No Other One, Chapter 39
Title: No Other One, Chapter 39
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. Fulfills
alphabetasoup prompt M is for Maui.
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, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, and Chapter 38.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show.
“Stress: The confusion created when one’s mind overrides the body’s basic desire to choke the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately deserves it.” - Timothy P. Brigham
“Take a seat,” Clarissa, the social worker instructed Horatio. Her office was small, making the redhead feel claustrophobic. But there was no avoiding this interview, so he did as she said. As she made her way around her large oak desk, which seemed to take up an exorbitant amount of room in the small area, she told him, “You know over the years… I’ve heard a lot about you. In the news, mainly, but every now and then, one of your cases falls into my purview.”
She took her seat and smiled kindly at him, but Horatio couldn’t have felt less welcome. There was no audible accusation in her tone, but he thought it was there nonetheless. Because, frankly, whatever had been said about the redhead in the news had rarely been good.
It had started with his brother’s murder - well, when they’d thought he’d died anyway. And the questions raised by that event had stuck somehow to Horatio long after Ray had been buried. Every time a drug dealer went free or didn’t get the penalty the public wanted… it was blamed on him. Thanks to his brother’s faults, Horatio had practically become a villain in the public eye, sometimes disappearing from the news but never forgotten long enough.
No, he thought. That couldn’t be a good way to start this interview…
“Anyway,” she said, waving the thought off. “I suppose my first question is how you received Kyle’s foster records. Those files are not accessible to the public for obvious reasons.”
Once again, it felt as though the woman was pointing a finger at him. Making it worse was the fact that he hadn’t expected her to ask about the file. Of course, Horatio hadn’t planned on bringing that up to begin with. But it just seemed… like the deck was stacked against him. Who would have thought that such an innocuous detail would result in being questioned about it?
The knot in his stomach tightened cruelly; though he did have legal cause to request the information, the redhead had used his sister-in-law to get it. And he had no idea what Yelina had done to get the file, but he doubted whatever she’d done would be appreciated here. So Horatio told Clarissa the social worker a limited version of the truth.
“Well, ma’am… I’m the lieutenant for MDPD. And I was investigating a kidnapping, which we suspected Kyle of participating in, as I’m sure you’re now aware,” he said. When she nodded her head in agreement, Horatio continued, “I requested the file -”
“Not officially,” Clarissa immediately retorted. “Or else I would have been CC’ed on the request, Lieutenant.”
“You are… correct,” Horatio conceded. “Normally I would use the proper channels for such a request. When my department is swamped, however, I have relied on private investigators to get the information I need.”
Clarissa folded her arms across her chest. “Well, there should still be some paperwork around here, if you did that,” she said snottily.
The redhead could feel himself frown. “Ma’am… I honestly don’t know what happened. Maybe the paperwork got lost or hasn’t been filed yet. I trust that the investigator I used employed legal methods of obtaining Kyle’s folder.” He was tempted to leave it at that, but Horatio knew it would seem like he was blaming her department. Which, admittedly he was, but it probably wasn’t smart to end the moment there. So he reassured her, “But I can understand that these sorts of errors can be problematic, so I will no longer hire this particular P.I. And I will look into the matter.”
In all honesty, Horatio couldn’t care less about how Yelina had gotten the papers. She’d done her job, and that was what mattered to him in the end. But he didn’t think he was lying when he said that he wouldn’t hire her again; she was still too mad to do anything for him and probably would remain that way for a long time.
“I hope you do, Lieutenant” was her rather cool reply. The smile that had been on her face had nearly disappeared now, and Horatio knew he needed to move beyond this point.
“I can… appreciate if you are upset. But… I think it’s important to remember that Kyle’s probation hinges on living with me. So while -”
“I see that,” Clarissa said, disdain creeping into her voice. “I suppose it’s lucky for you, Mr. Caine, that you’ve tied my hands and that this is a mere formality.” Her chubby fingers felt around the desk before snatching up a cheap pen. As she flipped through a crinkled steno pad in front of her, the slightly overweight woman explained, “I suppose what I need to figure out now is if it’s worth my time to challenge the plea bargain and request Kyle Harmon be placed in a new foster family.”
Horatio cocked his head to the side. “And here I thought the motto of DCF was to bring families together.”
For a brief moment, Clarissa smiled sympathetically, despite his sarcastic remark. It was almost… odd, her response to the comment. But then again, Horatio thought she probably dealt with that attitude regularly.
“I know you probably thought that this would be over in ten minutes,” she told him. But it’s my job to make sure that your son is…. Well, first of all, that he is your son.” Horatio narrowed his eyes on her, but she ignored the look. “And then I’d like to know that Kyle isn’t going home with someone who will mistreat him.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Horatio responded immediately. “I won’t.” He fixed his blue eyes on her brown ones and implored her to believe him. “But you won’t be satisfied until you’ve… gone on a full fishing expedition. So by all means…” His voice got lower, the words filled with gravel. But the redhead maintained his confidence as he said, “Feel free to look around.”
He was tempting fate, he supposed. The truth was Horatio did not want anyone to look into his life. That was something he found himself increasingly unable to do. But the lieutenant understood all too well that it was important to appear unshaken by accusations. When a person was rattled and let it show, it was that sort of behavior that sunk a suspect in an interrogation. So he refused to do anything that would make her believe he was guilty.
Silence impeded the conversation but only for a moment so the social worker could rake her eyes over him. She was looking for a sign of weakness - a twitch or some other form of tell. But Horatio knew that when it came to interrogations, no one could outdo him.
And finally, perhaps satisfied by his air of innocence, Clarissa said, “I don’t believe that’s necessary. I would like to talk to you, Kyle, maybe another family member to get a feel for how you plan on moving forward and parenting. Of course, I’d also like your DNA to be -”
“The DNA has been tested twice.”
“Yes, but -”
“I understand,” he said almost sympathetically, “that you doubt the integrity of the tests. But it was submitted into a court of law.”
“Yes, I see that,” Clarissa answered, sorting through the enormous stack of papers and pulling out a file.
“Then I don’t see why… you would want to spend your limited budget on another test.” His voice was beginning to sound as frustrated as he felt, and Horatio carefully reined himself back in. Losing his temper would not help matters.
