The Breakup 

Author: JanetD
 
Email: jdillon@mail.win.org

Rating: PG (language)

Summary: Burton tells Nick about his mother's problems.

Author's Notes: This story was written after the airing of "Causality", and was 
my first attempt at fanfic.


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed 
from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any 
resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is 
purely coincidental.

Setup: This occurs sometime after “Causality”, probably the next morning. Nick 
and Burton are in the living room of Nick’s apartment. Burton is seated on the 
couch. Nick is in a chair catty-cornered from him. They have been talking about 
his “implosion” (i.e., returning to drugs, screwing up at K&M, etc..) There’s 
been a pause in the conversation, then...


 
--+--
 

“Son, I need to talk to you about your mother,” Burton said. Nick looked up 
warily. “I know you don’t want to believe this, but I loved your mother, 
Nicholas. Just because people get divorced doesn’t mean they don’t love each 
other.”

Nick looked away, and said abruptly, “I-I, I don’t want to talk about this.” He 
started to rise, but Burton stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Nicholas, sit down. I know you don’t want to discuss it. Every time I’ve ever 
tried to bring it up, you’ve always cut me off. Well, this time, son, you’re 
going to hear me out. I think you owe me that.” 

Nick looking stubborn, kept his seat, but averted his gaze from that of his 
father. Burton continued. “It’s time you knew what really happened between your 
mother and me.” He paused, wondering how to best put it in words. “I loved your 
mother, but she was a very needy person. I think the psychologists would call it 
an extreme case of ‘low self-esteem.’” A half-grimaced showed on his face. “It 
didn’t really make any sense. She was an intelligent, attractive woman, very 
accomplished. She came from a wealthy family. But she had very little 
self-confidence. For some reason, she was constantly needing my assurance that I 
loved her, that I didn’t regret marrying her.” 

Burton paused, hoping that Nick would make eye contact, but he didn’t. “When you 
came along it seemed to take some of the pressure off. But eventually she 
starting seeking the same kind of...self-validation from you that she’d always 
needed from me. Think about it, son, how many times during a day would your 
mother ask you if you loved her?” 

This statement finally brought a reaction from Nick. He raised his head, then 
stared off into the distance as a memory played out in his mind: His mother, 
beautiful and warm, bending over to hug him, and saying, “Do you love me, Nicky? 
Tell me how much.” 

Nick returned his gaze to the floor, and his father continued his story, “When I 
started the firm, I was working incredible hours. Trying to establish the 
business, build up my clientele. Your mother... your mother became even more 
insecure.” 

Burton stopped then, wishing he didn’t have to relive all these painful 
memories, wishing he didn’t have to share them with his son. After a moment he 
forced himself to go on. “God help me, Nicholas, it got to the point where I 
hated to come home. I dreaded dealing with your mother’s self-doubts, 
her...constant need for reassurance.” Unable to sit still any longer, Burton 
stood up. He exhaled a large breath, and looked down at his son. Nick sat with 
his arms resting on his legs, back bend forward, head down. 

“So I started staying away more and more, throwing myself deeper into my work. 
Looking back now, I can see that only made it worse. It got so I never knew what 
to expect when I walked in the door at night, son. I never knew if your mother 
was going to throw herself at me like a lost child, or start flinging 
accusations about how I didn’t love her, how I’d never loved her. Eventually I 
just couldn’t take it anymore. So...so, I left.”

Nick cradled his chin in his hands, and looked up at his father impassively. 
“Why didn’t you try to get her help?”

“I did, son. I tried for years to convince her that she should see a therapist, 
find someone to talk to about her problems.... But she always refused. She said 
she ‘wasn’t crazy, and didn’t need to see a shrink’. Those were her exact words, 
Nicholas.”

Nick turned his head away. A couple moments passed in silence. Turning back to 
his father, he fixed him with an accusatory stare. “Did you cheat on her?” he 
asked. Burton looked down with a pained expression on his face. Nick repeated 
the question, louder this time, and when no answer was forthcoming, added, 
“Well, well did you?”

“Yes. Once.” 

Nick’s eyes narrowed, as his head twisted to the side. He shot his father a 
hate-filled look.

