Breathe In

[haroldlee]

Sandra Lee eyed her son carefully through the screen door, momentarily frozen. There were several things she took in nearly instantaneously; he was frightened, he was apologetic, and he was crushing hard on someoneShe knew these things in the space of moments between the flood of desperate relief and the blinding flash of anger. She gave voice to

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[allmhadadh]

The conversation between father and son had, not shockingly, been stilted and uncomfortable at first. Both were without the support of their respective allies, as it were, which left only them to try to find the answers and understanding. For Harold's part, his exhaustion took some of the edge off of his anxiety; for Myon's, having the framework of the story allowed him to ask more questions. It was an interesting mix of questions, too -- parts about the personal, but also some about the universe. What kind of place it was. What Harold thought of being in the military, albeit briefly.

He finally wrapped up with something decidedly paternal, as he held Scotty's PADD in his hands, having already spent some time looking at it, playing with it, noting that it is definitely like nothing out today in the sheer storage space and actual build. "There will be no more... 'falling into bed' with any numbers of people, correct? And you've been tested for any possible diseases?"

Harold felt a number of son-like things at that set of questions. No small amount of none of your business, just out of a vague sense of instinctive rebellion and a voice he couldn't quite silence, though he didn't speak it. His flinch was likely visible, but it wasn't out of shame or squick at the question. A reminder of being asked by the man in his head, in a horrified sort of voice, if Harold was clean. Humiliating, much?

Still. Legitimate set of questions. Harold gestured off toward the kitchen. "He's-- what I want. I'm going to do that right." Whatever right was, however they moved ahead, it was never going to be just falling into bed. He nodded. "No falling into bed with-- people. And my last scan was clear. I'm okay."

"Good." Myon looked down at the PADD, and the barest trace of a smile crossed his face. "I took you to see the Empire Strikes Back when you were three. I never considered that you would end up seeing space, but it seems... appropriate, in its own way."

"You did?" Harold blinked, that near-smile throwing him, but not in bad ways. "...you did." He had little memory of it. A vague impression of being dressed in a cutesy little-boy-sailor type deal - everyone knows the one - and being in a dark place with exciting sounds and lights and his father somehow even more impressive under them.

He tilted his head. "Why? Appropriate, I mean."

"You got your first Millennium Falcon that Christmas, and were pretending you were in space." His father smiled again, more fond reminiscence; controlled, of course, but there. "Your mother took you to see Return of the Jedi, and that was when you got your rocketship sheet set, because the Star Wars sheets were sold out." And Sandra's entirely careful washing of that particular set of sheets insured they were still in the closet ready to use. "Even those glow-in-the-dark stars; I remember you looking through books so that you could place the constellations correctly. Therefore, it seems appropriate that you went into space."

[haroldlee]

Harold looked at his lap, pursing his lips into the grin pulling at them.

"Second star to the right." It was muttered, looking away briefly. Fairy dust and white rabbits and plenty of other mixed references bounced around the expanse of relief in his mind. "I'll give it this. When it didn't hurt like hell, it was pretty freaking amazing." Harold's hands, until now clasped firmly in his lap, fidgeted, in that way of his when he was thinking. "I guess-- what happens now?" He couldn't begin to fathom how a family moved on from something like this. Not to mention the cops, and Scotty, and who knows if whatever landed them here would even let them stay?

Did either of them really want to stay?

"We discuss options, until your mother and I determine what the police were after." Myon set the PADD aside, finally. "I cannot pretend I'm entirely comfortable of your new lifestyle, or that I don't hope that you'll decide to marry a good woman, and have children. For a number of reasons aside my own discomfort, as well. But you are my only son, regardless of your lifestyle or who you choose to cohabit with. Whatever is ours is still yours. Right now, you're welcome to stay here, or your mother may be able to talk with Jane about the rental."

"Thank you." It was soft, and Harold was looking at his own lap when he said it. He did shake his head. "He's a good man. But-- I get it. What you're saying. Thank you. Thank you." He had to stop saying that now. Right. Yes.

"...thank you." Uh. Apparently not so much with the stopping. Speak, Harold Lee. "You guys didn't-- deserve any of this. I'm sorry. Thank you." Stop... saying that.

Myon shook his head, standing. "Stop. You don't need to thank us for being parents. Talk to your... friend, and we'll discuss options."