Fullmetal Alchemist, "Sins of the Father," Belsio/Nash, PG
OH SHI-*cough*
So I post up my latest story for the 20_inkspots challenge, and goldphish_bowl informs me that, if I don't hurry up and make with some freakin' happy fiction, she's gonna go all Scar on my ass.
Well. I was gonna try, honest. But come on, I'm writing Belsio/Nash, folks. It's just ... begging for angst!
Right?
Anyway, right or wrong, here's my half of the contribution for #14, "I need to know." It's really fuckin' depressing, I'm not going to lie. But, in my own defense, it's NOT MY FAULT that it's depressing. This pairing's canon depressing.
On a happier note, it's not a deathfic, really. Russel's mom is kinda toast, no matter how you slice it (slice it, haha, get it?), but nobody else dies. Well, except Mugear, but he's an ass, so it's cool that he dies. Right?
Right. Go read the damn fic already, imma shut up now. >^T_T^<
Our contributions for 20_inkspots, in chronological order:
1895: "Holding Back" (#2)
1906: "Dawn for a Dying Man" (#16)
1910: "In the Heat of the Moment" (#1)
1910: "The Pain of Holding On" (#19)
1910: "A Breath of Fresh Air" (#5)
1913: "Strays, part 1" (#3)
1913: "Strays, part 2" (#17)
1913: "Strays, part 3" (#12)
1914: "Everyone Together, All Alone" (#10)
1914: "Sins of the Father" (#14)
1915: "Ask" (#20)
1915: "Keeping Secrets" (#6)
1915: "The Father I Never Was" (#9)
1915: "Timeless" (#18)
1915: "Balance" (#11)
1917: "A Father's Pride and Joy" (#15)
1918: "The Unexpected Gift of Fatherhood (#7)
1918: "Adjustment" (#4)
1918: "Gold of the Earth" (#8)
Will be updated as more stories are added. ^_^
Sins of the Father
by Mistr3ss Quickly
"Dad?"
"Yes, Russel?"
"Why'd you marry Mom?"
Nash looked up from the inventory he'd been filling out, and frowned at his son. "I'm sorry?"
Russel fidgeted. "Why'd you marry Mom?" he repeated. "I mean, you and Mr. Belsio were in l-were close, right? Closer than you and Mom. Why'd you marry her instead of just staying here with Mr. Belsio?"
Nash sighed. "Well," he said. "It's complicated, Russel."
"How so?" Russel wanted to know.
Nash set down the inventory and stood, brushing dust from his trousers. "Let's go inside," he said. "I'll make some tea."
~*~
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift;
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.
~*~
"I first began studying Alchemy when I was nine years old," said Nash, setting the teakettle on the stove before sitting down beside his son at the kitchen table. "Just a year or two older than you were when you started asking questions about it, if I remember correctly. At that time, there was a couple in Xenotime, a husband and wife who lived very close to my house, who practiced Alchemy. I think they were jewelers, officially, but they made most of their money through the mining economy, fixing or modifying tools used for extracting gold from the mountains. They taught me the basics of what I know, and when they moved away, they left all of their books to me.
"By the time I was fourteen, I'd read through nearly all of their books and could do basic Alchemy well enough that I knew my training was limited, that I wasn't learning as much or as quickly as I could have because I had no one to teach me, no one to answer my questions. I decided that it would be best to move to the City, someplace where I could apprentice under a real Alchemist, where I could learn everything there was to learn and make a name for myself.
"John was the only problem, the only flaw in my plan. I was in love with him, Russel. Deeply, terribly in love with him. I tried to teach him Alchemy, thinking that, if he were to feel as limited as I felt, living here, then he would come with me, that we could move to the City together. But he's never had any interest in Alchemy, never cared for convenience I thought it afforded him, as a farmer. And because of that, because of his love of the land, of nature, moving to the City was the last thing he wanted to do, just as staying here was the last thing I wanted, for myself.
"John knew that. He's always been the more rational, of the two of us, always the more mature. It was John who eventually convinced me to go, who told me it would be worth it, that I could always come back home to him, if I didn't succeed.
