"Black or blue?" Blake asked, holding up a tie of either color in each hand.

An early start began this Friday morning in mid-September 2007. Blake had been living with Ted in his small, but neatly kept one-bedroom flat for just over a year, having settled in quite happily together shortly after reuniting on Ted's birthday. Ted still worked for Brian as the head accountant at Kinnetic, and Blake continued his work as a counselor at the rehab facility where both he and Ted had found their way to sobriety.

He hadn't been a counselor long, but he had managed to make quite an impression in a short period of time. He was well-liked by the patients and the staff; and for the first time, his history of addiction was an asset rather than a shameful burden. As a counselor, it was important to be relatable and accessible, so ties were not a part of Blake's usual wardrobe - jeans and a crisp button down shirt usually did the trick. But today was special. Today Blake would present his proposal for a new program he was hoping to implement at the rehab center.

As a patient, he had struggled during the transition from in-patient to out-patient treatment. Then, as a counselor, he watched Ted struggle in the same way, as he worked to re-adjust to the outside world. Blake knew all too well that after a while rehab could feel like a cocoon, like a safe place where you could hide from and ignore the troubles of "real life".

Now he was seeing far too many people leave the facility only to return weeks, or even days later, seemingly unable to cope with the life outside the center. He hoped his new program would help prepare patients for the transition, easing them back into their lives rather than simply shoving them out the door. Unfortunately, this meant standing in front of several board members and convincing them that his program was both necessary and affordable. As a rookie counsellor, he would need to be taken seriously. This meant suiting up.

"You do realize I'm probably not the best person to be giving out fashion advice?" Ted asked, sitting slumped over on the edge of their bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Aren't you forgetting that you're the one who helped me pick out my very first suit?"

A slight grin crossed Ted's face as the memory sprang to his mind. "Still, either one will look fantastic. You know it will" Ted assured him.

Blake sighed light-heartedly and rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to flatter me. It's working, but stop" he said, a cheeky smile springing to his face as he grabbed Ted's hand and pulled him off the bed. "Black or blue? C'mon."

Ted stood before him, doing his best to fain interest in those tiny pieces of coloured fabric. "Uh…Blue!" he said, taking the corresponding tie from Blake's left hand. "It matches your eyes." He secretly loved the way any time there was a shade of blue near Blake's face -a tie, a shirt, a scarf- his eyes would light up and shimmer like sapphires.

Blake simply batted his lashes in response - that same cheeky grin still plastered on his face. Ted couldn't help but chuckle at his youthful exuberance. He was grateful, if slightly amazed, that although nearly thirty, Blake still possessed such a cheerful spirit. Ted lifted the blue tie in his right hand and placed it around his partner's slender neck.

Blake was going to protest. He was going to say something about how he was fully capable of tying his own tie, of dressing himself, but he decided to let Ted continue. It was nice to see him smile so early in morning.

"There" Ted said, fiddling with the tie, picking at every detail until it was just right.

"See?" he said, turning Blake to face the large mirror which sat to the left of their bed. "You could stop traffic with those eyes!"

"Think that'll impress the board members?", Blake asked playfully.

"Sure it will."

"Not if I'm late" Blake countered, glancing down at his watch. "Jacket, jacket, jacket", he repeated under his breath as he began to scour the closet for the top half of his suit.

"It's 6:00am!", Ted exclaimed. "You're not going to be late."

"Ah, there it is" Blake said with a relieved sigh, ignoring Ted's comment about the time as he rushed to put his arms through the sleeves.

"Whoa, slow down! Breathe. I'm the neurotic one, remember?" Ted quipped, trying his best to calm Blake's nerves; although there was a tiny part of him that enjoyed the sudden role reversal.

Blake smiled and took in a big breath as Ted suggested. He turned to stare at himself one final time in mirror. "Here goes nothing", he lamented.

"You'll do great", Ted said confidently as Blake reached for his briefcase. "You have everything you need?"

"Mmhm, I packed everything last night" Blake revealed, tapping his briefcase with his left hand as he held it in his right.

Ted briefly lowered his head and smiled just slightly. "You sure I can't drive you?" he asked tentatively, getting up from the bed and peering out the window to inspect the weather.

