Michael roused him early, banging on his door. After checking who it was he opened it but didn't say anything. Michael pushed past him into the room saying, "You didn't call me. I didn't know whether to come here or the ER. The way you two were spitting bullets at each other last night I was worried someone might get hurt."
"Why are you here?" John asked, glaring at his brother.
"Why am I here?" Michael repeated blinking at him. "Well aside from the fact that I haven't seen you in two years and really haven't seen much of you at all on this trip I thought I might come by and see how you were taking the news."
"The news that I have an eight-year-old son nobody bothered to tell me about?" he asked sitting down on the couch. "I don't know, Mikey? Is there a right way to take that?"
"So you're taking it in typical John McBain style," Michael said sitting next to him, "you're sitting in a dark room being angry at the world but not actually doing anything about it."
"You know what?" he said angrily, "Don't even start. You should have called me the minute you found out!"
"Yeah that would have been a fun phone call," Michael said rolling his eyes, not rising to meet John's level of anger. "I thought about it. But I decided it was her place to tell you. I made it clear to her that she had to tell you. I arranged for it to happen. But I was gonna let her be the one to tell you. 'Course I hadn't planned on it going down quite like it did but you had to go jumping to your own conclusions-"
"Oh so it's my fault now?"
"It's not about fault, Johnny," Michael said. "It's about what you're going to do about Natalie and Jonas."
"How could she do this?" he asked, scolding himself for the slight flutter he felt even now at the sound of her name.
"She was hurt and scared and mixed up," Michael explained.
"And that makes it okay?"
"No it doesn't," Michael said shaking his head and trying to fix his brother's eyes with his own. "She messed up. She'll admit that if you ask her. But it's not like you never made a bad decision, bro. You got involved with her while you knew her husband was alive and rotting in a prison cell."
"You know what she said," John said leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "she said she didn't tell me because she didn't think I was ready to be a father."
"Were you?" Michael asked without flinching.
John stared at his brother in disbelief. "Where do you people get off even asking that? Did anyone ask her if she was ready to be a mother?"
"I'm sure she asked herself a hundred times," he said, "and I don't know what answer she came up with, but biology didn't leave her much of an option. She had to make a decision where you were concerned."
"And you think she made the right one, don't you?" he said, still reeling from the shock that his own brother would turn on him like this, "You think I'd make a lousy father!"
Michael shook his head. "I have always known you had it in you to be a great father," he said, "the way you stepped up after dad died… but I remember what you were like back then. You were bad enough after Caitlyn died with the brooding and shutting yourself off, but after everything that went down with Natalie and Cristian you just kept getting worse and worse. You didn't do anything but work and you were in trouble there constantly. You were beating up on suspects and flying off the handle at the other guys. I don't know if I would have trusted you with my kid."
"Thanks for your support," John said sarcastically, standing up and walking a few steps away.
"I'm just trying to make you see where she was coming from. I told you, Johnny, I think she made the wrong choice, but she was just trying to protect her child."
John turned to him, "You can't make decisions like that for other people."
"Wasn't that the logic you used when you hid the DNA test results about Cristian," Michael pointed out, "you said you were trying to protect Natalie."
"Yeah," he admitted, "and look what it did. No one's ever let me forget it."
"Maybe not," Michael conceded, "but she forgave you. Natalie forgave you for what you did."
"After nine years!" he said raising his voice.
"She forgave you a lot sooner than that," Michael said, "just took the two of you that long to face each other."
"I don't know if I can forgive her for this," he mumbled.
"Well I got news for you Johnny this isn't about her and this isn't about you or what either of you did back then. Frankly I think you both did some pretty dumb things but you're gonna have to get over it."
"That simple huh?" John asked his brother, "just get over it, move past it."
"Yeah," Michael said, "because you don't have any other option right now. Because what this is about now is the fact that you have a son. And you have to figure out what you're going to do about that yesterday. You don't get to take another nine years to figure it out unless you want to prove that Natalie was right about you in the first place and you're still not ready for this."
John slumped back on the couch. "So what do I do?" he asked softly. He wasn't sure if he was asking his brother, himself or God, but either way no answer came to him.
Michael simply patted him on the shoulder and said, "I dunno. You're gonna have to figure this one out for yourself." He stood up and walked to the door calling over his shoulder, "Call me if you want to get together for lunch or dinner."
