SIGHT LINES, part 3

Vincent had left Mark and Peter back in his townhouse to rush to his meeting with his solicitor and friend, Samuel Walther.

After he was shown into Sam’s inner office, he found he could not sit down. Anxious about the upcoming meeting, he paced back and forth in the elegantly furnished room. As he looked out the window over the streets of London, the door opened, allowing the office owner to come in.

“Vin, he’s here. Gail put him in the conference room.” Then watching his old friend and favorite client take a deep and unsure breath, he put his arm around his shoulders.

“Buck up, old man, he doesn’t have fangs and he looks like a hard working, business suit who barely has a moment to have any fun. You might find that you both have more things in common than not.”

Vin glared at his friend as they walked out of the office, down the hall toward the Conference Room. Through Walther, Vin had employed a private investigating firm to track down information on Damien’s past. It was through Mr. Walther’s negotiations that Ryan had finally agreed to fly out to England and retrieve Damien himself, but only after allowing Vincent Cade a chance to discuss matters with him.

Now as he felt himself being led into the conference room, Vincent felt oddly disjointed. He felt fear grip the pit of his stomach and he could place no rational reason on it.

“Mr. St. Claire, I’d like you to meet the man who pretty much saved your half-brother some nasty legal problems...Mr. Vincent Cade.”

Ryan stood up, all six foot two inches of his lithe frame, brushing an irritated hand across his forehead and pushing away a stray clump of unruly hair, he extended the same hand to shake Vincent’s.

“Hello, Mr. Cade, I’m glad to finally meet you. Ryan St. Claire, Damien’s half-brother.”

Both men shook hands warily. Mr. Walther excused himself. “I think I’ll leave you gentlemen alone. There is coffee, and scones on the sideboard, and if there is something else you would like, just buzz Gail and she would be more than happy to help you.”

“Mr. Cade,” Ryan said, “thank you for helping my brother. Mr. Walther tells me that you were the one who was responsible for Day calling me.”

Vin smiled slightly, “Yes, I think that family’s important, and Damien needs to have a connection to his. He’s a good boy, basically, just a bit confused, and maybe a little lost, right now.” Vincent took a seat opposite Ryan and motioned for the other man to sit also.

Ryan laughed as he sat down, “I think you have a better impression of my half brother than I do. The little boy who was a brat and used to torment me I think grew up to be a man who is a brat and is still getting great pleasure out of tormenting me.” Ryan shook his head, “Do you know he just up and left one morning a few days after he graduated? No note, no call, I was worried sick, thinking something had happened to him. To him it was nothing more then a lark, he wanted to travel, so he left.”

“I heard he just lost his parents a few months before graduation, too. I can imagine
that was hard for him. I doubt he even gave himself time to grieve, if I’m piecing the timeline properly.” Vin studied the man across from him, deciding that he was armed with good intentions and didn’t want to alienate him... for Day’s sake and for information he could glean himself to help the young man out. “I don’t doubt, though, having lived with him for the past month and a half, that he can take the brat routine to New York stage and walk away with a Tony,” Vin laughed. Then sobering, he added, “Losing his father and mother liked that, maybe he didn’t know how to handle it.”

“He was my father, too, and even though my mother had few good words for him or about him, he always will be my father. Other than Mom, Day is all the family I have left.” Ryan’s voice betrayed his emotions. “When he died, I was expected to make sure that Damien graduated and made something of himself. My father would have wanted that and I owe it to him to not let him just waste away his life.” Ryan glanced out the window over Vin’s shoulder, “I’m sorry,” he said a moment later, “it’s been hard not knowing where he is and if he’s okay. I just want what’s best for him and the only way I know how to do that is to keep him with me and keep an eye on him.”

Vin nodded, “I called you and told you Damien’s whereabouts because it was the only right thing to do. However, in all honesty, I am concerned with Damien returning with you to the States. I’ve settled him down some, made him face up to his irresponsible behavior, and quite frankly, Mr. St. Claire, I’ve gotten him to accept a disciplinary relationship for the past several weeks. I think he’s learned from it, and I think there is more I can teach him with guidance and a firm hand. Have you thought about maybe allowing him to stay in England with me for a year? It might serve his interests better.” Vin saw the eyes harden and raised his hand in defense. “Just give me a chance, that’s all I’m asking. Come to the house and see for yourself. After a few days, maybe we can reassess the avenues best suited to Day’s future.”

Ryan looked at Vin for a long moment and then stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee. Taking it to the window, he seemed lost in thought. Several minutes passed before he turned around and sat back at the table. “Please, call me Ryan, I think we are going to be spending too much time together to be so formal.” Ryan flashed a small smile at the man sitting across from him, before straightening in his chair and hardening his face again.

“Okay, Ryan, and likewise, I am Vin.”

“What exactly is a disciplinary relationship? I don’t care what sort of kinky stuff you are into, but I won’t allow my brother to go down that path again. My father bailed him out enough from some rather questionable involvements with some rather questionable people. I know that’s not what he wanted Day involved in and I owe it to his memory to keep him from that sort of thing.”

