~oOo~
"Lucas and Laura sitting in a tree ..."
Blair ducked out of the cushion's flight path as it sailed through the air. " ... k.i.s.s.i.n.g," he continued to tease, smiling brightly.
"Laura, hold on for a second, will ya? I need to do a little pest control." While Blair may have mastered the art of cushion ducking, his teenager-avoidance skills still needed a little work and it wasn't long before he found himself dangling over Lucas's shoulder, leaving his shorts-clad backside in a very precarious position. Not quick enough to ward of a playful swat, he burst into a round of giggles as he was suddenly dumped flat on his back onto the sofa. The TV flicked on and Lucas was back, looming largely over him. "Sit, stay and be quiet." The phone was snatched up again and Lucas disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the bored three-year-old to his own devises. "Daddy said you 'posed to look afteh me 'till he gets back, not talk to girls," Blair huffed. Poking his tongue out, he scrambled off the couch in search of something else to do. The front door was wide open, and his bike still sat in the driveway, where they'd both been, until Laura had called. "I not need you to teach me how to ride, anyhow," he sulked. Not bothering with his helmet, Blair headed out the door, kicked at the training wheels that Lucas had removed and readied himself to mount the bike.
"Hey, hold up there, little guy."
Startled, Blair jumped, his heart thumping as two large hands circled his waist.
"Don't be afraid, son," the voice behind him soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Clawing at the fingers, Blair pried himself out of the man's grasp.
The large man crouched down to his eye level. Although every instinct in his body screamed at Blair to run, a stronger portend forced him to stay.
"My name's Max." The man extended his hand, by way of introduction. "I'm looking for Lucas."
Cautious and wary, Blair backed up a little, his nervousness dissipating slightly as the tickle of fur rubbed against his legs. "Why?"
The man shrugged his shoulders before scratching his jaw. "Because I haven't seen him for a long time and I'd like to say hello."
"Why?" Blair asked again.
Max let out a chuckle, recalling fond memories of his own sons at this inquisitive age. He reached over to push the child's wayward curls out of his eyes, his hand lingering a little too long and his imagination a little too captivated by the beautiful, angelic face staring back at him. Suddenly his hand jerked away and, for a split second, Max felt a ridiculous sense of pride at being able to control a part of him that was so very much out of control. His self-adulation was short lived, however, when he looked up and realised that his power of control was limited, and this time it had been taken from him by the hands of his son.
Standing, Max faltered, unprepared for what he saw. While time and age and his propensity to indulge in the seedier side of life had taken from him his last foothold on youth, in his mind's eye, his boy had not succumbed to the same fate. To Max Wilder, Lucas had remained a child. A child who, despite the circumstance of his upbringing, still told his father how very much he missed him, how very much he still loved him ... and how very much he still needed him. The young man that now stood before him with palpable hatred and anger in his eyes wasn't what he'd anticipated. Max's fairy-tale reunion had just been torn to shreds.
"Get out." Lucas's words were harsh and guttural.
"Son," Max whispered.
"Don't," Lucas warned. "Don't you fucking dare." He pushed Blair behind his leg. They were both still shirtless, and the shorts Blair was wearing had a tendency to hang low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination of a man like his father.
"Lucas, it wasn't meant to be like this."
"No? What was it meant to be like, Dad?" Lucas spat, endeavouring to clear the foulness of the word from his mouth. "Me on all fours with my ass in the air?"
"I'm not that man anymore," Max said quietly, aching with regret – not only for not being the kind of father a son deserved, but also at his inability to stop the twitch that stirred at the base of his groin. Lucas had grown from a stunningly beautiful child into a very striking and desirable young man.
The look Lucas saw in his father's eyes was unmistakable, and a familiar vulnerability washed over him. This had to end now. It had to end while his anger and hate were still strong enough to hold him together, because if he let his emotions cripple him, it wouldn't take much for him to once again fall into the trap that his father was so skilled at laying down.
Clenching his fist, Lucas reacted in the only way he knew how. He took a step forward, only to be stopped by a small, but forceful arm that wound around his leg. "Lucas, we go inside now." The arm squeezed tighter. "Please."
Suddenly Lucas realised he couldn't do this. Not to or in front of Blair. Spinning around, he roughly hitched up Blair's shorts and swung him into his arms. "Get the hell off this property!" he shouted. "Get the fuck off and don't you ever come back."
