A/N: I'm not dead! The writing muse is active again. :) Hope you enjoy!
He couldn't sleep that evening. His body clock had been so messed up in the hospital- he didn't really give much of a care for time in that blasted place. He just slept when he felt exhausted, which with the effects of his meds considered was extremely often. It was odd. It almost felt like jetlag. He'd slept through the afternoon in the house, just the trip home from the hospital taking a toll on his fragile body. But now, at midnight, he was as awake as an owl. He decided to find something in the kitchen that might help his restlessness.
Without bothering his wife, James Anderson centered himself as he stood. He took careful strides down the hall and then the stairs.
"Mom, what are you doing up?" he heard a voice from the dark kitchen. He was surprised to see his youngest son still awake.
"It's dark in here, son"
"Dad," Auggie acknowledged, turning his seat towards where his father was. "I didn't want to wake anyone. And you know, it doesn't really matter to me. Lights always off in here." He tapped his temple with a smile. It took James aback how casual Auggie could now speak of his injury. How at ease he was. "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep. Lost track of time too much in the hospital. Body clock feels extremely screwed up." He answered, taking a seat beside his son.
"You were extremely drugged up. And you still kinda are. It's understandable," Auggie folded up his laptop, stood, and filled his glass with water. "You want some? Warm milk, maybe?"
"The way your mom always made you sleep?" James asked.
Auggie chuckled. "It still works for me. Unless you haven't had enough drugs, I could hand you a Nyquil to go with that."
"My body might just explode and you'd just see pills," James responded. "Just the milk will be fine."
He watched as his son with great curiosity as he prepared the warm milk for them both, observing how much had changed since he had last been around. He was relieved to see him move so fluidly and confidently as he had before the accident- something he never thought he would see again.
He sighed in the silence, trying to process all he was seeing. Back then, when Auggie returned injured from Iraq, the easiest emotion for him to process was anger- at the company for risking his son; at his son for so openly accepting such a dangerous calling; at himself for being unable to shield his son from such tragedy. He was supposed to protect him and he had failed miserably. The same anger had driven his son away, and he wondered how irreparable the damage there was.
"Dad, I'm about to combust the way you're staring." Auggie broke the long silence. James missed Auggie's humor the most, he realized. It was something he had always proudly said Auggie picked up from him, because the truth was, everything else, he had probably taken after his mother.
"I was just thinking," he began
"Scary,"
"Hilarious, August."
Auggie walked back to hand a glass over to his father. James took the glass, but held on to his son's hand. Auggie stood still in shock with the contact.
"I know I don't say this enough, but I'm proud of who you've become."
"Dad..." Auggie trailed, but James made sure the younger Anderson would listen.
"No, hear me out. I know that I've taken out a lot of anger on you, Auggie. You know how I am with my emotions. Everything just felt so out of control when you came back, and the only way I could feel like I could reign things in was on focusing on one of those extremely terrifying emotions I felt back then, and it seemed easiest to pick anger. I realize now it did nothing good for you… for us."
"You hurt mom the most." Auggie gently pried his hand away from his fathers, only to take a seat across from him.
"Please don't downplay how I made you feel. Your mom and I have dealt with our issues in your absence. I want to deal with ours while you are here. I don't want this to just be some courtesy visit because I almost died. I want to put the past behind us, Auggie, so we can enjoy the time we have left together."
"Dad, don't speak that way." Auggie pleaded. His fists balled up in his lap, unwilling to hear what he just did.
"Son, you, amongst this whole household know how finite time is."
His father was correct. He had dealt with loss much more than anyone in their family ever had. And the truth was, no matter how rocky his relationship with his father had been, he would always be unprepared to face the eventuality of loss. Auggie took a breath to clear his head and his heart. He knew they had to have this conversation too.
"I just… I needed you so much during that time, Dad. And the way you pushed away hurt me, and it just became too much to comprehend together with all the other shit I had to deal with." Auggie couldn't remember the last time he had been this open with his father. He wondered if he was ever granted an opportunity like tonight. "You know, it is so easy to feel like you're on an island when you're blind. You feel so isolated, and the anger magnified that sentiment so much. It was odd, being here. I would either feel that way, or extremely smothered, and I knew neither was an environment I could move forward with. Dad, I had already lost so much. I didn't want to lose myself in the process."
"I'm sorry," James said simply. There were no other words more apt, to be honest. "I hope you find it in you to forgive me."
It took Auggie aback. "It's going to take some time, Dad. But I'm willing to settle these differences." They remained silent for a long while before Auggie broke it.
"We've done our fair share of running away from the problem. I'm glad we decided to resolve this tonight. But we're both tired, and we both know that isn't good for either of us. Let's get ourselves some rest."
They both stood, and as Auggie cleared the table, his father had done something he never, ever did before- he touched the back of Auggie's hand with his, offering him a lead. And while Auggie did not necessarily need it where he was, he took it, because he knew how valuable that little gesture truly was.