A/N: Going off track with this story, but it was stuck in my head and I had to get it out. I'll get back to A& C soon. I hope you enjoy.
I do not own the characters. They belong to E.L. James.
~~~~xxxx~~~~
I Understand Now.
Teddy's POV:
"Ted, while you're home for the week, I expect you to take some time and help your Grandmother with her Coping Together Gala. She won't ask for the help, but she needs it. Your sister has already volunteered to help." Dad's already ruling my life and I've barely walked through the door.
"Look, Dad. I don't get back to Seattle very often anymore. I have plans with my friend's everyday this week. Can't we just make a large donation?" I have no interest in party planning.
"You are missing the point, son. I don't give a fuck about your friends. This charity is very important to your Grandmother. She needs help. You will help her because it's the right thing to do." As usual, he's telling me what to do.
"I'm so sick of this. You can't keep telling me what I can and can't do. My whole life I feel like I've been pinned under your thumb. Stop holding me back Dad. You can't control me anymore" It feels good to finally let out my frustrations.
"I'm not trying to control you Ted. I'm telling you that your Grandmother needs help and you should want to help her. Your friends are more important?" So now he tries to guilt me?
"I didn't say that. It's more than just this Coping Together Gala. My whole life you have tried to control me. Control what I ate, when I ate, where I went, who I saw, what I did, what I studied. I missed out on so many normal kid things because of your ridiculous fears for my safety."
"My fears for your safety are always warranted. I never want any harm to you, your sister or you Mother. You know that. And it's not a secret that I have food issues. I want you safe and I want healthy. What's wrong with that? Isn't that what any good parent would want for their child?"
"It's suffocating being your son" There I've said it!
"Son, I have always only wanted the very best for you." He looks…wounded?
"Then you have to loosen the reins Dad."
"Not at the expense of your health and welfare. I will not compromise that, no matter how much you protest."
"This is going no where, as usual. Grandmother doesn't need me. She's done this for years without my help. Christ Dad" As usual, we argue in circles.
"Theodore, you are taking your sister to Bellevue. And you will help your Grandmother with her Charity event. I don't want to hear anymore about this subject."
"Of course you don't, Dad. You never want to hear anything unless it's in agreement with you."
I storm out.
My Dad can be such a fucking control freak prick. I can't remember a time where he wasn't on top of me about where I was going or who I was with. And the damn security detail is constantly shadowing me. I'm so sick of it.
Even when I was a little kid, he was so over protective. I should have lived in a bubble…maybe he should have bubble wrapped me. Christ, and the eating issue he has. What the fuck is that all about? If you didn't clean your plate, you'd get a lecture on starving people. I don't know how Mom has put up with it all these years. He even complains to her if she doesn't clean her plate. My mother is a saint.
~~~~~xxxx~~~~~
I love my Grandmother. She's probably the nicest person I know...well, Grandmother and my Mom. I am lucky to have such great women in my life. Then there's Phoebe. She's ok for a little sister, but she can be a royal pain at times.
Phoebe and I are at my Grandmother's house to help with her Charity gala. I didn't realize how much there is to do. Guest lists, caterers, rentals, parking, security, lighting, so many details. My Grandmother is the best. She has it all together.
"Teddy darling, could you give me the head count on the guest list to date".
"Of course, Grandmother"
As I'm going through the spreadsheet of guests listed, I hear Phoebe and my Grandmother chatting.
"Grandma, what made you decide to start this charity in the first place?"
My Grandmother gets a pained look on her face. I don't know if Phoebe noticed it, but I certainly did.
"Well darling, it was many years ago, I was working at the hospital, in the pediatric emergency ward and I treated a little boy who was terribly abused."
"Did you come across a lot of abused children?"
"Unfortunately yes, darling" Grandmother says sadly. "But this one boy was very special to me and I wanted to do anything I could to prevent other children from living the nightmare that darling boy endured."
"What was so special about this boy?" Phoebe asked.
"He was so frightened, severely malnourished and horribly abused. His eyes so sad."
"Abused like screamed at all the time, abused?"
"Yes darling, that and starved and physically abused. It's unthinkable what the poor boy was put through. Those are scars you never lose. He saw things no child should see. It's not something you can ever forget".
"How old was he?"
"Four"
I see tears well up in her eyes. She tries to hide it. That must have been some terrible memory to be so vivid to this day.
"Did you get him help?"
"Yes darling. He was adopted into a family that loved him. And that experience made your Grandfather and I realize that we wanted to help others in the same situation."
"Well I'm glad it worked out."
I cock my head. Hmmmm….
~~~xxxx~~~
I'm sitting at the dock in the yard. Mom always comes here to think too. Dad used to give me a tiny fishing pole and we'd sit here for hours talking about fishing when I was a kid. I don't think we ever caught anything here but it was a good place to shoot the breeze with Dad.
Hmm…Grandmother is so committed to that charity of hers. I always wondered why she doesn't pass on the responsibility. She's getting older, but she's so determined to see it through every year.
I think back to our conversation at her house.
"Those are scars you never lose" she said. Was she talking about her or the boy? I wonder why this boy was so special. I know working in a hospital, she probably saw many abused children. Why would this four year old starved and beaten boy move her so much to create a charity?
Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Holy shit.
The scars, the four year old boy, the fears for their safety, the controlling nature, the food issues, trust issues, feeding the world. I understand now. Fuck.
~~~~~xxxxx~~~~
I knock on the door to Dad's study and open it slowly.
Dad looks up at me.
"If you're here for another argument Ted, I'm not interested in hearing it" He says sternly.
"Can I sit, Dad?" I ask quietly.
He extends his hand over toward the chair in front of his desk. He looks at me, like he's getting he's ready for round two.
I sit quietly; I look down and start twisting my fingers. I feel so ashamed.
It's all so clear now. Fuck.
I look up at him. We sit quietly, staring at each other. Finally, I break the uncomfortable silence.
"The boy who Grandmother helped at the hospital…the one who was starved and beaten all those years ago… the one who inspired Coping Together… That was you, wasn't it?"
There's a long stretch of silence that seems to go on for an eternity. Dad stares at me for a long while. He finally responds.
"Yes"
The wind is knocked out of me. I get choked up as the tears well up in my eyes.
"I love you Dad"
"I love you too, Son"