DISCLAIMERS:

Alternative Content Warning: This story depicts loving relationships between women. This story is not for those under the age of eighteen.

Uber Warning: This story is an uber.

Timeline: This story takes place after my ‘Zena and Gabby’ trilogy ends. It is set shortly after Megan’s eighteenth birthday.

Story: I decided to explore a little further into Megan’s life after the epilogue ending my trilogy.

Author’s Notes: I urge you to read my Zena and Gabby trilogy: The Gang’s All Here, Arresting Behavior, and Two Cops and a Baby, before proceeding or else this story will not make any sense. All POSITIVE comments are welcome. Negatives I will simply ignore. Let me know what you think. Send your thoughts to startrek@ellijay.com.

By:Teagen2

I heard the noise in the driveway. How in the world does that child think she can sneak in riding a motorcycle? I just wish Cammy were here to back me up. I hate confronting Megan alone. I watched as the door cracked open quietly. She stepped in, pulling off her bomber jacket. Even in the dark I can see the flash of the necklace around her neck, her mothers’ pendants. I switched on the lights, startling her. She turned around to find me standing with my arms folded. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah. Three-thirty." she said smugly.

"What’s your curfew?"

"I told you I shouldn’t have a curfew, Mom. I’m outta school now."

"Your curfew is one. I think that is more than fair considering the way your treating your mother and me." She rolled her eyes and me. She started past me, but I grabbed her elbow. We averaged the same height. We both were short, like Gabby. Megan’s hair has darkened over the years to a dark brown. With her blue eyes, she’s a Zena with Gabby’s height. "We’re not through." She hastily jerked her arm away from me.

"I think we are."

"No." I step between her and her bedroom door. "What is going on, Megan? Talk to me.

You’ve been a bitch to us lately and I want to know why."

"I don’t know, Mom." she said quietly.

"Sleep on it." I said sternly. She was obviously surprised at my sudden gruffness. "I want an answer in the morning." I watch my daughter walk sulkily into her room.

"What did she say, Jenny?"

"I don’t know....... Her answer to everything we ask her."

"Think she’ll really tell us what’s going on?"

"Maybe." We both moved into the kitchen. We were surprised to see Megan sitting at the table nursing a cup of cocoa.

"Morning, Sweetheart." Cammy placed a light kiss on top of her head.

"Morning." She looked up. "Can I talk to you guys?"

"Sure." I say and sit. Cammy followed suit.

"I’m....confused."

"About what?" I asked.

"Me." she sighed. "I’ve been having these dreams." We patiently waited for her to elaborate. "About them."

"Them who?"

"My mothers." We were both surprised by that response.

"Why do you think that is, Megan?"

"I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Maybe its because I know so little about them. I know I love them even though I’ve never seen them. Does that sound strange?" We both shook our heads no.

"You feel cheated."

"Exactly. I’m angry, hurt, sad, you name it."

"Do you think if we helped you know them better, you’ll feel differently?"

"Couldn’t hurt could it?" she smiled. I haven’t seen that in awhile.

Cammy, Megan, and I walked down the creaky staircase to the basement. It is not your typical basement. Megan and Cammy had put every piece of entertainment equipment down here. It looks like a pool hall. Two pinball machines, a pool table, stereo, T.V. Cammy moved to the far right corner and opened the door to the storage room. Boxes and just plain junk were strewn all over this room. I watched as Cammy cleared a path and waded over to a big box in the corner. We followed behind. After looking through the big box and two others, she came across what she was looking for. A sudden flash of sadness came over me upon seeing that binder again. It took us three weeks to finish it. Using what Zena had and what happened later, we pieced it together.

I could see the changes in her eyes, both of theirs actually. This book signified something. Mother carried the book back into the main room and placed it on the table. "Sit down, Megan." I did without hesitation. "This a book we put together using some of your mother’s stuff. We’ll be back in the storeroom if you need anything."

