Hey guys. This is my first fic, so be gentle. I do realize that it's OOC, so, sorry about that. Please R &R.
Pieces
Flashback:
"You can't do this!" Robert Chase screamed, his hair hanging in front of his normally blue-green eyes. But now his eyes had darkened with anger. Pain. His father said nothing, just turned and grabbed his things. Robert's body shivered with suppressed rage. "I'm your father. I'll do as I please." he said in a dangerously calm voice. "No! You have a duty to serve here. With mom. With me," he ended in a whisper. "You're not my father. You're Dr. Rowan Chase, world renowned rheumatologist. You had many opportunities to be my father. You never took them. You'll never be my father!" Robert said scathingly. He turned his head to look at his father, and saw the same fire in his eyes, the same fury that he felt.
As the smell of gin & tonics reached his nose, he visibly blanched. "Tell your mum good-bye for me." Rowan said curtly. Robert glared at him. Anger was always better then tears. "So you're just leaving me took clean up and pick up the pieces of the mess you made?" Robert asked disbelievingly. Rowan just looked away. "I always knew you were a bad father, but this. . ." his voice trailed off in silence. He looked up at his dad, and saw his eyes harden for a split second before he felt an excruciating pain on the left side of his face as Rowan slapped him. Hard. His never losing the steely anger, the flame of rage.
A distant honk sounded as Robert struggled to compose himself. "That's for me." Rowan said, nodding to Robert. "Obviously," Robert said, his eyes cold, masking the pain. Rowan left without a second glance, the door slamming behind him. He left a 15 year old son and an alcoholic wife/ Robert slumped down on the steps, running a shaking hand through his hair. He winced as the sound of retching reached his ears and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. His stomach turned at the thought of alcohol and what it did. His body, still shivering, felt weak. Tears threatened to fall over his lashes, but he swallowed them; he had work to do. He wouldn't let his father feel the satisfaction of breaking him. Again.
He sighed and got up. Another complication in the already complicated life of Robert Chase.
End of flashback.
Robert Chase sat on the couch of his flat, tears streaming down his face. He'd gotten the phone call yesterday. The news of his father's death had hit him hard. Harder because he'd never forgiven him. Harder because he hadn't known. He let out the grief, sorrow, pain, he had bottled up inside him, never bring able to let it out. His body was wracked with the force of his sobs as he let loose the pain he had held captive for so long. It ripped through him in a torrent of memories. A mother who'd rather slap him and drink alcohol then tell him she loved him and congratulate him on a job well done. An indifferent, uncaring dad who cared more about his work than his own son. The bitter stench of alcohol. Always disappointments. Always pain. And once again, his father had left him to deal with the pain he had caused. Left him to pick up the pieces.