Title: "A Father's Day…" Part 6

Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl

Note: This is the sixth part of a new fic series that I am starting,
with its roots in the ending of TG's second season in May 2003 and
(just) the beginning of the third. Taking into consideration what
happened in the show's season finale "All the Rage", some events are
still included (James' demise, the Archer's job offer in Berkeley)
but the story that will follow is original.

What I intend to do is to develop and spin the main characters in a
different way, taking TG into an `alternate universe' from what we
saw in the arc of episodes preceding "All the Rage" and the
beginnings of Season Three. This is very much a "look ahead" fic,
a "what could have happened if…"

And to the TG historians, I might fudge on a date or two, but it is
for the sake of the story. I try to stay with in a year or so of the
TG "facts" we were given to maintain some level of continuity.

Although the story itself will pick up five years later (in September
2008), this segment is from around the same time, the following year –
a little teaser of what's in store, if you will.


Continued…

Thursday, September 12th, 2006 - Lake Erie, PA

*
The evidence was all around him. The puddle on the floor. The shards
of glass. The sickening scent. There was no need for an explanation.
Hell, he didn't want to hear it. He was sure he wouldn't want to hear
it, whatever it was that his son might try to say. After everything
that had happened, after the hell he already put them through.

<Now this?> All Burton could do was shake his head in dismay.

Nick knew the look. He knew it all too well. It was the one his
father gave when he was disappointed, the one he gave when he didn't
approve of something his son had done.

<If he…> No. Nick wouldn't say a thing. There was no use. His father
wouldn't believe him. Not now.

"Guess we should finish cleanin' this mess up…" Burton mumbled as he
slowly bent forward, impatient.

"No," Nick gently pulled his father back, "I've got it."

Burton stood upright and took a deep breath, readying
himself, "this…"

"Don't, okay?" Nick swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he looked
directly at his father, "let's just… I'll finish this and…"

It was then that Burton got a good look at his son's face, at the
fresh tears engulfing his stormy blue eyes. These weren't the tears
he had seen earlier. These were different. These told a different
story. This was all a mistake. A terrible mistake.

<How could I…> There was no benefit of the doubt to be given. How
could he? Nick's past behavior had him conditioned to expect the
worst. To expect him to screw up. To expect him to fail. But it… No.
The pieces didn't add up.

The shed stank of alcohol. His clothes reeked of it too. Yet there
was none on his breath? It… He was certain. He, Burton Fallin, had
been mistaken. <Swallow your pride…> he told himself, <swallow it
down…>

"I know what you're thinking…" Nick choked, "and…"

No. He didn't. Not this time. "Son…" Burton stared down at him, "you…
you don't have to tell me…"

His father's voice was unusually calm. His tone almost empathetic.
Even so, Nick glanced down at the floor, accustomed to being ashamed
as the object of his father's intense gaze. "It was an accident…" he
offered quietly, "I didn't…"

"All right then…" Burton shoved his hands into his pockets,
struggling with his deep-rooted issues of trust, "an accident…"

"An accident," Nick repeated, as if he were still trying to convince
himself.

God help them all.

An accident was what Nick said happened when he walked in on his wife
in bed with his best friend. An accident was what Nick said happened
the night he met up with Annie's mother, and they did what they did.
An accident was what happened with the car the night Nick decided
that he wanted to die.

<That's all I need to know…> Burton whispered quietly, remembering
what the family therapist had told them – don't push for answers he
is not ready to give. It wasn't Laurie's experience as a social
worker that made her suggest they seek help, but her experience as a
mother. She recognized the troubles in Nick that he himself could not
see, or maybe the troubles he didn't want to see.

Though Nick hated the idea of talking to someone, it seemed to help –
just a little. He had to have someone, now more than ever.

**

Guilt. That's what he felt in the aftermath. Guilty for making
assumptions about what he saw as he came into the shed. Guilty for
not giving him the benefit of the doubt when he stood there before
him. Guilty for not trusting him as he tried to plead his case.
Guilty for not believing in him, not believing in him in the way a
father should believe in his son.

The therapist said that this guilt was common, common for fathers in
situations similar to his own – those men who became fathers by
choice and not biology. Those fathers who knew that there could be
someone out there who could do their job better.

This was something he never spoke to anyone about. Anyone but his
Laurie, and she, well, Laurie tried to convince him otherwise. She
tried to tell him he did a good job under the circumstances, she
tried to tell him that many men wouldn't have done what he had done –
they wouldn't have risen to the occasion as he did. But that didn't
change things, that didn't change the way he felt. Guilt. That guilt
that someone else could've done his job better. That he wasn't the
father he could've been to Nick, perhaps the father he should've
been.

Guilt that he didn't give his son the choice. Guilt that he didn't
give Anne the choice.

Maybe she would've wanted things differently. Maybe things would've
been different if he didn't force her to accept his decision as her
own. Maybe things would've been different if it hadn't been him in
Nick's life.

