Christmas 1979
He hated Christmas.
It was ten am, and already he'd drank three glasses of whiskey and passed out. A banging on the door had woken him up. He ignored it at first, until someone had started calling him.
"Steven!"
Her voice was tiny, but it was unmistakeable. He shot up in fear, looking around at his dingy apartment. "Fuck!" He whispered to himself. Empties were scattered all over the place, and his wife's dirty stripper clothes. Trash littered the kitchen. He crinkled his nose, and chose to ignore his visitor.
Two minutes later, though, the door opened. He jumped up. "Steven, I know you're home!" She called. He sniffled the junk in his nose, and stood off the creaky bed, ignoring the look of discomfort written plainly on her face. She looked good, wearing her pleated red dress and black Mary Jane pumps. Her jewelry was glittering, despite the lack of light in his apartment.
He had no clue where Sam was.
"Steven?" She called again. He walked out of the room, in the same jeans and t-shirt he came home in last night. "What's up, sis?"
She quirked a brow at him. He pointed at her jewelry, and laughed. "Shouldn't be wearing that 'round these parts. People will rob ya. Left the roll-y that Dad gave me at the Foreman's."
She nodded, shifting her weight on her foot.
"It's like, not even noon, Stevie." She told him.
"Yup." He nodded. He honestly, wasn't aware of the time.
"Grandma Ida wants you with me in San Fran for Christmas, so let's-"
"No." He laughed.
She rolled her eyes. "And why not?" Her attitude was the first thing people noticed about her, always. Just like Jackie.
Jackie.
He'd tried every damn day to get that girl out of his head, and every day he failed more miserably than the first. But what was he supposed to say? He'd gone off and married a stripper. He told her, the love of his life he wouldn't marry her. And then, he married a stripper.
Forget about what she did, what he had done was worse, and he can't erase it.
"Hello? I asked you a question?" She waved her hands in his face. "Are you really that shit faced?"
She pushed past him, into the room, and her nose turned up in disgust. "Steven, what- how?"
He rolled his eyes. She turned around, frowning. "My own mother was like yours." She shared with him, voice set in a tone that he couldn't quite read. "When I wanted to help her, I tried to use force. I found her dead in the street from alcohol poisoning." She sighed, swallowing back her tears. "I chose not to wind up like her. I really want to help you, Steven. But, until you aren't the victim, and until you want to be yourself and not Edna Hyde's son, I'm gonna leave you alone." She went to the door, her Mary Jane Pumps clacking against the floor.
"Ang-"
"Call me when your sober, Steven." She told him, frowning, before slamming the door behind her.
A beer bottle fell from the force, and shattered to the ground.
He didn't bother sweeping it up.
December 1984
He blew out the puff that was left in his Camel, before pinching it out with his fingers, and discarding in the ashtray beside him. He stood on the terrace of the hospital, leaning over the old stone railing, bowing his head. This place was the oldest hospital in the state, in Miluakee. He remembers Kitty working here, having to pick her up when she couldn't take the bus or the car. Back when things were still simple.
Jackie had woken up yesterday, and he had expected her to spit in his face. Tell him to leave, tell him something bad. But she didn't remember. Any of what he did, sure. But their daughter didn't know him, and now she didn't know their daughter.
He was exhausted. In the last few days, he had barely slept, and his emotions were keeping him in a state of constant limbo. Lights twinkled and danced on the city skyline and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched cars speed past. He hadn't done much that was productive, besides make some business calls to make sure that nothing had suffered during his time here, and to inquire about expanding. Opening an office closer to him.
Maybe one in Madison? Record labels weren't easy to manage from afar, he was finding that out quickly. Luckily, WB and Angie were smart business people. They knew numbers. He was mostly just the ideas guy.
His thoughts drifted back to the little girl sitting out in the waiting room, wondering where her Mommy is. All her Aunties and Uncles could only do so much for her. And she didn't have him. He breathed out a chuckle at himself, for his own stupidity. He was a dumbass.
"There you are!" A familiar voice floated through, muffled from the doorway behind him. He pretended he didn't hear the voice, just lit another cigarette, and exhaled, a huge cloud forming from the humidity of his breath against the freezing cold. The motorized doors made a horrific noise as they opened, and Eric wheeled himself out onto the old terrace, looking up at his friend.
Eric, who was temporarily wheelchair bound while his broken ankle healed, was expected to make a full recovery from his injuries. The shaggy haired boy huffed out a sigh, his jacket puffed around his body, his breath also coming out in a cloud.
"Mom is looking for you. So is Tyler." He nodded.
