Chapter 5
Thoughts of the Past
Merlin retreated back towards Daniel's, happy in the knowledge that he had an office and quarters not far from there and hopefully far, far away from his father. They would have to work together, but Merlin definitely did not see this as an opportunity to amend things and did not want to see the man any more than he absolutely had to.
Time and again, years before, Merlin had tried to smooth things over as best as he could, but he was very young then. All he remembered was that his father had spurned him, and spurned him, and spurned him again.
He yelled, he threatened, he sent him off. Nothing had ever been good enough to make up for what had happened and Charlie had simply given up. His father was stubborn, and that was that. Merlin was conscious that it left a lot of hurt behind, but it had never played any part in his life, until now.
When he laid down on the bed and put his hands behind his head, he could not help but think about everything, absolutely everything.
The screaming, the fighting, and the tears were the first things that he remembered. His Pop yelling at his father that he needed to come out of it, that he was being selfish, and that he, Charlie, did not understand. But what they did not realize was that Charlie did understand... it was his fault, his stupidity, his childishness, plain and simple. What his Pop had understood and his father had not was that he was sorry and he didn't want his daddy to ignore him or snap at him anymore.
Next, he remembered how his father had always simple sat motionless, expressionless, and lifeless for the longest time. Charlie had avoided him because he was afraid. Looking back now, he understood why his father had acted that way, but it in no way excused it in his mind.
The next years were a swirl of different things that he had sworn himself to forget. They were hard in way that was unimagineable to him now. What he did remember was his grades dropping. His father had suddenly come back to life and wanted to play enforcer. He remembered how that had felt. His father ignored everything he did right and put everything he did wrong under a microscope. So, naturally, Charlie did what most adolescent boys would do and ignored him. Which promptly led to him being sent off to school under the pretense that it would do him some good to "get away from all the reminders of home and have a little structure."
"BULLSHIT!" He said angrily, out loud. He was nearly shocked that he said it, but it was true. Obviously his father had been sick of him, and couldn't deal with him, and simply wanted to get rid of him! As if it were for his own good! It was just a convenient excuse. Pops had tried to convince his father otherwise, but it invariably had not worked.
* * *
After having downed two aspirins and a muscle relaxer, Jack massaged his temples dutifully. Shocked would not have been the word... shocked would have been what he would have felt if the entire world had just pulled out of an 8G turn...In fact, Jack could not find the proper word for what he was feeling, but he was perfectly content with that.
"Charlie..." he said quietly, shaking his head.
He decided that if there was a REAL God, or supernatural power other than aliens... he, she, or it definitely had it in for him. There was a supreme irony in the entire situation that just made him want to curse the name of every god, from every religion, just to make sure that they got the message. Effectually throwing every major mistake and misery into his face was worthy of this wrath.
Jack knew that he had royally fucked up years ago, and that he was probably responsible for many of the things that had happened in the past. He had come to terms with that. Come to terms with that in the knowledge that it was irreparable...Come to terms with that thinking that it did not matter anymore, that there was no going back. Not that this meant that he did not still feel angry or frustrated or disappointed, because he did.
Now, he was not ready to come to terms with it. To be suddenly and unexpectedly faced with something that he had moved on from, was... well...he wasn't sure what it was, but it was surely something.
He scowled, "God damnit!"
It felt strangely good to bellow that out. Soothing in a way. He was not prepared to deal with this and that statement pretty much summed it all up.
Strangely, despite how angry he was, he could not help but notice that deep inside his chest he felt guilty. He felt badly about what he had said. It was rash, and while a part of him meant it, it was not the part that Charlie had ever been meant to see. That had been his first mistake, years ago. He should have been able to put that on the backburner in order to deal with and take care of his son, but the pain and the anger had just burned too hot.
Now he thought reproachfully, "Old habits simply die hard."
He had reverted back to the routine of yelling and pushing away, because it hurt too damn much. It was much easier to be that way now that his son was no longer a little boy, but a man.
He sighed deeply. His son was surprisingly very much a man. Last he had seen him, the boy was nineteen or twenty... and a very verbal, rebellious nineteen or twenty. Charlie was now 25, 26?