But it was. It was him.

In one of their sessions, the therapist advised him to own up to this
responsibility he accepted so long ago. To accept his son as the way
he was, not the way he wanted him to be. That was the hardest part.

Accepting Nicholas as he was meant accepting the past, accepting the
past that he had lied about and tried so damn hard to forget.
Accepting the past meant acknowledging the truth, a truth that he
made Anne swear she'd never tell and he promised never to admit.

Successful as he was professionally, it was hard for him to swallow
being such a failure personally, a failure to his young, beautiful
wife. He couldn't give her what she wanted. There was always another
man that could, and he resented Anne for it.

That resentment toward his mother was what he told the therapist he
thought Nick saw in his eyes. He was pretty sure that Nick never saw
the desperation and pain, much less the love. The therapist asked
him why he never tried to tell Nick the truth.

He told the therapist it was because he was pretty sure if he did, he
would never see `his' son again.

And that was a loss he was unwilling to bear. A loss he knew he
couldn't handle, not having lost Anne the way he did and barely being
able to hold on for all these years. Yes, he knew that he was being
selfish, and yes, part of him wanted to protect that pedestal that
Nick placed his mother on long ago.

It was then that the therapist reminded him that Anne was dead, that
she had been for a long time. He suggested that perhaps his promise
had died with her, as her absence left both he and Nick with void to
be filled – one that could only be filled with truth.

A truth, that the therapist (and Laurie) believed Nick had every
right to know. At first Burton felt betrayed, assuming that Laurie
too saw him as failed father, but then he realized that they were
right. It was time that this story, his story, was heard.

That morning, today, as he was getting ready to go, Laurie handed him
the folded sheet of paper. It was her gentle reminder of what needed
to be done. The folded sheet of paper with the telephone number
written on it, the number she had written because his own hand was
too shaky to do so. She kissed him on the cheek, in that way she
always did, and told him, "this is your chance…"

A chance he nearly blew. Not just once, but several times already
because he couldn't keep his big mouth shut and just listen, listen
to what Nick had to say, to what Nick needed to be heard.

Embarrassed by the fool he'd been, he left Nick to his work in the
shed. He decided to stay outside on the porch, alone with his
thoughts. Feeling a bit uneasy, Burton reached again into the pocket
of the shorts Nick had given him. He pulled out the paper, staring at
the number. The name he'd gotten years ago, from the woman herself.
When he first found out, he thought to kill him; he had those type of
connections back then. But then he wondered what good it would do.
What was done was done – she swore to him that it was over, and that
it would never happen again.

Never. Ever. Again.

The anger at the man had since passed. Now the only anger that he
felt was at himself, for keeping that dirty little secret for so
long, for lying to his son as he did.

<Did this man even know?> He wondered on more than one occasion, his
nerves getting the better of him. This poor guy, the one that Anne
had slept with, the man fulfilling her needs, probably didn't.
Probably didn't have any fucking idea. He sternly forbade Anne to
tell him, not if she wanted to continue living her life as she knew
it, the type of life he thought she wanted to have. The life he
wanted them to have.

Even with all that had happened to Nick, he didn't dare try to call
that man's number again. There'd surely be another hang up. He
expected it. He deserved it.

But Nick didn't.

Nick didn't deserve a lot of the bad-hand he had been given. The
therapist asked him once if he ever told Nick about the good, if he
was ever positive.

Sadly, he struggled to answer what should've been a simple question.
Truth be told, he couldn't think of many positive moments between
them. They just weren't like that. They didn't have that type of
relationship. Even now, after all that had happened. And that
bothered him. A lot. A lot more than he let on.

*

At their last meeting, the one he had just after Nick called to ask
him up to the Lake, the therapist instructed him to talk about how he
saw his son as a father, what kind of father he thought Nicholas
would be, or the type of father that Nick would want to be to his
children.

"The opposite of me…" he remembered saying.

"Why would you think that?" the woman asked in return.

Mistakes. He told her he made a lot of them, they both did, he and
Anne – but especially him. She then asked him if he thought keeping
the truth from Nick was one of them.

He said yes. Now, he felt that it was.

She then asked him how he felt – since he was apparently willing to
talk about feelings – about Nick finally becoming a father.

"Damn proud" he chuffed, surprising them both.

"Have you told him that?"

The look in the therapist's eyes told him that she already knew what
his response would be. No.

*

That's when the guilt really set in. He could tell the therapist, a
practical stranger, that he was proud, yet he couldn't tell his own
son?

Some type of father he was.

Then there was Laurie again, saying that he'd have his chance. He
must've recited it a hundred times in the mirror as he was getting
ready to go. Practicing what he'd say, how he'd say it – but now,
after how he acted in the shed, ever the fool – he didn't think Nick
would want to hear.

That it would even matter.

