Title: Home Rule - Chapter 10

Author: roomtable202

Fandom: The Unit

Disclaimer: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.

Note: This story was originally posted "in-progress" last August 2008. Unfortunately, I had to interrupt the publishing after a few chapters for personal reasons. I am re-posting it in order to complete it.

"You're gonna do shit in my house, you smart ass!" Mack's father stormed as he pushed up from the chair so hard that it tittered and fell over with a thud to the floor. "You're gonna do shit! I don't want to be in any of your shitty things!"

Mack didn't move from his position against the bedroom door jam, arms crossing his chest, piercing blue eyes staring at his father. Grey leaned down and grabbed up the chair and sat it upright.

"This son of mine…he wears me down sometimes…." Mack's father let out a frustrated breath.

Mack saw some hesitation on his father's face, a fleeting moment when he might reconsider his decision, but then, it quickly vanished, stern challenging glare falling back into place.

Grey's eyes spanned across the dimly lit room as he slowly pushed the creaky door open. "Mr. Gerhardt, sir, pleased to make your acquaintance. I'd be leaving for a walk in the woods now. I've been seating too much time, I need some fresh air."

"In the dark? Is your friend crazier than you?" Mr. Gerhardt croaked with a blurred voice. "Where are you going? OK, you can stay, both of you. You'll help me with a couple of things tomorrow." He vented, the angry glare gone from his face, replaced with one of resignation. The man's intoxicated strong breath could be felt with every word.

Mack shook his head slightly silently thanking Grey, who took Mack's go-back and left making a final, discreet sign that he'd be waiting in the car.

"Dad, we didn't come here to work for you. We have things to do of our own. I thought you wouldn't mind to give us shelter for a couple of nights. We need to rest."

"Why did you come here? Who is that guy? I can tell he is in the military for the way he addressed me but he looks like some frigging raccoon to me." A remark that made Mack smile at the familiar sound of his father's sense of humor as with his dark eyes inside the black bruising all around Charlie's eyes could easily be caricatured that way. "I'm not fucking clown! Get that stupid smile out of your face or I--"

Mr. Gerhardt made a start towards Mack when he stumbled against the wood table in the middle of the room.

Mack was by his father's side instantly. "Here. Let me help." But his father pushed him away. Hard. "How many have you had? I saw your truck by the "Dices" earlier. You were committed to try last time we talked."

"It's been six months since you came last time." Mack's father complained in a blurred voice. "You said you'll help me, that you'll fix this place and send me money every month and you let me down. Just as you always do. And now you come just because there is something you need. I should be able to sit up on my own, don't you think, you smart ass..."

"I do what I can. You don't seem to help much yourself."

"I take care of myself my own way."

"Because of my work at the Logistics you know I pass much time away in a row sometimes, but I arranged with the Grocery's store that you're stocked every month. I've arrived with a friend here, we were hungry and there were only three sad cans of beans and a beer, and it's only 15th. I'll talk to them tomorrow."

"You'll talk shit!!!" His father had stood as he said this, apparently ready to knock down his son. "You don't come here at my house to tell me what to do!!!"

"Dad. Ease down."

"Come on you ungrateful little shit. I know you want to hit me. Do it now! Do you think I don't see you in your eyes?"

"Dad, it's time to go to bed. You've got one too many. I didn't come here to fight."

"The hell you didn't!!! You came to show off in front your raccoon friend here!!! Inviting him for a paid holiday at my house and without my permission!!! You bring nothing and you complain there is nothing!!! I have nothing because of you!!!

Charles overheard part of the conversation while doubting on the cabin's porch whether going inside the car and try and sleeping a bit more, but being aware of the turn the conversation was taking he decided to go for a walk around for real and get back when things had cooled down a bit.

When Charles came back, in one hour or so, he found Mack had left with the car and Mack's father looking dejected, head over his arms on the table, snoring loudly, an empty bottle of whiskey nearby. The man looked rough even in his sleep. He soon realized a lump swelling red in the right side of his face and a small trickle of blood coming from his knuckles.

