Emily (H/F)
Part six in the 'Impregnable' series, following on from Expecting. All previous warnings definitely still apply!
Part One
“So, it looks like I’m going to have another baby sister in about five months’ time.”
Emily turns to her best friend Samira in surprise. “Really? Your Mom’s pregnant again already?” Samira’s baby brother is barely a year old, and she has three other siblings as well. That’s quite a big family, especially to someone like Emily who only has one younger sister and her Dad. “Wow, and she’s four months gone? Did you know?”
Samira shrugs, trying to appear like she’s not bothered, though Emily can tell she’s secretly delighted. “I had my suspicions. They waited until now to tell us, wanted to be sure it was all okay apparently.”
“And is it? All okay, I mean?”
“Yeah, looks that way. A few more sleepless nights heading our way, I guess!”
“You’re okay with that?” Emily asks, curiously. She’d love another younger brother or sister, as much as she both loves and hates Eve at times - three years younger, constantly stealing Emily’s clothes and makeup - though it doesn’t look like that will happen for her any time soon, not as long as her Dad stays single. “Another sister?
Another shrug from her best friend. “It’ll balance things out, I guess, when she gets a bit older. Three boys and three girls - maybe Mom and Dad’ll stop at six!”
Emily laughs out loud at that. “From my experience, I think you’ll need a tie-breaker at some point!” Three in Emily’s family, and her Dad has always been a great believer in both of his girls having a say in how things in the family home are run. There’s at least one vote a day in the Smith household, on everything from what to have for dinner to what colour towels to buy.
Just as Samira is about to reply, the bell goes for fifth period, and both girls grab their bags and head off to class, parting ways with a quick hug.
* * *
The thought of actually having another brother or sister plays on Emily’s mind all afternoon, and all the way home. Perhaps she’s a little quieter than normal, a little more thoughtful, something her Dad seems to notice when he’s making her a quick peanut butter and jello sandwich after she gets in.
“Rough day, sweetheart?” Her Dad is wearing the pink apron Emily had bought for Eve last year, when Eve had been obsessed with some British baking show for a few months, and it really doesn’t suit him at all. At well over six foot tall and with the broadest shoulders she’s even seen, her Dad belongs in his Army uniform rather than in jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a pink flowery apron. Not that Emily would dare say anything to him.
She shrugs, takes a sip of her iced tea. “Just something Samira said today.”
Dad plops her sandwich down in front of her before taking a seat opposite her at the breakfast bar. “And what’s that then? Something you can’t tell your old man, I guess? Teenage girl stuff? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Prom dresses?”
“You’re not so old,” Emily replies almost automatically, cutting her Dad off before he can get into full swing. Truth be told, as much as they had a few issues when Emily was a bit younger, now she’s sixteen they seem to have settled into a newer, more grown-up sort of relationship. He’d even taken her shopping for her prom dress a few times, though he has very different ideas of what passes for ‘fashion’ these days.
Meaning that he has absolutely no idea about fashion at all. But Emily gives him points for trying, and she loves him dearly.
“So what’s up then? Don’t tell me you two have had a falling out.”
“No, nothing like that.” Emily bites her lip for a second, wondering whether to tell her Dad the truth. He’s always been a bit too sensitive talking about the origins of their own little family, and she finds she is strangely reluctant to talk about Samira’s growing number of siblings.
It’s always been just the three of them, no grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins, though Dad has been all the family they could ever need. Emily has never known who her mother is, though she knows she is biologically her Dad’s daughter, whereas Eve isn’t biologically related to either of them. Dad has never hidden that much from them, and it’s always just been an accepted fact, though even at a glance, a stranger would be able to tell that much: Emily has her Dad’s blue-grey eyes and his height, while Eve has the brightest blue eyes Emily has even seen, and Emily’s hair is straight and fine and very brown, while Eve’s is full and curly, an unusual caramel coloured.
Even in temperament they can be very different at times: Eve is always quick-witted and sharp-tongued, and she can wrap anyone around her little finger, while Emily knows she is more thoughtful and less keen to be the centre of attention.
But biology is just biology, and the two girls are sisters. As much as they might fight at times, and they can each be vicious towards the other on occasion, Emily knows in her heart that they will always have each other’s backs.
Emily has always assumed that Eve was adopted, while she assumes that her Dad either separated from her own Mom soon after she was born or perhaps even used a surrogate to have her. It’s always been quite clear to her that her Dad is gay, though he’s never dated as far as she’s aware, either man or woman.
They don’t ask, and Dad doesn’t tell them. That’s just the way it is.
But there has to be a story there, and she and Eve used to sit up at night, long after their bedtime, wondering about their Dad’s Great Lost Love. Perhaps a fellow soldier had been the love of their Dad’s life, tragically lost in battle before they could start a family of their own - their Dad is still a Colonel by name, though he works out of some top secret research facility rather than going off to war, and he’s a good few years beyond the official retirement age. He works odd hours sometimes, and every other weekend, but she loves having him around so much, particularly now he’s finally decided his girls don’t need a full time Nanny, just the occasional babysitter when he has to work a night shift.
“Emily? Sweetheart, are you with me?” Her Dad’s softly spoken question jars Emily back out of her thoughts, and she blinks up to see concerned blue-grey eyes watching her closely.
She nods, taking a huge bite out of her sandwich - Dad makes the best peanut butter and jello, somehow getting the ratios exactly right each time - and chewing harder and longer than is absolutely necessary. But her Dad knows how to be patient and he sits perfectly still, watching and waiting, until Emily has no choice but to swallow and answer.
“It’s nothing, Dad. Really.” Her Dad raises one eyebrow in silent question, still sitting perfectly still, and while a younger Emily would have stormed out in a tantrum, the sixteen year old Emily sighs and gives in. “Her Mom is pregnant again. Baby number six. A girl, apparently.”
Something unreadable flashes deep in her Dad’s eyes, just for a second, before an easy grin appears on his face. “Six kids, well, isn’t that something.”
Emily takes a breath and continues. “I think she’s looking forward to having another sister. To balance out the numbers, apparently.” Her Dad’s grin is starting to look a little forced, and she ploughs on before she loses the nerve. “It just made me wonder why you never had any more kids. Did you ever want a son? Or another daughter? You could have used a surrogate, or adopted, maybe.”
“Emily, love…” Her Dad runs one hand back through his short silver-grey hair, a gesture she’s always associated with frustration. “The two of you are so much more than I ever thought I would have. You’re more than enough for me. And you know that’s the end of the conversation.”
“But Dad - ”
“No, Emily.” Those sharp blue-grey eyes flicker up to the clock on the kitchen wall, and Emily knows it’s over. Sure enough, her Dad pushes up to his feet and leans over to peck a warm kiss to her cheek. “I need to go pick up your sister from soccer practice. And you need to get started on your homework, I think.”
“Yes, Dad.” Algebra, English lit, and economics. Oh joy. “And, Dad?”
Her Dad pauses in the kitchen doorway, car keys already in hand. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Lose the apron, maybe?” And Emily has to laugh as the great and illustrious Colonel John ‘Hannibal’ Smith shimmies out of his pink flowery apron before blowing her a kiss as he swoops out of the house.
Part Two
There must be something in the water, as barely three days later Eve announces that her friend Jose’s Dad is pregnant. “Isn’t it amazing?” Eve gushes at Emily, lying sprawled across her sister’s bed while Eve is trying on outfits for her date with occasional boyfriend Joshua. “That men can do that, I mean. Not that skirt, it makes you look fat.”
Sighing, Emily obediently unzips the blue skirt and holds up the red one instead, waiting for Eve’s nod of approval before starting to change yet again. “It is pretty amazing,” she agrees. “It makes everything so much more equal now that men can carry the kids as well.”
“Exactly!” Eve rolls onto her back, her head hanging off the end of Emily’s bed as she continues to watch her sister in the mirror, long curly hair nearly reaching the floor. “Why should only women have to deal with stretch marks and morning sickness and swollen ankles? I love that it’s becoming more common at last.”
The technology has been around for about fifteen years or so, Emily seems to remember from health ed class, though it’s only really become common outside of research facilities in the last decade. A sudden thought strikes her, and she has to smile. “How do you think they decided who was going to be the carrier? Did they roll a dice? Or lose a bet?”
“Apparently Jose’s Papa is going to carry the next one,” Eve tells her immediately, just as Emily pulls up the red skirt to discover a tear in the seam. She pushes it back down with a sigh, wishing she could just wear her jeans. Eve climbs off the bed as elegantly as always, even though she’s all arms and legs at the moment in the middle of a growth spurt, and pushes past Emily to get into the wardrobe. “Here, let me see.”
“You know what’s in there better than I do,” Emily points out with a huff, dropping down into the chair by her dressing table as she watches her baby sister rummage through her clothes.
“Then you really should just let me dress you at all times.” Eve thrusts a black pencil skirt at her, something Emily had forgotten she owned, before flouncing back on to the bed with a bounce. “I’ve decided I’m going to be a stylist when I grow up.”
Knowing full well that Eve decided on a new career at least once a month, Emily bites her lip in an effort to avoid making a snarky comment. She’s only ever had one ambition in her life: to join the Army, just like their Dad, though as yet she’s unsure whether to join as a regular officer or look at getting into flight training as a pilot.
She can just imagine the look of horror on their Dad’s face when she brings it up for the first time, and she’s fully prepared to argue her case - Dad has always been fully supportive of everything and anything his two girls have wanted to try, and Emily knows he’ll come around to the idea of his baby girl joining the military, but he’ll fight her over it for a time. She knows he wants nothing more than to keep them both safe and protected. Maybe that’s a Dad thing, or just a single-Dad thing. Either way, it’s adorable.
Zipping the skirt up, Emily steps into her favourite pink heels and straightens her shirt, checking out her reflection in the mirror. She needs to brush her hair, and maybe a little lipstick, but - “Well? Will I do?”
Eve pauses, pulling a thoughtful face. “Where’s he taking you again?”
“La Bistro.” A little posher than anything she’s used to, but Joshua comes from money and likes to spoil her every now and then. Emily finds she doesn’t mind at all, and he’s a sweet, kind guy, though she really, really would rather wear jeans.
“You look perfect, Em. Your ass looks amazing.” Eve sticks her tongue out at Emily in the mirror as Emily feels her cheeks heat in a blush. “And can I borrow those shoes sometime?”
“No.” Though Emily knows Eve will find them, wherever she hides them, then she’ll likely never see them again. “Evie, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” Eve is up off the bed again with the energy of an annoying thirteen year old, rummaging through Emily’s small selection of makeup.
“Did you ever think about what it would be like to have another sister, or a brother?”
