Scars

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Brick McKenna or any rights to the television show "McKenna", nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Since some of you are awesomely gracious enough to read this story without seeing this tv show, I'll give you a quick summary. (For those of you familiar with the show, go for that snack, we'll meet you back here after the break. Ha ha.)

Cast

Brick McKenna – Played by Eric Close (Magnificent Seven/Without a Trace)

Jack McKenna – Played by Chad Everett (Supernatural (Curious Case of Dean Winchester. He played aged Dean!)/ Medical Center)

Cassidy McKenna – Played by Jennifer Love Hewitt (Ghost Whisperer)

Series Summary

After years with no contact with his family, Brick McKenna comes home to help with his family's business after the death of his older brother, Guy. Their business, McKenna Outfitters, offers outdoor adventure tours and is run by his Brick's father, Jack. On hand to help with the business is Brick's widowed Sister In Law, Leigh, who has two children, and Brick's younger sister, Cassidy. But tensions run high between Brick and his father because Brick's never been his father's favorite, his big brother Guy was. And Brick can't shake the feeling that his father believes the wrong son died on that fateful tour. So father and son both struggle to find new ground where their relationship can flourish this time around.

Whew! That was harder to explain than it should have been. Ok, now that I've confused everyone…on with the story already in progress.

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Chapter 2

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It was 2:30 am and Jack still had not found sleep, instead he stood in Brick's doorway. By the moonlight, he could see his son's face, now peaceful in sleep. It was as if the events from a few hours ago had not occurred, could safely be written off as freak migraine and that Jack was worrying for nothing. Except it had happened and Brick's pain, it had been severe, had been nearly debilitating.

And that wasn't something Jack could forget, had him vowing to keep a close eye on Brick for the next few days. Because no matter how old his children got, they were still his to protect. Just like Guy had been.

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When morning came, Jack opened his burning eyes and knew that he was getting too old to go without sleep, that he was going to pay dearly for spending half the night up worrying about Brick and the other half trapped in a restless sleep. Climbing out of bed, he intended to get a cold shower but couldn't ignore his compulsion to see Brick first.

But when he leaned into Brick's room, he was greeted by an empty bed. Hurriedly throwing on some clothing, he headed downstairs in search of his son. He entered the kitchen to find that Leigh, his daughter-in-law, was the only one there. "Where's Brick?" he gruffly demanded.

Leigh turned to greet Jack. "Good morning, Jack. Brick was gone when I got up."

"You know where?"

Leigh hesitated as she sensed Jack's anger. And though that was her father-in-law's commonplace reaction to Brick, there was something else in the older man's demeanor that she couldn't identify. "No, he didn't mention anything yesterday. What's wrong?"

Feeling his chest tighten, Jack replied, "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything," but left the house before Leigh could cross-examine him. When he found that the barn lacked his son's presence…and his son's horse, he muttered, "Darn it, Brick!" He had forgotten just how pigheaded his youngest son was. Rationally knowing that there was no use in looking for Brick, that the boy could be anywhere, Jack headed back to the house to take that shower that he promised himself.

He tried to console himself with the fact that Brick's early rising was surely a sign that his son felt fine. Trouble was, he couldn't shake the panic from the prior night, the memories of completely supporting Brick in his arms. It tore away all of his false confidence that Brick wouldn't be taken away from him, not like Guy had. No, Brick, he emanated too much life, had too much strength, too strong-willed.

But last night, when he had looked into his son's eyes…his tough son's emotional walls had been down and Jack saw Brick's vulnerability, his fear, his pain.

Brick wasn't invincible, was human just like everyone else. Like Guy had been. And that was what terrified Jack most of all. He wouldn't survive losing another child, he just wouldn't.

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Brick lay in the field, motionless. His horse snorted, the river bubbled only a few paces away and a hawk gave a call as it flew overhead, but he didn't stir.

But when a bug landed on his cheek, he instinctively swatted it away without opening his eyes. But it was too late, he was awake. Opening his eyes, he saw the blue skies void of a single cloud. It was a beauty of a day.

It hadn't started that way.

When he had crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, it felt like he was trying to come out of a coma. His head didn't ache but he had no energy. Still, he dragged himself out of the house and onto his horse, all in an attempt to prove to Jack that he was indeed fine. He only wished he could convince himself.

Sitting up, he took a deep breath of clean mountain air but even the mountain's therapeutic tranquility couldn't rid him of his worry. He knew he should go to a doctor. Thing was, he was never keen on doctors and he had never been one to follow their orders. Maybe he was finally paying the price for that trait.

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Though Brick timed his arrive back at the house so that he would only have an hour before he had to lead a tour, he hoped to avoid Jack a little bit longer. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to show his father that he was fine, that nothing more needed to be said on the subject of his weakness the prior night.

'Jack probably didn't even give your headache last night any more thought. I'm worried about nothing.' He had practically convinced himself, until Jack entered the barn and immediately came toe to toe with him. His father's face was set in that unyielding mold that he was so familiar with.

It seemed that the barn was going to, once again, be their battlefield.

'Next time, my horse can find his stall all on his own,' Brick mentally grumbled.

"I guess I'm to assume you're feeling better today since you left the house at the crack of dawn and haven't been seen till now," Jack bit out like it was an accusation.

Uncertain what was provoking his father's wrath this time, Brick decided to ignore it, to be offhanded about it all. Smiling, he declared, "100% better. So, you got my gear for the tour?" But Jack was giving him an accessing look.

Although Brick had gotten up early, had been out most of the day and claimed to be one hundred percent better, Jack wasn't convinced. Brick looked tired and his eyes seemed dull, the usual sparkle missing. "Nope. 'Cause I'm taking the tour," he announced.

