Note from Author: Thanks everyone for your kindness in your continued reading of the story! Life is very strange at this time and funny enough, in my quarantined existence, Todd and his family came a little to life.
Caged: Reclamation
Chapter 13
The offices were nearly ready for business. Téa strolled the new space, touring the floors, climbing stairs, and letting herself be surprised at every discovery. As if. She wore her silk Italian chic suit, the emerald green jacket and black spaghetti-leg slacks matching the black leather high-heeled boots. The cream-colored blouse fell open low, allowing a peek at the soft skin of her breasts...a careless showing of her body. She dared anyone to look. They didn't dare.
Eyes up here, cabron.
Certainly a metaphor lived in the blend of technological modernity and 18th century American farmhouse. The laptops and ergonomic chairs arrived today. The stylish antique-looking desks had arrived days before. The place bustled with workers. She stood now at the railing and looked down at the intricate wood flooring, seeming to be hundreds of feet beneath her. Locks of hair hung limply...silky strands aiming downwards. She peered to her side.
Where Todd's ghost stood next to her.
Todd. Not Blanco. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, his favorite high-end sweatpants and a tee-shirt and expensive trainers, and his hair was messed from a windy day and he grinned with flushed skin because he'd been playing with the kids, breathlessly laughing at the miracle of them.
I never imagined myself a parent. I never knew how fun they'd be.
An awe-filled, thoughtful smile followed. Starr in his words. His eyes crinkled at the corners. A moment of pure joy. Love. They were on the patio and looking at the yard and the forest beyond. Lucia and Reese were giggling and pulling at him, trying to get him to play more.
Lemme talk to Mami… yeah, yeah… she'll come too. Just wait!
Téa sighed and answered questions from the general contractor. Another week before the final move and they'd be jumpin'. The employees were looking forward to it. Home offices and leased corporate spaces were over and done with. They'd have a new headquarters. All ex-gang members drained from MK.
You destabilized the system.
She rolled her eyes and glanced at the ghost who chuckled and pulled his hair back.
Pizza tonight? And another viewing of Finding Nemo?
She remembered the obsession Lucia had with the movie, how humorously perplexed she and Todd were at the repeats. Never tired of it. Always, every day, searching for lost Nemo. Finding him.
Téa straightened up from her hunched position on the railing. Checked her phone and paused as she was about to leave the ghost.
"I did find you. I had you in my hands. And then I lost you, amor, in that ocean."
I lost you first. You slipped away. From me. Into the forever dark.
"Why weren't the children enough for you?"
Because I could never be enough for them. Not without you. Please forgive me.
Téa started to cry but stopped it. Shook her head and tightened her lips and found herself flying down the stairs, running…running so fast away from the most soul-cutting ghost. The one who could pull her to him with merely a look, who kept her at his side despite the other side of him. The beautiful man who always promised to emerge above and beyond the badness...
Him.
At the impressive front door, she ran smack into her bodyguards waiting for her on the front porch. She shook her head at their innocent eagerness. Waiting for orders.
"All right," she sighed. "Take me to the office on the boulevard."
She sashayed her way to the sleek black car awaiting her. Slipping in, she felt the other ghost already there, cool against the leather, flashing a smile that was anything but innocent. No love of his children here. She felt his energy…Blanco.
Who you goin' after today, Delgado, in them lawyer boots o'yours, that firepower in yo' bag?
"Anyone in my way," she whispered, tucking hair behind her ears, putting sunglasses on.
And she heard him chuckle softly as he lit a cigarette, the click of the lighter and resulting bloom of the flame filling the back of the car, his black clothes shadowy and dusty with the grit of city streets.
That's my girl. Fuck 'em.
He couldn't take his eyes off his son once they separated, once the bear hug ended. Words were caught in his throat, too many wanting to rush forth through the small tunnel of his throat and he suddenly remembered bottleneck traffic in Chicago, remembered gazing out a backseat window of his father's Cadillac. A car that young Todd loved like crazy and fantasized about. A car he'd never own, that was caught way back in time, forever.