Vincent stiffened, his jaw line hardened, but seeing the genuine concern in Ryan’s green eyes, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. “I’m not going to take umbrage with that remark, Ryan, because you know next to nothing about me, my values or my lifestyle. But, let me assure you, you are way off base. Like I said, give me the benefit of the doubt, come to the house, see how Day’s treated, how he relates to me and Aggie, how much happier he can be when he’s limited by boundaries and restrictions. I can assure you that there is nothing kinky or sexual in this relationship. It’s purely instructional and beneficial to this young man’s self-image.”

Vincent glanced out the window, gathering his thoughts, then he turned back to Ryan, “Trust me, Ryan, I would not have contacted you if I had personal, selfish, and sexually debasing plans for Damien. Would I?” He looked directly into the man’s eyes and dared him to answer.

“I would hope not. Who is Aggie?”

Vincent laughed. “Agnes Coletrane is my own overseer. Damien is as safe as a babe in his mother’s womb with that woman keeping watch. She’s my housekeeper. She usually comes by a few times a week, but with Damien, she’s been living in for the past month. I could not have handled him by myself, I’m afraid.” Vincent scratched his chin, smiling at his own memories, “Let’s just say, Day might have ended up in a hospital if I had continued tending to his wounds.”

Ryan laughed, “Thank you for taking care of him, Vin, I know it would have been easier for you to just have him arrested and tossed in jail for that stunt he pulled. Your lawyer was explaining it to me and I do want you to know that whatever I decide, you do have my thanks for caring for him. I will of course pay for any expenses he has run up and anything left from the damages on your car.”

”He’s paid in full already...Damien St. Claire has paid his dues...I think he’s rather proud of that fact, though if you ask him about it, he’ll bitch and moan like a wounded cat, but I’m proud of him.” Standing up, Vincent moved his chair back under the table. “Come on, Ryan, I could sit here for days giving you a report on his progress, but I think you need to meet him, talk with him, and then make whatever decisions you feel necessary. You owe him that much.”

Ryan nodded and stood up. Gathering his small bag, he motioned with his arm, “Lead the way, Vin, and show me what sort of well-mannered young man you have turned my
half brother into.”

As they left the conference room Vincent Cade’s low laugh could be heard throughout the quiet halls, “I said he’s changed, but I can assure you, there is enough of him left for you to recognize.”

Damien cheerfully came down the stairs. He’d heard the car pull in under the front portico and he was feeling good about himself, good about his refusal to just up and leave Halcyon. For the first time in his life, he felt wanted, needed, and changed by circumstances. No longer a mere background image while events happened for and around other people, things were happening to and for him.

Eager suddenly to see Vincent, to maybe casually mention the opportunity to run from responsibility and his strict adherence to the allotted time for remuneration, he almost tripped in his anticipation as he touched the marble tiles.

The front door swung open and several voices greeted him. He smiled past Mark and Peter and sought Vincent’s weathered face. Instead he locked eyes with blue orbs and the smile faded from his face.

The object of his excitement towered over the other men and Vincent pulled the huge door shut behind the quartet. Talking to Ryan about weather in the south of England, when he turned and saw Damien caught like a deer in headlights, he stopped in mid-sentence.

Seeing the consternation on the young face, the confusion, he quickly pushed past the small group and took Damien’s arm, perhaps fearful his young charge would bolt.

“Damien, Ryan’s come all this way to see how you’re doing.”

Ryan took the hint. Moving forward he extended his hand to Damien, “I worried about you.” However, when Day tried to take the offered hand, Ryan pulled him into a huge hug instead.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Damien, I’m getting too old for the games we played as children.”

Vincent watched the young face melt from anger and shock into tightly squinted eyes and trembling lips. He was right, Damien loved his older half-brother, more than he would ever want anyone to know or suspect. Part of him felt a certain pride and pleasure in having done the right thing by bringing these two back together, but another part of him, one he simply chose not to contemplate, ached with some unknown dread.

“Lordy, what have we here?” Aggie’s voice came out cheerfully. “No wonder we’re dining like royalty tonight, we’ve a special guest, I see.”

After introductions were extended to include Agnes Coletrane, Mark and Peter showed Ryan to his room. Everyone was alerted to the dinner hour fast approaching by Mrs. Coletrane. There was camaraderie in the warm scents that filled the house and the busy bustle of getting settled in.

Damien waited and watched until his brother was up the huge staircase. "Why? Why did you bring him here?"

Catching his upper arm, Vincent pulled him into the office down the hall. Closing the door he pointed to the couch gesturing the command to "sit."

Damien sat more so from being too stunned by the whole proceedings, than any eagerness for complete obedience.

"Family. It's important, Damien, and gauging by your reaction and Ryan's, I'd say you two have something pretty special despite the obstacles placed between you during your childhood. I won't apologize for it."

