Author's Note: Hi peeps. Sorry this chapter might seem a little short - I was originally going to post it as a chapter in which both Hank and Evan's POVs were present, but then I remembered that some people don't like that kind of perspective shift in the same chapter; besides, I thought it might get a little confusing if I did it that way, as well. BUT (and it's a big but - heehee), this means that tomorrow you will have another chapter, featuring our favorite CFO's POV.

Thanks for bearing with me!

Hank

I have literally been everywhere. After scrambling around the hospital, trying to see if Eddie was hiding out somewhere in there, I rush to my car and drive to his beachfront condo. God, I hope he's here. If not, I guess I'll call Mrs. Newberg next and see if she's seen him, and I might have to just drive around his local haunts. As a last ditch resort, I may have to go to his hotel suite in the city…

But I don't need to. His car is here. As I begin to climb the stairs to the condo, I glance out to the beach, and I see him down there. He's standing like a statue, hands in his pockets, facing the water. I turn and run back down the stairs, hurrying to catch him on the shore. I guess I might not need to run quite so fast – Eddie doesn't appear to be moving anywhere. I slow up as I near him. He doesn't turn, but I know he knows I'm there.

"What the hell, Dad?" I huff in irritation. "I turn my back for five minutes and you just bolt without a word? Do you have any idea what I was thinking?"

"That I was leaving," he answers dully, eyes still aimed at the horizon, squinting at the bright sun's reflection.

"You can see why I'd jump to that conclusion. Are you? Leaving, I mean?" He knows what I mean. He doesn't answer me… doesn't look at me. He isn't even looking out at the water anymore; instead he casts his eyes down to the sand, shuttering them from me so that I can't read what lies behind them. "Are you?" I repeat.

His lack of response tells me all I need to know. Even though he's standing here in front of me, deep down, I'm pretty sure he's already gone. And I think of my little brother lying in the hospital, aching from surgery, thinking about the reality of his illness, and wondering where his brother and his father are, and probably suspecting that his brother is trying to prevent his father from fleeing. And that overactive imagination of his might get cranked up… the last time Dad left, our mother wound up dying. He might start to wonder if Dad leaves this time, if it means that, despite all the positivity, this disease will still kill him. If Evan starts thinking that way now, he'll give up. I cannot allow that to happen; I can't let this jerk crush my brother yet again. Not now. It's too much, and I explode at the man in front of me.

"This is unbelievable! You… you bastard! You cowardly, selfish bastard!" I spit venomously. "You swoop in here professing remorse and atoning for your past, and it's all a… a frikkin'… sham! It's easy to play happy family when things are fine and you're basking in all of our success. But the minute a crisis comes and we actually NEED you, need you to step up and be a father – be a man! – you bail on us. AGAIN. You haven't changed at all – I knew it! But I still wanted it to be true, for Evan's sake." I feel no sense of triumph in learning that my initial perception of my father was correct. It's the most worthless, hollow victory I've ever had. I knew it would happen: I saw Evan welcoming him, accepting him, forgiving him, and I warned my brother he was in for a fall. But why did it have to be now, on top of everything else? I'm pacing in my anger, wishing I had something I could throw and hoping I don't give myself an aneurysm. Dad remains rooted to the ground, accepting every harsh word I hurl at him. He makes no effort to defend himself or offer any sort of explanation, so I continue to rail.

"How could you do this to him? How dare you do this to him now! What kind of father are you? Evan is sick, Eddie. That's the fact we're facing now: he has cancer. He came very close to dying this week. But he didn't die, and he won't. The whole thing is terrifying, I can admit that, but his prognosis is excellent. Not like with Mom – her case was much more advanced and more difficult to treat, even from the start. Evan is going to be fine. But regardless of the prognosis, he needs his family around him. For better or for worse, that includes you. So get it together and get your ass back down to the hospital to support him! I know it's thanks to you that Evan survived yesterday, and I will always be grateful that you were in the right place at the right time. But if you leave – look at me, Eddie, because I am dead serious," I say, getting into his face, pausing until he manages to raise his eyes to meet mine. My voice lowers to a threatening growl. "If you leave now, you may as well keep walking, because you will never be welcome in our lives again." He flinches a bit, but still doesn't respond.

I let that sink in before I go on. "There will be no contact ever again from either of us. We got along fine without you before, we can do it again. And we will. Evan will survive this and live a long, full, happy life. I will forget you as easily as flicking off a light switch. And you will live out the rest of your miserable life and finally die alone – because you didn't care enough about your family to be there when it really mattered, no one will be there for you."

Eddie remains silent. There is no sense of defiance or denial, merely defeat. He is fully aware of his own cowardice, I can tell. I suppose he simply does not know if he can handle watching his youngest son fight the same disease that took his wife. He hadn't been able to endure that either. I feel like reiterating that Evan will survive his battle is useless in this situation. He seems to be refusing to engage me at all. I can't believe I just wasted my breath. There is no way to talk to this… person… I don't even know who this man is. Not really. And I don't want to.

