I do not own "Warrior." It belongs to director Gavin O'Connor.

The family dinner will be broken up into two chapters.

Congratulations and hooray for Nick Nolte, who's just been nominated for an Academy Award for best supporting actor! I'd had my fingers crossed on that one. I'm still kind of annoyed it didn't get recognition for anything else (Best Cinematography; Best Film Editing; Best Original Song; Best Actor (for either Hardy or Edgerton); Best Picture or Best Director). Ah, well. It will go down as one of the most underrated films of 2011.

Also, a six or seven-year-old Tommy Riordan running laps around the house to me seems kind of cute. A fellow I knew in high school had a hard-ass military father who made him undergo such a regimen at that age.

Chapter Sixteen: Brothers (Part One)

Jane tells Dionne she won't be able to make the meeting on Jefferson Street Sunday.

"I'm going to be in Philly tomorrow," she says. "Family thing."

"Since when do you have family in Philly?"

She's got her there. "It's not exactly my family."

Dionne huffs on the other end of the line. "Jane, you are a sucker for that man. He got you wrapped around his finger, and you don't seem to get how dangerous it is."

"He's the kind of person who doesn't accept help from people. He doesn't ask for anything from anyone unless he really, really needs it. And he needs me to be there."

"Why?"

"It's his estranged brother and his family. He has too much rage, too much fear, too much pain to face him alone."

"And I take it Patrick's not going to be there?"

"Correct."

"I really hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I think I do."

"I doubt it. You are way too in love to think straight."

She's left breathless for a moment, face flushed. "I think you're exaggerating it a bit," she says eventually, trying to laugh. "You tend to get a bit flowery with words, you know."

Dionne sounds smug on the other end. "If you say so."

F

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tess asks, gives her husband a tentative look as she comes back from her morning run; the one time she has to be alone and to clear her mind. This apparently has interfered with that last bit, and she won't let him forget it. "You have to admit, he's not exactly stable."

"I'm sure about it." Brendan says; pouring a cup of coffee for her as she takes a long gulp from a water bottle she's taken out of the fridge. "Tess, I need this. I think Tommy needs this, too. I get why you're worried."

"Brendan, I barely remember him back from when he was a kid. What I remember him as is the guy who practically tried to kill you in the cage. Yes, I'm worried. How will he act around the girls? They don't know anything about him. He'll probably terrify them. He looks like he just broke out of prison."

"Tess," he says, softly now, sets the coffee cup aside and pulls her to him. "Tess," he says even quieter. "I've waited half my life for this. Don't worry about Tommy. I'll handle it."

E

He picks her up around five of ten, once again in Patrick's car.

"Does he know where you're going with it?" Jane asks as she gets in.

Tommy starts driving. "He knows. He's the one who suggested I borrow it."

He sighs after a moment and glances her way. "I'll tell you everything once we reach the freeway."

Jane nods. "I guess it's a long story," she says.

"We got about five hours."

He fills up the tank at a gas station near the freeway, and when they get on, Tommy finally starts talking.

"He's turning thirty-three."

"To be honest I thought he looked a little older."

Tommy shrugs. "He's had it rough at times, too.

"He was the older brother. I thought he was the better one. Pop paid more attention to me, even though Brendan worked harder for it."

"Why?"

He glances her way. "I was a really athletic kid."

"I kind of figured as much. Any sport in particular?"

He nods. "Wrestling. I did a little bit of track to help with conditioning, but wrestling was my focus. And Paddy Conlon did a shitty job as Brendan I's father, but he was one hell of a trainer. It was the only time he was ever close to sober. Had me start when I was still a little kid, running laps around the house and shit. Brendan got into sports later. Maybe he hoped he'd get some approval for it. I didn't get why he wanted the attention in the first place. He had talents that I didn't. He was a lot smarter than me."

"You're not stupid."

He laughs. There's no humor in it. "Well, that's nice of you. But I'm sure you realized that you're nine years younger than me, studying part-time at a two-year school, and have already had more of an education than I ever will."

"Just because you're not that well educated doesn't mean you're stupid. Education and intellect don't always go hand in hand."

Tommy considers this. "That sounds kind of like something Brendan would say," he says. "Until he became a teacher, anyway. I bet he now tells people to stay in school like he did."

"I think that's part of the job description."

There's another lingering silence.

"We were close. Mom protected us when we were too little to do anything, and when we got older we tried to protect her. He…there was always something a little different about him. Like he was always above this, always meant for something better than the rest of us. I mean, he didn't think anything like that, but I guess it turned out I was right." He's trying hard to talk, but drifts in and out and frequently hesitates. It's just not part of who he is, really. But she'll listen. She's got half an hour down, another four and a half hours to go, plus the car ride home for him to find the words. She'll help him out as much as she can.

