Chapter 2: Nineteen

Alistair was making his way down the familiar backroads of his hometown. He was going to visit his mother, although deep down he wasn't entirely sure why he even bothered anymore.

He had always known that his mother was strong, but he couldn't understand why she still cared for his father, after all he had done, or the lack thereof. Alistair always got in a fight with her about it whenever he went back to see her, so he tried not to visit her very often. He wanted to preserve their relationship as much as possible.

His father had been sick for years now and they all knew that he didn't have much longer. Alistair longed for the day when Samuel would just die already and stop being such a burden to him and his mother.

As usual, his mother opened the door and beamed at him, fussing over how much weight he lost while away at school and how his classes were going. He asked her how work was going, she asked him about his girlfriend, Laura, whom she was quite fond of. The usual talk. When all that was done, an awkward silence came upon them and Alistair knew what was coming next.

"Please. Just go see him. He wants to see you. He doesn't have much longer."

Alistair looked down, trying hard not to be argumentative with her. "I don't want to."

His mother sighed, weighing her next words. "Alistair, please listen to me. I need you to hear this. I know that you didn't grow up in the best of conditions, and I know that there's lots of things we've had to go without. I know that you're angry about that, and I understand. I know you're angry that I've had to work so much, that you've had to work so much, that you've had to put yourself through university and so many other things. You wonder why I care about him still, well it's because, though he has a horrendous work ethic, your father has loved us so much. From the moment he met me, the moment you were born, he had so much love in his heart for us. Every time we were sick, he'd make the meals and play music for us, or read you stories until you fell asleep. He'd welcome me home after a long day at work with a giant hug and a foot massage after a long night waiting tables at the restaurant. You remember when he stayed up all night helping you put together the Great Wall of China for your history project, or when I was having problems with the cabinet in the hall and he just built me a new one. I love your father because he has never shown me anything but love, even though he never brought home much money."

Alistair couldn't take it anymore. Sure, he vaguely remembered his father helping him with some history project, but surely she didn't expect him to look past years of suffering because of that one good moment? He got up to leave, and she stood up too. "Alistair–"

"He was weak, mum!" His voice was dangerously low now, practically spitting the words out. "He was weak, and he was spineless. Maybe he did care about us. So what? In the end, he was too docile and lazy to do anything about it. He did nothing with his life or for our lives. He cared so much that while we were suffering, he did nothing. He put the weight of the world on our shoulders and never bothered to share the weight when it got to be too much. So, sorry, but I don't care. For your sake, I hope he dies quickly. You deserve to live a few moments in peace." He started to walk towards the door, regretting yet again that he had come for a visit.

"I'm sorry. I swear when you were a boy you knew the value of a good heart. You lost that somewhere along the way and I didn't even realize it."

Alistair turned around, looking at her with a tired face. "I know what a good heart is, mum. But what good has that ever done me?"

He waited for her response, but she wouldn't give it. She looked away from him, tears in her eyes. Alistair knew that this would be something that they couldn't agree on, but some part of him wasn't ready to cut ties with his mother. That part of him still respected all of the incredible strength that she had shown throughout the years. He knew that if it hadn't been for her, he would be no one, with no chance of being someone, and he would always be grateful for that.

So he quickly walked over to his mother, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and said, "I'll call you sometime soon," as he walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him and, although he did continue to call his mother after that, however infrequently that was, he never set foot in that house again. He never saw his father again. He didn't even go to the funeral.

A/N: Hope you're enjoying so far! Next chapter will have little Fitz in it :) Please review to let me know what you like and what you don't like!