Who: Wren and Luke + NPC!Thomas What: Going to get Gus (2/2) Where: NY When: Recently Warnings/Rating: None
"You're not asking me for things," she argued, and her voice climbed a little when she said it, and hurt suffused her features. "He's my son too, and if I want to do something to make his life better, then it's because of that, not because you asked." She knew he didn't mean it, knew that he didn't mean anything by it, but this wasn't about him asking. It was about what was best for Gus. She knew she didn't share custody, but that didn't change this one, little thing. She softened when he said he couldn't stand to watch her be with other men, though. When they were young, back in Seattle, she would have given anything to hear him say just that. But it was different this time, and maybe being a parent really did make sacrificing second nature, because she would do this without being angry if she had too. In Seattle, she'd been so very angry, and that angered had carried over to New York, and to her pregnancy. She could still remember what it felt like, not knowing who her baby's father was, and she could still remember how frightened that had made her. His suggestion about contracting brought her back to the moment, and it made her shake her head; her, "no," was emphatic. "You need to concentrate on school." It was the only way out of this cycle, and she wasn't going to let himself work himself into an early grave because of this.
She was glad when he didn't argue about Thomas and the money, and she just made a sound of agreement when he said Jack hadn't been given a choice about the CIA. She knew that; Jack had told her. "He was upset at me," she admitted, because that was as well as she could explain the strange reaction from Jack, and the equally strange reaction from Bo. "Bo actually felt like he had to warn me not to tell people about Jack and Max, like I would," she said, and she still felt confused over that. But there wasn't a lot of room for outside concerns just then, not when they were climbing into the cab, and not when the cab was moving.
She just settled back, and she closed her fingers around his. The familiar sights made her squeeze his fingers tighter, and the scenery changed quickly from the poor neighborhood they'd lived in, to the rich neighborhood Thomas had always called home. When the cab slowed, she wasn't at all ready for it, and she almost forgot to reach into her bag and pull out fare for the driver once he stopped. The neighborhood was as amazing as she remembered, like something out of a movie, and she stepped onto the sidewalk in a strange memory daze. "I thought you would get to come back here after I left," she said unthinking, just staring at the tall buildings as she waited for him to take the luggage from the trunk.
It was only the happy, childish screams and laughter from the enclosed park across the street that jolted her from her reverie. She knew, without even looking, that Gus was there; she would know his voice anywhere.
His confusion towards her reaction was evident in his expression, and it took a few seconds for him to realize that she'd misunderstood him. "No, that's not what I meant," he explained. "I meant-- I'm asking you not to have sex with other men, Wren. I’m asking you to find something else, something that doesn’t involve that. And it’s selfish, maybe, because I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but you deserve better.” Luke didn’t think their situation was dire enough to warrant her selling her body, and he would do just about anything to make sure it didn’t come to that. He’d take another job if he had do, regardless of what she said, regardless of her protestations whenever he suggested it. “Just like you’re asking me not to get a second job,” he added. “I’d do that for you. Just do this one thing for me, please?” He loved her too much to let her do that, to go and be an escort for rich men and sleep with them if they paid her enough so she could support their son; he was supposed to make sure she didn’t need to. Maybe some men could be okay with it, but not him. Just the thought of another man touching her was enough to have him seeing red. He knew she didn’t want Thomas’ money, but he would go down on his knees and beg the man for help before he’d be okay with her earning money through sex. He wouldn’t think any less of her, that hadn’t changed, but he wouldn’t be able to not think about it. Not now, not anymore. He wanted to argue that he could do contract work without letting it affect his school, but he bit his tongue and simply sighed instead. Fine. He would work Caesars, and focus on school, so long as she could find work that didn’t involve taking her clothes off in any form.
The last time he’d spoken to Jack, it had been right after things went back to normal, and they’d both been too tired and off-kilter to really talk about anything important. He frowned, puzzled, when she said he was upset, because even though he was pretty sure no one was supposed to know Jack worked for the CIA, he thought he’d know her well enough to realize that she would keep his secret. Secretly, he thought Bo might have worried because she hadn’t done a very good job of keeping the Silver thing secret, but of course he didn’t vocalize that, and simply shrugged instead. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “Maybe he just overreacted.” His voice became distracted as the cab entered Thomas’ neighborhood, a place he’d always been so close to, yet so far from. If he just closed his eyes, maybe he’d be eighteen again, and everything would be as he remembered it then.
But then the cab came to a stop, and his eyes snapped open. He let her get out first, and followed behind a few seconds later, and in this he wished he could be more like Bruce; he’d be able to distance himself in a way Luke couldn’t. Retrieving the luggage was a temporary distraction, but it didn’t last long. “I thought I would too,” he said. “But he never asked.” His attention was immediately grabbed by the sounds from the park across the street, and he took her hand without thinking, wishing a month didn’t seem so damn long. “Do you want to get our stuff settled first, see if we can get a room, or... or see him first?”
