I decided that this series has too many fathers and not enough mothers, and I wanted to somehow compensate for it. In the end, it turned out that what I really wanted was just to torture poor Silva a little more xD
English is not my first language and I have no beta, so sorry for any mistakes, feel free to point them out.
I
"Saul! Saul, are you there?"
Saul pulls the covers over his head and curls into an even tighter ball, but soon the bed shifts under the weight of another person and a hand uncovers him in one firm movement.
"Saul, I'm really in no mood for games." Mother sighs heavily, then stands up and reaches for her son's backpack abandoned under the desk. "Start packing now. Only the most important things. Someone will send us the rest later."
The boy's fingers tighten on the covers.
"Do we really have to leave, Mom?"
Mother glances away for a moment, but when she looks back at her son, her face is emotionless.
"We've already talked about this, Saul. We are going to stay with your aunt for a while. We'll find you a new school, you'll meet new friends. It will be good for both of us, you'll see."
"But I don't want…!" Before Saul has time to finish the sentence, phone rings.
Without a word, mother places his backpack on the edge of the bed, sends the boy a warning look, then hurries out, closing the door behind her.
Saul swings his legs out from under the covers, instinctively grabs the backpack, which is already sliding down, then stands in the middle of the room and looks around helplessly. Finally, after a few painfully long minutes, he starts moving again. He throws the notebooks and textbooks from his backpack away, and replaces them with a plastic dinosaur, a few toy soldiers, a wooden sword and a homemade slingshot. Then he thoughtfully runs his fingers along the spines of the books lined up on the shelf above the desk, until he stops at the one whose cover betrays how often it has been used. He opens it, sits down on the edge of the chair and silently reads the handwritten dedication at the bottom of the first page. Suddenly, he straightens up and hurls the volume across the room, as far as possible. The book bounces off the wall, the cover breaks off and falls to the floor separately from the rest. Saul angrily wipes his wet cheek with a clenched fist. He glares at the damaged book, then shrugs and turns away, going back to packing his backpack.
The noise must have been louder than he realized, though, because a moment later his mother peeks into the room again. The woman is about to say something, but then she notices the book on the floor and gives her son a surprised look.
Saul shrugs again and continues packing.
"You don't want to take it with you?" Mother asks gently, coming closer.
"No, you can throw it away!"
"Saul, It was a gift from Dad…"
"Throw it away, I said!" The boy shouts, turning abruptly to face her. "I don't want it, I don't want any souvenirs!" Unspoken words hang in the air, but both Saul and his mother know what he really meant. 'I want Dad back.'
The woman puts her hand on his shoulder, and Saul finally bursts into tears.
"We're leaving because of me, don't we?" he asks hoarsely when he finally can breathe again. "Mom? It's because I killed Dad?"
The woman's fingers tighten painfully on his shoulder.
"Dad was killed by a Burned One, do you understand? A Burned One and no one else!"
"No!" Saul shakes his head violently, swallowing down his tears."The Burned One hurt him, but it was me…" he stops suddenly as his mother slaps his face. The blow is not strong and it doesn't even hurt that much, but Saul is so shocked that the words die in his throat.
The woman covers her mouth with her hand in horror.
"I'm sorry, Saul! I'm so sorry!"
Shaking fingers try to stroke his cheek, which still burns from the impact, but Saul moves away from the touch. For a moment, he simply stares with already drying eyes at his mother's face, which in turn grows wetter with tears. Then he turns around, reaches for the backpack he has abandoned on the floor, and with impassive, almost automatic movements he places more toys, now completely at random, inside it.
II
Saul carefully steps over the threshold so as not to knock down any of the cardboard boxes stacked along both walls.
"Mom?" he asks, looking around uncertainly.
"Saul, what are you doing here?!" The woman looks out of the kitchen and almost drops a flowerpot when she sees her son.
The boy shrugs, still looking around.
"Dropped in for the weekend. I wanted to surprise you, we haven't seen each other since the beginning of the school year."
"You've come all the way by yourself?" Mother shakes her head and hurriedly sets the flower down. "Come on, I've already packed most of the plates, but we can order some pizza and eat it out of the box."
"I'm sixteen, not six," Saul snorts in response, reflexively adjusting the pot so that it does not stand too close to the edge of the box. "So why don't you just tell me what's going on here?"
The woman freezes for a second and turns her gaze to the window.
"I sold the apartment," she finally says, her voice barely audible.
"What?!"
"I sold it. I'm moving out. I took your things to your aunt's, she promised to keep them for you."
"What do you mean you're moving out?" Saul runs his fingers through his hair, trying to remain calm. "Where to?"
