Carson Evolved Ch. 13

Author's Notes:

Once again, welcome back to my story, my faithful readers! Thanks for hanging with me, and especially to all of you who have taken the time to comment or send me feedback messages

Like always, if you haven't read the previous chapters, you're going to get lost. I don't typically make much of an effort to explain references to earlier events and characters (of which, there are a lot). However, after the last chapter, there was a request for some brief character introductions. I posted a kind of character sheet/recap for chapters 1-12 as chapter 12a.

As the old axiom says, you can't please all the people all the time. I got criticism for calling 12a instead of 13 because it wasn't related to chapter 12 directly, and somehow appending the 'a' makes it a subpart of 12. It that's the common naming convention, then I'm not aware of it. I simply wanted to make sure people didn't read the character sheet too early in the series and ruin the experience. But I think it's pretty clear that it's just an insertion between chapters. No malice intended, folks.

Reader jackspeed2u brought up the Stargate connection. I'll be honest. It's been so long since I watched the movie or any of the series, that I forgot about it. After looking it up, the Ancients were technically called "Ori," not "Orriri." The reason for the name is probably similar though. I wanted some that conveyed a sense of beginning or origin.

An anonymous commenter about a week ago posted a very valid criticism to chapter 11, that I have a tendency to start plotlines and not finish them completely. That's absolutely correct, and I am aware of it. It's not all intentional, I won't lie. Some of it is, though. The overall plot vis a vis Orriri was intentionally a very long-term goal. There are much shorter means of genetic manipulation that could possibly yield faster results, for example. So, there's not a lot of discussion about the results because the story's timeline is much shorter than the project's.

A lot of what happens, I think, is that the way I envision a character changes, or their role changes, as the story evolves. I originally thought Jordan van Heuval would be matched up head-to-head against Carson as they vie for women to bear their children. But I made Jordan pretty shallow early on, and definitely not likeable. I couldn't reconcile in my mind that he would be a true threat to Carson, so I needed to develop a way to allow him to evolve as a secondary character instead. Thus, when he's reintroduced to the story, he's an ally. Edwards starts out as this sage bodyguard character that would serve as a kind of surrogate father/mentor for Carson, but when Tilda's team takes over for Carson's security, his role diminishes. I never meant to imply that he would be a constant physical presence (a la secret service), but I can see where that would have been assumed. Having him there all the time creates a lot of problems in social interaction, if you think about it.

Having said all that, it's absolutely true that my stories tend to meander a bit. I had a plan before I started this series, I swear. But it's been a lot of fun writing it, and the response has been so positive (asking for more), that I've probably once again gotten ahead of myself and expanded without closing down earlier plots. I will take a closer look at that moving forward and see if I can't create some smaller arcs that will fit into the overall story a bit. There will, however, be things that will probably be abandoned as we go. Fair warning.

Standard disclaimer: Please, if you like the story, or if you don't like the story, take a moment to comment. It's especially helpful if you have something constructive to add. It helps me quite a bit to see the story through others' eyes.

Finally, as always, all sexual activity takes place between adults.

—MB

*****

From Chapter 12:

Reaching their table, Carson slid in next to Siubahn. She surprised him by leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you could make it, maighstir Jayne. I'm pleased to introduce you to..."

Whatever she said next was completely lost to Carson. He sat frozen in place, his hand half-extended in greeting, his mouth open in shock. He was looking at a ghost, a face he hadn't seen in the roughly 13 years since he'd put it in the ground.

"Dad?" he managed to squeak out before blackness descended over his eyes.

*****

Carson heard his name as if from a distance. His eyes slowly cracked open, then he blinked a few times to clear his vision. Through the crowd of concerned faces that ringed his field of view, Carson could see the glimmer of lights reflected in the hammered copper ceiling tiles. Which meant he was laying on the floor, he realized.

He started to sit up, but was quickly pushed back to the floor by several hands. The corresponding voices insisted he lie down. Through the clamoring, he discerned that he'd hit his head on the table when he collapsed. That explains the throbbing on the side of my head, he thought.

