Andi noticed the pause in the easy banter and the looks. Not the usual reaction when someone announced it was
time for cake. So that must mean something was going on. But she didn't know exactly what. Sara was already shifting
away from the table, cup in hand however and Andi remembered that as the beginning of a fast retreat. She slipped
an arm casually around Hector's waist.
"All right." She agreed, voice comfortable. "But you should probably warn Josh that he's going to have to come over
to ride the motorcycle instead of being able to do so today."
Brett popped open his beer. Exhaled. He'd moved to Texas for a reason. And he didn't like coming back here for the
same reason. He took a long swallow and set the can down with a harsh sound on the counter near the sink. Blinked
against the brighter sun from the window and looked out into the back yard.
Dee and her fuss over getting knocked up. Party for the pregnant girl. Party when the baby's born. Party when you
throw some water at it. It was like the girl couldn't get enough attention for herself and had to suck it out of the kid too.
Must be why she kept popping them out. And Beth - damn it, if she stopped by the house one more time with another
of her 'home redecoration ideas' he was going to puke. She'd crawled around on linoleum flooring all her childhood.
Why she wanted to put in fucking wood fake fucking paneling now was beyond him. Not like Sara cared. Hell, she was
never home. But at least she hadn't gotten knocked up yet. Had to give the kid some credit. If she was screwing half
the neighborhood the way her older sister had at least she was being smart enough to use protection. He took
another swallow of the beer to wash the taste out of his mouth. Spotted Pete and gave an almost smile. His boy.
Played football in high school and doing - whatever the hell it was kids did in college. Fucked and drank as far as he
could tell. He coughed. Or laughed. It sounded the same. There was a kid that was going somewhere. Gonna be just
like his old man...
Better than that snot Julia had turned out. Oh, the second one hadn't been too bad. At least Cassie knew her place
and had done what she was supposed to do and get married to someone successful and settled down to raise the
kids. Some first child his son turned out to be though, Brett thought. Eyes focusing on his oldest son easily. He was
freakishly tall. Must be part of what made him think he was better than everyone. 'Cause he liked looking down at
them. Brett took another long drink of his beer. Now he was out there bragging about his foreign tramp. Only thing
good about that was knowing she was going to kick his son to the curb when she realized he didn't make that much
money in the army. He didn't know why the others worshiped him the way they did. He fucking didn't deserve it. He
was just some hopped up psycho, running around shooting people because it made him feel big. Brett was the one
that had worked his tail off all his life to provide for them all. Make sure they had food on the table and a roof over
their heads. He was the one that deserved the credit. Instead they just took him for granted and fawned all over that
boy whenever he bothered come home. Like he was God's gift or something...
Hector returned the glare full force. He'd been told by several rational people and irrational people for that matter to
move on, forgive and forget, and all that crap. But as he stood there, looking at his father drinking beer, and glaring
at him, he didn't see his father.
He saw headlights racing toward him as he sat in the back seat, he felt the car careening off the road and he heard
his mother start to scream. He could almost feel his leg break each time he looked at his father, almost as if he
reached out a bit he could touch his mother's hair as it cascaded over the back of her seat over him like a protective
blanket, feel the car rock as his father stumbled out, stunned.
And he had to take a deep breath.
He saw Cassie gathering all the kids together, as she always did, in case Grandpa and Uncle Hector started yelling at
each other, they could be ushered into the house.
"Come on." Hector said. "Let's say good bye to the kids now."
There were storms in Africa. The kind you could feel coming miles away. The kind you'd hear long before you'd see
them and when they came you could actually see the curtain of rain as it cut the world in two on its way toward you.
Andi had always loved those storms.
This was a storm of an entirely different kind. And she could see it coming miles away. She could feel it in Hector's
body and the air around him. And she wasn't thinking it was a storm to be fond of. But she looked relaxed as she
nodded.
"All right." She answered again, slipping her arm from his waist so that she could slide her hand in his. Fingers
twining. Turning to start toward where the children were all gathering around Cassie. Heart twisting over the knowing
look on some of the older faces.
Brett lumbered out onto the deck. Not looking away from his son. Or that glare. Dark eyed bastard. How many times
growing up had he wanted to gouge those accusing black eyes out? Julia's eyes glaring at him. He moved forward,
slowly but purposefully. Taking up space with his presence and making no bones about who he was headed toward.
Because if the boy turned around and went in the direction his tramp was headed... he'd be backing down. Running
away. Just the way he should.
Hector always had a fairly good instinct on how situations were going to turn out. "Get the kids inside. I'll say good bye
to them there." He said.
That would solve a couple of problems. The kids would be out of ear shot. Andi wouldn't have to watch this. And
hopefully his father would calm down as he crossed the yard.
