#my boy big help. my son big helpy

[dnangelic]

daisuke deserves at least one zealous american friend that calls him big helpy i think

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 3)

A/N: Heeeeeeey...How y'all doing?....I know it's been a couple weeks when I said days but a part of this just did not want to be written! Also, this one is a bit of a beast, just over 5,200 words. This is the final part of this lil mini series, I hope y'all enjoy and the conclusion is satisfying for you guys.

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Prompt: Mike gets a couple visits, Shay has some news and Armando makes a decision.

Warnings⚠️: Cussing, Mentions of bad parental relationships, uh.... I think that's it for this one.

Mike Lowrey was no stranger to being called into back rooms for an off the books meeting. What was unusual was the CBI agent waiting for him when last time he checked none of the cases he had been part of lately had anything to warrant federal attention. Well, besides the one with his son but he had been cleared almost a full year ago now and Julie had corroborated his story. Nah, this was something new.

“Officer Lowrey, I’m Agent Garrett with the California Bureau of Investigations. Please have a seat.” She was standing at her full height on the other side of the table while gesturing to one of two chairs in the room, the only one near him. He saw straight through her bullshit tactics to make him feel like she was in charge and had the upper hand.

“It’s Detective Lowrey and think I’ll stand. Now why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what the hell you want.” Her jaw tensed and he just barely managed to hold back a smirk. She wouldn’t get what she wanted by using the same perp tricks he had been using when she was still in diapers. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter.

Coming clean, she began, “I’ve been put in charge of running a task force out in LA, similar to your AMMO squad here. Our goal is to find and stop cartel drug from entering the country, maybe stop a few murders while we’re at it.”

So this was about Armando, just more recently than he thought. Damn son of his was definitely payback for the hell he raised when he was younger. If he was back on his shit, he might not be able to help him this time.

“Sounds like a good idea. I wish you luck,” he stated, feigning ignorance as to what this was really about.

“Your son Armando Aretas has many connections on the west coast that could be useful. Figured I could use him to knock down some of my open cases.”

She clearly had found out their connection, but he still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news lately, but my son isn’t here in Miami. He’s been on the run for the better part of a year. I don’t know where he is.”

“You’re his father.” Agent Garrett takes the chair on her side of the table. “If anybody could find him, it’d be you. You’d know where to look right?” The flattery, the subtle leading questions to confirm what she believed and the sitting gave her away.

She was desperate.

If he had to guess, those open case files were all big cases that had her boss breathing down her neck. She’d probably been given an ultimatum with her job on the line and now she was desperate to do anything that would get her back on top, including working with a wanted man.

Mike sat. “What are the terms?”

“Terms?”

“What does Armando get in exchange for helping you?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Terms are you don’t go to prison for aiding and abetting a murderer and he doesn’t get a bullet in his head immediately. Don’t know if you know this but cops aren’t a big hit in prison and I’m betting that’s especially true for you.”

“Don’t fucking insult me, please. Aiding and abetting implies I know where he is and I’m actively helping him. I’ve already told you I don’t know where he is. But like you said I’m your best shot at finding him. I’m also your best chance at not getting your men killed and losing him again. I’m not doing this shit without some assurances on his end. So I’ll ask again. What does he get for helping you?”

She shook her head. “You know when I came up with this whole thing, I did my my research on you. Figured I should know who I was getting into bed with. Everything I read told me you were one hell of a cop, always got your guy and made Miami just that much safer. Are you, this great cop, really going to bat for a murderer like him?”

That was where her approach was faulty. She was trying to appeal to his cop side, but he was a father first. “No, I, a father, am protecting my son.”

“I can offer him protective custody, knock some time off his sentence depending on how fruitful his tips are.” She offered lightly.

Too lightly. This was her throwaway offer, the one she knew was shit but was hoping he’d take anyway. So he called her bluff.

“He won’t come in for that. He had that deal with me already. All the shit that went down last year? The bodies dropped had to be put on someone and he got ‘em since he was a convicted felon, one that was alive and a part of the mess. Not to mention he ran off and became a fugitive. He’s looking at almost double what his sentence was when I arrested him. You’ll have to do better.”

Agent Garrett seemed to be debating with herself. She let out a heavy breath,”I’ve been authorized to grant him a special deal.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“What kind of deal?”

“The kind that puts my ass on the line.”

Something about this whole interaction was bugging him. “Tell me something. Why are you willing to put your badge on the line for someone you clearly can’t stand?”

“I don’t trust Aretas. But this isn’t about me. Its about making my city safer. His intel could be the key to shutting down major operations. He has connections everywhere, and that’s what I care about. I’m not putting myself on the line for him, I’m doing it for my city.”

“You sure you’re not doing it for your bosses? They up yo ass about getting shit done?”

“I proposed using Aretas. They were against it. Said we were cleaning up just fine but I’m tired of cleaning up after the fact and only getting low level dealers. I want to cut this thing off at the head.”

“At the end of the day that’s my son. I need to know that somebody has his back. Why should I trust that that’s you?”

“Like I said this is my proposal. My bosses made it clear that if he fails I fail. He gives me the wrong intel, he leads us astray, he turns on us, I’m fired. I’m just as invested in his success because I have something to lose too.”

“What’s the offer?”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Lowrey?” Shay swallowed down the feeling of nausea, hoping it was just the nerves making her feel this way.

“He’s not in at the moment, but I’m his wife Christine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shay hesitates. Could she do anything? Hell she wasn’t sure what this Mike Lowrey could do for her either. She flew all the way to Miami, and for what? Some detective Armando had left the name of in case she needed help? This was a bad idea. She knew he was a cop, and after looking him up a supposedly good one, but how could she trust him when he socialized with a murderer? Ignoring her own dalliances with the man, she could only think about the fact that Detective Mike Lowrey had sworn to arrest people like Armando, not be someone they trusted.

