Seattle, Washington – One Week Ago

  “Honey, do you know who just moved back to Seattle?” Helen chirped brightly, reaching for a bowl of dinner rolls with weathered hands.
 Ryder neither knew nor cared but he forced a tight smile onto his lips.
 “Who is that, mom?” he asked kindly.
 “Sabrina Foster. Her divorce was just finalized and she’s staying with her parents for a while. You should go by and say hello. I am sure she would be thrilled to see you!”
 Ryder did not respond, instead shovelled a piece of chicken into his mouth to keep from having to answer.
 “She was always a looker, that Sabrina,” Joe piped in and Ryder tried to keep the pained expression from his face.
 She was a spoiled witch, Sabrina Foster. How she had managed to stay married for the better part of five years was astounding to Ryder.
 Ryder’s mind flittered to a time when they were school aged, before he had become hardened by the realities of life. His life.
 He could see himself staring at the pretty redhead as she skipped through the playground after school, playing tag with the other children. There was something about her dark red hair and blue eyes that made his heart feel comforted when he looked at her, as if she reminded him of someone he had known in another life.
 “Tag! You’re it!” Sabrina called, pushing Ryder gently. He jumped up, ready to chase after her. It was always Sabrina he sought. It didn’t matter that the other boys teased him for having a crush on her, nor that the other girls vied for his attention.
 It had always been Sabrina.
 Until that day.
 She took off running over the gravel, her feet crunching against the stones. Ryder was hot on her heels when suddenly Darren Butler came flying out of nowhere to tackle him.
 Darren was twice Ryder’s size and the school’s resident tormentor.
 Ryder flew backward into the slide, Darren on top of him, his pudgy fists pummeling into Ryder’s face.
 Dazed and confounded, Ryder looked up to the other kids for help but they all stood back, watching in sick fascination as Darren continued to wail on him, no one moving to help him.
 Slowly, Ryder’s fear was replaced by fury, and he shoved Darren off of him, slipping out from underneath the behemoth to escape the beating.
 Darren stumbled backward, knocking over Sabrina who fell to the ground, shrieking.
 “Look what you made me do!” Darren screamed, his face red with anger. Sabrina began to cry and Ryder rushed to help her up but Darren pushed him again.
 Rage filled Ryder and he stopped to stare fully at his nemesis.
 The boys’ gazes locked and suddenly there was the gruesome sound of bones crunching.  Ryder watched as Darren’s face registered horror and pain, his arm suddenly at a grotesque angle.
 Darren began to screech, grabbing his right arm with his left hand. He fell to the ground, writhing as the other children watched in horror.
 Sabrina’s blue eyes slowly moved up toward Ryder’s face.
 He glanced toward her and saw the cuts on her legs. He closed his eyes, willing away the bad thoughts to summon his healing strength and push it towards her. But before she even noticed the warmth filling her traumatized skin as her gashes began to close, she rushed toward him, slapping his face.
 “What did you do to Darren?” she screamed. “What did you do?”
Stunned, Ryder’s eyes flew open and he regarded her disbelievingly.
 “What? I didn’t do anything!” he protested, uncomprehendingly. She continued to slap his already bruised and bleeding face and before Ryder could stop himself, the rage overtook him.
 Again, there was a loud crack and Sabrina’s hand went limp in mid-smack. She stared at her broken wrist, her lips pulling tight as her howls screeched through his ears. Ryder never forgot the look of pure hatred that spewed from her eyes, even twenty years later.
 “Ryder? Did you hear what I said about Sabrina?” Helen asked. He nodded, suppressing the images of that day from his mind.
 “Yes.”
 “Are you going to visit her?”
 “Probably not.”
 Helen Quinn stifled a sigh and stared at her plate.
 “Ryder, don’t you ever think about settling down? Having kids of your own?”
Ryder tried not to grunt but he could not stop it in time.
 “How did saying hello to Sabrina translate into getting married and having kids?” he tried to joke but his parents were not feeling jovial. To them, it was not an amusing matter. It seemed his lifestyle was growing increasingly disturbing to them as time went on and nothing Ryder said could alleviate their disapproval.
 “Perhaps it’s time you thought of your responsibilities closer to home. Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger, you know,” Joe accused.
 “I don’t want a job closer to home. And I don’t want a wife and kids.”
He did not meet their eyes but he could feel the accusing disappointment emanating from them.
 “Ryder, you can’t live your whole life traipsing about the world,” Helen insisted. “It’s just plain foolish. And what about us? I want grandchil – “
 “Mom, I really don’t feel like having this conversation,” Ryder sighed, placing his fork on his plate. “I am sorry if my life choices are hard for you to accept but I should remind you that they are mine, not yours.”
