Disclaimer: Work of fiction. Don't own Monster's Ball or its characters.

WARNING: BAD/OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE!

The Black Sheep

-o-o-o-o-

Sonny held Bam once they arrived back at Bonnie's house. The baby dozed in his arms, his head resting on Sonny's shoulder as he climbed the steps. Bonnie had reached the porch and stood under the overhang with Nadia in her arms, mirroring how Sonny held Bam. She gave Dewie the key and he opened the door, leading the way inside.

"Stay here." Bonnie said and she began to ascend the stairs off to the left of the foyer, back stiff, restricting her shoulder movements so as not to wake Nadia. Sonny opened his mouth to object, but Bonnie had hit the second floor landing and vanished around the corner. That's when Bam chose to wake up.

Bam made drowsy sounds and lifted his head up from Sonny's shoulder. A small hand slapped Sonny in the eye, and Bam cried out, short arms wheeling. Dewie stood off to the side, eyeing Sonny curiously.

"Got any advice kid, o' you jus' gon' stand there?" Sonny asked of the five year old over Bam's wails. Dewie gulped, taking two tentative steps back. "Huh?"

Dewie looked like he was about to piss his pants at Sonny's boisterous command, and wound up beating a frightened retreat to bury his head under the stuffed toys.

"Shit." Sonny grumbled, and Bam cried louder. Sonny brought his left hand to support the baby's back as he tried to soothe him. "Hey, kid, quiet." Sonny found that when he started to pat the baby's back the sobs quieted gradually. He started to hum a tuneless song. It suddenly occurred to him the lullaby was what his mother used to sing to him. He'd long forgotten the words, but that was just as well.

Bonnie descended the stairs sans Nadia, smiling wryly. "You're good at that."

Sonny stopped humming, and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "The fuck, Bonnie? You got no right leavin' me with Baby Huey and… the mute." He said as Bam squirmed in his arms, seeming to take the insult to heart.

Bonnie glared at Sonny angrily; she stabbed her finger in his chest once she was within arms length. "Watch your mouth 'round my nephew, Sonny," she warned. Sonny looked at her finger in his chest like he'd bite it off, Bonnie took it back before he could make up his mind. "Their mama does enough of that. Besides, you don't look like you need help… Bam likes you."

Sonny glanced down at Bam's cherub face and puppy-dog eyes. He became entranced with the woeful infant, he actually thought the kid was cute, but rather than agree with Bonnie he adverted his gaze. "Well, I don't like him." He countered weakly, and he tried to pry Bam from his shirt, but the baby squealed and clamored, stretching the shirt as he refused to budge. Bonnie pulled Bam away and he wailed in wordless complaint.

"He's not looking too good." Bonnie said as she got a good look at Bam. The baby's cheeks reddened as he cried harder, and his upper lip was wet with snot. When Bonnie looked up at Sonny, she didn't quite meet his eyes, as she was staring at the spot that Bam had just vacated. Sonny looked down to find his shoulder covered in white baby vomit the consistency of runny yogurt starting to trail down the front of his button-up shirt.

"Ah shi-."

Bonnie cleared her throat.

"I was gonna say 'shoot'."

"Whatever." Bonnie sighed. "Bathroom's down the hall, you can wash up there."

Sonny wordlessly sulked down the hall. There were two doors on either side of the short corridor, the kitchen and subsequent playroom opened up just ahead. He hardly noticed the two doors earlier in the day, and other than been on opposite sides the hall they looked identical. Without preamble Sonny reached for the doorknob on the right.

"Not that one!" Bonnie called.

Sonny turned to see Bonnie still in the entrance to the hallway, comforting Bam and watching his movements. Sonny swallowed a smartass opine that jumped to mind just then, he'd be wasting his breath and he didn't want the vomit on him no longer than necessary, so he groaned his annoyance as he stepped to the correct door without further ado.

=/=

Sonny sat on the closed toilet seat, head in his hands, counting the salmon-colored floor tiles under his boots. He lit a cigarette, idly puffing on the filter while he waited. He precariously twined the cord of a blow dryer through the accordion-style arm of the vanity mirror so it was suspended upside-down and set it on auto, allowing it to relentlessly blast hot air on his damp shirt and undershirt as they hung draped over the towel rack.

