He's My Son
Disclaimers: Ya'll know it; I don't own 'em! If I did, you could be sure I'd be living in a mansion by now, but I'm still up to my eyeballs in debt so they obviously still belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon (Aw, shucks, a girl can dream, right?) The plot found here, however is mine and any resemblance to any plot living or dead is strictly coincidental.
The song "He's My Son" is written and sung by Mark Schultz.
Excerpt taken from the aired episode "Remembrance Of things Past"
Feedback: Yeah, sure! On list or off, all CONSTRUCTIVE criticism and high praise accepted. Flames? I got the marshmallows and hot dogs. Who's bringing the sticks?
Premise: Jamie is kidnapped, and Lee has to deal with the possibility of losing a boy he's come to love like a son.
Timeline: All secrets have been out for at least two years, but approximately three have passed since the secret marriage. Jamie would be about 15 and Phillip 17.
Author's Note: this story was originally written June 18, 2005. This updated version retains all the basic premise as the original I posted shortly after writing it. All I have changed in this updated version was some grammatical errors, and I have added a line here or there where I thought some fleshing out needed to be.
Lyrics indicated by bold italics.
Can you hear me? Am I getting through tonight?
I watch Amanda sitting on the couch with her head dropped in her hands as the Agency teams swarm around the house. It's only been five hours since our world has fallen apart.
We've faced hardships before. Amanda has been held captive, and so have I. We both always knew the risks we took when we finally aired our mystery marriage to the light of day.
Now it is the day of reckoning, and we're paying the price for wanting to lead a normal life. I have spent hours tonight sitting by her side, trying to re-assure her that we would find Jamie.
Jamie.
His name slides through my mind, rolls off my tongue in a whisper as I turn toward the kitchen, where Billy Melrose and Francine Desmond are holding court with several other agents. Both Amanda and I have already been warned away from the center of activity tonight. Billy reminded me shortly after he and Francine arrived that we're both too close to the situation to do much good.
Even though I know he's right, there is a niggling voice in the back of my mind which reminds me that I didn't let Billy keep me away when Amanda had been kidnapped by Addi Birol . . . why should Jamie be any different?
'Because Billy only suspected, during the Nightcrawler incident that Amanda and I were involved. Now he knows that Jamie is family,' another voice inside my head whispers. I recognize this to be the voice of reason. The voice that states the rules, tells me I should follow them. And once more, as I did during the Nightcrawler incident, I tell that voice to go to hell as I creep towards the kitchen, and wait outside the doorway. I can't stay away now any more than I could then.
"I want answers here, people," Billy's voice booms through the room. "This isn't just another case . . . this is one of our own!"
"Billy, I know you're intent on finding Jamie, but whoever took him obviously knew what he was doing. He made sure to leave the trail almost completely cold."
I muttered under my breath at Francine's comeback, and looked up to the ceiling, hoping that she was wrong. There had to be something!
My mind was running through everything I knew, every little tidbit I'd been able to pick up as I leaned my back against the wall next to the door jamb. I could hear vague mutters for a few moments, and found myself so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice the sudden silence in the room beyond the doorway. Suddenly, I became aware that I must be slipping, to have missed that point; I was face to face with Billy Melrose.
"Scarecrow, you're not going to be doing anybody any good by snooping around us. Please. You know time is of the essence . . . let us do our jobs."
"Billy, I can't just sit around on my hands when . . . when . . . someone is out there with my . . . with Jamie."
Billy narrowed his eyes, and I wondered if he caught my slip. He didn't comment on it; instead put his hand on my arm. "I know, you're frustrated, but I meant it when I told you earlier, you're too close to this one. Now please, just stay out of our hair. I promise, I'll keep you informed."
My boss ... my friend, turned his back on me and walked back into the kitchen as I temporarily retreated to the den. Amanda was no longer in her seat on the couch, and I slipped quietly up the stairs to see if I could find her, make sure she was all right.
His mother is tired, I'm sure You can understand.
Each night as he sleeps she goes in to hold his hand,
And she tries not to cry as the tears fill her eyes.
As I reached the top of the steps, I could see the light pouring from Phillip's partially open door, and when I peered into the crack between the door and the frame, I saw Amanda sitting in a chair beside his bed.
"They're going to find the worm brain, right Mom?"
"Don't call your brother a worm brain," Amanda answered, the tone of her voice a pale imitation of itself.
"Sorry Mom."
"They'll find him," Amanda whispered softly as she ran a hand through Phillip's hair. In the two years of our public marriage, the year before we made it public, and the four years I'd known her before that, I'd seen her do that to the boys over a thousand times. It was a move that I knew was meant to soothe their fears as well as her own. For just a moment, I saw the little boy Phillip had been when I'd first met Amanda, the little boy he had been long before I'd met the boys face to face.