Yeah, you should be more careful. Carson's eyes widened and he scanned the faces of the crowd, finding the one that had started the scene in the first place.

Yes, it's me, Son. I know you have many questions, and I promise to answer them all in time. Right now, I need you to act like we're old friends meeting after a prolonged time apart. Okay?

Alright, he replied.

One of the other patrons happened to be a doctor. He gave Carson a quick look-see and pronounced him fit enough to move on his own. He advised avoiding alcohol for the rest of the evening and prescribed rest and over-the-counter pain killers.

Slightly wobbly, Carson made it to his feet and thanked the man. He offered to buy the man a drink, but his offer was waived. "Nothing I wouldn't do for anyone," the man replied.

Now that the excitement had passed, the crowd dispersed and went back to whatever they'd been doing before. Carson followed Siubahn into the booth, once again taking the seat across from his once-dead father, who it appeared, was now very much alive. Carson looked the man over, still not trusting what his eyes were telling him. He looked like Thomas Jayne. He didn't even look like he'd aged in the intervening 13 years since his 'death.' He sounded like his father. But how could it be his father?

Please, be patient Carson. It's not safe for either of us to talk in the open.

Aloud, his father said, "You have no idea how happy I am to see you again after all this time, Mr. Jayne."

Carson was dumb-struck. Fortunately, he was saved from having to make a reply when the waitress came by to collect drink orders. Numbly, Carson mumbled a request for a tall glass of the house stout, in spite of the doctor's prohibition against alcohol; the occasion seemed to call for something. His father's eyes pricked up in amusement, before he too ordered the stout. Siubahn smirked at them and ordered a Rusty Nail.

The waitress left and an awkward silence descended over the table. Siubahn studied the two men at the table. It was like looking at time-lapse photography of the same man, only taken some twenty years apart. How could I have missed the similarity before? she pondered. She could hardly believe she'd managed to find not only a teacher for Carson, but apparently, the man was his own father.

Not knowing the backstory, Siubahn couldn't fathom why they were sitting there so uncomfortably. Was there some rift between them? A rivalry or long-standing offense?

Carson was scrambling desperately to ask something...anything...that would explain his father's disappearance, as it now seemed to be. He opened his mouth. "How..." was all that came out before his jaws clamped shut. "When did..." was the next stuttering utterance. "I mean, you were..."

"Sh, sh, shhh," cautioned his Dad, looking around. Not here.

What then?

"How about you tell me about your life these days? What's happening with Carson Jayne?" If he'd had any remaining doubt as to the man's identity, that sealed it. Carson's eyes teared up and he fought to keep from blubbering like an idiot. He father had always greeted him with those words upon returning from one of his business trips, more so once Carson became a teenager and began to show some independence. It was also a natural conversation starter between two people who hadn't seen each other in some time.

He grinned in spite of himself. How to explain his life to his father? Most days, he could scarcely believe it himself.

"Well, for starters, I got married. Then, a couple of years later, I got married twice more." His father's eyes were round in surprise.

"Three wives? You're a glutton for punishment!" he joked.

"Sometimes," Carson agreed. "But Da..." but he started, but caught himself. He looked at the man across from him. What do I call you?

Call me 'Thom' came the reply. Carson nodded.

"Thom, they bring so much happiness into my life, it's never any trouble."

His father sipped his stout and nodded his head. "Good for you, Carson. As the old song says, a man would be nothing without a good woman beside him. I guess with three women beside you, you must really be something!"

Once again, Carson had to fight back a tear. He'd forgotten his father's particular brand of 'dad humor' and hadn't realized until now just how much he'd missed it.

"Any kids that you know of?" grinned his Dad.

Carson smiled and nodded. "Guess how many."

His father held up three fingers and Carson scoffed at him. Four? Shook his head. His father kept adding fingers and his eyebrows kept getting higher. When Carson stopped him at eight, he could gasped, "Eight? Did you not pay attention in sex ed class?"

Both Carson and Siubahn laughed at that. "It's complicated, Da...Thom." He shook his head sheepishly at having made the same mistake again.

It's okay. We weren't on a first-name basis back then.

Thanks.

