This is a PREQUEL to Creatures From Inner Space. Ski's family has taken Patterson into their hearts and lives as their own. However, something has happened in Patterson's biological family. Patterson has to choose what to do.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Twentieth Century-Fox and Irwin Allen Productions. No infringement of copyrights held by either the TCF or the estate of Irwin Allen is intended.

In Joy And In Sorrow
By J. S. Mikiels

Kowalski stared at the sonar scope. For almost the entire shift, there was nothing to be seen. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. In another thirty-five minutes, I can get some chow and turn in. In about two hours, we'll be home! he thought. Desire ran through him and congealed in his loins. Then, Pat and I'll go to our apartment and--. Admiral Nelson, his lips pressed into a thin grim line and his eyebrows drawn together, entered the Control Room. Captain Crane followed closely behind him, a similar expression on his face. Both men glanced toward them, then walked quickly to the plot table. They spoke
in hushed tones to Mister Morton. His brows drew together as his lips tightened over his white teeth. He shook his head.

Kowalski glanced at Patterson, who sat next to him at the hydrophone station. Patterson turned around for a moment and looked in the direction of the plot table, then turned toward Kowalski. He pulled at his right earlobe for a moment, then turned his attention back to his instruments.

Admiral Nelson turned and approached Patterson. "Patterson, I want to speak to you in my quarters. It's important," said the Admiral, laying a hand on Pat's shoulder. Kowalski could see the Admiral's hand tighten slightly.

Taking off his headphones, Patterson stood. Riley, who was the relief man, took Pat's place.

As Riley put the headphones on, Kowalski felt his mouth tighten slightly. What the hell could the Admiral want with Pat? Don't tell me he's going to have to work on some special project during our shore time! Kowalski thought. We're having a birthday for Susan's husband.

Pat's one of the family. They'll all expect him to be there!

The Admiral talks to him more than Riley or Malone or me.

Kowalski bristled silently. Why does Admiral Nelson talk to Pat more than most of the other enlisted guys?

Pat followed the Admiral out of the Control Room. As Kowalski watched them, a wave of annoyance washed over him.

**

Kowalski glanced at his watch. He would be off duty in ten minutes.

Then, he would see just what was going on. Time moved at a snail's pace. Finally, Rivers tapped him on the shoulder. Kowalski sprang from his chair and strode toward the hatch.

"Kowalski, I'd like to have a word with you," Captain Crane stated, his voice and expression very solemn.

Shit! Kowalski turned and walked to where the Skipper stood. With an effort, he banked down his irritation. "Yes, sir?"

Captain Crane lowered his voice. His brows drew together over hazel eyes. "Report to the Admiral's cabin, Kowalski," he instructed.

That's where I was heading anyway. Sometimes, when I'm off watch, I get the Admiral a cup of coffee and see if there's anything that he needs my help with. Dread coursed through him. Something's up!

As soon as Kowalski was out of the Control Room, he bolted down the passageway. In a short time, he was at Admiral Nelson's door.

"Would you like Doc to come up, Patterson? He can give you a mild sedative," Kowalski heard Admiral Nelson say.

Sedative! What would Pat need a sedative for?

Kowalski knocked on the door.

The door opened a few inches. Admiral Nelson looked out, his lips pressed together in a thin, grim line.

"Captain Crane told me to report here," Kowalski stated, hoping he would not be on the receiving end of the Admiral's wrath.

"Come in, Kowalski. I'm glad you're here," said the Admiral, opening the door and stepping aside.

Upon entering, Kowalski saw Patterson slumped in the chair in front of Admiral Nelson's desk. Patterson's shoulders were shaking a little. He bit his lower lip. His quivering breaths were punctuated by small sniffles. His blue eyes were brimming; his cheeks were damp.

His earlier resentment rapidly gave way to apprehension. "Pat?"

Kowalski said gently, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"My--." Pat began, his voice breaking. He tried again. "My--."

**

"Sparks received a message about an hour ago." Admiral Nelson picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to Kowalski.

Kowalski scanned the paper. Derrick Patterson and his sound man, Dwight Pinson, were killed while on a film shoot with a team of scientists headed by Bainbridge Wells. All is known is that a large animal attacked the camera crew, headed by Mr. Patterson. Details are incomplete at this time.

Kowalski laid the paper on Admiral Nelson's desk. His eyes burned as they misted over. Damn! No wonder he's so upset. He turned his attention back to his buddy. "I'm sorry, buddy," he murmured, squeezing Pat's shoulder.

"Kowalski, you and Patterson are free to leave as soon as we dock," Admiral Nelson told them, picking up the interphone and pressing some buttons.

"Dr. Jamison, Patterson just got some bad news. Bring a sedative for him up here to my cabin." A moment later, he replaced the handset in its cradle.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Admiral Nelson opened it and talked in hushed tones for a moment before Dr. Jamison walked in, a capped hypo in his right hand.

Dr. Jamison pulled a small square out of his pants pocket and tore it open.

"You can take this shot in the upper arm if you'd like," said Doc.

