fic draft - section four of "the bailey family is awesome" (working title)
This still has a lot of details that need to be ironed out. I think I'm going to change what years of Will's life his dad was SACEUR, and fine tune the section about his brothers. I'm not sure yet. But I wrote it today and it made me kind of happy, so I thought I would post it.
***
William is a lawyer, officially. He has a piece of paper that says as much and just spoke eloquently to his peers about progress and politics. He has a job lined up in Washington, DC. William is finished with his institutional education, and Thomas tries to swallow past the suspicious lump in his throat.
His wife, god bless her, pats his arm knowingly, squeezes his hand. She's taken Elsie's growth with the same poise and strength she uses to tackle everything else in her life. He supposes it's just another part of being a father--trying to hold on for as long as you can before learning to let go.
He and Barbara glide absently through the reception, greeting the people they vaguely know and smiling patiently at the people who seem to know them. He doesn't want to crowd Will--he's no longer a little boy, after all--but he does feel as though he should be allowed one last day of being a doting father before his youngest son leaves for a job an entire ocean away.
He's not sure why he feels so deeply sentimental. He doesn't remember being this conflicted and emotional when his other boys moved on with their lives. This proud, yes, and this triumphant, but not this emotional. He attributes it to the fact that Will is the youngest, the last of his children to go, the last of Miriam's children to go, but he knows that it's something else, as well. Will has been gone a long time. He hasn't lived at home since his second summer at Oxford. And yet, this, this event, this ceremony, really seems to mark the end of it all. It's not just that it's the last of his children to go, it's that it's William. He loves all his boys (all his children, really, because although his blood does not run through Elsie's veins, she is undoubtedly his), but there is something between Will and himself that he doesn't share with the others. Perhaps it was the years they spent together, after his other sons were away at school, or perhaps it was something else, but he and Will are bonded in a way that the others aren't. It's not that he has the most in common with Will (that would be Tom), or that Will is the most mature (David), the most perplexing (Dean), or even the son he has the least in common with (Christopher). Will, he muses, is the son that he understands the best. The son that understands him the best. And what, really, could it be, aside from those long days spent together in the house, after Miriam, before Barbara?
He thinks, feeling a little bittersweet, that perhaps something good did come out of Miriam's death after all.
Thomas doesn't know what's next for William. His other children, Elsie included, have very clear career paths. Thomas Junior and Dean jumped right into military service. David's goal since he could walk had been medical school. Even Christopher, who no one could ever truly wrap their minds around, settled into his accounting firm in Connecticut with no hesitation at all. Elsie's graduation from university is imminent, and she's already secured a summer internship with a playwright in New York that could very well lead to something more.
If you ask William what he wants to do, he gets a dreamy look on his face.
"There's something really beautiful about bureaucracy," he'll say. "I know it sounds crazy. I know the system doesn't always work. But when it does? When you can make the system work for you? It's incredible. You can't give up on the system. It has its flaws, but the government hasn't come crashing down yet, so we must be doing something right."
The short answer, of course, to what William is doing, is politics. The long answer is less clear. There are a million cogs in the federal system, and William seems as though he'd like to try them all before he settles on one thing. Advocacy, campaigning, candidacy... he's not sure what he wants to do, but he's starting with the first and making his way down the list.
Thomas isn't worried. William is remarkably bright--smarter than he is, at the very least, and he knows that Will has the power to succeed in whatever he attempts. All he wants for any of his children is happiness, and his only fear is that William's restlessness, his impatience with the system he loves so dearly, will make him miserable, in the end. That's why he pressures him so often to settle down. If he's still trying to fit into a profession, the least he can do is have someone to share his frustration with.
That's why he feels more than a little spite when Nicholas Myers avoids his eyes when they pass each other at the bar.
"Dad, don't," Will says softly, clearly anticipating the intimidating comments on the tip of Thomas' tongue.
"What's the use of being one of the most powerful men in the world if you can't strike fear into the hearts and minds of your children's ex-boyfriends?" Thomas asks. Will rolls his eyes rather spectacularly, a childhood habit he, unfortunately, never grew out of. "You think that's bad, you should have been at dinner the summer that Elsie brought her beau home from school."
"She's very upset that she can't be here," Barbara says, deftly changing the subject. "She was trying to work something out with her professors so she could take her final on a different day, but he wouldn't budge."
