Jared was in that mystical place between sleep and waking when the thought hit him.

It was nearing 1:00 a.m., and the hot shower of an hour before had loosened him up some—eased enough of the soreness for him to stretch out on his bed and really appreciate how exhausted he was. He was bruised and battered, tight and kinked, and the adrenaline rush that always came with a serious fight downtown had ditched him and kicked him to the curb. Sleep sounded so good that he found himself pondering the delicious anticipation of it, and the wonderful relationship between a man and his bed.

His thoughts had been loose and drifting, with replays of the night's events being interrupted by the comfortable random images and stray musings that always signaled his passage into slumber.

But one of the strays had opened Jared’s eyes.

He wanted nothing more than to slide into serious R.E.M. and catch the few precious hours of peace he’d get before having to get to his day job, so he tried to push the thought aside, dismiss it as foolish and not even worth consideration. But as he tried to close his eyes again, he found he couldn’t escape it. It kept coming back, like George Bailey at Christmas or Ted Williams after another war.

Soon, unable to do otherwise, he reached for the phone. He dialed the number from memory—only recently committed—and listened as it rang once, twice… He was sure voice mail was going to come on, but on the third ring, she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” he said, hearing in his own voice how tired he really was.

“Hi,” Samantha said, quietly and happily, the pleasant surprise evident in her voice.

“I’m sorry. It’s late.”

“I’m still up,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Wow. I can’t believe you’re really calling me. Here.”

It wasn’t complete bravery. He was calling her on her cell phone, not the house phone at the Parker house where she was still living. The house where her father could find out who she was talking to, and find out why these two had suddenly become phone pals, and then track down Jared and tear his arms off.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop being sorry? It’s great that you called. It’s good to hear your voice.”

It was good to hear hers, too, especially with the way her voice sounded on the last sentence.

“Are you okay?” she asked, before he could respond. “I saw you guys on TV.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, dismissively. “I’m fine.”

“I saw a paramedic with Lucy. She looked okay, though.”

“She was. Just some scrapes. Max took the worst of it—“

“Is he—?”

“—but he’s okay. He was just out of it for a while. He snapped back fine.”

“Good. It was over by the time I heard about it. You guys should have called. I’d have come and helped.”

“It’s okay. It was one of those spur of the moment deals. Just lucky the three of us were all downtown.”

“Who was that idiot?”

“Who knows?” he sighed, stretching out in the dark and wincing at his shoulder. “Some jackass who got a hold of some guy’s secret formula. The press’ll probably come up with a name for him in the morning. Iguana Man or something.”

“You sound really tired,” she said.

“Yeah. It was a long fight. I just need some Z’s. I’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

There was silence that wasn’t quite awkward, but it was a little bit pregnant. See? There was such a thing.

“So…” she said.

“Hmm?” he said back.

“So what’s going on? What are you really calling about?”

How was she able to do that so well?

“Don’t get me wrong,” she threw in with a laugh. “I’m loving it. But something’s on your mind. What is it?”

“No, I was just—“ He was chickening out.

“Come on, Jared,” she said, and her voice told him she was stretching out on her bed too. He could almost see her. “Just talk to me. What’s up?”

He hesitated and almost thought better of it, but the compulsion that drew him to this call was too strong. He had to go through with it. “I was just wondering…”

“Uh huh?” she prompted.

“Sam, did you know me before?”

“Before?” she asked, puzzled. “Before what?”

“Before. Like, back home. On your Earth.”

She took it in for a couple of seconds, then quietly laughed at him. “Oh, my God. You are such a freak.”

“It’s an alternate Earth, Sam. One with Forte. I’m with Forte. It just never occurred to me before tonight.”

She kept laughing, trying to hold it in, trying not to be heard. Her sisters were likely fast asleep in their rooms down the hall.

He kept trying to make his case, but her reaction wasn’t helping. “I’m serious.”

“You’re a serious freak,” she laughed.

“Did we know each other? Did I know your family? I’d be what…49 years old on your world now? Did you grow up calling me Uncle Jared?”

She gave up and laughed out loud. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, the drama of this was a one-way thing.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still fighting the laughter. “God, you’re just not going to let this age thing go, are you?”

“It’s not the age thing,” he said, suddenly sounding very serious. “That’s not what I’m—“ He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Her laughter stopped, so she’d obviously picked up on his tone. “I just need to know that this…this thing between us. That it’s not about something else…or someone else. That it’s just about you and me. This you, and this me. That there’s no history I know nothing about. I need to know where I stand. It’s just…it’s important to me.”

Another pause. Just the sound of their breathing kept the line alive.

“Jared,” she said, not laughing anymore. “Listen to me. Whatever this is that we have? I promise, it’s just about you and me. No, I didn’t know you back home.”

He exhaled. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she asked, quietly.

“Okay,” he said back, gently. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Boy,” she sighed. “If there was a way to make money being sorry—”

“I’m just tired, and it popped into my head, and…I just had to know.”

“It’s okay. It was valid question. I’m sorry that I didn’t think about it. I know it’s weird, me being here and already knowing everybody—almost everybody—and being from the future, too. Sort of. That future. I forget sometimes.”

“It’s got to be weird for you, too. Knowing all these people, but not really knowing them. Having a history with them, but not. I bet that’s tough.”

“Sometimes,” she said. “It was harder when I first got here. But I’ve had plenty of time to relearn now. And getting to know new people helps a lot.”

He smiled at the intimate tone in her voice.

She started to say something, stopped, and he heard her laugh a little before going on. “I have a confession to make, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hope it doesn’t weird you out even more.”

