Matters of Family

Title: Matters of Family
Author: Blue and Sammi M.
Author's address: Just send it to my new addy sammi4@earthlink.net
Date completed: September 20, 2000
Rating: PG (language)
Category: Angst
Archive: Yes, CL and GP

Disclaimer: Simon and the rest of the gang that you recognise belong to other people, but his family outside of Daryl belong to Blue.

S.O. comes through yet again! I wanted a Simon story - I was given a Simon story. I wanted angst - I was given angst. I wanted a back rub - I was give… oh, uh, ignore that last part. Um, I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did. Blue came up with the basic story outline and I fleshed out the rest cause Blue isn't quite as into the Sentinel as I am.

With this story, I asked officially to be named SimonBabe #1 over on the SentinelAngst List and I made this pledge to my wonderful listsibs. "On my honour I will try to do my duty by Simon. To hurt him, but only in the name of the ultimate comfort. To delve into his background and younger years, but only as a means to give him more depth (not to mention the angst factor). To prove him more than a mere police captain, but as big, brown, warm, cuddly, smarm-filled teddy bear with sinuses from hell. He will be given a warm home of fanfic provided by me and when I'm unable, by Blue. This I pledge on all that is Simon. :-)"

Matters of Family
By Blue and Sammi M.

Simon leaned onto his desk and massaged his temples. He was beat. Coffee could only bring a man so far and then he had to sleep. Some evenings he would nap at his desk - quick imitations of sleep when no one noticed. Today, however, he felt the need to go home. He wanted only a hot shower and a pillow. Hell, screw the pillow - he could sleep on a rock.

It was definitely time to go home.

&&&&&&&&

As he walked into his house, he saw the message light on his machine blinking. "Damn!" He stopped and stared at it momentarily before he shrugged. "They can wait," he muttered to himself as he collapsed onto his couch and flicked on the TV.

The sound of his phone startled him awake and once he had his bearings, he stretched to answer it. "Banks."

"Simon? It's me … Nell."

The sound of that voice immediately cleared his sleep-clouded mind. "Nellie?" He gasped, sitting up straight.

"Simon, why didn't you return my call? I left a message hours ago."

"Nellie, I …" He looked over at the Indiglo™ clock on the wall, "It's 4 am. What's wrong?" Is everyone okay? Oh God … Mom?"

Simon knew instantly that something bad had happened. He hadn't heard from his sister, Annelle, in years. They corresponded through the obligatory cards for birthdays and holidays but never anything more. Not since…

"No, Simon. It's Dad. He, uh… He passed away last night."

"What?" Simon gasped. He hadn't expected this. "But… I mean … what happened?"

"Simon, I'm so sorry. I meant to call you so many times and talk to you through the years, but time just... He had cancer. He seemed fine and I thought we had more…"

Simon was lost. "Slow down, Nellie. Did you say cancer?"

He heard the sobs on the other side of the line. "Yes, Simon. Lung cancer. He just found out last month. He was supposed to have six months, damn it! I… He smoked his whole life. He said not to feel bad - he knew better."

Simon could hear the pause and he knew he was supposed to say something comforting and sympathetic. Instead, the anger inside of him, so long forgotten, resurfaced. "Damn right I don't feel bad." He clenched his jaw and his fists. "How's Mom taking it?"

Nell was quiet for a moment. "Mom's okay. She had met with him several times before he died."

"Mom met with Dad? She hated him after what he did. He … hurt her so much."

Simon could hear the plea in his sister's voice. "Simon, please. Just … just come home. We need you."

"Nellie, I don't know. You said Mom was fine and I have so much work. I really…"

"Simon, please. For me."

A simple tearful request and he knew he couldn't deny it. "I'll be on the first flight out." Simon paused to regain his control. "But just so you know, this is for you and Mom. No one else."

"I know, Little Brother. I know."

Simon hung up the phone with a frown and sat back staring at the ceiling lost in memories. He'd been so young then…

/&/ "Mom, are you sure the store is around here? I think your friend is just a little confused." Simon commented as he rolled down the window and sighed heavily. His mother was always needing him to take her here or there. She refused to learn how to drive and no one in the family was about to force her.

His mother glared at him in irritation. "Simon Alexander Banks, you may have a degree behind your name now, but that doesn't mean you can disrespect your elders. Mrs. Wilkins is a nice lady."

"Yeah, one who went to the store with her children and forgot they were there with her and went home without them."

"Son, if I had those children, I'd forget them too," his mother voiced with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile.

Simon returned the smile and laughed. "I'm sure you wanted to leave me behind numerous times as well."

"Well," his mother replied as if in deep thought.

"Mom?" Simon questioned, pretending to be hurt. "Surely not."

"Yes, it's sad but true. I put you and your sister up for adoption many times."

"What happened? Dad talk you out of it?"

