Page 47 of Alien's Love Child

But I am sure. The scar on his chest - I'd traced it with my fingers that night in the kitchen, when he'd told me about the pirate attack. He'd described every detail: the ambush near Exodus, the knife that caught him between the ribs, the way his crew had patched him up with their limited med supplies.

The same scar. The same story, just... twisted.

My mind races through possibilities. A twin brother? No, he'd told me he was an only child. Besides, the genetic odds of two Kaleidians having identical scars in identical places...

He turns his head slightly, catching me watching him. Those eyes - they're the same ones that had looked at me with such tenderness in that rain-soaked alley. But now they're cold, distant. Like looking at a stranger wearing a loved one's face.

The explosion at the warehouse... head trauma could explain the memory loss, the new identity. The mafia finding him, reshaping him into this "Tyren" person.

"Stop staring," he snaps.

"Can't help it," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "You look exactly like someone I used to know."

Something flickers across his face - that same flash of uncertainty I'd seen earlier. He opens his mouth as if to respond, then shakes his head and turns back to the controls.

I pull Leo closer, my mind made up. This is Davin. And somehow, I'm going to make him remember.

Leo's stomach growls loud enough to echo through the ship's cabin. He tugs at my sleeve, eyes watery. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Shut him up," Davin - no, Tyren - snaps from the pilot's seat. But there's a catch in his voice, a hesitation that wasn't there before.

"He's two and a half," I say, keeping my voice level. "He needs to eat regular meals. You want him quiet? He needs food."

Davin's shoulders tense. He doesn't turn around, but his fingers tap against the control panel. "Fine. Kitchenette's down the hall, first door on the right. Make it quick."

I lift Leo into my arms, his little head nestling against my shoulder. As I pass Davin's chair, his eyes flick to Leo, then away just as fast.

The kitchenette is cramped but functional. Military-grade appliances line the walls - exactly like the ones Davin described from his service days. I set Leo on the counter while I rummage through the cabinets.

"There's protein packs in the bottom drawer," Davin calls from the doorway, making me jump. He leans against the frame, arms crossed. "Should be some fruit preserves too."

"Thanks." I pull out the items, trying to ignore how his presence fills the small space. "Leo, sweetie, want some star-berries with your protein pack?"

Leo nods, but his eyes are fixed on Davin. "Your skin is pretty. Like the sky at home."

Davin's jaw clenches. For a moment, something soft crosses his face - the same look he'd given me that night in the kitchen years ago. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

"Just... hurry up," he mutters, turning away. But he doesn't leave, just stands there watching as I prepare Leo's meal.

I dig through more drawers, pushing aside packets of dehydrated meals and vacuum-sealed rations. "This is depressing. When's the last time you ate something that actually grew in soil?"

"Food is fuel." He shifts against the doorframe. "These are efficient."

"Efficient?" I hold up a protein pack, its silvery wrapper catching the light. "This stuff tastes like recycled boot leather. How much money do you make per job? Because I know it's enough to afford real food."

Leo giggles as he munches on his star-berries. "Boot leather!"

"The preserves are real food," he says, his jaw tightening.

"These?" I shake the jar. "They're more preservative than berry at this point. Look at the manufacture date - this jar is older than Leo."

A muscle twitches in his cheek. "If my pantry offends you so much, feel free to not eat."

"I'm just saying, for someone who can afford a ship this nice..." I gesture at the high-end appliances. "Would it kill you to stock some fresh produce? Maybe a vegetable or two?"

"Vegetables go bad. Protein packs don't."

Leo points at Davin's face. "You're turning purple!"

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