God, Jedediah was beautiful. Like that car. So beautiful it hurt.
What took you so long?
Jed held his father by his shoulders. He gave him a gruff shake, his hazel-colored eyes checking him all over. "You're alive, you're real, here." he murmured as he took in the whole picture of his monkish father in front of him. An absolute miracle of miracles, though a bit worse for wear. He saw that his Pops had been through something. It showed physically in his thinness, the way he had walked to the pew, but mostly it showed in the wary expression on his face.
And he was wary. Todd returned an equally intense study of his long-haired son, taking him in, absorbing the very existence of his kid. From dreams to this. He flashed a pained smile, wishing he could be as relieved at being found alive in the same way Jed was. But… monsters lurked beyond the church doors.
Alive. Real. Here.
"I can't believe I'm looking at you," Jed said, in punctuation, before letting his father go. Then with a tone of reverence, import, he added, "This changes everything. The world has shifted."
Todd blinked and immediately glanced to the side, getting a glimmer of Raquel sitting next to him. She massaged his hand, his arm, a therapeutic working of his bones and muscles, an act the sisters had been doing since he was nothing but a body on a bed. He pulled away from her, shaking her off. She understood. She shifted on the bench, eyes on him. Cool and curious. Beatrice sat at another bench not too far away. The Mother Superior wore her seriousness like armor as usual, mouth set in a firm line, grey eyes on him. Hard to tell what rolled about in that sisterly, Godly mind of hers. He landed back on Jed.
Changes everything?
"Does it?" Todd said in a raspy voice, harsher-sounding than he intended. In the unintentional fury though, lay his sense of being lost forever in Cuba, the conviction that had brought him down the stairs from the tower room, that had driven him to want to lie at the feet of the Savior on the wall. He knew why things weren't that different despite being found by Jed, knew it well. What choice did he have?
Monsters, monsters...
But as soon as he saw Jed's double-take, he realized, stupidly, that of course Jed couldn't know the why and in not knowing he had put very old history onto the words: Todd was hiding from his family on purpose, another suicide, heroin maybe, anything to avoid love.
He opened his mouth to argue, to tell a different story, except his fevered desire to explain what he meant yanked the needed words into the quicksand of his broken brain. Nothing but a soft grunt escaped his lips.
Wait wait wait there's so much to say!
Jed popped up, getting to his feet with an infuriated huff and stepping away hard. Todd reached for him to cool the sudden fire but gave up the effort. Jed was in too much shock, no space in his head to be soothed.
"Ohhhh Jesus CHRIST, you're broken alright, I see it, but you're still you." He made a fist and punched the air, insisting, fighting as he always had. He barked a clipped yell.
Todd sat back, grunting again in frustration like some kinda Frankenstein and rubbing his spiky hair again, a tic of a sort whenever things got… difficult.
He felt Raquel's warmth and heard her whisper, "Tranquilo, mí chico, tranquilo."
But he couldn't calm either. He was as resistant to it as his son. Too much shock. Too loud the truth. Too much to say.
God fucking damn it.
"Jed...please…" he managed to choke out but… what do they say? Jed's mad horse was out of the barn.
"Dad! YES things have CHANGED! You're alive! Do you know you have a family grieving you?! Do you know what this means? What a miracle it is?! Who ever is dead... then ISN'T?! Death is always the last door but not for you! POPS! DAD! YES, things have changed! You can't hide in Cuba anymore! That game is...over!"
His voice bounced off the rafters and shook the pews. And it also smashed into Todd and he could barely control the sudden wish to fall into childlike sobs that never seemed far from him anymore.
"Jedediah…," he said again but his kid couldn't hear him.
Jed laughed again and gritted his teeth, pacing now, waving his hand in disbelief that things hadn't changed…
Todd turned slightly away, unable to take the disappointment because Jed didn't understand. No, things hadn't changed. Everything was exactly the same.