She seemed to ponder the thought for a moment before saying, “All right… I think we can… possibly forgo that.”
Horatio didn’t answer, didn’t say anything at all. He knew it would not help his cause to show any signs that he recognized his triumph. They’d already gotten off to a poor start. And what could have been a half hour interview was now going to extend way beyond what Horatio had envisioned - that much seemed obvious.
What he needed now was her approval and to try to make her forget that the last ten minutes had ever happened. So he sat quietly and waited.
“When did you learn Kyle was your son?”
For the redhead, that life-altering moment felt… almost ancient. Despite the fact that they hadn’t settled in as father and son yet, Horatio still thought it seemed like the time before Kyle had long since passed. But in actuality, as he counted the dates in his head, “It was… about three days ago.”
Clarissa took some notes. “And that’s been enough time for you to consider all of the ramifications of your decision to take on the role of father?” She looked at him almost… disbelievingly.
“He’s my son,” Horatio explained simply. “It’s my duty.”
“Do you like fulfilling duties, Lieutenant?” she retorted coolly, leaning forward so that her forearms rested on her desk. “What happens when the varnish wears off?”
It was something the redhead hadn’t thought about much; he was still trying to find his way in this new job. And though things hadn’t gotten perfectly, Horatio still had hope that, as a family, they could get through it. What would happen if something went wrong… he hadn’t put too much thought into that.
But then… Horatio thought about the job he had had for the last couple decades. With all the crime - including the loss of his brother and wife - he understood all too well what it felt like to have that silver lining and the heavy promise of hope slip through his fingertips. The potent idea that he could change the world had long since expired, and that had been a horrible thing to lose.
He’d wanted to quit, especially after Raymond had died. Well, truthfully, after his brother’s murder (the first time, anyway), Horatio had thought that nothing would be right ever again. He’d believed that Yelina would never look at him the same way again - with trusting eyes, with the belief that he could help her with anything. Because… Horatio had thought, and maybe still did, that he should have saved his little brother. That he should have intervened and pulled Ray from his assignment and made it better.
But he hadn’t been able to do that, and his brother had died. And Yelina had changed. Yet, they’d all made it through that. Horatio had wanted to run away, had wanted to quit, but instead… he’d kept going.
And this time would be no different.
“Ms. Bennett,” he started to say, searching for the words he wanted. “In my line of work, and… I’d imagine in yours as well, there are… people who take the job, because they believe they can change the world… that they alone can end crime or make things perfect.” His eyes trained on hers and looked for a sign that she understood. Satisfied, Horatio continued. “I have… never believed that, ma’am,” he said with conviction. “I know that for each criminal I catch, ten more will get away with it.
“By anyone’s standards, including my own, I have failed.” He hesitated then, not sure if he should keep talking. He was creeping up on things he never wanted to discuss with… anyone, really. But at the same time, the redhead realized that now was not the time to hold back. And if he kept quiet, and Kyle ended up being taken from him, Horatio would never forgive himself. So he kept going. “I’ve seen my mother, brother, and wife die because of the violence that exists. I’ve seen my mentor be blown to pieces and my partner bleed to death because of it,” he told her darkly. “I know… that at the end of the day…” His voice trailed off, and his fingers searched inside of his pocket for the pair of sunglasses he always kept with him. “I won’t have succeeded in protecting everyone,” Horatio finished.
“But I do know that… it’s my duty to try,” he said.
“I see” was her terse response, but in her large and slightly widened eyes, he could tell that perhaps Clarissa was seeing him for the first time.
So Horatio pressed on. “I don’t… romanticize it. And I have yet to do that with Kyle. I am his father,” the redhead said matter of factly. “I… quite honestly don’t expect us to… have the kind of close relationship other fathers and sons have. I understand, Ms. Bennett, that this will… not be easy. For him or myself,” he added for good measure. Shifting around in his chair some, Horatio said, “But, that said, I am not doing this… simply out of obligation.
“I think I can do some good here - help him. And I… know that won’t be easy or conventional. But it is my job as his father to try.”
“And if you fail?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged. “Then… I try again.” Which wouldn’t be easy, Horatio realized.
Failure was something he’d always taken to heart. And screwing up with Kyle?
That would make every other disappointment seem pale by comparison. Getting over that would probably be impossible. No, he countered, it definitely would be, because parts of him were already lingering on, clinging onto, the sixteen years worth of failures. And Horatio understood then that a defeat here - Kyle being hurt or hating him or going to jail - had to be avoided at all costs.
The redhead wasn’t sure if that was… fatherly love talking or something else. But he knew he would never recover from losing Kyle.
Determination rallied forth within him, and Horatio opened his mouth to say more. But it was unnecessary.
“Good,” Clarissa said. “That’s what I needed to hear.” She smiled and stood, giving Horatio some momentary relief. “I think I’m ready to talk to Kyle now.”
He also stood, following her back out into the main area where the blond teenager was waiting anxiously.
And knowing that his son was about to talk to this woman, Horatio felt his stomach tying itself into knots once more. His heart seemed to be pounding against some sort of vice. The redhead didn’t think it were possible for one single interview to cause so much chaos in his own body.
When the social worker turned to him once more and said, “Don’t forget - I need to speak with another family member, Mr. Caine,” Horatio knew:
This day was going to give him an ulcer.
-------------------------
If she’d been unable to remember why they’d broken up before… now she knew.
Even when Stetler tried to be agreeable, Yelina found him irritating. They’d only been following her mark for about an hour, never leaving the car. But what could have been merely a boring job had turned into an adventure in keeping a 44-year-old baby happy.
At the moment, they were watching her boss’s wife run errands. Or at least Yelina was; Rick was too busy alternately demonstrating how miserable he was and how much he wanted to have sex with her.
In this particular instance, the dark-haired man was managing to do both at the same time. His left hand rested nonchalantly on her upper thigh, which made Yelina feel incredibly grateful for the invention of pants. And more importantly, she was pleased with her own seemingly wise decision to wear them today. Because there was no telling what Rick would have tried had she worn a skirt. His right hand holding up his head, he sighed in boredom.
“Well I say you give up and go home,” he suggested.
