A/N: I swear! I didn't write the previous chapter with that new Twisters movie in mind! Haven't seen it yet but I'm curious because I've heard surprisingly good things about it. I was a BIG FAN of the original 1996 film, and I had the idea of the old gang re-imagined as storm chasers. But I couldn't quite get the story to work so I lost interest, but if anyone wants a crack at it: BOOM! FREE IDEA, PLEASE TAKE!

You know my promise when it comes to cliffhangers; I refuse to let you wait very long so here it is!

I am feeling better than I did the other day, and I think it might be easier on people if I stay with a stay with a character for as long as possible and not cut back forth like fifteen times in one chapter! Too much whiplash!

When the call disconnected, Sherri was freaking out.

"We got cut off!" she shouted.

"Try again," Jim told her.

Sherri attempted to get Chase back, but it wouldn't work. Something was wrong with the network, likely the storm.

"What do we do?"

Jim held firmly on the steering wheel while he put a hand on her leg, trying to calm her nerves.

"We know where Chase is. And he should be around other people, which is better than being along out here. But we need to find shelter ourselves."

It hurt for her to admit it, but he was right. What would be the point of going after Chase if they didn't survive? They needed to get out of this shit quickly. What mattered is that they make it, they had to make it, so that they could be together again. Sherri could at least find solace in knowing Chase had a location and with the impending calamity coming through, best that he's in a sturdy building and someone nearby could help him.

"Chase mentioned the hardware store. Does Walter have a basement?"

Jim squinted as he tried to remember.

"Not sure, but he has to have storage somewhere. It's worth a shot."

He rounded the corner and across the street was Walt's Warehouse, which was not as grand in size as the name would let you think. They quickly parked in the private lot in the alley between the brick buildings and made their way to the storefront. That was right where the proprietor, old Walter Hock himself, stepped out of the door. He was holding a flat piece of wood and his trusted hammer.

"Are you crazy, Jim? What are you doing out here in this mess?"

"Walt! We were looking for Chase and he..."

The wind swiftly grew traction as the wooden electrical poles were jostled to and fro, causing them to spark. A couple transformers blew, casting the whole street into darkness. Sherri grabbed onto Jim in terror. A big green dumpster on wheels wheezed its way toward them. All three of the adults ducked into the recessed brick that led to the front door. It was narrow enough that the dumpster could not fit through and stopped it dead in its tracks.

"I guess we're going inside!" quipped the old man.

Walter Hock was pushing eighty but as spry as ever; only needing his young help because he was only one man. Here, they could see that he was in the midst of boarding up the windows of his store with hammer and nails, which was in abundance given his specialty. Fortunately for him, he was still sitting on some wood left over of his recent order from the lumber yard. Contractors come through regularly for tools, but materials had to be put on order. Some of these guys have been working with old Walt for years and cannot imagine going anywhere else, and the lumber yard gave the hardware store a nice bargain because he buys in bulk. But he wasn't a greedy man, he passed those savings onto the consumer. He lived comfortably above the shop and was content with his simple existence, helping the community grow in his own way.

"Want me to give you a hand with that?" Jim asked.

Hock was too proud of a man to accept help when he was perfectly capable. That was when Sherri stepped in.

"You'd be doing him a favor, Walt" she smiled warmly. "Doctor warned him about arthritis and told him to keep those hands stimulated."

The old fellow rubbed his own hands and glanced at Jim.

"Pick up a hammer from the shelf and finish down here while I get the upstairs!"

"You got it, Walt" he nodded as the shop owner headed upstairs.

There was a big quarter inch board, about the size of a door, leaning against the wall. Jim picked it up and Sherri followed.

"You want to hammer it in, and I'll hold it in place?"

"Sure," Sherri nodded.

He lined up the board against the wooden frame of the window so it would accept the nails.

"I really hope he's okay," she sighed, steadying the first nails and driving them in.

"He will be."