Because his father had thrown down the challenge, and Hector wasn't in the habit of backing down from challenges.
Especially not from this man. He hadn't before, and he wasn't now.
The kids knew the routine, even if they didn't understand it yet. And started allowing themselves to be herded inside.
Dee called over Pete and Sara to move things out of the way, so nothing got broken as Vanessa stood on the deck,
wringing her hands. This was why she didn't like her stepson returning. He upset things, he upset Brett. In a way she
hated Hector himself, he brought out the worst in her husband like no one else could, and seemed to thrive on it, why
wouldn't he just go about his business and not start this old war every time?
There were probably several things she should do in a spot like this. Several of them went through her mind in fact.
And all of them were promptly discarded as utterly futile. She didn't want what was going to happen to happen. She
didn't want Hector having to deal with it and frankly, she didn't want the others to have to see it, though, from the
moments, they'd already done so many times before. Which struck her as the height of strangeness that everyone
seemed to willing to simply back up and let - whatever was going to happen, happen. And yet at the same time she
couldn't think of a way to stop it either. For some strange reason she was suddenly reminded of the way Hector's
wound had looked after he'd been shot and how full of pus and dead cells it had been. Her hand gave Hector's a light
squeeze and then she let go. Moving over to join Cassie as she scooped up a random child.
"Let's see if we can't find something to watch on the telly, yeah?" She asked, voice the friendly, relaxed one she used
when giving shots. She used her free hand to prompt a straying, stalling Josh into the house ahead of her.
Brett knew what everyone was doing. And he got a kick out of it. Make way for the old man. Don't leave out anything
breakable. Dad's in one of his moods again. It actually made him smile. The same way seeing his son standing all
alone with that challenge in his eyes made him smile. Sure, the kid hated him. But it was a mutual feeling so it was all
right. Besides, it was time to take the boy down a notch or three. He'd been asking for it since the church. Hell, since
long before that actually. Hector was tall but he hadn't exactly gotten his build from his mother either. Brett stopped in
front of him. Gave him a smug looking over.
What a disappointment. What a fucking disappointment. He couldn't believe Julia had wasted nine months of her life
on this.
"What's wrong, hero?" He mocked. Still holding his beer in his hand. Looking at that fucking kid, that fucking kid with
his dark, dark eyes. "You too good to sit down to a family meal with the rest of us?"
Hector snatched the beer and threw it off to the side, watering several plants with alcohol on its way down.
"Look, I know you hate me. Fine, whatever. But I didn't know you hated the rest of them too." He said, keeping his
voice low. "Was it too much to ask for you to stay somewhat sober for just a few hours? Do you ever think of anyone
but yourself?"
Dee had been on edge since the church. Because Brett had started drinking early in the day. And it pissed Hector off.
That his father had been in one long drunk for as long as he could remember. The one time Brett hadn't been drunk
was when he had woken up from surgery after having his gallbladder out. That was the only time Hector could
remember. Sure, maybe early in his childhood, but that one incident ruined all memories of that.
"And," he continued in the low tone. "I wouldn't take a swing at me if I were you. Wouldn't want you getting knocked on
your ass in front of all these people." He was giving his father an out. If he'd take it. But a large part of Hector wanted
to knock his father on his ass. He had no doubt he could. He was trained for worse situations. His hand to hand
combat skills were exceptional against a sober person. A drunk middle aged man posed no real threat.
That's also why he was hoping his father would walk away.
Brett wasn't too pissed about the beer. It had been half empty anyway and there were more in the fridge. There were
always more in the fridge. He looked his son up and down. Disgusted.
"Take a swing?" He mocked, voice going high before it dropped again. "Fuck, boy, I don't need to hit you to take you
down. Some of us," his voice was entirely calm as he leaned forward, "don't need to resort to violence to feel like men.
You wouldn't understand that but, for those of us in the real world, we don't have to kill people on a regular basis just
to jerk off." He met those dark eyes with his own. And he was enjoying himself. "But if you need to hit your old man to
feel like somebody you just go on ahead." He paused. And then added: "Make your mother proud."
"I'll talk about the weather. I'll talk about your dead end job, I'll talk about your drinking, hell I'll even talk about that
sorry excuse of a wife you have now, but we will NOT." He said, leaning forward also. "Talk about my mother. You
don't have the right to even refer to her, and you know it."
"And my mother would be proud of me. That somehow, against all odds, I turned out completely different than her
murderer."
Brett's eyes narrowed down. He'd be damned if he was going to take responsibility for that. He'd been fine that night.
Just a few beers. He had more than that and drove just fine all the time now. If the steering hadn't been off in that
damn car -
"Is that what it is?" He asked. "You think you're so much better than the rest of us because you think you're
*different*?" He sneered the word. "Look around you, boy. You're just the same as everyone else here. Good for shit.