**

It was funny, he thought, feeling guilty when there was really
nothing to be guilty for. He hadn't done anything, not this time. He
didn't take the sip, he wanted to, but he didn't.

Restraint wasn't one of his strong points, it never was, but he knew
that the stakes were high; he knew what he stood to lose.

Had he convinced his father of his innocence? Nick wasn't sure, the
old man had walked out before he could say another word.

Instinct told him to let him cool off, they both needed some space.
They hadn't spent this much time together in, well, the time hadn't
been spent like this, that's for sure. Those months after the
accident weren't easy, for either one of them, and he asked his
father up to the lake to try and undo some of that damage that had
been done.

Or so he thought.

He knew that his father had every reason to doubt him, hell – he
doubted himself. He was still recovering, he was still at risk, he
was still weak.

What he wanted more than anything was a chance, a chance to prove to
his father that he had finally grown up, that he'd finally found
something that he wanted and was willing to work toward. He was
ready.

Or so he thought.

Then this happens. Some stupid shit like this. Temptation. A bottle.
Another mess to find himself in.

<How could I ask my father to believe otherwise?> Nick looked at the
shattered remains in the trashcan and sighed heavily, "I won't go
there again…"

It was a promise he felt he needed to make. Not just to them, but
more importantly, to himself. He hadn't been honest before, in his
past attempts at recovery, he didn't want to acknowledge that there
was a problem that didn't have an easy fix.

He failed at everything else. <Why wouldn't I fail at this?> he asked
himself, still haunted by the lingering scent of the liquor.

Enough. Nick knew better. The therapist that Laurie recommended they
see, as a `family', had warned him against thinking like that. So did
his counselor at the rehab clinic, the same counselor who told him
that he deserved every bit of this second chance he had been given.

But somehow, he didn't think he did. His father's words left him
unsettled; questioning what he thought had already been decided. Here
he was, trying to be cautious, trying not to get anyone hurt and
play it safe, doing the best he could. Yet it still wasn't enough.

It never was.

From the window of the shed, he could see his father, still out on
the porch. He assumed he was probably ready to go, wanting to head
back. To get away, having had enough for one day.

He couldn't blame him.

It was late. He knew it. His watch said it was just after nine-
thirty. Too late for Dad to drive back on his own, he'd take him. He
didn't want Laurie to worry, but she always did.

As he reached to turn off the lights, he took one last look around
the shed. There were these things, beautiful things that he had built
for these children he wanted so damn desperately to love. Things that
he had done that he was proud of. Things that he wanted to share.

<Why couldn't Dad see these things instead?> Nick asked himself
sadly, <why?>

That was a question he didn't expect to have answered. He flicked the
switch and opened the door, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He
started slowly down the path, trying to muster the courage he'd need
to get him through the trip back.

*

The faint sound of footsteps mercifully distracted him from his
thoughts. He told the therapist that this was happening a lot these
days, especially now that he was retired. He would get lost, just
thinking about things, till a noise jolted him back to reality.

She, unsurprisingly, attributed that more to his age. But that wasn't
an explanation he wanted to share with anyone else.

Old age was something else he didn't want to confront, much less
accept. He didn't need the reminders that people kept giving him. He
certainly didn't need the birthday party they were giving him, not
that he wouldn't enjoy it all the same.

As he walked, Nick thought about what his father said to him earlier.
About her. About the kids. About the money. About the future. Yeah,
his father was right, in a lot of respects – but he was wrong about
him. He knew what he wanted this time. And he was going to get it.

The feeling of Nick's gaze upon him was daunting. He knew that he had
lost his chance. <'Bout time I admit to something…> Burton mumbled
under his breath as he wiped his eyes.

"You okay?" Nick called out as he approached.

Still embarrassed by his earlier behavior but too proud to admit it,
Burton just nodded, "you?"

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Nick forced a partial smile, "you
ready to head back?"

"Actually," Burton started as he rose to his feet, "I think I owe you
an apology."

That stopped Nick in his tracks. This wasn't like his father. Not at
all. Maybe he didn't hear him correctly. "What?"

"I wasn't trying to upset you earlier son…" he continued, "sometimes
I…I just don't…"

Nick didn't want to hear anymore, he wasn't up to it. "I know…it's…"

No. It wasn't fine, that word he was struggling to say. But after
listening to him for nearly forty-years, he couldn't expect to hear
any different. He didn't think he deserved that either.

Undeterred, Burton cut right back in, "I'm just really tryin' to
understand. You've made a lot of changes this year and…"

"Dad, really, you don't have to explain…" Nick swallowed hard,
thinking he already knew just what his father's words would be.

Long ago, he decided that his father could try all he wanted to
understand him. He could try till the day he died but he'd never
understand him so long as he didn't accept him, accept him as he was
anyway.