Jim knew he wasn't basing that on anything concrete, maybe they both knew, but it was imperative to stay positive in a situation like this. Less than fifteen minutes later, the front face of the hardware store was boarded. The initial large board covered the majority of the window, so they overlapped a thin piece about a third of the first one and that took care of the remainder. Their efforts made the shop totally dark.

Sherri shined her phone's flashlight to locate a camper's lantern and there it was. She turned the knob, and it took on a soft yellow glow.

"Good," she said. "There's still oil in it."

Her husband sat down on the floor, leaning against the cashier's counter.

"That could last for a couple hours," he sighed. "I'm sure Walt's got candles and flashlights here somewhere."

She left the lantern on the counter so it would be more effective illuminating the room and joined him on the floor. Sherri gave the phone yet another try, and no go.

"What was your problem with Chase living in California?"

The blunt question was logical given what happened, but it still caught the man off guard.

"I..." he cursed under his breath. "...I thought he wasn't able to..."

"He's going to be a good man the rate he's going. If I'm wrong...then he doesn't stand a chance out there. Is that it, do you want him to not survive so you could say you were right?"

The blood drained from Jim's face, and he leaned away from her.

"Jesus Christ! Why would you think that?"

Sherri held her heart and breathed with purpose.

"I'm so sorry, Jim. My nerves...I didn't mean to say that!"

"We both need to keep cool heads," he admitted. "Lord knows I should have earlier."

"So, you do regret what happened?"

Jim nodded.

"You know...I was worried this day would come."

"What day?" he asked.

"When things would come to a head. Those little comments about his hair or hanging out with those creative types. I know this world is new and strange to you, but that's no reason to make Chase feel bad for finding happiness there."

"That is not..." Jim sighed when he hit a roadblock in his words. "He's just so quiet and..."

"OH, COME ON!" Sherri shook her head. "So, he's a little sensitive. Is that really such a bad thing?"

He had no retort that was strong enough.

"You know what? I am so tired of men who love more than they hate, who think before they speak, who would rather walk away than fight; looked upon as weak. Being a caring, mindful person is NOT weakness, Jim. No man who thinks compassion equals weakness is worth a damn in my book!"

Sherri shifted closer to him.

"It's him, isn't it? After all this time, he's still hurting you."

Jim looked on in silence.

"Look..." Sherri added, putting a hand on his knee. "I know things were tough with your dad. You just want Chase to be able to handle himself because what really makes this world a hard place is men like him."

Her affectionate touch quickly morphed into a back handed slap on the knee, making the man yelp.

"What you aren't getting is that you are turning into a man like him! Now think about those years with you versus that short time with Neil."

Jim groaned, "You really have to keep bringing him up?"

"Like it or not, moving out west was the best thing for him at that time."

He exhaled long and labored.

"Want to know what I think?"

They jumped at sudden third voice. Walt was holding a flashlight as he descended the stairs.

"Sorry, folks. I couldn't help but overhear once the hammering stopped."

Jim coughed while Sherri rubbed her pants, both feeling embarrassed that their dirty laundry was picked up by someone else.

"I know it's difficult being a parent. My dumb kids are figuring that out for themselves," he chuckled with a wheeze. "I get your worry, Jim. Chase isn't a little kid anymore. He's going to be a man but don't think that because he's not some loser picking fights in Tammy's Tavern that he's weak."

"I appreciate the concern, Walt but this is..."

The old man banged his palm on the counter, making a loud echo.

"Button yer yap and let your elder finish talking!"

"Yes, sir" Jim sighed.

"My great uncle Richard, the man who helped me put on puppet shows and held tea parties with my sister, was a sharpshooter in World War II. This was after the advance in Normandy, you see. I tell you, that man must have killed scores of them Nazi bastards! And that same man was playing with us kids, no matter how silly we all got."

He walked around and leaned against the counter.