She didn't expect his confusion, and it made her stop and listen to his explanation more closely than she would have normally. "I won't have sex with anyone," she promised. She could make that promise, and maybe still make some decent money. She almost talked over him when she said it, and when he finished talking she realized that maybe it wasn't as easy as that. He knew he could get her to do anything by asking that way, that just do this one thing was more than she could argue with. She wished, for the first time since things had changed back to normal, that she could be like Selina and put her own wants first, but she couldn't do that. "Okay," she finally said, and they would make it work somehow. She had no idea how, but they would make it work. And if they couldn't, this place with all its towering buildings was always an option for Gus, even if she didn't want to think about it. She didn't realize he was considering actually begging Thomas for help, or she would have stopped the conversation right there. But she didn't know, and so she just touched his cheek, fingers dragging along his skin to his jaw. "I'm sorry," she added, because if she'd been smarter about her money, they wouldn't be here at all. But she'd loved the designer clothes and perfumes, and there was no point in pretending she hadn't. In her own way, she'd dug this hole they were in. Even recently, she spent too much on things that weren't practical. It was a lesson that was learned the hard way, and it was learned too late to change anything.
By the time he addressed the issue of Jack and the CIA, she'd almost forgotten about it, too nervous about the prospect of the park across the way to care. She heard Luke's admission that he'd thought Thomas would ask him to come home after she left as if it was something from a great distance, but it did register, and she turned and gave him a quizzical little look. It was the first time he'd ever admitted that he'd thought Thomas might have cast them aside because of her. It wasn't surprising, since it made sense, but it was new. She wondered, as she had a thousand times before, how much her presence had altered his life. It was still altering it, wasn't it? He was contemplating extra work that was possibly dangerous, and he was contemplating putting his studies at jeopardy, and all because of her wants and her convictions. It was a sobering realization, and it was one that she didn't know exactly what to do with just then. She started to say something, but then she stopped, because she didn't know what to say; maybe it was just as well.
"We might not get this chance again," she finally said. "We don't have to get really close," she offered. By the time they came back, Gus might be inside, wherever inside was. And seeing him with Thomas wouldn't be the same as seeing him like this. She waited for the cab to pull away, and she tugged on Luke's fingers as she crossed the street. As promised, she didn't get close enough to draw attention, and it wasn't like they could get into the gated park anyway. Inside the park Gus was dressed warmly in a winter coat, and he was running around a taller girl in braids. The little boy was screaming at the top of his lungs, and smiling while he did, and the little girl was rolling her eyes and giving him an expression that was fondly exasperated. Even from a distance, it was obvious that she was a cheeky little thing. And even from a distance, it was obvious that Gus was happy. The nanny lingered closeby.
Under any other circumstances, Luke never would have used the fact that she wouldn’t be able to deny his plea to get her to agree. But he needed her to promise him this, just this one thing, even if he had to beg her in order to coax it out. He wasn’t asking her to not work at all. He wasn’t asking her to not talk back her old clients, or not find new ones; he was asking that she didn’t give herself to anyone, even if it wouldn’t mean anything. Even if she would still come back to him in the end. It tasted too much of desperation, of dark times, and while he wanted Gus to stay with them more than anything, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew she was off trading sex for money. He let out a long, heavy exhale when she agreed, and there was no doubt that there was a great deal of relief in the sound. “Okay,” he repeated, leaning into her touch as she dragged her fingers along his jaw. He tugged on her jacket, and he trailed his fingers along her neck, something nervous and strangely young in the gesture. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t be sorry. It’ll be fine,” he assured her, even if he didn’t have an actual solid plan yet. But he-- no, they would come up with something. Things would be tough for a while, but they’d get better. They just had to focus on what all of this was for, in the end.
He had no idea that she’d taken his confession of having expected Thomas to ask him to come back as admitting that she was the reason he’d cast them aside. It wasn’t what he’d meant at all, and he didn’t think, not for a minute, that she would have misunderstood. He caught her quizzical look and thought she simply didn’t understand why he’d thought that, and he shrugged. “Stupid, I know,” he said, “but I thought--” He cut himself off with a sigh and shrugged again, this one weaker, one shoulder barely rising with the motion. “If Max had left him, I’d have been right there by his side. But I was always the one who did more.” He’d just expected Thomas to care enough to not leave him alone when he was hurting, but apparently even that had been expecting too much. It didn’t occur to him, admittedly, that maybe Thomas hadn’t actually understood just how much he’d loved Wren, and just how much her leaving had hurt.
There was a very, very good chance that they were going to see Gus being a regular happy four-year-old, but Luke simply nodded in agreement. He wasn’t going to let anything he saw sway him, so it really didn’t matter anyway. He let her lead the way across the street, and he lingered at her side, catching sight of Gus immediately and watching through the fence. It took him a few seconds to realize the girl was Amanda, and god, she was so big now. She’d been a small thing the last time he’d seen her, and he doubted she would even remember who he was. But then his attention was back on his son, who admittedly did look happy. Then again, of course he did; he was young, and he was playing in a park. He was too young to sit in a corner and mope, but just because he was having fun now didn’t mean he wanted to stay, and it didn’t mean he hadn’t missed his parents. “He looks like he’s having fun,” he remarked, because he felt like he should say something first. “But he’s a kid, Wren,” he added, tugging on her fingers. “That’s what kids do. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss us, and it doesn’t mean he won’t want to come home.”
