"..I've been chewed out for inaccurate medical info before, so I am warning you now that any info I got was from google. Pleaz be kind :)..."
One Wrong Turn-Past and Present Sorrow
Boris sighed as he snapped a picture of the evidence that he was about to burn. Then, he turned the knob on his furnace, allowing the flames to engulf the box's contents. He quickly took one last picture using his old-fashioned camera before tucking both of the small, glossy papers into their rightful envelope. He left it right where he had originally found it, just like the letter told him to. Boris turned back to the fire and stared unseeingly as the papers turned to ash.
Boris' eyes trimmed back over to his glass coffee table, where three files laid next to the envelope. He walked over toward them and picked the papers up. Then, he walked down the hallway to retrieve his keys and headed out the door. He sat the files down in the passenger seat and reached into the pocket located on the inside of his jacket. He carefully took out an old, but still glossy picture- the one had had taken from Marshal Bryant's room. Very carefully, it was tucked away into the top case file and he bent over the passenger seat and reached under the seat. He felt around for a thick book and pulled it out, placing it on top of the files. The old black book was the photo album that he had also taken from Marshal. He sighed as he stared at the papers, all of them reminders of the past- of how close he used to be to the Bryant family. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, bitter memories of the past sneaking up on him...
About 17 years ago...
"You know what you have to do,Marshal." Boris started as he sat down opposite of his once good friend.
"What is this, an intervention?" he spat back.
"You could say that, yes." Boris glared. "You're going to be a father soon- in a matter of weeks! You owe your future son at least that. You may think that the occasional night getting stoned and drunk is normal, but it's not. And when you have a kid on top of that, it's not only stupid- it's reckless. What if you accidentally hurt him? What if he found out about the drugs and booze?"
"First off, he wouldn't. And I'm not a damn junkie, Boris! How many times do I have to tell you that?" Marshal hissed.
"As many times as it takes to make it true." Boris shot back. "You have to stop- now."
"I don't have a problem, and I don't appreciate you barging into my house and accusing me of being a drug addict."
"I'm not accusing you- you ARE an addict! You need help, and I'm here to do just that. Please, Marshal, just hear me out." He took the silence as a sign to carry on. "You're going to be a father soon, and you're not ready for that responsibility. The occasional pill here and there needs to stop; you can't raise a kid when you're high-or drunk for that matter! You need to get this-this 'habit' of yours under control and stop it before it's too late. I cannot in good conscious let a man I know personally go about using drugs and drinking when he has a baby on the way."
"Well, that's too damn bad, because you're not going to stop me." Before Boris had the chance to protest, Marshal stalked out of the room. Boris jumped out of his seat and followed the fuming man.
"Where the hell are you going?" Boris demanded.
"Escorting you out." Marshal glared. "You've overstayed your welcome. I'll talk to you later- just not about this." Before Boris knew what had happened, he was standing on Marshal's front porch, the door being slammed behind him. With a final huff of frustration, he left...
Boris covered his face in his hands as he remembered the night of Tucker's birth.
Marshal Bryant watched as his wife held their small baby boy in her arms, smiling all the while. Tucker, they had decided to name him-breaking the 'Marshal David Bryant sequence. He was absolutely handsome, but they were both sure all parents thought that way about their children.
Suddenly, Mary screamed out loud, Tucker being thrown to the side. He caught the baby before he could roll even more, even if he didn't have any risk of falling of the bed. He put his hands on Mary's arm, a concerned look on his face. "Mary, what's wrong?" he asked quickly-panicked.
"It...It...HURTS!" she yelped.
"Honey, what hurts? What's wrong?" When the only response he received was another scream, he beckoned for a nurse. Marshal and his son were escorted out of the room as the doctor was called in, followed shortly by a few more nurses.
The sound of the monitor beeping increasing startled Marshal. He held tucker closer to him as he stared inside at Mary. He knew somehow that she wasn't going to make it, and it scared him that he was right. He watched as the monitor was turned off, the doctor shaking his head, and he felt a nurse take Tucker from his arms.
"I'm sorry Marshal; she didn't make it." a nurse said, pushing back tears of her own.
"W-what? Do you...do you know what of?"
"She was hypertension-had high blood pressure, that is. And the strain of giving birth was just too much. I've seen this happen too many times before. I'm sorry, there's just nothing we can do in cases like this."
"I-I understand." Marshal sighed, tears running down his eyes. "Are you going to test Tucker?"
"Yes, we just want to make sure he's okay." Marshal nodded as he watched the sympathetic nurse take off with his son, leaving Marshal feeling more alone than he thought possible. Finally, not being able to take the silence anymore, he whipped out his cell phone...
