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estinoseSummary: Wes has just gotten used to his true background when something rocks his world. (Vereco AU)
Disclaimer: All belong to Saban. More or less.
Spoilers: Worlds Apart
Author's note: This is a sequel to It's No Big Deal. I've tried to make it readable without that fic, but you might want to check it out first. Like its predecessor, this was posted on the TimeForceFanfics list. It's intended to answer a question that didn't get answered in the first story.
Rialtson's Legacy
by Estirose
copyright 2001
When it rains, it pours.
Of course, in the summer in Southern California, it doesn't rain very often. Sure, maybe in June, but in July and August it's hot enough sometimes to figuratively fry eggs on the sidewalk, and the rare rainstorm is likely to catch people by surprise. Those who have spent any time in this part of California have come to realize and adjust to this. Wesley Collins, native the area, has been through a few of these storms, but they still catch him by surprise.
* * *
Wes sat out on the balcony, his red shirt tied around his waist. For some reason, he felt comfortable wearing the shirt, although just about anything red felt right to him. He found himself hanging onto his red clothes like a child hung onto their teddy bear, and considered it comfort. And he needed that comfort.
Just a week or two ago, Wes had thought his life was normal, that he was an average young adult born in the 20th century who happened to be involved with a team of Rangers from about a thousand years in his future.
Of course, that was before Trip, seeking to strengthen the security measures on the Morphers, had discovered something unusual about Wes. Now Wes, with the help of his teammates, was trying to cope with being a clone, the clone of Jen's love Alex.
Even with their help, Wes wasn't entirely sure that he'd gotten used to that. The scientists of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries had barely started to successfully clone animals, and even then, according to some research he'd done on the sly, there were still some problems. Humans were a long way from cloning themselves. Heck, they still couldn't clone cats yet!
And yet here he was, a successful, problem-free clone, living in the early twenty-first century. A clone so successful that he hadn't even known that he wasn't anything unusual. Not even that he wasn't really related to the man he had called father. Somebody had done a good job placing him in this time.
He was having trouble accepting the fact that he actually was a thirtieth-century citizen, with full rights and responsibilities. Would the others have to take him with them, when they defeated Ransik and found a way home? Or would he find himself living in the twenty-first century?
Wes doubted even his teammates knew the answer to those questions.
* * *
"Is he sitting out there again?" Lucas asked, glancing over casually towards the balcony to the left of the clock face. He turned his head, but with his back to said opening couldn't see it.
Katie glanced past Lucas' shoulder. "I can't see him," she offered. The two of them were sitting at the table, enjoying a card game. Both of them needed to relax. The whole team did, but Wes especially. Yesterday's encounter with his father, with the man he had considered his father, had shaken him deeply, more deeply than he probably wanted to admit. Mr. Collins might not be related to Wes, but the family ties were still there.
"I think we would have heard it if he fell," Lucas pondered morbidly. "Or jumped."
"I don't think he's suicidal," she said, suddenly wanting to check up on Wes but just as much not wanting to seem to hover. Wes needed his space, especially now. It was too bad that Trip was downstairs manning the desk and phone; the Xybrian seemed to be best at connecting with Wes, even though Trip claimed he had little to no empathic talent.
The other one that seemed to understand Wes best was Jen, who was doing her best to do the team's shopping. They all took turns, but the Time Force officers had all privately agreed that Wes, with his familiarity with his own century, was best at the shopping.
Wes' time was astonishingly primitive. Before she had left her own time period, she'd barely known about his time other than it being when humanity started coming in contact with the rest of the universe. Race still mattered here and it was far from being a paradise, but she and her teammates were adjusting to living here.
And it was Wes' home, despite the century of his birth. If Jen was correct, if Wes was one of the Rialtson clones, then the other clones must be in various times. It would be nice to find them all, to find closure in a case that proved that bigotry was alive and well in humans, whether because of the colour of one's skin or the origin of one's genes.
Then what? To Wes, this century was home in a way that her own time could never be. He would be a thousand years out of date there, a living anachronism. Sure, he would have his teammates, but who else would he have? And what would he do there?
At least he was his own person and not a being that existed just to provide backup for Alex. Katie shuddered inwardly as she tried to imagine Wes as just a hollow-souled version of Alex, with no personality or experience other than his originator's. If it was a tossup between his life here and that, then she was glad that Rialtson had been caught and that Wes had ended up in a place where he could grow up free of that terrible plan.
She was sure that Alex, had he survived, would have been glad of that too.
Casting one worried eye towards the balcony, she discarded a card.
* * *
Wes stared down as he saw 'their' car arrive back at the tower. He could see Jen's dark head appear as she got out, apparently making one more trip without anyone checking to see if she had a driver's license. After Lucas' run-in with the law, they had all been more careful, and Trip for some reason preferred to bicycle. He was probably the smartest of the bunch, biking with that little cart which allowed him to bring home the groceries.
In the early days of his teammates arrival in this time, they'd apparently discovered one little downside to living in the past - no home delivery, at least none that they'd been able to afford. Apparently groceries were, by and large, delivered to one's door in the future, saving the residents from having to figure out how to get to the store if they didn't want to do so.
Another thing he had noticed that none of them shopped very well. Lucas in particular was given to missing the budget. He found that he could sometimes get out of his other duties by volunteering for the grocery runs - and given that he had a valid license and a talent for finding good prices, he was seldom refused.
However, he'd gladly let Jen go today. He hadn't been hot on going into town and running into people he knew. The world outside was oblivious to his difference, and right now, he didn't feel like being out with people who didn't know. His team had shown that they welcomed him even though they knew, and he wasn't sure if he'd feel that acceptance in the outside world, even though it would be beyond the capabilities of people in the present to know.
He had to get this under control. He had to. Being fed meant interacting with people from his own time, working on the odd jobs that Nick Of Time's customers contracted them to do.
Besides, what better to show that Nick of Time was starting to pick up business than to be visible?
Of course, he'd wished to be invisible when his father, the man he had called father anyway, had condemned him for picking up trash. His family was wealthy, always had been. They'd spread from Collinsport, Maine, all the way over to California, having a knack for making money. His father and grandfather had gone to the finest schools money could buy.
It was hard not thinking of his father as his biological father, and he suspected it was an ingrained habit. Even though he detested the man's greed now, he'd spent his entire childhood admiring him, and he had to admit that he didn't have anybody else to call father. Maybe Alex, but he got the impression that they were about the same age. Calling Alex 'father' or 'dad' might well be embarrassing to both of them.
Besides, didn't somebody say that heart, not blood, mattered? Sure, he was ashamed by his father's greed, but he grew up with this family. He could no more disown them completely than he could disown his own arm.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, though, to leave with the others. He had every right to be in the thirtieth century, and there he wouldn't be one of the black sheep of the Collins family. Admittedly he wasn't there yet, but he had a feeling that his infamy would probably spread far and wide among his family members.
But he had an idea that when the time came, he'd choose to stay. After all, he would be about as confused by his teammates' time as they were by his, even more so. A hundred years ago, they didn't have computers. What would the technology be like in 3000? Adapting might prove impossible for him.
Wes got up and made his way back into the building.
* * *
Jen hauled the groceries out of the car and into the building. She thought she'd actually done well during this latest outing. Sure, she wasn't Wes, the undisputed king of grocery shopping, but she thought she was beginning to get the hang of this time.
Turning to Trip, who was on desk duty, she asked, "How are things?"
"Okay, I guess," Trip told her.
"Wes?"
Trip concentrated, his gem glowing. "He was sitting on the balcony, but he's back in now. He's been up there since you left." The glow ceased, and Trip looked up at her. "He's not going to be happy if he found out we're monitoring him."
"So we won't tell him," Jen said firmly. "I just want to keep an eye on him. I think running into his father again really upset him, and I didn't want him to do... anything until he was ready to talk."
"He hasn't," Trip assured her. "But I don't think he's ready to talk, either."
"We'll see about that," Jen said firmly, heading towards the stairs with renewed resolve. "Thanks, Trip."
She took the groceries upstairs and headed towards the pantry, wanting to get those out of the way before she dealt with anything or anyone else. Footsteps vibrated from behind her, and she turned to look. It was Wes. "Want me to give you a hand?"
"Sure," she responded. "I also got some books, but they're down still in the car."
Wes smiled. "Raided the library book sale again?"
Jen tried not to blush. The Rangers had quite taken to the Reader's Digest hardcovers, which were cheap and held a variety of writings. A good team needed to relax and the books kept them all happy. "Want to come help bring them up?" she asked.
"Sure," he responded, still smiling at her. Jen relaxed a bit, thinking that Wes wasn't as badly hurt as she may have thought, and maybe she was being a bit paranoid.
They finished unpacking the groceries, and then she headed towards the stairs, knowing Wes would follow.
* * *
Wes followed Jen, though he knew that his teammate would be waiting patiently for him to open up. Still, he wasn't sure if they really wanted to hear anything bad about their time, even if it was only his ability to adapt to it. Jen, in particular, seemed to be a bit blind to the realities of her time as he saw them. He wondered why people seemed to not have any problems with Trip but found Ransik horrifying, or the other mutants for that matter. Ransik merely looked like he'd been through a bad fire, and Nadira looked like she'd had her hair dyed permanently pink. Admittedly Gluto looked weird, but he would have thought humans would have gotten better at not judging by appearance. Apparently not.
Should he be relieved that his teammates didn't find him at all untrustworthy, at least not because he was what he was? If anything, they had all become more comfortable around him once the surprise had worn off. They'd become more open about their time and what had happened in the past, as if they were catching him up on something that he should have known.
Of course, since he was really from their time, maybe they were preparing him to return with them when Ransik was defeated. From what he knew of the one team that had revealed their identities, the team that had saved Angel Grove and the world, the members of that team were close despite some of them coming from different worlds than the rest. Maybe the others just couldn't see leaving him behind as a valid option. He hoped not.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he obediently followed Jen back to where she'd parked their car. To his surprise, there were two grocery bags full of paperback books, with no hardcovers that he could see. He plucked a green-spined one out of the top of one of the bags. "Green Darkness? That was on the shelves at home...." he said, thinking out loud, and then cursing inwardly about the slip of the tongue.
