Abandon all hope of avoiding WW84 spoilers all ye who enter here! Also, just a general ableism and abuse warning since Mr. Sivana is in this chapter.
"Bo!"
"Maggie?"
She was in his lap, her arms around his shoulders and face buried in his neck, before he could say anything more. His heart was pounding. His hands shook as he released them from the rims of his chair. They only stilled when he set them on her lower back. She was so close that he could feel her own heart racing. Every breath she took sent hairs rising up his neck.
"I never thought I'd see you again." she spoke into his skin.
He grabbed her chin, pulling her face up. Over a decade later and she looked exactly as he remembered her, from her cherry colored lipstick to her golden curls. Her face was smooth as stone, her brown eyes warm and wide. Bo ran his thumb down her chin.
"It's really you." He couldn't speak louder than a whisper.
He should have been angry. All those years of telling his employees and investors half-truths about his home life and raising the boys alone were written across the skin of his own face. Oh, he was no stranger to rage, but the fury he'd felt when she'd left was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Up until the accident, it had been the most debilitating pain he'd ever felt, a wound that had never fully closed. But now, looking at her face, all he could remember was the way her eyes would light up when he brought her a gift or how soft her lips were when he pulled her in for a kiss. Margaret had always reminded him of a doll, so dear and sweet. It was cliche, but all he'd ever wanted was for her to be happy. Had she been? There was no telling. That was, he now saw, something for her alone to feel. He'd done the best he could, kept her warm, safe, and loved. But happiness had not been his to give.
No, Bo realized, he hadn't done his best, not really. How many nights had she fallen asleep in a cold and empty bed? How many weekends had he left her alone with the boys so that he could spend another day courting new customers? Even the most beautiful flower withered when it was deprived of water and sunlight. And hadn't he all but dug up and trampled her roots?
That rush of warmth that always fell over him when he saw her was hotter than ever. His grip on her back grew firmer. He pressed his lips against hers. The smell of her jasmine perfume settled over him sweet and thick.
Oh, there had been other women. A steady stream of secretaries and socialites living off their daddy's dime had flitted through his life. None had ever stayed too long. They had all been beautiful - he wouldn't associate with any less - but they were also either frosty as a January morning or boisterous and mouthy. Oh, they might have looked like her (was it a crime to prefer blondes?), but none had ever captured the same feeling within him.
Maggie was precious. He'd known it before but not as well as he did then. There had never been a woman like her before and he very much doubted that there ever would be again. She deserved everything, so much more than he had ever truly given her.
Bo had wasted her before. He couldn't lose her again; there was no telling what might happen to him if he did.
He wouldn't.
He took her wrists. All those years of dreaming, of yearning for the impossible, and here she was. She was his again. He could see it in her eyes. Maybe he couldn't truly make her happy, but he could try.
He brought her face back against his neck and buried his fingers in her hair. His touch was quick and light for she was so very delicate.
Margaret had left him before. A little voice in the back of his head reminded him that she could again. She could get up right then and just waltz out the door.
No.
She wouldn't, not ever. He'd see to it. Things were going to be different, Bo reminded himself. Maggie wouldn't want to leave.
"Uh, Dad?"
Bo blinked, looking up. For the longest time, the world had only consisted of him and Margaret. Even his office had fallen away. Now it came back in full force, exploding upon his senses. How many hours had he wasted looking down upon the city below or spent crouched over that polished desk? How long had he sat in here alone, lost among his papers and numbers? With how long and how often he'd been gone, could leaving him have truly been that difficult of a decision for his wife?
"Sid?" He pulled Maggie closer as he spoke.
His son looked so much like him with his broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and dark hair. Bo couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze. Instead, his eyes fell on his desk. They about fell out of his head.
There was someone sitting behind his desk. He had windswept, sandy hair and a smirk that made Bo's back stiffen. His white suit was a bit wrinkled, his gaze piercing.
"Who the hell are you?" His grip on Maggie tightened. He'd always suspected that she had gotten another lover - any man would have gladly snapped her up.