"I used to think he walked on water. I used to look up to him when I was a kid, my big brother, but I realized he hated me, blamed me for taking Dad's love away from him."

"That's not the way I've read the man since I met him. I see someone who looks upon you as his responsibility, someone who loves and cares for you and what your future holds. I want your word, Damien, that you will meet him halfway while he's here. This might be the most important few days in your whole life. Promise me, you'll give him a chance to set things right with you."

When Damien didn't answer, only biting down hard on his lower lip, warring with himself, Vincent pushed, "Deeeemooon," warningly.

"Yes, sir. I'll try." The quiet acquiescence convinced Vincent all the more that he had made all the right moves, so far. He only prayed the next few days worked out in all their best interests in the end.

The dinner proceeded fairly well, Vin would later reflect. Mark and Peter balanced conversation back and forth like a fine tennis game, making sure that Ryan and Vincent got the ball enough times. Agnes, never one to need encouragement when she had something to say, brightened the table with small commentary on the various platters and dishes set out.

Day had been quiet at the start, but soon, with the urging of his brother, had started telling a story about his protest days. That's when the trouble started.

"So, we, Jack, Alphie, and me, climbed up on the roof and were heading toward the skylight over the meeting room .....," Day said his face animated as he entertained everyone at the table, or at least almost everyone.

"To no doubt cause some sort of destruction against people just doing a job," Mark chimed in.

Day ignored him and continued, "but Alphie weighed like three hundred pounds, I swear," he laughed at his own memories.

"Another spoiled fat brat, no doubt," Mark was itching to knock Damien down, for some unknown reason.

"Mark! That was rude and uncalled for," Aggie said, glaring at her son. "Day is just telling a story about what he and his friends used to do."

Mark snorted, "Humph!" He was suddenly cut off as a roll hit him squarely on his chin.

"Fuck you, Mark Coletrane!" Day yelled, standing up so quickly he knocked his chair back, "I don't care what you think about me or my actions---now or then! You are nothing but a stupid gardener! You can go to hell!" his voice rising in anger and frustration.

Then remembering Ryan across the table from him, he seemed diminished suddenly as though all his enthusiasm were nothing more than an air-filled balloon now punctured by a pin.

Hating himself for breaking down and allowing Mark to bait him, he now decided to war with the world. "You all must think that about me since you were just sitting there letting him say that about me! I'm out of here, I don't need you, any of you!" He stormed out of the room, ignoring Aggie's cries for him to come back and Vin's booming voice ordering him back.

Vin glared at Mark before rushing out after Day.

Aggie rose in a dignified manner and jerking her thumb towards the kitchen, Mark Coletrane, red-faced and embarrassed, followed her.

Peter Bailey picked up the pot of coffee and began pouring himself another cup. “Would you care for some, old man? Vincent has this stuff shipped from New York. I think it’s the one thing he can’t do without that’s American.”

Ryan watched in amazement as the young-looking doctor chattered away, as though totally oblivious to the muffled sobs and pleading coming from the other side of the house, or harsh words coming from the kitchen. Starting to rise, he was checked in mid-flight.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. The situation is more than in good hands. You’ll see, just trust me.”

Several moments later, Agnes returned to her chair followed by a sheepish-looking Mark. Peter gave his lover a scathing look, and then turned to Aggie. “Splendid meal, mum, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Agnes seemed to relax with the compliment, casting a worried glance at Ryan. “Oh, dear, what you must think of us.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Coletrane, I’m afraid I’ve grown up around Damien. He was well-known for his dinner tantrums.”

The dining room door opened and Damien St. Claire, red-eyed and shamefaced entered. Walking over to his overturned chair, he righted it. Standing by it, he turned to Aggie, “I’m sorry, Aggie, for ruining your dinner,” his voice trembled. Then wetting his unsure lips he glanced out the dining room door as though taking his cue from some unseen prompter.

He looked at Ryan, “I’m sorry, Ryan. I apologize. I’m so sorry for behaving so badly.”

He wasn’t done, yet, not as he worriedly looked towards the open doorway, “Mark, I’m sorry for throwing food at you.”

Mark looked up quickly as a hard toe met his shin, he grimaced at his mother, and then smiled, “I’m the one who’s ashamed, Day, I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s for su….” <Cough> At the sound of the cough, Damien fidgeted and looked out into the hall. “No, I should learn to control my temper. I’m sorry, Peter. Now, I think I’d better get to bed, I’m not fit for civil company tonight.”

As Day turned dejectedly to leave, Ryan rose from his chair and intercepted him. Wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, he whispered in his ear, “I’m proud of you.”

Damien pulled away, seemingly amazed by the response, and ran the back of his hand across his nose.

Ryan reached a finger and thumb out and playfully twisted the red nose, “Use your handkerchief, brat, didn’t I always tell you,” and Ryan pulled one from his pants pocket and handed it to Day. Damien smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically.

