Chapter Two: Upon This Rock I Stand
Greg Parker blinked, surprised by the massive fireplace in front of him. Marble and impeccably kept, though there wasn't any protective grating between himself and the crackling flames. Stepping back, his gaze rose to the mantel above; several decorative pieces marched along the wooden shelf, but it was the crest mounted on the wall that filled in the blanks. Shaped like a shield, the silvery material sported elegant detailing around the edges, a lion rampant, ivy leaves engraved above the lion, and ivy vines at the bottom of the shield. Two more ivy leaves were on the sides of the shield, underneath two of several inward sweeping curves in the shield that hinted at slim branches and ran under the crest to connect the lower ivy vines with the upper ivy branches. The lion rampant was a proud red hue, detailing gilt gold. In the center of the detailing, right above the lion's head, the gold detailing formed a subtle crown.
On either side of the shield, two more scarlet rampant animals lurked. One was a gryphon and the other was a phoenix; both held their poses with an almost tangible sense of pride. Above the crest itself were three more words in a large, bold script and the stocky man inspected them, a tiny grin quirking the corners of his mouth. Tueri Cor Magicae – the family motto. To himself, he translated the Latin into English: Protect the Heart of Magic.
Inspecting the whole, Greg couldn't help a soft chuckle. Right there, out in the open for anyone to see, was the entire family history. The royal shield of Narnia, the familial Animagus forms, and the family's ancient vow to guard the heart of magic. Protecting others was in his very blood, a heritage that any of his ancestors would be proud of. As he stared at the crest, his elation faded. What good was a guardian who failed to protect? What good was a protector who missed the obvious and couldn't even make up for his failings when they were pointed out?
Shame burned inside his heart and the stocky man turned away, eyeing the rest of the room with detached interest. He was between the fireplace and a low coffee table; two comfortable leather couches lurked on either side and there were several chairs scattered around the room, ready to be used for any evening entertainment. Light flowed in from above, hitting a crystal chandelier and reflecting all around the room. On the far side of the room, a grand wooden staircase rose to a mid-floor landing before splitting into two staircases that led up to the second floor of the stately old building. Old blood, old money; his nipotes had gone from this to his tiny apartment – what lunacy had ever made him think he could provide an adequate home for them?
About to slump down in on one of the couches, Greg froze at a soft, distant sound. Crying? Or maybe just the same instinct that had led him straight into trouble – again. Yes, his magic had been crying out, pressuring him to act and never mind the consequences, but what arrogance, to imagine that he alone could turn the tide and keep the Reaper at bay. He'd done it with Roy, he'd done it with Wordy, and he'd done it again with his own nephew. Over and over again, he'd disregarded his own wellbeing, recklessly jeopardizing his life without considering what his friends and family might think. Funny how things worked out; if he'd been willing to trust the Healers to do their job, then Lance would be in good hands and his own life wouldn't be on the line.
Instead… Greg gazed around at the elegant, but lonely manor. He knew it wasn't real, knew it had to be a mindscape, one that was probably the last thing he'd ever see. Totally avoidable – and yet he'd walked right into it, so focused on saving his nephew that he hadn't been able to see the forest for the trees.
"You love my son like your own."
Parker whirled towards the voice, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. A lanky man dressed in navy blue wizard robes stood in the entry hall, leaning against the wall in a casual manner that revealed how comfortable he was in the grand surroundings. Rich brown hair gleamed in the sunlight reflecting off the chandelier and light blue met his hazel. He'd only met this man once and it had been almost fifteen years since that day, but Greg knew who he was looking at. Artorius Calvin.
Artorius smiled and shifted to stand upright, his eyes never leaving his distant cousin. "You've raised my children with love; that is what Victoria and I wanted most for them." One hand swept out. "I entrusted you with what is most precious to me, cousin."
Hazel dropped away. "I let them down."