"I know," Will says. "She called this morning. I told her it's not a big deal--this whole thing is more to prove that the money we've been pouring into this place is going to use than anything else. I'll see her when she's done with finals. I'll drive up to visit her in New York if I have to."
Before long, Barbara excuses herself to use the restroom, leaving Will and Thomas alone on the patio. The reception is wrapping up, and although William is returning to Brussels for a few weeks before he begins his work in Washington, Thomas knows that this is really it. This conversation in this room at this moment is the last chance he has to say what he needs to say before he can't anymore. After this, the time won't be right.
"William," he says. Will is staring out at the setting sun, clutching his drink. He turns, slowly to Thomas, and smiles at him curiously. "I'm probably supposed to say something profound to you right now."
"Yeah," Will says, grinning. "This is your chance to give me the advice that will shape the rest of my life. If it's bad advice, I'm going to blame my inevitable downward spiral on you."
Thomas laughs and squeezes Will's shoulder. "Well, than I suppose I'm in rather a lot of trouble. I can give you some good advice about treaty negotiations, but I'm afraid I don't know all that much about real life." It was true. He rose through the military ranks quickly, ending up in Brussels before long, and SACEUR for the past nine years. It afforded him a very nice lifestyle, as did his marriage to Miriam, but left him with little knowledge of sticky real world problems. He is a decorated war hero, but it's been over twenty years since he balanced his own checkbook.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your brothers," he says, although it's a lie. "You're a brilliant man, William. You can do whatever you want and do it well. But you need to remember that equally important to your professional aspirations are your personal aspirations. I want you to be successful, but moreover, I want you to be happy. If you can be happy, the rest won't matter as much. Not to me, and not to you."
William looks both touched and unsure of what to say. He likes to think that Will has known since that fateful day that he fell out of a tree while trying to meet Peter Mertens that Thomas has no issue with his homosexuality, but it's not something they've ever really talked about. Not directly. Thomas has made discreet inquiries into who Will is dating, has invited his boyfriends to visit with him on holidays, but they've never actually discussed it. The look of relief on Will's face is unmistakable, and Thomas suddenly feels awful that after all this time, Will never knew.
"Thanks, Dad," he says, his still shining. "I'll do my best. I know how much you hate politicians, so I'll try really hard not to become one."
"You do that, William. Make me proud."
Barbara returns from the restroom before they have time to extend the conversation, but Thomas knows there's nothing else to say.
***
William is a lawyer, officially. He has a piece of paper that says as much and just spoke eloquently to his peers about progress and politics. He has a job lined up in Washington, DC. William is finished with his institutional education, and Thomas tries to swallow past the suspicious lump in his throat.
His wife, god bless her, pats his arm knowingly, squeezes his hand. She's taken Elsie's growth with the same poise and strength she uses to tackle everything else in her life. He supposes it's just another part of being a father--trying to hold on for as long as you can before learning to let go.
He and Barbara glide absently through the reception, greeting the people they vaguely know and smiling patiently at the people who seem to know them. He doesn't want to crowd Will--he's no longer a little boy, after all--but he does feel as though he should be allowed one last day of being a doting father before his youngest son leaves for a job an entire ocean away.
He's not sure why he feels so deeply sentimental. He doesn't remember being this conflicted and emotional when his other boys moved on with their lives. This proud, yes, and this triumphant, but not this emotional. He attributes it to the fact that Will is the youngest, the last of his children to go, the last of Miriam's children to go, but he knows that it's something else, as well. Will has been gone a long time. He hasn't lived at home since his second summer at Oxford. And yet, this, this event, this ceremony, really seems to mark the end of it all. It's not just that it's the last of his children to go, it's that it's William. He loves all his boys (all his children, really, because although his blood does not run through Elsie's veins, she is undoubtedly his), but there is something between Will and himself that he doesn't share with the others. Perhaps it was the years they spent together, after his other sons were away at school, or perhaps it was something else, but he and Will are bonded in a way that the others aren't. It's not that he has the most in common with Will (that would be Tom), or that Will is the most mature (David), the most perplexing (Dean), or even the son he has the least in common with (Christopher). Will, he muses, is the son that he understands the best. The son that understands him the best. And what, really, could it be, aside from those long days spent together in the house, after Miriam, before Barbara?
He thinks, feeling a little bittersweet, that perhaps something good did come out of Miriam's death after all.
