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But they were powerless. If he could recognize it, it was his chance to be true to himself, to be free of the demons existing in his head. Or would he be?
He’d fallen off a cliff hours before. Was he strong enough to grab the life he wanted, or would he tumble into the void again? If he did, would he escape it?
As the silence spun out in the wake of Avir’s proposal, Kom stepped closer. “You saw for yourself how harmless your uncle is. All he has are weak threats he can’t act on. Your father is less a danger.”
“We love you, Mattie.” Masok spoke with his heart in his eyes.
Matt managed a trembling smile. “I love you guys too. You can’t imagine how much.” He drew a deep breath. “Dr. Retel’s right. I have to face them first. Once I’ve done that…once I’ve proven to myself I have nothing to be afraid of and I won’t wreck what I want us to have…I’ll join your clan.”
Kom couldn’t deny his disappointment over Matt putting off clanning. In his heart, he and Matt had been clanmates for months. It needed only the official stamp.
He allowed it was a minor detail, albeit a detail he was devoted to claiming. As they left the hospital, Matt grasped his and Masok’s hands without waiting for them to offer the contact. He walked the corridor, his back straight, his gaze pointed ahead. He didn’t duck or peer furtively at those they passed to check on how they reacted to the open closeness.
Kom knew the strength it took for him to do so. In the wake of the profound breakdown he’d suffered, the Nobek was awed at Matt’s new determination.
Ancestors, let this be the turning point. Let this be the beginning of a happy life for him.
They flew home. Matt snuggled against Masok during the ride, his blond head nestled against the Imdiko’s shoulder, his face turned up to smile at him. Occasionally, he turned his sweet gaze to Kom, who piloted, and Avir, who watched him from the front passenger seat. He appeared content. There was no trace of the lost, terrified man he’d been for too long.
Ancestors, please.
* * * *
The Galactic Council’s primary base on the planet Jedver also hosted their largest hospital. It was in the final transition wing of the hospital where Sven Larsen struggled to stay alive.
The primary doctor assigned to him, a kindly garnet-furred Joshadan named Yalow, met Matt and Clan Avir in a quiet and comfortable room, which Matt thought would have fit in an Earther home. It was, in fact, geared to humanoid species such as Earthers, Kalquorians, and Plasians. An overstuffed couch and a few chairs circled a table on which an assortment of bite-sized food and water pouches had been set. The inoffensive landscape vids on the walls and subtle lighting contributed to its homey feel.
“Mr. Larsen ignored the symptoms of his illness until there was nothing the physicians on Mercy Colony could do for him, beyond the exception of harvesting and cloning stem cells from a near relative. When his sibling proved incompatible, he was told his son might be a match. He refused to have you contacted for the procedure.” Yalow’s trill sounded uncomfortable.
“My uncle made the attempt on his behalf,” Matt said. He sat on the sofa next to Masok, whose arm circled his shoulders. Avir sat on his other side, holding his hand. Kom hovered behind them.
“He must have done so against your father’s wishes. Sven has steadfastly maintained he has no intention of accepting a donation from you.” Her tone hinted he’d spoken his objections in very explicit, defamatory terms.
Matt wondered if his feelings should be hurt. What he mostly felt, however, was a sense of ironic humor. He’d worried for years his father would come after him. It sounded as if Sven had been hellbent on avoiding any sort of a reunion.
“Will he see me?” As great of a relief as it would be to avoid the encounter, Matt knew deep down he had to look the monster in the eye one last time. He had to meet his father if he were to live the life he dreamed of as part of his clan.
“It’s never come up. The fact he won’t allow you to donate cells in an attempt to keep him alive—”
She was cut off by the door hissing open. Valter lurched in and stared at Matt.
Several realizations struck Matt at once. He was sitting in the midst of the clan he’d join when this was over. Their poses were intimate; the huddle of lovers, not mere friends.
Also, Valter was the same as he’d been in the pictures Avir had shown Matt. Shrunken. Wizened, aged far beyond his sixty-two years. He walked with a limp.
“Mr. Larsen, if you’d give us a few more minutes—” Dr. Yalow began to rise from her chair.
Valter glared at Matt, Masok, Avir, and Kom in turn, interrupting her as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’ve come. You brought your wickedness, I see. They aren’t going in with you to visit your dad. You aren’t rubbing his nose in your depravity, boy.”
“Mr. Larsen, we haven’t yet determined if your brother will allow a visit from Matt.” Yalow’s gentle voice had taken on an edge.
“He will. Who’s Sven’s legal guardian? Who makes his decisions for him? Me, and I say this ungrateful degenerate should go in and witness the evil he’s brought on us.”
“You dare?” Avir made as if to stand while Kom’s growl filled the room.
“It’s okay,” Matt said. Surprised at himself, he repeated, “It’s okay, guys. It really is.”
Avir glanced at him and subsided. Kom quieted.
