AN: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from episode 2.2 "Lovesick" and 2.3 "Keeping the Faith". It's mostly Hank's dialogue but there's a little bit of Eddie's as well. Just so, you know, you're forewarned that I'm not infringing on the writers' work or anything. ;-)
oOo
When the sun rose over The Hamptons on Tuesday, no one knew about it. Sometime during the night clouds had rolled in, bringing with them a storm whose thunder rattled the doors, whose rain splattered against the windows, and whose wind howled mournfully through cracks and crevices. It's a perfect match for my mood, he thought as he stood before the first floor balcony in his bedroom and watched the storm rage. Like the thunder, his anger raged against the doors of resolve, threatening to let doubt break through; like the rain, tears wanted to poor down, the hurt that had been welling up inside for years needing to be released before a dam broke; and like the wind that snuck in where it wasn't wanted, rationality whispered into his ear to convince him of things that he didn't want to admit were true.
After his talk with Jill last night, Hank had tried to sleep. But sleep was not to be had and he was left to toss and turn, catching what little he could and becoming aware of the rain and wind before many in The Hamptons were. Now, as he stood leaning on the crutches, he debated going back to sleep as there wasn't much to be done today. No doubt if there were medical emergencies to be had, he wouldn't be taking part in them which left him attempting to figure out what to do with his dreary day. So far, he'd come up with nothing and sleep was beginning to appeal to him more and more.
Then Hank heard a knock on the door. With a sigh, he slowly made his way over and opened it, unsurprised to find Dieter standing there. He looked as dignified and as stoic as ever, which was to be expected as Hank suspected that little got to the man. "Your presence is requested in the formal dining room," he said before leaving as swiftly as he'd come. Hank closed the door while trying to remember where that room was located then got dressed as quickly as he could.
It took him nearly twenty minutes to get ready and then another five to get to the dining room, leaving to arrive a little after nine o'clock. He hadn't realized how late in the morning it had gotten while he'd watched the weather outside his bedroom until he'd happened to look at a clock while getting dressed. Divya had called, checking up on him and reminding him that he needed to talk with his father. He'd then called and left a message on his father's voicemail saying that they needed to talk but that today wasn't a good day for it due to the wind and rain. After that, he'd gotten dressed, put his phone into his pants pocket, and begun to head to, what he assumed was, breakfast with Boris.
Imagine his surprise when he not only found Boris but Eddie R. there as well. Boris looked impeccable in a dark, almost gun-metal suit and white shirt but Eddie looked half drowned, though he'd been given a towel to dry off with and was sat nearer to the fireplace which adorned half of the wall to Hank's right. If he hadn't been so shocked, Hank would have smiled at the uncomfortable look on Eddie's face and the patiently bored one on Boris'.
"Dad," he said, the word coming out on a knee-jerk reaction. "What are you doing here?"
Boris stood up and closed his suit, straightening it with the same move. "I will leave you two," he announced. He looked between the two Lawson's and said, "I will be around in case I am needed."
Hank wanted to ask what Boris would be needed for but he didn't since a part of him didn't actually want his friend to leave. Knowing that Boris would be on property and close was enough for Hank as he did want to talk to the man after this was done. One thing he had been able to decide while he had been busy not sleeping was that it was time for Hank to tell Boris what he's been thinking and feeling this past week.
With his eyes focused solely on his dad, Hank barely saw Boris leave. He heard it more than saw it, actually, but even if he hadn't, he would have known by the way that Eddie relaxed once he was gone. The smile that then spread onto Eddie's face almost sickened Hank; he kept a straight face but only barely. "What are you doing here, Dad?" he asked, this time hoping for an actual answer.
"Well, you said that you wanted to talk and so I thought I'd come up," his father answered, making it sound oh so reasonable. Evidently not wanting to be on different ground than Hank, he stood up and got closer, almost uncomfortable so for Hank though he doubted that Eddie could tell. "So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"
At first, Hank wasn't sure where to start. Should he begin with lecturing his father for walking up in the storm when he'd implicitly said not to? Or should he slowly begin with how he felt, how he has been feeling ever since his father's arrival? Or should he just jump in even though it was going to be harsh? The options buzzed through his head so fast that Hank simply couldn't decide. A part of him knew that he should be somewhat gentle as Eddie R. was still his father, no matter how little he'd been in that role. But another part, the angrier part couldn't abide by that. It was time for some hard truths.
"What you did, to us, back then, was gutless and pitiful." He watched Eddie's demeanor change from anxious to saddened yet angry. It looked as though Hank had just slapped him in the face and he wasn't sure how to take it. Hank went on. "I guess the upside is that by age fifteen I knew exactly the type of man that I would never let myself become."