"No, no. You need the car more than I do. It's only a ten minute walk for me. Besides, I need the fresh air to clear my head a bit."

"Alright" Ted replied, sighing and throwing his hands in the air as if to signal surrender. He knew this was not the time to argue. "I'll pick you up at five then?"

"Sounds good. Okay, now I actually have to go or I really will be late" Blake said, before swiftly exiting the bedroom.

"Hey!" Ted called out, racing after Blake and grabbing his hand before he leapt out the front door. He pulled him in close, until their foreheads touched. "I mean it. You'll do great - better than great."

Blake nuzzled his forehead into Ted's, breathing in deeply, doing his best to absorb the steadiness and serenity of the moment. There was time he have questioned Ted's seemingly unshakable belief, but over time he had grown to trust it, and to draw strength from it. He lifted his forehead from Ted's and looked him in the eyes with a bashful, yet deeply appreciative smile. "Love you" he said warmly, still smiling.

Ted kissed him lightly on the lips. "Love you too", he replied, giving Blake's forearm a gentle squeeze.

With that, Blake headed out the door and started down the long hallway towards the elevator. Ted stood just outside the door, watching his partner proudly. Once at the end of the hall, Blake pushed the elevator button multiple times as it had a tendency to stick.

As he disappeared into the elevator, Ted re-entered the now vacant apartment. He closed the door and paused, smiling to himself as he often did when he thought of just how far Blake had come.

It was 4:50pm. Ted pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center to see a beautiful blond man in a suit waiting for him. As the car came to a stop at the curb, Ted reached over to the passenger side door and pushed it open. "You didn't have to wait outside. I would have come in to get you" he called out to Blake, who stood a few feet away from the car.

"It's okay" Blake assured, making his way to the car and putting his hand on top of the door frame. "I finished a little earlier than I thought I would, and it looked nice out. So I thought I would just wait out here."

Blake got into the car, threw his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "You have no idea how happy I am that that's over!" He exclaimed, with a deep sigh of relief.

Ted starred over at him and smiled, remaining silent. Soon Blake opened his eyes, caught off guard by the sudden quietness. "What?" he asked, looking over at Ted with a puzzled expression.

"Well…aren't you going to tell me how it went? Did you stop any traffic?" Ted inquired.

"Oh yeah! Sorry", Blake said with a laugh. He'd become so wrapped up in his own sense of relief that he'd forgotten how eager Ted would be to hear all the gory details. "I won't know their final answer until next week, but they seemed to like the idea."

"Seemed to like the idea?" Ted prodded, rolling his eyes at Blake's modesty.

"I just don't want to be too confident. I'm still a rookie in their books. So you never know" Blake said with slightly worried, yet bashful grin. "Oh! And before I forget - thank you for all your help with the budget side of everything. Seriously, if this thing goes through, it'll be because of you. Lord knows all the board members really care about is money."

"No need to thank me" Ted said, placing his hand on Blake's left shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "To be honest, it was probably the one time I've actually enjoyed number crunching."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I guess it helps to have a worthy cause." Ted said cheerfully.

"Still though, I know it was a ton of work." Blake countered, placing his own hand over Ted's, which still rested atop his shoulder. "Speaking of which, how was your day?"

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Numbers, fetching Brian coffee, more numbers, Brian carrying on about his supposedly fabulous nights out, more numbers…"

"Well, he'd be lost without you, that's for sure" Blake said reassuringly.

Both men paused and smiled appreciatively, taking a moment to fasten their seatbelts.

"Man, I am starving!" Blake declared, finally feeling relaxed enough to listen to the rumbles of his stomach.

"Why don't we go somewhere? My treat. Brian's always going on about this new Thai place."

"No, no - save your money. Besides, if we don't eat that salmon in the fridge, it'll go bad. So we can have that, and maybe I'll whip up some roasted potatoes and a salad or something. Nothing fancy."

"You really want to go home and cook after all that?" Ted said with a concerned look. "I mean, I'd offer to be the chef, but I don't think we'd end up with much of a dinner."

"It's fine", Blake said with a laugh. "Honestly. Cooking relaxes me and we'd just end up waiting hours at a restaurant anyway."

