A/N: When I wrote Sins of the Father I'd thought that it was going to be all of the involvement that I was going to have with this headcanon and that would be the end of it... And then this happened, because what any story and any continuity needs is a heaping serving of Doctor Watts being a complete tool.

Hope you guys like it!

"You're up awfully late."

Arthur's voice might as well have been an electric shock. It roused Hazel to attention, and his gaze snapped up from the small leather bound logbook that he had balanced against his was something that Hazel hadn't been expecting, regardless of his surroundings.

But it seemed that the good Doctor Watts had decided to bother him. Because of that, Hazel sighed and slid the pencil that he'd been using between the books' pages before closing it. He secured the leather thong that was attached to the book's spine to make sure it couldn't fall open. Hazel kept his book gripped in his hands for a little while before he finally looked up at Arthur with clear annoyance written across his face.

"Arthur." Hazel grumbled, keeping his voice steady. "I could say the same to you." It wasn't that late but if this was the way that the two of them were going to be talking, Hazel figured it was best to play along.

"Yes," Arthur commented, edging his way into Hazel's bed without invitation and putting his feet up on it. A quick look over at the thing man told Hazel that Arthur was completely aware of how little Hazel liked him right then. Arthur never took off his shoes before setting his feet up on anything unless it belonged to him. Hazel suspected that it was Arthur's way of marking his territory. "I suppose you could."

Hazel shook his head and set the book down at his side, the words that he'd had buzzing in his head all but forgotten. "What do you want?"

"Myself?" Arthur spoke calmly, though he put on airs of being actually offended or upset by the situation. "I'm simply doing my best to check that my teammates remain in fighting shape."

Hazel rolled his eyes. "If that's the case, shouldn't you be attending to literally anyone else?"

"You are not without your weaknesses, Hazel." Arthur replied, ignoring the question for his own purposes. It just left Hazel irritated, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "If you aren't getting rest, you'll fall ill."

"I'm going to sleep soon." Hazel replied, hand settling over the leather journal at his side. "Or I was before you decided to come here."

Arthur shot Hazel a look which the larger of the two men was all too familiar with. It was the sort of condescending one that asked 'really?' as though Arthur didn't already know the answer to his own question.

The truth was that Hazel's nighttime proclivities were no small secret. Everyone in Salem's fortress had at least some awareness of the fact that Hazel only rested when he strictly needed to. Otherwise, he was content to stay up late and wander until he finally felt tired enough that he needed to drop. If that didn't work, he'd go to the training rooms or seek out some sort of company.

Most of those late nights were spent with Salem herself rather than his teammates.

But there were some nights like this one where Hazel only wanted the quiet comfort of his own bunk and no interruptions.

"I was." Hazel reiterated, picking the book up again and shoving it down under the pillow at his side so that he could hopefully hide it.

Arthur was smart though, and he had surprisingly good eyesight despite his age. It wasn't as good as Hazel's was, of course, and definitely nowhere near as poor as either of their half-blind teammates.

But it was good enough.

"A diary, Hazel?" Arthur commented, his electric green irises flickering over to the pillow. "What are you, some sort of teenage girl? I thought Cinder was the only one on our team-"

"Not a diary." Hazel stressed, letting out a quiet sigh as he raised a large hand to push his hair out of his face. "A log."

"Oh, a log?" Arthur laughed. "You say that as though there's some sort of difference!"

Hazel opened his mouth to retort, but naturally Arthur didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

"What's wrong, Hazel?" He asked, focusing his gaze on Hazel with an intensity that was enough to make Hazel uncomfortable. It reminded him of an old teammate, a woman with green eyes that had been just as strong-willed as Arthur was. She used to be able to stare holes into him, and she wouldn't do anything to patch him up later, despite having the ability to do so with the flick of her wrist.

Hazel fought hard to shake the thought.

He hated green eyes these days. It came from a mixture of pain and spite.

In Arthur's case, it was definitely spite.

"Nothing." Hazel nearly growled out his reply. "Just some things on my mind that I needed to take care of."

Arthur rolled his eyes, raising a hand in front of him almost like he was checking his nails. "You are aware that there isn't anyone on this team that's still acting like themselves since returning from their last missions." He turned his head, grinning under that mustache of his. "Of course, the girl came back half blind, Tyrian comes back even more of a whimpering fool as always." Arthur's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You come back acting odd, in your own way." He grinned a little wider. "Did seeing Sienna Khan upset you so?"

