TITLE: Unworthy Son?
AUTHOR: scotjane
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Angel aren't mine; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB and 20th Century Fox.
DEDICATION: To Ianthe and manda
FEEDBACK: I'd be grateful, but hey, your call!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Connor POV - just something that came out of nowhere and won't go away. My take on the events immediately following the season 3 finale of Angel. Considerably superseded now but never mind . . .
~*~
Part One
~*~
The boy stared at the dark, silent deep for so long that his eyes watered with lack of use. Furious, he dashed away tears that hadn't fallen, merely threatened to expose him. Yet he was alone on the boat's stern with no one to see when he finally let the tears fall with the finality of it all. He cried for his father again and for himself as he remembered what he had done to the old and frail body. In death his father had never seemed more connected to him and he felt such a depth of grief for his loss - the loss of the only friend, relative, teacher and influence he had ever known in his short and hard life. His hand rose to his face again and his long delicate fingers spilled more tears from his eyes and then wiped them from his cheeks.
He had lost a father tonight and, a chilling smile reached his mouth but no further, thrown another away into the inky black, frightening, deep ocean. He had never known such immense despair and was now at a complete loss as to what to do next.
He wondered briefly about Angel's colleagues and friends, if they would be worthy targets for his justice and vengeance. He honestly didn't know, but both his fathers had warned him that killing was not such a clear-cut option in this world. Holtz had thought him incapable of it and Angel had warned him that talking should come before violence. He wondered if Holtz would have been proud of him for not killing Angel, and not letting him down in his assessment of his character.
He was suddenly assailed with a twinge of doubt. Holtz had lost to Angel everything that had meant so much to him but still had been willing to give up all that he had left that he cared for - himself, Steven. So when the opportunity had presented itself and Holtz had once again been in the same dimension as his nemesis he had stayed his hand, had even forced Steven to go to Angel, to forsake him and return to his blood father. Had Steven failed him in the end by allowing his emotions to run unchecked? Holtz had tempered his own thirst for revenge. He, Steven, had not turned out to be the man his father was. His shoulders slumped in despair and he staggered slightly amid the slight swell of the sea. Had he dishonoured his father's memory? By striking out against Angel he had expressly disobeyed his father's wishes for him.
Yet Justine had suggested immediately this cunning plan for revenge. A plan for which she had so many pieces in place already that it was simple to execute and he had found himself swept along by grief and many other unfamiliar feelings as he mourned the instant loss of another father with whom he had shared an almost immediate empathic affinity. Amid all his wild and furious railings against them, he had been unable to deny the unconscious feelings of . . . he couldn't place the emotions other than to feel that everything had felt so right by Angel's side. Despite the fact that Angel had at first threatened Steven with his own weapon and then proceeded to physically manhandle him at every available opportunity, Steven had enjoyed his company. Another fighter who had respected him for what he was. When he hadn't realised Steven could see him watching, Holtz had also looked at him with the same disbelief and incredulity that Angel had. Why did they have difficulty in accepting his existence?
And Justine, as she peered out at the gloom, thought she could detect the shaking of the boy's shoulders. She knew he was crying, for which father she wasn't sure, for in her mind neither deserved his grief. Perhaps he was crying for himself and if so, then Justine would mourn along with him. Holtz had won his war with Angel but he had used and abused an innocent to reach his end, and Justine did not mean herself. She had only met Steven once briefly before Holtz had made his demand of her, a demand she could neither deny nor disobey. And irony of ironies, Steven had saved her life at that moment of meeting, together with Angel. In the heat of battle she had not discovered just how young he was. No, she had found that out when he had come to his dead father whom she had cradled in her arms. The grief and suffering that had filled the boy's face had wrung her heart, yet Holtz's death was fresh on her hands and she could not, would not waver from the path he had set her on.
And now, as she looked down on the deck at the slight figure of a mere boy, she wished the last several hours of her life away. Holtz had gained his revenge, but at what cost? She didn't mourn her own part in this - her cause had been lost long ago. The first time she had tried to stake a vampire, her death wish had been sealed. But this boy, this child didn't deserve the weight of guilt that he so obviously was experiencing. To his mind Holtz's death would be directly attributable to his seeking out his blood father and therefore putting Holtz in the firing line of an evil custody battle that they had instantly waged.
The custody battle had had a conclusive and damning outcome as the boy had buried both his fathers this night. She closed her eyes to the sorrowful sight of the boy trying to come to terms with each loss, and turned the boat for home and the docking bay.
