New SGA Fic: Good Night, Mr. Sheppard, Wherever You Are (2/2)
See header info in Part One
Dave stared down into his drink, watching the liquid swirl as he swooshed the glass around in a tight circle. He took another sip and then very deliberately set the tumbler on the table and picked up the decanter. Silence hung heavily between them as he inspected every facet of the vessel. At last he looked back up at his brother, lifting the half-empty container in his direction and nodding to the empty spot on the sofa next to him. "Okay, apology accepted. Now I think it's time to wipe the slate clean and start over--beginning with you getting over here and helping me finish off the rest of this very fine scotch."
His shoulders slumping in relief, John broke into one of his lopsided grins. "I can do that." He drained the last of his whiskey and sauntered over to join his brother, who promptly refilled the tumbler.
Patrick would have collapsed with relief had he a real body. As it was, he went back to the chair to continue to observe his sons, regretting even more that he had never tried to mend things between the three of them.
"To Dad?" Dave raised his glass, waiting for John to reciprocate.
John, however, shook his head. "No, I think we should toast to something else this time." Still smiling, he lifted his own glass. "To my brother."
Stunned, Dave nodded. "To my brother," he echoed. He was beaming as he clinked his tumbler against John's and then took a healthy swig.
John lifted his glass to his lips, but paused mid-drink. "Wait a minute. Washington? When did Dad go to Washington--and why?" He was frowning now, suspicion radiating off of him.
Patrick tensed, bracing himself for an end to the freshly agreed upon truce. But to his immense relief, Dave didn't take offense and began to explain.
"Dad was invited to speak at an energy symposium there. His talk was the last one on the agenda. I spoke to him right after and he seemed very pleased, thought it went well. And it must have because we started getting calls almost immediately..." Seeing his brother's eyes begin to glaze over, he quickly abandoned the business details. "Um, well anyway, I was planning to work late so I'd be free to pick him up at the airport the next morning. I'd grabbed a late dinner and was on my way to the den to finish up a few more reports before bed. That's when I noticed him sitting over there," he said, pointing to the seat that Patrick once again occupied unseen.
A look over at John revealed that he had lost the tense posture and was draining the last of his drink. As he poured a new one, curiosity had largely replaced suspicion, though a hint of wariness did remain. Patrick was hopeful that the peace the two had established would endure, even after Dave finished revealing the details of that fateful trip.
Dave's expression was solemn as he continued. "I've never seen him like that before, John. Never. He was...off-balance, shaken. I mean, really shaken. He said he'd been invited to the White House and met the President."
John stilled suddenly in mid-drink, his wariness back to full force. "Oh?" was all he said.
His brother didn't seem to pick up on it, his eyes taking on a far-away look as he returned to that awful night in his mind. "He said he'd been excited, thrilled that the President had taken time to seek him out. He thought it was because of the business. But it wasn't. He told Dad that he couldn't resist the urge to meet John Sheppard's father."
Patrick thought his oldest might bolt from the house right then and there. For good, judging by the way his heart was racing. He was thankful that John stayed, though he suspected it was more a case of being too shocked to move rather than any real desire to hear more.
Still lost in his memories, Dave didn't notice his brother's reaction and continued the tale. "God, he couldn't even remember how he got home. He said the President told him that it would be best if he gave up on his dream of you returning to join the company. I think it was what prompted him to really, truly let go of the idea of you coming home to stay."
A lone tear escaped as Dave turned to face his brother. "I hated you for awhile after that, you know. It was like part of him died that night. He was never quite the same. It wasn't long after that his health began to decline."
John had a deer-in-the-headlights look as he fumbled for a reply. "I don't...I didn't...why?"
Dave shook his head, giving in to anger in order to keep forming tears at bay. "Why what? Why do--did I hate you? Why was Dad affected so badly? Why was he still holding onto his dream for you to join the company? Why do you think?"
Stunned, John shook his head. "No, I mean why would the President care about meeting my father? It's not like we've met more than a couple of times at most." His eyes went wide as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "He, um, didn't say anything about my job, did he?"