"This shot my make you sleepy. You don't need to drive or operate any kind of machinery for the next several hours."

"That's okay. I left my car in the parking lot. He can ride with me," Kowalski said.

Patterson slowly unzipped his jumpsuit and slipped out his right arm. Doc pushed up his tee shirt sleeve and swabbed a small area.

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, Patterson," Doc said, giving Pat the injection and recapping the needle.

"Thanks, Doc," murmured Pat.

Doc repeated his condolences again and departed.

Kowalski felt the tension knot up his muscles. There was so much to do. Usually, they managed to get their seabags packed where all they had to do was go to the Forward Crew's Quarters and grab them and their toilet items. How-ever, Chief Sharkey had decided that their quarters needed to be thoroughly policed, including swabbing down the
overheads and bulkheads as well as the deck. They had dusted every millimeter of their lockers, bed frames, and any other things they could think of. After Chief Sharkey had finally decided the area passed his inspection, it had been almost oh-two hundred hours. Since they had both been dead on their feet and were due on watch at oh-six hundred, they had turned in. Now, this had to happen.

A few minutes later, Kowalski and Patterson left the Admiral's cabin, closing the door behind them. Kowalski laid an arm across Patterson's shoulders as they walked down the passageways to their quarters.

Upon entering their assigned quarters, several crewmen looked in their direction. Riley approached them. "Pat? You okay?" he asked.

Pat nodded. Without a word, he went to his locker and began putting things into his seabag. Riley stared after him, but did not approach him again.

"He just got word his father was killed," Kowalski explained.

Riley frowned deeply. "Damn! What a bummer," he said. "No wonder he's so down wiped out."

Several other crewmen immediately clustered around Pat, offering condolences and words of comfort. Kowalski hurriedly packed his seabag while Pat was talking to their fellow crewmen.

A few minutes after Seaview slipped into her berth in the Nelson Institute's harbor, Kowalski and Patterson disembarked. Carrying their seabags small bags containing their toilet articles, they strode toward the security gate, where they showed their badges. The guard nodded and waved them through.

As usual, a huge crowd of friends and families filled the area between the security fence and the parking lot. Whenever a submarine returned to port safely, there was always a jubilant reunion of men with their families. Kowalski and Patterson usually were ecstatic and looking forward to the time off the boat.

This time, however, Kowalski would rather be deep under the ocean with the Klaxon going off and Mister Morton shouting "Battle Stations! Battle Stations! This is not a drill!" into the mike.

"Remember, you're riding with me," Kowalski reminded Patterson. Pat had ridden his motorcycle and Ski had carried their seabags in the trunk of his Z-28. Their vehicles were parked next to each other in the rear of the parking lot, a consequence of being one of
the last few men to report aboard.

"All right, but I'm okay, though," said Pat, glancing at him briefly. "When we get home, I'll have to book a flight to Lincoln. Then, I'll rent a car and drive to Elmwood." He paused. "I hope I can leave out tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Nate! Pat! Over here!" called several familiar voices.

Turning, Kowalski saw his parents walk toward him and Patterson, trailed by Marsha and her husband, David. Their eleven-year-old son, Anthony Jarislaus, strode ahead of them. Stan stood beside David. Sharon, Michael and their children followed them.

Kowalski and Patterson hugged Eleni and Ivan Kowalski first, then his sisters and their families. They exchanged pleasantries for several moments.

"Susan and Brian couldn't make it, but they're at the house," said Mrs. Kowalski. "Todd has a bad case of the flu, so they didn't want to leave him." Mrs. Kowalski frowned a trifle. "I just hope he's better in time for Brian's birthday party. It's a nasty bug. The doctor said most of his patients take about ten days to really start to recover."

Todd was the same age as Anthony. When the flu went around his school, he usually got severely ill. The party was only two days away. I doubt he's going to be much better by then, Kowalski thought.

"We've got a big dinner cooking at the house," Mrs. Kowalski continued. "Pat, I made that chicken and rice dish and that butterscotch pie you like so much."

"Thanks so much, Mama Ski," Patterson said, his voice shaking a little. "But I can't make it this time."

Mrs. Kowalski's expression became worried. "What's the matter, Pat?"

"I've got to book a flight to Lincoln, Nebraska. I'm going home to Elmwood for a few days. My father passed away," Pat replied.

"Wait a minute," David interjected. "You mean you're going to put Mama Eleni to a lot of trouble for nothing? And Brian's surprise birthday party is only two days away."

Pat shook his head. "I hate to miss it," he said sadly, "but I really do have to leave."

"Who do you think you are?" David snapped, his countenance becoming angry. "Daddy Ivan and Mother Eleni have taken you into their hearts and their family. Then, when somebody you hardly know comes into the picture, you run out on them like a rat from a burning barn."

Ivan laid a hand on Pat's shoulder. "But that's his real father," he said. He looked at Pat. "I'm sorry to hear that, son."