She felt overwhelmed for the millionth time in the past month and a half and was debating just leaving when Christine offered, “why don’t you come in? Mike should be home soon and you can wait inside for him instead of in the heat.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the heat, Christine's sweet voice coupled with the endearing British accent or the way her face screamed warmth, but she found herself saying, “yeah. Yeah okay.”

Christine opened the door wider for her to enter and Shay marveled at the inside of the house as much as she had the outside. This guy was definitely a dirty cop. There was no way he was able to afford this on a detective’s salary. What the hell was she getting herself into?

“Please have a seat,” she gestured towards the couch.  It looked like it was more for the aesthetic than actual use but she was pleasantly surprised to find it very comfortable. “Would you like something to drink? I have water and that disgusting stuff my husband calls sweet tea,” Christine joked.

“Water is fine,” she replied with a smile. Shay watched as Christine stepped past a wall into what she assumes was the kitchen. The creeping sensation of nausea hit her once more. Digging in her purse and finding a ginger chew, she didn’t see Christine come back in the room with a bottle of water. Almost instantaneously she felt relief, so maybe it was all psychosomatic. Just her nerves going haywire.

“How far along are you?” Shay startled at the question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“It’s okay. What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

“I saw the chew and just assumed.” 

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Some assumption based off just a ginger chew. What if I just like them?”

“Honestly the chew was just the cherry on top for my assumption. You hold yourself the same way my sister held herself when she was pregnant for the first time. A bit unsure, scared definitely, but ready for war all the same.”

Well, damn. She didn’t know she gave off that much with just how she stood.

Ignoring how unexpectedly open she felt, she answered Christine’s question from before.“Thirteen weeks.” Suddenly Shay realized how this could look, a random pregnant woman showing up looking for her husband and not telling her what she wants, so she quickly explained. “It’s not your husband’s!”

Christine laughed brightly, “Oh darling the thought never crossed my mind. Mike may have once been that guy, but he’s not anymore. He’s a good man.” Shay kept her doubts to herself.

“Christine? Who’s car is that out front?” The man she assumed to be Mike Lowrey was juggling a duffle bag and struggling to get his keys out of the door, not once looking in their direction.

Smirking like it was a game, Christine replied, “It’s a rental.”

“Why do we need a rental?” He finally looked up, noticing Shay in the room. She could see his guard go right back up.

“Mike, this is Shay. She was hoping to speak with you,” his wife explained to him.

“Do I know you?” He was blunt but not unkind with his words, something she hoped would continue in their conversation.

“Mike!” Christine admonished before turning to Shay with, “Please, excuse Mike. He can bring his interrogation tactics into other parts of his life sometimes.”

“It’s okay. If a random woman showed up saying she needed to speak to me, I’d probably question it too.” She was hoping her understanding would get her some traction and not immediately thrown out when he found out why she was here.

Mike still held caution in his face. “So…?” He left the obvious question unspoken, wondering who she was and why she was here in his home.

Shay paused. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up and didn’t want to say anything in front of his wife in case she truly had no clue her husband was a dirty cop. She may have been desperate enough to find this guy,  but she wasn’t going to be the one to ruin this poor woman’s marriage.

Luckily Christine picked up on her reluctance to speak in front of an audience and excused herself. “I’m going to head upstairs for a moment, give you two some time to talk.”

While Shay relaxed, Mike tensed. Once Christine was gone, he questioned her. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I was told if I ever needed anything, I should find you.”

Mike carefully focused his attention on sitting his duffle near the armchair, going to take a seat himself. He might not be looking directly at her anymore, but she knew all of his attention was on her as he spoke. “Who the fuck told you that? Better yet, why my house? Why not meet me in the station?”

Ignoring the second question, she replied, “Armando Aretas.”

Mike’s head snapped back to her. She was almost concerned for his neck with how fast he moved.

Continuing at his silence she said, “I figured you wouldn’t want to discuss him at work.”

“What about him?”

“He was in LA a few months ago.”

He first whispered to himself, “Dumbass don’t listen.” Then he spoke louder, clearly to her this time, “What does this have to do with you and why you’re here?”

She wasn’t sure where to start. How does one tell a dirty cop working for one’s murderer baby daddy that you need him to tell said baby daddy you were pregnant? “We were…together. I’m pregnant now.” She hoped he would catch on without her spelling it out but he didn’t.

Instead, Mike blinked. “What?” A million unidentifiable emotions ran over his face before he carefully shut it down, facing her with no emotion at all now.

“I am with child, in the family way, carrying a bun in the oven, whatever you want to call it.” There was still no response from him so she continued her rant, “look I’m not asking for him to come back or pay for anything. I’m fully prepared to take care of this kid myself, but not even trying to tell him was weighing on my conscience. So I figured if I found you like he said, you could pass on the message for me. I just need to be able to know I did everything I could to let him know.”

She had prepared for a lot of responses to her plea. Anger on Armando’s behalf, a dismissal, hell even laughter at her audacity, but his next words were ones she somehow missed in her spiral. “I’m not in contact with him.”

Shay tried not to be hurt at his response, not for herself, but for her baby. Okay, well a little bit for herself. She was in love with the man-yes, still- and knowing he truly didn’t leave a way to contact him again crushed the little bit of hope his note had left behind. Why would he send her to Mike if it wasn’t a way to get in touch with him? “So why would he tell me to find you?”

A pause.

“Armando’s my son.”

The statement was so far from what she was expecting to hear that she paused. “Wait so you don’t…you don’t work for him? With him? Whatever.”

Mike laughed loudly, “nah, I don’t work in that world. I stand by the badge.”

“So how did he…?” She trailed off, confused.

“Look our situation is…complicated, but if he sent you in my direction I’m gonna help you in any way I can. I mean, I’d love to get to know you and be in my grandchild’s life if you’ll let me.” His words were reminiscent of the night she had asked Armando about his family. He too had called his relationship with his father complicated.

Despite the unknown of it all, his offer was partly the reason she had found Mike. A family for her child, something she never really had. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” It may not be exactly what she was looking for, but she would take what she could get. At least her baby would have some connection to their father’s side of the family. But she still had a question, one that had no answer now that her assumptions were corrected.