"Mr. Gerhardt.." Charlie called him softly. "Mr. Gerhardt..." The smell of whiskey got stronger when he moved closer to shake him slightly by the shoulder "Mr. Gerhardt, you OK?" Charles reached forward to gingerly touch the lump. As his fingers made contact, there was a moan from him. Charlie removed his hand and watched his eyelids flicker.

"Frigging hell!!! What?"

"It's OK, Mr. Gerhardt. It's me, Charles Grey. Mack's friend."

"The raccoon... What do you want? You should be in the bottom of some dirty ditch by now. Going for a walk at night in these mountains..." His words were slurred and although his eyes were directly looking at Grey, his look was hazy and unfocused.

"I'm OK, but you seem you had some domestic accident here? Let me help"

"What do you care?" Mr. Gerhardt groaned again and reached up with one hand towards his head. It didn't get as far as the lump before he let it fall back to his side. Charles noted the bruising that surrounded one eye.

"How many fingers?' asked Charles holding up one hand. Mr. Gerhardt made an unintelligible garbling sound, stopped, shook his head, then tried again. 'One, and up yours you jerk!

"From unconsciousness to sarcasm in five seconds. Well done." Charles went to the fridge and enveloped some ice cubes into a soft cloth approaching it to Mr. Gerhardt's forefront. "There..."

"Get this out of me!"

"It would help you to reduce the swelling." Charles approached the cold cloth again to him only to see how he took it to chuck it back to him in one flick of his arm.

"Ok, ok... No trouble. So, where is Mack?" He did pick up the different ice cubes up from the floor and threw them into the kitchen sink. A dense silence followed for a few seconds during which Grey couldn't help but staring hard into those pale eyes of his that seemed so much darker now. Mack's father hammered down his left closed fist against the table making the whisky bottle jump and Charlie too, taken aback by the unexpected violence of his reaction.

Suddenly, those same pale eyes melted in a well of tears, flowing freely down Mr. Gerhardt's cheeks the next second.

"What is so bad, Mr. Gerhardt? Let me help." Charlie went into the bathroom, wet a cloth, brought it out and gently wiped the blood off his hand.

"I'm old" he admitted, his voice muffled. Charles continued to sit and listen. "Mack is so selfish. He doesn't listen. When he was a kid, by God, my belt made him and his brother straighten and comply with his duty, but now I never see him except whenever he needs something. He never brings the girls with him. There's a lot to do here but he doesn't care. He couldn't care about me either. It's his duty! Right?" Charles heard him ask, and then say almost in a whisper. "I'm old. I'm his father. He owes me."

Eventually Mack's father sniffled and wiped his blanched face. Still red-nosed and tear-strained he said to Charles: "He wants to join him in the road cafeteria at the south entrance. I don't have anything for dinner for you. Take my truck. If you don't mind, load the tank in the gas station and bring back some food back if you're to stay. I'd like to invite you to a beer later but I'd not been in the city for a while."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll bring back some shopping."

"If you bring with you something stronger than a beer, you'll be more than welcome."

"Sure! It's freezing cold around here."

"I'm more of a bourbon type."

"Me too. So, we have something in common."

"I doubt it. Go now."

"If that's OK with you, I'd enliven the fire a bit first." Charles leveled his gaze to Mr. Gerhardt's "You seem tired. I hope you don't mind me saying, but wouldn't you rather have some rest? I'd take care of bringing in some more wood and then I'll go look for Mack and the rest of things. Everything will be OK in the morning, you'll see."

"You really care for people, don't you? Not like that cold bastard son of mine. Thank you", said Mr. Gerhardt while heading with unsteady paces for his bedroom. Charles looked away. Sure there were quite a few scars that house could tell of, and sure all of them told stories he didn't know. He'd learned long ago that some questions were better left unasked.