A piece of him felt loss, the loss of his son. He had not been a part of the Charlie's life, and he had allowed it, well, caused it to be that way. At least six years since they had last seen each other or spoken. He did not even know him anymore. He had no say over anything anymore, but when Charlie was gone, that had not bothered him. It bothered him now, even if it was just a little bit.
* * *
In a feverish sweat, Charlie's face twitched as he dreamed...
"Charlie! Charlie, daddy's home," he heard his mother call.
He perked up, grabbed his ball glove and tore home as fast as he could run from down the street. His hair brushed back and forth by his eyebrows, blowing around as he ran.
As he turned the corner and ran down the driveway, he saw his father sitting on the steps outside with his arm around Charlie mom. Excitement coursed through him. He stopped short, nearly barreling into the both of them before he gave his dad a goofy salute.
Surpressing a laugh at him, his dad returned it before being clobbered by a barage of knees and elbows as Charlie launched onto him.
"Dad, you MADE it!" He exclaimed, gleefully.
"Of course I made it, buddy, I wouldn't miss your Little League World Series for anything."
"You're the best, dad!"
"You too, kid!" He answered, his soft brown eyes glowing and relaxed.
"You still gonna take me early so you can help me practice?"
The man smiled, pulling his family closer to him, "Sure will. Got my glove right here."
"What about your cap, Dad? You can't go to the game without your cap!"
"No, I couldn't do that!"
Charlie jumped up, knocking his elbows into his father's chest and arm, "I'll get it for you!"
He ran into the house and up the stairs in a fury, nothing on his mind other than baseball and his father. When he stepped into their room, he looked around frantically for the hat, wanting nothing more than to grab it and get on with the ball playing.
Then, it caught his eye.
"Woah!"
He walked up to the bed with his eyes wide. Never in a million years had he ever thought his father would get him a toy gun. In fact, his father had been adamantly against it, saying that even fake guns weren't proper toys. But he had asked like five million times for one because all his friends had one and he felt left out. His father had finally given in and gotten him one?
It was just like his father to send him inside to somewhere he had left a gift for him. That was a game that they played. His father always surprised him by leaving new toys around the house for him.
He picked it up slowly. It was heavy! And real metal too!
He frowned. It didn't feel much like a toy gun, but it didn't really cross his mind that it could be a real one.
A small smile on his face, he held it up and imagined that he was a commando running around the woods.
"CHARLIE!!!"
He jumped, scared and surprised. There was a loud 'bang!', louder than anything he had ever heard, even the loudest thunder, and he wasn't sure what happened. He dropped the gun at the same time his mother dropped to the floor.
"Mom? MOM!!!" He screeched.
"CHARLIE, SARA!" He heard the frantic voice of his father, as the man barreled up the stairs. "CHARLIE?"
The door flew open the rest of the way, revealing his father.
"SARA!"
His father immediately dropped to the ground next to his mother, feeling around her neck for something.
Charlie didn't understand, but he knew it was bad. He was motionless and quiet, tears beginning to stream down his confused face.
The hospital was quiet. His father wasn't saying anything. Pops wasn't even saying anything. His grandpa simply had an arm around him. He wasn't sure what was going on, other than the doctors were doing something with his mom.
The doctor that had talked to his father earlier came out of the ER again and immediately his father started to walk to the man. Pops patted his shoulder and told him to stay put, and he also went to talk to the doctor.
Charlie sat quietly, looking at the three of them. The doctor was facing him, his father and grandpa's backs to him. The doctor put a hand on his father's shoulder, shaking his head.
"Argh, NO!" His father yelled, slamming his fists against the wall, the rest of his body quickly following.
Pops was crying, and trying to pull his father off the wall. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he ran. He ran with tears flying off his face in all directions, and his father didn't come after him...
Merlin jolted out of sleep, falling completely off the bed. Disoriented, he jumped back off the floor and quickly grabbed the wall to prevent himself from falling over. Instinctually, he bulleted himself towards the bathroom and retched everything completely out of his stomach before sliding down to the cold floor.
He had an hour to right himself before his briefing where he would meet the rest of the squad and have some simulator runs. He scolded himself for the dream and willed himself to push passed it like he had always done.
