WitchBite

About Time

 My father stepped in to the room. An unbuttoned, blue, dress-shirt with his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows; even now he looks dressed up despite it being clear he hasn't taken much care in the passed day or two. His eyes seemed heavy, strained. The creases at their corners only accentuated by the darkened circles that lay thick in their sockets. He smiles a little, his lips upturned through the speckled grey hairs that served as five o'clock shadow, and I could feel an uneasy cocktail of relief and nerves, almost guilt wafting from his large frame.

I was slightly taller, if thinner, than him; the distance being filled out in my pre-adult years, and yet he always felt so imposing, so much bigger than I. I feel like that's how it'll always be.

"Victoria, would you mind if me and Avery...?" He said looking to Victoria who was just at my side, clutching my hand with both of hers. A position that was ripe with a mimicked nostalgia from all the times we'd stand like this when we were in trouble as kids. Stronger together no matter how scary the scolding to come might feel.

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she uncharacteristically got up without a word and left the room. Pausing with a hand on the door frame to give one, final, incredulous look back before closing the door with a squeak and a click.

I suddenly became very aware that all I had on was my underwear, some bandages, and a shirt that wasn't the freshest, and very awkwardly found a pair of jeans to slip on. The shuffling of the fabric seemed unnervingly loud in the air that was thick with an uneasy silence.

"Is this going to take long? I need to see if he's okay..." I said, a slight pang of guilt, of a missed hesitance, ringing throughout my chest at the bluntness of my tone. Like it could crush bone, and fill the cracks with venom.

Dad just sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, before rubbing his face with both hands.

"I'm sorry, Avery..." His voice croaked out, as with a look that seemed unusually heavy, he looked at me. A look that strangely seemed to petrify my core, rendering me incapable of movement, or processing exactly what it was he just said. Like it landed on deaf ears that still somehow registered the words just spoken.

"I've no excuse, for the lack of attention I've given you. I've been such a shit hole as a father, Gods..." He sighed, exasperated. Reaching for my desk chair which screeched its legs across my wooden floor, and creaked under the weight of his form as he sat down. I did the same. Sitting on my bed to look at him better, my hands fumbling with themselves as I had no idea what to do or say.

I was shocked. Shocked that he finally said something. Shocked that it simultaneously meant everything to me, and yet nothing at all. I had grown up with the idea of a father at arms length. He was present enough, I saw him every day. He would attempt fatherly duties every now and then, such as reading stories, or helping with homework. Teaching me to ride a bike. But each and every one would eventually be phased out, as he decided to focus on his work. I never blamed him though. I was never angry. Never vengeful or longing. Just sad, and that sadness eventually grew colder into a numb acceptance. 'That's just the way he is now' I'd think when it was old enough to be explain to me that he never recovered from my mothers death.

So now, as he sits across from me; telling me he's sorry: It was alien to me. A foreign feeling, like obtaining something I didn't know I wanted my entire life, but also an aloofness. A caution I unwillingly exercised, like I was tip-toeing around how to feel about what was unfolding.

"There's nothing I can do to make up for it... I know... But seeing you like that yesterday... Dead... I thought my cowardice, my distance would soften such a blow, but... It didn't... My poor boy, bleeding out on the floor, threatening to be gone forever... I love you, son... I know I don't say it, or even show it... But I do... You are the most important thing in my life, and I refuse to lose you. Not you." He finished, and we sat in silence for some time. The air was palpable with some form of tension, with neither of us talking. We'd occasionally exchange glances, but then awkwardly avert our respective gazes.

I didn't know what to say. I forgive him? Of course I do. But somehow those words didn't seem... enough. They didn't seem to hold enough gravity to them. I love you? Those words seemed awkward on my tongue when describing our relationship. I did love him, he was my father after all. It just... Didn't seem enough at the moment. I hoped he would speak first, clearing the air with an acknowledgement that he understood my feelings.

"I love you too, Dad..." I eventually managed to squeak out, and just like that: the thickness in the air seemed to be divided in half. Maybe it was the smile on my fathers lips, one of rarely seen; genuine happiness. Maybe it was because I could see the proverbial 'Light at the end of the tunnel', and I was one step closer to seeing Aramis. I'm not sure, but it definitely felt lighter in here some how.

"Do you like him?" He asked, I couldn't help but awkwardly clear my throat, chuckling to myself in embarrassment.

"I- Uh.. I think it might be more than that..." I responded, rubbing the back of my neck, pre-emptively flinching at the admission, as if I touched an open flame. Of all the people I admitted that too, I admitted it to my father first. I hadn't even admitted it to myself yet, heck I didn't know what it was. Just that it was more than like. And maybe that was enough at the moment.

My eyes eventually squeaked open to look at my father still sitting in the chair. He was smiling fondly. A look I rapidly realised I could get used to on my father. Him being happy in general. Him being happy with me.

The warm light from the window behind me, seemed to cast a gentle, yellow glow to the entire room. The wood of my chest of draws seemed a vibrant, youthful, brown. The various colours of all of my possessions seemed brighter some how. Juicy.

"That's good. I'm happy for you, Son." He responded, kindly. "As long as you're happy and healthy that's all that matters. You can go if you want. I just needed you to know those things before it was... ya know... too late..."

We hug as we both stand. It was warm, and welcoming. I felt happy and I could feel his arms tighten around my shoulders, like he was very reluctant to let go. All this distance, all this void there was between us, somehow alleviated in that moment. Even if there was the very real knowledge that it was still there, it didn't seem so vast now. Not as set in stone as it once was.

"Thanks, dad" I said, genuinely meaning it, although I felt a little raw and still confused about the conversation, it was a positive check in the box of my life.

"You've still got some explaining to do. About everything. This isn't just going to go away I'm afraid. But for now, you're good. Okay?" He said, and I felt heavy again. I'd almost forgotten everything Victoria had told me just moments before.

"Okay..." I sighed, trying to draw in some strength for what I would no doubt have to deal with. Just the whole prospect of this week, and today was exhausting. But a strength was in me. A determination that I didn't know I had. A want. A need.

We said our goodbyes, immediately spotting Victoria undoubtedly eavesdropping the entire conversation as she jumped back from the door when it opened, smiling sheepishly. Dad just laughed as he placed a reassuring hand on my arm and walked away.

"I'm coming with you. Clearly being without me gets you killed or attacked, or suicidal or whatever" She demanded, matter-of-factly placing her hands on her hips.

"No, Victoria... I need to do this alone, I mean it. I'll be fine, I promise"

"Avery..."

"I'm doing this, V. Please. I need to."

"Fine but I'm gonna -"

"No. No Witchcraft. No magic apart from my own should I need it, which I won't because it's going to be fine. I've had enough of bullshit happening. No more, I say! Not today." I stood, strong and proud, earning a very amused smirk from Victoria as she raised her hands in defeat. I don't know what over came me, but I was stronger now. Forged, shiny, and new, and strong in some kind of fire. I just hope this confidence lasts, but knowing my track record; the quivering bundle of nerves that I usually I am will return the exact moment my foot steps outside the manor.

She gave me a hug, slapping me on my ass as I walked passed. It caused me to jump with a squeak which immediately caused a fit of laughter to erupt from Victoria as the redness burned in my cheeks.

It was time to go get Aramis. As Victoria would put it: It was time to go get my man.

A/N: There we go my lovelies. A not so heavy chapter. I got to say, even thought it's only one chapter so far; I'm enjoying writing this stronger Avery. He's got a fire in his belly now. A thirst that only one person can quench. Can ya'll guess who? ;)