Disclaimer- Still do not own Community.

What are you doing Winger?

The question was running through Jeff's head on repeat, eating away at him endlessly as he sat in his car, staring vacantly out the windshield.

He had arrived at his destination hours ago. It was relatively easy to find, Jeff had been in Boulder many times for work in the past. But as he sat there, across the street from the row of houses that held the last man he really ever wanted to see, he realized just how terrifying it was to be there.

Everything that could have been, the source of all the stigmas and phobias and mental hang-ups that should have been avoided, laid beyond the door to one of homes not twenty feet to his left. And yet here he sat, for…three hours now according to his phone's display. Fantastic. Even after all the breakthroughs that he had convinced himself had occurred for him, in the face of something real, he panicked. Typical Winger.

Jeff closed his eyes in exasperation, coming to a decision in his mind. His car hummed to life as he turned the key in the ignition, ready to get back on the road and put this silly little fantasy of solving his problems behind him. He tried to convince himself that he had the address; he would just come back when he was more prepared for it. It was too soon now, he wasn't quite ready. Just as he had shifted into gear, two quick, loud beeps sounded from his right pocket. A text message.

Hey, I hope I didn't miss the deadline on well-wishing! Good luck Jeff : )

Of course it was Annie. She always seemed to swoop in and offer some support, even when she was hours away.

As Jeff read Annie's message, their conversation from the previous night came rushing back to him. Seeing her words of encouragement left him feeling a strange mixture of emotions, most of which he couldn't quite name, and a few he was pretty sure he'd have to invent names for. He would call them 'Annie-motions,' he decided. He cracked a smile at his clever word-play, mentally patting himself on the back, before remembering where he was.

He quickly sobered up, coming to realize what he was doing. If he backed out now, he not only let himself down, he let down Annie. Could he do that? Could this new and improved- ok, improving- Jeff Winger let down this girl who so strongly believed in him even when he advised her, using very reliable insider information, that she shouldn't?

He let out a labored sigh, knowing the answer before he had even posed the question in his mind. Of course he couldn't. Letting himself down was one thing, but with Annie, it was different. She seemed to step in and fill the role of providing the final push into committing to important, life-changing things he had always so desperately missed. She subconsciously guilted him into doing the right thing, making the difficult choice, standing by a decision without ever seeming to do so on purpose. She made his life more difficult that way, and as he sat there he realized that it always ended up benefitting him in the end in some way or another.

The hum of the engine died and Jeff shoved the phone back into his pocket. He swore under his breath as he exited the car, mentally cursing Annie, her dumb positive influence and her particularly persuasive smiley text messages. He briefly considered changing numbers when he returned home before returning his attention to the task at hand.

He double-checked the address he had scribbled on the slip of paper in his hand as he walked, coming to a halt in front of the correct house.

It was fairly non-descript; a plain row home with no outward decoration to speak of. A quick glance up and down the row showed it stood in stark contrast to the intricately manicured flower beds and hedges flanking the front of every other home on the street. People seemed to try hard in this neighborhood. All except for the house lain out before Jeff. It seemed as though whoever lived there was dedicated to putting forth as little effort into their home as possible.

Well, this is definitely the right place then, he thought with a scowl.

His clenched fist hovered inches from the door, hesitating in spite of him. Technically, it wasn't too late to back out. Just put your hand down, turn around and walk away. It's that easy Winger. Jeff shook his head slightly, shaking those thoughts from his head and keeping an image of Annie and the rest of the study group and their dumb, caring faces in his head as he knocked sharply on the plain green door before him.

It seemed as though the seconds stretched into hours in the instant following his knocking, and he suddenly became very aware that a giant knot had become lodged in his throat. He swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do. If there was one thing Jeff Winger was not used to, it was this overwhelming sensation of nervous dread. A million thoughts began racing through his head and he became faintly aware of the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

The sound of locks being turned dragged Jeff back to reality, snapping his attention back to the door in front of him. Anxiety began to overtake him, and suddenly he was staring at his feet, jaw clenched, waiting for the inevitable question.

"May I help you, sir?"

The voice was warm and feminine, and unless things were about to take a really weird turn, definitely not his father's. He furrowed his brow in confusion as his eyes darted up to meet the woman standing in the threshold. She was an older woman, in her sixties he guessed, with pure white hair and horn-rimmed glasses framing her kind face. She craned her neck to meet his gaze, Jeff towering over her easily.

Well this is not what I expected.

"Sir, are you ok?" He suspected that his expression had mirrored the initial shock he had felt upon seeing her. He shook his head slightly, catching up to the situation at hand.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I must have the wrong address. I was looking for William Winger, but, um, you most certainly aren't him. I must've written down the wrong address. Sorry to disturb you, I'll just be going now." He cringed in humiliation as he forced out his explanation. Real smooth, Winger.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise really. He had relied on an internet web search; they're bound to be outdated and unreliable. It could have been a mislead put in place by his father to avoid being tracked down. He should have prepared for these possibilities, if only to avoid embarrassing himself in such a way. As he turned to leave, hanging his head in an odd mixture of relief and resignation, the woman spoke up.