“Let’s find out.”

“The last time I was home, on my world? I sort of looked you up.”

All the implications took away his power of speech.

“Not, like, knocked on your door or anything,” she laughed. “I just did a little research. I got curious after…after that night. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just people tend to react in different ways when I tell them about themselves over there. To some it’s like I’m telling them their future. But it’s not your future. It’s a whole other reality. Okay?”

“I understand. Yeah, I think I want to know.”

“Well,” she said, and he could hear her roll over on her bed for better position. And she sounded like she was dying to tell this. “There is no Seahawk over there. So you weren’t ever in Forte. That’s why I never knew you.”

“Interesting…” he said, trying to keep an open mind. He tried to sound casual, but there was no denying it…he was suddenly desperate to hear this. How many people got such an opportunity?

“You’re a cop there. Still. You’ve been with Seattle P.D. your whole career. You’re a lieutenant. You run a homicide squad.”

“A lieutenant?” he said, again trying to sound easygoing about it, but really deep in a surreal fascination. “Not bad.”

“Not bad at all. You’ve got quite a service record. Lots of commendations. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Forte actually did know you. I’ll have to ask around next time I’m back.”

“Do I still have my hair?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “I looked up photos. You’re gray, but it works well on you. Very sexy. You’re still in great shape. And you’re—“

He felt more than heard the hesitation. She continued before he could ask.

“And you’re still married. To Stephanie.”

He felt like a sandbag had been placed on his chest for a moment. That caught him off-guard. Thoughts and emotions went off like fireworks in a briefly brilliant display.

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, no,” he said, suddenly very guilty at the position the statement had put her in, and the awkward tension it had strung between then. “It’s okay. It’s like you said, it’s a whole different world, right?”

“Right,” she said, but not with much enthusiasm.

He was not liking this corner they’d painted themselves into.

“Tell me about Gabriel,” he said, trying to steer them away from that swamp. “Did you—?”

“Yeah,” she said, with a smile in her voice. “Gabriel’s in college. U.O.W. He’s a criminal justice major.”

That brought a whole new set of emotions to the surface. And an unusual compulsion to cry.

“Now remember,” she laughed. “A whole different world, Jared. Don’t start planning out this Gabriel’s future. This one may become a marine biologist or something.”

“I know,” he said, still floored. Just the thought that somewhere, Gabe was grown, was a young man, was going to college and dating girls and driving a car…and working toward becoming a cop just like his old man, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather…

Samantha was laughing. “Listen to you. You’re all proud daddy now.”

He laughed back, lightly. “Marine biologist is fine. I swear.”

“I think it’s sweet,” she said. “I like this side of you.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I like finding out new things about you. We’ve known each other for a couple of years now, but it’s like I’m finally getting to know the real you. I want to know more.”

“Well,” he smiled, rubbing his drowsy eyes, “if there’s anything you want to know, all you ever have to do is ask.”

“Then I’ll just have to do that.”

“All right. Any questions on your mind right now?”

“Well, one.”

“Shoot.”

“Want me to come over?”

He moaned a little laugh. She laughed back.

“Don’t you have to work in a few hours?” he asked.

“Yeah. But I’m okay with that. What about you?”

He exhaled. “It’s very, very tempting. I mean that. But I’m really a wreck right now. I can barely move I’m so beat on.”

She made a sound of sympathy.

“I don’t know how much fun I’d be,” he said.

“I could do some first aid. Get you aspirin, make some soup, do a little therapeutic massage…”

He moaned again, helplessly. “That sounds…really nice. But I’m barely staying awake right now as it is. As much as I’d love it to be otherwise, I think I really need the sleep.”

“Then we’ll just sleep,” she said.

He realized something about the sound of her voice had changed. It was no longer synthesized, translated through the phone connection. He rolled over and found her lying next to him in his bed, still with her cell phone against her face. She wore a Forte Museum tee shirt, a pair of sweats, no makeup, and a smile.

Finishing his roll, he faced her, keeping his phone to his ear. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, still talking into the phone. “I just feel like being near you right now. I feel like waking up next to you.”

He stared into her eyes. “That does sound nice.”

“It sounds very nice.”

They smiled at each other.

“So,” she said. “Can I come over then?”

He rolled his eyes up in thought, giving it serious consideration. She waited, amused.

“I’m out of coffee,” he warned.

“I’ll teleport to Starbucks and get us some in the morning.”

“Hmmm. Well, if you’re bringing coffee to the deal…”

“Okay,” she said, cheerfully. “I’ll be right over.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Okay,” she said, and gave him a little wave. “Bye bye.”

“Bye,” he said.

She disconnected her cell phone, closed it, and set it on the nightstand next to her. He hung up his cordless and placed it on his stand as she pulled off her sweats and climbed under the covers with him. She tried to curl up with him as he lay down, and he immediately flinched in pain.

“Ooh,” she said, pulling a hand back and trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, readjusting his position.

“My God, you weren’t kidding. You’re a mess.”

“Iguana Man was really pissed off.”

She tried a couple of more positions, gingerly, until they came upon one that didn’t hurt him. She ran her fingers through his brown hair and kissed him.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

He nodded, kissed her back, then settled in. His arms around her, he inhaled deeply, and let the sleepiness overcome him. He was almost completely under when she whispered in his ear.

“Good night, Uncle Jared.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then he felt her body spasm against him in quiet laughter.

“You’re not going to let me forget that one, are you?”

Her not-so-quiet laughter that followed told him she would not.

 

END.

 

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