"Sins of the fathers, burdens of the sons"

An Alphas fan-fic, set shortly after the end of Season 1. I didn't mean for it to, but this may turn into a mild cross-over fic whether I like it or not.

Disclaimer: I am not Zak Penn or Michael Karnow, I do not own "Alphas", and I do not make money from these stories.

Rating: K+ to T (just to be on the safe side); LR/OFC; CH/NT.

A/N: Dr. Lee Rosen is still dealing with the reunion of sorts with his daughter Danielle Sofia, an Alpha with empathic contagion (a touch empathy). He has gone against every instinct of his own self-preservation to go public with the existence of Alphas, but at what price? When will Stanton Parish exact revenge upon him and his team? Further complications arise for him when he meets a young, undiagnosed Alpha from a small town in Maine.


Chapter 1/?

A beginning

Lee Rosen was always a private man. He had built a career as a noted neurologist and psychiatrist who had gathered, over the last nineteen or so years, a comprehensive body of research that dealt with "Alphas"… he preferred to call them "extraordinary people who have learned to stretch the capabilities of the human mind". He was considered compassionate by his peers (compassionate to a fault, by his Department of Defense supervisors), and somewhat an odd duck in his preference for old convertibles and the newest computer gadgets, but an effective physician nonetheless. He had once taken quite a bit of teasing for his purchase of a 1980 Fiat Spider; it had occupied him completely in the two years that it took to restore it to working condition after the painful dissolution of his marriage.

And so it was no surprise that when each of his team went their separate ways on that Friday evening in October, no one knew of his plans to spend a quiet weekend with his long-time friend Adele. He looked forward to slow-cooked mostly vegetarian dinners, a couple of bottles of New Zealand red wines, a few fiercely competitive games of backgammon or chess, and at least nine to ten hours of luxurious love-making with the woman whom he considered an intellectual, physical and spiritual equal.

They had met some years before while on a mission of mercy to west Africa, Lagos Nigeria to be exact, but the pair had fallen out of touch when Lee Rosen got married in upstate New York and went through the motions of settling down with his wife Ananda and daughter Danielle. When his marriage failed, and his father-daughter relationship strained far beyond its breaking point, he had reached out to Adele in a very rare middle of the night moment of self-pity brought on by single-malt Scotch whisky. He considered it a truly special gift that she'd even considered picking up where they had left off some twenty-five years before.

Adele Tanner was a retired emergency room RN living in Baltimore, but had started out with a group called "Doctors without Borders" right after completing nursing school in Rhode Island. She had gone through numerous phases over her fifty-nine years, not the least of which was married with no kids, followed by single and wanting a child with whom to share her life. Now, she was a practicing yoga instructor and part-time home chef who specialized in Asian cuisines. Her current gustatory theme was usually Indian or southeastern Asian fish-eating vegetarian.

Lee waved a friendly goodbye to Sandra Bell, the hard-working single mother of Gary, the youngest member of his team of Alphas, and got back into the antique red Fiat. He checked his notes, reminding himself that he needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home, picking up several items which Adele had specifically requested for their Saturday meals. He felt a stirring in the core of his body that had very little to do with the delicious food he knew she wanted to prepare for him.

"Really now, Doctor Rosen, has it been that long since you last had sex?" he inquired quietly of himself, smiling a little sheepishly as he pulled away from the Bell's driveway. He shook his head and turned up the CD player a few notches (Vivaldi was one of his favorite composers for music while driving). Here he was sixty-two years old and pining for a particular woman's company. Lee looked in the rear-view mirror and raised a sardonic eyebrow at his own reflection. He felt another flush rise when he recalled that Adele always called him "ruggedly attractive" and that she was frequently suggesting that he try "nude yoga" with her.

It did not take long for him to work his way through the supermarket, making sure to follow her list regarding her favorite brands and looking for "certified organic" produce which they would use for the stir-fry dishes. As he put the three reusable bags in the back seat, he failed to notice the two quivering figures hidden in the cramped space beneath the retracted convertible cover; Lee Rosen preferred to drive with the top down whenever he could, and his mind was elsewhere as he genuinely looked forward to Adele's arrival from Baltimore. She had family in New York and other locales in the northeast, so she frequently drove through the city on her way to upstate New York or Maine.