The last thing that Hank had expected from his father was to get hit. Yet, the sting in his left cheek and the fact that his gaze was now on the rather ornate fireplace told him that that was what had happened. Anger mixed with pain as he looked back to stare at his father. If that wasn't proof of his point, he didn't know what was. Another slap had him a little more off-kilter and Hank's balance actually faltered for a second. He instinctively shifted weight onto his right leg, groaning when pain throbbed through his knee. Still, it was enough of a break to allow him to get the crutches re-settled and re-balanced. Again he looked at his father, this time with tears of pain in his eyes. He refused to give in to them, though; he refused to let them fall for fear of them being misinterpreted.
"Now you listen to me," Eddie R. said with enough of a wobble to his voice to let Hank know that he'd finally hit a sore spot. Tears formed in his father's eyes and as much as Hank wanted to look away, he forced himself to witness it all. This was what his words had done. This was what he'd caused, and he wasn't going to run from it like his father would have. "I came here with my tail between my legs but "apology time" is over. Ever since I've arrived in The Hamptons, all I've gotten from you is anger and disrespect. And I took it because I knew that, to a point, I deserved it. Well that point is well and truly reached, Henry. I may not have been there for a part of your life but I am still your father and you do not get to tell me who I can or cannot talk to and you definitely do not get to sit there and throw mistakes from twenty years ago back in my face when all I've been trying to do since I came back into your life is try and make up for them."
A tear fell onto his father's cheek and once again, Hank forced himself to watch. The healer in him wanted to fix the damage he'd created but the part of him that was still an angry teenager said that he'd deserved it. Both were currently warring with one another, leaving Hank at a loss of what to truly feel or do.
"Now," Eddie continued, taking a mental and physical step back. "I realize that I can't force you into accepting me and I'm sure as hell done trying. But I will not lose another son, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back and spend time with your brother."
He left, skirting Hank with enough room to show that he didn't trust himself if he got too close. Hank opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but pride, anger, and pain stopped him so that all that came when he did it was tears.
oOo
Eddie R. scrambled out of the fancy dining room before he broke down in front of Hank; his pride had already suffered enough and he wasn't about to give his son the satisfaction of seeing just how deep his words had cut. His hand still stung from when he'd hit Hank and he indulged in it, letting the sting grow to a burn. In all his life he had never once hit any member of his family and the shame that burrowed into him when he thought of what he'd just done was enough to make him sick. He only hoped that Hank would and could forgive him, for that and for so much more.
The tears had just begun to fall when he'd reached the door and began to open it. He stopped immediately when a cultured voice called to him, "Mr. Lawson, would you please join me for a moment in my office?" As Eddie was under no illusions that the request was only a command in disguise, he lowered his hand, sighed, and followed Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz up to his third-floor office.
oOo
As he led Hank's father to the office, Boris attempted to conceal his fury. When he'd left the two alone in the dining hall, he hadn't gone far. At least, that was what he had thought when he'd heard the sound of flesh smacking against flesh echo down the hall. He had been giving orders to Josef about how to handle the elder Lawson, telling him to drive the man down the back drive to the guesthouse so that Hank wouldn't be made uneasy by his father's being forced to walk in the downpour again, when it had reached him and his head had immediately snapped towards where he'd left Hank alone with his father. Knowing that Hank wouldn't appreciate it, his hand had instantly shot out to stop Josef from interfering and had continued to discuss matters of security with him instead.
On his way up to his office, he'd discreetly peeked into the dining room and looked in on Hank. The red outline of a handprint had still been quite prevalent but as Edward Lawson had been lecturing him at the time and doing nothing more, Boris thought it best to wait before talking to him. His patience had been on thin ice with the man to begin with but by the time that he had actually left, Boris had felt like throwing him out in the weather and hoping that it would drown him. Since that wasn't an option, however, he'd invited him for a talk.
After giving Dieter instructions to make sure that his doctor had eaten, Boris closed the door behind him. Satisfaction warmed him when he saw the alarmed expression cross the elder Lawson's face as the click of the latch resounded throughout the spacious and open room. So the man was nervous about being alone with him, good. Sadly, brute force wasn't his forte and so he went with what he did best, quietly and discreetly threaten.
"I am not in the habit of constantly offering admittance to those who distress my guests," he began, walking over to join Edward in the sitting area. Rather than sitting down in one of the armchairs, he chose to sit on the arm of the one that Hank's father sat in. He knew that it was more intimidating and tended to favor it when he needed to employ it. "But if you ever raise a hand to your son again, admittance to my home will be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear?"