She couldn't help but smile at his heavy exhale. As much as she wanted monetary stability, and as much as she wanted to keep him from sacrificing to achieve it, it was still nice to know he wouldn't just give in so easily this time. "I think maybe you're a little possessive, Luke Henry," she teased, though there was a fair amount of fondness beneath the teasing. It meant a lot, even if it made things harder. When he leaned into her touch, she wished they could turn around, find someplace quiet and learn each other again. It was a strange thought, seeing as they hadn't been apart during this particular trick of the hotel, but she still wanted that slowness that was just them, not Selina and Bruce, not Bat and Cat. But there wasn't time for that, and she knew it. Just like she knew there wasn't time to go deeply into his comment about him always being the one who did more in his relationship with Thomas, but that was one comment she couldn't leave alone, not if they were going to see the man in question. Her fingers moved to cup his chin, and it was an intentional thing to make him look at her. "I don't think Thomas knew how to do more," she admitted. Thomas had been judgemental of her, yes, but that didn't eclipse the fact that the man was emotionally inept. Maybe he was better now. Maybe not. But she really, really didn't think Thomas had any idea how to handle Luke back then, and she was pretty sure he still wouldn't understand what was between them, not to this day. "He always thought you were like him. He didn't understand that you felt things in a way he didn't." She'd fought with Thomas about that until she was blue in the face, and she was still certain the man had never understood, not really.
And like him, she knew they were going to be faced with a happy little boy in the park. The laughter and screaming sounded like when Gus chased Finch all over the house, and Wren knew before she even crossed the street what it was that they were going to see. She hadn't ever seen Thomas' daughter, but she wasn't impressed at her size the way Luke was. She was just surprised that she was so close to Gus' age. She always imagined her older, and it made Wren feel younger somehow. She leaned against Luke's side, and she watched in silence for a moment. When Luke tugged on her fingers, she tugged back, and she nodded. "I know." She did. She knew. But it was a far cry from when Gus had hidden under beds, and she didn't know whether that meant they'd done a better job than she thought, or whether it meant he was happier here. As they stood there, Gus went running for the slide on the other edge of the safety flooring, and the nanny chased him, a laugh on her lips that made Wren smile. "I thought she'd be terrible," she admitted of the woman, because she'd thought Thomas would hire someone dour and strict.
Wren was too busy watching Gus to notice the little girl approaching the fence at first, and it was the child's voice that made Wren look down. The girl was thin and lanky close-up, even with the brightly striped winter coat she wore, and she was obviously younger than her height would indicate. She was going to be tall and thin, and her long, long braided brown hair was wet at the ends from her sucking on it. The little girl gave Luke a look that was curiously intelligent, sharp grey eyes and a seriousness to her that said she probably wasn't one to run around screaming after a dog. She was missing her two bottom teeth, and she lisped because of it, but she sounded confident when she spoke. "You're Luke," she said proudly, as if it was a great accomplishment to figure it out on her own.
His laughter when she teased him was quiet, and a little shaky, but it was genuine. “I think I’m more than just a little possessive,” he admitted. Now he was far less willing to play a passive role, and give in against his better judgment. He went with his gut feeling, and if it felt wrong, then he would oppose it with everything he had and fight to ensure the past didn’t repeat itself. Never again would he sacrifice her, or allow her to sacrifice herself, when there were other ways. Better ways. He didn’t know about her desire to find somewhere quiet, but he felt it too, even if they didn’t have time for that here. But this was enough, for now, just small touches and brushes of fingers against skin that they hadn’t really had in Gotham. He didn’t fight her hold on his chin, even though he wanted to look away during this particular conversation, and when he closed the fingers of one hand around her wrist it was simply for the contact and nothing more. “Most people don’t feel things the way he did. I wasn’t the only one,” he said. “I wanted to be like him, but I wasn’t. I never was. I needed to know that he cared about me, like I cared about him. I didn’t-- I didn’t expect him to be someone he wasn’t. I know he’d never be good with that kind of thing. I just-- I don’t know. I needed more than he gave.” He wondered, then, if it was more his fault than Thomas’ that things had deteriorated between them. Maybe he’d expected too much, relied on him too much, and it was his own fault that he’d fallen so hard in the end. He shook his head, because that reminded him too much of the old days, his willingness to absolve Thomas of all guilt and take the blame on himself. No. Not anymore. He wasn’t that boy anymore, blindly loyal and devoted to the very end.
Even though Luke wanted to hold his son so badly that it ached, he contented himself with watching for the moment, listening to Gus scream and laugh and feeling Wren’s warm presence at his side. He couldn’t help smiling as he ran towards the slides, and he thought that the boy he’d met all those months ago would never have acted like this; he attributed it more to them than he did Gus being here. “I know,” he said of the nanny. “Max said... Max said he was different. Thomas, I mean. Softer. Maybe he’s changed.” Too late for him, though. He began to remark on Gus’ progress, on how he was better with other people, but then the little girl was approaching the fence and the words were cut short as he looked down at her. With her this close, Luke couldn’t help staring, searching for similarities to both Max and Thomas. She definitely had her father’s eyes, not to mention his sharp way of looking at people. God, he remembered that all too well.
He wasn’t expecting her to recognize him, so when she said his name, his expression became one of genuine surprise. “I am,” he agreed, once he’d recovered, and took one step closer to the fence, tugging Wren along with him. “And you’re Amanda. You’ve grown since the last time I last saw you.”
She wanted to ask him to show her how possessive he was. She wanted that more than anything, but she contented herself with a smile and a slow, linger-long kiss to his cheek. They'd have time alone once this was done, however it went, and she intended to make the most of it then. His fingers on her wrist only strengthened that conviction, and there was something wanting in her eyes, a flicker of promises and demands for later, even as her expression sobered when he spoke. She shook her head. That was all she did when he said that it might have been his fault, that he might have needed more than Thomas could give. Because maybe it was true that Thomas hadn't been able to give Luke what he needed, but that had never been Luke's fault. She nosed against his cheek, and she thought that maybe it was like Adam and MK; two people who cared about each other, but who just didn't understand one another. It made her want to wrap her arms around him and never let go, because she never wanted to get to the point where she took this for granted, where she took him for granted.