<Cough> Remembering his instructions, Damien’s face fell. “I’d best be off to bed, good night, all, and once again, I’m truly sorry.” With that final adieu he was out the door. Whispering could be heard and moments later, Vincent Cade reentered the dining room as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Ryan sat back down, too stunned to say anything. The Crème Brule finished off the meal and Vincent noticed the way Aggie stole away the last remaining cup before anyone could ask for seconds. He also noted how Mark sat sullenly through the pleasant conversation, totally ignored now by both Aggie and Mark. No doubt in Vincent's mind that Mark would receive a further tongue-lashing from his lover on the ride home.

Mark and Peter helped Aggie clean up as Vincent suggested Ryan join him in the living room. A promise from Aggie that she would make a fresh pot of coffee sent them off to discuss the one subject on both men's minds, Damien St. Claire.

After they were seated in both winged back chairs in front of the roaring fire, Ryan seemed to relax a bit more.

"I have to hand it to you, Vin, I've never seen Damien handled so adeptly. I mean, if you could have seen some of the dinners we had at Dad's place. I remember one time when I was sixteen and Day was only nine, he got pissed because I wasn't spending enough time with him. It was the summer Dad wanted me to choose a college and somehow the dinner conversation tilted that way. By time dessert was served, Day looked liked he could spit fire. I think Dad saw it coming, Lord knows they were used to his tantrums. Elizabeth already feigned a headache and left, but Dad thought maybe with just the three of us 'men' Day would hold off."

"You mean he threw these dinner tantrums regularly?" Vincent asked, both amazed at the lack of discipline in the St. Claire household and saddened to know the small child was given so little true attention.

"Unfortunately, yes. Damien only saw Elizabeth and Dad at dinnertime, from what I could tell on my short and sporadic visits. Well, he started throwing food all over the place. Dad yelled, but it never stopped Day before. He finally steamed off to his office and asked me to join him. I told him I'd be there in a bit. As soon as he left, I tried to calm him down, but nothing I said could get through to him. I finally just joined Dad.”

"Why did you desert him then?"

Ryan looked up sharply at the censure. "You have no idea how it was with Dad. He pitted us against each other in all competitions. I mean, you can't play a game with Damien that he doesn't HAVE to win. With him it's become life and death and we've Dad to thank for that. The competitive fight he instilled in me only hardened me to those kinds of people. I believe in working hard and giving my all, but I know you can't win them all and there's nothing wrong with that. Damien still believes what Dad ingrained in him."

"Here we are, Mr. Cade, Mr. St. Claire, a nice freshly brewed pot of New York's finest, " Aggie said as she entered the great living room and put the tray with a silver coffee pot, fine china cups and saucers and a small tray of chocolate covered wafers on the table in front of the fireplace.

"Would you like me to serve, Mr. Cade?" she asked, all British propriety for the benefit of their American guest.

"No, Aggie, thanks and good night," Vin said to her, "great dinner."

"Indeed, Aggie, better than I get in some of New York's finest restaurants," Ryan added.

Agnes beamed, but as she turned to leave, she paused.

"Excuse me, sir, it might not be my place, but I think there's something you should know about this afternoon and I think Mr. St. Claire might find it of interest, too."

"What's that?" Vin urged her on.

"Well, some of Damien's friends came by for a visit," seeing the hardening face, she raised her hand, "No, No, let me finish. I was worried about the lad myself, so after I served them lemonade and refreshments on the patio..." she hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"Yes, Agnes?" Vin said, gently.

"Well, sir, I sort of accidentally flipped on the intercom by the barbecue grill. I was a bit worried about him; afraid he might get it in his mind to take off with his buddies, you know how young men are, like the wind. Well, sir, I was plumb pleased and quite amazed when our Damien refused, saying he owed it to you to serve his full time and pay back the debt." She smiled happily wiping her hands on her apron.

"Can you believe it? All the trouble he was giving us at first running off with nowhere to go and he gets offered a place and a ride and friends to see him through and he refuses. I think we've done good, Mr. Cade, I think we've done the boy quite decently."

Ryan noted the "our Damien" and although his concentration and attention were directed toward the housekeeper, he subtly watched the pride and pleasure on Cade's face.

"Thank you, Agnes," Vincent said. "Thanks for the cautionary measures, too. I know those on and off switches can be quite fickle and the slightest touch can flip them on." He laid his head back, let out a hardy laugh, and was soon joined by both Agnes and Ryan.

"Good night, then, sirs. Pleasant dreams," and she was off like a happy angel who had just saved a life.

"I've never seen so many people put Day's well-being before everything else." Ryan said, as Vin poured them both hot, steaming cups of coffee.

"He grows on you," Vin said, half-jokingly, like fungus. He let out a deep vibration. "How'd he do in school? In college?"

"Oh, he slid through Business which was his minor. He has a head for the stuff. Aced his major, too, Art, not painting and such, just the appreciation crap and history of it." Ryan took the offered cup and saucer, "Thanks."