"It looked good," Jen said defensively, and Wes had to laugh.
"Don't worry, I know they have some weird stuff in those booksales sometimes. That one's been on the shelves in one of our guest bedrooms as long as I can remember."
"You ever read it?"
"Tried to," he admitted, blushing. "It was... weird. I didn't get much out of it though." What he wasn't about to admit to Jen was that he seemed to remember a scene that he was definitely a bit too young to be reading. "I think it's a time travel story, could be wrong, though."
Jen nodded seriously. "Do you miss home, Wes?"
He knew that this was going to happen. He knew it, and he'd blundered along like an idiot anyway. "This is home, Jen," he told her roughly.
"I mean... before," she told him. "Before you met us."
Wes turned away. "I'm not going back there, if that's what you mean."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Jen said firmly.
"Yes, there are a few people I liked there. But the only way Dad would welcome me back now is if I joined the Silver Guardians, and I'm not going to do that. Besides, why would I?"
"Because he's your father, and you used to admire him?" Jen asked.
"He's not my father," Wes stated, turning towards her. "You know that better than I do."
"He raised you," she said, in the quietest tone he'd ever heard her use.
"Dad didn't raise me, he just invested in me," Wes said. "It was Philips, our butler, and the rest of our staff. And now that I know that I'm not related to him at all, why should I bother?"
"Because he doesn't know," Jen told him. "Nobody knows besides us. We are your teammates, not your only friends in the world. Not your only friends in this time. Your family is as much a part of who you are, if not more, than Rialtson and Alex ever were. What you are hasn't changed who you are."
"No, it's just made me feel... I don't know, more separate from all I've ever known," Wes said.
"Then," Jen said, "Maybe Trip was right. Maybe we shouldn't have told you. Would that have made you happy?"
"Maybe," Wes said, looking down at the books again. "Look, I'm going to go out for a while, okay?"
Jen nodded, grabbing both sacks and heading towards the door. Wes reached for the fake stone with the spare car keys and headed into town. There was something he had to ask someone.
* * *
Philips, the faithful butler to the Collins family, was quite surprised when one of the maids notified him that he had an incoming phone call. It was quite rare for someone to call during work hours. The Collins' receptionist and other members of the staff took calls, since he was too valuable to be doing such work.
"Yes, how may I help you?" he asked, wondering who wanted him on the line. Someone trying to 'steal' him from the service of the Collins family?
"Philips?" the voice on the other end asked, and he nearly dropped the phone when he realized it was Master Wesley on the line. Master John had informed him of Master Wesley's shocking career choice, and he hadn't quite known what to think about it. It seemed that Wesley's life was taking a turn from his father's. It made him quietly very proud of himself; the young man had not seemed destined for heading up his father's business for quite some time before the two had parted. "Is there a chance that I could talk to you, in private?"
"I'm afraid I cannot get away at the moment, Master Wes," Philips told him formally.
There was a moment of silence from the other end, and then Wesley spoke up again. "Then are you alone?"
"I am," Philips responded. "I took the opportunity to move to a private place before answering the phone."
Another silence, and Philips wondered what the young man was thinking. Wesley spoke up once more. "This is going to seem like an odd question, but it's not like I can ask Dad right now. So I have to ask you. Am I adopted?"
Philips was silent for a moment before belatedly remembering his manners. "Certainly not! I remember seeing you at the hospital soon after you were born. You are, without doubt, the biological son of you parents."
Inwardly, he wondered why the young man had felt the need to make such an inquiry. Surely he could see, from pictures, how much he resembled his now-deceased mother? Philips himself had no doubt as to Master Wesley's parentage. "Thanks, Philips."
Philips, fearing that Master Wesley would hang up, added, "Your father is quite proud of you."
"He is?" Genuine surprise echoed in the young master's voice. "I walked out on him and said what I did, and he's still proud?"
"I believe that your father is startled, yes, but he is proud of you for your commitments," Philips said, picking his words carefully. "I think he wishes you were back home, but I think he knows, as I do, that you need to discover yourself."
A laugh resounded in the speaker. "Thanks, Philips. I guess I do. Thanks again. And goodbye."
"Goodbye," Philips responded.
He spent the rest of the day about Wes' call, wondering what it had all been about. Ah well, the young man still trusted him, and would no doubt educate him in time.
* * *
Wes hung up the public phone, gazing around the quiet park. Either Philips was lying, which he sincerely doubted, or he had been switched without his parents' knowledge. A faerie changeling snuck into the house of a rich family.
So, what had happened to the real Wesley Collins? Had those who had brought Wes to this time killed him, or was he living somewhere else?
No doubt his teammates would tell him that he was the real Wesley Collins. True, he had grown up under that name, in that household, but he had no doubt been originally named "Alex Clone #17" or something like that. The others had stressed what Rialtson had intended for him to be.
He was glad that Rialtson hadn't succeeded in his plans, though he wished that those supporters who had placed him had left him on the hospital steps. That way, he wouldn't feel like he was selfishly grasping onto somebody else's name and somebody else's life.
Right now, he felt like his life was a cross between "Time Trax" and "General Hospital". He chased criminals from another time, and in the meantime tried to figure out who he was in the labyrinthine corridors that made up his past and tried not to fall in love with Jen.
Did Jen see him when she looked at him, or did she just see Alex? Could he stand a chance up against his progenitor's spirit? Maybe it was best to avoid the issue, at least until he understood himself better.
In the mean time, maybe he should do some more research. Trip would be able to help him scan through archives. And, if worst came to worst, there was always the public library. Maybe those who had brought him to this time had left some clues behind.
* * *
After an apparent altercation between Wes and Jen, Trip had seen Jen, in an obvious huff, go upstairs, and had seen Wes take the car keys and leave in the car.
Sometimes he didn't understand Wes. Heck, he barely understood humans sometimes, and Wes had been thrown into a situation that Trip personally didn't envy. In his time, clones knew their genetic parents, were most often raised by them. There wasn't any problem as to their identity. Of course, Rialtson's followers, or whoever had brought Wes here to this time, had accidentally insured that Wes would not know his genetic parent. And he and the others had compounded the issue by letting Wes know what he was. What a mess!
And it was exacerbated by Wes' feelings towards Jen and her feelings towards Wes. Sometimes Trip could swear that Jen was reacting to Alex, not Wes, and sometimes it seemed like she was unconsciously falling for his clone. It probably wasn't helping that she had taken up what seemed to be a private campaign to get Wes used to how things were in the thirtieth century.
When Katie came down to take up her shift, she'd asked him what he was thinking, so of course he told her. She had looked at him thoughtfully, and given him a hug. "It'll all work out," she assured him.
With that in mind, he went upstairs to relax. Jen was brooding out on the balcony, pretty much in the same place that Wes had been. Lucas was reading something out of one of the pile of books that served as the Rangers' private library. Nobody was using the viewscreen, so he turned it on, hoping to find something of use to the situation.
A while later, Wes had come up and immediately come to him. He was surprised. Why not go straight to Jen like he usually did?
"Trip," Wes said, "I need your help."
"Wha-what can I do for you?" Trip asked, trying not to stutter. Wes didn't seem to notice at all.
"I need to find out where I came from," Wes told him. "At least in this time. I want to find out if I was adopted, who adopted me, and where I was adopted from. Can you access those records?"
Trip nodded. He'd broken into the databases soon after their arrival there. It was very easy, so easy that he couldn't quite believe how easy it had been for him. His hands played over the keyboard on the viewscreen. "Tell me what you're looking for."
And so Wes gave his parents' full names and what he remembered about his birth records. Trip sent the computer searching into the databases, but all that came up was Wes' birth record. "That's all I can find," Trip told his teammate apologetically.
Wes was shaking his head. "Try finding all caucasian males with the same birth date that were around the same general height and weight."
Trip obediently ran the search again, not expecting to find anything. Still, the screen surprised him. There were several matches, two of which were in Silver Hills. One was Wes, of course, but the other one.... "Richard Belant," Wes read off the screen. "Adopted by Harley and Jane Belant. Could you find me a picture of him and his parents?"
His hands flying across the keyboard, Trip did so, rapidly bringing up pictures of three individuals. None of them looked familiar to Trip, and looking over at Wes, he could see that he didn't recognize any of these people either. "Trip, what else can we find out about Richard Belant?" he asked.
A sound came from his right, and he looked up to see Jen striding towards him. "What are you two up to?" she asked, peering at the three pictures on the screen.
"Not a whole lot," Wes answered, though Trip could detect a stiffening in Wes' spine and manner. "Just looking some things up."
"We were looking for adoption records," Trip added. "Wes was just curious, but it looks like we've come to a dead end."
"Maybe not," Wes said. "This guy looks a lot like Dad to me. And he was born on the same day I was, and he was adopted."
Jen sat down, still looking at the screen. "What do we know about him?" she asked, and Trip typed some more, seeking out all data on Jason Belant that he could find.
"Not much," Trip admitted. "He's applied for financial aid, he's going up to California State University Sacramento, he has a great driving record, and his blood type is A positive."
"A positive?" Wes asked. "How about my parents' blood types?"
He seemed excited by the news, so Trip obliged him. "Your dad's AB positive, I can't find anything on your mom."
"And I'm O positive. Which means that there's no way I could be my Dad's son, and this guy could be," Wes said, with satisfaction. "I'd love to see a genetic workup on him and my dad and my mom, just to be sure."
"What are you going to do with this once you're through?" Jen asked, even though Trip could see her mind working away. Jen was, first and foremost, a police officer, and Wes' information had intrigued her. It was part of the larger puzzle that included Wes' heritage and possibly the whole thing of what had happened with the Rialtson clones.
"I don't know," Wes said in an honest tone of voice.
* * *
Jen had found herself on the balcony, her favorite place to sit when she wanted to think. The Tower was behind her, nothing below her but the ground hundreds of feet away. People left her alone there, and that was what she needed at the moment.
Wes definitely provoked mixed feelings in her. Part of it, she was sure, was outrage, because of what Rialtson had done to Alex and Wes alike. Alex had been so brave when he'd decided to raise any clone that Rialtson had made. Of course, he hadn't planned on dying, nor could he have foreseen the fact that Jen would find Wes fully grown and secure in a time where he shouldn't really have been.