"Alright" Ted said with a sigh. "Can I at least do the dishes and set the table?"

"That you can do!"

Blake entered their apartment first, followed closely by Ted.

"I am starving!" Blake declared, removing his suit jacket and hanging it in the closet. "I better get the salmon ready to go"

"You're not even going to change first?"

"I will", Blake assured. "Just let me get the prepping done, and I'll change while everything's cooking. It'll be faster"

"We can still go out if you want" Ted insisted, feeling guilty that his partner had just stepped in the door and was already back at work.

"Would you stop. It's fine. Really" Blake said earnestly, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt to avoid getting them dirty.

"I guess I'll get started on the table setting then", Ted said, grabbing some cutlery from the drawer next to Blake and kissing him lightly on the cheek before making his way to the dining table across the room.

Blake grabbed the salmon fillet and a bag of potatoes from the fridge, pausing briefly to watch Ted as he ever so meticulously set the table. He made an art of it, ensuring everything was placed in exactly the right spot.

"I swear you could set the table for The Queen and she wouldn't be disappointed" Blake called out from across the room, his face full of joy and admiration.

Ted laughed heartily. "Why thank you, kind sir" he quipped in a horrifically bad British accent.

A knock at the door.

"Well, what do you know, that must be her now!" Ted joked, glancing over at Blake who still appeared highly amused by his abysmal attempt at imitating British royalty.

"Can you get that?" Blake asked with a chuckle. "My hands are all fishy."

"Sure" Ted replied, carefully placing the last piece of cutlery on the table and hurrying to the door.

He opened the door to see a scruffy, middle-aged man staring back at him. He was adorned in a heavily worn denim jacket and jeans.

"Can I help you?" Ted asked politely, though he fully expected to hear the familiar ramblings of an eager salesman.

The man gazed carefully at Ted. "I'm looking for my son", he said somewhat bluntly.

"Your… son?" Ted asked, pausing between words, deeply puzzled as he gave the man before him a similar once over. He looked carefully at the scruffy man who stood before him, searching for any similarity between him and the beautiful blond who stood washing his hands in the kitchen sink.

Physically, there was little to connect the two. The man's face was weathered and aged, and his hair was thin and greying. His eyes were deep brown, not at all like the blue ones that so often lit up his partner's youthful face. His pants were held up by a thick belt with a large, imposing buckle that sat just below his protruding stomach.

However, there was one striking similarity. The denim jacket that adorned his upper body was nearly an exact replica of the one Blake wore throughout the beginning of their relationship.

Ted compared the two jackets in his mind, taking a moment to steady himself before he spoke. "Blake?" he asked nervously, still sure that the man had simply made is way to the wrong apartment.

"Yeah?" Blake said, as he dried his hands and made his way to the door, thinking Ted was calling him over.

"That's him" the man said, gesturing in Ted's direction with his right hand.

Ted quickly turned to see Blake who now stood frozen in place a few feet behind him.

The tension between father and son was palpable, but Ted soon interrupted with his relentless hospitality. "Oh! Wow. I mean… I didn't know…I mean…it's great to meet you!", Ted stuttered. He paused for a moment, realizing he didn't even know the man's first name. "Mr. Wyzecki".

Ted wanted to say something more hospitable, more welcoming – like "Oh, Blake has told me so much about you". But the truth was, Blake rarely ever mentioned his family.

"Walt" the man said, revealing his first name.

"Walt", Ted repeated with an overly enthusiastic smile. "Well, come on in!"

"How did you find me?" Blake interjected as his father entered the apartment.

Walt paid little attention to his son's question, instead looking around the place both Ted and Blake called home.

Rather than press for an answer, Blake retreated back to the comfort of the kitchen and the meal he had been preparing. But the flat's open concept design provided little in the way of privacy or solitude. What he longed for was an escape, but for now it seemed all three of them were doomed to be contained in the same space.

"Have a seat. Can I get you something?" Ted asked, bursting with a nervous, fluttery energy as he made his way toward the fridge. "Neither of us drink, so I'm afraid all we've got to offer is water, milk, coffee, tea – oh and there may be a stray can of ginger ale hiding in here somewhere."