Sonny stood and extinguished the cigarette in the toilet water, and pissed while he was at it. He washed his hands in the sink and caught his reflection in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. He still had the braids. Somehow being naked from the chest up with the plaits made him look more grim, more opposing. His amber-tinted eyes looked darker, and he no longer looked like his reserved, blue-collar, 20-something self; he could pass for the tough-as-nails inmates he guarded from the rest of the world at the penitentiary. Scrutinizing his reflection, he moved his head around and freely touched the rows without any pain. The cornrows effectively eclipsed his safe "good ol' boy" appearance, and now Sonny wasn't sure what to make of the 'do. He briefly entertained the idea of keeping the hairstyle just to spite his belligerent grandfather.

The blow dryer shut off when it got overheated, and in the calm Sonny could hear Bonnie's voice coming from somewhere in the house, and then footsteps in the foyer. The doorbell chimed merrily, announcing the arrival of someone.

Sonny got dressed and cracked open the bathroom door, carefully. Through the narrow crack he was able to see down the hall into the foyer, and witnessed Bonnie's coiffed head pass his line of sight. She was speaking with whomever she had let into the house.

"…The kids have already ate… tell Angel she's not gonna get away with shorting me last week… Bam-Bam's coming down with a fever, I think," she held out her hand and dangled a baby-blue diaper bag on her index finger. "I put some Infant Tylenol and a thermometer in his bag."

Sonny got a glimpse of the guy who took the diaper bag; tall, brown-skinned, tight dreadlocks bunched into a low ponytail, and he looked about his age.

The guy took the bag, smirking. "Anyone would think you were they Mama..." he regarded her thoughtfully, then frowned as he added, "I found out Angel wasn't at work like she said she was gonna be."

A sound of indifference escaped Bonnie's throat. Apparently, she wasn't surprised at the news. "She turn up yet?"

"Nah, she betta' turn up soon or I'mma -"

"You're on probation, Sebastian," she chided.

"Only for another year." Sebastian proclaimed as if that was something to be proud of, then took Bonnie's hand unexpectedly and pulled her to him, Sonny's face darkened at that. "Damn, you look nice today... me and you still can't work things out?"

"There's nothing to work out, Sebastian – you're with my sister. God, y'all have kids."

"They're not my kids." He said without hesitation.

Bonnie levered her hand between them so they weren't so close. "Bam's yours and you know it."

The confidence Sebastian exuded thus far seemed to wane at that.

To make matters worse, Bonnie glanced back at the bathroom door now ajar, spying the distinct silhouette lurking just inside. Realizing they had an audience, her cheeks warmed with insecurity and she pushed away from the offending embrace. However, the judgmental Sebastian never took his eyes off her telltale face, shrewdly putting pieces to the puzzle.

"You got a'nuttha nigga 'round my kids, don't you?"

Bonnie reeled back, "Oh, so now they're yo' kids?"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "Don't try and change the subject."

Bonnie stepped further into the house, "It's none of your business." When it was apparent Bonnie wouldn't divulge her secret guest, Sebastian begrudgingly took Dewie, Nadia, and Bam home.

=/=

Sonny emerged from the bathroom. Bonnie had disappeared into the house again. He looked over at the closed door across from him, and moved to take a look inside and satisfy his curiosity once and for all.

He stepped forward and gripped the brass doorknob, turning it purposefully. He pushed it open partly and cold air rushed past Sonny, enough to make him shiver with uneasiness. It was a bedroom. Nothing jumped out at Sonny as being out of sorts, though, whoever slept in here was a perfectionist. The dresser was lined with angel sculptures and antique dolls, of all shapes and sizes. The shutters to the room were closed but he could make out the fluffy, homemade quilt pulled tight over the high bed.

"What are you doing?"

Sonny shut the door and looked at Bonnie, suddenly there, with her fists fixed to her hips testily. The not-so-happy mug she was so good at making was on her face. For a moment, Sonny envisioned they looked like one of those standoffs in spaghetti Western flicks.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, huh?" Bonnie said and she had his wrist now, leading him away like a naughty child.

=/=

Sonny dried his hair with Bonnie's trusty blow dryer, shaking out the last flecks of water from the thorough wash he had to give it. He felt almost rejuvenated from having the cornrows gone, but forlorn at the same time. He'd have to think of a different way to get a rise out of Gramps. But his signature curly/straight/blonde/brown hair was no longer bound and hung freely.

Bonnie crossed her arms over her polo shirt, leaning in the doorway of the upstairs bathroom, and watched him finish up. She looked down and started to chew her bottom lip.

"I expected you to leave as soon as you saw the kids," she finally said, and produced a small towel.