His anger still raging, Dave slammed his glass on the table and leapt to his feet. "And what if he did? Would it really be so bad if we knew where you were and what you were doing?"
"Of course not!" John also stood now, allowing rein to his own rising anger. "I'd love to be able to tell you about the places I've been and things I've seen. Well, most of it anyway," he amended. "But what I do and where I am is so highly classified that not more than a handful of generals even know about it!"
Dave opened his mouth to reply, but promptly closed it without a word and dropped back onto the sofa. Patrick felt realization hit his youngest like a physical blow--much like it had him the night he'd met the President. When he spoke, it wasn't so much directed at John as it was a verbalization of his thoughts. "Oh my God, he was right. I mean, I kind of knew, but..."
John's anger faded as quickly as his brother's and confusion was quick to set in. "What? Who was right? What are you talking about?"
"Dad. He said the President told him that they needed you. That you were uniquely qualified for your position and that no one could take your place. I mean, I knew because Dad told me that night, but now? Now I see it. You really aren't just another pilot, are you?"
The deer-in-the-headlights look returned and John hedged. "Of course I am. I-I don't know what you're talking about."
Dave wasn't giving up so easily though. "No, no that old song won't play anymore, brother dearest. I won't ask you for any details, so don't worry. But I know now that it's true. Dad realized it first and he was right. How many Lieutenant Colonels are there in the Air Force these days? And how many of those do the President know by name--and know well enough to make him curious enough to want to meet their fathers? No," he insisted. "Dad was right. He said you had to be something special to overcome the black mark on your record and get promoted. I guess I just didn't really see it clearly, not until now."
John's legs turned to jelly and he joined his brother on the sofa. "Dad said that? My--our Dad?"
Patrick nodded, pride welling within. "Yes, son, yes I did. And I will never regret more not telling you myself."
Staring up at the ceiling, Dave laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yeah." He turned to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I wish you had been there, John. I wish you could have seen his face when he said he used to stand over your crib and just watch you sleep. I really can't find the words to describe it, but I can tell you this--I never saw him look quite like that before. He said he could tell even then that you were really special and that you would do great things when you grew up." He pulled away then, anger again swelling. "I did everything he asked and I never complained. But in that moment I knew. You were his favorite and everything I have, everything I've done, none of it mattered. None of it was ever meant for me. It was always supposed to be yours. All of it. I only got it by default and I never truly had his confidence, not the way you did."
Patrick was stunned. "No Dave, no! I loved you every bit as much as your brother. I was--am so proud of you, the way you stepped up when John left. I-I thought you knew that?" He turned his thoughts inside, berating himself for not having seen this. "God, what have I done? Why didn't I think to tell you? I'm sorry, son. So very, very sorry!"
His words went unheard, as he knew they would. Dave downed the rest of his whiskey and emptied the last of the scotch into his glass. He looked up at his brother, his anger surging as it warred with sadness and regret. "Do you have any idea what that feels like? To know that you were never anything more than second best? And please, spare me the platitudes and assurances. He never talked about me that way or got that look on his face, the one he got when he talked about how special you were. I stayed and I took care of him. I ran the business and I saw that he had the finest doctors and the best treatments available! I did everything and anything he asked of me and I never complained, not once. And I did it all alone while you were off God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. But despite all of that, he never got that look on his face when he talked about me or what I've done. He never said I was special, not like you. And I hate you for that! Do you hear me? I hate you!"
Dave was sobbing openly by now. John couldn't seem to find the words, but he dropped back onto the sofa and awkwardly put his arms around his younger brother. Dave tried to pull away at first, but John held on and, still sobbing, Dave held onto his older brother for dear life. John rocked him, muttering his apologies over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he crooned.
Patrick had never before wanted so badly to be able to reach out and touch his sons, to comfort them both and tell them what he'd really been thinking and feeling. To tell them he knew now that he was wrong, that he should have told them so many things before it was too late. And most importantly of all, that he should have never tried to force his hopes and dreams for the future on his sons. He saw so many things clearly now in death, things that he never could or would allow himself to see when he was alive. Topping that list of things was his role in the current rift between his sons. Dave was right--he should have moved heaven and earth to make things right between him and John before he died. He should have never put David in the middle of it. And most importantly, he should have made certain that Dave knew that he was every bit as proud of him as he was of John. So very many should-haves for one lifetime, he thought sadly.