The little boy he'd been long before they knew who I was.
Then the teenager was back in his place, his face lined with worry. "I bet when Jamie comes back, he laps up the attention."
Amanda shook her head, but didn't reply. Normally, such a remark from Phillip would have warranted at least a quiet rebuke from my wife. My heart sank at the implication that was unspoken in the silence.
"Thanks, Mom," Phillip said softly.
I turned away to give my Amanda and Phillip some privacy, and walked further down the hall. The door to Jamie's room stood ajar, and I walked in. Framed and unframed pictures adorned the walls; these were pictures Jamie had taken over the past three years since I'd first given him that camera and he began to develop his interest in photography. When we'd moved to the house in Rockville from Maplewood Drive, one of the first things I'd made sure of was that he had a dark room in a corner of the basement.
The room was neat by a teenager's standards, the bed made; clothes put away, the only thing that could be considered clutter were the shelves of antique photography equipment in one corner of the room. A place for everything, and everything in its place. In that regard, Jamie was just like his mother and grandmother.
I usually never came in here alone. I remember only too well the lack of privacy I had as a teenager growing up. I've always made it a point to only enter when Jamie was in here with me. Things in this moment are different now, somehow. I'd like to believe that if Jamie knew I were standing here alone in his room, he would understand that now, I just felt a need to be here.
My attention is drawn to one of the collages plastered on the wall, one I knew to be his favorite. Somehow, it made me feel closer to him.
I glance over at the neatly made bed and sit down, my hand draws one of the pillows closer to me. I know that less than 24 hours ago, his head laid on this pillow.
I'm down on my knees again tonight,
I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right.
See, there is a boy that needs Your help.
I've done all that I can do myself
"Can you see him?" I whisper to thin air. "Can you make him feel all right? I know he's tired, and I know he's scared. If you can hear me, let him know you're there. If you can hear me, let me take his place somehow. He's not just anyone you know. He's the smartest boy I've ever known. He's got a heart of gold. Don't punish him for my mistakes. Don't punish him for being . . ." I dropped my head and looked to the floor. "Don't punish him because he's my son."
Sometimes, late at night, when sleep would elude me and I didn't want to wake Amanda up, I'd stalk the halls. Sometimes I'd watch the boys sleep, and wonder at how they'd completely let me in their lives.
In those days when Amanda and I first began 'dating', when I first began to come around and spend time with the boys, Jamie had been the one who was reluctant to let me in.
It had taken time to break through his shell, to understand that he was worried I would leave them the way his father had. Not for the first time, I'd cursed Joe King. Though in the years since Joe's return from Estocia he'd seen the boys more often, that early abandonment had already taken its toll.
Amanda still sat beside Phillip's bed, watching him, as though she needed the connection to her oldest in order to steady herself. Every now and then, I could hear soft words from one or the other of them, and decided to give them time alone as I walked to our bedroom.
I reached up to the top shelf of the closet, and pulled down a shoebox that held all the cards that Amanda, the boys, and Dotty had given me over the past few years. I never told anyone that I kept them, but I believe Amanda suspected.
I reached in, and found the cards from Father's Day.
Lee,
Hard to believe it's been two years since you and Mom married. As time passes us by, it's hard to remember in the day to day to tell other how we feel, so I wanted to tell you now. I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time at first. I want you to know that you've been a great friend, and a great father. Thank you for being there – for still being there.
Jamie.
I pursed my lips together as I re-read the words he'd penned with such feeling.
I know I wasn't there for his creation. I know I wasn't there for his first steps, or his first words. I know I missed his first birthday, but I was there when his voice started to deepen, I was there for his first crush. I was there for his first driving lesson. I've been there for every game, every photography show, everything since. I know we're not tied by blood, but they are my sons. He is my son.
I try to be strong and see him through.
Let him grow old, live life without this fear.
What would I be living without him here?
It's now three am, and I've tucked Amanda into our bed. She didn't want to sleep, and I can't say that I blame her. It had taken a lot of needling and cajoling before she finally took one of the sleeping pills that Doc Kelford had offered. I had spent the last two hours holding my wife in my arms, trying to assure her that everything would turn out right. Now, I walk quietly down stairs to where I know that Billy and Francine are still going over any possible leads with the teams.
Now I know I have to join my colleagues, I have to find my son.
With a hardened stare on my face, I stare down Billy until he lets me in on the action.
"We still don't have any leads, Scarecrow. You know as well as I do it only gets bleaker as time goes on."