"What drove the two of you apart?" she says.

He says nothing at first. His fists clench on the steering wheel. "I said I'd tell you everything, didn't I?" he says quietly, more to himself than to her.

"When I was fourteen and he was sixteen and finishing up the school year, the three of us made a plan to leave. We were going to leave home, get away from the old man and find a way to survive on our own."

A couple of memories of his earlier words fall into place. "You moved away when you were fourteen, you and your mother. You wanted to get away from your father." She takes from his silence that she's got that part. "But not Brendan."

Tommy's knuckles are bone-white on the steering wheel. "He told us at the last minute he was going to stay behind. He had a girlfriend. He said he loved her and he wouldn't leave her, not for anything. And he didn't. No matter what we told him, he stayed."

"And your mother died of cancer two years later."

"Lung cancer. I think that's what it was. She never got it treated. When we left we lost everything. Money, insurance, everything. We already knew she had TB. But the coughing, the coughing up blood, all the weight she lost and the pain she was in, the fact that she always had trouble breathing. She probably had it when we left and didn't know about it."

"And you never forgave him for it."

"He chose a girl over us, and we needed him more."

"What happened to the girl?"

His jaw tightens. He seems at loathe to say it, and she immediately gets why when he does. "You'll meet her at the party."

"They got married?"

"He rubbed it in my face when we saw each other again. He acted as if that made up for everything. He got everything he wanted when he stayed behind and he thought that would make me feel better."

"When did you guys talk again?"

"A couple of nights before we fought."

"You had another fight before the larger one."

"He said he forgave Pop. I didn't believe him." He glances at her. "I still don't believe him. Not about that, anyway."

He starts focusing on the driving aspect. There's little traffic to worry about. There's something that's been on her mind since she saw the video.

"What did he say to you at the end of the fight, right before you tapped out? And right after?"

He said he'd tell her everything. Right now he looks like he wants to go back on that statement.

"All right. Never mind." She sits back, kind of hopes he'll say it anyway, but he takes her words at face value and says nothing for a while.

Finally he starts again. "With Pop, he was only there for me if it was to train me, and I never expected anything more from him than that. But with Brendan…" he thins his lips, "With Brendan, he was there for Mom and me until it mattered most."

For so few words it gets the point across. A fourteen year old kid finding his brother choosing girlfriend over family after years of thinking they could depend on each other. A fourteen-year-old kid with his life thrown into complete disarray; no money, no real home, no insurance and a sick mother. And then having to sort it out alone.

She doesn't know what she could possibly say to him that would mean anything. The words "I'm so sorry" are nearly on the tip of her tongue, are nearly all she can think. She's starting to understand more and more where all that rage and all that hatred comes from, and just how badly life screwed Tommy Riordan over.

"You didn't see each other again for sixteen years?"

There's a continuing silence. "I spent so long hating him. In the ring I think I wanted to kill him; wanted to rip his fuckin' head off. I might still want to rip his head off. I don't know."

"And that's why you wanted to bring me?" Jane says, though it isn't really a question.

He looks over at her in silence.

A

Really, there isn't much to say, and there's even less that Tommy can really tell her.

"Did you get to finish high school?" Jane asks.

"Nope." There's some definite anger, and even stronger shame in it.

"You had to have had some kind of equivalency in order to join the Marines."

"I got my G.E.D., dropped out, and worked after my mom died. I wasn't really going to school before that, either. The G.E.D. just made it official, and made it easier to go from working part-time to full time."

He starts asking her about her life, asks her about her parents's divorce; he probably wonders what it would've been like for his family if his parents could have had a nice clean mutual separation. She tells him with no real sense of reservation about how her parents stopped sleeping in the same room by the time she was eight, how the sense of despair, the sterile, unhappy environment surrounding two people who were in the brink of making the transition between their autumn and their golden years made her wonder when they finally sat her down and told her the news why they'd waited so long to escape from each other. She'd been twelve years old when it happened, and she was surprised only that her parents were surprised at how well and quickly she accepted the news, as if their relationship hadn't deteriorated in front of her eyes.

"It's weird," she tells him, "how parents will think that just because you've fallen asleep that you'll stay asleep no matter how much noise they make. When they fought at night…" she shakes her head. "I don't know. I guess it was almost better than when they didn't speak to each other at all." She doesn't tell him that she would've done anything for a sibling, even a very annoying or a demanding one. Someone else in the house; a person she could spend time with who could be like more than just cranky, jaded, bitter shells of people. She tells him about all the dust that gathered in the house and the perpetual cobwebs in every corner when her mother left; the kind of squalor that would sometimes alarm her, even while she was in her own personal hell, to clean up the filth that would make anyone wonder how they could live this way. She hesitates to mention her father turning into something resembling a male Miss Havisham, going between yelling at her for every aspect of her failure as a daughter and then coming back with apologies, vehement assurances that she was "a great kid" and explanations for himself, most of them dealing with how lost he felt now that her mother was gone.

