Addendum 7.1 – "Savor the Veal 'pt. 4'"

May 1993 – Bear Mountain, CT

The mountaintop flickered black and white like the start of a 1940s movie reel. Tony's face rose into a fresh wash of water as thunder boomed from no particular side of him. He pushed the rain backward over the top of his head and called out, "Michael!" yet again.

A porcupine waddled into a burrow, but no other response came.

The trail tipped into a long, rocky descent made up of sharp shards and massive boulders. Trees fought through the terrain, though many appeared to have lost the battle to the overwhelming presence of natural headstones. Spiny bushes brazenly shot their branches upward through the graveyard of large tree trunks falling at least a quarter mile at daunting pitch.

Every rock met the earth in a squishy bed of mud and leaves and shined in the water like the victors they were. This was their ground.

Tony inhaled the storm and repeated, "Michael!" out of nothing but childlike hope.

With, again, no reply, he started the slow, downward climb.

He held onto the very rocks that threatened his survival like they were the only things that could help him. Water ran between them, hurrying his feet along. His rubber boots, meant more for puddle jumping than trekking, kept slipping on the rock faces and sliding his calves and shins into the merciless edges all the way down.

He made headway, step by step, every muscle he had constricting for control. His cotton t-shirt and jeans took the beating of the heavens and the backlash of the earth like a whipping boy, but he kept moving along his course.

The path was surprisingly obvious, as long sections of sliced boulders and mud paved the gap through whatever trees and bony shrubs were still able to grow. Tony scootched his butt down a long section of rock and looked up when he got to the bottom of it. He was still not halfway down the hill.

The torrent was easing. Lightning flickered less and stayed lit longer, while deafening thunder filled the perceivable surroundings with insufferable insistence. He blinked a few times, and successfully cleared a line of vision to a hunched silhouette barnacled onto a downed tree several yards in front of him.

"Michael!?"

The tiniest orange glow turned toward him, and Tony squinted in the darkness.

A ratchety line of white cut between them and lit the area for many seconds like someone had found a light switch in the dreadful dark. Tony covered his ears, while Michael responded with a lengthy exhale of tobacco.

"What are you doing!?" Tony finally screeched through the ringing in his ears.

Michael still didn't say anything but dropped his glazed gaze from Tony's to the shrubby bush smoking between them.

"Hot lightning," he diagnosed.

Tony's disbelief squinted at the stubbly blankness in front of him, "Michael, we gotta go! We found Jonathan; he's okay. Let's get outta here!"

The saturated canopy continued to shadow and drip large plops of water, despite the lessening rain. The burning shrub between them started to light the scene, though Michael's dark figure was still most easily read by the movements of the lit cigarette that had now dropped near his thigh.

"He doesn't want to be with me."

"He- …what!? So, what!? Let's go!"

A maddening pause preceded yet another exhale of smoke, "You go."

"Michael, this is crazy! You could die out here!"

"That's the way it goes…" Lightning struck a ways to the left of him, but he didn't bother to look.

"What are you talkin' about!? Michael, let's go! We got Jonathan. You can stop lookin' for- …Wait." Tony's head cocked, "Why are you just sittin' here? I thought you were out here lookin' for him!"

The growing flame from the shrub between them made Michael's next drag increasingly visible - "Duh, Sherlock," and his long exhale confirmed his intention to stay put. But he did stand up, "He didn't want to be found."

Tony squinted at him, "Of course he wanted to be found! He's a kid out here in a lightning storm!"

Another bolt of lightning struck right where Michael had been sitting, and the continuing current ran white as sparks bored into the log.

Tony covered his ears again, jumping back. "Holy shit!"

Michael looked back at the fire in a daze, but then turned to the panicking Tony. His maniacal laugh echoed between them, "You're such a girl."

"We're both gonna die out here, Michael!"

"Poor Angela," Michael shook his head. "She'll have to find someone new to feast on."

Tony ripped his hands from his ears, "What the hell is wrong with you!? I wanted to make sure you knew Jonathan was safe, cuz there's no way a dad would quit lookin' in a storm like this. And you're out here puffin' on some log, waitin' to die!"