"Real father," David snorted. "I don't see that," shouted David, coming to stand squarely in front of Ivan. "You're his real father! Who has he spent his holidays with? You guys! When he's sick or hurt, who cries for him? You guys! When he's away, who lights candles for him and prays for his safe return? Mama Eleni and you! Who put him in their will, just like he was a flesh-and-blood child? You guys!" Then, he turned to face Pat. "When you go to Nebraska, you need to just stay there! It's obvious your priorities are mighty fucked up!" He shouted.

A murmur ran through the family gathering. Hanging his head, Pat walked away. Kowalski widened his stance. "Pat and I are going home," he stated, picking up his seabag and catching up to his buddy. At the moment, his desire to beat the shit out of David warred with his extreme concern for Pat.

What the hell's gotten into David? Kowalski wondered. He's normally a pleasant, affable fellow. Tonight, he's turned into a complete asshole.

Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Whatever his problem is, he'd better stow it or he won't be able to eat at Brian's birthday dinner because he'll be missing his teeth and have his jaws wired shut.

"You can go on with your family," Patterson said hoarsely.

"I'll manage."

"No, you're riding with me, just like we'd planned," Kowalski declared as he neared his car. He unlocked the trunk and stowed his gear and Patterson's, then closed the trunk. Both men got in; Kowalski started the engine and backed out of the parking space.

Several of his family group trotted toward his car as he pulled forward, waving at him. David broke into a run and caught up with them. "Judas Iscariot Patterson!" he yelled.

Kowalski pressed the accelerator to the floor and peeled rubber as he left the parking lot.

**

Tears welled up in Patterson's eyes. This time, he could not hold them back. Dad wrote and called me quite a bit, but our schedules didn't allow us to visit much. The Kowalskis have treated me like one of the family for years, he reflected. Now that he's gone, I
really need Ski's folks, but--.

I never would have thought they'd hate me, especially because I wanted to go back home at a time like this.

Two years ago, the Seaview was in port in time for the Fourth of July.

Dad was in town, too. He was at the Institute guest area when we docked and asked me to spend the day with him. Mama and Papa Ski were there, as usual. I told them that Dad was in town and introduced them and explained I'd like to spend some time with him. Mama and Papa Ski invited him to the family get-together and offered to let him stay in
their home. Wouldn't take no for an answer. They treated him great.

But seasons and people could change. Patterson had never felt so lonely or alone since his mother had died many years ago.

(Part 2)

Inside their apartment, Kowalski carried his seabag and toilet articles to the bedroom he shared with Patterson and dropped it onto the floor. Stowing everything could wait.

Where in the world was Pat? Pat should have been only a couple of seconds behind him.

Kowalski walked down the short hall and glanced into the living room. Patterson's seabag was there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Kowalski rounded the corner and looked into the kitchen, then walked through the kitchen to the small utility room. Patterson was not
in there, either.

He walked back into the hall and turned right this time, deciding to check Patterson's former bedroom and bathroom. Before they became lovers, they had slept in separate bedrooms and used different bathrooms. As he neared the door to Patterson's old room, he heard sobbing.

Kowalski pushed open the door and stepped inside. A lump came into his throat. Patterson lay in the middle of the bed, curled into a ball. His face was buried in his hands.
Immediately, Kowalski closed the distance and lay on the bed facing his partner, putting his arms around him as he planted kisses on his face and hair. "Easy, buddy-mine," he murmured, rubbing up and down Pat's back. "You're gonna get through this."

Pat nodded, his shoulders continuing to shake. Finally, he wiped his eyes and looked at Kowalski, his eyes betraying the misery within him. "I've got to book a flight. Could you do that for me?"

"Of course," Kowalski told him, standing up and going into his own bedroom. He opened his nightstand drawer and took out the phone book.

A loud knock and the ringing of the doorbell startled him.

Although he did not get up to answer it, he decided to wait on booking a flight. Maybe it's some of the guys, thought Kowalski. Surely, David isn't going to come over here to start some more shit!

The knocking grew even louder as someone pressed the doorbell time after time. Tossing the telephone book across the room in disgust, Kowalski walked to the door and opened it. There stood Mrs. Kowalski, his sister, Marsha, Anthony, and Stan. Kowalski stood there.

"Nate, can we come in?" asked Mrs. Kowalski, her voice almost tentative.

His mother's voice snapped him out of his daze. "Of course. Come in, all of you," he said, stepping back.

Everyone filed into the apartment.

"Mom, are you sure you're okay?" asked Anthony, a worried look on his face.

"Go sit down on the couch. We've got to talk to Uncle Nate and Uncle Pat," Marsha told her son.

Mrs. Kowalski looked around the living room and kitchen.

Then, she went down the hall.

Why wouldn't Marsha be okay? "What's the matter, Tony?" asked Kowalski.

"Daddy slapped her. Hard!" He looked at Kowalski, tears in his dark brown eyes.

Marsha frowned at her son. "Tony, be quiet," she scolded.

"What!" Kowalski yelled, facing Marsha. As he did so, he noticed the deep red splotch on Marsha's right cheek. Then, he turned back to his young nephew. "You did just fine, son. If anyone hurts your mama, you let some of us know."