Boris had expected alarm, like most gave. Instead, Edward looked resigned. "If I ever did that again, I'd expect no less," he answered.
Perhaps there is a redeeming quality under the conman exterior, he thought as he sat back and studied the man before him. Conman though he may be, he didn't try and hide anything from Boris. Grief was written all over his face, making him look like a saddened hound dog rather than a human being. His green eyes, quite similar to Hank's, looked tired and dull, something that Boris had seen often in his doctor of late. Clearly, whatever had been going on between Hank and his father had left them both feeling emotionally drained and this latest encounter only helped to further that.
Movement drew Boris' notice from Edward's face to his hands. The left kept rubbing the right, as though to clean it of a stain that wouldn't come off. Knowing that that was likely the hand that had hit Hank, Boris felt a flash of anger before he swallowed it. If the elder Lawson hadn't looked like he was ready and willing to accept a beating for what he'd done, it would have been easier to stay angry with him. But as it was, Boris knew that no matter what he did to Edward, the man's conscience and guilt would make it seem like nothing.
Feeling satisfied on that front, Boris backed off. He went over to his desk to write a few emails before he went and saw Hank. "Josef will take you back to the guesthouse," he said, dismissing the father without further thought of him.
Edward didn't exactly scurry out but he certainly didn't drag his feet, either. Since Boris had half expected the man to attempt to ask him to give a message to Hank, he felt surprised when it didn't happen and pleased because of it. Edward had never been an idiot and for that Boris was grateful because if he had said anything, Boris would have been hard-pressed not to feed him to Josef who was more than willing to shoot the man on Boris' command.
When he was gone, Boris sat back in his chair. He hadn't opened his computer yet and, if truth be told, he probably wouldn't today. Although he knew that he should send some correspondence, he also knew that the Internet would be spotty at best due to the weather and that if there was anything that needed to be said, one more day wouldn't hurt it. The trouble was that, without work to occupy his mind Hank filled it and it made it hard for him to fight against his desire to go and check on his doctor.
The knock on his door stopped him from deciding anything. "Come," he said, watching and waiting for Dieter to enter.
"Edward Lawson has left and Doctor Lawson has returned to his room," he updated quite dispassionately.
"Please have Doctor Lawson meet me in the library," he said, doing his best to sound just as disinterested. He was fairly sure that his entire staff knew how he felt about Hank but he wasn't about to confirm it just in case deniability was needed. He waited for Dieter's slight bow and then exit from the room before he allowed his right hand to drift towards his head where a slight throb was taking root. He hadn't been sleeping well these past few days and it was beginning to take its toll. As he couldn't simply tell Hank to meet him somewhere and then not show, however, Boris got up and went to join him in the library. He wanted to make sure that Hank was alright but mostly, he wanted to see the man.
oOo
The library was a rather modest-looking room compared to what some of the other rooms looked like in the house. It was a decent size with numerous books housed in it but it was also cozy with it's own fireplace and sitting area. There were a couple of armchairs that looked as though they could swallow a person whole and it was to one of those chairs that Hank gravitated. Throughout the halls of the main house there was a draft that could be considered chilled at best and the idea of sitting near the fire, surrounded by fabric that would soak up and retain his body head was incredibly appealing to him. Ever since he'd attempted to put weight on it earlier, his knee had been a constant throb. He was more than happy to be able to relax, get off his feet and place them both on an ottoman which was just at the right height to be comfortable.
He hadn't been seated long when Boris entered. There was a tenseness to his face, an almost pinch to the corner of his eyes, that told Hank that something was off but he hadn't been able to define it until the German had gotten closer to the fire and had winced at its light. "Boris, are you feeling alright?" he asked, guessing that he knew the answer to that.
The smile that came to Boris' face was a poor impersonation of the one that Hank sometimes saw but it was there. "I am well, Hank," he said, sitting in the opposite chair and slowly leaning back. "A slight headache is all."
Figuring that Boris didn't want Hank mother-henning him, he kept his mouth shut and settled for a slight nod. He wanted to make sure that Boris was getting enough sleep but as he, himself, wasn't it seemed a bit hypocritical to attempt to lecture Boris about sleeping more when he couldn't do it.
