Chapter Twenty-Five
Hurt
I remembered him taller, less haggard, and with more muscle.
The silence stretched as the desert wind rustled faintly.
Karel sensed this wasn't meant for him and quietly excused himself.
My father stood at the base of the ship's steps, fanning his already flushed face in the morning heat.
The black figure glanced between Dad and the ship.
I didn't ask what was going on, and he offered the explanation without prompting. "I'm here to make restitution," he said quietly. "It's part of my recovery, and Westmore suggested I come."
Zephyron approached, his voice cold and sharp. "Thomas is with child. You could have upset him or killed another..." His words trailed off, and fists clenched at his sides. Veins I had never seen before, even in battle, bulged along his muscles.
Dad flinched slightly, his eyes flickering between us both. "I didn't come to hurt anyone again." He exhaled and his shoulders drooped. "Figured you should know the man who... murdered your husbands."
His gaze went distant before returning. "The story's for both of you, but Tommy?
It's about A—Annabelle." His eyes shone after he said her name.
"When your mom died, I was angry. So damn angry, but there was no one to stab.
" He laughed bitterly. "You can't use a sword against cancer.
You can't make it pay for destroying a life or because it took a mother from four young boys. "
My chest tightened.
"I told myself, it was my fault when I woke up to an empty bed.
I needed to pay for not pushing her to the doctor sooner and costing four boys their mother.
She didn't care for all that prodding and poking.
Said she'd go when something happened because there was no need to waste money. Her words, Tommy."
"I drank to forget how I killed her, because I couldn't say no to her.
" His gaze went out. "And you couldn't say no to me.
" Dad lowered his eyes. "I know I can't undo what I did.
" He turned to Zephyron, his voice steady but quiet.
"I know the Emperor strong-armed you into saving my life.
If you believe it's justice, I can reverse it all. All I have to do is whistle."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"If he repeats memorized notes, the nanites will recreate the wound my blade once gave him, and my sword will return."
Without a word, Dad raised his shirt. A thick, silvery scar stretched across his abdomen—clean, deliberate, the length of a blade strike. "They programmed it into my body," he said. "If I ever decide to, you know... the nanites know what to do. I just whistle a tune and my life's over."
"That's..." I looked at Zephyron, searching for an answer. "Why?"
Zephyron's eyes darkened as he spoke. "To teach us lessons, strengthen, and ensure we learn. Pain is not merely punishment. It is a transformation. Your father endured pain from the creature within his stomach. While traumatic, he no longer drinks. This truth is in his eyes."
"And the nanite scar?" I asked.
"They will remind him of what has occurred."
"I... I don't know how I feel about that. He did an unimaginably terrible thing, but—"
"—but what?" Zephyron stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "What do you do on your planet for needed corrections? Do you not imprison people in metal boxes? Others are tortured with electricity until they die."
"That's to protect others. We don't have other options."
"You come from a world of storytellers with imagination," said Zephyron. "You picked your solutions, as did we. He will have a life and a small mark to remind him. How is that more brutal than the punishments on Earth?"
Dad's voice softened, "Please. Don't fight, especially on my behalf."
He briefly turned to the black metal figure behind him before resuming. "I don't have the right to ask for anything, but figured I should be here. For my grandson and for you, Tommy. I'll do whatever you ask to help. Just tell me what you want."
Zephyron folded his arms. "I have no need for your assistance, but the Sandari do. The work is hard, and the sun unforgiving. Perhaps they will find a use for you."
Dad nodded. "Then that's what I'll do."
Zephyron faced the black armored figure. "You have delivered him and will go now."
A palm went out, and the stranger entered the ship. After a temporary dust storm from the engines, the crystal craft was nothing more than a reflective dot on the blazing horizon.
Why do I feel like I missed something with all that?
Zephyron turned to me, sensing I needed to speak to my father. "Do not stay long in the heat, and ensure you drink water when you return. I will take it out and prepare it for you." He turned to Solis and Axios, giving them the silent command to protect me, before leaving.
There I sat, with an enormous belly in the converted seat, looking up at an older Southern man who would soon be a grandfather.
