Private The People Who Made Me

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren didn't bring it up immediately.

She waited until the house had settled into its usual rhythm. Tools put away. Displays dimmed. The quiet that meant the day was finished, not merely paused. Omen was nearby, occupied but present, and that mattered. This wasn't something to drop into the air and walk away from.

She stood at the counter, one hand resting against the surface as she reviewed a message on her datapad for the third time. Not because it needed decoding. Because once she said it out loud, it would become real in a way plans and projections never quite were.

"Omen," she said at last, voice even, measured, exactly as it always was when the subject mattered.

She turned to face him fully before continuing.

"My parents are coming to visit."

No buildup. No apology. No attempt to soften it with humor. She watched his face as she spoke, not searching for panic, just noting reactions the way she always did. Data first. Interpretation later.

"They'll be here in six days," Aren added. "They asked. I said yes."

A brief pause followed. Not a hesitation. Space.

"They know about you," she continued calmly. "Not everything. Enough to understand that you are part of my life and not temporary." Her tone did not waver, but there was something deliberate in the way she said it, as if making the statement precise was a form of respect.

She set the datapad down.

"This is not an inspection. They are not arriving to interrogate you or me. They are curious. They are… persistent. And they will want to spend time with us together."

Another pause, shorter this time.

"I am telling you now because you deserve notice," Aren said. "And because if this is something you want to talk through, we should do that before they arrive."

She met his eyes, steady and unflinching.

"You are not required to perform. Or impress. Or be anything other than yourself." A beat. "But I won't pretend it isn't significant. It is."

Then, more quietly, without softening the words themselves.

"They matter to me. And so do you."

She didn't rush to fill the silence that followed. She waited, grounded and present, giving him the room to react however he needed to.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen was making dinner when Aren came over and said, "My parents are coming." She would hear his ass clench as he fully stood up, the look of fear clearly in his eyes as he looked over at her. His ass mangaged unclenched a bit as he sighed in relief when Aren said they had a week to prepare. "At least we have time to prepare..." The One knows he would need it to get his head on straight.

He couldn't help but wonder what they really knew about him. "So they don't know about..." With a vague gesture to his face, Aren could tell what she was getting at. Having their daughter date a clone probably wasn't on their bingo card for Aren's future.

Managing to sit down on one of the kitchen stools without toppling over, Omen rubbed his forehead as he tried to get his mind around this visit. As far as he had been concerned, Aren's parents had just been a figment of his imagination. Something Aren had made up to hide her identity as a replica droid. And yet, they were coming here in the flesh. "How long are they going to stay? Do you atleast know what I should make for them?" Aren could clearly see the Clone was nervous. This would be the most dangerous and difficult battle of his life. Unlike most combatants he had faced, he couldn't retreat from these two people in Aren's life.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren didn't flinch at his reaction.

She watched it happen the way she watched systems spin up under stress—filed the tension, the stiff posture, the too-quick questions. She let him finish, let the nerves burn themselves out just enough to be addressed, before she spoke.

"Yes," she said calmly. "They know about you." Not cruel. Not abrupt. Just precise.

"They know you're a clone. They know you fought. They know you didn't grow up with parents, or choices, or a childhood that looks like theirs." A pause, measured. "They also know you're the man I chose."

She stepped closer, close enough that he had to look at her, resting one hand lightly on the counter beside him—not trapping him, just anchoring the space. "They are not coming to interrogate you. And they are not coming to be impressed." Her mouth curved faintly. "If that were the goal, I would've warned you to stop cooking immediately."

As for the rest, she exhaled once, quieter now. "Probably a week," Aren said. "They don't plan well when it comes to visits. They arrive, assess, linger, then decide when they're satisfied." A beat. "You don't need to entertain them. You don't need to perform."

Her eyes softened, just slightly. "My mother will ask questions. Direct ones. She does that with everyone. My father will watch and say very little, and then remember everything you did wrong and everything you did right." Another pause. "Neither of them bites."

She reached out then, fingers brushing his wrist—grounding, steady. "You don't need to be anyone else," Aren said. "You don't need to win them over. You need to be honest, and you already do that better than most people."

Then, because she knew him, she added, "And for food? Make what you always make when you're nervous. Something warm. Something filling. They'll appreciate effort more than perfection." She straightened, giving him space again.

"This isn't a battle," Aren finished quietly. "It's a visit. And you're not facing it alone." She watched him for a moment longer, then nodded once.

"We'll get through it."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen knew Aren would have talked to her parents about him at some point, and he didn't mind that. He also dreaded the coming questions about their past. He managed to put on a smile as he glanced at her, her hand anchoring him like it always did. "Well, at least they didn't walk in on us in their house. That would have been... awkward..."

Aren's statement about their parents not coming to question them or be impressed, just to get to know him, filled the Clone with some comfort. At least until she said her cooking joke, which made him narrow his eyes and reach over to playfully flick her forehead."I guess I get to ask why they raised such a mean-spirited girl since they are coming here." The Tech really should have upgraded his hands to have better flicking power.

At Aren saying her parents were staying for a week, the Clone had to tamp down a groan. "Figures... Their stares will probably wish they would bite me instead... Do they want to stay here or are they getting a hotel?" For the love of the Ones, he hoped it was a Hotel since he didn't want to give his and Aren's privacy away to host her parents. And yet he would do it if he had to for Aren's sake and the family she loved.

A slight smile sprouted back onto his face as she reassured him. Leaning in to kiss Aren's forehead, he whispered softly. "Thanks, Love. I needed that." He gave her a squeeze for his seat as she said that he just needed to cook basic comfort food for them all, and her parents would be happy enough with that. "So, my buying enough food for 4 people for a week would be enough effort? Guess emptying my wallet will be worth happy in-laws then." Jokes aside, he would have to create a meal plan for them all so none of them would go hungry.

Looking in her eyes seriously, he held onto her shoulders as he asserted that this was a battle, a battle to retain his life and girlfriend before her parents threatened to take her away at the sign that the Clone couldn't take care of her. "Hun, I have enough trouble trying to please just one Aren. Now I have to deal with three of you." Recovering his smile, he managed to thank her for her support."I know, Hun. And I'll probably need all the support I can get when your parents start playing good cop, bad cop. What do you think your mom's questions are going to be anyway?" He might as well survey his opposition before the unspoken battle was joined. But he would fight hard in this battle because Aren's parents mattered to her and so they mattered to him. Maybe just maybe they might all have a good time.

Aren D'Shade