“Son.... Your mother and I were already having problems. I was working long 
hours at the office (you were about five then). I had a secretary, a pretty, 
young woman named Dolores who would stay with me when I worked late.” Burton 
paused, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Eventually, one thing let to another, 
and we, uh, we became involved....“

Nick stood up abruptly, and moved to stand toe-to-toe with his father. Fixing 
Burton with a harsh, angry stare, he demanded, “How long did it last? How long?”

Turning his head away to avoid his son’s accusing eyes, Burton sighed, and 
answered. “Three or four months, son. When your mother figured out what was 
going on I broke it off. Dolores left the firm...and I, I tried to make amends 
to your mother.... She eventually forgave me.” He paused, then looked directly 
into Nick’s eyes again. “There were never any other women after that, Nicholas. 
I swear it.”

Nick looked intently at his father for a moment. He seemed to deflate as the 
anger inside him was replaced with remembered pain. He turned away, with eyes 
glistening, and stared into space for a few seconds. Then almost inaudibly, he 
said, “Sometimes when you were working late, I’d ask mom when you’d be home. 
She’d say, ‘I don’t know son. He’s probably off with some little chit.’” Nick 
looked down. “I didn’t know what that was, but I knew it must be something bad.” 
He exhaled a painful breath. “One day when I asked, she said, she said, ‘Right 
now your father’s probably with some slut who’s about to spread her legs for 
him.’” Burton started, and Nick turned back to see a deeply pained expression on 
his father’s face. He fixed his father with a steely stare, and said, “I was a 
lot older before I figured out what that meant.” 

“Nicholas, that wasn’t your mother speaking. It was the vodka.” 

Nick was startled, a look of confusion descending upon his face. “What?”

“You never knew, did you, son? I always wondered, but could never bring myself 
to ask. Your mother started drinking when you were eight or nine.... She chose 
vodka so I wouldn’t smell it on her breathe, but I knew something was wrong. 
When she drank her manner would change.“ He glanced down, then back at his son. 
“So, I started keeping track of how many bottles we went through each week, and 
found out I was right.” 

Nick had remained motionless throughout this revelation, staring in stunned 
silence at his father. He wanted to protest, but something inside him prevented 
it. 

“Oh, she would never get falling-down drunk. No...at most, she’d slur a word 
here and there.... Huh.” Burton looked off into space, speculatively. “Someone 
that didn’t know her would probably never any suspect she was drunk....” 
Returning his attention to his son, he continued. “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I know 
how you feel about your mother. But that’s the God’s truth. I tried time and 
again to convince her that she had a problem. That she had to quit drinking, but 
it was useless. She, uh, wouldn’t even admit that she drank during the day, let 
alone that it had gotten out of control.” 

Nick suddenly remembered how his mother used to carry a “water glass” around 
with her all day. He realized for the first time that it must have been filled 
with vodka. He looked down with a pained expression, as his eyes fill with 
tears.

A sad, resigned look fell over Burton’s face as he concluded. “Well, that’s when 
I finally left, son. I couldn’t convince her to get help, and I couldn’t live 
with her anymore. I had to get out.“ He looked regretfully at his son. “I’m 
sorry, Nicholas. I wish it had been different, that I could have fixed it all 
somehow. But I couldn’t.... I’m truly sorry, son.”

As Nick had listened to his father’s final words he felt the anger building up 
inside once more. Now he almost shouted as he said, “So, so, what you’re saying 
is you left me with my drunken mother, and just walked away?! Didn’t you care 
what happened to me? I was your son!” Burton looked deeply pained, and started 
to reply, but Nick cut him off. “I-I-I don’t want to hear anymore...just, just 
go. All right?... Just go.” 

Nick strode out of the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 
He stopped just inside, breathing hard. A couple moments passed before he heard 
the sound of the front door closing. He exhaled a large breath, and threw 
himself onto the bed. He lay there on his back with one arm flung over his eyes 
until his breathing calmed. “God, Mom. Oh God.” Nick rolled over to his side, 
and grabbed for one of the pillows. Clutching it to his middle, he curled around 
it, just as he used to do all those years ago when he would listen to his 
parent’s angry voices coming from the other room. He drew in a quivering breath, 
then bit his lip, but was unable to keep the tears from flowing.

The End