I read a story that was sort of like a CSI thing, and it gave me this idea! I can't remember the name of the story or author at the moment, but I will be sure to find that out and post it in the next chapter! Please review and enjoy!
Oh, P.S. - The name is from the movie "Reservation Road", but I didn't want to take the whole thing since this wasn't a story for that fanfic category, if they even have one... Also, it wouldn't make too much sense, because the plot is slightly different. (Probably very different hahaa!.). AND you will see Fitz's dad in this, just saying...
I watched as another tear drop fell onto the wooden table in front of her. She quickly rubbed it away with her index finger, trying not to make it stain the antique maple tabletop. She then wiped it on the material of her skirt.
Her feet tapped nervously; loud heels. Of course, she was the rich type. But the one thing I don't get is that she took all this time to get "dressed up" for this. If this was happening to my family, I wouldn't care if I was nude; what I was wearing would be the furthest thing from my mind…
"Mark." My father grumbled, using my full name. He never called me anything but Fitz, my usual nickname. I knew why he was angry. I knew Clare from school, and he knew that I liked her, which automatically made him think that I'd turn him in. But even I have no proof that he even did what they're accusing him of. …But he probably did, since he did have a few run-ins with the law. But this case was different. Usually he got in jail because of drugs or alcohol, not for eradicating another's existence. More importantly, a child's existence... But drugs usually could lead to ending another life. I scoffed, my father noticing it immediately. Who really goes through all of that just to get what they think they need? But addiction, no matter what form, takes so much control over someone that it makes normal, sane activities seem like an impossible thing to carry out... I breathed heavily, my father looking at me once more.
"Nothing." I whispered, just as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Nothing?" He echoed. "Nothing? ... I could get the death penalty for this. If not that, I'll definitely get put away. N-"
"-Dad, you won't get anything. They have no proof on you." He was shaking his head the entire time. "None what-so-ever." He whispered to himself, trying to make himself believe it. They in fact did have some evidence on him: his record, which, to people these days, basically guarantees that he was guilty... Only this time, he wasn't. He would never do anything like that. Sure, he wasn't always there when Fitz was growing up, but he couldn't help it. He'd been into drugs since before Fitz was born, which might explain why he was so messed up…
"None what-so-ever? None what-so-ever? I have the record of A—"
"Of no one, dad! No one. You are my dad. You're not a drug dealer, a drunk, a loser, or whatever people see you as. You're an innocent person, and you would never do this to anyone, no matter if they deserved it."
A lone tear slipped from his father's eye, dripping down his cheek, and falling off once it reached his jaw bone. It was the first time he'd seen his father cry. Actually cry, not just a light-hearted cry because someone told a good joke. No fits of laughter, no clutching at his stomach. An actual cry; silent, a quick blink to diminish the glint in his eye, and denial that he even was crying in the first place. He wiped directly under his eye, a few more drops releasing themselves onto his skin. He dried the side of his finger on the bottom of his shirt.
"Dad?" Fitz asked.
He cleared his throat. "…Yes." He said, his voice low and hoarse.
"You didn't do it… right?"
He shook his head.
"Then why are you crying?"
"I-I don't want to leave you. After your mother moved back in with your grandmother, I admit that I couldn't handle being a single father. And I know that I didn't do a good job. I'm sorry."
"Dad, it's totally fine. It wasn't your fault. Mom was the one who left, it's not like you made her leave."
"Mr. Fitzgerald." The detective called my father's name.
Here we go. I told myself…