He rose from the table, his appetite gone.
 “Where are you going?” Joe demanded. “You didn’t finish your dinner!”
 “I have work to do,” Ryder lied. “Thanks for supper, mom.”
 He did not wait for the couple to answer, slipping from the dining room.
 At the stairs, he paused for some reason he did not understand and listened. It was as if something had physically stopped him from ascending the steps to the second floor.
 “I give up,” Helen said flatly. “We have done everything we can for him and he chooses to be an outcast.”
 “He is not an outcast!” Joe denied angrily. “He is just…a little self centered. He has needs which we don’t understand.”
 “We should never have agreed to this, Joe. We should have found Berkley when Ryder was of age and reunited him with his real father.”
 “Shh! Quiet Helen!”
 “He’s thirty-three years old. I think it’s time he learns he’s not our son.”
 “And then what? Upset everything he’s always known about himself? What good would telling him such a thing do? It’s cruel and unnecessary,” Joe growled. “He’s gone his whole life not knowing any differently. You have never given Ryder a chance, not from the moment he walked into this house!”
 “How could I? He is not normal! I had hoped he would outgrow whatever influence his family had on him but he’s only grown worse over the years! He’s a nomad with no friends! I don’t even know what he does for a living, Joe!”
 “He doesn’t tell us because his work is classified. What he does is important. Don’t let your desire to have grandkids cloud the fact we have a good son.”
 “He is not our son, Joe and he never has been.”
 The words were shocking and yet somehow, Ryder felt as if he had always known the truth deep down. In fact, he suddenly felt freer, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
 It explained so much about him and his relationship with the Quinns.
 Swallowing deeply, Ryder scaled the stairs two at a time and made his way into the room which he had always thought of as his.
 He closed the door and sat at the small work desk, his mind racing as he thought back to the redheaded woman and dark-haired man from his dreams.
 Were they memories or was it something I concocted in my subconscious?
 There were so many indications that he did not belong to the Quinns and yet he had always managed to brush them aside.
 If I am not their son, then who am I? He wondered.
 A feeling inside him was insisting that he needed to learn the truth about himself.
 And God! It would be nice to unlock the secret of my freakishness.

  The cellphone on his bedside rang late in the night but Ryder was still awake, waiting. He had sensed Riverville was about to call. He had already been in Seattle for a week and it was unusual for him to be home for such a long time without an assignment.
 “Berlin. Thursday, 0730. Lufthansa, flight 712. Seattle-Tacoma Airport.”
 The phone disconnected and Ryder slipped the device under his pillow.
 Berlin.
 It had been three years since he had been called to Berlin. Who could it be?
 It didn’t matter; Ryder knew he would get his orders when he arrived but he was again filled with a slight sense that something was amiss.
 Thursday was two days away, another unusual factor. It was not often he was afforded so much time to prepare.
 Maybe they are trying to give me some extra time with my loving parents, Ryder thought wryly.
 At dawn, he heard his father rise and head into the kitchen.
Ryder lay on top of his covers where he had been all night and debated his next move.
 I should learn the truth, no matter how devastating it may be, he decided. It is time that I learn who am I and where I come from.
 He rose slowly, stretching and then breathing deeply, as if summoning strength from his core for the conversation he was about to have.
 “Good morning, Dad,” Ryder said as he stole into the kitchen. He had not seen either of his parents since the previous night at dinner and Joe jumped slightly at the sound of his voice.
 “Good morning, son,” Joe replied, realizing it was only Ryder. “I’m just putting on some coffee. I bet you could use some at this hour.”
 “Sounds good,” Ryder agreed.
 Ryder sat at the kitchen table and peered pensively at the only father figure he had ever known. Well, at least the only one he remembered.
 “Dad,” he said quietly. “Whose son am I?”
 Joe spun, his face ashen.
 “Wh-what?” he stuttered. “What kind of question is that? You’re my son. Mine and your mother’s of course!”
 “I heard you and mom talking last night and I wasn’t even that surprised by the news. Honestly. But how did I come to be here? Who is Berkley?”
 It was as if all the bluster suddenly left Joe’s frail frame and he sank into a chair next to his son.
 “Ryder, please know that I never wanted you to know,” he whispered, tears filling his watery blue eyes. “I am so sorry you heard your mother last night. She didn’t mean it the way she said it. You know your mother. Sometimes she comes across much harsher than she intends.”
   Ryder smiled tautly.
 “It’s fine, Dad. Let’s face it, I’ve never really fit in with the suburban Seattleites too well. I’m a big boy. Why don’t you tell me who I am now?”
 Joe shook his head.
   “It’s not that simple,” he told Ryder slowly. “And it’s a very long story.”
