Author's Notes: This was written for Days' competition in Gaiaonline, Round 4. It can be linked to "A Predator's Fallacy", "The Metaphor" and "Un-identical Reflection". I have a feeling that I might turn this so-called 'series' into a novita. It certainly seems like an interesting project to keep me occupied, but we'll see. Anyway, I have at least one more story to write after this to complete the original 'Sci-Fi One-shot Series'.

What prompted this story was the quote "No promises left for you here" and the song "Reach Out" by Take That. Especially these verses:

"If our arms were reaching out
If our words could only bridge the doubt
Will we lose this chance again?
Strange roads with different signs
Don't even know where we divide
Are you my enemy or my friend?

We all grieve in different ways
If one tear could wash away the pain
We're all free to have the faith we believe, yeah
The world sleeps at different times
With one turn your day is now my night
We all live sharing the air that we breathe."

---

“Dad…” The voice of the young boy caught him off-guard instantly. Alphonse clicked ‘Enter’ on his keyboard and swung his chair to gaze at his son, wondering why he was still awake. He raised an eyebrow, encouraging the boy to continue. “Dad, I can’t sleep.” His son whined.

Alphonse sighed and walked over to the boy. “Why can’t you sleep, Josh?” He asked softly.

The blue-eyed boy dropped his gaze at once and his nine-year-old cheeks turned pink. He seemed to be thinking of a way of saying something, but he couldn’t. Alphonse said nothing and he waited for the answer patiently. Soon enough, the boy couldn’t take it any longer and looked up to the man. “…I’m afraid you won’t keep your promise to go to the school trip with us.” He admitted quietly.

“Now why would you think that?” Alphonse asked.

“Because you did it last time…”

“Last time, I had work to do.” The man answered, feeling a pang of guilt against his chest. It was true – he had been neglecting his son lately, but research needed him. Life would have been so much easier if Josh’s mother was still alive… but alas – one could not control death. “I’m sure I can make it this time, Josh.” He said reassuringly.

“Promise?” The boy obviously didn’t want to take any chances.

Taking Josh’s hand, Alphonse smiled and stood up, pulling him towards the door. “I promise.” He answered. The young father walked with his son slowly, feeling the warmth emanating from his son’s small hand. Sure, it was pretty careless of him to promise something so confidently, but Alphonse knew that he needed to in order to let the child sleep without doubts. Josh was only nine years old after all. If luck was on his side, his son should have forgotten about his promise by the time he woke up tomorrow.

Flicking on the light switch of his son’s room, Alphonse released his son’s hand and reluctantly, Josh walked a few steps away from his father and curled back under the sheets of his messy bed. Unlike his father who was a man of science, Josh preferred to read and draw. His bed covers were full of random patterns where Alphonse had permitted him to draw and colour in his own sheets. Every year, Alphonse would buy a new, plain set of sheets and every year, he would assist his son slightly in painting it into anything Josh wanted it to be. In this case, Josh had chosen a slight abstract pattern using his favourite colours – red and purple – and he spent three days to make sure he was satisfied with the condition of the covers.

The room was a mess to normal grown-up eyes, but to a child’s eyes, it was just perfect for a room. Toys were scattered on the floor as a result of the imaginary game played earlier, and books were strewn on top of the bed; Josh didn’t make an effort to remove them as well. Different shaped glow-in-the-dark stars were plastered on the ceiling with a few models of rockets hanging on strings, turning here and there from the slight wind from the half-closed windows. The closet, thankfully, was tidy. Alphonse could only sigh in relief that he wouldn’t need to deal with Josh’s dirty clothing – he would suffer if he had to sniff through every single item of clothing of Josh’s before deciding whether it would need to be washed or go back to the closet. Toys he could deal with – sweaty shirts and socks were a different matter.

Alphonse moved his gaze away from the bedspread and felt his eyes burning into the lump on the bed that was his son. He leaned against the doorframe, resting his head against it, already tired. Of course, he couldn’t sleep yet – he still had a workload of paperwork to do, and plus, he believed that Michael would drop by soon and give a report about their newest research. Being lab partners, Alphonse enjoyed the fact that Michael preferred to do the more practical work while he could settle with the papers and writing, safe at home. It wasn’t as if Alphonse wouldn’t love spending time with his best friend, conducting experiments in the university labs – he just didn’t want to part from Josh if he could.

Josh suddenly poked his head from under the red sheets and gazed at his father longingly. “Dad?” He asked, breaking the man’s thoughts.

Alphonse smiled gently. “Yes, Josh?”