No, she wouldn't have brought him here with her. Would she? His pulse quickened. Was this all some cruel trick?
His name didn't really matter. Whoever he was, there were countless men just like him. Men with money and connections, men who could do more than he ever had. That was true even if he wasn't her... Bo shook away the thought. His stomach was heavy enough already.
He had Maggie now, didn't he? Dear, sweet, precious, beautiful Margaret. His Margaret. His his his his-
Why would she stay with him? Bo realized. As long as he'd wished for this moment, any last hope for it had died in a hospital bed ten years prior. How could she love him now - fully and without pity? Would she ever see him as anything but a shattered fragment of the man she'd once known? If he couldn't keep her before the accident, why would she want his ruined wreckage now?
He'd find a way. Oh, somehow, he'd find a way.
"Dad, this is Max Lord." Sid gestured towards him. "He showed up while you were on your lunch break."
His eyebrows wrinkled. "Who?"
In his position and line of work, he had the blessing and curse of knowing too many people.
He stood, pushing the chair back. "Welcome to the future, Mr. Sivana. I must say, your life looks pretty good right now. But it can be better. And, really, why wouldn't you want it be?"
Bo's heart took a moment to restart. Oh dear lord, this wasn't some business partner or future investor. This was a fucking oil shark. He'd come to him years earlier, before his face had been plastered on every screen in America, begging for money. He'd promised him unlimited oil, all he'd need to expand his manufacturing operations far beyond his current output. Bo hadn't given him more than five minutes to state his case. One talent he'd quickly picked up was telling what would and wouldn't net a profit. It would have been more economically viable for him to dig a hole and dump his entire fortune into it than to give the man a single nickel.
He prayed to the virgin Mary that Maggie hadn't left him for this putz.
"I know this is a little strange, Dad, but please hear him out."
As much as it ached him, he pushed Maggie from his lap. She stood on shaking legs. Reaching forward, he took her hand and squeezed it. She hovered over his side, her free hand pressed firmly into his shoulder.
Something in Sid's voice made Bo straighten his back and look hard across the room. "Yes?"
Max walked forward, his steps sure and shoulders held back. He knew the smirk decorating his face well, as he'd seen it many times on his second son's lips.
"We all want something, don't we?" He gestured towards Maggie.
Bile rose in Bo's throat, hot and harsh.
"And why shouldn't we get what we want?" He looked to Sid as he spoke. "Everyone has something that they would give anything for. For some, it's easier to see than others."
He was standing on the side opposite Maggie now, his hand on one of Bo's chair's handles. Considering how many people felt the need to come up and grab them, he had to half wonder if they were magnetic.
"I remember hearing about what happened to you. It was a real shame." He stopped suddenly, holding the inside of his elbow to his face so that he could let out a long stream of dry coughs. "You never expected that sort of thing to happen, did you?"
"Get to the point."
"Don't you wish you could walk?"
"Why the hell wouldn't I?"
Whatever Sid said, he didn't have time for this. He needed to get home. There were too many eyes here. Home was safe. All he wanted was to press Margaret's back into a row of pillows and run his lips from the top of her ears to the hard tips of her breasts. That was something every dollar in the world couldn't buy him.
"Just tell him yes, Dad."
As if the man was too stupid to figure that out himself. All the same, Bo looked up, meeting Max's gaze. He narrowed his own eyes.
"Yes."
"That's all I needed to hear."
A slight breeze sent goosebumps rising up his back. He tightened his grip on Maggie's hand.
It took him a moment to recognize the sensation. For years, all he'd felt were occasional streaks of pain rising up his back. They came at random, without reason, and over the years had grown less pronounced and farther and fewer between. His doctor had promised him that what little nerves remained would die out within fifteen years. Then, the nothingness, that last little bit of his legs, would be gone forever. Reaching down, he placed his index finger on his right leg. He held back a gasp at the sudden pressure. Then, he wiggled his toes.
