A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. I have a couple of drastic life upheavals that got in the way of getting much writing done.

Thank you for reading! Bear with me, there will eventually be something a bit more exciting than just awkward conversations between characters…that said, this is an awkward conversation chapter .

And apparently I had some confusion over what I was calling the youngest Dixon boy…in one chapter I called him Frankie, but later on I called him Freddie. But I am officially naming him Freddie from here on out.

Anyway…enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 39

Richard spotted Gwen and Chris as they turned the corner at the bakery. He didn't try to catch up with them, because it was probably best to confess to Gwen without Chris's curiosity too close by. He waited at the corner for Gwen to walk back on her way to her shift, trying to figure out what he was going to say. He saw her approaching; her head down as usual, her hands tucked into the pockets of her thin sweater.

"Gwen?" he said as she neared. He spoke softly, so as not to startle her; but it didn't work. She still jumped, muttering 'Jesus Christ' as she placed her hand on her chest in some attempt to calm her heart.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't. Mm, mean to scare you."

"No, it's… it's fine. I, um, wasn't expecting you this morning." She briefly looked up at him. "Is… is everything alright?" He didn't look like he had slept much, and there was a small bit of missed stubble on his cheek, although the fresh nick on his chin indicated that he had shaved that morning.

Richard pulled his cap off and clutched it nervously. "Mm, I lied to you, last night when. I said I wasn't a thief. I didn't… mean to lie, and I didn't. Mm, realize I was lying… until later." He explained about hijacking liquor shipments, concluding with "Mm, it was wrong of me to get. Mad at you, but even more so. Mm, because you were right…about me. But I promise. Mm, I will…never encourage Chris to do. Anything that I do."

"That's a lie."

"Excuse. Me?" Richard asked defensively.

"You read, and you're encouraging Chris to learn, so…you technically just lied to me again."

There was a very tiny smile on her face, and Richard relaxed. But that relaxed feeling started to wither when she looked directly at him, studying him for a long moment. "I don't understand you, Mr. Harrow. You apologized for yelling at me, which no one has ever done. And now you're admitting to lying to me, when most people would have just not said anything."

"Mm, I'm not most people."

Gwen nodded, then quickly looked down, as if she realized she was making eye contact when she shouldn't be. Richard sighed inwardly, seeing it as a sign of fear; as if she thought looking at him might anger him.

But she was actually working up the nerve to ask "Will you still explain why you want to help Chris and me? Please? I…I know you said it was a…a painful thing to talk about, but…" She wasn't sure how to explain the need to understand why an admitted thief and murderer seemed to be the most compassionate person in their lives.

"I wasn't sure if. Mm, you still wanted…to hear it," Richard admitted. "But, mm, yes. May I…still come over tonight?"

"Yes. Will you still come early, to work with Chris?"

"Yes," Richard readily agreed. "You should. Mm, hurry, before you're. Late for work," he pointed out. Gwen turned bright red and made an embarrassed 'ummmmm'.

"I, um, don't, um…that is, I…well, last week…God, was that only last Saturday? Anyway, Mr. Fazio, he sent me home and told me he didn't want to see me for a week. That's why, when you handed me the ham, I started crying. He didn't, um…well, he didn't give me my pay, and I didn't know what…what I was going to do, and then, there you were. I…I wasn't going to ask for any money for the shirt, at first, because you had brought that soup? But then…then I…I wasn't going to ask for much, just enough to make sure Chris could eat? But…but…you had ham, and it was…it seemed like…I mean, you…" She was starting to get worked up; embarrassment at her situation, the near miracle of him showing up with that ham and the relief she had felt when she realized she'd be able to feed Chris for a few days…it all came back in a rush that made her chest tight and her eyes sting once again with tears. She closed her mouth quickly, afraid that if she said more, she would break down.

"Why didn't. Mm, you say anything?" he asked, his eye conveying the concern his voice couldn't. Gwen shrugged; she had been sobbing too hard to say anything, was one reason. And, for another, she didn't want to seem any more pathetic or idiotic than he already thought her to be. "Mm, do you want to go get. Your money?"