When they were out of sight, I took a deep breath and flipped the cover over. The first page was a newspaper clipping. Santa Maria Tribune stood out at the top. The headline of the article was Class of ‘99 100 strong at Hancock. it went on to say it was one of the biggest classes ever. I suddenly realized it was a police academy. Highlighted with neon pink was Top Ten Cadets. My finger traveled down until I saw more highlighted material. #3 Gabrielle Elaine Taylor. My hand reflexively clamped over my mouth. Frantically I looked for more, but no more mention of my mama.

I turned the page again. It was a gold bordered certificate. It was Mama’s diploma from Hancock I guess. Glancing over to the next one, I saw picture of her in her cadet uniform. It was the same picture that was in the photo album that my mother made. I turned the page. I was intrigued now. Another newspaper article stared back at me. It was a very small article, once again highlighted. Local Officer Holds World’s Record. Zena Walker of the Los Angeles Police Department broke a world’s record at last week’s annual law enforcement martial arts competition. Executing a jump sidekick at nine feet 5 inches, breaking the previous record of nine feet 2 inches.

The next article I had seen before. SMPD Shoot Out TIED! It was a pretty big deal I guess that two evenly matched people shot at the same accuracy that day. I knew Mama won the big tie breaker though. I skipped on to the next article. This article was from the Santa Monica paper too. Fatal Accident Kills Four. It was about some car wreck involving several cars. Nothing was highlighted but one sentence. Surprisingly no injuries were suffered by a three week old baby girl who survived a vicious rollover, trapping the child inside for more than twenty minutes until she was rescued by police personnel. "That’s me." I say to myself. "Wow." was all I could manage. Who is this lucky to actually have their life laid out in front of them like this? I continued on. Next were my adoption papers. I’ve seen them on many occasions. All I had to do was ask. They were folded and tucked neatly into the page. I continued on. Another picture, this one was of Mama, Mother, me as a baby, and my adopted mothers. It also hung on the wall in the living room. This one had one small difference. It had a handwritten caption saying The Walkers and The Mannings.

My happy expression faded when I caught the caption of the next article. Police Officer Murdered. My hand shook as it moved down to begin reading. I skipped some of the article describing that she was beaten to death. Police are baffled and saddened at the loss of their coworker. Murder has definitely been confirmed. Twenty-nine year old Sgt. Zena Walker was pronounced dead at three thirty yesterday morning at LA General. She is survived by Gabrielle and Megan Walker. I felt a bit angry that they deliberately left out the nature of our connection to her. No suspects have been arrested or named at this time.

As the tears came, the next page did not help at all. This one held a picture of my mother. Walker Police Procession scheduled for Nine A.M. I just couldn’t read anymore about that. The next article broke my floodgates. Officer and Suspect Dead. Officer Gabrielle Taylor of the Santa Monica Police Department was found late last night by her partner. Taylor was apparently off duty when she confronted the known gang leader, Janet Dasson of L.A. Both were found dead on scene. Revenge has been ruled as the apparent motive behind Taylor’s assassination attempt. Dasson was shot twice in the head before Taylor turned her weapon on herself. Dasson was under investigation for Thursday’s murder of Sgt. Zena Walker. "NO!!!" I screamed bringing both of them into the room. I was acting hysterically which I knew was scaring them. Mother wrapped her arms around me. I fought her at first, but eventually I let her hold me. "She didn’t..." I said between breaths. "Mother, Mama didn’t kill herself! You said she was shot by that gang member!"

"She was, Sweetie." Mom soothed, rubbing my arm. "That basterd," she gestured to the article, "wrote a lie, Honey. A full investigation cleared Gabby of suicide."

"Do they still think she shot her on purpose?"

"She did shoot Dasson, Honey."

"Why?"

"Because she loved your mother so much." Mother said. "She was hurting and she thought she owed your Mother that."

"So, she did murder her." I was beginning to feel anger.

"No. She went there to arrest her aunt, not kill her."

"How do you know? You weren’t there."

