Eric, Wes, Jen, Mr. Collins, Miller, and Dr. Zaskin belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, but I am not and do not expect to make money from this.
Gaby, Jimmy Duran, Frank Kelly, Gunn, Kane, Quinn, Pamela, and Dennis Myers are mine.

Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; strong sexuality; violence; mature themes including child abuse and prostitution.

Please review, I love to hear from you.

Sins of the Fathers


Confession

It was morning after a long and eventful night. Wes finished his cup of coffee and wished he had another. He and Jen had brought Kelly in, dealt with the firestorm that their arrest of a SHPD detective had caused, then visited the hospital to check on Eric and Dennis Myers. There had been time for only a few hours of sleep after that.

He smiled, just a little, remembering. Without a word being said, Jen had gone back to the house with him. Together they had waked up his father and told him what had happened, that he was no longer under any suspicion. Then they had gone to Wes's room, again not needing words. They were in each other's arms almost before the door had closed. She had stayed there for the night, for the first time in much too long. That had cost them some more sleep, but it was worth it. He caught Jen's eye, and shared the smile with her.

Now they were back in the same interrogation room they had used with Myers, but this time it was Frank Kelly being questioned. Jimmy was facing him, Jen in a chair at the table. Wes was standing on the other side of the room, watching. Kelly looked exhausted, miserable, and dazed, perhaps by the abrupt transition from cop to criminal. Wes almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Jimmy was leaning on the table, staring at Kelly intensely. "Why don't you just tell us about it, Frank?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything."

"The evidence says you did."

"Those fingerprints? They don't prove anything."

"We'll be getting the DNA analysis soon. We found scratch marks on your arms. The blood from under Pamela's nails will match yours, won't it?"

"No."

"We'll see soon enough. Why did you take Myers to the hotel? You were going to kill him, weren't you?"

"No!"

"I hear he's going to live. I think he'll be a mood to talk."

Kelly looked up, his face pinched. "How long have we known each other, Jimmy? Do you really think I did this?"

Jimmy's face showed pain, just for an instant. "It doesn't really matter what I think. What matters is the evidence. That's what will matter to a jury." He sighed. "Make it easy on yourself, Frank. They say confession is good for the soul. And I have the feeling your soul needs all the help it can get."


Eric sat in the hospital room, letting himself doze, the exhaustion of a night with only a few minutes of sleep snatched here and there in a chair finally hitting him. A sound from the hallway brought him awake, to look again at his father, still lying there unmoving and unchanged.

So strange, to see him like this, to actually hope for him to live and recover. Eric wondered why he was even here, why he had spent the night waiting in a hospital room, watching over a man he still hated. Seeing Myers now as a human being was disturbing. He was still a bum, still the same monster who had spent years beating a young child. But -- he had asked for justice. Eric would make sure he got it. And he wanted answers, for Alan Collins, for his mother, and for himself.

It was quiet again, so quiet that his thoughts began to drift. Gaby. He hadn't been fair to her. Maybe she hadn't been fair, either, maybe she had given up on him, just like his mother. Or maybe she had just been hurt and angry at the moment. When this was over, he would have to try to deal with that situation, see if they could patch it up. He felt suddenly alone, abandoned again, sitting in that stark, impersonal room, like the waiting room in the bus station where he had spent two days, waiting, sleeping in a chair, watching for his mother. He had been tired then, too, and waiting -- like now -- waiting...

Eric had known it was over on the second morning he spent in the bus station. Only a few minutes after he had come out of the bathroom, the ticket agent was looking at him again. Half an hour later, they came. Two policemen, and a woman in regular clothes. They looked at him, their expressions of sympathy and concern making him squirm, then they went in the back. He could hear voices, hear them talking to the ticket agent. He knew they were here for him, to take him away where his mother would never find him, to put him in an orphanage.

In desperation, he hid in the men's room again, climbing onto the toilet in one of the stalls so they couldn't see his feet. Of course, it didn't work. The two policemen followed him in, and walked in front of the stalls, looking through the cracks between the doors and the partitions. They stopped in front of his stall, and whispered. Then one of them went back to the bathroom door while the other one stayed, and talked to him.

"We know you're in there, son. Might as well come out."

"No! I don't want to."

"Look, you can't spend the rest of your life in there. Why not come out?"

"No!"

His voice became sympathetic. "How long have you been here, in the bus station?"

"Don't know." Eric heard his own voice trembling. He forced himself not to cry.

"The ticket agent said you've been here for two days."

"Don't know."

"Where are your parents? Who left you here?"

"My mom's coming back!"

He heard the whisper of a sigh, then footsteps as the policeman walked over to talk softly to his partner. They opened the bathroom door and he could hear the woman's voice, too.

"Poor kid. His mother left him here."

"Maybe something happened to her?"

"We've got no reports of accidents, no missing women, no bodies. And why would she leave the station with her son here? I think she just took off."

"Well, we've got to get him out of here. I'll take charge of him."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"We'll try to find his mother. If we can't, or if she's unfit, he'll probably go into foster care."

"What a shame."

"Jesus. How any mother could do that..."