"Oh, no! I can't! He would…I…I went in on Monday, in case he, you know, had changed his mind, or was just in a really bad mood Saturday; I didn't want to not show up, in case, you know? But he…he um…wasn't happy to see me." He'd thrown a can at her, but she didn't see the need to mention that. She fretted with a loose thread on her sweater, hoping that was all that would be said on the subject. "I'm afraid if I show up again before Monday, he'll fire me." Richard grunted softly, but said nothing. He didn't think it would be a bad thing if she had one less job, but convincing her of that would take time and re-establishing her trust in him. He could have told her that he could ensure that Mr. Fazio handed over her pay, but offering to intimidate her boss was probably not the best idea right now. Not if he wanted her to believe he actually was a decent, non-threatening individual.

"Mr. Harrow? Did you…um…did you come all the way here, just to apologize?" Her tone was somewhere between 'no one would do such a thing' and 'he's insane if he did such a thing'. Richard felt a small smile form; it wasn't the only reason he had come by, but it was the main one.

"Mostly," he admitted. "Mm, but I was curious if. You and Chris…talked. I know it's. None of my business, but…" He shrugged.

"We did. And thank you. Chris admitted he probably wouldn't have asked if you hadn't encouraged him to."

Richard flushed. "I'm sorry for. Mm, interfering in your…personal matters."

"Please don't be. Like I said, Chris would probably still be ignoring me, if it wasn't for you. He understands, as much as he can, at his age. But he forgave me."

"Good." Richard felt a sense of relief at hearing that, although it did nothing to alleviate the feeling that he was somehow responsible for this. He was about to say more, but the bakery owner popped out of the business and told them to either come in and buy something, or move away from the shop because he was tired of them standing there like a couple of hooligans. Gwen and Richard both muttered an apology before heading in the direction of Gwen's apartment.

"You, um…you were about to say something," Gwen hesitantly said. "Before the baker shooed us away?"

"Mm, nothing important," Richard said. How could he explain his guilt without further alienating her? To admit that he'd overheard part of the fight with Taylor, then that he had pumped the man for information about her, and then to say that he had spied on her…seen her distress but done nothing to ease it; to admit to all that would be a disaster. "I just, mm. Wish I could have. Done something to…keep it from happening."

"You could have, but…I think I'm glad you didn't."

Richard saw color rise in her cheeks as he tried to figure out what she meant by that; but unable to come up with anything, he asked her to explain.

"You could have…you know…uh, that thing I said I wasn't going to think about?" She turned even more red and looked like she wanted to fold herself up into a small ball and throw herself away. "Which, obviously, I'm not doing a good job of, since I'm, you know, mentioning it."

Richard gave a small grunt of understanding. "Mm, I could have done…that," he agreed very carefully. "Why do. Mm, you think you're glad…I didn't? You're out twenty…seven dollars, have managed to get. Mm, even more work to do, and. Nearly lost your relationship…with your son."

"It was only fifteen dollars, since someone's best judgement was to give me back the twelve Jeff tried to skim from Mr. Lansky." There was a small smile on her lips; slightly mischievous, slightly embarrassed. But when she looked at Richard, the glimmer in her eyes held more than that, and he felt himself turn red. "Yes, I ended up with more trouble on my plate than I needed. That's one thing in life that I'm good at; well, that and saying stupid things. Oh, and over reacting, but you've probably figured that out. That said, Chris has eaten better in the past couple months than he has in the past year, and he…he wrote a note. My son! Wrote a note!" The pride she hadn't been able to feel the night before came bursting through. "He couldn't do that, before. I couldn't teach him that! I could barely keep a roof over his head or enough food in him! But you…I know you'll explain later, and maybe it'll all make sense when you do; but for whatever reason, you're being…God, 'kind' doesn't even begin to describe it, but I don't know what other word to use."

"Isn't that. Mm, what normal people do?" Richard asked, not entirely in a joking manner.