"Because she took a set of handcuffs with her when she left the house and she called for back up before she went in."

"Oh." I wiped the tears from my eyes with my sleeve.

"Dasson killed Mother?"

"Yes honey." Mom whispered. I looked at both of them with sad eyes. I knew both of them died in the line of duty, but that’s all I knew. I always invisioned a bank robbery or something and they were hit by stray bullets. But in truth, they were murdered. Without a word, I gently removed their arms from me, stood, and walked back upstairs.

I have sulked all day long. Why did this have to happen to them? Why couldn’t I have grown up with them? I love my adopted mothers very much, but they can’t fill this hole in my heart. I heard an intense pounding as the two of them tore up the stairs. "Megan. You’ll never believe this!" Mother said excitedly. "I was looking through those boxes and I found this." It was an unmarked video tape. Most people don’t use those anymore, but they insisted on keeping the VCR.

"Megan." Mom said, sitting. She took my hand as I watched Mother put in the video.

"This was made several months after Gabby moved in with your mother."

"You mean...." My eyes grew wide as I realized the implication. "You have them on tape?"

"Yes!" Mother grabbed the remote and sat on the other side of me.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?"

"It was a barbecue we had in the summer once. We just forgot about this. It was buried under a ton on junk in the basement." Mom rubbed my shoulder.

My heart stopped as the click, signifying it was through rewinding, was heard. The first part of the tape was of Mother testing out her new camera on Mom. After several minutes of cheesy footage, it suddenly cut to an outside video. I recognized the backyard. The picnic table that was all but falling apart, was in new condition. Mom’s hair was long. "Here it is Megan." They both took one of my hands as Mother turned up the sound.

"Talk about nosy neighbors." Mom said. The camera swung around. Oh gods. It came to rest on my Mother. I have seen pictures all my life. That is her! Jet black hair, the bluest eyes, that is her.

"Hey, it was Gabby’s idea." she laughed. That voice. The voice in my dreams. The camera swung in an arc back to my adopted mom. Standing next to her was a blond with green eyes and a beautiful smile. She would have said something if it hadn’t a been for the bite of hamburger she just took.

"Hey Zena." Mother said from behind the camera. It swung back to her, where she was now sitting. "Catch any bad guys today, Barney Fife?" Another striking smile, this one from my mother. She was indeed wearing an L.A.P.D. shirt. and her gun was strapped onto her side. She must have just gotten off work.

"As a matter of fact I did." she smirked. She pointed at the camera. Who the hell are you supposed to be? Steven Spielberg?" I smiled as I heard laughter erupt from everyone. My mama came into view and sat on Mother’s lap, with a hot dog in hand. She offered the first bite to Mother and she took it. "Ahhhhh, Isn’t that cute? Gabby’s sharing." Mother teased from behind the camera. With that Mama leaned forward and began kissing my mother. "Yeahhhhhh!" The camera moved closer as Mother continued to tease them. "Let’s make a porno." They both smiled as they continued to passionately kiss.

"Take it off!" Mom yelled from off camera. I couldn’t surpress a chuckle. Mother moved the camera very close. Mama reached out and covered the lens with her hand, without breaking contact with Mother. They stayed in each other’s arms after they finally stopped the show.

"Chicken." Mother teased from the camera.

"Let me borrow the camera, I’ll show you whose chicken." Mama challenged. I heard them laugh in the background. They were several more seconds of footage before the image blurred and went black.

"Battery was low." Mom sighed. I was aware of the fact that I was staring at the now blue screen. They both rubbed my back in support.

"What did you think, Honey?" Mother asked.

"They were beautiful." I smile. "Better than their pictures."

"You’re right." Mother smiled. "They were."

"Can I watch it again?" She smiled and handed over the remote.

"Sure."

