my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
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It's not much longer than a drabble, but I liked it enough to give it a post of its own.


Out of the mouths of fools often emerges... well, not wisdom, but something at right angles to reality that causes one to think. When Vila said he'd chosen the wrong parents it was merely an absurd witticism, for him.

It stung me, though. If one has an insecure childhood, it's not uncommon to fantasize a different family set. My parents barely tolerated me, but doted on my older brother. I admit they had cause to love him; he was... always a pleasure to be around. He loved me, unreservedly, and, as we grew older, he took my side in family quarrels. If it wasn't for him, I very much doubt the family coffers would have opened to pay for my university education.

I was so certain that I'd been adopted that I didn't question it. Then came the vis-call. Davvi had been in a transport accident. I didn't understand the medical jargon, but he needed tissues, bone marrow... I went to the hospital, of course, and was refused as incompatible.

And then my parents failed the test. Davvi, their beloved, adopted, son, died. They wept over him, and blamed me for living.

I was later able to access genealogical files, and saw, for the first time, the image of my paternal grandfather. It was like looking into a mirror. I gazed into those cold, hard eyes, and nodded.

I have sometimes wondered if the Federation picked up my parents for interrogation after my fraud was uncovered. But I have never cared enough to find out.

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December 2011

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