The footsteps came back, and the voice spoke again. "What's your name, son?"

"Eric."

"Eric. You have to come out. We want to help."

"I'm fine! I said my mom's coming back!"

"I don't think she is. I'm sorry."

"Nooo..."

The voice spoke again, so much compassion in it that Eric felt the tears sting again. "Son... Eric... I know you're hurting. But you've got to be brave, and face it. She's not coming back. I know you feel like you're all alone now, but all of us are here to help you. Come on out and let us do it."

With a final, crushing sense of defeat, Eric knew he was right, knew it was over, that there was no more hope. She had left him, she had never meant to come back. His life as he had known it was gone forever.

"Okay. In a minute," he said, his voice shaking again. He knew they could tell he was crying. He let it happen for a few minutes, sobbing as silently as he could, resolving that it would be the last time he cried for anyone. When it eased up he got to his feet, wiped his face, blew his nose, and finally opened the door.

They were standing there, looking at him, their faces filled with pity. They felt sorry for him because they knew his mother had left him there, had just thrown him away like a useless piece of trash. But someday he'd show them, he'd prove that he was worth something, prove it to them, and everyone, and himself.

When I grow up, I'm not going to let anyone look at me like that, ever again. Someday I'm going to be so big, and so strong, and have so much money that nothing can ever hurt me again, and no one will ever feel sorry for me...

He met their eyes, lifting his chin defiantly, seeing a hint of respect come into their expressions as he walked out.

The tears came again as Eric sat in a quiet hospital room, twenty years later. He let them come, this time, letting himself cry for that hurt little boy and the damaged man he had become, painfully feeling a little of the knot inside him loosen.


"Frank, we've got the prints. We've got the DNA. We've got your attempt to eliminate Dennis Myers, and the fact that you ran. Soon we'll have Myers' testimony. It's all over. You might as well tell us what happened."

Kelly stared at all of them, as if looking for a way out. Then he smiled, bitterly, his eyes fastening on Wes. "It was your father's fault. If he hadn't killed my father, none of this would have happened."

"My dad didn't kill anyone!"

"Same thing. He ruined my father's life. Forced him to kill himself."

"That was his choice. He brought all of it on himself."

Jimmy interrupted quietly. "Wes, it's okay. We'll handle this."

Jen turned back to Kelly. "Go on. Tell us about it. How did you hook up with Dennis Myers?"

Kelly's face was resigned now, defeated. "I met him in San Francisco. I was on vacation. It was at a bar. I didn't know he was related to Eric Myers, or that Collins might recognize him. I thought he could be useful..."

"Useful for what?"

"I wanted to ruin Collins, like he ruined my father." He looked up. "I swear, I didn't mean for anyone to die. All I wanted was to embarrass him. Make him look bad. Screw up the deal Bio-Lab was trying to make with Atkinson Labs. That was the plan."

"What were you going to do?"

"Dennis said he could get a hooker who'd keep her mouth shut. That's why Pamela was involved. We were going to use one of her girls. Pamela was supposed to send her, she wasn't supposed to come herself." He gave a slight, barking laugh. "We were going to arrange for the great Alan Collins to be found in a dump hotel room, drunk, with a teenaged prostitute. Dennis and I would disappear; the hooker would say Collins had picked her up. He would never have been able to explain it."

"So what went wrong?" Jimmy asked softly.

"Pamela went wrong. She never sent anyone. She showed up herself, in Dennis's room."


"Eric..."

The voice called him, so soft it seemed almost like part of a dream until he woke completely from the half-sleeping daze he had fallen into. Eric sat up, disoriented for a moment, and then saw his father watching him from the bed. He stared back for a few seconds. Myers was looking weak and pale, but alert, and smiling hesitantly.

"How do you feel?" Eric asked.

"Okay, I guess. Alive."

"Good." Eric stood up briefly to stretch his cramped muscles.

"Did you get Frank?"

"Yeah. My friends got him."

There was a short silence before Myers' voice came again. "You risked your life to save me."

"I didn't do it for you."

Myers looked away uncomfortably. "Well -- thanks anyway."

Eric sat silently again for a while. Then he looked up. "How about telling me the truth, about how Mom died? I think you owe me that much."

"Make a confession?"

"This is just between us. But if Frank did it, I hope you'll testify against him. Mom deserves justice, too."

Myers thought about it for a few moments. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and resigned. "I guess she does. I'll tell you what happened. And I'll testify. Keep that bastard behind bars, where he belongs."

"Okay. Good. Tell me what happened. Why did you come to Silver Hills?"

"Frank hired me. He had a plan. He hates Alan Collins -- your boss. Something he did to Frank's father. He wanted to get revenge, hurt Collins, and hurt Bio-Lab. There was some big business deal coming up, with Atkinson Labs..."

"Yeah. We've been trying to acquire them. Now the deal's in trouble."

"That was the plan. Make Collins look bad, so Atkinson would back out. Ruin Collins' reputation, maybe even force him to step down as CEO."

"Go on."

"It was all Frank's idea... I called Collins, set up a meeting with him at the bar. I stalled him along. He had a cup of coffee. I slipped a drug into it."