“Why?”
“She’s not doing anything,” Rick practically whined, shifting in his seat.
“I’m being paid to watch her for the day. I can’t give up. Besides, she could do something,” Yelina told him even if she didn’t really believe it herself.
“We’ve been sitting here for an hour - nothing’s happened. Nothing’s gonna.”
“You don’t know that,” she said snottily. Turning to look at him, Yelina added, “And if you’re so bored, you can leave. I didn’t make you come.” She folded her arms across her chest, remembering his original purpose for joining her. “And didn’t you only come along so we could talk?”
“Yeah, but -”
She gestured at him with one of her hands. “So talk… since we’re not doing much.”
“What’s there to say?” he asked with a shrug. “You want me. I want you. Case closed.”
Yelina shook her head. The truth was she really didn’t want him anymore. Her words and actions yesterday had been honest enough but born out of a need to lash out; the brunette had needed to do something her brother-in-law would disapprove of and despise. She’d needed it to be clear, if only to herself, that Horatio would not rule her world any longer.
And she’d done that well enough. But… now there was no sense in keeping herself in a bad situation. “I think there’s plenty to -”
“Wouldn’t you rather do something fun?” Rick asked huskily, his hand snaking up her thigh ever so slightly.
“So when you said you wanted to talk,” she snapped, “what you meant was you wanted to have sex with me.” It wasn’t surprising, but the boldness of it - and the “yeah” radiating from his arrogant face - angered her. “Stop groping me,” Yelina ordered.
He scowled. “I’m not doing anything wrong. And if I wanted to grope you,” he argued back. “I would do this.” His hand made a beeline for her crotch, the fingertips ready to grab her fiercely.
Realizing his intentions, Yelina slapped the offending hand away quickly. And for a brief instance, she worried what Stetler might do in return. A fraction of a second passed with the brunette practically holding her breath. She waited, her entire body tense, for his own smack to hit her, waited to hear the crack of skin or knuckles against her body.
But it never came.
Instead he half-smiled. “I’m just messing with you, Ellie.”
She hated him so much sometimes. “Very funny,” she nearly growled.
Rick, however, ignored the dark tone of her voice. “See - this is why we don’t talk. We’re better at the other stuff,” he said, leering at her. “Why should we waste our time and energy here, chatting about things we’re just gonna look for a way to get into a fight over?”
Yelina looked away from him then; he’d pushed the truth right in front of her face, and she couldn’t bear to have him see her as she thought about it.
They really weren’t good at talking, sharing things with one another. And it wasn’t just today; this was how they’d always been. Thinking about it now, she could see that their relationship in the past had been little more than large fights and trying to avoid them. In the brief time they’d dated, it seemed as though they had always been going on vacation - trying to escape and de-stress.
There was never any period of time where she was comfortable enough with Stetler to just... relax.
And for the first time, she understood exactly what it was about Rick that made her hate the relationship so much. A slap every now and then, she could handle. Had handled. The occasional argument was perfectly all right.
But the constant… inability to co-exist was something she’d never wanted.
Seeing it now for what it was, Yelina knew that she never ever wanted to get back together with Stetler again. Because, while it didn’t make him a bad person, he was fundamentally incompatible with her, and the brunette didn’t want to spend the rest of her life walking on egg shells; the sex might have been good, but it wasn’t worth that.
“Rick,” she started to say, ready to let him down as easily as she could. But before she could add anymore, her cell phone rang. “Give me a minute,” she told him, as she rummaged through her purse next to her. Of course, the bag was about as disorganized as the day had made her. And it took Yelina more time than usual to find the source of the ringing.
Snatching the phone out of her purse, the brunette didn’t bother to look at the caller ID before answering it. “Hello?”
There was a brief pause before “It’s Horatio” was uttered in a tentative voice.
Yelina bit down on her lip hard and briefly considered slapping her tiny phone shut and ignoring him. Her brother-in-law didn’t deserve the courtesy of saying goodbye.
But before she had time to decide, Horatio pleaded with her, “Please don’t hang up.”
“What do you want?” she asked tiredly. It was rude - she realized as much - to say it. And more than anything, Yelina had wanted it to come across angry; she really wanted to scare him off. But the words hadn’t been said in anger. The fury she’d wanted her tone to convey had been non-existent.
She simply sounded exhausted - and when it came to Horatio’s problems, the brunette was completely worn out.
“I know you probably want some time to sort things out,” he started to say.
Dryly Yelina told him, “Yes. That would be nice.”
But if the sarcasm affected him, he didn’t hint at it with his voice. “Yelina, I’m at social services with Kyle. And…” There was a beat, a small chink in his armor. “They won’t release him into my custody until they’ve interviewed a relative.”
“You have other -”
“No, I don’t,” he said firmly.
“The Delkos,” Yelina suggested in a harsh tone.
“That is different.”
“We’re both in-laws,” she stated simply. True, the brunette was ignoring the fact that, even in her own mind, Horatio’s marriage had been little more than a sham. Of course, she could keep - and had kept that opinion to herself. And part of her could understand the redhead’s reasons for marrying a dying girl. But that didn’t make the relationship between the two true love… just as her time with Stetler hadn’t ever approached that either.
At that moment, the man sitting next to her seemed to realize who was on the phone. And though she ignored him, Yelina could feel his anger begin to smolder.
“It’s different,” Horatio argued as gently as he could. “You are the mother of my nephew - I’ve known you for almost twenty years. It is… not the same thing.”
There was no denying the truth in his words; they strongly pulled on her heart, letting her know that she really did have to do this. But her mind stubbornly refused to capitulate.
“I haven’t earned it,” said the voice warily over the phone. “I am… sorry, so sorry, Yelina. For hurting you and for needing you to do this.” Genuine sorrow seemed to lace each and every tone he made. But the plea quickly changed into something rougher. “But whether you like it or not, Kyle is family. And if you don’t do this, he will go to jail.”
His words crashed down on her shoulders, the weight of them exhausting her. She didn’t want to help him, even though Yelina knew it to be right.