He didn't move. He just sat there staring into space. He didn't want to admit it, but they had a point. Nine years ago he had been different. Nine years ago how would he have reacted to the news that he was going to be a father? He and Natalie couldn't be in the same room for any length of time without yelling at each other—would they have been able to coparent a child? Back then he hadn't ever been able to tell Natalie he loved her and he had loved her so much… Damn it he still loved her as much as he didn't want to. He could hate her all he wanted but it wouldn't change the fact that he still loved her.
And there was the other fact that he had to face—in less than twenty-four hours he was getting on a plane and flying back to New Orleans. He was going to be a long way away; how could he be a father to the son he still didn't know at that distance? His job didn't make it possible for him to just drop everything and relocate to a small town in Pennsylvania.
And would it be any better if he were closer? Look at his track record; how many times had her connection with him almost gotten Natalie killed? Could he put a child in that position? Although, he thought ironically, things had improved in his life. He hadn't been targeted by a serial killer for almost a decade now.
And there was no way to build a relationship with his son without facing his mother. Just thinking of her, what she'd done, made him shake with anger. Could he keep Jonas from being caught up in that?
There was another knock at the door. It wasn't Michael; it wasn't nearly obnoxious enough. It was soft, but not too soft. Polite. It was Natalie. He knew somehow even before he opened it.
She stared at him for a minute. That icy blue glare that his son had learned to mimic so perfectly. She took him in; the rumpled clothes, the matted hair. He hadn't changed or showered since they'd last spoken and it was obvious.
Then she said in an efficient, professional tone, "I realize that you don't want to talk to me right now but we have things we have to work out."
"Really?" he asked trying to keep his voice at a monotone as he stepped aside to let her enter.
"I need to know what you plan to do regarding our son," she said.
"I don't know," he mumbled.
"Well figure it out," she said raising her voice just slightly.
"I'm trying to do that," he said raising his tone to match hers, "but it's kind of a lot to process in the couple hours I've had."
"I know," she whispered, "but you two have already lost enough time. And I realize that's my fault but-"
"I'm trying to wrap my brain around how much we've lost," he said, "How many things I wasn't there for that we can't get back-"
"Here," she said handing him an oversized book he hadn't even realized she was carrying.
He looked at it blankly. "What is this?"
"Pictures," she said, "of Jonas from birth up to now. There- there aren't as many at the beginning because I was always holding him so I couldn't hold the camera and there wasn't really anyone else around…"
He tried not to let himself think about how hard it must have been for her caring for their infant son by herself. If he let himself think about it he was likely to feel sorry for her, even if it had been her fault. And he didn't want to feel anything but anger towards her quite yet.
"Anyway," she said, "they're duplicates so you can keep them."
"And that's supposed to make up for it?" he asked, "Almost like being there."
Her professional manner wavered and he could hear a catch in her voice as she shook her head and whispered, "Sorry doesn't seem to be enough, I know, but-"
"I just keep thinking about all these things," he explained, "Like, my mother died without knowing she had a grandson."
Natalie gave him a guilty look and said, "No, she didn't."
"What?" he asked in surprise.
She took a deep breath. "When Michael told me she was sick and it didn't look good I had the same thought. So I took Jonas up there on the train and I introduced him to your mother. She knew who he was immediately--I didn't even have to tell her."
Realization dawned on him. "That's why she was talking about you. That's why she told me to go find you."
She nodded. "She told me you were coming. She wanted me to wait till you got there so I could tell you. But I just couldn't do it. Not then--you had enough to deal with. I promised her that I would tell you though. We left the day you got there."
He stared at her disbelieving. He had known her so long; for a few short periods of time he had thought he understood her on such an intimate level, but there were still so many things that surprised him. She had hidden his son from him for nine years and yet she cared enough about his mother, a woman she barely knew, to bring her grandson to visit her on her deathbed. He smiled inwardly in spite of himself; Natalie had never been anything if not unpredictable.
"Anyway," she said reverting to her business-like tone, "you have no legal claim to paternal rights at this point, but if you would like to establish paternity I talked to my lawyer and it won't be too hard and I will fully support you. His last name is Buchanan and I don't know how you feel about it. If you'd like him to have your name… The only thing I ask is that you talk to him about whatever you decide. This is going to be an adjustment and I just want to make it as easy as possible on him."
John nodded as she continued.
"I know that you're working on Christmas but I also feel like you two have missed enough Christmases together so if you want I can send him down to New Orleans for Christmas or afterwards. Whatever you want."
"Would you be coming with him?" he asked not looking at her. He couldn't look at her; the more that he looked at her the more his body yearned to reach out for her. That couldn't happen. Not anymore. That side of their relationship was over for good. He realized she hadn't responded and was forced to look up into her eyes.
