Heavy reference to Episode 1x9, as well as slight references to 1x22, 2x10 and 2x13. Spoilers are possible.
One-Shot #1: Father's Day
Life was always perfect in the driver's seat of his '71 Le Mans, whether he was revving up the engine to be on time for his patrol or racing home to his wife and daughter at the end of the day, it was always maneuvering inside his little slice of a perfect life he'd somehow managed to carve out.
But now, sitting behind the wheel of his newly refurbished Le Mans, Cabe's fingers shook as they held the keys next to the ignition. The patterned brass felt too big to fit in its designed entry and Cabe let the keys drop to the floorboard with a heavy thud, his forehead doing the same against the steering wheel. Dry, wrinkled knuckles cracked as they wound against the helm of his once beloved car as memories of broken speed limits and an uncut marriage washed over him.
He'd stopped driving it when Amanda got sick, when there was nothing left but to watch his sculptured haven crumble into pieces. He still tried to hold onto the shattered remains though, scooping up the fragments he still had left and trying to make them fit into a life far too fractured to make anything worth saving.
Rebecca figured out she didn't fit anymore long before he did, and the only thing he could do when she threatened to walk out the door was to hold on tight to the last two morsels of a life he didn't want to lose. Out of the divorce, she managed to keep all prospect and he got the house and the Le Mans.
Cabe had always been a firm believer that life came full circle, a notion that made him accountable to his job yet somehow a bit unreliable to the people he cared for. Therefore, it made sense that his first time back behind the wheel of his favorite car would be to save Rebecca. He hadn't even had the time to hesitate, to really understand that his capsuled life was about to be brought out of the past into a time where it could no longer survive. Then, like just about everything he'd seemed to care for, he damaged the car, too.
He managed to save her though, keep her safe, but deep down he knows it's only because he had help. Walter had said that he'd done right by her when all was said and done, and maybe he had at one point in his life, but this wasn't it. After all, he still clung to the house and car when she walked out the door for a second time.
Happy came through as always, returning his Le Mans in better condition than it had been underneath a sheet and years of dust. However, the only thing he could do quicker than thank her was to drive back out to the house and cover it back it up, salvaging what little he had left. It stayed that way for months, up until today.
This morning he'd woken up with the same intentions as he had every year. Two cups of black coffee after a 4 A.M. alarm and thirty-seven miles of silence in his federal-issued black Suburban, had him standing at the cemetery gates. It was the only place for him on a day like today.
Every year he spent the day on a small patch of green grass staring at his daughter's name etched in stone. He hadn't thought of a reason why this year should be any different. That is, until he got to her grave.
With his worn black leather shoes perched on the line where green grass met parched brown, he had dropped to his knees, unable to carry the instant weight added to him at the sight. Suddenly, images of Walter's red Ferrari dangling on the edge of cliff came to mind, the kid's pain laced, wavering voice of, "I watered it twice a day," filled his ears as if it were the last words he'd ever spoken.
This year, on Father's Day, he realized this gravesite was for two kids instead of one.
Walter was still alive and doing well despite losing his sister a few months back, but there were fifteen empty years punching him in the gut every time he caught a glimpse of green grass atop his daughter's coffin. Fifteen years of some semblance of hope that he'd see Walter again, that he could do enough good in the world to earn forgiveness. Every year he had come here weeping for two children, instead of just one, but until today he'd never realized it, until he understood that the green grass wasn't pity from a stranger, but a small sliver of forgiveness he'd begged for from his son.
For the first time since Amanda had passed, Cabe left the cemetery long before sunset which is why he found himself sitting behind the wheel of his refurbished Le Mans. He'd hurried back to his old house, going back to a time where life consisted of only one child he'd failed, but steeping through the door had done nothing but remind him of the soft carry of Rebecca's voice down the hall, telling Walter, "He doesn't want to lose you."
The house had become too small, shrinking for every year it spent uninhabited until he stumbled his way out to the garage with panicked breath and sweaty palms. He dropped into the driver's seat of his old car with a heart yearning for adrenaline, but hands too nervous to make it come to life. With the keys abandoned on the floorboard and forehead pressed against the steering wheel he tried to calm himself down, taking slow breaths and squeezing the wheel in pulses.