“You mean, if Dad adopted again?” Eve suddenly stops, then looks around at Emily in faux-horror. “Or if he carried his own child? Yuck. Can you imagine Dad being pregnant? Oh god, Dad isn’t pregnant is he? Please, tell me that’s not true.”
“Yuck! No, he certainly isn’t.” That’s not a pleasant image at all. Emily can picture her Dad pregnant and hormonal, sobbing his eyes out over daytime telly while stuffing himself with pickles, stomach swollen to look like he’d swallowed a watermelon. “No. Just, ew, no. No, I was just thinking.”
“Personally, I think one sister is more than enough,” Eve announces, though Emily can hear a tiny thread of uncertainty in her sister’s voice.
“You don’t ever wonder where we came from?” It’s been a while since they’ve talked about this, both of them somewhat accepting of their Dad’s strange reluctance to discuss the matter. “If you were adopted, then maybe you do have another family somewhere. A brother or a sister. And maybe I have a Mom, or a half-brother, or - ”
“Stop it, Em. Even if any of that’s true, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got Dad, and we’ve got each other. That’s enough.” That’s so similar to what their Dad had said to Emily the other day, and it makes her pause, even as Eve shakes her head firmly. “I don’t want to know anything else. I don’t care about anything else.”
The last thing Emily wants is to upset her sister, and she immediately feels bad. “Okay, Evie, okay. I’m sorry. You want to do my makeup?”
Eve immediately perks up at the idea and the topic of families is forgotten for a time, though in the back of Emily’s mind, even as Eve proceeds to use every single piece of makeup she owns, she can’t help wondering about the truth.
Part Three
“Dad? I need to ask you something.” Freshly home from school, Emily sticks her head into the kitchen, fully expecting to see her Dad’s tall figure bent over the oven getting dinner ready, only to find it empty. It was meant to have been his day off. “Dad? Where are you at?”
“Is that you, Em?” Heavy footsteps upstairs, then the distinctive sound of her Dad’s work boots on the stairs.
“Kitchen,” she calls back, settling into her usual spot at the breakfast bar.
Moments later, her Dad appears in the doorway, tugging on his uniform jacket. “Sorry, kid. I’ve got to go in. Something’s happening.”
Emily could’ve guessed that much; it happened every now and then, an emergency of some sort at the lab. She knows better than to ask, having grown up around ‘top secret’ and ‘classified’. Instead, she just shrugs, holding out her hand with a grin and waiting until Dad holds out his wallet to her. “Pizza for me and Eve tonight, then.”
“You could always try cooking for a change!”
“You’ve tasted my cooking. Do you really want me to poison my little sister?” Emily exchanges a knowing grin with her Dad. “Just quickly, before you go, can I ask you something?”
“I’ve really got to hurry, Emily.” Dad seems distracted, grabbing his keys from the side and patting his pockets. “I might not be back for a day or two. You sure you don’t want me to call Mrs Turnbull over to look after you girls?”
“We’ll be fine. Dad, I just need - ”
“I won’t have my phone on me.” He never did, something about the classified nature of his work. “Call the main office if you need anything, and they can get hold of me. Promise me you’ll look after Eve? And no parties, okay?”
Tempting, but no. “I promise.” Emily jumps up off her seat to give her Dad a quick kiss and a hug, then takes a breath and blurts out, “Dad, just quickly, I need my birth certificate for a biology project. It’s for extra credit. Do you know where it is?”
A shadow seems to pass briefly over her Dad’s face, though that could’ve been the low lighting in the kitchen. “Sorry, baby. Haven’t seen it in years. Hope you can manage your project without it.” He pecks her on the cheek one last time. “Got to go. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Emily stands in the kitchen until she hears the front door click closed behind him, then immediately heads towards his study. If it’s going to be anywhere, her birth certificate will be there, somewhere in one of his filing cabinets.
She wasn’t lying. There really is a biology project, and ideally she really does need her birth certificate, though it’s far from essential. But the idea of finding out who her mother was had been playing on her mind more and more often lately; not necessarily to try to meet her, but just to know who she had been. To know something of why her Dad had raised her alone, and also to know something of where Eve might have come from.
But the moment she steps inside the room and closes the door behind herself, she wonders if this is actually a good idea after all.
Being in her Dad’s study without him feels deeply wrong, somehow. The two girls have never been banned from going in there, but they have always been raised to know that it is their father’s private space. A battered old leather sofa spans the length of one wall with a reading lamp at one end, then another wall full of stark metal filing cabinets, and a huge desk in front of a window overlooking their garden. Bookcases fill the final wall, floor to ceiling and overflowing with battered volumes, everything from spy thrillers and military memoirs to legal textbooks and medical books.
There are framed photos on the desk, pictures that Emily has seen a thousand times. Some are duplicates of the ones hanging in their living room, of herself and Eve as babies and growing up. Their first days at school, nervous toothy grins fixed in place. Other photos are clearly more personal, showing a younger version of their Dad in uniform with various groups of soldiers, in the desert or amongst mountains or in tents.
Emily pauses over one particular photo, reaching out to stroke her fingers gently over the platinum frame as she always does. It’s a photo of her Dad, maybe twenty years younger but already with silvery grey hair, and another younger man, both of them in uniform and wearing bullet proof vests. The younger man is holding what Emily assumes to be a sniper’s rifle, and the two men are standing so close together it almost appears they were leaning on each other, two pairs of bright blue eyes shining as they smile into the camera, her Dad’s hand resting almost protectively on his younger comrade’s shoulder.
This photo has always made Emily pause. There’s something about the younger man, something in his eyes and his face that have always seemed strangely familiar somehow. Something in the way the two soldiers stand so close together.
It isn’t that the photo is in a particularly prominent position on the desk, nor that he is the only soldier pictured alone with her Dad - there are other photos, of her Dad laughing with a dark-skinned man with a Mohawk and a wicked grin, of him arm in arm with a crazy-haired man in a pilot’s uniform, of him sharing cigars with an older soldier wearing General’s stars - but there is just something in those particular blue eyes that always makes Emily wonder.
She’d asked her Dad who he was, of course, and he’d usually shrugged her off, though once he had actually replied with shining eyes, “The bravest and most selfless man I’ve ever known.”
Emily shakes herself, lifting her fingers away from the photos abruptly and turning to the filing cabinets. She has to stay focussed: get in, find her birth certificate, and get out again. Eve will be home in an hour or so - cheerleading practise tonight - and Dad will know if anything has been moved.
The cabinets are locked, of course, but a quick glance in the first two drawers of the desk reveals a tiny silver key which soon allows Emily access.
She has no real idea what she’s looking for, beyond her birth certificate, and the folders upon folders of paperwork seem utterly overwhelming at first. Some are labelled, and she quickly dismisses ones containing copies of household bills and deeds for the house and car. There are a couple labelled ‘Insurance’ and she mentally makes a note to come back to those, before opening the second cabinet.
Jackpot. Two folders stand out immediately, one labelled ‘Emily’ and one ‘Eve’.
Careful to remember exactly where the folders had been, Emily lifts both out and carries them over to sit on the leather sofa, resting them on her knees. Her earlier nerves return at full force, her hands trembling slightly. Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe Dad has good reasons for never telling them anything more than he has.
Shaking herself, Emily quickly thumbs open the folder with her name on it before she can change her mind. And there, sitting right at the top, is her birth certificate.
The first thought that crosses her mind is the realisation that her Dad has lied to her.
The second thought is that she’s about to find out her mother’s name.
The third thought is one of confusion, when she scans quickly over the certificate to find no name listed. At least, not the name of a person. Instead, there is the name of a place, one she knows well, though she has never actually set foot inside it.
‘John Smith’ is listed as her father, exactly as expected, and her birth date is spot on, but in the space for her mother’s name there is only the name and address of the top-secret research lab where her Dad works.
And two initials: ‘T P’.
In something of a daze she quickly skims through the rest of her folder, but there are no answers or further surprises, just copies of her immunisation certificates and all her school reports. A few crayon drawings done in a childish hand, clearly her Dad’s favourites. A small pouch containing a wisp of soft baby hair tied in a pink ribbon, and a carefully folded piece of tissue paper that, when opened as carefully as Emily can, reveals what has to have been her first tooth.
Confused, upset, but aware that her time is running short, Emily moves quickly on to Eve’s folder. She has no idea what to expect, but a glance at her sister’s birth certificate - at the top of the pile, just as hers had been - shows the same two initials, ‘T P’, but this time listed as ‘father’. The address of the lab is once again listed as ‘mother’, and there are no further initials or names anywhere.
But the second document is an adoption certificate, dated the same day Eve was born, with their Dad’s name on and granting Eve the surname ‘Smith’.
“Emily?” The unexpected sound of Eve’s voice is immediately followed by the heavy slamming of the front door. “Where are you? I’m starving!”
As quickly as she can, Emily slides the two folders back into the filing cabinet, mind spinning. Instinctively she doesn’t want Eve to find her here, and as tempting as it is to tell Eve everything she’s found, and all the questions she now has, she also wants some time to think first. Telling her baby sister right now won’t help.
But the idea of confronting her Dad about any of this? That seems out of the question.
Part Four
Eve does seem to sense that her sister is upset over something, but to Emily’s great relief she doesn’t ask and the evening passes comfortably with pizza and a movie, both of them in their pjs just vegging out in the living room. Emily gives up on any vague idea of doing homework and Eve, as always, needs absolutely no encouragement to do the same.
Emily is incredibly glad of the distraction, and the utter normality of the night, though her thoughts keep drifting back towards what she had found in her Dad’s study. As the film plays on she can’t help thinking about reasons why a top-secret Army research lab would be listed on both of their birth certificates. And those initials - a ‘T’ and a ‘P’ - what could they mean? It could be a name, of course, the most obvious answer, or perhaps something else related to the lab.
The more she thinks about it, the more her stomach twists into knots.
And the more she thinks about it, the more she realises she will simply have to ask her Dad. Which will mean confessing that she’s been in his study and in his files.
But for the rest of that evening, she tries her hardest to put it all out of her mind, and simply enjoys her baby sister’s company. They are just arguing over whether to put on a second film or switch over to watch the latest Real Housewives of Emily-really-doesn’t-care, when they unexpectedly hear a key in the front door.
For a moment the girls just stare at each other. “I thought you said Dad was gone overnight, or maybe longer?” Eve asks Emily, obviously confused, and Emily just shrugs even as her brain goes into overdrive trying to remember exactly what he’d said. He’d been so distracted, so worried.
“He wasn’t sure, but there was definitely some big emergency. He said he might well be at work for a couple of days.”
There’s no time to clear up the empty pizza boxes scattered over the coffee table, or even to hide the empty wine glasses - just a single glass each, pretty restrained of them really, Emily feels, quietly praying their Dad will feel the same way when he spots them with his eagle eyes.