"Well," Max said. He turned, and it was only then that he noticed the large, patchy clumps of skin that dotted the back of his skull. Whatever happened to Bo's legs, surely Maggie would at least keep him for his hair. "Don't you want to try them out?"
Sid hurried forward, holding his hands out. Bo took them. Leaning forward, he stood.
He wasn't clumsy. His legs moved as if they'd been working like this all his life without ever stopping. Looking down, he took in the ground beneath his feet.
"How?"
Max coughed again. "It was rather simple, Mr. Sivana. You wished hard enough."
He pulled away from Sid, turning on his heel and scooping Maggie into his arms. Before, he hadn't been nearly so strong to lift her up like this. Now, he could hold her all day.
"Bo, this is incredible!" She reached a hand forward, placing her palm against his cheek. "Can you believe it?"
Any other day and he would have said no. He leaned his face against her own. It was the most intense sensation that he had ever felt.
When he put her down, she pulled him forward. They twirled like children before swaying against one another, their arms and legs moving to some silent song.
He only let go of her to run, to feel something that he never should have forgotten in the first place.
Sid took his place, pulling his mother into a tight hug that she returned. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach his neck. Oh, he must have looked so different to her, almost like a new person.
Racing forward, he pulled both into a hug.
It was perfect. There was simply no other word to describe it.
Naturally, he had to be suddenly pulled from the moment by the sound of the door opening. Bo looked up.
"Father?" asked a wide-eyed Thad. He looked from the line of people standing in the center of Bo's office to the empty chair sitting a few feet away from his feet.
Thaddeus hadn't meant to run into anyone in the elevator - not figuratively or literally. The one he'd hurriedly and repeatedly pressed the open button for was private. It had gold trimming and mirrors set into the walls on all sides. The floor was black and decorated with Romanesque geometric patterns.
He ran into someone anyway. Thaddeus groaned, falling back against the now closed doors.
"Thad!" His father's voice was so loud that he was certain half the company could hear him. Hurriedly, Thaddeus hit the button for the first floor. The sooner he got down, the faster that he could start trying to piece together some kind of sense.
Thaddeus was used to his life being strange. He had learned more than once that at any time things could change drastically, often in ways that he never imagined. That didn't mean that he didn't relish the fragments of normalcy that he had managed to acquire. Being in college, he had far more of those now than he ever had before.
Yes, college. He'd considered getting a flight straight to Boston - Great Aunt Fiona would have a few questions for him, but her door was always open - but going to California was probably the better option. Maybe he could fly straight to Palo City and stay with Mordecai and his family. If that didn't work, Eleanor might take him in. Her father could always use the extra help.
He didn't recognize the man before him. Not that that was particularly surprising. He'd long since become used to men in suits hovering around his father. For all their silk ties and tailored formal wear, they were a dime a dozen.
A thin red line dripped down the man's nose and onto his lip. Had Thaddeus really hit him that hard? He brought a hand to his own face but felt nothing.
"And you are?"
Really, Thaddeus should have been the one asking that question.
"Sivana," he replied, "Thaddeus Sivana."
Oh, Mordecai would have gotten such a hoot out of that.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you Bodog's son?"
Much as he wished otherwise.
All the same, he nodded. If this was some big investor, he had to impress him. To do anything less would be to invite his father's wrath upon him like a hurricane.
"Are you proud to be his son?"
"What?"
"It's a simple question. Go ahead, be honest. I won't tell anyone what you said."
Thaddeus froze. It was only then that he noticed the elevator had stopped moving. According to the meter on the wall, they were stuck between the fourteenth and twelfth floors.
"You wish your father respected you, don't you?" The man nodded. He wiped his arm over his face, turning the sleeve of his suit jacket pink. "It's a perfectly understandable desire."
"Whatever you think you know about me..." Right then, Thaddeus would have gladly gone through another sleepless week of finals if it meant not being here.
"He doesn't keep any pictures of you on his desk. I know. I checked."
