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Angela's P.O.V.

After Daddy left, I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. He'd always been the relaxing factor in our family, and now he'd gone. I looked at Mom for answers, but he seemed somewhat overwhelmed himself. He had asked me to go back and seek help. His help! And now he looked as helpless as I had felt, ever since I landed in this ancient world! After a few moments, he finally looked at me and spoke: "Okay. So, you are from the future, you are mine and John's biological daughter, and you call me Mom because I gave birth to you? And the recording we heard, that was me and John, telling you to come here to prevent something from happening that involves some Ibson and a project called 'mercury flower', do I have that correct?"

I turned my head sideways, like I always do when I can't quite agree with something and corrected him: "Well, almost. You didn't really give birth to me, you had a c-section. You once told me that the doctors had wanted to introduce the method of a pseudo-abdominal delivery, but you said to them, if they made you do that, you'd make sure to pull their heads out through their arses, so they agreed to the anesthetics and cesarean." Mom's mouth actually curled into a little smile at that, so I relaxed a bit more and continued: "And the recording... well, it was just before you send me away. You told me to record what you were saying. I didn't understand that at first, because I'm your daughter, I'm well capable of remembering things that you tell me once, especially, if it is important. But now of course, I know. You knew this would help me convince you two of my mission.”

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Mom gave a little nod and then put his head on his joined hands, resting his elbows on the table to listen. Just like he had always done. I had to hold back tears, so I started reporting what I thought was most relevant: "Samuel Ibson is a man, who made a name for himself in the last five years, my time, by becoming one of the wealthiest people on earth through IT-technology, creating and selling algorithms for all kinds of purposes. Some say, he was also involved in insider trading and had connections to people in high political and economic positions, and there had been rumors about blackmail, but nothing ever stuck. On the contrary, he became a well known philanthropist, donating millions and billions to medical research labs, scientific funding, healthcare systems... Some of his own projects were in the field of biotechnology, cryotechnology, cancer research, bionics, astrophysics and psychological research institutes. He had dozens of affairs with young women, usually getting bored of them after a few months, and always looking for something younger. He was obsessed with youth. Some said, he was trying to find the key to immortality. And that he'd be willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for it. And well, they were right.”

Mom had not interrupted me once, but I could see in his half closed eyes, that he was furiously filing and looking up things in his mind palace, so I continued: "You and Daddy were called to investigate some unusual murders and suicides occurring all over the world, but with the same premise every time: The victims had been discovered and declared dead by the coroner, but then someone saw the person alive and well, hours, sometimes days after they had died. There was one man, who was found with a smashed rib cage, broken arm and a missing finger. And one week later, his brother met him again, telling him about it. The man said, it must be a hoax, but just then, a car drove up to them, apparently out of control, ramming into his side. Then it backed up and drove off. The brother tried to help, and wanted to call an ambulance, but his phone was suddenly dead.”

Mom's eyebrows rose up a little, but he didn't stir, so I kept going: "He ran to the nearest house, told the residence about it and returned. But the man was gone. Instead, there was a detached finger, still lying on the ground, where the accident had happened. And that finger turned out to be the missing finger of the corpse. Only that it seemed to have died a week after its original owner. You two found similarities between the cases, first leading to different firms, institutes, clans, but the connections became more and more entangled, and then you found that the people behind everything, were from a terrorist group, called Epsilon.”

I could see by the twinkle in his eyes that this name rang a bell with Mom, and that calmed me down a bit. I had hoped that at least some of the information I had gathered would help my parents to solve this case, despite the fact everything went down decades later. I continued: "You wanted to keep investigating, even when the international security departments were content, claiming these fanatics were working on destroying modern society, preparing to take over on some day X, and trying to cause confusion and distrust by staging these impossible crimes. But you dug deeper and somehow found out that Ibson was the real master behind it all. That's when..."

I had to stop a moment, because it still seemed so unreal to me. But Mom, as always, gave me time and still didn't stir, so that I could move on: "After you had found out the truth, uncle Mycroft was killed. And that's when the world seemed to go crazy. Without him, you were suddenly under tight surveillance by MI5, you and Daddy getting dragged out of bed at night for questioning, always being followed by these 'gray men', as you called them, that would make sure you noticed them everywhere. You both lost many of your privileges, like instant traveling and neuro-transmission tech. Then uncle Greg was kicked off the board of public safety commission, and suddenly jailed for supposed embezzlement. And aunt Molly said, that she and her family had received threats! Then a pandemic broke out, forcing people to stay trapped in their own homes, and the online support suppliers started to re-evaluate peoples privileges, monitoring and reducing services. You said the only way to stop all this, was to find the man behind it all and expose him.”

