Wes sighed as they looked out the car window at the door of another bar. “Man. I can remember when I liked going to bars.”
“Me too. But I don’t think we hung out at the same kind of establishments.” Eric’s voice from beside him was amused.
“No, we didn’t. Not back then, anyway.” Wes turned to face him with a smile. “Now if these were gay bars, things might be a little more interesting. Maybe after we find Jake we can check out the local nightlife.”
“Yeah.” Eric leaned in and pressed his lips to Wes’s quickly, murmuring, “As long as you remember you came with me, of course.”
“Of course.” Wes glanced out the window again. “Well, let’s get going. Maybe we’ll get lucky here and someone will know where he is.”
After their successful search for Sherry and their visit to the Michelson home, Wes and Eric had checked Jake’s house again and then had decided to try canvassing the bars in his neighborhood. As Eric had put it: ‘With that many bottles in his garbage, if he’s not home he’s either passed out somewhere or at a bar. Or both.’ So far the search had been only partly successful - there had been a couple of bartenders who recognized their picture of Jake - but no one had been able to tell them where to find him.
At least this place was less noisy than the others. They walked in and looked around at the dark interior, the usual lines of glasses and bottles behind the bar, and the usual booths and tables filled with a twenty- and thirty-something crowd, most in groups talking to friends.
Eric led the way to where the bartender was closing the cash register and showed his badge when the man looked up.
“Silver Guardians? You’re kind of out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?” the bartender said.
“We’re working with SPD to find this man,” Eric said, and held up the picture. “His name’s Jake Walsh. His family has reported him missing.”
“Him?” The bartender snorted. “I guess they haven’t been looking in the right place.”
“Have you seen him?” Wes asked.
“Most every night for a couple weeks now.” The man jerked his head towards the far end of the bar. “See for yourselves.”
Wes turned, and peered through the dim lighting. There was a man sitting there, hard to see in a shadowy spot, separated from anyone else by a couple of empty barstools. It took a moment for Wes to recognize him, and not only due to the ten years that had passed since they had last met. Jake had aged prematurely; his face seemed lined and worn, his eyes sunken. Maybe most of it was the result of a recent drinking binge - but Wes suspected it went deeper, as he caught a look on the other man’s face that he could only describe as - hollow. Something had happened to Jake Walsh, Wes was sure of it. Something bad.
Eric was already moving in that direction, and Wes caught up as he stopped and stood, arms crossed, waiting. It took a few seconds before Jake reacted and raised bleary eyes to them.
“Oh, it’s you.” He didn’t seem particularly surprised, or maybe he was too drunk to feel much of anything.
“Yeah, it’s us.” Eric frowned and reached for his arm. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Your house. Where we’re going to sober you up and then have a little talk.”
“Don’t wanna go home.”
“Tough.” Eric took a firmer grip on Jake’s arm despite his attempt to pull away.
“Better do what he says,” Wes said more mildly as he took the other arm. “After we spent all day looking for you, my partner’s not in a good mood. And when he’s not in a good mood, you really don’t want to irritate him.”
“So he’s the bad cop. And I guess you’re the good cop.” Jake climbed to his feet, more or less under his own power, as Eric narrowed his eyes. “All right, all right. I’m coming. Got my car outside; I’ll meetcha there.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Eric growled.
It was a mostly quiet ride back to Jake’s house, if you didn’t count the grumbling from the back seat and Eric’s occasional irritated sighs and scowls in that direction. Finally Wes parked in the driveway and all three of them climbed out. Or it might be more accurate to say Jake staggered out. Wes and Eric followed him to his front door and waited while he fumbled with his keys and got it open. Eric moved forward and caught the door as Jake tried to slam it in their faces.
“I won’t be requiring your assistance any further tonight,” Jake said, undermining an attempt at dignity by swaying unsteadily.
“We’re coming in,” Eric said.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“My house. You can’t just bust in here-”
“Yes, we can.” Eric shoved him aside and walked in, silencing any further protests with a particularly fierce glare. Trying not to ruin the effect by laughing, Wes followed him and closed the door.
“Screw you.” Jake headed in the direction of the kitchen.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Eric demanded.
“To get a drink.”
“Oh, no you’re not.”
When Wes got to the kitchen doorway, Eric was forcibly removing a half-full bottle of Scotch from Jake’s hand. Jake growled and grabbed at it. Eric pushed him away. Jake swung a punch. Eric blocked it. Jake grabbed up a dirty frying pan from the sink and tried to hit him with it. Eric, who had put the bottle down, grabbed his wrist, yanked the pan out of his grip and dropped it back in the sink, and a moment later had Jake’s arm twisted behind his back.
Wes had watched without comment. As Eric held onto his struggling, cursing, but helpless prisoner, he crossed the room and pulled out a chair at the small breakfast table, and then helped shove Jake into it and keep him there.
Angry, panting, but seeming partially sobered, Jake glared up at them. “What the hell do you want from me?” he demanded.
“A few answers,” Wes said. “Like why you aren’t answering your phone when your family calls.”
