Fic: Sins of the Father
Title: Sins of the Father
Author: Lindsay (nylana)
Beta: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: G
Genre: Angst, Romance
Word Count: 1,470
Characters/Pairings: Nathan, Emily, Simon (Nathan/Emily)
Summary: Men are not punished for their sins, but by them. This is a truth Nathan Gates knows too well.
It's raining the day Nathan Gates meets Emily Pruitt. He's looking for room 402 and she's late for Art History. Even with wisps of damp hair matted over her forehead, and most of her makeup rubbed off on the sleeve of her shirt, he thinks she is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. They go for coffee, and then dinner, and then a walk once the rain finally stops.
Her long red hair dries into perfect curls and his fingers itch to run through them, to see what they would look like spread over the faded white sheets of his bed. She walks him home because it's an extra four blocks and fifteen minutes they can spend together, and kisses him for the first time, pressed against his front door.
Two days later Nathan realizes he'd been in the wrong building.
Emily is a California girl who wants to be a writer, and Nathan is a British expatriate law student. She has a bubbly enthusiasm for life that sometimes overwhelms his silent, brooding nature, and she learns early on that there are times he just needs to be left alone. Though she never asks, she understands that he has a past worth running from.
She's always good at letting things just be.
Despite the obvious differences in personality, countries of origin and chosen vocations, there is always a sense of the inevitable about them. He gives her his grandmother's ring the day after graduation and they spend their last twenty dollars on pizza and cheap wine to celebrate. A few weeks later she surprises him with a slender white stick, and tells him in a near whisper, it turned pink, as if that's all the explanation he'd ever need.
Surprisingly, it is.
They move into a townhouse in London with a screaming eight month old son and an equally irritated Siamese cat. It's a far cry from the meager flats of their university days. She seems quite pleased with the small balcony and the view of the river, and it isn't long before the old walls and worn wood floors feel like home. He buys her an antique writing desk, and they put it in the small bedroom across the hall from the nursery. She spends most of her days writing, and reading poetry to Simon, delighting in the way he smiles and coos at her favorite lines, as if they are his too.
The law never really suits Nathan, at least not in the way that he always thought it would. He tires quickly of briefs and writs, Latin that was old two thousand years ago and books that weigh more than the son he hardly sees. When he is home, things are not the same. Emily seems sad and withdrawn, barely smiling at his jokes.
One night he wanders into her writing room to find the curtains drawn and a thick layer of dust covering her stack of journals. He eyes the top one and slowly lifts the embossed leather cover, flipping a few pages until he finds the last entry, and then his heart sinks.
She hasn't written a word in a year.
He looks around at the walls that enclose his life and feels the air being sucked out of him, the shadows creeping in from the corners of the room. His legs tremble as he moves towards the door, trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake Simon. Somehow he makes it downstairs to the library and opens a cabinet he hasn't touched in three Christmases.
Many years later he would stand up in a room full of strangers and remember this night as the first time he fell.
He wakes up in the early morning sprawled over the leather chair in front of the fireplace, with a terrible pain in his neck and broken glass at his feet. His tongue flicks over dry lips and he can once again taste the burning tang of the alcohol. He runs a hand over his face and stares numbly at the decanter perched on the edge of the desk. He can remember how the cut crystal sparkled in the firelight, and how the deep caramel liquid warmed him from the inside. It chased away the darkness, if only for a little while.
It's 2035 and Europe is fighting; fighting the failure of its economy, fighting its neighbors to the east, fighting its inclusion in a new world government, and losing on all three fronts. Everything is going to hell and his family is right in the middle of it. They flee England, packing only what they can't bear to leave behind and arranging to have Emily's desk shipped to Virginia. Simon is upset at having to leave his school and his friends, throwing such a riotous fit in the airport that they are nearly denied boarding.
For a while being back in the states seems like just the thing they need. In June, a book of Emily's original poetry is printed and sells a few thousand copies. Though it never reaches national attention, she seems more than happy to finally call herself a published author, glowing inside and out with a sense of accomplishment. She volunteers at Simon's school and her frequent presence in the hallways seems to alleviate his post-move anxiety. He makes new friends to replace those he tearfully left behind, and eventually their traumatic exit is forgotten.
Nathan gives up practicing law for the satisfaction of public service, and soon finds himself in the middle of a chaotic political scene. He's introduced to Harrison St. James at a charity event and for the second time in his life feels the tug of inevitability. They are two like-minded, idealistic men, and it isn't long before their professional relationship becomes more. They bring peace and cooperation to a restless international congress. When George St. James wins his reelection campaign in a landslide majority, they are there, standing beside him, ready to help save the world.