He ground his teeth together. "What does it matter to you?"
"Yes or no?" He reached forward, taking Thaddeus' shoulder.
"Yes! Are you happy?" He hurriedly pulled away from him, his face aflame.
Despite everything, he was being honest. There was still a little part of him - small and shriveled as it was - that hoped that his father might change, that his icy exterior would one day melt. But it was weak, its voice growing hoarser with every day that passed. There was a louder, firmer voice for him to lean on now. His most steadfast friends had always been there for him. What he would have given to hear them at that moment. At least they'd know what to do.
Suddenly, Thaddeus felt an icy wind on his back.
"Enjoy it," the man said. He vaguely reminded Thaddeus of someone, but he couldn't place where he knew him from. "I do ask you one thing, though."
"What?" How much longer until they reached twenty questions?
"It's nothing personal, but I'm really going to need your hair." He laughed.
Before Thaddeus could ask any more questions, the elevator doors suddenly slid open. They were on the first floor now. But how? When had they started moving again? Everything was fuzzy and his head felt tight.
The man gave him a quick smile before stepping out.
The elevator doors slid shut as soon as he stepped outside, then began to climb upwards again. Thaddeus groaned.
He had never wanted to come home for Christmas break. Had Great Aunt Fiona not been travelling then he just might have gotten out of going. His father had batted away his other excuses, insisting that he was expected at the annual Christmas party. Now, here he was, back in Philadelphia but in a whole new world.
He'd known the woman was his mother as soon as he'd seen her. She was like a memory brought to life. Sid had clung to her. His brother hadn't changed either; Sid was Sid was Sid was stupid old Sid.
As for his father... Whatever he claimed, it had to be magic.
Magic! Was this somehow The Wizard's doing? As farfetched as it seemed, Thaddeus wouldn't put this trickery past him.
Whatever or whoever caused it, he'd figure out what was going on.
He ran a hand through his hair. Did it really matter what caused it? All he wanted was to be back in California, where the world made sense and he could go days without hearing anyone raise their voice.
He stiffened. Then, very slowly, he pulled his hand down. A large ball of dark hair was knit loosely between his fingers. Pushing his other hand loosely through his shaggy locks quickly caused the same results.
Thaddeus was so caught up in his reflection - his scalp was suddenly so smooth and shiny - that he didn't notice the doors open. As soon as it did, three others crowded inside the elevator, pulling Thaddeus into a hug.
"Oh, Thaddeus, look at how you've grown!" spoke the woman spoke. His mother didn't even deserve the title.
"You're finally back! The house has been so empty without you." That was the man who wore his father's face. He wasn't screaming any longer. "What happened? I want to know everything."
"Thad!" Sid spoke. His embrace was the tightest of all.
For a moment, all Thaddeus could do was stand there while the strangers squeezed him. He kept his eyes locked on the balls of hair littering the floor.
"Are you hungry?"
"What?"
"Are you hungry?" his father repeated. He stepped away, straightening his tie. "I think an early dinner is in order."
"I'd pull all my hair out if I had three finals in one day too." Sid patted him on the back. "How'd you survive?"
"Through copious amounts of coffee."
"What all are you studying?" Margaret looked up from her steak.
"Physics and psychology." He was still debating possible minors or if he'd get any at all.
His father whistled. "I've never understood how you do it, Thaddeus. That's all Greek to me."
Thaddeus surveilled the table. Sid was pouring another glass of wine. Margaret had her hand tucked between his father's own. His father was smiling at him. They looked like one of those happy TV families. This was all a trick - it had to be - but for just that moment, Thaddeus leapt headfirst into the illusion.
I know, I know, another interlude. But I've been having a lot of issues with writer's block lately and not being happy with what I write. That, combined with the fact that the next chapter will be long and mostly full of backstory, has made writing very difficult lately. Besides, I think Maxwell and Thaddeus have some great crossover potential. Apparently "rich child abuse survivor obsessed with magical objects" is my favorite kind of villain.