And sometimes Wes reminded her of Alex that it was painful. Wes was a product of his time, but there were things about him that she loved. He was shallow, but thoughtful. He cared about people. He was so innocent.
Wes, she sometimes thought, would be what Alex would have been if he had somehow been raised a thousand years before. She somehow wondered what would happen if Alex had somehow survived and got a chance to meet Wes. There were things about both of them that had her wondering if she could ever make a choice.
Of course, right now she was wondering if it was wise to have acted as she did. She'd been carefully and quietly planning to introduce Wes to his own time. There was no way that she could reconcile leaving him a thousand years from the time where he belonged with her conscience. Wes had been wronged, and it was only right that he go home with the rest of them.
Wes' seeming inability to accept the hand that fate, or Rialtson's followers had given him had given her second thoughts. What was with Wes? He seemed to be doing fine, and then he was acting like he didn't know who he was. To her, he couldn't be anybody but Wes Collins. It was a boon that he had an identity that didn't hinge on Alex's.
Whatever had happened to bring Wes into the Collins home had happened and Wes had had nothing to do with it. He was as innocent as a lamb in the matter, but he wouldn't accept it.
Looking down, she saw the car come in, and Wes get out of it, bending down before straightening up and entering the building. She wondered if he had gotten done what he wanted to get done.
Still, she waited. Give Wes a chance to settle in, make dinner, and then they could discuss it as a team. It was time to remind Wes once again that his teammates accepted him, no matter what.
Jen stared out towards the city, wondering where he'd gone and why. He probably wouldn't go to his father's house, given his relationship, but who knew?
This was the place where he'd grown up, and he could have gone anywhere. Maybe he had revisited old places or old friends. People to anchor him back into his identity. Maybe tonight would be easy.
After a while, she maneuvered back into the room behind the clock face. Dinner wouldn't be done if she didn't start it, after all. She quickly checked the room over for her teammates, finding that three of them were in the room, with Katie apparently down on desk duty. Lucas was reading one of the new books, and Trip and Wes were hunched over the viewscreen talking quietly about something.
She walked over to them, curious to discover what they were discussing. "What are you two up to?" she asked, looking at the three faces on the screen. One was of a middle-aged man, the second of a middle-aged woman, and the third a young man about Wes' age.
"Not a whole lot," Wes answered casually, so casually that Jen was immediately suspicious. "Just looking some things up."
"We were looking for adoption records," Trip added, saving her from having to ask directly. "Wes was just curious, but it looks like we've come to a dead end."
"Maybe not," Wes said, pointing at the young man on the screen. "This guy looks a lot like Dad to me. And he was born on the same day I was, *and* he was adopted."
She sat down. "What do we know about him?" she asked curiously, still staring at the screen. Come to think of it, the guy did look a lot more like Mr. Collins than Wes did. Trip was busy typing away, seeking the data on whoever this person was.
"Not much," Trip admitted, staring intently at the screen as if he wished he could telepathically extract more information from it. "He's applied for financial aid, he's going up to California State University Sacramento, he has a great driving record, and his blood type is A positive."
"A positive?" Wes asked, drawing closer to Trip. "How about my parents' blood types?"
Trip answered absentmindedly, "Your dad's AB positive, I can't find anything on your mom."
Wes was beaming at this point. "And I'm O positive. Which means that there's no way I could be my Dad's son, and this guy could be," he said, with satisfaction. "I'd love to see a genetic workup on him and my dad and my mom, just to be sure."
"What are you going to do with this once you're through?" Jen asked. Her mind flashed though a nightmare of having to explain to somebody else that they were really named Wesley Collins, sorry for the mixup, no you can't be him, Mr. Collins wouldn't believe you.... Jen wished she could just send Wes back to the thirtieth century where he belonged so that he would be safe and not have to worry about such things, or make her life more complicated.
"I don't know," Wes said, sounding uncertain.
"Look, Wes," Jen said, "Why don't you do dinner tonight, and I'll do the dishes. Deal?"
"Deal," Wes said. As he went off to work in their tiny kitchen-like area, she turned to Trip.
"I've got a transmission to make."
* * *
Trip watched as Jen activated the viewscreen, bringing up a form for data transmission into the future. He knew lots of data was being sent all the time, but very little of it was sent manually by the Rangers. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I've been putting it off for too long," Jen said, more to herself than to him. "Time Force has to be told about our discovery. We should have done this when we found out about Wes. They'll be able to confirm if Wes is a Rialtson clone or not."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Trip asked, unsure of her motives. "We agreed not to file it until after we got home, because we were worried about Wes."
"I changed my mind," Jen stated flatly. "We are bound to report this, Trip. We have evidence of a crime here and we should have reported it as soon as we knew about him. We know that whoever brought Wes here traveled through time, which is illegal in itself. I'm just setting things in motion."
So intent was his commanding officer on her task that Trip was almost afraid to speak. Still, he couldn't help stealing a glance over at Wes, who was busy preparing dinner, and he couldn't help but think of what could happen, not only to the cohesiveness of the team, but also to Wes and all the other clones. "Jen, maybe this isn't a good idea."
Jen glared at him, making him shrink back. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Best to not make it look like anything to do with Wes. "What if our report leaks and the people responsible for bringing Wes to this time? Wouldn't they try to hide the other clones so that we couldn't find them? Think of all the damage to the time stream!"
She paused. "There's got to be a way to get around that. Maybe if we say we know that Wes has to be adopted, but we came to a dead end on trying to find him, like if Mr. Collins used a secret agency after the real Wesley Collins died...."
"Jen, that's lying to our superiors," Trip said, trying to reason with her.
"So what. If our report gets leaked, they're not going to go rushing off, because they don't think we know how he got here. That way, all the clones'll be safe."
"At least wait until you've talked to Wes," Trip said, wishing that he could project his thoughts instead of reading others'. "Let him have some say. It's his life, after all. He should have a say on what happens to him. Besides, he might get really upset if you do this without him. He's barely adjusted to being a clone, and it'll look like clones really have no say in their lives. Do you really want to do that to him?"
"I'll discuss it with him," Jen said, canceling the setup, even though she looked like she'd rather do anything but that. "And then I'll make the transmission. I'll make him understand. After all, he swore an oath, just as we all did."
Trip nodded. Once it was clear that they had a Red Ranger, Jen had made a consultation with their superiors in 3000, and after Wes arrived, had promptly sworn him in as a temporary member of Time Force. It was what allowed Wes to arrest mutants, even though he'd never gone through Time Force training. Wes had, at that time, been so eager to be part of the team that he'd taken the oath and followed it carefully. As he'd told Trip later, he didn't want to get Jen upset again.
Knowing Jen, Trip knew that Wes had made a good choice. But he still doubted that Wes would go along with her plan, since it would probably make him feel further like he was an object, not a human being.
And Wes, Trip knew, felt very much alone. Right now, Wes was the only clone that they knew of, unless there was another clone existing in 2001. Trip himself knew the feeling, for he was likely the only alien on the planet at the moment, except maybe for the part-human descendants of an Algieban explorer who'd visited nearly thirty years before. Trip figured he had as much chance of meeting them as Wes had of meeting a fellow clone.
Getting up, he went to talk to Wes. Someone had to warn him about Jen.
* * *
Wes heard someone's shoes thumping against the wood that formed the floor of their residential area. Either someone was hungry or he was about to be talked to again. Grimacing, he hoped that it was the former.
"Wes?" Trip's soft voice asked from behind him. Wes composed his features, turning around slowly as to not alarm Trip.
"Yeah?" he asked. The Xybrian's features drooped, and inwardly Wes cursed. Sometimes Trip was so sensitive about peoples' reactions to him! "Sorry."
"That's okay," Trip responded instantly. "I've got to talk to you about Jen."
"What about Jen?" Wes responded, mystified. Something must have gone on after he left to make dinner.
"She wants to tell our superiors about you," Trip said in a rush.
"I thought you guys had done that?" Wes asked. It was totally unlike normally-by-the-book Jen to skip something like that.
Trip shrugged. "She thought it was better to wait until you were used to the idea. Just in case somebody in the future had questions."
"She was afraid I couldn't handle it?" Wes responded. Typical Jen.
"None of us wanted to give you the wrong impression," Trip told him. "We knew that you'd kinda accepted it, but we didn't know if you really wanted to handle dealing with people from 3000 who knew what you were... I mean besides us, of course."
"I don't mind," Wes said carefully. "I mean, it was inevitable."
He studied Trip's face. Was Trip reading him now? Could he know how Wes felt about the whole thing? After all, it was just one more thing connecting him to his teammates' century and taking him one more step away from his own. Sometimes he felt like his teammates were trying to pull him into their world.
Before, when nobody knew about his past, he was treated differently. His teammates were guarded about what they told him about their own time, and he was the team's guide in the strange time that was 2001. Now this time and his knowledge of it seemed almost unimportant to them. It was like a mental switch had been thrown in their brains, switching him from bridge to understanding this time to student behind in his studies with four overhelpful tutors.
Would he even have a choice at the end? Or would he find himself in 3000 with the rest of them with no choice in the matter. No, they would leave him a choice, but would there be something in 2001 that he cared enough to stay behind for? The more he stayed with his teammates, the more he felt isolated from his own time.
"Okay," Trip said finally. "But she's going to tell them that we think you were privately adopted."
Wes felt like he'd missed a page in a story that he was reading. "What? Start that again from the beginning."
Trip took a deep breath. "It's what I said. Jen was about to make her report, and then I opened my mouth and reminded her that we hadn't found Rialtson's followers or the clones yet, and they might try to remove the other clones if they thought we were on to them. And then she decided to tell them that we couldn't find any record of you being adopted so that the people who brought you here wouldn't think we knew."
The Xybrian sounded so out of breath that Wes took pity on him. "It's okay."
"It's perjury. It's lying."
It began to dawn on Wes that Trip was worried about something else besides him. "Trip, don't you think she knows what she's doing? Don't you think she knows the consequences?"
"But she told me that she was going to do it, and she'll tell you. I don't want these people to mess up history, but I don't want her to lie either."