“So if you aren’t dirty, how do you afford living like this?”

Mike let out a laugh louder than the one from before. “I’m a trust fund kid. Never really had to work but all I’ve ever wanted was to be a cop.”

“Sounds like one hell of a trust fund,” she scoffed.

Turning serious he impressed, “One that continues to grow from a few investments made along the way. This kid will have that same freedom. They’ll be able to do whatever they want in life and never have to worry about money.”

That statement alone almost made her cry. She didn’t have much growing up, wondering if she and her mother would even be able to eat everyday. When she had found out she was pregnant, despite making more money than her mother did she found herself worrying her child would have those same experiences.

She may not have Armando, a partner she’d hoped to have, but he had made sure she had everything she needed.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Habitual but flexible.

That was Armando’s motto. Habitual in the precautions he took but flexible enough everywhere else to not create patterns. Patterns were how you got caught, and Armando refused to be put in another cage. He always double checked his locks when he left his place, checked his surroundings before leaving and arriving at his place so as not to run into his neighbors. The less people who could identify him the better.

Which is why seeing his door wide open as he turned onto his street was so unsettling.

Normally he would just leave town, dump this alias and start over with another elsewhere, but there were a few things he didn’t want to part with. Upon his first return to Mexico, he had managed to find his mother’s emergency stash and in it was a photo of the two of them before he was forced out of the prison when he turned six. Despite his conflicted feelings on his mother’s choices and the lies she told him, he still loved her and this was all he had left of her.

If she were around she’d chastise his sentimentality.

He also had a letter his father had written him when he left Miami that he kept because even with the complexity of their relationship, he still wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know him. He wished he could have done things differently. That letter may be his only chance to know his father, even a little bit.

The last thing was a photo of Shay. He had taken it one morning before he left on a polaroid camera she had lying around. The sun had been rising and he remembered wishing what they had could be real, that he could stay in bed and wake up with her instead of having to run out and lie all the time. It was the only thing he had left of the only relationship he’d ever have again.

So he weighed his options. Either he went in and fought whoever was there, grabbed his things and hopefully made it out in time to not get caught, or he left now and hoped whoever it was left without calling for backup so he could get his things before leaving town. He either risked his freedom or he risked losing the only items that reminded him of his humanity forever.

He pulled his gun and carefully made his way into the apartment he’d called home for a couple weeks.

“Don’t shoot, it’s just me.”

Armando relaxed, but kept his gun in his hand. “What are you doing here Detective?” His tone was snippy, as though his father speaking to him was a bother. He knew that wasn’t true, but it was like he couldn’t help the animosity that came out when he spoke to his father. No matter how much he’d love to try with the man, he’d just get so angry about it all that it came out confrontational.

“What? A man can’t see his son?” Mike didn’t rise to the obvious bait of his tone, instead trying to lighten the mood with a tease.

Armando simply raised an eyebrow at the deflection. “Not when that man is a decorated detective and his son is a fugitive,” he coldly stated. He needed to know what Mike wanted so he could get on with his life. Who knows how many eyes are on the man, he was risking Armando’s freedom, not that he seemed to care. Irritated at the lack of concern for him, he accused, “you risked the badge once just to let me go, you won’t risk it again, not even for me. It means too much to you.” I don’t mean enough to you went unsaid but not unheard.

“Armando I’d risk everything for you.” The fight left Mike, and he sighed, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my son and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but that shit means something to me. Our relationship means something to me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my father so I told myself I wouldn’t have kids cause I didn’t want to repeat the cycle. But then I found out about you. And despite the fact that circumstances made it so it isn’t easy, I still don’t want the cycle to be repeated. I love you man. I’ll do whatever you need me to, to prove that to you. Including walking away if you say no to my proposal.”

There it was. The real reason he was here now, he needed something like always. Armando put his gun away in exasperation. He was so tired of just being used that he couldn’t help but get a jab in. “Whatever man. This don’t mean shit to you. It’s all transactional for you, I’m good enough to help you get what you want and that’s why you come around. So what is it this time?”

“Is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” What the hell else was he supposed to think?

“If you did, you would have come to see me in prison without needing my help on a case.” He argued before quietly following up with, “I would have been enough of a reason to visit.” He hated when this stupid hurt boy routine flared up. He looked weak, like una puta.

Mike stood and stepped close to Armando. Refusing to back down, Armando met his stare head on, ignoring the way his throat was getting tight and tears were pooling in his eyes. “Armando I never needed you on those cases. I knew that if I could get intel from you and put you down on paper, it would help you out. I was trying to help.” He blinked and a single tear made its way down his face. It was too much now and he had to look away.

Mike placed a hand on his shoulder, continuing, “I love you. Nothing is more real than that. If I had known you would take my help as me using you, I never would’ve asked for your help.”

Facing his father once more, Armando spoke lowly, “Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado?” He didn’t explain what he meant, knowing his father understood what he was asking.

“Nada me hubiera importado más.” Mike asserted.

He nodded, finally having an answer to the question that had been burning inside him. He focused on the reason Mike was in front of him, not the emotions his answer stirred in him. “What’s the proposal?” He asked much more calmly this time around.

“LAPD is starting up a team like AMMO. They were hoping to recruit you to be a part of it, use your knowledge to help stop cartel drugs from entering the states.”

“And go back in a cage? No I’m good.” He shook his head, a clear no coming from him.

“You wouldn’t be arrested again, you’d be put up in an apartment. Free to walk the city after an initial probationary period of just work and home. After that, there would be twenty-four hour surveillance, random drug tests and check-ins. Eventually you would become a private citizen.”

It sounded like a trap. “If I don’t give them what they want I get arrested right?”

“Yeah, but I have all the faith you’ll be great at it. Plus I made sure it was as ironclad for you as possible.”

“Why would I agree to this? Sounds like a lot could go wrong and land me back in prison. If that happens I’m never getting out again.”