"To the First World. I've already got the permission and all the necessary documents. You know, it's much easier for us humans to arrange this than for fairies. Less threat, less bureaucracy…" Now she's speaking in a rushed tone, already half-expecting Saul to explode.
"Excuse me?!"
"Saul, please understand..." She looks pleadingly at her son.
The boy shakes his head in increasing disbelief.
"What am I supposed to understand, Mom? That now that you've finally got rid of me, you've decided to flee to the other end of the world? To another world, even. Do you really hate me this much?"
"Oh Saul, I could never hate you!" Mother walks over, takes his hand in both hers, and forces him to sit down beside her on one of the boxes. "It's just that now that you're at Alfea, I know you're safe. No Burned One will break through the Barrier, not with Rosalind being the headmistress. So now I don't have to worry about you, I finally had time to think..."
"Think about yourself?" Saul snorts ironically, cutting her off.
"Please, try to understand," mother repeats. "Ever since your dad died, I've lived in fear, I've felt as if I was being chased all the time. I can't do it anymore. I tried to be strong for you, I swear I tried, but you're grown up now, you've moved out, you're starting to have a life of your own, and I... I'll go crazy if I stay here any longer!" The woman hides her face in her hands.
Saul closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Were you going to tell me about it at all, or was I supposed to come back for the holidays and discover strangers living here?" he asks bitterly, but in a much calmer voice.
"I've wanted to tell you for some time, but somehow I couldn't summon the courage. I'm sorry," she whispers, wiping away her tears.
Saul shakes his head but says nothing more, so after a moment of silence the woman continues:
"You know I'm not running from you but from myself, don't you? After all, nothing will change between us. You'll visit and stay with me during holidays, and as soon as I'm settled, I'll invite you for a weekend. I will still call you regularly, of course, just like..."
"Will you?" Saul smiles wryly, interrupting her. "And do you remember the last time you called, Mom?"
Mother frowns.
"We talked last week, didn't we? Yes, I remember you telling me about how you and that Andreas of yours got a detention for shooting arrows at sunflowers in the school garden..."
"We talked," Saul interrupts her again, "because I called you. Just like I did the week before and the one before that as well. You're right, Mom, in fact, nothing will change, will it?" He rises from the box, suggesting the conversation is over. "Have you already disconnected your phone too or can I order that pizza now?"
III
"Hey Saul!" Andreas jumps over the bench and sits down next to his friend. "Farah told me everything. You know you can come spend the holidays with us, don't you? My parents will be fine with it. They probably won't even notice."
Saul smiles slightly but shakes his head.
"Thanks, but I've already talked to the headmistress and she's let me stay at Alfea."
"Seriously?" Andreas leans forward and gives him a doubtful look. "You'd rather stay at school all summer than party with your best friend?"
Saul snorts in response.
"Partying with my best friend got me a month of detention and extra training on weekends, thank you very much," he points out, giving Andreas a friendly shove.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault! If Ben had climbed over that fence faster, we wouldn't have been caught," Andreas insists.
"If you hadn't got him this drunk, he wouldn't have forgotten which side to jump down on," Saul chuckles as he recalls their adventure. "But seriously, Andreas, I don't mind staying at Alfea for the summer. Sometimes it feels like the only place I can call home. I was thinking about staying here after I graduate, you know?" he adds after a moment. "The Burned Ones are getting bolder and bolder, so probably more graduates will be accepted into the battalion in the nearest future. I know it's not the same as school, but it's still Alfea..."
Andreas nods thoughtfully.
"Well, Rosalind loves me, I'm sure I can convince her to accept us. Together?" He holds out his hand.
"Together." Saul takes the hand and shakes it. "But she loves me more," he bites back jokingly, although only half-heartedly.
"Who loves you?" Farah Dowling's voice makes both Specialists jump.
"The headmistress, of course," Andreas replies cheerfully, scooting over to make room for her between them. "And she apparently loves this guy here so much that she's making him stay here for the whole summer. Can you imagine?"
Ignoring him, Farah turns to Saul and gives him a concerned look.
"So you've decided not to go to the First World after all?"
Saul shakes his head.
"Why would I want to go?" he asks softly, staring at the surface of the pond glistening in the sun. "My mother has her own life now, I have mine."
"But she's asked you to come, hasn't she?"
Saul shrugs.
"She's invited me because she feels guilty. Or responsible or something. Really, Farah, would you take your teenage son to your new boyfriend's family reunion?"
"Farah, you have a teenage son? Wow, and you look so young!" Andreas interjects and immediately winces, punished by his fairy friend with the magic equivalent of a flick on the nose.