"Maybe she's planning to tell the truth later," Wes offered, trying to think of ways to calm the worried Xybrian. "When you guys go back with Ransik and his crew, then you'll have a lot more resources to stop whoever brought me here in the first place."
"Are you sure about that?" Trip asked, and Wes could tell from his teammate's face that the question was not rhetorical.
"I'll ask her when she talks to me about it. How does that sound?"
Trip nodded, seeming to take Wes' words to heart.
* * *
Something was going on, Katie could tell. Something had happened while she was on desk duty downstairs, and she had the feeling it had to do with Wes.
Perhaps Trip's worries had rubbed off on her. She'd honestly thought Wes was adapting until his run-in with Mr. Collins had thrown him for a loop. Now, suddenly, Trip was fretting, Wes was moody, and he and Jen had gotten into some sort of argument. She realized that it wasn't that uncommon for Jen and Wes to argue, but this time some of it had to be about Wes' adjustment to being a clone.
And, worse for him, a clone of someone they all once knew. Katie sometimes knew that she reacted to Wes like he was Alex, and she suspected that the others did, too. It should have ceased when they knew what Wes was, but she suspected that it was a bad habit for all of them.
She was going to be very surprised if Wes wanted to come with them when it was all over. After all, nobody knew about Alex in this time, and nobody could compare Wes to him. It wouldn't be the same in their time. Wes would be compared to his genetic donor for the rest of his life, especially since he had taken over Alex's role as Red Ranger. Wasn't that the role Rialtson had engineered him to play, after all?
And Rialtson had still had supporters even after he was arrested. People who believed that clones weren't people, just echoes of their donors, useful only to enhance those whose DNA they were taken from. Katie had a bad feeling that they would use Wes to their advantage. People would only see the clone that had taken over his progenitor's role, not Wes the person.
Jen would argue that Wes, like the rest of them, belonged in the thirtieth century, but Katie doubted that. The scientists of this time had no way of telling that Wes was any different, and wouldn't for several centuries. There was no reason at all that Wes should leave with them unless he chose to do so. And she knew that by the time they recaptured Ransik, Wes would probably know what he was getting into.
She glanced over to where Wes was, but she could see that Trip had his attention. Besides, she'd rather have him come to her rather than come to him. He probably didn't want any more interference in his life right now.
Instead, she sat down at the picnic bench opposite Jen. Just as she didn't bother Wes, she didn't prod Jen for answers. If Jen wanted to talk, she would talk. If she didn't, then she didn't.
But Jen didn't speak, just glanced occasionally in Wes' direction. Several expressions played over her fact, the foremost of them being probably a angry worry. It was clear that Jen wanted to talk to Wes badly, and wasn't happy about not being able to do so.
Perhaps it was for the best that the two of them have a cooling off period before discussing what issues were on their minds. It might be the only way to break the tension going around the team, tension that she was sure that both of them were aware of.
* * *
It was a quiet dinner, one of the quietest that Jen could remember. Usually the team was cheerful despite what had gone on during the day, whether it involved their Odd Jobs work or one of Ransik's mutants. However, Wes' problem seemed to have damped the whole team's spirits.
Nobody really talked. Trip threw the occasional glance in her direction, Katie did the same, Lucas tried to act cool and not seem involved, and Wes, the bottomless stomach, had picked at his food as if his own makings were not up to his satisfaction.
Somebody had to take care of this situation, and it was her. As soon as the meal was over, her team scattered to the far corners of the room, wishing perhaps to be out of her radius.
A clanking noise made her turn, and she was surprised to see Wes helping to collect the dishes for the night's washing. She gathered up the rest of the dishes into the bin, taking it downstairs.
Seemingly unable to leave her orbit, Wes followed her downstairs. It was not until she'd ushered the dishes into the sink that he said, "We need to talk."
"We do," Jen acknowledged. She added the dish soap into the basin, trusting the dishes to soak. Once she was satisfied with the effect, she started towards the main room and the stairs. Wes, however, headed towards the front of the room, in front of the counter, and sat down on the floor.
Jen considered taking the chair, but decided against it. How would it feel to Wes if she was sitting superior over him, even if she was his superior officer? This was something personal that was leaking into work-related. Best to look casual. Think of all the times she spent with Alex, not working.
Finally, she settled on the floor, her back against the wall near the door, facing him. She wondered if she should begin first.
He beat her to it. "Trip told me you planned to tell your superiors about... what I am."
She nodded. "Does it bother you?"
Wes shook his head. "When you and Trip first told me about myself, you said I'd been a victim of a crime. I'm actually surprised that you haven't reported me yet. Is this normal?"
"No, it isn't," Jen confirmed. She didn't want to say more than that, just in case Wes got upset about them 'coddling' him. "What else did Trip say?"
"He said something about perjuring yourself," Wes offered. "Lying to your superiors about what Trip and I found."
"To protect you and the others," Jen said, avoiding the use of the term 'clone'. She didn't know how he'd react to it right at the moment and she didn't want to find out.
"I know. Trip's having more of a problem with it than I am. As I said, I'm not familiar with law enforcement, especially not thirtieth century."
"Does it bug you at all?" Jen asked carefully.
"I'm not Trip. Lying for a good cause doesn't bug me, and I know you have a good reason."
"So, what are you going to do about what you know?" Jen asked.
Wes shrugged, though Jen thought she could detect a certain tiredness in Wes' frame. "I don't think I could really do much about it. I mean, this guy who may have been the real Wesley Collins. Do I have the right to disrupt his life? He's got a life and an identity. And I'm stuck with his. I'm a Collins, even if not by blood. Nothing's really going to change that."
His voice sounded so defeated, so unlike Wes, and, except for that one terrible moment before he died, so unlike Alex that Jen had to blink twice. She let Wes continue to speak.
"Did you know that this would happen? I'm Wesley Collins, but I'm not. And right now I feel like I really don't belong to this time. It's like ever since I found out, I've become more and more apart from everything I knew."
"We didn't mean to do that," Jen told him, wishing Katie was here. Katie would make things right in an area that just made Jen feel awkward. It was worse, because she had meant to do that. Apparently, not only had her plan worked beyond her wildest dreams, but had backfired immeasurably.
"I know. But I need to reconnect to my own time. I need to be around people who grew up in the same century that I did."
Something swelled up in Jen and she suddenly had to swallow. "Are you moving out?" she asked.
"No!" Wes replied. "This is my home right now. And I like all of you, I just want to feel normal again."
Jen breathed a sigh of relief. She was afraid she'd caused him to leave forever. They needed him right now, and frankly, she couldn't see this team functioning without him.
And it might make things worse, but she had to ask. "Wes, if we caught Ransik tomorrow, would you go home with us?"
Home. There, she'd said it and applied it to Wes. He looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"Why?" she responded, curious to know his reasons. Wes closed his eyes.
"It isn't home, at least not to me. Oh, I know I was born there, and I might like to see it just because I'm curious to know where I came from, but I don't think I'd want to live there. You see, I had a friend in prep school, the same school where I met Eric. He'd been born in London, England, but he grew up here. He told me once that he'd been to London and that he'd seen the hospital where he was born. But it really didn't mean anything to him. He had no connection to it. And that's how I feel about your time."
He opened his eyes and regarded her again. "I know you guys have been trying to get me more comfortable with the time I'm supposed to be from. I know it's because you care. It's just that it doesn't mean a whole lot to me, just as my time sometimes doesn't mean a whole lot to you guys."
"We wanted you to know what you were missing out on," Jen joked, knowing that her joke was feeble. Fortunately, Wes didn't explode.
"I know, and I know you guys were trying to make me feel at home. It's just that when I need right now is to have some grip on this time and this place, and I feel like I've been slipping away. I think that's why Dad's reactions hit me so hard. I wanted an anchor and he didn't prove to be it."
Jen nodded. She had a sinking feeling that Wes, despite any feelings she had about him, would stay here, in this time. Rialtson's followers had brought him here, and being here had made him what he was. And if staying here made him happy... then she would make sure that he stayed where he was, so that he would stay happy.
It was not her duty to make him miserable. It was not her duty to drag him into a time where he obviously did not belong and would probably never belong.
"Don't be afraid to tell us if we're smothering you, Wes," Jen told him. "We're here to capture Ransik, not turn your life upside down. Someday we'll capture him and life will go on. Sometimes we forget that."
"Sometimes you forget that?" Wes asked, but his tone was teasing.
"Sometimes I forget that," she affirmed. She stood up, offering Wes a hand as he worked on getting up as well.
She could see Wes grin as she headed towards the sink. No matter what had happened that evening, some things still had to be done.
* * *
Wes woke up the next morning with the rest of his teammates. He was slowly getting used to their early-to-bed, early-to-rise schedule, fitting in with them. Jen still had no tolerance for late sleepers, at least not here.
He checked his clock and knew that he had a while before the library would open downtown. After his talk with Jen last night, he was in a much better mood, but there were still some things that he had to know. And he'd discover them on his own this time.
"Morning!" Katie greeted him.
"Morning," he greeted back, matching her enthusiasm as he wandered over to the men's dressing area. He quickly slid into his clothes and headed for the breakfast table, where Lucas was putting out the morning meal. Katie joined him shortly after, having slipped into her vest, shirt, and pants.
"How did things work out last night?" she asked. She pulled away slightly, and Wes realized she probably didn't want him to think that she was hovering.
He smiled. "I think Jen and I worked it out," he responded. "In any case, I feel a lot better than I did yesterday. I'm going to probably take the day off, though, unless Jen has something really pressing. There's some stuff I have to do."
"Go ahead," Jen's voice said from behind the two of them. She was in her workout outfit, no doubt getting ready to do her morning exercises. "After all that's happened, you deserve some time off."
He smiled again. "Thanks," he responded. Jen's manner was relaxed, as if a great weight had been taken of her shoulders, and he thought he could detect a twinkle in her eyes. Jen was actually in a good mood this morning. "I'll take off after breakfast then."
There was no way he could get out of breakfast. Ransik might decide to trash the city again, and he'd need all the strength he could get. Besides, the others needed to know the crisis was over, at least for the moment.
And then he'd go out. Forget his teammates, forget the weird turns his life had taken since the day before yesterday and what had happened only a week or two before, and remember who he was.
