Origins: Snapshots In Time 100

Matthew reached to pick up the phone again, setting it back up on the table, then pulled it off the cradle and started dialing. Bridgette watched him, frowning. "Calling Grandad now?"

"Yeah." He said, quietly. "I have to tell him what happened. Then I have to call her parents..." He looked like he was about to cry all of a sudden right there, and Bridgette frowned, watching him stamp it down and lock it away again.

"Dad don't bottle it, okay? You're always telling us not to do that, but--"

"Don't go there right now, Bri. If I don't bottle it at the moment I won't be able to properly deal with it, and there's a lot of people that need to be notified. Don't preach to me right now. I'm not in the mood. Just sit there, and when you feel up to it, there's a couple of cans of stew in the cupboard that can be heated up."

"Yes, Sir." The girl replied, and didn't say anything else. She just sat there quietly while Matthew spoke with about ten different people over that phone, told them what had happened and what was going on.

It was after about an hour, after Lucas had walked in the door, that Bridgette finally slid out of her initial stage of shock and burst into tears on the couch.

Matthew winced, and set the phone down, trying not to think about the way in which Jessica's mother had responded to what he'd had to say. He glanced over at the girl and after giving her a minute or two and realizing the waterworks were not about to slow up, he sighed and reached for her, pulling her forward and set one gloved hand on the top of her head and his chin on top of that, while the other arm held onto her. And let her cry it out.

"What's... going... on..." Lucas stood in the living room, staring between his father and his sister, head tilted to one side. "Dad...?"

"Sit down, son. Need to talk to you." Matthew said, allowing Bridgette to pull away when she finally had gotten the tears under control and the waterworks turned off.

"I didn't do it!" Lucas replied immediately. "I swear I didn't, it was Nate Dyson! He broke the--"

"Whatever was broken, I don't care right now. Sit." If it were any other situation, Matthew would probably be chuckling at the boy, but this wasn't the time, nor the place, and he didn't have it in him to laugh at anything at the moment.

Lucas sat, plopping down on the couch between his sister and his father, and still kind of stared over at the bloody clothes the older male was in. Matthew sighed, and glanced at Bridgette, who nodded and went out to the kitchen to heat up the cans of stew.

And while she was out there, he explained it to Lucas, who took the news in complete silence. Only the smoldering, fiery glint to the boy's eyes warned Matthew of the anger riding just below the surface.

Silence reigned when they were done talking. Lucas sat there for a few more minutes, and then just stood up and glanced down at his father. Very quietly, all he said was, "I'm going to kill them for this." And then the boy turned on his heels and walked away.

Matthew winced, watching the kid go, but he didn't hold him back. As soon as the boy was out of sight, he folded down over his own knees and pulled his arms up around his head, the dogtags he always wore dangling and rocking against his chin as he curled up on the couch.

"LUCAS!!" Bridgette shoved black hair out of her eyes and darted around the kitchen doorway as she caught sight of her brother moving past it. "Get Dad some clean clothes or something, will you? He's still a mess."

"Why me?!"

"Because I'm a GIRL! And I am NOT going through his dresser!!! You can do it, you're a boy. Now go do it before I hit you over the head with this!!" she brandished the stew pot with intent to clobber her younger brother if he didn't get moving, like... now.

Lucas glared at her. "Brat!" He shouted, and then stalked down the hallway, into their parents' bedroom. Bridgette heard the dresser drawers opening and closing and snorted, getting the stew into the pot and warming it up. And then started cleaning around the kitchen. Anything to keep busy so she didn't have to think about what her father had told her earlier.

Lucas grabbed the clothes and dragged them out of their parents' room, heading back out to the living room where he dumped them down on Matthew's lap and flopped down on the couch. "Bri said you need to change. You're getting blood and stuff all over the couch." He said. "So change."

Matthew lifted his head, right hand moving to the back to rub at his neck as he glanced down at the clothes, then over at his son. "Right." He said, distractedly, and grabbed the pile, heading out of the room to change. By the time he got back, and had the clean clothes on, Bridgette had the stew and the plates and a bottle of soda sitting on the table in the living room. Matthew slumped back down onto the couch and stared at the pot for a moment.

"You two start eating." He said quietly, and then folded up again on the couch, right there. Bridgette just eyed him worriedly, and Lucas leaned forward, poking carefully at the sleeve of his sweater.

"Dad?"

"I'm fine. Just eat. Both of you."

"Not hungry." Bridgette said simply.

"I'm not either." Lucas added.

Matthew sighed, and didn't even look up. "Don't make me turn it into an order. Don't let it go to waste. Eat."

"I'm not eating unless you do." Bridgette retorted, and lifted a hand up to rub the side of her head again.

".....anyone ever tell you that you're just as bad as your mother sometimes?" Matthew muttered, and reached for a plate, putting a small amount of the food onto it. Then deliberately put some on the other two plates and shoved the plates at the kids. "Now eat. I've got mine, you've got yours. Both of you."

Bridgette rolled her eyes. Lucas just snorted and picked his plate up, poking at it a little bit. It was good enough for Matthew, who finally started poking at what was on his own. If it would make the kids eat.... he started eating himself.

No one spoke, really. It was a good hour, almost two hours before the silence was broken by Bridgette, who had put her plate back down on the table and leaned against the couch again. "Dad?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Michael?"

"With your grandparents for tonight."

"What happens now?" She asked, starting to collect the plates. None of them had really eaten a lot of it. She just dumped the leftovers back into the pot. She'd store it for tomorrow. Maybe by then they'd be able to get more down.

"I don't know." Matthew said, quietly. "There's not enough to put into a casket, Bri. That was a bomb; an explosion. It wasn't just.. a bullet or something."

"Yeah, so you said." She replied, piling the plates up now that they were emptied again. "So what happens now?" She repeated the question, and Matthew sighed.

"You're both getting pulled out of school. I'll teach you myself. The other two will be home tomorrow or the day after. We'll probably have a small ceremony or something, but after that we're going to ground. I want you four hidden as well as possible. This is going to be a fight. And I don't want--"

"I'm fighting, Dad." Lucas said, bluntly. "I'm not hiding. I'm fighting. These assh--"

"Watch your tongue." Matthew snapped at the cursing, and the boy clamped his mouth shut. Once Lucas was quiet, he leaned down again and worked at his forehead. "You're not fighting. You're twelve years old. I will NOT have you fighting."

"I'm NOT hiding like a coward!!" Lucas argued, reaching over to grab his father's shoulder again as Matthew once more folded forward on the couch.

"Son... not now, alright?" Matthew replied, without lifting his head. "Just.. not now. We'll discuss this later."

"Yeah. Right." Lucas leaned back, and didn't say anything else. Bridgette scooped up the leftovers, and the dishes, and just headed for the kitchen.

Once again, silence reigned supreme.