"Rohypnol?"

"Whatever. I don't know. Anyway it really put him out. He was kind of dazed -- I got him a scotch and poured it into him. We had rented another room, under a fake name, and I brought Collins up to it. He could barely walk. I took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, and left him on the bed, passed out.

"Then I went back to my room. I had rented it under another fake name. Ralph White. I used that a lot, your mother was Lily White and I was Ralph -- anyway, the girl was supposed to be there. Pammy -- your mother -- was supposed to send one of her girls. That was the plan, Collins would get found drunk and passed out, with a hooker. We were going to call the papers and TV stations -- get pictures."

"Jesus."

"Pammy was there, in my room, instead. She changed her mind. Didn't want to do it. She came here to stop us. We started to argue. I got so mad... Frank was paying me a lot of money, and that -- she was going to screw it up, just throw it all away..."

"What happened?"

"We had a fight. We were both yelling... she was calling me names..." He paused, agitated, his eyes on Eric's face. "I didn't mean to hurt her."

"You hit her, didn't you?"

"I just slapped her a couple of times. She hit me back. I -- I lost it -- grabbed her, tore her shirt. Then -- I hit her again, with my fist. She fell back -- fell down -- hit her head on the dresser. Then she just lay there, moaning a little." He closed his eyes. "God, it was terrible. Blood all over."


Frank went on, his voice dull. "Everything was set up. Dennis had gotten Collins to the hotel, drugged him, gotten him into the room. Everything was perfect. Then she showed up. She didn't want to go through with it."

"What did you do?"

"When I got to Dennis's room, they had had a fight. He said she fell, hit her head. She was lying there, bleeding, unconscious. I had to think of something to do. And it had to be fast."


"Eric, I swear I didn't mean to hurt her. Not like that. It was an accident."

"Yeah. Just like all the times you hit me."

"If it means anything, I'm sorry."

"Just go on."

"Frank showed up then, while I was trying to wake her up. He -- he was angry. Said she was going to ruin everything. He said there was still something we could do, we could still use the plan, just make a change.

"We took your mother into the room with Collins. Put her down on the floor. She was sort of half-conscious. We figured she wouldn't move for a little while. We cleaned up our fingerprints the best we could, and Frank told me to get my stuff and get out of the hotel. He said I should call 911, say I heard them fighting, so they'd catch Collins with her and think he hit her. Then I was supposed to get lost. Disappear."

"She was hurt. It didn't occur to you to get help for her?"

"I called 911."

"You didn't tell them she was hurt. And you waited until after you went back to your room and got your things. After you got outside the hotel."

Myers looked away uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know. I should have called right away. But Frank insisted... he said she'd be all right."

"What happened then? How'd she end up dead?"

"Like I said, I left, and called for help. She was alive the last time I saw her. I swear. When I saw on the news that she was dead -- strangled -- I knew Frank must have killed her."


"Go on, Frank. Tell us how she died."

"You see -- I had to finish the plan. There was a problem, but I knew how to get around it. How to make it work. I scratched Collins myself, with a nail file, and dabbed his blood under her nails. Then..." He stopped, clenching his hands together.

"Might as well tell us everything."

"I couldn't let her tell the truth. Everyone would have known Collins was set up. Couldn't let her ruin everything. That bitch -- she had no right to change her mind like that, after I spent so much time -- did so much planning..."

"What did you do?"

"I had to do it. You can see that, can't you? I had to kill her. Had no choice. She was awake enough to fight -- she scratched my arms. When she was -- was gone, I got out of there."

"So your plan worked. Almost."

"Yeah. Almost." He grimaced fiercely, his eyes glittering. "It would have been even better than my original idea -- Collins suspected of murder -- maybe even convicted -- if only..." His face twisted in anger. "If Dennis had just disappeared, like he was supposed to, instead of going to Eric -- if Collins hadn't recognized him -- all you would have had is a couple of fingerprints and some unidentified DNA. It would have worked."


"Why didn't you get out of town, like Frank said?"

"He was supposed to pay me. I was broke. Needed that money to leave town. After he killed Pammy I was afraid to call him and ask for money. So I came to you."

"Didn't you want to get him for killing Mom? She was your wife. Didn't you feel anything for her?"

"I was scared. The cops wouldn't listen to me, not against another cop. Frank would have killed me. Maybe it was wrong, but I figured there was nothing I could do."

"Why did you come to me? Didn't you know I'd take you right to the police?"

There was silence for a few seconds. "I don't know. Maybe I thought you'd protect me from them. Maybe I knew you'd find out the truth, somehow. I just don't know."

"One more question. Why did my mother change her mind? Why did she back out of the plan?"

Myers looked up at him, that hesitant smile appearing again. "She had kept track of you. She knew you were working for Bio-Lab. She was afraid that you might get connected somehow with this whole thing -- might get blamed, if anyone found out we were involved.

"Even if that didn't happen, she knew somehow that you're close to the Collins family. She figured you'd be hurt, because your boss and your friend would get hurt, and the company you worked for might be in trouble. She said we had done enough to you already. Said you had a good job and a good life, and she didn't want to mess it up. She did it for you."