"Ha! Are you kidding? He begged me for years to do it. But you know - mother's instinct and all." She added, nodding her head in great knowledge.

Simon smiled again. "Changed your mind because you loved us?"

His mother stared at him seriously. "Who said anything about changing my mind? No one wanted you, son. God knows we tried. Offered money and all."

"Mother!" The cry from Simon was both shocked and humour-laden. He nudged her with his right elbow and then clutched at his chest. "You're breaking my heart."

"Keep your hands on the wheel, boy, and leave the melodramatics to those that can act."

Simon sighed. "Mama, when am I gonna be a man in your eyes? I'm 24, I have a degree and I'm seriously thinking about asking Joan to marry me." By the aggrieved tone of his voice, Simon'd had this conversation before.

"Honey, I know you're grown, but… But, you are still my baby. When I am old and grey - and yes, I'm getting there - you will still be my little boy in my eyes." Her voice took on that no-nonsense tone the rest of the Banks family recognised, "So, you just better get over all this 'man' business."

"Yes, Mama," Simon sighed yet again.

The younger Banks looked around the area they were in and then checked out the traffic. They were lost. That was easy to see. He figured a little music might help ease the way for him to convince his mother to turn back. He reached out for the knob, diverting his attention from the traffic for just a moment, when…

"Simon, stop!" He heard his mother shriek.

"What, Mama?" He looked ahead in bewilderment. Had he almost hit someone?

"No! Stop, I said!" Before he came to a complete stop, she was already opening the door.

Simon slammed on the brakes to keep his mother from exiting the moving vehicle. "Mother! Are you crazy? Get back in here!"

Cars started honking everywhere at him and he couldn't figure out what his mother was doing. Simon resumed his driving just enough so that he could get out of the flow of traffic and pull over. Locking the car, he started to chase after her, wondering what the hell was going on. As he ran, he tried to remember if there had been any insanity in his mom's family, but those thoughts flew out of his mind as he caught sight of her hiding behind a car.

As he ran up beside her, a soft but strong hand grabbed his and yanked him to the ground. "Get down, Simon, and be quiet!"

"You are hardly the one to talk…"

"Hush up before they hear us," she whispered angrily as she turned to look back towards what looked like a hotel entrance.

"Who?" He whispered, more confused than ever.

"Shh…"

Simon figured she wasn't going to explain her odd behaviour, so he looked in the direction his mother was staring. Not too far away, a man was leaning over to kiss a woman. He was still confused until the couple broke apart and the man turned towards the front and headed for a car in the other direction. It was his father.

"Oh my God," he whispered as he turned to look at his mother. She was horrified. For as long as he would live, he would never forget the expression on her face.

What the hell was his father doing?! A furious Simon began to stand.

"No!" His mother shrieked as she pulled at him.

"I am going to kill him!" Simon raged, pulling away and standing partially up.

"The hell you are! You are *not* taking that pleasure away from me. Let's go get in the car," she said with such determination that Simon was in shock.

"But aren't you going to go over there to talk to him?"

With more dignity than anyone else Simon had ever seen, she answered him, "No. I am not going to give him the pleasure of a scene in public. Just because he's acting like a fool, doesn't mean I have to. I am not going to embarrass myself in front of him and his… his … Damn him!" She cried as the tears started to fall.

Simon was in shock. In all of his twenty-four years, he'd *never* heard his mother curse. "Okay, Mama," he crooned softly as he guided her back to the car. "We'll go home and figure this all out. We'll be okay."

Simon managed to get his bearings and drove them home in a silence that was only broken by his mother's near-quiet sobs. Once inside, his mother insisted that he head over to Joan's place because she didn't want him to hear what was going to happen. Rather than cause her more pain by arguing, he acquiesced and pretended to leave. When she left to go to the restroom, he snuck back in and hid in his favourite listening spot from his childhood.

It wasn't long before he heard his father's car pull up in the driveway. It took everything in him not to go outside and rip his father to shreds like his father had done to his mother's heart. For the first time in his life, he hated someone and it made his stomach turn as he realised that someone was his own father.

"Erica, I'm home. Sorry, I'm so late, but that traffic was terr…" His father's voice dropped off as he saw his wife's expression. "Honey, what's wrong? Did someone die?"

"Not yet, Alex," she answered.

"What?"

"I just have one question. Who is she? I want the name of the bitch who destroyed our marriage."

Alex stood deathly still as an expression of horror came over him. "Oh my God. I…" He could see the tears running down his wife's cheeks and without thought, he reached out to comfort her.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She screamed, backing away.

"I won't. I won't." He promised, jumping back.

"Who is she?" Erica demanded. "Answer me, damn you!"

Alex stuttered in the face of her anger. "I… I … someone from the office. I don't know. It started so innocently - I swear to God. She was lonely - her husband had just left her and she needed a friend. You and I were constantly fighting and she listened. One thing led to another." His eyes pleaded with her to forgive him. "She doesn't mean anything."

