No Other One, Chapter 18
Title: No Other One, Chapter 18
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yelina Salas, Horatio Caine, the whole Caine family
Author's Note: WARNING: SPOILER FOR SEASON 6.
Summary: Almost two decades ago, Horatio made a decision that would change his family forever. Will they ever forgive him? Will he ever tell Yelina how he feels? This is an alternative to the beginning of season 6. A Horatio and Kyle story; H/Y romance in the future.
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, and Chapter 17
Disclaimer: I don't own the show. Don't sue me.
No Other One
Chapter Eighteen: Pushing Boundaries
By Duckie Nicks
“Whereas the Greeks gave to will the boundaries of reason, we have come to put the will's impulse in the very center of reason, which has, as a result, become deadly.” - Albert Camus
“I told you to wait,” she said. It was the angriest Calleigh had ever been with him, Horatio thought. Her voice only held the smallest amount of fury she would allow, still respectful on the surface. But even through the dark, he could see her green eyes blazing, narrowing on him. “I told you,” the blonde repeated, “that if you found something, I would -“
“You were inside,” the redhead said simply. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You know it does, Horatio.”
“Re-bag it,” he told her. She sighed and proceeded, though begrudgingly, to do just that.
Cutting through the bags he’d used, Calleigh spoke up, “I don’t know why you couldn’t have waited. It would have taken less time in the long run.”
“I needed to do something,” the redhead told her quietly. “I… couldn’t wait.” It was hardly an explanation. Horatio realized that much, but he truly had no other motivation. Faced with the idea that his son could be in jail, yes, he’d disregarded what Calleigh had wanted. And maybe she was right, he conceded, about how long it would take in the end.
But what else was he supposed to do?
He watched impatiently as she finished re-labeling the receipts, the cigarette butts, and the cell phone. The blonde stood up, the heels of her boots wobbling unevenly on the pavement. She sighed. “So he’s really your son, then... Have you told Yelina yet? Or does she already -”
“No,” he said to her quickly, shaking his head. His voice didn’t sound mean, he hoped, but already, Horatio could tell that his impatience was bleeding through. And if there was one thing he didn’t want to discuss right now, it was his sister-in-law and the power he now had to completely destroy her.
Still, another part of him thought… Right now, he needed Calleigh’s help. Which meant he should smooth things over. Hastily, he added in a much softer voice, “I haven’t said anything to her.”
“You should,” Calleigh said almost immediately.
He nodded his head. “I will. After this is taken care of, I’ll let her know.”
“I meant… you should do it now.” Listening carefully to her voice, Horatio could tell that something was off. There was no concern in her tone, no sound of affection or friendship. And he knew then that this wasn’t about telling Yelina to protect her or to make things better for his family.
She wasn’t giving him advice, at least not in the way that she usually did. No, now Calleigh was trying to get rid of him. “She’ll hear it eventually, so…”
“I want to take care of this first,” Horatio said.
“You can’t handle the evidence,” she retorted. “The best thing you can do right now is stay away, Horatio.” Her voice was pleading and maybe just a little harsh.
Or perhaps he was reading that last emotion in her tones. Because, for the life of him, he could not see how… being told to go away, that he didn’t belong at a crime scene, could be anything other than cruel. Deliberately mean too, the redhead thought to himself, furthering his torment.
A lump seemed to grow in his throat. Calleigh had always believed in him, had always supported him. And he had known that it wouldn’t be easy when everyone learned that Kyle was his son, but… actually experiencing it now was much harder to take. “You don’t trust me.” The redhead tried, but failed, to keep the waver out of his voice.
“He’s your son! That makes you the worst person to examine the evidence.”
“I’m not biased,” he said, trying miserably to defend himself.
“Only hours ago you were ready to beat the hell out of him. And the only thing that’s changed is you’ve learned he’s your kid.” She walked away, her shoulders stiff, taking the evidence with her. The conversation was effectively over now; she’d made sure of that.
