Enter Hestia {Nolan / Christopher}

[Anatra]

Christopher Marshall

Enter Hestia

"Daddy!" My arms collect one third of my life in a moment. It's my little boy, Luke. Of course, there's nothing a father loves more than the fact that he is a father. Your children are your life. Some people could argue that because these children aren't from me - it must mean they aren't mine. I just throw out the hypothetical of, if not me who? The people that left them? I very much doubt that.

   He gives me a squeezing hug and I grumble with a chuckle because it is true, kids get stronger every day. This little man of only five has been under the weather for the last couple of days, so it is great to see him up and about again. I know the pain of illness, especially in a pretty cold house. We try our hardest, Judy and I. We even light a fire to make up for our lack of efficient heating. We have it, it's just not always on, and sometimes we have to go without.

I release Luke, he'll find something to distract himself with whilst I'm out. I wish it could happen another way. I wish the money would just roll on in, but that wouldn't be very realistic or relative to... reality.
I give my wife a kiss in passing, "I'll be back early tonight, only a couple of jobs to get done, and then I'm back home." She gives me a brief nod, and the subtle smile that tells me that if I don't keep to that, she'll be a little angry. Judy rarely gets mad, and we barely fight. We don't have the chance to. We know what is at stake here, if I don't work - our children won't survive. If that fire isn't lit, there's no heat for any of us.

And so my little walk to the factory outside the mine begins. It's not at all just down the road. We don't live in the nicest place of town, not by a long shot. There's a small collection of similar logged houses, all of whom are in similar states to us, or worse. I know for a fact a young man just got moved into the home next door to our house, but he hasn't came to greet himself yet. I didn't ask any questions, not when peacekeepers literally escort somebody into their home. I'm not one to ask questions. It's not my business to ask questions.

      I get halfway. I see a couple of deer in the forest - that's where I live. Just in the outskirts, only by a little bit. There's a dense woodland that abruptly ends next to the district fence. I don't ask questions about that, either.
The deer scatter away at the sound of my feet on the dusty road. It's a road that always leaves a little on my boots, and I know that I get a couple of looks from people when I walk into work. Unlike some, I work in the offices of the mines. To think that a mine would need offices is also beyond me too. I count stock, that's what they call it. It's not really that, because nobody calls people stock. I make sure everyone is doing their job. I'm like an attendance officer, only I wear scrappier clothes.
      Today is a half-duty day, so I'm only expected to complete a couple of jobs and make sure everything is in order before I leave.

"Great, on time Marshall. Check in, do your work, and I won't be on your back like I was last week." He glares down at me. He's a bigger man, tougher looking. I don't like the tougher looking people. They don't frighten me, it's just that I know that they've been beating up kids since they were one as well. Careers, not something I aspire to have been as a youth. But then, can kids dream?
      I give him a subtle nod, remembering firmly what he had to say about the lack of paperwork that I was supposed to file the week prior to now. "You're a good for nothing low-life! Run back to your cabin, you belong in District 7 with all the skanks!" His yelled unsettled me for a couple of days. You get over these things, though. Especially when you have other problems at hand.

I run my eyes across my job list. It's not even extensive at all. In fact, there's only one job today.

Missing Workers:

• Jason Copperfield
• Nolan O'Rourke
• Alexander Orca

I put a line through Jason Copperfield. He's simply not coming back in again. He died of 'Natural Causes'. The man was twenty-seven, I don't know what kind of 'Natural Causes' occurred but...
         I don't ask questions.
Next is Nolan O'Rourke, whoever that is. I feel sorry for these poor people, having to deal with me at their doo-
      It hits me. He's already signed for off-duty, I know that for a fact. I remember reading up on it when I was put into this sector. I switched from my last, and the story is far too bland to describe. The point is, he shouldn't be on this list.

I chase up some data, and it turns out the last person in this position noted it down for a week only. The reason being; 'Conditional Leave'.

I stand up and sling my jacket around my shoulder, because this is where my call of duty comes in. Conditional leave is only given to people who are in desperate need - people who have to stay at home to help with something else. The only question I'll be asking today,
         If not me, who?