As for Thomas changing, she thought it was a good thing to hear him say, and she squeezed his fingers encouragingly. She wanted this meeting to go well. She wanted it more than she had wanted anything in a long time. She still remembered that Christmas vision, how angry the version of him that had lost Thomas had been. And she knew that, beneath it all, he still loved the man who had adopted him all those years ago in Seattle. Thomas didn't deserve it, but that didn't really matter just then. What mattered is for Luke to walk away from this okay, and for things not to fall apart as a result of it. And maybe Thomas had changed. He was a single parent now, and he'd been injured all those years ago. And maybe losing Luke had changed him too. He'd helped, hadn't he? When Luke needed help with custody, Thomas had come through. And he'd come through now, and Gus didn't look like he was being badly treated here. On the contrary, the little boy looked like he trusted the woman who was chasing him around the long and curving slide, and that counted for a lot in Wren's eyes.
But then all of her attention turned to the little girl, though she didn't interrupt.
"Dad calls me Manda," the little girl said, a response to Luke stating her name. "Mom calls me A to make up for it." she pressed her tongue against the gap in her lower teeth, and she looked over her shoulder once when Gus shrieked loudly. "You're my brother," she told Luke, "and he's loud," she added of Gus. "You're his parents. Mom sent pictures because he was sad."
He recognized that look in her eyes, and it made him smile, his hold on her wrist tightening ever so briefly when she kissed his cheek until he let go and dropped his hand back down to his side. She would never let him blame himself even when things were his fault, and he was grateful for it here. Without her, he would take the weight of everything upon his own shoulders, whether he was deserving of it or not. And maybe things were different now, like Max had said. Maybe Thomas had realized his mistakes, like Luke had realized his, and this wouldn’t be as bad as he feared it would be. Nothing could ever undo the past, or fix the years of hurt, but he wanted so very badly to finally find some closure. He just wanted the wounds to heal, instead of festering for another five years. Thomas had, after all, helped him get custody. He could have refused, he could have said no, but he hadn’t, and he was looking after Gus now. If he truly hated him, had truly turned his back, then surely he wouldn’t have cared enough to help. Everything was just so jumbled up and confused when it came to Thomas, anger fading in and out depending on the moment and what was said.
“I remember,” he said, of Thomas calling her Manda. He might not have wanted the older man to raise Gus, but Luke didn’t doubt that he loved his daughter. He blinked when she said he was her brother, wondering if it was Thomas or Max--or both--who’d told her that. He nodded, and then laughed when she said Gus was loud. “He’s loud because he’s having fun. We are his parents. This is Wren,” he added, turning to the woman at his side before looking back at Amanda. His expression fell for a moment when she said Gus was sad, but that meant he’d missed them, didn’t it? “We were sad too,” he said. “We missed him a lot.” He wanted to ask about her father; the words were right there, on his tongue, but he couldn’t seem to force them out.
"He's always loud, kid," was Amanda's fondly exasperated response to Luke's explanation that Gus was having fun, the kid clearly an inherited speech trait, something she'd heard over and over. "Dad's inside," she said after giving Wren a curious look and a little wave of fingers. "I'll take you," she said, attention back on Luke and sounding like she was offering to take him into a formal dinner. She backtracked enough pick up a discarded doll - a stuffed little zombie in grey that was wearing a yellow raincoat - and she motioned to the gate. She was gone a second later, going to whisper something in her nanny's ear, intentionally trying not to get Gus' attention. For all that she was young, she obviously understood that something was going on.
Wren watched her go, and she tugged on Luke's fingers once the little girl was out of earshot. "I can go check into the hotel. You should go with her," she said, still distracted by the little boy that was now trying to climb up the park slide in reverse, even as the girl made it to the gate under the watchful eye of the skeptical nanny. "Go," she repeated, kissing Luke's cheek. She wanted this to go right, and she understood that it had a better chance of being okay without her there. That hurt, but it was true, and it didn't look like Amanda intended to bring Gus along, which meant Wren could at least sit there and watch for a few seconds longer. It was why she'd come here after all, wasn't it?
The little girl rattled the gate, and Wren gave Luke's shoulder a little nudge. "Go."
“Hey, only your mom gets to call me kid,” Luke protested with a grin, momentarily forgetting about Thomas and his nervousness. She was certainly a little spitfire, just like her mother, and he was pretty sure she’d grow up to be just as headstrong and independent. His smile faded when she said Thomas was inside, and he shot Wren a look that could only be described as panicked when Amanda said she’d take him. He’d spent the entire flight, each one between layovers, preparing for this, but now he didn’t feel ready for it at all. Thomas didn’t even know he was here, which he’d thought would be a good thing, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should’ve had Max let him know in advance. Maybe they should have just arranged to come pick up Gus and leave, without having any face-to-face meetings in the process. He watched the little girl return to the nanny, finding his words too late. What if Thomas refused to let Gus go back with them? What if things went horribly, and they ended up screaming at each other and severed whatever ties remained between them?