Some 20 minutes afterwards, ready to go, he had been hearing the deep snoring coming from Mack's father room but he went to check all the same. Mr. Gerhardt's face, in sleep, was relaxed, his thick red lashes spiked with sweat against his flushed cheeks. He looked younger and the more he looked at him, the more he wanted to believe that tonight was nothing personal, he needed a release and Mack happened to be in the right place at the right time. Charles had not known his own father, didn't even have a clue what ethnicity he was, and it hurt him somehow to find out that Mack had one that didn't seem to care much for his son either.

"Jonas. Mack. I'm calling from a cafeteria. Carlito is not with me. You see the number in your phone, I guess. Call back from another phone right now, it's 8pm, can wait only for 20 minutes. We don't have much time and we better talk a bit in private."

At the road cafetería, an hour later, Grey quickly spotted Mack at one of the corner's tables and sat by his side.

"Pretty disgusting, huh?" Mack said immediately, head down.

"No, no. It's what it's."

"You understand it all, then. No need for more to say. He hunts around and gets some money here and there. He knows these mountains like no one, though. This was it for me and my brother, we did a lot of hunting together, family business, until we came of age and I left with Tiffy for San Antonio. My father still doesn't know Lissy or Jen. Saw Tiffy just once. So no need to mention to her we were here."

"Sure."

"Making a living is pretty hard around here in general. One of the few places that you can call wild for real these mountains. You've seen nothing yet. But it was tough. You know, with my father, my brother and I had all kind of hunting accidents. Sometimes he wouldn't take us to the clinic, so he'll patch us up himself or when he forgot to do it, my brother and I did it for ourselves."

"That sounds a rough life for kids."

"It was. I didn't realize then, nothing to compare with at the time, but when I look at my girls now, I do understand very many things of my own past."

"Where is your brother now?"

"Died on a hunt accident when we were young. I left a little bit afterwards."

"Rest in peace..."

"So, what do you say? We change the date on our cell phones. We take a couple of photos with the dogs tomorrow, with the old newspaper more or less at sight and we can leave for a motel and try and rest a little for real. I am wasted. We can come back some other time and lose ourselves around for a couple of weeks."

"Maybe we should be saving some money. We can sleep in the car while we get back home."

"Man, I am done. I need a decent bed and so do you. (...) Don't worry, the girl's money is on its way. But I've got enough of mine for a couple of hamburgers with fries and some beers too and whatever we need tonight."

"We can stay here and lend a hand to your father too, if you feel like it. A little bit of exercise will do us good."

"No. We came here to rest. We'll do some exercise but at our own pace. I know quite all too well how it works with my father, you show him some kindness and all he sees is a slave to abuse not a helping hand. My father is many things, but among all he is a survivor; don't worry about him whatever he told you. I keep an eye on him, even from a far distance, always did but he'll never recognize it."

But then, things didn't go on as Mack had planned them originally, Jonas didn't call back and Mack found himself draining his own misery all over Grey at the end of a long string of beers and whisky chasers and a long night into the early hours of the morning. In the end, Mack was in the last stage of what had been a long way to the car, seated on the cold wet ground of the parking lot, his shoulders against the trunk, so drunk he wasn't able to coordinate his movements and Grey had barely managed to take him close before he let himself slip to the floor.

"You're now last man on the bridge... You see I can't rely... on my father. ...And last man on the bridge ...has to be able to command the ship when there is no one else there. Please help Tiffy and help my girls make it, man. Take some care of my father too... You are me now... Last man on the bridge..."

"You're not thinking straight, pale face... Listen to me. What makes you think I'll survive you? You better make friends with some pen pusher for that. As your father put it so neatly, I'm just a crazy raccoon."

"You swear... to me.... you will take... care of them, bro..."

"You know I will. For now, let's take some care of us first."

Grey looked around. Everyone being there at those early hours of the morning was carrying their own burdens, regardless of how exhausted and battered they were but he didn't want to attire the good sleeping people attention with so much fuss.