To his utter shock, Artorius threw back his head and laughed. "Come now, cousin. Families are not perfect; how can they be? We are all human, Greg. We come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve; as they failed, so too do we." The taller man shook his head. "If Victoria and I had lived, I promise you, we would have let our children down as well, cousin." Turning away, he glanced over his shoulder. "In different ways, perhaps, but all parents let their children down. It is a fact of life, nothing more, nothing less."
"But how do I fix it?" Greg pleaded without thinking. What arrogance, to imagine that he was going to get another chance. He'd run through more chances than he could count.
A fond gleam stole through Artorius's eyes, so like his son that Parker blinked, caught off guard. The brunet advanced, gripping both of Greg's shoulders, affection clear. "You already know the answer to that, cousin," he chided. "You are not so ignorant as you portray yourself; you are only afraid of failing again."
The words came unbidden, but he let them out. "Afraid to fail; it's gonna get in your way. We're human, we're going to get things wrong."
"Exactly," Artorius agreed, squeezing an instant. A solemn expression appeared. "I cannot tell you the future, Greg. Only the Lion and His Father know your path and that of my children. But I do not believe your race is run, cousin. Have faith and trust in Him."
"Easier said than done," Greg admitted, earning a low chuckle.
"Indeed, you speak truly, cousin, but I believe my son is in need of you."
"He needs you, too," Parker countered. "They both miss you and your wife."
Regret shone and Artorius shook his head. "It is to you that I was sent, cousin." Even as he spoke, his form began to fade away. "Tell our children that we love them and we are prouder of them than we can ever express." Light blue fixed on Greg. "And you, my cousin, we are proud of you as well. Our children remain in your keeping and we know you will continue to uphold your charge with honor."
As the ghost vanished, Greg swallowed hard. He'd been entrusted with his nipotes all over again – and unless he missed his guess, Artorius had just confirmed that there was a way for him to survive. He had no idea how that would work, but that wasn't what he needed to worry about right now.
Hazel lifted to the staircase and his chest tightened. His nephew was somewhere on the second floor – and he needed a father. In Artorius's absence, an uncle would have to do.
Greg headed up the stairs, absently wishing for his magic; it seemed to have disappeared, though he knew that was impossible. Without access to his power, though, he couldn't use it to track his nephew. Well…there was always the old-fashioned way. Closing his eyes, he listened, but the manor was quiet, the air inside it still. Not even a breeze flowed around him, as if he was inside a painting or on the set of a stage.
With no hints on which way to go, he turned left at the landing, inspecting the second floor as he neared it. Although he had been inside the manor once before, he hadn't gotten the grand tour and he'd still been overwhelmed by his rescue from the Netherworld at the time. If memory served, most of the bedrooms were on the second floor while the manor's library occupied the third floor, but he wasn't sure. Either way, since he had no idea where his nephew was, he'd just have to search the manor until he found his quarry – and the second floor was as good a place to start as any.
Moving quietly, the stocky officer's search was swift and efficient – each room was large, but also easy to scan from the doorway. There were plenty of bedrooms, but they all appeared to be waiting for residents. Clean, neatly swept, but impersonal. He did find an office that looked like it was full of records, but he only entered it long enough to check for his nephew before moving on. Assuming the office existed in the real world, it could be investigated once the current crisis was past.
Then Greg found a massive bedroom with an equally massive four poster bed inside it. A set of thick curtains hung around the bed, navy blue with stars embroidered on them. For some reason, each set of stars was seven in number, as if that had been significant to whoever had sewn them – or maybe to whoever had commissioned the curtains. Atop each of the posts, there was a carved shield with a lion rampant and something about them was sending tingles up the officer's back. The master bedroom, waiting for a couple who would never return. Parker backed away, feeling as though invisible eyes were on him.
Sensing someone behind him, he whirled, freezing at the sight of a tall, willowy woman in forest green robes with hair just as long and red as her daughter's. Her brown eyes met his hazel and lit up as she smiled. "My son is in his bedroom," Victoria Calvin informed her husband's distant cousin.