“You aren’t the killer your mother made you into. You only did any of it because she fueled you with rage and ideas of revenge before she pointed you at a target. If you were really a killer, you would’ve killed me anyway. You live by a code, and only do what’s necessary. No more, no less.”

Sometimes when he was feeling really low he’d think about what his life would have been like if he’d had a normal life. Would he have chosen violence anyway? He’d like to think he’d hav e chosen to protect. Maybe be a firefighter or an EMT cause he was still an adrenaline junkie, but maybe he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. If his father was saying the same thing he thought, then maybe he could believe it to be true. Before he could think on it, his father spoke once more, shifting his whole world.

“Besides, Shay’s pregnant. We not giving another generation of Lowrey these bullshit daddy issues.”

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Six Months Later

“Marcus we ain’t got time for that shit.”

“I just asked the man a question!”

“No, you used the question as a cover to try and buy some damn skittles.”

“Oh so now you the skittle police? I thought we worked narcotics?”

“Yo ass ain’t supposed to have that shit and you know it. Don’t try to make it out like I’m the one that’s going overboard.”

“Aye Mike what would they call the skittle department? The rainbow division? Don’t worry everybody! Mike Lowry is working the rainbow!”

“That’s homophobic.”

“It’s the slogan! What else would it be called Mike?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Man fuck you-“

“Your presence really wasn’t needed-“

“I’m just trying to be a good friend-“

“This is a moment for my family-“

“And now I’m not family to you?!”

“You called my family fucked up remember?”

“Yo son was tryna kill us and his mama was gonna let us burn in a fire!”

“Are you pendejos done?”

“Mike! That mean assholes right?”

“Yeah he just called us assholes. But Imma let it slide cause he got to be high on that new father shit to call me an asshole.”

“Nah I just think he don’t respect you. That’s what you get for not raising him. My boys would never.”

“Marcus!”

Shay knew this could devolve again if she didn’t get their attention. “Guys! Do you want to meet her?”

The men focused their attention on the baby Shay was holding against her chest. Marcus visibly melted at the sight, Mike simply softening his shoulders with a small smile. 

Armando joined Shay, leaning on the bed using a finger to trace down their daughter’s arm. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on his daughter. “This is Amada Rose Lowrey.”

“Lowrey?”Mike coughed.

Armando shrugged. “I wasn’t actually an Aretas, I was supposed to be a Lowrey. Figured she and I could claim our real family name.”

Mike nodded. “That’s cool man. Real cool,” he choked out.

“Awe Mike,” Marcus cried.

“Mm-mm Marcus. Stop it right now.”

“But Mike he’s taking your last name!”

Ignoring his bumbling partner, Mike walks over to Shay, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “How you doing Mama?”

“Extremely sore, but happy.”

“Well you did good, she’s beautiful.”

“You wanna hold her?”

Knowing his father’s aversion to holding babies, he goads hims, “Yeah Papa, wanna hold her?”

Surprising them all, he said, “You know what? I will.”

Shay handed her daughter over to Mike, making sure he supported her head correctly.

Armando joined Shay on the bed and wrapped her in his arms now that she wasn’t holding the baby. He simply watched his father holding and whispering to his baby girl with fond eyes, knowing his daughter would know nothing but love and presence from the man. They would have a real relationship right from the start. He and Mike themselves had been working on things, talking through the lies and anger and getting to a better place.

“How’s work? They give you any time off?” Marcus asked him.

In the end there hadn’t been a choice. He was going to be present in his child’s life, no matter what and sneaking into LA would just get riskier every time he did it. If he didn’t get caught just trying to get to his family, he would’ve gotten caught because if how much he would’ve been there to see them. And he’d be damned if he was raising his child from behind bars so he took Agent Garrett up on her offer.

He turned to face his uncle, replying, “Good, we wrapped a case a day before Shay went into labor. I’ll have about a couple weeks at home with the girls before I’m expected back.” 

It had somewhat surprised him how seriously Marcus had taken to being his uncle. The man was supportive of his new role with the LAPD and called almost as often as his father did, checking in and making sure he was being safe. Seeing him at the hospital now wasn’t a shock at all.

“I’m just glad they gave him any time at all,” Shay interrupted. As his employment with the LAPD wasn’t under normal circumstances, he wasn’t sure if they’d grant him time at home with his girls. Agent Garrett had stuck her neck out for him once again and gotten him twelve days exactly.

Armando leaned down and kissed her, forever grateful for the woman who stood by his side despite his past. She had lost a couple friends when they found out who he was, the ones that stayed had definitely judged her and never truly came around to him as a person. She never wavered though, taking it all with grace and holding his hand as they planed for their future. He couldn’t wait to ask her to marry him.

Amada let out a cry, disrupting his internal debate on the pros and cons of asking her right that moment. He knew it probably meant she was hungry again, so he shifted his hold on Shay so she could get the b baby again and feed her.

“I think that’s a cry for mommy,” Mike chimed as he passed the baby back.

“Yeah Mike you ain’t got the right equipment,” Marcus tossed out.

Mike turned to Marcus incredulously. “Now why would you say some dumb shit like that?”

“You don’t!”

Armando turned his attention from the bickering men, whispering to his little family, “Here they go.”

Honestly, though? He wouldn’t trade his family for nothing.

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog/like! What did we think? I have a few other ideas in mind for Armando but I'm not sure how they'll play out, so I'm CAUTIOUSLY open to prompt from you guys for drabbles. Please keep in mind that I can't do smut.😅

Translations:

Una Puta - A bitch

Si lo hubieras sabido, ¿te habría importado? - If you had known, would you have cared?

Nada me hubiera importado más. -Nothing would have mattered to me more.

Pendejos - Assholes

Taglist:

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Um... is it okay if I ask for a short story on how Matt and Spring Jr met Lefty? :\/\/

Matt couldn’t tell what was and wasn’t real anymore. According to the doctor who took care of him at the hospital, he had some sort of severe mental breakdown, that led to the stupid idea that a parasite was living inside him and he had to get it out by cutting himself open.

He did wonder how the hell he got to the hospital, as he remembered that gross little thing looking at him, then everything went dark—

No. No. The doctor said it wasn’t real.