I spent the rest of the day and half the night going through the junk room. I was now thirsting for more knowledge. By midmorning I was on my bike and riding towards Santa Monica. With thirty minutes of searching I found the street and the house that I was looking for. I took off my helmet and tucked it under my arm. I walked up the flower laden walkway. I nervously combed through my hair after I rang the doorbell. A man answered the door with a smile. "Can I help you?" It was the guy from the picture.

"Hi, you probably don’t remember me."

"No, I’m sorry."

"Well I was three weeks old." I laughed nervously. He raised an eyebrow. I dug into my back pocket and fished out the picture of my mothers and me, handing it to him.

His eyes didn’t fall on the picture two seconds before he looked up with a look of shock on his face. "Megan?" he gasped. I nodded. "Uhhhh. Come in please." he said shakily.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Your Gabby and Zena’s daughter." he smiled. "I can’t believe this." He gestured to the couch and I sat. "You are grown." I smiled.

"Your looking well, Mr. Madison."

"Oh please call me Randy. What can I do for you, Sweetie?"

"Well I’ve had a renewed interest in my mothers’ lives and I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"You were Mama’s partner." He nodded. "What was she like?"

He sat back. "She was funny. I thought I would NEVER find someone that talked as much as me, but I was wrong. I called her Kid. She didn’t mind it coming from me but the moment your mother would call her that, she’d go ballistic." he chuckled. "And boy did have a temper. No one dared cross her at the station."

"Mom told me once that you gave Mama the Walker nameplate she wore."

"I sure did. She was terrified that your mother wouldn’t let her change her name. So I bought it myself and gave it to her.

I ate lunch at Randy’s house while listening to more stories. I was reduced to tears of laughter twice and tears of sadness once. I can see why Mama talked freely to this man so many years ago. He is a great listener as well as a talker. I’m lucky if I say three sentences a day at home, but with him I rant. After exchanging phone numbers, I left feeling a little more complete. It was nice to get more than one view of Mama’s personality.

It was late when I finally got home, as usual. Mother and Mom were in a very romantic mood when I left this morning. Maybe it was the porn video mention. I laughed out loud as I made my way to my room. I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed.

I awoke with a layer of sweat covering my skin. Why? This wasn’t exactly a nightmare like my other dreams about them. Though for some reason, I feel great and in better spirits this morning. I dressed quicker than usual. I grabbed a piece of toast out of Mom’s hand. "Thanks, Mom." She gave me a look as I kissed her on the cheek.

"Be careful picking up your mother." she called. "And don’t let her drive." Mother had left for work last night and I was assigned pick up duty. Mom hates the idea of both of us on my bike, but Mother loves it. I don’t know who enjoys my motorcycle more, me or her.

I rode out of the neighborhood toward the busy interstate. Just as I made a turn, I saw Xena standing in the middle of the road. "No way." I whispered to myself. I shook my head, thinking I was hallucinating. I slowed down just to be safe. I planned on riding right through her, but at the last minute. I pulled my back brake, causing the bike to skid onto its side. My leg was trapped between the road and the bike, carrying me down the length of the road. As the bike stopped, I wormed my way free. Standing quickly, I thanked the gods my leg wasn’t broken. It was scraped badly, but functional. I looked ahead and nearly lost my lunch. Ahead was the bridge, at least where the bridge used to be. It had collapsed. No warning cones or blockers were on the road. If I hadn’t slammed my brakes, I would have driven over the edge and into the river thirty feet down. My face drained. I had come within a few feet of dying. I turned around to get my bike, when a sign jumped out at me. Thomas Muller Memorial Bridge.

The dreams I couldn’t understand weren’t only about my feelings and my mothers, but they were warnings. One thing good came outta this. The feeling that the dreams caused made me seek out my mothers. I learned more about my parents and about myself. The hole in my heart isn’t there anymore. Only a longing to see them again remains. I smiled. "Thanks Xena." I winced as I started limping back to my bike.

"Hey Kid." A man jogged towards me. I limped to meet him. "That was quite a spill you took. You okay?"

"Yeah." I turned and looked at the gorge. "I am now." I said more to myself than to him.