*******
Priorities
In all of his 40 something years, he had never, any time that he could recall, had a moment of clarity like he had in that moment. Turning the gun over in his hand, his mind slowly began to process the facts. He knew this gun. He had held it before. He had fired it before. He had cleaned it and locked it away in the gun cabinet.
In that moment, Jim Valenti knew exactly what had happened.
The panic within him flared, his mind not wanting to believe what he already felt was true. He kept telling himself over and over that it was a bad dream. There were no such things as aliens and he did not just kill his son while trying to protect them. His son was at home, in bed, dreaming. Dreaming of some girl at school, or of a test that was coming up, or of the weekend, or anything.
Kyle was not dying.
But he was. As soon as Jim shoved the screen aside he knew. He didn't need to see the blood that was covered by the items that had fallen as Kyle had tried to hold himself up. He didn't need to hear the death rattle in his son's lungs. He didn't need to see the placement of the hole in his son's chest. The moment of clarity had grown and he already knew those things. Felt them inside of himself.
None of it, however, hit home until he touched his son. Until he felt the clammy skin, the thready heartbeat. Until he was close enough to smell the blood.
Panic was replaced with pain and guilt. With regrets. And suddenly with memories.
***
Kyle was 8. In fact, it was his eighth birthday. He sat at the kitchen table, the model airplane box in front of him. His eyes were bright and he beamed up at his father.
"You're gonna help me put it together, right dad?" he asked excitedly.
"Uh yeah," Jim replied, looking at the gift one of his deputies had picked up at his request. He probably should have asked what it was before he gave it to Kyle. At least then he'd have been prepared. But, like always, he had been too busy to be concerned with it. Besides, there would always be other birthdays.
"Let's do it now. Ok dad?" Kyle whined as he bounced in his chair. His dad had remembered his birthday this year. He had even remembered to get him a present! And he would help him put it together like all dads do on their sons' birthdays.
"Not right now son." The sheriff slipped his hat onto his head. "We'll do it tomorrow." He turned away, not wanting to see the tears well up in his son's eyes. Even though he knew he had important stuff to take care of, it hurt to see his son disappointed.
"But daaaaaaaaad," Kyle started to protest, his voice quivering with tears.
"I said tomorrow Kyle," Jim snapped as he headed towards the door. He didn't have time for this. There were things to do at the station. Files to go over. He reached for the doorknob, but the hand that snaked out to grab his wrist stopped him. He looked into the eyes of his furious wife.
"You didn't even pick it out, did you?" she demanded.
"Oh come on S-" he began, his tone placating. Since when did it matter to her anyway? She was the one who always said the boy was better off without him.
"You didn't pick it out, and you can't even stay to help him put it together. What kind of father are you?" she hissed, her fingers digging into his arm.
He shook her off. "The kind with a job." With a jerk, he pulled open the door.
"Yeah, just like your father," she replied as he closed the door behind him.
***
"Kyle" His voice was hoarse, pained. His son looked up at him, eyes already filled with tears. "Son" he tried again, only to find he couldn't finish. No father wanted to willingly give pain to his son. Jim Valenti was no exception.
The now ten year old Kyle looked up at his father from his place on the floor. Lego's surrounded him and there was a large structure made of the familiar blue, red and yellow blocks in front of him. Gingerly placing another blue block to the building as he looked away, Kyle fought the tears. His voice seemed to be in his stomach, but finally he forced it up.
"Where's mommy?"
Jim felt the tears well up in his own eyes and tried to blink them back. He had to be strong for Kyle. "Well son it seems your mommy wasn't happy here with us." The words came out before he could think about them. As soon as they left his mouth, he wished he could turn back time and recapture them.
"She doesn't love me anymore?" Kyle whimpered. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn't bother wiping them away. Never once, in all his ten years, did he think his mother would leave him.
Slowly Jim crouched in front of his son. Holding a hand out to him, he took the smaller one in his own when it was offered and held it gently. More than anything he wanted to grab Kyle and hold him tight. Hug him until all the pain went away. It was bad that she had left, but that she had left her son was worse. Unforgivable. No one, mother or father, should ever leave their own child behind.
"It's not that she doesn't love you," he started, knowing his words were less than convincing, "She's just not happy here anymore. She's not happy being with daddy anymore son. But she loves you. She'll always love you."