It seemed an eternity before Dave quieted and the brothers finally parted. In perfect unison, they picked up their respective drinks from the table and drained them dry. Dave shifted uncomfortably, trying to look at his brother out of the corner of his eye without being obvious about it. "I'm, um, sorry. About...about...that. I didn't mean it, obviously. I'm afraid the whiskey must have gone straight to my head."
John picked up his glass, trying to get the last possible drop of scotch from the empty glass. He set it back down, but didn't look directly at his brother as he answered him. "Of course you meant it. And if you didn't, then you should have."
Before Dave could protest, John held up a hand to indicate that he wasn't yet finished. "Okay, maybe you don't hate me, not entirely. But let's be honest, part of you will always resent me and yes, even hate me. I know I would in your place. So I guess the question becomes, is that part of you too strong to allow us to establish some sort of relationship again?"
Growing more anxious by the moment, Patrick waited for Dave's answer. It wasn't easy, but he refused to allow the seed of hope room to grow just yet. They were trying and that was all he could ask for, but there was still so much that could still go wrong. So very, very wrong.
Dave opened his mouth to answer, but immediately shut it again. He stared out the window, trying to gather his thoughts and calm his conflicting emotions. John waited patiently, allowing him the time he needed. Patrick was proud of the both of them, though that made him no less apprehensive over what was to come.
At last Dave turned to face his sibling, his expression earnest and open."I meant what I said before, John. I don't want to lose my brother. So if you can forgive my behavior, I'd like to try. I can't promise that my temper won't ever get the best of me, but I really do want to try. So what about you? Can you accept that?"
The seed of hope in Patrick sprouted, in spite of his best efforts and he willed his oldest to agree. "Come on, John," he urged. "Take what he's offering."
John sighed, running his hand along the back of his neck. "Can I accept that you're gonna get pissed at me sometimes? Sure. Even if it happens a lot. And yeah, I want to get to know the man my pesky kid brother has grown into. But can you deal with the fact that I may be out of touch for long periods of time? In regards to my job, nothing has changed. I won't be around much and there may be times when I'm out of contact for a long time. And even when I get leave and come home, you have to understand that I can be called back without a moment's notice and I'll have to drop everything and go. And I still won't be able to tell you why or where I'm going. Can you live with that?"
Hope began to wither a bit as Patrick feared Dave would say no. John's secrecy--no matter that it wasn't necessarily his choice--had always been a sore spot for David. Even more so than it had been for himself and that was saying something. He'd asked his youngest about it once, but Dave had hedged and never actually answered him.
In the meantime, Dave took a moment to consider his answer. It wasn't long before a wry smile graced his features. "Yes, I think I can live with that. I may not like it, but I can live with it if the alternative is closing the door to getting to know my only big brother again. Even if he's still the world's biggest pain in the ass."
John grinned back at him. "Ah, that would be PITA, a title which belongs solely to you, little brother."
Tears formed in Patrick's eyes. They were doing it, they were going to get to know each other again. His sons were going to be real brothers again, even if they weren't able to have frequent contact. And that was all that Patrick could hope for.
"Hey, do you remember that time when you told that girl in Jamaica that my name was PITA and then she insisted on calling me that for the entire month we were there? I thought Dad was going to kill you for that one when she said it front of his business associate."
John laughed. "Do I ever! I spent the next three weeks banned from the beach and the water. I didn't think that month would ever end," he groaned.
To their father's tremendous relief, the brothers spent the next few hours reminiscing. Dave refilled the decanter and the pair made a serious dent in the contents before John finally called a halt to the visit. "I really hate to do this, but I need to go back now. I've got your email and cell number now though, so I'll try to keep in touch as best I can. And I promise, I'll see about putting in for more leave soon. Hey, maybe we can go back to Jamaica or something," he suggested.
"You really think they're ready for the grown up version of the Sheppard brothers?" asked Dave, laughing.
John shrugged. "Don't know, but there's only one way to find out, right?"