In answer, the boy lifted the corner of his blankets and waited. Alphonse sighed and walked towards his son slowly, eventually settling into bed with him. As Josh snuggled close to his chest, Alphonse draped his arm around the child and stroked his blonde hair slowly, carefully, just as how he did with his wife before she died.I guess… I guess the papers can wait until tomorrow… he thought, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep with his son in his arms.

Nothing could replace the small, simple moments where everything just settles together.

---

When he woke up again, Alphonse was surprised to see the sunlight shining through the still half-open window, and his son absent from his arms – and the room. Not only that, the blankets were draped ever so carefully around his shoulders, and where Alphonse had last seen his son the night before, an action figure was in its place, no doubt placed there by Josh himself. Alphonse felt a flutter through his insides and he shook his head, amazed that he was in such a ridiculous position. As a young father, small and simple delights like these were rare, though appreciated. And he could just smell the lovely aroma of pancakes…

Wait.

Josh couldn’t cook.

Fear seized his heart and Alphonse jumped and raced down at once, hoping against hope that his son wasn’t trying to please him too much by trying his hand at cooking. If Josh had burnt himself, Alphonse would never, ever forgive himself. He reached the landing and raced into the kitchen and the sight before him only made him raise his eyebrows in surprise, though he couldn’t help but feel relieved… and ridiculous.

Standing at the middle of the peach-coloured kitchen facing the kitchen stove, holding a large plate in his hands, was none other than Josh himself. At the kitchen stove, still clad in his long white lab coat was Michael who then flipped a pancake towards Josh. The child caught the pancake in the plate easily, laughing along as he did so until he spotted his perplexed-looking father who was still standing there. Setting the plate down, Josh pulled a chair out, grinning from ear to ear.

“Princess daddy is awake.” He chuckled.

“Princess?” Alphonse repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, princess.” Michael smiled. “What other princess sleeps so peacefully and never realised his charming prince’s stomach was growling?” He teased, flipping another pancake before turning to Alphonse again.

Alphonse couldn’t help but shake his head. “I was tired. I’ve been doing a lot of work. Give me a break.” He played along. “And my dear, handsome prince, what are you doing with a stranger like this? These could be poisoned!”

“Well…” Josh trailed off, flushing slightly. “But Uncle Michael was only…”

“He was talking to me, Josh. I’m his charming prince.” Michael answered, placing his hands on his hips. “Anyway, I came by to give you the latest statistics, when I realised that young Josh here hasn’t had his breakfast yet. So I made him breakfast – he was kind enough to open the door for me anyway. I need my own key for this house. It’s almost like mine anyhow.” Michael frowned, switching the stove off as he walked with the pancakes, setting it down. “Breakfast, princess?”

“I want some!” Josh cried out eagerly. As Alphonse busied himself to make sure his son’s pancakes were prepared to his desires (“I want sliced bananas on them, with chocolate, and a bit of honey on it! And I want a glass of milk!”), Michael cleared his throat and began to rattle on with his discoveries.

Surprisingly, for all three of them, Alphonse was annoyed with this.

“Michael. Shut up and eat.” He sighed. “I’d appreciate it if we discuss this later.”

“Still tired, doc?” Michael asked with a smile as he settled down beside Josh. “Listen… I heard some news about… About Peter.” He said in a low tone. “You know it’s dangerous. He still wants revenge.”

“When did you hear about him?” Alphonse asked, raising his eyebrows. “And yes, I know. He still blames me for Mariela’s death. I guess he has a right to be angry anyway… I couldn’t find a cure for her in time.” He said, glancing at Josh to make sure the boy wasn’t paying much attention. He was in luck: as they speak, the child was flicking through his comic book with one hand, the other gripping the fork to shove in more pancakes into his mouth. Dropping his voice, he leaned forward and looked at Michael carefully. “…I might try and talk to him.”

Michael dropped his fork which then clattered onto the china. “With Peter? Al, are you insane? He tried to kill you last time!” He hissed.

Alphonse sighed. “I know. I’m… I’m bringing Josh.”

“You’re insane. You’ll get yourself killed. Worst still, you’ll hurt Josh.” Michael growled.

“No, he will never harm his own nephew – Mariela’s son. He will never do such a thing.

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know him more than you do.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem. I don’t know him as much as you do, yet I know enough to know that he’s not someone who you can talk to.” Michael answered, picking his fork back up.

---

The day was unusually pleasant. Alphonse tugged his son’s hand slightly and the child jogged up to keep up with his father. His light brown hair was ruffled slightly by the wind and he could just make out Peter’s figure standing in the distance, waiting for them. Tightening his hand around Josh’s, Alphonse looked away and scanned the area around him, but he couldn’t make out anything particularly interesting. Normal people walked around, minding their own business – they had no reason to believe that this young father and his son was doing anything other than taking a short stroll around the park.