"Don't tell me that. Don't say you were willing to throw away our marriage for someone who doesn't mean anything to you!"

Simon's father began to cry. "Oh my God. Erica, I love you. I don't know why I did it. You and I had been having problems and I just needed someone to listen." He fell to his knees. "Erica, please! I am so sorry. Say the word and it ends right here, right now. Just say the word and it's over!"

Erica backed away refusing to even look at her husband. Simon wanted her to strike his father - to do something to make his father hurt the way she was hurting - but she just stood there, shaking. "I want you gone, Alex. I want nothing more to do with you."

In that moment, Simon decided if his mother couldn't forgive his father, then he wouldn't either. /&/

&&&&&&&

Simon looked at the clock on the wall. He had packed his suitcase and called Jim and Blair to let them know he was going out of town. He didn't tell them his reasons for leaving - it was too personal. He just wanted his place to be checked on and he knew he could trust them to do it. He still wasn't sure he wanted to go, but he had promised.

It wasn't like he never went back to his hometown - he'd gone back for his reunion even though that was a disaster and he visited his mother every year in the summer. But, this was different. It was the dead of winter and he was going back because of his dad - a man that he'd pretty much put out of his mind a long time ago.

Simon lugged his suitcases out to the curb to wait for the cab. Even though he didn't plan on staying more than a few days, he liked being prepared for any eventuality. Looking down at his watch, he noticed the taxi was late. He buttoned his collar to ward off the chill and let out a sigh. The sun was starting to come up, but it hardly warmed the frigid air.

Simon thought about his sister as he made himself comfortable in the newly arrived taxi and gazed out of its dirty window. Annelle had been so forgiving of their father. She was older than Simon and was closer to their dad. But still, that woman who'd destroyed their family was just four years older than Nellie and he couldn't understand how she'd forgiven that. Sure, she'd been furious at first, but, less than a year later, Nellie had attended their father's wedding.

Truth be told, he'd never really forgiven her for hurting their mother like that. Nellie had said she wasn't choosing one parent over the other - it was just if she wanted to be a part of their father's life, she had to accept Esmerelda as his new wife.

Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled the number he knew so well. He couldn't believe that his mother hadn't called him about any of this. Why hadn't she told him she'd been talking to his father? How long had they been talking?

"Yes?" A soft voice answered sleepily on the other end.

"Mother, it's me. Simon."

"Oh, baby. Thank God you called. Nell said you were coming. You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Simon could hear the apprehension in her voice. "No, Mama. I'm on my way to the airport now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He could hear her relief at his answer. "I'm fine. I've missed you. Summer seems like a long time ago with what's been happening."

Simon started to ask about his parents' conversations, but stopped himself barely. "I've missed you too. I know we talk every week on the phone, but it doesn't replace seeing you in person."

There was a small silence before Erica started talking. "Simon, I wanted to tell you. Nell said she mentioned that Alex and I had been talking. I thought there was going to be more time and I was going to tell you when I talked to you again."

Simon felt his anger return. "Mama … he … I…"

"I know, honey. I do. He destroyed me, but I moved on," she stated proudly.

"Not the way he did. He didn't even wait to marry her. Then he had those kids…" Simon choked back the angry tears.

"I know, baby. I do. But, baby, he did pay for what he did. He was sorry…"

"Don't tell me you forgave him, Mama. Not after what he did! How did he pay? He had a whole new life. He threw us away and replaced us. He didn't love us." Simon brushed back a tear and looked around him. "Mama, I can't talk about this right now. I'm at the airport, so I'll see you soon. I'll call when I'm in the air and give you my flight info." He pressed the 'END' button before she could protest and sat back totally drained. He couldn't believe that at his age this whole situation was still bringing him to tears. Had those wounds, so old, never healed? "Damn him."

&&&&&&&

As Simon stepped off the plane, his son and his sister greeted him and he surprised himself when he hugged them strongly.

It looked like Daryl had grown another inch or two and Nell… wow! His sister had changed a lot in the last twenty years. Taking the height of their father, just like Simon, Nell had luckily been gifted with the looks and the soft brown complexion of their mother. When he'd last seen her, Nell had seemed almost too skinny, but now she'd filled out and she looked more comfortable in her frame.

"It's good to see you, Little Brother," Nell whispered as she returned the hug. "I've missed this."

"It's good to see you too, Nellie. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just too stubborn and bull-headed about certain things." He pulled away and offered her a tentative smile. "Let's go home, Nellie. Mama's waiting."

Nell's eyes locked with her brother's in surprise. "Have you forgiven me?"

"Uh … I don't agree with what you did, but … well, it's in the past. He's gone now, so let's just put it behind us."