"I'm done with this. I'm going back to the hospital to be with my little brother. That's where I belong, and it's where I want to be. I'm not going to force you to be there. It's your decision whether you're going to come or not – I'm through trying to explain to you what family means. If you don't know by now, you never will. Come or don't come, but I hope you're prepared to live with your choice for the rest of your life." And you can rot in hell, I add to myself as I turn, ready to stomp away in disgust, bile rising up in my throat as I wonder what I'm going to tell Evan, how on earth I am going to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart and put him back together so that he can turn around and fight cancer. I only manage to get a few feet away before I hear a harsh, choked statement that makes me halt in my tracks.

"Is it my fault?"

I spin back around. Did he seriously just ask that, or am I hearing things? I'm not totally sure what he's referring to either. "It's your own fault you're leaving, yeah," I grumble. "That's your choice."

"No… is it my fault Evan is sick?"

"Huh?" I start inching a bit closer again. "Dad, this is cancer – you don't catch it like a cold or chicken pox. No one gave this to Evan, and you won't catch it from being around him. You know better than that."

"That's not… not what I mean…"

"Then what do you mean? You're not making any sense." I find myself growing both impatient and confused.

"I've done some bad things in my life, kiddo. Things I'm not proud of. I know you remember when I lost our savings, when you and Evan were kids. Almost right after that, your mother got sick. Now I finally get to be with my boys again after all these years, and of course the first thing I do is screw up and lose your HankMed money with some bad investing. That's why I had to come here, Hank. I had to make sure I got all of that money back to you before one of you paid the price." He swallows heavily. "I thought I had managed to do that… but I still couldn't prevent this. I cause bad things to happen to people I love."

"Wait, wait… you think this is some sort of… what, karmic revenge?" I look at him incredulously.

"What else can I think? Evan is sick… EVAN, the one who trusted me with the money to start with. Evan forgave me for my mistakes, the same way your mother forgave me for our financial fiasco years ago. But now he's sick just like… just like she was." He looks at me with these eyes that are so pained, so guilty. It hits me that he's not simply making excuses – I think he actually believes both Evan's and Mom's cancers are his punishments.

"Dad, that's… stupid!" I blurt. "First of all, cancer doesn't just appear overnight. It was probably developing before we ever even thought about coming to the Hamptons, which means it was already present before you got here, before you took our money. It has nothing to do with you. Secondly, I never thought this would even need saying, but cancer is also not a mob boss – it has no concept of vengeance." I sigh. "You didn't cause this, Dad. I know – it would be so much easier if there was someone we could blame, someone who was actually responsible for Evan being sick. If there was someone I could pin this on, believe me, I would love to. It would mean there was a reason. But it's no one's fault. Not Evan's, not mine, and not yours."

"I thought… if I was the reason, then maybe if I left… you said it was treatable, so maybe I could still…"

"Dad, listen to me. This is irrational. You have to see that. Your leaving will not magically cure him, just like your presence did not make him sick. Whether you stay or leave, Evan still has to fight this, he'll still go through treatment. And he will still be ok. The question is whether or not you will be there at his side while he fights."

"I… want to be," he swallows, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. "I just… I don't know how. I don't know what to do. My… my son… my boy is sick…" Eddie looks up at me, his eyes raw, and I suddenly realize that this is the most honest he's ever been to me. There's no bravado, no smooth veneer, nothing. Nothing but fear and desperation. For the first time, I actually see my father… a mere weak human being, with all his many faults in bold relief. Is this why he left us before – irrational panic and guilt, believing that Mom's illness was a punishment for his financial carelessness? I always assumed it was selfish fear, an aversion to suffering. Maybe it was, but on some level did he truly think that removing himself from our lives would spare us further pain? I realize that I don't understand him at all – he's not what I thought he was. But I have no idea what he actually is. All I know is that he feels as powerless as I do, as much at a loss as I am. And I can't deny that he loves Evan as much as I do. He wouldn't be so overwrought if he didn't.

He sniffs, and I see he's still trembling. "Hank, I don't know what I can give to him. If I can't do it… if I fail him…"

"Dad, the only thing you would need to do is be there," I say seriously. "Just be there. That's all we need from you right now. It would be more than enough." Eddie presses his lips together tightly and bows his head. "Is that something you can do?" I ask, ignoring the head-shaking he's doing, because he's neither shaking affirmatively nor negatively. It's a headshake of frustration, of uncertainty. But if he really wants to stay, then I need to know it. I repeat, "Can you?" with more insistence. "It's a yes or no question, Dad, and you need to answer it."

After an interminable pause, my father looks up at me with unbridled sadness in his eyes, and I know his answer before he can even find his voice.

To be continued...