The tunic, bloodstained and grieved, flapped about in a gale that brought boy and man ever closer to home. The care-worn fabric brushed up against the boy's skin in the breeze, sending a wave of goose bumps and shivers up his spine. He cringed against the side of the boat, frozen hands bringing no warmth as they rubbed frozen arms. All the while, his eyes never tore from the sunset. A ball of blinding fire was sinking in tidal waves of flame below the horizon, charring all that passed before it in silhouettes of black. Everything blazed in an angry holocaust, violent and maddening as it bathed the etherium in showers of crimson. Not for the first time Jim glanced sidelong at his father, watching the flames dance behind those apathetic eyes. Consumed in fire, he was stone cold.
His father had hardly spoken a word since the fight. In fact - now that Jim came to think on it - Daddy had barely looked his way, not so much as a glance. Daddy just sat there by the tiller, chin on one propped knuckle as he stared off pensively into the burning sky. Somehow, as Jim looked at his father, hair whipping about in the wind, he couldn't imagine all the nebulas and stars in the etherium being able to fill that space between them.
The solar sails cracked with every pummeled gust, crackling as the veins of them nearly burst with power. The boy couldn't help feeling the same. He looked away, but even when he closed his eyes, that red glare still burned outside his eyelids. Slipping down to the floor of the longboat he huddled, already beginning to rediscover all his bruises and sores, both without and within.

The engines died, the sails slackened, and the boat rocked as Leland climbed out onto the dock. Jim peered up over the edge, watching as his father stood brazened in the setting sun. Leland tugged on the mooring of the vessel until it was taut, and wrapped it around a bollard with an offhand but flourished knot. He seemed to hesitate, as if questioning his own resolve; with a sigh he turned his back and walked away. Not the first or last time Jim would see it. The boy glanced about and spotted the pack his father had left behind. He reached a hand to it, but then shrank away. Grabbing his books, he scrambled out onto the dock and ran after his father. His feet pounded on the long path, which wound up to the Benbow sitting at the top of the hill, framed in fire against the setting sun. Jim stumbled into the house just as the door shut.
Inside seemed only to be a reflection of the outside, the walls alive with the flicker of light from the fireplace, the candles in the window and on the mantelpiece, and the cooking stove simmering beneath evening supper. Sarah turned from the stove, brushing back a lock of hair from her rosy cheeks as the two came in, side by side. But there was no gasp this time, no tears, no emotion. She just turned away.
"Ms. Hemming dropped by an hour ago," she called back to them, busy at the stove once more. "She brought some of her Zerellian stew… if you're hungry, it should be ready in about twenty minutes."
Leland didn't reply, only stared at her back as if boring a hole somewhere between her shoulder blades. Tearing away the young man headed up the stairs, heavy boots pounding against the floor in a string of deadened echoes. A door slammed shut.
Jim stood at the front doorway watching, books tucked under his arm. He looked back to his mother, still standing quietly at the stove. He padded towards her, his gait insecure and slightly pigeon-toed. Coming around he glanced at her eyes, but only saw the flames from the stove reflected in them. She said nothing; she did not ask about the stains on his shirt, did not ask why they were back early, did not ask about his day and sweep him into her arms as she always would. The house, once so warm and inviting, was laced with ice.
Not sure what to think, Jim set his books on the closest table and slumped into a chair, letting his feet dangle off the edge. He began to trace the grain of the tabletop with his finger, drifting off a bit as he tried to find the words to say - something he never used to have a problem with. Things change.
"Mom?" Jim finally found the courage to speak, voice wavering a bit. "Momma?"
"Hmm?" She didn't look up.
"If… if you knew something about me, something bad… would you be angry with me?"
Her eyes lifted to him. "Why? What did you do?"
"You have to promise not to get mad."
"Why? Tell me, Jim."
"Promise first!"
"Alright, I promise! Now what is it?"
Jim braided his fingers together, biting his lips. "You promise?" he ventured.
"I promise," she assured.
