“Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
“Of course. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Nev. I’m the one who suggested it. I just want to make sure you’re sure.”
“Yes. I am.”
Mich approached the stainless steel hull of the transmogrifier as if she hadn’t ever done so before. Come on, Mich. How many times have you dealt with this machine? How many clones have you created since it was put here?
Yeah, but I’ve never made a clone that’s changed my whole life.
Nev stood behind her; he was outwardly calm, but the way he shifted from foot to foot and gnawed on his lower lip told Mich that he was anxious about what she was about to do.
“Okay Nev. Last chance.”
Nev sighed and straightened. “No. Do it. I’m ready.”
Mich smiled. “As if I hadn’t heard that from you before.” She faced the computer panel and reached slowly into her pocket, withdrawing two small blue objects from it—two optical chips, one labeled ‘Mich,’ the other one ‘Nev.’ She inserted them into the slots by the panel, and studied the display. “Okay—those chips have our complete DNA profiles on them, so he’ll be a pretty fair mix of the two of us. I can make some adjustments, but . . . ” She moved aside so Nev could see the clone’s image on the screen.
“No. He’s perfect, just like that.”
Mich raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
Nev nodded. “Yeah.”
Mich leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. “If you say so.” Nev casually slung his arm around Mich’s shoulder as she worked the controls, trying to keep her heart in her chest where it belonged.
“Ready,” she said, more to herself than Nev, and pushed the ‘transmogrify’ button.
The door to the transmogrifier opened and Mich held her breath.
A six year-old boy blinked at them with huge eyes from behind long black bangs. He had Nev’s full lips and slightly longish nose, and Mich’s round jade green eyes. As he took a cautious step out of the chamber the overhead lights caught the faint reddish tint to his hair.
He stuck his hands into his pockets. “Who’re you?”
Nev gave Mich a cocky wink. “He really is your son.”
The boy’s eyes moved to Nev. Boy and man silently regarded each other, son sizing up father and vice versa. “Dad?”
Nev started. After a few furtive looks at Mich, he nodded, his unkempt hair falling into his face. “Um, yeah. I guess I am.”
The boy yanked his hands from his pockets and held them out to Nev. After a moment’s hesitation Nev lifted the boy into his arms, balancing him on his hip.
“Mich? You thought of a name yet?”
Mich stroked her son’s hair, running her finger gently down his nose. “Dante. Dante Ronday Nesmith.”
“Dante?” Nev regarded his son silently. “Yeah . . . I kinda like that.”
Dante smiled, showing off his crooked incisor.
“Isn’t there any of you in there, Mich?” Nev asked. “Seems like he looks more like me than you.”
Mich shrugged. “Personally I think he looks like both of us. I mean, physically I look much more like my father than my mother but my mom’s in here, too,” she said, lightly tapping her chest.
Dante yawned and rested his head on Nev’s shoulder. “Wanna go home,” he murmured.
Nev looked at Mich, his eyes wide. Home?
“You heard the boy, Nev. Home.”
~*~
Mich finally finished tucking Dante in, making sure her new son was cozy on the couch before she went over to sit next to Nev, who had watched the entire proceeding with a strange half-smirk on his face. Mich curled up on his lap, casually looping her arms around his neck. “Well, Daddy?”
Nev chuckled. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearin’ that.”
Mich drew back slightly. “You’d better. He’s our son now.” She stopped, flinching as if shocked by what had just come out of her mouth. “Good God, you’re right.”
“You’re not havin’ second thoughts, are you?”
“Of course not! Are you?”
Nev shook his head. “Nope. Not one bit.” He gazed at the small child buried under the covers. “Just between you an’ me—and if you repeat this to anyone I’ll deny it till the day I die—I’ve always dreamed of havin’ a son or daughter, and watchin’ ‘em grow and learn and . . . I never thought it would happen, and now . . . ” He nodded to Dante. “He’s beautiful.”
Mich’s eyes burned suddenly and painfully and tears spilled onto her cheeks. She’d never thought Nev capable of parental affection before. Nev was, to be sure, kind and gentle and compassionate most of the time, but it was always in a distant sort of fashion, as if he were afraid that too much affection would somehow taint him. God, I was so wrong about him . . .
“I love you, you know that?” she said.
Nev raised an eyebrow. “Now what brought that on?”
She shrugged. “Call it my sentimentality.”
Nev chuckled. “Okay.” The couple sat in companionable silence, watching their new son sleep, and wondering what the following day would bring . . .
On to Two
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