“Dad, you’re hurting my hand.” Josh complained, tugging his hand. “Dad.” He said, firmer this time.

Alphonse looked down at him and smiled apologetically before loosening his hold. “There’s your uncle, Josh. His name is Peter.”

“Oh. Why haven’t I seen him before then?” Josh asked curiously.

“Because he’s been busy.”

“… I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to be busy.” Josh frowned, casting his eyes downwards.

Alphonse laughed. “You’re busy if you choose a job that makes you busy.” He pointed out.

“So why did you?” The boy asked accusingly, looking at his father. His eyes burned for answers and Alphonse paused minutely for a moment. Seeing that it was useless, Josh looked away and sighed. “I hate you. I miss mom.”

“Alphonse… Or, shall I say, Dr. Sawyer?” Peter’s voice broke his opportunity to reply to his son, and Alphonse turned his gaze to the young man, his lips firmly set. “I shall settle for the more personal title, if you don’t mind. Alphonse.”

“It’s been a while, Peter.” Alphonse sighed. “What are you doing?”

“You must be Josh.” Peter ignored the question as he crouched down near the small, sulking child. He placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders and a small twitch appeared at the corner of his lips, but only for a split second. He couldn’t help but see the image of his sister there; resembled so perfectly and beautifully in the son she had before she died. This brought a wave of anger in him, but he didn’t act on it.

Josh shrugged his hands off casually and crossed his arms. His eyes were still narrowed, for his mood was still down, upset with his father. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re Uncle Peter.” He said. It was not a question.

“You’re right. You look very much like your mother.”

“I get that a lot, actually.” Josh replied, now surprisingly engaged. “People just walk to me and said that I look a lot like her. I can’t remember much about her though. Just little bits and pieces… and from what dad told me, and the pictures I’ve seen.”

“Is that so?” Peter asked, his expression unchanging. “Well, I hope you can tell me all about it. She was a great person, your mother.” He straightened up and looked at Alphonse directly in the eye. “She did not deserve what she got.”

“Josh… Go get some ice cream.” Alphonse said, his voice hard. Naturally, this anger would be sparked from Peter’s words, but Josh misinterpreted his tone and steeled himself slightly. The boy pressed his lips together, now truly angry at his father, and ran towards the nearest shop not far away – he only needed to cross the road.

The other man raised his chin slightly. “That’s no way to treat a son of yours. Especially her son. No wonder she died.”

“Just tell me what you want. And leave us alone.” Alphonse hissed.

“I want her back, that’s all I ever wanted. You failed to cure her. You failed to do anything as a good husband, and now, you’ve even angered your one and only child. I know what you’ve been up to, Alphonse. I know all about the research you’re doing. And I don’t think you’re going down the right path at all. There are enough people out there conducting years of research on the same thing. Same cures. Not enough are trying to protect our generation by creating something different.” Peter said quietly. “I’ve read your father’s studies.”

“Then you’ll know how utterly pointless it is to pursue it.” Alphonse clenched his hands, his anger rising fast. “I’m not bothered about his studies. Meddling like he’s God, creating things that deserves to die.” He clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to say anything else to his already-deceased father.

Peter shook his head. “Look at this realistically, Alphonse. If we were so wrong, we wouldn’t have been working with this for so long. The government wouldn’t have turned a blind eye to our research if it’s wrong.” He pointed out.

“What are you saying, that I should conduct experiments on people?” He shot back.

“No. I’m saying you should volunteer to be an experiment.” Peter laughed. He turned and with a wave of his hand, he walked away. “Just like how you experimented on my sister.”

---

“He doesn’t want to make peace, does he?” Michael’s voice broke his train of thought, and the heavy silence that enveloped him earlier.

With a nod, Alphonse peeked into the microscope, staring at the figures blankly before writing down a few notes in his workbook. He heard a disappointed sigh escaping his friend’s lips and he rolled his eyes, changing the slide before peering through the microscope again. Michael could have gone home, but as usual, he preferred to tag along even though Alphonse was just repeating what he had been doing for days now. Same job, same slides, same results.

“Alphonse.” Michael’s firm voice broke the silence again. “Talk.”

Once again, Alphonse decided to ignore him as he continued to switch the slides for the microscope. He picked up his pen, scribbled the exact same words he had written before, and pressed his lips slightly. As he reached out to grab another slide, Alphonse raised his eyebrows as his hand came in touch with the cool surface of the white tables – the slides were nowhere to be seen. He raised his head and looked at Michael, eyes narrowed.