Thomas doesn't know what's next for William. His other children, Elsie included, have very clear career paths. Thomas Junior and Dean jumped right into military service. David's goal since he could walk had been medical school. Even Christopher, who no one could ever truly wrap their minds around, settled into his accounting firm in Connecticut with no hesitation at all. Elsie's graduation from university is imminent, and she's already secured a summer internship with a playwright in New York that could very well lead to something more.
If you ask William what he wants to do, he gets a dreamy look on his face.
"There's something really beautiful about bureaucracy," he'll say. "I know it sounds crazy. I know the system doesn't always work. But when it does? When you can make the system work for you? It's incredible. You can't give up on the system. It has its flaws, but the government hasn't come crashing down yet, so we must be doing something right."
The short answer, of course, to what William is doing, is politics. The long answer is less clear. There are a million cogs in the federal system, and William seems as though he'd like to try them all before he settles on one thing. Advocacy, campaigning, candidacy... he's not sure what he wants to do, but he's starting with the first and making his way down the list.
Thomas isn't worried. William is remarkably bright--smarter than he is, at the very least, and he knows that Will has the power to succeed in whatever he attempts. All he wants for any of his children is happiness, and his only fear is that William's restlessness, his impatience with the system he loves so dearly, will make him miserable, in the end. That's why he pressures him so often to settle down. If he's still trying to fit into a profession, the least he can do is have someone to share his frustration with.
That's why he feels more than a little spite when Nicholas Myers avoids his eyes when they pass each other at the bar.
"Dad, don't," Will says softly, clearly anticipating the intimidating comments on the tip of Thomas' tongue.
"What's the use of being one of the most powerful men in the world if you can't strike fear into the hearts and minds of your children's ex-boyfriends?" Thomas asks. Will rolls his eyes rather spectacularly, a childhood habit he, unfortunately, never grew out of. "You think that's bad, you should have been at dinner the summer that Elsie brought her beau home from school."
"She's very upset that she can't be here," Barbara says, deftly changing the subject. "She was trying to work something out with her professors so she could take her final on a different day, but he wouldn't budge."
"I know," Will says. "She called this morning. I told her it's not a big deal--this whole thing is more to prove that the money we've been pouring into this place is going to use than anything else. I'll see her when she's done with finals. I'll drive up to visit her in New York if I have to."
Before long, Barbara excuses herself to use the restroom, leaving Will and Thomas alone on the patio. The reception is wrapping up, and although William is returning to Brussels for a few weeks before he begins his work in Washington, Thomas knows that this is really it. This conversation in this room at this moment is the last chance he has to say what he needs to say before he can't anymore. After this, the time won't be right.
"William," he says. Will is staring out at the setting sun, clutching his drink. He turns, slowly to Thomas, and smiles at him curiously. "I'm probably supposed to say something profound to you right now."
"Yeah," Will says, grinning. "This is your chance to give me the advice that will shape the rest of my life. If it's bad advice, I'm going to blame my inevitable downward spiral on you."
Thomas laughs and squeezes Will's shoulder. "Well, than I suppose I'm in rather a lot of trouble. I can give you some good advice about treaty negotiations, but I'm afraid I don't know all that much about real life." It was true. He rose through the military ranks quickly, ending up in Brussels before long, and SACEUR for the past nine years. It afforded him a very nice lifestyle, as did his marriage to Miriam, but left him with little knowledge of sticky real world problems. He is a decorated war hero, but it's been over twenty years since he balanced his own checkbook.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your brothers," he says, although it's a lie. "You're a brilliant man, William. You can do whatever you want and do it well. But you need to remember that equally important to your professional aspirations are your personal aspirations. I want you to be successful, but moreover, I want you to be happy. If you can be happy, the rest won't matter as much. Not to me, and not to you."
William looks both touched and unsure of what to say. He likes to think that Will has known since that fateful day that he fell out of a tree while trying to meet Peter Mertens that Thomas has no issue with his homosexuality, but it's not something they've ever really talked about. Not directly. Thomas has made discreet inquiries into who Will is dating, has invited his boyfriends to visit with him on holidays, but they've never actually discussed it. The look of relief on Will's face is unmistakable, and Thomas suddenly feels awful that after all this time, Will never knew.
"Thanks, Dad," he says, his still shining. "I'll do my best. I know how much you hate politicians, so I'll try really hard not to become one."
"You do that, William. Make me proud."
Barbara returns from the restroom before they have time to extend the conversation, but Thomas knows there's nothing else to say.