“Girls?” But their Dad sounds subdued, somehow, his footsteps slow and heavy in the hall. “Are you in?”
“Of course we’re in, Dad.” Emily’s gut instinct is telling her to go him, and she scrambles to her feet. “In the living room.”
“Something’s wrong,” Eve breathes, her own instincts clearly kicking in, just as their Dad appears in the doorway.
The first thing Emily notices is how pale he looks. Their Dad is always tanned, always glowing, but right now he looks almost grey, his lips almost blue. More worrying still is the fact that his eyes are rimmed with red. Has he been crying?
“Dad…” Emily crosses the room quickly, stepping over a pizza box, and pulls him immediately down into a hug. His strong arms lock around her waist at once, and he drops a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. “What happened? You’re back early. Is everything all right?”
For a long moment he says nothing at all, just holding her close, almost painfully tight, and to Emily’s surprise she realises she can feel him shaking. Something awful has to have happened. She’s never seen him upset, not once, not even when they rushed to the hospital after Eve had fallen off a horse while learning to ride. Perhaps he might cry behind his closed bedroom door, but in front of them he is always unflappable, solid, reliable. But now…
Dad kisses Emily again, on the cheek this time, before suddenly letting her go and stepping towards her sister. “Eve, come here, sweetheart.” He sounds broken, his deep voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper, and Emily exchanges worried glances with Eve as her sister stands quickly.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Eve asks as she practically falls into their Dad’s arms. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
“Oh, Eve. My baby girl.” Emily watches, confused, as Dad embraces her younger sister briefly before cupping her cheeks in his huge hands, staring into her face as if mesmerised. “My darling.”
There are all kinds of alarm bells ringing in her mind, and Emily takes a steadying breath. “Dad, you’re scaring us a little,” she says softly, slowly. “Please, what’s up?”
His eyes flick over at her briefly. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Emily, love. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… It’s just… Something happened at work, that’s all. Someone died, unexpectedly.” Their Dad’s voice cracks as he adds, “Someone who meant a lot to me.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Eve tells him immediately, her bright blue eyes clearly filling with sympathetic tears as she stares up into his face, still held in place by his gentle grip. “Was it a really good friend of yours?”
When there is no answer immediately forthcoming, Emily slides up behind their Dad and wraps her arms around his stomach, resting her cheek in between his shoulder blades. She can feel him shaking badly, strong muscles trembling in her grip. “Dad, who was it?” she asks hesitantly.
Their Dad doesn’t have many close friends, never has done. He doesn’t bring people home, doesn’t date, doesn’t really socialise beyond the occasional parent-teacher-association meeting at their school. For him to be this devastated… Emily can’t even begin to think who he’s lost. But her heart breaks for him, and all thoughts of birth certificates fly far from her mind.
In a shaky whisper, their Dad eventually replies, “He was the best man I have ever known. He was so brave, and so selfless… He would have been so incredibly proud of you, Eve.” Almost as an afterthought, he turns his head to look over his shoulder at Emily and quickly adds, “And you too, Emily. He would have been so proud of you both. My two baby girls.”
And for the first time ever, to Emily and Eve’s surprise, their Dad breaks down in floods of tears.
Part Five
It’s been two days since their Dad’s breakdown, and Emily has barely seen him since. He’d cried in their arms for a few short minutes, then pulled himself back together with a visible effort, kissing them both before disappearing upstairs to his bedroom. Emily and Eve had waited together nervously until he reappeared an hour later, wearing a fresh uniform shirt and carrying an overnight bag. He’d told them both how much he loved them and disappeared again, back to work.
He’s phoned them twice, just to check in, and had clearly been home at some point yesterday as Emily had come home from school to find a chicken casserole in the slow cooker.
It feels both strange and wonderful for Emily to have the house all to herself now, with Eve having stayed over at a friend’s last night. It’s Saturday, and she has no plans for the morning, though she’s meeting Joshua at two to catch a movie and a burger, then Samira is having a party tonight. Emily really needs Eve to pick out an outfit for her, a fact which annoys the hell out of her but will delight her baby sister.
Now, sitting at the breakfast bar eating toast and Nutella, a breakfast her Dad would most definitely not approve of, Emily is happily lost in her book when she suddenly hears a car screeching to a halt on the driveway. She’s barely halfway out of her seat when her Dad comes barrelling through the back door, his hair wild and his eyes bloodshot.
“Dad? What’s wrong?” Emily’s first thought is that someone else has died, or something disastrous has happened at the lab. He doesn’t look hurt but - “Are you okay?”
Rather than answer her questions, her Dad crosses quickly to her side and takes her by the elbow, guiding her towards the hall rather forcefully. “Emily, thank God.” His words are low, hushed. “Quickly now, please. You need to pack a bag for me, sweetheart, just enough for a few nights.”
“Dad, what - ?”
“Please, baby, don’t argue. Where’s Eve? Still in bed, right? She needs to get up and pack too. We’re going away for a little while, okay?”
Emily can’t help but resist a little as her Dad urges her towards the stairs, though his grip is like a steel band around her arm. “Eve’s round at Bethany’s, she won’t be back until four at the earliest.”
Her Dad swears under his breath, and Emily gasps - he never swears, and makes them put a dollar in the swear jar every time they do - but he doesn’t even pause before barrelling right on. “Then you pack a bag for your sister too, Emily. We’ll pick her up on the way.”
They’re moving quickly now, and Emily stumbles over her feet, trying to pull her arm free. “Dad, stop - ”
“Don’t argue with me, Emily - ”
“Dad, you’re hurting me!” At Emily’s cry, her Dad finally stops in his tracks in the middle of the hallway, letting her go and turning towards her with a look of horror in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. Oh baby, forgive me, but we need to move fast. I can’t let them take you.” Before Emily can even begin to process that, he adds urgently, almost angrily, “They promised me that you were mine, both of you. My two girls. I won’t let them take you from me.”
“Take me?” Emily doesn’t have any idea what her Dad is talking about, and he’s really scaring her now. “I don’t understand, Dad. Who wants to take me?”
He shakes his head violently, before collapsing down to sit heavily on the stairs, anguished eyes staring at her intently and hands balled into fists on his knees. When he speaks again, his words almost trip over themselves in his obvious haste. “If they take you, they’ll run tests on you, do experiments on you. Just like they experimented on him for all these years. Christ, I’ve been so blind.”
“Who, Dad? Who did they - ?”
“Your carrier, Emily. The man who carried you in his body for nine months.”
Suddenly, there isn’t enough air in the hallway, and Emily sways back to brace herself against the wall opposite him. “I don’t understand,” she whispers, and her Dad buries his head in his hands briefly before looking back up at her, resignation in his bright blue eyes.
“You were the first,” he tells her, his words slow and deliberate, as if begging her to understand. “The very first baby to ever be carried to term inside a human male.”
It hits her almost like a physical blow.
The name of the lab on her birth certificate.
The initials.
Her whole life has been a lie.
Part Six
All the pieces of Emily’s world are tumbling down around her as she stands motionless in the hallway, propped up against the wall. The undeniable truths of her life - her Dad, her sister - suddenly cannot be trusted, and she wants nothing more than to wake up. This has to be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.
Not even for a second does she think her Dad might be lying to her. This is the truth, she can somehow tell.
Not the whole truth, though, not yet. Eventually she finds the strength to speak, though her legs are shaking, barely able to hold her up. “Oh my God, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me?”
But her Dad simply ignores Emily’s stuttered question and carries on as if she had never spoken, his gaze turning somewhere internal, unfocused. “He was the first, you see. You were created from my sperm and a donor egg, and implanted surgically into a specially grown uterus. Implanted into him.”
An experiment, he’d said earlier, and Emily hears herself ask, as if from a great distance - “He chose to be part of that, though, right? Please, please tell me he wanted that?”
Her Dad doesn’t answer.
Instead, he keeps right on narrating their twisted family history, and Emily stares at him in horror, terrified to even blink.
“It worked so well, and you were so perfect…” A tiny flash of a proud smile lights up his face, even as the first glint of tears appear in his eyes. “So perfect that they wanted to replicate the experiment. He carried a second pregnancy to term, a boy, and the doctors were able to finesse all the medication and hormones and surgical techniques. And they wanted to continue. And then they wanted to see if he could carry his own child.”
It’s another nearly physical blow, and Emily feels all the air leave her lungs in a huge gasp. This is too much to truly process, but she is her father’s daughter and her mind leaps three steps ahead even as her heart seems to stutter when she realises. “Eve…” she whispers, almost without thinking, and her Dad looks up at her with tortured eyes. “She’s his daughter. His biological daughter.” It isn’t a question.
A single nod. “Yes.”
“And he carried her inside him.”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“And - oh, God, he’s your ‘friend’, isn’t he? The one who died. The one who would’ve been so proud of both of us.” All the pieces are tumbling into place now, an entire lifetime of secrets and lies collapsing around them only to reform in a terrible new shape, and Emily steps forward away from the wall with a burst of strength, anger starting to burn in her veins.
So many questions. So many lies.
“Yes.” In contrast her Dad seems to sag further onto the stairs, his tall frame crumpled in on itself. He looks tortured, miserable. He looks desperate. “Emily, sweetheart, I can explain everything - ”
“He didn’t volunteer at all, did he?” She doesn’t know how she knows, but her Dad flinches, and she knows.
“Emily, baby - ”
“He’s been kept inside that lab of yours for all these years, a prisoner, going through pregnancy after pregnancy, and experiments…” He nods again, just once, before hanging his head low, and she can hardly believe she has to ask the next question. But she does. “How many?”
“Emily - ”
“How many, Dad?” She’s practically shouting now, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “How many pregnancies did you force him through? How many children did he carry?”
How many brothers and sisters does she have, biological or otherwise?
Her Dad squeezes his eyes shut, taking a long, slow breath before answering, clearly reluctantly. “He was pregnant seventeen times.” Then, something visibly shifts, his spine straightening, his shoulders squaring. When he continues, he suddenly sounds so cold, so clinical, that Emily shivers. This is the Colonel, rather than her Dad. Detached. Unemotional. “He couldn’t carry them all to term. He carried then lost your twin brothers, years ago. It wasn’t his fault. Multiples were always hard on him. But he was cared for, in the lab. They kept him safe, and gave him everything he needed.”
Like freedom? Or the chance to know his own daughter? Emily is having none of it. She can’t even imagine what kind of hell this poor man - her carrier, Eve’s biological father - had suffered for all her life. “What was his name?” she asks loudly, viciously pleased to see her Dad flinch anew, his blue eyes flashing.