When the silence continued, his mind wandered to his encounter with his father. His cheek still stung from the slap. It was slowly fading but until it did, it was a stark reminder of what had happened and why. He had stood in the dining room, silently crying, for about two minutes before Dieter had entered and had offered to bring in some breakfast. Hank had tried to appear as though everything were fine but he declined, asking the butler to let him know when Boris was available instead. After that, he had slowly made his way back to his room and had collapsed onto the couch. Sadly, he hadn't been allowed to remain there very long before Dieter had come with a message that Boris would like to see him in the library, but perhaps it was for the better as he did have things that he wanted to talk to Boris about.
"Hank," Boris called, trying to get his attention. Blinking, Hank realized with no little amount of embarrassment that he had begun to silently cry some more. He hastily wiped the tears away, thankful that they seemed to be on the side that Boris couldn't see and then looked over at his friend. Seeing concern for himself in Boris' expression, Hank almost lost whatever hold on his resolve that he had. "Are you alright?"
For a time, Hank didn't answer. He wanted to be able to brush all of it off, to tell Boris that he was fine, but some part of him found that he didn't want to lie to the man any more. He was too tired and hurting too much to attempt to shoulder it all alone right now. But how did he express what he was thinking and feeling when he wasn't even sure of it all himself?
When Hank continued to remain quiet Boris continued, "You seem...quite upset."
At that Hank let out a wry chuckle. Yes, upset was one way to describe it. But what he couldn't understand was why. Why was he more upset and shaken by this latest exchange with his father than he'd been to date? During the past twenty years he had had plenty of time to come up with what he wanted to say to Eddie R. whenever he finally did show up. It had changed and slowly evolved as the time had passed but the gist had been the same. Yet, when he'd seen the pain that it had caused and the anger it had produced, it hadn't felt anywhere near as gratifying. Was there, in spite of his best efforts and buried somewhere far under his anger, a part of him that still loved and cared about his father? An unequivocal yes was his own reply, leaving Hank to gather that it was a definite truth. But then, why wasn't he trying to reach out and reform a bond with him like Evan was?
"Yeah," he responded since he was sure that Boris wasn't there to simply sit in silence with him. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Is there," he trailed off, sounding as though he were rethinking what he had been about to say. Hank looked over at his friend, his attention drawn from within the confines of his own mind to where the nobleman sat. After another slight pause, Boris continued, "Is there anything that I can do to help?"
There hadn't been much to the question. In fact, for all intents and purposes it could have been seen as relatively innocent. However, Hank had known Boris long enough to know that it had cost his friend something to ask that. His reaching out, wishing to be able to do something for Hank, was just one small pebble in the mountain slide of actions that Boris could have taken to show Hank that he cared. And while it wasn't much, it was enough to help reassure Hank that his feelings just might be returned. Now the question was - how did he bring it up?
"I appreciate the offer, Boris," he said, his attention still on the other man. "But there's something else that I wanted to talk to you about." Boris' eyebrows rose but remained silent, waiting for Hank to continue. "During this past week, I have done a lot of thinking." Wariness entered Boris' blue eyes but Hank ignored it. "I'm not sure if I can ever accept the way that you fire or hire your employees, but I would like to spend more time with you."
When Boris remained silent, Hank wondered if he could have been a bit clearer. The trouble was that, without further proof that his wishes would be returned, he wasn't willing to leave the safeness of deniability. So he sat quiet and waited for a reply. "How would you like this time to be spent?" Boris asked at long last, wariness still in his expression but with a hint of intrigue as well.
Taking that to mean that Boris was open to the idea, Hank took his time in answering. It seemed ridiculous to suggest the usual methods for dating but it seemed equally ridiculous to just "hang out" and so he was at a loss as to how to answer. "Perhaps," Boris said when Hank had remained quiet a little too long, "lunch would suffice for now?"
Hank smiled, thankful for the help. "I think that would be very sufficient," he said, hoping that his words didn't bely how delighted he was. He didn't want Boris to think that the idea of lunch was the cap on what Hank had thought of.
Boris' eyes twinkled, showing how pleased the German felt. He stood not long after that, pulling on his suit to straighten any potential wrinkles. "In that case, I will leave you for now as I have some calls to make before then." He paused behind the chair, eyes raking over Hank. "You should get some rest, Hank," he suggested, worry lightly creasing the lined of his forehead. His eyes flashed to the window where the rain still lashed against the windows. "There is nothing more that can be done today and I believe that some extra sleep would do you some good."
Hank watched him leave, waiting for him to close the library door before he turned his attention back to the fire. His thoughts turned darker as time past, once again matching the weather. It could have put him in a very bad place except that, the longer he thought and stared, the harder it was to keep his eyes open. Before he was truly aware of it, Hank had fallen asleep in the comfortable armchair with the storm in his heart matching the one outside.
TBC