"So he did well, then?" Vincent wanted some clarification.

"Actually, he graduated by a prayer, not so much from the grades, but the stunts he pulled...skipping classes, arguing with his professors, not doing assignments. I think he only graduated because Dad finally talked to the dean. I'm sure a sizable donation showed up in their coffers, eventually."

"I guess you're losing me, here, Ryan. Seems like Damien is competitive and does well for himself, he's not dumb and has a sharp mind. If you father was so hard on him and you, why didn't he make him buckle down, take him in hand, so to speak?"

The blue eyes avoided the brown ones and, instead, turned towards the blazing fire, dancing in tune to the wind down the flue. "Let's just say there are some things best left forgotten, Vin. It's not my right or place to say and I'm hoping it's long buried in Day's mind. I loved my father, but he made mistakes."

Vincent decided not to force the issue, there were things he could garner himself from closer observation on how the brothers related to one another and from things that Damien let slip from time to time.

A peaceful silence came down around them, both men lost in thoughts, one plans for the future, the other regrets from the past. The evening melted quietly around them in blazing warmth and they found a common ground in their concerns for one seemingly lost young man.

The remaining days with Ryan were interesting to say the least. Daily outings to Stonehenge, Salisbury Cathedral, and the old Sarum village made for pleasant conversation. Damien showed eagerness around Ryan, not only to please him, but to show how much he'd changed. There were no disruptions; save for the night they went to the pub.

Damien had challenged Ryan to a pool game, after explaining to Vincent how they played when they were children, Ryan teaching Day how to shoot after he pestered him for days on end.

Vincent sat at a table nearby and kept the pints coming, laughing at the occasional banter between Day and Ryan. The game was close and it wasn't until Damien's final shot that the walls of communication came crumbling down.

Day stood poised, the Q-ball waiting patiently for his agile fingers to ease the stick into play. Ryan started whispering to Vincent, telling him to watch how long Day took to make the shot. Finally hitting the ball, he watched with a smile as it gently tapped the eight ball sending it into the called pocket. But seconds later, an eager waitress gently bumped against the table causing the still moving cue ball to fall into one of the pockets, scratching the game.

"Damn you!" Day let out without a thought to the poor girl, red-faced and embarrassed.

Ryan came up behind him putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Easy, Day, it was an accident. We'll forget this game."

"Dammit, I won. It's her fault, but I made the shot. I won." Damien seemed oblivious to all the eyes upon him.

As Ryan made to pull him back to their table, Damien jerked his arm away. "I won. I tell you, I won."

"Okay, Day, you won," Ryan didn't care about the game and he just wanted Day to sit down and calm himself for now.

Hot tears welled in the hazel eyes, threatening to spill over. "I won." This time he said it quietly, with a regret born of years of never pleasing someone.

Strong hands rested on Day's shoulders from behind. A soft breath touched his ear as he was guided back to the table. "Let's sit down," was all Vincent said.

Vincent would have handled it differently if Ryan had not been there. However, since matters were not fully concluded regarding the arrangements for Damien, he didn't feel it was his place now to discipline or meet out punishment.

"I think you need to calm yourself, Day. That poor girl deserves an apology before we leave. I think you owe her that much."

"NO!" Day blurted out, with no thought to the eyes once again turned towards him.

Raising his third finger in a gesture of complete contempt, he mouthed an obscene expression to the crowded room and then dropped his head on his arms on the table in complete despair.

Vincent looked to Ryan, watching closely now how the older brother would intercede, check this continued defiance against all civility. Ryan just raised his hands, as though not quite sure where to proceed from here. Vincent sat there, not interfering, waiting for some sign that Ryan would and could handle him.

Both older men sat up straighter as the young waitress came up to the table carrying three large, chilled pints of ale. "Sirs, I'm really sorry about ruining your game. Management said these are on the establishment with their and my apologies." The girl could barely get the words out, so distraught and unnerved by the whole proceedings.

Damien jerked his head up violently, ready to continue with a declaration of his feelings on the subject, but Vincent had lost all patience.

"ENOUGH!" he said it firmly and loudly enough for the other two men to hear and a few heads turned from nearby tables, but not enough to draw the attention of the entire room.

"Thank you, miss," he said to the frightened girl. "That's kind of the establishment. We'll be right back." Then stepping around the young girl, ignoring Ryan's silent protest, he pulled Damien up by the arm.

A soft yelp escaped him, but a few words from Vincent, and he quieted, "Not one word."

Vincent led the frightened young man along the back corridor of the pub and out the back door. Ryan watched as several men nodded approvingly. Disgusted with his own ineptness at handling the brat, he pulled the last of his pint and grabbed the full one the waitress had just put down. "Why, Damien, why?" was all he could ask himself.

When they returned fifteen minutes later, Damien's eyes were slightly red and his facial muscles taut. He walked gingerly towards his chair and only sat when Vincent placed a hard hand on his shoulder and pushed him into his seat. Ryan noticed the wince as he made contact with the hard seat.

