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wordwitchAuthor's note: A great deal of gratitude is due to ![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.
Thank you both.
So I took this threat to security clearances - Christ, Wallace should never have had one if this is the kind of shit his people thought nothing of pulling - and went to take her off of my family's property and away from all the flap-eared people with the money to indulge their curiosity and not enough sense to refrain and, of course, ran into Dave on our way to the car. I sent Ronon ahead with her, and went to speak with him. Damn it, the wake was going to last another four, maybe six hours, and the funeral tomorrow morning. Not fair that he had to deal with it himself, alone, again -
"John," he said, "I was thinking that we should probably ..."
I cut him off. No time to get into a deep conversation now. "Uh, look, something came up. I've gotta go."
"It's Dad's wake," he said incredulously; well, I didn't really believe it myself. I'd had every expectation that for four solid days the only thing I would have to deal with was corporate America in full smarm.
"I know," I bit out, "but this is work-related."
Dave was pissed off, just like Nancy used to get. "Oh. Oh. What is it, top secret, national security, that sort of thing?" Like I'd leave for anything else.
"You know, this is so typical," he started, and I couldn't take it anymore.
"If you've got something to say, just say it." Bad son, bad husband, bad brother, why do I bother ever showing up if I'm just going to leave without warning. But then he blindsided me.
"Look, there's just one thing I wanna know. What's your level of expectation here?"
I couldn't make out what he meant. Hugs all around? A permanent invitation for Easter?
"I mean, are you gonna challenge the will?"
A wave of ... I don't know, of rage, of incomprehension, of adrenaline maybe, passed through me, and I could not speak.
Dave went on, "I have no idea what it says, of course, but I think I can guess."
I gathered my brain enough to say, "That's what you wanna talk about? You wanna talk about money?"
"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Dave sneered. "You've been gone a long time, John. It's not such a stretch."
I was trembling with fury. "You've got nothing to worry about," I informed him, and turned away.
"Hey," Dave called after me. "If I've got the wrong impression of you, it's not my fault. You're the one who left, remember? I stayed. I looked after Dad; I ran the business while you were off doing God knows what."
Looked after dad, huh? Sounds like the old bastard had some health difficulties after he threw me out.
"I'm assuming," I said carefully, "that's what Dad wanted."
"No. No, it's not, John. Dad regretted what happened between you two right up to the end." He turned on his heel, and after a moment, I gathered myself together enough to leave.
Part Six
ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.Thank you both.
So I took this threat to security clearances - Christ, Wallace should never have had one if this is the kind of shit his people thought nothing of pulling - and went to take her off of my family's property and away from all the flap-eared people with the money to indulge their curiosity and not enough sense to refrain and, of course, ran into Dave on our way to the car. I sent Ronon ahead with her, and went to speak with him. Damn it, the wake was going to last another four, maybe six hours, and the funeral tomorrow morning. Not fair that he had to deal with it himself, alone, again -
"John," he said, "I was thinking that we should probably ..."
I cut him off. No time to get into a deep conversation now. "Uh, look, something came up. I've gotta go."
"It's Dad's wake," he said incredulously; well, I didn't really believe it myself. I'd had every expectation that for four solid days the only thing I would have to deal with was corporate America in full smarm.
"I know," I bit out, "but this is work-related."
Dave was pissed off, just like Nancy used to get. "Oh. Oh. What is it, top secret, national security, that sort of thing?" Like I'd leave for anything else.
"You know, this is so typical," he started, and I couldn't take it anymore.
"If you've got something to say, just say it." Bad son, bad husband, bad brother, why do I bother ever showing up if I'm just going to leave without warning. But then he blindsided me.
"Look, there's just one thing I wanna know. What's your level of expectation here?"
I couldn't make out what he meant. Hugs all around? A permanent invitation for Easter?
"I mean, are you gonna challenge the will?"
A wave of ... I don't know, of rage, of incomprehension, of adrenaline maybe, passed through me, and I could not speak.
Dave went on, "I have no idea what it says, of course, but I think I can guess."
I gathered my brain enough to say, "That's what you wanna talk about? You wanna talk about money?"
"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Dave sneered. "You've been gone a long time, John. It's not such a stretch."
I was trembling with fury. "You've got nothing to worry about," I informed him, and turned away.
"Hey," Dave called after me. "If I've got the wrong impression of you, it's not my fault. You're the one who left, remember? I stayed. I looked after Dad; I ran the business while you were off doing God knows what."
Looked after dad, huh? Sounds like the old bastard had some health difficulties after he threw me out.
"I'm assuming," I said carefully, "that's what Dad wanted."
"No. No, it's not, John. Dad regretted what happened between you two right up to the end." He turned on his heel, and after a moment, I gathered myself together enough to leave.
Part Six
