Father

The screams were the worst. . . couldn’t distinguish their screams from her own, distinguish sleeping from waking. . . .

“Well?”

I look up from organizing my papers. Ethan is standing in entryway. I would say the look on his face is worried if I didn’t want to spend the next fortnight sleeping in the den.

. . . made to endure such suffering. A few of the dreams were of bloody orgies. . . .

Finally I just shove papers into my briefcase at random. “He’s still in there. Still - brooding.”

“He obviously gets it from your side of the family, love.” Normally Ethan’s smiles are full of mischief and - whatever it is that makes him so bloody irresistible, but this morning, the smile doesn’t even make it halfway up his face. That Ethan is so worried sends a chill up my spine.

I’m fine. . . one more day to myself, dad, that’s all I ask. . . .

I close my briefcase and look up at Ethan.

“We didn’t raise William to be this self-indulgent, this - disregarding of other people’s feelings?”

Or did we? If only through our own example. . . .

“Rupert.”

I don’t realize I’ve been wool-gathering until Ethan says my name softly. He comes around my desk and I automatically push my chair back. He’s forever interrupting me while I work, sitting on my lap and - distracting me. But this time, he just stares at me as if waiting for me to do something.

“What?”

“You’re not just going to leave him in there?” He sounds incredulous.

I’m fine, dad. . . one more day to myself, dad, that’s all I ask.

“He’s asked for some time to himself, so I think it’s best -”

“Ripper!” Ethan’s eyes are cold and - disappointed, somehow. He almost never calls me Ripper, anymore.

“He’s had time to himself for fourteen years. . . just go in there and - beat some bloody sense into him, if you have to, but go in there! Be his father!”

And then, he’s gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall, up the front staircase.

I must say, I’m rather shocked. He’s never this - blunt. At least not about William. It’s been my impression that Ethan felt he had no right to be concerned for William. Which isn’t true, but I never took the time to convince him of that. Never took the time to do a lot of things. . . .

I’m fine, dad. . . one more day to myself, dad, that’s all I ask. . . .

“You never lock your door,” I mutter, standing up. My feet are directing me out of the library with no say-so from my brain. “No one ever tries to get in, except Mrs. McArdle, but not in quite a few years. . . oh, William -”

I love you very much, dad. . . .

His voice follows me down the front hall, up the staircase.

I need to be alone for a bit. . . .

“But you’ve already been alone for far too long.”

I’m at his door.

I take a breath and reach for the knob, hoping I haven't been shut out.

Read another fic in this 'verse:

"Lost"
"Father"
"Son"
"Prodigal"
"Mother"
"The Ballad of Spike and Angel"
"The True Meaning of Family"
"Each Day Is Valentine’s Day"
"The First Move"