Hazel didn't reply, merely did his best to brace himself for what he knew Arthur was going to say next.

"Of course it did." Arthur continued, as though he'd imagined some sort of response. "To want any contact with a beast such as..." Hazel grit his teeth, hands balling into fists. Arthur got the message and dropped the topic. "Of course." He grumbled, sitting up and setting one foot on the bed. "Whatever you say."

Again, Hazel felt a rage over the blatant show of disrespect, if only because he knew that Arthur was fully aware of everything that he was doing. He knew that Hazel was going to end up sleeping without blankets that night because he didn't want to deal with the dirt and whatever else was on the soles of Arthur's feet. Considering that Arthur had a lab to himself, Hazel didn't want to think about what the 'else' could be.

"You have come back acting odd, Hazel." Arthur continued, his voice softening just slightly despite the fact that it wasn't necessary and there wasn't anything to be gained from it. "And as a physician I find it to be troubling that you're falling apart as you are."

"I'm not-"

"What happened, Hazel?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice steady yet insistent. "You know that she'll pick up on the changes in your behavior soon enough. Assuming she hasn't already, of course."

"Nothing."

"You aren't a good liar."

"It's nothing." Hazel repeated the word, knowing that his tone had changed and that it came out as more of a growl than it would have normally. "I'm serious."

"Lies again." Arthur muttered. "You know I won't leave until you tell me."

If Hazel could have gotten away with throttling Arthur, Hazel was sure that he would have. But Salem was insistent on keeping her minions more or less intact, and so Hazel didn't move to do anything. The only thing stopping him was that he didn't want to face Salem's punishments.

But despite all of that, Arthur was telling the truth- there would be no peace until he explained things.

"I thought I..." Hazel shook his head, his brow furrowing as he angled himself away from Arthur to avoid too much scrutiny. "I thought I saw someone familiar."

"Intriguing." Arthur said, sounding almost bored. "What, an old girlfriend?" Hazel shot him a flat look. "Boyfriend?" Arthur tried again, mocking in his own way. "No, that can't be it." Arthur mumbled. "To think that anyone would willingly date-"

Their eyes met.

Arthur backed down before he could continue. "But of course." he mumbled. "As a physician, it would be responsible for me to suggest therapy."

"I don't need it." Hazel muttered. It was true. There was no use for such things for a man in his position, off on the edges of humanity as he was. "It doesn't matter. I was just mistaken..." His voice trailed off. "I'm sure of it."

"No, it does matter." Arthur replied. "Tell me."

"My son."

"What?" Arthur replied, sneering slightly. "The dead one?"

"Yes." Hazel mumbled, ignoring the boil of anger underneath his skin. "I thought I saw him. It's impossible but-"

"Wishful thinking, perhaps?"

"Yes."

Arthur sneered slightly, his mustache moving with the expression. Hazel had to fight back the urge to do something about it. How the man could come to him acting so smug at a time like this was in a way, beyond him.

But this was also Watts that he was thinking about, and so he supposed that a lot of that sort of behavior just came with the territory of being Arthur Watts.

"Well, that won't do." Arthur spoke calmly, leaning back in the bunk and making himself just a bit more comfortable. Again, Hazel felt angry at the man for his intrusion, but said nothing. "To be bogged down in the dead it's… well-" Arthur paused, checking his watch. "It's unbecoming of a warrior of your stature."

Hazel paused. He knew exactly what Arthur was trying to get at, but he didn't want to have any part in addressing or dealing with it. It was all just mind games at that point, Hazel was sure of it. So he said nothing and leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm aware." He finally said, staring at a spot on the wall, just past Tyrian's unoccupied bunk. "Is there something that you want, Watts?"

"Simply looking to correct your behavior before Salem does." Arthur replied too nonchalantly. "As the leader of this team-" Hazel shot the man an unamused stare, and Arthur seemed to recoil from it only slightly, "It's in my vested interest to keep you in fighting shape."

"I'm in perfect physical condition" Hazel muttered, as though that was going to be enough to get Arthur to leave him alone. "As long as I am capable of fighting for Salem, there won't be any problem."

Arthur rolled his eyes in response. "Yes, well,' He began. "We'll see how well that works out for you."

Hazel said nothing. There was just nothing that needed to be said, and Arthur seemed to be aware enough of that on his own. The man sat up now, and he edged himself in next to Hazel at his side, not saying a word but also doing nothing to prevent himself from dragging his shoes over Hazel's bed.