Soon after, Nathan begins to realize that his demons did not stay behind in England.
It starts with a glass of wine before official state dinners to calm his nerves and make the dry, tedious conversation more tolerable. Then it's to unwind as they sit on the sofa and watch the evening news, the contrast of the ice and the amber liquor soothing away the stress and settling his overactive mind. Later, it helps him forget that they've had to pay for three different private schools, only to have Simon get kicked out of each one.
He drinks to bury old pain. He drinks to bury new pain. He drinks to toast the collapse of the former Russian Federation, at the cost of two thousand soldiers. He drinks when Emily moves into the other bedroom.
He spends so much time trying to block out all the shit he doesn't want to deal with, that he doesn't notice how much he and Simon have in common.
Tuesday Emily Gates goes to the doctor.
Friday Nathan Gates' world ends.
Sunday he wakes up on the bathroom floor and she has to tell him all over again.
It's raining the day Nathan Gates says goodbye to Emily Pruitt. He's seeking absolution in her eyes, and she gives it with her last breath. His 180 day sobriety coin is heavy and cold in his pocket, a constant reminder of his transgressions. It was hard to believe that just last week they were in California, holding hands and strolling through her family's vineyard.
Simon arrives three hours too late, rumpled and smelling of stale beer and back alleys, still high on God knows what.
Are you ready now? Nathan asks, and Simon just nods, defeated.
Nathan watches the rain fall, steady and heavy. It's in these moments that Nathan second guesses himself the most and wonders what might have been. He thinks about Emily and California, all time he wasted and all the time he was wasted. Lifting the dark green mug to his lips, he takes a long sip of his coffee and for the first time in twelve years finds himself wishing it was something stronger. Behind him Simon sleeps fitfully.
He has that feeling again, that something unstoppable is about to happen, that their fate is about to be decided. There are a growing number of people who believe the world should have ended fifty years ago, and that humanity is only delaying the inevitable, not stopping it.
He isn't sure they're wrong.
He looks over his shoulder at Simon, long limbs sticking over the end of the leather sofa, and hopes that this time fate will be kind, and that their penance will be enough.
Author: Lindsay (nylana)
Beta: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: G
Genre: Angst, Romance
Word Count: 1,470
Characters/Pairings: Nathan, Emily, Simon (Nathan/Emily)
Summary: Men are not punished for their sins, but by them. This is a truth Nathan Gates knows too well.
It's raining the day Nathan Gates meets Emily Pruitt. He's looking for room 402 and she's late for Art History. Even with wisps of damp hair matted over her forehead, and most of her makeup rubbed off on the sleeve of her shirt, he thinks she is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. They go for coffee, and then dinner, and then a walk once the rain finally stops.
Her long red hair dries into perfect curls and his fingers itch to run through them, to see what they would look like spread over the faded white sheets of his bed. She walks him home because it's an extra four blocks and fifteen minutes they can spend together, and kisses him for the first time, pressed against his front door.
Two days later Nathan realizes he'd been in the wrong building.
Emily is a California girl who wants to be a writer, and Nathan is a British expatriate law student. She has a bubbly enthusiasm for life that sometimes overwhelms his silent, brooding nature, and she learns early on that there are times he just needs to be left alone. Though she never asks, she understands that he has a past worth running from.
She's always good at letting things just be.
Despite the obvious differences in personality, countries of origin and chosen vocations, there is always a sense of the inevitable about them. He gives her his grandmother's ring the day after graduation and they spend their last twenty dollars on pizza and cheap wine to celebrate. A few weeks later she surprises him with a slender white stick, and tells him in a near whisper, it turned pink, as if that's all the explanation he'd ever need.
Surprisingly, it is.
They move into a townhouse in London with a screaming eight month old son and an equally irritated Siamese cat. It's a far cry from the meager flats of their university days. She seems quite pleased with the small balcony and the view of the river, and it isn't long before the old walls and worn wood floors feel like home. He buys her an antique writing desk, and they put it in the small bedroom across the hall from the nursery. She spends most of her days writing, and reading poetry to Simon, delighting in the way he smiles and coos at her favorite lines, as if they are his too.
The law never really suits Nathan, at least not in the way that he always thought it would. He tires quickly of briefs and writs, Latin that was old two thousand years ago and books that weigh more than the son he hardly sees. When he is home, things are not the same. Emily seems sad and withdrawn, barely smiling at his jokes.
