As if he was a narrator, Tim waited for Angelo and Olympia to step out of the bus before Tim leaned his hand forward and pointed towards the young man with the white man’s afro. His tone bright and cheerful even though his face remained taut and serious.
“ That’s your son. That’s Frank.”, He didn’t wait for a response or remark before pointing at Mike as he stepped off of the bus and smiling a little.
“ That’s Peter‘s son Mike…”, When it seemed like there were no other patients stepping off of the bus, Tim’s heart began to pound. Where’s Heather… Did she not come? She had to have come…everyone in the West Wing was going to be coming on this trip, Peter had been certain about that. Feeling a hand of despair squeeze his stomach, Tim began to feel nauseated and worrisome. Did they not bring Heather? Did they send her…someplace…to do something awful? Images of six month old child being tortured, electrocuted, and screaming slammed into Tim’s brain and he had to clamp his eyes shut. When he finally had the strength to open them, there she was, stepping out of the bus. Or more really, there he was. ‘ What is she wearing?’ Although Tim had hoped for a son when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant, he was rather sure that even tomboys didn’t dress that masculine…or had some small amount of bust. Not that he was looking like that, but she was practically flat chested, it didn’t look healthy.
“ Is she, yours?”, Tim looked up when Maggie spoke. He could only nod, and did so with a claw squeezing his belly. Yep. That freak of nature was his. She needed to get out of there. Quickly. Seeing Heather buddy up to Frank made him smile, but he had already known they were friends. Smiling towards Maggie, he tapped her shoulder once more before stuffing the keys into his pocket and locking the steering wheel of his motorcycle. Screw pre-made plans. They were going inside, and he was talking to his child.
“ The Van‘s here Tim…they‘re taking one of them tonight.”, Waiting four minutes until the entire group was inside the Museum, Tim and Maggie now followed in tow.
“ If they ask, my name if Greg Fersen, Astrid.”, making up a name for her on the spot, Tim thought that to be the best course of action just in case the pair of them needed to address one another verbally. Fake names would do, especially now that Tim had changed the pre-made plans to go in after their children. They would only be able to say hello, but still, Tim just couldn’t wait. He had to know if his child was being abused beyond her capabilities. Any parent wouldn’t be able to resist very easily. ‘ Alright Peter. We‘re heading inside.’ Tim wasn’t going to like that, and of course he had to ignore a very angry thought being pushed into his brain. (poorly if that) Knowing how Tim lacked telepathy skills, Tim could just pretend he didn’t hear him and continue inside.
“ If your son heads towards the gift shop, or off on his own, just follow him in there. I‘ll help you maintain a few minutes privacy…But if the situation gets ugly, we‘ll have to leave.”, She knew the rules, and he didn’t expect any sort of reply that could not be imagined. How he was going to get his daughter alone was another story altogether. Perhaps if Frank and his daughter were good friends, they might go off on their own during the tour and converse as teenagers and young adults tended to do. Perhaps that would be their best bet. As much as he wanted to, stealing their children would be foolish and irrational. They would get caught, murdered perhaps, and their future together would be short-lived.
Stepping inside, Tim and Maggie, in their disguises, purchased tour tickets and started to follow far behind the Maxwell group. Dwindling behind them just far enough to not be suspicious.