He took a deep breath. "… I hit Samson at school today."
She stared at him. "You what?"
"It wasn't my fault, I swear!" Jim bleated. "You should have heard what he said! It was horrible! I couldn't take it."
"So you hit him? Jim…"
He couldn't take the disappointment in her voice. It was new, and he didn't like it. "He hit me back!"
"That doesn't make it right!" Sarah's voice was rising a bit to match Jim's own. "You don't hit people, Jim, no matter what. I thought you knew better than that!"
"But I hate him, momma! He says mean things. It hurts! I want him to hurt, too."
"Jim!"
The boy was beside himself now, clinging to the back of the chair. "You said you wouldn't get mad! You promised! You promised!"
His last shout faded into silence as she just stood staring at him, ignoring the boiling stew. Her eyes glimmered, but she blinked it away. "That's right," she whispered. "I promised. I'm sorry… Jim, I'm so sorry … I'm just disappointed. That's all. I never expected to feel that way about you."
Jim set his head against the back of the chair. "I know, Momma. I'm sorry… I tried."
Sarah looked away, and only just seemed to have noticed the stew beginning to boil over. Quickly she extinguished the flames and the boiling stopped, leaving behind a vat of thick white paste. "Are you hungry?" she asked him without glancing again.
Jim set up in his chair. "Yeah! … Please," he added, blushing.
She couldn't help smiling a bit as she ladled some into a bowl for him. Jim slipped out of the chair and hurried over. "Now, you'll need to be very careful with this," she said as she handed the bowl and a spoon to her son. "You should let it cool for a moment, it's still very hot."
"'Kay." Jim took the bowl and spoon gingerly into his hands, careful not to slip or spill a single bit as he set it down at the table. He sat just watching it, legs swinging again, impatient. Sarah smirked to see him so normal in that moment, but the moment was soon to be lost.
Leland came trudging down the stairs, pulling his coat on as he went. Mother and son turned to watch in alarm as he grabbed his hat and headed for the door. Sarah was quicker.
"Leland? Where are you going?"
"Out." He hesitated about the hat.
"'Out'? Out where?" Her voice was edging once more.
"Can't say for certain." Definitely lose the hat.
She turned away from the stove. "Well, when will you be back?"
"I don't know."
Jim suddenly remembered the pack he had left in the boat. "Momma…" he began to murmur, but she cut him off.
"Jim, take your soup to your room, your father and I need to talk," she said slowly to him, never losing eye contact with her estranged husband.
"But…"
"Now, Jim."
Surprised and thoroughly shaken, he grabbed the bowl and hurried up to his room as quickly as he could without spilling. He couldn't bear to look up at his father. As soon as they heard the door click upstairs, she began again.
"Leland, what is going on? First Jim and now you? I don't know what to think anymore. Every time he comes home I'm scared what might have happened to him... please say I don't need to worry about you as well."
Upstairs, the door creaked open. Jim poked his head out, ever so cautiously, and crawled to the railing, which opened to the room below. He peeked his head through the bars, wrapping his hands around them, watching the forms of his parents.
Leland looked down at his boots, shoulders starting to tense beneath his coat. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he began. "It's just out of my hands."
"What is?" She stepped closer. "If this is your choice, then it is clearly all in your hands…"
"Oh, that's not what I mean…" he stammered, looking grim. "Sarah, I was released today. I was told not to come back."
There was a pause as Sarah (and Jim above, even if they did not know it) tried to take this in. It couldn't be true. Jim gripped the rails. It couldn't be true. His mother spoke the question burning on his mind: "What does this mean?"
"It means I'm out of a job," he snapped. "Permanently. It's done."
She gaped at him, not much further than a matter of feet away. "What? Why?"
He was starting to look increasingly uncomfortable as each second ticked by. "I don't know myself, Sarah. But as far as I see it, I'm not needed anymore."
"There must be some mistake…"
"There's no mistake. I have the paper work."
"So it's over for good, then."
"I guess."
