feelings running through my body shook me ever so slightly, reminding me yet again that I was not trapped in a yearlong dream.

“Quit touching yourself damn it,” I said, letting go of my tits and pulling the top around my neck again. This time, my breasts comfortably filled the cups, providing a much less restricting feel. Other than my cleavage showing, I found the dress to be rather comfortable. Before I ventured outside to face the trio of critics, I adjusted my thick wavy hair, freeing any strands from under the strap around my neck. “Pretty damn hot there man. Too bad it’s my body I’m looking at.”

Timidly I opened the door and slowly walked down the hall, stopping several times contemplating flying off. Ashley’s voice alerted me to her growing excitement. I stopped at the edge of the wall and peeked around, finding myself face to face with the three still sitting at the dinner table.

“Well now, don’t be shy Karen. Let us see you.” Liz was the first to speak. Slowly I emerged from the safety the wall provided, making visible my angelic body encased in a gorgeous red dress with the tops of my breasts showing. As I stepped into view, Ashley spoke up, “Wow, Aunt Karen, you look amazingly beautiful.”

“No I don’t.”

“Nonsense Karen, you do look quite stunning. Turn around.”

I held my arms out and rotated with a very animated movement, feeling ridiculous as I turned around. I felt bare and exposed not having my cleavage, back and shoulders covered. Strange, having lived all my life with the freedom to walk bare chested in public. A year later, my natural instinct is to cover up, and not expose my upper body.

“Come here Karen,” Megan said, motioning for me to approach her as she herself closed the distance. “Lift your arms.”

“Why?”

“Just want to fix something.” I raised my arms. She reached up just below my armpits where the dress hugged my side. Her fingers pulled the edge open and started tucking a little plastic loop inside with her other hand.

“What were those things?”

“It’s for hanging the dress on a hanger,” Ashley answered for her.

“Oh. I was wondering what they were for.”

Megan finished tucking the other side when Ashley motioned for Megan and I to stand together, her new camera at the ready. Before I could object, Megan had her arm around my shoulder and was already smiling for the junior photographer.

“Say cheese.” I cleared my mind and focused my gaze upon my wife and daughter standing before me, both displaying what appeared to be genuine smiles. For the briefest of moments, both mother and daughter seemed happy, their troubles having fled, leaving behind the merriest of souls. Their bright faces brought a smile out of me, yanking my stubborn self out of the unpleasant modeling session. Ashley pressed the shutter release, capturing what I knew would be a keeper.

“Thanks Ashley. Why don’t you go stand with Aunt Karen and let me take a picture of you two?” Megan offered, widening the smile on my face. Ashley stood close, wrapping her arm across my waist. I draped my left arm down over her shoulder and pulled her tight as Megan framed up her shot. She took a few exposures of the two of us before inviting Liz into the picture, taking several of my family and I. The year melted away and for once I felt normal as if this were any other Owen family Christmas.

–––

“I’m so proud of you Michael,” Megan said as I merged onto the highway, “you handled yourself exceptionally well back there and made that little girl of yours very happy.”

“That was a wonderful night indeed. Did you see how cute she looked when I brought Cosmo in? And Liz, she was somewhat herself. Doc, I don’t know how you did it, but you really made the night very special.”

“Michael, I had a little to do with it, but it was mostly you that brought it out of them. That’s why I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I don’t care, you laid the groundwork that made it all possible. You’re a miracle worker, you know that don’t you?”

“Not really. I don’t want to ruin your night, but just remember the ups and downs.” I thought back to what Liz told me during our walk around the neighborhood, how she would likely spend her day tomorrow.

“Yeah, I know. She said tomorrow was likely going to be rough. I get that, but I don’t want to think about that. If I do, I start thinking of him again.”

It was too late, Dwayne popped into my mind the moment I said it. My wild imagination of the torment he subjected them to. I knew some of his wicked deeds were truly heinous when Megan invoked her doctor/patient confidentiality and refused to give an inch. She was just protecting them, she would say. All she would offer was that he never violated my daughter or raped my wife. Those two she swore were the honest truth.