"Why not?" Farah replies to Saul, without even turning to face Andreas, who's still massaging his nose. "Maybe she'd feel better if she had company?"
"So would I," Saul mutters under his breath, then blushes as he realizes that his friends have heard his words.
Farah discreetly moves closer and presses her side to his in silent reassurance.
"I agree with Saul," Andreas interjects, moving to Saul's side and resting a hand on his shoulder. "She's been ignoring him for better part of the last three years, why would he come running back to her the moment she remembered she has a son?"
Saul straightens up, throwing off his friend's hand in the process. Farah moves slightly away, automatically.
"It's not like that," Saul protests. "It's not her fault she still can't recover from Dad's death. And I'm glad that she has found someone. Maybe she will be able to forget and move on eventually. It's just... it just doesn't concern me anymore, okay?"
"But she's still your mom," Farah notes, and gently puts his arm around him.
Saul winces at first, but then involuntarily draws closer to her and gradually relaxes at the touch.
IV
"Saul! You've come!" Mother exclaims happily, rushing out to meet him.
Saul meekly allows himself to be embraced and kissed on both cheeks, but he does not return the hug.
"It's not often you get to be a guest at your mother's wedding," he finally replies, forcing himself to smile.
Mother blushes a little, takes his hand and leads him towards the house, still talking.
"Tom's at his brother's place, they had the stag party yesterday, I think he's not sober yet. Anyway, we've decided not to see each other before church. You know, so as not to jinx it. But he can't wait to meet you. He keeps joking that you must be avoiding him since you haven't been able to visit us for all these years. You're not avoiding him, are you?" she asks suddenly. They're already in the hallway, and she stops in front of her son, barring his way, forcing him to answer.
Saul grimaces and, to mask it, concentrates on removing his jacket, pretending the zipper is stuck.
"I'm not avoiding him," he says reluctantly. "I just wasn't that curious."
Mother swallows loudly but nods and finally gets out of his way.
"Your aunt is arriving tomorrow morning, then two of my friends from work will also come to help make me pretty," she's chattering again, as she leads her son to the kitchen. "It will be a very small ceremony, of course. Only a dozen or so people, dinner at the restaurant which is run by Tom's sister, and that's it. You'll meet them all tomorrow, Saul, and I'm sure you're going to like them, they are very nice people. But tonight, we're alone, me and you. Maybe we can finally talk..."
Saul gives her a scrutinizing look, under the weight of which the woman falls silent again. She starts bustling around the kitchen, busying herself with preparing dinner. Saul wanders off to the living room, walks around for a couple of minutes, looking at the unfamiliar interior. Finally, he walks back to the kitchen and, also in complete silence, starts setting the table. They are both doing their best to ignore the tension.
"So how are you doing, son? How's the service, hard?" Mother finally dares to ask as they finish dinner.
"You want to hear about the Burned Ones now, really?" Saul snorts at her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought it was still a taboo subject."
"It's not like that, Saul..." Mother looks down at her hands. "You can't even imagine how scared I was. Do you remember that for over a year, I wouldn't leave the house at all after dark? And even after that, almost every day I'd feel as if one of them was watching me. I still sometimes do. Even here, even now I freak out when I'm near a forest. When Tom took me to a surprise picnic in the woods, I had a panic attack. I don't understand how you can voluntarily hunt them, son. I know someone has to, but why you?"
Saul shrugs.
"I don't know, maybe so that no more ten-year-olds would be forced to kill their own fathers?" he says bitterly.
Mother straightens up as if someone had slapped her.
"Oh, did I say that out loud? Forgive me," Saul continues to ironize. He puts his half-empty mug down on the table so hard it resounds with a bang and a few droplets of tea fall to the tablecloth.
"You know, Mom, I think I had more reasons to be afraid of the woods than you did. Do you think that only you had a hard time after Dad's death? While you were afraid just of the Burned Ones, I was also terrified that someone would find out it was me who… That someone would come and arrest me, throw me in jail or worse. Even when I was old enough to realize that it wouldn't happen, it took me ten years to actually tell someone what really happened on that day. Ten years, Mom! And you didn't care," he points out accusingly, slamming his hand on the table. Empty plates rattle softly. Saul exhales and runs his hand through his hair, calming down as quickly as he exploded.
Mother hesitantly reaches out and covers his hand with hers.
"I know I've let you down many times, Saul," she says, her voice low, trembling. "I shut myself down, focused too much on my own pain and didn't have enough strength to properly focus on yours. But it's not that I didn't see you or that I didn't care. I just wasn't strong enough."