"So you're leaving? Why?"
"Just as I said: I'm not needed anymore. By anyone."
Jim had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. No… no… I need you, Daddy…
"That's not true and you know it, Leland," she retorted. "This Inn needs you. Your family needs you!"
"Oh really, it does? I'm what it needs? Funny, because I've gotten the total opposite impression," he raged. "The only reason we're starving and this 'family' is falling apart is because of me."
"Leland…!"
"No, don't patronize me! Don't even! Ever since we've met I've been nothing but your problem. Your father saw that, but I certainly didn't. No. I had everything under control then. I had plans; I was going to get somewhere. And then you had Jim…"
Jim's heart clenched and Sarah's eyes flashed. "Don't you bring him into this…" she hissed, but he didn't listen.
"What in God's name was I supposed to do, Sarah? I was 19 and all of a sudden I've got this kid to look after and support…"
"You're not the only one who had to go through that, Leland! I was 17, remember? I gave birth to him! He's my son, and yours! He has nothing to do with this..."
"He has everything to do with this! Because of me your son has had to live with a father like I am! Because of me he has no food, no future, and no friends. It was because of me he went to the mines, and I was the reason he was fighting at school."
"And you're leaving because of him?"
"Damnit, Sarah, I'm leaving for him! You'll be better off without me holding you down, anyway!"
"Just shut up, Leland, you ass! You're horrible! I can't believe this…"
"Don't tell me to shut up! If you think for one minute…"
All the shouts swirled together in the boy's eardrums until he was left clutching at them. Make it stop. Please make it stop. Make it go away… He found himself screaming. "Stop! Stop it! Stop fighting!"
"Shut up, Jim! Stay out of this!" Leland screamed back.
Jim's whole body flinched in shock as if it had been hit. Tears stung his eyes as the house fell silent, both parents staring up at their son. Sarah's cheeks were already flushed with tears and Leland's face, just moments before contorted with rage, was slowly fading to surprise.
"Jim… I…" Leland began in a tone much lower, but just the mention of his name was another slap on the face for Jim. With a sob the boy turned and ran back to his room, slamming the door behind him. The echo of it seemed to reverberate painfully in their ears as the two below listened, only to hear the shatter of broken crockery as the soup bowl was knocked over, and the muffled sound of Jim's sobs.
"Heavens, what are you doing, Leland?" Sarah muttered after a moment.
His shoulders relaxed with a pained sigh. "Look, I didn't know he was there, alright? I just got carried away, that's all. I didn't… I mean…"
Sarah looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "You know what, Leland… if this is what you want, then get out. Just get out."
He looked back into her eyes - and just once, he saw something there that made him hesitate. Regret. The girl in the spring dress with the flower in her hair, waiting for love. He still remembered that look on her face, watching her with breath held on the other side of the street, when she thought she had lost it. Never would he have believed he'd be facing it again. "Alright," he said slowly. "Alright, I will."
From his room, face buried in his pillow, Jim could hear the footsteps as Leland walked out the door and set off to the docks. Breath catching Jim scrambled to his feet and ran to the window, peering off into the evening as the last tinges of red bled below the horizon. Even in the deepening darkness, Jim could still see the flare of the thrusters and hear the roar of the engines. He watched as the outline of the boat lifted up into the etherium, caught the wind, and disappeared. But all the while he watched and stepped back from the sill, Jim could have sworn he noticed one thing:
His father looked back.
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Author Note: What I wrote below this after I finished writing it last night at 3 AM: "Good Lord I'm tired."
Not much to say... I was a bit anxious about writing this, wondering if I could pull it off. One part is based on a personal memory, when Leland yells back at Jim by accident... except I was 8 and it was me and my sister who got yelled at for trying to stop them. Hopefully that's believable...
*waves to her reviewers* Thanks so much, you guys, I appreciate it to death....
And an extra special thanks to Vappa, who told me the "little post thing on a dock you tie ships to" is a bollard. Kudos. - Tigrin 4/4/03