He turned to face Wren when she told him to go, his gaze searching as he attempted to discern whether she actually didn’t want to come or was simply telling him to go alone for his sake. Part of him wanted her with him, but another part realized that this was likely something he had to face on his own. “Are you sure?” He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t want her there. Thomas didn’t know they were married either, but he wasn’t going to hide it, wasn’t going to pretend he and Wren weren’t together. When it came to her, he didn’t care what Thomas thought in the slightest. He relented a little when she repeated that he should go, and he glanced over his shoulder at the gate. “Okay,” he said. “You go check in, and we’ll meet back up after.” He still hesitated despite his agreement, though, and it was the nudge to his shoulder that finally got him moving. He tugged on her fingers, and he kissed her, a long, closed-mouthed press of lips against hers that lingered before he pulled away.
One last look over his shoulder, coupled with a nervous smile, and then Luke turned and went to the gate. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go see--” And there he paused. Did he call Thomas your dad? Our dad? Or maybe just his first name was enough. After a few seconds, he decided to just avoid the problem altogether. “Let’s go,” was what he settled on instead.
Wren gave him a reassuring smile and a nod when he asked if she was sure. Part of her wanted him to insist, to say he wasn't embarrassed or ashamed to bring her with him to see Thomas, but that was a small insecure part of her, something young and vulnerable that still had trouble dealing with the fact that Thomas had never liked her. But she understood it now in a way that she hadn't when she was little. If, when the time came, Gus brought home someone like her, she was pretty sure she and Luke would both be slow to warm. And this wasn't about her. She'd seen what she'd come to see, and she would only make it harder for Luke to walk away from his encounter with Thomas feeling positive. "Okay," she agreed when he relented, and she kissed back quickly and nudged him as he pulled away. God, was she nervous.
She watched him go as far as the gate, until the little girl took his hand and tugged him forward like she was the grown up, and then turned away and took the bags, giving Gus one last, lingering look before going to find somewhere to wait.
Thomas had always liked being up high. His critics, the people who resented the existence of all that money almost as much as they resented how he spent it, said that he liked looking down on everyone else, but those people were wrong. Thomas liked being able to see who was coming at him, and he felt safe where the air was thin and there was no one that could come down on his head or stab his back without him knowing they were there. It probably had something to do with the dark alleyway that had left him without family, the dark shadow of past and future and the way fate could materialize out of the mist and finish it before you had time to turn and run. The preference meant that Thomas had to do more moving than Thomas' doctors thought was wise, but Thomas had to move if he didn't want to go crazy, and the gold elevators made it possible for him to pretend he was.
He had a schedule that he stuck to these days, one that took him down from his office to see his daughter and remind him that he had responsibilities outside himself, and even if sometimes it made his old senses prickle with warning, he kept with it to see the smile on her small face. The gate swung open and the dormant roses hugged the circular brick path that led to the tall brownstone, but before either girl or man found the threshold, the door opened and Thomas eased out into the gray sunlight.
On the outside he seemed the same. The expensive suit was the color of clean sand, the tie woven sapphire threads in diamond patterns, and he still stood straight and broad in the shoulders. His spare features were no more inviting than he had been, but unmoving and in still frame he was a handsome, if imposing figure. More lines creased his eyes, forehead and mouth, but his sharper features eased the signs of aging a great deal more than the silver threads going back from his temples.
The sharp gray eyes first sharpened in alarm and anger when he saw his daughter with a strange man, and he took a costly, painful step forward on his bad leg before his eyes widened when he recognized Luke. The surprise temporarily blanked all expression entirely. His mouth loosened and, for just a moment, perceptible worry moved over his face, adding entire years, and then the still life was back again, and his expression was unreadable. He shifted his weight naturally, smoothly, with an almost serpentine control of his limbs, and recovered balance and height. He put out one hand toward his daughter when she darted up to him, apparently completely unphased by his somewhat stony expression. He addressed her first, as if she were a friendly adult. "I see you found a friend. Where's Gus?"
“I found my brother,” Amanda corrected, as if her father was just forgetful and required her help remembering. She poked at Thomas’ stomach with one finger, obviously not caring if Thomas minded being poked or not. The poke turned into a tickle, and then a hug to Thomas’ middle. “Gus is in the park with nanny, being loud,” she added, answering Thomas with a press of her tongue to the gap in her bottom teeth. “I’ll go get them.” She looked at Luke, then back at Thomas, her expression intelligently attentive. “I’ll go slow,” she said decisively, darting away a moment later, all long legs and flying braids. She stopped at the gate, dragging it open. “You can watch me,” she added, as if she already knew her father would do just that, even though the park was just around the edge of the brownstone.
Luke wasn’t quite as eager to be brought to Thomas as Amanda was to bring him, but every time his steps faltered and he hesitated, she simply tugged him forward, not willing to wait, and it meant that he didn’t have the option to lose his nerve and turn back as he would have had he been alone. Based on the little girl’s claim that Thomas was ‘inside’, however, he’d thought he would have had more time to prepare himself. With any luck there would be at least two doors, and maybe an elevator, on the way, and he could use the extra minutes to figure out what he was going to say and how he was going to approach this. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize Thomas when he appeared, but once he did, he came to a full, abrupt stop and stared. It was the exact opposite of what he’d wanted to do, but being caught off guard was enough to throw a wrench into any plans he might have had. Five years, but it felt like a lot longer, and the surprise followed by worry in the other man’s expression vaguely registered in some small, calm part of his mind. He only met his gaze for a second, maybe less, entirely by accident, and then he blinked and broke the line of sight so he could look at him without having to look him in the eyes to do so.
