The Empty Years

A fire burned in the hearth and lamplight cast a cheery glow around the room. The sole occupant looked content, seated comfortably in his favourite armchair, glass of whisky in one hand an open book in the other, his brown eyes eagerly devouring its contents.

Johnny watched his father surreptitiously through the French windows, troubled by something the older man had said just minutes ago. The youngest Lancer had gotten as far as the barn before the words had fully registered, the sudden unease had proved impossible to shake off, and he had turned around and slowly made his way back towards the hacienda.

The brief conversation had replayed over and over in his head; the more he thought about it the more it weighed him down. He had tried telling himself he was being irrational, that he had read too much into it, but that hadn't worked. All his reasoning had failed to soothe his concerns and Johnny had had to acknowledge that tonight, albeit unconsciously, his father had given a little something away.

Murdoch had no idea of what he'd said of course, and would no doubt declare it just an unfortunate choice of words, insisting those words held no real significance. His younger son knew differently. They spoke of loneliness, of endless empty years. Johnny knew no one else would see through them; see the deeper meaning like he did, like his father would, if only he would drop his defences.

So what was he to do now? He ached to talk to his father, share some of the older man's pain. In the past year he had come to love and respect this man but still there was so much that stood between them. Things they didn't speak about, hurts they wouldn't, couldn't share. That wasn't quite true, Johnny had shared a lot with his father, he had opened up to him on many fronts. It had taken a while but somewhere along the line the stranger he'd met at Lancer and so scornfully addressed as 'old man' had earned his trust and had affectionately become his 'Old Man'.

Murdoch was the only one holding back! He remained tight lipped, guarded when it came to talking about himself. Oh he'd enthral them all with stories of his youth, describe with great fondness the distant land he'd left behind. He had had many an adventure since leaving Scotland and he was more than happy to share them with his sons, happy too to reminisce a little about the two great loves in his life. But he had never once spoken about his grief or the anguish he had endured. That topic was carefully steered around, pushed aside, and all too hurriedly dismissed.

Johnny couldn't dismiss it that easily, he wanted to know about that part of his father's life too, he wanted to share the good and the bad. That's why their earlier exchange was playing so heavily on his mind.

He had been all set to ride into Green River and join the other Saturday night revellers. Murdoch had eyed him approvingly as he'd stepped suitable attired into the great room. The older man had made the usual paternal requests about taking care and not being too late. Johnny had replied with a respectful "Yes sir". Half way out the door he'd turned around and grinned in his father's direction unable to resist a little teasing "You gonna be alright on your own? Scott ain't likely to wake til morning and there's no Teresa to fuss over you?" The older man had smiled back at him "Don't you worry son. I'm sure I'll survive, I'm quite used to my own company"

That was it! A simple, innocently made statement yet it had wiped the grin off the youngest Lancer's face. Of course his father was used to being on his own; he had spent the better part of the last twenty five years alone, but not through choice. Murdoch had lost two wives and two sons, lost the intimacy of family. No matter how willing and how giving, friends just couldn't fill that void. Teresa's presence had been a blessing of course, and Johnny knew the young woman had tried hard to make up for what was missing in her guardians life, but in all fairness it had been an impossible task.

'You gonna stand out here all night?' Johnny asked himself wishing someone would come along and help point him in the right direction! Did he head into town or back into the great room?

Town held the promise of several cold beers not to mention some female company. The great room held no such delights; he was likely to find only a stone wall waiting for him in there!

Sighing resignedly the young man headed for the front door.

"John?" Murdoch couldn't hide his surprise; he wasn't expecting his son to walk through the door again so soon. He'd believed Johnny well on his way to a good time by now. "Did you forget something?"

The brunet shook his head and moved further into the room.

The young man looked decidedly ill at ease and Murdoch wondered if that had anything to do with his injured brother, "If you're worried about leaving Scott..."

"No." Johnny hovered hesitantly by the couch, did he work his way up to this or get right to the point? "No I…I just changed my mind, I'm kinda beat."

The rancher's eyes narrowed a little as they studied the young man "Well you have been doing Scott's share of the work, an early night will do you good."

Glancing over at the grandfather clock Johnny grinned "Yeah, well it's a bit too early, I wouldn't mind a nightcap first. Refill?"

Murdoch shook his head. "No thank you son, I've had my quota for…" the patriarch's voice trailed off as his glass was snatched from his hand.

"One more! You can't let me drink on my own." Johnny insisted knowing liquor had a habit of loosening a man's tongue and Murdoch's was certainly in need of some oiling.

"As long as it is only one." The older man replied "I've got to work on the ledgers tomorrow and I will need a clear head for that."