“It’s still classified, I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. You took his freedom, his life - hell, you took his daughter from him too, and raised her as your own.” Emily can’t even bear to think how Eve will react to all this, and she’s almost on autopilot now, with no idea where her courage is coming from or what she will say next. She would never have dared stand up to her Dad like this previously. But she clearly doesn’t know him at all. “Surely you didn’t take his name too? So tell me.”
Her Dad suddenly frowns, confused. “I took…? No, Emily, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t take anything from him. It was an experiment, and none of it was my doing. The doctors and nurses, the scientists, they were the ones - ”
“But you worked there all these years. You knew what was happening. You were there. You didn’t tell us, and you let it happen. Tell me his name.”
She stares him down, chest tight with anger, until finally he nods and whispers a single word. “Face.”
“What the hell kind of name is that?”
Her Dad actually has the nerve to smile at her reaction, just a little. “It’s his handle. His nickname. We served together, years ago, and he always preferred to be called Face. His full name is - was - Templeton Peck. Temp. My Temp.”
TP. Another piece of the puzzle slides suddenly into place, immediately followed by another. “The man in the photo,” Emily gasps, lifting one hand to her mouth in shock.
“What?”
“The photo on your desk. The man with the sniper rifle and the blue eyes.” All these years she’s wondered why that man seems familiar, with his curly hair and his incredibly bright eyes, and now she knows. “Eve has the same eyes. He’s your Face. He’s her father.”
Her Dad winces as if she’d struck him with her words. “Yes,” he manages with a shaky nod. “She is so much like him. Just like you are so much like me. Always three steps ahead of me. You are the two greatest achievements of my life, but we have to move, and we have to go now. Or they will take you from me and I will not let that happen.”
With a sudden surge of strength he stands quickly back up to his full height, reaching out as if to take Emily by the arm again, but she dances backwards out of his reach, shaking her head angrily.
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you now - ”
“I’m still your father.” He takes a single step closer, shaking his head with his hand still outstretched, and his voice turns softer, almost begging her. “You can be mad at me, you can hate me if you must, but we have to go right this second. There is no other way. They are coming, sweetheart, any minute now they are coming for you.”
“No…” What could they possibly want with her? Even given the apparent circumstances of her birth, assuming her Dad has told her the whole truth, it all sounds like something from a bad horror movie, and Emily’s instinct is to run. Everything she thought she knew is falling apart right in front of her eyes. “There’s no way in hell.”
“Baby, please listen to me. I love you, and I’ve made such a mess of this. I can explain better, and answer all your questions, and I wish I could say I’m sorry but I’m not. Face gave me the greatest gifts possible when he gave you and Eve life, and maybe I did him an injustice - ”
“Maybe?” Emily is incredulous, aware that she’s all but screaming at him.
“ - But he’s gone now. I can’t change that, no matter how much I might want him back. And I have to save you girls or this has all been for nothing.”
For a moment there is silence in the hallway, both of them frozen in place, and Emily is suddenly aware that she is weeping, hot tears slipping silently down her face. Her Dad looks devastated and desperate, and he’s still her Dad, and maybe.
Maybe.
Then there is the harsh rattle of warning gunfire from somewhere just outside, and a voice calling over a loudspeaker, “Colonel Smith, you’re surrounded. Come out now with your hands up.”
Part Seven
It truly is something from a horror movie, or a nightmare. Emily is completely frozen in place, her heart in her mouth as the demand is repeated again, louder and more insistent.
“Colonel Smith, come out of the house now, with your hands in the air.”
“No,” her Dad whispers, his anguished eyes locked on Emily as they stand face to face in the hallway. He isn’t moving either, apart from the tiniest shake of his head. “I won’t let them take you.”
“Dad?” Emily whispers back, but he immediately holds up his hand to silence her.
“Upstairs, sweetheart. Now.”
“Dad - ”
“No, please. Don’t fight me now.” Suddenly there is a gun in his hand, and Emily feels her heart skip a beat. He’s never had guns in the house, not even once. But he’s been armed this whole time? “Go upstairs, please. Pack a bag like I asked you, as quick as you can. And get ready to run.”
Emily shakes her head now, then squeaks as the sound of another warning round of gunfire fills the air. “Dad, I can’t - ”
“Yes, you can.” He takes one long stride across the hall until he is standing directly in front of her, and with his free hand he smooths Emily’s hair back before kissing her quickly on the forehead, his lips warm and dry. “I love you and your sister more than anything in the whole world, Emily Smith. Please remember that, whatever happens now.”
He steps back from her, weapon drawn up at the ready, as his eyes harden and his face becomes stern. He is the Colonel once again, not her Dad.
And Emily suddenly knows exactly what he’s going to do.
“You’re not going out there, Dad, please…” She tries to snatch at his sleeve, to keep him with her, but he resists. “We can still run together. I need you with me. Eve needs you too.”
“Go.” With a gentle yet firm push, he nudges her towards the stairs and turns to face the front door. His voice is little more than a growl when he adds, “There’s another gun under my mattress. Take it with you.”
And Emily goes, taking the stairs two at a time, even as another burst of gunfire rips through the air. Rather than run to her own bedroom, she takes a sharp turn into her Dad’s room at the front of the house, sliding to her knees as she crawls the last few metres to the window overlooking the driveway.
She doesn’t want to look, but she can’t not look.
Staying low, she can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she peers over the edge of the windowsill, and she gasps when she sees the truth of the situation.
She won’t be able to run.
They are truly surrounded, more than a dozen black-clad soldiers visible at a glance, though Emily is sure there must be even more still hidden from sight. Each soldier is armed, and every weapon is pointed at their front door.
She wishes with all her heart that she had her phone with her, though who could she possibly call for help? The police? The neighbours will almost certainly have done that already, for what little good it will do.
These soldiers clearly aren’t worried about being observed.
“This is your final warning, Colonel Smith.” Emily spots the man with the loudspeaker, front and centre. “Come out of the house now, or we will force entry.”
She can’t see the front door from her vantage point, but she knows the exact moment when her Dad steps outside. Each and every soldier straightens and takes a firmer grip on their weapon, and the loudspeaker is immediately thrown to the ground in favour of a handgun.
“No,” she whispers to herself, tears prickling her eyes and her chest feeling painfully tight. “Please, no.”
Her Dad steps into view, both hands held obediently above his head, though Emily can see his gun tucked into the back of his pants. One soldier steps forwards, gun clearly pointed at her Dad’s head, and he seems to be speaking. Presumably her Dad is speaking in reply, but Emily can’t hear a single word they are saying.
The scene seems to hold for an interminable length of time, the two soldiers talking at some length, one with hands in the air and one with a finger on the trigger of his gun. But then, from the corner of her eye, Emily sees something that makes her gasp in renewed horror.
It’s Eve, walking casually up the street towards their home, her rucksack slung over one shoulder and her bright pink headphones visible even from this distance. She’s early, and she’s clearly lost in her music, smiling down at her phone without a care in the world.
The soldiers know, Emily can tell. Those nearest the hedges at the edge of the Smith property have turned to face away from the house, ducking down to stay as concealed as possible, and unless Eve looks up…
Emily makes the decision in a heartbeat, without even thinking about it. She’ll give away her own position, but this is Eve, her baby sister. They may not share blood but they have shared their entire lives. And Emily pushes to her feet, throwing the window wide open, screaming at the top of her lungs: “Eve, run!”
For a split second she doesn’t think Eve has heard her, and her heart breaks, but then Eve looks up, her bright blue gaze somehow finding Emily’s though they are so very far apart. There is a question there, but Emily shakes her head violently, and somehow Eve gets the message.
Eve drops everything and turns away. She runs.
And then all hell breaks loose in the driveway, as a handful of soldiers break through the hedges in pursuit of Eve while another few sprint towards the front door, clearly coming for Emily. She barely sees her Dad reach for his gun before she turns quickly from the window to hide, though she does hear his anguished cry just before two gunshots ring out loudly in the morning air, a second apart.
A loud splintering sound as the front door is kicked in.
Heavy boots running on the stairs.
Emily dives for the bed, suddenly remembering the second gun, but just as she slides her hand under the mattress the bedroom door is flung wide and
.
Part Eight
“Such a shame it wasn’t possibly to retrieve the two targets alive, Major.”
“Yes, indeed. The death of Subject Alpha’s two eldest daughters is certainly a blow to the project. Though no one will mourn Colonel Smith’s loss.”
“No, you’re right about that much. Such a cold man. I have to say, I don’t think I could ever do that to someone I loved.”
“What do you mean, Doctor?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know? I thought it was common knowledge around here. Subject Alpha used to be Colonel Smith’s lover back when they were both in the Rangers together. The Colonel volunteered him for the project.”
“No way! I can’t believe it. So he put his lover through experimental surgery in order to have a child of his own? Then left him here all those years, working with us and watching him suffer?”
“Now, let’s not be too harsh on the Colonel. Remember all the medical improvements we’ve been able to make over the last sixteen years thanks to Subject Alpha’s sacrifices. Surgical techniques, transplant surgery, fertility treatments - those were all thanks to Colonel Smith’s sacrifices too.”
“That’s a fair point. And I know first-hand just how careful you’ve always been to keep Subject Alpha’s suffering to an absolute minimum. I have to admit I did feel bad for the guy at times, though. Can’t have been a lot of fun, spending all that time pregnant.”
“That’s the way science goes sometimes, Major. He’s at peace now. And he lasted a lot longer than we could ever have hoped, let’s face it. He was strong until the very end. Truly the ideal specimen.”
“So where does the project go from here, Doctor? Obviously you had intended to continue with Subject Alpha’s first two daughters but that’s no longer possible thanks to that trigger-happy retrieval team.”
“The soldiers in question have been reprimanded, I believe, though I know they were told to bring the Smith family in dead or alive. Technically, they did their jobs perfectly. And don’t forget we already have Subject Beta, Subject Alpha’s firstborn son.”
“Oh yes. He’s just turned fifteen, hasn’t he?”
“Indeed. I know his supervisors were intending to wait another year before starting him on the programme but, with the deaths of Subject Alpha and the girls, they’ve already brought him in to the lab ready to begin. His retrieval team were thankfully successful without any shots fired.”
“And I presume we’ve kept track of Subject Alpha’s other children, both biological and surrogates? At last count I believe there were thirteen still living, no longer including Emily and Eve Smith?”
“Only twelve now, unfortunately. One of his younger biological sons was killed in a car accident a few weeks ago along with his adoptive parents.”
“How tragic. Still, at least there are enough future subjects for our project to continue its good work.”
“Oh yes, we certainly have no shortage of potential directions for our research to take. Subject Alpha will be missed but not forgotten, and his surviving children will ensure we remain at the forefront of medical research for many years to come.”
“I’m sure he’d be pleased and proud to know his legacy will live on in aeternum.”
“Indeed. Now, shall we continue, Major?”
“Yes, Doctor. I believe we shall.”