"I know, Billy, but I know . . . that we're going to bring him home."
(One week later)
Can you hear me? Can you see him? Please don't leave him . . .
"Not your typical two career family huh? One of us might not come home for dinner. Ever. They've got Kai's little boy Amanda. That could be Philip or Jamie."
"I know."
My memory is haunted by those words I once said to Amanda. They seem almost prophetic given the events of the past week since Jamie was taken away from us.
I can see that the door to Jamie's room is ajar as I walk down the hall, and I can't help but peek in to see him lying on the bed, his feet crossed at the ankles. His hands are locked behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling through his glasses.
"Hey there," I call out quietly, but he doesn't move even though I can see his eyes are open.
"Hey," Jamie replies. "C'mon in."
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Can't sleep." His eyes are still fixed on the ceiling. "If I sleep, I might not be here when I wake up."
I sat down beside him on the bed, "I know what happened was scary. It was scary for all of us."
"But you deal with this kind of thing all the time."
"I was still scared, sport."
Jamie shook his head, but his eyes remained on the ceiling, "I can't see you being scared. The way you came into that building, guns blazing. Angry, I can see. But I didn't see fear."
I took a deep breath, "Because if I know if I'd shown them fear, we might not have gotten out of there. But inside, my heart was pounding, and I was just hoping we'd found you in time. Jamie, you mean a lot to me, probably more than you know."
"Yeah . . . you mean a lot to me too, Lee."
I looked at the young man lying on that bed. He'd lost weight in the week he'd been held by a group of terrorists, starved, tortured. His face and arms still sported bruises from his ordeal. But his eyes were calm as they closed, and the only noticeable sign of his fear was the slight shake in his hand.
I don't know how long it was that I sat beside him before his breathing evened out. I carefully took the glasses off of his face, and covered him up with the blanket that lay folded at the bottom of his bed.
I took the envelope out of my pocket, the words I'd penned just over a week ago, shortly before I'd gone downstairs and insisted to Billy that he let me in on the operation to find Jamie. I sat the envelope down on the bedside table, and looked back at my son.
"Goodnight . . . son," I whispered to the quiet room, and to the boy in the bed. I turned the light beside the bed off, and as I opened the door to let myself out, I found myself turning back to hear his whispered reply.
"Goodnight . . . Dad."
In the moonlight of the bedroom I shared with Amanda, I saw the envelope sitting on the table on my side of the bed. I picked it up and sat in the chair beside the window, where the light from the street poured through the glass just enough to light the words on the paper before me.
Lee,
This past week has been a tough one. There were times I wanted to give up. Each time I felt that way, I thought of Mom, and Phillip, and Grandma. And when that wasn't enough, I thought of what you would do.
Each time, thinking of the example you've shown Phillip and I over the past few years, helped me through those weak moments, when I just wanted them to kill me. Knowing that you wouldn't give up no matter what kept me going.
I'll never be able to say this to your face. We're taught that men aren't supposed to show their feelings; that we're almost supposed to be robots. But I don't feel like a robot inside.
I felt scared, and tired. I wanted to go home.
I wanted to thank you for being a part of our lives. I wanted to thank you for the years of protection I know you gave us before we knew who you were. I wanted to thank you for everything you've taught Phillip and me in the past three years.
You've been there every step of the way since Mom introduced us. You've never missed out on any of our activities if you could help it, and you've never willfully broken a promise to us.
I wanted to thank you for being a second father to me. I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to call you Dad to your face, but its how I feel in my heart. I know I was blessed to have two Dads who love me. And I'm glad that the second one is you.
Love
Jamie
A smile pursed my lips as I re-read the words again, before I gently place the letter in the shoebox, along with all the other special memories my sons have given me on paper.
"Thank you, son."
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place some how.
See, he's not just anyone, he's my son.
"He's My Son"
I'm down on my knees again tonight,
I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right.
See, there is a boy that needs Your help.
I've done all that I can do myself
His mother is tired,
I'm sure You can understand.
Each night as he sleeps
She goes in to hold his hand,
And she tries
Not to cry
As the tears fill her eyes.
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place some how.
See, he's not just anyone, he's my son.
Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep,
I dream of the boy he'd like to be.
I try to be strong and see him through,
But God, who he needs right now is You.
Let him grow old,
Live life without this fear.
What would I be
Living without him here?
He's so tired,
And he's scared
Let him know that You're there.
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place some how.
See, he's not just anyone, he's my son.
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place somehow.
See, he's not just anyone.
Can You hear me?
Can You see him?
Please don't leave him,
He's my son.