Sonny took the towel, dabbing water off the back of his neck. "Couldn't've left with those braids still in my head, now could I?" He meant it as a joke, but Bonnie didn't laugh, she didn't even acknowledge the remark, and she walked out into the hall wordlessly.

He found her and what appeared to be her room. An old Corduroy Bear was perched on the pillows against the wooden headboard. The walls were white and barren, aside from tattered corners of paper pinned on thumbtacks in a few spots. Maybe, he thought, she had as many posters as Bitty did in her room once, then ripped them down in some angst-ridden fit. Bonnie sat on the dark blue coverlet of her bed, legs crossed at her ankles. Sonny took the only seat in the room, at the desk across from her.

Bonnie looked remorseful as she said, "I should've warned you."

Naturally, Sonny thought about the unexpected introduction of Nadia, Dewie, and Bam. He shrugged. "Nah, kids are nice… until they spit up on you."

Bonnie wrapped her hands around her stomach protectively. "I mean, about Sebastian."

She spat the words as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"You don't have to explain anything to me." Sonny said quietly. He didn't understand what she wanted from him. He had to tuck his feet under the chair as Bonnie stood and began to pace back and fourth in front of him, her hands rubbing her arms.

"You didn't ask where my sister's other baby's daddies were."

Sonny would have laughed if Bonnie weren't being wholly serious. "W-What?"

"You didn't ask about what happened with me and Sebastian."

"Didn't know I was 'sposed to-" the words died on his tongue, and Bonnie froze mid-pace. They both turned their ear toward the muffled sounds echoing from somewhere else in the house. "Wait, you hear that?"

Bonnie grew pale. "Daddy."

=/=

Who greeted Bonnie in the foyer was not her father but someone more dreadful, the bane of her existence. Her brother.

Bernie flumped down the hall with a salad bowl filled with cereal in his hands. He smiled toothily at his sister.

"I saw the BéBés leave with the sperm donor. Where's Daddy?"

Bonnie was pretty sure her brother was referring to their nephews and niece, and Sebastian. She blocked his advancement to the second level of the house by standing on the last step, so he couldn't pass without bumping her or spilling his cereal.

"How should I know where Daddy is?"

Bernie tilted his chin up to look at his sister; Bonnie remained impassive. "'Cause you're the one who tracks his every…" Bernie drifted off. "Oh."

Bonnie spread her arms apart so one laid flat on the wall and the other gripped the banister, she challenged. "'Oh,' what?"

"You got a nigga in yo' room, don't you?" Bernie said shrewdly.

Bonnie deadpanned. "Only nigga I see is YOU."

Bernie stepped back and out of her reach as he said, "I'm tellin' Daddy."

Bonnie called his bluff. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me!" Bernie taunted, but made no move for the nearest telephone.

Bonnie sighed. "Don't make empty threats, Bernie…"

=/=

A shouting match ensued between the siblings, which gave Sonny the diversion he needed to slink down the trellis mounted on the back of the house like a ladder. Bonnie adamantly wanted him to park in the grassy lot next to the house and not the paved driveway, so he did. He shook his head dumbly for not realizing it sooner – the spot was obscured from view of anyone entering the house from the front –and that couldn't be just a coincidence.

He thought it better to just leave and not bother with farewells. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes as he crossed the yard, only to find it empty, so he crumpled the cardboard and foil in his fist and threw it over his shoulder, only to have it ricochet and thump him in the back of his head a moment later.

Bonnie came up behind him, catching him completely off guard. "Is my family so fucked up that you can't even tell me goodbye?" she came closer, stepping over underbrush without having to look down.

"Compared to mine, your family is like the Cleavers." Sonny rejoined dryly. Bonnie gave him a look that said she didn't believe him, and he noticed she was entering his personal space. She wrapped her arms around his middle, her hands meeting together at his back, he brought his arms up around hers, reciprocating the hug.

Then, they kissed – a brief, clumsy meeting of lips – Bonnie pulled back and blinked up at him, clearly not expecting it.

Sonny squeezed her shoulders one last time and their embrace ended, "Goodbye."

Seldom was Bonnie at a lost for words, this was one of those times. She fought back tears as she watched Sonny leave her, hopping into his truck and turning the key in the ignition. Before he could shift into reverse Bonnie was at the driver's window, knocking on the glass, and he rolled down his window for her.

"I want to see you again," she told him earnestly.

Sonny was clearheaded enough to consider the repercussions of agreeing to see her again. "What about your folks?"

Bonnie's eyes grew dark and misty; her voice was void of any feeling as she gave him her answer.

"Fuck them."