"Should I be worried?" Greg asked, a shiver traveling up his back.
Her smile turned wry. "You don't trust visits from beyond the grave?"
"Only when I've been stupid," the officer replied at once.
Victoria laughed, the sound identical to Alanna's. "Artorius would say much the same, cousin," she observed, brown twinkling merrily. Then she sobered. "There is more at work than you know, cousin. Tash seeks your life ever more urgently for even now you guard my children from his claws."
A chill followed a second shiver. "I haven't exactly done the best job of protecting them lately," he admitted.
The ghost shook her head. "You were there when it mattered most, cousin." She reached out a hand, resting it on his chest just above his heart. "My son loves you as he loves his father, cousin. His decision was not entirely his own."
One brow arched. "You mean he was magically forced into that ritual?"
Victoria sighed. "No, but you yourself know there are many ways to deceive. Ways to twist words and influence decisions." Her expression turned sorrowful. "My son has learned much, but he still trusts blindly. He sought advice, as is wise, but did not test that advice or seek a second opinion."
Greg had guessed, but… "Do you know who he went to?"
"That I cannot answer," Victoria replied. "He trusts you more than you know." One finger lifted to his lips, stilling any reply. "Yes, trust, cousin. You haven't lost nearly as much as you think. Convince him that you must know and he will answer you, but beware." Her brown eyes hardened. "If you then act in haste, you will lose a valuable ally." Withdrawing, the beautiful redhead pointed back towards the staircase. "My children's bedrooms are on the other side of the manor, cousin. May Aslan guide your steps." She offered a final bow, then vanished into thin air, just as her husband had.
Lance was exactly where his mother had promised he'd be. Greg could hear him crying even as he approached the closed bedroom door. Shifting his stance, the officer prowled to the door, easing it open as quietly as possible. Inside, he took in another four poster bed; though it was well-crafted, it was simpler and more straightforward, reflecting its owner. Privately, Greg suspected the master bedroom's fancier furniture had been handed down for generations, although it really hadn't looked all that ostentatious up close.
On top of the mattress, Lance was facing the window and he'd huddled in on himself. The sobs were soft and Greg knew it meant his nephew was at the very end of his rope. Like most men, Lance didn't like to cry; he seemed to think it was somehow shameful, so he only cried when a situation was utterly overwhelming. Parker knew better, but he'd long ago learned that some lessons just had to come through experience.
Stepping inside, curiosity drew his eyes to the walls and Greg was surprised at how bare they were. But perhaps it wasn't so out of the ordinary; the wizarding world didn't have much for sports and the idea of movies seemed to be utterly foreign to them. Given that, perhaps there weren't all that many posters for young wizards and witches to decorate their rooms with. Or maybe his nephew's younger self had never found something worth bringing home for whatever reason.
He was stalling. The stocky man pulled his shoulders back, bracing himself for a negotiation unlike any other. His mask started to slide into place and Greg forcibly discarded it. His nephew wasn't a subject and trying to 'talk him down' would only backfire. "Lance?"
Sapphire came around, fixing on him for an instant before the world blurred. When his surroundings solidified, he was standing outside a set of gates.
Parker stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden transition. Well, that answered one question: he was inside his nephew's dreamscape, not his own. He'd already suspected that, but since he knew he hadn't done anything, his 'banishment' must've been because Lance had forced him away. The ghosts…had they been Lance's creation as well? It was possible; he'd recognized the pair, but Lance had grown up with them. Within his own mind, he could've conjured up his memories of them, clinging to familiar parental figures, even though he knew they were gone.
The negotiator shunted any speculation aside. He could quiz Lance about his theories later, but it was far more important that he get back inside the manor. Glaring at the gates in front of him, Greg pushed against them, but they held position, refusing to budge. Out loud, he snapped, "Enough, mio nipote; hiding from me doesn't change anything." A shiver of chiding ran through him and he leaned his head against the bars. "I know I let you down, kiddo, but please, give me one last chance to talk to you. If you want me to leave after that, I'll go, but please, just one more chance."
