A.N. I know, I know. Love triangles are over done. So trust me, this isn't a typical triangle, which you'll see in the first couple of sentences. I don't like Tiffany any more than anyone else does.

You weren't expecting this though, I guess. That was the point. Nice, big twist that throws everything out of whack. I do love Jack though. He's got to be the sweetest boy ever in creation. This story will never go far enough to show his whole story, but SPOILER ALERT Jack is the owner of the Eight Below / Snow Dogs / Balto dogs, an Iditarod musher, and marries sweet new comer Jill. :D I do love him.

Chapter 11

The More They Stay the Same

Tiffany still seemed spooked as she led him out of the diner and to the street. She tried to hail a taxi, and after a few misses, a yellow cab pulled up beside them. Roger, still shaken up himself, helped her into the car. Two words ran through his head like a sick chant, Anita, Jack, Anita, Jack, Anita, Jack… On and on it played, confusing him with every breath. His eyes wandered over Tiffany's form, trying to make all of the pieces fit in his head.

They had been friends at one point or another, they went to the same prep school, and despite her flighty exterior, she was actually somewhat intelligent. He remembered their entire relationship, some six months spent chasing each other throughout the school or down the beach.

Fun, yes, but little more than a high school romance. Roger had known, even back then, that she wasn't what he was after. Tiffany was going to become someone magnificent, he had been sure, and she would be designing dresses and shoes and holding galas and other prodigious events at every opportunity. That wasn't the life he wanted.

He wanted the farm and the family. All of those things he had shared with Anita, and so much more. Things Tiffany and her kind would never be able to give him.

But that was Anita. Jack… Jack promised something entirely different. Roger knew what it was like to grow up and know that he was a disappointment. Joseph was the golden boy, and he was little more than a nasty snail on the carpet, or so it had always seemed.

But where Roger had failed as a father, Bella had made it so much better. She was the best mother anyone could hope for, and she had loved all of her children equally, even when it had almost killed her.

Roger didn't have to wonder where Jack was now, not really. Judging on Tiffany's outfit alone, he knew that they weren't suffering. His father must be paying her a great deal to hide out in the desert and not say a word. And if Tiffany was out and about, flaunting her money, then Jack was at home, probably playing with his millions of toys, while a nanny watched over him.

Nanny's weren't inherently bad, he knew, but he'd grown up listening to his mother bad mouth every lady that came in, trying to enforce his father's rules. Bella had successfully resisted, and her boys never saw more than the occasional babysitter. Something about that made him against the idea as well.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't even realized they were pulling to a stop somewhere across town. A series of condos that rose high into the sky. Tiffany offered the driver her credit card, and then stepped out of the vehicle to lead him in.

Tiffany didn't say a word to him the entire trip, even in the long elevator ride to the twentieth floor, but he was at least relieved that she was starting to calm down. Her hands didn't even seem to be shaking anymore.

The elevator opened into a giant empty hall. There wasn't any color, just shades of white and cream. Tiffany reached one door, marked with silver numbers as 2019, and stepped into her domain.

It seemed much the way he expected it to be. Everything looked frozen into place, that perfect, uncomfortable clean that only seems to be achieved by the rich, the obsessed, and the lonely. He was a little put off by the lack of personal details. Many designers encouraged that. Limiting family photos and keeping toys hidden away, but this wasn't like that.

A copy of the Hope family portrait hung over the fake fireplace. The mayor, his wife, and their daughters in all of their finest. It wasn't an old photograph, taken just before Tiffany had taken off. Penny was the only one who looked any different. She had let her light hair grow out since it had been taken. Pictures of the sisters were littered everywhere, and a picture of Penny and Joseph together too. No, the place wasn't lacking in personal artifacts, but in his cursory assessment, Roger couldn't find even one picture of the little boy he had come here to see.

Roger spun around, hoping to ask Tiffany, but found that she had disappeared somewhere deeper into the apartment. He couldn't help the worry that had threaded itself in his being, sharing space with his own fears about becoming a father with so little preparation. His heart rate was steadily increasing with every extra second he was given by himself, and hyperventilating seemed like a reasonable next step.

Just then, Tiffany stepped back into the room, behind her came an older lady, and clutching on to her hand was the boy. His chocolate eyes were wide and frightened, and he instantly buried his face against his nanny's side. "Nana," he said quietly.

Roger crumpled to the ground. "Jack."

o.O.o

Roger sat there on the floor for a while, unaware of anything but the deep sense of shame that had seemingly overwhelmed him. Only the series of thoughts flickering through his semi-functioning brain kept him in check.

Every tiny question he could think to ask rushed to the forefront of his mind. What's his favorite food? When is his birthday? So many things he should already know.

There were other things though. The big questions. Why? Why had no one thought that this would be important to him? And how could he have been so foolish to have never paused to think about it before?

