Chapter five is here! Only one more to go, and I can move on to happier topics. I know that this particular plot devise has been done before, and by better writers than me, but it should be different enough to still be interesting. I'm sorry for the constant cliff hangers (According to some of my reviewers, it's pretty bad… opps. Sorry, guys…) I'm already working on Exile 3, and I'm trying to do better, really!! Honestly!! Anyway, read, enjoy, and send me your comments, problems, ideas, reviews, mistakes… you get the picture. I should probably mention that there is Jack Drake bashing ahead. You have been warned… Thanks, krtshadow

Disclaimer in chapter one, I'll summarize. Not mine, no money.

Chapter 5: Conversation

Bruce sat back in his chair, watching me with keen eyes. I had no doubt that my every word, movement and facial expression was being noted and catalogued inside his head. I didn't even bother trying to figure out what he was thinking, it wouldn't have been worth my time. Knowing him, if he thought that I was trying to read him, he'd show fake signs just to throw me off.

I took a deep breath. "What exactly do I need to know?"

"Your father doesn't know that you are back in town?" Bruce clearly wanted some background information about me and my past three years, but he was trying to avoid asking pointblank. Which was rather unusual, considering. But I wasn't going to argue.

"My father doesn't even know I'm back in the country. He should still think that I'm in Switzerland. Hopefully, anyway." I really doubted that Dad knew anything about me other than the periodic reports from the bodyguard that he'd hired for me. The same bodyguard that had been in my employ since three months after we got to Switzerland. He would still be sending reports about my escapades and which young social butterfly I was currently wining and dining.

"I thought that you were in Switzerland myself, so I doubt that he suspects." Now that was surprising. I hadn't been in Switzerland for almost nine months. Before I could comment on that remark, he continued. "You are aware that Dana is expecting?" I nodded and he continued. "Your father has been slipping into alcoholism ever since you were sent away." By the look in Bruce's eyes I could tell that he was fishing for something, I just wasn't sure what yet.

I interrupted, "Not just since I left, he started drinking soon after Mom died. It cleared up a little right after he married Dana, but not for long."

"Oh?" That had obviously not been what he was looking for.

"Look, Bruce, if you have something you want to ask me, go ahead. I'll answer if I can." I was getting tired of beating around the bush. I'd been gone three years and I wasn't as familiar with his nonverbal cues as I had been. I really had no idea what he was trying to get at.

For a split second, Bruce looked surprised at my openness. Then he took a deep breath and asked, "Tim, did he abuse you?"

Oh, that. He had to ask the one question that I didn't really want to answer. Bruce waited patiently as I thought. I didn't like the question, but Bruce deserved some kind of answer. "I don't really know how to answer that." Bruce cocked a suspicious eyebrow at me. "It depends on how you look at it. Did he hit me? Yeah. Hard? Occasionally. Often? Not really." I looked up and met Bruce's eyes. They were filled with barely contained fury. "I was able to stay out of his way most of the time."

Bruce glared at me. "How long?"

I shrugged, this conversation was getting very personal, and I didn't really like it. Still, my only option besides being open was shutting Bruce out and I didn't want to do that. Not to him. "Never until my mom died, pretty bad there for awhile, and then he married Dana, and I was in Brentwood. I wasn't even home very much, so that cut things down a lot. Honestly, Bruce, it's not as bad as you're imagining. I only remember a few times that he actually connected hard enough to bruise." I let out an amused sigh. "All those little tricks you taught me about how to avoid getting tagged helped. It's not hard to stay out of range of a guy in a wheelchair." Bruce still looked furious, and I wasn't sure who he was angrier with, Dad for hitting me or me for not telling him about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He was still glaring at me, and I was beginning to get tired of it.

"What did you think that I would say, Bruce? Umm, sir, my dad hits me about once every six months, which translates into about every other time he sees me." I shrugged. "I'm a pretty personal person. It wasn't so bad I couldn't handle it, like I said, I was able to keep out of his way when he was in a mood like that. It just never came up." If I thought about it honestly, I knew that part of the reason I didn't want to tell anyone was that it would just reinforce what I already knew. My father didn't love me, want me or care about me in any way. It wasn't something I even liked admitting to myself, much less telling anybody else about.

