Todd Revisited: Meeting (Chapter 1 - see prologue)

"It would have to be the luck of the Irish," he said to himself, finding a tray with a bag of mini pretzels and a sandwich, set on a lawn chair at a place he couldn't identify fully, but knew completely in some way he could not understand. A newspaper read "The Sun," blasted a headline, McPain Massacres Manning.

He never expected that the first person he would meet and talk with in this place he was drawn to would be a little boy with nerdy spectacles. But that is what happened the summer day he made his way back to - somewhere, wherever the place may be. And when he offered him a can of soda, and said that his aunt taught him to be nice to homeless people, he had accepted, because he was homeless. He was homeless. He had no home, no identity and no place to lie his head. And yet, he was here, drawn to this place, this palace.

The pool was inviting, and he dipped his feet in as he struck up a conversation with this little one, called Sam, the name was also vaguely familiar, but the little bespectacled eyes were bright and filled with inquisitiveness. This child reminded him so much of two little children that he once loved very much, who had done similar things for him. He could see in his mind two little kids, a blonde and a brunette, who had brought him food and clothing and helped to hide him years back. He could still remember some of the things they had said to him, and how those things had meant more than they ever would know.

He asked Sam, "Do you know who this guys is?

"Yeah, he's Todd Manning? He's my dad!"

His face became puzzled. "Who's your mom?"

Just then, they were interrupted by the noise of an oncoming family member, calling Sam's name. He hastily hid himself out of view behind a trellis and bushes. Looking through the trellis, that was when he first saw her. Starr. She was taller, a grown woman, beautiful, like Blair, with golden hair.

I have a daughter. Her name is Starr.

Her voice was different and the same. Then, he heard Sam tell her that he had a new friend, with a line on his face. Though he could not see her reaction, he imagined what her expression may have looked like. Starr was startled by his comment, and even more so when Sam drew the line exactly where her father's scar used to be, before he changed his face. Starr carried Sam off, and he was left, alone, near the pool. An image of her as a small child appeared in his mind. And then the sounds began.

I have a daughter. Her name is Starr. Then, echoing and repeating. She named my daughter Starr? Shorty. I will never betray you . . .

The voices had begun to get unbearable. He had experienced them in a small amount during the escape and the plane trip, but as he got closer and closer to the something he was searching for, they got worse and worse. He pressed his palm against his forehead to push them quiet. He was so involved in what he was doing that he almost didn't hear the footsteps approaching. As quickly as possible, he ran back to his hiding place, and watched as someone approached.

As the figure came more into view, he felt his throat close and he swallowed. Golden hair like Starr, tall and still as stunning as she ever was, Blair stood not 15 feet away from him, holding a wine glass and a bottle. He knew what he had to do. Again, he was interrupted, as Starr returned to the pool. While returning to his hiding spot, and listening to mother and daughter talk, he knew it was not the right time. He was not ready. They wouldn't be either. He also might put them in danger. It was too important not to risk it.

Starr said, "Why are you looking at that old photo?"

"John gave it back to me, it's got me to wondering if maybe the one great love of my life...was your father."

Suddenly, he felt as if he was out of place, as if he shouldn't be listening, but it went on, and he did, as she spoke of a new beau, and how happy she was in the photo. "I really was happy the day I married your dad." His heart was racing. After a bit more conversation, mother and daughter left the pool area, and he felt himself compelled to go to the photo. He picked up the photo that she left behind, and looked at it, smiling, for perhaps the first time he could remember. Perhaps the first time in 8 years. There he was, with her, with the gold shower all around them. He was at his happiest, and he knew that feeling as it jumped off the photo paper into his eyes.

His voice, "I have something to say also. I don't want to get dragged down by my past, or haunted by it, not my past, or my family's. All I want is to be a husband, and to have the love and respect of my child."

Then people. Faces. An attractive, middle-aged, richly-dressed woman, a young blonde girl, and CJ and Sarah, dressed in wedding costumes. A kindly older face, someone he called Addie, a stuffy reverend. . .

All of them must have meant something at some time.

But her. Blair. She, he remembered. The last time he had seen her, spoken to her, she told him to leave, and not come back. She asked him to love the children by accepting that they were better off without him. And he had vowed that if anything happened to them, he would . . . .

She hadn't changed all that much. He grasped the photo in his hand, and went after her and his daughter, until he stopped short at the feel cold metal against his back.