Title: The Truth (1/2)
Date Written: 2/10/02
Author: JanetD
Rating: PG (situations)
Summary: Nick asks his father for the truth about his mother.
Author's Notes: This story takes place about a week after the events depicted in the episode . Special thanks to Meghan for her helpful suggestions.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Burton and Nick Fallin were just finishing up supper. Earlier that day, on impulse, Burton had asked Nick home to dinner. He had been pleasantly surprised when Nick had agreed. The meal had been an excellent one -- one of Rosita's fine pork roasts, with potatoes and asparagus. Burton was also pleased that conversation had flowed smoothly throughout dinner. True, most of the talk had centered on work, but Burton was still gratified that there hadn't been any of those awkward pauses that sometimes cropped up when he was alone with Nick. It was nice to enjoy a good meal--a stress-free meal--with his son.

More coffee, Nick? Burton inquired.

Yeah, thanks.

Burton picked up the steel carafe from the table, and filled both their cups. He lit a cigarette, and took a long drag, relaxing back in his chair. Nick sipped slowly at his coffee. Suddenly Nick looked over at his father, and broke the silence. Was it true? he asked. What Jeremy said about my mother taking pills. Was that true? His voice was carefully neutral, his expression blank, but the importance of the question could not be hidden from his father.

Burton stared silently at his son, a look of consternation descending on his face. He was not prepared to have this conversation.

Nick asked again, more insistently, Was that true?

Burton reached up and fingered his moustache before answering. Finally, with a long sigh, he said, Yes. Yes, it was true.

Wha-what kind of pills? Nick asked.

Uhm, tranquilizers mostly, I think.... I was never entirely sure of everything she was taking.

Nick bowed his head, a look of dismay marring his features. Compressing his lips together briefly, he raised his gaze to his father, and said, Is that why you left her?

Burton looked distressed. Nicholas, that's, that's all ancient history now.

I want to know, Nick persisted. When his father still didn't answer, he added with more feeling, I-I-I have the right to know. His voice broke slightly on the last statement.

Burton let out an exasperated breath. The pills were part of it, yes.... You have to understand, Nicholas, I was working very long hours then, still growing the business, building up my clientele. Your mother...your mother was lonely. He paused. She, uhm, turned to other sources of comfort.

The pills?

The pills, yes.

Nick bent his head, and frowned as he considered that. Then directing an intense look at his father, he continued, You said that was part of it. What was the other part?

Burton was silent for another minute. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and said, Your mother.... Nicholas, I didn't want to ever tell you this, son, but your mother...started seeing other men.

That's not true! The words exploded out of Nick's mouth.

Burton gazed at his son sadly, sighed again, and decided to give Nick the unvarnished truth. I'm sorry, son. It is true. I left your mother because she took drugs and she was unfaithful. That's the God's truth.

Nick, whose eyes now brimmed with angry tears, rose suddenly from the table, and shot his father a venomous look. He then turned, and left the room abruptly.

Burton called after him loudly. But Nick did not stop. Burton rose, napkin still in hand. He didn't know whether he should go after Nick, or not. Before he could make up his mind, he heard the front door slam, followed soon after by the sound of his son's car accelerating rapidly away from the house. He frowned, ran his hand over the top of his head, and threw the napkin down on the table in helpless frustration.

Nick had only driven a few blocks when he pulled the car over to the curb. He was breathing rapidly and his heart was racing. Unbidden, a tear or two had slid down his left check. He rested his head against the steering wheel for a few seconds. Then raising his head, he banged his fist against the wheel twice, before slowly allowing his head to come to rest there again.

His mind was abuzz. His mother had used pills, and, and...given herself to other men? No. No. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. It was not true!

He breathed heavily for a few minutes.

But then, the lawyer in him insisted, why would his father tell him those things if they weren't true? He'd kept silent all these years. If Dad had wanted to place the blame for the break up of the marriage on Mom, why hadn't he done it long ago? He never had. He couldn't recall his father ever saying anything negative about his mother. Not until now. Not until Nick had asked him for the truth...had demanded the truth.

His breathing slowed a little, and his heartbeat decreased, as he gradually calmed down. The cover of the steering wheel felt cold against his forehead. He rolled his head back and forth across the cool leather, and then sat back up.

He gazed into the darkness, and thought back on all those evenings with his mother, tried to look at them with an adult's eye. Had his mother seemed like she was on something? Was she too uninhibited? Too happy'? He couldn't say. He was a child. He hadn't been looking for oddities in his mother's behavior. He had just been thrilled to be in her company. Thrilled to be her special little guy.... He felt his face color at the memory.

After a moment, he reluctantly turned his thoughts back to his father's charge of adultery. He tried to approach it objectively, to set aside his emotions, and examine his own memories for evidence to support the claim. His mother had always been friendly with men. That was true. And now that he thought about it, there had seemed to be a lot of visits from men at one point in his young life. He would walk into the living room unannounced, and find his mother entertaining one man or another. A friend of your father's, she would always say. He especially recalled that one of his mother's doctors (he no longer remembered his name) had made a lot of house calls over a period of several months. He remembered this vividly because he had been concerned at the time that his mother was really ill (this was long before the cancer). His mother had always assured him that she was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. But he had been glad when the doctor visits had ceased, nonetheless.

It must be true, Nick realized. His father must have been telling him the truth. His mother had given her self, given her love, to others. It left him numb. It was as if his brain, for just a moment, had ceased to function.

Coming back to himself, he realized suddenly that he was clutching the steering wheel with a death grip. He consciously relaxed his hold, and drew in a deep breath. He felt...he felt like a piece of himself had been taken away. That calm, comforting place where he could retreat, and remember the miracle that had been his mother. That was gone now. Shattered...shattered into a million pieces. It felt like a piece of his heart had been cut out. Like, like he should be bleeding right now. It was a grievous loss. God! His fist hit the steering wheel in frustration once more.

The white-hot anger of a few minutes before returned, and Nick sat up straighter. Why hadn't his father told him the truth long ago? Why had he let him go on believing that his mother was something she was not? That she was this...this paragon of virtue when she was a.... He couldn't finish the thought. It was too painful. Had his father...had his father been laughing at him behind his back this whole time? No. He dismissed the thought rapidly. No, he knew that wasn't fair. His father must have thought he was protecting him. Protecting his `emotionally fragile` son from the truth. Nick wanted to punch his fist through something. Relieve these feelings somehow.... Instead, he sat there for several moments, letting the anger gradually wash out of him. He felt exhausted, like he'd just run a race. He couldn't think about this anymore, not now. He didn't want to think about how his father by `protecting` him all these years, had caused his son to live with a lie, a beautiful lie, but still a lie. The pain was too fresh. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he put the car in gear, and headed for home.