"If it is," Gwen said, "then I've never met a normal person, apparently." Richard couldn't tell if she was joking or not, either. "I'm sorry; that's a bleak thing to say," she sighed and rubbed the corner of her eye. By now, they had reached her building. She looked up at the structure, then over at Richard. She wanted to ask why he had thought Jeff would be successful at getting money here, in a building that looked like it was one strong gust of wind away from falling over, when he'd had no success at the nicer homes of his family. But she had already said so much. Too much, really. She was amazed that she had managed to say as much as she had without saying something stupid, something that would set him off. It would only be a matter of time before she did it again, she knew. It really would be best if she kept her mouth shut; but something about his confession and the way he had clutched and twisted his cap nervously in his hands, had made her relax too much, made her forget to be careful. She couldn't risk making him mad or driving him away, so she should just keep her mouth shut.

Richard saw Gwen draw back into herself when they reached her building; even though he wanted to know what she had wanted to ask him in that brief moment before she did so, he didn't press it. Instead, he told her he'd be back later and took his leave. He felt better for admitting his lie; and he was mildly surprised Gwen had taken it as well as she had. As he took the subway back across town, he tried to figure out why Gwen had relaxed enough to talk to him. It certainly wasn't because she had forgotten that he was a hitman, as her mention of 'that thing she said she wouldn't think about' proved. He didn't know that it was simply the fact that he admitted his mistakes and apologized for his wrongs that stunned her into forgetting to be afraid or nervous.

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"Did you talk with your mom?" Patty asked Chris as they walked over to the Dixon's apartment to see if Freddie and Roger could come play.

"Yeah, we talked," Chris replied. "And you were right about a lot of it." He had confided in Patty the previous night when his mom dropped him off while she went to work, because he really needed to talk to someone about it, and Patty was his best friend and one of the few people he could communicate with. Plus, he figured that since was a girl, she could offer some insight into what might have been going through his mother's mind.

"Figured I would be," Patty replied, just a bit smugly. "So, did you forgive her?" Chris nodded. "Good. I know it wasn't easy-"

"But it was, kind of. I can't really explain it, but I guess knowing what she went through made it seem pointless, maybe even stupid, to be mad at her for something she did so long ago." …Because she is willing to give everything for you… "And because I know she loves me, and I love her. I hated being mad at her." He didn't need Patty to tell him it was his own fault for not letting Gwen explain sooner, but she told him anyway.

Mrs. Dixon had no problem letting two of her sons out to play, so the four children made their way to their usual spot to toss the ball around, although Patty, Roger and Freddie made a point of keeping Chris as far away from the road as possible.

They knew it was time to call it a day when the sounds of various mothers calling out for their children rang through the neighborhood.

"You should get going," Patty told the Dixon boys. "I'll make sure Chris gets home."

"You can't!" Freddie burst out. "We gotta walk you! Gentlemens make sure ladies get home safe! Mr. H said so!"

"That was different, because it was late and raining. It's sunny, and I've got plenty of time to get home before Gram gets mad."

"But Mr. H said-"

"Mr. H isn't here," Patty pointed out. "But if we don't get, we're all gonna be in trouble."

"I'ma tell Mr. H!" Freddie called as Roger began to herd him home. "He'll be mad when he hears you're not being a lady!"

"What's he saying?" Chris asked as he and Patty walked home.

"That he's gonna tell Mr. H I'm not being a lady because I won't let them walk me home. He thinks Mr. H will be mad about something like that," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe not mad," Chris said. "But worried that you're walking home alone. I think he has weird ideas about things like that." Chris shrugged, then changed the subject. "When are you coming back?"

"Not for a couple weeks. My aunt is getting married so we're going to Philadelphia for the wedding."

"It's going to be boring around here," Chris said glumly.

"I know, but it's not really that long; I'm gone longer during school."

"I know. It's just…it's been so crazy lately, I'm going to miss having you to talk to."

"Things have to calm down though, right? I mean, what else could possibly happen?"

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Richard showed up not long after Gwen and Chris had finished dinner, and he could tell by the look of delighted surprise on the boy's face that Gwen hadn't told Chris he was coming by.