Life, for the moment, was good.
-the end
Disclaimer: All belong to Saban. More or less.
Spoilers: Worlds Apart
Author's note: This is a sequel to It's No Big Deal. I've tried to make it readable without that fic, but you might want to check it out first. Like its predecessor, this was posted on the TimeForceFanfics list. It's intended to answer a question that didn't get answered in the first story.
Rialtson's Legacy
by Estirose
copyright 2001
When it rains, it pours.
Of course, in the summer in Southern California, it doesn't rain very often. Sure, maybe in June, but in July and August it's hot enough sometimes to figuratively fry eggs on the sidewalk, and the rare rainstorm is likely to catch people by surprise. Those who have spent any time in this part of California have come to realize and adjust to this. Wesley Collins, native the area, has been through a few of these storms, but they still catch him by surprise.
* * *
Wes sat out on the balcony, his red shirt tied around his waist. For some reason, he felt comfortable wearing the shirt, although just about anything red felt right to him. He found himself hanging onto his red clothes like a child hung onto their teddy bear, and considered it comfort. And he needed that comfort.
Just a week or two ago, Wes had thought his life was normal, that he was an average young adult born in the 20th century who happened to be involved with a team of Rangers from about a thousand years in his future.
Of course, that was before Trip, seeking to strengthen the security measures on the Morphers, had discovered something unusual about Wes. Now Wes, with the help of his teammates, was trying to cope with being a clone, the clone of Jen's love Alex.
Even with their help, Wes wasn't entirely sure that he'd gotten used to that. The scientists of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries had barely started to successfully clone animals, and even then, according to some research he'd done on the sly, there were still some problems. Humans were a long way from cloning themselves. Heck, they still couldn't clone cats yet!
And yet here he was, a successful, problem-free clone, living in the early twenty-first century. A clone so successful that he hadn't even known that he wasn't anything unusual. Not even that he wasn't really related to the man he had called father. Somebody had done a good job placing him in this time.
He was having trouble accepting the fact that he actually was a thirtieth-century citizen, with full rights and responsibilities. Would the others have to take him with them, when they defeated Ransik and found a way home? Or would he find himself living in the twenty-first century?
Wes doubted even his teammates knew the answer to those questions.
* * *
"Is he sitting out there again?" Lucas asked, glancing over casually towards the balcony to the left of the clock face. He turned his head, but with his back to said opening couldn't see it.
Katie glanced past Lucas' shoulder. "I can't see him," she offered. The two of them were sitting at the table, enjoying a card game. Both of them needed to relax. The whole team did, but Wes especially. Yesterday's encounter with his father, with the man he had considered his father, had shaken him deeply, more deeply than he probably wanted to admit. Mr. Collins might not be related to Wes, but the family ties were still there.
"I think we would have heard it if he fell," Lucas pondered morbidly. "Or jumped."
"I don't think he's suicidal," she said, suddenly wanting to check up on Wes but just as much not wanting to seem to hover. Wes needed his space, especially now. It was too bad that Trip was downstairs manning the desk and phone; the Xybrian seemed to be best at connecting with Wes, even though Trip claimed he had little to no empathic talent.
The other one that seemed to understand Wes best was Jen, who was doing her best to do the team's shopping. They all took turns, but the Time Force officers had all privately agreed that Wes, with his familiarity with his own century, was best at the shopping.
Wes' time was astonishingly primitive. Before she had left her own time period, she'd barely known about his time other than it being when humanity started coming in contact with the rest of the universe. Race still mattered here and it was far from being a paradise, but she and her teammates were adjusting to living here.
And it was Wes' home, despite the century of his birth. If Jen was correct, if Wes was one of the Rialtson clones, then the other clones must be in various times. It would be nice to find them all, to find closure in a case that proved that bigotry was alive and well in humans, whether because of the colour of one's skin or the origin of one's genes.
Then what? To Wes, this century was home in a way that her own time could never be. He would be a thousand years out of date there, a living anachronism. Sure, he would have his teammates, but who else would he have? And what would he do there?
At least he was his own person and not a being that existed just to provide backup for Alex. Katie shuddered inwardly as she tried to imagine Wes as just a hollow-souled version of Alex, with no personality or experience other than his originator's. If it was a tossup between his life here and that, then she was glad that Rialtson had been caught and that Wes had ended up in a place where he could grow up free of that terrible plan.
She was sure that Alex, had he survived, would have been glad of that too.
Casting one worried eye towards the balcony, she discarded a card.
* * *
Wes stared down as he saw 'their' car arrive back at the tower. He could see Jen's dark head appear as she got out, apparently making one more trip without anyone checking to see if she had a driver's license. After Lucas' run-in with the law, they had all been more careful, and Trip for some reason preferred to bicycle. He was probably the smartest of the bunch, biking with that little cart which allowed him to bring home the groceries.
In the early days of his teammates arrival in this time, they'd apparently discovered one little downside to living in the past - no home delivery, at least none that they'd been able to afford. Apparently groceries were, by and large, delivered to one's door in the future, saving the residents from having to figure out how to get to the store if they didn't want to do so.
Another thing he had noticed that none of them shopped very well. Lucas in particular was given to missing the budget. He found that he could sometimes get out of his other duties by volunteering for the grocery runs - and given that he had a valid license and a talent for finding good prices, he was seldom refused.
However, he'd gladly let Jen go today. He hadn't been hot on going into town and running into people he knew. The world outside was oblivious to his difference, and right now, he didn't feel like being out with people who didn't know. His team had shown that they welcomed him even though they knew, and he wasn't sure if he'd feel that acceptance in the outside world, even though it would be beyond the capabilities of people in the present to know.
He had to get this under control. He had to. Being fed meant interacting with people from his own time, working on the odd jobs that Nick Of Time's customers contracted them to do.
Besides, what better to show that Nick of Time was starting to pick up business than to be visible?
Of course, he'd wished to be invisible when his father, the man he had called father anyway, had condemned him for picking up trash. His family was wealthy, always had been. They'd spread from Collinsport, Maine, all the way over to California, having a knack for making money. His father and grandfather had gone to the finest schools money could buy.
It was hard not thinking of his father as his biological father, and he suspected it was an ingrained habit. Even though he detested the man's greed now, he'd spent his entire childhood admiring him, and he had to admit that he didn't have anybody else to call father. Maybe Alex, but he got the impression that they were about the same age. Calling Alex 'father' or 'dad' might well be embarrassing to both of them.
Besides, didn't somebody say that heart, not blood, mattered? Sure, he was ashamed by his father's greed, but he grew up with this family. He could no more disown them completely than he could disown his own arm.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, though, to leave with the others. He had every right to be in the thirtieth century, and there he wouldn't be one of the black sheep of the Collins family. Admittedly he wasn't there yet, but he had a feeling that his infamy would probably spread far and wide among his family members.
But he had an idea that when the time came, he'd choose to stay. After all, he would be about as confused by his teammates' time as they were by his, even more so. A hundred years ago, they didn't have computers. What would the technology be like in 3000? Adapting might prove impossible for him.
Wes got up and made his way back into the building.
* * *
Jen hauled the groceries out of the car and into the building. She thought she'd actually done well during this latest outing. Sure, she wasn't Wes, the undisputed king of grocery shopping, but she thought she was beginning to get the hang of this time.
Turning to Trip, who was on desk duty, she asked, "How are things?"
"Okay, I guess," Trip told her.
"Wes?"
Trip concentrated, his gem glowing. "He was sitting on the balcony, but he's back in now. He's been up there since you left." The glow ceased, and Trip looked up at her. "He's not going to be happy if he found out we're monitoring him."
"So we won't tell him," Jen said firmly. "I just want to keep an eye on him. I think running into his father again really upset him, and I didn't want him to do... anything until he was ready to talk."
"He hasn't," Trip assured her. "But I don't think he's ready to talk, either."
"We'll see about that," Jen said firmly, heading towards the stairs with renewed resolve. "Thanks, Trip."
She took the groceries upstairs and headed towards the pantry, wanting to get those out of the way before she dealt with anything or anyone else. Footsteps vibrated from behind her, and she turned to look. It was Wes. "Want me to give you a hand?"
"Sure," she responded. "I also got some books, but they're down still in the car."
Wes smiled. "Raided the library book sale again?"
Jen tried not to blush. The Rangers had quite taken to the Reader's Digest hardcovers, which were cheap and held a variety of writings. A good team needed to relax and the books kept them all happy. "Want to come help bring them up?" she asked.
"Sure," he responded, still smiling at her. Jen relaxed a bit, thinking that Wes wasn't as badly hurt as she may have thought, and maybe she was being a bit paranoid.
They finished unpacking the groceries, and then she headed towards the stairs, knowing Wes would follow.
* * *
Wes followed Jen, though he knew that his teammate would be waiting patiently for him to open up. Still, he wasn't sure if they really wanted to hear anything bad about their time, even if it was only his ability to adapt to it. Jen, in particular, seemed to be a bit blind to the realities of her time as he saw them. He wondered why people seemed to not have any problems with Trip but found Ransik horrifying, or the other mutants for that matter. Ransik merely looked like he'd been through a bad fire, and Nadira looked like she'd had her hair dyed permanently pink. Admittedly Gluto looked weird, but he would have thought humans would have gotten better at not judging by appearance. Apparently not.
Should he be relieved that his teammates didn't find him at all untrustworthy, at least not because he was what he was? If anything, they had all become more comfortable around him once the surprise had worn off. They'd become more open about their time and what had happened in the past, as if they were catching him up on something that he should have known.
Of course, since he was really from their time, maybe they were preparing him to return with them when Ransik was defeated. From what he knew of the one team that had revealed their identities, the team that had saved Angel Grove and the world, the members of that team were close despite some of them coming from different worlds than the rest. Maybe the others just couldn't see leaving him behind as a valid option. He hoped not.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he obediently followed Jen back to where she'd parked their car. To his surprise, there were two grocery bags full of paperback books, with no hardcovers that he could see. He plucked a green-spined one out of the top of one of the bags. "Green Darkness? That was on the shelves at home...." he said, thinking out loud, and then cursing inwardly about the slip of the tongue.
"It looked good," Jen said defensively, and Wes had to laugh.