Simon watched as anger crossed over the pretty features. "Simon, it doesn't all just go away. Dad had a wife and children who are still here."

"That's not what I meant. I just want us to … *be* a family again."

The anger left rather quickly and was replaced with a smile. "Me too, Little Brother. Me too."

Simon knew he was leading her on by pretending he'd forgiven their father. He just didn't want to deal with her wrath right then. Hopefully, once they were at their mother's, he could drop the act and have their mother back him up in his anger. He knew his mother would understand. Nell just couldn't see their father as anything other than the heroic figure she had created in her childhood. Simon and their mother knew better.

On the way to his mother's, Simon and Daryl visited. Simon had been surprised to see his son waiting with Nell - he thought Daryl was still at school. He should have known that Daryl wouldn't have stayed away from his grandmother's if he felt she needed him. That had to be the only reason the boy was there because he'd *never* known Simon's father.

As he walked into the elaborate foyer of the house, he called out for his mother. "Mama? I'm here." Being the good cop that he was, Simon noticed all of the changes in the house that he could see while he waited. Erica Banks had always kept a fabulous home, but now the house was tantamount to a showcase.

When Simon was younger, his parents had instilled into him a powerful work ethic. Though they did "okay" thanks to Alex's businesses, the Banks had wanted their son and daughter to take on jobs so they could appreciate hard work. Simon had known that he didn't *have* to work, but he chose to do so to pay his own way for debate club meets and Mock Trial competitions.

Taking in all of the changes in the house since he'd last been there, he knew that his mother was definitely *not* hurting for money. Amazing, considering his mother had never had to work a day in her life.

"Simon?" A voice called from behind him. He turned around and was instantly pulled into the soft arms of his mother where he was assaulted by hugs and kisses.

When she pulled back, Simon could see that age had done nothing to hamper his mother's beauty. The few wrinkles Erica had were around her eyes and her mouth - laugh lines probably, and her bearing was as straight and regal as it had been when she was a debutante. The only true outward signs that she was older were her hair that had finally gone completely grey and her eyes, which held a long-time pain. "Wow. Greeted by two beautiful ladies in less than an hour. I don't know if my old heart can handle it." He leaned over to kiss her cheek, which surprisingly was level to his own, as she playfully hit at him. "Hey, Mama. It's good to see you."

A soft brown hand reached up and caressed his cheek. "It's good to see you too, Baby. Or it would be if you didn't look so bad." Erica paused to take in the rumpled sight of her son. "Simon, you look horrible. Didn't you get any sleep? Are you letting them work you too hard down there in Cascade?"

"Mama…"

"Hush. It's obvious you need someone to take care of you before you drop." She pointed up the stairs and glared at her son. "Go right up to your old room. Daryl has the one right next to it and I'll send him to you with a little something for you to nibble on."

Simon started to argue, but the expression on her face left no room for argument. With his own glare directed at his son and sister who were snickering off on the sidelines, he lifted his bags and headed up to the room he'd had since he was little. Walking inside, he dropped his luggage on the floor and casually checked out the changes in the room. Barely awake, he cleaned up in his bathroom and finally collapsed onto his king-sized bed with an exhausted sigh.

&&&&&&&

The smell of eggs, bacon and homemade biscuits pulled Simon from his much-needed rest. His eyes popped open at the knock on the door and he struggled to sit up as Nell brought in a tray without waiting for his 'come in'. "Nellie, do you realise I could have been in here naked?"

"And?" She lowered the tray over his covered legs. "It's not anything I haven't seen before. Or did you forget who helped Mama with your diapers?"

"Yeah, but that was different. Everything was a whole lot smaller back then," Simon grumbled as he grabbed a biscuit. He looked over the whole spread and whistled in approval. "I know you cooked this cause Mama wouldn't have let me have all the stuff I love and in such huge proportions." He grinned up at his sister. "You always did take care of me, Nellie."

"Spoiled you rotten, you mean," Nell replied as she sat down on the bed with him. "You were mine, Simon. I asked Mama and Daddy for you." She brushed a hand over his face. "I told them I specifically wanted a little brother with big, dark eyes, an adorable smile, lots of brains and half-dimples that I could kiss."

"I do *not* have dimples!"

Nell laughed. "Of course, you don't. You have *half-dimples*. There's a difference."

Simon shook his head, "Only to you, Nellie. That was one of the things I always loved about you."

A sadder look came over his sister's face, "So, what changed? What happened to cause you not to want to talk to me or have very little to do with me for almost twenty years?"

Simon rubbed his head in frustration. "Nell, my love for you never changed. It's just that I couldn't choose Dad over Mama."

"Nobody was asking you to."

"Yes, Nellie, you were. Every time I'd call you, you'd bring it up and I just wasn't ready to see things the way you were." He shook his head. "You weren't there to see her. Mama was so hurt by what he did and then by your actions. I know for a fact the two of you didn't speak for years." Simon reached for the milk on the tray, trying to avoid his sister's eyes.

