"Way to honor my memory, kid."
Anthony thought he could counter anything Simon might have to say to him when they
met again, but Simon's words felt like a blow that knocked the wind out of him. The
impact was made worst by the fact that for the past four months, he knew he was
betraying Simon's memory, but felt powerless to stop the downward spiral he was on.
Only anger and defiance obliterated the pain and shame he felt these past months. It was
the classic vicious circle.
He searched for the anger and even hate that brought him to mouth off to CJ Cregg that
night at the White House. All he could find was the desperate need of a child to bury his
head in Simon's chest and cry out his pain and loss. He was damned if he was going to do
*that*.
"You wouldn't have known. You were dead," he spat.
Simon nodded, staring steadily into the boy's eyes. "*You* knew. Which one of us is not
very bright?"
"Fuck you, Simon!"
"Feel better getting that off your chest?"
"Sure do."
"OK. Come here."
"Go to hell."
"Been there these past four months. Didn't like it one bit. Come here."
"Make me."
Wrong thing to say to Secret Service agent, reflected Anthony as Simon's lightning quick
move brought the boy into a tight embrace that didn't let go. Anthony fought against
iron-strong muscles that were trained in holding down people far more desperate and
dangerous than a lost child. The steady hold spoke of the security he's missed so much,
the place he used to turn to when there was nowhere else to run. Fear, anger, and shame,
along with the heartbreaking longing for the safety of Simon's company overwhelmed
him. Simon's grip was no longer a restraint but rather a guardrail on a dark mountain
road, one that prevented the young man from plunging headfirst off the cliff and into the
darkness below.
Simon took a deep breath and waited for the storm to subside. Coming back from the
dead took some adjustments for everyone involved, he thought wryly. He sure as hell
hoped there would be no more undercover assignments for a while; at least not those that
happened without warning and left his loved ones reeling. When he felt Anthony's
struggle beginning to weaken, he relaxed his arms.
"Well?"
Anthony refused to look into Simon's eyes. He stepped back, looking away, fists
clenched.
"Why are you here now?" he heard himself ask.
"I missed you. I was hoping you'd be…uh…relieved I wasn't dead?"
"You told me once, when we first started…you said you didn't waste your time on
losers."
"I still don't."
"So why are you here now?"
"You think you're a loser?"
"I sure as hell acted like one since you…left."
"Yeah, I'm not real happy about the language you used in the White House, you know.
To say nothing of your target…Or your attitude in general towards people who genuinely
cared and wanted to help."
"So why are you here now? And what about the car?"
"Tell me about the car," Simon said softly. He knew the boy well enough. "You were,
what, trying to run away?"
"I guess…I don't know. It was the same type of old Chevy we worked on last summer
and I thought…I don't know what I thought." A part of him, a completely irrational part
of him, felt if he could drive the car far enough, he could reach Simon. But he wasn't
about to share that thought with his Big Brother.
Simon was quiet for a while. The previous summer, a friend had asked him to help
restore an old Chevy. Since it was summer, and Anthony was restless, he got the boy to
help them. They'd spent a memorable summer working on the car, with Anthony putting
in time even when Simon was away or working late. Simon's friend, Jonathan, let
Anthony take the first spin in the car when the work was done. The memory brought a
smile to Simon's lips.
He shook his head and opted for diversion. "So how do you like Charlie Young?" He
asked casually.
"He's not you," said the boy resentfully.
Simon grinned. "Yeah, he plays basketball instead of baseball. Waste of athletic ability, if
you ask me."
"I didn't ask you."
"Still with the attitude, are you?"
Anthony started to answer, and then dropped his gaze. Quietly, he asked, "What's going
to happen now?"
Simon sat down on the park bench near them. He motioned the boy to sit near him, and
held his breath while Anthony stood undecidedly for several seconds, before moving to
join him on the bench. It may have been a small victory, but it was a start on the road
back to normalcy. He wrapped his arm around his Little Brother.
"Well, for starters, you're going to apologize to Ms. Cregg. And you're going to mean
it."
Anthony nodded mutely. In his mind he had apologized to her hundreds of times already.
"Are you going to be there…when I do?"
Simon chuckled humorlessly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You're lucky she talked
me out of breaking your neck."
"Right…"
"You'll do the same with your homeroom teacher."
"OK."
"After that, you have a choice. You know I'd like to stick with you. You're a good kid,
even when you try hard not to be. Charlie likes you too, and I think he's just as good of
an influence on you. In an ideal world, I would like us to continue the way we were, but
I'd also like you to meet with him on Saturdays, if he's got the time and inclination. He
told me he would like that. You can also ditch me," he tried to sound casual, but didn't
quite make it, "and stick only with Charlie. Your choice."
Anthony studied an ant on the ground for a long time. Finally, he looked up at Simon.
"Are you going to have to do that again? Go undercover and make it look like you're
dead?"
"I don't know, Anthony." Simon studied the sky for a while. "I may actually die on the
job for real, too. You knew that three years ago, it hasn't changed since then."
"Your job sucks," there was bitterness in Anthony's voice.
"No, it really doesn't. It just has its moments."
"Why are you so willing to take a bullet for somebody else?"
"Because it gives you the freedom to go to school and restore old Chevys."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I don't want to be a loser, Si."
"You're not, Anthony. Really, you're not. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were. But
we have more work to do with your anger and attitude, you know. If you still want me
around, that is."
"I do."
"And…?"
"And I like your ideal world…you know, where I get to spend time with Charlie, too?"
"I'm glad." Simon smiled. "Just remember…."
"Yeah, the White Sox rule," Anthony grinned.
