Part 6- Halloween
The first two weeks that followed his father's release from prison both flew and dragged for Will. They flew with excitement and busyness. Work was full of the usual patients as well as the seasonal panic over flu shots and more teaching responsibilities (the hospital was suddenly crawling with students and interns) than he'd ever had before. And for the first time in his adult life, Will had someone waiting for him at home and depending on him, too.
Perhaps it wasn't fair that he saw Lucas as depending on him; Lucas was more than capable of taking care of himself. Will doubted that he himself could have lasted thirteen days in prison, let alone thirteen years. But while Lucas was obviously in good health—talking and joking, cooking and lifting weights, politely interacting with anyone who visited, going in and out of their house—there was something empty and vacant in his eyes. That emptiness frightened Will, and he didn't know how to fix it. He couldn't give back the lifetime his foolish, flighty mother had cost his father.
That was why the days dragged even as they passed quickly.
Luckily, Halloween fell on one of those cool, crisp, clear autumn days that made almost everyone feel a little bit better about the state of the world. Will hoped that the holiday would lift some of the proverbial weight off of his father's shoulders. Or was that too much to wish for, when a hero's welcome from an adoring family hadn't made Lucas truly happy even for a moment? Good weather and a party weren't likely to alter the state of mind of a man who had spent thirteen years in hell.
Reflexively, Will checked his email as he got ready to leave for the Horton Center. There was a message from Theo; he and Jett had toured Italy, Austria, and France, and had been crossing the English Channel as Theo wrote. Will quickly forwarded Abby's contact information, as well as Aunt Jennifer's and Uncle Jack's, just in case Theo found himself in trouble in London.
Will made a face.
He despised London and all it represented—except for Jack and Jennifer and Abby and JJ and Billie, of course.
He was still scowling when he found Lucas filling an enormous bowl with enough candy to feed a small army.
Lucas glanced up from his task with concern. "What's the matter, Buddy?"
Will was sorely tempted to explain exactly what had happened the last time he'd visited Sami, but what came out of his mouth, quite unexpectedly, almost pleadingly, was "Do you remember the year Mom chased the other parents with a knife at my class Halloween party?"
"How could I forget? There were food fights in prison that weren't as violent as that one. I guess it must've scarred you for life."
"Not really," Will admitted. "I thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone back then. But now it's almost… well, it's funny. I tell that story to my patients all the time, and they mostly don't believe me. And I accuse them of belittling the happiest memory of my childhood, and they still don't believe me." He stole a peanut butter cup from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
"The happiest memory of your childhood? I don't know if I believe that one."
"Maybe not the happiest. But it was a really happy time, that whole year."
"Except for the demented murderer who turned out to be your brainwashed grandmother killing half of our family who turned out not to be dead."
"Except for that. Dad, you know what I mean. That was when it was you and me and Mom and we all loved each other, even if you and Mom couldn't admit how much you cared. I wanted the two of you to be together so much, and I was sure it would happen sooner or later. I thought that if we all tried hard enough, we'd make everything work. If we could all be on the same side in a food fight even if my parents were mad at each other and I was dying of embarrassment, that was just a sign of better things to come. Silly, huh?"
"Not silly. I'm sorry we never made it work."
"Well, it wasn't your fault."
"It wasn't anyone's fault."
Will thought otherwise, but he didn't bother saying so aloud. His father would defend his mother; he always did. Will wondered how his father could harbor so little anger when he had lost so much.
"It wasn't, Will," Lucas repeated in the face of Will's unspoken demurral. "Blame the damn DiMera family, and Elvis, if you have to blame someone. Don't blame your mother. She and I had our problems and unfortunately we put you in the middle of it, but it's not fair to say she somehow brought this down on us. She wanted to protect us and I wanted to protect us and we both messed up."
Will shrugged, still not wanting to have this conversation. "Remember that devil costume I had when I was a kid? One of Max and Morgan's kids is wearing it to the party tonight."
Lucas accepted the abrupt change of subject without comment. "I always liked that. I had a devil costume once, too…"
The conversation remained inconsequential until they arrived at the Horton Center.
Claire and Ciara were small but determined sentinels posted on either side of the front door. Their own masks were little more than glittery circles around their eyes and did nothing to disguise their identities. That was part of what made them so effective. Claire, like her mother had been at the same age, was the closest thing Salem had to royalty. Everyone knew her; she was confident in their adoration and comfortable in any sort of company. She greeted each arrival with a brilliant smile.
A "put on your mask, please, and we have some here if you've forgotten it," from Claire earned delighted, instant compliance from all; from almost anyone else, it would have earned periodic scoffs or sneers. And Ciara, a jittery package of energy, made certain that no one slipped past without notice.