He smiled to himself. This'll be good. Aloud he said, "Those are just the ones who live with me."

The expression on his father's face made him laugh again. Oh how he'd missed this man.

Thomas Jayne sat back in wonder. What the hell was his son into? He shouldn't be accessing his powers, if the patch is still in place. But, he's strong as hell. I can feel it radiating off of him. He took a quick look at the work he'd done nearly twenty years ago now. Seeing the condition of his patches, he grimaced. The oldest work was still intact, the part that segregated his memories from his conscious thoughts. The newer patch, the one that had been hastily applied to help mask his magical signature was fraying badly. He'd underestimated the power that his son possessed, and like a band aid on a leaking pipe, it was bulging under the pressure.

Under the circumstances, it wasn't all that surprising that his son was reaping benefits from skills he didn't even know he possessed. Thom shook his head to himself. So much time lost.

Aloud, he kidded, "You have other children too? When do you have time to get any work done?"

For the first time, he thought Carson seemed evasive. "It's...difficult to explain. I can't talk too much about it. I honestly don't know how many children I might have fathered, at this point. There are maybe three dozen women or so that have gotten pregnant after sleeping with me, but I make regular donations to a sperm bank too. I'd have to check the records to see how many children have come from those donations."

Carson was surprised to see that his father wasn't surprised at that revelation. He just nodded, with a little smile on his face. That confused Carson, so he asked about it. "You don't seem surprised. Why not?"

Thom hesitated, wondering just how much of his son's heritage he could, or should, reveal at this stage. Too little, and he'd lose credibility. Too much, and he might overwhelm the younger man. The truth was, no matter what he was into now, Carson was destined to have many, many children. It was part and parcel with his Druidic heritage and the critical role that they played among the magical races.

"Well, you're a handsome, successful young man. You remind me of someone I once knew a long time ago. He didn't have any problems with the ladies, either." His father winked. Later, he said. I promise.

Okay, Dad.

"Siubahn tells me that you're looking for a tutor," began his father. Carson marveled at the ease with which he said her name. Carson had his doubts as to whether he'd ever master even the smallest nuance of Gaelic speech.

Nodding, Carson replied, "Yeah. I have some, uh, 'specialized' skills that need some refining."

Thom stroked his chin, seeming to consider the topic. "I suppose I could take you on as a student, provisionally of course, to see if we might be a good match."

Carson glanced at Siubahn. "Thank you very much. Siubahn and I appreciate it a great deal." He paused and said, "By the way, where are you staying in town?"

Thom's eyes narrowed in suspicion, a fact that Carson picked up on. With a placating gesture, he said, "I just thought that if you were amenable, you could stay at the house with my family. That way, we can catch up. There's plenty of space to work on my training."

His father relaxed, and with tears in his eyes, he said, "I'd like that, Carson. I'd like that very much."

The threesome spent the better part of an hour sharing details of their public lives and telling a few tall tales along the way. There was much laughter, and by the end, it was as if they'd all known each other for years. Carson and his dad had known each other previously, of course. But that was in another life, in another time. Carson was an adult now, and their relationship was very different from the one he'd known.

When the time came to leave, Carson offered to give them a lift. Still cautious, Thom refused. Instead, they made plans to have dinner the next night to meet the family and begin planning Carson's education. To his surprise, Siubahn also passed on the offer. She mumbled an excuse that sounded suspiciously made up, and Carson couldn't help but notice the sideways glance she gave his father. He then realized that she'd been doing it all evening. Is there something going on between them? he wondered.

As they left the pub, Carson went one way while they went the other. After taking a few steps, he looked back and found that she was walking close beside his father, in the way that a comfortable date might signal interest in her partner. He wasn't picking up the same vibe from his father, but shrugged it off. Maybe he had someone else, or maybe he was still hurting over the loss of his wife, Carson's mother, all these years later.

*****

It was a little after nine by the time Carson walked through his front door. Closing the door firmly, he paused a moment, resting with his hand against the back of the door, head bowed. The adrenaline spike he'd felt upon reconnecting with his father had worn off, and he was tired. This was another in a long stretch of very long, high-stress days, and there were still many more to come. I need a break, he thought.