"Oh, William? He's just downstairs; I can fetch him if you like?"

Jeff froze in his tracks. He whirled around a bit faster than he should have, the knot in his throat returning in a flash. Silently, and after hesitating a few moments, he nodded at the woman, taking a step closer to the door. She motioned him in before disappearing down the hall, mumbling something about poor manners.

Jeff brought himself fully into the house, glancing around the foyer while nervously tapping his foot. Well, I guess I'm locked in to this, he thought to himself. To his left was what appeared to be a sitting room, with a leather couch pushed up against the far wall and two leather chairs on either side. A small coffee table sat in the center of the room. Adorning the walls were countless photographs and paintings, most of which contained a man and a woman.

Jeff stepped up to one wall, eyes scanning the pictures, eventually settling on one that seemed to be taken fairly recently. Jeff recognized the woman in the picture as the same woman who had answered the door. She looked slightly younger in the picture, with flecks of auburn showing through her largely graying head of hair. As he had guessed, it looked to have been taken a few years ago, but compared to many of the others it was brand new.

After taking note of this, Jeff's attention shifted to the man in the picture. He felt a chill as he took in the man's features. From what Jeff could tell he was quite tall and quite handsome, but age appeared to be catching up with him. His hair was a dusty grey color, with hints of golden brown hair splashed along the sides of his head. But the thing that caught his attention the most was obviously his face; more importantly, how much his face looked like Jeff's face. The man in the picture was the spitting image of Jeff, or rather, vice versa, and it brought forth a myriad of emotions within him as he stood there connecting the dots.

The man in this picture is my father. This is William Winger, the guy who left mom and me twenty some odd years ago without as much as a 'good luck, champ.' And he has a wife. He looks happy. How quaint.

From relief, to disbelief, to resentment, and finally bitter anger, Jeff was overwhelmed by emotion. He was sure he was currently suffering from what he liked to call 'emotion sickness,' and the source of it was now marching up the stairs toward him for a second round no doubt. In a surge of anger, Jeff tore at the picture on the wall, knocking it to the ground where it shattered with a loud crash. He swung around to leave, deciding that this was all a huge mistake, and was halfway out the door when once again a voice called out to him. Man, people really loved to wait 'til the last second didn't they?

"I never did like that picture. Not too flattering, to be honest." Jeff's jaw clenched when he heard the voice, and he was rooted to the spot.

"Leaving already? I would have thought my son would have a few questions for me, to catch up on lost time. Why don't you come in and have a drink?" The man, William Winger- Dad - called after him, a sardonic tone infused in his words. It was a very Winger-like response. Jeff was infuriated by it.

"I don't really think you know what you're inviting in at the moment. And I'm not thirsty, thanks." He said through still-clenched teeth, refusing to turn around just yet in fear that he would reactively take a swing at the man responsible for so many of the issues Jeff battled with on a daily basis.

"Come on now, son, you-"

"Do not. Call. Me. Son."

Jeff finally turned around, anger taking over in spite of himself, glaring daggers at the older man. He stood fuming in the doorway, unable to say anything more. William gave him an uneasy smile.

"So- Jeffrey. I can call you Jeffrey right?" Jeff gave him a short nod. William went on, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Ok, Jeffrey. You came all this way, out of the blue. Somehow, I doubt it was to check in. You're here for an explanation I'm assuming? Want to know how I could do such a thing I'm sure. Can't say I never expected it, though lately I had thought you might have given up on seeking me out. Why don't you come and sit down and I'm sure we can talk everything out like adults. I owe you that much."

Jeff let out a hollow laugh.

"Oh, you owe me so much more than that, William. You can't even begin to imagine." Without another word, Jeff shoved passed his father and into the sitting room. He sat down in the center of the couch and leaned forward, his head in his hands. He glared up at the older man, expectant.

William threw an uneasy glance at his wife before taking a seat in the cushy leather seat to Jeff's right. He appeared to take a few moments gathering his thoughts before awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Well, I know it really wouldn't hold much weight given the circumstances, but I would like you to know that I'm sorry, Jeff." William had moved to one of the chairs, also leaning forward. He paused for a few seconds, waiting for a response from Jeff. When it didn't arrive, he continued.

"Right. I know this is the part of the speech where I tell you that I regret everything I've done and beg forgiveness. But to be honest I don't think I will. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you and your mother, but you seem to be doing quite well for yourself. I think we both benefitted from my leaving in the end, if you really think about it. I'm happy here with Monica, and you seem to be quite the confident, independent man."