Michael smiled sweetly, "Is there no end to your perfection?"

Flames traveled the length of the log behind Michael, but neither man acknowledged it.

"You don't have to be 'perfect' to not stop tryin' to save your son's life!"

Michael bowed down and up repeatedly, "All hail, the world's greatest dad! You should get a coffee mug."

"You're bonkers, you know that?"

Another bolt of lightning struck to the right of them and stayed lit, shaking the air with volume.

Michael's snarl picked up inflection, "For your information, I've been out here for five hours, looping this lazy fucker more than twice, in this stupid ass storm with no gear, when it dawned on me: I would've seen him if he'd wanted me to. He'd literally rather die than be with me."

"Or he hid in a cave, cuz he's freakin' smart!"

Michael paused a moment, then nodded to himself, taking another puff. "Good," he said quietly.

Finally registering the flames growing behind him, Michael watched them for a few moments before turning back to Tony.

"'Freaking?' My God, you really are a preschool teacher, aren't you?"

"Do you have to bash everyone who tries to help you? Why can't you think of Jonathan for a change and get off this stupid mountain?"

Michael shook his head and stared down at the burning bush, "I'm no loss."

Tony squinted at him.

"Get your sheep and get outta here, Bo Peep. I'm sure they wanna go home."

"Jonathan needs you!"

At that, Michael's head flashed up, "Since when?"

Tony's face scrunched, and Michael chucked his cigarette into the bush.

"You've taken over everything. From the first moment I got back, I saw it. Getting Jonathan into those stupid team sports, letting him sleep with you instead of toughing out a night in the suburbs, whipping up baked goods for his school… you're probably behind that accordion thing, too, huh?"

"What of it?"

"Are you this useless on purpose, or does it just come naturally?"

The scrunch to Tony's disbelieving face didn't leave until he heard another growl of thunder and tried to locate its origin. Michael tilted up his head from the side and let an evil smile curl his lips, "You still need chocolate to make Angela moan?"

Tony's eyes flashed back to Michael, "Shut-"

"That's probably all you got, you waste o' dick, feather duster."

Tony's fists clenched at his sides, but his feet stayed where they were. "Look!-"

"It was the perfect plan: get some, nonthreatening, panty waist placeholder in there while Angela and I worked out our restlessness. But I forgot how much she liked being the man in the relationship," he grinned. "You two are a perfect fit."

"You're a whack job, you know that?"

Michael laughed again, then walked his drenched pant legs right through the flaming bush and stopped inches in front of Tony. Looking down into his eyes, he cocked his head again and whispered, "You're the one who still wants to marry her."

Tony's eyes didn't drop from Michael's, but he didn't refute him.

Michael shook his knowing face, "You won't keep her. Monogamy isn't in her… Like mother like daughter."

Tony started to shake, "You are one fucking loon! She was right to ditch you. You never treated her right. You never treat anyone right."

"There ya go! Some bad words for a bad boy!" He clapped mocking hands near Tony's face, then dropped them sharply. Getting even closer, his smile widened, and the heavy cigarette smell crept into Tony's flared nostrils.

"It doesn't matter how you treat her. She won't stay. Now, I don't blame you for tappin' - who hasn't? But you won't keep her."

Tony popped his chin up near Michael's and opened his mouth, but he didn't get out a reply before Michael continued in breathless wonder.

"She pulls at you, I know. Even when she's not there… the memories… You can see her eyes, drawing you in."

Tony's furious expression started to drift to confusion as Michael rambled on, the weather raging unbeknownst around them.

"…She holds you and looks at you like there's no one else she could ever want, I know." Michael grabbed Tony's shoulders and shook him, "Don't fall for it, man!" He pinched roughly into the muscle, "Only a moron still thinks she'll be faithful! …bitchy little twat with a known record for cheat-"

Tony slammed his palms up under Michael's elbows and threw a solid uppercut into his open sternum.

Michael coughed alive a huge grin and grabbed both hands behind Tony's neck. Bringing his knee up several times into Tony's nose, he threw him to the ground by the flaming trunk.