'Better make it a large one then' Johnny thought pouring double the usual amount into Murdoch's glass.

The patriarch stared hard at the glass as it was pressed into his hand then up at his son. Johnny immediately averted his gaze before turning away and moving to sit on the couch. Murdoch swallowed the protest that had been ready on his lips, instead he silently observed the younger man, a little troubled by what he saw. Johnny's glass, in stark contrast to his own, held a miserly measure of alcohol, it nestled untouched in the young mans right hand. The slender fingers of his left hand drummed restlessly against his thigh, his blue eyes were downcast, determinedly avoiding his fathers gaze.

The boy had something on his mind, Murdoch was sure of that now and sadly it seemed Johnny believed his father needed to be a little drink befuddled before he could safely broach whatever it was with him.

The rancher couldn't help but feel a little hurt; he'd believed Johnny to be comfortable discussing anything with him now. What could he possible have to tell him that needed cushioning with a stiff drink?

There was one thing Murdoch dreaded hearing of course and no amount of liquor would soften that blow. The patriarch quickly dismissed the unsavoury notion. Johnny was happy, settled at Lancer, it was his home now. No, Murdoch reassured himself, his boy wasn't going anywhere.

Finally the blue eyes met his, searching and even a little wary. Curiosity now soaring out of control Murdoch snapped his book shut, leaned forward in his chair and voiced his concern, "What is it Johnny? Something's troubling you and…"

"You are." Came the softly spoken reply.

"Me?" Murdoch recoiled a little; not knowing what to make of his son's remark.

"Yeah. Well it was something you said."

"Something I said?" The patriarch cringed; he had a terrible knack of saying the wrong thing, especially to Johnny. He had unintentionally hurt the boy many times with his thoughtless remarks. Had he done it again? "Son I...what did I say?"

"That you were used to your own company."

Murdoch shrugged "And?"

"That's it!" Johnny squirmed under his father's intense gaze but he knew there was no going back now and added "That's what you said and that's what's troubling me."

Completely at a loss Murdoch shook his head "John I'm sorry. I don't quite see why such a comment would worry you."

Eyes locked on his father's Johnny continued "It's what lies behind the comment. The reasons you are so used to your own company."

Enlightenment suddenly shone on the older mans face; puzzlement turning swiftly to dismay. This was one conversation he wasn't prepared to have. It was all so irrelevant now; there really was no point in dredging up things that were best forgotten. Flipping open his book he stared down at it and without looking at his son casually dismissed him.

"It's not too late for you to go into town. Good night son"

Johnny couldn't help but smile, he'd expected a stone wall and that was exactly what he'd got. It was reassuring in an odd kind of way; it proved he knew his father as well as he thought he did. His father knew him pretty well too so surely it wouldn't come as any great surprise to find him being equally as pigheaded.

"Town ain't goin' anywhere's and neither am I."

Determination rang in his son's voice and Murdoch felt irritation surface, why was Johnny pushing this? What good would it do? Why couldn't the boy just leave the bad times behind them, where they belonged? Taking a steadying gulp of whisky the patriarch eyed his son. "John this won't get us anywhere…"

"I think it will." The younger man interrupted "I want to know what it was like for you. I don't want to open up old wounds Murdoch… just maybe understand you a little better."

The impassioned plea took the patriarch by surprise; Johnny was as reticent as he normally but tonight the boy was reaching out to him. It was, he realized another step forward in their relationship, one he couldn't ignore. He had reached out to his son in much the same way. As expected his initial attempts had been met with hostility but he'd weathered those storms and as Johnny's eyes had been opened to the truth about his father he had started to share the truth about himself.

Life had dealt Murdoch more than his fair share of hurt and heartache but it had all paled into insignificance on hearing what his son had had to endure. He realized he barely knew the half of it and he wondered at times if he was strong enough to hear what Johnny had so far chosen to hold back. Now he needed a different kind of strength, his son was asking to share his pain, and he baulked at the thought of burdening the boy with further grief but it was obviously very important to him.

"Murdoch?"

The soft voice snapped the older man out of his reverie and he found himself nodding his assent. That was the easy part, he didn't know how to begin and his first thought seemed a little unfair on Johnny but hopefully he would understand.

"How do you see me?"

Surprised by the question Johnny could only stare back at his father, he'd thought him willing to talk now he wasn't so sure, was he playing for time or maybe even trying to skirt around the issue? Irritably he muttered "What?"

"I want to know what you see when you look at me? Murdoch stated quietly.

Johnny studied his fathers face before quietly voicing his initial thoughts "I see a good man. An honest man."

"Anything else?"

"A man I like and respect." Johnny added a little awkwardly, unsure of what exactly his father expected him to say.