"Don't worry, I know they have some weird stuff in those booksales sometimes. That one's been on the shelves in one of our guest bedrooms as long as I can remember."
"You ever read it?"
"Tried to," he admitted, blushing. "It was... weird. I didn't get much out of it though." What he wasn't about to admit to Jen was that he seemed to remember a scene that he was definitely a bit too young to be reading. "I think it's a time travel story, could be wrong, though."
Jen nodded seriously. "Do you miss home, Wes?"
He knew that this was going to happen. He knew it, and he'd blundered along like an idiot anyway. "This is home, Jen," he told her roughly.
"I mean... before," she told him. "Before you met us."
Wes turned away. "I'm not going back there, if that's what you mean."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Jen said firmly.
"Yes, there are a few people I liked there. But the only way Dad would welcome me back now is if I joined the Silver Guardians, and I'm not going to do that. Besides, why would I?"
"Because he's your father, and you used to admire him?" Jen asked.
"He's not my father," Wes stated, turning towards her. "You know that better than I do."
"He raised you," she said, in the quietest tone he'd ever heard her use.
"Dad didn't raise me, he just invested in me," Wes said. "It was Philips, our butler, and the rest of our staff. And now that I know that I'm not related to him at all, why should I bother?"
"Because he doesn't know," Jen told him. "Nobody knows besides us. We are your teammates, not your only friends in the world. Not your only friends in this time. Your family is as much a part of who you are, if not more, than Rialtson and Alex ever were. What you are hasn't changed who you are."
"No, it's just made me feel... I don't know, more separate from all I've ever known," Wes said.
"Then," Jen said, "Maybe Trip was right. Maybe we shouldn't have told you. Would that have made you happy?"
"Maybe," Wes said, looking down at the books again. "Look, I'm going to go out for a while, okay?"
Jen nodded, grabbing both sacks and heading towards the door. Wes reached for the fake stone with the spare car keys and headed into town. There was something he had to ask someone.
* * *
Philips, the faithful butler to the Collins family, was quite surprised when one of the maids notified him that he had an incoming phone call. It was quite rare for someone to call during work hours. The Collins' receptionist and other members of the staff took calls, since he was too valuable to be doing such work.
"Yes, how may I help you?" he asked, wondering who wanted him on the line. Someone trying to 'steal' him from the service of the Collins family?
"Philips?" the voice on the other end asked, and he nearly dropped the phone when he realized it was Master Wesley on the line. Master John had informed him of Master Wesley's shocking career choice, and he hadn't quite known what to think about it. It seemed that Wesley's life was taking a turn from his father's. It made him quietly very proud of himself; the young man had not seemed destined for heading up his father's business for quite some time before the two had parted. "Is there a chance that I could talk to you, in private?"
"I'm afraid I cannot get away at the moment, Master Wes," Philips told him formally.
There was a moment of silence from the other end, and then Wesley spoke up again. "Then are you alone?"
"I am," Philips responded. "I took the opportunity to move to a private place before answering the phone."
Another silence, and Philips wondered what the young man was thinking. Wesley spoke up once more. "This is going to seem like an odd question, but it's not like I can ask Dad right now. So I have to ask you. Am I adopted?"
Philips was silent for a moment before belatedly remembering his manners. "Certainly not! I remember seeing you at the hospital soon after you were born. You are, without doubt, the biological son of you parents."
Inwardly, he wondered why the young man had felt the need to make such an inquiry. Surely he could see, from pictures, how much he resembled his now-deceased mother? Philips himself had no doubt as to Master Wesley's parentage. "Thanks, Philips."
Philips, fearing that Master Wesley would hang up, added, "Your father is quite proud of you."
"He is?" Genuine surprise echoed in the young master's voice. "I walked out on him and said what I did, and he's still proud?"
"I believe that your father is startled, yes, but he is proud of you for your commitments," Philips said, picking his words carefully. "I think he wishes you were back home, but I think he knows, as I do, that you need to discover yourself."
A laugh resounded in the speaker. "Thanks, Philips. I guess I do. Thanks again. And goodbye."
"Goodbye," Philips responded.
He spent the rest of the day about Wes' call, wondering what it had all been about. Ah well, the young man still trusted him, and would no doubt educate him in time.
* * *
Wes hung up the public phone, gazing around the quiet park. Either Philips was lying, which he sincerely doubted, or he had been switched without his parents' knowledge. A faerie changeling snuck into the house of a rich family.
So, what had happened to the real Wesley Collins? Had those who had brought Wes to this time killed him, or was he living somewhere else?
No doubt his teammates would tell him that he was the real Wesley Collins. True, he had grown up under that name, in that household, but he had no doubt been originally named "Alex Clone #17" or something like that. The others had stressed what Rialtson had intended for him to be.
He was glad that Rialtson hadn't succeeded in his plans, though he wished that those supporters who had placed him had left him on the hospital steps. That way, he wouldn't feel like he was selfishly grasping onto somebody else's name and somebody else's life.
Right now, he felt like his life was a cross between "Time Trax" and "General Hospital". He chased criminals from another time, and in the meantime tried to figure out who he was in the labyrinthine corridors that made up his past and tried not to fall in love with Jen.
Did Jen see him when she looked at him, or did she just see Alex? Could he stand a chance up against his progenitor's spirit? Maybe it was best to avoid the issue, at least until he understood himself better.
In the mean time, maybe he should do some more research. Trip would be able to help him scan through archives. And, if worst came to worst, there was always the public library. Maybe those who had brought him to this time had left some clues behind.
* * *
After an apparent altercation between Wes and Jen, Trip had seen Jen, in an obvious huff, go upstairs, and had seen Wes take the car keys and leave in the car.
Sometimes he didn't understand Wes. Heck, he barely understood humans sometimes, and Wes had been thrown into a situation that Trip personally didn't envy. In his time, clones knew their genetic parents, were most often raised by them. There wasn't any problem as to their identity. Of course, Rialtson's followers, or whoever had brought Wes here to this time, had accidentally insured that Wes would not know his genetic parent. And he and the others had compounded the issue by letting Wes know what he was. What a mess!
And it was exacerbated by Wes' feelings towards Jen and her feelings towards Wes. Sometimes Trip could swear that Jen was reacting to Alex, not Wes, and sometimes it seemed like she was unconsciously falling for his clone. It probably wasn't helping that she had taken up what seemed to be a private campaign to get Wes used to how things were in the thirtieth century.
When Katie came down to take up her shift, she'd asked him what he was thinking, so of course he told her. She had looked at him thoughtfully, and given him a hug. "It'll all work out," she assured him.
With that in mind, he went upstairs to relax. Jen was brooding out on the balcony, pretty much in the same place that Wes had been. Lucas was reading something out of one of the pile of books that served as the Rangers' private library. Nobody was using the viewscreen, so he turned it on, hoping to find something of use to the situation.
A while later, Wes had come up and immediately come to him. He was surprised. Why not go straight to Jen like he usually did?
"Trip," Wes said, "I need your help."
"Wha-what can I do for you?" Trip asked, trying not to stutter. Wes didn't seem to notice at all.
"I need to find out where I came from," Wes told him. "At least in this time. I want to find out if I was adopted, who adopted me, and where I was adopted from. Can you access those records?"
Trip nodded. He'd broken into the databases soon after their arrival there. It was very easy, so easy that he couldn't quite believe how easy it had been for him. His hands played over the keyboard on the viewscreen. "Tell me what you're looking for."
And so Wes gave his parents' full names and what he remembered about his birth records. Trip sent the computer searching into the databases, but all that came up was Wes' birth record. "That's all I can find," Trip told his teammate apologetically.
Wes was shaking his head. "Try finding all caucasian males with the same birth date that were around the same general height and weight."
Trip obediently ran the search again, not expecting to find anything. Still, the screen surprised him. There were several matches, two of which were in Silver Hills. One was Wes, of course, but the other one.... "Richard Belant," Wes read off the screen. "Adopted by Harley and Jane Belant. Could you find me a picture of him and his parents?"
His hands flying across the keyboard, Trip did so, rapidly bringing up pictures of three individuals. None of them looked familiar to Trip, and looking over at Wes, he could see that he didn't recognize any of these people either. "Trip, what else can we find out about Richard Belant?" he asked.
A sound came from his right, and he looked up to see Jen striding towards him. "What are you two up to?" she asked, peering at the three pictures on the screen.
"Not a whole lot," Wes answered, though Trip could detect a stiffening in Wes' spine and manner. "Just looking some things up."
"We were looking for adoption records," Trip added. "Wes was just curious, but it looks like we've come to a dead end."
"Maybe not," Wes said. "This guy looks a lot like Dad to me. And he was born on the same day I was, and he was adopted."
Jen sat down, still looking at the screen. "What do we know about him?" she asked, and Trip typed some more, seeking out all data on Jason Belant that he could find.
"Not much," Trip admitted. "He's applied for financial aid, he's going up to California State University Sacramento, he has a great driving record, and his blood type is A positive."
"A positive?" Wes asked. "How about my parents' blood types?"
He seemed excited by the news, so Trip obliged him. "Your dad's AB positive, I can't find anything on your mom."
"And I'm O positive. Which means that there's no way I could be my Dad's son, and this guy could be," Wes said, with satisfaction. "I'd love to see a genetic workup on him and my dad and my mom, just to be sure."
"What are you going to do with this once you're through?" Jen asked, even though Trip could see her mind working away. Jen was, first and foremost, a police officer, and Wes' information had intrigued her. It was part of the larger puzzle that included Wes' heritage and possibly the whole thing of what had happened with the Rialtson clones.
"I don't know," Wes said in an honest tone of voice.
* * *
Jen had found herself on the balcony, her favorite place to sit when she wanted to think. The Tower was behind her, nothing below her but the ground hundreds of feet away. People left her alone there, and that was what she needed at the moment.
Wes definitely provoked mixed feelings in her. Part of it, she was sure, was outrage, because of what Rialtson had done to Alex and Wes alike. Alex had been so brave when he'd decided to raise any clone that Rialtson had made. Of course, he hadn't planned on dying, nor could he have foreseen the fact that Jen would find Wes fully grown and secure in a time where he shouldn't really have been.