Nobody else will search this little case up other than me. If I just mark him down whilst he needed conditional leave, then I'm not better than anybody else who has been here before me. I take my initiative. I walk my way out of the offices and into the yard with a clipboard in hand, looking down at the address I'm about to go to.

I stop for a moment at the door, and I knock on it casually. This is actually routine for me, despite my eagerness to help this stranger.

[Artemis]

It was incredibly bittersweet, having Brody home for the past few days.

Nolan would never, ever begrudge having his son home, let no mistake be made about that. Brody was Nolan and McKenna's pride and joy, and it didn't matter how old he got, what rank he wore on his uniform, or how many criminals he took down; first and foremost, he was their baby. Their only child.

And they had come so very, very close to losing him.

Nolan's coffee had long since gone cold, preoccupied watching the man in question asleep on the couch; Brody was a creature of habit, and was up with the sun in spite of a tumultuous night of scattered bouts of sleep interrupted by nightmares that woke him up thrashing and in a cold sweat. His doctor --Nolan could never be grateful enough to her for her part in saving his son's life-- had mentioned that Brody might retain some trauma from the events that had placed him in the hospital to start with. It was treatable, once Brody was strong enough to make trips to see some kind of therapist, but it didn't pain Nolan any less to see his normally fearless son looking like an animal ready to flee when his nightmares roused him from sleep.

For once, now, he was peaceful; Brody seemed to sleep better when his mother or father were present (though the heavy doses of painkillers he was on certainly helped), a fact Nolan had found out on the first night Brody had been home, when his son had been so shaken up (and the memory of his comatose body in the ICU too fresh in Nolan's head) that Nolan had stayed with him through the night.

The last time he could recall Brody falling asleep in his arms, his boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

McKenna had been called back to work, her schedule far more demanding and with less room for leeway than his. She had been reluctant to go, nearly leaving too late sitting at Brody's bedside stroking his hair and just watching him. His wife had always been much more stoic than he was, but twenty-one years of marriage made it clear as day to him that McKenna had been just as terrified and heartbroken as her husband when they'd been summoned by the Peacekeepers to Brody's hospital bed.

"I'll keep an eye on him." He'd said as she hesitated at the door, "He'll be alright."

Nolan very nearly jumped out of his seat at the kitchen table when a knock came at the door; in the silence of the house, over the sound of Brody's slow, even breathing, it seemed entirely too loud. He was on his feet in a second, eyes going immediately to his son; the knock came again, and Brody stirred.

He was at the door in just a few strides, already irritated with whoever was paying a visit for nearly waking his boy. Through the peephole, Nolan frowned that he didn't even recognize whoever it was standing in front of it; the Peacekeepers had promised to send someone by every once and a while (they were vague as to the rounds, exactly) to check on their newly-minted Sergeant. Though they often made their rounds in plainclothes, the man in question lacked the build and the bearing that made Peacekeepers so easy to pick out.

Now his interest was piqued. This had better be good.

Nolan opened the door, regarding the man in front of him with scrutiny. He didn't look like anyone he remembered from the quarry, either.

"Who're you?"

Neither his face nor his style of dress were particularly striking, and he appeared to be a solid decade younger than Nolan; his expression was earnest, though, and Nolan's irritation tempered slightly. In fairness, few people knew anything had happened to his son, let alone how badly hurt he was. Nolan sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind him; this stranger hadn't done anything to warrant his rudeness.

"Sorry, it's been kind of a long week." He apologized, "It's probably better we talk outside; just brought my son home from the hospital, this is the first time in a while he's gotten any sleep."

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
b69b62 - Christopher Marshall
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke

[Anatra]

Christopher Marshall

Enter Hestia

The man that steps to the door is clearly someone larger than I. It doesn't bother me. Most people are. I'm not huge, I'm not tiny. I'm just average. "Who're you?" He asks, maybe too hastily, but it doesn't matter to me. His face is staring seriously at me when he poses the question. I pause a little, not necessarily freezing in the moment but definitely taken aback by the abruptness of it. But then again, isn't he the same? Whatever conditional leave he received it is clearly not worn off yet, this seems pretty conditional already and he's only barely said three words to me.