"Lucas, please," Max pleaded. Survival ruled Max's life these days, and if he failed to get Lucas to agree to meet with him as Robert had instructed, he had no doubt that his brother's penance would be vengeful and painful. "I just want to talk. Won't you at least give me that much?"
"The only thing I'll give you, Max, is exactly what you gave my brother." Backing up with Blair still in his arms, Lucas felt the jaguar brush against his legs. He couldn't even begin to recall how many times he had envisaged his father's death, imagining how and when it would come to pass and, when it did, how much pain the man would suffer. And now the moment was so close he could almost reach out and touch it. The cat had killed for him before, and he knew that it wouldn't take much provocation for the animal to do it again.
Swallowing hard, Lucas struggled with the power he held in his hands. Although every fibre of his being detested the man that stood before him, a part of his damaged psyche – a part that he considered sick and twisted – still loved his father. It was times like these that haunted him, and brought home to him just how very broken he really was.
The jaguar moved out from behind his legs and Lucas's decision was made. He reached down, laying a hand on the cat's head, steadying its agitation. "Go Max," he rasped. "Leave now, while you still can."
Somehow the gravel path under Lucas's feet managed to give way to a paved entrance and in turn to wooden floorboards. The front door slammed shut and Lucas fumbled with the lock, his shaking fingers barely able to coordinate the simple movement. Leaning heavily against the solid oak panels, he felt as if his whole world had been once again ripped out from beneath him, and fear was consuming him without mercy.
Then the silence was broken. "He going away." With his face pressed up against the window, Blair's fingers trailed through the silky smooth fur of the black cat.
Anger suddenly engulfed Lucas. "What the hell were you thinking, going out the front door like that?" he yelled.
"You left it open," Blair countered, sheepishly.
"Don't," Lucas warned. "You know damn well the rules about going out front to play by yourself." He pulled himself up inches from Blair. "Open or not is not an invitation for you to go through it."
Not afraid of Lucas's anger, but truly remorseful for his actions, Blair turned, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry is nowhere near good enough, Blair." Lucas stomach churned. Blair's fate could have been seconds away from history repeating itself. Another brother gone, another child to bury.
Resisting the urge to shake some serious sense into the three-year-old, Lucas shouted, "Go to your room!"
Blair didn't move.
"Go!" Lucas snapped harshly, this time making the boy jump. With tears brimming in his eyes, Blair took flight. His bare feet slapped across the floorboards and pounded quickly up the stairs. Slamming his door shut, he dove onto his bed, his pillow doing little to muffle the sorrowful sobs that followed.
Sinking down onto the sofa, Lucas buried his head in his hands. He needed to leave, that much he knew for certain. Max may have left, but he wouldn't be gone forever. The longer he stayed, the greater the temptation there was for his father to return, and the greater the risk became to Blair. Disappearing had never been hard for him in the past; it had more or less become a way of life. But he was no longer trapped in the past, and this new chapter he was living was one that came with responsibility, with obligations and with a duty of care. Because of this, it also came with one of the hardest goodbyes he'd ever have to make.
~oOo~
"You're staying put."
"Jesus Christ, Jim. How can you possibly want me to stay when you know what's at stake?" Lucas argued in disbelief.
"Knowing what's at stake is exactly why you're not going anywhere."
"Jim, he's your son."
"And so are you." Jim grasped Lucas's shoulders. "You're part of this family, kiddo. You telling me you're just willing to walk away from that?"
"No." Lucas shook his head. "Not want to, have to." He wrapped his hands around Jim's forearms. "You're the only person I've ever confided in and you know exactly what my father is capable of." A shudder ran through Lucas's body. "He won't give up trying to see me, Jim, and every time he does, Blair will become more and more of a temptation."
"You need to trust me, Lucas." Jim answered. "Trust me to take care of my son ... both my sons."
The word son, coming from Jim, never ceased to floor Lucas. He was a son, but a son to two men. One man who he hated with intense anger, but also loved with doleful pity, and one who he'd grown to finally admit to himself that he just simply loved. "You can't watch us twenty-four hours a day, Jim," Lucas replied, quietly.