And sometimes Wes reminded her of Alex that it was painful. Wes was a product of his time, but there were things about him that she loved. He was shallow, but thoughtful. He cared about people. He was so innocent.
Wes, she sometimes thought, would be what Alex would have been if he had somehow been raised a thousand years before. She somehow wondered what would happen if Alex had somehow survived and got a chance to meet Wes. There were things about both of them that had her wondering if she could ever make a choice.
Of course, right now she was wondering if it was wise to have acted as she did. She'd been carefully and quietly planning to introduce Wes to his own time. There was no way that she could reconcile leaving him a thousand years from the time where he belonged with her conscience. Wes had been wronged, and it was only right that he go home with the rest of them.
Wes' seeming inability to accept the hand that fate, or Rialtson's followers had given him had given her second thoughts. What was with Wes? He seemed to be doing fine, and then he was acting like he didn't know who he was. To her, he couldn't be anybody but Wes Collins. It was a boon that he had an identity that didn't hinge on Alex's.
Whatever had happened to bring Wes into the Collins home had happened and Wes had had nothing to do with it. He was as innocent as a lamb in the matter, but he wouldn't accept it.
Looking down, she saw the car come in, and Wes get out of it, bending down before straightening up and entering the building. She wondered if he had gotten done what he wanted to get done.
Still, she waited. Give Wes a chance to settle in, make dinner, and then they could discuss it as a team. It was time to remind Wes once again that his teammates accepted him, no matter what.
Jen stared out towards the city, wondering where he'd gone and why. He probably wouldn't go to his father's house, given his relationship, but who knew?
This was the place where he'd grown up, and he could have gone anywhere. Maybe he had revisited old places or old friends. People to anchor him back into his identity. Maybe tonight would be easy.
After a while, she maneuvered back into the room behind the clock face. Dinner wouldn't be done if she didn't start it, after all. She quickly checked the room over for her teammates, finding that three of them were in the room, with Katie apparently down on desk duty. Lucas was reading one of the new books, and Trip and Wes were hunched over the viewscreen talking quietly about something.
She walked over to them, curious to discover what they were discussing. "What are you two up to?" she asked, looking at the three faces on the screen. One was of a middle-aged man, the second of a middle-aged woman, and the third a young man about Wes' age.
"Not a whole lot," Wes answered casually, so casually that Jen was immediately suspicious. "Just looking some things up."
"We were looking for adoption records," Trip added, saving her from having to ask directly. "Wes was just curious, but it looks like we've come to a dead end."
"Maybe not," Wes said, pointing at the young man on the screen. "This guy looks a lot like Dad to me. And he was born on the same day I was, *and* he was adopted."
She sat down. "What do we know about him?" she asked curiously, still staring at the screen. Come to think of it, the guy did look a lot more like Mr. Collins than Wes did. Trip was busy typing away, seeking the data on whoever this person was.
"Not much," Trip admitted, staring intently at the screen as if he wished he could telepathically extract more information from it. "He's applied for financial aid, he's going up to California State University Sacramento, he has a great driving record, and his blood type is A positive."
"A positive?" Wes asked, drawing closer to Trip. "How about my parents' blood types?"
Trip answered absentmindedly, "Your dad's AB positive, I can't find anything on your mom."
Wes was beaming at this point. "And I'm O positive. Which means that there's no way I could be my Dad's son, and this guy could be," he said, with satisfaction. "I'd love to see a genetic workup on him and my dad and my mom, just to be sure."
"What are you going to do with this once you're through?" Jen asked. Her mind flashed though a nightmare of having to explain to somebody else that they were really named Wesley Collins, sorry for the mixup, no you can't be him, Mr. Collins wouldn't believe you.... Jen wished she could just send Wes back to the thirtieth century where he belonged so that he would be safe and not have to worry about such things, or make her life more complicated.
"I don't know," Wes said, sounding uncertain.
"Look, Wes," Jen said, "Why don't you do dinner tonight, and I'll do the dishes. Deal?"
"Deal," Wes said. As he went off to work in their tiny kitchen-like area, she turned to Trip.
"I've got a transmission to make."
* * *
Trip watched as Jen activated the viewscreen, bringing up a form for data transmission into the future. He knew lots of data was being sent all the time, but very little of it was sent manually by the Rangers. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I've been putting it off for too long," Jen said, more to herself than to him. "Time Force has to be told about our discovery. We should have done this when we found out about Wes. They'll be able to confirm if Wes is a Rialtson clone or not."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Trip asked, unsure of her motives. "We agreed not to file it until after we got home, because we were worried about Wes."
"I changed my mind," Jen stated flatly. "We are bound to report this, Trip. We have evidence of a crime here and we should have reported it as soon as we knew about him. We know that whoever brought Wes here traveled through time, which is illegal in itself. I'm just setting things in motion."
So intent was his commanding officer on her task that Trip was almost afraid to speak. Still, he couldn't help stealing a glance over at Wes, who was busy preparing dinner, and he couldn't help but think of what could happen, not only to the cohesiveness of the team, but also to Wes and all the other clones. "Jen, maybe this isn't a good idea."
Jen glared at him, making him shrink back. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Best to not make it look like anything to do with Wes. "What if our report leaks and the people responsible for bringing Wes to this time? Wouldn't they try to hide the other clones so that we couldn't find them? Think of all the damage to the time stream!"
She paused. "There's got to be a way to get around that. Maybe if we say we know that Wes has to be adopted, but we came to a dead end on trying to find him, like if Mr. Collins used a secret agency after the real Wesley Collins died...."
"Jen, that's lying to our superiors," Trip said, trying to reason with her.
"So what. If our report gets leaked, they're not going to go rushing off, because they don't think we know how he got here. That way, all the clones'll be safe."
"At least wait until you've talked to Wes," Trip said, wishing that he could project his thoughts instead of reading others'. "Let him have some say. It's his life, after all. He should have a say on what happens to him. Besides, he might get really upset if you do this without him. He's barely adjusted to being a clone, and it'll look like clones really have no say in their lives. Do you really want to do that to him?"
"I'll discuss it with him," Jen said, canceling the setup, even though she looked like she'd rather do anything but that. "And then I'll make the transmission. I'll make him understand. After all, he swore an oath, just as we all did."
Trip nodded. Once it was clear that they had a Red Ranger, Jen had made a consultation with their superiors in 3000, and after Wes arrived, had promptly sworn him in as a temporary member of Time Force. It was what allowed Wes to arrest mutants, even though he'd never gone through Time Force training. Wes had, at that time, been so eager to be part of the team that he'd taken the oath and followed it carefully. As he'd told Trip later, he didn't want to get Jen upset again.
Knowing Jen, Trip knew that Wes had made a good choice. But he still doubted that Wes would go along with her plan, since it would probably make him feel further like he was an object, not a human being.
And Wes, Trip knew, felt very much alone. Right now, Wes was the only clone that they knew of, unless there was another clone existing in 2001. Trip himself knew the feeling, for he was likely the only alien on the planet at the moment, except maybe for the part-human descendants of an Algieban explorer who'd visited nearly thirty years before. Trip figured he had as much chance of meeting them as Wes had of meeting a fellow clone.
Getting up, he went to talk to Wes. Someone had to warn him about Jen.
* * *
Wes heard someone's shoes thumping against the wood that formed the floor of their residential area. Either someone was hungry or he was about to be talked to again. Grimacing, he hoped that it was the former.
"Wes?" Trip's soft voice asked from behind him. Wes composed his features, turning around slowly as to not alarm Trip.
"Yeah?" he asked. The Xybrian's features drooped, and inwardly Wes cursed. Sometimes Trip was so sensitive about peoples' reactions to him! "Sorry."
"That's okay," Trip responded instantly. "I've got to talk to you about Jen."
"What about Jen?" Wes responded, mystified. Something must have gone on after he left to make dinner.
"She wants to tell our superiors about you," Trip said in a rush.
"I thought you guys had done that?" Wes asked. It was totally unlike normally-by-the-book Jen to skip something like that.
Trip shrugged. "She thought it was better to wait until you were used to the idea. Just in case somebody in the future had questions."
"She was afraid I couldn't handle it?" Wes responded. Typical Jen.
"None of us wanted to give you the wrong impression," Trip told him. "We knew that you'd kinda accepted it, but we didn't know if you really wanted to handle dealing with people from 3000 who knew what you were... I mean besides us, of course."
"I don't mind," Wes said carefully. "I mean, it was inevitable."
He studied Trip's face. Was Trip reading him now? Could he know how Wes felt about the whole thing? After all, it was just one more thing connecting him to his teammates' century and taking him one more step away from his own. Sometimes he felt like his teammates were trying to pull him into their world.
Before, when nobody knew about his past, he was treated differently. His teammates were guarded about what they told him about their own time, and he was the team's guide in the strange time that was 2001. Now this time and his knowledge of it seemed almost unimportant to them. It was like a mental switch had been thrown in their brains, switching him from bridge to understanding this time to student behind in his studies with four overhelpful tutors.
Would he even have a choice at the end? Or would he find himself in 3000 with the rest of them with no choice in the matter. No, they would leave him a choice, but would there be something in 2001 that he cared enough to stay behind for? The more he stayed with his teammates, the more he felt isolated from his own time.
"Okay," Trip said finally. "But she's going to tell them that we think you were privately adopted."
Wes felt like he'd missed a page in a story that he was reading. "What? Start that again from the beginning."
Trip took a deep breath. "It's what I said. Jen was about to make her report, and then I opened my mouth and reminded her that we hadn't found Rialtson's followers or the clones yet, and they might try to remove the other clones if they thought we were on to them. And then she decided to tell them that we couldn't find any record of you being adopted so that the people who brought you here wouldn't think we knew."
The Xybrian sounded so out of breath that Wes took pity on him. "It's okay."
"It's perjury. It's lying."
It began to dawn on Wes that Trip was worried about something else besides him. "Trip, don't you think she knows what she's doing? Don't you think she knows the consequences?"
"But she told me that she was going to do it, and she'll tell you. I don't want these people to mess up history, but I don't want her to lie either."