He did also recommend therapy.

Like anything was wrong with him.

The more and more he did think about it, the more and more it seemed to be a nightmare. A bizarre nightmare, one induced by a form of stress, maybe anger psychosis, that was what the hospital psychologist said.

The only reminder was the scar.

The scar was itchy again, Matt had to resist the urge to scratch it like a mad animal, as it was both still sensitive and healing.

He hated looking at it, it reminded him of the thing. It wasn't neat either, in some spots it was darker and more jagged. He wore anything to cover it, baggy shirts usually fixed not having to look at it too long, he tried not to touch it at all.

Another negative? His job put him on leave.

Without pay.

The nerve.

Matt completely erased Springtrap, not wanting to work on the game anymore, he hoped there was another game he could work on at some point but most people hadn’t hired him onboard.

It was just a bad dream, he reminded himself, he popped two pills of a pain reliever in his mouth, not caring that he already had two before, and went outside for the first time in two weeks.

The only thing he wanted was alcohol.

It was the only thing that let him sleep now.

He had to drink himself into a comatose state to get any sleep that wasn’t disturbed.

Meaning he often woke up feeling gross.

He hadn’t seen Jason in a few days, considering how he did help, getting some groceries then left in the beginning, saying he needed to take it easy.

Like he could.

Life wasn’t easy.

He was picking out exactly what he needed and went to the checkout to pay.

“Daddy!!”

That couldn’t be.

No. No. He reasoned, it has to be some other disgusting brat calling for their father.

He was just on edge for no good reason.

He left the store, walking back to his apartment, he kept drifting into flashbacks of everything, it seemed too painful and real to be a dream.

But it couldn’t have been real.

“Excuse me?”

He would just figure out what the hell to do next.

“Excuse me!!”

Matt realised he was being addressed, he turned and saw a red-haired man with very pale skin, something that was strange was the golden eyes he had, they were almost the colour of a setting sun, entrancing in a way. Standing next to him was a teenaged boy, with messy blonde hair and green eyes, the boy stared at him looking kind of annoyed almost. They had been in the same supermarket Matt was just in, as they had shopping bags, the guy even had a backpack strapped to his back.

“Did you drop your wallet?” The man asked him.

“No I didn’t,” Matt curtly answered, hating this guy was stopping from getting home.

“Are you sure you didn’t drop it? I found a black wallet and I think it's yours,” the man was showing him a wallet that looked like his.

Matt reached to his pocket.

Fuck.

It was his wallet.

“Turns out it is, I'll take that,” Matt took it from the man, immediately opening it to check for any lost money.

“Fucking rude.”

Matt was completely taken off guard by the comment.

“What??”

“You're fucking rude,” The man repeated, “Didn't even thank me, I could have stolen your wallet you ungrateful prick.”

“Let it go, walk away...” The teenager grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. Matt guessed that teen was his son, but they didn’t seem to share any characteristics, aside from both of them being lanky.

“I feel sorry for the people in your life, I've only known you for two minutes and I already hate you, imagine being your mother or some shit, she'd be ashamed of you, asshole,” The guy turned and walked away, the teenager followed him.

Matt huffed, how dare he.

“Daddy!!”

Again? Seriously??

“What is it?”

“Daddy! Daddy!!”

He had the awful realisation that wasn’t his imagination.

He saw the guy and teenager running back to him, Matt suddenly felt like he needed to run, so he did.

Unfortunately, the guy caught up to him quickly, grabbing his shirt collar and stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Shit! Look, I'm sorry if you feel like I was rude.”

“Hey Alec, look it was fauxpology, sound familiar?” The guy asked.

“Yep.”

“Alright, let's see what the rabbit says... I might have found you.”

Found??

“Let me go!!”

“Daddy!”

“You need to come with me.”

“No I don’t,” Matt struggled to pull away.

“Oh yes, you do...” The guy spun him to face him and pressed his hand against his temple.

“Sleep.”

Matt suddenly felt heavy in his legs, drowsy like he was pulling from reality.

Then everything went dark.

“Jesus you didn’t have to put the guy to sleep...”

“I felt like I had no choice...”

“So what are you going to do?”

“The same thing as anyone, I will offer help.”

Matt finally could open his eyes, he was looking at a white ceiling, he wondered if he was in the hospital again and the thought disgusted him.

He looked to the side and saw a blurry black shape, he blinked and it cleared.

“But he talked to you rudely honestly.”

“Well if my theory is correct... he's been through a really awful experience...”

“Lefty, picking up the broken souls everywhere.”

“Hello, Matthew, back with the living are you?”

Matt froze, the black shape turned around and he saw a very familiar golden eye staring at him.

“We need to talk about your son.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“Explain this,” Matt realised it was like a bear, but a robot, an animatronic, like Springtrap, but he wasn’t so decayed, like he was modern and more aimed at kids, the animatronic turned around and turned back with a familiar sight.

“Hello, Daddy!”

Matt screamed, wanting to get away. Lefty had the little bunny.

The bunny that crawled out of his body, the dirty green fur and the big silver eyes, was looking at him.

“Explain why I found little Spring wandering around the street ten days ago with no adult supervision, covered in dirt, blood and some other strange fluid I couldn’t figure out... But I figured it out!!” The animatronic nodded.

Matt looked horrified, the way it moved was so lifelike like it was a person in the suit.

“The fluid was mucus... disgusting... but I've figured it out, you somehow... got a parasite... and you share DNA in some way.”

“Nah, he was pregnant.”

Matt heard a chorus of laughter.

“That's why you wear protection.”

“Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die.”

“Don’t make fun of him kids,” Lefty placed down the little rabbit.

“Lefty don’t bullshit, the dude was pregnant.”

Matt grumbled, but they had appeared to stop laughing for the most part.

“That's impossible, he's a male, but this is Fazbear Entertainment... that pretty much explains everything and anything... the same brand range that offers getting your body hijacked, losing your body parts, death robots on demand, doll alarm clocks and a mention for the dolls that like crawling in your mouth.”