"Hazel." Arthur spoke again. Hazel nodded slowly, doing nothing to look over at the other man because he didn't want to deal with the consequences of whatever it was Arthur was trying to get out of him. In fact, Hazel was willing to bet money that the other man was trying to figure out what it was that he had been up to before Arthur had decided to interrupt.

"What?" Hazel growled his response, knowing that he was still acting a bit more aggressively than he would have liked. "What do you want?"

"I need you to promise me that you won't give her any reason to suspect that there is something wrong." Arthur sneered ."I know that you're…" He stared at Hazel with those green eyes of his again, and Hazel couldn't quite bring himself to respond in any way. Nothing made him comfortable about this. "Distressed, when it comes to the dead family… thing."

Hazel glared at Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

Arthur knew fully well that to say 'distressed' when it came to such an issue was making an understatement.

"She knows about it." Hazel mumbled. He knew that it wasn't going to be enough to get Arthur to leave him alone about this, but that was just the reality of how things went. He knew more about the situation than anyone else did, and Hazel was well aware of that fact. That was the one thing that he could take comfort in. No matter how much was said or speculated about his family and what had happened with them, he always knew the truth.

Nobody else.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "But am I correct in assuming that she doesn't know about your little.." He paused, feigning like he was actually looking for the words that he wanted. "Problem?"

"She doesn't know about it." Hazel mumbled. "It was…" He shook his head. There was no way for him to explain what he'd seen, or what he was sure that he'd felt. There was absolutely no way that he'd had a run in with his only child. The child had been buried, Hazel was sure of it. The last time that he'd been able to go through the tiny village that he'd called home at the time, he'd even seen the grave.

There was absolutely no way that he'd seen little Oscar.

And yet, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he had. That was the worst part- no matter how many times he told himself that he had just been mistaken, Hazel couldn't do anything to convince himself otherwise.

It wasn't a good feeling, by any means.

"What was it?" Arthur asked again, checking his watch like he thought that he was going to find something on its face that could serve as a panacea to the situation. "A trick of the mind?"

"I was just mistaken." Hazel said calmly, not believing a single word that left his mouth. "I'm sure of it."

Arthur let out a quiet sigh, and moved so that he could stand up. He didn't look convinced by Hazel's newest mantra either, but that had to be expected, Hazel thought. This wasn't an easy situation, and while he was sure that Arthur meant well (either that or he was looking for ammunition- Hazel didn't know which was the case,) Hazel wasn't giving his teammate much to go on. That was a good thing though, if only because it meant that he was going to be left alone a little bit easier than he would have been otherwise.

"I see." Arthur said calmly. "I should tell you that should she figure this out, I'm not doing anything to intervene."

"I expected that." Hazel mumbled calmly. "Anything else?"

"Do make sure to get some rest." Arthur said, turning and leaving the room that team WTCH normally shared. Hazel blinked, glad that he was being left alone for a little while. "I have other patients to see to."

"Of course." Hazel mumbled. "I'll rest when I feel like it."

"Very well." Arthur replied calmly. "I'll speak to you soon, I suppose." With that, he left the room, and Hazel was once again left alone with his own thoughts, at least for a little while.

Hazel sighed heavily and looked around the empty room one last time. He needed to just find some way to calm down and relax, and hopefully get some sleep later on in the night when it became necessary for him to do. It took him a few minutes to manage to lull himself into the feeling that he had nothing to worry about, and then Hazel got up, first brushing any debris from Arthur's boots away from his bed, and then he finally laid back down. He was tired, and a bit beyond caring about whatever else Arthur could have dragged onto his sheets.

After a minute, Hazel finally reached into the space under his pillow to find the leather bound book that he'd placed there. Hazel took a deep breath and untied the thong that kept it closed before he finally opened the book back up, flipping straight to the page that he had been working on when he'd been so unceremoniously interrupted.

Staring back up at him were his own words, each in the same uneasy scrawl. Each one penned to a boy that was never going to be able to read them.

Dear Oscar,

I'm sorry that I

Hazel tried to find any way to quell the too powerful emotions that welled in his stomach when he read them. Nothing was enough, he told himself as he placed his pencil back down on the page and scratched them out, knowing that those words alone were probably wrong. The thought was incomplete. It had died the second Arthur had entered the room. He needed to work through his thoughts on what had happened during his trip, though.