But he wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“I wasn’t doing my job then,” Horatio told her. “I… wanted to believe he was guilty.”
She opened the back door of her Hummer and stuffed the evidence inside. Turning around to face him once more, Calleigh asked him, “But don’t you see? He is guilty. We have DNA to prove that Kyle Harmon was in this house.”
He nodded his head slowly, wearily. “Rebecca Nevins wants to try him as an adult, Calleigh. Maybe he is guilty, but beyond hope? I don’t know that. I don’t see that.” His voice was soft and earnest, his eyes searching hers for some sort of conciliation.
So quietly that he had to strain to hear her, she said, “Maybe you just can’t see it... maybe you just refuse to.”
In only a few words, Calleigh had managed to give voice to something Horatio had tried to stave off for as long as possible. And now that she had done so, he couldn’t deny that he was unsure about Kyle - wary of the boy’s guilt and innocence, completely unsure as to whether the teenager would benefit from having a father in his life.
But, at the same time… Horatio knew that the alternative was hardly better. More than likely, he wasn’t going to be the world’s greatest dad; the fact was, given the past sixteen years, the redhead was probably already out of the running for that. However, how could prison be any better? Even though raising this boy would probably be laden with mistakes, how could leaving the boy with rapists and murderers be an improvement?
If he were going to believe that, he decided, he needed proof.
“Then show me,” Horatio said with finality. “Prove it to me with this evidence. Work as hard as you can to demonstrate how guilty he is, and I will try to do the opposite. And together, we’ll find the truth, whatever it may be.”
Silence temporarily filled the air, his challenge washing over her. Agreeing, Calleigh said, “All right. Let’s do that… what do you want to start with?”
“The receipt,” he told her.
That she didn’t fight him on this was a good sign. Or at least, Horatio decided to take it as such. Instead, the blond nodded her head and got in her car. Following suit, the redhead couldn’t help but think, as he looked up at the stars, that maybe things were looking up.
******
Using the tips of his fingers, the brunet pushed the door shut as quietly as possible. The house was silent, and Ray Junior could only hope that she was asleep. Breaking the silence, a click of the lock filled the air, and the teenager let out the breath he’d been holding. So far so good.
Still, he’d better be careful. Tiptoeing in sneakers was difficult - especially with an overly stuffed bag on his shoulder, but Ray was determined not to get caught.
Of course, he knew that his mother would be pissed, even if she didn’t catch him tonight. But right now, she’d be breathing fire, and the teenager didn’t feel like dealing with that shit. And maybe if he could avoid the dragon-mother animorph tonight, she’d get bored and turn her attention elsewhere.
Almost immediately a pang of mourning gripped at his throat, held him captive. It made no sense to him, how he could go for a few days with only a vague sense of sadness. Ray always missed his father, but sometimes, it just seemed unbearable. And he hated to think of it now, because it probably wasn’t the most flattering reason to miss someone.
Dear Dad, he composed in his head. It sucks that you’re dead, because right now, Mom is on the warpath, and I could use a sacrificial lamb. Hoping your screw-ups will always outdo my own - Love, Ray.
Such a proud father-son bonding moment, he told himself sarcastically.
As quietly as he could, the brunet slung his bag higher on his shoulder. But he hadn’t been careful enough. His eyes closed, cringing, as he heard the sound of papers and the CD-rom shift inside his bag.
“Where have you been?” she barked, her voice filling the room forcefully. He spun around and saw her, finally. Her arms folded across her chest, his mother stood in the kitchen. Her eyes were narrowed on him in an instant, making his skin crawl. And unless he was completely out of his mind, he was sure he could hear her teeth grinding together from here.
How had he missed seeing her? Ray berated himself mentally.
“Answer me. Now.” She stalked towards in him, the space between them becoming smaller and smaller until she was right in front of him.
A little voice inside his head told the teenager that he should let his self-preservation kick in. She was mad as hell, and Ray knew he should tell her the truth or apologize. Make this as easy as possible. But the brunet could also feel the pull of his genes - Daddy’s little boy, which meant he didn’t have it in him to simplify matters.