"So I left. At eighteen, I packed up and left for the City, certain that I could make it big enough there that John would be willing to leave Xenotime and join me, eventually."
Nash sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I was young and stupid," he said. "Painfully naïve."
~*~
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.
~*~
"I met your mother six months after I moved to Central City," said Nash, rising when the kettle began to whistle shrilly. "We met in a bar, of all places, although it's not as seedy a story as it may sound, just from that.
"It was raining, that evening. I was out, walking home from a job I'd been commissioned to do, and she was out, taking a walk after supper, and when the rain strengthened to a full downpour, we both sought shelter in the same bar. It was late in the evening and the bar was the only thing still open, at that hour. She gave me her handkerchief and I bought her a drink, then once the rain had let up, I offered to walk her home. It was late; I didn't want something to happen to her on her way. That was all. I didn't intend to fall in love with her.
"We were in touch with each other with increasing frequency, after that. Her father was a businessman with good connections in the City, so through him I was able to find work far more easily than I'd been finding it, previously. After a year or so, he suggested that your mother and I might make a successful couple, and we agreed. He had no child other than Helen, so having her married to a young Alchemist who had studied business practice under him seemed very attractive, to him, I'm sure.
"I began working exclusively for him, and then for his research partner, the famous Alchemist Hoenheim Elric, the day after Helen accepted my marriage proposal. My work on organic Alchemy, which I'd begun here in Xenotime, was put aside and forgotten about, replaced with research on the Philosopher's Stone, on the Red Water which, at that time, none of us realized flowed directly from the heart of my very own hometown."
Nash chuckled at the look on his son's face, squeezing the young man's shoulder as he stood to strain the leaves from their teacups. "Forgive me," he said, adding sugar to Russel's cup and stirring. "That makes it sound very unromantic. I loved your mother, Russel. Loved her so much it made me crazy. While your mother lived, I lived for her. I didn't care about my research, about Alchemy, except that they were my means to giving Helen a better life, providing for her anything and everything she wanted."
Russel blushed and didn't say anything, toying nervously with the clasp of his suspenders.
"Your mother had no trouble with her pregnancy with you," Nash continued, settling in his chair once again and stirring his tea. "A bit of morning sickness, for the first two months, and then the oddest cravings for pickle relish, strawberries, and pot roast for the remaining seven, but nothing serious. She gave birth to you after only five hours of labor, which, according to the midwife, was relatively quick." He smiled fondly, tracing the smooth handle of his teacup. "I was present for your birth. Got to hold you when you were only a few minutes old, tiny and screaming like a thing possessed."
Russel's blush darkened, his hair falling across his face when he ducked his head forward, shyly. "Fletcher screamed when he was born, too," he said, softly. "Mom let me hold him. She said you'd've wanted me to get to."
Nash nodded. "She was right, Russel," he said. "I so desperately wanted to be there for your brother's birth, but ..."
He sighed. "By the time your mother became pregnant with Fletcher, things had begun to deteriorate. Her father had passed on, leaving us with his substantial debts to take care of. My research had yielded nothing of any real value, and my research partner had left, called to important business elsewhere, where I could not reach him. And then, after your brother's birth, your mother's health began to fail, which meant we needed money for a doctor, as well as other things. I was desperate."
~*~
Baby I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
~*~
"I first heard rumors of research being conducted on the Red Water around the time you were beginning to take an interest in Alchemy. Do you remember? You thought the wine I drank with dinner was the Red Water Helen and I talked about."
Russel set his cup down and nodded. "I remember that," he said. "Mom bought me grape juice because I wanted your wine so badly."
"Indeed," said Nash, laughing. "She told me about that ... it wasn't until after her passing that I figured out what your fascination with the wine had been." He reached across the table to ruffle his son's hair. "You've always been such an intelligent boy, Russel. Never cease to amaze me. Your mother would be so proud of you, you know."
Russel dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his cup. "Thanks," he said, softly.
Nash lifted his cup, sipping his tea until the awkward silence had stretched long enough that his son no longer looked as if he wanted to bolt from the room and hide.