"I'm... Christopher. I've come to check everything's okay. You were supposed to be at work." I have to say things to the book, no matter how hard of a time my 'clients', as they call it, are having. I needn't bother asking the man's name, he is clearly who I think it is, Nolan O'Rourke. There's only one forty-odd year old man on the records and this is the only man I can see that is older than me.

Maybe it was the briefly portrayed look on my face, or perhaps he heard how stern he was being; either way he lets out a sigh and steps out of the door and closes it behind him. Closing the door, perhaps of all the trouble that may be inside. I wouldn't know, and I don't ask questions.

"Sorry, it's been kind of a long week." I give him a small nod. I appreciate a person who can talk one to one, and lay the facts out despite how hard it hits them inside. It has to happen, and he must know that. Otherwise he may suffer consequences at work. "It's probably better we talk outside; just brought my son home from the hospital, this is the first time in a while he's gotten any sleep."

Ah, so it must be that kind of conditional leave. He looks far too old to be a man of new fatherhood, though. But then again, who am I to judge? Of course, I lower my voice a little before speaking again. "That's alright, first time home can be tough." I give him a mutual smile simply because I know the feeling, I think. I'm merely assuming just to make this whole ordeal easier for him. I check a couple of things on the clipboard that I have, and whilst none of it says parental duty leave, it seems more so that there's been a mistake in the records or something.

"Just a couple of things to sign for to get you off work for a couple of weeks, it's the least I can do, but the most I'll get away with." This way, he won't have to worry about work for a little while. If he's got a newborn child then he'll have a lot of work to do already. I'd rather just help out a fellow father here, rather than make his time even harder. I care more for kids than I do the mining company.

"So it's a boy then? I'm sorry, you've got your work cut out for you." I raise an eyebrow playfully despite the seriousness of the situation. But of course naturally, I only notice after I've done it how stupid I may look.

[Artemis]

Saying it had been a long week was the understatement of a lifetime. Nolan and McKenna had been painfully aware of the passing of every second from the moment the Peacekeepers summoned them to Brody's beside, through the three days of artificial coma intended to stave off some of the damage caused by his wounds, until finally, finally Brody had opened his eyes and they knew he would live.

It had only been a week, but to Nolan it had felt like an eternity.

Even now, he was still barely recovering himself; those three days at the hospital had been almost entirely sleepless, and he was pretty sure that besides the dark lines under his eyes, Nolan was probably showing some very overdue gray. Bringing Brody home had only done so much for either of them to get any rest, when his son often awoke drenched in a cold sweat, sometimes thrashing as if in the midst of a fight.

Sometimes with a scream, hand clenched protectively over the heavy bandages.

Small wonder Nolan hadn't immediately bitten the man's head off when he knocked.

"I'm... Christopher. I've come to check everything's okay. You were supposed to be at work."

He most certainly wasn't, and even if that had been the case Nolan was more than prepared to find out whose ass he had to ram his boot up to get the message across...

Though it would seem the man in question had come to him, looking very much like he didn't believe half the words coming out of his own mouth.

"That's alright, first time home can be tough."

Nolan wasn't altogether sure what to make of that; did the man Christopher know why he'd been so abruptly called from his post? How many people knew what happened to Brody? As far as he knew, the only quarry workers who even knew why he was gone were the handful around him that had been present when the Peacekeeper messenger had come to fetch him.

"Yeah," He admitted, opting not to think too hard on the 'how's or 'what's floating around in his mind. If word had gotten around, as rumors often did, there wouldn't be any use in dwelling on it. "It's been taking some getting used to."

The nightmares. Changing the bandages around the surgical scars that even Brody couldn't bear to look at. The pain with which his son tried to do even the most menial of activities.

It broke Nolan's heart to see Brody this way, but he was alive.

"Just a couple of things to sign for to get you off work for a couple of weeks, it's the least I can do, but the most I'll get away with." Christopher says offhandedly as he shuffles through various forms on the clipboard in the crook of his arm.

Relieved though he was, Nolan felt years older as he sighed. "I appreciate it."

"So it's a boy then? I'm sorry, you've got your work cut out for you."