Stomping back through the fiery bush, he shouted into the raging emotional storm, "Oh, you don't want to play with me, bunny. You've got a few pounds on me, but this is not my first rodeo, fighting over this woman." He nudged Tony's hunched ribcage with his soaked hiking boot. "Besides, what do you think I do all day? Poker gets a little old-"

Tony yanked Michael's foot toward himself, pulling his back to the ground. He clambered up on top of Michael's waist and started landing punch after punch into his chest and sides.

Blood gushed from Tony's nose, and he spit out what he could. Plops and splatters flew over Michael who did nothing but laugh.

Until he didn't.

Biting down on his molars, Michael brought his elbows in tight. He pushed Tony down lower on his hips and bucked his own hips off the ground. Tony flew forward and tried to catch himself above Michael's head.

Michael caught Tony's left arm and flipped him over as seamlessly as if he had, indeed, done this every day for the last umpteen years.

Three solid strikes to the face gave Michael the open mic he was after.

"Why does everybody think they know what happened with us!? You cocky little bitch!"

He punched Tony's ribs while Tony shielded his face, "What a laugh! You think you can keep her!? Impossible! I loved her - intensely! From the moment we met, it was only her."

Still sitting on Tony's scrunched stomach, Michael threw his flabbergasted arms in the air, "Gone for months at a time - women easier to come by than cigarettes - and nothing! I never took them!"

He glared down at Tony, who'd just started to open his eyes into the rain, mud, and visible headache.

Michael threw another hook to Tony's other side to keep him there.

"You know what that feels like? I get a few strokes a year, then go to work and get nothing but shit from guys getting it hand over fist!"

Tony groaned with his eyes shut again, "…might be surprised."

"Shut up! She'd get me all dressed up like a sap, dragging me in front of all her fancy friends, showing me off like a frosted cupcake. They'd gawk all over her, and she loved every minute of it!"

He was starting to run out of breath but didn't seem to miss it.

"I hadn't heard her laugh like that in a long time, Tony… I can still hear it. Like they were laughing at me… She loved the attention. Why?"

His expression lost its dreamy composition, and he slammed another row of knuckles into Tony's right side.

"I think that's why she went into business to begin with. Probably the only good looking woman in a sea of drooling men…" he shook his head, "fish in a barrel…"

Michael's glare sharpened, and he made a left backhand to Tony's cheek, "You know he'd stare into her eyes with me right there? At a party. During the workday. All the time... And when she wasn't looking, you couldn't pry that man's eyes from her ass! But ohhhh - she knew! - The woman flipped her hair like a high schooler! She'd probably wrapped those legs of hers around his neck that very afternoon, and it was all a big joke! I was the big joke," he shouted down at Tony, pointing furiously to himself.

Michael was now breathing heavily, even though Tony was the one with a body on his chest.

"She'd introduce me to them, Tony - all the stuffed-shirt sugar daddies lining her pockets." He took a big gulp of air so he could raise his pitch to a drunken, mocking position, 'Here! Here's my chump husband, the man not getting one purr outside my pussy, while all you ugly corpses know what that milk tastes like.'" He shook his head furiously while his eyes glossed with tears, "Paxton! It was probably still dripping down his chin!"

Coughing himself into uncontrollable grief, Michael gripped his hands around Tony's neck and slammed his head into a rock over and over again, his sobbing body screaming on every beat, "'Yum, yum, YUM!'"

The heat from the uncomfortably close wall of flames was drying whatever caked hairs on Tony's head weren't still sliding through the mud. Flinging his right leg up, Tony hooked it around Michael's deeply heaving chest and pulled him backward to the ground.

In a surge of desperation, Tony sat up, slurping bloody hair out of the wet ground, his dizzy consciousness somehow managing to locate Michael and coordinate a scramble onto the top of his chest. Pinning the side of his neck with his forearm, Tony let his extra body weight do the rest while slop of every variety dripped down onto Michael.

"You crazy fool! She didn't do any of that!"

Michael tried to twist his face up from the side, but Tony pushed down harder.

"She tell you that?" Michael scoffed, choking on his own mucus.

"Yes! And Grant!"

"Oh! Well, then! I guess I was wrong!"