"Don't worry. I took care of it," Stan spoke up. "David's gotten a major attitude adjustment." Stan held up his hands. Several of his knuckles were swollen; the back of his right hand was bruised.

He snorted. "Dad'll be over later. He decided he needed to keep an eye on David in case he needs to go to the hospital, or something. Besides, he's going to have a long talk with the son of a bitch."

"It's not all his fault," Marsha said, but Stan cut her off.

"It is his fault, no one else's," Stan declared. "He chose to let his temper get out of hand. I don't care what's happened. A man just doesn't hit a woman, much less Mom or one of my sisters."

Kowalski stepped forward and took a good look at Marsha's cheek. It might leave a minor bruise; more than likely, there would be no trace of it by morning. "Has this happened before?" he asked, scrutinizing his sister. "I want the truth."

Marsha shook her head. "Just in the last two weeks. But he never hit me before. He got very aloof. Very fault-finding and shouted at us a lot over nothing."

"Right now, I'm concerned about two things: Your welfare and helping Patterson get through losing his dad. David had no right to act the way he did to Pat," Kowalski said. "And why did he hit you?"

"When you left, David ran after you. He was yelling at Patterson," Marsha said. She took a deep breath. "I ran after him. When I reached him, I told him to shut up. He had been yelling and cursing at everyone ever since he got up this morning." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "He called me a mainlining slut. Anyway, that's when he hit me."

Kowalski hugged his sister, then went down the hall to Patterson's room. The door to Patterson's bedroom was ajar. Kowalski quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

Patterson was sitting on the side of the bed; Mrs. Kowalski sat close to him with her arm around him, rubbing his arm and shoulder.

Patterson looked at her earnestly. "Mama Ski, I hope you and Pop don't get mad, but I do feel I need to go and pay my respects to my father," Patterson was saying, his voice trembling.

"Of course you do, Pat, and you should go," Mrs. Kowalski said, her tone very soft and gentle. "There'd be something wrong with you if you didn't want to go." She punctuated her statement with a kiss on Pat's cheek. "He provided for you and your family and was at home when he could be. Sometimes, people's jobs take them away from home a lot. That's the way it was in your father's case."

"I love you just like you were my real parents, too," Patterson said. "You may not think that's possible, but that's the way I feel," Pat said, leaning into her and putting his head against hers.

"Ivan and I know that. So do the others, even David," Mrs. Kowalski said.

"Mom, what's got into David?" Kowalski asked. "Has he acted like he did tonight when we weren't around?"

Mrs. Kowalski shook her head, tears welling up in her brown eyes. "Everything was fine until about two and a half weeks ago. David got a call from an agency that reunites people with their birth parents and parents with the children they adopted."

"Is David adopted? I didn't know that," Kowalski said. He looks so much like the Borkinses. I'd never have thought he wasn't theirs by blood.

"Apparently, it was a shock to him, too," Mrs. Kowalski replied.

"You mean the Borkinses never told him?" asked Kowalski.

"David said he was about seven or eight years old when there was a show on TV about kids being adopted. He said they told him that he was adopted and showed him the adoption papers. David always felt loved and wanted. He didn't think about it anymore, and they never brought it up again. In fact, David said that he had forgotten about it until he received a call from that agency."

"What did David tell them?" asked Kowalski.

"Marsha said he told them that they had the wrong person; that he was the Borkinses' natural-born child and hung up," Mrs. Kowalski replied.

"Did the Borkinses know about the agency's calling David?"

"Marsha told me she called and told them. She said Fiona and Denton came over to talk to David about it. The Borkinses told him that if he wanted to get to know his birth mother, they would understand. David got mad that she mentioned it to the Borkinses. He
said the Borkinses were his real parents, and that was that," Mrs. Kowalski told them.

"That should have settled it, then," Kowalski said.

"Well, it didn't. It seems his birth mother got his home phone number and address. She dropped by a little over a week ago.

Marsha said she thought the woman was at least eighty years old, but she was actually in her late forties. Loretta Dobbs said she intended to establish a relationship with her kids and be a mother to them."

"What did David say to that?"

"He ordered her to leave. He told her not to come back. As far as he was concerned, Fiona and Denton Borkins were his mother and father. She refused to leave for a while. Finally, David threatened to call the police and have her arrested for trespassing if she didn't go away. She left then, but she has called him nearly every day. She's dropped by several times; she even went by Tony's room at school and told the teacher she was his grandmother."

"Sounds like she's got enough brass to supply the world for a hundred years," said Kowalski.

Mrs. Kowalski laughed a trifle. "You can say that again."

Then, she became serious again. "Anyway, Loretta Dobbs wrote him a letter saying that she didn't want to give him up, but she had no choice. When his father ran out on her, she was sick and couldn't take care of him. Gave him a big sob story about how sick she was back then."

That doesn't sound right. Lots of women get sick and lose their spouses, but they keep their children. "You might check that out. There's something wrong with that story."