Untangling himself from the plastic blocks, Kyle hurled himself at his father. Wrapping his little arms around his neck, the boy sobbed. Jim held him, sitting in the middle of a pile of Lego's, until the boy had cried himself out.
Rising gently, he carried his son to his bedroom and carefully placed him on his bed. Putting a blanket softly over him, he kissed his son's small head and sighed. Jim would do anything to keep his son from feeling so horribly ever again. Anything to keep someone from causing his own flesh and blood this kind of pain.
***
"What'd you get me?"
"Huh?"
Kyle's voice was filled with excitement like it was every year on this day. "What'd you get me?" he asked again.
"Get you?" Jim couldn't hide the confusion.
Kyle knew. As soon as he saw the look on his father's face, he knew. "You forgot didn't you?" The soft voice was deafening.
Suddenly it clicked. With a quick glance to the calendar on his desk, Sheriff Valenti confirmed it. Kyle's birthday. He was 13 today. He had reminded himself of the upcoming event a few weeks ago. He'd even marked it on his calendar. So how'd he miss it?
"Of - of course not!" he stuttered, trying to recover. "You just can't have it now. You have to wait until you get home. Besides, it's not here."
"Yeah right," Kyle replied as he slid off the chair and walked slowly to the door. "When I get home."
Jim watched his son leave, hearing a chorus of "Happy Birthdays" coming from the deputies. It took less than a minute for one of them to poke their head in and ask, "What'd you get him this year?"
"A bike," he replied quietly. "I just need to go pick it up. Nothing's safe in the house if Kyle thinks there's presents around." He tried to smile, to shake it off, but Jim knew the deputy hadn't believed him. A missed birthday was too common to believe otherwise.
***
The door slammed, glass rattling in the frame from the force. Kyle flung himself onto the couch, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.
"What is it son?"
"Nothing."
"Alright." He paused, not knowing what to do. He wasn't good at this kind of stuff. This was where a mother was supposed to come in wasn't it? "How's Liz?"
"Fine I guess. She dumped me tonight."
"Ahhh, I see." Well, that would certainly explain the foul mood anyway.
"I don't get it," Kyle ranted, "What's so great about Max Evans?"
"Max Evans?"
"Yeah! I mean, sure he's smart I guess. But he doesn't play any sports, and he doesn't even talk to anyone. He doesn't even have any friends unless you count that Guerin freak. So what's so special about him? Why would Liz rather be with him than me?"
Kyle looked towards the chair his father had been sitting in, but it was now empty. The slamming of the door told him all he needed to know. He had been forgotten again.
***
The tent. Kyle had left angry, not that he could blame him. With a deep sigh, he shoved his hands through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. Emotions warred within him. The desire to be with his son. To spend that time with him. To make sure Kyle knew how much he loved him. But he also felt it was important for him to be there if they found something. To be able to say that his father had been right all these years. A groan escaped him and he shoved away from the desk. A tent. He had to go get a tent. The campsite wasn't far from the sighting. He could keep track of everything there. Besides, the hurt and disappointment that had been on Kyle's face was just too much.
The temptation to camp next to the Evans' was too much to pass up. He could sit on top of them and they wouldn't be able to leave. They'd have to stay there. And if they stayed, then he stayed. Kyle would never know the bargain he made with himself.
But then they were gone. The four of them. And so he followed, leaving Kyle asleep in the tent. Not once did he look back. Check to make sure Kyle wouldn't miss him.
They were gathered around something. He strained to see, but couldn't spot anything significant. Until Kyle. Kyle was suddenly there. With them. Kyle who was asleep in the tent.
Shame washed over him. He had left his son. He had chosen someone else over his own son. And Kyle knew it. It was one thing to have to admit it to himself. Another to have to admit it to the boy he had vowed to protect and love.
The words hurt. All of them. But not as badly as Kyle's last words to him.
"Now I know why you never wanted to see grandpa again. Because to him you were just a low priority! "
Jim had always felt like a low priority to his father. He always felt like second place. He had sworn to himself on the day Kyle was born that he would never let that happen to his son. He had failed. But was protecting him from the likes of Max Evans really failing?
***
Jim couldn't blame the boy for the hysterics. He had nearly been killed. And he blamed the Sheriff. Maybe rightfully so even.