"Mr. H! What are you doing here? Do we have to go to Mr. L's office?"

"No," Richard said once Gwen had translated. He crouched down to be level with the boy. "I came by. Mm, to work with you. You still have…a lot to teach me. Mm, don't you?" Chris nodded enthusiastically. "Mm, I have a feeling you're…going to outpace what. I can teach you, though." Richard pulled out his billfold and removed the note Chris had written, holding it up for the boy. "This amazed me. That you. Mm, wrote this with…just the little I taught you?" Richard could only shake his head in wonder. "But, you don't. Owe me anything. It was…an accident."

"No, I owe you. It's my fault you crashed." His face pinched in thought for a moment, then Chris added "I'm not my dad. I'm going to take responsibility for my mistakes. Maybe I can clean your house, or something, to pay for it." His posture was very resolute, and Richard looked to Gwen for help.

"Please make him understand. Mm, he doesn't owe me," he pleaded. "That it wasn't…his fault."

"Why would I do that?" she asked. "As you said last night, he's my son. I've done what I could to make sure he understands the importance of taking responsibility for his actions."

"But it…was an accident."

"Would you have hit the hydrant if he hadn't run into the road?"

"No, but-"

"No 'buts'," Gwen shut his argument down in an aggravatingly mothering tone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harrow, but I agree with Chris. Maybe if it had been the first time he'd run out in front of you, I'd feel different. But he didn't learn the lesson good enough the first time to be more attentive; so maybe seeing you crash and some honest hard work will make him more mindful in the future."

Richard tried to think of another argument against this, but the stubborn determination in both of their brown eyes made that nearly impossible. He understood Gwen's point, and he didn't disagree with it. Children needed to understand that actions had consequences; that was all well and good. Richard just had no desire to have a ten year old indentured servant paying off a debt Richard didn't think he was owed.

"Mm, fine. We'll figure…something out," he wearily sighed, hoping to put the matter to rest, at least for the time being. If he was lucky, they'd forget the whole thing; and he thought he had something that might be just distracting enough to do the trick.

"I got a few things," Richard said as he pulled his satchel around and opened the flap, "mm, to help you practice, and…learn." Chris's eyes were bright with curiosity and excitement as Richard pulled out a couple of notebooks, some pencils, and a battered but still usable copy of McGuffey's First Eclectic Reader. The boy looked at the gifts in Richard's hands, stunned for a brief moment. Manners kicked in, and Chris began to sign 'thank you', using both hands to emphasize his gratitude, as tears of joy began to well in his eyes.

Chris couldn't think of anything to say to properly express how grateful and excited his was, so he exuberantly threw his arms around Richard's neck, knocking the man off balance. Richard fell onto his backside, but he didn't care. He wrapped one arm around the boy and murmured "You're welcome," forgetting that it was pointless to do so; but how not when he felt the pure joy in that hug?

Chris pulled away, his cheeks damp but eyes alight with excitement. "Can we start now? Please?"

As Gwen watched the embrace between her precious son and this confusing man, she tried to think of a time when Chris had shown such simple joy for anything his father had done, and came up with nothing. It wasn't fair of her to keep comparing Mr. Harrow to Jeff, but with her limited social experiences, she didn't have much else to compare him to. You should stop it, you silly girl. As Mr. Harrow said, he's not most people, and he is certainly unlike any person you've ever dealt with. Especially Jeff. When has Jeff ever admitted to lying to me? Or…why didn't Jeff even try to teach Chris to read? How in the-no, I'm not even going to go down that path…if I start asking why this man we barely know has better fathering instincts than the actual father of my child, I'm going to end up with more questions. And for all I know, Mr. Harrow will answer them when he tells me his story. She was very curious to hear his tale; something she would have found very unlikely to happen back on that late March night when Jeff led the hitman to her door. But she would have to wait to satisfy her curiosity, and it ended up becoming an afterthought as she translated between her son and this mysterious man who was so willing to be kind to them.