"Leaving your mother-and you, and Fletcher-was the hardest decision I've ever had to make, Russel," he said, quiet and solemn. "And, to this day, it is the choice I regret most, out of every decision I've made in my life. The one I wish, more than any other, I could take back, wish I could change.
"I'd heard that the Red Water research was going on, here in Xenotime. That a man had come here who would pay handsomely any Alchemist willing to research the Water and make it into something profitable. Perhaps not the Philosopher's stone, but then again, no one ever comes right out and says that's what they're seeking, even when that is exactly their goal. He seemed interested simply in making money, which I believed-as did many who lived here, at the time-would be good for our town, good for the economy which had been failing so very long.
"Please try to understand: I was desperate. We were poor and deeply in debt. My work in Central was no longer even marginally profitable, and your mother was so ill, so desperately in need of medicine that I leapt at the opportunity to escape, to go somewhere that held the possibility of a better life, or at least a life no worse than the one we had in the City. That I could come home to a familiar place, home to people I knew and a lifestyle I'd grown up in was a secondary benefit.
"I consoled myself with the notion that our home in Central wasn't home to me, anymore. I'd been so busy with my work, so busy trying to keep us afloat, to find a way out, that I was never home, really. Fletcher cried whenever I held him because I was as good as a stranger to him. You were polite to me, but shy. I may have been your father, biologically, but as far as you knew, I was nothing more than a visitor, a man who came to the house only a few nights a week, and even during those times, I was too busy or too tired to play with you.
"I didn't think things could get any worse. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that my permanent absence from the home wouldn't be all that noticeable."
~*~
There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah.
~*~
"So I ran. I left you and your mother and your baby brother and I came here. I won't lie to you, it was a cowardly thing to do. I fully expected that you and your mother would never forgive me for it. Fletcher, perhaps, since he was so very young at the time, but you ... you knew, Russel. You knew something was wrong, and that I was making your mother sad.
"I found John and told him what was going on, told him that I planned to work for Mr. Mugear until I could afford to bring all of you here, to Xenotime. He didn't like it, and he told me so. Offered to let me work with him in the orchard, to let me bring my family and live with him until we'd gotten our debts under control.
"I didn't take him up on his offer. I was still so proud, even then, so convinced that I could make it without anyone's help, that I blew up at him. Said things to him that I had absolutely no right to say, and in return he told me things that he'd been harboring for years. We fought for a good hour, and by the end of it were no longer speaking to each other. I left the next morning, and did not speak to John again for over a year.
"The long silence wasn't entirely my choice, however. Mr. Mugear's home was rich and beautiful, but it was a prison, as I'm sure you and Fletcher discovered in your dealings with him. I was unable to write to Helen or John, forbidden to read the newspaper. The only fresh air and sunshine I got was limited to that which came through the window of my laboratory, the small windows of the room I had been provided to sleep in at night.
"John tried to contact me. Tried to tell me of the deaths of the children, related to the Red Water. Tried to tell me of Mr. Mugear's dirty politics, his crooked dealings in the finances of Xenotime. He even tried to break into the mansion, when he received word that your mother had passed, but was discovered and thrown in jail for a full day, as punishment.
"And all of it-all of it-was in vain, Russel. In the end, I could not do the things Mr. Mugear wanted me to do. I was beaten and poisoned and left for dead, not a single cenz richer than I'd been when I'd gone to him begging for work in the first place. I'd lost everything: my wife, my family, my work, and very nearly my life ... all for nothing."
~*~
Maybe there's a god above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
~*~
Russel sat very still, his posture rigid and lower lip trembling, just slightly. "Mr. Belsio saved your life, didn't he," he said, slowly, each word measured and soft. "He said that you'd been very sick. That Mr. Mugear had something to do with it."
Nash nodded. "Yes, that's true," he said. "Mr. Mugear wanted me silenced, so he forced me to drink the Red Water, then left me for dead. I won't go into the details of why he did that, but-"
"Because that's how you make a Philosopher's stone," said Russel. "He wanted me to make women drink it, pregnant women. Then he tried to get me to make Fletcher drink it, because I didn't want to do what he said."
