He'd had a lot of time to prepare for his father's funeral. They had to give people time to travel so far out to pay respects so this memorial ceremony was planned for a few weeks after he died.
Now, he had nothing left to give and it only hurt to bring it back up. He would always mourn his father, but there was nothing to do but pick up the pieces and move on. He'd just been staring at the floor consumed in his own thoughts about schedules, personnel and budgetary concerns blankly shaking the hands that filed as they offered mumbled words of condolence. He stopped listening a while ago, it was depressing enough to see his picture up on the wall and the urn holding his remains.
Suddenly, William elbowed him, "Danger, danger. Two o'clock," he whispered leaning in, nodded towards his right, then away nonchalantly nodding to the newest consoling visitor, one of the senior linemen.
Marcus looked out of the corner of his eye to his brother and saw the hint of warning. He raised his eyes and saw a slim blonde form headed his way. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Great just what I needed." He pulled on his most amicable, but sad smile and greeted her as she approached.
"I was shocked when I heard. I'm so sorry," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a hard hug. "I can't imagine how this must be for you," she whispered in his ear. Her hot breath on his neck drove a knife into his heart out of the old memories it dredged up as she gave him another strong hug.
"Thanks for coming. I appreciate your concern," he recited for the hundredth time today. He pulled away, her hands falling into his. He looked up at the picture of his dad on the small alter. And the small container of his remains next to it. Nick Cole was such a bigger than life man - now reduced to his very elements in a small steel cylinder. Just didn't seem fair.
"Was he sick long?"
"Well, his heart was bad for the past several years, but he was diagnosed with Grey's just before I got out of EF," he said. "Didn't really start to show until a year or so ago, I guess."
The fact she had not let go of his hands yet was making him a little uncomfortable. He wriggled his hands free, shoving them in his pockets. She showed the saddened insult on her face, but to her credit said nothing.
At this point his mother Julia who stepped forward to say hello and thanking Christine for coming so far, steering her out of line and away from her son. William leaned over, "Mum to the rescue. Now's your chance to make a break for it." He hoarsely suggested, being sure to not be too loud.
"Shut up, Willy." Marcus snapped. The use of the nickname the younger Cole hated was a warning his brother didn't fail to miss.
His mother shot him a supportive glance talking to Chris, she HAD come over to give him a chance at escape. God love her. He nodded with a sly smile and wandered off towards he bathroom. He couldn't hide from her indefinitely but he could get some breathing room for a few minutes.
Closing the door behind him he growled, and unbuttoned his top button, it was just too ill-fitting to stand any more. It would stay open, he didn't care what people thought.
The bathroom was small, nothing more than a box big enough to turn around in really. He sat on the counter to the side of the sink and leaned back against the wall, kicking his feet up on the toilet lid, and gave a hard stretch.
He reached into the medicine cabinet to his right and pulled out a small flask of whiskey. His dad always kept it there. 'What's more medicinal than whiskey, Aye?' he'd ask with his hard country Welsh accent. His dad. He'd miss him. He'd been a hard man to be raised by, but he never doubted where his heart was – everything he did he did for his 'boys'.
Marcus held up the small metal container. It was a family heirloom. It'd come from England with his great great grandfather, passed through the family and totted half way across the glaxy. It was his now as the eldest descendant. He let the last of the contents trickle down his throat. He swallowed and let out an exalted sigh. Nope, he wasn't quite ready to go back out yet.
They had talked for what seemed like hours at the restaurant, catching up on all the pertinent info over many glasses of wine. She updated him on her parents, talked fondly about her three boys, complete with pictures. All dark haired boys with their mother's eyes. A pang of intense jealousy reeled it's head for just a moment as he looked on them, they could've been his children had things gone differently. Had fate not decided to play with him.
She had been pregnant when she learned of the explosion on Arissia and when she gave birth she named her newborn son Marc, after him. He was turning three in October, and looked like handful. She took the picture out of her wallet and gave it to him, saying she wanted him to have it. "I can get another copy at home." She explained, "You should have a picture of your namesake."
It had evidentially been a major sticking point in her and Ben's marriage, her naming their youngest after her old flame. That one that was just another log in the fire that eventually spelled destruction for the marriage that was already on the rocks.
He managed to get her to update him on some of the most recent issues on Earth and Mars-dome claiming he'd been so busy he wasn't able to catch any news feeds. It didn't sound bad, but nearly all the inhabitants had this rosy outlook as they had so much of the truth withheld. He knew what filter to use to decipher what she was saying.
As the waiter left with their empty plates she picked up her wine drained the remains of her third glass. She leaned forward across the table towards him. Marcus couldn't help but notice this motion only revealed more of her well rounded cleavage in her already fairly lowcut dress.
When she'd arrived in a black dress that hugged every curve Marcus suddenly knew this was NOT going to be a reunion redux. This wasn't the dinner he'd managed to talk himself into believing, this was definitely a date. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.