Nolan couldn't help but crack half a smile; he supposed he should be somewhat flattered, if he looked young or virile enough to be a new father at his age. McKenna would most certainly laugh when he told her about it later.

"Brody was never much of a handful," He replied, "I can't really say the same of the Peacekeepers though."

He regarded the man in front of him, considerably more at ease that Christopher wasn't merely on his side, he understood.

"You have children?"

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
b69b62 - Christopher Marshall
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke

[Anatra]

Christopher Marshall

Enter Hestia

"It's been taking some getting used to." He tells me. I know that all too well. My little girl has only just started to grow out of the nuisance stage. She's only three whilst my boy is five. They're at good ages, and they get along so well. It's only the beginning of a great partnership, those two. I just dread to think what would happen to them when they grow up. Will they become careers? I wouldn't stop them. I think parents would do anything to have their children grow up safer, and if they knew how to handle themselves they probably wouldn't face any of the problems I have faced. Tough bosses, dark alleys. That sort of thing is all too common, and it's bizarre to think that people actually look at me and expect money to be in my pockets. They'd be quite wrong.

"I appreciate it." His words lift my smile a little. I know the last thing he wants right now is more trouble, so I just had to alleviate some of that. Paperwork is a bitch, and it isn't even productive considering they don't get it right half the time. It's because they literally care very little about the miners, as long as the work gets done. I care, they're human beings.

"Brody was never much of a handful," I raise a brow at him. Never much of a handful. He must have an angel for a child. Either that, or he's just a great dad. Now I see it, he has that look. Maybe I do too, I hope I do. "I can't really say the same of the Peacekeepers though." Something tells me he's not just mentioning the Peacekeepers for nothing. I'm guessing this Brody gets into an awful lot of bother, but then he's never been much of a handful. I can't wrap my head around it, which is why I don't ask questions. I don't want to look stupid.

"You have children?" He asks me, "Yeah, two." I say, a bundle of pride in my tone. I love my childhood without a shadow of doubt over our home. Naturally, but they aren't my biological children. I don't tell people that, though. It's something I don't need - people to think I'm a good guy. I love helping people, but when I make friends I want them to be friends, not people wanting my help all the time. I put a hand into my jacket pocket and fetch out my ID. I open it up and on one side is my name and ID badge whilst on the other I've stitched in two pictures of them. "That's Robbie," I tell him pointing to the little five year old all dressed up for his first day at school earlier this year. It's so rare that I get pictures of anything, so these are special. I can't afford any high-tech machines to take the pictures, so I have to make do with what little the schools provide. I'm sure Nolan knows, given that Brody sounds older than I thought...

"And this is Lily," Now I point to the younger girl of three, before then putting it away. "They're great kids. Harmless." I say that last word with a little bit of bitterness. I know that I am at least a little too soft for this word, but them? Me and Judy are nothing but nice to them. We don't know any other way to teach them. It's so difficult raising a child, especially when we've got so little money, so we have to be nice to them. We don't want to mess them up. "Maybe too harmless. I worry if I'm honest."

I think now is the time to ask questions though, despite my reluctance. Nolan seems troubled from my point of view. Maybe all he needs is a break from all this. "So how old is Brody then?" I ask him curiously. Covertly, I'm wanting to know what happened to him, and why he was in hospital, but I have no idea how to approach such a question. How did your son hospitalize himself? It could be anything. This is why I. Can't. Ask. Questions.

[Artemis]

It was an unfortunate truth that not everyone who had a child was cut out to be a parent. The O'Rourke household, at least according to Brody's observation about many of his colleagues, seemed to be the exception rather than the rule; though they only had one biological son, their so-called 'adoptive' family seemed to grow larger all the time.

When Brody had written to them from the Academy, telling them his bunkmate Marcus (nowadays his best friend of several years) never received letters from home, he and McKenna had made a point of asking how the young man was doing when they sent letters back. When his son had brought Matthew home some months back, though he didn't explicitly say so it was apparent that he had drifted apart somewhat from his own father. In the days Nolan had confined himself to the hospital and Brody's bedside, on top of spending still more time with Matthew had made the acquaintance of his pregnant girlfriend Kyanite; it still tugged at his heartstrings to remember her expressions of genuine surprise when Nolan had shown her kindness and insisted it wasn't her fault for the condition his son was in.