Fuck you, he thought. He wasn’t going to roll over and answer all of her questions.
“Where were you, Raymond?” she asked again. Her voice was dangerous, cold.
He bristled. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
She stepped closer to him. “Oh, yes, you do.”
“Fine,” Ray said through gritted teeth. “I was kidnapped - seriously, I was just sitting in my room and then, it was the damnedest thing. Bam - kidnapped.” He gave her a cool smile. It was cruel as hell, he knew, given that he had been snatched by some of his father’s friends in the past. And generally speaking, he didn’t like to think about that day (at least not in those terms). But if it made his mother upset, which it clearly was doing, then fine by him.
“Donot make jokes like that,” she sniped furious. Her mouth was turned down into a frown, her cheeks reddening with anger. The teenager shrugged. “No,” she said harshly. “No. No, you don’t say things like that, Ray.”
“I just did.” The brunet had the sudden desire to stick his tongue out at her, but he resisted.
“Answer my question.”
“I was out.” He couldn’t deny that this was beginning to wear on his nerves, that he was ready for this fight to be over. But there was no way Ray was going to back down.
His mother sighed before pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Why does this have to be like pulling teeth? Why can’t you just tell me -
“Because you automatically assume I’ve done something wrong!” he roared.
“Because you have!” she snapped back. “You leave here, in the middle of a school night. No note, no warning, nothing. So… do not think I assume anything.”
“Yeah, whatever.” It was a lame-ass comeback, but he didn’t have much else to offer. “We both know if I was anyone else -”
“If you were anyone else, I would not care!” She was furious, he could tell that.
But it quickly gave way to something else. The soft look on her face was one Ray Junior had seen many times before, usually when she thought he wasn’t watching. “You are my son… Honey…” she started to say, her voice gentle and… maternal, he guessed. She moved closer to him, but the teenager backed away. “My child.”
God, he thought. She could be so possessive at times, but right now… Ray wasn’t sure that he minded it all that much.
“If you were someone else’s, it wouldn’t matter. But you are mine, which means I will always worry about you.”
She stepped forward again, this time grabbing his chin and trapping it between her thumb and index finger. Her touch was firm but gentle, and in the back of his mind, Ray thought that maybe he should be afraid. Because he understood that she could be dangerous when she wanted to be. And yet… he wasn’t, because he knew that what she said was the truth. If it were anyone else, she would have cut ties with him or never have cared at all.
“I worry about you no matter what you do,” the mother told him. “So please, Ray, stop punishing me for that. And have the courtesy to tell me what you’re doing.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand gently for only a moment before starting to walk away.
“So what are you going to do?” he asked, surprised at how quickly their fight had ended. “Put tracking devices in everything I own from now on so you can know exactly where I am at all times?”
The brunette turned around. “Yes, because it worked so well the last time, hmm?” She shook her head. “I… honestly don’t know what to do with you, Ray. Nothing I do seems to make a difference. So you tell me what it is that I should do.” There was such defeat in her voice - and not in the way he’d wanted.
If anything, it sounded like she was giving up. Throwing in the towel unless he gave her something.
But he had no answers, no suggestions. The teenager could only think, in the back of his mind, that he’d grown up. That now… he would have to face the consequences of his actions alone, because she was right. Nothing she did to punish him anymore had its intended effect. His own mother had quit, because he alone had made it impossible for her to do anything to protect him.
Ray Junior had thought before that when this day came, he’d be thrilled. Finally relieved of her almost overbearing presence. He should be jumping for joy, because he’d triumphed over his mother, had finally won the battle of wills they’d engaged in for years.
And yet… only a profound emptiness seemed to fill him.
He was fourteen but now essentially an adult. He was alone, without her to do… whatever it was that she would normally do. And he did not want it, did not like the feeling - instead wanted to climb in her arms and have her make this situation right once more.