It was what she had to do, but hearing him place all the responsibility on her… she wanted to punch him. Because the way things were now was his fault, not hers, and yet here he was, making sure that she knew exactly what was at stake. Horatio was essentially shifting blame onto her, and he was so good at it. Obviously, Yelina thought, he’d improved his technique since he’d told her that Madison Keaton existed.
“You there?” came across the phone.
Her answer was immediate, filled with the anger she was feeling. “Go to hell.”
She slapped her phone shut quickly, not bothering to listen to what he might say. And for good measure, the brunette turned the cell off, so that Horatio couldn’t call her back. There was nothing he could say - nothing that she wanted to hear - that would make this situation any easier.
“You did the right thing, Yelina,” Rick said softly, interrupting her thoughts.
But if he’d meant to soothe, the attempt had failed. Because with those simple words, Yelina’s frustration boiled over. And she was no longer interested in making peace with anyone.
“No. I haven’t,” she snapped. Knowing that she didn’t really have a choice, the brunette put her car in drive.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back to your car,” Yelina explained irritably. “And then I’m meeting Horatio -”
“Oh I see,” he said grumpily. “I want you to pack it up and take a break from work, and that’s not okay. But precious Horatio calls you, and you go running like a little bitch to its master.”
She nearly growled at him. “That’s lovely, Rick. Calling me a bitch and a dog at the same time - it really makes me want to go have sex with you now.”
“Well -”
“Be careful what you say,” she warned. “I do bite.”
“All right, I’m sorry,” Stetler offered - though his apology was laced with irritation… as though she was hassling him. “I just don’t think this is a wise idea. And if we’re gonna get back together -”
“We’re not getting back together,” Yelina told him hastily.
There was a moment of silence, a brief period of time where, as she turned a corner, Rick was clearly processing what she’d just said.
“What?” he asked, his throat sounding constricted.
“We… I…” Yelina shut her mouth, trying to find the right words. It was almost amusing how she could know something to be true but still unable to say it.
When they stopped at a traffic light seconds later, she turned to him. “I care about you, like you. But… you and I are not good together. As a couple. And a relationship with you would be nice to have right now… but in the end…” She smiled sadly. “I’m not that self-destructive.”
She watched Rick process her words, her own attention vacillating between his face and the stoplight.
But whatever reaction she was expecting, this wasn’t it. He nodded his head sadly for a moment and then said, “Okay.”
“‘Okay’?” He shrugged. “What does that mean exactly?” she asked warily.
“It means go ahead, do what you want. Obviously Horatio has given you some hope for a relationship. So you feel free to explore that,” Rick told her condescendingly. “But at some point, he’ll betray you, and you’ll realize that what I can give you is something he’ll never give you.”
As they pulled up to her house, where his car was, he continued. “And you’ll know just how bad we are together sometimes. But you’ll come crawling back to me anyway.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, nodding his head. “Because you really are that self-destructive.”
“You’re wrong.” Yelina put the car in neutral. “Now, get out.”
Luckily, Rick did so without creating a fuss. And as he slammed his car door shut, the brunette couldn’t help but feel the burn in her throat. Swallowing hard, Yelina drove off as soon as Stetler had left her driveway. Watching him leave, she couldn’t help but think:
This day was going to give her an ulcer and, if Rick and Horatio didn’t leave her alone, quite possibly a murder charge.
------------------------
Kyle would have been lying if he said he liked his caseworker. He didn’t like her, never had, never would. And while he’d never expected to have a father in his life, the teenager thought that not dealing with this woman would and should have been one of the perks.
But here he was, sitting across from the dumb lady who never really quite knew how to do her job. It wasn’t that Ms. Bennett didn’t try. Even Kyle could see that she did. But… she just wasn’t any good at it. The woman had only been his caseworker for… like, a year, but in that time, he’d seen more than enough of her to understand how she was.
She didn’t pretend to care about anyone. There hadn’t been any song and dance to earn his trust… which ironically made Kyle dislike her more. Because, in the end, Ms. Bennett wanted him to talk to her and explain what things were like. And she hadn’t even tried to show how trustworthy she could be. No song or dance had been allotted for him - just a bucket of arrogance and talk of the rulebook and how “things were done.”
He really wanted this to be over with, he thought suddenly.
“So Kyle. How are you handling the changes in your life?” she asked.
Well, freak, he wanted to say, it sucks. My mother is dead; I’m in a new home again, and my father is out there apologizing to people because I’m alive.
But a smart response, he knew, wouldn’t fly. Because that always made her launch into the whole “I know you don’t trust me” speech filled with purple prose and Hallmark greetings. So Kyle said, “Okay.”
“Do you want to elaborate for me?”
“Not really.”
“Please?” she asked kindly.
So he offered, irritated by the woman, “It’s weird - how could it be anything but?”
She looked at him intently, obviously assessing what he wanted her to do. Because the dumb woman certainly had no idea what the teenager wanted instinctively; it all had to be laid out neatly for her. “Does that mean you’d rather I -”
Screw it, Kyle decided.
Sitting up straight in his chair, the blond told her, “Let me spell it out for you: I don’t want to go to prison.” He waved a hand in the air. “Just sign your little slip of paper that says you’re okay with it and stay the hell out of my life.”
He knew he should be quiet, act as he had with Horatio. But he’d reached his fuse. There was no way she was going to turn them down, and Kyle wanted this to be over with.
Deep down inside, the teenager understood that he could probably play into this more if he wanted to. If he needed to. After all, this was probably the most he’d said since being released from police custody. But with Horatio, the situation was different. Kyle didn’t know what to say with the man; he didn’t know what conversations were appropriate.
This, on the other hand, he got.
Clarissa Bennett’s job might have been “social worker,” but that was just a title. What it came down to was that she was nothing more than another form of authority who seemed intent on fucking him over. Which meant Kyle was going to be as forceful as he could with the woman - even if she hated him for it.
“Well, we’ll see,” she said testily.
“No. My options are jail or living with him. And even if he decided to beat or diddle me every day, it would still be better than prison. And it would still be better than the people you trust to be foster parents. Sign the fucking papers.”
It was obvious Ms. Bennett didn’t want to give into a sixteen year old. But it was easy to tell his tone was working. The woman rubbed absent-mindedly at her neck and upper chest.
He was giving her an ulcer, and right now, that was perfectly acceptable to Kyle.