He'd somewhat managed to relax before he heard another car in the driveway and a door closing. Confused, and a bit on edge, he pulled himself out of the car. Walking out into the drive, he stopped dead in his tracks, because there standing on the porch was none other than Walter O'Brien. He was clad in his usual button down shirt and dress pants and carrying a brown bag drenched in grease stains under one arm, the other raised in a hesitant knock.
"There better be a double from In-and-Out in there for me, or you're eating vegetarian," Cabe called after wiping sweat from his forehead on the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. He couldn't help but bite back a grin as the young genius was caught unaware and had to scramble to catch the bag of food he'd let go of in his surprise.
After a few seconds of awkward juggling, Walter managed to regain his grasp on the bag and straightened with twitchy facial features while smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in his shirt. Cabe had ventured across the drive in the meantime, scaling the few steps up the porch before coming to a stop by a red-eared Walter.
"Uh, yes. Of course," the younger man assured him, holding out the bag in offering. "I've never seen you order anything else, so it would, uh, be…illogical to assume you would desire something else off the menu."
Cabe merely nodded with a corner of his mouth upturned as he opened the front door and let the two of them in. Walter followed with only a brief pause on the threshold, tucking his hands into his pockets in what Cabe understood to be something he did when he was uncomfortable or nervous.
"But I…must warn you," Walter continued, eyes drifting in a calculated pattern around the house as he trailed his mentor into the dilapidated kitchen. Pausing briefly to watch the older man pull out a cold beer and bottled water from a bewildering, working refrigerator, he continued with, "There's no bacon."
"Excuse me? What happened to the illogical speech a few seconds ago? I always get bacon," Cabe countered as he tossed the water to the younger man without explanation and once again led the way to another portion of the house.
"Yes, I am aware of that fact, but….Toby, he, uh, he is still showing concern for your blood pressure's propensity to , I believe the word he used was skyrocket, when ingesting greasy take out and…well, I understand that we're supposed to aid his efforts of countering that."
Cabe held the back door open for Walter and motioned with his head towards a clean table in the midst of dust covered, forgotten items on the back patio. The genius took a seat across from the agent as said man questioned, "Toby, huh?"
"Yes, Toby," Walter confirmed with a telling downward gaze, but Cabe let him off the hook which backfired quickly seeing as how he suddenly found himself on the end of one. "You've…you've been coming here a lot, lately."
Cabe was unable to conjured up a response to that, feeling slightly angered, yet a bit relieved that this wasn't another secret between them.
"I haven't been, uh, following you, of course. It just makes sense that….that you've been here before today given that the refrigerator is in working condition and had been stocked. This table is clean as if it's been frequently used, but everything else looks untouched. Also, I noticed that there were some food packages that hadn't reached their expiration date discarded in the trash.
"Anything else, Sherlock?" Cabe quipped as he pulled the food from the bag and laid it out on the table.
Walter gave a small shake of his head while muttering a quick, "Sorry. I-"
"It's alright, kid. It wasn't a secret."
Cabe could tell the assurance eased the younger man considerably and let silence linger between them while they both took a couple of bites from their lunch.
"I didn't….," Walter broke the silence, but seemed regretful of doing so before swallowing and pressing on, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything today…it's just…well, Paige said that you were…acting a bit off as of late. The others seemed to concur. Although I assured them you were fine, that didn't seem to satisfy them, so, yeah, I, uh, I checked the…the cemetery and you weren't there so it was only…..logical to find you here, today."
He took a swig of beer, earning himself a brief pause to contemplate his response. "I suppose I have been a bit off as - Paige, was it?- put it," he finally spoke, not missing the way Walter's gaze seemed to do that up and down pattern of avoidance when he'd clearly understood that his mentor knew that he hadn't been in disagreement with the others as he'd declared. "And you haven't interrupted anything, Walter. I'm glad you came by."
"Even….even today? I mean, it's-"
"Especially today," Cabe cut him off, unable to watch the kid flounder for a grasp of understanding on the depth of their relationship.