But she only turned and began to walk towards her bedroom; oblivious to her son’s pain, she had washed her hands clean of what he might do.
Panic began to set in: they’d gone too far. She’d pushed him, and he’d returned the favor, and now they were in territory that he couldn’t stand. Ray knew he needed to fix this, needed to get back to where they had been before.
And in his mind, there was only one way to do that. It would suck, like really, really suck to have to cave, but… what else could he do?
“I was at Todd’s house,” he said quietly. Part of him wanted to look down at his feet, but stubbornly, he refused to do it, keeping his eyes trained on the back of her head. All so that when she would turn around, he would be looking at her in the eyes. He’d meet her halfway, fine, but he wasn’t going to be fucking apologetic - like a five year old who’d broken a vase.
She stopped in mid step before whipping around. Ray Junior didn’t think her face looked totally triumphant; she didn’t dance around with glee or anything, which made him feel slightly better. But knowing that his mother would, at some point, think that she’d won this fight chapped his ass. Yeah, it was true, but it sucked nonetheless.
“You were at Todd’s house,” she repeated. The regurgitated words hung in the air for a few moments. And he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued on, “That’s where you were.”
“Yes,” Ray said.
“Doing what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Studying.” His response was a little too quick, sounded a little too forced. But he had no intention of letting her in on his project with Todd. Ray Junior might not want her out of his life for good, but… neither did he want her to get involved in this; that would just be the kiss of death.
“I didn’t realize you knew you how to do that,” the brunette quipped.
“Well, obviously… you were wrong.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Then why not just admit that to me? Hmm?”
He sighed and came up with the quickest lie he could find. “Because… you don’t like Todd, and I just thought… I don’t know.” An idea popped into his mind, but he knew better than to overdo it. It had to come out slowly. Manipulatively, Ray shifted on his feet, seemingly hesitant.
“All right, look. I didn’t… I wasn’t going to tell you, because I wanted...” He let his words trail off. And looking into his mother’s eyes, he could see it was working. “I wanted to keep it a surprise,” he said quickly. “I… I know you were upset when I failed my last test, so I wanted to… I wanted to make it up to you.”
She took a step forward. “Really?” Once again, her voice was laced with suspicion. It was just what he wanted.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “That’s not why I was studying. I didn’t want to make it up to you.” Ray slung his bag higher on his shoulder to keep it from dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t trying to do something nice. I wanted to prove you wrong.” His voice darkened, and he let just a hint of the truth peak through. “You think I’m so stupid. You think I can’t do anything right.”
“That’s not true, Raymond.”
“Yeah, it really is. And you shouldn’t try to deny it, Mother, because if it weren’t true… then you wouldn’t have Uncle Horatio at your beck and call.” She shook her head. But he kept talking, because if she opened her mouth and said something, then they’d have to fight over that. Which would only get them further off the point than they were right now. “I’m right so don’t even try to say otherwise. You think I’m absolutely hopeless, and I just wanted to show you how wrong you are.”
Once more, he adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder; Ray liked to keep everything jammed into one convenient area, so the backpack was heavy, overly burdened with random books and pieces of paper. It was the kind of clutter his mother would hate, which is why he refused to do it any other way.
But at the moment, the teenager had to concede that there was a downside to carrying everything in one bag every day - like the way the black strap of the bag had begun to bite into his skin. If only so he could put the damn backpack down, the brunet was ready for this fight to be over. And so he said, “So can we please get on with it? Ground me, take away my Ipod or my cell phone, whatever.”
She sneered. “I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry.”
“Yeah, well, tight schedule. You know how it is.”
“Go to bed,” she told him, her words terse and voice tense.
“Gladly,” Ray said sarcastically.
He stalked passed her, his hand snatching his door handle. But, when her voice filled the hallway once more, he froze. “I really hope you do prove me wrong.”
She said nothing else, but still he waited, listening to the sound of her heels walking down the hallway and ultimately the click of her bedroom door shutting. And as she did so, Raymond couldn’t help but whisper, “I hope I do too.”