Patrick laughed at them, not for the first time since they'd put their differences behind them. It was beyond wonderful to watch them getting along so well.
Standing, Dave pulled his keys from his pocket. "Need a ride back?"
His brother frowned, shaking his head. "After all the scotch--very fine though it was--that we've consumed this afternoon? I don't think so, not this time. Besides, I don't need Dad coming back from the grave to kick my ass for you getting a DUI. I'd better just call a cab. But thanks anyway," he added earnestly.
Dave looked like he wanted to argue at first, but then thought better of it. "Yeah, you're probably right. And now that I've admitted that, I must add that once I'm good and properly sober I'm going to deny ever doing so until my very last breath and then some. So don't be expecting it to happen again," he warned.
"Well see about that, little brother." John's eyes were twinkling and the weariness that had weighed so heavily on him earlier was gone, at least for the moment.
All too soon, the cab was there and his sons were saying their final farewells.
"So, I guess this is goodbye for now." Dave stood just inside the threshold, his arms crossed.
"Yeah, guess so. Take care, little brother. I'll be in touch when I can." John paused just outside the door, not knowing anymore than Dave what to do next.
Knowing that it might be the last time he ever saw his brother alive, Dave couldn't just let him go like that and grabbed John into a bear hug. "No, you take care. I know you can't talk about it, but I have a feeling your job is a whole lot more dangerous than mine, big brother. So wherever you're going and whatever you're doing, stay safe." With a final clap on the back, he stepped away from the hug.
John just nodded, looking very uncomfortable with the sudden turn in the conversation. He said nothing, but waved as he turned to go.
Patrick had simply sat back and watched them, soaking in every word, every gesture during the visit. Now that it was over, he was torn as to what to do next. But as he watched John walk toward the waiting car, he suddenly knew what he had to do.
"I wish you could hear me, son," he told Dave. "I wish I could tell you how proud of you I am and how much I cherished every moment we spent together. But I have to go now. I have to get to know your brother, even if he doesn't know I'm there. Goodbye, son, and God bless."
And as the cab drove away with his eldest son, Patrick followed.
Dave stared down into his drink, watching the liquid swirl as he swooshed the glass around in a tight circle. He took another sip and then very deliberately set the tumbler on the table and picked up the decanter. Silence hung heavily between them as he inspected every facet of the vessel. At last he looked back up at his brother, lifting the half-empty container in his direction and nodding to the empty spot on the sofa next to him. "Okay, apology accepted. Now I think it's time to wipe the slate clean and start over--beginning with you getting over here and helping me finish off the rest of this very fine scotch."
His shoulders slumping in relief, John broke into one of his lopsided grins. "I can do that." He drained the last of his whiskey and sauntered over to join his brother, who promptly refilled the tumbler.
Patrick would have collapsed with relief had he a real body. As it was, he went back to the chair to continue to observe his sons, regretting even more that he had never tried to mend things between the three of them.
"To Dad?" Dave raised his glass, waiting for John to reciprocate.
John, however, shook his head. "No, I think we should toast to something else this time." Still smiling, he lifted his own glass. "To my brother."
Stunned, Dave nodded. "To my brother," he echoed. He was beaming as he clinked his tumbler against John's and then took a healthy swig.
John lifted his glass to his lips, but paused mid-drink. "Wait a minute. Washington? When did Dad go to Washington--and why?" He was frowning now, suspicion radiating off of him.
Patrick tensed, bracing himself for an end to the freshly agreed upon truce. But to his immense relief, Dave didn't take offense and began to explain.
"Dad was invited to speak at an energy symposium there. His talk was the last one on the agenda. I spoke to him right after and he seemed very pleased, thought it went well. And it must have because we started getting calls almost immediately..." Seeing his brother's eyes begin to glaze over, he quickly abandoned the business details. "Um, well anyway, I was planning to work late so I'd be free to pick him up at the airport the next morning. I'd grabbed a late dinner and was on my way to the den to finish up a few more reports before bed. That's when I noticed him sitting over there," he said, pointing to the seat that Patrick once again occupied unseen.
