A/N: This is really short; but whatever. I was listening to my iPod and this song came on. Absolutely had to write a fic on it! I do not own Phantom Skye or anything else related to Harvest Moon and I do not own the song You Had to Be There by Tim McGraw.
You Had To Be There
The thief has his eyes closed as he lies on his cell in jail. It wasn't his first time being in jail; but it was defiantly his last. His sentence this time was for life. But that's what happens when you take up a life of crime. He might have gotten off lighter, but Skye didn't want to go back to the real world.
The cell was dank, but it didn't smell too bad. It was actually a bit comfy and the food wasn't too bad. The only thing that the thief could possible think of that he might miss, was Jill. He liked to fancy that he was in love with her; but he was too messed up. She deserved someone better than him. Which apparently she found out too. He got a message a week ago from Forget-Me-Not Valley; Jill married Griffin.
Skye sits up on his bead and runs his hand through his messy silver hair. Another one of the things that had made it easier for him to be caught; he was just too recognizable. But once again; it didn't matter. Nothing did anymore.
Abruptly a guard bangs on the door. "Yo Phantom!"
The thief smiles slightly at the nickname he gave himself. Phantom Skye. That was the name he was known around here as.
He looks up at the guard without saying a word. The heavy set guard loudly pops a piece of gum. "You have a visitor."
The guard unlocks the cell and opens the door. He gestures for Skye to get out. Briefly he contemplates escape; it would be so easy to overpower the fat guard and get out of the prison. But he didn't want to. Dutifully, Skye follows the guard to the booth where visitors could talk to the jail mates.
Skye sits down on the chair and picks up the phone provided while he waits for his visitor. Suddenly a man walks through the door.
The man has silver hair, just like Skye's. His feminine taste in clothing was just like Skye's too. His face was grizzled and had a haunted look on it.
He sat down, picked up the phone and said, "Boy, I'm your old man." Then he touched the glass between the two, as if to shake his hand.
The thief, he didn't budge. Not even so much as a blink as he stared at the man you had left him since before day one.
The man said, "Oh, come one. Better late than never, don't you think?"
He said, "I read it in the paper. Can't believe you're twenty one. Can't believe some son of mine could do the things I hear you've done."
Like you care. Skye thinks to himself in disgust as he stares down the man claiming to be his father. It was his father; he knew it from pictures.
He went on like some big hero, who flew in to save the day. And then the thief said, "If you're here to steer me right, man, it's too late."
In a sudden fit of anger, Skye burst out to explain his issues to his father. "You had to be there. And I'm talking from day one. That's the only time a man should talk through glass to his new son. And you had to go back; and teach me how when I was nine. 'Cause my mama couldn't throw a ball, even if she had the time."
Skye pauses, hoping to see some sort of reaction in the man. When denied, he continues. "And I should've been learnin' how to fish. Instead of learnin' how to smoke. I bet if you'd have whooped my tail, I'd never thought it was a joke."
Then a flash of sorrow passes through the man's face and Skye leans back in the chair in satisfaction. "Sometimes the will for doin' wrong is way too strong for any mama's prayers. You had to be there."
The man said, "Boy, I'm sorry that you hate me like you do."
Skye said. "Dry it up old man. We ain't making this about you."
He looks confused, so Skye proceeds to tell him, all his anger pouring out. "It's about a teenage girl against the world. Who was left there high and dry." In an irrational fit of anger, Skye pounds like desk with his fist. "About a kid who might have stood a whole lot better shot at life."
Skye was, of course, talking about his mother and himself. His father left his mom when they were dating; the coward that he was. Because of that, Skye's life had been over before it had even started.
The thief's eyes begin to fill up with tears and he looks down to hide them. He would never be able to marry the girl he loved because of this. Never be able to have children. Never be able to do anything with his life, other than sit around in the cold stone walls of prison.
"But-" The man starts.
Skye holds up his hand and the man stops talking. He lifts his head up, showing the old man tears streaking down his face. "You had to be there. And I'm talking from day one."
He puts his hand on the glass; the only substance that separated the two. "That's the only time a man should talk through glass to his new son."
Skye sniffles and wipes his sleeve across his face, but to no avail. The tears keep on coming. "You'd have to go back and teach me how when I was nine. 'Cause my mama couldn't throw a ball, even if she had the time."
Now the old man was starting to cry as well. Skye couldn't help but feel a smug sort of satisfaction at that. "I should've been leanin' how to fish, instead of learnin' how to smoke. I bet if you'd have whooped my tail, I'd never thought it was a joke."
Skye glances at the clock. His time for the conversation was almost up; and then it would be back to the cold, dark cell. He turns back to the man and he said. "Sometimes the will for doing wrong is way too strong for any mama's prayers."
He shrugs his shoulders, another round of tears falling down his face. "You had to be there."
The guard taps Skye on the shoulder. His time was up. But before the thief hung up the phone he said, "They say I'm out of time."
And it hit the man right there and then. "My God, son, so am I."