"Feels weird here," he said, making small talk.
"Used to imagine being on Star Trek as a kid.
Never thought how different the sun, gravity, air, and everything would smell.
.." He sighed before continuing. "Talked to your brothers.
Apologized for what they had to deal with growing up.
Never laid a hand on any of you, but a drunk of a father isn't easy on anyone.
" He chuckled to himself. "Makes sense why y'all didn't have friends or loved ones over, at least more than a few times. "
He was the 'fun drunk' except it wasn't fun anymore, and not even then if I were honest. It ranged from a high-school friend going, "Dude, your dad's wasted!" to double deaths in Hollywood.
He hesitated before speaking. "A father isn't supposed to have favorites. I love you all in different ways, but you reminded me the most of me. Although I suppose Wyatt's a lot like you."
With a raised eyebrow, I pointed to my stomach in response.
He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with sadness.
"Yeah. Besides who you love and me hiding in a bottle, we ain't so different.
I had plans to go out to Nashville and sing, but I had kids instead.
Don't regret that. Not for a damn second.
But you, Tommy. You went out into the world doing what I dreamed about.
Proud, but I felt left behind. I guess I still wanted to be the fun dad and someone you couldn't get with your movie star friends.
" He rubbed the back of his neck. "And what I said before, about how hard it was having a gay son. I didn't mean how it came out."
"Then what did you mean?" I whispered.
"They say alcohol brings out the truth, but pain too," he mumbled.
"Yeah, it was hard, but not because of you.
It was the world. I was scared. I didn't want you hurt or gone, and I didn't know how to deal with that fear.
" His lips pressed together. "All it would take is one person to see you with another boy back then.
Someone who figured it was their duty to fix a problem, and then I wouldn't have my Tommy anymore, just like I didn't have my Annabelle.
Two people would have been too much, and here I did that to someone. "
"Someone seeing me was on my mind back then," I admitted. People figured me out, but I knew not to be blatant.
We stared, both not saying but understanding each other's fears. He gave a small smile. "Hell of a thing. The galaxy's mostly gay, and I'm the different one."
My dad jerked as Solis' faceplate shimmered. "Oh my, that's not entirely true! Many worlds follow similar patterns to Earth's. What you would call heterosexual pairings are quite common."
Axios chimed in, giving an overview of Volardi biology and delivery, including the differences between what I'd go through and deliveries back on Earth.
Dad blinked, taking a moment to process. "Well. Ain't that a fun fact?"
Solis interrupted gently. "It's nearly mid-morning. The heat will soon become intolerable for you."
"I'm fine," I said.
"You are pregnant, and others are not," Axios countered. "Your body will not regulate temperature efficiently in these conditions."
"Understood."
We turned. Dad took it as unofficial permission to stay, although I'd ask Karel to be decent.
As everyone else walked and I rolled forward in Solis' chair, Dad took a deep breath.
"I want to be here, Tommy. Not the so-called fun dad who showed up for laughs after downing a bottle of Jack and Coke.
I want to be a real father to you, even if it's too late.
I don't expect me and your, uh, husband will be friends, but I had to offer. "
I nodded. Nothing would erase that night in Hollywood. All he could do was try.
He looked down, his eyes lingering on my belly.
"Want to feel your grandson?" I guided his hand to rest gently on my stomach.
He hesitated before laying his rough, calloused palm flat. "I won't lie... this is weird," he chuckled. "Heh. I never figured I'd do this. No daughters, you know. Your mom, she must've wanted boys."
Pregnancy didn't work like that, but what was the harm in imagining a long-gone mother and wife? A sudden kick thudded against his hand.
"Well, I'll be damned," his voice cracked. The moment stretched between us, and he stared back with a newfound softness. "You're gonna be a damn good father, Tommy."
I blinked hard. "And you'll be a wonderful grandfather."
His eyes glistened. Maybe, just maybe, we were starting to really know each other. Soon, we wouldn't be just father and son. I'd be a parent myself, and he'd finally become the father he'd always meant to be to four boys.
***