 Ryder grinned mirthlessly.
 “I’m leaving in two days. Do you think it will take that long?”
 Joe’s face clouded with concern.
 “Where are you going this time?” he asked. “Why are you always gone so quickly?”
 Ryder didn’t tell his father that he already felt like he had been home for an eternity.
 “Please, Dad just tell me what you know.”
 The coffee maker sputtered and Joe jumped up as if grateful for the distraction, rushing to pour two cups.
 He was silent as he worked and Ryder tried to mask his impatience.
 “Dad…”
 “Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts, Ryder!”
 His voice was uncharacteristically gruff and Ryder closed his mouth. A stab of guilt coursed through him.
This can’t be easy for him either, Ryder realized.
 “You were about five years old when you came to us. We didn’t know for certain. We weren’t told anything about you. Not your age, your blood type, nothing. All we were told was that you were in grave danger and needed protection.”
 Ryder’s eyebrows shot up dubiously.
 “Were you in the habit of taking in stray children under those circumstances back in the 80s?” he asked wryly. Joe scowled at his tone.
 “You were our first and only,” he replied. Joe reclaimed his chair but kept his eyes fixated on the cup before him.
 “Berkley was my boss’ boss back then. I worked for the Department of Defence but only in administration. I didn’t know anything about anything. I still don’t, not really, but you hear stories, even when things are meant to be kept top secret.”
 “I am this Berkley’s son?” Ryder asked, his eyes narrowing. What his father was telling him didn’t make sense.
Is he lying to me? Is there something he doesn’t want me to know?
 “No, Ryder. We don’t know whose son you are. We don’t know anything about you. We were told your name is Ryder but it could be anything. You haven’t been legally adopted because we were told that one day, you would be taken back to your real family. That day never came.”
 Ryder peered at him speculatively.
Mom wouldn’t have allowed for an adoption anyway.
 “What happened to Berkley? Didn’t you ask him when someone was coming to pick up this kid who was just dropped on your doorstep one day? Why would you agree to something so ludicrous?”
 Joe sighed and took a sip of his steaming drink.
 “Your mom and I could not have children of our own,” Joe said quietly. “We were so happy to take you in without asking any questions. It was my boss asking after all and you don’t say no to a man that high up on the food chain – besides, he knew that we had been trying to have a kid for years. We were…desperate. You were such a serious boy and so bright, so inquisitive. At first, your mom….umm, Helen, was over the moon about having you in our lives. She begged me not to press Berkley about you and I agreed. You were the son I always wanted.”
 Ryder smirked.
 “At first, huh?”
 Joe swallowed visibly and nodded.
 “You must understand, Ryder, we love you. You have always been our son but you began to exhibit traits that we couldn’t understand. Helen grew afraid of what you could do.”
 A dozen half flashes coursed through Ryder’s mind as he recalled how many times he had injured others in anger.
 But I never healed anyone again after that incident with Sabrina, he thought darkly. No one deserved his healing, only his wrath. After that day, he had made it a policy not to get involved with other’s lives.
 Their fate rests in their god, he often thought.
 He suddenly understood why Helen Quinn would have grown alarmed by his abilities, but the comprehension did not make him feel any less devastated.
 I am a dark soul that even a mother didn’t love, he silently shrugged humorlessly.
 “Why didn’t you contact Berkley?” Ryder asked again, willing the sick feeling of disappointment from his stomach.
 Joe sighed again.
 “I tried. By then, I had left the Department of Defence and gone into the private sector. I had not spoken to Berkley in years. When I tried to reach out to him, I learned he had been killed by an underground militia group he had been hunting for years. They were highly elusive and ruthless, from what I remember. Ryder, I think that group was the reason you were hidden away. I think they were the ones seeking you out to harm you.”
 Ryder stared at Joe, his mind trying to understand what he had learned.
 I was sent away by my own family to live with perfect strangers, strangers who ended up not wanting me. When they tried to send me back, they learned they were stuck because the contact who had sent me to them was murdered. I would have been shipped off somewhere else by the only people I have ever known as parents if Berkley was still around. In my life, I have been cast aside by every family I have ever known.
 Perversely, Ryder began to laugh. Joe looked at him in surprise.
 “Why are you laughing?” he asked nervously and Ryder shook his head.
 “No reason, Dad,” he chortled, rising to his feet. “Tell Mom that she doesn’t need to be afraid any more. I won’t be back.”
 “Ryder, wait!” Joe cried after him but Ryder was already out the front door. He was still reeling as he walked down the street, taking deep breaths to clear his head.
 He had always been on his own.
  Now he knew it for a fact.
 He wondered why he felt so alone.