The gates creaked and Parker straightened just in time to keep from falling as they swung open. In the distance, the manor loomed, just as grand and elegant from the outside as it had been inside. Pulling in a deep breath, Greg charged through the open gates towards the building. One last chance; he wasn't going to risk losing it.
Lance was still inside his bedroom, facing away from the door. Parker steadied his breathing with an effort, though a part of him suspected he was out of breath because he expected to be out of breath, not because he was really out of breath. Irrelevant, at least for the moment. The stocky man studied his nephew a few seconds more, then strode forward, scooping the young man up in a hug. The brunet sputtered, fighting against him, but Greg refused to let go. It was possible Lance could still 'banish' him, but he wasn't going to make it easy. Not. A. Chance. Especially when he had no idea when his magical core might start running low on power.
"Lemme go!"
A snarky retort ached to be let loose, but Greg clamped down. Their relationship was already hanging by a thread; any wrong moves would cut that fragile, precious thread.
"I said, let me go!" Lance yelled, jabbing his elbows backwards into his uncle's chest.
Parker grunted, but determinedly hung on. "If I let you go, will you talk to me, mio nipote?" he asked.
"Oh, you're gonna come up with another fairy tale or three? Maybe another dozen broken promises about how you won't leave us alone or you're gonna protect us?" Lance arched his back, still struggling to get loose. "I told you, didn't I? You love her, not us. You never loved us, you just liked the company!"
Greg closed his eyes against the pain in his heart. "Lance, if you're right, then why am I here?"
Lance sneered. " 'Cause you're Greg Parker of the SRU and you have to be the hero. Save the poor little victim and make sure he's still breathing before you move on. Isn't that what you always do? You save people during the worst twenty minutes of their lives, but once it's all over, you move on. Gotta save the next little group of hostages, right? Who cares about those last vics…they'll be just fine on their own, isn't that right, sir."
Slowly, deliberately, Greg shook his head. "You know better, mio nipote. I care about each and every person we save on the job, but this isn't about my job, kiddo. This is about me letting you down again. Now, come on, hit me with both barrels, but don't just throw stuff out, mio nipote."
In his grasp, Lance stilled, though his muscles remained tense. Rigid. "Both barrels, huh? Fine, you want it, you got it, but let me go!"
It was a calculated risk, but Parker opened his arms, letting his nephew free. If Lance was willing to yell at him, he was less likely to pull the 'banishment' stunt.
The brunet whirled, fury shining on his face. "I don't know why I believed you," he hissed. "You outta see yourself with her – I mean, hello love sick school boy! Everything she says is the greatest thing ever and nothing she does is wrong, not even when she ignores us and treats us like we don't exist!" The teen's fists clenched. "She does it right in front of you and you don't even care! You just follow her around, nodding at everything she says, and telling us to wait till she's around to help!"
Greg backed up reflexively as Lance jabbed a finger into his chest, swallowing his words down. His nephew wasn't done, not even close.
"You even gave her a bracelet like the Narnian one you gave me and a necklace to match! And I'm supposed to believe you care about us over her?" Lance snorted and paced away, snapping around to glare. "You know what she's got planned for us once you get married?"
Mute, Parker shook his head.
The responding laugh was bitter. "Oh, you're gonna love it. Fits right in with everything else." Two strides brought his nephew back in front of him. "She found a finishing school for 'Lanna."
"What?" Greg blurted, hazel going wide.
"Yep. Didn't even know those were still around, you know." Feigning nonchalance, his nephew inspected his nails. "Oh and she wants me to go to a military academy. I looked it up; it's great with problem kids, if you know what I mean."
Horror surged, but he could only stare, jaw working soundlessly.
"And I guess Wordy's family doesn't like us either; when Shelley took us up there for that last week before you came back, they really didn't like me calling Wordy my uncle." Lance nodded without looking up. "You know, that's when I finally figured it out. We're just interlopers and we always were." Both hands spread, indicating the manor around them. "Our family died here, sir. You and the others, you took us in and I'm glad you did, but you were never our family."