It would seem he would get his wish for grandchildren sooner than he thought, even if they weren't necessarily by blood.

Whatever confusion or reservations Christopher (Chris?) might have had about Nolan's mention of the Peacekeepers quickly vanished as Nolan asked after his own.

"Yeah, two." He replied, and the pride in his voice put a warm feeling of comfort in Nolan's stomach.

He should have guessed as much, that one parent would want to help another.

Christopher dug into his pocket, rather confusingly pulling out his ID until he flipped it open to reveal its hidden treasure. Two small pictures lovingly stitched into the material of the badge holder, of a boy and a girl. They didn't look much like the man that carried them (maybe they took more after their mother?), but there was no mistaking the bond their father had to them just looking at the way his expression changed seeing their faces.

"That's Robbie," Christopher points out the boy, and Nolan's hand came up to hold the billfold to get a better look; the boy was five, perhaps six years old with a mop of light brown hair and wide, pale blue eyes. "And this is Lily." He points to the girl, a few years younger than the boy with darker hair and bottle-brown eyes even wider than her brother's. "They're great kids. Harmless... Maybe too harmless. I worry, if I'm honest."

"How old?" Nolan asked.

Nolan was an old hand at wrangling kids. With four sisters all thinking along similar lines, by the time Nolan met McKenna he'd been playing the Uncle to a litter of girls for years. Having the doctor put his own tiny infant in his arms and telling him he had a son (in a family tree whose branches were heavy with daughters) was simultaneously the greatest and most terrifying moment of his life.

"So how old is Brody then?"

He couldn't help himself but smile a little; both at the fact that there were few things he enjoyed talking about more than his boy, and the apparent misunderstanding that Brody was, in fact, still a boy.

Nolan's hand went into his breast pocket, the place of honor of the photograph he carried on his person at all times. It had been taken at Brody's graduation from the Peacekeeper Academy; Nolan loved Brody's service portrait, but that version of his son was much more stern than he liked to remember him. This shot had been an afterthought, and they'd had to stop the Academy-appointed photographer wandering the drill hall from deleting it. The picture before it had been tidily poised and organized, with Nolan on Brody's left and McKenna on his right; Nolan couldn't remember what he had said, but the photographer had snapped a second shot at just the right moment when all three of them had been laughing.

Brody was dressed in an immaculately-tailored, pristine white Peacekeeper uniform with a gleaming gold badge on his chest, boots shined to a high gloss, looking like he belonged on a recruitment poster... Except for the grin on his face and the mirth in his eyes.

"Brody's twenty-one," He replied, offering the photo if Chris wished to hold it, "Just a bit older than yours."

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
b69b62 - Christopher Marshall
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke

[Anatra]

Christopher Marshall

Enter Hestia

"How old?" He asked me. "Robbie's five, Lily's three. Like I said absolutely harmless." I would go into the details of my curiosities about career lives for them, but I have to remember that I have only just met this man. Brody could have been a career for all I know and bad things may have happened. As much as I don't like asking questions, I also don't like assuming everyone has a better live than me.

Nolan's picture brings it into perspective that I have in fact been a little bit silly, assuming that Brody was nothing short of an infant. Naturally, I laugh at my own mistake a little bit. "Oh, he's a bit older than I expected."

"Brody's twenty-one, just a bit older than yours." He offers me the photo and I take a closer look at Brody. I can see a lot of Nolan in him, I can't tell the eye colour but they seem to resemble each other. "Oh right, he's a Peacekeeper," I pause just for a little moment, nothing short of a quick realization. "Not that it's a bad thing." I save myself a little bit. I don't necessarily cover nerves up in the slightest, but now I see it, Nolan could easily be an ex-Peacekeeper... But then I do the maths, surely not.