"She wanted you. She loved you, Michael - as much as you loved her!"

Michael tried to struggle out of position, twisting his core, trying to catch his legs, but Tony squeezed his legs tighter and held him there.

"But you can't go and bash people around and then expect the deal not to change! It's a renegotiation, at that point!"

"She bashed me around." He sucked in a huge breath of air, "Pretended she was all in, but she wasn't. Not really. Wouldn't even fly out to see me unless she had a coffee break, and then only if her boyfriend said she could go! She made me promise to her but wouldn't commit to me."

Tony eased off a bit, letting both of them catch their breaths as Michael worked through the memories.

"She always had one foot in his bed, and I knew… she'd always be that way. If she'd let it go and come with me, I'd know she'd rather have me." He flashed a glare up at Tony, "But she never would!"

"First of all, she wasn't in his bed! Second of all, could you blame her if she was!? Why would she think she could let it all go and hold onto you? You just hurt her." Tony sat up quick and punched him in the teeth, "And scare her," he punched him again in the neck, "and burn her back into the Goddamn carpet!"

Now Tony was landing any hit he could, all over Michael's head, chest, and ribs. They slid down the hill a little more, nearer the fiery log with every box. Tony's face blazed a hellish red in the firelight, his tears fighting rain and sweat for majority rule.

"Here! You like someone burnin' your back!?" He pushed Michael's wet, muddy side right up near the flames, "Feel like a man now!? How 'bout you be my little bitch!"

Tony wore himself out, slamming bruised knuckles all over the man who'd pummeled the most precious thing in his life with far more impact than he was able to inflict.

"You're the cocky little twat!" he coughed. "Bitchin' for a decade the woman you refused to stop hurtin' finally had enough'a you? You're pathetic!"

One last, giant strike careened into Michael's temple, and Tony fell forward in sheer exhaustion.

Mindlessly shaking his head to regain even a little bit of his own vision, Michael scrabbled out from under Tony and jumped like a turtle shell on his back. He shoved his hands under Tony's armpits and locked them behind his head.

"I'm sorry," he mocked. "Is a disease supposed to get better with time?" Michael shook the back of his neck. "Huh!? I might be cocky, but I'm not crazy, Jeeves!"

"You wanted her to suffer after you had it out with Grant. That's why you beat her up!"

Michael's armlock unclenched for a split second before he squeezed it tighter than before, forcing Tony's head to bend into the mud, "I didn't mean to hurt her!"

Tony twisted his neck up the side and spat back, "The fuck, you didn't!"

"I didn't! It came out of nowhere! Both of us did that! We always did!"

"It's not okay!"

"I know! That's why I left! But that's how we were, Tony," he shook him again. "We tiptoed around every problem, then it came out at the worst times... leave both of us blubberin' like babies... You wouldn't believe the restraint I had with her."

Tony struggled to get free, twisting furiously, trying to stand up, "It's still meaning to!"

But Michael held his neck tight to the ground, taking full advantage of the dominant position, "No, it's not! I never meant to hurt her like that, and it killed me that I did. Just like her, when she saw what she'd done to me. That killed her! We needed to be together. But then, when I saw him, what she'd really done, I- I couldn't take it. And it just. came. out!"

He tightened his biceps so he could inch forward and spoke into back of Tony's skull, "And I have a right to be bothered by it! Even if you and Angela and Paxton, and every other high horse Puritan thinks that's only for harmless people! What do you know!?"

Michael released his lock and grabbed Tony's elbow, flipping him onto his back. Tony took the split second given to heave one massive inhale of smoke before Michael mounted him again, gripping his hands back around his throat. Water fell down from the sky and up from mud as Tony bumped his torso around like a flopping fish, pulling at Michael's fingers with all his might.

"Am I not allowed to be hurt if it's my fault, too?"

Barely able to gasp, Tony squeaked out, "Not allowed to hurt her."

"I told you, I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to lose it like that."

Then, he started to cry.

All Michael's power went into a long, whistley inhale, and his cries turned to sobs, "Wasn't watching," he gulped. "Just so mad. I didn't know I was hurting her. Wasn't thinking about it." He sucked in another huge gasp, "I knew I was mad, but when we started, I was trying to help – I swear to God! - and it just made everything worse!"