Sequel and conclusion: Resolution.
Part One
“So, it looks like I’m going to have another baby sister in about five months’ time.”
Emily turns to her best friend Samira in surprise. “Really? Your Mom’s pregnant again already?” Samira’s baby brother is barely a year old, and she has three other siblings as well. That’s quite a big family, especially to someone like Emily who only has one younger sister and her Dad. “Wow, and she’s four months gone? Did you know?”
Samira shrugs, trying to appear like she’s not bothered, though Emily can tell she’s secretly delighted. “I had my suspicions. They waited until now to tell us, wanted to be sure it was all okay apparently.”
“And is it? All okay, I mean?”
“Yeah, looks that way. A few more sleepless nights heading our way, I guess!”
“You’re okay with that?” Emily asks, curiously. She’d love another younger brother or sister, as much as she both loves and hates Eve at times - three years younger, constantly stealing Emily’s clothes and makeup - though it doesn’t look like that will happen for her any time soon, not as long as her Dad stays single. “Another sister?
Another shrug from her best friend. “It’ll balance things out, I guess, when she gets a bit older. Three boys and three girls - maybe Mom and Dad’ll stop at six!”
Emily laughs out loud at that. “From my experience, I think you’ll need a tie-breaker at some point!” Three in Emily’s family, and her Dad has always been a great believer in both of his girls having a say in how things in the family home are run. There’s at least one vote a day in the Smith household, on everything from what to have for dinner to what colour towels to buy.
Just as Samira is about to reply, the bell goes for fifth period, and both girls grab their bags and head off to class, parting ways with a quick hug.
* * *
The thought of actually having another brother or sister plays on Emily’s mind all afternoon, and all the way home. Perhaps she’s a little quieter than normal, a little more thoughtful, something her Dad seems to notice when he’s making her a quick peanut butter and jello sandwich after she gets in.
“Rough day, sweetheart?” Her Dad is wearing the pink apron Emily had bought for Eve last year, when Eve had been obsessed with some British baking show for a few months, and it really doesn’t suit him at all. At well over six foot tall and with the broadest shoulders she’s even seen, her Dad belongs in his Army uniform rather than in jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a pink flowery apron. Not that Emily would dare say anything to him.
She shrugs, takes a sip of her iced tea. “Just something Samira said today.”
Dad plops her sandwich down in front of her before taking a seat opposite her at the breakfast bar. “And what’s that then? Something you can’t tell your old man, I guess? Teenage girl stuff? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Prom dresses?”
“You’re not so old,” Emily replies almost automatically, cutting her Dad off before he can get into full swing. Truth be told, as much as they had a few issues when Emily was a bit younger, now she’s sixteen they seem to have settled into a newer, more grown-up sort of relationship. He’d even taken her shopping for her prom dress a few times, though he has very different ideas of what passes for ‘fashion’ these days.
Meaning that he has absolutely no idea about fashion at all. But Emily gives him points for trying, and she loves him dearly.
“So what’s up then? Don’t tell me you two have had a falling out.”
“No, nothing like that.” Emily bites her lip for a second, wondering whether to tell her Dad the truth. He’s always been a bit too sensitive talking about the origins of their own little family, and she finds she is strangely reluctant to talk about Samira’s growing number of siblings.
It’s always been just the three of them, no grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins, though Dad has been all the family they could ever need. Emily has never known who her mother is, though she knows she is biologically her Dad’s daughter, whereas Eve isn’t biologically related to either of them. Dad has never hidden that much from them, and it’s always just been an accepted fact, though even at a glance, a stranger would be able to tell that much: Emily has her Dad’s blue-grey eyes and his height, while Eve has the brightest blue eyes Emily has even seen, and Emily’s hair is straight and fine and very brown, while Eve’s is full and curly, an unusual caramel coloured.
Even in temperament they can be very different at times: Eve is always quick-witted and sharp-tongued, and she can wrap anyone around her little finger, while Emily knows she is more thoughtful and less keen to be the centre of attention.
But biology is just biology, and the two girls are sisters. As much as they might fight at times, and they can each be vicious towards the other on occasion, Emily knows in her heart that they will always have each other’s backs.
Emily has always assumed that Eve was adopted, while she assumes that her Dad either separated from her own Mom soon after she was born or perhaps even used a surrogate to have her. It’s always been quite clear to her that her Dad is gay, though he’s never dated as far as she’s aware, either man or woman.
They don’t ask, and Dad doesn’t tell them. That’s just the way it is.
But there has to be a story there, and she and Eve used to sit up at night, long after their bedtime, wondering about their Dad’s Great Lost Love. Perhaps a fellow soldier had been the love of their Dad’s life, tragically lost in battle before they could start a family of their own - their Dad is still a Colonel by name, though he works out of some top secret research facility rather than going off to war, and he’s a good few years beyond the official retirement age. He works odd hours sometimes, and every other weekend, but she loves having him around so much, particularly now he’s finally decided his girls don’t need a full time Nanny, just the occasional babysitter when he has to work a night shift.
“Emily? Sweetheart, are you with me?” Her Dad’s softly spoken question jars Emily back out of her thoughts, and she blinks up to see concerned blue-grey eyes watching her closely.
She nods, taking a huge bite out of her sandwich - Dad makes the best peanut butter and jello, somehow getting the ratios exactly right each time - and chewing harder and longer than is absolutely necessary. But her Dad knows how to be patient and he sits perfectly still, watching and waiting, until Emily has no choice but to swallow and answer.
“It’s nothing, Dad. Really.” Her Dad raises one eyebrow in silent question, still sitting perfectly still, and while a younger Emily would have stormed out in a tantrum, the sixteen year old Emily sighs and gives in. “Her Mom is pregnant again. Baby number six. A girl, apparently.”
Something unreadable flashes deep in her Dad’s eyes, just for a second, before an easy grin appears on his face. “Six kids, well, isn’t that something.”
Emily takes a breath and continues. “I think she’s looking forward to having another sister. To balance out the numbers, apparently.” Her Dad’s grin is starting to look a little forced, and she ploughs on before she loses the nerve. “It just made me wonder why you never had any more kids. Did you ever want a son? Or another daughter? You could have used a surrogate, or adopted, maybe.”
“Emily, love…” Her Dad runs one hand back through his short silver-grey hair, a gesture she’s always associated with frustration. “The two of you are so much more than I ever thought I would have. You’re more than enough for me. And you know that’s the end of the conversation.”
“But Dad - ”
“No, Emily.” Those sharp blue-grey eyes flicker up to the clock on the kitchen wall, and Emily knows it’s over. Sure enough, her Dad pushes up to his feet and leans over to peck a warm kiss to her cheek. “I need to go pick up your sister from soccer practice. And you need to get started on your homework, I think.”
“Yes, Dad.” Algebra, English lit, and economics. Oh joy. “And, Dad?”
Her Dad pauses in the kitchen doorway, car keys already in hand. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Lose the apron, maybe?” And Emily has to laugh as the great and illustrious Colonel John ‘Hannibal’ Smith shimmies out of his pink flowery apron before blowing her a kiss as he swoops out of the house.
Part Two
There must be something in the water, as barely three days later Eve announces that her friend Jose’s Dad is pregnant. “Isn’t it amazing?” Eve gushes at Emily, lying sprawled across her sister’s bed while Eve is trying on outfits for her date with occasional boyfriend Joshua. “That men can do that, I mean. Not that skirt, it makes you look fat.”
Sighing, Emily obediently unzips the blue skirt and holds up the red one instead, waiting for Eve’s nod of approval before starting to change yet again. “It is pretty amazing,” she agrees. “It makes everything so much more equal now that men can carry the kids as well.”
“Exactly!” Eve rolls onto her back, her head hanging off the end of Emily’s bed as she continues to watch her sister in the mirror, long curly hair nearly reaching the floor. “Why should only women have to deal with stretch marks and morning sickness and swollen ankles? I love that it’s becoming more common at last.”
The technology has been around for about fifteen years or so, Emily seems to remember from health ed class, though it’s only really become common outside of research facilities in the last decade. A sudden thought strikes her, and she has to smile. “How do you think they decided who was going to be the carrier? Did they roll a dice? Or lose a bet?”
“Apparently Jose’s Papa is going to carry the next one,” Eve tells her immediately, just as Emily pulls up the red skirt to discover a tear in the seam. She pushes it back down with a sigh, wishing she could just wear her jeans. Eve climbs off the bed as elegantly as always, even though she’s all arms and legs at the moment in the middle of a growth spurt, and pushes past Emily to get into the wardrobe. “Here, let me see.”
“You know what’s in there better than I do,” Emily points out with a huff, dropping down into the chair by her dressing table as she watches her baby sister rummage through her clothes.
“Then you really should just let me dress you at all times.” Eve thrusts a black pencil skirt at her, something Emily had forgotten she owned, before flouncing back on to the bed with a bounce. “I’ve decided I’m going to be a stylist when I grow up.”
Knowing full well that Eve decided on a new career at least once a month, Emily bites her lip in an effort to avoid making a snarky comment. She’s only ever had one ambition in her life: to join the Army, just like their Dad, though as yet she’s unsure whether to join as a regular officer or look at getting into flight training as a pilot.
She can just imagine the look of horror on their Dad’s face when she brings it up for the first time, and she’s fully prepared to argue her case - Dad has always been fully supportive of everything and anything his two girls have wanted to try, and Emily knows he’ll come around to the idea of his baby girl joining the military, but he’ll fight her over it for a time. She knows he wants nothing more than to keep them both safe and protected. Maybe that’s a Dad thing, or just a single-Dad thing. Either way, it’s adorable.
Zipping the skirt up, Emily steps into her favourite pink heels and straightens her shirt, checking out her reflection in the mirror. She needs to brush her hair, and maybe a little lipstick, but - “Well? Will I do?”
Eve pauses, pulling a thoughtful face. “Where’s he taking you again?”
“La Bistro.” A little posher than anything she’s used to, but Joshua comes from money and likes to spoil her every now and then. Emily finds she doesn’t mind at all, and he’s a sweet, kind guy, though she really, really would rather wear jeans.
“You look perfect, Em. Your ass looks amazing.” Eve sticks her tongue out at Emily in the mirror as Emily feels her cheeks heat in a blush. “And can I borrow those shoes sometime?”
“No.” Though Emily knows Eve will find them, wherever she hides them, then she’ll likely never see them again. “Evie, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” Eve is up off the bed again with the energy of an annoying thirteen year old, rummaging through Emily’s small selection of makeup.
“Did you ever think about what it would be like to have another sister, or a brother?”
“You mean, if Dad adopted again?” Eve suddenly stops, then looks around at Emily in faux-horror. “Or if he carried his own child? Yuck. Can you imagine Dad being pregnant? Oh god, Dad isn’t pregnant is he? Please, tell me that’s not true.”