End (19/??)
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yelina Salas, Horatio Caine, the whole Caine family
Author's Note: WARNING: SPOILER FOR SEASON 6.
Summary: Almost two decades ago, Horatio made a decision that would change his family forever. Will they ever forgive him? Will he ever tell Yelina how he feels? This is an alternative to the beginning of season 6. A Horatio and Kyle story; H/Y romance in the future.
Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, and Chapter 17
Disclaimer: I don't own the show. Don't sue me.
No Other One
Chapter Eighteen: Pushing Boundaries
By Duckie Nicks
“Whereas the Greeks gave to will the boundaries of reason, we have come to put the will's impulse in the very center of reason, which has, as a result, become deadly.” - Albert Camus
“I told you to wait,” she said. It was the angriest Calleigh had ever been with him, Horatio thought. Her voice only held the smallest amount of fury she would allow, still respectful on the surface. But even through the dark, he could see her green eyes blazing, narrowing on him. “I told you,” the blonde repeated, “that if you found something, I would -“
“You were inside,” the redhead said simply. “I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You know it does, Horatio.”
“Re-bag it,” he told her. She sighed and proceeded, though begrudgingly, to do just that.
Cutting through the bags he’d used, Calleigh spoke up, “I don’t know why you couldn’t have waited. It would have taken less time in the long run.”
“I needed to do something,” the redhead told her quietly. “I… couldn’t wait.” It was hardly an explanation. Horatio realized that much, but he truly had no other motivation. Faced with the idea that his son could be in jail, yes, he’d disregarded what Calleigh had wanted. And maybe she was right, he conceded, about how long it would take in the end.
But what else was he supposed to do?
He watched impatiently as she finished re-labeling the receipts, the cigarette butts, and the cell phone. The blonde stood up, the heels of her boots wobbling unevenly on the pavement. She sighed. “So he’s really your son, then... Have you told Yelina yet? Or does she already -”
“No,” he said to her quickly, shaking his head. His voice didn’t sound mean, he hoped, but already, Horatio could tell that his impatience was bleeding through. And if there was one thing he didn’t want to discuss right now, it was his sister-in-law and the power he now had to completely destroy her.
Still, another part of him thought… Right now, he needed Calleigh’s help. Which meant he should smooth things over. Hastily, he added in a much softer voice, “I haven’t said anything to her.”
“You should,” Calleigh said almost immediately.
He nodded his head. “I will. After this is taken care of, I’ll let her know.”
“I meant… you should do it now.” Listening carefully to her voice, Horatio could tell that something was off. There was no concern in her tone, no sound of affection or friendship. And he knew then that this wasn’t about telling Yelina to protect her or to make things better for his family.
She wasn’t giving him advice, at least not in the way that she usually did. No, now Calleigh was trying to get rid of him. “She’ll hear it eventually, so…”
“I want to take care of this first,” Horatio said.
“You can’t handle the evidence,” she retorted. “The best thing you can do right now is stay away, Horatio.” Her voice was pleading and maybe just a little harsh.
Or perhaps he was reading that last emotion in her tones. Because, for the life of him, he could not see how… being told to go away, that he didn’t belong at a crime scene, could be anything other than cruel. Deliberately mean too, the redhead thought to himself, furthering his torment.
A lump seemed to grow in his throat. Calleigh had always believed in him, had always supported him. And he had known that it wouldn’t be easy when everyone learned that Kyle was his son, but… actually experiencing it now was much harder to take. “You don’t trust me.” The redhead tried, but failed, to keep the waver out of his voice.
“He’s your son! That makes you the worst person to examine the evidence.”
“I’m not biased,” he said, trying miserably to defend himself.
“Only hours ago you were ready to beat the hell out of him. And the only thing that’s changed is you’ve learned he’s your kid.” She walked away, her shoulders stiff, taking the evidence with her. The conversation was effectively over now; she’d made sure of that.
But he wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“I wasn’t doing my job then,” Horatio told her. “I… wanted to believe he was guilty.”