“My family.” Jake sneered. “I guess my self-righteous big sister sicced you on me.”
“If you mean she’s worried about you because you stopped going to work and no one can get in touch with you, yes. Your parents are worried too. I understand your father’s not well, and I’m sure this isn’t good for him.”
Jake’s expression became only slightly less sullen. “Yeah, whatever. Now you can leave and tell all of them I’m doing just great.”
“I dunno. You don’t look so hot to me,” Eric commented dryly.
“Something’s happened to you,” Wes said. “Why stop going to work? Why hide from everyone, and why the drinking?”
“None of your business.”
“Is it Sherry?”
That got a quick, sharp look. “How do you know about her?”
Eric smiled and crossed his arms. “We’re Silver Guardians, remember. We know lots of things.”
“Yeah, right. Well, you’re wrong. Got nothing to do with Sherry.”
“Is it the baby, then?” Wes asked.
This time the look Jake shot at them was bright, hot, angry - and haunted. “Baby. The baby.” His face twisted. “That damn baby. Damn Kat Manx and her damn experiments. It’s all her fault!”
Wes leaned in and lowered his voice. “What happened?” he asked gently.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Tell us. Maybe we can help.”
Jake stared up at them for a few seconds, his face pinched and pale, before he began to laugh - not with humor but a sort of barking laughter that looked like it hurt. “Help?” he finally choked. “Oh, I forgot. You Rangers can fix anything, can’t you? But not this time. No, sorry, not this time.”
“Tell us anyway.” Eric looked genuinely interested now. “What could that little kid have done to make you climb into a bottle like this?”
“He’s not a kid. He’s a monster.”
The statement was flat and unemotional, and shocking enough to make Wes exchange a startled glance with Eric. “A monster?” he asked. “You mean he has some kind of power, like Sky?”
“Not like Sky.” Jake looked up, a twisted smile on his face. “Figures, huh? Sky can make his little force fields. Bridge Carson can sense things. Syd Drew can turn herself into rock or metal or whatever she touches. They’re all nothing compared to my son. I called Sky a freak - but I was wrong. I had no idea what a freak is.”
“What did he do?”
“What did he do...” Jake scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. “Dammit. After the experiment, after Sky and Bridge were born, I never intended to have kids. I knew they might be - different, might have something wrong with them. I thought we were being so careful... but Sherry got pregnant anyway. I wanted her to get rid of it. She wouldn’t do it. We argued, we fought about it, I even told her the truth, but nothing would change her mind.”
“That’s when you broke up with her?”
“Yeah, we broke up, for a while. But - but we started seeing each other again. I thought maybe it would be okay this time, and the baby would be normal. I thought maybe I was making a big deal over nothing. Even if the kid had some kind of ability, like Sky, I thought I could handle it this time. It would be worth it, you see?” He raised eyes that had brightened with a gleam of tears. “The thing is - I loved her, and I wanted her back.”
“I understand,” Wes said softly.
“So then the baby came. Sam. He was beautiful, and healthy, and he acted normal. I kept waiting for something to happen, but every day it seemed more and more like he was just an ordinary baby. After a few months Sherry moved in here. We started to be like a regular family. I thought - I thought everything was going to be all right. We were happy. For a while.”
“And then?” Wes prompted after Jake trailed to a stop. “What happened?”
“It started when he was about nine months. It wasn’t much at first. Things in his room wouldn’t be where we had left them. Once we came in and found him crawling on the floor, when we knew we’d put him in his crib. Just little things, things not being where they were supposed to be and showing up somewhere else, but we always assumed we’d just forgotten... or something. Maybe we didn’t want to know the truth.
“Then - one day - there was this big teddy bear Sherry had since she was a kid, and we kept it on a dresser in Sam’s room. I walked in and found it in his crib. The thing was old and dirty and had loose buttons and stuffing coming out - I took it away and put it back where it was supposed to be. When I went back an hour later - he had it again. I took it away and started to put it in the closet. And...” Jake raised his hands, as if holding a large and invisible teddy bear. “There was this sort of blur around it. And it was gone. Vanished right out of my hands. I turned around, and it was in the crib, and Sam was smiling at me.”
“He could - move things around? Make them disappear and reappear somewhere else?”
“The proper term is teleportation. Yes, he could move things around. And that was just the beginning.” Jake sighed heavily. “It got worse over the next couple of months. If he wanted something, it would materialize where he could get at it. If he didn’t want something - it would disappear and show up across the room. If he really didn’t want something - it would appear in midair and fall. He broke a lot of dishes and glasses that way. I think he thought it was funny.”
“Well...” Wes said, “I can see that would be a pretty strange thing to live with.”
“Strange.” Jake looked up. He laughed again, this time with harsh humor. “You have absolutely no idea.”
“So is that it?” Eric asked. “The kid did a few magic tricks and you freaked?”
