“Dad, where’s Mom?”
Nev looked over his shoulder at Dante. “She’s probably on the holodeck again,” Nev said, suppressing a sigh.
“How come?”
Nev tensed. Should he tell Dante the truth, or make up some story? Mich was, after all, a Frodis Femme—there would be plenty of reasons for her to be on the holodeck in the middle of the afternoon instead of with her family.
Nev decided to tell him the truth. “Because she’s workin’ out some demons, Dante.”
Dante’s small face creased into a frown. “She’s fightin’ demons? Why?”
Nev knelt down in front of his son. “No, not fighting. See, it’s like this . . . a long time ago there was a little boy who looked just like you—and who grew up to look just like me. We’re clones of him, you see?”
Dante nodded. “Yeah, Dad. His name’s Mike Nesmith. Everyone knows that.”
“Okay, well . . . what you don’t know is that Mike got hit by his dad when he was little. That’s why his mom took him and left—that’s why he grew up with just his mom. And your mom . . . well, your mom is afraid that someday someone’s gonna hit you like that, and if that happens she’ll lose her temper . . . maybe get someone hurt or killed.”
Dante nodded. “Oh. So . . . what’s she doin’ on the holodeck?”
“I’m not really sure, Dante. She doesn’t want to talk about it—not even to me.” Nev paused. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go down and see for yourself?”
“She won’t get mad, will she?”
“Somehow, Dante . . . I doubt it.”
~*~
Dante headed down the hallway to the holodeck, hoping it would be where his father said it was. He wasn’t old enough to explore the Library with the latitude he wanted—at least, that’s what his parents kept telling him. But he certainly was old enough to walk down a flight of stairs and down a hallway; Dante was not big but he was only too aware of the enormous strength that lurked in his small body.
He reached the bronze-orange holodeck doors and stared up at the computer panel, which blinked quietly to indicate that a program was running. “Computer, is my mom in there?”
“Please restate the question.”
Dante puzzled for a moment. “Oh. I mean—is Mich in there?”
“Affirmative.”
“Can you let me in? I’m her son, Dante.”
The computer beeped a few times, then the door slid open obediently. Dante found himself in the hallway of a small house; if he had been a few years older he would have recognized the decor as being distinctly late forties. There was a great deal of angry shouting coming from a room on his left, and he headed for it, knowing—without knowing why—that he’d find his mother there.
A man in a military uniform who reminded Dante vaguely of his Uncle Nameh was standing in front of a dark-haired woman in a plain blue housedress. Both of them were shouting and gesticulating with a violence that made Dante flinch. He darted behind a table as the man glanced in his direction, his glare intense and full of venom.
“Why would Mom be HERE?” Dante whispered to himself. He looked up in time to see a small boy, about two years younger than himself, come tearing around the corner. “Mama!” the boy shouted, running into the room. Unable to contain his curiosity, Dante crawled out from behind the table and sneaked over to the room where the boy ran, pressing himself up against the wall and peeking around the corner.
The tall man in the uniform, whose face was now nearly scarlet with rage, turned and backhanded the small boy, sending him crashing to the floor. Dante lunged into the room and knelt by the boy, shielding him from any further attacks.
“Who the hell are you?” the man snarled. The woman he’d been arguing with took a step back, her hand going to her mouth.
“Why’d you hit him!?” Dante shouted. “He’s littler than you! Go pick on someone your own size!” He put his arms around the younger boy’s shoulders, protecting him as the man started to advance, his hands closing into fists.
~*~
Mich looked out from her hiding place in time to see Mike run in the room, and once again Warren drew his arm back and hit him, just like all the other times.
This time, however, was different. Instead of hitting the floor and dissolving into tears, the boy was shielded by another, this one with long, dark bangs, and as he looked up at Warren, she saw his green eyes.
DANTE!!! she wanted to scream, clapping both hands over her mouth. NO NO NO NO NO!! What was he DOING there? A violent urge to run out into the room seized her and she prepared to charge, but just as her leg muscles engaged something even more powerful reached out and held her in place, watching while Dante confronted Mike Nesmith’s father.
~*~
Dante glared up at the man. “You shouldn’t hit little kids like that,” he said solemnly. “That’s not right.”
“Right?” Warren sneered. He looked over his shoulder at his wife. “What the hell is this?”
She shook her head, her eyes still wide. “I have no idea.”
Warren looked back at Dante. “You’d better get out of my house RIGHT now,” he rumbled.
“No!” Dante shouted defiantly. “If I leave you’re gonna hit him again!” He tightened his grip on Mike as the boy clung to him, his teary, fearful eyes looking up at Dante with pleading . . . and with trust.
“What I do with my wife and son is none of your business! Now scram!” Warren moved forward as if to kick Dante, bringing his foot back. Dante waited a few moments, then lunged forward, grabbing Warren’s leg and heaving him upwards, his powers sending the adult flat on his back, where he lay like a caught fish, gasping for air.
Dante moved to stand over him, his small hands clenched into fists, his green eyes glowing. “You’re not so big now, are you?” he said, his voice deepening with the anger that blazed within him. “You’re not a good dad, not like MY dad. My dad is a good guy. You’re a bad guy.” With a disdainful snort he turned away and back to Mike.
“Dante?” A soft whisper brought Dante’s attention to the corner of the room, where his mom was emerging from behind a closet door.
“Mom! What’re you doing here?”
Mich smiled. “Computer, remove Nesmiths.” With a flash Warren, Bette, and Mike disappeared, and Dante and Mich were alone.
Dante ran to his mother, throwing his arms around her waist, which was as far up as he could reach. “Dad told me to come down and see you—said you wouldn’t get mad. You’re not, are you?”
Mich hugged him tightly, gently touseling his dark hair. “No, sweetie, I’m not. In fact, I’m SO glad to see you.”
Dante drew back. “You are?”
Mich knelt down so she could look her son in the eye. “Yes. I’m VERY proud of you, Dante. You handled that situation very well. You were wonderful.” To Dante’s dismay her eyes swam with tears. Moms weren’t supposed to cry.
“Don’t cry, Mama. I just didn’t want him to hit that kid. He was so much bigger—it wasn’t fair.”
Mich stroked his cheek. “That’s very true, Dan. But sometimes big people hurt little ones, and that . . . that’s why I was here. I’m just . . . scared that someday someone will hurt you like that. But you’ve just shown me that if that time comes . . . I won’t have to worry about you. You’ll be fine.”
Dante nodded, his eyes still stinging at the sight of his mom crying. “Yeah, but you’ll be with me, right?”
Mich pulled him into another hug, embracing him as if she could protect him from all the evil in the world. “Yes, sweetie. I’ll always be with you. Always. C’mon, let’s go home.”
“Wait, Mom. Can I . . . stay here for a while?”
Mich paused, raising an eyebrow. “What for?”
Dante looked up. “Computer, can you bring that little boy back?” With an obedient chirp Mike appeared, still huddled on the ground in the last position he’d been in. Dante walked over to him and helped him up. “Hi, I’m Dante.”
“I’m Mike,” the boy said, giving Dante a shy smile.
Dante grinned. “Hi Mike. You wanna play?”
~*~
Mich watched the pair chatter excitedly as she quietly slipped out of the room. She found the spot on the wall where the exit was. “Arch.” The bronzed doors appeared and she returned to the welcoming warmth of the Long Title Library. “Computer, delete W. Nesmith program 6014 in Mich’s personal folder. Do not delete housing configuration or Mike Nesmith profile. Save those and put them . . . put them in Dante’s personal folder and save.”
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