I had to take a deep breath, and Mom used it to lean in: "You'll need to explain all these technological advances to us for better understanding, but go on.” I nodded and went on to say: "You had made sure to keep me informed through your investigation. And when you knew where to look, I followed you to the research facility, even though you had asked me not to come. Once we were inside, you found access to a private wing belonging to Ibson. And that's when his followers initiated the self-destruct mode. You were able to start the contraption that had been hidden in one of the rear rooms, but you were injured. I wanted to carry you outside with Daddy, but you both said, that I should use the machine you found instead, to prevent the events that had happened from ever becoming a reality. So, you made me record those last words and send me off into this time. And now here I am."

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It had been exhausting to tell Mom all of that, but it also felt good to just get it out. I still had to hold back tears though. And then, Mom suddenly reached over, to pet my hair, the way he always did when I was upset, and he said: "On one hand, the recording was to convince me and John from your claims. But on the other hand, it was a farewell-present, right?" I broke down crying, barely able to nod. He gently stroke over my head and asked further: "Did John have his gun with him?" Again, I nodded. "There, there. I'm sure I've told you, that it...", he tried, but I interrupted: "I know, Mom, I know! It was probably quick and neither of you had to suffer. But when you send me backwards through time, I hadn't realized at first, that I would never be able to come back home! And that you two would be dead, if I ever should find a way! It still hurts, because... I loved you very, very much, we had a great relationship, I had a wonderful and exciting childhood... and now everything is gone. My parents, my real parents, are dead."

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The tears held me captive and so I cried on. And Mom, very carefully, scooted over to me, to wrap his arm around me. After I calmed down a bit, I asked him: "You're a sociopath. The only people you were ever able to love and express love towards, were people you had become attached to over time. So, how come you're comforting me now? You don't know me, and can hardly care about my feelings." I wasn't fishing for compliments or being cruel, I just knew my Mom wasn't the sort to put on a facade, and I was confused. He surprised me by explaining: "Well, you're right about that, but you're also right about me caring for John. Something I try to suppress, because I still believe that feelings weaken you, make you vulnerable. But I do care for him. And you are his child. I know that from the test. And I don't like to see John cry. Since he's a part of you, I also don't want you to cry. And, well... I guess, I do have sort of... maternal... feelings for you. I didn't believe you to be of my blood. But now that you explained it, it makes sense. And I don't want any part of John, or myself, to be in such distress. So, that's why I'm trying to comfort you. Did it work?"

I had to smile, and when I looked into Mom's stern face, I had to laugh, because this was just so like him! He became confused, and so I nodded and told him: "Yes. Yes, it helps. It's... you did... it's just like my real Mom. You always tried your best to act normal for me, but any way you acted was normal for me, because I didn't know better! I pretty much was the odd one out everywhere we went, because my social skills were a bit underdeveloped, sometimes being too direct and honest with people, and boasting with my knowledge. But I was able to make it up to the people that counted, the way Daddy had taught me, and when I became a teen, I was already able to chose, whether to act diplomatic or just not give a shit. And for the record, I never felt unwanted or unloved by you! You were a great Dad. Or Mom. Whatever you like better."

Mom's lips curled up for a light smile again, making me proud somehow. I gave him a smile back, then asked: "So... You send me here to get your help. It was hard to cope these last few days, to be honest. Stealing, breaking and entering, just to have a place to stay and some food, because I didn't have any money. Now that you know the truth, can I stay with you? I'll work on finding something for myself, but I'll need papers..." "Of course you'll stay! You can have my room, I hardly use it anyways. And I'll need your expertise on the matter, if I want to find this Ibson and his network. Is he connected with Moriarty?" I thought about it, then said: "As you said yourself, this might have started before Moriarty died, so he could well have belonged to his group. Before he became a member of the high society, no-one had even heard of him. The official version was, that he had been living in Venezuela and only returned, when his online business became profitable. But either way, right now he should still be very young and not as powerful as he'll be, once he showed his face to the public. If he is part of Moriarty's network, he's laying low, to not upset the big boss. And he couldn't be much older than thirty at most!"