"Coffee." Walt replied distractedly, still standing and gazing from the floorboards to the ceiling.

"Sure. Um, milk, cream, sugar?"

"Black."

"Oh, okay. Well that's easy." Ted said, flicking on the coffee maker "My father likes his the same way" he added, hoping to find a common thread between them that would help break the ice.

But Walt didn't respond, he just kept gazing around the room.

"Please, have a seat" Ted insisted, hurrying over to the table to clear off a few books and papers that cluttered its surface. "Sorry about the mess" he said, turning to look at Walt who had taken a seat on the chair in the far left corner of the room.

"We weren't really expecting company". Ted cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. "Not that…I mean…it's wonderful to have your company", he said, tripping over his words as he attempted to correct what he deemed an inhospitable blunder.

"Oh and you're welcome to stay for dinner!" Ted exclaimed, cursing himself again that he had failed to make the offer sooner. "We're having salmon tonight and there's plenty to go around. Your son is quite the cook!" he said, pausing to look over at Blake who busied himself slicing potatoes. Ted waited for Blake to say something, anything at all, but he remained silent, his eyes focused intently on the cutting board in front of him.

"Yes well, he always did have a…feminine touch" Walt quipped, picking at his fingernails with a self-satisfied grin.

The comment sent the knife in Blake's right hand crashing to tiles beneath his feet; the simmering tension within him bubbling to the surface as he heard the cynical, repulsed tone in his father's voice. A brief silence followed, as Blake scurried to pick up the knife and regain his composure while Ted looked on. The two shared a moment of mutual relief from across the room when the unbearable quietness was replaced by the beeping of the coffee maker signaling a fresh pot.

"That must be your coffee" Ted said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice as he swallowed nervously before making his way to the kitchen. Seeing that the coffee was indeed done, Ted reached to grab a mug from the cupboard above the stove. He filled it nearly to the brim, needing no room for milk, cream, or sugar. He left the mug of steaming liquid on the counter for a moment, turning his attention to Blake. "You alright?" he whispered, placing a supportive hand on his lower back.

Though Walt could not hear the verbal exchange between the two men, the physical contact between them had not gone unnoticed as he peered up from picking at his fingernails.

"I'm fine." Blake responded, nodding his head and forcing a slight closed-mouthed smile.

Ted smiled back softly and removed his hand from the small of Blake's back. "Mmm. Smells great!" he exclaimed, ensuring his voice would be loud enough for Walt to hear as he collected the mug from the counter and walked across the apartment to the living room. "Careful, it's still pretty hot", he cautioned.

Walt said nothing, and took a miniscule sip of the piping hot liquid before placing it on the table in front of him.

The room fell silent once more – Blake still focused intently on dinner preparations, Ted immersed and nearly drowning in awkwardness, and Walt busy picking at his nails once again.

Then, much to everyone's surprise, it was Walt who broke the silence. "Nice place you got here", he said.

From across the room, Blake grimaced at his father's words– 'nice place' – the same words he had uttered nearly seven years ago upon entering Ted's apartment for the first time.

"Thank you" Ted replied earnestly. "It's not much, really - but it's home."

Walt nodded slowly in response. "So…Ted was it?"

"Yes - Theodore, Ted, Teddy. Any of those are fine", he said with a smile, elated that Blake's father was beginning to show a bit of interest.

"What do you do?" Walt asked.

"Me? I'm an accountant. Not too exciting, I know. I manage the books for Kinnetic" Ted replied, clearing his throat, as he noticed a slight look of confusion cross Walt's face. "It's a marketing firm in the city", he clarified.

"Sounds nice."

"It is. I'm just lucky, really. The owner's a friend of mine – a friend of ours, I should say" Ted replied, looking towards Blake, hoping to get his partner involved in the conversation. "But I'd say out of the two of us, Blake has the more exciting occupation", he continued, with light-hearted chuckle.

"Ah yes. Mister Miracle worker", Walt said in a flat voice, peppered with sarcasm

"You should be very proud. Your son's really quite remarkable at what he does" Ted said, smiling over at Blake.

"Is that so?" Walt asked.