In a very fatherly gesture, Burton put his hand on his son's
shoulder, "I think I need to. This is a big step and…"

"You don't think I should do it…" Nick stared downward, "you don't
think it's a good idea…"

"I didn't say that…" Burton returned defensively, "I never said
that…"

Nick knew his father didn't say that. He didn't have to say it. He
just knew. "Than maybe what you're trying to say is that you don't
think that I can do it…" he challenged.

"No, what I am trying to say is that I am proud of you. The only
reason I questioned your motives is because I wanted to hear you say
it. This is the first time I'm really hearing what you want and
seeing you go after it," Burton stammered, already out of
breath, "got it?"

Nick pulled back in complete disbelief, "you're proud of me?"

"Over the last few months, Nicholas, you've taken control of your
life and really, really done me proud," Burton clarified, his eyes
now beginning to tear, "you've made me proud…"

Now it was Nick who didn't understand, his own eyes filled with doubt
as he stared into his father's. "But I haven't done what you've
wanted me to do…?"

The next part would be the hardest. But Burton knew what he had to
say, what he should say. These were the words he hadn't rehearsed in
the mirror that morning. The words he wasn't ready to say until that
moment. That moment after he saw his son standing over that mess in
the shed, that moment when he knew he had been mistaken – looking at
all that was wrong instead of what was right.

Acceptance was never easy, nor was life – they both had to learn the
hard way.

"And that's just it… you've done what you're wanting to do…"
Burton's voice quivered as he went on, "you could've died, you
could've given up – but no, for the first time you've taken
responsibility and taken care of yourself. You've become a man that
any woman and family would be lucky to have."

Nick didn't know what to say. These weren't words he was accustomed
to hearing. He wanted to hear them, God did he want to, but he didn't
feel he was worthy of them. He could barely form the words as he
asked, " do you mean that?"

Burton turned away and shook his head, wiping his steely blue eyes
again, "I've never seen you so grown up, so responsible, so happy as
you are around those kids – and yes, Son, that makes me proud…"

Proud. That as something he was sure his father tell him he was. How
could he be? What had he ever done, really, to make him proud? Yes,
he was a successful lawyer, but at life, as a person – he wasn't
much, or he didn't feel like he was.

Not till the kids. Not till her. Not till now. Not till now when he
was finally something in his father's eyes.

**

12:35 AM

The drive back to Pittsburgh had been quiet and relatively quick.
They were less than fifteen minutes away by his estimation. He didn't
argue when Nick said he would drive him back after they had their
talk out on the porch.

The look, the one that Nick gave him when he finally said those
words, that he was proud of him – that was a look he couldn't shake
from his mind. That was a look he didn't want to ever forget. It was
a look of disbelief and awe. He kept thinking about it, about that
moment – how it made him feel to say it, how it must've made Nick
feel to hear it after so long.

How it may or may not change things between them.

"You okay?" Nick asked quietly, but loud enough to break the silence.

Burton nodded. The folded paper in his pocket serving as a nagging
reminder of what he still needed to do. The burden that he still
carried. "You hungry?" He pointed to the sign for a diner just up the
road, "we could stop?"

"I thought the doctor said you shouldn't eat this late?" Nick smiled,
though still unsure of what to make of his father's unexpected
praises.

"You're right," Burton conceded. "Coffee then?"

Nick dutifully pulled off the road and into the parking lot. He could
already see Laurie wagging her finger at his father as he came in
during the night. "You'll do the explaining when we get back to your
place."

<I don't doubt that for a minute…> he thought to say, but instead, he
just smiled in return. "Thanks."

At that Nick laughed. He parked the Range Rover and they both got
out. He assumed there must be something on his father's mind, but
didn't ask. Again, this behavior wasn't like him. It wasn't like him
at all to be like this, to be such a… such a dad.

A dad. Now that he was almost forty years old, he had one of those.
The accident seemed to bring them together, maybe it was because he
needed his father as much as his father seemed to need him. And now
that there were these kids, he couldn't get rid of him.

There was no other way to describe it, to describe the demeanor and
the active role that this man, this Burton Fallin, was trying to
assume. Was his father feeling that his role was threatened, now that
he himself was a father? Nick didn't know.

His Dad was walking quickly toward the diner. Quicker than usual. He
put his hand in his pocket, retrieved something, and then put it back
in after taking a look. Earlier, in the SUV, he saw him fumbling with
a folded sheet of paper – he assumed it was the same.

A note from Laurie? Probably. She did that from time to time, left
little notes in his pocket for him to find. He never read them aloud,
or shared them, he just kept `em. It was the craziest thing, but it
brought such a smile to his face. Laurie did that a lot, she made him
smile. God knows he didn't do that too often.

**

Just coffee? No way. His father would never order just coffee, Nick
knew him and his vices. Somehow half-a-punkin'-pie ended up on the
table, whip cream and all. That would've never happened if Laurie was
with them. She made Burton watch what he ate, how much he drank, quit
the smokes… she was good for him. Actually, she was the swift kick in
the ass he needed her to be.