Jake shook his head, still smiling, but with something painful under the expression. “You’ll be surprised to know that I did not freak at that point. This was my child. It was a big shock to find out he was different after all, but I thought we could handle it. All we had to do was train him not to teleport things, just like you teach a baby anything else. Yeah.” He chuckled again, his voice sarcastic. “All we had to do was train him.”
“I guess that didn’t go very well,” Wes said.
“No. No, it didn’t.” Jake’s smile was hanging on, but looking very strained. “We started to tell him ‘no’ every time he did it. That didn’t help; he’d either just ignore us or wait until we turned our backs. We rewarded him for not doing it. I guess he didn’t understand. We yelled at him. We put things where he couldn’t see them. Nothing made a difference.”
Jake gave a shuddering sigh. “Then one morning about three weeks ago, we were having breakfast. I was eating my eggs and toast. Sam decided he didn’t like his food so Sherry took a spoon and started to feed him. The spoon disappeared and fell on the counter across the room. Sherry said, ‘No!’ and tried again. The same thing happened, except this time the plate of food popped across the room too and splattered all over the wall.
“Sherry wouldn’t give up. She said we had to be firm. She got more food, and took another spoon, and tried to force it into him. The spoon disappeared. She yelled ‘No!’ again and slapped his hand. And - and the next thing I know, the coffeepot appeared a couple of feet over her head. It hit her pretty hard, and the hot coffee spilled - she screamed and started crying - I lost it. I jumped up and grabbed Sam by the arm and yanked him up and started spanking him - hard - and he was screaming too - and then - then all hell broke loose.
“It was like everything in the kitchen started popping into the air - things were falling on us - Sherry disappeared and appeared again across the room - I didn’t even know he could do that to people - I hit Sam again, trying to make him stop - and then there was a sort of blink, and I was outside, in midair, and falling.”
Jake hunched his shoulders and looked up at them, his eyes stark. “Sam teleported me outside, above the roof. I fell probably ten feet, hit the edge, and rolled off. If I hadn’t broken my fall with a tree branch and landed in the bushes I could have been killed. And I was luckier than the microwave.” He gestured up at the box-like metal object sticking out of the roof that they had noticed earlier, which Wes now realized was one end of a microwave oven. “That could have been Sherry or me, teleported inside a wall or something.” He shuddered.
“So that’s when you freaked,” Eric said quietly.
“Yes. For the first time I realized just how dangerous Sam’s power is. He could have killed both of us with just a thought. He almost did kill me.”
“He’s just a baby,” Wes said. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“And that only makes it worse. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’ll do it again, and next time...” The emotion seemed to have drained out of Jake, leaving only a flat and resigned tone. “I couldn’t even look at Sam after that. I was afraid to be in the same room as him. I said things - blamed Sherry for not getting an abortion when she had the chance - she packed up and left the same day. Then I threw out all of Sam’s stuff, like that could make me forget he existed. It didn’t work, so I tried drinking. That didn’t work either.”
Jake sighed and went on after a moment. “What are the odds that he’ll kill someone before he’s old enough to know better? And what is that kind of power going to do to his mind? No one can punish him, or make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. No one can control him, when he can just make them go away.” His voice lowered into a near whisper as his unseeing gaze sank to the stained floor. “Power corrupts... and power like that... if it gets stronger when he gets older... What kind of monster will he turn into? How much destruction will he cause? How many people might die because of my son?”
Wes exchanged another look with Eric, and saw him shrug slightly. He couldn’t think of any answers himself at the moment. Maybe there were no good answers - but what Jake was doing to himself wasn’t helping, that was certain.
“Come on, you need some sleep,” Wes said, reaching a hand to take Jake’s arm.
Together, they got him to his feet again and steered him into the bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. With a sigh, Eric pulled off Jake’s shoes while Wes maneuvered him out of his jacket. Then they stood back.
“We’ll come back tomorrow when you’re feeling better,” Wes said. “We can talk more about it then.”
“In the meantime,” Eric said, “why don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself for a change and start thinking about someone else, like your family?”
“Like it or not, you’ve got responsibilities,” Wes said. “Think about it.”
“Responsibilities.” Jake’s voice was calm and quiet. “Yes, you’re right. I have a responsibility.”
They were outside and in the car, heading back to their hotel, before Wes spoke again. “Do you think he’s right?” he asked.
“That the kid’s a monster?” Eric said.
“Well - that Sam’s dangerous.”
“Hell, yeah. Anyone with a power like that... He’s too young to know what to do with it. And Jake’s right about something else - if his power gets stronger as he gets older, we could all be in trouble.”
Wes frowned into the darkness outside the car. “What can we do about him?”
“Try to make sure he grows up to be a good guy. And I’m starting to think keeping Jake away from him might be a good start.”
“Yeah. He’s been with the Michelsons for weeks and he hasn’t done anything. Maybe it won’t be a problem. Maybe he won’t do it any more.”
“If he can do it, he will. Human nature.” Eric dropped a hand from the wheel and took Wes’s, his fingers gripping firmly for a moment. “We need some sleep ourselves. Maybe things will look better in the morning.”
“I hope so.”