Mrs. Kowalski nodded. "We did, and there was. We talked to Fiona and Denton. Seems like he and his sister were taken away from her because she was neglecting and abusing them. He was more abused than the sister was. When he was picked up, he had a broken arm that had to be reset and bruises all over. He was placed in foster care in the Borkins home. The Borkinses didn't think they'd ever have any children of their own, so they were delighted to have him. They fell in love with him and wanted to adopt him. The parent has to sign papers giving up the child, though. Loretta refused to do it, saying she wanted him back. The Borkinses had some connections and pulled some strings and found out where David's mother lived and went to see her."

"They must have been persuasive. She gave them permission to adopt David," said Kowalski.

"Actually, the Borkinses went to see her and offered her five thousand dollars in cash to sign the papers. Yes, she was sick, all right. She was into hard drugs. They saw her arms, and they said her arms looked like somebody had used the veins for pin cushions. They
said she was probably sniffing glue, too. There were several tubes of plastic cement and bags lying around, as well as needles." Mrs. Kowalski shook her head. "Evidently, the woman was too far gone to try to hide the stuff when they came over."

"She sounds like a real loser," Kowalski said.

"That isn't all of it. When they had some more investigating done, they found out she had been treated for syphilis and gonorrhea and pelvic inflammatory disease. She had been arrested for prostitution as well, probably trying to support her habit."

"Did the Social Services people know who his father was?" asked Kowalski.

"No. Loretta had slept with so many men she had no idea who his father could be," replied Mrs. Kowalski. "She wasn't into drugs when she had him, just prostitution. He wasn't born addicted, so she had to have gotten on them after he was born."

"That money probably lasted her less than a month," Kowalski said. He snorted. Imagine that. Selling out your kid so you can by a few drugs."

"David said something to that effect," Mrs. Kowalski said.

"He has changed since Loretta Dobbs came into the picture. Marsha and I went to the priest and talked to him about it. Father Lambert visited Marsha and David. Marsha said that he--." She paused. A shiver ran through her. "He-said things. Sick, depraved things. Then, he ordered the priest to leave."

"Damn! If he keeps that up, it won't be one of us that'll be giving him an attitude adjustment," Kowalski said. You can get away with a helluva lot of things, but you don't cuss out God's people and get by with it.

Marsha walked in. She approached Patterson and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. "I'm so sorry about your father, Pat. Is there anything we can do to help you?"

Patterson gave her a hug in return. He wiped his eyes and smiled weakly. "Thanks. Just be here for me," he replied.

"You've got us, Pat. Don't worry," Marsha said, bestowing another quick kiss on his forehead. Marsha looked at their mother.

"Mother, if it's all right, I'm bringing some of my things and the kids over. I'd like to stay with you and Dad for awhile."

"Under the circumstances, I think that's best," said Mrs. Kowalski. "I wouldn't get any sleep, worrying what David might do."

Marsh paused. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm going to tell David that he has to go to some counseling sessions and he has to apologize to Father Lambert and talk to him about what's bothering him before I move back in."

"He needs to. I think he's had a nervous breakdown," stated Mrs. Kowalski. "We'll have to pray from him, that God will heal his mind." Then, she gave Pat a sideways hug. "Right now, though, I pray for God to give Pat strength and peace."

"He has. Believe me, He has!" said Patterson.

Everyone talked some more, then said good night and left.

Alone in their bedroom, Kowalski took Patterson in his arms and pulled him close, bestowing on him a slow, warm kiss. Patterson's arms wound around his neck as he kissed him back. "Just hold me right now," he murmured as a small tremor coursed through his body.

Kowalski gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, then nodded.

If Patterson did not feel like making love, Kowalski understood. They had had a very ample share of passion and joy; they would again. Life was not being together only in joy. It was loving and sharing in both joy and in sorrow.

**

At David Borkins' house, Ivanovich Nikolai Kowalski barely restrained the urge to finish the job his oldest son started. His jaw clenched as he alighted, then opened the door to the car and waited for David to get out. David hesitated, his eyes closed.

"Come on, David. Let's get you in the house," growled Ivan.

David stood slowly, then bent over. Ivan caught him before he hit the concrete driveway, hoping he would not get blood on his new shirt. He slung one of David's arms across his shoulders and helped him to the front door. Using David's key, Ivan unlocked the door and led him to the large overstuffed green couch. David collapsed onto it, moaning.

Ivan walked into the kitchen, where he picked up a couple of dish towels and took them back to David, who pressed them against his nose. Then, he examined David.

"I think my nose is broken," David told him through swollen, bleeding lips. "My right cheek feels like someone hit it with a hammer."

"Very possible. Stan was a boxing champion when he was in high school and in the Navy. Someone suggested he make a career of it, but he wanted a career as a Navy diver instead." Ivan chuckled.

"Mohammed Ali couldn't have whipped Stan." He unbuttoned David's shirt and examined his chest and upper abdomen. Huge dark red splotched were already forming. Carefully, he felt David's ribs. David winced.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

"Yes," replied David.

Ivan did not think any ribs were broken. They might have been cracked, but they were still in place, so they had not punctured a lung. Still, Ivan knew there might be bleeding and maybe other damage on the inside of David's chest.