Tonight though, an exception would be made. Lots of exceptions had
been made.

Setting his fork down, Burton reached for the napkin and wiped his
mouth. "Aren't you going to have some?"

"No…" Nick looked again at his half-empty coffee-cup, "you enjoy it…"

"You're not gonna tell are you?" Burton's eyes moved toward the pie
tin, as if he were ready for another piece, "you know she doesn't let
me eat like this at home…"

Nick couldn't help but laugh. "I know."

"Probably shouldn't eat another, right?" Burton neatly folded his
napkin and put it on his plate. He had put this off long
enough. "Son…" he started quietly, "there's something I've been
meanin' to tell you…"

"Yes?" Nick looked up toward him, a little unnerved.

A lot of things came to mind. A lot that his father could say at this
moment. He could tell him of an illness, of his impending death, of …
God only knows what. He had his coffee, he had his pie, and now he
was ready to talk.

Burton reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his glasses,
putting them on. He then retrieved the small folded piece of paper,
and set it on the table. "You've, uh… well…" he fumbled for
words, "you've been waiting for this…"

The number was almost illegible from his angle, Nick had no idea who
it might belong to. "I have?"

His father nodded. Burton picked up the paper and looked at the
number again, as if to affirm his decision. "This is something I
should've given you a long time ago…"

No. Not now. Nick reached for his father's hand, not wanting to
receive what the old man was giving. "But you said…"

"I know what I said, but the choice should've been yours, not mine…"
he conceded sadly, "it's your life…"

Then, Nick knew. It was true. As his mother said, in her anger, in
her pain. It was true.

"Nicholas?" Burton placed the folded piece of paper into his son's
hand, "it's your choice."

A choice that Nick didn't want to have. "Why now?" was all he could
manage to ask, staring at his father in disbelief.

Difficult as it was, Burton swallowed his pride, "you're gonna have a
family, one that he might like to know…"

* *

To be continued…

 

 

Title: Part 7 "Probably Wouldn't Be This Way…", a continuation of "A
Father's Day…"

Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl

Note: This is the seventh part of a new fic series that I am
starting, with its roots in the ending of TG's second season in May
2003 and (just) the beginning of the third. Taking into consideration
what happened in the show's season finale "All the Rage", some events
are still included (James' demise, the Archer's job offer in
Berkeley) but the story that will follow is original.

What I intend to do is to develop and spin the main characters in a
different way, taking TG into an `alternate universe' from what we
saw in the arc of episodes preceding "All the Rage" and the
beginnings of Season Three. This is very much a "look ahead" fic,
a "what could have happened if…"

And to the TG historians, I might fudge on a date or two, but it is
for the sake of the story. I try to stay with in a year or so of the
TG "facts" we were given to maintain some level of continuity.

Although the story itself will pick up five years later (in September
2008), this segment is from around the same time, the following year
(2009) – a little teaser of what's in store, if you will.


*

Friday, September 13th, 2009

4:17 AM – Burton Fallin's Residence

Late as it was when they arrived, he didn't plan to stay at his
father's. He didn't want to. He didn't like to.

Despite all that they had been through over the past few months, it
was hard. It was hard to go back to a home that was no longer his. A
place that was never really felt like his own.

His father had offered, during the drive, but he turned declined. He
hoped to drive back to the lake, to be able to finish up things at
the house. There was nothing that really had to be done, just little
touches he wanted to make, little things he wanted to fix. This time
he wanted it to be right.

This time, he wanted perfection.

But it was not to be. The moment he walked in the door, Laurie made
it clear that he was staying with them. No ifs, ands or buts.

Nick knew better than to argue with her. He'd never win.

Now, lying in his bed alone, Nick's thoughts got the better of him.
His lawyer's words were finally beginning to sink in. Yes, he knew
that it was a risk that he was taking – there were no guarantees.

Mitch was just being honest about the future, and he knew it. Mitch
had always been like that, very straight-forward and honest, honest
enough to make it hurt. Nick knew there would be consequences if she
found out, or if her former husband ever did. But that didn't matter,
not to him. This was the family, the family that he had chosen, the
family that he wanted so badly to be a part of.

A family, that's all he had wanted, wasn't it?

That's what he had told Vanessa, years before, that he just wanted to
have a family. He'd never forget the look she gave him, the look she
gave him as she said "you don't get a family from a mistake." He then
asked her if that's what she considered her pregnancy to be, and she
said yes, it was a mistake.

From that point on, he convinced himself that it didn't have to be –
it didn't have to be a mistake. He was determined to show her that
this baby, that they,were meant to be. He vowed to do everything in
his power to make them a family, his family.

"You can't replace them, Nick…" Mitch told him countless times, "you
just can't…"

And he didn't want to. He wasn't trying to. That's not what this
was. He had a wife. He had a child. But, they were gone – Nick had to
move on. He had a right to move on.