"It seems Damien has something he'd like to say to you," Vincent said in a tight voice. Ryan noticed the way he began to down his own pint of ale.

"I want to go back to the States with you, Ryan. Can I?" Damien raced the words out as though some timekeeper would cut him off mid-sentence.

Ryan looked questioningly at Vincent, who merely shrugged his shoulders as though he didn't care one way or the other.

"I thought you didn't want to go back just yet. I thought you liked it here," Ryan queried.

"No, I hate it."

"I think we'd best take this discussion to your office, Vincent, if you don't mind." Vin shrugged again as though whatever they wanted to do was fine with him. Damien took another long pull on his ale and was the first to rise. "Yeah, let's go."

Agnes heard the slamming of doors, the loud voices as the three men entered the great hall. It wasn't hard to piece things together; there was something very, very wrong. She bustled down the hall after them, grabbing the door to the office just as Vincent was ready to close it on the trio.

"Sir, did you need anything? Coffee, tea, hot cocoa?" She asked as she peered into the small office and tried to detect and gauge whether the Bobbies would be needed here tonight.

"No, Agnes, thank you. We're fine. Go on to bed." Then Vincent Cade closed the office door and Agnes stood there with her mouth hanging open. She had never, in all her years, seen a man as sad as Vincent Cade.

"You were fine with things this past week, Damien?" Ryan asked, making sure he understood what was going on. "Why this sudden change?"

"I don't like being told what to do. I don't like the rules, the restrictions, the punishments. I'm not a child. Besides, what's to say he won't grow weary of keeping me to the rules. What's to say he won't just push me out down the road? What do I do then? What do you do when you begin to depend on someone so much for your strength and they pull that strength right out from under you. What the hell do you do then?" Damien paced back and forth as the enormity of this one decision was so heavy upon his shoulders he just couldn't hold it quietly in place.

"There are never guarantees in life, Damien," Vincent said quietly. "Besides, it's about tonight, isn't it? You just couldn't accept the fact that you were wrong. You wouldn't apologize and accept responsibility for your actions."

"I won't be punished and forced to do what I don't believe in," Damien yelled. “The waitress bumped the table. I had the game in my pocket and she ruined it.”

"Keep your voice down, young man. You are still under my roof and however precarious our relationship is right now, however near termination, you will lower your voice, watch your language and show respect." Vincent sat down behind his desk, determined now to accept the chain of events with aplomb.

Ryan sat on the sofa merely observing both men. Realizing for the first time the effort this man must have put into his brother to change his attitude as much as he had within the last few months. Seeing the time and demands his kid brother would place on him now, the damaged soul still needing repair, the bruised ego always needing to be assuaged and rubbed, the hungry thirst for attention and love and commitment. A small tremor shook his body as he finally joined the conversation.

"Damien, if this is just because tonight your ego was shook a bit, I think you might be making..."

"What? I thought you wanted me back. You sent people looking for me." Damien was unnerved, totally fragmented.

"Of course I want you to come with me to the States,” Ryan said, rising to meet Day on his rounds of the room, “but I want it to be because you want to and you've decided to behave and get your life in order. If you're not ready for that, then we're back to where we were three months ago."

Damien walked in front of Vin's desk waiting until the brown eyes met his, then with all the certainty of a young man at war, he said slowly and distinctly, "I want to go home with you, Ryan."

"Well, then we'll leave in the morning," Ryan said.

Damien tried to take a deep breath, but it hitched in his throat and it almost sounded like a sob. Then with a cold, distant voice he said, "Thank you, Mr. Cade, for all you've done for me," then he turned and left the room.

Agnes fritted about the downstairs, pretending to be busy in the living room. She saw Damien race up the stairs, tears bursting out of him as soon as he was assured he was out of hearing distance. What is going on in there, she wondered, and resumed her vigil in the hall.

.

Vin sank wearily into his chair at the desk, shaking his head slightly. He reached over and pulled out a crystal decanter of whiskey and poured himself a glass. “Have a seat if you want, Ryan” Vin said, holding out the decanter in a silent question.

"Yeah, thanks, I could use one right about now?" Ryan said, sinking into the chair in front of the desk. Taking the offered drink he leaned back and tried to gauge his host's demeanor. "Do you mind telling me what the hell happened out back of the pub?" he asked a moment later.

"When I got him outside and told him that the was out of line and he needed to apologize to the waitress and to you, he blew up. Told me he wants to go home with you, is tired of my rules, of my restrictions and me in general," Vin said, tossing back the drink, shuddering as the liquid burned down his throat. "He has made his decision and made it very clear."

"Did you strike him?" Ryan asked as he took a swallow of the drink, not quite sure if he was ready for the answer.

"I have never struck him," Vin said.

"Well, he looked 'tender' when he came back to the table. Kind of careful about sitting down."