"Was he drunk when he did that?"

"Almost never. That's the truly scary part."

She didn't tell her mother about how Dad claimed to miss her, and certainly not about how he kept photos of the two of them from when they were married around the house.

"He hadn't loved her in years. I don't think he missed her so much as he felt rejected. And he probably missed having a 'little woman' around the house." It's a much different dynamic from with which Tommy grew up, and she can't help but feel that her childhood was an emotional paradise compared to his, and can't help but wonder just how much Tommy thinks that she's whining needlessly.

Three hours in they refuel at a gas station that has one of the most disgusting restrooms she has ever seen. When she comes back out to the fueling station she sees a man talking excitedly to Tommy, looks like he's damn close to wetting his pants. Tommy, for his part, is quiet and polite; every bit as stoic and enigmatic as he was in his short-lived MMA career, leaving the man no less enchanted when he walks away.

"A fan?" Jane asks as she comes up to the car.

"Yeah." He goes to the place to pay and gets back in the driver's seat.

"You want me to take the wheel for a while?" she offers.

"No, I'm good." It probably gives him a stronger sense of control, something—however unsatisfying—to do with his body.

The stretches of silence grow now that they're past the halfway point, getting ever closer. His knuckles once again go white on the steering wheel. The muscles in his jaw and shoulders are locked.

"Tommy…" she says after a moment.

He takes a deep breath turns to look at her.

"You're not going to be alone."

After a few minutes, he asks, "What was it like for you; facing your family when you were first getting sober?"

She thinks about it. "Awkward," she tells him. He laughs a little. "They didn't know how to act or talk around me. Someone would mention getting some decent wine for a family dinner and then everyone would look over at me like they thought I was going to burst into flames or something."

He nods to himself. "Uh, there are directions on the floor by your feet. When we get off the freeway I'll need your help. Getting there."

As they get closer and closer, they see nice suburban neighborhoods and neatly trimmed front lawns, still vibrant green in early February. And as they reach the address and Tommy pulls into park, his hands are starting to shake. He grips the steering wheel as if he's holding on for dear life.

Jane feels as though she's approaching a rhino as it's getting ready to charge; she's afraid of how he might snap. Regardless, she unbuckles her seatbelt and slowly, cautiously, reaches out and touches his arm.

He tenses up at the contact and then looks over at her, those grey eyes of his looking a little crazed; face more vulnerable than she's seen before. She leans in further, and as Tommy unbuckles his own seatbelt he finally lets his forehead touch hers; they share a breath.

"You can do this," she murmurs. "I'll be right there with you."

He closes his eyes and nods; he lets her stroke the side of his face, grazing the skin with her fingertips. For all that's happened, this fear and this vulnerability on his part diminishes her resentment and her misgivings, at least for now. Right now this is about him. It's about helping him through something she knows is beyond frightening for him. When they pull apart Tommy reaches behind him and grabs a wrapped gift from the backseat, gets out, and as she opens her side of the door, takes her by the hand as she gets out. And it's not as much courtesy as it is a need for reassurance, something he can hold onto as they head up the walk and onto the front porch. The grip his hand has on hers is borderline painful, and as he knocks she squeezes back.

The man who opens the door has a benign presence and so easily plays the part of civilian that it's almost hard to believe that the only other time she saw him he was fighting in a cage.

Brendan is taller and slimmer than Tommy, and has a handsome, slightly weathered face for someone still quite young and deep-set, sapphire blue eyes that take them both in. He has Patrick's eyes. His face opens in a tentative but genuine smile. "I'm glad you could make it," he tells them and ushers them inside. He gives Jane a curious look, as if inspecting her or trying to determine from one look what makes her special to his little brother. She can't help him with that; she's damned if she knows. It lasts only a moment, though, before Brendan shakes her free hand. "Pleased to meet you," he tells her. "I'm Brendan."

And in a gesture she hopes will let him know that Tommy did not try and convince her to despise him, she smiles and says, "Pleased to meet you as well. I'm Jane."

"Um…" Tommy clears his throat and mumbles something to Brendan in an undertone as he gives him the present. Brendan nods and gives a small smile, placing it amongst a small mound of other presents on the coffee table as he leads them into the living room.