Merlin retreated back towards Daniel's, happy in the knowledge that he had an office and quarters not far from there and hopefully far, far away from his father. They would have to work together, but Merlin definitely did not see this as an opportunity to amend things and did not want to see the man any more than he absolutely had to.
Time and again, years before, Merlin had tried to smooth things over as best as he could, but he was very young then. All he remembered was that his father had spurned him, and spurned him, and spurned him again.
He yelled, he threatened, he sent him off. Nothing had ever been good enough to make up for what had happened and Charlie had simply given up. His father was stubborn, and that was that. Merlin was conscious that it left a lot of hurt behind, but it had never played any part in his life, until now.
When he laid down on the bed and put his hands behind his head, he could not help but think about everything, absolutely everything.
The screaming, the fighting, and the tears were the first things that he remembered. His Pop yelling at his father that he needed to come out of it, that he was being selfish, and that he, Charlie, did not understand. But what they did not realize was that Charlie did understand... it was his fault, his stupidity, his childishness, plain and simple. What his Pop had understood and his father had not was that he was sorry and he didn't want his daddy to ignore him or snap at him anymore.
Next, he remembered how his father had always simple sat motionless, expressionless, and lifeless for the longest time. Charlie had avoided him because he was afraid. Looking back now, he understood why his father had acted that way, but it in no way excused it in his mind.
The next years were a swirl of different things that he had sworn himself to forget. They were hard in way that was unimagineable to him now. What he did remember was his grades dropping. His father had suddenly come back to life and wanted to play enforcer. He remembered how that had felt. His father ignored everything he did right and put everything he did wrong under a microscope. So, naturally, Charlie did what most adolescent boys would do and ignored him. Which promptly led to him being sent off to school under the pretense that it would do him some good to "get away from all the reminders of home and have a little structure."
"BULLSHIT!" He said angrily, out loud. He was nearly shocked that he said it, but it was true. Obviously his father had been sick of him, and couldn't deal with him, and simply wanted to get rid of him! As if it were for his own good! It was just a convenient excuse. Pops had tried to convince his father otherwise, but it invariably had not worked.
* * *
After having downed two aspirins and a muscle relaxer, Jack massaged his temples dutifully. Shocked would not have been the word... shocked would have been what he would have felt if the entire world had just pulled out of an 8G turn...In fact, Jack could not find the proper word for what he was feeling, but he was perfectly content with that.
"Charlie..." he said quietly, shaking his head.
He decided that if there was a REAL God, or supernatural power other than aliens... he, she, or it definitely had it in for him. There was a supreme irony in the entire situation that just made him want to curse the name of every god, from every religion, just to make sure that they got the message. Effectually throwing every major mistake and misery into his face was worthy of this wrath.
Jack knew that he had royally fucked up years ago, and that he was probably responsible for many of the things that had happened in the past. He had come to terms with that. Come to terms with that in the knowledge that it was irreparable...Come to terms with that thinking that it did not matter anymore, that there was no going back. Not that this meant that he did not still feel angry or frustrated or disappointed, because he did.
Now, he was not ready to come to terms with it. To be suddenly and unexpectedly faced with something that he had moved on from, was... well...he wasn't sure what it was, but it was surely something.
He scowled, "God damnit!"
It felt strangely good to bellow that out. Soothing in a way. He was not prepared to deal with this and that statement pretty much summed it all up.
Strangely, despite how angry he was, he could not help but notice that deep inside his chest he felt guilty. He felt badly about what he had said. It was rash, and while a part of him meant it, it was not the part that Charlie had ever been meant to see. That had been his first mistake, years ago. He should have been able to put that on the backburner in order to deal with and take care of his son, but the pain and the anger had just burned too hot.
Now he thought reproachfully, "Old habits simply die hard."
He had reverted back to the routine of yelling and pushing away, because it hurt too damn much. It was much easier to be that way now that his son was no longer a little boy, but a man.
He sighed deeply. His son was surprisingly very much a man. Last he had seen him, the boy was nineteen or twenty... and a very verbal, rebellious nineteen or twenty. Charlie was now 25, 26?