"Oh Pops… come on, come ON," Jed groaned from feet away, pacing like an animal.
No choice in this… no choice. Gonna lie down before the Savior, arms spread, giving up everything, giving up my life to Him like the sisters, like hundreds of years of monks before him...
His thoughts ended though when Jed threw out their names like daggers.
"Reese fights enemies in the forest with a playsword, determined to win a war he can't understand, doesn't understand, and Lucia is quiet and cries in her bed at night and then marches through her days like nothing is wrong and she looks at me with questions she's not old enough to formulate, accusations, because I was in Havana and she is wondering why couldn't I save you! And Espie… Jesus, that girl. She is vicious in her hate of the world. Dad… she RAGES… only really stopping for—
"Téa," Todd said softly.
"Yeah. Exactly. And Starr? She's defying you. Loving you despite your total abandonment of her… and constantly promising she's gonna make you proud… but she's lost, doesn't know where to turn, doesn't know who she is without you to fight against."
Yeah, such love in those lethal names.
The rant tore through Todd worse than Jed's innocent anger and all he could do was scratch at his chest, rub the stabbing pain because he hurt physically at that love, at the daggers piercing his heart. Eyes back on the Savior.
"I know," he murmured in Spanish.
Musta hurt, getting crucified the way He did, nails through body parts, hanging on a cross in a blistering sun. Musta been agony.
He tasted salt on his lips, realizing, understanding, that Téa's handling of her grief was conspicuously absent from the rant. He didn't dare ask. That was a bridge too far. There was a reason Jed kept her masked.
"And you?" Todd asked instead. "Fighting… crying…or...?"
Jed sighed and pulled back his hair… "All of the above. Swords in the forest, crying at night, acting like nothing is wrong. And full'a hate. Every day I hope you'll be proud o'me."
Todd groaned softly, inwardly. Bleeding out. Those last words were said in the most cutting way. Proud of the hate. He glanced at Raquel and she gave him a "he's not wrong" motherly look while wiping his cheek of tears he couldn't stop. He fought leaning into her, fought the mad compulsion to crawl all over her and cling to her because sorrow and regret were actively strangling him and she had become his mother despite her Rico-avariciousness. Todd aches for his poor family… his children. Mis hijos. The wreckage he created was poison on the daggers Jed served up.
Jesus Christ, what now what now what now? Tell me what to do, mama.
To Todd's shock, Jed got right in front of him, inches from the tips of the monkish sandals. Eyes down on him. All the hate had suddenly vanished. Todd looked up, pleadingly, tears brimming.
"Talk to me, Pops. I love you so much… so talk to me. Explain it. Why doesn't THIS change things? What do you mean? Why don't you wanna come home to us?"
Todd swallowed visibly, mouth twisting, a shaky breath following. In a different place, in a different time, he would have laughed as derisively at the question as Jed had only moments ago, laughed at Jed suddenly switching gears, laughed that Jed had the gall to question what to him was so goddamn obvious. He didn't though.
"You don't… understand," he said softly.
God god god…I am in hell. I am being punished for my sins. But in turn, You punish them. So fuck...You. Just… fuck You for keeping me alive. For allowing me to be found.
"Try me, Pops, please."
Todd desperately wanted to give him the plain truth. Prison for a bombing, he wanted to say, but still nothing came out because that wasn't exactly it. It wasn't that simple. He huffed and rubbed his spiky hair. How could he explain so much when so many words got trapped in a train's tunnel, a metro smashed… bottlenecked at the exit into the light?
"Dad?"
Beatrice interrupted at that impasse. It was clear Angel was too distraught to defend himself and his son needed answers that could not yet be given.
"Child," she said, moving towards the pew, sharp eyes on Jed, "rejoice in finding your father alive… for now. No decisions, no actions, no reaction other than joy, not now. He regained consciousness quite recently, less than a month ago. He is not fully himself yet so he cannot make life choices now, cannot fully process all your presence entails. Do you see?"