A look over at John revealed that he had lost the tense posture and was draining the last of his drink. As he poured a new one, curiosity had largely replaced suspicion, though a hint of wariness did remain. Patrick was hopeful that the peace the two had established would endure, even after Dave finished revealing the details of that fateful trip.
Dave's expression was solemn as he continued. "I've never seen him like that before, John. Never. He was...off-balance, shaken. I mean, really shaken. He said he'd been invited to the White House and met the President."
John stilled suddenly in mid-drink, his wariness back to full force. "Oh?" was all he said.
His brother didn't seem to pick up on it, his eyes taking on a far-away look as he returned to that awful night in his mind. "He said he'd been excited, thrilled that the President had taken time to seek him out. He thought it was because of the business. But it wasn't. He told Dad that he couldn't resist the urge to meet John Sheppard's father."
Patrick thought his oldest might bolt from the house right then and there. For good, judging by the way his heart was racing. He was thankful that John stayed, though he suspected it was more a case of being too shocked to move rather than any real desire to hear more.
Still lost in his memories, Dave didn't notice his brother's reaction and continued the tale. "God, he couldn't even remember how he got home. He said the President told him that it would be best if he gave up on his dream of you returning to join the company. I think it was what prompted him to really, truly let go of the idea of you coming home to stay."
A lone tear escaped as Dave turned to face his brother. "I hated you for awhile after that, you know. It was like part of him died that night. He was never quite the same. It wasn't long after that his health began to decline."
John had a deer-in-the-headlights look as he fumbled for a reply. "I don't...I didn't...why?"
Dave shook his head, giving in to anger in order to keep forming tears at bay. "Why what? Why do--did I hate you? Why was Dad affected so badly? Why was he still holding onto his dream for you to join the company? Why do you think?"
Stunned, John shook his head. "No, I mean why would the President care about meeting my father? It's not like we've met more than a couple of times at most." His eyes went wide as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "He, um, didn't say anything about my job, did he?"
His anger still raging, Dave slammed his glass on the table and leapt to his feet. "And what if he did? Would it really be so bad if we knew where you were and what you were doing?"
"Of course not!" John also stood now, allowing rein to his own rising anger. "I'd love to be able to tell you about the places I've been and things I've seen. Well, most of it anyway," he amended. "But what I do and where I am is so highly classified that not more than a handful of generals even know about it!"
Dave opened his mouth to reply, but promptly closed it without a word and dropped back onto the sofa. Patrick felt realization hit his youngest like a physical blow--much like it had him the night he'd met the President. When he spoke, it wasn't so much directed at John as it was a verbalization of his thoughts. "Oh my God, he was right. I mean, I kind of knew, but..."
John's anger faded as quickly as his brother's and confusion was quick to set in. "What? Who was right? What are you talking about?"
"Dad. He said the President told him that they needed you. That you were uniquely qualified for your position and that no one could take your place. I mean, I knew because Dad told me that night, but now? Now I see it. You really aren't just another pilot, are you?"
The deer-in-the-headlights look returned and John hedged. "Of course I am. I-I don't know what you're talking about."
Dave wasn't giving up so easily though. "No, no that old song won't play anymore, brother dearest. I won't ask you for any details, so don't worry. But I know now that it's true. Dad realized it first and he was right. How many Lieutenant Colonels are there in the Air Force these days? And how many of those do the President know by name--and know well enough to make him curious enough to want to meet their fathers? No," he insisted. "Dad was right. He said you had to be something special to overcome the black mark on your record and get promoted. I guess I just didn't really see it clearly, not until now."
John's legs turned to jelly and he joined his brother on the sofa. "Dad said that? My--our Dad?"
Patrick nodded, pride welling within. "Yes, son, yes I did. And I will never regret more not telling you myself."
Staring up at the ceiling, Dave laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yeah." He turned to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I wish you had been there, John. I wish you could have seen his face when he said he used to stand over your crib and just watch you sleep. I really can't find the words to describe it, but I can tell you this--I never saw him look quite like that before. He said he could tell even then that you were really special and that you would do great things when you grew up." He pulled away then, anger again swelling. "I did everything he asked and I never complained. But in that moment I knew. You were his favorite and everything I have, everything I've done, none of it mattered. None of it was ever meant for me. It was always supposed to be yours. All of it. I only got it by default and I never truly had his confidence, not the way you did."