Saul shakes his head.
"I was a kid, Mom. I didn't understand half of it. All I needed was for you to let me know that it was not my fault, that you didn't blame me. Hell, even to look at me the way you had before he died. Unless you did blame me, that is…"
His mother's fingers tighten around his hand and she looks him straight in the eye.
"I've never blamed you, Saul. I'm proud of you and I know Dad would be too. I should have told you that a long time ago, you're right. But maybe it's not too late?"
Saul sends her a crooked smile and closes his eyes for a moment. Finally, however, he reaches out with his free hand tentatively and pats his mother's hand in a reassuring gesture.
"I don't know," he says softly, resignedly. "Maybe it isn't? But now let's go to sleep. You can't walk down the aisle tomorrow with dark circles under your eyes after all."
V
Saul shows up unexpectedly, late in the evening, pale and unkempt, with dark circles under his eyes and a sleeping baby in his arms. Tom doesn't ask him anything, just takes the backpack from him, calls his wife, and retreats into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
When she comes down, Saul is still standing in the doorway, staring at some vague point on the floor.
"Saul?" Mother comes closer and stretches out her arms to take the little boy, who is still sleeping soundly.
Saul steps back and instinctively tightens his grip around the baby, but he quickly realizes it's just her and lets the woman take the boy in her arms.
"Will you tell me who this handsome little fellow is?" Mother asks, smiling warmly at the baby, although the boy is still asleep and does not even realize that a stranger is holding him now.
"This..." Saul begins in a choked voice. "He's Andreas' son, Mom. He's in my care now. His father is dead. I killed him too…" His voice cracks on the last words, almost on the verge of sobbing, but Saul quickly regains at least some semblance of control. "Can we stay here? Just for a few days?" He gives her a pleading look.
Mother stretches out her free hand and squeezes his forearm.
"As long as you like, son. Come, tell me everything."
And Saul tells her. Tom has retreated upstairs, Sky continues to sleep, peaceful and carefree, unaware of anything, and mother, for the first time in many, many years, hugs Saul and offers him a shoulder to cry on. Not literally, that is, as Saul does not even have the strength to cry at this point. And besides, he constantly makes sure they're quiet, mindful of the baby. Every now and then, he glances anxiously at the sleeping boy and looks away just as quickly.
"You know, I think I'm starting to understand how you felt after Dad died," he says quietly after a moment of silence as he has finished his story. "I have no idea how I'll look him in the eye when he wakes up. When I came to get him and he laughed at me and just hugged me, I felt like smashing something..."
Mother nods with understanding.
"It won't be easy for you, but you can do it. You've already dealt with so many things that have fallen on your shoulders, even though you didn't deserve any of them..."
"Didn't deserve?" Saul snorts mockingly.
But mother doesn't answer, and he doesn't have the strength to argue.
"Do you remember what I told you the day before my wedding?" The woman asks unexpectedly.
Saul frowns and looks up at her.
"That I'm proud of you, son," she reminds him softly. "And I still am, more and more every day. I know you will raise this boy the best you can. After all, you've seen all my mistakes first-hand, if there can be any benefit from them, it's probably that you won't repeat them now..."
Saul turns his head to glance at the sleeping Sky again.
"I'll have to be honest with him," he says, voice trembling slightly. "I'll have to tell him everything, won't I?" He looks pleadingly at his mother, but she doesn't seem to know if he's asking her to confirm or to disagree. It is possible that Saul himself doesn't know this either.
"Probably for the best," she replies cautiously. "But I'd wait till he's old enough, Saul. Let him enjoy his childhood first."
"You want me to lie to him then?" Saul raises his voice slightly, then glances uneasily at Sky, who is moving restlessly now, as if somehow aware of the tension in the room even though he's still asleep.
Mother shrugs.
"You will have to decide for yourself what's best for this boy, son. Because now it's his happiness that matters most."
"If only it were that simple," Saul groans, and hesitantly places his hand on the boy's shoulder. This tiny, slightly clumsy gesture is enough to make Sky stop fidgeting and faintly smile in his sleep.
"It will never be simple," says his mother sadly. "Nobody knows this better than me."
Saul blinks rapidly and finally takes his eyes off the boy.
"Will you help me?" he asks softly, his gaze fixed on the wall somewhere above her head.
Mother doesn't answer, just smiles warmly and squeezes his hand. Saul nods gratefully, then turns back and with a gentle, shy gesture, pushes a few stray hairs from Sky's forehead. And for the first time in the last couple of days, he feels a hint of a smile appear on his face as well.