“You're laughing at me,” Matt sneered.

“Oh, um, no, I believe you, I've dealt with these things before!” The robot answered, “Spring Jr is the less hostile... but you... no one would probably believe you, you most likely believed this was a dream... Spring recognised you somehow...”

“You brought it in public??” Matt asked, he'd be ashamed to have that thing around, and this animatronic seem to adopt him, “Who are you anyway??”

“He was in my backpack, as was another robot called Helpy, they were helping me shop... now my name is Lefty, Matthew.”

“How... how do you know my name?”

“Your wallet. Drivers License,” Lefty answered.

“Where am I?”

“This is my house.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it is, the kids will tell you.”

Matt looked around, he was laying on a sofa, he then saw different kids, he could see the teenager with blonde hair, but he also saw a teenager with brown hair with a strange dog sitting next to him, another teen with dark skin and a thick black hair, and two teenaged girls, one with black straight hair and the other more chubby... and missing an arm by the looks of it.

“They look like their mother’s probably...”

Everyone soured immediately.

“You're filthy,” Lefty said, “Did adoption ever come into your stupid head?” He gave him a knock on his head, “Is anyone awake in there??”

Before he had any time to recover, Lefty grabbed his shirt collar and held him up easily, looking at him with disgust, “Don’t you dare imply I do that, ever,” He dropped him down.

“Now... I'm offering you this... a form of therapy... technically Spring Jr is your kid. This is my offer, we can talk, you tell me how this happened, but you must take a part in fixing this, you didn’t just.... magically get pregnant—”

The kids were laughing again, this time they were almost howling, Matt growled, and he was ready to scream at the horrible teenagers, having a bad enough day, when Lefty looked at him with a demented face, his eyes were black and a sharp white pupil was glaring into his soul, making him shrink back and feel weak.

“You leave my kids alone, or I will make sure you never talk again.”

Lefty turned to them, “Kids, stop laughing for a minute... I understand it's amusing to you like a bad fan-fiction or whatever you call them... but Matt cut himself open to pull that thing out... it's trauma... while I wouldn’t normally...”

He turned back to Matt, “Conditions: You live here, you get help, understand?”

[angel-squid-trash-ghost]

Parental Guidance Pt.3

"You have a lot of explaining to do Iroh.” The Fire Lord’s voice rumbled on the marble walls.

“I can begin anywhere you like, brother.” Iroh kept his face impassive yet still retained his natural smirk.

“You can begin by telling me why you kidnapped the Prince!” The Fire Lord bellowed.

Iroh was no fool. And at times neither was his brother. But Ozai was a glutton for flattery, “I simply was doing what was best for the country. I could not allow my honorable brother to taint his hands in scandal. When our late father, may he be resting in the hands of Agni, had tasked you with the elimination of the prince, of course I did not question. When Lady Ursa foolishly disrupted, the task was not completed. I only did what a good brother would do and tried to help the best way I could.”

“By taking him from the palace alive.” Ozai’s nose started to flare.

“Yes of course!  Seeing the boy board alive raised no suspicions. I was free to help on the open ocean. Away from listening ears and prying eyes. And alas, I was handed the perfect solution. When our ship sunk it took many lives including the Prince’s. The people weep for him in the streets as we speak.” Iroh held back the bile creeping up his throat.

“I do not care what they are doing in the streets. They seem to be weeping about something all of the time. Is it not enough that I am conquering the world for them?”

“Oh but, brother, their tears can be used to your advantage. Appear to them and share in their losses of their own sons with yours. You will have them not just by their minds but also their hearts. They will see you as you truly are. A man who just wants what is best for his people.”

“I do not care what’s best for them. I want glory! Victory! I’ll let them starve if it means the rest of The Earth Kingdom!” Ozai thundered. The sound rung for seconds after. He breathed out smoke regaining his prim posture. “But I can see the appeal in that strategy.”

“You are wise and will make the best decision.” Iroh bowed. Only for a moment. He didn’t trust his brother not to throw fire at his head.

Ozai laughed, “So, what decision should I make about you? I should burn you alive. Or at least imprison you. Your attempt of help could have been a disaster.”

“But the spirits were on my side. Everything happened as it should have. Now the Prince is no longer a problem and you, dear brother, are Fire Lord.” Iroh fought the strain in his smile.

“True again.” Ozai looked to be pondering something. “Alright I have made a decision. We will use the Prince’s unfortunate death to win the people over. They will be allowed to pity me and then love me more. Then I will continue taking what belongs to us and they will worship me forever.” Ozai said pleased with himself.

“An excellent judgment.” Iroh nodded. He waited patiently for Ozai to say more.

“And about you. I don’t think our father would have wanted me to kill you. He would have just made the request if he did. I will allow you to keep your life. I may need you later.”

“A thousand thanks to you, your majesty.” Iroh himself thought he sounded a little forced.

“The news spreading of a dead royal child will surely knock the memories of your failure at Ba Sing Se right out of their simple heads.”

“Indeed.” Iroh bit his tongue. Ozai had not stopped mentioning the failed siege. He wished to insult his military career forgetting it was where Iroh lost his only child. Or perhaps he did not forget. He did try to murder his own son.

“If you ever move without my permission again, I will string you up in the middle of Caldera and set you aflame myself.” Ozai warped his mouth into a wicked grin.

Iroh was keen to change the subject in case Ozai thought too long on it. “Very understandable. Maybe we can start new with a nice cup of tea.”

“Yes.”

               Servants reappeared a short time later with everything Iroh needed. He took the teapot into his hands and heated the water to the proper temperature. Iroh had not forgiven himself for abandoning Zuko and probably never would. He prayed every night he was still alive. He hadn’t expected the Water tribesman especially a Southern one, to be so unafraid of him. Then maybe they had gotten rid of Zuko and his nephew was truly dead. Iroh had tried to apologize that night as him and his men made their escape. Hopefully, it was enough to make the chieftain understand.