Patrick was stunned. "No Dave, no! I loved you every bit as much as your brother. I was--am so proud of you, the way you stepped up when John left. I-I thought you knew that?" He turned his thoughts inside, berating himself for not having seen this. "God, what have I done? Why didn't I think to tell you? I'm sorry, son. So very, very sorry!"
His words went unheard, as he knew they would. Dave downed the rest of his whiskey and emptied the last of the scotch into his glass. He looked up at his brother, his anger surging as it warred with sadness and regret. "Do you have any idea what that feels like? To know that you were never anything more than second best? And please, spare me the platitudes and assurances. He never talked about me that way or got that look on his face, the one he got when he talked about how special you were. I stayed and I took care of him. I ran the business and I saw that he had the finest doctors and the best treatments available! I did everything and anything he asked of me and I never complained, not once. And I did it all alone while you were off God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. But despite all of that, he never got that look on his face when he talked about me or what I've done. He never said I was special, not like you. And I hate you for that! Do you hear me? I hate you!"
Dave was sobbing openly by now. John couldn't seem to find the words, but he dropped back onto the sofa and awkwardly put his arms around his younger brother. Dave tried to pull away at first, but John held on and, still sobbing, Dave held onto his older brother for dear life. John rocked him, muttering his apologies over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he crooned.
Patrick had never before wanted so badly to be able to reach out and touch his sons, to comfort them both and tell them what he'd really been thinking and feeling. To tell them he knew now that he was wrong, that he should have told them so many things before it was too late. And most importantly of all, that he should have never tried to force his hopes and dreams for the future on his sons. He saw so many things clearly now in death, things that he never could or would allow himself to see when he was alive. Topping that list of things was his role in the current rift between his sons. Dave was right--he should have moved heaven and earth to make things right between him and John before he died. He should have never put David in the middle of it. And most importantly, he should have made certain that Dave knew that he was every bit as proud of him as he was of John. So very many should-haves for one lifetime, he thought sadly.
It seemed an eternity before Dave quieted and the brothers finally parted. In perfect unison, they picked up their respective drinks from the table and drained them dry. Dave shifted uncomfortably, trying to look at his brother out of the corner of his eye without being obvious about it. "I'm, um, sorry. About...about...that. I didn't mean it, obviously. I'm afraid the whiskey must have gone straight to my head."
John picked up his glass, trying to get the last possible drop of scotch from the empty glass. He set it back down, but didn't look directly at his brother as he answered him. "Of course you meant it. And if you didn't, then you should have."
Before Dave could protest, John held up a hand to indicate that he wasn't yet finished. "Okay, maybe you don't hate me, not entirely. But let's be honest, part of you will always resent me and yes, even hate me. I know I would in your place. So I guess the question becomes, is that part of you too strong to allow us to establish some sort of relationship again?"
Growing more anxious by the moment, Patrick waited for Dave's answer. It wasn't easy, but he refused to allow the seed of hope room to grow just yet. They were trying and that was all he could ask for, but there was still so much that could still go wrong. So very, very wrong.
Dave opened his mouth to answer, but immediately shut it again. He stared out the window, trying to gather his thoughts and calm his conflicting emotions. John waited patiently, allowing him the time he needed. Patrick was proud of the both of them, though that made him no less apprehensive over what was to come.
At last Dave turned to face his sibling, his expression earnest and open."I meant what I said before, John. I don't want to lose my brother. So if you can forgive my behavior, I'd like to try. I can't promise that my temper won't ever get the best of me, but I really do want to try. So what about you? Can you accept that?"
The seed of hope in Patrick sprouted, in spite of his best efforts and he willed his oldest to agree. "Come on, John," he urged. "Take what he's offering."