Didn't he?

It had been years, years since they were buried. Years since he said
his goodbyes. And yet, no one seemed to think he was ready. Hell,
even he still doubted himself. How could he not?

***
7: 18 AM

Glancing at the phone, Nick knew the call would have to wait. He
didn't have time. He knew his father meant well by giving him that
number, by confirming what his mother had told him long ago, but he
didn't want to dig up the past.

Not now, anyway.

Now it was time for him to look to the future. To start thinking
about what was to come instead of what was behind. He had to, it was
part of recovery. He had to let go. He had to.

But it wasn't easy.

God, it wasn't easy. Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath,
struggling to compose himself. A restless night left him shaky and
nervous, even more uncertain about the day ahead.

"All I need to do is…" Nick paused there, taking another breath. He
looked again at the small picture in his hands, the picture he swore
he'd always keep with him...

*

The dark hair. The dark brown eyes. The full, pouty lips. Nick
remembered all of it well. She was so small and delicate, so doll-
like that he had been afraid to touch her.

*

As he remembered, Vanessa hadn't wanted pictures of her, but he did.
He wanted lots of them. He didn't care that their baby looked
different. He didn't care that she was the image of neither one of
her parents, nor the blend of both. He didn't mind that she was
difficult, that she kept him up and didn't let him work. He didn't
mind that she wasn't like everyone else's baby and would never be.
She was theirs. She was his.

At least for a little while.

The picture was, in his mind, one of her best. He had taken her out
that day, against Vanessa's wishes, into the city. She was asleep by
the time they arrived, and he was almost afraid to wake her. He
picked out her outfit that morning, one with what Vanessa called
a `silly little hat that made her look retarded'. She always told
Nick he didn't have to `play it up' – people could tell by looking at
the baby, she didn't need her clothes to draw more attention. Though
he did not agree with her, Nick kept his mouth shut, forcing himself
to remember that acceptance took time.

Acceptance of his daughter wasn't something that happened overnight,
it came with time. At first, when Vanessa told him, he was mortified.
But as the news sank in, he realized that it really didn't matter to
him – he just wanted to be a dad, and this baby would still need a
dad.

That's what he was, just a Dad. Vanessa had already given him every
indication that she had little use for him as a husband, so he could
dedicate himself completely to this little girl.

And that's just what he did. Or at least what he tried to do.

In the picture, his daughter was just waking up. Her head was resting
in his hands, and she was looking up at him, her dark eyes peering
into his. They were together on a couch in the photographer's loft.
He himself was dressed in his pajamas, pants and a long-sleeved t-
shirt, to give the shot a `homey' feel as the photographer had
requested.

That picture of them was special. He never showed it to anyone, not
even with Vanessa, not even after their daughter was gone. No one
knew much about her, his little girl. Sometimes, he preferred it that
way. Others, he wished that he had been able to share her.

Especially now.

But that, but she, was part of the past. A past that he had to let go
of if he truly wanted to move on, if he wanted to have a life with
this family.

There was only one way to do it, Nick had decided, and that was to go
see her. He hadn't been there in quite a while, he didn't allow
himself to go – he didn't want to, not until he was clean and sober,
not until he felt like he was ready.

Wiping his eyes, Nick closed the small book he kept the picture in.
In there, it was safe. In there it was his. He returned it to the
nightstand and got up off the bed. He had a full day ahead of him,
and he knew he had to get moving.

**
7:43 AM

What happened between the two Fallin men the day before, Laurie had
no idea, but she was sure Nick was overwhelmed. Between the party,
the kids, the house – he had a lot on his mind. She tried to mediate,
the best she could, between he and Burton, but they were both
stubborn, loveable, but stubborn.

Seeing that Burton was occupied by his heart-healthy omelet and the
morning paper at the table, Laurie decided to sneak upstairs.
Sometimes it was best to approach them individually.

It wasn't her expectation that Nick would ever accept her as his
mother, but his receptiveness to her – especially as of late – gave
her every reason to believe that he valued her opinion. She knew he
trusted her, that he confided in her, and that in itself meant a lot.

"Nicholas?" she called as she came up the stairs. "You still home?"

Ready to leave, Nick waited a second before opening the door, wiping
his eyes again. "Morning, Laurie, I was just about to …"

Always an out. How convenient. Laurie looked up at him and smiled,
unwilling to relent, "I know, I know…I wanted to find out how…"

"It went yesterday…" Nick finished for her, certain of what she
would've asked. "It was… well…it went okay…"

That was a lie and they both knew it. Her expression changed ever so
slightly, "just okay?"

"Yeah… we both…" Nick hesitated a bit, "it's hard, with him…"

Laurie couldn't help but laugh. "Who you telling?"