End (40/??)
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. Fulfills
alphabetasoup prompt M is for Maui.
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, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, and Chapter 38.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show.
“Stress: The confusion created when one’s mind overrides the body’s basic desire to choke the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately deserves it.” - Timothy P. Brigham
“Take a seat,” Clarissa, the social worker instructed Horatio. Her office was small, making the redhead feel claustrophobic. But there was no avoiding this interview, so he did as she said. As she made her way around her large oak desk, which seemed to take up an exorbitant amount of room in the small area, she told him, “You know over the years… I’ve heard a lot about you. In the news, mainly, but every now and then, one of your cases falls into my purview.”
She took her seat and smiled kindly at him, but Horatio couldn’t have felt less welcome. There was no audible accusation in her tone, but he thought it was there nonetheless. Because, frankly, whatever had been said about the redhead in the news had rarely been good.
It had started with his brother’s murder - well, when they’d thought he’d died anyway. And the questions raised by that event had stuck somehow to Horatio long after Ray had been buried. Every time a drug dealer went free or didn’t get the penalty the public wanted… it was blamed on him. Thanks to his brother’s faults, Horatio had practically become a villain in the public eye, sometimes disappearing from the news but never forgotten long enough.
No, he thought. That couldn’t be a good way to start this interview…
“Anyway,” she said, waving the thought off. “I suppose my first question is how you received Kyle’s foster records. Those files are not accessible to the public for obvious reasons.”
Once again, it felt as though the woman was pointing a finger at him. Making it worse was the fact that he hadn’t expected her to ask about the file. Of course, Horatio hadn’t planned on bringing that up to begin with. But it just seemed… like the deck was stacked against him. Who would have thought that such an innocuous detail would result in being questioned about it?
The knot in his stomach tightened cruelly; though he did have legal cause to request the information, the redhead had used his sister-in-law to get it. And he had no idea what Yelina had done to get the file, but he doubted whatever she’d done would be appreciated here. So Horatio told Clarissa the social worker a limited version of the truth.
“Well, ma’am… I’m the lieutenant for MDPD. And I was investigating a kidnapping, which we suspected Kyle of participating in, as I’m sure you’re now aware,” he said. When she nodded her head in agreement, Horatio continued, “I requested the file -”
“Not officially,” Clarissa immediately retorted. “Or else I would have been CC’ed on the request, Lieutenant.”
“You are… correct,” Horatio conceded. “Normally I would use the proper channels for such a request. When my department is swamped, however, I have relied on private investigators to get the information I need.”
Clarissa folded her arms across her chest. “Well, there should still be some paperwork around here, if you did that,” she said snottily.
The redhead could feel himself frown. “Ma’am… I honestly don’t know what happened. Maybe the paperwork got lost or hasn’t been filed yet. I trust that the investigator I used employed legal methods of obtaining Kyle’s folder.” He was tempted to leave it at that, but Horatio knew it would seem like he was blaming her department. Which, admittedly he was, but it probably wasn’t smart to end the moment there. So he reassured her, “But I can understand that these sorts of errors can be problematic, so I will no longer hire this particular P.I. And I will look into the matter.”
In all honesty, Horatio couldn’t care less about how Yelina had gotten the papers. She’d done her job, and that was what mattered to him in the end. But he didn’t think he was lying when he said that he wouldn’t hire her again; she was still too mad to do anything for him and probably would remain that way for a long time.
“I hope you do, Lieutenant” was her rather cool reply. The smile that had been on her face had nearly disappeared now, and Horatio knew he needed to move beyond this point.
“I can… appreciate if you are upset. But… I think it’s important to remember that Kyle’s probation hinges on living with me. So while -”
“I see that,” Clarissa said, disdain creeping into her voice. “I suppose it’s lucky for you, Mr. Caine, that you’ve tied my hands and that this is a mere formality.” Her chubby fingers felt around the desk before snatching up a cheap pen. As she flipped through a crinkled steno pad in front of her, the slightly overweight woman explained, “I suppose what I need to figure out now is if it’s worth my time to challenge the plea bargain and request Kyle Harmon be placed in a new foster family.”
Horatio cocked his head to the side. “And here I thought the motto of DCF was to bring families together.”
For a brief moment, Clarissa smiled sympathetically, despite his sarcastic remark. It was almost… odd, her response to the comment. But then again, Horatio thought she probably dealt with that attitude regularly.
“I know you probably thought that this would be over in ten minutes,” she told him. But it’s my job to make sure that your son is…. Well, first of all, that he is your son.” Horatio narrowed his eyes on her, but she ignored the look. “And then I’d like to know that Kyle isn’t going home with someone who will mistreat him.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Horatio responded immediately. “I won’t.” He fixed his blue eyes on her brown ones and implored her to believe him. “But you won’t be satisfied until you’ve… gone on a full fishing expedition. So by all means…” His voice got lower, the words filled with gravel. But the redhead maintained his confidence as he said, “Feel free to look around.”
He was tempting fate, he supposed. The truth was Horatio did not want anyone to look into his life. That was something he found himself increasingly unable to do. But the lieutenant understood all too well that it was important to appear unshaken by accusations. When a person was rattled and let it show, it was that sort of behavior that sunk a suspect in an interrogation. So he refused to do anything that would make her believe he was guilty.
Silence impeded the conversation but only for a moment so the social worker could rake her eyes over him. She was looking for a sign of weakness - a twitch or some other form of tell. But Horatio knew that when it came to interrogations, no one could outdo him.
And finally, perhaps satisfied by his air of innocence, Clarissa said, “I don’t believe that’s necessary. I would like to talk to you, Kyle, maybe another family member to get a feel for how you plan on moving forward and parenting. Of course, I’d also like your DNA to be -”
“The DNA has been tested twice.”
“Yes, but -”
“I understand,” he said almost sympathetically, “that you doubt the integrity of the tests. But it was submitted into a court of law.”
“Yes, I see that,” Clarissa answered, sorting through the enormous stack of papers and pulling out a file.
“Then I don’t see why… you would want to spend your limited budget on another test.” His voice was beginning to sound as frustrated as he felt, and Horatio carefully reined himself back in. Losing his temper would not help matters.