John sighed, running his hand along the back of his neck. "Can I accept that you're gonna get pissed at me sometimes? Sure. Even if it happens a lot. And yeah, I want to get to know the man my pesky kid brother has grown into. But can you deal with the fact that I may be out of touch for long periods of time? In regards to my job, nothing has changed. I won't be around much and there may be times when I'm out of contact for a long time. And even when I get leave and come home, you have to understand that I can be called back without a moment's notice and I'll have to drop everything and go. And I still won't be able to tell you why or where I'm going. Can you live with that?"
Hope began to wither a bit as Patrick feared Dave would say no. John's secrecy--no matter that it wasn't necessarily his choice--had always been a sore spot for David. Even more so than it had been for himself and that was saying something. He'd asked his youngest about it once, but Dave had hedged and never actually answered him.
In the meantime, Dave took a moment to consider his answer. It wasn't long before a wry smile graced his features. "Yes, I think I can live with that. I may not like it, but I can live with it if the alternative is closing the door to getting to know my only big brother again. Even if he's still the world's biggest pain in the ass."
John grinned back at him. "Ah, that would be PITA, a title which belongs solely to you, little brother."
Tears formed in Patrick's eyes. They were doing it, they were going to get to know each other again. His sons were going to be real brothers again, even if they weren't able to have frequent contact. And that was all that Patrick could hope for.
"Hey, do you remember that time when you told that girl in Jamaica that my name was PITA and then she insisted on calling me that for the entire month we were there? I thought Dad was going to kill you for that one when she said it front of his business associate."
John laughed. "Do I ever! I spent the next three weeks banned from the beach and the water. I didn't think that month would ever end," he groaned.
To their father's tremendous relief, the brothers spent the next few hours reminiscing. Dave refilled the decanter and the pair made a serious dent in the contents before John finally called a halt to the visit. "I really hate to do this, but I need to go back now. I've got your email and cell number now though, so I'll try to keep in touch as best I can. And I promise, I'll see about putting in for more leave soon. Hey, maybe we can go back to Jamaica or something," he suggested.
"You really think they're ready for the grown up version of the Sheppard brothers?" asked Dave, laughing.
John shrugged. "Don't know, but there's only one way to find out, right?"
Patrick laughed at them, not for the first time since they'd put their differences behind them. It was beyond wonderful to watch them getting along so well.
Standing, Dave pulled his keys from his pocket. "Need a ride back?"
His brother frowned, shaking his head. "After all the scotch--very fine though it was--that we've consumed this afternoon? I don't think so, not this time. Besides, I don't need Dad coming back from the grave to kick my ass for you getting a DUI. I'd better just call a cab. But thanks anyway," he added earnestly.
Dave looked like he wanted to argue at first, but then thought better of it. "Yeah, you're probably right. And now that I've admitted that, I must add that once I'm good and properly sober I'm going to deny ever doing so until my very last breath and then some. So don't be expecting it to happen again," he warned.
"Well see about that, little brother." John's eyes were twinkling and the weariness that had weighed so heavily on him earlier was gone, at least for the moment.
All too soon, the cab was there and his sons were saying their final farewells.
"So, I guess this is goodbye for now." Dave stood just inside the threshold, his arms crossed.
"Yeah, guess so. Take care, little brother. I'll be in touch when I can." John paused just outside the door, not knowing anymore than Dave what to do next.
Knowing that it might be the last time he ever saw his brother alive, Dave couldn't just let him go like that and grabbed John into a bear hug. "No, you take care. I know you can't talk about it, but I have a feeling your job is a whole lot more dangerous than mine, big brother. So wherever you're going and whatever you're doing, stay safe." With a final clap on the back, he stepped away from the hug.
John just nodded, looking very uncomfortable with the sudden turn in the conversation. He said nothing, but waved as he turned to go.
Patrick had simply sat back and watched them, soaking in every word, every gesture during the visit. Now that it was over, he was torn as to what to do next. But as he watched John walk toward the waiting car, he suddenly knew what he had to do.
"I wish you could hear me, son," he told Dave. "I wish I could tell you how proud of you I am and how much I cherished every moment we spent together. But I have to go now. I have to get to know your brother, even if he doesn't know I'm there. Goodbye, son, and God bless."
And as the cab drove away with his eldest son, Patrick followed.