"Ryan," Vin began, "there is a big difference between spanking someone for discipline and hitting them. I have never hit Day and I can't imagine ever hitting him." Vin looked a Ryan for a moment as if judging his reaction, “I did take him into the privacy of the car though and he was spanked briefly before I tried to talk to him. Is that a problem?” Vin asked, his tone clearly saying he didn’t care one way or the other.

"I'm not criticizing or condoning your methods, Vin,” Ryan said, holding up a hand as if to stop any further comments. “I think you’ve obviously been good for him. I've seen the change for the better these past few days and I tip my hat to you. But I'm also lost as to why he suddenly seems hell bent to return to the states with me." Ryan put his glass down on the desk and rubbed a tired hand across his brow. "I'm just not sure he's going with me for all the right reasons."

"Of course he's not going with you for the right reasons. He is mad at me, mad because he was punished tonight and was going to have to do something he didn't want to do," Vin snapped back. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued calmer than before, "but, Ryan, it doesn't matter why, Day said he wants to go back with you. The only thing you should be concerned about is handling him once you get him back home."

"Handling him? I want to spend more time with him, sure. I've promised myself that. He and I need to find some common ground again and enjoy what we once had, what we could of had if Dad had been more willing. I’m looking forward to spending more time with him. But I can't baby-sit him twenty-four hours a day. No way...I have a business, a new financial group I'm just getting established. He'll have to just act his age and put his childish behavior behind him." Ryan nodded his head, as though he was trying to convince himself it was very simple and straightforward.

Vin looked at blond-haired man for a several minutes and then said very simply, "Do you honestly think that's what's going to happen? He doesn't need a babysitter; he doesn't need you to be with him 24 hours a day. But, he does need you to help set clear expectations for him and help and support him in reaching those expectations. His age has nothing to do with it, Ryan, that is just who Day is and what he needs."

"Well, Day had the same advantages that I had. He was dealt the same hand I was, if not a better one. I made something of myself through hard work, determination and self-discipline. He needs to do the same. I won't give him 24/7 and I won't discipline him. But I expect him to come home at reasonable hours, get a job, and share some of the responsibilities of living with me, at least until he proves to me that he can be trusted on his own. I don't have the time you have Mr. Cade to be holding his hand constantly."

Ryan noticed the aggravation and defensiveness that had crept into his voice. He had the good grace to blush slightly and lower his eyes. "I'm sorry if I sound defensive about this. I never really thought he’d come home with me. It’s taken me by surprise and I don’t honestly know if it’s going to be better or just a repeat of the battles last time, ending with him running off again.” Ryan looked down into his glass, swirling the little whiskey that remained, “I thought he was gone for good, I imagined getting a call from some police officer from God knows where telling me they’d found his body in a couple of years.” He drained his glass and put it heavily on the desk before standing up. “But, he’s made his choice and I think you and I just have to live with it and hope it’s the right one.” With that, Ryan headed for the door. "Good night, Vin. We’ll be off early in the morning. Do you think Mark could drive us into London?"

"I'm sure, if not I'll drive you there myself. Good night Ryan, I'll see you in the morning." Vin said, his voice taut with pain.

“Thanks,” he said and slowly made his way out of the office.




Agnes served the hot breakfast in the dining room to Ryan and Damien. Mark joined them as he accepted the responsibility of driving them into London. He seemed overly cheerful, in light of everyone else's dour mood, but Agnes didn't pay him much mind and Day, having little appetite, merely toyed with his food. Ryan St. Claire was the only one who dug into his meal with the relish of a man not used to many home-cooked meals.

"Well, thank you very much, Agnes, for the fine breakfast and meals and, also, for taking such good care of Damien. Vin told me about how you nursed him back to health." Ryan got up, ready to make his departure.

"Oh, it was my pleasure, Ryan. Damien's a joy to have around," she said, sincerely.

Damien went up to her and hugged her tightly. "I'll miss you. Thank you for everything."

Mark eagerly rose and headed out, "I'll bring the car up front. See you in five minutes."

"Where is Vin?" Ryan asked.

"Mr. Cade is in his office," Aggie offered, watching Day.

"I'll go say my good-byes." Ryan headed down hall. Noticing that he was alone, he turned back to his brother, "Coming, Damien?"

"I've said my good-byes." Then the young man turned and bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time yelling, “I’ll get my bags.”

Agnes shook her head at Day, indicating her confusion at his actions. Grim-faced, Ryan shrugged his shoulders, indicating his own uncertainty in the situation and headed for the office down the hall.

Damien came down the stairs with his bags just in time to meet Ryan heading out the front door, picking up his own bags that were neatly stacked nearby.

Agnes came out of the kitchen, "I'll miss you, laddie, you stay out of trouble, you hear me." She swatted his backside with her towel. Then looking down the hall, she grabbed his arm, "Go and talk to him, Day."

"NO! He made his opinion of me perfectly clear and I’m tired of it. I don’t have anything else to say," Day said. Picking up his bags he hastily followed Ryan out to the driveway.