She opened the back door of her Hummer and stuffed the evidence inside. Turning around to face him once more, Calleigh asked him, “But don’t you see? He is guilty. We have DNA to prove that Kyle Harmon was in this house.”
He nodded his head slowly, wearily. “Rebecca Nevins wants to try him as an adult, Calleigh. Maybe he is guilty, but beyond hope? I don’t know that. I don’t see that.” His voice was soft and earnest, his eyes searching hers for some sort of conciliation.
So quietly that he had to strain to hear her, she said, “Maybe you just can’t see it... maybe you just refuse to.”
In only a few words, Calleigh had managed to give voice to something Horatio had tried to stave off for as long as possible. And now that she had done so, he couldn’t deny that he was unsure about Kyle - wary of the boy’s guilt and innocence, completely unsure as to whether the teenager would benefit from having a father in his life.
But, at the same time… Horatio knew that the alternative was hardly better. More than likely, he wasn’t going to be the world’s greatest dad; the fact was, given the past sixteen years, the redhead was probably already out of the running for that. However, how could prison be any better? Even though raising this boy would probably be laden with mistakes, how could leaving the boy with rapists and murderers be an improvement?
If he were going to believe that, he decided, he needed proof.
“Then show me,” Horatio said with finality. “Prove it to me with this evidence. Work as hard as you can to demonstrate how guilty he is, and I will try to do the opposite. And together, we’ll find the truth, whatever it may be.”
Silence temporarily filled the air, his challenge washing over her. Agreeing, Calleigh said, “All right. Let’s do that… what do you want to start with?”
“The receipt,” he told her.
That she didn’t fight him on this was a good sign. Or at least, Horatio decided to take it as such. Instead, the blond nodded her head and got in her car. Following suit, the redhead couldn’t help but think, as he looked up at the stars, that maybe things were looking up.
******
Using the tips of his fingers, the brunet pushed the door shut as quietly as possible. The house was silent, and Ray Junior could only hope that she was asleep. Breaking the silence, a click of the lock filled the air, and the teenager let out the breath he’d been holding. So far so good.
Still, he’d better be careful. Tiptoeing in sneakers was difficult - especially with an overly stuffed bag on his shoulder, but Ray was determined not to get caught.
Of course, he knew that his mother would be pissed, even if she didn’t catch him tonight. But right now, she’d be breathing fire, and the teenager didn’t feel like dealing with that shit. And maybe if he could avoid the dragon-mother animorph tonight, she’d get bored and turn her attention elsewhere.
Almost immediately a pang of mourning gripped at his throat, held him captive. It made no sense to him, how he could go for a few days with only a vague sense of sadness. Ray always missed his father, but sometimes, it just seemed unbearable. And he hated to think of it now, because it probably wasn’t the most flattering reason to miss someone.
Dear Dad, he composed in his head. It sucks that you’re dead, because right now, Mom is on the warpath, and I could use a sacrificial lamb. Hoping your screw-ups will always outdo my own - Love, Ray.
Such a proud father-son bonding moment, he told himself sarcastically.
As quietly as he could, the brunet slung his bag higher on his shoulder. But he hadn’t been careful enough. His eyes closed, cringing, as he heard the sound of papers and the CD-rom shift inside his bag.
“Where have you been?” she barked, her voice filling the room forcefully. He spun around and saw her, finally. Her arms folded across her chest, his mother stood in the kitchen. Her eyes were narrowed on him in an instant, making his skin crawl. And unless he was completely out of his mind, he was sure he could hear her teeth grinding together from here.
How had he missed seeing her? Ray berated himself mentally.
“Answer me. Now.” She stalked towards in him, the space between them becoming smaller and smaller until she was right in front of him.
A little voice inside his head told the teenager that he should let his self-preservation kick in. She was mad as hell, and Ray knew he should tell her the truth or apologize. Make this as easy as possible. But the brunet could also feel the pull of his genes - Daddy’s little boy, which meant he didn’t have it in him to simplify matters.