You think just because you shoot people for a living you're better? Fuck that. Most of us make it through whole weeks
without going on a killing rampage in a foreign country. You're not different. You're not better either. You think your
mama would be proud that you slit people's throats?" He laughed, a raw, harsh sound and his eyes went pleased. He
didn't back away from his son. "Hell, boy," his voice was soft. Almost conciliatory. "You're exactly like me inside. Deny
it all you want but when you're awake at night with nothing to distract you, you know it's true. All that ugly inside. Just
like me."
"I'm not different than you? How so?" Hector shot back. "I'm sober, I don't reek of booze and cigarettes. I don't seek
people out to fight with them to make myself feel like a big shot. Is it working? I'm not knocked down a peg yet. You
feel like a man, yet? Or are you still holding your breath? I haven't ruined anyone's party, or chased in all the kids
because they're afraid that their grandfather is going to fall off his rocker as surely as he's fallen off the wagon. Don't
you dare stand there and tell me I'm not better than you! You have no idea what it is I do. You never bothered to ask.
You've never bothered to know anything about me, but I know plenty about you. Too much. And looking at you now,
here, I have no idea why I bother. Or hell, I have no idea where I came from for that matter."
"You see everyone?" Brett asked. Gesturing with a waving hand. "What are they all scared of? Is that just me they're
looking at? Or is it you too? Maybe it’s both of us. The kids love their grandpa and their uncle. So who're they running
from? Me? Or you? Or both of us? What's ugly inside and black as pitch? Both of us. Because inside, you're me. Just
waiting to happen. You like to think you're a big man. We're all supposed to be impressed you can kill someone. And
then you come back here and expect a hero's welcome. Well, welcome home, hero!" He bellowed the last bit and then
laughed. "They're all just as scared of you as they are of me. So no - you're just different on the outside. And no
amount of fancy uniform or upper class girlfriend is going to change what you are inside." He smiled. "But I like to see
you pretending it does. Makes me laugh."
"I don't need you telling me about my insides or my demons. Especially you. You put them there you son of a bitch."
Hector said and shook his head. "But that's neither here nor there. They're my demons, not yours." He looked at his
father for a long moment then grabbed his father's face and kissed his forehead. "Good bye Dad. Don't expect to be
seeing you for a long, long time. Probably at your funeral, which, if you don't lay off the smokes and booze, is going to
come sooner than either of us expects."
Andi, standing in the doorway while the children watched 'Lion King' in the other room, breathed a soft whisper. Brett's
reaction took a bit longer.
There was a moment when he just looked at his son. Really just - looked at him. And he didn't see Julia's eyes. For
the strangest minute of his life he saw the eyes of his little boy late one night when Brett had made a big deal of
chasing the 'monsters' out of the closet and out from under the bed while Julia laughed about his over the top act
from the doorway. It had been such a small room. Barely a closet itself. Because they hadn't had any money. But he
remember those dark eyes watching him with complete trust and faith and - he'd been a hero...
"You mother fucker!" Brett's voice started to rise. Not higher. But slowly and surely it grew louder. "You smug, self
satisfied, arrogant mother fucker! What was that?! Pity!? What the hell was that?! You pretending to be noble or
some shit like that?! Who the fuck do you think you are?! Don't you dare pull that shit with me!" His hands were
shaking the fury was so strong. "I don't need your pity, you punk son of a bitch! You'd be nothing if it wasn't for me!
You get that?! Nothing!!"
"The only favor you did me was impregnating my mother." Hector said with a shake of his head. "Other than that,
since the day you buried her, you haven't been a father, you haven't been my father. I want you dead you son of a
bitch, and you wish I was. Let's just leave it at that, okay? We've ruined enough parties."
He'd never let go, and he'd never forgive his father. He'd always been admonished against saying 'never' but he
meant it. The anger was still there, right below the surface, but for once he was trying.
He moved to get his jacket and his tie. "It's been....well, it hasn't been fun, but it’s been something."
"Don't you walk away from me you little shit!" Brett bellowed. What was the fucker trying to pull? Everyone knew he
and Brett were always at each other's throats. And now he was going - what? Noble! Trying to look better than he
was. Better than his old man! Son of a bitch! Well, Brett wasn't about to let that go. This family was a pack of broken,
useless damaged goods and part of that was everyone was broken and useless together. Nobody got to prove they
had the chance to be more than that! Nobody! "You come back here you baby murdering, mother fucker!" He yelled
it. Nobody got to walk away from this! Because... if one of them did... that meant they all could have and didn't... And
Brett would be damned if he'd let his bastard son make him feel bad about himself! "Don't you turn your back on me,
you son of a bitch! Don't you dare pretend you're noble! We all know what you do for a living! There's nothing noble
about that! You're not better than the rest of us! You can dress up and pick up a high priced whore but you're still shit
inside! Just like the rest of us!"