"At least someone understands" A small, uneasy smile appeared on
Nick's face, "I should, uh…"

That look was familiar. It was the look that her stepson gave when
things were getting awkward, when things were getting personal. It
could only mean one thing. Laurie checked her watch, it was the nice
one that Burton had given her, "it's only ten till eight, what time
are you picking them up?"

"Noon." Nick rubbed his hand nervously at his nape, "I called the
airport. Twice."

<Just twice?> she wanted to ask, but didn't. She knew how serious he
was about this, about them. Part of her was worried that Nick was
getting in too deep too fast, but the other part was convinced that
this was exactly what Nick needed – exactly who Nick needed – at this
point in his life. After all, who was she to judge?

Peering over Nick's shoulder, she glanced toward his unmade bed. "You
might want to fix that if you're having company…"

Embarrassed, Nick's cheeks quickly reddened, "I think she'll probably
stay…"

No. There was no need for him to continue. She knew where he was
going with this. She was positive he'd say that she'd be staying at
her mother's with the kids. That was the `safe' choice, that was the
choice that guaranteed the least amount of temptation and the
greatest amount of privacy, at least for him. She knew how he was
about them though, still a little nervous and shy, it made sense. He
wanted her and the kids at arm's reach, no closer, no further.

"Oh, nonsense…" Laurie moved past him and into the sun-drenched
bedroom. She went toward the bed and started pulling up the covers
that he had kicked down during the night, "do you really think your
father will allow for that? He'd probably offer up our room if it got
him even five more minutes with those kids…"

"Laurie…I…" Nick walked back over and unfolded the extra blanket that
he put at the foot of the bed, "I just…"

All she could do was continue to straighten and smile. She knew her
stepson and her husband well enough. "Your father will use his
excuse, you know?"

"His excuse?" he questioned, a bit confused.

"He's said it since August, the `it's my birthday…' line… he thinks
it works for everything…" Laurie looked up at him over the
bed, "think about it, okay? It would be nice to have them here…"

He had thought about it. A lot. He wanted to have them there. With
him. With them. His family.

It felt as if Laurie's eyes could see through him at that moment, as
if she could see how badly he wanted this, how much he wanted them.
She had that way with him. She always did.

"It would be nice…" Nick finally replied, though he was almost
certain she would say `no' if, and when, he mustered up the courage
to ask where she intended to stay with the kids.

<Was he really waiting for our permission?> With Nick, sometimes it
was hard to tell. She didn't know if it was because of her, or his
father. Either way, in her mind, it was settled. Laurie took a quick
glimpse around the room, moving her finger about as if she were
trying to plan. "There's plenty of space– the baby could be in here
with you two, Jack could sleep in… you know what?" Stopping herself,
she leaned in and gave Nick a quick kiss on his cheek, "I'll take
care of everything, okay? Don't worry…"

Easier said than done. He smiled appreciatively and finished up the
bed as she made her exit. In a way, he regretted committing himself
to stay there until the party was over. He wanted to go back up to
the lake, he wanted a little privacy, he wanted to just be.

But Laurie needed his help, needed him, and he knew that. And truth
be told, he needed her too.

**
8:49 AM

The drive out to the cemetery wasn't long, just difficult. Difficult
and painful.

It wasn't his choice to bury her out here, but Vanessa's.

If he had a say, she would've been buried next to his mother's plot
in Pittsburgh. But he didn't. So here she was.

A small country cemetery, well outside of the city – seemingly in the
middle of nowhere, hidden away in the rolling hills and near to only
an old church. He thought, at first, that Vanessa wanted her out here
so she would be forgotten, but, much to his surprise, she said it was
so their little girl could be at peace.

He didn't know how she ever found the place, and he didn't have it in
him to ask. It didn't matter. He didn't want to make things worse.
Not that he really thought things could get much worse than they
already were between them.

The place had been kept up nicely, by whom he didn't know. He made
sure they got their checks each year and requested that her plot get
special care.

Someone always saw to it that it did.

The spot Vanessa had chosen for their little girl was tucked away in
the back, under a tree. Nick had paid for a marble bench to be put
there beside it, a small tribute of sorts since the stone was to have
come from Vanessa's hometown. A place whose name he could no longer
recall.

It was only after the services that she thanked him for it, having
realized what he tried to do. She had spoken before about bringing
the baby `home' to see her country, but never was able to make that
trip. This was Nick's own way of bring Vanessa's `home' there to
her.

A pale headstone was also his choice. He wanted something simple but
elegant. Vanessa found a verse in her native language, and he won in
getting his family name etched onto the stone, as it was eventually
in their daughter's records. It was a small victory, but at far too
great a price.