"Oh come on, Jack!" Brick exclaimed. "We've had this fight so often I've got my lines down pat. I won't scare the clients or push them too hard and I'll call the chicken "pollo…" whatever."

"It has nothing to do with any of that. It has to do with you," Jack stated, his unflinching gaze latched onto his son's. He continued before Brick could voice the objection that was so clearly telegraphed on his features. "You need to take it easy. Get some rest."

Brick was speechless for a second, his father's genuine concern catching him off guard. Then he remembered who he was dealing with. Jack didn't do concern, not unless it had something to do with ruining the reputation of McKenna Outfitters. "I said I was OK," he defensively vowed, would prove to Jack that he was fit to take out one of his precious tour groups.

"Yeah and I say you're not," Jack gruffly shot back, leaving no room for discussion. "I'll take the tour out and you get in that house and get some sleep," he ordered, barely noticing that he had retorted to the tone he used on his children when they were young.

But Brick didn't miss the tone his father was employing on him. Giving a bitter laugh, he scoffed, "What? Are you ordering me to my room, Jack?"

Recognizing the gauntlet between them, Jack knew Brick would purposefully defy him unless he handled things differently. Taking a deep breath, he looked to his son, could sense Brick's growing anger. "Brick, let's not argue. I just think, after last night, you shouldn't push yourself." When Brick opened his mouth, Jack raised his hand to cut off his son's comeback. "Regardless of how you feel now."

For a few moments, father and son stared at one another in silence, each trying to gauge the other's reaction.

Beginning to accept his father's reasons, that Jack just might be truly looking out for him, Brick was struck with just how long it had been since his father had cared what was best for him. And he couldn't let it slip through his fingers, what his father was offering him. "Yeah, sure. I'll kick back today," he softly complied.

Jack's tensed muscles relaxed and he nodded his head in agreement. When Brick walked past him and headed for the house, Jack watched him go. And though the worried tightness in his chest eased, it didn't completely disappear.

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Having taken Jack's advice and slept awhile, Brick woke up renewed and hopeful that the last few days had been just a case of bad headaches after all. Before he made it half way down the stairs, he knew that a quiet house signified an empty house, that Cassidy and the kids had already left for the Hawkville fair and Jack was still leading his tour.

Gaining the ground floor, he headed to the kitchen. Pouring the soda into a glass, he stood by the counter, took a sip while he watched the sunset through the window. But a moment later, the glass slipped from his grasp to shatter on the floor and he grabbed the countertop in a white knuckled grip as a wave of pain assaulted him. Moaning in agony, he bowed over the counter, one hand flying up to clutch his head.

He told himself that it would get better, to ride it out but the pain instead doubled in intensity. One moment he was giving himself the pep speech and the next he was swept away into unconsciousness.

Then the house resumed its quiet as the sun's last rays hit the shards of glass that surrounded Brick's motionless form on the kitchen floor.

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Though he couldn't ignore the urgency he felt to get back to the house, Jack chided himself for letting his worry control him. Brick wasn't a child. 'But he's my son.' And that, in Jack's book, gave him permission to be as protective as he saw fit. So, half an hour earlier than planned, he unceremoniously dumped the members of his tour at their cabins and drove to the house, pulled right up front.

And he couldn't slow down his hurried steps as he climbed the stairs and flung open the house's front door. But he did manage to make his call for his son come out calm, though the dark house was anything but reassuring, "Brick? Hey Brick? What's up? You here?"

Silence greeted him.

He headed upstairs to see if Brick was still asleep but his son's bed, though unmade, was empty. The obvious clues that Brick had taken his advice about getting some sleep should have been comforting, could be construed as proof that his son at least respected him enough to do as he had asked. But it wasn't heartening at all. Instead, it was a chilling confirmation of just how poorly Brick was feeling.

And now Brick was gone.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Jack returned to the first floor and stalked for the kitchen, intending to make some calls to Brick's friends, praying that one of them knew his son's location. But his heart slammed against his chest when he saw Brick lying on the kitchen floor. "Brick!" he gasped, falling to his knees beside his son, unaware of the glass embedding in his legs.

"Brick?" he exclaimed, gently taking Brick's face in his hands. But Brick gave no response either to his call or to his touch. With a shaking hand, Jack reached out, settled his hand on his son's chest and nearly broke down when he felt the heartbeat thudding against his palm. "Brick, can you hear me?" He urgently bade, his eyes scanning his son's colorless face, hoping to see his son's eyes flutter, for his usually high spirited son to just move, give him some sign that he was going to be ok. But Brick he didn't do any of that. He lay there as still as…Guy had in his casket.

That terrifyingly grim comparison had Jack springing to his feet and snatching the phone from its cradle. He couldn't believe he was dialing 911 for another one of his sons. When the operator answered, he gave his address and Brick's condition in quick, concise sentences. She reassured him that the ambulance would be there in fifteen minutes before Jack hung up the phone and dropped again to his son's side.

Taking off his coat, Jack laid it across Brick. But that only enhanced the vulnerability his son was emanating, made Brick seem so young and so very ill, like his every breath could be his last. Not caring about all the first aid rules that forbade him to move an unconscious person, he tenderly shifted Brick from the floor and cradled him in his arms. "Come on, Brick. You're going to be just fine," he gently insisted as he used his free hand to push Brick's hair from his brow. His voice broke as he pleaded, "Please wake up, Brick. Please."

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TBC

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Have to say that, before I uploaded this story's first chapter, I told myself that I should keep posting this story, even if no one reviewed. But to my amazing shock, you generous souls went and reviewed, gave me such wonderful encouragement. So, thanks so much to my awesome reviewers on the first chapter! And thanks to all the people who decided to give the story a read.

Have a wonderful day!

And for those in the US – Happy Memorial Day! God bless and keep our soldiers safe where ever they are.

Cheryl W.