"Absolutely! Unfortunately, he's also quite modest" Ted replied, in an attempt to excuse Blake's unusual silence.

"Actually", Ted continued. "Today was kind of a special day. He presented his plan for a new rehabilitation program to a bunch of board members. It seems to have gone really well."

Ted looked at Blake, then at Walt, expecting some sort of enthusiastic response, or at the very least a bit of fatherly pride in his eyes, but there was neither. Walt simply nodded, saying nothing as he forced a half-hearted smile.

"So, how about yourself?" Ted asked, deliberately changing the direction the conversation was headed, yet feeling unsure as he caught a glimpse of the less than thrilled expression on Walt's face. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. Blake had mentioned that both of his parents worked so I just-"

"Did he?" Walt retorted, rising to his feet once more, before removing his denim jacket and tossing it on the chair. "Well go on Blakey" he said, moving toward the kitchen. "How about you tell Ted here what your dear old dad does for living?"

Blake let out a heavy sigh, not of embarrassment but of disinterest, as he heard the familiar confrontational tone creep into his father's voice.

"He works at Tulsen's. It's a meat packaging plant." He said calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on the cutting board as he continued slicing potatoes.

"Oh, really? Can't say I've ever met anyone in that line of work before" Ted said earnestly, glancing between Blake and Walt from a few feet away.

"No, I wouldn't think so." Walt replied flatly.

"I guess it's a good thing we're not vegetarians, huh?" Ted joked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yes well, we can't all be accountants and miracle workers, can we?" Walt replied flatly.

"Thank God. What a boring world that would be" Ted quickly countered, hoping his previous remarks had come off as non-judgemental as he had intended. "And as my father always says, there's no shame in earning an honest day's pay for an honest day's work."

"Hear that?" Walt said, looking toward his son.

"You know I don't have a problem with where you work. I never have." Blake said confidently, though he was beginning to lose patience.

"Really?" Walt insisted.

"Yes. Really." Blake said sternly. "So if you've just come here to pick a fight. You should know, I'm not interested."

"Then what's this?" Walt asked, removing an opened envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and tossing it on the kitchen counter.

"Looks like an envelope to me" Blake retorted flatly.

Walt gave his son a cunning smile. "Let's just see, shall we?"

He proceeded to remove a neatly folded piece of paper from the envelope. He wasted no time unfolding it and began reading – "Dear mom…"

Blake felt his heart sink deep into his stomach. "Where did you find that?"

"Dear mom…" Walt repeated, once again ignoring his son's plea for information.

I hope you and the kids are well. I spoke to Jenny the other day. She said nursing school is going well and she said to tell you she loves you, as do I.

Since I know you tend to worry, I want you to know that you don't have to. I'm happy for the first time in a long, long time. Ted is amazing! I'm so lucky to have him. I would love for you to meet him someday. I know you would adore him just as much as I do.

Please take what I have enclosed. Don't even think about sending it back. It's yours. I know I can trust you to use it wisely.

Be sure to give the kids a hug for me.

And remember, if you ever need anything - don't be afraid to call.

Lots of love,

Blake

"Aw, isn't that sweet? Can't even be bothered to mention your dear old dad, can you?" Walt said, crumpling the letter and veiling his anger in thick sarcasm.

Blake did his best to veil his own emotions, determined not to sink to his father's level of depravity. He continued staring at the cutting board before him as his eyes began to fill with a mixture of fury and sadness.

Not satisfied with his son's demure reaction, Walt continued as if on some happy tirade. "And the best part is, look what's inside!" he exclaimed, removing a large stack of money from the confines of the envelope and slamming it down on the counter that stood between him and his son.

The sudden, thunderous thud of his curled fist colliding with the granite was enough to make both Ted and Blake jump.

"You know, it's funny. On the way here I kept thinking – how in the hell did my son get his hands on all this money? But now it all makes sense. It's quite the plan really. Find some well off guy, weasel your way into his life and take-take-take. But I mean honestly, couldn't you have found someone a little…younger? Don't tell me you actually sleep with him!" Walt said with a laugh, his voice filled with repulsion as he glanced over at Ted, who stood in stunned silence halfway between the living room and the kitchen.

