THIRTY-EIGHT: Messy Business [FLASHBACK]

The absolute last thing Bruce McLeod thought he was going to be doing on Valentine's Day was tiptoeing around a crime scene, waiting for the police to finish taking their photos and interviewing the witnesses. The story was strange, something fit for Jerry Springer and he wasn't quite sure he really understood everything that had happened. It was a home invasion, sure – that much was a given. The intruder had been shot in the bedroom. He'd been standing over Hannah and the poor girl had told him that she hadn't been able to move.

"He did something to me. I felt a pinch and it woke me up but I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything and he touched me..."

The words echoed in his mind and he remembered the look in her eyes, the shame that had been there before she'd shook her head and stopped talking. He'd arrived just as the police were finishing up and he'd learned more from standing in the hallway and watching them go over the scene than he had in talking to either of them.

Clay Clarke had been shot. The man was Lex's father, although the boy had actually been adopted. From what he'd been told, Bruce knew that the man was a detective down in New Orleans and that he'd been stalking and harassing the couple for the better part of the last year. The bedroom still reeked like a slaughterhouse, the stink of blood and gore reminding him far too much of those nights fighting in that circle, on those bare concrete floors in those shitty warehouses around the world.

Poor Hannah had looked like she was auditioning for the role of Carrie when he'd arrived, her hair matted and covered in blood. Now it was well past midnight and the craziness had finally died down. Hannah had spent the last two hours in the shower – he'd stripped the bed and put everything in the wash that could be cleaned. He'd finally managed to get the distraught girl to settle down and she was resting on the couch, watching a Disney movie on low volume. Lex had disappeared out to the garage and Bruce could hear him clanging around. He felt like the absentee father he'd never wanted to become, traipsing back into the lives of children he barely knew, even though it was actually his sister-in-law and her husband. They both seemed fragile tonight, more like broken children than twenty-something adults.

Pulling open the fridge, he brought out a bottle of beer and popped the top off, chugging half of it in one swallow. He was just about to head out to the living room to sit down and join Hannah when he heard a knock on the back door.

Charity McLeod stood outside of her sister's back door; her arms wrapped around herself trying to block out the cold with her back. Since getting the phone call from her brother-in-law, she'd been on edge, wanting nothing more than to hold onto Hannah and keep her safe. The thought that she could have lost another family member so soon was weighing heavily on her mind. She'd only packed enough stuff for a few days, but would stay as long as she was needed.

When he opened the door, he tried to keep his emotions in check at the sight of his estranged wife. It hadn't even been three weeks since the last time he'd seen her and that wound was still open, still raw. He forced a smile as he stepped back, "ah, so'm guessing they called you, too." He tilted the bottle of beer to his lips again as he turned away from the door.

Charity didn't even attempt to smile at him, instead she felt her jaw clench. "Lex did." The words came out curt as she walked past him, setting her bag down on the kitchen table.

"Ah," and now he understood how this had all come to pass. "Hanny's in the front room. Poor thing hasn't said a word since the fellas in blue left – she's right shook up."

"Where's Lex?" She refused to look at Bruce, removing her coat before peering through into the living room. She saw her sister huddled up on the couch with pillows and blankets and a few stuffed animals and the sight broke her heart but the sound of Bruce's voice kept her from leaving the room and her attention snapped back to him.

"...as far as I know."

"What?"

"Lex." Bruce replied, "is outside. Was in the garage last I checked, throwin' things around. Am sure that's where he still is." He shrugged, going over to the sink and rinsing out the now-empty bottle. "If I'd known..." he trailed off, not bothering to complete the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was rub in the fact that he'd gotten in the habit of walking out and disappearing on her. Seeing her now, especially after what he'd witnessed in the couple hours before she'd shown up, he wanted to apologize. He was thinking too hard about how short life truly was. He was thinking far too much about what he would have done if he'd walked into a similar scene and found some psychopath fondling his wife.

"Oh, no need to trail off. You would have cut and run before I got here." She said it casually enough, but there was hurt behind her words. "Nothing that I haven't gotten used to."

He couldn't help the eye roll that accompanied a sigh. "Sure, luv. That's what I was gonna say." He shook his head, turning his back on her as he went over to the window and peered out the darkened glass, seeing the light was still on in the garage. "What'd you have me do? Tell Hanny tae fuck off when she texts me, sayin' she needs me in the midst of a damned tragedy?"

"Why not? You had no problems doing that to me." She could feel every single emotion she'd bottled up for the past few years starting to boil over. "Just fucking left me...." She needed something to do with her hands so that she didn't try to hit him. "It's all good though. My sister matters more to you and I'm fine with that. Everything is golden." It clearly was not.