~*~
TBC
AUTHOR: scotjane
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Angel aren't mine; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB and 20th Century Fox.
DEDICATION: To Ianthe and manda
FEEDBACK: I'd be grateful, but hey, your call!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Connor POV - just something that came out of nowhere and won't go away. My take on the events immediately following the season 3 finale of Angel. Considerably superseded now but never mind . . .
~*~
Part One
~*~
The boy stared at the dark, silent deep for so long that his eyes watered with lack of use. Furious, he dashed away tears that hadn't fallen, merely threatened to expose him. Yet he was alone on the boat's stern with no one to see when he finally let the tears fall with the finality of it all. He cried for his father again and for himself as he remembered what he had done to the old and frail body. In death his father had never seemed more connected to him and he felt such a depth of grief for his loss - the loss of the only friend, relative, teacher and influence he had ever known in his short and hard life. His hand rose to his face again and his long delicate fingers spilled more tears from his eyes and then wiped them from his cheeks.
He had lost a father tonight and, a chilling smile reached his mouth but no further, thrown another away into the inky black, frightening, deep ocean. He had never known such immense despair and was now at a complete loss as to what to do next.
He wondered briefly about Angel's colleagues and friends, if they would be worthy targets for his justice and vengeance. He honestly didn't know, but both his fathers had warned him that killing was not such a clear-cut option in this world. Holtz had thought him incapable of it and Angel had warned him that talking should come before violence. He wondered if Holtz would have been proud of him for not killing Angel, and not letting him down in his assessment of his character.
He was suddenly assailed with a twinge of doubt. Holtz had lost to Angel everything that had meant so much to him but still had been willing to give up all that he had left that he cared for - himself, Steven. So when the opportunity had presented itself and Holtz had once again been in the same dimension as his nemesis he had stayed his hand, had even forced Steven to go to Angel, to forsake him and return to his blood father. Had Steven failed him in the end by allowing his emotions to run unchecked? Holtz had tempered his own thirst for revenge. He, Steven, had not turned out to be the man his father was. His shoulders slumped in despair and he staggered slightly amid the slight swell of the sea. Had he dishonoured his father's memory? By striking out against Angel he had expressly disobeyed his father's wishes for him.
Yet Justine had suggested immediately this cunning plan for revenge. A plan for which she had so many pieces in place already that it was simple to execute and he had found himself swept along by grief and many other unfamiliar feelings as he mourned the instant loss of another father with whom he had shared an almost immediate empathic affinity. Amid all his wild and furious railings against them, he had been unable to deny the unconscious feelings of . . . he couldn't place the emotions other than to feel that everything had felt so right by Angel's side. Despite the fact that Angel had at first threatened Steven with his own weapon and then proceeded to physically manhandle him at every available opportunity, Steven had enjoyed his company. Another fighter who had respected him for what he was. When he hadn't realised Steven could see him watching, Holtz had also looked at him with the same disbelief and incredulity that Angel had. Why did they have difficulty in accepting his existence?
And Justine, as she peered out at the gloom, thought she could detect the shaking of the boy's shoulders. She knew he was crying, for which father she wasn't sure, for in her mind neither deserved his grief. Perhaps he was crying for himself and if so, then Justine would mourn along with him. Holtz had won his war with Angel but he had used and abused an innocent to reach his end, and Justine did not mean herself. She had only met Steven once briefly before Holtz had made his demand of her, a demand she could neither deny nor disobey. And irony of ironies, Steven had saved her life at that moment of meeting, together with Angel. In the heat of battle she had not discovered just how young he was. No, she had found that out when he had come to his dead father whom she had cradled in her arms. The grief and suffering that had filled the boy's face had wrung her heart, yet Holtz's death was fresh on her hands and she could not, would not waver from the path he had set her on.
And now, as she looked down on the deck at the slight figure of a mere boy, she wished the last several hours of her life away. Holtz had gained his revenge, but at what cost? She didn't mourn her own part in this - her cause had been lost long ago. The first time she had tried to stake a vampire, her death wish had been sealed. But this boy, this child didn't deserve the weight of guilt that he so obviously was experiencing. To his mind Holtz's death would be directly attributable to his seeking out his blood father and therefore putting Holtz in the firing line of an evil custody battle that they had instantly waged.
The custody battle had had a conclusive and damning outcome as the boy had buried both his fathers this night. She closed her eyes to the sorrowful sight of the boy trying to come to terms with each loss, and turned the boat for home and the docking bay.
~*~
TBC