Fuck you, he thought. He wasn’t going to roll over and answer all of her questions.
“Where were you, Raymond?” she asked again. Her voice was dangerous, cold.
He bristled. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
She stepped closer to him. “Oh, yes, you do.”
“Fine,” Ray said through gritted teeth. “I was kidnapped - seriously, I was just sitting in my room and then, it was the damnedest thing. Bam - kidnapped.” He gave her a cool smile. It was cruel as hell, he knew, given that he had been snatched by some of his father’s friends in the past. And generally speaking, he didn’t like to think about that day (at least not in those terms). But if it made his mother upset, which it clearly was doing, then fine by him.
“Donot make jokes like that,” she sniped furious. Her mouth was turned down into a frown, her cheeks reddening with anger. The teenager shrugged. “No,” she said harshly. “No. No, you don’t say things like that, Ray.”
“I just did.” The brunet had the sudden desire to stick his tongue out at her, but he resisted.
“Answer my question.”
“I was out.” He couldn’t deny that this was beginning to wear on his nerves, that he was ready for this fight to be over. But there was no way Ray was going to back down.
His mother sighed before pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Why does this have to be like pulling teeth? Why can’t you just tell me -
“Because you automatically assume I’ve done something wrong!” he roared.
“Because you have!” she snapped back. “You leave here, in the middle of a school night. No note, no warning, nothing. So… do not think I assume anything.”
“Yeah, whatever.” It was a lame-ass comeback, but he didn’t have much else to offer. “We both know if I was anyone else -”
“If you were anyone else, I would not care!” She was furious, he could tell that.
But it quickly gave way to something else. The soft look on her face was one Ray Junior had seen many times before, usually when she thought he wasn’t watching. “You are my son… Honey…” she started to say, her voice gentle and… maternal, he guessed. She moved closer to him, but the teenager backed away. “My child.”
God, he thought. She could be so possessive at times, but right now… Ray wasn’t sure that he minded it all that much.
“If you were someone else’s, it wouldn’t matter. But you are mine, which means I will always worry about you.”
She stepped forward again, this time grabbing his chin and trapping it between her thumb and index finger. Her touch was firm but gentle, and in the back of his mind, Ray thought that maybe he should be afraid. Because he understood that she could be dangerous when she wanted to be. And yet… he wasn’t, because he knew that what she said was the truth. If it were anyone else, she would have cut ties with him or never have cared at all.
“I worry about you no matter what you do,” the mother told him. “So please, Ray, stop punishing me for that. And have the courtesy to tell me what you’re doing.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand gently for only a moment before starting to walk away.
“So what are you going to do?” he asked, surprised at how quickly their fight had ended. “Put tracking devices in everything I own from now on so you can know exactly where I am at all times?”
The brunette turned around. “Yes, because it worked so well the last time, hmm?” She shook her head. “I… honestly don’t know what to do with you, Ray. Nothing I do seems to make a difference. So you tell me what it is that I should do.” There was such defeat in her voice - and not in the way he’d wanted.
If anything, it sounded like she was giving up. Throwing in the towel unless he gave her something.
But he had no answers, no suggestions. The teenager could only think, in the back of his mind, that he’d grown up. That now… he would have to face the consequences of his actions alone, because she was right. Nothing she did to punish him anymore had its intended effect. His own mother had quit, because he alone had made it impossible for her to do anything to protect him.
Ray Junior had thought before that when this day came, he’d be thrilled. Finally relieved of her almost overbearing presence. He should be jumping for joy, because he’d triumphed over his mother, had finally won the battle of wills they’d engaged in for years.
And yet… only a profound emptiness seemed to fill him.
He was fourteen but now essentially an adult. He was alone, without her to do… whatever it was that she would normally do. And he did not want it, did not like the feeling - instead wanted to climb in her arms and have her make this situation right once more.
But she only turned and began to walk towards her bedroom; oblivious to her son’s pain, she had washed her hands clean of what he might do.