"That's true, but, after a couple of years, we began to talk again - just not about Daddy." Nell reached out a hand and ran it over her brother's head. "I have missed you so much." She leaned over and kissed his forehead, smoothing the worry wrinkles out of it with her hands. "I still remember when I used to kiss your bruises and read you stories. I remember how excited you were to bring me your poems and when you were older, how you would ask me advice about the girls you liked. You were always there and suddenly … you weren't." Annelle began to sob.

Simon reached out and hugged his sister, being careful of the tray. "I'm so sorry. Nellie, I missed you so much. You were always like a second mother to me. I don't know… I guess I just felt that if I talked to you like nothing happened, I would be ignoring what Dad did." Anger entered his voice and it took everything in him not to glare at her. "He was wrong! I couldn't forgive what he did to Mother!"

Nell shook her head. "No, Little Brother, you couldn't forgive what he did to you."

Simon laughed, "To me? What did he do to me other than destroy my family and devastate our mother? No, he did it to all of us."

Annelle sighed. "Simon, you feel like he replaced you. He had another son."

Simon felt the heat in his cheeks rise. "Me… you, Mother. He replaced us all." This was ridiculous, he thought to himself. "Nellie, let's just drop this for now. Okay? Let's spend this time on something important - tell me what exactly you've been up to for the… oh, I don't know, past 20 years."

&&&&&&&

Apparently, everyone had given Simon and Nell time to catch up. Around four in the afternoon, he and Nell went to down to join the others. Daryl was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich and suffered through his Aunt kissing him bye as she left.

"Where'd everyone go?" Simon asked his son as he walked past, ruffling his hair.

"At either the funeral home or Esmerelda's place. Grandmother wanted you to bring the ham once it was ready," Daryl said, pointing at the covered dish on the oven. "I just took it out."

Simon felt his temperature rising. "I am not going over *there*!"

Daryl perked up at that. "I'll take it. I would love to drive Gram's car. Just tell me the address and I am there." Simon groaned. Daryl had not had his license long enough to drive his mother's Benz - hell, to be honest, *Simon* hadn't had his license long enough. If his mother found even the smallest of scratches on that car, they would all be dead.

Decision made.

Simon groaned as he and Daryl climbed into the car. The only good thing about the whole situation was that he was behind the wheel of a beautiful car. Remembering whose car he was in, he found himself driving well below the speed limit. Luckily, Daryl knew better than to comment.

As he pulled up the long driveway of his father's house, he was surprised at the number of cars. "Lots of people," Simon commented as much to himself as his son.

"Aunt Nell said he was well liked."

"Oh really? And what else did 'Aunt Nell' say?"

"She said that not *everyone* hated him."

Simon shrugged and hopped out of the car after he parked. He didn't want to get into what his sister believed. He was going to drop off the ham, hand off Daryl to his mother and then head back to her house. Hopefully, he could find Erica without running into many people. He followed behind his son and retreated to a corner in his father's elaborate home.

There were so many people at the house. He couldn't get over the crowd that had amassed. Everyone seemed to be genuinely touched by his father. Accidentally, he overheard the conversation of a man and woman in front of him.

"There was no one like him, I say. When my Bill was sick and I couldn't afford a doctor, he paid for it - every penny. I offered to pay him back, but he said not to worry about it - just to go home and enjoy my son."

Simon began to grow uncomfortable. Before he knew what was going on, Erica was in front of him. He soon found himself being pulled by his mother to meet someone. "And this is my Simon I told you about. He's the Captain of Major Crimes over in Cascade. He's the youngest to ever make captain in Cascade's history."

The man in front of him stuck out his hand. Simon shook the hand and looked at his mother in confusion. "This is Bart Haggerty. He was your father's business partner."

"Your dad and I were partners for almost ten years. I didn't even know Alex had another son until last year."

Simon frowned. "I'm not surprised." He turned back to his mother. "Mom, I'd better get back to the house," he said trying to excuse himself. He turned to leave only to find his father's wife standing right in front of him. "Esmerelda," he acknowledged curtly.

"Simon. How have you been?"

"Good. How are you and the kids holding up?" Simon asked, somewhat at a loss for what else to say and angry at being put in this position.

Esmerelda stood her ground unaffected. Though most people shrivelled under Simon's glare, she stood her ground. Her long, black hair silhouetted her soft beige-coloured skin. Her erect stature and clear, focused brown eyes made Simon squirm.

"We are as well as can be expected. It was good of you to come."

Simon was unsure of a response. "Do you guys need anything?"

Esmerelda smiled. "No, we are fine. Are you hungry?" She turned to a miniature, slightly darker and younger version of herself and waved at her. "Miranda, honey, come here."