After he was satisfied David was not in immediate danger of dying, he pulled up a matching chair and ottoman close to the couch and sat in it, propping his feet on the ottoman.

Ivan scrutinized his son-in-law for a long time. David used to not be like this. He was as good a guy as anybody could want. Now, he's nothing but an asshole jerk. "David," he began as if he were talking to a young child. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

David shrugged, then averted his gaze for a moment.

"Why have you started hitting Marsha and-and calling her a mainlining slut. Marsha doesn't use drugs, and she doesn't run around on you. I know her. When she's not here with you, she's either working or over at our house. Most of the time, she's got the kids with her," Ivan stated, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "And Nadie said you called her a low-life, no-good bitch and Tony a bastard. Man, those kids look just like you! If you want a DNA test, get one, but you'll just be wasting your time and money."

David looked away, shame on his face.

Ivan took a deep breath, then blew it out through clenched teeth. "David," he said, managing to keep his voice calm and level only with a great effort. "I don't know what's behind it, but I can tell you this: If it ever happens again, I'm not going to pull Stan off of you. I'll let him finish what he started. I may even help him."

Ivan saw David shiver. He's got good reason to be afraid.

"My daughter will be a widow before she'll be a battered wife," he told David, who opened his mouth. A hint of defiance crept into his eyes.

"And that's not a threat. It's a promise."

David turned to look at him, fear in his eyes. "I-It's not like that. I didn't-I've never hit her and cussed her." David looked away. "Not before tonight."

"Then, why tonight?" demanded Ivan, feeling anger surge through him.

"Because everything I say and everything I do is wrong," David moaned. "I've had enough of it. I yell at the kids for doing something they shouldn't do, and that's wrong." The anger came back into his eyes. "You know what she told me?" David snorted. "She said I needed to go and get some professional help. That I had problems."

"You do, David, and they won't get any better until you get a handle on what's bothering you," Ivan told him, meeting his gaze.

The fear in David's eyes quickly turned to misery. Tears welled up in them, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand before they fell. "You wouldn't understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For the first time since David had slapped Marsha, Ivan felt compassion for his son-in-law. Ivan leaned slightly forward in the chair. "I don't know about that. I've been a supervisor for almost fifteen years. Before that, I was a Petty Officer in the Navy."

"It wouldn't make any sense to you, or anyone else. Just me," David declared, his voice devoid of his usual enthusiasm.

Believe me, I've heard it all." He leaned forward and laid a hand on David's shoulder. "Why don't you try me?"

David bit his lips. "You know that I'm adopted."

"Yeah, we heard about two weeks ago," Ivan said, shrugging his shoulders. "But so what? Lots of kids are adopted. Their birth mothers usually are young teenagers who couldn't take care of a baby, so they give the baby up to a good family that can love the child and care for it. The Borkinses have loved you and given you a good home, good
clothes, medical and dental care, and a college education. They had children after they adopted you, but you said they treated all of you alike."

David nodded. "That's true. All of it. And they took me to Mass and we had Bible Time for fifteen minutes every night. Mama and Daddy said prayers with me before I went to sleep. Mama went to Rosary Ladies and Daddy was a member of the Knights of Columbus. I was an altar boy a lot."

"I'm going to ask you a question. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to, but a counselor is probably going to ask you when he hears Marsha's side of it. Were you ever molested by a priest as a child?"

"Of course not!" he exploded. "I've heard on the news about some priests that have molested kids, but I've never known one that did."

"When Father Lambert came to your house because Marsha asked him to, you told him to go and fuck some more altar boys." Ivan shook his head. "Whatever possessed you to say such a thing?"

"This was family business, not a Church matter," murmured David. "I just got so mad that Father Lambert knew what a-a." His voice trailed off. "That he knew I was a--." Again, David did not finish his sentence.

"A bastard," Ivan finished, his voice gentle.

David nodded. Both men were silent for several moments.

"Marsha knows, too. She didn't even know I was adopted, let alone that I was-illegitimate."

"But didn't you know you were adopted before the agency called?" asked Ivan, although he had heard much of it.

"Yes," David said, nodding.

"How old were you when you found out?"

"Seven, I think," replied David. "We were watching some TV show that was talking about adopting kids. I remember thinking it was kind of neat that somebody would take in a child they didn't know and call it theirs, and I said so. Mama and Daddy both hugged me and told me that they had adopted me," David said, his voice low and faraway.

"What did you think?" asked Ivan.

"I thought they were just teasing me. Sometimes, they teased me about stuff. Then, Daddy went and got the Certificate of Legal Adoption. It had my name on it," David told him quietly. "They showed me a copy of my corrected birth certificate to show that my last name was Borkins."

"What did you do then?" Ivan inquired, keeping his voice gentle.

"I remember staring at it." David paused, his eyes brimming. "Then, they hugged me and said they loved me and that I meant so much to them. That the piece of paper didn't matter except that no one could take me away from them and make me live somewhere else. I was theirs, just as if Mama had given birth to me."

"What about your real parents?" asked Ivan.

"My real parents, as you call them, are the Borkinses. I assume you mean my birth parents." David stared straight ahead of him.