Tony's furious face contorted, and Michael's weakened hold let him turn his face to the side.

"If you're that mad, you keep it in your pants!"

Michael's eyes flashed back to the way they were, and all the snot he'd accumulated blew onto Tony's neck. "Well, thank you for the hindsight, Dudley. Yeah, I wish I'd done that now, but you weren't there. I didn't know how bad it was gonna get."

He tightened his grip and leaned down to speak very near Tony's severely straining face, "And by the way: Yes! I hurt Angela, a lot. But she hurt me, too – every bit as much on purpose! And if you think you're going to get out of this with a net-zero, happily ever after, you're the biggest joke of us all."

Barely able to find breath himself, Michael released Tony's throat with a shove and sat back on his stomach. "You'll hurt her. She'll hurt you. And then one time, she'll stop playing the game, and go find someone else, claiming you were worse than she was, like that matters." He took another exhausted breath, "Just give it time, Tony."

Michael unsquatted himself up and off Tony and stared down at the limp body at his feet, "You'll see."

Coughing out an airway, Tony rolled over and breathed raggedy gulps into the near-simmering mud. With slow, bracing movements, he managed to push himself up through the rain.

Michael watched him stumble to his feet and continued his prediction. "You'll stand there, mouth dropped down to the floor, watching some other man slide his hand over her ass - the final nail in the coffin of your whole, diseased existence. You'll see."

Tony wiped his hands up his face, smearing blood, sweat, and earth away from his eyes. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"It does with her."

Tony held his left side and groaned, "That's not the way we're doin' it.

Michael laughed straight through split lips, but Tony deepened his breaths and slowly, his opinion came out anyway.

"We're talkin' to each other; we're tellin' each other the truth now. I know she has a right to hold onto her job, and that's not wrong, Michael. She's been in an awful jam since she was a kid, havin' to take care of herself. That's gonna take some time to dismantle." He flopped his free hand out to the side, "Plus, she loves it. Why would I try to take that from her if I didn't have to?"

"Don't you think her loving something, maybe someone there at that something, more than you makes it so you do have to?"

"She's not doin' that, and she didn't do that to you, either."

"Yes. she. did."

"Not till she'd filed for divorce. You can't help it if some other guy looks at her, and neither can she."

Every breath between them was still deliberate, but they both kept at it.

Tony took a step toward him. "To me, it's not the same thing. Look, I wanted her to need me like that, too. But I'm not trying to grab for anything with her now, and I think she knows that. Hopefully, that'll help with her reasons to be so anxious about us." Out of habit, he shrugged and had to whimper at the pain, but he kept on. "Yeah, I still have a hard time with it, but I'm talkin' to her about it. And she cares. You don't have to fight for top position all the time."

Michael scoffed, "You're gonna try that one on me?"

"Hey. You started this."

"You threw the first punch."

"You are so full of it! You provoked it. You leave folks with no other option but to defend themselves, then call, 'Foul!' when they do!"

Michael didn't respond, and Tony took another deep breath.

"Besides, I'd never do this to her, in any way. Not anymore. Every ounce of my being, I'm going to use to protect her. She's not against me."

Michael's eyes narrowed just a bit, and Tony stepped close enough so that, even in the violent aura, he could finish gently.

"She's safe with me."

Michael's eyes rounded, and for several seconds he stared increasingly wet eyes at the unbeaten voice of truth.

"You don't have to worry about her anymore, Michael. Let her go."

Michael turned his head sharply and swiped at his nose.

The rain was picking up again, lightning hitting farther to the side of them. Tony let his lungs fill with time and smoke.

Michael turned back to him. "Why are you like this? I don't remember you being such a Mr. Rogers."

Tony didn't blink. "Actually, I'm a fucking cheater who's spent the last 3 years beating up Angela's heart so I didn't feel bad about it."

Michael was back to squinting, "So, that's why you don't think it's that bad."

"Cheating is disgusting, Michael. It's tyranny, and it always requires a revolution. But that's what I did – to her, to my first wife... I know I don't have a leg to stand on, but if I'm asking for mercy from the one person who's in the position to give it, what's that to anyone else?"