"That's why Richard was my middle name. He's the family hero and I miss the guy a whole lot! The point is, Jim..." he coughed. "The point is don't you dare conflate peaceful with harmless. Those sons of bitches who dodged the draft when their country needed them the most, those were cowards. Harmless! But Uncle Richard...no, that was a peaceful man. He could get down and dirty, even deadly, when the occasion called for it. But he much preferred being out there in the sun with his family than on the battlefield. When you are capable of great harm, but choose kindness, that is a peaceful man."

Sherri got a little misty-eyed.

"And I have no doubt you did something right raising that kid. You know what they say, it takes a village!"

Jim put his arms around Sherri reassuringly.

"When they give the all-clear," Walt nodded. "You go outside that back way, get in your car, and find your boy."

The commotion of people outside registered on Chase's radar, and he first checked on the boy with him. He was asleep. Must have been exhausted from all the running and excitement. There was a tiny bit of space above the metal benches, which held very well, and the massive awning that fell on top of them. He wiggled his way out carefully, being very mindful of his surroundings. One suspicious noise or movement could be the sign of further collapse.

He looked over and saw light. The whole roof above them came down, turning the almost square into a triangle. It was crude but it was the sturdy shelter that they needed while the cyclone wailed on outside. Chase gently woke up the kid and he coughed as plenty of dirt and dust blew into the small area they were hiding in.

"It's over," Chase sighed. "I hear people."

The boy turned to listen and the murmurs of others, and no wind, got him to crawl out of his hiding place.

Chase helped him up and the boy clung to him as they walked slowly outside.

"We did it, buddy!" he said looking down at him. "We made it."

Sherri spotted her son, standing there with a dirty face and wet hair, wrapped in a dark blue blanket. She didn't regard the people talking to him, one of them being a police officer and threw her arms around him. He was caught off guard by the hug attack.

"Mom!" he groaned. "You're okay."

Tears were filling her eyes as she held her only boy's face, looking like he's been through the wringer.

"I was so scared!" Sherri shakily told him. "Thank God, Thank God!"

"Excuse me, ma'am?" asked a strange woman. "Are you this young man's mother?"

Sherri looked at the new face with trepidation. She relaxed a bit when Jim was in her sights, and he was fast approaching them.

The lady took Sherri's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Your son saved my boy's life!"

"What?" she asked.

Jim was just in ear shot of that statement, so he too was inquisitive.

"Kenneth wandered away from the house, he always liked watching the rain, but my husband and I were working upstairs and didn't hear him."

She would go on to tell Sherri and Jim about how Kenneth was diagnosed with autism, and he hadn't spoken much. Loud noises typically made him panic, but he was making progress with the storms. He was able to learn how it was nature doing its job. Now, thunder only bothers him when it's very close, but he always found the patter of rain soothing. The second they realized Kenneth was gone; they went searching. Turned out he made it a couple blocks to the bus station, must have been lost at that point. Sherri sympathized, from one mother to another, the horror of not knowing where your child was during a tornado.

The cop mentioned that Chase heading back into the storm, while reckless, did save Kenneth's life.

Jim didn't say anything and just hugged his son.

Sherri sighed.

"Can we talk?" he asked Chase.

The teen glanced to his mom, and she nodded. Father and son walked a little away while Sherri asked the emergency people if they saw her son's things. She noticed none of his bags were on his person.

"Just give me a second...I'm still getting over the relief that you're alive."

Jim rubbed his face.

"Chase...let me try to explain. I was worried you couldn't handle yourself, stand up for yourself..."

"Newsflash, dad! I've been in fights before! And I've got the detentions to prove it. But that was the old me! Before I fought like a little boy, for stupid reasons. But when I saw Mia, I..."

Chase trailed off, shaking a bit. Jim caught on that he was upset about something and put his arm around him.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Just a... bad memory," his son confessed. "I need to sit down."

Jim helped him over to the curb so Chase could get off his feet. He sat beside him.

"I'm sure Neil told you" he sighed.

His father looked perplexed.