Mark took the bags and stacked them in the boot of the Mercedes. Ryan and Day both piled into the back seat.

Vincent Cade sat alone in his office. From the window overlooking the front drive, he watched the navy blue sedan being packed, the two golden heads in the back seat.

Closing his eyes, he spun the swivel chair away from the window and tightened every nerve ending in his body as he heard the car quietly shift gears and pull away. As the sound of the engine diminished, he gave himself a slight shake, and bent his head again to his work.

Ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t concentrate on the security proposal from a new client and didn’t remember what he had just read. He rose from his chair and wondered through the living room into the hall. He passed Agnes who pointedly ignored him. Deciding that he didn’t wish to confront her right now, he continued his walk out the front door and into the spring-like morning.

As the sleek sedan neared the main road, a stiff silence had fallen on the interior of the car. Damien stared out the side window his head turned in deep and lonely thought. Ryan stared at Mark's head catching his eyes periodically in the rearview mirror. Mark merely feigned indifference, no patience when dealing with this particular young man.

As they turned right on the outer road, a small sob pulsed through the air. Ryan turned his head sharply; grabbing Day by the arm he pulled him around, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "What, Day, WHAT do you want?" he asked harshly.

“I don’t know!” Day yelled back. “I don’t want to be with you, I don’t want to go back to the States. I’m sorry, Ryan, I wish it was different, but I don’t want to go with you. He's the only one who ever made time for me. I ….. I just ….. I don’t know!” Day said, kicking the seat in front of him, his frustration strongly evident.

Ryan looked at him for a minute and then nodded his head, “It’s okay, little brother, I understand. Mark, stop the car please." Mark braked and pulled along the side of the road. “Turn around please and let’s head back to the house.”

Mark nodded and turned the car around slowly, not saying a word.

Ryan pulled his brother firmly in a bear hug and memorized the moment. Pushing him away, he grabbed his chin roughly and said, "I think this is the right call, Day. It’s not that I don’t want you to come home with me, but I think that man can help you become the person you should be. I love you, kiddo, but you can be so much more. But, I don’t think I’m the person to help you."

Day saw the house and the gates approaching quickly. “Mark, do me a favor and just let me out here. I can walk the rest of the way; it’s not far at all. You need to get going, don’t want to miss your flight.” Ryan gave him a questioning look and Day smiled, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to run or anything. I just need to get my little speech prepared to convince Vin to take me back.”

As the car slowed to a stop and Mark got out to get the bags, Ryan hugged his brother again, “I don’t think it will take much convincing at all.”

Day exited the car and smiled, “I hope not.” Then taking his bags from Mark, he said to the older man quietly, “Bet you’re happy to see me NOT go, huh Mark?”

The other man did not respond and just glared at him.

As the car pulled away, Ryan stuck his head out of the window, “I’ll call as soon as I get home.”

Day waved until the car was out of sight. Then, taking a deep breath, he picked up his bags and slowly made his way to the open, front gates.

Vin had just walked out of the front door, when he looked up. He could have sworn he heard a car door slam in the silent morning air. A moment later, he decided that his mind was playing tricks on him and he continued his walk up the driveway toward the road. He didn’t have a destination in mind, just felt the need to clear his head and put the last month into perspective. Maybe he would call Day and Ryan tomorrow to make sure they got home okay. He needed to make sure that Ryan knew he could turn to him if he had questions or problems with the young man.

As he walked, he noticed a movement along the high hedge that blocked the road, a small, golden bobbing ball. Stopping, he focused his attention through the green, thick foliage as the barren spots indicated a shape heading towards the gate. Then the lithe figure turned up the driveway, bags clutched tightly in his hands. The easy stride of a confident young man turned into the slow, shuffling gate of an unsure child facing a stern parent as he saw Vin.

“I was wrong,” was all he said.

Vincent stopped, frozen on some plateau of space and time, lost in his own disbelief in this change of fortune. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then in his clear, commanding voice, he said, “Come on, Damien, you’ve upset Mrs. Coletrane enough with this nonsense. Let’s go into the house and calm her down so we at least have some hope of getting lunch today.”

The hazel eyes looked up sharply, surprise and relief at the easy acceptance of his return. The brown met those orbs across the distance and neither backed down…neither ever would.

Vin walked closer, and took the bags from the younger man, “Come on, Damien, hurry it up,” he said, turning and walking toward the house briskly.

Day jogged a couple of steps to keep up, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“We still have the little matter about the other night in the pub up for discussion, young man.”

“I know, I know,” Day said, “why am I not surprised you wouldn’t let that go?” There was no anger, no resentment, no dread in the statement.

The soft voice of Damien St. Claire resonated with joy and an eager acceptance of his place next to Vincent Cade. He had finally found something that was right for him, someone who would always firmly place him in the best light, take the time to adjust him to show off his better side. He had found someone who cared enough to clip his wings---yet teach him how to fly.

THE END

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