               A piece of his heart was with Zuko. Another with his wife. Another with his son. The last bit he would try to give to Azula. Ozai’s second child. Iroh knew without the intervention of Ursa, Ozai would sink his talons into her and sear her with his hatred for everything not golden eyed and draped in red. Fortunately Azula was still a toddler and had more of a chance.

“So how is the Princess Azula progressing.” Iroh poured the tea.

“A cup of tea and you go rambling on like an old man.”

“A cup of wine and you ramble on like a mad one.” Iroh jested.

Ozai did not seem to mind, “Well her tutors say she is doing well. She is learning to write the formal characters.”

“Write? She is barely three years of age.” Iroh took a long sip.

“Yes. She is a prodigy. She’s excelling in teachings created for children twice her age. The sages have determined she will be a bender.”

Iroh caught his paternal tone and tried to hold onto it. “Oh good news.”

“Very good. I like her much more than the first one. The other one was always whining. I blame myself. I allowed him to be around his mother too much. Not this time. Azula will be the perfect heir.” His brother’s smile had not wavered once.

 Iroh balked at what was considered to be a normal chat at tea in the court. He pressed on pouring another round, “And if I may ask, where is the Lady Ursa now?”

“Not that it is any of your business, but I had her branded and banished. But she has probably taken her own life by now.”

“Maybe.” Iroh said sadly.

It was almost certainly true. He wouldn’t blame her any.

…………………………….................................................................................

               Zuko rolled over in his furs. He settled into the warmth that encircled him. He was still getting used to the cold. It wasn’t too bad until the wind blew. He looked across the floor to Katara. Katara was nice. She called him friend. She was teaching him how to talk like her. He was teaching her some of his words too. Every day he woke up; earlier than the rest, looking forward to sitting with Katara and learning new things. He squirmed closer to her. She never seemed to mind even when he did wake her. She’d always smiled at him before lolling back to sleep.

The next person to wake would be Sir. Sir always sat up, looked to his left, say something, and then fully arise. Zuko always pretended he was asleep. He’d watch Sir dress himself with his chiefly fittings and unwrap his great whale bone spear. He wished he was allowed to hold it. Not even Kanna picked it up.

               Zuko watched Sir leave. He wasn’t sure if Sir ever noticed he was awake. Zuko had a difficult time figuring him out. He was kind enough. Although he wasn’t allowed to sleep near Sir anymore, he still said goodnight. Sir taught him things like sit straight, don’t rub it, speak up. He would ask Zuko if he was ok a lot. Sir liked it the most when Zuko said he was in a good mood. But there were other times when Sir would be a little more cross. He had to learn do not do that and did you hear me. It didn’t take Zuko long to figure out he wasn’t supposed to eat snacks in his bedding or bring Mink Snakes into the house.

He laid a little longer and stretched out his legs. He could feel the sun move higher in the sky even with the pelt blocking the window. Next, Kanna woke. She made a lot of noise getting up. She waddled over to Zuko,

“Good morning, Early bird!” Gran- Gran bent the best she could. She planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. “Go get that pan hot now. I have something special for breakfast.”

               Zuko threw off his furs eagerly. He ran over to the hearth throwing some fresh wood in. Gran- Gran had showed him how to use spark rocks. The small lights bounced around the wood until a tiny string of smoke appeared. Zuko cupped his hands and blew the fire to life.

“Well done. Now get Katara and Sokka up.”  

“Yes!” Zuko hopped up and crouched to Katara’s side. “Katara time to wake up.” He patted her cheek softly. “Up, up.”

“Good morning, Zuko.” She smiled big.

“Good morning.” He smiled back.

Katara suddenly scrunched back down into the furs. “Mm! It’s too cold!”

Zuko reached behind him and pulled out the extra blanket Sir had given him. “Here.” He said in Fire’s Tongue.

               Katara sat up. He wrapped the blanket around her. She nestled softening her expression. Some of her braid had come loose and the dark ringlets roamed around her. She looked at him with sleepy eyes. Zuko moved some of the hair from her face. If he kept doing it, he feared she would fall back asleep. He made sure he was nice to her when she woke up. Zuko regretted waking up Katara those nights when his mind wouldn’t cease showing him images of black water and screaming men. But Katara was there when he opened his eyes. Her small hands would grasp him and tell him he was safe. And he would feel safe. He wanted Katara to have the same feeling.

She pulled the thick material tightly around herself. “Thank you.”

Zuko stood and grabbed his pillow.

“What are you doing?” Katara yawned.

Zuko tossed the pillow at Sokka. The pillow made a satisfying thump. “Sokka! Wake up!”

Sokka made the noise of a dying Tiger Seal. “Go away!”

“Zuko be nice.” Kanna tutted.

“Sokka! Food. You help.”

“Cooking is women’s work.” Sokka abruptly sprang up. “Is that bacon?” His mouth watered.

“Sure is.” Kanna eyed smugly. “But maybe only us women and Zuko will get some.”

 “You help cook or you help clean. Gran-Gran say.” Zuko teased.

“So you go help then Mr. Helpy-helper-head.” Sokka rolled back over.

               When Katara went over the words for family, Zuko learned Sokka was her brother. Sokka still wasn’t open to Zuko being in the house. Zuko at first tried to get Sokka to like him but he just ended up being called names. Some of them he hadn’t learned yet, but he could tell they were mean. Sometimes he’d try to boss him around and Zuko would just pretend not to understand. Katara said he didn’t have to listen to Sokka anyway. There wasn’t much he knew about him besides that he liked meat and weapons. It seemed if he was not eating, he was practicing throwing his boomerang.

“You know the little ones can’t help with all the cooking yet. How do expect to feed yourself when you go hunting with your father?” Kanna said.

Sokka pouted taking the spatula. He mumbled something about “warrior’s sleep” watching the meat carefully.

"Watch out for the grease popping."

"I know. Ow!" Sokka jumped back.