Jed lingered on his father, Todd's reddened eyes on his own. The sorrow on his face was deep and weighted and looked like an ancient kind of pain, like every bad thing that had ever happened to him had etched itself onto his skin.
"Dad," Jed whispered, feeling Todd's hand on his. He sniffled at the unusual touch, a touch he would have died for at one time. His father's silence was maddening. He turned to the Mother Superior.
"What do you mean 'a month?"
"Your father was brought to us near death and did not wake up for nearly six months-"
"A coma."
"Yes. He underwent numerous surgeries to save his life. And he stayed asleep afterwards. It was a rough awakening. Slow to learn where he was, what had transpired. He needs time."
Jed seemed to settle into that, seeming to grasp the gravity of what might have happened to him. He looked at Raquel who began to smooth Todd's arm and hand again. Back and forth, back and forth, her hand moving in a gentle sweep. Her eyes were downcast and her features drawn. He remembered how mad she was at him in the hospital, frantic with worry for Rico when he'd disappeared, and yet… she tended to him now. How she got here was an interesting question that needed an answer. There was a lot to learn.
Okay. Cool your tits, Chant.
Jed sat down next to him once more, asking, "You said you were hurt. How?"
Todd wanted to lie. Wanted to pretend ignorance. His brain didn't let him. The truth shot out before he could stop it.
"A house… uh...fell on me."
"In the explosion."
He nodded in agreement, grimly, seeing the full awareness shade his son's eyes.
"God, Dad…" He avoided asking the direct question of whether he was responsible for it. Jed didn't want to know. He wasn't ready to know.
Beatrice offered details, "Skull fracture, hip, ribs, leg… all his left side… broken. His insides too. Broken. That he is alive, awake, is a miracle, as you say."
Todd then tried to explain more. "W-Words," he said. "I have...trouble...saying what I want. And walking—I have to learn again. And my memory…is …" He paused, licked his lips and blinked before finishing with, "strange."
"What's wrong with your memory?"
"Nothing… wrong… just strange. Like a dream… distant."
He sighed at the loop of his life that played in his head. It wasn't just strange, it was constant. A cruel irony. Where before he couldn't remember certain things, now he couldn't forget them. The film never stopped. It was all he could do to escape and only sleep afforded him relief. But the strangest part was the impact of the memories. Everything was… buffered. He didn't feel any of it in quite the same way anymore. No heroin calls to him, no phantom pain firing up inside of him, no ghosts in the corners of rooms, at his feet, or even in dreams. No, just the real stuff—real, actual fucking pain that he had no love for whatsoever. And the monsters? Not ghosts… but real live ones. MK, Pedro, prison, people out to finish him off for real...
And himself.
The. Biggest. Monster.
This he knew. The heart of the need to stay hidden. To erase Todd Manning. To correct the mistake of his having survived short of suicide.
Real. Alive. Here. A monster I can never escape. The last I can do is spare you.
He smiled sadly and then didn't. And before Jed could say a word, Todd pulled him into his arms and squeezed him tightly.
Tight, tight, tight. I won't let go of you. I'll keep you from flying apart.
Todd murmured in his son's ear the explanation that had come to him earlier but wasn't exactly everything. "Prison for a bombing," he said, "Or worse. I can't do it… not for me… but for you, Reese, Lucia, Starr...Téa. Another death? Another loss? I can't do it… to them. Might as well… stay... dead."
Jed could hardly breathe for the strength in the hug, for the desperate vice-like grip. And in that…
...he smiled, almost laughed aloud, peals that would rival a convent's bell. Ohhh that fierce hug gave Jed life despite the words he heard. Hope. In his arms, he felt his father's relentless power, an old fire that spoke of his sheer will to live despite a world determined to kill him. Despite his own instinct to simply lie down and die.