"I don't know," she said, "would I be welcome?" Damn those eyes. He knew that look in them; it had been in his own nine years ago. The one that said, 'I'm sorry and I'm worthless but I love you and I need you.' Maybe if she'd listened to that plea from his eyes nine years ago they wouldn't be here now. No. He wouldn't let himself fall into that…
"I don't know," was all he could manage to say.
"Well we have a lot to figure out then," she said.
"I need more time," he said, "I know we have to move quickly, I just-"
"Okay," she said softly. "I'll leave then. Just let me know when you figure anything out."
And she was gone.
He opened the photo album. Just as Natalie had said it chronicled the life of his son from his birth to the present. The vast majority of the photos appeared to have been taken on special occasions—Christmases, birthdays. All occasions he should have been there for that he couldn't make up for. Was it going to make up for missing those if he made sure he was there for every one in the future?
Many of the latter photos much have been taken by Viki or Roxy or someone because Natalie was in them beside her son. Their son. They looked happy. She had been a good mother--he'd told her that himself the day before. How much things could change in a day. And how many things didn't change. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but for better or for worse she still got under his skin in a way no one else could.
The sun was already down by the time he knocked on her door. Just as nervous as Wednesday morning when he'd first shown up there. When he'd first seen Jonas. His son. Those words still seemed so unreal.
An intense feeling of déjà vu overcame him when Jonas answered the door again and glared up at him once more. This time he folded his arms on his chest as if he were going to block John from entering but he didn't say anything.
John cleared his throat. "Um… is your mom here?"
"No," Jonas said in a voice that was almost a growl.
"Oh," he said, he hadn't planned for this possibility, "well do you know where she is?"
"Why should I tell you?" the little boy asked.
He couldn't think of ever being in a more awkward situation and he honestly had no idea how to proceed. Finally he bent down so he would be closer to eye level and asked, "Jonas do you know who I am?"
Jonas nodded. "You're my father."
"Okay," he said, "well I know I haven't done a great job of that. I haven't been here."
"It's not your fault," he said, "I know. Mom told me."
"Right," he said.
"You lied to me," Jonas said. His little body was tense with anger.
"I lied to you?" he asked in confusion.
"You said you didn't want to hurt my Mom, but you did," he said, "you hurt her before and you hurt her again."
John wished for more than one reason that Natalie were here. He had no idea how to approach this issue. "What did she tell you about it?" he finally asked.
"Nothing," Jonas said, "she didn't tell me anything but she was crying all last night. She was in her room but I heard her. And this morning she went out and I know she went to see you because she took some pictures that she said were for you and when she came back I could tell she'd been crying."
What could he tell this boy? No matter how much he blamed Natalie for everything that had happened he couldn't tell his son it was all his mother's fault. Jonas wouldn't be likely to believe it anyway, but it wasn't something he would say to a child. "I'm very sorry I made her cry," he finally said.
"You said you cared about her," Jonas said.
"I do," he said before he could think about it. If he thought about it, it was the truth though. He did still care about her. A lot. No matter what had happened.
"Then why do you make her cry?" Jonas asked his jaw quivering slightly. John said a silent prayer that he wouldn't start crying. What did he know about dealing with a crying child? He wondered if there was some sort of back up he could call.
"Jonas," he said slowly, "grown-ups do that to each other sometimes. We hurt each other, even when we don't mean to and-"
"It's stupid," Jonas interjected.
He laughed. "You're right it is."
"If I make my cousin cry Mom makes me apologize," he said.
"You think I should apologize to your mom?" John asked.
He nodded. "And maybe she should apologize too. If she did something that made you cry."
So this was what he had been missing all these years; someone to put things in perspective for him. He thought back to Vanessa, that little girl who had done this for him once before. He couldn't do much for her, but he could do something for this little boy.
"You're right," he told Jonas, "but I need to know where she is so I can do that."
Jonas's expression softened and his body relaxed. "She's at work."
He should have known; why hadn't he gone there first? He started to turn to go and then the answer occurred to him. There was a reason he'd had to stop by Llanfair first. He looked back at Jonas. "You wanna come with me?"
Jonas nodded and broke into a smile. He called up the stairs, "Grandma, Dad and I are going to go see Mom at work!" It was only later in the car that he wondered at how shocking those words must have been to Viki. Jonas looked at him impatiently, "Come on!"
To be continued.