He looked up, meeting his father's gaze. Nash nodded solemnly.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, that's why he wanted me to do it."
"He told me you would still be alive, if you'd done it," said Russel, his voice breaking. "He said you wouldn't do it, that you refused to bring Mom here and make her drink it. He s-said you wouldn't do it, Dad."
Nash reached for his son's hand, but Russel snatched it away, as though he'd been burned.
"Mom was gone already," Russel said, tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping onto the collar of his shirt. "She was dead, and you didn't even know that. You could've ... you could've said yes and gotten away. If you'd known. You could've."
"Yes," said Nash, retracting his hand. "Yes, I could have. Had I known, I could have."
Russel sniffled and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, trembling hard. "We came here, me and Fletch, because we'd heard you were here," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Mom told us to. She said to find you, because you loved us and you'd take care of us. Then we got here and Mr. Mugear said you were dead, and ..."
Nash stood and pulled his son up by the shoulders into a tight, desperate hug. "I'm so sorry, Russel," he said, when Russel returned his embrace, crying openly against his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry. For everything."
"F-Fletcher asked m-me if you l-loved Mom," said Russel, "b-because I'm older, he t-thought I'd remember better. And I t-told him you d-did, but I couldn't ... I d-didn't know ..."
"Oh Russel," said Nash. "Russel, I'm so sorry."
Russel shuddered, clinging to his father. "H-he said m-maybe you just w-wanted to b-be with Mr. Belsio, 'cause you l-love him and ... and I thought m-maybe he was r-right ..."
Nash rested his cheek against his son's hair, swallowing hard around the lump rising in his throat. "No," he said, softly. "I loved your mother, Russel. I loved her so much. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you and Fletcher about this. I should have told you. I'm so, so sorry."
Russel drew a deep, shaking breath, and buried his face in the collar of his father's shirt. "'S okay," he said, between gulping sobs. "I believe you. I just ... I just needed to know."
Nash closed his eyes, rubbing his hands slowly up and down Russel's back, comforting him as he cried. "I know, Russel," he whispered. "And I'm proud of you, for knowing to ask."
~*~
Art by goldphish_bowl ♥
So I post up my latest story for the 20_inkspots challenge, and goldphish_bowl informs me that, if I don't hurry up and make with some freakin' happy fiction, she's gonna go all Scar on my ass.
Well. I was gonna try, honest. But come on, I'm writing Belsio/Nash, folks. It's just ... begging for angst!
Right?
Anyway, right or wrong, here's my half of the contribution for #14, "I need to know." It's really fuckin' depressing, I'm not going to lie. But, in my own defense, it's NOT MY FAULT that it's depressing. This pairing's canon depressing.
On a happier note, it's not a deathfic, really. Russel's mom is kinda toast, no matter how you slice it (slice it, haha, get it?), but nobody else dies. Well, except Mugear, but he's an ass, so it's cool that he dies. Right?
Right. Go read the damn fic already, imma shut up now. >^T_T^<
Our contributions for 20_inkspots, in chronological order:
1895: "Holding Back" (#2)
1906: "Dawn for a Dying Man" (#16)
1910: "In the Heat of the Moment" (#1)
1910: "The Pain of Holding On" (#19)
1910: "A Breath of Fresh Air" (#5)
1913: "Strays, part 1" (#3)
1913: "Strays, part 2" (#17)
1913: "Strays, part 3" (#12)
1914: "Everyone Together, All Alone" (#10)
1914: "Sins of the Father" (#14)
1915: "Ask" (#20)
1915: "Keeping Secrets" (#6)
1915: "The Father I Never Was" (#9)
1915: "Timeless" (#18)
1915: "Balance" (#11)
1917: "A Father's Pride and Joy" (#15)
1918: "The Unexpected Gift of Fatherhood (#7)
1918: "Adjustment" (#4)
1918: "Gold of the Earth" (#8)
Will be updated as more stories are added. ^_^
Sins of the Father
by Mistr3ss Quickly
"Dad?"
"Yes, Russel?"
"Why'd you marry Mom?"
Nash looked up from the inventory he'd been filling out, and frowned at his son. "I'm sorry?"