Walt returned his gaze to his son. "Unless…this is how he repays you?" he sneered, running his fingers over the money.

Suddenly, Blake's eyes shot up and he glared at his father with a burning fury. "How dare you. How fucking dare you" he said in low, deceptively composed voice. He inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his frayed nerves and regain his composure, but the fresh flow of oxygen to his lungs only served to embolden him. Still, he was careful to keep his voice low.

"Okay one - yes, I do sleep with him and I love it, and believe me, he would never have to pay. Two – this is my money, and I earned it so I'll do what I want with it. Three – you can treat me however you want to, I really don't care. I put up with your shit for seventeen years - but you see that man there?" he said, gesturing towards Ted, "That's the man that saved your son's life when you were too drunk to stand up and be a father."

Blake paused, his voice breaking as he was forced to utter that final word - 'father' – a word he had avoided using for years, a word he had no reason to use, a word that still felt indefinable and foreign as it sprang from his mouth.

"That…" Blake continued, gesturing forcefully towards Ted once more. "…is the man I love. So I suggest you show him a little respect."

Walt rolled his eyes. "Respect!" he belted, his voice much louder than his son's. "Well, while we're on the subject, why don't you show me a little respect and tell me what exactly is going on here?"

"There's nothing going on here" Blake said, working hard to regain the air of calmness in his voice.

"Clearly, there is." Walt said sternly, glancing toward the stack of money still sitting on the counter.

Blake sighed heavily. "I was just trying to help out."

"Help your mother out", Walt corrected.

"Help my family out", Blake said firmly.

"So I'm not a not a part of your family then?" Walt asked, combatively.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Sure sounded like it" Walt snorted. "So…what? You just thought you'd go behind my back and start giving handouts."

"It's not a handout. And it's not charity, or whatever you think it is." Blake insisted. "I just wanted her to have it, that's all."

"Your mother." Walt correct once more. "You wanted your mother to have it."

"Yes" Blake said with confidence. "Why is that so wrong?"

"Maybe because you didn't bother to tell me, that's why!"

"Maybe because I knew this is how you'd react. Maybe because she deserves it. Maybe because I can trust her to do the right thing."

"So you don't trust me?" Walt asked. "And what's that supposed to mean –'do the right thing'?"

"I knew that if I sent it to her, she'd use it wisely. She'd make sure there was food on the table, hot water in the pipes. She'd spend it on the family – and yes, that includes you".

"But you wouldn't send it to me?"

"I didn't think you'd take it. And I knew if you did…" Blake said, before stopping himself mid-sentence.

"Go on. Say it" Walt urged. "You knew if I did…what?"

"…most of it would end up in the till at the bar" Blake admitted.

"Ah yes, because I'm the selfish drunk who spends his days at the bar" Walt said sheepishly.

"Well, judging by the way you're acting right now, I'm guessing that's where you were earlier tonight."

Walt suppressed his rage with a sly, disingenuous smile, choosing to ignore his son's correct assumption about his whereabouts earlier that evening.

"Kind of ironic, isn't it? - you lecturing me about drinking" Walt taunted. "Wasn't too long ago this kind of cash would be going right up your nose, remember?"

Blake remained silent, his gaze retuning to the cutting board and partially sliced potatoes in front of him. He remembered quite clearly.

"Who knows, maybe it still is?" Walt prodded.

"Well, I can assure you, it's not." Blake said firmly, determined not to let his father's taunting wind him up any further.

"Oh yes, I forgot. You're Mister Miracle worker now. But you're no angel, Blakey" Walt snickered, moving closer to his son. "And you're one to talk about 'doing the right thing'. Let's not forget, you left this family! You ran! Do you know how much you hurt your mother? She cried for weeks after you left. Weeks! And the kids, every one of them suddenly wondering where their big brother disappeared to. Why he couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye. So no, you don't get to swoop back in now and be a hero. Not when I've worked every day of my goddamn life to a support a family you couldn't care less about!"

"I do care!" Blake barked, reacting without thought. "And I was more of a father to those kids than you ever were!"

Blake instantly regretted raising his voice. As much of a stranger as his father had become, he knew the type of rage that bubbled just below the surface.