Simon lifted his hands in protest. "No, Esmerelda. I'm fine."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Miranda, go get a plate for your brother."

The young, beautiful girl moved quickly and before Simon had noticed she was gone, she was back. "Hi, I'm Miranda." She nailed him with her dark, almost black eyes. "Don't *ever* mix me up with Melisende and we'll get along fine." She paused for a second. "Father talked about you all the time. Said you're a cop."

"Yeah, I am." He was further saved from continuing the conversation when someone called for the girl and she turned away with a little wave. Simon sighed as he looked at his father's wife. "Esmerelda…"

"Call me Esme."

"Fine, Esme… I really can't stay long."

The older woman sighed in frustration. "Simon, at least meet your father's children. They are wonderful people. I know a mother is biased, but still…" She looked past him a little and then locked eyes with him. "They want to meet you - have wanted to meet you for a long time."

"Why?" He asked, surprised.

Esme laughed, though it held no humour, "Because you were always first. We were his second everything. I was his second wife. Alessandro was his second son and Melisende and Miranda were his second daughters." She nodded in understanding. "Of course they wanted to meet the one who was always first in Alex's heart. They wanted to see the man whose shadow they lived their lives in."

"I never asked him to do that."

"You didn't have to and if anyone had ever asked him why he did it, he would have denied doing it. But, we knew." She took a deep breath. "Your father felt that he owed you for what he did and because of that, you owe his children at least a few minutes of your time."

Simon sat down in a chair stunned. Esme sat beside him and watched him. "I … suppose I can stay for a bit."

"Good." Twin voices spoke from his left. He lifted his eyes to the sound and saw Miranda and another girl beside her. He gasped and then did a double take - the other girl was a carbon-copy of the young lady he'd met earlier.

"Simon, this is my other daughter, Melisende."

"Hello," Simon stood to greet them. "I'm Simon, your father's oth… oldest son," he finished bitterly.

Esme didn't seem to notice his discomfort as she stood. "I'm going to leave you to catch up while I take care of our guests."

Simon began to panic at being left with the two girls who seemed to be staring into his soul. "No… uh…" But, she was gone before his protest could get past his lips. He turned to face the twins. "Um, what were your names again?"

The girl that he remembered from before and who was slightly taller than her sibling volunteered the information, "I'm Mira and this is Lisse."

"Well, it's good to meet you. Both of you." Not knowing how to begin a conversation, he asked the first thing that popped into his head. "How old are you?"

"Almost 17," Lisse answered.

"Oh, wow. You're just a little bit younger than my son." He looked around for the younger man. "Have you met Daryl?" He asked, hoping to redirect their attention. He was getting very nervous at how deeply they were staring at him.

"You look just like him, you know." Lisse commented.

Simon continued to look for his son. "I do? Most think Daryl resembles his mother. I think we…"

"No!" Mira interrupted irritably. "Like our father does… did." She caught herself with a little sob and her eyes filled with tears.

Simon could feel himself drowning from the emotions. "Yeah, I do favour him, I suppose. Your father was also a big man… tall and stout." He felt like an idiot. He couldn't understand what they hoped to learn from him. He knew they were hurting, but he hadn't seen the man for years. He didn't know his father - maybe, he never had now that he thought about it.

He continued to look around the room anxiously. Where was everyone he knew? He could now commiserate with the felons he brought in when they were put in the hot seat for an interrogation. "Um, what do you guys do beside school? Any hobbies?"

"Well, Mira plays the piano and I…" Lisse hesitated. "I … you're gonna think it's silly," she stopped in embarrassment.

Simon offered the girl a rather forced smile. "No, go on."

"I build and restore old cars like … Papa did," she explained while holding back the tears.

At the words, Simon flashed back to his younger days when he helped his father do just that. "He did love old cars. I remember this one time, he brought home half of a car and told Mama he had found a treasure. It was rusted beyond belief. He spent nearly two years just trying to get parts. Mama told him that car had died years ago, but he was a stubborn man - he wouldn't give up and he actually got that heap to run," he explained with a little laugh.

Lisse's eyes lit up for the first time. "You laugh like him too."

Simon wanted so much to hate them, but… he couldn't hold the past against them. It was their father and mother's fault that things had gone so wrong. "I suppose I do laugh a little like your father." He commented softly.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Mira demanded.

Simon was confused. "Saying what?"

"'Our father.' He was your father too."

"No. He stopped being my father a long time ago."

"Is that why you never came over even when you were in town? Is that why you never called?" Mira hissed angrily. Her young shoulders dropped in defeat. "When he was sick, he asked for you."

Simon was taken aback. "I didn't know that he was even sick." He took a deep, shaky breath. "As for the other, I was busy when I was here. I had to help my mother with things and…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose in an effort to control his anger. "This is ridiculous! I don't need this!" Simon looked in the direction he'd entered the house. "I'm going outside for a smoke."