As William spoke, the veins in Jeff's forehead stood out more and more. He had grown deathly silent, staring a hole into the coffee table in front of him. He turned to look at his father. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Twenty years. Twenty years you've been gone. For maybe ten of those years, I would wonder why you left. I would ask myself, what on Earth had I done that had been so terrible that it drove away my own dad. But for the life of me I just couldn't figure it out. I couldn't figure any of it out, dad. So I stopped wondering, but the damage had already been done." Jeff began raising his voice, still staring down at the coffee table.

"I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I couldn't figure out why my mom wouldn't stop crying. I couldn't figure out how to fix any of it. But you know what? I'm glad you figured out how to get your happy ending. I'm glad you figured out how to avoid contact with me or mom for all this years. Nothing makes me gladder than knowing leaving us was apparently the BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO YOU." He was standing now, his breath ragged after bringing his voice to a shout.

He stared down at William and Monica beside him, and closed his eyes in an attempt to calm down. He wanted nothing more than to leave this house and never come back, but now that he had started, but he felt compelled to really drive his point home before he left.

He just hoped he remained composed enough to get it all out without doing something drastic. He took a deep breath, sat back down, and began speaking, struggling to keep his voice as neutral as he could manage.

"You ruined my life. I couldn't go a day in high school without being made fun of for not having a dad. I couldn't even throw a baseball because you never even bothered to teach me. Mom tried so hard to make sure I felt like I still had a family, but the second you left was the second I had to face everything alone. When I wasn't in school I was taking care of mom, making sure she was happy and distracted until she was able to manage on her own. And I did it all without your help." His voice became thick and he furiously swiped at his eyes. His allergies must have been acting up. William and Monica simply sat in silence, grim expressions on their faces.

"Sure, eventually I toughen up, got a job, became successful, but every single moment since the day you got up and left has been its own little Hell. Not once do you even consider what you had put us through. I spent my life trying to perfect myself, to subconsciously prove to some guy who didn't even give a single shit about me that I didn't need him to care. That being close to people only set you up to get abandoned again. You left me in constant fear, and it drove me away. From everyone. From mom, from classmates, colleagues… everyone. All for you dad. All for…nothing." He seemed to visibly deflate as he breathed out his last sentence, gathering his head in his hands once more. They sat in silence for a few moments, digesting everything that had been said.

After a few minutes, William cleared his throat once more.

"Jeff, I- I don't really know what to say. It was a tough time for your mother and I. We tried to make it work, but it just…" He trailed off, his words failing him.

"Of course you did, dad. I have no doubt you tried your absolute hardest to work things out. But you know what? Your absolute hardest is nowhere near hard enough. Family takes effort, it's not something you just do and the second it gets shitty you cut and run. It's the long haul. If it wasn't for my own failures I might never have realized it myself."

Jeff's gaze bore into William as he spat out the words. He couldn't explain why he was so furious. He had expected to come here, say his piece and leave, but he found himself wanting to demand an explanation from this man. He didn't think he would get it. Maybe that's why he was so angry.

"You may think you've found the perfect life here with lovely Monica," he said he name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, "but sooner or later you will be forced to face reality. You can't run from your problems, William. Sooner or later they'll show up at your doorstep demanding answers."

He stood up and took a deep breath, attempting once more to get control of his temper. When he finally managed to do so, he spoke in a deadly calm voice.

"This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here. You clearly don't need me coming back and screwing up your perfect life. I'll just be going now."

He left without another word, leaving William and Monica where they sat, stunned into silence. When he returned to his car, he finally allowed himself to take a breath.

He felt a fleeting pang of regret at how he reacted to seeing his father, but he quickly smothered it as he recalled what little his father had said. That man hadn't regretted what he had done at all. In fact, he thought he was better off for it. He even had the nerve to claim they were all better off for it! It made Jeff feel sick.

It made him even sicker when he came to the realization that he would probably have to come back here. Their conversation screamed unfinished business, no matter which way Jeff tried to spin it. For the sake of his own sanity though, he would not think about that until the time came. He had had enough emotional breakthroughs for one lifetime. He could practically hear Alan calling him girl's names.

He needed a break.

For now, though, he had to head back to Greendale and pick up some alcohol for the get-together the group would be having in a few days. He would focus on that. He took a deep breath to calm himself once more and turned his car on. Before he pulled into the road, he brought out his phone, typing out the response he had neglected to send before his confrontation. He pressed send and began his journey home.

Back in Greendale, Annie's phone buzzed and she opened it to reveal Jeff's message. It was brief, but she couldn't help but smile to herself as she read it.

You made it just in time. Can't wait to see you guys.

A/N. Boy, that escalated quickly. So Jeff confronted his dad, big step, big step indeed. I went back and forth about it, but ultimately it'll serve the story well I think. We have not seen the last of William Winger, rest assured. I wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Anyway, next chapter will be more fun, though I hit a bit of a wall so it may be slower to arrive. Thanks so much for all the positive reviews, it's encouraging to read, especially from authors whose stories I enjoy very much! Til next time.

-TA
P.S. All of my authors notes are pretty long reads. Sorry about that.