In an instant, Walt shoved his son up against the sink, the force causing Blake's elbow to collide with a stack of clean dishes that had been left to dry in a rack on the counter behind him. Blake winced as the squared edge of the granite countertop dug into his lower back while the dishes crashed loudly into the stainless steel basin.

The noise did not faze Walt, who grabbed tight hold of his son's tie and pulled down and forward forcefully, attempting to dwarf him by any means necessary. By this time, a deeply concerned Ted had hurried to the kitchen, and now stood a foot behind Walt, keeping a close eye on Blake's expression, unsure of what to do next.

"You listen here!" Walt raged between gritted teeth, pulling harder on Blake's tie as he spoke, bringing his son's face closer and closer to his own. "You think you're so much better than me, don't you? Well you know what? You can keep your money and your glorious dinner! It's all lie! Everything. Because I know the truth. I know my own son. And this isn't you. Not even close. So you can play house all you want. You can put on this fancy suit and this fancy tie and go to your fancy job. But the truth is, you're really just like me. And all this - it's all pretend. It won't last. Because people like us, they don't change. Ever."

With that, Ted had had enough of Walt's tirade, and although he typically avoided confrontation at all cost, the look of anguish on Blake's face gave him the push he needed to intervene. "Look, Mr. Wyzecki, I think you'd better leave" he said firmly, moving forward, placing one hand against Walt's shoulder and the other on the arm that still pulled viciously on Blake's tie. A brief but tense silence filled the air as Walt peered into his son's blue eyes with a chilling intensity, ignoring the voice that pleaded with him to leave. "Now!" Ted added more forcefully.

Finally, Walt relented, stepping back and freeing the blue tie from his relentless grip, leaving it crinkled and dangling from the neck of his now thoroughly tormented son. "Oh don't worry, I wasn't planning on staying!" he barked, heading across to the living room to fetch his denim jacket, as Ted followed closely behind.

He lifted his jacket from the the chair where he had been sitting and headed for the door, as Ted and Blake looked on, their eyes fixed to him as he finally excited their apartment. Both men stood motionless for moment, Ted near the door and Blake still with his back to the kitchen sink.

Soon, a sound broke through the silence and Ted turned just in time to see Blake disappear into the bathroom. "Blake?" he called out with heavy sigh. He stood there frozen a moment longer, before quickly coming to the realization that there was something he had to do. He headed out the door and into the long, narrow hallway now desperate to speak to the man he'd just asked to leave.

"Mr. Wyzecki!" Ted called out, to no avail. "Walt!" he exclaimed, catching up to the denim covered man who sluggishly made his way to the elevator at the end of the corridor.

"Look" Ted began, a little out of breath as he stepped in front of Walt. "How are you getting home?"

"Huh?" Walt grunted.

"Home. How are you getting there?"

"That's none of your Goddamn business" Walt said sharply.

"You're right. It's not", Ted admitted.

Walt rolled his eyes and moved around Ted, reaching for the elevator button.

"But…" Ted began, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, pulling out a few bills. "Just take this. I'll call you a cab."

"Are you kidding me? Did you not hear anything I just said in there? I don't want handouts!"

"Believe me, I heard it all", Ted revealed. "But I can assure you, this is my money, not Blake's. And I know he'd probably never speak to me again if he knew what I was doing out here right now. But I also know that, deep down, he loves you. You're the only father he's got, and if you never make it home tonight, he'd hate himself forever. So I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing it for him. And if you love him as much as I do, as much as you should, then you'll take it and let me call you a cab" Ted said firmly, holding the money out in his right hand.

He fully expected to be yelled at and perhaps threatened, but instead Walt slowly took the money from his hand, never lifting his head high enough to make eye contact. Ted was sure he saw a fleeting hint of remorse cross Walt's face as he shoved the bills into the back pocket of his jeans.

Walt remained silent while Ted called for a cab, facing the elevator which arrived just as Ted hung up his cell phone. As he entered it, Ted left him with one final message in a voice deepened by sadness: "You know, I hope one day you realize what an incredible son you have."

With that, the elevator doors closed and the inebriated man was whisked down to the lobby.