Russel fidgeted. "Why'd you marry Mom?" he repeated. "I mean, you and Mr. Belsio were in l-were close, right? Closer than you and Mom. Why'd you marry her instead of just staying here with Mr. Belsio?"
Nash sighed. "Well," he said. "It's complicated, Russel."
"How so?" Russel wanted to know.
Nash set down the inventory and stood, brushing dust from his trousers. "Let's go inside," he said. "I'll make some tea."
~*~
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift;
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.
~*~
"I first began studying Alchemy when I was nine years old," said Nash, setting the teakettle on the stove before sitting down beside his son at the kitchen table. "Just a year or two older than you were when you started asking questions about it, if I remember correctly. At that time, there was a couple in Xenotime, a husband and wife who lived very close to my house, who practiced Alchemy. I think they were jewelers, officially, but they made most of their money through the mining economy, fixing or modifying tools used for extracting gold from the mountains. They taught me the basics of what I know, and when they moved away, they left all of their books to me.
"By the time I was fourteen, I'd read through nearly all of their books and could do basic Alchemy well enough that I knew my training was limited, that I wasn't learning as much or as quickly as I could have because I had no one to teach me, no one to answer my questions. I decided that it would be best to move to the City, someplace where I could apprentice under a real Alchemist, where I could learn everything there was to learn and make a name for myself.
"John was the only problem, the only flaw in my plan. I was in love with him, Russel. Deeply, terribly in love with him. I tried to teach him Alchemy, thinking that, if he were to feel as limited as I felt, living here, then he would come with me, that we could move to the City together. But he's never had any interest in Alchemy, never cared for convenience I thought it afforded him, as a farmer. And because of that, because of his love of the land, of nature, moving to the City was the last thing he wanted to do, just as staying here was the last thing I wanted, for myself.
"John knew that. He's always been the more rational, of the two of us, always the more mature. It was John who eventually convinced me to go, who told me it would be worth it, that I could always come back home to him, if I didn't succeed.
"So I left. At eighteen, I packed up and left for the City, certain that I could make it big enough there that John would be willing to leave Xenotime and join me, eventually."
Nash sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I was young and stupid," he said. "Painfully naïve."
~*~
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.
~*~
"I met your mother six months after I moved to Central City," said Nash, rising when the kettle began to whistle shrilly. "We met in a bar, of all places, although it's not as seedy a story as it may sound, just from that.
"It was raining, that evening. I was out, walking home from a job I'd been commissioned to do, and she was out, taking a walk after supper, and when the rain strengthened to a full downpour, we both sought shelter in the same bar. It was late in the evening and the bar was the only thing still open, at that hour. She gave me her handkerchief and I bought her a drink, then once the rain had let up, I offered to walk her home. It was late; I didn't want something to happen to her on her way. That was all. I didn't intend to fall in love with her.
"We were in touch with each other with increasing frequency, after that. Her father was a businessman with good connections in the City, so through him I was able to find work far more easily than I'd been finding it, previously. After a year or so, he suggested that your mother and I might make a successful couple, and we agreed. He had no child other than Helen, so having her married to a young Alchemist who had studied business practice under him seemed very attractive, to him, I'm sure.
"I began working exclusively for him, and then for his research partner, the famous Alchemist Hoenheim Elric, the day after Helen accepted my marriage proposal. My work on organic Alchemy, which I'd begun here in Xenotime, was put aside and forgotten about, replaced with research on the Philosopher's Stone, on the Red Water which, at that time, none of us realized flowed directly from the heart of my very own hometown."
Nash chuckled at the look on his son's face, squeezing the young man's shoulder as he stood to strain the leaves from their teacups. "Forgive me," he said, adding sugar to Russel's cup and stirring. "That makes it sound very unromantic. I loved your mother, Russel. Loved her so much it made me crazy. While your mother lived, I lived for her. I didn't care about my research, about Alchemy, except that they were my means to giving Helen a better life, providing for her anything and everything she wanted."
Russel blushed and didn't say anything, toying nervously with the clasp of his suspenders.
