Stop looking at me, you bastard, I think after we exchange a glance. The judge is entering the courtroom.

But honestly, I can’t help looking at him, either. It’s eerie, like an out-of-body experience, because he is me. And she’s sitting with him instead of me, though I suppose that makes sense.

But he’s not me. Someone thawed his laboratory-grown body and gave him my life when they thought I had died during the mission.

Heaven forbid the world think any of us had died out there.

But then, after seven grueling years, I find my way back home, only to discover him in my house, with my wife… my life…

I suppose it’s not really his fault — or hers. Nobody knew he was a clone until I showed up at his front door.

I mean my front door.

Isn’t it still my life? It used to be, anyways, and now I want it back.

I want her back.

But if nothing else, this judge is going to make sure that the children he fathered with my DNA are not his. They’re mine.