“Yuck! No, he certainly isn’t.” That’s not a pleasant image at all. Emily can picture her Dad pregnant and hormonal, sobbing his eyes out over daytime telly while stuffing himself with pickles, stomach swollen to look like he’d swallowed a watermelon. “No. Just, ew, no. No, I was just thinking.”
“Personally, I think one sister is more than enough,” Eve announces, though Emily can hear a tiny thread of uncertainty in her sister’s voice.
“You don’t ever wonder where we came from?” It’s been a while since they’ve talked about this, both of them somewhat accepting of their Dad’s strange reluctance to discuss the matter. “If you were adopted, then maybe you do have another family somewhere. A brother or a sister. And maybe I have a Mom, or a half-brother, or - ”
“Stop it, Em. Even if any of that’s true, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got Dad, and we’ve got each other. That’s enough.” That’s so similar to what their Dad had said to Emily the other day, and it makes her pause, even as Eve shakes her head firmly. “I don’t want to know anything else. I don’t care about anything else.”
The last thing Emily wants is to upset her sister, and she immediately feels bad. “Okay, Evie, okay. I’m sorry. You want to do my makeup?”
Eve immediately perks up at the idea and the topic of families is forgotten for a time, though in the back of Emily’s mind, even as Eve proceeds to use every single piece of makeup she owns, she can’t help wondering about the truth.
Part Three
“Dad? I need to ask you something.” Freshly home from school, Emily sticks her head into the kitchen, fully expecting to see her Dad’s tall figure bent over the oven getting dinner ready, only to find it empty. It was meant to have been his day off. “Dad? Where are you at?”
“Is that you, Em?” Heavy footsteps upstairs, then the distinctive sound of her Dad’s work boots on the stairs.
“Kitchen,” she calls back, settling into her usual spot at the breakfast bar.
Moments later, her Dad appears in the doorway, tugging on his uniform jacket. “Sorry, kid. I’ve got to go in. Something’s happening.”
Emily could’ve guessed that much; it happened every now and then, an emergency of some sort at the lab. She knows better than to ask, having grown up around ‘top secret’ and ‘classified’. Instead, she just shrugs, holding out her hand with a grin and waiting until Dad holds out his wallet to her. “Pizza for me and Eve tonight, then.”
“You could always try cooking for a change!”
“You’ve tasted my cooking. Do you really want me to poison my little sister?” Emily exchanges a knowing grin with her Dad. “Just quickly, before you go, can I ask you something?”
“I’ve really got to hurry, Emily.” Dad seems distracted, grabbing his keys from the side and patting his pockets. “I might not be back for a day or two. You sure you don’t want me to call Mrs Turnbull over to look after you girls?”
“We’ll be fine. Dad, I just need - ”
“I won’t have my phone on me.” He never did, something about the classified nature of his work. “Call the main office if you need anything, and they can get hold of me. Promise me you’ll look after Eve? And no parties, okay?”
Tempting, but no. “I promise.” Emily jumps up off her seat to give her Dad a quick kiss and a hug, then takes a breath and blurts out, “Dad, just quickly, I need my birth certificate for a biology project. It’s for extra credit. Do you know where it is?”
A shadow seems to pass briefly over her Dad’s face, though that could’ve been the low lighting in the kitchen. “Sorry, baby. Haven’t seen it in years. Hope you can manage your project without it.” He pecks her on the cheek one last time. “Got to go. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Emily stands in the kitchen until she hears the front door click closed behind him, then immediately heads towards his study. If it’s going to be anywhere, her birth certificate will be there, somewhere in one of his filing cabinets.
She wasn’t lying. There really is a biology project, and ideally she really does need her birth certificate, though it’s far from essential. But the idea of finding out who her mother was had been playing on her mind more and more often lately; not necessarily to try to meet her, but just to know who she had been. To know something of why her Dad had raised her alone, and also to know something of where Eve might have come from.
But the moment she steps inside the room and closes the door behind herself, she wonders if this is actually a good idea after all.
Being in her Dad’s study without him feels deeply wrong, somehow. The two girls have never been banned from going in there, but they have always been raised to know that it is their father’s private space. A battered old leather sofa spans the length of one wall with a reading lamp at one end, then another wall full of stark metal filing cabinets, and a huge desk in front of a window overlooking their garden. Bookcases fill the final wall, floor to ceiling and overflowing with battered volumes, everything from spy thrillers and military memoirs to legal textbooks and medical books.
There are framed photos on the desk, pictures that Emily has seen a thousand times. Some are duplicates of the ones hanging in their living room, of herself and Eve as babies and growing up. Their first days at school, nervous toothy grins fixed in place. Other photos are clearly more personal, showing a younger version of their Dad in uniform with various groups of soldiers, in the desert or amongst mountains or in tents.
Emily pauses over one particular photo, reaching out to stroke her fingers gently over the platinum frame as she always does. It’s a photo of her Dad, maybe twenty years younger but already with silvery grey hair, and another younger man, both of them in uniform and wearing bullet proof vests. The younger man is holding what Emily assumes to be a sniper’s rifle, and the two men are standing so close together it almost appears they were leaning on each other, two pairs of bright blue eyes shining as they smile into the camera, her Dad’s hand resting almost protectively on his younger comrade’s shoulder.
This photo has always made Emily pause. There’s something about the younger man, something in his eyes and his face that have always seemed strangely familiar somehow. Something in the way the two soldiers stand so close together.
It isn’t that the photo is in a particularly prominent position on the desk, nor that he is the only soldier pictured alone with her Dad - there are other photos, of her Dad laughing with a dark-skinned man with a Mohawk and a wicked grin, of him arm in arm with a crazy-haired man in a pilot’s uniform, of him sharing cigars with an older soldier wearing General’s stars - but there is just something in those particular blue eyes that always makes Emily wonder.
She’d asked her Dad who he was, of course, and he’d usually shrugged her off, though once he had actually replied with shining eyes, “The bravest and most selfless man I’ve ever known.”
Emily shakes herself, lifting her fingers away from the photos abruptly and turning to the filing cabinets. She has to stay focussed: get in, find her birth certificate, and get out again. Eve will be home in an hour or so - cheerleading practise tonight - and Dad will know if anything has been moved.
The cabinets are locked, of course, but a quick glance in the first two drawers of the desk reveals a tiny silver key which soon allows Emily access.
She has no real idea what she’s looking for, beyond her birth certificate, and the folders upon folders of paperwork seem utterly overwhelming at first. Some are labelled, and she quickly dismisses ones containing copies of household bills and deeds for the house and car. There are a couple labelled ‘Insurance’ and she mentally makes a note to come back to those, before opening the second cabinet.
Jackpot. Two folders stand out immediately, one labelled ‘Emily’ and one ‘Eve’.
Careful to remember exactly where the folders had been, Emily lifts both out and carries them over to sit on the leather sofa, resting them on her knees. Her earlier nerves return at full force, her hands trembling slightly. Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe Dad has good reasons for never telling them anything more than he has.
Shaking herself, Emily quickly thumbs open the folder with her name on it before she can change her mind. And there, sitting right at the top, is her birth certificate.
The first thought that crosses her mind is the realisation that her Dad has lied to her.
The second thought is that she’s about to find out her mother’s name.
The third thought is one of confusion, when she scans quickly over the certificate to find no name listed. At least, not the name of a person. Instead, there is the name of a place, one she knows well, though she has never actually set foot inside it.
‘John Smith’ is listed as her father, exactly as expected, and her birth date is spot on, but in the space for her mother’s name there is only the name and address of the top-secret research lab where her Dad works.
And two initials: ‘T P’.
In something of a daze she quickly skims through the rest of her folder, but there are no answers or further surprises, just copies of her immunisation certificates and all her school reports. A few crayon drawings done in a childish hand, clearly her Dad’s favourites. A small pouch containing a wisp of soft baby hair tied in a pink ribbon, and a carefully folded piece of tissue paper that, when opened as carefully as Emily can, reveals what has to have been her first tooth.
Confused, upset, but aware that her time is running short, Emily moves quickly on to Eve’s folder. She has no idea what to expect, but a glance at her sister’s birth certificate - at the top of the pile, just as hers had been - shows the same two initials, ‘T P’, but this time listed as ‘father’. The address of the lab is once again listed as ‘mother’, and there are no further initials or names anywhere.
But the second document is an adoption certificate, dated the same day Eve was born, with their Dad’s name on and granting Eve the surname ‘Smith’.
“Emily?” The unexpected sound of Eve’s voice is immediately followed by the heavy slamming of the front door. “Where are you? I’m starving!”
As quickly as she can, Emily slides the two folders back into the filing cabinet, mind spinning. Instinctively she doesn’t want Eve to find her here, and as tempting as it is to tell Eve everything she’s found, and all the questions she now has, she also wants some time to think first. Telling her baby sister right now won’t help.
But the idea of confronting her Dad about any of this? That seems out of the question.
Part Four
Eve does seem to sense that her sister is upset over something, but to Emily’s great relief she doesn’t ask and the evening passes comfortably with pizza and a movie, both of them in their pjs just vegging out in the living room. Emily gives up on any vague idea of doing homework and Eve, as always, needs absolutely no encouragement to do the same.
Emily is incredibly glad of the distraction, and the utter normality of the night, though her thoughts keep drifting back towards what she had found in her Dad’s study. As the film plays on she can’t help thinking about reasons why a top-secret Army research lab would be listed on both of their birth certificates. And those initials - a ‘T’ and a ‘P’ - what could they mean? It could be a name, of course, the most obvious answer, or perhaps something else related to the lab.
The more she thinks about it, the more her stomach twists into knots.
And the more she thinks about it, the more she realises she will simply have to ask her Dad. Which will mean confessing that she’s been in his study and in his files.
But for the rest of that evening, she tries her hardest to put it all out of her mind, and simply enjoys her baby sister’s company. They are just arguing over whether to put on a second film or switch over to watch the latest Real Housewives of Emily-really-doesn’t-care, when they unexpectedly hear a key in the front door.
For a moment the girls just stare at each other. “I thought you said Dad was gone overnight, or maybe longer?” Eve asks Emily, obviously confused, and Emily just shrugs even as her brain goes into overdrive trying to remember exactly what he’d said. He’d been so distracted, so worried.
“He wasn’t sure, but there was definitely some big emergency. He said he might well be at work for a couple of days.”
There’s no time to clear up the empty pizza boxes scattered over the coffee table, or even to hide the empty wine glasses - just a single glass each, pretty restrained of them really, Emily feels, quietly praying their Dad will feel the same way when he spots them with his eagle eyes.