The passing of time had aged him, of course, but he was still very much Thomas, especially when his expression became unreadable. Luke knew that blankness all too well, and he remembered him just like this, albeit younger, with less lines and silver in his hair-- and uninjured. While he’d been around when it had happened, a Thomas without the injury came to mind when he thought of him, which was more often than he would ever be willing to admit. He’d always been a sort of indestructible force, larger than life, and all those old feelings came rushing back even if Luke knew better now. And that was why it was so strange to see Amanda greet him with such affection, despite Max having told him how Thomas was with his daughter. It wasn’t that he thought him incapable of it, but rather that affection simply hadn’t been very prominent in his relationship with Thomas, and so that didn’t factor in when he thought of him. Luke wondered how he was with Gus, and he wondered what he’d told the boy, just like he wondered what Thomas was thinking beneath the lack of expression. The fact that he addressed Amanda first came as no surprise; whatever conversation they were going to have wasn’t meant for her ears.
He smiled when the young girl called him her brother, an unthinking thing which quickly faded after an uncertain glance back at Thomas. He had no idea where they stood, imagining that the ground they were on was shaky at best, and while he’d once had vague intentions of standing tall and proud, Luke found it difficult to keep from staring at the ground and slouching in on himself. It was strange; he’d thought he would be overcome by anger and hatred when this moment finally came, that he would stand accusatory and defiant, but instead he was the opposite. Quiet, almost subdued, and he hated himself for what he perceived as his own weakness. He looked up once Amanda reached the gate and started to say something, just to break the silence, but his mind was blank and nothing made it out.
All this time, and he had no idea what to say.
The separation of daughter from father, however temporary, was like watching a chasm open up between continents. Despite any past evidence of the contrary, Thomas wrapped two long, strong arms around his daughter as she pressed her face into his stomach, and the metallic rigidity went out of his eyes and left a quiet, soft smile imprinted on strong features. The girl left wrinkles in his suit and warmth under cool silver, and he watched her go without protest.
When his gaze slid back to Luke’s face, it drew a direct horizontal line, and nothing changed except for the direction of those eyes. A whole second passed, and then Thomas breathed and the black and white came to life again. He shifted awkwardly to take his weight off his bad leg, and a small set of muscles under his left eye contracted in what was obviously well-worn pain that came and went within an eyeblink.
Thomas had always had a deep voice, and in the past, he reined it in over board meetings and in warm houses so that there was room to make it black on cold nights in loud rain. These days it hovered somewhere comfortably in between, almost as foreign as the streaks of gray hair, and yet just as suited. “Did things work out in Las Vegas?” he asked. It was a very specific question chosen with every ounce of calculation Thomas was capable of. Luke could say much, or he could say little; he could make the question about him or he could make it about the weather. Thomas waited to see what it would be, and while he did he looked Luke over for obvious signs of distress or injury. It was the most obvious thing he had done yet.
All past issues aside, Luke didn’t actually want Thomas to be miserable and alone. He was glad, therefore, that he had Amanda, someone who could soften his harsh edges enough to coax out a smile he’d so rarely seen in the past. Never would he begrudge the other man family or happiness, even though he’d spent years without either; he knew he’d brought some of that misery on himself. When Thomas’s gaze returned to him, he did his best to appear calm as opposed to nervous, though the difficulty he had in meeting his gaze was probably a dead giveaway. The shift of weight combined with that quick, subtle hint of pain might have gone unnoticed by someone else, but Luke knew him too well to miss it. For a brief moment his expression slipped, nerves replaced by the memory of how his leg had come to be in such a condition. He would never forget that, how could he? But too much time had passed to let old guilt rise to the surface, and so he quickly pushed it back down before it could.
He was relieved when Thomas finally spoke, as he no longer felt the pressure to be the first to break the silence. The question was vague; intentionally so, he suspected. Part of him wanted to say very little, perhaps out of spite, while another part wanted to spill everything, from the moment he’d left New York to now. Luke settled for somewhere in between. “They did,” he said. “More so than they have in a long time.” Nothing was perfect, and nothing was easy. The Doors caused chaos more often than not, and he and Wren were still struggling to stay upright, but he was in a far better place than he had been in a year ago. He had a family of his own, and he had friends, however troubled they might be, and he was on his way to a career, something he could be proud of.
Fortunately, Luke didn’t look like he’d spent nearly a month in Gotham City as a widely known vigilante with multiple targets on his back. He looked a little tired, maybe, but then again he usually did. He expected Thomas to notice the wedding band, but was torn as to whether or not he should actually say anything about it, or leave it unsaid. “I’m trying,” he added, after a few moments of silence; simply put, but honest.
Thomas had once been a very dangerous man without the wherewithal to hide it, and the way his eyes flicked over Luke twice and then settled on his face as if he knew everything there was to know about him suggested that not all that much had really changed. Thomas’ hands hung loose at his sides, the slight curve to his fingers suggesting fists that had yet to be made. There was nothing about his stance or his expression that suggested a threat, and he wasn't going to throw a punch; Luke had all the training Thomas had been able to provide, and Luke would be able to see anything like that coming. No, it was just the wear on the knuckles and many dislocated fingers that grew harder with age.
Thomas still had an elegant control, however, and he moved forward about two solid inches, preventing any of his weight from landing fully on one knee with truly masterful balance. The suit couldn't hide the way Thomas moved through the world. Maybe it wasn't meant to.
He examined Luke's face again. Luke looked older, but he was still a kid to Thomas and he would probably stay that way for a very long time to come. While the exhaustion was expected, Thomas knew there'd be more somewhere beneath the surface, there had to be, because the situation must have been dire for Luke and Wren to send their boy to stay with him. He liked Gus; he was too quiet for a child (Thomas was now in a position to know) and he looked at the world with too much suspicion. Thomas knew that look. He had it himself. He didn't like seeing it on Luke's son, and while he had tried--with concentrated effort--not to blame anyone, he did it anyway.