"Stop," Greg ordered, voice trembling. "Stop right there, Lancelot Artorius Calvin. You might be right with most of your accusations, but that is a bridge way too far." Bright hazel locked on his teenage ward. "You and your sister, you were my family as soon as that British Auror told me who you were. Even if we found out tomorrow that you aren't related to me or Wordy, you would still be my family."
He halted, tears budding; when he shook his head, they flowed down his cheeks. "If the others heard you say what you just said, you'd be deaf from them shouting you down. Don't you ever say you aren't my family again, because you are; you always have been and you always will be." Both hands reached out, gripping Lance's shoulders. "You and Alanna, you are not interlopers or 'pathetic orphan rejects' or whatever other insults you've had hurled in your face. I don't care what Wordy's family thinks of you or your sister – and neither does Wordy, believe me. If he knew what you just told me, he'd have one heck of a bone to pick with his parents."
One hand adjusted, shifting up to grasp his nephew's chin; a gentle push forced their eyes to meet once more. "Your parents may have died here, kiddo, but your family didn't. Your family was always bigger than blood, believe me, and it's just gotten bigger since you and Alanna came to Toronto."
"Then why did you choose her?" Lance whispered. Tears shone, but he refused to let them fall. "I watched you with her; you love her like Dad loved Mom. We can't compete with that."
"You never had to," Greg replied. "Just because I love her doesn't mean I ever stopped loving you, too. I wish I knew why Marina doesn't like you. It can't be just the bad first impression Morgana forced us into, but heck if I know what her problem is." Under the tears, hazel turned intent. "But Lancelot, Marina's choices are ultimately her own. I admit I didn't act when I should have, but I did not force her to treat you like she did. She chose to do that."
Lance pulled his chin away, ducking his head. "I know that, sir. But…"
"But it still hurts," Greg finished. "Especially when I'm supposed to put you and your sister first, am I right?"
The teen shuffled his feet. "Me 'n' 'Lanna talked and we don't think you should just have us, but…"
"You expected any girlfriend of mine to treat you right." He wanted to pull his nephew into another hug, but it was too soon. "I hear you, kiddo. She and I are going to have a very long conversation once we're out of this one. And after that, you and your sister get a say as well." Inside, his heart wrenched at the thought of losing Marina. Despite everything, he loved her and couldn't imagine life without her. And yet… "You, your sister…Dean…you're my family. Anyone who wants to come in, they don't just get me, they get all of us." And he should've made that clear to Marina up front, but he hadn't and now he was paying the price.
Still staring at the ground, the teenager nodded.
Gentle, he tipped Lance's head up to meet his eyes again. "Talk to me, mio nipote; I thought we got past this. I thought you knew I love you and Alanna, even if we're still feeling our way through all the problems right now." Deliberate, he paused, then asked, "What changed, Lance? What changed between Friday and today?"
"She got in," Lance mumbled. "You didn't even change the locks."
"I did," Greg countered. "I had them changed on Saturday."
Sapphire blinked at him. "Saturday?"
The stocky man nodded. "You want to know why I didn't before?" At the hesitant return nod, Parker sighed heavily and moved to sit down on his nephew's bed. Lance perched next to him, still wary. "I know that you went to Marina and that she's the one who triggered the ritual you set up, kiddo."
The young man nodded again.
"Her line about you never loving anyone in your life, that was unacceptable, but she's still my fiancé. I'm angry at her, yes, but I felt like I owed her a chance to explain herself and make amends." Hazel studied his nephew. "I also suspected that if I booted her out of our lives without that chance, the two of you would always wonder."
"You mean, we'd wonder if you could do that to us?" Lance ventured, nibbling his lower lip.