“What’s your problem?” Alphonse snapped.

Michael placed the box down and leaned forward, half-sitting on a high stool. “You’re not going home, you’re not talking. Something happened between you and Peter and don’t you dare say otherwise because I know you inside out.” He hissed. “You’re pretending as though nothing’s going on, as though everything’s the same. But I know the difference. Stop acting as though I’m imagining that there’s something wrong with you!” His voice rose in the end, more from worry than from anger.

Alphonse stared into Michael’s eyes, almost as if they were playing a game with each other where one would lose if they blinked. “Peter’s right, okay? That’s what’s bothering me. I didn’t save Mariela when I could, and that’s the truth. I used her, Michael. She was an experiment for us.” He said stiffly, turning his eyes away.

“That’s not right. She was supportive. She wanted the cure, she wanted to live, which was why she herself assisted us –”

“Yeah, but she died, okay? That’s evident. Science is useless if you can’t save people with it.” Alphonse said darkly.

“Alphonse…”

“I’m going home.” He sighed.

Standing up, Alphonse removed the white coat he was wearing and grabbed his dark brown jacket, putting it on hurriedly. Michael followed his lead and together, they both exited the university lab, nodding their goodbyes wordlessly to those they stumble against. Reaching his car, Alphonse climbed inside and waited, tapping his fingers against his steering wheel until Michael went in.

“Tagging along?” Alphonse smirked.

“Well, you wouldn’t drive without me.” Michael answered.

“I might just be sulking then.”

“Nah. If you were sulking, you would have driven away.”

Alphonse nodded slowly, a small smile creeping into his face. He drove slowly, not exactly wanting to reach home as soon as possible to see an angry Josh glaring at him. Silence lapsed between the two again, but this time, it was durable. After a short while, Michael began to fidget around and he opened the compartment in front of him, shuffling through the cassettes inside. He recognised most titles in there, but one plain cover caught his eye and in a blink of an eye, Michael was scanning through the lyrics.

“I don’t recognise this. Then again, I never knew you listened to love songs, Al.” He remarked.

Alphonse raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I listen to all sorts. What’s the title of that one you’re holding?”

Flipping the cover back, Michael gazed at the light blue writing and blinked. “The Melodious.” He replied. “Hey, this isn’t… Mariela’s music, is it?” Michael asked slowly, turning to look at his friend who was concentrating on driving still.

A faraway look reached Alphonse’s face and he nodded slowly. “It is.”

“Would you mind… if I put it on?” The other asked gently. “I’ve never really heard her sing. Well, not more than the usual when she cooks and cleans. She does play the piano, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and put it on.” Alphonse said, his voice in a slight monotone.

With a nod, Michael inserted the cassette and tuned the volume up. The soothing piano music filled the car and Michael gasped slightly as the voice of Alphonse’s deceased wife began to sing;

All I wanted was to ask you…
I was afraid you might cast me away
And say that maybe it’s not going well
Oh, dear, how you make my heart sway…

Questions, questions
So many questions
My heart aches but I know I love you
Darling, come to me, let me hold you
Questions, questions
So many questions…

“Oh my god…” Alphonse slammed the brakes and Michael could have sworn that if it weren’t for the seatbelts, he would have been flung forward to his death. “Josh… No, Josh!” His friend shouted beside him.

Hearing that, Michael shook away the shaken feeling in him and looked at Alphonse, surprised that his friend was staring in front of him with a look of pure horror etched in his face. Following his gaze, Michael’s jaw dropped slowly as he spotted the large house going up in flames.

Alphonse’s house.

In an instant, they both bolted out from the car (Alphonse first, followed by Michael), and sprinted to the house. Alphonse yelled the name of his son, pushing past the people gathering there, ignoring shouts from the police, paramedics and the firemen. Michael called after him, trying hard to catch up with his friend before he tried to do anything stupid. It scared him then, when he realised that Alphonse wasn’t going to stop running.

“Al!” Michael shouted, reaching out to grab his friend’s jacket. “Al, don’t be stupid, you’ll be killed!” He said, throwing his arms around Alphonse from behind.

“My son! My son is in there! Josh!” Alphonse cried out, anguish filling his voice. The babysitter should be in there as well, but Alphonse wasn’t bothered about that. “Josh! Michael, let go!” He struggled, almost pulling them both into the blazing house.