I pulled into to my complex when we finally broke the silence. “Mind if I come inside for a few? I have a couple other gifts for you I wanted to give you in private.”

“You’ve already done enough.”

“Nonsense Michael, I can never return the gift you’ve given me.”

“Come on Megan, let’s drop this life debt foolishness. I acted out of instinct during the breach, and as far as me taking on this body, well–.”

“–Michael, I’m not talking about you saving me, I’m talking about the gift of our friendship. I had a feeling you would be very special from the moment I first met you.”

"Thank you," I said as I fell silent, thinking back to that night. It felt like destiny, Megan entering my life and Liz'. The three of us formed an instant bond that night that would soon expand to include Ashley. None of us could have prepared for the life-altering events that would transpire, testing the very fibers binding our friendship together.

Often, on my many sleepless nights, I would fly high above the Earth. There I would bring myself to a hover, floating amongst the clouds, watching the motion of the headlights below. Alone, in the peaceful serene solitude the sky provided, I would let my mind wander. Many times, the what-if scenario would play out in my thoughts, wondering what my life would be like had Megan not been part if it. She was my voice of reason, my comfort in Liz' absence.

"I don't know what I would do without you." She reached up and patted me on my shoulder, giving it a rub as I parked her BMW.

"Same here. I wish there were more men like you."

"What, you got a thing for guys trapped in women's bodies?" I said, lifting the red cups of my dress, lifting my breasts." Megan, surprised as my action, laughed out loud.

"Oh stop, you know what I mean."

We transitioned from her car to my apartment. The night was still young, only 10pm and neither had much to do the next day. I cracked open a bottle a wine and poured my friend a tall glass before pouring one for myself. Before relaxing on the couch next to her, I grabbed her gifts from under the tiny tree in the corner.

"Here, this is for you." I placed the large box on her lap and along with a smaller jewelry box. "Open the small one first."

"Geez this is heavy," she moaned, struggling to lift it off her lap.

"Sorry, I sometimes forget how heavy objects are."

Instead of unwrapping the gifts, she reached over on the table and handed me two wrapped boxes.

"If these are clothes or vibrators, I'm never speaking to you again."

"No gag gifts this year, I promise."

"I agree, after last year, let’s kill that tradition."

Megan carefully pealed the gold wrapping paper using her fingernails to lift the tape instead of tearing the fancy paper. I waited with excitement as the small jewelry box slowly came into view

"Ooh, jewelry. Getting more intimate are we?" She said lifting the lid of the box.

"Just a little something special for a special friend?"

"Oh Michael, I love it." She said excitedly withdrawing the necklace. It was a small silver chain with a custom charm, a silver piece with a highly polished light green stone fastened. The stone was shaped in an oval a half inch in length. "I've never seen anything like this before, what kind of stone is this?"

"Open the other, then I will tell you."

Megan again carefully unwrapped the larger present revealing a large lacquered wood case about 1 1/2 feet long by 1 foot wide and five inches deep. She lifted the lid, gazing at the contents inside.

"Oh wow, that's amazing Michael, where did you get this?"

"It's custom made, had it done just for you."

"No wonder it was so heavy. You duplicated the patch perfectly."

"There's a stand in there so you can display it if you want."

Megan traced her hands over the carving in the light grey stone. The carving was pricey, but worth every penny to produce. Carved onto the surface of the stone was a 6:1 etching of our mission patch that was sewn into our flight suits and space suits. For each shuttle mission, a unique embroidered patch was created with a graphic representing, in the simplest of manners, the nature of the mission.

For our mission, a top view of the Deliverance sat in the middle, the Earth below it, and a grey asteroid above. Around the outer edge of the oval patch were each of our last names, mine being on the top and our casualties below. Unable to duplicate color found on the patch, the curved lines converging were the US and Soviet colors signifying our union. Over the face of the Earth, the words "SIS-1 Deliverance" was inscribed.

"What's this made of, it's beautiful?"

"Part of our Lunar Neighbor."

"Moon rock! Really?" Megan connected immediately that the sample she held in her hands was not from the Apollo Missions. "You were on the moon?"

