Part One – Age 5 – Richard 

His son's small hand was clammy in his as Richard Anderson pulled him along, excitement and anxiety bleeding through every pore of his tiny body.

Or maybe the nerves were entirely Richard's own.

It was a big day, perhaps the biggest of Blaine's life.  Today they would order Blaine a Fab.

Richard had heard every argument in the book about the possible dangers of selecting Blaine's mate when he was only five, and he had confidently dismissed every one of them.  Blaine was a special child—precocious, often giddy and unsettled, but also prone to emotional outbursts.  A Fab at his age would be a friend to him and, with any luck, tame his excitable nature.  They could grow up together, fall in love as the natural course of things.

He pushed open the door of the austere brick building, allowing Blaine to enter first but not letting go of his hand.  Richard caught his eye as they approached the secretary's desk—a warning, and for once Blaine seemed to heed it obediently.  His posture straightened, and his free hand flew up to fiddle with his bowtie.

“Sir?” the secretary said, snaring his attention.

“Good morning,” Richard told her politely, offering the woman his friendliest smile.  “My name is Richard Anderson.  We're here to order a Fab for my son, Blaine.”

“Ah yes,” the secretary beamed at Blaine before turning back to him.  “Mr. Anderson.  Mr. Vance is almost ready for you, Sir, if you'll just have a seat.”

“Thank you.  Come along, Blaine.”

“Oh, wait!” the secretary stopped them, reaching for something hidden behind the desk and swiftly producing a basketful of lollipops.  “Would you like one?” she asked Blaine, her eyes on Richard as if seeking his approval.

Richard looked down at his son and nodded tersely.  It was far too early in the day for candy, but appearances must be maintained.  Blaines face lit up in obvious delight, his hand twisting in his father's as he reached out to select—predictably—a shiny red sucker from the basket.  “Later,” Richard mouthed to his son.  They both thanked the woman as Richard tugged him towards the waiting area, choosing a chair in the far corner and nodding again when Blaine's eyes landed on a model car tucked away in a pile of toys.

Their wait was short; a door opened and a man in a neat grey suit appeared, smiling jovially as he scanned the room and caught Richard's eye.  “Mr. Anderson!” he exclaimed, approaching and sticking out his hand for Richard to shake.  “Howard Vance.  Why, I think I remember you!  You brought your boy in, Cooper, was it?  I have a good mind for names.  That must have been more than five years ago now!”

“Yes, that's right,” Mr. Anderson said, taken aback by the man's enthusiasm.  Now that he thought about it, he did recall leaving with a headache the last time they met. 

Blaine was still absorbed with the car, and Richard was about to call for his attention when Mr. Vance took notice of him, moving closer until he was standing over the boy.

“It this one yours too?  Blaine, is it?  He's awfully young!”

“Yes, I'm aware,” Richard said tightly, hoping he wouldn't be called upon to defend his decision yet again.  If that happened, he would simply leave and take his business elsewhere. 

“Well,” Mr. Vance continued after a long moment, finally tearing his gaze away from Blaine, who had been watching him with trepidation.  “I have seen them younger.  Why don't you both follow me?”

Blaine returned the car with obvious reluctance, trailing after his father into the man's office.

“Now,” Mr. Vance said once they'd all taken seats, “why don't you tell me a little bit about what you'd like, Blaine.”

Blaine looked at his father first, and Richard nodded, silently praying the boy didn't say anything too embarrassing.  “I want…” Blaine began, trailing off uncertainly.  “I want someone to watch Disney movies with and go to plays like the fun ones Mommy takes me to with the singing.” 

Not exactly what Richard had been hoping for, but then again his son was only five.  “Musical aptitude and an appreciation of and talent for the arts,” he told Mr. Vance, who nodded and marked something on a sheet of paper.  “Go on, Blaine.”

Blaine looked deep in thought.  “I want them to be a good cook, like Mommy, but they have to like their peanut butter sandwiches cut into triangles, not across!  And it would be cool if they could play with me on the playground and stuff, and maybe liked to play dolls and stuff too…”

Richard winced a little at that, but his son didn't notice.  “Obviously we want someone who is intellectually gifted,” he said.  “Is there anything else, Blaine?”

“What do you want your partner to look like?” Mr. Vance prompted, studying Blaine intently.  The boy squirmed in his seat until a stern look from his father made him stiffen abruptly.

This was the part that Richard was most nervous about, but fortunately he'd come prepared for disaster.

“Like Prince Eric, you know, from The Little Mermaid,” Blaine answered easily.

Disaster like that.

Richard inhaled sharply, staring pointedly at the wall in front of him.  When he spoke, his voice was heavy with forced patience.  “Blaine, why don't you go sit in the waiting room while I discuss some things with Mr. Vance?”

“Yessir,” Blaine said quickly, his eyebrows raising in alarm at the warning in his father's voice. 

“Here, Blaine,” Mr. Vance said, handing him a piece of paper.  “I'm assuming that the boy can read?” he asked Richard, then continued once this was confirmed.  “It's a personality profile sheet, but I gave him the version for children.  Once we're finished speaking you can help him with it, if necessary. 

“That's fine,” Richard said, then turned to his son.  “Well, go on, Blaine.

The boy scurried out of his chair and to the door, shutting it behind him with an exaggerated click.  Once he was sure Blaine was gone, Richard stood and reached slowly for his wallet, Mr. Vance watching him with ill-concealed interest.

As he pulled out the old photo, Richard couldn't help the rush of longing that surged within him.  Twenty years later, and she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  The pain was still sharp and fresh at the memory of how they'd been so cruelly ripped apart.  It had been another world back then, when Fabs were still new.  The government-mandated order forbidding natural matches had been a shock to nearly everyone. 

Stoically, Richard forced his emotions aside.  That was a matter of the heart, and his head knew better.  Society had thrived under the new system, and he couldn't be happier with the Fab he'd selected for his wife.

Mr. Vance whistled when Richard showed him the picture.  “Wow, she's quite a beauty, that's for sure!”

“You think you can recreate that?”

“It's an old picture, faded,” Mr. Vance said.  “It won't be perfect, but we should be able to come close.”

Richard nodded.  “I, umm… I will get that back, won't I?” he asked, indicating the photo.

“Of course, Mr. Anderson.  Good as new!”

“Great,” Richard said, feeling his body relax.  “Well, then, were there any other questions?”

Mr. Vance's expression faded into something more serious.  “There is the matter of price…”

“That won't be an issue,” Richard assured him.

“Lovely,” Mr. Vance declared, smile back in place.  “Unless there's something else you wanted to specify, we'll just need that form completed, then.”

“I'll go help Blaine with it now.  Thank you for your time, Mr. Vance.”

“Certainly, it was my pleasure.”

When he left the office, Richard felt somehow emptier, as if the absence of the photograph he always carried in his pocket left a physical gap in its wake.

Ridiculous.

“Alright, Blaine,” he said, startling the small boy where he was curled in a seat, paper before him and eraser between his teeth.  “Let's see if we can make sure you give all the right answers, son.”