"That's what killed *him*! I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't and now he's dead!"

Simon had never really thought about what had killed his father. He was so shocked by the girl's words, he turned back towards them. "I… I don't smoke cigarettes. I only smoke cigars," he stuttered.

"Cigarettes … cigars - same difference. They both destroy your lungs. They both are deadly," Lisse almost shouted.

Simon looked at her and nodded, "I guess you're right." Who was he kidding - he knew she was. Still, it wasn't *that* bad. He didn't smoke all that much.

Lisse seemed relieved at his admittance and Simon saw his chance to escape. "Well, I had better get back. I didn't sleep that much last night and I'm really starting to feel it."

Not waiting for a response, Simon slipped out relatively unnoticed and headed home. It was not exactly polite, but he could care less. He had not wanted to come in the first place and nothing that had happened there had changed that feeling. His father's family was just that - his father's, not his.

Besides, how dare those two insult and demean his one vice. Well, one of two since coffee couldn't exactly be considered healthy. Still, he worked out. His doctor could attest he was in good shape and because he smoked, he watched out for all of the tell-tale signs of cancer and went for periodic checks on his lungs at his doctor's suggestion.

As he walked into his bedroom, he stared at the mirror. He didn't look that much like his father, no matter what they said, did he? Something shiny caught the corner of his eye and he leaned over and picked up a model car from his dresser. "I remember you. I was about the twins' age when I put you together." Simon shook his head. "God, at that time, all I wanted was a fast car and a long, open road…"

Simon put the car down. "Damn. How did everything get so complicated. I was a good son - I did everything right." He looked back at the mirror, somehow hoping for an answer.

Deciding he didn't like the way his thoughts were going in the room, Simon walked downstairs to the study. He walked over to one of the antique tables and lifted up one of the many family albums Erica kept on display. He opened it to a well-used spot and found an old family photo. He was shocked to see that the face that looked back at him closely resembled his own. Mira had been correct - he did look like his father.

He turned through the pages - sometimes frowning, but mostly laughing. At one point, his little family had been really happy.

The last picture was just before the break-up - before everything had fallen apart. Everyone looked so happy. His sister had come into town with her new baby and they had gathered to celebrate the new life. The face of his father, however, haunted him.

Simon was now only five years younger than how old his father had been in that picture. He had always sworn he would never get divorced after he'd seen what had happened to his family. But what had happened? It shouldn't have ended up that way, but it did. He should have done so much better, knowing the destruction a divorce could cause.

"I *should* have done better," he whispered to no one.

"Better than what, Son?" His mother asked as she hugged him from behind. "Better than being captain of a very elite department, better than having a wonderful son, a beautiful mother…"

After overcoming his surprise at his mother sneaking up on him, Simon chuckled. "You always could make me laugh." He sobered quickly. "Mama, I'm forty-four. When I was younger, I just knew I'd be a good husband and father. But look at me. I'm divorced, and, these days, I feel like I hardly know my son."

Erica laughed. "I'm divorced and I certainly don't think of myself as anything less."

"But, that's different," Simon sighed.

She pushed him down on the nearby settee and sat beside him. "No, not really. Just different circumstances that caused it. And, about the Daryl thing, what mother or father ever feels like they understand or truly know his/her teenager."

"Okay, fine about the teenagers, but, Mama, the rest isn't the same." He looked deeply at his mother. "My marriage fell apart because, somewhere along the way, I … I lost track of what really mattered. I stopped doing the little things that made my marriage so special. We just seemed to argue all the time and, rather than try to work it out, I just stayed away and buried myself in my work."

Erica sighed at the sadness surrounding her son. "Your father and I used to argue over everything - from the clothes detergent to you kids' school. Your growing up was hard on our marriage because we had put so much of ourselves into your lives that we didn't have anything more to put in us. One day, we realised we had let our marriage get lost somewhere between the football practices and the piano lessons.

"After you went to college, things unravelled even more. I knew it was common for couples to argue, but we argued over the price of a light bulb. Just last week, he and I… just last week… um, … anyway… It doesn't make what he did right, but…" She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I wanted you to hate him. I did then, but I don't any more. Alex was good to me. I received everything I asked for during the divorce." She shook her head and hoped her son understood. "Like I said, he was good to me."

Simon was amazed at what she was saying. "Sure you got the house, but, Mama, that was not being good to you."

His mother shook her head again. "The house, no, but have you ever wondered how I never had to work? How I could afford to fix up the house? How I could afford my car? Your father took care of me even after we were apart. He said he always loved me."

Simon stood angrily. "Money is one thing, Mama, but not love." This was too much! "He *married* her the day after your divorce was final because he got her pregnant, for gods sakes!"

