Name: Andrew Lewis Walker
Nickname: Drew
Age: 22
Species: Human
Home World: Earth
Home Land: United States
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Height: 6'2"
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Past
Andrew Lewis Walker was born November 14, 1918 in Ottumwa, Iowa. He was the youngest of five. From an early age he was known to be something of a rebel. He was the sort that followed his own convictions no matter what others thought. So, when he decided to marry a black woman ten years his senior it came to no surprise to anyone whom knew him. There were those whom tried to talk him out of it. Some because they had issue with a white man and a black woman being together. Others because of their age difference. Than there were those whom simply thought he should wait a few more years before he tied the knot. However, their arguments was in vain. He married his beloved. They were married two years before World War Two broke out. Andrew knew right away that he would be going to war, and his wife knew better than to try to stop him.
This wasn't to say she didn't make her fears known to him. It was just she knew and accepted better than most the type of man he was. She often referred to him as her gallant hero. He was always the first to lend a helping hand whenever there was a problem. He would never hesitate to leap into a fire to pull a complete stranger from the flames. She loved him for it. Yet, at the same time she feared that she would wake up in the middle of the night to someone telling her that he had been killed while performing an heroic deed. The two of them shared one last night of passion before he marched off to war. It would be the last time either of them saw each other. Andrew and his wife wrote each other everyday. Andrew encountered many atrocities and horrors during his time as a solider. Things that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
This wasn't to say she didn't make her fears known to him. It was just she knew and accepted better than most the type of man he was. She often referred to him as her gallant hero. He was always the first to lend a helping hand whenever there was a problem. He would never hesitate to leap into a fire to pull a complete stranger from the flames. She loved him for it. Yet, at the same time she feared that she would wake up in the middle of the night to someone telling her that he had been killed while performing an heroic deed. The two of them shared one last night of passion before he marched off to war. It would be the last time either of them saw each other. Andrew and his wife wrote each other everyday. Andrew encountered many atrocities and horrors during his time as a solider. Things that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
One day he received a letter not intended for him. He knew the letter wasn't for him. He knew he should give the letter back, but curiosity got the best of him. No, it was more than that. It was a feeling of destiny. He was suppose to open this letter. He never being the type to ignore his intuition opened the letter. The content surprised him. He certainly had not expected to read what he did. The letter was from a German woman named Brianna Senger. He wrote her back, and they begun to write back and forth to each other on a regular bases. It didn't take him long to realize he needed to hand over the content of the letters to his superiors, and they didn't waste time in putting the information these letters hold to use. Eventually, those letters became the things he looked the most forward to. It wasn't because they contained information that aided the allies a great deal in the war, but because he found himself falling for Brianna.
There was a part of him that knew he should stop writing her. He should hand the letter to someone else to take over, but Brianna and he had a rapport. He wasn't certain how she would respond if someone else started to write back. She might accept it, and continue writing as if everything was normal. Or she might believe there was something suspicious going on, and stop. He knew it was a risk his superiors wouldn't take if they could help it. They had come to rely upon the information provided in Brianna's letters. Yet, it was the idea of not hearing from her again that had the biggest influence on his decision to continue writing her.
There was a part of him that knew he should stop writing her. He should hand the letter to someone else to take over, but Brianna and he had a rapport. He wasn't certain how she would respond if someone else started to write back. She might accept it, and continue writing as if everything was normal. Or she might believe there was something suspicious going on, and stop. He knew it was a risk his superiors wouldn't take if they could help it. They had come to rely upon the information provided in Brianna's letters. Yet, it was the idea of not hearing from her again that had the biggest influence on his decision to continue writing her.
Eventually, the two of them met. Andrew never expected such a thing to happen. He thought perhaps they would only know each through words upon the letters they exchange. However, it seemed that God intended them to be more than pen pals because she happened to be at the concentration camp that his unit liberated. Their first physical encounter was forever immortalized in a picture of Brianna walking with Andrew carrying a child that had been saved from a liberated camp. They became inseparable after that, and he wrote his wife telling her that he wished for a divorce. He knew that she would be heartbroken, but he believed it would be more cruel not to tell her. He returned to America with Brianna at his side.
The two of them lived together for awhile in New York. They were both haunted by the war, but Brianna more so. Andrew did his best to try to help her, but it seemed that he was a trigger for her waking nightmares. He attempted to get her to leave him or leave her by moving clear across the country, but Brianna had none of that. She loved him too much to be anywhere but his side. He decided that the only way to help her was to kill himself. So, on August 9th, 1951 in San Jose, California he did just that with a shotgun to the head. He thought this would be the end of his time on earth. There was a part of him that believed that he had condemn himself to an eternity in hell, after all he had been raised with the idea that committing suicide was a great sin--if not the greatest.
Present
Present
Whether or not Andrew went to hell, he would not spend eternity there. God or someone plucked him from the pits, and he was reborn on November 14th in Ottumwa, Iowa. This was far from the only similarity he shared with his previous incarnation. He had the exact same name, and he was the youngest of five. There were many differences. His new life's childhood was no where near being as happy as his previous one. In short, he grew up in an abusive home. Andrew would escape the abuse inside his own mind. He always imagined his other life. Through, it didn't occur to him that it was another life. He just believed it was the creation of his imagination---nothing more. It wasn't until some of the older residents begun to make comments about how he looked exactly like another Andrew Lewis Walker whom had lived in Ottumwa when they had been children. A few even joked they must be related.
Andrew didn't think this was true, or if they were they were distant relative at best. However, their words stirred his curiosity and he did some research on this other Andrew. He was shocked by what he found. The older residents right he looked exactly like this other Andrew. It didn't matter what age Andrew compared himself with the other Andrew they looked exactly the same. The only difference was how they wore their hair and their style of cloths. This was not the only thing he found, but also the things he read about this other Andrew's life matched perfectly with the things he created in his own mind. He didn't know what this meant. No, that was wrong. He had an idea. He just didn't know if he wanted to believe it, because the idea of being reincarnated as pretty much an exact copy of a previous life seemed too outrageous.
He endured his abusive home until he was sixteen years old than he decided enough was enough. He ran away and never looked back. He knew life on the streets was going to be hard, but it had to be better than the one he was living. He moved from city to city, taking whatever odd and end job he could find. He had no real purpose aside from surviving, but despite this he was content. That was until he stumbled upon that famous picture with Brianna. He knew right away he had to find her. No, he argued with himself. He shouldn't. He wouldn't only hurt her by reentering her life. He tried to tell himself finding her would be pointless. She would be old. She might even be dead. No, he told himself. She's been changed. She doesn't age, and she wasn't as easy to kill as a human. She was alive. Still, he shouldn't look for her.
Yet, in spite his internal argument he knew that he would search for her. The only thing was he didn't know where to begin. She could be anywhere within the world. He decided that the best way to locate Brianna was to search the places that she and his previous incarnation had visited, and hoped that one of them would give him some clue to where Brianna might be. Perhaps, she might be in one of them for the sake of nostalgia. There was a large part of him that hoped that wasn't the case. He hoped that she had found happiness, and perhaps even had a few children. The part of him that wished he abandon this quest said that was another reason not to continue with it, but he quickly dismissed it and begun his journey to find the woman whom he believed had the answers.