"Angela's no Virgin Mary, Tony. Trust me."

Tony narrowed his eyes but kept his voice soft, "I don't know that you ever really knew who Angela was, Michael; I don't think she showed you very often."

"What the hell do you know? I had time with that woman; I have felt that woman, in a way you never have!"

Tony didn't move backward at all, "Yeah, and I've felt her in ways you never will."

But then Tony put his hands up between them and started to calm down, "I know you two were a big deal. I know you loved each other and held on tighter than probably anyone in your circumstances woulda. I'm not takin' that from you. And I know she's not perfect, but even if she was a cheater – which I don't believe she was - I still want her."

Michael held eye contact for a while, but with mud-mixed blood falling from several open gashes on his face, he finally breathed, "I shoulda been paying attention that night, but I didn't hurt her on purpose."

Tony face hardened, "I just don't like that you did it."

"Neither do I."

The whispered moment stretched between them until Tony allowed a single nod.

Returning the gesture, Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, "My head hurts."

Tony made an effort at a smile, "Gettin' more honest already." Then he tried to look up at the side of his own head. "Mine, too. Gettin' bashed into a rock'll do that."

Michael swiped his hand over Tony's hair, "Baby".

"Ow! Don't touch me," Tony whined and dabbed at the multiple puncture wounds on the back of his bruised head. "It's still bleedin'!" He looked up and around to random water droplets still falling on his face, "Can we go now? This sucks."

Michael started up the hill, "You're the one with the sermon."

Tony squinted after him, "Why are you goin' back up that way?"

Michael's dry voice was still aimed where he was headed, "Only an idiot would go down the rock scramble."

Tony acknowledged Michael's wisdom with a flick to his brows and started following behind him.

Angela pulled on the steering wheel, straining her eyes pointlessly closer to the dark windshield. "Where are they?"

Jonathan didn't answer; he just stared out the passenger window.

The rain continued to pummel the stationary vehicle, and Angela kept the heat on high.

"Mom? Is Dad homeless?"

She blinked and sat back upright, "What? …Homeless? Why would you ask that?"

He shrugged at her, "He said he was."

Thinking for a bit, she shook her head, "I- I don't know, honey. He has money. If he doesn't have a place to live, I guess that's because he doesn't want one? ...I know when we met, he was living out of a weekly rate hotel."

"I called him at the number you had for him in your office."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He was there. That's how he knew to come for my National Honor Society induction."

"Ahhh, that's why he's here."

"Yeah…"

She smiled softly, "But you still think he's homeless?"

He shrugged again, "He looks like it."

Her heart sank; she didn't like hearing that. She was starting to do better, and she wanted Michael to, also.

Plus… he was Michael.

"Yeah, I dunno. He looks… tougher than I remember - stronger, I guess. But also, skinnier? Like… weaker. Old… He's got gray hair."

Angela's face felt hot. "Well, honey-"

Did she have to tell him she doesn't just color her hair because she prefers a lighter blond?

But his continued reasoning interrupted her: "He always looks like both his eyes have black eyes. He shaves weird, now, like, barely… and he's really tan."

Angela's eyebrows dipped up, "That isn't how I remember him, either."

"Yeah…"

She sighed, "Tony told me he's in the field year round now. He might not have time to take care of himself very well."

A few uncomfortable beats went by.

"Do I… take money from him?"

Her eyes narrowed briefly before realization took over, "Oh, honey."

But he kept looking at her, and she felt the need to shrug, "He's paid child support since we got divorced, and both our salaries went into a joint account before that. But he doesn't send me all his money - just what the court tells him to. And I don't think he keeps many expenses. If he answered his apartment phone… I- I don't know. Maybe he meant, figuratively?"

He blinked, "You mean, maybe he just doesn't feel like he belongs anywhere?"

Like a shrieking ghost, 'You ARE my home,' flew through her mind in the same desolate voice she'd heard in their bedroom 8 years before.

Slowly, those same complicated emotions filled her eyes again. "Yeah," she rasped. "Yeah, I think so."