"A man you like and respect." The older man nodded seemingly pondering the words a little before continuing "So the fact I'm your father doesn't instantly come to mind?"

Johnny flinched, suddenly realising just what his father had really been wanting to hear. A simply acknowledgement of their relationship. Had he hurt the Old Man by neglecting to mention that fact? Suddenly he was desperate to repair any damage done "It ain't that I don't think of you like that Murdoch, 'cause I do. It's just that I've got used to seeing you that way now."

"It took you a while to accept me?"

"Yeah, longer than it should I know but…"

"You don't have to explain son, the fact that you have is all I need to know."

"You didn't know? Before tonight I mean?"

"I'd hoped so but was I suppose too scared to allow myself to believe. The thing is Johnny, what I'm trying to say albeit in a longwinded way, what hurts me most about the last twenty-five years is that I was a father in name only. I could grieve for Catherine, I could accept your mother had moved on but where you and Scott were concerned I was lost in some sort of limbo. I couldn't grieve and on the surface I suppose it seemed like I'd accepted the situation but I hadn't, I couldn't!

I'd see other men with their sons, the ache that caused inside was a constant reminder of what was missing in my life and there was the guilt and the worry. I didn't know where you were, if you were safe or even if you were alive and it ate at me like some…some cancer…"

A noise on the stairs silenced Murdoch and drove both him and Johnny to their feet, the two men hurrying towards the hallway to investigate.

Scott cringed when he heard the footsteps moving in his direction. He'd hoped he could make it back to his bedroom without either man knowing he'd set foot downstairs. He'd unwittingly heard a little of what he'd quickly realised was a very private conversation, and so he'd turned around with the intention of not intruding upon it. But he'd not been able to leave the scene as quickly as he would have liked. He was so very stiff and sore and with his left foot vehemently protesting his weight he could do little more than hobble. In his haste to avoid discovery he had stumbled on the first step, jarring his entire frame as his heavily bandaged torso impacted with the wooden stair rail. He'd managed to save himself from falling with his one good hand, and somehow amidst the shockwave of pain and annoyance that flooded his being he had turned around and eased himself down to sit on the second to bottom step. He could only hope it looked like that was as far as he had got on his sojourn.

Within seconds two sets of anxious eyes were looking at him but it was his brother who erupted first….

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

Scott wanted to laugh at his younger brother's indignation, how many times had Johnny disobeyed doctor's orders? Too many was the answer, maybe he should remind his sibling of that? No, better not, the last thing he wanted now was to distract the two men further.

"The four walls were beginning to close in on me so I thought I'd stretch my legs" Scott smiled weakly suddenly feeling a little intimidated by the two men who now stood side by side before him, both had their arms folded across their chest and both their faces had taken on a look of disapproval. He felt like a child, a naughty one at that!

"Sam'll stretch your neck if he catches you and anyway you were asleep!" Johnny challenged.

"I was." Scott nodded although that wasn't exactly true; he'd pretended to be asleep knowing his brother was in two minds about going into town. Johnny loved his Saturday night jaunts into Green River, and he'd more than earned himself a couple of cold beers this week. But he'd been reluctant to leave his sibling behind, and Scott had hoped that if he had seemed settled for the night then the younger man would shrug off his irrational sense of guilt, head for town and sink a few for him too.

He was convinced he'd heard Johnny leave, and believing his father to be all alone downstairs he had decided to join him for an hour or so, he really was going stir crazy confined to his room. The blond had been expecting a chastisement from his father but knew the conversation that followed would centre on politics or on some other topic they both enjoyed discussing. Too late he had realised there was already an important discussion taking place.

Murdoch stared in consternation at his elder son, it was nothing unusual for his younger boy to disobey doctor's orders but Scott was usually a lot more compliant. The blond was pale, and beads of perspiration were glistening on his colourless face, he also had a disarmingly sheepish air about him and so with a resigned sigh the patriarch swallowed the words of reproach that were sitting ready on his tongue, offering instead a softly spoken "Lets get you settled on the couch."

"No!" Scott replied waving off the two men as they reached out to help him. "No I'll get myself back to bed…you two can get back to what you were doing."

Getting to his feet Scott realised his words had only served to make his father and brother a little suspicious, they were now looking at each other, silent understanding passing between them.

Silently cursing his clumsy remark the blond started to turn around, immediately he felt his father grip his arm, gently but firmly halting his escape.

"Join us Scott. Please."

Scott met his fathers and then his brother's steady gaze, finding reassurance in both men's eyes. Suddenly he not only wanted to be a part of the conversation he'd just interrupted, he like they realized he should be a part of it.

TBC

Molly