He saw the ring and was not pleased, but he didn't say it.
"What changed?" Thomas asked. It had the suggestion of a dare to it.
Luke had always hated Thomas’ uncanny ability to read him, like no matter how many walls he raised the other man could see right through all of them. Time hadn’t changed that, it seemed, though he was less inclined to shrink under his gaze now than he was as a teenager. He perceived no threat, however, no indication that Thomas would move on him in a threatening manner, and he would be well equipped to respond even if he did. But throwing a punch was more Luke’s style; he’d always had trouble with his temper and had a bad tendency to act rashly because of it. He’d made a concentrated effort to control it more effectively in the past few years, with moderate success, but he was still only human and had a great deal of unresolved issues lurking beneath the surface. When Thomas moved forward, it was instinct rather than fear of a threat that caused Luke to respond by moving back-- or, rather, he almost moved back. He caught himself before a full step could be taken, and forced himself to stand his ground instead.
The real reason they’d sent Gus to stay with Thomas was something he couldn’t even fathom attempting to explain. Comic books and doors to other worlds were bound to make him sound mentally unstable, and Luke didn’t want to give Thomas any (more) reason to believe that Gus didn’t belong under his and Wren’s care. All he could do was keep things vague, and hope Thomas didn't push. Circumstances were, perhaps, less than ideal, but Luke was determined to make up for the years of Gus’ life he’d missed--years which had taught him how to look at the world with suspicion no child should possess--and truly felt that he and Wren were capable of taking care of him regardless of the difficulties.
Thomas’ question sparked a hint of defiance, translating into a near imperceptible upward tilt of his chin. “I found out I have a son,” he said. “And Wren and I got back together. The two of them changed everything, especially Gus.” Luke hadn’t been able to change on his own. He wasn’t enough. But his son, he was enough. Wren was enough. There were others, too, like Jack, who he’d always thought was a good person despite what he’d done, but Wren and Gus were the real reasons he’d managed to turn things around.
Luke’s shifting step forward and then back, however slight, made Thomas frown slightly. He noticed that kind of thing in people, men and children both, and with children he had long been making a concentrated effort to avoid being overly intimidating. With children he usually took his height out of the equation, either by stepping back or bending down, but he couldn’t do that now. He stood still and, his expression surprisingly transparent, looked faintly contrite in his silence.
Thomas tipped his head slightly. He hadn’t cut his hair any closer and he was fortunate to be one of those unlikely men that would have a full head of hair even when he was gray. It was getting long around the ears and in the wake of the movement, it shifted a little in the cold breeze. One of those things like Luke’s very tiny gesture of defiance, it made Thomas perhaps quieter and younger, contained and yet still human rather than the statue he had once been. His clothes were a little looser, too, though not by much. His bones were starting to complain of old cracks, and he felt the cold in a way that he never had before. The early onset of old age, a villain whose face amused Thomas even as he understood he wouldn’t ever be able to beat it.
A faint curl touched the edge of Thomas’ mouth, softening his expression. “Children do that,” Thomas said. “Especially unexpected ones.” Thomas’ profile righted again to solidify the perfect balance of either side, shoulders, knees, and chin. His blue eyes twinkled under the contraction of one pupil. It was a slight but unlikely movement. “You’ve grown.” Thomas deliberately avoided looking at the ring to keep his good humor.
“Are you staying here?” Thomas asked, suddenly.
It was no secret to those who knew him that Luke’s opinion of himself was quite low, and while a select few had mild success in convincing him otherwise, it had for the most part remained unchanged over time. He saw himself a certain way, and he’d expected Thomas to look at him in a similar fashion, but he couldn’t find any trace of what he thought of himself in the other man’s expression. Relief warred with uncertainty as a result, though he did find it a little easier to keep his gaze steady rather than keeping it fixed on the ground or some point over and past Thomas’ shoulder. A rational part of his mind acknowledged the passage of time and what the years which stood between them meant, but despite all that Luke doubted he would ever really see him as old. Some of the past would always cling to him, a young boy’s belief in the existence of the infallible.
He blinked. “Yeah,” he agreed. It was a slow process, but bit by bit his posture relaxed, some of the defensive tension ebbing away. He almost smiled when Thomas said he’d grown, and he thought that maybe, in the grand scheme of things, this might be okay after all. “I guess I have. That tends to happen when you grow up.”
Whether or not he intended to stay, now that was unexpected, as he assumed Thomas meant permanently. Luke was surprised, and it showed. “No. Wren and I came to get Gus, and bring him home.”
Thomas’ eyes flickered and the cool ice blue flickered with a long shadow deep under the crust of the old water. Disappointment touched his face and added age along the creases of his mouth and the set of his lashes against the absent glare of the gray sky. “Ah,” he said, capturing in a single word how he felt about the removal of his grandson and, perhaps, Luke as well. “I will miss him. He is quiet but not unnoticeable.” Thomas apparently thought this was a fairly significant thing to say, because he attempted to catch a smile with it, but it did not last long.
Once more Thomas shifted, but it was a movement of physical discomfort, a lean of his body that was rapidly corrected. The crease between his brows deepened.