"I didn't know this was gonna happen. I didn't know he was as dangerous as he was." It was the truth, but even he knew how thin it sounded.
"What did you tell him? Why did he come after me? You're the Sheriff. You're supposed to protect me. But all you've done is go after me! You believe all these crazy things. You're just like Hubble. You want me? Well, here I am! Take me." Max's voice carried, several octaves higher than normal due to emotion.
Michael tried to calm his friend, only to be brushed aside. Max stared Jim down, daring the Sheriff to confirm the things he thought were true. Daring him to prove it to himself.
"Son..." Jim tried, hoping to make the boy see that he really hadn't meant for this to happen.
"Would you treat your son this way?"
The question was simple. Yet it cut to the core of so many things. With stark realization, he knew he had treated his son like this. Had treated him worse at times. Had made him second best. Made him feel unheard and unloved.
"Get outta here. The both of you. You were never here. Go on!"
He didn't think Max was going to go. Feared the boy would stay and there would be more explaining to do. But Michael got him to go. Convinced him to leave.
As Jim called in the shots fired, he silently promised himself, and Kyle, that he would be there. He would treat his son as he deserved to be treated. As he had never been treated. Kyle would now be his first priority.
***
"Somebody, help me!" he yelled. Panic was welling up inside of him, making his thoughts foggy, unclear. He looked up at them, gathered around with looks of shock and horror on their faces. Anything, he would give anything to keep his son with him. His own life, everything he had, anything. "Save my son, please." Begging was all he could do. Years of promises, both kept and broken, couldn't save Kyle now.
Max recovered from the shock first. His face was the first to really register what had happened. Jim wondered if he had looked like that on the day Liz was shot. The boy stepped forward, his steps jerky, shaky as if he was unsure of himself. With one look back at his friends and one at the Sheriff, he laid a hand against Kyle's chest.
The current that seemed to run through Kyle touched him as well. Not in the same way, not repairing damage to torn cells and tissue, but sending a small shock through his body. He could feel the jolt start in his son's chest and spread out, down his arms and into his fingers, descending from hips to legs into toes. The tingle flowed down his limbs as well.
The sensation faded and Kyle opened his eyes. "What the hell just happened to me?"
Jim felt the relief turn his muscles into jelly. Felt it liquefy his insides. Felt it tap at his heart, making it stutter a few beats. He looked up at Max, knowing he owed the boy everything. Knowing he owed the boy a life.
"I don't care who you are, or what you are. I'll be here for you." All he could hope was that all of them knew he was sincere. That he had never been more honest or forthcoming in his entire life. He would lay down his life for these kids if it came to it. Becoming aware, once again of Kyle in his arms, he hugged his son tightly and said, "I need a moment alone with my son."
"Dad?" The sound of Kyle's voice made him think, once again, of the ten year old boy that had realized his mother had deserted him.
"I'm here son." He gripped Kyle's hand tightly. "I'm right here."
"Dad, what happened to me?" The boys' voice was shaky, weak with shock.
"A miracle son." He didn't fight the tears as they began to fall. "A miracle."
Kyle looked up into his father's crying face. Confusion and shock went through him, unsure of what had pushed his father to this kind of emotional display. "Dad?" It came out as a whisper. "Are you ok?"
Tears continued to fall, but the smile touched his eyes. "I'm fine son. Better than I've been in a long time." Jim hugged the boy again. "I love you Kyle. Don't ever forget that."
Blinking, Kyle returned the hug. His father hadn't hugged him like this since his mother had left. He hadn't seen him cry since then either. "I love you too dad."
They parted slowly, Jim unwilling to let his boy go and Kyle fearing what had caused this reaction.
"Go home son. Ok? I want you to go home and wait for me there. Can you make it?"
Home? Home. Oh yeah, home. Kyle let the request sink into his mind. With a small nod, he rose carefully from the ground. "I can make it home."
Jim helped Kyle to the door. The urge to hug the boy tightly kept growing until he thought he might crush his son against him. With a hug as tight as he dared, he stepped back and looked at his son.
"I'm proud of you Kyle. Now go home. I'll be there soon."
He stepped out the door, confusion still in the forefront of his mind. Pausing, Kyle looked back through the glass to find his father watching him. Tears shimmers in his eyes still. Raising a hand, Kyle waved, then turned and headed for home.