"Is it?" He turned his head to look at her – couldn't help himself because there was something in her tone that cut right through him. He felt a flare of self-loathing and let it turn into a sarcastic retort, almost as though he wanted to goad her into a fight. "Well, that's fuckin' glorious then, isn't it?"

"Not even sure why you care what I think." Her arms folded against her chest as she finally looked at him. "You should have just let me go to bed with Jimmy." As composed as she tried to be, she knew she was going to lose control if she continued to talk to him. However, she couldn't get her feet to move.

"Oh, aye. Should've." Bruce scoffed at the thought, shaking his head. "Let the mother of my child sleep with gutter scum like tha'... come home with syphilis or a blackened eye... or worse. Could only imagine how that would've gone."

"And why do you even care? YOU don't want to be around me... YOU fucking left me when I needed you... I fucking begged you to stay, Bruce. I begged you and you said you were just going outside for a cigarette." She felt tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away as she glared at him. "But, oh well, just lost my dad. No big deal, right?" She shook her head in disgust. "Fucking spare me that half-assed concern."

"Did I say I didn't wanna be around you?" Bruce kept his voice low, not wanting to start shouting for fear of startling Hannah. "I couldn't pick up the pieces, Cherry. Wasn't gonna do you any good that night if I'd stayed... not that it matters." He turned away from her and walked over to the back door, pulling it open and stepping out onto the porch. He looked off in the distance, to where the backyard ended against an overgrown cedar hedge and tried to count to ten before he lit a cigarette with shaking hands. The last thing he'd wanted was to see Charity, especially after spending both his birthday and Valentine's Day alone and soused with a few bottles of Irish whiskey. He wasn't quite sober yet, if he was being wholly honest. Maybe that was why he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 

"I didn't need you to pick up the pieces... I just needed you there." There was a heaviness on her chest and the urge to break down and beg him to come home was almost overtaking her, but she held back, leaning against the door. "Next time, don't save me."

Bruce turned his head and looked at her, realizing she was standing in the doorway behind him with only the screen door between them. "There won't be a 'next time'," he replied, trying not to shiver as the cold air made its way past the heat of righteous anger. The last thing he wanted to do was show any sort of weakness now. He took another long drag off the cigarette and then flicked it off into the lawn as though he'd only intended to have a little puff. "Go check on Hanny. Am sure she'll be happy tae see ya." The way he said it implied that he wasn't, even though that was a huge lie. 

The back of her hand came up and wiped at her eyes as she laughed bitterly. "Yanno maybe you never said you didn't want to be around me, but actions speak louder and they say a fuck ton."

"Actions..." he folded his arms across his chest as he turned to look at her. "Since we're on about those... how about throwin' yerself at Jimmy and then beggin' me tae spend the night? What kinda message was that supposed tae be, hmm? Mixed signals an' then some." He couldn't hold back the jealousy. Thinking about it now still made him feel sick to his stomach – it had made him see her in an entirely different light and he wondered what she would have become if he hadn't knocked her up, if he hadn't forced her to choose to stay with him. He knew deep down that she hadn't wanted him that night. She'd just wanted a warm body to keep her from having to be alone.

"At least he wanted me – was nice to feel that again." She'd regretted letting some random guy paw all over, especially knowing that Bruce had seen her at her sloppiest. "I mean, it's pretty clear that you sure as hell don't."

For a moment, he said nothing, instead coming back into the kitchen, forcing her to move out of the way but even as she did, he caught her arm and pulled her close. His lips were on hers before she could even protest and he kissed her hard, letting every conflicting thing he was feeling out. When he pulled back, they were both breathless and his voice came out low and ugly when he asked, "does that feel like I don't want ya?"

The kiss had taken her by surprise and reminded her so much of the last time they'd been intimate years before. Her hands had come up and grabbed onto his shirt until her knuckles were white. When he pulled back, her lips were still parted and tears had started to fall. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his chin, not wanting to let go of him.

"Hush, now..." his arms wrapped around her before he could even think about it and he held her close, feeling as though his heart was going to break for everyone around him. "Don't cry, Cherry... please don't cry."

"I..." Trailing off, she pulled back and let go of his shirt. "I'm fine." Her hands came up and wiped at her eyes. "Really." If she didn't put up some sort of barrier, she was going to be begging him to come home for the rest of her life and she had to be better than that. As much as she loved him, she couldn't trust him and without that, they had no future.

The clatter of feet on the back porch had him taking a quick step back and he went over to the cupboard, pulling down two mugs. When Lex walked into the kitchen, Bruce was already filling the kettle, making it appear as though he'd been making tea the whole time. He cast a glance in Charity's direction before addressing the man who owned the house. "Filled her in on some of the details," the lie came out smoothly enough as his gaze slid back to Charity, seeing that she'd managed to compose herself slightly. "Thought I'd make some tea for Hanny. Want some?"