Jonathan paused a moment, then returned his stare to the window. "I wish he lived here."

Clunking down the decline with every squishy - not to mention, painful - step, Michael studied Tony's drenched face in whatever he could make out in the bumping beam of the flashlight.

"What?" Tony breathed, both men still not fully relaxed.

"Why did you come looking for me?"

Tony looked in front of them, "Jonathan needs his dad."

Michael shook his head and made a long exhale.

"No, he doesn't. He's got you. …You're better for him than I've ever been."

"That's a crappy excuse, Michael. A guy still needs his dad. Do you know what I'd give to get my dad back?"

Michael rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well, you can have mine."

"For cryin' out loud. Even if you got a lousy dad, it doesn't mean you don't need him. Hell, you're probably this cranky because you still need him."

"I get along just fine," Michael squinted. Then he turned to look in front of him, "And so does Jonathan."

"Well, apparently, you both need your dads to like you, because he's upset, too."

When Michael didn't respond, Tony yanked his wrist to a rough stop.

"Look, I am way too tired to beat your ass again. So, you better spend the next mile gettin' a whole lot more comfy with the truth, cuz Jonathan is down there in the Jeep. He has no idea why you're so mad at him and shouldn't have to piece together that you're actually mad at other people. So, do a little of your own legwork for a change and give the kid a hug."

Michael stared at him for a moment before snatching back his hand. He turned back to the path with a long, annoyed blink.

Tony eyed him but followed not too far behind. "Besides,"

Michael looked over his shoulder at Tony till he fell in step with him.

"-if I'm bein' honest… I also came cuz I could never have with Angela what I have now, if she hadn't gone through you." He made another painful shrug, "…I'm grateful."

Michael glared at him and blinked away instant, angry tears.

It took a few moments, but he finally exhaled, "You may be a waste o' dick, Tony, but you got balls."

"I'm not tryin' to be a dick. The person she is is precious to me. But while we're on subject, you're done talkin' nasty about her."

"Excuse me?"

"Ya heard me. You had your chance to get out what you needed to. But now, that's over. If you have somethin' to say, you just say that, and not add in a bunch of sexual stuff that doesn't need to be there. And if you do need to bring up something sexual, you're gonna tread very carefully. Got it?"

"Who died and made you Saddam Hussein?"

In unhurried confidence, Tony made his position clear. "No one. But I will fight you to the death over this."

The most obnoxious teenage, "Why?" proceeded from Michael's unbelieving face.

Tony looked him stone cold in the eye, "Because I'm not okay with her bein' with someone who wouldn't."

Michael watched him for many steps, and then turned his attention forward.

"…and because Jonathan needs you not to be fightin' people littler than you."

They plodded down a few more steps before Michael shook his head, "Littler than me? Let me tell you something, Tony: Before I met Angela, I was captured in this crazy uprising in Angola - held in some dank, roach infested prison for three weeks, thinking I'd never get out. When Heather and I were in Zimbabwe, I forgot to secure the food one night, and a lion got into the camp. And worst of all, I had to tell my hysterically weeping, 7 year old son goodbye forever."

Tony's brows were scrunched but he didn't comment through the pause.

"But when I came home and found out that Angela had done what she did, I have never been that scared…"

Michael stared at Tony for a second, then swallowed out a whisper, "…except when I saw what I'd done to her back…"

Tony's face relaxed, and Michael's glare returned with his shaky volume.

"But don't try and tell me she's the underdog, here. I am not buying."

Tony tossed his hands up, "No. I know she's got power. I've been scared to death of it. She could snag a whole lot better man than me." But then he eyed him pointedly, "But I don't get to take cheap shots, even if I have every right to be scared. That's not who I wanna be, and I'm not gonna let you be that way with her. Just fight fair."

Michael squinted back at him, but finally made an acquiescing, little eye roll, "Plenty of other stuff to say, anyway."

"That there is," Tony sighed. "Just keep it clean. Make friends with the truth, buddy."

Michael sneered back at Tony. "Truth, huh? I let you up, 'buddy'. You didn't 'beat my ass'."

Tony's butchered face smirked over at Michael's, "I know."