A piece of him felt loss, the loss of his son. He had not been a part of the Charlie's life, and he had allowed it, well, caused it to be that way. At least six years since they had last seen each other or spoken. He did not even know him anymore. He had no say over anything anymore, but when Charlie was gone, that had not bothered him. It bothered him now, even if it was just a little bit.
* * *
In a feverish sweat, Charlie's face twitched as he dreamed...
"Charlie! Charlie, daddy's home," he heard his mother call.
He perked up, grabbed his ball glove and tore home as fast as he could run from down the street. His hair brushed back and forth by his eyebrows, blowing around as he ran.
As he turned the corner and ran down the driveway, he saw his father sitting on the steps outside with his arm around Charlie mom. Excitement coursed through him. He stopped short, nearly barreling into the both of them before he gave his dad a goofy salute.
Surpressing a laugh at him, his dad returned it before being clobbered by a barage of knees and elbows as Charlie launched onto him.
"Dad, you MADE it!" He exclaimed, gleefully.
"Of course I made it, buddy, I wouldn't miss your Little League World Series for anything."
"You're the best, dad!"
"You too, kid!" He answered, his soft brown eyes glowing and relaxed.
"You still gonna take me early so you can help me practice?"
The man smiled, pulling his family closer to him, "Sure will. Got my glove right here."
"What about your cap, Dad? You can't go to the game without your cap!"
"No, I couldn't do that!"
Charlie jumped up, knocking his elbows into his father's chest and arm, "I'll get it for you!"
He ran into the house and up the stairs in a fury, nothing on his mind other than baseball and his father. When he stepped into their room, he looked around frantically for the hat, wanting nothing more than to grab it and get on with the ball playing.
Then, it caught his eye.
"Woah!"
He walked up to the bed with his eyes wide. Never in a million years had he ever thought his father would get him a toy gun. In fact, his father had been adamantly against it, saying that even fake guns weren't proper toys. But he had asked like five million times for one because all his friends had one and he felt left out. His father had finally given in and gotten him one?
It was just like his father to send him inside to somewhere he had left a gift for him. That was a game that they played. His father always surprised him by leaving new toys around the house for him.
He picked it up slowly. It was heavy! And real metal too!
He frowned. It didn't feel much like a toy gun, but it didn't really cross his mind that it could be a real one.
A small smile on his face, he held it up and imagined that he was a commando running around the woods.
"CHARLIE!!!"
He jumped, scared and surprised. There was a loud 'bang!', louder than anything he had ever heard, even the loudest thunder, and he wasn't sure what happened. He dropped the gun at the same time his mother dropped to the floor.
"Mom? MOM!!!" He screeched.
"CHARLIE, SARA!" He heard the frantic voice of his father, as the man barreled up the stairs. "CHARLIE?"
The door flew open the rest of the way, revealing his father.
"SARA!"
His father immediately dropped to the ground next to his mother, feeling around her neck for something.
Charlie didn't understand, but he knew it was bad. He was motionless and quiet, tears beginning to stream down his confused face.
The hospital was quiet. His father wasn't saying anything. Pops wasn't even saying anything. His grandpa simply had an arm around him. He wasn't sure what was going on, other than the doctors were doing something with his mom.
The doctor that had talked to his father earlier came out of the ER again and immediately his father started to walk to the man. Pops patted his shoulder and told him to stay put, and he also went to talk to the doctor.
Charlie sat quietly, looking at the three of them. The doctor was facing him, his father and grandpa's backs to him. The doctor put a hand on his father's shoulder, shaking his head.
"Argh, NO!" His father yelled, slamming his fists against the wall, the rest of his body quickly following.
Pops was crying, and trying to pull his father off the wall. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he ran. He ran with tears flying off his face in all directions, and his father didn't come after him...
Merlin jolted out of sleep, falling completely off the bed. Disoriented, he jumped back off the floor and quickly grabbed the wall to prevent himself from falling over. Instinctually, he bulleted himself towards the bathroom and retched everything completely out of his stomach before sliding down to the cold floor.
He had an hour to right himself before his briefing where he would meet the rest of the squad and have some simulator runs. He scolded himself for the dream and willed himself to push passed it like he had always done.