Panic began to set in: they’d gone too far. She’d pushed him, and he’d returned the favor, and now they were in territory that he couldn’t stand. Ray knew he needed to fix this, needed to get back to where they had been before.
And in his mind, there was only one way to do that. It would suck, like really, really suck to have to cave, but… what else could he do?
“I was at Todd’s house,” he said quietly. Part of him wanted to look down at his feet, but stubbornly, he refused to do it, keeping his eyes trained on the back of her head. All so that when she would turn around, he would be looking at her in the eyes. He’d meet her halfway, fine, but he wasn’t going to be fucking apologetic - like a five year old who’d broken a vase.
She stopped in mid step before whipping around. Ray Junior didn’t think her face looked totally triumphant; she didn’t dance around with glee or anything, which made him feel slightly better. But knowing that his mother would, at some point, think that she’d won this fight chapped his ass. Yeah, it was true, but it sucked nonetheless.
“You were at Todd’s house,” she repeated. The regurgitated words hung in the air for a few moments. And he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued on, “That’s where you were.”
“Yes,” Ray said.
“Doing what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Studying.” His response was a little too quick, sounded a little too forced. But he had no intention of letting her in on his project with Todd. Ray Junior might not want her out of his life for good, but… neither did he want her to get involved in this; that would just be the kiss of death.
“I didn’t realize you knew you how to do that,” the brunette quipped.
“Well, obviously… you were wrong.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Then why not just admit that to me? Hmm?”
He sighed and came up with the quickest lie he could find. “Because… you don’t like Todd, and I just thought… I don’t know.” An idea popped into his mind, but he knew better than to overdo it. It had to come out slowly. Manipulatively, Ray shifted on his feet, seemingly hesitant.
“All right, look. I didn’t… I wasn’t going to tell you, because I wanted...” He let his words trail off. And looking into his mother’s eyes, he could see it was working. “I wanted to keep it a surprise,” he said quickly. “I… I know you were upset when I failed my last test, so I wanted to… I wanted to make it up to you.”
She took a step forward. “Really?” Once again, her voice was laced with suspicion. It was just what he wanted.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “That’s not why I was studying. I didn’t want to make it up to you.” Ray slung his bag higher on his shoulder to keep it from dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t trying to do something nice. I wanted to prove you wrong.” His voice darkened, and he let just a hint of the truth peak through. “You think I’m so stupid. You think I can’t do anything right.”
“That’s not true, Raymond.”
“Yeah, it really is. And you shouldn’t try to deny it, Mother, because if it weren’t true… then you wouldn’t have Uncle Horatio at your beck and call.” She shook her head. But he kept talking, because if she opened her mouth and said something, then they’d have to fight over that. Which would only get them further off the point than they were right now. “I’m right so don’t even try to say otherwise. You think I’m absolutely hopeless, and I just wanted to show you how wrong you are.”
Once more, he adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder; Ray liked to keep everything jammed into one convenient area, so the backpack was heavy, overly burdened with random books and pieces of paper. It was the kind of clutter his mother would hate, which is why he refused to do it any other way.
But at the moment, the teenager had to concede that there was a downside to carrying everything in one bag every day - like the way the black strap of the bag had begun to bite into his skin. If only so he could put the damn backpack down, the brunet was ready for this fight to be over. And so he said, “So can we please get on with it? Ground me, take away my Ipod or my cell phone, whatever.”
She sneered. “I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry.”
“Yeah, well, tight schedule. You know how it is.”
“Go to bed,” she told him, her words terse and voice tense.
“Gladly,” Ray said sarcastically.
He stalked passed her, his hand snatching his door handle. But, when her voice filled the hallway once more, he froze. “I really hope you do prove me wrong.”
She said nothing else, but still he waited, listening to the sound of her heels walking down the hallway and ultimately the click of her bedroom door shutting. And as she did so, Raymond couldn’t help but whisper, “I hope I do too.”
End (19/??)