He hummed the last few bars of the Vivaldi violin piece as he pulled into his own driveway, and there was a spring in his step when he reached into the boot to retrieve the groceries. It was then that he heard the whimpering of a small dog, quickly shushed by a young voice.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he asked, wondering who had stowed away, and when; upon later reflection, Lee would realize that it had to have been at the grocery store parking lot. He put the bags down and lifted the canvas gingerly. A small furry face looked out at him, whimpering plaintively.

"Come on, Chief," came a stressed whisper. "Be quiet, boy, please."

Lee saw a face framed by dirty brown hair, and realized that the dog and its companion were both very young indeed. He raised the cover further, and reached out a helping hand to the boy.

"You can come out now, son," he said gently. "It's alright. Here, take my hand and let me help you out of there. I don't imagine there's very much room for the two of you."

The boy flinched back, turning slightly and shielding the pup with his own slender body. Rosen wasn't sure if he saw dirt or bruises or both on the youngster's face. His sweatshirt was stained and one pants leg was torn down below the knee.

"I'm sorry, mister," the boy begged, not quite meeting his gaze. "Please don't hit him… he didn't make a mess!"

Rosen was taken aback, realizing that both boy and dog were genuinely frightened of him. "I would never hit anyone, I promise. I'm a doctor, in fact, Doctor Lee Rosen." He held out his hand, this time offering it as a greeting. Rosen was relieved when the boy took his hand and carefully scrambled out of the back of his car, dragging a dingy green backpack with him.

When he stood, the stow-away stumbled on an injured ankle but allowed Lee to help him steady himself as he leaned across the car to lift the puppy out and put him on the driveway. The dog wagged his tail, nose down, and headed into the grassy area, his body language communicating nothing less than "happy pup". Rosen put a hand on the boy's shoulder and he smiled reassuringly.

"Easy now, let's get you both inside so I can look at that bad ankle, okay?" Lee picked up one of the grocery bags with one hand and held the youngster with the other; he was glad the young man was willing to at least lean on him for support. "Try not to put any weight on it just yet; that's it, little hops should do it."

The boy hobbled alongside of him as Rosen activated the automatic garage door opener on his key-fob, and the pup sniffed enthusiastically in the lawn a few feet away. "Very good hopping, young man. I presume his name is Chief. What's yours?"

"Jonathan," was the polite reply. "Bouvin. Jonathan Bouvin, Doctor Rosen."

Rosen smiled down at him as he unlocked the door to his kitchen, setting down the grocery bag on the floor by the refrigerator. "Welcome to my home, Jonathan. Can you sit up there on the counter? I'll just be one second to get the other bags and see that your handsome Golden Retriever comes in too. That's his breed, right?"

Jonathan grinned, easily levering himself up onto the marble countertop. "Yes sir, he is. Nine and a half weeks old."

Lee quickly put some things away in the refrigerator and freezer, and ran fresh tap water into a ceramic bowl for the dog. Chief lapped noisily for a few moments, then found a spot under the breakfast nook table. Rosen removed his tie and jacket, and then found his medical bag in the kitchen closet and came back over to where Jonathan was quietly watching him.

With infinitely gentle hands, he eased off the boy's mud-caked sneakers and socks, revealing one badly bruised left ankle. Dried blood was evident on the right shin, but he merely noted the minor scrape as he continued his exam. Once he had his stethoscope around his neck, he noticed that the youngster had completely relaxed in his presence; he had at least had a few pediatrician visits to that point.

"I need to move your foot just a little, alright?" he told the boy and he checked the toes and ankle. "You may simply have a bad sprain."

Jonathan nodded. "I think I twisted it getting off the bus."

Rosen murmured his agreement, prodding the toes and noting that apart from the bruising, the foot was sound and had normal circulation. He straightened and put the stethoscope to his ears.

"May I listen to your chest? It might tickle a bit," he added with a smile as he warmed the bell with his tan shirtfront.

The boy shrugged and sat up taller; Rosen noted with approval that he could wiggle all of his toes. Not surprisingly, as Jonathan sat there on the kitchen counter, he instinctively started swinging his legs back and forth the way most children do when they are seated and cannot touch the floor. Lee carefully stepped to one side, not wanting the bump the injured ankle.

"Deep breaths please," Rosen requested, his glasses sliding down a bit as he tilted his head to listen. "Good, and again Jonathan…" He moved the bell under the dirty sweatshirt, not wanting to push his new patient's personal boundaries too much.

By the time Rosen had listened to his chest sounds, and quickly examined the boy's blood pressure, eyes and ears, Jonathan was yawning widely, showing healthy, white teeth.