"Were you a Keeper, back in the day?" I ask him purely out of curiosity rather than necessity. I don't altogether mind the whole Peacekeeping business, as long as it doesn't affect me. I've seen the way they teach their... prey, though. Sometimes it's quite horrific, but the same can be said about criminals. Once, somebody had stolen a bag of my wife's whilst we were carrying some shopping home and he just ran, and ran and ran. The Peacekeepers obviously seen, I don't know what he was doing trying to commit crimes in broad daylight as well as in the District Square, but he did. And he paid the price.

I couldn't count the beatings he received, but they weren't done by time me and Judy had left.

"It must be difficult knowing he's facing tough criminals on a daily basis." I let it loose, unassumingly. I didn't mean to, it was just a natural thing to ask, or state in this case. The thing is, out of all of the things I could've said, that probably was the word. "Sorry, I didn't mean..." I simply try to say. "I hope your son is okay, I think maybe I should shut up."

[Artemis]

Nolan couldn't help himself but laugh at the apparent confusion that Brody was, in fact, a grown man. Now that he was older, the resemblance between father and son was considerably stronger; Brody had inherited Nolan's strong jaw, disarming smile and --of course-- his father's blue eyes. To Nolan, though, he always thought his son looked more like his mother; if Brody had been born a girl like they originally suspected during his wife's pregnancy, she probably would've been the spitting image of McKenna.

"Oh right, he's a Peacekeeper," Chris replies slowly, and there's a beat as he seems to realize the hesitation in his tone. "Not that it's a bad thing."

Both he and McKenna had long since accepted that people tended to look at them differently when they realized who their son was, often times wanting to keep them at arm's length as if association might draw undue attention to themselves.

"Were you a Keeper, back in the day?" Chris asks, seemingly undeterred by the fact that just on the other side of the door was a grown and capable (albeit wounded) Peacekeeper.

"No, I wasn't," He professed, "But my wife was a Peacekeeper medic for a few years."

Small wonder where Brody got it from, if anyone was ever curious; Nolan knew his wife's soft and informal side, but when McKenna got into that incredibly sexy work mode that showed itself every once and a while, there wasn't a doubt that woman had once been an officer.

Of course, as much as Nolan had turned it over in his mind when Brody had come home announcing he had signed up to join the military, that he might have to expect bad news; that his son might have enemies as a Peacekeeper, that he might be wounded or killed in the line of duty. Even knowing it could happen, it never seemed within the realm of possibility that something like that would ever happen to Brody; he was so responsible, so strong, it would never be his son those terrible things happened to.

... until it did.

"It must be difficult knowing he's facing tough criminals on a daily basis."

Now that Nolan had been faced with the truth that his son wasn't as invincible as he led people to believe, he didn't entirely know what he was going to do with himself when Brody returned to active duty. Mercifully, Chris seemed to sense Nolan's discomfort with the subject.

"Sorry, I didn't mean... I hope your son is okay, I think maybe I should shut up."

Nolan swallowed hard; his heart seemed to have leaped up into his throat.

"... Brody had a close call. But he will be."

Even if he had the desire to talk about it, Brody's superior (a 1st Lt. Rochelle) had caught them and been very specific as to what they weren't allowed to talk about in regards to his hospitalization; she'd had no illusions that they'd remained ignorant, and what it had boiled down to was that Brody had been 'wounded in the line of duty'. Anyone who was rude and curious enough to prod would know no more.

Desperate to change the subject before he started dwelling on exactly how close of a call it was, Nolan cleared his throat and looked up.

"So, what all do you need me to do to set the record straight at work?"

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
b69b62 - Christopher Marshall
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke

[Anatra]

( Sorry it's so short, and that it took forever. I won't be like this again though because everything I've been doing is sorted now )

Christopher Marshall

Enter Hestia

"But my wife was a Peacekeeper medic for a few years." I nod my head. It had to have come from somewhere, especially if Brody was willing to injure himself for them. Maybe it wasn't for them (maybe I shouldn't ask any more questions).

"... Brody had a close call. But he will be."

I think to my own children. I have two, and the records say Nolan only has the one. I wonder if something had happened to one of mine, Lily for example, would I feel the same? Would I feel overwhelmed? Obviously. I can't imagine what it is like to be that kind of parent; the dependent-on-their-safety kind. "I'm sorry, I hope he gets better." I simply and safely say.