"Every time you say her name it gives me chills." He looked down at the speeding cars. Eric shrugged.
"Look, I'm not completely sure if or when Jackie is going to remember the last five years. And, as Tyler's legal next of kin or whatever you wanna call it, I'm considering explaining to her that you're her Daddy." He said after a moment of silence. Steven tensed up, taking another pull on his cigarette, and looking up at the stars.
"Man, how do you know that's what's right?" He asked, after a moment. "I mean, I'd love to be in her life. But what if you tell her, and then Jackie remembers everything when she wakes up in the morning, and she cuts off your dick?"
Eric snorted. "I don't think she'd go that far. But I have Tyler's best interest at heart. She know's that."
"That's the first time anyone has admitted that she's mine." He finally looked at his friend. "Anyone. It's fucking obvious, but come on, man. Nobody's even told me at all."
"Maybe we all knew that you knew that we knew you knew." Eric spoke. Steven rolled his eyes, before finishing his cigarette, and putting it into the ashtray. He saw a familiar Cadillac pull into the parking lot below, and his sister and her girlfriend climb out.
Angela Barnett, or Angie as she preferred, was now twenty-three and had her own house, co-owned a business with him and their father, and also was CEO of the Grooves franchise. Her girlfriend, Julia, stepped out of the passenger side door holding a purse. A dog's head poked out the side. He grinned.
"Foreman, Ang is here."
"Your sister? Haven't seen her in ages."
"She's doin' real good. Has a house, we run a record label, she franchised Grooves, has a girl and settled down..." He explained, watching as Julia pushed the puppy into the carrying-case purse. "Good for her. At least one of you did." He joked. He whistled, getting Angie's attention. She looked up at the balcony.
"Eric Foreman, you nerd! You best give me a hug when I get up there!" She called, and he laughed. "We're on the Bailey Hall terrace, come and get it, Barnett!" He yelled back, tone playful. The girl appeared in the doorway,
"Hey, Angie!" He laughed, returning her abrupt embrace. "It has been way too long, Foreman!" She sighed. "Has my brother been behaving himself?"
Eric smirked. "On his best behavior, actually, I expected him to try and fight me, honestly." He admitted. Angie smiled, before realizing something.
"Eric, this is my friend Julia." She smiled, gesturing toward the woman standing beside her. "Jules, this is Eric Foreman, Stevie's foster brother." She introduced them, but Eric snorted, and looked up at Hyde with a teasing glint in his eye. He smirked.
"Stevie."
"Shut it, Foreman." He threatened, flushing red with embarrassment.
Julia stood awkwardly, but Hyde embraced her. A head poked out of the girl's pocket book, whimpering excitedly. "What is that?"
Steven picked the dog up, holding it in his arms. The dog was a puppy, all white with brown spots and brown paws. He had floppy ears with massive paws and a big head. "This, is Boots." He told Eric nonchalantly. "Boots is my puppy. I rescued him about a month ago. Boots is a good boy, huh? Yes, yes good boy!" He cooed the last part, shifting the dog in his arms when he began to lick his owners face. "He's basically a support dog, so he's in training to be on his best behavior."
"Were you a good boy for Auntie Ang and Auntie Jules? Yeah? You were?" He cooed again.
"Where's Jackie? Is she still comatose?"
"She's awake, actually, but doesn't remember anything. We're not really sure how that's gonna go." Eric explained, looking up at everyone. "Is this how it feels to be Jackie? I've never been this short. It's fucking weird man."
"Anyway, Ang, I need to explain something to you." Hyde ignored Foreman. Angela raised an eyebrow, but Donna walked outside, carrying Tyler in her arms, who was crying. Donna handed the girl to Steven, who took her in his free hand.
He raised a brow.
"She wanted Unca Eric and 'Teven." She explained, but gasped when she saw Angie. Angela didn't mean to ignore her, but she looked at the girl in disbelief and sadness.
"Steven-" She began, spluttering.
The girl just looked at Angela innocently, holding Twinkle Toes in her arms, and wearing footsie pajamas.
He gave her a weak smile. "Tyler, can you introduce yourself to Angela?"
"My name is Tyler Rose Raina Burkhart-Hyde. And this is 'Teven." She poked her small finger into his face. "Who's puppy is this? Dogs no allowed at the hospital." She scolded, but Angela's eyes were locked on her brother's.
"She, and you? And, baby?" She spluttered.
Steven smiled weakly, eyes coated in sadness, and glancing at his daughter, who barely knew him.
"Surprise!" He told them sheepishly.