"That's what I was afraid of, yes," Greg confirmed in a quiet tone. "That night – or maybe it was that morning – at the hospital, after you'd been attacked and I'd broken through the ritual, I called Commander Holleran and asked him to tell Marina not to contact me. I would contact her when I was ready to talk." He frowned, but not at Lance. "She did keep trying to call my phone, but I never called her back."
"She left messages," Lance filled in, earning a nod as he pulled his legs up to brace his chin with his knees. "What…what did she say?"
A sardonic grin made its way across Greg's face. "She insists that there's some sort of secret about the two of you that she knows, but I don't."
"But we'd never met her before!" Lance yelped, legs falling back down as he sat up straight.
"I know," the elder man agreed. "It's nonsense, but I still didn't want to alienate her, so I just left Marina alone and focused on the two of you."
"Until Friday."
Parker's shoulders slumped and he nodded. "Saturday morning, I made a call to the Auror Division, so they could remove the potions, and another call to our leasing office."
"To change the locks."
"Yes." Solemn hazel shifted to met Lance's sapphire. "At that point, mio nipote, only three people should've had keys. Myself, Alanna, and Dean. Your new key is in the apartment, but you were sick, so I hadn't given it to you yet."
"But Miss Marina got in," Lance blurted.
"I wish I could tell you how that happened, but I can't," Greg admitted. "All I can say is that it shouldn't have happened and you have no idea how terrified I was when Marina used your phone to call me."
"She used my phone?"
The stocky officer sighed. "She knew I wouldn't pick up for her, but I would pick up for you, kiddo." With a frown, he sorted through the remaining jumble of accusations that had been hurled in his general direction and decided to start with the simplest one. "Lance, you know I don't have any control over how someone else treats you or your sister, right?"
His nephew flushed bright red and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. With a sheepish expression, he replied, "I know that, sir."
"Once this is over, I can talk to Wordy and see if he can find out why his family treated you badly, but I can't promise that you'll get any answers." Greg paused, inspecting Lance closely. "Regardless, mio nipote, none of that means any of us have ever seen you as less than family, understand?"
Wary skepticism gazed back, but the brunet offered a jerky nod of acceptance.
For a few seconds, he hesitated over the next topic, then asked, "Now what was that about a bracelet and necklace? I did give Marina a ring, but that was it."
Lance snorted and shifted on the bed to turn away. "Get real. I saw 'em; the bracelet's practically identical to the one you gave me when I turned sixteen and the necklace looks like it's part of the same set."
Parker frowned. A bracelet identical to Lance's? A necklace in the same style? But he hadn't given Marina anything other than the engagement ring. He had commissioned a necklace, but not for Marina. No, with Alanna getting close to her sixteenth birthday, he'd wanted to get her a special jewelry piece of her own, but she liked necklaces more than bracelets.
"Lance?" He waited for the teen to glance at him. "When was the last time you wore your Narnian bracelet?"
He wasn't expecting his nephew to go brick red or swallow nervously. Fixing his gaze on the floor, Lance whispered, "I lost it." Hugging himself, the teen explained, "After you left, I wore it all the time, but then one time I was at Shiloh and I took it off 'cause I didn't want it to get damaged in the ring."
"And when you went to get it afterwards, it was gone?" Greg prodded.
Shame-faced, Lance nodded.
Thoughtful, Greg pressed forward. "Did you ever see Marina with a bracelet before yours went missing?"
The teenager frowned, thinking over the question. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "I don't think so, sir."
Interesting. "All right," Greg decided. "Let's table the jewelry issue for the moment, mio nipote. I have an idea, but I can't prove anything right now." Hazel inspected his nephew. "Does that sound fair to you, kiddo?"
Lance studied him, expression closing off. "Did you have a necklace made?"
He grimaced. "I can promise you that all I bought for Marina was an engagement ring, but I'll remind you that Marina isn't the only female in my life."
Sapphire widened a hair, then Lance nodded, sheepish all over again. "Yes, sir, that's fair."
