Prompt Post: ROUND FOUR

[oakenshields13]

ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED

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[Fill] Fatherhood (2/?)

[anonymous]

He immediately scrambled to grab the handset before it hit the floor.

“Is everything all right?” Smith asked warily.

“Yes,” Charles began before what he was saying caught up to his brain. “No,” he amended quickly before words once again failed him. “…My what now?” he said finally, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“Your son, Mr. Xavier,” the woman said slowly, as though she was speaking to an idiot. “You don’t mean to tell me you didn’t know?”

“No, I…I had no idea. I have a son?” Charles asked helplessly.

“Well…” Smith sounded contrite, “it’s your name on his birth certificate.”

“Birth certificate?” Charles repeated numbly. How on earth could this have happened? He was twenty-four and just barely into graduate school. He wasn’t ready to be a father, especially not out of the blue like this.

“That is generally the document we use to discern such things. Mr. Xavier - ” Smith said tiredly, but Charles interrupted her.

“I…look, I am terribly sorry, but this is very overwhelming. If you would forgive me, I have just had a bit of a shock. It’s not every day you find out you’re a father. I haven’t seen Gabi in years.” Charles was babbling and he knew it, but he needed time to think.

“Mr. Xavier,” Smith said sharply. “We need to decide what to do with him. If you don’t want him, he’ll be placed in foster care.”

Charles froze at that declaration and before he even knew what he was saying the words were already flying out of his mouth. “Of course I want him.”

“You do?” the woman sounded incredulous.

“Yes!” Charles said sharply, too caught up in the moment and the slow burning anger in chest at the thought that he would ever abandon his son.

And then the magnitude of what he had just agreed to hit home like a ton of bricks. “Oh Lord,” he said, sagging against the wall with a sigh. “I…I don’t even know anything about him. His likes, dislikes…How old is he? What is his name?” he asked somewhat desperately.

He could hear the sound of rustling paper on the other end of the line. “I can’t tell you his preferences,” she said apologetically. “But his name is David Charles Haller and He’s four years old.”

Charles tiled his back against the wall, closed his eyes and began mentally drawing up his excuses for his professors. So much for getting that paper in on time.