She seemed to ponder the thought for a moment before saying, “All right… I think we can… possibly forgo that.”
Horatio didn’t answer, didn’t say anything at all. He knew it would not help his cause to show any signs that he recognized his triumph. They’d already gotten off to a poor start. And what could have been a half hour interview was now going to extend way beyond what Horatio had envisioned - that much seemed obvious.
What he needed now was her approval and to try to make her forget that the last ten minutes had ever happened. So he sat quietly and waited.
“When did you learn Kyle was your son?”
For the redhead, that life-altering moment felt… almost ancient. Despite the fact that they hadn’t settled in as father and son yet, Horatio still thought it seemed like the time before Kyle had long since passed. But in actuality, as he counted the dates in his head, “It was… about three days ago.”
Clarissa took some notes. “And that’s been enough time for you to consider all of the ramifications of your decision to take on the role of father?” She looked at him almost… disbelievingly.
“He’s my son,” Horatio explained simply. “It’s my duty.”
“Do you like fulfilling duties, Lieutenant?” she retorted coolly, leaning forward so that her forearms rested on her desk. “What happens when the varnish wears off?”
It was something the redhead hadn’t thought about much; he was still trying to find his way in this new job. And though things hadn’t gotten perfectly, Horatio still had hope that, as a family, they could get through it. What would happen if something went wrong… he hadn’t put too much thought into that.
But then… Horatio thought about the job he had had for the last couple decades. With all the crime - including the loss of his brother and wife - he understood all too well what it felt like to have that silver lining and the heavy promise of hope slip through his fingertips. The potent idea that he could change the world had long since expired, and that had been a horrible thing to lose.
He’d wanted to quit, especially after Raymond had died. Well, truthfully, after his brother’s murder (the first time, anyway), Horatio had thought that nothing would be right ever again. He’d believed that Yelina would never look at him the same way again - with trusting eyes, with the belief that he could help her with anything. Because… Horatio had thought, and maybe still did, that he should have saved his little brother. That he should have intervened and pulled Ray from his assignment and made it better.
But he hadn’t been able to do that, and his brother had died. And Yelina had changed. Yet, they’d all made it through that. Horatio had wanted to run away, had wanted to quit, but instead… he’d kept going.
And this time would be no different.
“Ms. Bennett,” he started to say, searching for the words he wanted. “In my line of work, and… I’d imagine in yours as well, there are… people who take the job, because they believe they can change the world… that they alone can end crime or make things perfect.” His eyes trained on hers and looked for a sign that she understood. Satisfied, Horatio continued. “I have… never believed that, ma’am,” he said with conviction. “I know that for each criminal I catch, ten more will get away with it.
“By anyone’s standards, including my own, I have failed.” He hesitated then, not sure if he should keep talking. He was creeping up on things he never wanted to discuss with… anyone, really. But at the same time, the redhead realized that now was not the time to hold back. And if he kept quiet, and Kyle ended up being taken from him, Horatio would never forgive himself. So he kept going. “I’ve seen my mother, brother, and wife die because of the violence that exists. I’ve seen my mentor be blown to pieces and my partner bleed to death because of it,” he told her darkly. “I know… that at the end of the day…” His voice trailed off, and his fingers searched inside of his pocket for the pair of sunglasses he always kept with him. “I won’t have succeeded in protecting everyone,” Horatio finished.
“But I do know that… it’s my duty to try,” he said.
“I see” was her terse response, but in her large and slightly widened eyes, he could tell that perhaps Clarissa was seeing him for the first time.
So Horatio pressed on. “I don’t… romanticize it. And I have yet to do that with Kyle. I am his father,” the redhead said matter of factly. “I… quite honestly don’t expect us to… have the kind of close relationship other fathers and sons have. I understand, Ms. Bennett, that this will… not be easy. For him or myself,” he added for good measure. Shifting around in his chair some, Horatio said, “But, that said, I am not doing this… simply out of obligation.
“I think I can do some good here - help him. And I… know that won’t be easy or conventional. But it is my job as his father to try.”
“And if you fail?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged. “Then… I try again.” Which wouldn’t be easy, Horatio realized.
Failure was something he’d always taken to heart. And screwing up with Kyle?
That would make every other disappointment seem pale by comparison. Getting over that would probably be impossible. No, he countered, it definitely would be, because parts of him were already lingering on, clinging onto, the sixteen years worth of failures. And Horatio understood then that a defeat here - Kyle being hurt or hating him or going to jail - had to be avoided at all costs.
The redhead wasn’t sure if that was… fatherly love talking or something else. But he knew he would never recover from losing Kyle.
Determination rallied forth within him, and Horatio opened his mouth to say more. But it was unnecessary.
“Good,” Clarissa said. “That’s what I needed to hear.” She smiled and stood, giving Horatio some momentary relief. “I think I’m ready to talk to Kyle now.”
He also stood, following her back out into the main area where the blond teenager was waiting anxiously.
And knowing that his son was about to talk to this woman, Horatio felt his stomach tying itself into knots once more. His heart seemed to be pounding against some sort of vice. The redhead didn’t think it were possible for one single interview to cause so much chaos in his own body.
When the social worker turned to him once more and said, “Don’t forget - I need to speak with another family member, Mr. Caine,” Horatio knew:
This day was going to give him an ulcer.
-------------------------
If she’d been unable to remember why they’d broken up before… now she knew.
Even when Stetler tried to be agreeable, Yelina found him irritating. They’d only been following her mark for about an hour, never leaving the car. But what could have been merely a boring job had turned into an adventure in keeping a 44-year-old baby happy.
At the moment, they were watching her boss’s wife run errands. Or at least Yelina was; Rick was too busy alternately demonstrating how miserable he was and how much he wanted to have sex with her.
In this particular instance, the dark-haired man was managing to do both at the same time. His left hand rested nonchalantly on her upper thigh, which made Yelina feel incredibly grateful for the invention of pants. And more importantly, she was pleased with her own seemingly wise decision to wear them today. Because there was no telling what Rick would have tried had she worn a skirt. His right hand holding up his head, he sighed in boredom.
“Well I say you give up and go home,” he suggested.
“Why?”