He put away the stethoscope and sphygmomanometer, and turned to the sink to wash his hands. "I don't think you have any broken bones, just a sprain," he told the boy, looking back over his shoulder as he stood at the faucet. "Is there someone we can telephone? Your mother must be worried sick about you."

The legs stopped swinging and the youngster's mood chilled instantly. "No sir, my mother is dead and I…" He searched quickly for, and found his backpack, dragging it to his shoulder. Before Rosen could stop him, he'd gotten down from the counter and was about to call the puppy to his side.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Should we call your father?"

The boy was getting frantic, stepped awkwardly on his injured leg and fell in a painful pile on the tile floor. Concern written all over his face even as his clinical mind was finally putting the few pieces together, Lee helped Bouvin to a seat and gradually eased the back pack strap off. The puppy barked once or twice at their feet, but quieted when the youngster touched his ears, a tender gesture.

"Jonathan, I'm sorry, truly I am. I'm trying to help you, to be your friend," Rosen said earnestly. He realized now that the boy was shaking like a leaf. Wincing at a twinge in his knee, Lee knelt down in front of the sad-eyed boy, whose face was twitching and scrunching up in his efforts not to cry.

"I won't go back there, back up to Maine, never ever! He drinks, he hits me and then he goes out driving around to his girlfriends' houses," Jonathan said fiercely, his lips trembling with emotion. "I hate him, Dr. Rosen, I hate my dad and I'm not troubled, I'm not weird…" Right before his eyes, Rosen saw the armor breaking apart in a child who had kept it together for so long.

Lee Rosen flinched inwardly, now realizing that his houseguest was a runaway who had left an abusive household. His compassionate nature was moving rapidly the forefront, reopening paternal instincts, and wounds, he'd long forgotten about.

"I will help you as much as I can, I will. I'm sorry that I didn't understand before, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your home." He reached up to brush the long hair back from the boy's face, willing him not to look away again.

Rosen continued: "I promise I will do my best to help you if you help me, alright?"

Despite himself, the boy was curious, and he drew a shuddering breath. "Um, how can I help you? I mean, you're a grown up and…" Unshed tears pooled in Jonathan's chocolate brown eyes.

Rosen chuckled softly. "I mean that you can help me by talking to me, and trusting me to try to understand better. That way, I can protect you."

"And Chief?"

"Of course, and Chief too. I like him very much," Lee replied. He smiled, giving the boy a wink before he stood, trying to ignore the crackling sounds in his knee.

Jonathan was quiet, closing his eyes and drawing several quaking breaths. He looked up at Rosen and nodded. "Thank you," he sighed and then the floodgates opened as the tears finally came, and he wept into Dr. Rosen's shirt, wrapping both arms tightly around the older man's waist.

Lee was completely aware that all he needed to do at that moment was to let Jonathan cry himself out, and so he stood there, murmuring reassurances and resting a warm hand on the boy's back. He drew a calming breath himself as a memory of his Alpha-and-addict daughter, Danielle, came rushing back to him. He shook his head with regret, wishing now that he'd been there for her and for his wife.

It was several minutes until the boy finally quieted again, and Rosen handed him a damp paper towel to wipe his face and eyes. Lee bent down to look Jonathan directly in the face, and was rewarded by a teary, crooked smile before he stepped away to open the refrigerator.

"I think you are hungry and exhausted, young man," he commented, pouring a glass of juice and handing it to the boy. In perfect timing, Bouvin's stomach growled loudly.

"Yes, sir." Jonathan giggled, blushing a little. "That's true."

"Then I prescribe a small, healthy meal followed by a warm bath and a good night's sleep," Rosen said in his kindest "doctor voice" as he checked the digital clock on the stovetop… just after nine. It was fully dark outside and Adele probably had another hour or so of driving. His cell phone chimed its receipt of a text message, as if it had read his thoughts. "Abt 1 hr. B naked. A." was the short message from Adele.

Lee smiled, pulling a box of steel-cut oats from the cupboard. "How about oatmeal? I have fresh blueberries."

Bouvin wrinkled his nose, teasing. "I've never had oatmeal for dinner, Dr. Rosen, but it does sound pretty good."

Rosen raised one eyebrow and chuckled. "Stick with me, kid. Oatmeal is an amazing dinner."


A/N: thank you kindly for reading this far. I really didn't intend to write a cross-over fic for Alphas and Haven, but with all of the season finales this week, the plot bunnies were striking fast and furious. We'll see how it goes. Darn you, Syfy channel.