"Yes! Both this and the necklace. Been there several times over the past couple of months."

"I thought this would have made it from the Icarus." She said with a slight expression of disappointment

"Yeah, I didn't want to go back out there." I said turning my head away and staring at deep into the wine glass in my hand. For a moment I remained quiet before gulping the contents. I felt Megan's hand touch my shoulder.

"Michael, I understand. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Another time Doc."

"Well I love it. Why dredge up old memories. I've always wanted to see the moon, so these gift are perfect Michael. You've made this girl very happy. Thank you." She reached around my neck and pulled me close to her kissing the side of my head. I lifted my left hand and touched her hand, gently caressing it as I leaned on her shoulder.

"Glad you like it."

"I do. So, these trips sound incredible, tell me about them?"

"Well for starters, the landings weren't faked." I said rapidly emerging from my slump. Truth was, I hadn't spent much time thinking about the Icarus and never told Megan about it, instead burring that memory deep inside.

"No, really? I could have told you that."

Anyone in NASA will tell you just how ridiculous the conspiracy theorists are. It was a common question asked of us during public speaking events, one we all laughed about within the circle. If only people understood the sheer volume of people involved in these missions.

“Quite spectacular up there, standing not far from where Neil made that first step.”

“You saw his footprint?”

“Yes.”

“And what's left of the LEM, what about the American flag?”

“Well, not really an American flag any more. More like a symbol of Earth’s surrender to alien invaders.”

“What?”

“The flags are all white now. I’ve been debating replacing them.”

The flags cost $5 bucks back in ’69 and weren’t made with anything to protect them from the Sun. I could leave the white flags in place, leaving the historical scene unchanged, or replace them, restoring the 1969 look.

“Good question. I say leave it as is. Don’t mess with history.”

“True, but we restore historical sites here all the time, why not do the same?”

“Another night. You know Michael, you are technically the first female to set foot on the Moon?”

“Never thought about it like that. I guess in part you’re right.”

“No matter, you made history for us girls, that’s all that matters. Of course, no one knows about it.” She held out her hand, pointing at the two packages sitting on my lap. “Your turn.”

She took the empty glass from my hand as I sat up and refilled it as my newly painted nails ripped into the paper. My dress draped between my parted legs as I lifted my bare feet and rested them on the table.

“What did you do?”

“I don’t know if you will like this. If not, be honest and I will return it. I just thought you might find it acceptable.” The first box was rather lightweight. Since she promised it wasn’t clothing, I wondered what was contained inside.

“Interesting,” was all I could say, gazing at the bag within the box. It had all the earmarks of a purse. Is was about the same size as a women's handbag, made of soft textured black leather. Instead of a zippered compartment, a leather flap secured by a silver fastener covered the opening, "you bought me a purse?"

"Well, yes and no. Go ahead, take it out."

I lifted it out of the box. Several adjustable black leather straps fell, dangling from the bag. Suddenly it became clear, it wasn't a purse. Not really. It appeared more like a backpack than a purse–a small backpack that is.

"You don't like it do you?"

"What's it for?"

"I was afraid if I bought you a purse, you would swing it at me. Instead, I happened to come across this and thought you might be comfortable carrying this around. Might be useful if you have to travel." I really didn't carry much with me, nor did my new body require the same assortment of accessories my human counterparts did. No bag was really needed to carry make-up, hair care, hygiene products or any of the thousands of mysterious items women toted around with them. I did give it some thought, finding it was a rather thoughtful gift, something I wouldn't feel insecure carrying.

"Actually Megan, I think I kinda like it. Haven't got a clue what to fill it with, but yes, I like it."

"Oh wonderful. I'm happy to hear that. Ok, now the other one."

The next package was a square shaped box about three and a half inches thick. Its mass was too heavy for clothing. I tore it open with great excitement, knowing Megan put much thought into giving the perfect gift. Although I heavily modified the instrument cluster she gave last year to making it more usable under the harsh conditions I needed it for, I found it to be the most treasured gifts I had received.

