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Marc didn’t know if this was a good idea. Steven didn’t even know if it was a good idea. But Marc felt Steven had a right to know more about their childhood. He barely had any memories of their father, and of course he had no recollection of Randall, having been created after the accident. (Marc reminded himself that it was an accident, it wasn’t his fault. She had been wrong.) Marc figured the best way to show Steven these childhood memories (short of dying again and actually being able to show him the memories) was the photo albums that his dad still had. That meant going back. The last time Marc had even thought about stepping foot in that house it had overwhelmed him so thoroughly that it had broken the wall in between him and Steven.
“If we’re doing this,” Steven said. “We’re going to need Layla with us.”
He was right, of course he was, but that meant telling Layla the details that couldn’t be hidden if she were in that house. (The thought of her in that house sickened him, that place was a place of danger and pain and he wanted her safe more than anything.)
“I had a little brother,” he started. He was looking down at his hands. Telling someone this was hard enough without having to see her face. “We played in this cave out in the yard. One day we went in while it was raining. He drowned. I didn’t.”
“Oh, Marc,” Layla said, placing a hand on his cheek, she must have caught the guilt in his tone because she said: “You have to know that wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Layla had known there was a rift between Marc and his mother, and he had told her that she had died. That that was what caused him to lose control. But he hadn’t outright said anything about the abuse, and he wasn’t going to. She seemed to catch on though because she wrapped him up in a hug.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah I do.”
“Are you going to tell him about Steven?”
“Not planning on it.” That conversation would trap him in the house too long. He just needed to get in, get the photo albums, and get out. (He didn’t want Steven to have to meet the man who had failed to protect Marc when it mattered. This was going to be about happy memories of things before the accident, nothing new, broken, painful.)
That was how he came to be standing at the front door of his childhood home, hands shaking too bad to knock.
“Do you want me to do it?” Layla asked.
He nodded. She knocked.
Elias Spector opened the door. “Marc?”
He hadn’t called first. Couldn’t work up the courage to. “Hey, Dad, can we come in?”
“Of course.” He stepped aside and let Marc and Layla enter the house.
Marc started to panic as soon as his foot crossed the threshold but he fought hard not to dissociate. “This is Layla, my wife.”
“Oh! Nice to meet you.” Elias put out a hand for her to shake and she took it politely. “Not that you’re not always welcome here, Marc, but why are you here now? I thought I might never see you again after…” he trailed off, but everyone in the room knew what he was referring to.
“Do you still have the old photo albums?” Marc asked.
“Somewhere, I think. Why? We haven’t looked at those since before… since before Randall died.”
“I need to borrow them, I wanted to talk to Layla about Randall and thought they might help.” The lie slipped easily off his tongue, well rehearsed. He fought to keep his breathing even.
“I can get them from the attic but I don’t know how well they’ll travel after all these years. And the last one is pretty unfinished, a lot of the pictures aren’t glued down.”
The unspoken suggestion hung in the air between them, but Marc needed to look at these photos in private if he was going to talk to Steven about them. “I’ll be careful with them.”
“Okay,” Elias was clearly disappointed. “Do you want coffee while you wait or…”
“No. Just the albums,” Marc said shortly.
“Marc, I know being here is probably not very easy for you,” That was an understatement, Marc could hear his heart pounding just as loud as his father’s words, he could barely feel Layla holding his hand. “But can’t you stay for a while now that you’re here? Please, son, we haven’t had a real conversation since you were just a kid.”
Suddenly Marc’s fear turned to anger and he snapped. “Why should I be here for you when you were never there for me?”
Elias looked guilty, but he still said: “That’s not fair, I did my best for you.”
Marc laughed humorlessly. “Your best? That would have been getting me the hell away from Mom.”
“She was still your mother, Marc.”
“No, she was a monster! And you just stood by while she blamed me, while she beat me! Because of you, I had to suffer, had to run away. You didn’t even notice when I—” Marc cut himself off.
“When you, what?” Elias asked, looking at him with concern.
And it was all too much, he couldn’t take it. He put his head in his hands. “No, no, I can’t tell you that.”
“Tell me what, Marc?” Elias had tears in his eyes. “If you tell me, I can help you—”
“Only one person in this house ever helped me and it wasn’t you!”
“What do you mean?” Elias reached out and grabbed Marc by the shoulder and that was the final straw. He knocked the hand away and turned around before collapsing onto his knees and letting out a chant of “No, no, no, no…”
“Marc!” Layla got down on the floor beside him, not sure whether to touch him or not. Then Marc’s chant abruptly stopped. He suddenly looked very confused. She realized at once what had happened. And whispered to him low enough that Elias couldn’t hear. “Steven?”
“Oh bollocks,” Steven whispered back. As understanding dawned on him, so did anger.
Layla immediately put herself on damage control. “I think we should leave now, Mr. Spector,” she said sternly. “We—”
“No.” Steven’s voice shocked Layla.
“Marc?” Elias said, slowly approaching as Steven picked himself up off the floor.
“Marc had to run away. Because of you, again.”
Layla had never heard Steven’s voice sound so cold.
“What?”
Steven turned around to face Elias. “He thought I deserved to know more about you but I think I know enough. I mean, how much could you possibly have been a part of his life if you didn’t even notice when he developed dissociative identity disorder? If you had done your job he wouldn’t have needed me. Needed to hide .”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re a piss poor father, and I’m glad I don’t remember more of you!”
“Steven!” Layla called out. Steven realized he had been approaching Elias with his hands balled into fists. He took a shocked step back. So did Elias.
Layla rushed to Steven’s side as Elias backed out of the room. Steven realized there were tears streaming down his face as Layla brushed them away.
“Well, I really messed that up.” Steven said with slumped shoulders and a sigh.
“Nah,” Layla said. “If you hadn’t told him off I would’ve. Is Marc okay?”
Steven took a deep breath and Marc fronted. “I didn’t want this to happen,” he said. “I just couldn’t be here anymore.”
“I know, I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to be here, let’s go.”
They started walking towards the door.
“Wait!” They froze as Elias called out. “She called you ‘Steven’?”
Marc and Layla shared a look, then Steven fronted. He turned around. “Yes?”
Elias was holding a small pile of photo albums. “You’re who he really wanted these for, right?”
“Yeah,” Steven admitted. Elias held out the albums and Steven took them.
“Keep them. I’ve looked at them enough already.”
“… Thank you.”
“Thank you . For protecting him when I didn’t.”
Steven just nodded and followed Layla to the door.
When they got to the car and Steven had carefully arranged the albums in the back seat Layla put a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay, how are you feeling?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Steven replied. “I guess you could say my feelings are thoroughly mixed.”
“And Marc?”
“Numb, mostly,” Marc answered. “I’m sure it’ll all hit me when we get on the road but for now I’m just relieved it’s over… Steven? Thank you for standing up for me, it means a lot.”
“Of course, Marc,” Steven replied “I’m here for you. Whenever you need me. Always.”
Later, there would be happy nostalgic crying as they looked through the photos and Marc described the events surrounding them to both Steven and Layla. But for now, on the ride home, Marc wasn’t exactly sure which emotion was causing the hot tears to stream down his face. But he knew that in the end, it didn’t matter how he left his relationship with his father. He was loved anyway.