I recently read a fic where Dillon and Summer have a child. It sort of a amused me… and when I thought about it, I think that out of all the characters, the most likely father of the bunch is Flynn.
Love is a fickle, difficult thing. People enter into it hoping to find themselves, and in a way, they end up loosing themselves. How to describe it?
It was Monday- which was their day off and that suited Ronan just fine. Sure computers may be the future, but he found that his favorite piece of machinery was baby blue and had six horses. Switching on the radio with two fingers to his favorite oldies station, he gabbed his rachet and funnel, and jacked up the car a foot so he could slide under. He was just about to change the oil when he heard the creak of the garage door.
"We're closed!" he called, positioning the drain. He listened to the sound of the footsteps for a moment in realization "Son? Is tha' you?"
"Yeah, it's me" Flynn's voice called back, slightly muffled.
Something in his tone made Ronan freeze.
"Thought you were supposed to be with Gemma today."
No answer.
Are ya alright?" He called.
No answer.
With more agility then he knew he had, he pushed himself out from underneath the vehicle and was on his feet. "Flynn?" he called again.
"Right here 'Da."
Ronan turned and looked at his boy. Well, okay, no not a boy. A man. A man with courage and more smarts than all the men and Scotland put together, in his biased opinion. Not that he'd ever tell his son that… would go straight to his head it would. He wiped his greased fingers off on his apron, wondering what on earth had happened that would cause so much fright in his son's eyes.
Silently, Flynn held up one hand.
Ronan's eyes widened. He stared at the ring his son held between his thumb and index finger.
"I'm gonna do it Da." Flynn said lowly.
Ronan swallowed. He reached out and grabbed his son's arm. "Come on," he said roughly. "Let's… let's have a drink."
A giant lumpy couch, which also served as his bed was the only chair in the place and wasn't being used as a shelf, so that was where Flynn sat down. Ronan was searching the fridge, all the while keeping and eye on his son's face. Finally he tossed a can of rootbeer at Flynn, who caught it without expression. Silence spread over the room.
Flynn was playing with the tab of the can, pushing it back and forth. He looked up at his Father. "I love her Da."
Ronan tried to remember what being in love felt like. Something it seemed like the memories of loosing Fiona swallowed up the memories and finding her. After she'd been buried, he'd stood over the grave; feeling like the world had been painted black. A cry from the squalling infant in his arms had called him back to earth. He stared at the baby realizing, with a bit of panic, that he had no idea what to do for it. That was when his father in law and come over and gently laid a hand on his arm, asking him if Ronan would mind the company of an old man for a week or two.
"I know ya do," he said, looking away. He'd have to be blind not to know such a thing. "But Flynn, ya know she isn't a normal girl. A genius, yes to be sure, but sometimes I worry that you're playing the parent more than the boyfriend, if ya know what I mean."
Flynn shook his head. "I know how she is," he admitted. "But it's all an act Dad. All a mask. She and her brother never had childhoods, so they created their own." He looked at his father. "She's one of the most mature people I know. If anything, I'm not good enough for her."
Ronan nodded, thinking for a moment. The freedom of the world had been good for the inmates of Alphabet Soup. For the first time they were allowed to make their own decisions and go wherever they wanted. The problems they had to solve, which at one time had signified the salvation of mankind were now more simplistic- the daily, "Should I wear red or blue" or "what should I buy for dinner when I go to the market?"
Somehow, the simplest life had healed the twins. At least, in a small way.
"Does she want'a be married?" he asked.
Flynn sighed and winced slightly, rubbing his neck. "I know she loves me. We've been together for almost a year now."
"What about a place to live?"
"The apartment is big enough for two."
"And her brother? Does he agree with all this?"
"I've already talked to him." Flynn looked at his father, "And now with you two. I've… I've tried to think of everything."
Ronan smiled and lifted the can to his lips again. "Not everything."
He reached up his neck and pulled at the string, hidden beneath the fabric of his flannel shirt. Taking out the string, he set down his drink so he could untie the gold band from the string. He offered it to his son with a smile.
"'Twas your mother's. She gave it to me just before she died. Figured that one day her son might want to give it to his girl."
Flynn held the ring between his fingers and stared at it in surprise. Ronan shrugged. "You can use it at the wedding if you'd like."
A warm smile spread over his son's face. He looked at his father. "Thanks Dad… I…" he paused, as if struggling to find the words. "Just… thanks."
"Why sure." Ronan looked at the clock on the wall. "You'd better hurry. You'll be late."
Flynn stood, carefully tucking the ring into his shirt pocket. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. Ronan stifled a laugh.
"Bring her back here once you're all done, alright? The car'll be finished by then."
Flynn nodded. He grabbed his father in a quick hug.
Then he was gone.
Ronan picked up the empty cans and set them by the sink. Thoughtfully, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, rifling through the bills until he found what he wanted.
The face of his wife stared up at him from the copy of the worn wedding photo.
He could still remember offering her a ring, asking her the question. Her reply had made his heart stop for a moment.
I don't know Ronan. Love is a fickle, difficult thing. People enter into it hoping to find themselves, and in a way, they end up loosing themselves. How to describe it?
"I'd say that it's worth it." Ronan replied, hurt. Rejected.
Fiona smiled. She touched his cheek, turning his head so they were face to face. "So would I."
End. :)