Lex shook his head, his gaze still unfocused as though he was in shock. "No. Don't do hot drinks. They make me feel sick." He moved past Charity and went to the fridge, opening it up and staring inside for so long that it grew unbelievably awkward.

"Purple stuff... fizzy juice... Sunny D... get me a beer, will ya?" Bruce called out, doing his best to bring the room and the other two people in it back to a semblance of normal. If nothing else, he could pretend that was something he was skilled enough to pull off.

Collins pulled out two cans of Budweiser from the door without a word and set one on the counter next to Bruce. The other one remained in his hand and he stared at the writing on the can as if he was seeing something else in the red script. "Shot a man in the head," the words came out haunted and hollow, "ain't even the first time, neither. There was that guy in Monaco... I dunno if you remember that."

Bruce's eyes locked on Charity, a sort of panic there for a brief instant before he forced a smile and that guarded expression returned. "Aye. Recollect the fallout, most of all."

"Blood all over that hotel suite. Didn't make a cent on that fight. Goddamned reparations-"

Bruce cut him off with a rough chuckle, wishing the kid would just shut the hell up. The less Charity knew about the things he'd done since they'd been separated, the better. "Guns're always messy business-"

"He taught me to shoot. Made sure I could – never wanted to, y'know? He called me a pussy for that. Said I needed to know when I should shoot to disarm and when I should go for the kill. Always felt like bait, though. Like he wanted-"

"Jesus Christ!" Bruce threw his hands up as he turned, unable to stem the flow of words coming from the guy who was usually hard-pressed to even throw together a sentence.

The younger man shrugged and leaned against the counter, finally cracking open the can and taking a huge swig of the contents. "I should feel something, though. Shouldn't I? Relief or anger or something?" He closed his eyes, flinching when Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder – he seemed more like a lost boy in that moment, as young as Bruce's own daughter. "I don't. I just feel… numb."

"There's no right or wrong way tae feel." Bruce's eyes were still on his estranged wife, as though he was speaking to her more than the troubled man he was still touching. "Numb is still something, though. It's a barrier. Protection, aye? Mebbe it'll fall away. Mebbe you'll grieve later an' when that time comes, we'll be here-"

"Grieve?" Lex cut him off and snorted disdainfully, taking another noisy slurp of beer. "For that piece of sadistic trash? No. No fuckin' way. I'm glad he's dead. I mean, shit... now we're never gonna get that confession outta him. We all know he's the one who killed Vic-" he broke off at Charity's pained gasp. "Sorry. I didn't..." He crumpled the now-empty can in his fist and pushed off the counter, tossing the mangled aluminum into the recycle bin in the corner. "Gonna go check on Han."

As quickly as he came into the room, he left and the awkward silence fell back between Charity and Bruce. He opened his mouth to break it and the kettle started to boil, saving him from having to do it. He turned back to the task and put tea bags into the two cups he'd set out, adding a dollop of honey to the bottom of each. "I'll head out soon," he finally said, not looking at her as he reached for the kettle. "Think it's for the best."

The exchange between her estranged husband and brother-in-law had her feeling a million different things at once. With her arms wrapped around her body, she looked at Bruce; the thought of him going off alone right now was completely terrifying. "You don't have to... Han wants you here and... I think we should all be together right now." She bit down on her lower lip, the feel of his own still there. "I don't think I can be strong enough for them right now."

He said nothing for a few moments, filling the mugs in silence before pushing one along the counter in her direction. "Strength in numbers? Aye." Nodding, he cracked open the can of beer and took a contemplative swallow. "Suppose that's for the best, then. Lean on each other. As fucked up as it's all become... I still remember how tae do that."

Instead of grabbing the mug, she took a few steps in his direction, close enough to rest her hand on his arm. "Later... come to bed with me?" Exhaling, "not to sleep together, but I need to feel safe and your arms have always been my safe place." The tears weren't streaming down her cheeks but her eyes did glisten with them. "Tomorrow we can go our separate ways, but I need you tonight. Just for tonight."

There were a thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions running through his head but he could see the sense in what she was asking. He knew she was right. They needed to feel safe – all of them did. Too many things had happened in such a short span and while he hadn't really been impacted by either on a personal level, he could feel the strain of the fallout all the same. "Tonight," he agreed, the words coming out in a strained whisper, "whatever you need, Cherry." He set down the can of beer and stepped in closer to her, wrapping his arms around her for the second time this evening – this time he was the one who felt like falling apart, as all those carefully erected walls started to crumble.