If there was going to be any getting past what he'd thought he'd seen, he needed to deal with it and process it now before anyone other than Arthur caught on. He didn't want Cinder figuring it out, and he definitely didn't want Tyrian figuring it out.

Hazel wanted for Salem to realize the situation least of all, if only because he didn't want to learn the consequences for being off his game. She knew what he'd been through, and that it tormented him, but even still Hazel was not fool enough not to fear her.

He stared at the sheet of paper in front of him for much longer than he should have. Everything in Hazel screamed at him to at least try to write what he needed to down, but when he placed his pencil against the paper nothing came to mind and his heart sank.

No matter what he did, he was sure that it wasn't going to matter in the long run. The damage had already been done to his family, and Hazel was aware, at least to some degree, that he was clinging to some false hope that there was still something out there in the normal world left for him.

It was foolish to imagine.

But Hazel had to do his best to get out those negative feelings before they became a problem. He was sure that Salem was already beginning to tune into them on account of her nonhuman biology alone. If she could feel it, so could every monster out in that wasteland. Hazel did not consider himself foolish enough to give himself an opportunity to fall so easily.

The man took a breath that was a little bit too deep in an attempt to calm himself and finally gave up on any semblance of calmness. If he was going to get this done, it had to be quick, and it had to be real. Not a word could be a lie, and the fact that he was writing to a son that would ultimately never get to read his letter didn't matter.

It was the principle of the thing that mattered, and so Hazel began to write once more. This time, the words came and nobody interrupted.

Dear Oscar,

I'm sorry that I left you and your mother behind.

Empty, Hazel told himself as he stared down at the words. They were just utterly empty, and there was no getting past that. But this draft wasn't a lost cause, not yet. And so Hazel kept on writing.

I was just doing what was best for our family. I didn't mean to be gone, or to leave you alone for so long. But we needed money and it was my job to make sure that we had it.

Still not enough, Hazel thought to himself mid-pause. More still needed to be said.

Nothing was ever going to be enough, and yet he still felt the need to do his best to try.

I made a lot of enemies, Oscar, you have to understand that. I know you won't, but I had to do what I had to do to keep you and your mother safe. I'm sorry that things ended the way that they did. I shouldn't have left you behind.

I thought I saw you, the other day.

Hazel froze, wondering whether or not he was somehow delving into a topic too deep and too hard to follow for the imagined recipient of his letter that was never going to leave his logbook. He didn't know why it felt like it mattered whether or not the topic was too heavy, but somehow it still did.

He was definitely just clinging to a false hope that he had in fact seen little Oscar at the train depot, as foolish as it was.

But was it so wrong for him to engage in wishful thinking of that sort? Was he wrong to try to mourn?

Hazel banished the thought, shook his head and ignored the strand of hair that fell into his face with the motion before he continued on with his letter.

I don't know if it was you, but I thought it was you anyways. You look so much like your mother. You mostly have her eyes, and you have her hair. You even have her freckles. I thought I saw you at a train station. You didn't have money for a ticket.

If I was sure that it was you, I would have said something to you. I would have tried to convince you that it was me.

But I couldn't do that.

So I just made sure that you had a train ticket instead.

Did you get to where you were going? Did people realize that there was something wrong and stop you?

Why did you look so afraid? Have you heard the things that people say about me? Do you know what kind of monster left you behind?

I don't know that you do.

Please, whatever you do, don't judge me for it Oscar. I did what I had to do, and you and your mother paid the price.

I

Hazel stopped. The words were getting too heavy, their meaning too significant.

Instead of letting himself finish the almost complete letter, Hazel closed his logbook and tied it shut with the leather band before slipping the pencil that he'd been using into the space between the book and the cord. He made sure that everything was secure and slipped the book away out of sight and out of mind.

He'd said everything that he'd needed to. The final thought was too heavy, and so Hazel was ready to let it die when he went to sleep that night.

After all, what point was there in "I love yous" when the subject was someone that had died so many years ago?

Hazel didn't know, and so he didn't let himself finish the thought. Instead, he finally laid down and turned off the dustlight lamp beside his bed before staring up at the ceiling above him and wishing that he was anywhere other than the place where he actually was.

It didn't work.

When he finally managed to drift off to sleep that night, Hazel dreamed of a little boy with multicolored eyes, laughing as he was tugged along by his mother while they got groceries.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when he woke up in a cold sweat and only found himself unable to sleep again.