One night he wanders into her writing room to find the curtains drawn and a thick layer of dust covering her stack of journals. He eyes the top one and slowly lifts the embossed leather cover, flipping a few pages until he finds the last entry, and then his heart sinks.
She hasn't written a word in a year.
He looks around at the walls that enclose his life and feels the air being sucked out of him, the shadows creeping in from the corners of the room. His legs tremble as he moves towards the door, trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake Simon. Somehow he makes it downstairs to the library and opens a cabinet he hasn't touched in three Christmases.
Many years later he would stand up in a room full of strangers and remember this night as the first time he fell.
He wakes up in the early morning sprawled over the leather chair in front of the fireplace, with a terrible pain in his neck and broken glass at his feet. His tongue flicks over dry lips and he can once again taste the burning tang of the alcohol. He runs a hand over his face and stares numbly at the decanter perched on the edge of the desk. He can remember how the cut crystal sparkled in the firelight, and how the deep caramel liquid warmed him from the inside. It chased away the darkness, if only for a little while.
It's 2035 and Europe is fighting; fighting the failure of its economy, fighting its neighbors to the east, fighting its inclusion in a new world government, and losing on all three fronts. Everything is going to hell and his family is right in the middle of it. They flee England, packing only what they can't bear to leave behind and arranging to have Emily's desk shipped to Virginia. Simon is upset at having to leave his school and his friends, throwing such a riotous fit in the airport that they are nearly denied boarding.
For a while being back in the states seems like just the thing they need. In June, a book of Emily's original poetry is printed and sells a few thousand copies. Though it never reaches national attention, she seems more than happy to finally call herself a published author, glowing inside and out with a sense of accomplishment. She volunteers at Simon's school and her frequent presence in the hallways seems to alleviate his post-move anxiety. He makes new friends to replace those he tearfully left behind, and eventually their traumatic exit is forgotten.
Nathan gives up practicing law for the satisfaction of public service, and soon finds himself in the middle of a chaotic political scene. He's introduced to Harrison St. James at a charity event and for the second time in his life feels the tug of inevitability. They are two like-minded, idealistic men, and it isn't long before their professional relationship becomes more. They bring peace and cooperation to a restless international congress. When George St. James wins his reelection campaign in a landslide majority, they are there, standing beside him, ready to help save the world.
Soon after, Nathan begins to realize that his demons did not stay behind in England.
It starts with a glass of wine before official state dinners to calm his nerves and make the dry, tedious conversation more tolerable. Then it's to unwind as they sit on the sofa and watch the evening news, the contrast of the ice and the amber liquor soothing away the stress and settling his overactive mind. Later, it helps him forget that they've had to pay for three different private schools, only to have Simon get kicked out of each one.
He drinks to bury old pain. He drinks to bury new pain. He drinks to toast the collapse of the former Russian Federation, at the cost of two thousand soldiers. He drinks when Emily moves into the other bedroom.
He spends so much time trying to block out all the shit he doesn't want to deal with, that he doesn't notice how much he and Simon have in common.
Tuesday Emily Gates goes to the doctor.
Friday Nathan Gates' world ends.
Sunday he wakes up on the bathroom floor and she has to tell him all over again.
It's raining the day Nathan Gates says goodbye to Emily Pruitt. He's seeking absolution in her eyes, and she gives it with her last breath. His 180 day sobriety coin is heavy and cold in his pocket, a constant reminder of his transgressions. It was hard to believe that just last week they were in California, holding hands and strolling through her family's vineyard.
Simon arrives three hours too late, rumpled and smelling of stale beer and back alleys, still high on God knows what.
Are you ready now? Nathan asks, and Simon just nods, defeated.
Nathan watches the rain fall, steady and heavy. It's in these moments that Nathan second guesses himself the most and wonders what might have been. He thinks about Emily and California, all time he wasted and all the time he was wasted. Lifting the dark green mug to his lips, he takes a long sip of his coffee and for the first time in twelve years finds himself wishing it was something stronger. Behind him Simon sleeps fitfully.
He has that feeling again, that something unstoppable is about to happen, that their fate is about to be decided. There are a growing number of people who believe the world should have ended fifty years ago, and that humanity is only delaying the inevitable, not stopping it.
He isn't sure they're wrong.
He looks over his shoulder at Simon, long limbs sticking over the end of the leather sofa, and hopes that this time fate will be kind, and that their penance will be enough.