Bruce isn't stupid, he probably realized the same thing. Anyway, he stopped glaring at me. Mostly. "You should have told me."

"No, I don't think so." I held up a hand to stem his arguments, to my surprise, it actually held him off for a second. Which was enough time to get my words in. "There was nothing you could do. If it had gotten out of hand I would have approached someone about it. Like I said it wasn't often, it wasn't serious, and it's over now. Please just forget about it, ok?"

Bruce clearly wasn't happy about it, but I knew that with his command of reading nonverbal cues, he could tell that I was being honest with him. If he asked, I wouldn't lie and say that it didn't bother me, but I had had three years to deal with the facts of my life. Namely, my dad swayed between tolerating me and hating me for being both what he could never be and as a memory of my mother. Finding out that I had a whole other life, one that I'd been hiding from him, had just pushed him over the edge that last night. I knew, the way that you get to know people after you've spent years with them, that if Bruce really thought that my father had either physically or psychologically damaged me Dad would be receiving a visit from a very angry man. I couldn't say that it had done me any good, but I'd worked through it and hopefully had worked past it.

A sudden thought made me sit up and hit Bruce with a glare of my own. "How did you know about all this?" I rose half way from my seat, barely containing my anger. "He hasn't hurt Dana, has he?" If he had, I swear I'll…

Bruce waved a hand at me, interrupting my mental tirade. "No, not as far as I know. I put it together after you were gone, just a number of things that caught my attention."

I felt slightly better knowing that Bruce didn't think that Dad was giving Dana the same treatment that he'd given me. Now that I thought it through, I doubted that Dana would stand for that anyway. She did not have the kind of personality to just let that happen. I would venture a guess that if Dad ever raised a hand against her, she might hit back. And she would definitely leave him. I was curious about what had perked Bruce's detective senses about the situation. I'd been very careful to keep the full extent of my relationship with my father from him, and since Dad's blows didn't even usually leave a bruise, it had been relatively easy to do. Or so I'd thought. "What exactly caught your attention? I was gone…"

Bruce's face tightened. "He took a swing at me, that time he contacted me."

I almost choked. "He took a swing at you?" Well, I sure hope I didn't inherit my brain from the paternal side of the family. Heh. I didn't even waste my time asking if he'd connected or not. "While you were B… umm, you know who?" Bruce said nothing but I could have sworn that I heard a faint growl. Which I took to mean 'change the subject, now'. So I did, biting back my chuckle. "Which reminds me, I'm going to stop by later today, does he know your identity?"

"No."

That doesn't surprise me. If he'd known it, he'd have probably told the world. "Ok, then. What else do we need to discuss then?" I wondered if Bruce was going to ask any more personal questions. I couldn't imagine what else that he would want to know, but knowing him… he could say anything.

"Your father has also been fighting depression. He's on several medications, several of which could possibly react badly with the alcohol that he's imbibing. He…" I was treated to the rare sight of Bruce searching for words. "I've been keeping an eye on him." No big surprise there. "I don't think he's going to respond favorably to you." Ditto. "He is at home this afternoon."

"I hadn't really been expecting the prodigal son kind of welcome." I rose from my seat. "Thanks for the information, Bruce."

"Tim, what are your plans?" Bruce was watching me with those cold blue eyes of his, and this time I know he was watching for anything that I might communicate non-verbally.

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to tell him, verbal or no. I looked down at the floor for a minute. "I really don't know yet." I raised my head and looked him in the eyes. "You'll be the first to know." That was the best I could do.

"Good." Bruce had a funny look on his face as I turned to leave. It almost looked like relief, but that didn't make any sense at all. Oh well, with him, some things were better left not figured out.

I walked out of the office, doing my best to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming meeting with my father. I didn't really know what to say to him, and every time I tried to figure out how to handle the matter I came up with a different way that he might react. The only thing that I could do was play it by ear, and procrastinating about it wasn't going to make the duty any sweeter.

TBC… in the final chapter.