"Maybe she's planning to tell the truth later," Wes offered, trying to think of ways to calm the worried Xybrian. "When you guys go back with Ransik and his crew, then you'll have a lot more resources to stop whoever brought me here in the first place."
"Are you sure about that?" Trip asked, and Wes could tell from his teammate's face that the question was not rhetorical.
"I'll ask her when she talks to me about it. How does that sound?"
Trip nodded, seeming to take Wes' words to heart.
* * *
Something was going on, Katie could tell. Something had happened while she was on desk duty downstairs, and she had the feeling it had to do with Wes.
Perhaps Trip's worries had rubbed off on her. She'd honestly thought Wes was adapting until his run-in with Mr. Collins had thrown him for a loop. Now, suddenly, Trip was fretting, Wes was moody, and he and Jen had gotten into some sort of argument. She realized that it wasn't that uncommon for Jen and Wes to argue, but this time some of it had to be about Wes' adjustment to being a clone.
And, worse for him, a clone of someone they all once knew. Katie sometimes knew that she reacted to Wes like he was Alex, and she suspected that the others did, too. It should have ceased when they knew what Wes was, but she suspected that it was a bad habit for all of them.
She was going to be very surprised if Wes wanted to come with them when it was all over. After all, nobody knew about Alex in this time, and nobody could compare Wes to him. It wouldn't be the same in their time. Wes would be compared to his genetic donor for the rest of his life, especially since he had taken over Alex's role as Red Ranger. Wasn't that the role Rialtson had engineered him to play, after all?
And Rialtson had still had supporters even after he was arrested. People who believed that clones weren't people, just echoes of their donors, useful only to enhance those whose DNA they were taken from. Katie had a bad feeling that they would use Wes to their advantage. People would only see the clone that had taken over his progenitor's role, not Wes the person.
Jen would argue that Wes, like the rest of them, belonged in the thirtieth century, but Katie doubted that. The scientists of this time had no way of telling that Wes was any different, and wouldn't for several centuries. There was no reason at all that Wes should leave with them unless he chose to do so. And she knew that by the time they recaptured Ransik, Wes would probably know what he was getting into.
She glanced over to where Wes was, but she could see that Trip had his attention. Besides, she'd rather have him come to her rather than come to him. He probably didn't want any more interference in his life right now.
Instead, she sat down at the picnic bench opposite Jen. Just as she didn't bother Wes, she didn't prod Jen for answers. If Jen wanted to talk, she would talk. If she didn't, then she didn't.
But Jen didn't speak, just glanced occasionally in Wes' direction. Several expressions played over her fact, the foremost of them being probably a angry worry. It was clear that Jen wanted to talk to Wes badly, and wasn't happy about not being able to do so.
Perhaps it was for the best that the two of them have a cooling off period before discussing what issues were on their minds. It might be the only way to break the tension going around the team, tension that she was sure that both of them were aware of.
* * *
It was a quiet dinner, one of the quietest that Jen could remember. Usually the team was cheerful despite what had gone on during the day, whether it involved their Odd Jobs work or one of Ransik's mutants. However, Wes' problem seemed to have damped the whole team's spirits.
Nobody really talked. Trip threw the occasional glance in her direction, Katie did the same, Lucas tried to act cool and not seem involved, and Wes, the bottomless stomach, had picked at his food as if his own makings were not up to his satisfaction.
Somebody had to take care of this situation, and it was her. As soon as the meal was over, her team scattered to the far corners of the room, wishing perhaps to be out of her radius.
A clanking noise made her turn, and she was surprised to see Wes helping to collect the dishes for the night's washing. She gathered up the rest of the dishes into the bin, taking it downstairs.
Seemingly unable to leave her orbit, Wes followed her downstairs. It was not until she'd ushered the dishes into the sink that he said, "We need to talk."
"We do," Jen acknowledged. She added the dish soap into the basin, trusting the dishes to soak. Once she was satisfied with the effect, she started towards the main room and the stairs. Wes, however, headed towards the front of the room, in front of the counter, and sat down on the floor.
Jen considered taking the chair, but decided against it. How would it feel to Wes if she was sitting superior over him, even if she was his superior officer? This was something personal that was leaking into work-related. Best to look casual. Think of all the times she spent with Alex, not working.
Finally, she settled on the floor, her back against the wall near the door, facing him. She wondered if she should begin first.
He beat her to it. "Trip told me you planned to tell your superiors about... what I am."
She nodded. "Does it bother you?"
Wes shook his head. "When you and Trip first told me about myself, you said I'd been a victim of a crime. I'm actually surprised that you haven't reported me yet. Is this normal?"
"No, it isn't," Jen confirmed. She didn't want to say more than that, just in case Wes got upset about them 'coddling' him. "What else did Trip say?"
"He said something about perjuring yourself," Wes offered. "Lying to your superiors about what Trip and I found."
"To protect you and the others," Jen said, avoiding the use of the term 'clone'. She didn't know how he'd react to it right at the moment and she didn't want to find out.
"I know. Trip's having more of a problem with it than I am. As I said, I'm not familiar with law enforcement, especially not thirtieth century."
"Does it bug you at all?" Jen asked carefully.
"I'm not Trip. Lying for a good cause doesn't bug me, and I know you have a good reason."
"So, what are you going to do about what you know?" Jen asked.
Wes shrugged, though Jen thought she could detect a certain tiredness in Wes' frame. "I don't think I could really do much about it. I mean, this guy who may have been the real Wesley Collins. Do I have the right to disrupt his life? He's got a life and an identity. And I'm stuck with his. I'm a Collins, even if not by blood. Nothing's really going to change that."
His voice sounded so defeated, so unlike Wes, and, except for that one terrible moment before he died, so unlike Alex that Jen had to blink twice. She let Wes continue to speak.
"Did you know that this would happen? I'm Wesley Collins, but I'm not. And right now I feel like I really don't belong to this time. It's like ever since I found out, I've become more and more apart from everything I knew."
"We didn't mean to do that," Jen told him, wishing Katie was here. Katie would make things right in an area that just made Jen feel awkward. It was worse, because she had meant to do that. Apparently, not only had her plan worked beyond her wildest dreams, but had backfired immeasurably.
"I know. But I need to reconnect to my own time. I need to be around people who grew up in the same century that I did."
Something swelled up in Jen and she suddenly had to swallow. "Are you moving out?" she asked.
"No!" Wes replied. "This is my home right now. And I like all of you, I just want to feel normal again."
Jen breathed a sigh of relief. She was afraid she'd caused him to leave forever. They needed him right now, and frankly, she couldn't see this team functioning without him.
And it might make things worse, but she had to ask. "Wes, if we caught Ransik tomorrow, would you go home with us?"
Home. There, she'd said it and applied it to Wes. He looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"Why?" she responded, curious to know his reasons. Wes closed his eyes.
"It isn't home, at least not to me. Oh, I know I was born there, and I might like to see it just because I'm curious to know where I came from, but I don't think I'd want to live there. You see, I had a friend in prep school, the same school where I met Eric. He'd been born in London, England, but he grew up here. He told me once that he'd been to London and that he'd seen the hospital where he was born. But it really didn't mean anything to him. He had no connection to it. And that's how I feel about your time."
He opened his eyes and regarded her again. "I know you guys have been trying to get me more comfortable with the time I'm supposed to be from. I know it's because you care. It's just that it doesn't mean a whole lot to me, just as my time sometimes doesn't mean a whole lot to you guys."
"We wanted you to know what you were missing out on," Jen joked, knowing that her joke was feeble. Fortunately, Wes didn't explode.
"I know, and I know you guys were trying to make me feel at home. It's just that when I need right now is to have some grip on this time and this place, and I feel like I've been slipping away. I think that's why Dad's reactions hit me so hard. I wanted an anchor and he didn't prove to be it."
Jen nodded. She had a sinking feeling that Wes, despite any feelings she had about him, would stay here, in this time. Rialtson's followers had brought him here, and being here had made him what he was. And if staying here made him happy... then she would make sure that he stayed where he was, so that he would stay happy.
It was not her duty to make him miserable. It was not her duty to drag him into a time where he obviously did not belong and would probably never belong.
"Don't be afraid to tell us if we're smothering you, Wes," Jen told him. "We're here to capture Ransik, not turn your life upside down. Someday we'll capture him and life will go on. Sometimes we forget that."
"Sometimes you forget that?" Wes asked, but his tone was teasing.
"Sometimes I forget that," she affirmed. She stood up, offering Wes a hand as he worked on getting up as well.
She could see Wes grin as she headed towards the sink. No matter what had happened that evening, some things still had to be done.
* * *
Wes woke up the next morning with the rest of his teammates. He was slowly getting used to their early-to-bed, early-to-rise schedule, fitting in with them. Jen still had no tolerance for late sleepers, at least not here.
He checked his clock and knew that he had a while before the library would open downtown. After his talk with Jen last night, he was in a much better mood, but there were still some things that he had to know. And he'd discover them on his own this time.
"Morning!" Katie greeted him.
"Morning," he greeted back, matching her enthusiasm as he wandered over to the men's dressing area. He quickly slid into his clothes and headed for the breakfast table, where Lucas was putting out the morning meal. Katie joined him shortly after, having slipped into her vest, shirt, and pants.
"How did things work out last night?" she asked. She pulled away slightly, and Wes realized she probably didn't want him to think that she was hovering.
He smiled. "I think Jen and I worked it out," he responded. "In any case, I feel a lot better than I did yesterday. I'm going to probably take the day off, though, unless Jen has something really pressing. There's some stuff I have to do."
"Go ahead," Jen's voice said from behind the two of them. She was in her workout outfit, no doubt getting ready to do her morning exercises. "After all that's happened, you deserve some time off."
He smiled again. "Thanks," he responded. Jen's manner was relaxed, as if a great weight had been taken of her shoulders, and he thought he could detect a twinkle in her eyes. Jen was actually in a good mood this morning. "I'll take off after breakfast then."
There was no way he could get out of breakfast. Ransik might decide to trash the city again, and he'd need all the strength he could get. Besides, the others needed to know the crisis was over, at least for the moment.
And then he'd go out. Forget his teammates, forget the weird turns his life had taken since the day before yesterday and what had happened only a week or two before, and remember who he was.
Life, for the moment, was good.
-the end
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