If he had only cared a little more for Tiffany. He could have asked more questions, discovered the truth more quickly. Instead he had accepted the story and went about his business without a care in the world. And now, here he was, freaking out on the floor, feeling sorry for himself while, just three feet away, his little boy, his son, stood absolutely terrified.

Way to go, he chided himself. It had only taken him three seconds to make Jack hate him. But as time stretched on, Roger's resolve came back, his determination to be a better father than his ever was.

He glanced up just in time to see the nanny placing Jack back down onto the floor. The boy studied him, still a little wary.

"Why you sad?" he asked, pointing at his father's face.

Roger was speechless for a few more seconds, before he quickly swiped away the tears he had previously been unaware of.

"Not sad," he finally managed, forcing himself to smile. "These are happy tears."

Jack looked back up at the nanny, who nodded absentmindedly. He took a couple steps forward, and then plopped down on his butt.

"I am Jack," he said matter-of-factly.

"I know you are. Do you know who I am?" Jack shook his head. "I'm your Daddy."

"Daddy?" he repeated, like he was trying to place the word with a meaning. After a while he said, "Okay," and that was all of that subject.

Roger asked him a few simple questions, and Jack led him down the hall to his room. Roger was so caught up in all of it, he hadn't realized that both the nanny and Tiffany had stayed back.

"Do you have a favorite toy?" he asked upon seeing the room. It was actually a little sparse.

"Puppy," he answered happily, immediately going to his bed. He picked up the stuffed animal there, sitting perfectly on top of his plain green bed spread.

Puppy turned out to be a little lopsided, faded, and stained, stuffed dog with one pointed ear. It might have once been a husky, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Jack continued to rattle on and on about everything he could, and Roger ate up every second of the chatter. Not all of it made sense, but it was pleasant either way. Listening to that, however, didn't require all of his attention, and he spent some time just taking in the space.

He had noticed before that the boy's bed was plain, no cartoon characters or even generic dinosaurs. His toys were few and far between, and those he did have looked cheap or previously used. The open closet, however, was leaking another story. Inside, someone had shoved his baby furniture into the confined space. Fancy ruffled things made of wrought iron and polished wood. Darling Inc. was scrawled across the bottom of a forgotten walker. His father certainly didn't make cheap anything. He thought it was beneath him.

Roger was finding out quickly that the deeper he got into this mystery, the more it felt like a dark storm cloud was gathering overhead. At least Jack seemed happy and healthy.

o.O.o

Once she had finally decided life was worth living, Anita managed to drag herself out of bed. Long shadows were already starting to grow as the sun lowered in the sky.

Anita slowly made her way down the stairs, causing all eyes to be on her from everyone in the living room. She scrubbed at her face with one hand and said her hellos.

"Do you feel better, Nita?" Jimmy asked from his spot on the floor.

She paused, taking another assessment of her body. "Yes, much better. Now I'm stiff." She smiled at him one last time before heading to the kitchen for a steaming cup of tea.

Anita curled up on one of the kitchen chairs while she let the water boil, holding her knees to her chest. On the table beside her, she noticed the pad of paper she kept notes on, Roger's new home number scrawled across the top.

She seemed to suddenly be filled with new energy then, and scooped up the pad and hurried to the phone hanging on the wall. The phone rang and rang, each passing moment made her grow more anxious. Anita was just about to hang up when, at last the phone clicked, "Hello? Roger? Are you there?" she asked, but there was no response. "Call me back then, please." She hung up, unconcerned, and went to finish her tea.

o.O.o

Roger sat in the back of another taxi on his way home, holding his face in his hands. He hadn't really wanted to leave, especially with the growing pit of darkness that seemed to have taken root in his stomach. Jack had been ready for bed though, and the nanny, Mildred, had chased him out with a scowl. Tiffany had already disappeared, and she hadn't told anyone where she was off too.

Mildred had looked unconcerned, and Jack hadn't asked for her the entire time he had been there, so Roger took it as a sign that she did this quite often. That fact didn't sit well with him either. Sure, Tiffany had always been a spoiled, rich girl, but he had never pegged her as one of those people that didn't seem to care at all about their children.

The driver stopped at the corner of his street, and Roger climbed out. The street still felt unfamiliar. Almost hostile. The only the good thing about the rest of the night was the sheer lack of other people. All of the servants were long gone by the time he unlocked the door.

He went through the space flicking on every light switch he could find, lighting up everything, when a tiny flashing light caught his eye. The phone was perched on a tiny stand in the living area, the answering machine with it blinking sleepily.

Aware that he would most likely regret it in the morning, Roger ignored the light, slipping off his clothes and collapsing in the giant bed that took up the majority of his bedroom. Still, sleep didn't come until the first hint of dawn lightened the sky outside his window.

A.N. See? Even Roger doesn't really like her. No worries. :)