Charles hooked his arm beneath his teammate's broad shoulders and lifted him from the wet floor of the parking lot. Stumbling back to the car's front, with Mack's weight against his body and that stale smell of whisky, beer and sweat that he exuded deep up in his nostrils, he thought how much they were each other's strengths and weaknesses, but they'll never be quite alright with it.

"Work with me, bro. Get into the car and we'll go and rest for real for a couple of days while on our way back. It's time to go back."

"Let me... do it my... own... way... And ... what I want now is... to... have... a leak....and stay here a while.. longer..."

"What? We need to go now. You wanna be discharged for conduct not befitting a soldier, dude?" Grey teased him. At that, Mack did look up from his disheveled position in the front seat of the car.

"Let's go home today..."

"We are home, Mack. Everywhere we are is home. It doesn't matter where you are. It only matters what you do, you taught me that. We need to rest first." By the time Grey pulled again into the first motel he saw, Mack was fast asleep, his head against the window, facing Grey. His face now dirty and pale. The dark gray circles under his eyes reminding Grey of another incident where he was really shocked by his brother in arms behavior, when he thought, maybe, he had the push he needed to leap from the edge and plummet into the darkness within. Only when he registered and got the keys did he make a try for Mack making it to its own devices to their room. "Mack?"

"Mmmm"

"Mack, you're zoning out..." Grey took Mack's jacket collar to drive him off the car. The man could barely stand but stumbling and all it was enough to make it through the door and to the closest bed; with the help of Grey steadying arm around his waist. Charlie rolled him slightly to the side and tucked a pillow behind his back to make sure he wouldn't shift from that position. He took off Mack's Glock from his back and the knife out of his pocket before taking off his shoes and his wet pants and socks and tuck him under the covers and an extra blanket.

Was there anything more disheartening than seeing a copycat of yourself lying broken infront of you? Understanding that booze was the only allowed way to take all the stress out of your main systems and, at the same time, it were such a filthy way, so gross, so low, at that. He preferred sex for that trade. But he had not committed to marriage like Mack after all.

Right now he felt tired and sore and dizzy and empty, like he had been pre-emptied just before being finally dumped. His mind awake, his heart pumping but no soul. Maybe he had been expecting too much time, waiting for his brothers in arms to help him... but two were on deployment and the other laying in front of him, as much in need as himself, soaked in alcohol all over to cure his own past's rapidly spreading infection as much as to prevent getting infected by Carlito's own's. He realized how much those brotherly arms to catch him as he was falling, those helping hands he needed so badly then, were at the end of his own arms in the end. He approached Mack again to make sure the folded pillow would maintain him in a more secure lateral position as heavily drunk as he was right then and readied himself for having some sleep. It was as simple as diving, as simple as realizing the bottom was under your feet and kicking hard down against it to help yourself to surface again, the eyes always on the light above. When you hit bottom you have nowhere to go but up.

Mack muttered something unintelligible and frowned in his sleep. Grey picked up the hand that was hanging off the bed and tucked it back under the covers, but Mack flung them off and settled back into position, mouth open and breathing noisily. He ran a furred tongue over cracked lips.

"You want some water, Mack?" Grey bent towards him, a small plastic bottle in his hand. He held Mack's head up a little while the cool liquid flowed into his mouth. Mack choked and Charlie at once took the bottle away and laid his head back down.

"Oh, God..." Mack slurred. "I won't do that again". His throat felt raw, someone was swinging a sledgehammer in his head, and his whole body ached.

Charlie intervened. "Relax, Mack, I'll protect you". The two men settled back into a silence broken only by the hum of the air heater.

"I'm sorry... I didn't... Sorry, mate..." It was so quiet Charlie nearly missed it.

Charlie clapped him twice on the arm. "Shssss... It's OK. Go back to sleep. You need to rest."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Charlie..." Mack whispered before going silent.