Hector wheeled around at that and got right back in his father's face. "Shut your damned mouth about things and
people that you don't know!" He yelled right back. "I'm not like you. I never have been! And I know that eats you up
inside, that I got to escape the life you hate, that I am not what you hate, you. I'm not like the rest of you because I
believe in what I'm doing and I believe in myself! I'm doing something for other reasons than myself, I don't bitch and
complain all day. I don't get drunk to go pass out in my chair. I don't take my anger out on people littler and younger
and more defenseless than me." Then he laughed. "That's it, isn't it? You know I could kick your ass now, the way I
was never able to when I was ten. And you hate that, that you have no power over me anymore. This isn't about my
job, this isn't about pride, this isn't about my girlfriend or anyone else in the house. It's always been you and me, and
you're angry that I didn't turn into another no account loser like you."
For a minute, Brett had really been afraid his son was going to walk away. And he hadn't known what he would have
done if the boy had. But he hadn't. He'd come right back around. Back to the only thing they shared anymore.
"It’s always been about just you and me." He snarled it right back. "Since the very beginning, it’s always been about
just you and me. You'll never be free of me, you arrogant prick. Not even when I'm dead. I'm still going to be inside
you. Think you're better?" He laughed. "You think I didn't have dreams and a woman I loved and a job that had a
future? You think you're so special because you think you've got 'em now? Hell, boy," his voice dropped lower, "I had
'em all too. And I blew it. The same way you will. Because you can't help yourself. Arrogant little shit. You think you're
the only one that had a moment of glory? Think that makes you so special?" his voice went whiny and mocking. "I've
made something of myself. I'm *special*." He laughed again. "You're shit. You've always been shit. And underneath it
all, you're always going to be shit. Just like the rest of the family."
"I used to try to make you happy." Hector said. He played football, though he hated it. He'd been a jock all around,
though most of the sports he didn't enjoy, or maybe he didn't enjoy them because he felt like he'd been cornered into
it. "But I quit. You're on your own. You're going to have to find someone else to blame your problems on, and I pity
that person, because it ain't gonna be me anymore. The next time I see you, you better be dead, because that will be
the only thing that keeps me from knocking the shit out of you."
He shrugged on his jacket and adjusted the lapels then gave his father one more look, and headed up the porch
stairs.
The rest of the family did what it always did when father and son went at it. Stood to the side and acted like they
weren't noticing what was going on. Not making eye contact. Pete and Sara were long gone, slipping out together
while everyone was distracted and who knew when they'd come back. And Dee was smiling brittly and trying to think
of what she'd tell the shell shocked strangers of her own baby's father's family once the yelling stopped. But Andi was
standing alone in the middle of the porch. Waiting for Hector and he was all her eyes paid attention to. Brett found
himself standing in the yard. Alone. He blinked.
Walking away. His son was really walking away. And out of his life. Threatening to make it forever. His face started to
turn an even darker shade of red. Son of a bitch thought he was going to leave Brett alone with the guilt and the
anger and the pain. Like hell he was!
"Don't you turn your back on me, you arrogant son of a bitch! I'm your father!" He yelled it, absolute fury making his
voice strain. "You know what you are?! A fucking disappointment, that's what you are! You always have been! And
you know what else?! This family doesn't need you! Don't need your high and mighty, arrogant attitude always
thinking your better than the rest of us!" His voice rose to close to a scream. "Well, you're not! You're shit! Just like
the rest of us! Just like your old man! Don't you dare walk out of here, boy!! We're not done!"
"Yeah, we're done." Hector said at the base of the steps to the porch, turning to look at his father. "I'm not doing this
every single time over and over again. I've done it for twenty years and I am so tired of it. Nothing changes. I had to
leave the fucking state to graduate high school in peace, and I had to leave my goddamn country to find any other
sort of peace. In the middle of a war zone! Do you have any idea what that's like? Do you see anyone else besides as
an extension of you? I'm not the little boy waiting for his father to sober up and be a goddamn dad. I'm done. With
this, with you, with everything. I am not going to let myself turn into you just to prove I'm not you. So I'm doing what
doctors do when they find a cancerous tumor. I'm cutting you out because you're worse than any cancer." He shook
his head and looked at Andi. "Might as well go, I'll call everyone later."
Andi stepped forward, slipping her hands into both of his facing him. Eyes dark and just for him.
"Through the house." She murmured gently. Fingers brushing his palms. "The children need to see you leave."
Because they knew what was going on. Despite Cassie and the thin protection. Hector didn't need to spend time
saying goodbye. But the little ones needed to see him go instead of just having him disappear.