Good…that just left one more accusation. Although…that accusation was potentially worse than all the others. "Okay, I guess that just leaves these… I'm guessing they're boarding schools?"
"Yeah," Lance confirmed, huddling up once more.
"And Marina wants you two to enroll in them?" Greg coaxed.
"Yes, sir." His nephew wasn't looking at him and the huddle was turning into a human ball.
Reaching out, Greg rubbed the teen's back, ignoring the tension vibrating beneath his palm. "Can you tell me about them?"
Lance swallowed hard. "She, um, she gave us pamphlets for them and, um, I looked them up online. They're really… traditional and, um, meant for problem kids." Wary sapphire peeked at him. "Especially the military academy."
"Copy that, kiddo," Parker acknowledged. "Why didn't you bring this up before?" A bit of his own guilt writhed and he winced, but added, "If you'd dropped those pamphlets in my lap, I don't think I would've shooed you off to bed without looking at them, mio nipote."
Sapphire turned away. "I didn't want Dean to get dragged into it."
How would Dean have been… Oh. "You thought I'd like the idea?" Greg blurted, horror mixing with the guilt. "By the… You thought I'd actually send you two there?"
Lance shrugged. "Easy solution, right? Make your fiancé happy, but still have us to bat around when you felt like it."
Maybe this was why he was half-bald – much less hair to yank out. "Lancelot," he ground out. "I might be part gryphon, but that does not make me a cat. And even the more ornery cat alive doesn't bat around her own kittens, mio nipote."
"You love her more."
One brow arched. "Are we back to that, kiddo? Or are we just avoiding the real reason you sound like a broken record?"
His nephew flinched. In a soft voice, so low Greg could hardly catch the words, he whispered, "I hurt you."
"Yes, you did," Greg agreed. "You hurt me, you hurt your sister and your cousin, and you hurt every single person who considers you family." Reaching out, he pushed Lance's chin up and pulled him towards himself. "You manipulated our memories and violated our trust and you knew that before you even cast the first spell in your ritual."
A tear slid down the young man's face as he crumpled.
"But you know what, mio nipote? I still love you. You made a whole series of bad decisions, but I don't care. I love you just as much as I ever have." Careful, he judged his nephew and pulled his hand away to open his arms. "I made a promise to look after you and your sister and I failed you, but I still love both of you. If you'll have me."
Tearful sapphire stared at him and Lance's whole form trembled, but still he held his position. Skittish – wanting to trust, but afraid to trust at the same time. Afraid of how quickly promises could be broken.
"Why?"
"Why what, mio nipote?"
"Why did you push us away?"
Ah. Now they'd boiled it all down to the real question. The real reason Lance was refusing to trust any of his assurances or accept the forgiveness he freely offered. Sooner or later, Greg had known, it would come back to him. To his decisions and his actions. Or lack thereof.
Solemn hazel met his nephew's gaze. "I'm not saying no, Lance, but are you sure you want an answer that's going to sound more like an excuse?" And a very long, drawn out excuse at that.
For several long moments, they gazed at each other, tension rising around them. Two gryphons, warily circling and the younger uncertain of when the older would pounce. Uncertain, too, of whether he would roll over or fight back against that inevitable attack. Then Lance drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Why? Why did you push us away?"
It was Greg's turn to drop his gaze, accepting what he'd known was coming. "I felt guilty," he replied. "I felt like I needed to push you and Alanna away before I hurt you." A harsh swallow. "I'd already hurt my friends terribly and I drove my family away over a decade ago. It was only a matter of time before I did the same to you two." Staring down at his hands, Greg felt his shoulders hunch defensively, but forced himself to keep going. "You and Alanna; you're lucky. You grew up with parents who loved you so much they were willing to die for you."
A hand touched his arm and he flinched. "What about your parents, sir?"
"Fathers and sons. We always learn from our fathers, kiddo, and we do the exact same things they did, even when we think we know better." Another deep, shuddering breath. "My father was an alcoholic. Just like I am."