"So we're looking for a young man around your age, high skills in IT, cold, plotting, probably already active as a criminal, hidden from society and waiting for his chance to become Moriarty's successor. I would have thought, that I could defeat this foul spiders web.", Mom mused. Again, I held my head tilted and had to correct: "Well, technically, he's not my age, because I'm already 36! And you did defeat Moriarty! But at the cost of staging your own death. It caused Daddy a broken heart, because you wouldn't tell him. He even went on to marry a woman, called Mary Morstan, and had a child with her. The first Rosie..."

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I had to look at my feet. Daddy didn't talk much of that time in his life. Him and Mom had just found to each other, Daddy at last able to forgive Mom all the lies, deceits and secrecy, finally burying the grief over his wife... And just then, his child, or more their child, as Mom had really cared for her too, had become very ill. A damaged immune system, attacking it's own body. Mary had carried the trait for it unknowingly, passing it on to her daughter. She wasted away within months. Daddy would have followed her, if Mom hadn't been there. Not that he actively prevented him, on the contrary, at first he offered to get him the drugs needed for a clean get-away, as he put it. But Daddy knew that Mom would follow him, and he couldn't take that responsibility.

So, he learned to cope with it. Worked on finding a cure for the condition that had taken his baby girl, so that others would not have to suffer the same fate. Part of his own research actually helped ease the way for the male pregnancy method that Mom eventually took part in testing with me. He had noticed how Daddy missed having a kid, how he would get wistful, whenever they had a case involving children, or whenever they passed a school or a playground full of kids. So, he told me, one night he spoke to him about it, saying something like: "John, I love you, you love me, and we make love to each other on a regular basis. Now, if I were a woman, that might lead to certain consequences that I am sure would make you very happy. And to be honest, I would feel honored and be glad to give you children. Of course, that can't just happen, but science did find ways for men to have offspring, and now they even want to test methods of inducing pregnancies in men. So, I wanted to ask you: would you like to make babies with me?"

Daddy was pretty shocked at first, I take it, but eventually eased into the idea, and when the implant worked and I was well under way, he got very exited. He wanted me to have the name Rosalind as a tribute to Mary and his first child, and Mom did not object, but insisted on having me called Angela too. Some people complained to them, that that would be confusing to a baby, but they shrugged it of, Mom claiming: "If you find two names for an intelligent child to be too much, how come you call your little shrimp pumpkin and sweety and honey and baby and little one and precious, along with all abbreviations of her given name, and don't ever think her to get confused?"

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Right then, Mom brought me back to the present, at least this present, with raised brows, asking: "You are already 36? You look much younger. From your face and body I would not have guessed much over 18, 19 years, only adding some because you said you work as a journalist. Is healthcare really that good in the future?" I shrugged and simply said: "Well, you have to remember, I was made artificially, so of course the doctors took the best, most promising strings of DNA to mix, that helped a lot I reckon. But yes, after 'the big shift in perspective' as we called it later, when the world finally came to it's senses about the planets resources and climate change, healthcare did improve! Education got a boost, enlightening people of all classes, public services only offered vegan foods and healthy entertainment after that, people stopped eating meat, ate less imported or processed goods, focusing more on organic farming, and new sports were developed, to get even the laziest couch potatoes of their butts.”

I smiled a little, as I got carried away down memory lane again: “I was an active little hurricane all my youth, Daddy taught me a lot about self discipline and endurance, but you and him would let me run around exploring as much as I liked. I got my fair share of cuts and bruises. I learned how to sow my own wounds when I was 5! I've always been more curious than emotional, like you, so when I fell out of a tree and got a deep cut under my thigh, Daddy gave me a local anesthetic and started sowing. And curious as I was, I asked to try. So, the last bit of my scar got kind of ugly, but I like it anyways."

Mom then went on to ask about Moriarty and Daddy's marriage, so I explained best I could. He looked a bit concerned after that, but didn't linger on the subject. Instead, he got up and said: "Well, we'll find a way to cope with all that. Lucky for me then, that this Reichenbach-case hasn't crossed my path yet. Perhaps we can shut down Moriarty without me having to 'die'. Now, perhaps you want to get comfortable in your new room? Just throw out my things, most of it isn't important anyways. We'll tell Mrs. Hudson later. I'll go up to talk to John now." "I can come with you, if you like?", I offered, but Mom didn't even turn around when he said: "No, it's about time we had this conversation anyways. We can talk together over dinner later." And with that he disappeared into the hall leading to the stairs up to Daddy's room.

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