“Girls?” But their Dad sounds subdued, somehow, his footsteps slow and heavy in the hall. “Are you in?”
“Of course we’re in, Dad.” Emily’s gut instinct is telling her to go him, and she scrambles to her feet. “In the living room.”
“Something’s wrong,” Eve breathes, her own instincts clearly kicking in, just as their Dad appears in the doorway.
The first thing Emily notices is how pale he looks. Their Dad is always tanned, always glowing, but right now he looks almost grey, his lips almost blue. More worrying still is the fact that his eyes are rimmed with red. Has he been crying?
“Dad…” Emily crosses the room quickly, stepping over a pizza box, and pulls him immediately down into a hug. His strong arms lock around her waist at once, and he drops a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. “What happened? You’re back early. Is everything all right?”
For a long moment he says nothing at all, just holding her close, almost painfully tight, and to Emily’s surprise she realises she can feel him shaking. Something awful has to have happened. She’s never seen him upset, not once, not even when they rushed to the hospital after Eve had fallen off a horse while learning to ride. Perhaps he might cry behind his closed bedroom door, but in front of them he is always unflappable, solid, reliable. But now…
Dad kisses Emily again, on the cheek this time, before suddenly letting her go and stepping towards her sister. “Eve, come here, sweetheart.” He sounds broken, his deep voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper, and Emily exchanges worried glances with Eve as her sister stands quickly.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Eve asks as she practically falls into their Dad’s arms. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
“Oh, Eve. My baby girl.” Emily watches, confused, as Dad embraces her younger sister briefly before cupping her cheeks in his huge hands, staring into her face as if mesmerised. “My darling.”
There are all kinds of alarm bells ringing in her mind, and Emily takes a steadying breath. “Dad, you’re scaring us a little,” she says softly, slowly. “Please, what’s up?”
His eyes flick over at her briefly. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Emily, love. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… It’s just… Something happened at work, that’s all. Someone died, unexpectedly.” Their Dad’s voice cracks as he adds, “Someone who meant a lot to me.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Eve tells him immediately, her bright blue eyes clearly filling with sympathetic tears as she stares up into his face, still held in place by his gentle grip. “Was it a really good friend of yours?”
When there is no answer immediately forthcoming, Emily slides up behind their Dad and wraps her arms around his stomach, resting her cheek in between his shoulder blades. She can feel him shaking badly, strong muscles trembling in her grip. “Dad, who was it?” she asks hesitantly.
Their Dad doesn’t have many close friends, never has done. He doesn’t bring people home, doesn’t date, doesn’t really socialise beyond the occasional parent-teacher-association meeting at their school. For him to be this devastated… Emily can’t even begin to think who he’s lost. But her heart breaks for him, and all thoughts of birth certificates fly far from her mind.
In a shaky whisper, their Dad eventually replies, “He was the best man I have ever known. He was so brave, and so selfless… He would have been so incredibly proud of you, Eve.” Almost as an afterthought, he turns his head to look over his shoulder at Emily and quickly adds, “And you too, Emily. He would have been so proud of you both. My two baby girls.”
And for the first time ever, to Emily and Eve’s surprise, their Dad breaks down in floods of tears.
Part Five
It’s been two days since their Dad’s breakdown, and Emily has barely seen him since. He’d cried in their arms for a few short minutes, then pulled himself back together with a visible effort, kissing them both before disappearing upstairs to his bedroom. Emily and Eve had waited together nervously until he reappeared an hour later, wearing a fresh uniform shirt and carrying an overnight bag. He’d told them both how much he loved them and disappeared again, back to work.
He’s phoned them twice, just to check in, and had clearly been home at some point yesterday as Emily had come home from school to find a chicken casserole in the slow cooker.
It feels both strange and wonderful for Emily to have the house all to herself now, with Eve having stayed over at a friend’s last night. It’s Saturday, and she has no plans for the morning, though she’s meeting Joshua at two to catch a movie and a burger, then Samira is having a party tonight. Emily really needs Eve to pick out an outfit for her, a fact which annoys the hell out of her but will delight her baby sister.
Now, sitting at the breakfast bar eating toast and Nutella, a breakfast her Dad would most definitely not approve of, Emily is happily lost in her book when she suddenly hears a car screeching to a halt on the driveway. She’s barely halfway out of her seat when her Dad comes barrelling through the back door, his hair wild and his eyes bloodshot.
“Dad? What’s wrong?” Emily’s first thought is that someone else has died, or something disastrous has happened at the lab. He doesn’t look hurt but - “Are you okay?”
Rather than answer her questions, her Dad crosses quickly to her side and takes her by the elbow, guiding her towards the hall rather forcefully. “Emily, thank God.” His words are low, hushed. “Quickly now, please. You need to pack a bag for me, sweetheart, just enough for a few nights.”
“Dad, what - ?”
“Please, baby, don’t argue. Where’s Eve? Still in bed, right? She needs to get up and pack too. We’re going away for a little while, okay?”
Emily can’t help but resist a little as her Dad urges her towards the stairs, though his grip is like a steel band around her arm. “Eve’s round at Bethany’s, she won’t be back until four at the earliest.”
Her Dad swears under his breath, and Emily gasps - he never swears, and makes them put a dollar in the swear jar every time they do - but he doesn’t even pause before barrelling right on. “Then you pack a bag for your sister too, Emily. We’ll pick her up on the way.”
They’re moving quickly now, and Emily stumbles over her feet, trying to pull her arm free. “Dad, stop - ”
“Don’t argue with me, Emily - ”
“Dad, you’re hurting me!” At Emily’s cry, her Dad finally stops in his tracks in the middle of the hallway, letting her go and turning towards her with a look of horror in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. Oh baby, forgive me, but we need to move fast. I can’t let them take you.” Before Emily can even begin to process that, he adds urgently, almost angrily, “They promised me that you were mine, both of you. My two girls. I won’t let them take you from me.”
“Take me?” Emily doesn’t have any idea what her Dad is talking about, and he’s really scaring her now. “I don’t understand, Dad. Who wants to take me?”
He shakes his head violently, before collapsing down to sit heavily on the stairs, anguished eyes staring at her intently and hands balled into fists on his knees. When he speaks again, his words almost trip over themselves in his obvious haste. “If they take you, they’ll run tests on you, do experiments on you. Just like they experimented on him for all these years. Christ, I’ve been so blind.”
“Who, Dad? Who did they - ?”
“Your carrier, Emily. The man who carried you in his body for nine months.”
Suddenly, there isn’t enough air in the hallway, and Emily sways back to brace herself against the wall opposite him. “I don’t understand,” she whispers, and her Dad buries his head in his hands briefly before looking back up at her, resignation in his bright blue eyes.
“You were the first,” he tells her, his words slow and deliberate, as if begging her to understand. “The very first baby to ever be carried to term inside a human male.”
It hits her almost like a physical blow.
The name of the lab on her birth certificate.
The initials.
Her whole life has been a lie.
Part Six
All the pieces of Emily’s world are tumbling down around her as she stands motionless in the hallway, propped up against the wall. The undeniable truths of her life - her Dad, her sister - suddenly cannot be trusted, and she wants nothing more than to wake up. This has to be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.
Not even for a second does she think her Dad might be lying to her. This is the truth, she can somehow tell.
Not the whole truth, though, not yet. Eventually she finds the strength to speak, though her legs are shaking, barely able to hold her up. “Oh my God, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me?”
But her Dad simply ignores Emily’s stuttered question and carries on as if she had never spoken, his gaze turning somewhere internal, unfocused. “He was the first, you see. You were created from my sperm and a donor egg, and implanted surgically into a specially grown uterus. Implanted into him.”
An experiment, he’d said earlier, and Emily hears herself ask, as if from a great distance - “He chose to be part of that, though, right? Please, please tell me he wanted that?”
Her Dad doesn’t answer.
Instead, he keeps right on narrating their twisted family history, and Emily stares at him in horror, terrified to even blink.
“It worked so well, and you were so perfect…” A tiny flash of a proud smile lights up his face, even as the first glint of tears appear in his eyes. “So perfect that they wanted to replicate the experiment. He carried a second pregnancy to term, a boy, and the doctors were able to finesse all the medication and hormones and surgical techniques. And they wanted to continue. And then they wanted to see if he could carry his own child.”
It’s another nearly physical blow, and Emily feels all the air leave her lungs in a huge gasp. This is too much to truly process, but she is her father’s daughter and her mind leaps three steps ahead even as her heart seems to stutter when she realises. “Eve…” she whispers, almost without thinking, and her Dad looks up at her with tortured eyes. “She’s his daughter. His biological daughter.” It isn’t a question.
A single nod. “Yes.”
“And he carried her inside him.”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“And - oh, God, he’s your ‘friend’, isn’t he? The one who died. The one who would’ve been so proud of both of us.” All the pieces are tumbling into place now, an entire lifetime of secrets and lies collapsing around them only to reform in a terrible new shape, and Emily steps forward away from the wall with a burst of strength, anger starting to burn in her veins.
So many questions. So many lies.
“Yes.” In contrast her Dad seems to sag further onto the stairs, his tall frame crumpled in on itself. He looks tortured, miserable. He looks desperate. “Emily, sweetheart, I can explain everything - ”
“He didn’t volunteer at all, did he?” She doesn’t know how she knows, but her Dad flinches, and she knows.
“Emily, baby - ”
“He’s been kept inside that lab of yours for all these years, a prisoner, going through pregnancy after pregnancy, and experiments…” He nods again, just once, before hanging his head low, and she can hardly believe she has to ask the next question. But she does. “How many?”
“Emily - ”
“How many, Dad?” She’s practically shouting now, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “How many pregnancies did you force him through? How many children did he carry?”
How many brothers and sisters does she have, biological or otherwise?
Her Dad squeezes his eyes shut, taking a long, slow breath before answering, clearly reluctantly. “He was pregnant seventeen times.” Then, something visibly shifts, his spine straightening, his shoulders squaring. When he continues, he suddenly sounds so cold, so clinical, that Emily shivers. This is the Colonel, rather than her Dad. Detached. Unemotional. “He couldn’t carry them all to term. He carried then lost your twin brothers, years ago. It wasn’t his fault. Multiples were always hard on him. But he was cared for, in the lab. They kept him safe, and gave him everything he needed.”
Like freedom? Or the chance to know his own daughter? Emily is having none of it. She can’t even imagine what kind of hell this poor man - her carrier, Eve’s biological father - had suffered for all her life. “What was his name?” she asks loudly, viciously pleased to see her Dad flinch anew, his blue eyes flashing.
“It’s still classified, I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. You took his freedom, his life - hell, you took his daughter from him too, and raised her as your own.” Emily can’t even bear to think how Eve will react to all this, and she’s almost on autopilot now, with no idea where her courage is coming from or what she will say next. She would never have dared stand up to her Dad like this previously. But she clearly doesn’t know him at all. “Surely you didn’t take his name too? So tell me.”