Boris sat down next to Marshal, wearing a frown similar to Marshal's. He put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder, not bothering telling him that it would be all right. He had just lost his wife, and now there might be something medically wrong with his son.
Marshal felt a little better with Boris sitting next to him. He felt less alone, but he still couldn't fight the sadness that engulfed him.
"Mr. Bryant?" the same nurse from before called. Boris and Marshal stood, both men a little shaken.
"Is...is Tucker okay?" Marshal asked.
"I'm sorry, but it seems your son has a disease called hemophilia..."
After the nurse explained the precautions they had to take with Tucker and what exactly the disease was, the nurse left Boris and Marshal to their own devices.
Marshal handed Tucker to Boris, the latter of which now had a confused look on their face.
"I'm going to, uh, blow off some steam. Could you...could you take care of Tucker tonight?"
"Don't do anything...more stupid...than usual." Boris warned, his words stone-cold. Marshal just nodded, already taking off to his car...
Later That Night
Marshal quickly took the pills he had kept hidden from his wife and mixed them with at least 6 bottles of beer chasing them. He screamed loudly and harshly, throwing the beer bottle across the room and splattering its contents against his white walls. He knocked over the glass coffee table in the living room, threw photo frames against the wall, toppled over furniture and practically everything else that got in his way. He screamed so hard that he started crying, making him feel depressed rather than angry. He finally fell to the floor, his energy completely gone, and he collapsed on the floor.
He had officially hit rock-bottom...
Boris watched over Tucker as he slept, terrified that the baby would somehow hurt himself and start bleeding. He was glad that Marshal had at least let him take Tucker for the night, knowing how Marshal 'blew off steam'.
Suddenly, the baby started crying, and Boris rushed over to him. He picked up Tucker, who immediately stopped crying. His big brown eyes looked sad, as if he knew why he was in the situation that he was. Boris frowned; he hated seeing the boy look so sad and not being even a day old. He could only imagine how sad Tucker would be when he grew up and actually comprehended what was really going on...
Present Day
Boris opened his eyes, shaking his head. He had made it his personal responsibility to take care of Tucker- to make sure that Marshal didn't hurt his son. So far, he had been lucky, and when Hank moved to the Hamptons, he knew that he had gotten extremely lucky.
Boris pushed his thoughts away and pushed his key into its rightful place. Once the car started, he pressed on the gas and headed in the direction of his 'private park'- a small strip of ocean side land he had bought for when he wanted to get away. He sighed as he finally reached the 'high way', readying himself for what he would soon find out about 'Mary Jules'...
Hank Lawson placed the medical tools back to where he had found the letter, just as he had been instructed to. He sighed; he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Did he wait to be contacted ? Did he leave so they could get the box? He decided to leave the guest house, but not Boris' mansion.
Hank changed into a pair of shorts and a plain white t-shirt and headed off for a jog.
Little did he know that he was doing exactly what the author of the letter wanted him to...
Boris' eyes scanned through the pages of the files he had taken from the police headquarters, shaking his head as he ingested the information. Mary Jules didn't have a criminal record, something he had thought was odd. He didn't expect her to, but he didn't expect the police to three files on her. What could they be about if they weren't criminal records? After reading the bio pages, he quickly realized why they have so much information on her. As his mind processed the shocking new information about Mary Jules, his phone started ringing. He sighed, not wanting to stop his 'research'.
"Hello?" Boris greeted.
"Hey Boris." a female voice started. "I called your house phone, but Dieter said that no one was home."
"What is it, Ms. Casey?"
"I was trying to contact Hank, but I haven't been able to get a hold of him. Is he with you?" she asked.
"No, he isn't with me right now. I think he was called for a few hours ago by a very private family." Boris lied, realizing that Hank was still trying to avoid the young woman.
There was silence on the line, and Boris suddenly realized that the woman's breathing had quickened steadily throughout the conversation. He could hear her sharp pants through the wireless connection that they shared.
'Are you alright, Ms. Casey?' he pressed, starting to get worried now. Surely the administrator hadn't been drawn into this nightmare. At this rate, the entire north shore of the Hampton's would be involved.
'Sir..?' she began and he could hear the break in her voice.
The German financier sat up straight and clenched his hands around the steering wheel.
'Tell me!' he commanded her sharply. 'What happened?'
There was yelling in the background where she was. From the sounds of it, one of her patients was in trouble from the whir of the machines and the faint shouts of medical practitioners.
'It's Evan!' she shouted out over the noise. 'Someone found him in the middle of a deserted highway. Hank needs to come to the hospital. Tell him to hurry.'