              Zuko and Katara laughed at him. Katara moved her arm to ask Zuko to join her. He sat and snuggled under the blanket. She was warm or he was warm. He didn’t know. But she was soft and her hair was soft and the blanket was soft. Zuko thought about building a house made out of a giant blanket. Then they could be warm forever.

Katara turned her attention to Zuko, "Guess what! Today is your last day wearing these.”

“Last day?” Zuko asked unfamiliar with the phrase.

“No more bandages!”

Zuko nodded. "That is good. Katara is happy?”

“Uh-huh!” Katara hugged him, “Aren’t you happy?”

“Yes!” Zuko cheered.

…

               Breakfast was amazing. Zuko would dream of the salty meat for weeks. Sokka had already joined the other boys in weapons lessons. Zuko sat with Katara to hear the story about the Wolf and the Raven. Gran-Gran was an amazing storyteller. She showed them tiny cards with painted pictures. They had to hold them carefully because they were very old. The lesson in the story was about working together. Zuko thought it was his favorite so far. Next was practicing writing his name. Katara could write his name better than him. He tried not to let it bother him. Katara said he would get better. He was a natural talent in sewing. Gran-Gran mended clothes so she could trade for goods around the village. Ms. Yise’s petty skirt was going to get lamp oil. Mr. Kursru’s parka would get more spark rocks. Then they were going to pick up the weekly rations of non-hunted food. Gran- Gran had tried to explain to him that tradesmen had brought some root vegetables from the Earth Kingdom. He didn’t know what they were or where the Earth Kingdom was, but Gran-Gran seemed excited. So he was too.

                  His excitement didn’t last long. Kehana, the healer had requested to see him. He didn’t like visiting her.  She always looked at him like she had eaten something bitter. She was old like Gran-Gran but not at all inviting.  He hated the ointment she put on him. It stung and smelled rotten. He hated her thin fingers and how they were so sharp he felt like they might poke right through him. But Katara always went with him. She held his hand and told Kehana when she was being too rough. He was lucky to have a friend like her.

“Almost done.” Katara squeezed his hand as Kehana prodded at his scar, “Then we’ll go deliver the clothes. Gran-Gran should be all done when we get back.”

“Ok.” Zuko winced as the brush irritated the freshly cleaned scar tissue.

“Can you be more gentle please.” Katara asked sweetly. Zuko sighed in relief.

Kehana glared but lessened the pressure. “Your father shouldn’t be letting you spend so much time with him.”

Katara creased her brow, “Huh?”

“You are around him too much. It isn’t right.”

Zuko didn’t like her tone. Katara held his hand tighter, “Zuko’s my friend!”

“I hope you remember that when the Fire Nation come back.” Kehana all but threw the brush back in the bowl. “This is the last time I want to see your unsightly face, boy.”

Zuko lip quivered. He took a deep breath. Deeper than he ever had before. “Be nice.”

“Do not dare speak to me!” Kehana snapped. Zuko scrambled back. Her rage felt too familiar.

Katara pulled Zuko up. “Come on Zuko, let’s go. We don’t need her anymore anyway.” She grabbed their parkas.

Kehana started ranting about how she had come so low in her life to end up treating a Fire nation child. “Stupid girl. Your mother thought she could talk to the Fire Nation as well. And now she is dead.”

Something in Katara’s chest lurched. “Miserable hag!” Katara kicked the ointment, splattering it on the wall. She hadn’t even buttoned up before she was dragging Zuko out of the hut.

               Zuko stared at Katara’s uncovered head as he tried to cry silently. She was really upset, and he didn’t want to make her worry more. He wasn’t entirely sure of what Kehana said but he could feel it in his bones that she hated him. He felt like it was his fault she was mean to Katara. The tears fell harder. He could no longer conceal his sniffling. Katara stopped stomping and turned around. Her eyes were watery, and her face was twisted like he’d never seen before. For a moment he thought she was going to yell at him. She sighed and touched the edge of his scar.

“Don’t worry about her. You’re not ugly.”

Zuko shook his head. He didn’t know the right words to say in that moment, “I’m sorry.” Is all he could think of.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Kehana is just a meanie. An old stupid meanie…” She trailed off as tears slipped. She tried to blink them away. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about anyway! Mommy was trying to protect us!” Her voice cracked.

               Zuko almost tackled her into a hug. Katara let loose and sobbed hard. She shuddered when he rubbed her back. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many questions he wanted to ask. There were still so many words he didn’t know. So he whispered Fire’s Tongue into her hair. He told her she was the nicest person ever. How she was brave for speaking up for him. And how beautiful she was when he first woke up. He thought she was a spirit of mercy and he still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t. Katara settled down and drew back a little. Zuko gently wiped her eyes. She hiccupped in some breaths before she fully regained herself. She put her hands on his face. Zuko could tell she was thinking about something.

“You’re not bad. I can tell. I’ve seen bad people. They hurt my mommy. I think they hurt you too.” She traced his scar again. “When my mommy died, I prayed for her to come back.” She shuttered again. Zuko put his hands on hers. “When it didn’t work, I prayed for a friend. There’s no one my age here and it felt like no one else understood…I just wanted someone to talk to.”

“Katara teach me. So I can talk and make Katara feel better.” Zuko started to fasten her parka.

Katara smiled big. But tears came again. She threw her arms around his neck. “I knew when I heard you came from the ocean that La had saved you. And then Mommy had brought you here so that I wouldn’t be lonely anymore.”

“Lonely?” Zuko asked.

Katara looked at Zuko. “Don’t worry about that word. I’ll make sure you never have to know what it means.”

Zuko squished her cheeks making her giggle. “Friends.”

“Friends forever.” Katara put her forehead to his.

               The night was easier after Gran-Gran reprimanded them for dawdling. She couldn’t have been too angry because she made cookies to celebrate Zuko not having to wear his bandages anymore. At bedtime, Katara insisted on sleeping in Zuko’s furs. Sir had no luck in trying to convince her otherwise. After their goodnight prayers and kisses, Katara cuddled close and Zuko closer. She fell asleep before him. He closed his eyes to follow.

“Friends forever.” He whispered into the darkness.