"Your mother had no trouble with her pregnancy with you," Nash continued, settling in his chair once again and stirring his tea. "A bit of morning sickness, for the first two months, and then the oddest cravings for pickle relish, strawberries, and pot roast for the remaining seven, but nothing serious. She gave birth to you after only five hours of labor, which, according to the midwife, was relatively quick." He smiled fondly, tracing the smooth handle of his teacup. "I was present for your birth. Got to hold you when you were only a few minutes old, tiny and screaming like a thing possessed."
Russel's blush darkened, his hair falling across his face when he ducked his head forward, shyly. "Fletcher screamed when he was born, too," he said, softly. "Mom let me hold him. She said you'd've wanted me to get to."
Nash nodded. "She was right, Russel," he said. "I so desperately wanted to be there for your brother's birth, but ..."
He sighed. "By the time your mother became pregnant with Fletcher, things had begun to deteriorate. Her father had passed on, leaving us with his substantial debts to take care of. My research had yielded nothing of any real value, and my research partner had left, called to important business elsewhere, where I could not reach him. And then, after your brother's birth, your mother's health began to fail, which meant we needed money for a doctor, as well as other things. I was desperate."
~*~
Baby I've been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
~*~
"I first heard rumors of research being conducted on the Red Water around the time you were beginning to take an interest in Alchemy. Do you remember? You thought the wine I drank with dinner was the Red Water Helen and I talked about."
Russel set his cup down and nodded. "I remember that," he said. "Mom bought me grape juice because I wanted your wine so badly."
"Indeed," said Nash, laughing. "She told me about that ... it wasn't until after her passing that I figured out what your fascination with the wine had been." He reached across the table to ruffle his son's hair. "You've always been such an intelligent boy, Russel. Never cease to amaze me. Your mother would be so proud of you, you know."
Russel dropped his gaze, fidgeting with his cup. "Thanks," he said, softly.
Nash lifted his cup, sipping his tea until the awkward silence had stretched long enough that his son no longer looked as if he wanted to bolt from the room and hide.
"Leaving your mother-and you, and Fletcher-was the hardest decision I've ever had to make, Russel," he said, quiet and solemn. "And, to this day, it is the choice I regret most, out of every decision I've made in my life. The one I wish, more than any other, I could take back, wish I could change.
"I'd heard that the Red Water research was going on, here in Xenotime. That a man had come here who would pay handsomely any Alchemist willing to research the Water and make it into something profitable. Perhaps not the Philosopher's stone, but then again, no one ever comes right out and says that's what they're seeking, even when that is exactly their goal. He seemed interested simply in making money, which I believed-as did many who lived here, at the time-would be good for our town, good for the economy which had been failing so very long.
"Please try to understand: I was desperate. We were poor and deeply in debt. My work in Central was no longer even marginally profitable, and your mother was so ill, so desperately in need of medicine that I leapt at the opportunity to escape, to go somewhere that held the possibility of a better life, or at least a life no worse than the one we had in the City. That I could come home to a familiar place, home to people I knew and a lifestyle I'd grown up in was a secondary benefit.
"I consoled myself with the notion that our home in Central wasn't home to me, anymore. I'd been so busy with my work, so busy trying to keep us afloat, to find a way out, that I was never home, really. Fletcher cried whenever I held him because I was as good as a stranger to him. You were polite to me, but shy. I may have been your father, biologically, but as far as you knew, I was nothing more than a visitor, a man who came to the house only a few nights a week, and even during those times, I was too busy or too tired to play with you.
"I didn't think things could get any worse. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that my permanent absence from the home wouldn't be all that noticeable."
~*~
There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah.
~*~
"So I ran. I left you and your mother and your baby brother and I came here. I won't lie to you, it was a cowardly thing to do. I fully expected that you and your mother would never forgive me for it. Fletcher, perhaps, since he was so very young at the time, but you ... you knew, Russel. You knew something was wrong, and that I was making your mother sad.
"I found John and told him what was going on, told him that I planned to work for Mr. Mugear until I could afford to bring all of you here, to Xenotime. He didn't like it, and he told me so. Offered to let me work with him in the orchard, to let me bring my family and live with him until we'd gotten our debts under control.