Way back, Jed remembered a moment in the dark when he was supposed to be sleeping on a ratty couch in a ratty motel room meant for nothing but the escape of heroin except he wasn't asleep and through a night's haze he saw Todd and Brandy on the bed hugging in their sleep, a hug that said they were terrified of an impending apocalypse and Jed had to wonder… if his dad was so dead, as he insisted he was back then… why was he so fucking afraid?
Jed knew this song. He had heard it before. Countless times. Things hadn't changed, had they? His dad just needed a little time like the old nun said. Over his dad's shoulder, he gazed at Raquel. And she gave him a small grin. An awareness.
Okay, Pops, game on.
When they separated, they still held each other and Jed nodded in a pretense of understanding. He knew what Todd meant; he was being truthful. He didn't want to torture his family any more by returning to the U.S. only to end up dying in prison. Something in his voice said there was more but this would have to be enough for now.
Because his own father did not realize it was all a lie. He just needed to get on board with THAT truth.
He was coming home. There was no way he'd become an actual monk.
"One day at a time," Jed said. All the calm he couldn't do earlier flowing over him. "Let's get you better, Pops. Then you can tell me about staying dead."
Just at that moment, they all heard a pounding at the front door. From outside, Anna yelled in Spanish, "Open the door, Mother! Guests are here!"
Beatrice moved quickly to the front because the way Anna had said "guests" told everyone in the know that this affected Todd. She unlocked the heavy doors to the Sanctuary and ushered Anna inside, locking the doors again. Right away, the skittering noise of claws on the wooden floor announced Abram as he ran in and Jed laughed and patted the missing dog who wagged his tail and panted in that funny pit bull smile at seeing Jed and his person at the same time.
"Hey pup!" Another reunion. "Wondered where the hell you got off to."
"Raquel had him," Todd said, reaching for the dog, gratefully letting him lick and love him. Jed didn't miss the dependence.
Beatrice stepped in front of Todd, "Pedro Moreno is here."
Todd eyed his son who reacted visibly to the news.
"What?" he asked Jed.
"He won't be alone," Jed explained. "He's got a reporter on his tail who's pretty sure you're here, alive. It's how I found you."
That was a lot. And yeah, their faces said he needed to say a whole lot more but there was no time.
"I will make sure then only Pedro is allowed inside the Sanctuary," Beatrice said firmly, helping Raquel pull Todd to his feet. Jed eased himself next to Todd, allowing him to use his shoulders to stay on his feet.
"I'll help you, Dad."
Todd couldn't absorb the enormity of those words, didn't want to. There was too much history in them, the film in his head flipping to memories relating to all the help his child gave him, so much help that it damaged Jed, and he just nodded.
Then in Spanish, to Raquel as they made their way to the secret door that gave them access to the stairs, he said in no specific tone, just his purely raspy voice, "I need the knife… I need it."
"I know, Blanco. I will give it to you. Up the steps, chiquito. We have a long way to go."
Pedro Moreno had noticed the reporter when it was too late to turn back. He realized the young man with the dark hair had been following him in town. He had no idea who he could be but then guessed he was either a newspaper man or a private detective. He did not look the sort to be any kind of gang or police. He lacked gruffness, meanness, looked more like a teenager in college with the neat clothes and energetic walk. The little notebook he scribbled in reeked of unofficial work. Something off the sanctioned books. He didn't look like he carried any weapons. No jacket to cover a gun. No boots to hide a knife.
He'd sent his lawyer home today. He had heard enough of what was happening with Téa Delgado and her draining of MK. It killed him. And the move was literally killing young people in the region. She had created a potent imbalance, a storm. He couldn't take it. Los Muertos had risen in the void created by MK's absence.
In previous years, he'd have ripped the head off Téa. He'd have learned who she was and knocked her off her throne. Then he'd have sent loyalists to threaten the deserters and forced them back home.
Pedro was too tired, too gutted for it.
In the meantime, he needed to shake off the reporter. He figured he'd make a spectacle in the Sanctuary. Figured that was better than running. He'd warn the sisters to make sure Blanco was safe and hidden.