“She’s not doing anything,” Rick practically whined, shifting in his seat.
“I’m being paid to watch her for the day. I can’t give up. Besides, she could do something,” Yelina told him even if she didn’t really believe it herself.
“We’ve been sitting here for an hour - nothing’s happened. Nothing’s gonna.”
“You don’t know that,” she said snottily. Turning to look at him, Yelina added, “And if you’re so bored, you can leave. I didn’t make you come.” She folded her arms across her chest, remembering his original purpose for joining her. “And didn’t you only come along so we could talk?”
“Yeah, but -”
She gestured at him with one of her hands. “So talk… since we’re not doing much.”
“What’s there to say?” he asked with a shrug. “You want me. I want you. Case closed.”
Yelina shook her head. The truth was she really didn’t want him anymore. Her words and actions yesterday had been honest enough but born out of a need to lash out; the brunette had needed to do something her brother-in-law would disapprove of and despise. She’d needed it to be clear, if only to herself, that Horatio would not rule her world any longer.
And she’d done that well enough. But… now there was no sense in keeping herself in a bad situation. “I think there’s plenty to -”
“Wouldn’t you rather do something fun?” Rick asked huskily, his hand snaking up her thigh ever so slightly.
“So when you said you wanted to talk,” she snapped, “what you meant was you wanted to have sex with me.” It wasn’t surprising, but the boldness of it - and the “yeah” radiating from his arrogant face - angered her. “Stop groping me,” Yelina ordered.
He scowled. “I’m not doing anything wrong. And if I wanted to grope you,” he argued back. “I would do this.” His hand made a beeline for her crotch, the fingertips ready to grab her fiercely.
Realizing his intentions, Yelina slapped the offending hand away quickly. And for a brief instance, she worried what Stetler might do in return. A fraction of a second passed with the brunette practically holding her breath. She waited, her entire body tense, for his own smack to hit her, waited to hear the crack of skin or knuckles against her body.
But it never came.
Instead he half-smiled. “I’m just messing with you, Ellie.”
She hated him so much sometimes. “Very funny,” she nearly growled.
Rick, however, ignored the dark tone of her voice. “See - this is why we don’t talk. We’re better at the other stuff,” he said, leering at her. “Why should we waste our time and energy here, chatting about things we’re just gonna look for a way to get into a fight over?”
Yelina looked away from him then; he’d pushed the truth right in front of her face, and she couldn’t bear to have him see her as she thought about it.
They really weren’t good at talking, sharing things with one another. And it wasn’t just today; this was how they’d always been. Thinking about it now, she could see that their relationship in the past had been little more than large fights and trying to avoid them. In the brief time they’d dated, it seemed as though they had always been going on vacation - trying to escape and de-stress.
There was never any period of time where she was comfortable enough with Stetler to just... relax.
And for the first time, she understood exactly what it was about Rick that made her hate the relationship so much. A slap every now and then, she could handle. Had handled. The occasional argument was perfectly all right.
But the constant… inability to co-exist was something she’d never wanted.
Seeing it now for what it was, Yelina knew that she never ever wanted to get back together with Stetler again. Because, while it didn’t make him a bad person, he was fundamentally incompatible with her, and the brunette didn’t want to spend the rest of her life walking on egg shells; the sex might have been good, but it wasn’t worth that.
“Rick,” she started to say, ready to let him down as easily as she could. But before she could add anymore, her cell phone rang. “Give me a minute,” she told him, as she rummaged through her purse next to her. Of course, the bag was about as disorganized as the day had made her. And it took Yelina more time than usual to find the source of the ringing.
Snatching the phone out of her purse, the brunette didn’t bother to look at the caller ID before answering it. “Hello?”
There was a brief pause before “It’s Horatio” was uttered in a tentative voice.
Yelina bit down on her lip hard and briefly considered slapping her tiny phone shut and ignoring him. Her brother-in-law didn’t deserve the courtesy of saying goodbye.
But before she had time to decide, Horatio pleaded with her, “Please don’t hang up.”
“What do you want?” she asked tiredly. It was rude - she realized as much - to say it. And more than anything, Yelina had wanted it to come across angry; she really wanted to scare him off. But the words hadn’t been said in anger. The fury she’d wanted her tone to convey had been non-existent.
She simply sounded exhausted - and when it came to Horatio’s problems, the brunette was completely worn out.
“I know you probably want some time to sort things out,” he started to say.
Dryly Yelina told him, “Yes. That would be nice.”
But if the sarcasm affected him, he didn’t hint at it with his voice. “Yelina, I’m at social services with Kyle. And…” There was a beat, a small chink in his armor. “They won’t release him into my custody until they’ve interviewed a relative.”
“You have other -”
“No, I don’t,” he said firmly.
“The Delkos,” Yelina suggested in a harsh tone.
“That is different.”
“We’re both in-laws,” she stated simply. True, the brunette was ignoring the fact that, even in her own mind, Horatio’s marriage had been little more than a sham. Of course, she could keep - and had kept that opinion to herself. And part of her could understand the redhead’s reasons for marrying a dying girl. But that didn’t make the relationship between the two true love… just as her time with Stetler hadn’t ever approached that either.
At that moment, the man sitting next to her seemed to realize who was on the phone. And though she ignored him, Yelina could feel his anger begin to smolder.
“It’s different,” Horatio argued as gently as he could. “You are the mother of my nephew - I’ve known you for almost twenty years. It is… not the same thing.”
There was no denying the truth in his words; they strongly pulled on her heart, letting her know that she really did have to do this. But her mind stubbornly refused to capitulate.
“I haven’t earned it,” said the voice warily over the phone. “I am… sorry, so sorry, Yelina. For hurting you and for needing you to do this.” Genuine sorrow seemed to lace each and every tone he made. But the plea quickly changed into something rougher. “But whether you like it or not, Kyle is family. And if you don’t do this, he will go to jail.”
His words crashed down on her shoulders, the weight of them exhausting her. She didn’t want to help him, even though Yelina knew it to be right.
It was what she had to do, but hearing him place all the responsibility on her… she wanted to punch him. Because the way things were now was his fault, not hers, and yet here he was, making sure that she knew exactly what was at stake. Horatio was essentially shifting blame onto her, and he was so good at it. Obviously, Yelina thought, he’d improved his technique since he’d told her that Madison Keaton existed.