Will's vaguely lizard-like mask covered most of his face; Lucas had chosen a rubber monster mask that covered his head entirely. Nonetheless, Claire and Ciara knew them at once, accepted their checks made out to the Horton Foundation, and waved them inside.
The party was in full swing. The sounds of music and dancing drifted up from the basement, while dozens of masked conversations took place on the slightly calmer first floor. Games for the youngest attendees seemed to be taking place in the kitchen.
Will was instantly dragged in one direction and Lucas allowed himself to be pushed in another. Without Will beside him, Lucas was almost anonymous, never mind that he was related to at least half of the partygoers by proxy if not by blood.
Anonymity was no burden. When Lucas had first come to Salem as a young man, he'd liked nothing better than creative eavesdropping. He was much older and at least slightly wiser now, but the thrill he felt when he learned something he wasn't meant to know had never quite disappeared.
In the next fifteen minutes, he learned that Kate was far from the only person in Salem who was certain that Chelsea was pregnant and lying about it; he learned that half of the boys at Salem High School had asked Claire out and that the other half were too much in awe to do so; he learned that a torrid affair had recently taken place between the mayor and his sister-in-law; and he learned that University Hospital was rumored to have hidden a dozen poisonous snakes in an office at great risk to patient safety.
He, too, was a popular topic of discussion.
"Of course Lucas Horton is one of these Hortons!"
"No, he never even denied he shot the guy. Did thirteen years and just got out."
"He's probably here somewhere tonight. Everyone's wearing masks."
Lucas considered ripping off his mask and yelling "boo!" when he heard this last, but he decided against it. The party was, after all, a fundraiser, and he doubted that an appearance by the ex-convict black sheep of the Horton family would do much to fill the Horton Foundation's coffers. This realization temporarily soured him on the idea of further eavesdropping on strangers. Instead, he slunk toward a pair of familiar figures.
"There." Belle was pointing at entrance to the basement dance floor.
"That's not him."
"Yes, it is."
Lucas followed their gaze to a small, lanky figure slumped sullenly near the door.
Philip sighed. "You're right, that's him. He's not even trying to enjoy himself. Maybe you should have let him stay home."
Belle shook her head vehemently. "He told me that this is 'Claire and Ciara's thing,' not his. This is his family, too. I'm not going to let him get into the habit of thinking it isn't."
"What's Shawn say?"
"Stakeout."
"Still?"
"Still."
"Probably the DiMeras," Philip growled so softly that Lucas could barely make out his words. "There was a problem on the docks last week, too."
"You don't really think that was the DiMera family making a move, do you? It could have been a misunderstanding."
"Or it could have been them making a statement because they know I finally got my brother out of prison after they kept him there for thirteen years. I've proved to them who's in charge of those docks and I'll do it again. They'll know that I'm as strong a man as my father and that they can't push my family around."
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you," said Belle with a hint of anger in her voice. "I think what you meant to say is that you want to run your business without problems for its own sake, and that you wanted your brother out of prison for his own sake, not that this is all about proving to the DiMeras and anyone else you come across that you can one-up them."
"That's what I said," agreed Philip.
Just then, Claire came streaking by. She pulled up abruptly when she noticed Philip and Belle and gave each a kiss on the cheek, then bounced over a table, twisting a bit in the air as she did.
"Has she brought the diving meet schedule home yet?" Philip asked as Claire landed lightly on her feet.
"I'll make sure you get it when she does. There's no way Shawn and I are going to be the only ones sitting there wondering if this is going to be the day she breaks her neck every time she jumps."
Before Belle could respond, Claire was back, dragging a reluctant Tyler by the hand. She gave Philip and Belle another wave as she pulled Tyler toward the front door, where Ciara was still bouncily greeting the newcomers and attempting to dissuade those who would leave.
"How's he supposed to not feel overshadowed, always being compared to hurricane Claire and Ciara?" Belle murmured. "You're right, I should have let him stay home. I remember, growing up, sometimes I just didn't want to be associated with Carrie or Eric or Brady… or Sami… all the time."
"No, you were right. He has to learn…"
Precisely what Philip felt Tyler had to learn, Lucas didn't hear. Surreptitiously listening in on Philip and Belle's problems of career and family—the exact problems he and Sami had once hoped to have—left him feeling more disconnected from the world around him than ever.
Like Tyler, he didn't quite fit.
He removed his mask and waited for someone to drag him away the way Claire had done with her brother.
He did not let himself look too long at the obviously alcoholic beverages being consumed in the corner.
TBC