Michael had often felt like something was missing. He’d woken in the middle of the night for months after the accident with a sense of longing and despair. Now he knew why. Now he knew what had been missing.

He had a sister. Somewhere out there, Hannah was waiting – held captive, to use as a pawn or worse, by Aiello and his men.

He knew why school bored him also; why it always had. He was over a century old. The lessons seemed to be repetitive because they were. He’d learned all they taught in schools over a century ago.

The man who’d been raising him – whom he called uncle – was his father… and in a strange way, his mother. A pang went through him. This too had been missing. He’d felt a connection that went beyond simply the care of being raised by someone. Josiah was his progenitor – the one who had brought him into this world – who’d given him life.

He knew his pain was a dim echo of Josiah’s – of his father’s. His father had lost both of his children on that day five years ago. He turned at the familiar presence and smiled slightly. “Father,” he said. The word held more than a simple greeting. The bond between them was reformed – a healing balm passed between them as Michael acknowledged their true relationship. “Let’s go get Hannah back,” he said.

Josiah nodded once and held out a hand to his son. Michael darted to his side, not quite hugging him, but the light touch was enough. They were truly a family again – only lacking one member.