They have to smile and shake hands then with Brendan's wife Tess, a beautiful blonde woman who gives Jane a more openly curious and somehow friendly look-over hidden behind a smile. And then they do so again with a man named Frank who introduces himself as the man who trained Brendan for SPARTA. While meeting Brendan and Tess is slightly awkward, meeting Frank is more so; after all, they're meeting one of the people who could've ended the match when it should've ended, a man who reminds Tommy of what happened. This is why he wanted to bring her. In case moments like this popped up. After the two shake hands with some hostility on both sides, Jane finds herself touching Tommy's arm, pulling him back when the other adults try to busy themselves in the kitchen, setting out silverware.

He turns to her, eyes narrowed. "Of all the fucking people to invite, why'd he pick his trainer?" he says to her in an undertone.

"I don't know. Maybe they're friends outside of training."

He starts to shut down again; his face a mask and a menacing one at that. He glances at the kitchen, jaw and lips tight, eyes burning a hole into the space his brother previously occupied.

"Hey," she finds herself saying, softly and with infinite caution. She touches his arm once more. He can't quite look back. She takes his hand. "Hey," she repeats, even quieter. "Look at me," she says. He finally does. She doesn't know how much it could help. She recently triggered a lot of his rage towards her, not all of which has subsided. But it seems better for him than focusing on cursing Brendan for his choice in guests.

Tess comes in, looking surprisingly composed for someone who's probably not the least bit happy to see one of the men who put a savage beating on her husband. "Dinner's almost ready. What would you guys like to drink?"

"Water would be great, thanks," Jane tells her.

"Same, thanks."

She nods, seeming almost too enthusiastic to go about it. As she ducks back into the kitchen she hears Brendan say, "Should I get the girls?"

"May as well," Tess says, sounding both resentful and defeated.

Brendan comes out. "Uh, Tommy, Emily and Rosie are in their room playing. Would you like to meet them now?"

Tommy looks like a deer caught in the headlights. His gaze shifts, wide-eyed, from him to her and back. "Uh, sure."

Brendan gives a half-grateful, half-apologetic smile and goes to his daughters's room. Less than a minute later two young girls come running out, one brown-haired and the other with a headful of thick blonde ringlets, both blue-eyed and fair. The older one, the brunette, looks to be around seven, whilst the fairer-haired girl is probably no older than three. Brendan takes them each by the hand. They both stop as they take a look at a big man in a threadbare jacket with cold grey eyes encircled by dark shadows. They both look a little subdued by the sight. The younger one seems to have less fear and more wonder. The older one, however, has stronger reservation.

"Emily, Rosie, this is my little brother, Tommy. He's your uncle."

"He's not little," the younger one, Rosie, protests; looking up at him and squirming with excitement at the aspect of meeting new people.

"My younger brother," Brendan corrects himself, looking straight ahead at said brother.

That's all Rosie seems to need. She lets out the most mischievous-sounding giggle Jane has ever heard and comes up to Tommy, looking absolutely delighted as the big man kneels down to reach her level. She pats his jacket into place and starts talking to him in a chirpy mile-a-minute pace, and it's unclear how much of it Tommy can actually understand. After a few moments, she notices Jane and says, "Daddy, who's the pretty lady?"

It's Tommy who answers. "That's Jane," he tells her in a quieter voice than usual, making his voice go a little higher as if to make himself sound less intimidating. "She's a very good friend of mine. I asked your Dad if she could come along."

Rosie starts tottering towards her. Not sure what else to do, Jane also sinks down to the floor as the tiny young girl beams and starts touching her face; pudgy little hands tracing her cheeks and she can't help but laugh. "It's nice to meet you, Rosie," she says.

Emily still hangs back, and, though not seeing Jane as any kind of threat regards Tommy wearily. Her father leans down and whispers something to her. She turns to him, and, after a moment, comes forward, raises a small hand to shake Tommy's, and at that moment looks like a miniature adult. Jane wonders if Emily has at least an idea of what went on between her father and her uncle in the past.

"I'm Emily," she tells him.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Emily." And once again, the somewhat easier gentleness surprises both of the other adults in the room. This looks like one part of the event in which Tommy won't have to struggle to keep his temper in check.

Emily does the same with Jane, at least before Rosie reclaims the focus as she tells her about her favorite Disney princesses.

"Daddy was a princess for my birthday," she says.

"He was?" Jane says, glancing over at Tommy who turns to Brendan with the closest thing to a smile she's seen all day. Brendan, in turn, nods to confirm this, with an embarrassed-looking smile on his face.

Emily seems relieved to have something else to talk about. "Yeah. We painted his face and everything."

"Dinner's ready," Tess says from behind them. They both start and see her leaning against the wall, watching them with her head tilted to one side. She looks oh-so-slightly more relaxed; her features softer. "Come on in."