"So, what all do you need me to do to set the record straight at work?" I scribble a couple of things down on the paper. "Nothing, I'll sort it all for you. There's obviously been a mistake in the offices." I look down, pondering the repercussions that it will have for me, rather than him. It's nothing to lose my job over, and if it were I wouldn't be irresponsible enough to do that especially with children and a wife needing my help. Probably a slap on the wrist for overwriting work notes. But that is my job, right?

"I hope everything gets brighter over here. I'll see you in a few weeks Mr O'Rourke, I'll check back and see if things are improving myself. I know what it feels like to have the wolf breathing behind you every moment of the day."

With that being said, and everything seemingly done with, I turn on my heel and begin to make my way from the house.

[Artemis]

"I'm sorry, I hope he gets better."

The apology, for all its lack of flare, was genuine enough that Nolan felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly. Of course Chris would understand; there were few things any halfway decent parent feared more than seeing their child hurt, or worse...

Nolan didn’t think for a second he’d soon forget the feeling of the ground dropping out from under him when the Peacekeeper had given him the news that Brody was in the hospital and critically wounded.

Chris’s eyes turned downward to his clipboard, scribbling something Nolan couldn’t make sense of.

"Nothing, I'll sort it all for you. There's obviously been a mistake in the offices." He said, "I hope everything gets brighter over here. I'll see you in a few weeks Mr. O'Rourke, I'll check back and see if things are improving myself. I know what it feels like to have the wolf breathing behind you every moment of the day."

People who weren’t afraid of the senior-most attendance officer, an imposing man around Nolan’s age called Sisyphus, were few and far between; Nolan was fortunate enough to rarely have to deal with him, though from what he understood the man mostly bullied his subordinates and ‘delegated’ all of his work to them. With any luck, he wouldn’t make Chris’s life too much harder if it happened to get out that he was making accommodations for Nolan; he and Sisyphus were at roughly the same level of authority, but Nolan’s reputation as a brawler preceded him.

He’d leave Chris alone if he knew what was good for him.

”Chris,” Nolan said suddenly, before his coworker (friend?) could reach the bottom step of the porch, ”Why don’t you come back tonight after work for dinner; bring the little ones and the missus if you’d like. It’s the least I can do for your help, and I’d appreciate the company.”

McKenna, unfortunately, stood a good chance of working late in spite of the reason for her absence; there was probably a lot to catch up on. Besides, a little company might liven Brody up a bit from his tedious daily routine of sleeping off his pain medications and shuffling around the house like an old man.

Through the door, Nolan could faintly hear Brody’s voice; he was awake again.

_{”… Dad?”}

He looked back at Chris.

”I have to go check on Brody. I’ll see you tonight.”

It didn’t take but a moment to come back into the house, finding Brody half sitting up on the couch looking bleary and confused. Nolan was at his side in an instant, lowering Brody as gently as he could to lie back down. The sleep was still evident in his son’s expression, though his eyes were wild as his hand dug into his father’s shoulder; another nightmare.

”Where’d you go?” Brody asked drowsily, somehow managing to sound both 5 years old again, and war-weary from alarm waking up to find his father gone.

Nolan kissed his son’s forehead, smoothing his hair back comfortingly.

”Just had to take care of something for work,” He replied easily, ”They’re giving me more time off to stay with you.”

Brody blinked slowly, still caught in the haze of the painkillers in his system but seeming to understand.

”Oh. Okay.”

”You try and get a little more sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Nolan reached up to pull the soft throw blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over Brody and tucking him in up to his chest; his son was far too tired, or far too drugged to care that he was being coddled like a child. The hand clinging to his shoulder loosened, and lowered to rest on Brody’s chest.

”Get some rest. A friend of mine is bringing his kids over tonight, and they’ll probably want to meet you.”

His son snorted and rolled his eyes good-naturedly before settling back into the cushions and closing his eyes. Nolan got up, resuming his place sitting sentry at the kitchen table where his son was visible, absolutely relieved that he’d get to stay with Brody just a bit longer.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
b69b62 - Christopher Marshall
bb7d00 - Nolan O'Rourke