"I asked what happened to my other parents. Mama and Daddy just said they didn't know what had become of them," David said.

"Didn't you ever want to know who your birth parents were, and why you were put up for adoption?"

David's jaw and lips tightened. "For a little while, I did." He laughed bitterly. "But I came up with the reason on my own."

"What did you find out?" Ivan probed carefully.

"My parents were high up in the Government." He laughed again. "My father was an important scientist working on a Top-Secret weapon, and my mother was a spy assigned to protect him from enemy agents. They fell in love and got married. Then, I was born. Then, the worst happened. The enemy agents stole the plans for the weapon Dad was working on. Mom and Dad had to run for their lives. However, they could not get away. They realized that I would be killed along with them, and placed me with some people who were in the lower level of society to insure that I wouldn't be found by their enemies. Before they were captured and killed, they left word with the Child Welfare officials where I was so that they would find me and give me to the Borkinses, who were supposed to have me in the event my parents were killed or captured," he said, his voice sad.

Careful! Be very careful! Ivan told himself. You're on ground that should only be approached by a trained professional counselor. I never thought he'd open up this far to me. When I started, I only wanted to try to get him to see a counselor, not try to be one. His throat constricted with emotion.

David's too-bright eyes met Ivan's. "Sounds pretty stupid, huh?"

Ivan shook his head. "Sounds to me like a great background to come from. Tell me, David. Did you watch spy shows and adventure shows?"

David smiled a trifle. "Yeah, I did. Secret Squirrel, Underdog, Beany and Cecil, Bullwinkle, The Man From Uncle, Get Smart. Mama and Daddy watched the Nostalgia channel a lot. It had shows from the Sixties on it."

Both men were silent once more. "They were good shows. Kids learned right from wrong by watching those. Even if their home training was minimal, they could still learn values. Fighting for a cause, standing up for what they knew was right. When the villain stole something or killed someone or committed some other crime, he or she was caught and
made to pay for his crime."

"Stealing is a crime, and crime does not pay," David chimed in, his smile widening. A wistful look crossed his face. "Back then, I thought serving your country was the noblest thing you could do. It took guts, intelligence, daring, and a cool head under fire to defeat the agents of the KGB."

"Service to America is a good thing," agreed Ivan. "But as you know, the country I was born in was considered an enemy of the United States and freedom for many years." Ivan shuddered as he remembered scenes from his own early childhood. "I had just turned eleven when my parents moved to the United States."

David smiled. "Present company excepted." David's countenance became very solemn once more. "Because of that so-called background, I studied extra hard in school. Made almost all A's. Once in a great while, I made a B. I didn't talk or disrupt the class, and I always did my homework. You know what my life was like with the Borkinses. I wanted--." David stopped in mid-sentence, his voice hoarse. "I wanted my other parents to look down from Heaven and be proud of me."

"I'm sure the Borkinses were very proud of you," Ivan said.

God, I hope I'm saying the right thing here, he thought. David nodded. "They were. After about two years, I forgot about being adopted."

"Did you really forget about it, or did you just ignore it?" asked Ivan.

David shrugged. "Some of both, I guess. But I never stopped trying to be worthy of love and respect."

"But Denton and Fiona couldn't love you more if they had given birth to you," Ivan reminded him.

"Part of me knew that, but-but--." He looked away for a moment before continuing. "But another part of me didn't. " He was silent for some time. His expression became hard and mean. "Then, that Dobbs woman called. By that time, I had forgotten that the Borkinses
had adopted me. There was this woman claiming to be my mother, saying she had been so sick that she couldn't take care of me. She looked like hell."

"You're not the first person to receive a call like that," Ivan said.

"I told the agency I was not interested, but that Dobbs woman showed up at my house a few days later. Marsha invited her in, then came into the den and got me. I told her to leave, but she insisted on talking and finding out about us. Marsha talked to her like she was really kin to us. Then, what does Marsha do? Call Mama and Daddy and you and Mama Eleni. Then, Marsha and Mama Eleni talk to Mama and Daddy."

"Yes, she did," said Ivan. "She thought you might change your mind and want to know about your real mother."

"There you go! You don't get it. She isn't my real mother.

After all this came out, I found out the truth. The real truth, not the fantasy I made up as a child. Loretta Dobbs was a prostitute, a thief, and used hard drugs like they were candy. She was living with a man before I was born. Her pimp, I guess. After several months more, he dumped her. She says his first name was Keith, or Kenneth-she's not sure. She has no idea what his last name was. She has no idea who my father is. There are just too many possibilities."

"How did you feel about hearing that?" asked Ivan.

"Like I had been exposed for some awful sin that nobody could forgive me of. A cardinal sin. That no matter how hard I tried to be somebody, it had all come to nothing," David said, sobs shaking his voice. "I'm a nothing and a nobody. Just a good-for-nothing bastard." As he continued to cry, his sobs became ever deeper.

Ivan let him cry for several moments. Finally, Ivan laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Listen to me, David," Ivan commanded gently.