He banged on the locked door of the Sanctuary, surprised at its being locked in the middle of the day. He was even more surprised to see the Mother Superior open it for him. His heart jumped.
"What's happened? Is my son alright?"
"Yes, come in. Quickly. He wants to speak with you."
"There is a man—"
"We know. Come. Up the stairs."
He followed her in, the door slamming shut and locking once more. The reporter or the detective remained most likely by the fountain outside. Pedro was surprisingly nervous. He had not faced Blanco yet, not seen the anger up close, personal. He was not sure what to say as they hurried up the many steps. He was impatient to know what prompted the switch in attitude. He was glad and worried. When he entered the room, he had to grab the door jamb.
"Jedediah," he croaked.
The cover was blown. Everything was over. All the protection had clearly come to an end. And in that, Pedro Moreno felt a great yawning sadness, not unlike the day he saw Blanco covered by a tarp, an announcement he was gone. The world had arrived… and it was such an unpredictable and uncontrollable world.
At the same time, however, Pedro could not deny the sight of his son took his breath away, apart from their harsh reality. Apart from the obvious recuperative state he was still in.
Todd sat on the wheelchair at the window but not like an invalid might sit. He lounged like the lion Rico called him. He sat low, long legs stretched out in front of him. He held a blade in his hands, resting it on his lap. His face was hard, stubble darkening his jaw. He breathed slowly and calmly.
And his eyes... they were terribly bright with a threat Pedro had not seen since La Habana. That damn dog was at his feet, black, like a devil, quiet but not relaxed.
Pedro should have been afraid but he wasn't. He was at peace with whatever punishment Blanco would see fit to issue. Justice demanded it - after all, he had helped Manuel Caro murder young children, had helped build a massive child trafficking operation. There was no making up for that. Not to mention the direct harm Caro had inflicted on Blanco and his lover, Rico. He almost got to his knees in penance. Almost offered that heart of his. He smiled and breathed, "My son. You are getting better."
Jedediah stood next to his father, leaning on the window sill with his arms crossed. He had his head turned, unconcerned about Pedro. He watched the courtyard for Ian Correa. He spotted him at the fountain, sitting and watching. Eyes up at one point on the window but nothing serious. Jedediah knew they were high enough, far away enough. Ian couldn't see a thing.
Raquel sat like a wise owl on the bed, sharp critical eyes on Pedro.
"Jed says you have brought a-" Todd paused and then spat, " a reporter. Did you know he followed you here?"
"No! No, I had no idea… so he's a reporter. I wasn't sure. I did see him. Noticed him."
"So you came… inside the church… knowing?"
Pedro waved his hand, shaking his head, "No, no…it was too late by the time I figured out he was following me. I decided it was best to get inside, to warn you. I would not hurt you that way."
The silence that followed was heavy, thick. Pedro understood nobody had reason to believe a word he said. He eyed Todd, Blanco, and turned to Jedediah at the window. asked, "Who is he?"
Jedediah turned and decided to lay it all out. The entire story. Pedro paced as he listened. Jed stopped at the truth of Ian Correa — the disappearance of his cousin, Ivan.
Todd shrugged, fingering the blade now, eyes still on Pedro. He had been so emotional in the Sanctuary, weak with injury, devastated at the pain he knew he was causing Jedediah...but the moment he heard footsteps on the stairs, he radically changed.
With the rising sound of Pedro coming up the stairs, Todd grew increasingly furious at the circumstances of being here at the convent, furious at how patient Jed had been as he carried his weight upwards to the tower room, furious at seeing the wheelchair and being so fucking glad to sit again. Hate had inched its way out slowly like lava and he groaned mutedly at the burn of it as he took his place at the window. He had shaken off the help and, once seated, silently held his hand out for Raquel to give him the knife. He had adjusted himself on the chair, knowing he needed to be strong to face Pedro, knowing he had to FAKE being strong. He stared at the doorway, unmoving like a statue, until the man himself graced it.
