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Written for the 'something thinks about their children' challenge over at PretenderChallenges.

Missing Pieces



For someone who was once told they couldn't have children, ever, I have an awful lot. Five in fact, four of which I've lost to the Centre at one point or another.

I remember when Jarod was first born; going into his room in the middle of the night just marvelling at him, how perfect he was, how beautiful - just like his mother. I was there with her for almost everyday she was pregnant - no mean feat for someone in the military. But I was determined that I wasn't going to be another one of those men who leave for a tour when their wife is still thin and come home to baby in diapers.

I was there with Kyle to; he was so much more active than his brother, kept us up all night with his aerobatics and cries. God he was active - loud and active. I remember Jarod once remarking that he hadn't been so loud. We just smiled.

Then they took them, Jarod and Kyle; our two perfect little miracles. Gone. I wanted to search the country, and we started to, then she gave me the news. I was going to be a father, again - another perfect little miracle. One that they weren't going to take from us. After a pregnancy full of loose clothing and constant running, Emily was born in a converted loft with only a nurse friend of Catherine Parker's to help her into the world.

She was, in some ways, more beautiful than both of my boys were, she had blue eyes that would eventually fade to my brown, and a smile that kept her mother and I heartened even through the darkest of days. She was the brightest, if not in intellect then in spirit of all of the children. She was also to have been the last.

But then there was J.J, a younger version of Jarod, one I'd never seen. It was painful when Jarod told me. I mean what kind of father can't recognise their first born as a teenager?

One that never met his son from the ages of 6 to 36 all thanks to the same place that had helped bring him into the world.

It was hard but I accepted J.J, Emily accepted him the most, after all, she didn't have him calling him 'Dad', but the term that had once seemed foreign from the tongue of an outsider was now something that never ceased to make me smile.

If it hadn't ended with Emily it sure as hell should have ended with J.J.

Of course, The Centre had other ideas, and they decided they wanted a child between Catherine and myself. And because owning three of my sons wasn't enough, Ethan was born. And Catherine died to save him, she died to save my … our son.

It's hardest with Ethan, I can't tell him he has his mother's temperament or her personality because I just don't know, only his sister Miss Parker can tell him those things. And I just can't relate to his 'Inner Voice'. I'm just the man who gave the genetic material - the pretender gene.

Some days I think they made a mistake, I'm not the one with the gene, Margaret must be, I'm just a Major, albeit one with a reasonably high intellect. But I'm just a man who had a low sperm count and went to a clinic to get help. That's all.

That's why in some way's I don't look forward to the eventual reunion with Margaret, after all what am I going to say, 'This is Jarod, our long lost son. Kyle? Well Catherine Parkers son killed him, and talking of her sons this is Ethan he's my son, Catherine's and mine. Oh and in case that wasn't enough this is J.J he's Jarod's clone'.

Five children and there is not a single one that I haven't missed parts of their life.

But it'll come back to them. They'll rue the day they took my sons. And if I can't then Jarod will. He'll make them pay, for his brothers, his sister and his clone. He'll strike them down in such a way they'll know who did it, and will be powerless to do anything. Just like Margaret and I were.

Dear God, I hope that it ends with Ethan. I don't think I could take it if it turned out there was another one.

I've missed too much already.

End.









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