He'd learned early on that no matter how much he loved the kid, looked out for him, Walter would probably never truly understand the connection between them. Sure, he'd heard Walter put a label on it - mentor, was always a common one, and he'd even went so far as father , but no matter how much that meant to Cabe, he'd been told time and time again by specialists he'd talked to and even Walter's own biological parents, that the kid could never connect emotionally to such sentiments.
Despite all of it, Cabe believed otherwise. He may have not got all the moments a father wishes for, and it may still bother him just a little that Walter's never hugged him back in the entire time they've known each other, but he's come to realize that what he does get is far greater than any of those things.
"Are you going to sell the house?" Walter's voice suddenly brought him out of his thoughts and he nearly dropped his half empty beer on the table.
"I….I don't know. I've thought about it, but-"
"I think you should. I don't fully understand why it is that you've kept it for so long, so maybe I can't….or shouldn't advise you. That's more Paige's department, maybe even Toby's, I suppose, but I think…I think it makes you….well, you should consider selling it."
"Yeah?" Cabe asked, glancing around the place. "I'd need help, getting it into shape to put it on the market."
"I'm sure we could locate the most efficient workers in the area to complete the renovations," Walter assured, but faltered when Cabe's expression seemed to become a bit more hesitant. "But, if you desired to do it yourself…I could help you, along with the rest of the team, obviously."
"Yeah," Cabe nodded after a moment, staring at the younger man across from him. "I'd like that. But for now, how about just the two of us, huh?"
"Um….yeah, sure," Walter almost timidly agreed, appearing as if he was running calculations in his head. "Though I don't think it takes a genius to tell you that it would be more methodical to have more help as far as productivity and time constraints."
"Well, maybe I'm hoping it takes a while," Cabe replied, and he refused to let Walter's gaze linger anywhere but on him, because he has to use hollow words for deeper meanings and Walter has to see things he can't feel.
"Perhaps that's best. Can't rush… efficiency."
"Don't I know it, kid."
They ate the rest of their lunch in silence, before Cabe took Walter on a tour of the house while the latter worked out a plan for their project. Cabe felt at ease for the first time all day, an odd feeling that took sometime to get use to in his old house where life use to be perfect. He'd passed on Amanda's room, leaving the door closed and unmentioned, and continued to talk about the old hardwood underneath the carpet in the back bedrooms even though his mind had begun to wonder how Amanda would have felt about growing up around Walter given more perfect circumstances.
It'd began to weigh on him again, her death, the years he'd missed out on in Walter's life, and the idea that if he'd just done a million things different perhaps he could have avoided both, could still maneuver his 1971 Le Mans around in his perfect slice of life with a wife, a healthy daughter, and a genius boy he'd fathered so greatly that he was able to openly give and accept affection.
He hadn't even realized he'd finished the grand tour and had led the way back out to the driveway to head to his real home in his flawed life, until Walter's voice caught his attention.
"Cabe?"
Taking his hand off the door handle to the Suburban, he turned to Walter standing by his beat up, old car. "Yeah?"
"What, uh,….what do you think it means that I…I didn't call my actual, biological father today?"
Cabe was so stunned by the question, he almost missed the way Walter fidgeted uncomfortably in his silence, but when he took a few steps to stand in front of the kid, he noticed Walter's hands find the pockets of his pants again.
"I think it means you listen to this," Cabe explained while gently tapping Walter's chest with an index finger, "far more than you give yourself credit for."
"Hm." Walter muttered, before giving one of those unsure smiles where he acknowledges something good but doesn't know how to process it. "That's….okay." It's Walter's word for when he doesn't comprehend an emotion, but wants more than anything to feel what's expected of him, and Cabe knows that these "Okay" moments are his greatest achievements.
And it's there, standing out in the driveway of his old house to his old life, that Cabe came to the realization that maybe there's something better than a perfect existence. That maybe the death of his daughter gave life to the son before him, that holding onto a house and a car and watching the last person in his life walk out gave him justification to let go of every reason why he shouldn't love a child who couldn't understand affection. That maybe Father's Day is about more than just green grass and gravestones.
Life was always perfect behind the wheel of his 1971 Le Mans, but on the outside of it, it's just "Okay," and that's the greatest thing it could be.
Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. Prompts for this series can be dropped in a review or PM for consideration.