"Yes, but he begged me up to that day to take him back. He said he'd set her and the baby up somewhere else and make sure they were taken care, but I'd never have to worry about them again if I gave him another chance. I refused." Erica tried to grab her son's arm and she sighed when he wouldn't let her. "Simon, he *was* sorry."

"He should have been, but not so sorry that he didn't get married, start over, have a new life." Simon grabbed at his head in frustration. "He didn't give up anything. He didn't lose anything; he just replaced us as if we never existed."

His pacing slowed as he remembered. "I tried to get past it. I never told you this, but I called him the day Daryl was born." He smiled tearfully. "I was so proud that I was willing to try. I called him. I told him that I was proud to have a son. That maybe we could move past this somehow. I wanted my son to know his grandfather." Tears rolled down his dark cheeks. "Do you know what that man told me - what he said? Not congratulations. Not 'I'm so happy for you son.' No, he said, 'So Alessandro's an uncle.' All he could do was shove his family in my face instead of just letting me try to reconcile ours.

"I needed to hear that he was proud of me - that I mattered somehow. But, he could only think of the world in terms of his new family. I was old news."

Erica moved closer to her son and put her hand on his arm, understanding his pain. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't think he understood what he'd done. He wanted so much for you to move past everything, but he tried too hard to draw you into his new life."

Simon swiped at the tears on his face before speaking. "Mama, I know he was my father, but…" He was like a lost boy. "He may have been sorry, but … he did us all so very wrong. He just put us on a shelf and walked away." His voice dropped down to a whisper. "He sent Christmas cards with a picture of his family to me every year until, finally, I stopped accepting them."

She squeezed his arm. "Your father wasn't perfect. God knows, I know that. He wasn't a good husband always. But he did pay for his mistake - every day of his life afterwards, he paid for it."

Simon looked away tired and frustrated at the discussion. "How?"

"He had to live with the fact that his eldest son, his pride and joy, hated him. The son he stayed up nights with during a time when men usually weren't helpful. The son who he taught to build cars, drive and shave couldn't stand him so much that he returned Christmas cards. He had to live with that every day for the rest of his life. And, he died believing that his son didn't care whether his father was dead or alive." She turned his face towards hers. "Simon, he died knowing you hated him. He drew his last breath knowing he had not set things right with you - knowing he never would know your forgiveness."

"And why should he have it?" Simon demanded, even though his anger had deflated, leaving him hollow and empty.

Erica frowned. "Baby, I'm not asking you to forgive him - you're a grown man and that's for you to decide. All I am asking is that you move on. I did. I looked within myself and forgave him." She could see the exhaustion almost rolling off of her son and she took pity on him. "But, that's me and you're your own man. We don't need to discuss any more of this right now. Why don't you head on up to bed a little early. I'll wait up for Daryl and lock up."

Numbly, Simon nodded. He softly kissed his mother's ageless cheek and then headed up to his room. He sighed deeply as he undressed and turned down the covers of his bed. He was tired of trying to understand, rationalise, or please people. He just wanted to sleep … and forget for a while.

&&&&&&&

The rest of the week went by like a dream. Simon was unsure of all that happened during that time. He went through the motions, but felt nothing. He still felt hollow.

During that time, he saw Alessandro from a distance. Their eyes had met and after a moment, they both turned away. He'd seen something in the boy's eyes, but he refused to dwell on what it was.

He could not avoid the twins, no matter how hard he tried. They seemed to be determined to find as much of their father in him as was possible. He finally stayed around them and answered their questions simply to avoid his mother and sister. Simon knew they wanted him to move on differently than he wished and they were not above applying pressure.

He really wanted the week to be over.

Finally, the day of the funeral arrived. Simon wanted to sit to the rear of the church, but his mother insisted he sit up close with the rest of the family. The funeral was beautiful with wonderful speeches from family and friends. He tried not to listen, but the words kept drifting in.

He picked up one of the funeral programmes and started to read. It talked about where his father was born, his life, etc. He kept reading, trying to block out the words he was hearing and had heard since he'd arrived, but his mother's words kept replaying the most. His father had cared. His father had missed him. His father had lost something important.

He turned to see Alessandro looking very lost. He was so young. So close to the age he'd been when his world had gone to hell. Simon looked at Daryl, who reached over and leaned against him, offering support.

Simon fought back the pain starting to overcome him. He and Alessandro had both lost their father. He tried not to let the sorrow take hold. He forced himself to keep reading.

He knew the programme would not mention how his father had cheated on his wife, had broken her heart and lost his son forever. Still…

He read on about his father's life in those twenty years he'd been away - then, he saw it. "Survived by his daughter, Annelle Gwyneth, and his son, Simon Alexander, from his first marriage and…"

And, for some unexplained reason, he lost it. In that moment, he realised that somehow he and Annelle hadn't been erased and he began to sob.

God, he missed his Daddy.

Ende