"And I won't have to." Slapping the boy lightly on the shoulder, Jim beckoned him to take a seat on the sofa. He'd only been ten minutes away from home when he'd received the call from the kid and, while the information Lucas had imparted scared the hell out of him, it also told him that they had finally reached a defining moment in their relationship. The stubbornly independent and wilful kid who had been thrust into manhood well before his time had finally let the boy inside take a foothold on his life. While protecting Blair wasn't and never would be an issue, Lucas was finally seeking protection for himself. If confronted with the same situation six months ago, Jim had no doubt in his mind that the kid would have taken off, never to be seen or heard from again. But the current Lucas Wilder needed other people. Although he would always have a maturity that other sixteen-year-olds wouldn't have, Lucas had become fallible. While many might have seen this as a failing, Jim saw it as a huge step forward in the boy's emotional development. To be fallible meant that he'd finally opened up his heart to love.
"Lucas, by coming here, your father has broken the terms of his parole. Simon's already got an APB out on him, and knowing Simon, that means that half the cops in Cascade are out looking for him."
"He'll go back to jail then?"
"The chances are high." Jim noted the flicker of uncertainty in the kid's eyes. "Are you okay with that?"
Lucas just nodded.
"How about a change of plans?" Jim said, getting to his feet. "Why don't we head off early tomorrow morning and put some space between us and here for a while?" He'd already spoken with Simon and they'd both agreed that his place was with the boys and not out looking for Max Wilder.
"Okay." Lucas sat numbly on the couch. He'd let Jim take the decision out of his hands, this time. But, although the burden may have been temporarily lifted, Lucas couldn't stop the trepidation from creeping over him, or ignore the intuition that told him that this wouldn't be the last time he'd be running into Max.
Jim scuffed Lucas's hair before heading toward the stairs. Perched halfway up, with Big Bird clutched to his chest and a wolf pup lying on his feet, Blair sat silent and still. Padding up the stairs, Jim crouched down before reaching the top. "I think you and I need to have a little talk about a few things, don't you?"
Blair knew his daddy was angry and was cross with him for disobeying the rules. He nodded his head without saying a word.
"But first, I think there's someone in this house that could do with an apology and also a hug."
The pup scooted down the stairs and Jim reached out and drew Blair to his feet. "Go on," he said, swatting the three-year-old lightly on the backside.
Blair pensively made his way down the stairs and into the living room. He stopped, not getting too close to Lucas, who didn't even seem to notice his presence. "Do you still love me?" he stammered.
Lucas's eyes locked with the youngster and Blair lunged forward into open arms. There were no words spoken; they were brothers and there was no need.
Continuing up the remainder of the staircase, Jim headed toward the bathroom to run Blair's bath. He knew the night ahead would be a long and sleepless one, and he prayed that his fellow officers would get the job done before it was necessary for him to intervene. If Max Wilder came near either of the boys again, police procedure would become obsolete. Rules were insignificant when the well-being of his family was at stake.
~oOo~
"Lift." Lucas tapped Blair on the ankle.
"Are you afraid of him?" Blair asked. With his hands on Lucas's shoulders to steady himself, he lifted his foot while Lucas set about drying his toes.
"Afraid of who?"
"Afraid of the man today."
Finished with his foot, Lucas ran the bath towel up Blair's legs and over the length of his body, making sure the youngster was completely dry. "Why don't we just agree to forget about what happened today and forget about the man, okay?"
Blair wished he could, but he knew that when Incacha came to him, he always came for a very important reason, and today in his room had been no exception. Incacha had told him that his daddy needed to find his way and that Lucas had to help him find it. He didn't understand everything the spirit guide had said, but he understood enough to know that something was going to happen and Lucas needed to be strong.
"All done." Lucas draped the towel around Blair's shoulders. "Why don't you go and get your PJs on while I clean up the mess left behind by the bubble monster?"
Without warning, Blair lunged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother's neck. "Be brave, Lucas," he whispered. "Daddy needs you to be very, very brave."
Before Lucas could say anything, Blair released his grip and scampered from the room. He knew going after the child and questioning him about his statement would be futile, at the very least. Blair could be as secretive and as aloof as Mata Hari when he wanted to be, and no amount of wheedling or enticement could get him to talk if he didn't feel like talking. Besides, he was drained both physically and mentally; going one on one with a wily three-year-old just seemed like too much effort for very little gain. All he wanted to do was to sink into bed and forget the day ever happened. Hearing Jim talking to Blair, he threw the dirty towels in the hamper and headed for his room. He left the door open and, despite the stifling heat, he closed and locked his window before drawing the blinds. Pulling down the bedcovers, Lucas lay down on the cool cotton sheet and closed his eyes, inwardly hoping for a night that would be free of the dreams that nightmares were made of.
~oOo~