Carson turned, loosening his tie in the process. To his surprise, Mila was there, and she came bearing what appeared to be a tumbler of Scotch.

"Bless you," Carson said with a smile. He leaned in and kissed her firmly as he collected the drink. "It's been a long day." Sliding his fingers into hers, they held hands as they walked to the family room. Carson paused at the doorway to take in the scene. This moment was maybe the one he looked forward to the most each day. He felt Mila wrap her arm around his and lean her head against his shoulder. They'd been standing there quietly for a minute when he heard what sounded like a sniffle; he looked down at her face with concern.

"Everything okay?"

She quickly dabbed at her eyes, seeming embarrassed at having been caught crying. "Yes, my love. Everything is good. Sometimes I just...I love my life. This family is better than I ever dreamed it could be." She bent her arm to place a kiss on his knuckles. "I'm just being silly, I guess. I'm so happy that I sometimes get overwhelmed by it. That probably doesn't make any sense," she apologized.

He shook his head. "You don't need to apologize for anything. I may not cry—big, tough guys don't show emotion, you know—but when I walk through that door every day I look forward to this moment. This is the moment when I see what all the struggle, and the worry, and the late nights and early mornings are about. This..." he said, gesturing towards the group, "This is what's important to me. If everything else went away tomorrow, but I kept my family together, I would be at peace."

Mila wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug. "I know that, Carson. We all know that. That's why we love you so much, and we're so proud to be part of your family."

He draped his arm over her shoulders and they made their way towards the group. Little Amelia was his first-born, and she was a determined little girl. She'd recently begun taking her first tentative steps and was rapidly progressing to walking unsupported. Her problem was, her body wasn't quite ready to perform the actions her mind was telling her to do. When she laid eyes on her father, she grinned widely from her position next to the couch, proudly displaying the two baby incisors she possessed on the bottom, along with the half-emerged pair on the top. "Da, da, da, da," she said, excitedly and began to maneuver along the couch towards him as quickly as she could. Reaching the end, she tried to make her way across the open space towards him, but landed heavily on her diapered-bottom after only a few steps.

Carson scooped her off the floor and into a big hug. She shrieked when he gave her a 'zerbit' on her little tummy, which attracted the attention of her half-brothers, Marcus and Mason. Almost identical in age with Amelia, they were both more vocal, and a little steadier on their feet. They seemed to have entire conversations in toddler-babble, and their father thought it was hilarious to watch. The twins would be standing only a couple of feet apart, one gesturing wildly with a tiny little arm, exclaiming what sounded like a long string of gibberish. The other one would wait patiently, even watching the other intently, until the string ended. Usually, the response was to crack up laughing, like his brother had just told the funniest joke ever. Then they'd swap roles and repeat.

The boys might be steadier on their feet when standing, but when they wanted to get somewhere fast, they still resorted to fast crawling. You had to keep an eye out while walking when they were around, because they were faster than you'd believe a child that young could be.

Hearing Amelia's shriek and seeing its cause, the boys transformed into twin streaks and were quickly grasping at his pant legs to stand at his side. Mila knew Carson would want to play, so she gently lifted his drink from his hand and set it on a nearby table. He mouthed a quick "Thank you" to her before settling down on the floor to play with his three eldest children. Looking around, he saw that Connor was losing a battle with the Sandman on his mother's lap. The younger children must have already been put to bed, except for Silvan.

Silvan was well on his way to being a giant, as far as Carson was concerned. That was part of why they'd nicknamed him 'Pepin.' It was a word that Carson had picked up from Tilda, meaning 'awe-inspiring,' and it just seemed to fit. Easily the largest of the babies at birth, he favored his mother in coloring and bone structure. And, he was always hungry. Fortunately for him, Tilda's massive breasts contained a tremendous amount of milk, and he was steadfastly partaking of some now. In the unlikely event that she ran out, though, the other mothers in the family could fill in. They practiced a form of communal mothering, and each of the women pitched in to feed whatever infant was hungry, whenever they were hungry.