Disclaimer: I don't own the Cape – just borrowing the characters for the story.
Author's note: slight spoiler for Scales on a Train. Inspired by the scene on the train between Chess and Orwell – and later by the sad look on Orwell's face while she watched Vince wrap the gift for Trip.
OOOOOOOOO
A father's job was to love and protect his children. To chase away the monsters in the dark. To soothe hurts and calm fears.
A father's job was to encourage dreams. To teach truths. To love no matter what.
A father was a hero. A man who could do no wrong in the eyes of his children.
….but sometimes heroes fall.
The innocent veil of childhood dissolves beneath the weight of the world…and some heroes turned to villains and the bottom was a long way down when the truth was revealed.
Orwell watched with a sad smile as Vince carefully wrapped the small gift for his son. He put such care into each fold, smoothing edges of the rough paper with his battle scarred hands. All this for a small boy who thought his father was dead. But death couldn't stop his father's love nor kill his father's hope.
It wasn't right that Trip had to grow up believing that this man was dead. His father loved him. Vince could have run. He could have chosen to reinvented his life somewhere else…become someone else….but instead he chose to throw himself into greater danger. To devote his life to destroying the evil that had destroyed his name. To do everything in his power to return to his family.
Orwell's dark eyes studied the label of the beer balanced against the tips of her fingers. She felt Vince's expressive eyes sweep her face as she remarked that perhaps this time next year he would be with his son. She felt the weight of his gaze and was afraid to meet his eyes…afraid of what he might see. What would he say if he knew the truth? If he knew who she really was? Would he still fight by her side? She smiled a sad smile as he asked where she would be. Who knew? She discretely brushed a tear aside as Vince squeezed her shoulder gently.
She sat at the table for a long while after he had left to deliver his son's gift, lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts of a once good man like Vince. Of strong arms and warm hugs. Of proud and loving smiles. Of a soft comforting voice that had once had the power to soothe away her fears.
But her hero had fallen long ago, destroyed by darkness and greed.
Orwell shivered as she remembered the man who had stood before her mere hours earlier on the train. A stranger in the body of someone she had once loved, someone she once would have sacrificed anything for. She remembered the fear she had felt as his attention had settled on her and his curiosity as to her identity was peaked. Part of her wondered what would have happened if he had caught up with her….if Scales hadn't interrupted his search. Was there anything left of the man she had once known?
A soft sob drew her from her thoughts and she realized with a start that it had come from her lips. Her eyes moved from the bottle to a scrap of paper Vince had left behind. She reached for it, turning it over in her long graceful fingers. Resolve flooded through her chasing away the remnants of her dark thoughts. She brushed the tears from her face impatiently as she stood and collected her gear.
Her hero had fallen a long time ago, but a small boy's hero still lived. Vince Faraday had renewed her hope and had shown her that she was not alone in her fight. That good men still lived on and still fought for what was right. That there were father's who still loved their children…even when that child thought he was dead.
As long as the Cape fought, and as long as Chess lived, her place was at his side. Chess would fall and Vince would be free to return to his family. To his son.
And that was something worth fighting for.