Inside I found a large leather bound book with our crew's group press photo on the cover. With me in the middle, each of us stood in our orange flight suits posing. So much of our time was wasted during training, having to appear in front of the media, looking our best. We hated every moment of it. To the world, we were celebrities, having to always exert caution in front of the cameras, making sure not to do or say the wrong thing. One would think the press conferences were a time to rest. In reality, our stress levels increased more during the moments the world was tuning into what we had to say.

Often it was personal questions they focused on, rather than serious questions pertaining to the mission. It was my doing that eventually put an end to the press conferences. One evening, we ended a grueling eleven hour stretch in the pool, having spent the day simulating the drilling phase of the operation. Megan and Collins took position inside a mockup of the Orbiter, monitoring and assisting Gene, Nikolai, Igor and Anthony as they rehearsed the most critical phase of the operation.

Before my exhausted crew had a chance to eat and rest, Edwin, our PR director dragged us across the campus where a troupe of national reporters were waiting impatiently with their best prepared questions. Until then, we put up with it. It was simply part of the job to appeal to the public. It was when a young cocky sexist reporter began badgering Megan how living long term in zero gravity would effect her reproductive system, several of us became annoyed. She was calm and professional, answering the question as a doctor would, without the timidness discussing the sensitive private functions of the female body.

Not satisfied with a medical response, the reporter escalated his line of questioning to a sexual nature, asking how she would spend her time alone with six other men. I still remember trailing Gene by a nanosecond, jumping into the conversation. My goal was to shut down the session, but Gene, stressed from a long tiring day underwater, laid into the kid. Gene didn’t hold back, but got in the kid’s face, reading him the riot act, demanding he show Dr. McCormack some respect. It was all caught on camera and we all agreed it was Gene’s finest moment. Finest moment until he took a bullet for the Doc.

In the aftermath, a mutiny erupted amongst the teams, forcing NASA to end these time wasting events. Half way through the training, preparing a new crew in time was impossible, giving us tremendous negotiating power. From that point on, whatever we wanted, we received, and the first thing we wanted was our time. No more wasted moments posing for cameras, no more interviews. We had little time before our scheduled departure, and much work to be accomplished.

“I remember this day quite well.”

“Was a great day. Just two days before I had been officially made part of the team.”

Megan sat closer as I opened the cover, delving back into the past. The album chronicled our time together during our training, filled with pages of photos taken by NASA’s own journalists.

“Simply amazing. Wonderful collection of photographs.” With Kaaren’s speed, I could read pages of text in seconds, but spent a minute on each page, reading the captions.

“I love that picture of you, Niko and Igor.” Megan said pointing at the picture of the three of us posing for the Soviet propaganda photographers.

“Same here.”

“You okay Michael?” she asked as my facial expression clearly changed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just realized it’s been ages since I’ve seen recent photographs of my former self.”

“You were quite a handsome man Michael. Don’t worry, she will be back and you can be that man again.”

“I hope so.”

We continued flipping the pages, reminiscing about our time together. There were pictures of me in the sims, me with Megan and other members of the crew during all aspects of training.

“Oh wow, where did you get these?” I asked. The middle section contained a couple dozen pages of pictures of Liz and Ashley visiting during various times leading up to our departure. They were truly the last photos I had of myself with my family. “Did you show these to Liz?”

“I had a similar one made for her that I gave her privately.”

“Are these all the pictures you took during the mission?”

“Yep, those are all mine.”

“Doc, this is the greatest gift, thank you so much. I never thought I would have such recent pictures of us.”

“These are pretty special. I’m glad you like them.” I leaned over and gave her a long hug.

"Been an exciting ride so far hasn't it?"

"You wanna go for a ride?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah, come on Doc, you have to see the lights from above while listening to the city traffic below. It's simply incredible."

"They will be up for another week, I just want to drink like fish and have some laughs with you until we pass out." She began sipping on her wine when I lifted myself up off the couch and floated a few feet in front of her doing my famous micro gravity fish impersonation until she blew the wine through her nose.

To Be Continued....Episode 5 "Guest Services"

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