"That's my boy!"
Anthony thought he could counter anything Simon might have to say to him when they
met again, but Simon's words felt like a blow that knocked the wind out of him. The
impact was made worst by the fact that for the past four months, he knew he was
betraying Simon's memory, but felt powerless to stop the downward spiral he was on.
Only anger and defiance obliterated the pain and shame he felt these past months. It was
the classic vicious circle.
He searched for the anger and even hate that brought him to mouth off to CJ Cregg that
night at the White House. All he could find was the desperate need of a child to bury his
head in Simon's chest and cry out his pain and loss. He was damned if he was going to do
*that*.
"You wouldn't have known. You were dead," he spat.
Simon nodded, staring steadily into the boy's eyes. "*You* knew. Which one of us is not
very bright?"
"Fuck you, Simon!"
"Feel better getting that off your chest?"
"Sure do."
"OK. Come here."
"Go to hell."
"Been there these past four months. Didn't like it one bit. Come here."
"Make me."
Wrong thing to say to Secret Service agent, reflected Anthony as Simon's lightning quick
move brought the boy into a tight embrace that didn't let go. Anthony fought against
iron-strong muscles that were trained in holding down people far more desperate and
dangerous than a lost child. The steady hold spoke of the security he's missed so much,
the place he used to turn to when there was nowhere else to run. Fear, anger, and shame,
along with the heartbreaking longing for the safety of Simon's company overwhelmed
him. Simon's grip was no longer a restraint but rather a guardrail on a dark mountain
road, one that prevented the young man from plunging headfirst off the cliff and into the
darkness below.
Simon took a deep breath and waited for the storm to subside. Coming back from the
dead took some adjustments for everyone involved, he thought wryly. He sure as hell
hoped there would be no more undercover assignments for a while; at least not those that
happened without warning and left his loved ones reeling. When he felt Anthony's
struggle beginning to weaken, he relaxed his arms.
"Well?"
Anthony refused to look into Simon's eyes. He stepped back, looking away, fists
clenched.
"Why are you here now?" he heard himself ask.
"I missed you. I was hoping you'd be…uh…relieved I wasn't dead?"
"You told me once, when we first started…you said you didn't waste your time on
losers."
"I still don't."
"So why are you here now?"
"You think you're a loser?"
"I sure as hell acted like one since you…left."
"Yeah, I'm not real happy about the language you used in the White House, you know.
To say nothing of your target…Or your attitude in general towards people who genuinely
cared and wanted to help."
"So why are you here now? And what about the car?"
"Tell me about the car," Simon said softly. He knew the boy well enough. "You were,
what, trying to run away?"
"I guess…I don't know. It was the same type of old Chevy we worked on last summer
and I thought…I don't know what I thought." A part of him, a completely irrational part
of him, felt if he could drive the car far enough, he could reach Simon. But he wasn't
about to share that thought with his Big Brother.
Simon was quiet for a while. The previous summer, a friend had asked him to help
restore an old Chevy. Since it was summer, and Anthony was restless, he got the boy to
help them. They'd spent a memorable summer working on the car, with Anthony putting
in time even when Simon was away or working late. Simon's friend, Jonathan, let
Anthony take the first spin in the car when the work was done. The memory brought a
smile to Simon's lips.
He shook his head and opted for diversion. "So how do you like Charlie Young?" He
asked casually.
"He's not you," said the boy resentfully.
Simon grinned. "Yeah, he plays basketball instead of baseball. Waste of athletic ability, if
you ask me."
"I didn't ask you."
"Still with the attitude, are you?"
Anthony started to answer, and then dropped his gaze. Quietly, he asked, "What's going
to happen now?"
Simon sat down on the park bench near them. He motioned the boy to sit near him, and
held his breath while Anthony stood undecidedly for several seconds, before moving to
join him on the bench. It may have been a small victory, but it was a start on the road
back to normalcy. He wrapped his arm around his Little Brother.
"Well, for starters, you're going to apologize to Ms. Cregg. And you're going to mean
it."
Anthony nodded mutely. In his mind he had apologized to her hundreds of times already.
"Are you going to be there…when I do?"
Simon chuckled humorlessly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You're lucky she talked
me out of breaking your neck."
"Right…"
"You'll do the same with your homeroom teacher."
"OK."
"After that, you have a choice. You know I'd like to stick with you. You're a good kid,
even when you try hard not to be. Charlie likes you too, and I think he's just as good of
an influence on you. In an ideal world, I would like us to continue the way we were, but
I'd also like you to meet with him on Saturdays, if he's got the time and inclination. He
told me he would like that. You can also ditch me," he tried to sound casual, but didn't
quite make it, "and stick only with Charlie. Your choice."
Anthony studied an ant on the ground for a long time. Finally, he looked up at Simon.
"Are you going to have to do that again? Go undercover and make it look like you're
dead?"
"I don't know, Anthony." Simon studied the sky for a while. "I may actually die on the
job for real, too. You knew that three years ago, it hasn't changed since then."
"Your job sucks," there was bitterness in Anthony's voice.
"No, it really doesn't. It just has its moments."
"Why are you so willing to take a bullet for somebody else?"
"Because it gives you the freedom to go to school and restore old Chevys."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I don't want to be a loser, Si."
"You're not, Anthony. Really, you're not. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were. But
we have more work to do with your anger and attitude, you know. If you still want me
around, that is."
"I do."
"And…?"
"And I like your ideal world…you know, where I get to spend time with Charlie, too?"
"I'm glad." Simon smiled. "Just remember…."
"Yeah, the White Sox rule," Anthony grinned.
"That's my boy!"