“You there?” came across the phone.
Her answer was immediate, filled with the anger she was feeling. “Go to hell.”
She slapped her phone shut quickly, not bothering to listen to what he might say. And for good measure, the brunette turned the cell off, so that Horatio couldn’t call her back. There was nothing he could say - nothing that she wanted to hear - that would make this situation any easier.
“You did the right thing, Yelina,” Rick said softly, interrupting her thoughts.
But if he’d meant to soothe, the attempt had failed. Because with those simple words, Yelina’s frustration boiled over. And she was no longer interested in making peace with anyone.
“No. I haven’t,” she snapped. Knowing that she didn’t really have a choice, the brunette put her car in drive.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back to your car,” Yelina explained irritably. “And then I’m meeting Horatio -”
“Oh I see,” he said grumpily. “I want you to pack it up and take a break from work, and that’s not okay. But precious Horatio calls you, and you go running like a little bitch to its master.”
She nearly growled at him. “That’s lovely, Rick. Calling me a bitch and a dog at the same time - it really makes me want to go have sex with you now.”
“Well -”
“Be careful what you say,” she warned. “I do bite.”
“All right, I’m sorry,” Stetler offered - though his apology was laced with irritation… as though she was hassling him. “I just don’t think this is a wise idea. And if we’re gonna get back together -”
“We’re not getting back together,” Yelina told him hastily.
There was a moment of silence, a brief period of time where, as she turned a corner, Rick was clearly processing what she’d just said.
“What?” he asked, his throat sounding constricted.
“We… I…” Yelina shut her mouth, trying to find the right words. It was almost amusing how she could know something to be true but still unable to say it.
When they stopped at a traffic light seconds later, she turned to him. “I care about you, like you. But… you and I are not good together. As a couple. And a relationship with you would be nice to have right now… but in the end…” She smiled sadly. “I’m not that self-destructive.”
She watched Rick process her words, her own attention vacillating between his face and the stoplight.
But whatever reaction she was expecting, this wasn’t it. He nodded his head sadly for a moment and then said, “Okay.”
“‘Okay’?” He shrugged. “What does that mean exactly?” she asked warily.
“It means go ahead, do what you want. Obviously Horatio has given you some hope for a relationship. So you feel free to explore that,” Rick told her condescendingly. “But at some point, he’ll betray you, and you’ll realize that what I can give you is something he’ll never give you.”
As they pulled up to her house, where his car was, he continued. “And you’ll know just how bad we are together sometimes. But you’ll come crawling back to me anyway.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, nodding his head. “Because you really are that self-destructive.”
“You’re wrong.” Yelina put the car in neutral. “Now, get out.”
Luckily, Rick did so without creating a fuss. And as he slammed his car door shut, the brunette couldn’t help but feel the burn in her throat. Swallowing hard, Yelina drove off as soon as Stetler had left her driveway. Watching him leave, she couldn’t help but think:
This day was going to give her an ulcer and, if Rick and Horatio didn’t leave her alone, quite possibly a murder charge.
------------------------
Kyle would have been lying if he said he liked his caseworker. He didn’t like her, never had, never would. And while he’d never expected to have a father in his life, the teenager thought that not dealing with this woman would and should have been one of the perks.
But here he was, sitting across from the dumb lady who never really quite knew how to do her job. It wasn’t that Ms. Bennett didn’t try. Even Kyle could see that she did. But… she just wasn’t any good at it. The woman had only been his caseworker for… like, a year, but in that time, he’d seen more than enough of her to understand how she was.
She didn’t pretend to care about anyone. There hadn’t been any song and dance to earn his trust… which ironically made Kyle dislike her more. Because, in the end, Ms. Bennett wanted him to talk to her and explain what things were like. And she hadn’t even tried to show how trustworthy she could be. No song or dance had been allotted for him - just a bucket of arrogance and talk of the rulebook and how “things were done.”
He really wanted this to be over with, he thought suddenly.
“So Kyle. How are you handling the changes in your life?” she asked.
Well, freak, he wanted to say, it sucks. My mother is dead; I’m in a new home again, and my father is out there apologizing to people because I’m alive.
But a smart response, he knew, wouldn’t fly. Because that always made her launch into the whole “I know you don’t trust me” speech filled with purple prose and Hallmark greetings. So Kyle said, “Okay.”
“Do you want to elaborate for me?”
“Not really.”
“Please?” she asked kindly.
So he offered, irritated by the woman, “It’s weird - how could it be anything but?”
She looked at him intently, obviously assessing what he wanted her to do. Because the dumb woman certainly had no idea what the teenager wanted instinctively; it all had to be laid out neatly for her. “Does that mean you’d rather I -”
Screw it, Kyle decided.
Sitting up straight in his chair, the blond told her, “Let me spell it out for you: I don’t want to go to prison.” He waved a hand in the air. “Just sign your little slip of paper that says you’re okay with it and stay the hell out of my life.”
He knew he should be quiet, act as he had with Horatio. But he’d reached his fuse. There was no way she was going to turn them down, and Kyle wanted this to be over with.
Deep down inside, the teenager understood that he could probably play into this more if he wanted to. If he needed to. After all, this was probably the most he’d said since being released from police custody. But with Horatio, the situation was different. Kyle didn’t know what to say with the man; he didn’t know what conversations were appropriate.
This, on the other hand, he got.
Clarissa Bennett’s job might have been “social worker,” but that was just a title. What it came down to was that she was nothing more than another form of authority who seemed intent on fucking him over. Which meant Kyle was going to be as forceful as he could with the woman - even if she hated him for it.
“Well, we’ll see,” she said testily.
“No. My options are jail or living with him. And even if he decided to beat or diddle me every day, it would still be better than prison. And it would still be better than the people you trust to be foster parents. Sign the fucking papers.”
It was obvious Ms. Bennett didn’t want to give into a sixteen year old. But it was easy to tell his tone was working. The woman rubbed absent-mindedly at her neck and upper chest.
He was giving her an ulcer, and right now, that was perfectly acceptable to Kyle.
End (40/??)