When David made eye contact with him, he began. "David, you're David Eugene Borkins, son of Denton and Fiona Borkins. You're not a nobody unless you regard yourself as one. If you are in your mind, you'll be one. You see, your mind is like a guidance mechanism. What you picture yourself to be is what comes to be in your life. If you see yourself as noble and moral and a tribute to your nation and community, you will
take on the traits that bring it about. If you see yourself as a failure, you'll adopt the traits of a failure. That's just the way it is. But get this: You're the one who decides what you'll become, not the Dobbs woman or the Borkinses. Yes, the Borkinses gave you a much
better life with a lot more opportunities. Still, it was you who applied yourself in school; who went to church and made God a part of your life; who became a computer programmer and a certified networking engineer."

"But-But--," David protested, then heaved a long sigh. "I don't know. I built myself on a false foundation, on parents that didn't exist. How could I have turned out to be a good person?"

"David, the emotions can't tell the difference between a real or an imagined experience. You saw yourself as the son of high-minded, patriotic, decent people, so that is what you became. Then, when this Dobbs woman appeared, she turned out to be the opposite of everything you had pictured in your mind for your background. Because of that, your perception of yourself changed." Ivan leaned forward to emphasize his point. "I didn't say that you had changed, just the way you see yourself."

Ivan heard rustling outside the door. A moment later, the key turned in the lock. Marsha, Tony, and Eleni entered. Ivan hugged Eleni and gave her a peck on the lips. "Does Pat know we're not mad at him for wanting to go home?" asked Ivan.

"Yes. He does now. I told him why David reacted the way he did."

"That's just great," David moaned.

Marsha walked down the hall, Tony following her. In a few minutes, they emerged, each carrying a small suitcase. "David, we're going to stay with Mom and Dad for a few days," she told her husband.

David stood, wincing as he did so. "I guess you don't want to stay with a bastard like me," he stated bitterly.

Marsha's tear-filled eyes met David's. "David, it's not your bloodline I'm concerned about. It's the way you've been acting.

You've cussed the kids and me. You're angry and acting like the world has fallen on you and smashed you ever since that woman showed up." A strand of dark brown hair fell onto her reddened cheek. She brushed it back into place with her hand. "David, you even cussed out a priest, for goodness' sake." She shook her head. "You-you even called me a
mainlining slut. You hit me. Something's gone wrong here. Badly wrong. I can't stay the way things are now."

What the hell was Marsha doing? Granted, she's got a reason to leave, but David's come to realize some things. If she leaves him now, he may hit the skids and never stop his downhill slide. "Marsha, do you think that's necessary?" Ivan asked.

Eleni shot Ivan a withering glance. "I won't have my daughter and grandchildren subjected to abuse," she said, then turned to Marsha.

"You're still coming, aren't you?"

Marsha nodded. "The only way I'll move back in is if he goes to counseling and apologizes to Father Lambert and to Pat."

"Now, wait just a damn minute," David snapped. "I'll go see a counselor and I'll apologize to Father Lambert for telling him to go and fuck altar boys, but ugh-ugh. I won't apologize to Pat. Mama Eleni and Daddy Ivan are his family. I've heard his own father wasn't around much when Pat was growing up. Now, Pat's all torn up because the son of a bitch dies? That doesn't make sense."

"Pat's father was a camera man for a major film company.

Yes, he was away from home a lot, but he always sent money home to take care of his family. Whenever he could, he'd take his family along," Ivan corrected him.

"You mean he didn't just walk out on them?" asked David.

Ivan shook his head. "No, he didn't. He just traveled a lot because of his job."

David sank back onto the couch, resting his face in his hands. "Damn! I didn't know that. I thought he'd just walked out on them when Pat was a boy and hadn't been back." He grunted. "I'm not wrong very often, but when I am-woo hoo! I take the grand prize."

"It's been on the news, Derrick Patterson's death, I mean.

A bad thing.

Pat needs our support."

David nodded. "I guess I'll have to try to straighten out things with him, too." David frowned. "Pat may turn my lights out, though."

"I don't think he'll do that," Ivan said. But Nate might.

He's always been close to Pat, but in the last few months, they seem to have become so much closer. He's a lot more protective of Pat than he used to be, Ivan thought.

David looked down at the floor. "Look, Daddy Ivan, I'll work on getting myself back together. I just hope all of you will be here for me, too."

Ivan laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "Family members help each other in good times and bad," Ivan told him. "Just do what you know to be right."

**

EPILOGUE

Patterson, accompanied by Kowalski, went home to Elmwood.

He did not have to make many arrangements. Derrick's sister, Diedra, and her husband, Donald Clayton, had made almost everything taken care of. All that had remained to do was set the date for the funeral.

Two days later, the funeral was held. The day after, they booked a flight for home.

David underwent counseling. As a result of his conversation with Ivan, he had begun to come to terms with the blow to his self-esteem. That made it much easier for the counselor to help him.

He went to Confession and did penance for cursing Father Lambert, for abusing his family, and for his misplaced anger at Pat. Three weeks later, Marsha and the children moved back in, and they resumed their life together.



The End