Jedediah had watched the entire transformation… and knew he hadn't been wrong about the power in his hug. Beatrice hadn't been wrong either. He needed time and when he was ready, he was gonna take the thorny crown that Pedro had given him… and shove it up the world's ass.
How easy it was for his father to become Blanco, the Mad King.
From grief to hate. One, two, three. Easy. Those clothes didn't look monkish anymore. They looked like clothing to hide an animal. Jed had to control the relieved grin on his face. Never had he thought that hate might actually serve a useful purpose. And if anyone needed his hate, Téa did.
Todd and Blanco… they needed to save Téa from herself.
"Ian isn't just here as a reporter," Jed said. Everyone looked at him now. "His reason for wanting to find you… can't be shared openly."
Todd's gaze flew to Beatrice. Raquel knew everything but not the Mother. She seemed to understand that and she walked to her Angel.
"You are loved," she said. "Do not forget love."
Jed realized in her words that she knew Todd well. He was glad for it. She would probably be a grounding force in his effort to get his father out of the convent and back home.
With that, she took Raquel by the elbow and urged her out the door. She shut the door and Todd realized it was the first time it had ever been closed. This… was a new chapter now.
He turned to Jed and asked, "Why is he... following Pedro?"
"To find you," Jed said, "because he believes you murdered his cousin, Ivan. Did you, Pops? Is he right?"
Pedro and Todd said nothing, but their faces betrayed the truth. Todd grunted and ran a hand hard from his eyes to his scruffy chin and jaw. Then his hair. Then he brooded without looking at Jed. Pedro shook his head and joined Jedediah at the window, looking out at the courtyard. Ian has disappeared from view.
"I executed him," Pedro said quietly. "I strangled him and dumped him into the sea. Manuel and I both sent him into the arms of the ocean's."
At the other window, Todd narrowed his eyes and bit his tongue. Just like with everything else, he had so little control over his instincts and wanted to correct the record. Wanted to scribble onto his rap sheet… murdered Ivan, child rapist, with a pillow. It excited me. I rubbed my body on his until…
Pedro interrupted the thought by placing a hand on Todd's shoulder, warm coffee-colored eyes on his light ones.
"I did it, my son. That is all the reporter needs to know."
Todd turned away and shrugged Pedro's hand off him like a petulant teenager, like he'd seen Jed and Starr do hundreds of times. Pedro's confession confused him. A sacrifice. Take my beating heart.
"He's a reporter," Todd said. "He'll report you."
"There's no proof… even if—"
"Of course." Todd closed his eyes a moment… "No proof. No risk. Not much of a sacrifice..."
Pedro stood straight now, head shaking, "No, no… Blanco." In Spanish he argued, "I meant my words so long ago. I give my cut-out heart to you. I give my loyalty to you. I am taking Ivan. That is on me."
Todd chuffed at Pedro's words, Caro's body coming into his head, the sight of Rico sitting naked next to him and eating delicately the heart of Caro. But Ivan lurked there, too. recollections of his vile acts against the little girl in that house, Elon's cheers turning to horrified pleas for him to stop. Todd eyed the songbird. Fluffy and tap dancing on the bamboo rod.
How can you love a monster, little bird? How can you cry for your lost love who deserves to be dead?
Words escaped him. Caught in the tunnel. Bottlenecked. Todd wiped at his face, feeling tears again, goddamn it. God. Damn. He didn't even know why he cried. Sorrow. The permanent end that he could ever be what he had so wanted to be for his family. A good person.
"It's okay, Dad, really. Let's get you well. Then we deal with the reporter. He's not going to find you. I promise you. And… you're not going to prison. Cuba erased you from the investigation. FBI hasn't but… at this point, it's unlikely."
"Lots of different prisons, different...deaths." The show of strength ended. He wanted to lie down, to let sleep protect him. To let the dark fall and cover him in its blackness.
The sun pouring into the room shifted, cloud cover crossing the sky.
To be continued...