Gripping his friend tighter, Michael fought against Alphonse and pulled him back, tears streaming down his face already. “No, I won’t let you go! Al, don’t throw your life away. Please don’t. If there was a chance to save your son, the firemen should be at it already. You’ll die as well if you try to go in there!” He cried out.

“Josh!” Alphonse ignored him, but his efforts were in vain. Because of the lack of food and sleep he had since his meeting with Peter, Michael would evidently be stronger than him. “Michael, please, let me go… Josh…” He broke down, falling down on his knees, bringing his friend down with him. Alphonse raised his hand towards the house, trying to reach out to his son inside.

“…I’m… I’m sorry… Al…” Michael whispered. He looked at the house, and after a while, he could see a figure coming through the doorway. “Al, look!” Michael pointed.

“Josh? Oh my god…” Alphonse stood immediately and ran to the fireman who had already given the young boy to the paramedics. “Josh. Josh, can you hear me?” Alphonse went to his son, his forehead creasing as he looked at the burn marks on his son’s skin.

“…Dad.” Josh opened his eyes.

“I’m here. You’ll be alright, my son. You’ll be alright. I’m here.” Alphonse said repeatedly over and over again, ignoring Michael who placed a hand on his shoulder. “When you come home, we’ll go on that school trip, right Josh?”

“Alphonse…” Michael sighed.

“Dad… Dad, I can’t see you. I can’t see… I can’t… mom…” He trailed off, his eyes closing.

“Josh? Josh, please answer.” Alphonse bit his lips, but the truth was already known.

Josh was dead.

---

“I quit the university, Michael.” Alphonse said one morning as they sat down, eating breakfast. “I’m joining up with the lab.” He said.

“The lab? Your father’s lab?”

“…Yeah.”

It was almost a month since Alphonse had lost his one and only son, and since the dreadful day, he lived with Michael until they could finish the repairs with his own home. Michael, of course, supported his friend with as much care as he could, but he realised that losing his son had changed his friend dramatically. When Josh passed away, a part of Alphonse left with his son – exactly as how it was when he lost Mariela. For now, Michael could only hope that he could perhaps revive his friend.

The kitchen was clean, painted cyan to give it a refreshing touch. The tiles were dark blue and the cabinets were white; the colours blending into a desirable look to any woman or chef. In a way, one could say that the dining room was combined with the kitchen, so the room was fairly large. Plain white plates were set neatly on the rack and a few pots and pans were hung on the walls. There was a lot of storage space which suited Michael fine, for he liked the empty but cosy feeling of his home. He preferred to make his house look empty. In fact, the table they were sitting at was made of thick glass and it was possible for someone to walk past it without seeing it if they weren’t concentrating.

Slowly, Michael cleared his throat and set his fork down, ignoring the remaining waffles on his plate. “Alphonse… you don’t support your father’s research, remember? They deal with things that are like playing God. We both agreed on that. So why do you want to go there? Why try to create clones, artificial human beings..? What does that have to do with losing your son?” He asked gently.

“I don’t know, Michael. But they have the power to change what we are weak at. And I want to make sure nobody suffers like I did…”

“Everyone dies at one point, Alphonse. That’s the law of the world and you can’t change that.”

Alphonse raised his bloodshot eyes and looked at Michael. “As a scientist, I know that and I’m more aware of that than most people are. But a scientist has to benefit the people, and I need to work hard to make sure no father would have to watch his son die.” His voice cracked in the end and Michael rose, walking over to him.

Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, his friend sighed. “So you’re really going against your beliefs? You’re going to join a group you don’t support because you can’t save your son?”

“Yes. I have a chance to make a difference.”

“…In that case… I’ll go with you.”

Alphonse smiled darkly. “I never thought you would side with the one who killed my son.” He said.

“You mean Peter? He was arrested, and as far as I know, I’m only going to help you. Whether this is the right choice or not… that’s all I can’t answer. I’m surprised you’re going. Peter was responsible for your son’s death, and you’re the one who’s taking his side. I’m only tagging along.” Michael pointed out.

Alphonse nodded. “True. But what he did wasn’t entirely wrong either. To him, Mariela needed her son with her. She’ll take care of Josh.” He said, turning his eyes away.

“So you’re sure about this?” Michael tried, one last time.

“…If I have a chance to change this world, I’d do it. I couldn’t save Josh, and that’s one mistake I don’t want to repeat again. I’ll reach out and grasp every single cure I can find, every single thing that can minimise the deaths in this world. Deaths at young age, that is.”

“Alphonse, life is about quality. Not quantity. Josh loved his life.”

“No, he didn’t. Josh hated me. He lost his mother. And… I never kept my promise for him. I need to do this.”

All Michael could do was nod.