A/N: This idea just stuck itself in my head and wouldn't get out, so here we are.
Stef's head reeled. She could not imagine herself missing something so big. Then again, if Brandon hadn't told her, how could she have known? She felt as though she should have noticed, somehow - seen difference in him when he came home after a weekend with Mike, maybe. But it was eleven years too late for her to do anything to protect her son, so she had to shake her head and try to move on, despite the ancient anger stirring in her chest, and the deep, deep sadness.
Brandon, though, was being pulled just as rapidly into the past as he remembered the incident he was speaking of…
"We're almos' home, buddy," his dad had said from the front seat, his words sloshing around like the milk Brandon had drank with dinner. "Jus' a lil bit further." Brandon sat in his booster seat, feeling impossibly unsafe. He was always safe with Daddy; Mommy and Daddy were the safest people in the world. But as the car swerved back and forth, calling his hot dog up in his stomach, he clenched his little hands into tiny fists.
Suddenly, the little wobbles the car had been making for the past few blocks turned into one giant swerve. The tires bumped first on the rumble strips at the edge of the highway, then on the gravel of the shoulder, and finally, briefly, on the uneven ground. With a word Brandon had never heard before and a heavy-handed jerk of the wheel, Daddy brought the car back into the center of the lane. Brandon could feel himself shaking in his car seat, and Daddy's breath was ragged and scared, too.
"We're jus' fine, B," Daddy said, glancing over his shoulder. Brandon's face was white as a sheet, and Mike, drunk though he was, knew he had to reassure his son. "Look, here's our exit." He switched lanes without using his blinker, a fact that escaped him but not the small boy in the backseat who noticed everything. Brandon knew about the flashing light and clicking noise that was supposed to come on before the car turned. One time Mommy had forgotten it and Brandon had screamed. She'd told him not to scream in the car anymore, though, so this time, he held his tongue.
It wasn't long before they reached the apartment where Daddy was living, where Brandon stayed nearly every weekend. Daddy unclipped his seat belt and led him upstairs, where he directed B to put his pajamas on, and promised to come read him a story after. Once Brandon was ready for bed, though, he tip toed back into the living room, where Daddy was snoring on the sofa. With a soft sigh, he went back to his little room and climbed under his Spiderman sheets. No story tonight, he guessed.
The next morning, Daddy said he had a headache, and called to ask Mommy if he could bring Brandon home early. Brandon packed his things quietly, and they got Egg McMuffins on the way home, a great treat. Then Daddy got him out of the car and kissed his head and told him to be a good boy for Mommy, before driving away, not even waiting for Mommy to come to the door. So Brandon, feeling unsettled by the change in routine but strangely grown up, hauled his backpack up the front steps and knocked on the door, since he couldn't reach the doorbell. After a few minutes, the door opened, and his mom was standing there in her pajamas, looking confused by the apparently empty doorway.
"Hi, Mommy," he said, smiling up at her. He'd decided the night before while putting himself to sleep that he had to pretend nothing bad had happened at Daddy's, because otherwise, she might not let him stay with Daddy anymore, and that would make Daddy and Brandon sad.
"Brandon!" She knelt down and opened her arms to him, an invitation he promptly accepted. With a kiss on his messy brown hair, she asked, "Where's Daddy?"
"He had to go," Brandon explained, thinking fast. He had never really lied before, and he was surprised by how easy it was. "I think he had to get to work for an emergency or something."
Stef looked skeptical, but she didn't question him. Instead, she took his backpack and pulled him inside, closing and locking the door behind them. "So how was your weekend with Daddy, baby?" she asked. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"
"We got McDonald's," he announced proudly, grinning up at her. She rolled her eyes but chose not to comment.
"Alright, love, why don't you go put your clothes and toys away, and then maybe we can go visit Grandma. How's that sound?" Brandon snatched his backpack away and practically sprinted down the hall to his room. He loved his grandmother.
"Brandon?" His mom's voice called him back to the present. She'd clearly asked him something.
"Uh, sorry, what?" His voice felt thick, as though he were speaking around a mouthful of something sticky.
"I said are you okay? You look a little sick." Concerned, Stef leaned forward, touching a hand to his forehead and then cupping his cheek.
"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm… I'm fine." Brandon swallowed hard, a lump appearing in the back of his throat.
"Okay," his mom replied, seeming unconvinced. "I love you, B, yes?"
"Yes. Love you too, Mom."
Satisfied with that response, she stood and left him alone in his room. He turned back to the piano, but couldn't remember what he'd been playing.
Stef stormed into her bedroom, where Lena was sitting in bed, perusing a magazine, which she set down on her lap at her partner's angry entrance.
"You will never guess what I just learned," Stef stated, her voice tight and hard.
"What's that, sweetie?" Lena asked, trying to keep herself calm, to balance Stef's rapidly swelling fury.
"First of all, Mike's drinking again. Brandon just confirmed my worries." Lena drew in a breath at that; she remembered how hard Mike's initial recovery from alcoholism had been on Stef, and on herself, too. That was when they had just started seeing each other. Stef sat down on Lena's side of the bed next to her partner's knees and added, "And, B told me he knew about Mike's drinking before." Lena raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Really? During the divorce?"
Stef nodded, her lower lip trembling a little as her gaze fell into her lap. "He said he heard us arguing, me and Mike. And-" Here her voice cracked a little, and she squeezed her eyes shut just for a moment to stave off the tears. "And he said Mike drove off the road with him in the car once."
"And he didn't tell you at the time?" Lena was shocked. Mike had always been so careful not to drink when he had Brandon, and both Stef and Mike had worked hard to hide the drinking from him, and as many of the marital problems as they could. Plus, when she'd first met Stef and Brandon, the boy had been sharp as a tack (still was), noticed everything (still did), and told his mom every single detail of his life (this quality he'd lost as he'd aged).
"He said he was scared I wouldn't let him see Mike." Stef's voice was trembling again. She looked up at Lena, her eyes filled with unspilled tears. "How did I miss this?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. "It's my job to protect him. It's always been my job."
Without a word, Lena leaned forward and took her partner into her arms, where she held her, face pressed against chest, as she cried. Stef hated crying, especially around other people, and so Lena simply rubbed gentle circles on her back and let her be. Finally, as her gasps were starting to sound more controlled, she murmured, "It's not your fault, Stef. You didn't know. You couldn't have known. And it's in the past now. However it makes you feel - sad, angry, scared - that's all okay. But you can't do anything about it now. Except help Mike get help again." At these words, Stef pulled back, wiping her eyes guiltily.
"Help Mike?"
Lena nodded. "Help Mike, and you're helping Brandon, and yourself, and Mike, and more. And I'll be right here with you, baby," she added, pulling Stef into another embrace.
"I know you will, love," Stef said softly. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