"I didn't take him up on his offer. I was still so proud, even then, so convinced that I could make it without anyone's help, that I blew up at him. Said things to him that I had absolutely no right to say, and in return he told me things that he'd been harboring for years. We fought for a good hour, and by the end of it were no longer speaking to each other. I left the next morning, and did not speak to John again for over a year.
"The long silence wasn't entirely my choice, however. Mr. Mugear's home was rich and beautiful, but it was a prison, as I'm sure you and Fletcher discovered in your dealings with him. I was unable to write to Helen or John, forbidden to read the newspaper. The only fresh air and sunshine I got was limited to that which came through the window of my laboratory, the small windows of the room I had been provided to sleep in at night.
"John tried to contact me. Tried to tell me of the deaths of the children, related to the Red Water. Tried to tell me of Mr. Mugear's dirty politics, his crooked dealings in the finances of Xenotime. He even tried to break into the mansion, when he received word that your mother had passed, but was discovered and thrown in jail for a full day, as punishment.
"And all of it-all of it-was in vain, Russel. In the end, I could not do the things Mr. Mugear wanted me to do. I was beaten and poisoned and left for dead, not a single cenz richer than I'd been when I'd gone to him begging for work in the first place. I'd lost everything: my wife, my family, my work, and very nearly my life ... all for nothing."
~*~
Maybe there's a god above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
~*~
Russel sat very still, his posture rigid and lower lip trembling, just slightly. "Mr. Belsio saved your life, didn't he," he said, slowly, each word measured and soft. "He said that you'd been very sick. That Mr. Mugear had something to do with it."
Nash nodded. "Yes, that's true," he said. "Mr. Mugear wanted me silenced, so he forced me to drink the Red Water, then left me for dead. I won't go into the details of why he did that, but-"
"Because that's how you make a Philosopher's stone," said Russel. "He wanted me to make women drink it, pregnant women. Then he tried to get me to make Fletcher drink it, because I didn't want to do what he said."
He looked up, meeting his father's gaze. Nash nodded solemnly.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, that's why he wanted me to do it."
"He told me you would still be alive, if you'd done it," said Russel, his voice breaking. "He said you wouldn't do it, that you refused to bring Mom here and make her drink it. He s-said you wouldn't do it, Dad."
Nash reached for his son's hand, but Russel snatched it away, as though he'd been burned.
"Mom was gone already," Russel said, tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping onto the collar of his shirt. "She was dead, and you didn't even know that. You could've ... you could've said yes and gotten away. If you'd known. You could've."
"Yes," said Nash, retracting his hand. "Yes, I could have. Had I known, I could have."
Russel sniffled and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, trembling hard. "We came here, me and Fletch, because we'd heard you were here," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Mom told us to. She said to find you, because you loved us and you'd take care of us. Then we got here and Mr. Mugear said you were dead, and ..."
Nash stood and pulled his son up by the shoulders into a tight, desperate hug. "I'm so sorry, Russel," he said, when Russel returned his embrace, crying openly against his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry. For everything."
"F-Fletcher asked m-me if you l-loved Mom," said Russel, "b-because I'm older, he t-thought I'd remember better. And I t-told him you d-did, but I couldn't ... I d-didn't know ..."
"Oh Russel," said Nash. "Russel, I'm so sorry."
Russel shuddered, clinging to his father. "H-he said m-maybe you just w-wanted to b-be with Mr. Belsio, 'cause you l-love him and ... and I thought m-maybe he was r-right ..."
Nash rested his cheek against his son's hair, swallowing hard around the lump rising in his throat. "No," he said, softly. "I loved your mother, Russel. I loved her so much. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you and Fletcher about this. I should have told you. I'm so, so sorry."
Russel drew a deep, shaking breath, and buried his face in the collar of his father's shirt. "'S okay," he said, between gulping sobs. "I believe you. I just ... I just needed to know."
Nash closed his eyes, rubbing his hands slowly up and down Russel's back, comforting him as he cried. "I know, Russel," he whispered. "And I'm proud of you, for knowing to ask."
~*~
Art by goldphish_bowl ♥