"Tell me about what?"

"You know the girl I'm seeing, Lauren? Well, her best friend Mia went missing, and we were looking for her." He felt like using the word missing rather than getting into the details but the irony of both her and him running away wasn't lost on him. "Anyway, I came across her and some punks were beating her up. There wasn't any time, so I just got the surprise on them. It was like a blur when I try to replay what happened; it only lasted second. I just remember seeing her on the ground and then me helping her move. Those were clear as a bell, but the middle part...I dunno..."

Jim let that process in his brain for a moment before slapping his boy on the back.

"Chase...I had no idea."

The teen folded his arms, "It's not something I like to talk about."

"Must have been intense," Jim noted.

"It felt like...you hear about going into beast mode? I guess that was kind of what happened."

"You know your grandfather, right?"

Chase nodded.

"Yeah, Grandpa Dale."

"Yeah, well, that was your mother's father. But there was a grandpa you never met...my dad."

"How come I never met him?" Chase asked.

Jim sighed, looking into the distance, not settling his attention on anything in particular before turning back to face his son. "He was a real piece of work, let's just say that. When you were growing up, he really wanted to be in your life. But I got tired of him."

"Tired of what? What did he do?"

"You know what's the easiest way to get on a parent's bad side? Unwanted parental advice. Especially a new mom like yours. The last thing she wanted to hear was how she was doing everything wrong. After a while, I wouldn't allow him at the house unless I was there."

Chase blinked, expelling a puff of air through the corner of his mouth.

"Mostly to make sure your mom didn't stab him in the arm, because I could feel she was one negative comment away from misplacing the paring knife. Free bit of wisdom to remember in your adult years, son: harsh criticism and post-partum depression don't mix."

He glanced at his mom who smiled and waved.

(That woman? Stab a man? Whoa...)

"Anyway, the final straw was when me and my father got into a debate about discipline. He said I should've torn you a new one for breaking the ceramic horse statue your mom made. Dad said he wanted me to beat you and if I wasn't man enough..." he was clearly bothered by that. "...then he would do it himself. That was when I threw him out of the house and told him to drop dead!"

"Holy crap..." sighed Chase.

"Guess the old bastard took my advice because he keeled over from a bad heart four months later. But like you, I can't recall the actual fight in detail. I just remember putting my hands on him because he shoved me...not as crystal as him stumbling down the front steps and leaving."

Chase let his blanket drop some, the heat getting to him.

"But from what I'm hearing, your grandpa was wrong. I was wrong! You saw someone in trouble, and you stepped up. You don't go around looking for trouble or starting trouble. Not no more, anyway."

"Dad? I'm going back to L.A."

Jim breathed deeply as they surveyed the devastation. The depot was in good standing, just some busted windows.

"Yeah..." he sighed. "I get it."

Chase coughed. Jim gave him a supportive pat on the back.

"Swallow a lot of dust?" he smirked.

"Yeah, right?" Chase coughed.

"I can understand tornadoes. But don't you guys out there have earthquakes?"

His son shrugged.

"Yeah, but it's a nice day."

Jim chuckled.

"Listen, Chase...um...we've had a lot of words, especially recently, and... there are two things I don't think I ever said to you. First is...I'm sorry. Growing up I swore I wouldn't turn into my father and there it was, me holding you to a standard that wasn't fair. Second...I'm fucking proud of you."

"You are?"

"Goddamn right!"

Sherri returned triumphant with Chase's backpack and guitar case. They appeared to be okay, as many of the people inside abandoned their luggage to seek shelter. She was about to say something but stopped in her tracks when she saw Jim embracing Chase and her son hugging him in return.

She hung back for a minute or two, just taking in the sight.

(My boys.)

A/N: Are we really 22 chapters in already? WHOA!

In my early drafts, Jim was a total ass, and it was going to be a really ugly climax. But I decided to make him more redeemable here and address the issue of generational trauma. It's up to us to break the cycle of abuse.