Her Dad suddenly frowns, confused. “I took…? No, Emily, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t take anything from him. It was an experiment, and none of it was my doing. The doctors and nurses, the scientists, they were the ones - ”
“But you worked there all these years. You knew what was happening. You were there. You didn’t tell us, and you let it happen. Tell me his name.”
She stares him down, chest tight with anger, until finally he nods and whispers a single word. “Face.”
“What the hell kind of name is that?”
Her Dad actually has the nerve to smile at her reaction, just a little. “It’s his handle. His nickname. We served together, years ago, and he always preferred to be called Face. His full name is - was - Templeton Peck. Temp. My Temp.”
TP. Another piece of the puzzle slides suddenly into place, immediately followed by another. “The man in the photo,” Emily gasps, lifting one hand to her mouth in shock.
“What?”
“The photo on your desk. The man with the sniper rifle and the blue eyes.” All these years she’s wondered why that man seems familiar, with his curly hair and his incredibly bright eyes, and now she knows. “Eve has the same eyes. He’s your Face. He’s her father.”
Her Dad winces as if she’d struck him with her words. “Yes,” he manages with a shaky nod. “She is so much like him. Just like you are so much like me. Always three steps ahead of me. You are the two greatest achievements of my life, but we have to move, and we have to go now. Or they will take you from me and I will not let that happen.”
With a sudden surge of strength he stands quickly back up to his full height, reaching out as if to take Emily by the arm again, but she dances backwards out of his reach, shaking her head angrily.
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you now - ”
“I’m still your father.” He takes a single step closer, shaking his head with his hand still outstretched, and his voice turns softer, almost begging her. “You can be mad at me, you can hate me if you must, but we have to go right this second. There is no other way. They are coming, sweetheart, any minute now they are coming for you.”
“No…” What could they possibly want with her? Even given the apparent circumstances of her birth, assuming her Dad has told her the whole truth, it all sounds like something from a bad horror movie, and Emily’s instinct is to run. Everything she thought she knew is falling apart right in front of her eyes. “There’s no way in hell.”
“Baby, please listen to me. I love you, and I’ve made such a mess of this. I can explain better, and answer all your questions, and I wish I could say I’m sorry but I’m not. Face gave me the greatest gifts possible when he gave you and Eve life, and maybe I did him an injustice - ”
“Maybe?” Emily is incredulous, aware that she’s all but screaming at him.
“ - But he’s gone now. I can’t change that, no matter how much I might want him back. And I have to save you girls or this has all been for nothing.”
For a moment there is silence in the hallway, both of them frozen in place, and Emily is suddenly aware that she is weeping, hot tears slipping silently down her face. Her Dad looks devastated and desperate, and he’s still her Dad, and maybe.
Maybe.
Then there is the harsh rattle of warning gunfire from somewhere just outside, and a voice calling over a loudspeaker, “Colonel Smith, you’re surrounded. Come out now with your hands up.”
Part Seven
It truly is something from a horror movie, or a nightmare. Emily is completely frozen in place, her heart in her mouth as the demand is repeated again, louder and more insistent.
“Colonel Smith, come out of the house now, with your hands in the air.”
“No,” her Dad whispers, his anguished eyes locked on Emily as they stand face to face in the hallway. He isn’t moving either, apart from the tiniest shake of his head. “I won’t let them take you.”
“Dad?” Emily whispers back, but he immediately holds up his hand to silence her.
“Upstairs, sweetheart. Now.”
“Dad - ”
“No, please. Don’t fight me now.” Suddenly there is a gun in his hand, and Emily feels her heart skip a beat. He’s never had guns in the house, not even once. But he’s been armed this whole time? “Go upstairs, please. Pack a bag like I asked you, as quick as you can. And get ready to run.”
Emily shakes her head now, then squeaks as the sound of another warning round of gunfire fills the air. “Dad, I can’t - ”
“Yes, you can.” He takes one long stride across the hall until he is standing directly in front of her, and with his free hand he smooths Emily’s hair back before kissing her quickly on the forehead, his lips warm and dry. “I love you and your sister more than anything in the whole world, Emily Smith. Please remember that, whatever happens now.”
He steps back from her, weapon drawn up at the ready, as his eyes harden and his face becomes stern. He is the Colonel once again, not her Dad.
And Emily suddenly knows exactly what he’s going to do.
“You’re not going out there, Dad, please…” She tries to snatch at his sleeve, to keep him with her, but he resists. “We can still run together. I need you with me. Eve needs you too.”
“Go.” With a gentle yet firm push, he nudges her towards the stairs and turns to face the front door. His voice is little more than a growl when he adds, “There’s another gun under my mattress. Take it with you.”
And Emily goes, taking the stairs two at a time, even as another burst of gunfire rips through the air. Rather than run to her own bedroom, she takes a sharp turn into her Dad’s room at the front of the house, sliding to her knees as she crawls the last few metres to the window overlooking the driveway.
She doesn’t want to look, but she can’t not look.
Staying low, she can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she peers over the edge of the windowsill, and she gasps when she sees the truth of the situation.
She won’t be able to run.
They are truly surrounded, more than a dozen black-clad soldiers visible at a glance, though Emily is sure there must be even more still hidden from sight. Each soldier is armed, and every weapon is pointed at their front door.
She wishes with all her heart that she had her phone with her, though who could she possibly call for help? The police? The neighbours will almost certainly have done that already, for what little good it will do.
These soldiers clearly aren’t worried about being observed.
“This is your final warning, Colonel Smith.” Emily spots the man with the loudspeaker, front and centre. “Come out of the house now, or we will force entry.”
She can’t see the front door from her vantage point, but she knows the exact moment when her Dad steps outside. Each and every soldier straightens and takes a firmer grip on their weapon, and the loudspeaker is immediately thrown to the ground in favour of a handgun.
“No,” she whispers to herself, tears prickling her eyes and her chest feeling painfully tight. “Please, no.”
Her Dad steps into view, both hands held obediently above his head, though Emily can see his gun tucked into the back of his pants. One soldier steps forwards, gun clearly pointed at her Dad’s head, and he seems to be speaking. Presumably her Dad is speaking in reply, but Emily can’t hear a single word they are saying.
The scene seems to hold for an interminable length of time, the two soldiers talking at some length, one with hands in the air and one with a finger on the trigger of his gun. But then, from the corner of her eye, Emily sees something that makes her gasp in renewed horror.
It’s Eve, walking casually up the street towards their home, her rucksack slung over one shoulder and her bright pink headphones visible even from this distance. She’s early, and she’s clearly lost in her music, smiling down at her phone without a care in the world.
The soldiers know, Emily can tell. Those nearest the hedges at the edge of the Smith property have turned to face away from the house, ducking down to stay as concealed as possible, and unless Eve looks up…
Emily makes the decision in a heartbeat, without even thinking about it. She’ll give away her own position, but this is Eve, her baby sister. They may not share blood but they have shared their entire lives. And Emily pushes to her feet, throwing the window wide open, screaming at the top of her lungs: “Eve, run!”
For a split second she doesn’t think Eve has heard her, and her heart breaks, but then Eve looks up, her bright blue gaze somehow finding Emily’s though they are so very far apart. There is a question there, but Emily shakes her head violently, and somehow Eve gets the message.
Eve drops everything and turns away. She runs.
And then all hell breaks loose in the driveway, as a handful of soldiers break through the hedges in pursuit of Eve while another few sprint towards the front door, clearly coming for Emily. She barely sees her Dad reach for his gun before she turns quickly from the window to hide, though she does hear his anguished cry just before two gunshots ring out loudly in the morning air, a second apart.
A loud splintering sound as the front door is kicked in.
Heavy boots running on the stairs.
Emily dives for the bed, suddenly remembering the second gun, but just as she slides her hand under the mattress the bedroom door is flung wide and
.
Part Eight
“Such a shame it wasn’t possibly to retrieve the two targets alive, Major.”
“Yes, indeed. The death of Subject Alpha’s two eldest daughters is certainly a blow to the project. Though no one will mourn Colonel Smith’s loss.”
“No, you’re right about that much. Such a cold man. I have to say, I don’t think I could ever do that to someone I loved.”
“What do you mean, Doctor?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know? I thought it was common knowledge around here. Subject Alpha used to be Colonel Smith’s lover back when they were both in the Rangers together. The Colonel volunteered him for the project.”
“No way! I can’t believe it. So he put his lover through experimental surgery in order to have a child of his own? Then left him here all those years, working with us and watching him suffer?”
“Now, let’s not be too harsh on the Colonel. Remember all the medical improvements we’ve been able to make over the last sixteen years thanks to Subject Alpha’s sacrifices. Surgical techniques, transplant surgery, fertility treatments - those were all thanks to Colonel Smith’s sacrifices too.”
“That’s a fair point. And I know first-hand just how careful you’ve always been to keep Subject Alpha’s suffering to an absolute minimum. I have to admit I did feel bad for the guy at times, though. Can’t have been a lot of fun, spending all that time pregnant.”
“That’s the way science goes sometimes, Major. He’s at peace now. And he lasted a lot longer than we could ever have hoped, let’s face it. He was strong until the very end. Truly the ideal specimen.”
“So where does the project go from here, Doctor? Obviously you had intended to continue with Subject Alpha’s first two daughters but that’s no longer possible thanks to that trigger-happy retrieval team.”
“The soldiers in question have been reprimanded, I believe, though I know they were told to bring the Smith family in dead or alive. Technically, they did their jobs perfectly. And don’t forget we already have Subject Beta, Subject Alpha’s firstborn son.”
“Oh yes. He’s just turned fifteen, hasn’t he?”
“Indeed. I know his supervisors were intending to wait another year before starting him on the programme but, with the deaths of Subject Alpha and the girls, they’ve already brought him in to the lab ready to begin. His retrieval team were thankfully successful without any shots fired.”
“And I presume we’ve kept track of Subject Alpha’s other children, both biological and surrogates? At last count I believe there were thirteen still living, no longer including Emily and Eve Smith?”
“Only twelve now, unfortunately. One of his younger biological sons was killed in a car accident a few weeks ago along with his adoptive parents.”
“How tragic. Still, at least there are enough future subjects for our project to continue its good work.”
“Oh yes, we certainly have no shortage of potential directions for our research to take. Subject Alpha will be missed but not forgotten, and his surviving children will ensure we remain at the forefront of medical research for many years to come.”
“I’m sure he’d be pleased and proud to know his legacy will live on in aeternum.”
“Indeed. Now, shall we continue, Major?”
“Yes, Doctor. I believe we shall.”
Sequel and conclusion: Resolution.