Standing there now, Nick was still at a loss. A lot of time had
passed, but the loss was still great – as if it was all still so very
new to him. He kneeled down in front of the headstone, just as he
always did, and placed the bouquet of miniature pink roses in the
empty vase. Without thinking, he traced his fingers over the etched
script, quietly repeating the name he could no longer say out loud:

Violeta

Or, as he used to say, "Violet." He jokingly asked why Vanessa had to
complicate things by adding the "a" to the end and her response was a
defensive one, because Violet was part Italian. Her name had been
cause for many arguments, with him wanting to give her his mother's,
and Vanessa wanting to name her after some other relative from God
knows where. Before her early arrival, however, they agreed to name
her after the little flower, but Vanessa made it her own by adding
the "a" and giving the baby both her real first and last name –
Francesca Borghese Romano di Benedetto.

Benedetto. That's what it was. That was Vanessa's hometown. She had
only been back there a handful of times, and Nick offered to take her
their for their honeymoon, but she wouldn't have it – she thought it
was impractical, saying as that they already knew there'd be problems
with the baby, why risk something more happening while they were
gone. He tried not to press the issue, but he made it known that he
didn't mind her imparting a little bit of her Italian heritage on
their child.

What he didn't expect was that name, as full of heritage as it was.
That long, heavy name for such a little baby.

But again, he didn't argue, even if the name was much bigger than the
child – far too fearful of what could happen if he did. He just
called her "Violet" and loved her anyway. He could only imagine the
trouble his baby girl would've had if she needed to write her name in
school. It was engraved in a much shorter form, with small-etched
purple flowers adorning either side.

Violeta Borghese-Fallin

The dates of her life where there too, though he needed no reminders
of the fact that her life was far too short. He forced himself to
smile, and took a deep breath.

"Violet," he said softly, his voice beginning to crack, "I think we
need to talk about a few things, about what your Daddy has been up
to…"

There was so much he felt he had to say, to explain to her, so much
that he wanted her to know. Years ago, he'd never been able to
imagine himself talking to a stone, this stone – but now, it made
sense. It felt right. It was what he needed to do to make things
right.

**
9:26 AM

There. It was done. The truth was out. Mitch, his so-called avocat,
told him to tell someone the real story and he did just that, leaving
nothing out. She, his little innocent Violet, knew it all. It seemed
as if the burden, or part of it, had been lifted from his shoulders.
He was honest, not just with her, but himself.

<Love?> Did he really say that he loved them? Yes, Nick was sure that
he did.

Stepping back, he took another long look at her headstone. This was
one custody agreement that he never agreed to. It just didn't seem
fair, to have her here, instead of with him – with him and this other
family, a family that he was certain she too would have wanted to be
a part of.

After wiping his eyes, Nick reluctantly turned his wrist to check his
watch. It was already past nine-thirty, he had been there quite a
while. He wasn't sure if anyone else had seen him, or if he was
alone, but it didn't matter. They could call him crazy, they could
say whatever they wanted.

Ever the perfectionist, he fixed the small bouquet of roses in the
vase – wanting to leave it just so. He reached out and touched the
stone again, seeking that cold comfort that only such a sobering
experience visiting your child's grave could bring.

"Violet…" Nick whispered in his very fatherly way, "I just want you
to know… I am not trying to replace you, I swear that I am not… it's
just… it's just… that little baby girl and Charlotte, they needed a
Dad and Jack, well, I really messed things up there." He paused a
moment, all too terribly aware of the awkward silence between
them, "I hope you understand why Daddy is doing this, I hope you do…"

Slowly rising to his feet, Nick cast another loving glance downward,
his eyes still damp, and softly told her, "I probably wouldn't be
this way if it wasn't for you…so thank you…thank you for helping me…"

If he tried hard enough, he could see it in the back of his mind. He
could see her, with them, with the family he told her all about – the
family he wanted to make his own, their own – as he carried a part of
her with him always. He knew that she'd have been loved and accepted,
for who she was, not who she was supposed to be.

Nick knew all too well that things didn't always go as they were
supposed to. Unfortunately, his daughter's life had been no
exception.

No, he wasn't trying to replace his beloved Violet, not at all. But
the circumstances he found himself in were giving him an opportunity
to try again, an opportunity to get things right, an opportunity to
just be a Dad. He remembered what his therapist told him in a recent
session, that there are no `coincidences' – everything happens for a
reason.

Maybe, just maybe, it was no coincidence that Lulu came back into his
life when she did, or how she did. At the time, he didn't think much
of it – the old wounds reopened, the lingering questions still
unanswered. But now, now things were different. Now they had lives of
their own, they had both grown up. Now, just maybe, they had a chance
to be a family.

A family. Nick wasn't sure he knew what the word really meant
anymore, at least not what it meant to him.

"Daddy's got to go, okay?" Nick wiped his eyes again, but the tears
continued to fall, "just don't hate me for this…"

With that, he turned away. It wasn't necessarily hard for him
anymore, to come, to come and visit her grave. What he found to be
the most difficult was leaving, leaving knowing that he was leaving a
part of himself behind and that she would always be there – no longer
with him.

**

To be continued…