Then he said, in a general way, as if he had not meant to say it at all: “I’m not sure growing up is the best. I don’t want ‘Manda to get there, and I think Gus would do well to have more time as a child.” He inspected Luke’s face to see if the boy (the boy, here, being Luke in some kind of eternal sense) understood what he meant.
“That about sums him up,” Luke said, fondness for the little boy audible in his voice. He assumed Thomas’ disappointment had more to do with Gus than it did himself, and he felt a momentary pang of something like guilt at the thought of giving the boy an opportunity to get to know his grandfather, and vice versa, only to separate them with no real intention of visiting in the foreseeable future. Part of it was logical; he and Wren didn’t have the money to travel to New York on a regular basis, and he doubted Thomas would come to Las Vegas. Maybe they could work something out for holidays, though, if Wren was willing to consider such a thing. But that was a thought for later, once they overcame the hurdle of having been separated from Gus against their will-- again. “Thank you for looking after him.” All else aside, his gratitude in this was very much honest.
What Thomas said made him think of Wren’s belief that Gus might be better off with his grandfather, and while Luke could grudgingly recognize her line of reasoning, he didn’t think the situation had become so hopeless that it rendered them incapable of taking care of their own child. And, if it ever did, he thought moving somewhere safer would be vastly preferable than giving Gus up to be raised by someone else. “Everyone grows up sooner or later. It’s inevitable. I don’t think you have to worry about Amanda, not with you and Max as her parents. She’ll be one hell of an adult.” He smiled in a moment of humor, but then his expression sobered, smile fading until it disappeared entirely.
“I know,” he said, of Gus and his childhood. “He’s come a long way since I-- since I first met him. He’s still quiet, but he’s made a lot of progress.” Luke paused. “The last five years have been hard for him. I want the rest of his childhood to be... good. Happy. He’s already been through more than someone his age should be, but now he has a chance to actually be a kid. We’re going to give him that, Thomas. We can.” And maybe he didn’t exactly have a history that backed up his claim, but that was his past, not his present. Not his future.
“I’m... I’m pleased you do not think me so terrible a parent that you would let him come and stay,” Thomas said, with an honesty brutal enough to cut glass. He was not always conscious and deliberate with his criticisms, and judging from a newly loose expression that emphasised the last ‘him’ and seemed to indicate that the statement was more about Gus than anything else yet mentioned. He had nothing quite to say about Amanda’s future, as it still visibly disturbed him that she would some day leave him for adulthood. In some ways she strongly reminded him of her mother and that would just be trouble.
“Stability is important,” Thomas agreed, happy to be talking about a field in which he considered himself to be somewhat competent. “They like everything to be the same even if they say no, they want it different.” The end of his voice acquired a certain childish single song, unintentionally repeating the words he had heard so much. Sobering slightly, he added (oh so casually), “And then I hear you have a career?” Thomas’ eyes twinkled. The number of times they had done that in luke’s presence could undoubtedly counted on one hand.
That single statement was more honesty than Luke had been expecting, and his response was carefully considered during a few moments of resulting silence. “It wasn’t easy, sending him away,” he admitted, because it hadn’t been. He’d known he was making the right decision, regardless of how Jack and Wren felt, but it was a trying choice to make. “But I knew you’d take care of him. I knew he’d be safer with you than anywhere else.” He sighed. “I don’t think you’re a terrible parent. I wasn’t perfect either. Far from it.” Carrying around all his years-old anger was exhausting, and he no longer wanted to bear that burden. And, really, all he needed to do was look at Thomas to see that Gus meant something to him, that he wasn’t just some kid. No, he was his grandson, and that alone held a great deal of significance.
“Familiarity is good. We have a house now-- well, we’re renting, but it’s not an apartment anymore, and it’s permanent for the foreseeable future. I think it helped, making home a stable thing. And Wren and I, we’re more permanent too,” he said, and that was likely the closest Luke would get to mentioning their marriage. Wren was something they’d never seen eye to eye on, and likely never would, but he didn’t want to argue about that now. He would have liked Thomas to have been as happy for him as Jack was, of course, but he could accept less. Max hadn’t approved, after all, and he was okay with that. He could be okay with Thomas’ disapproval too. The mention of his career made him straighten up a little, and here was a topic he didn’t mind talking about at all. “Yeah,” he said, almost sheepish. “Well, almost. I got into the police academy in Vegas, and, uh, once I graduate, I can apply to the LVPD. Max, she’s great, she wrote me a recommendation letter, so I-- I think I have a pretty good chance.” He was a little nervous, since he’d never been one to hope for the best, but this was both something he wanted and something he could be proud of.
Thomas caught the past tense, but he was visibly surprised that Luke didn’t think he was that awful of a parent. Thomas knew that he’d messed up with Luke, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. He had thought about it a lot, but had come to the inevitable conclusion it was just something caught up in who and what he was, something part of his being. He didn’t think Luke was a natural killer, and that his anger overcame him so much that he could inflict such permanent injury consistently surprised him. Thomas trying to persuade Luke to control his anger was like a forest fire trying to convince a candle not to burn. He knew better than to bring it up.
Thomas opened his mouth to ask about the house in an imminently practical kind of way, and then caught his mistake and stopped. He’d made that with Max, more than once, because Thomas was logical about the tangible and yet valued it little. “I am sure you will do very well.” He considered offering things in his power to give, but in the end decided not to. He thought that Luke would be more likely to ask for these things if he truly needed them, and if he did not, then Thomas’ interference wasn’t necessary.
Instead, he smiled slightly and stepped carefully forward to say, “Let’s go find the children.”