Caleb Voclain likes this
Post by Bradley Alans on Jun 19, 2022 5:12:08 GMT
Bradley looked over the wreckage, tearing his vision away from Caleb. He wanted to just keep looking. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry, that he was trying to make it all better, that he wanted to be there, that he was going to be there from now on. He wanted to hug him and hold him close and cry.
But he couldn't. Not while Perses held all the cards.
The knife almost made him cry. He recognized it, it was a gift he'd sent for Caleb's 17th birthday. He'd been too young for the pistol he'd sent later, but he was just old enough to start practicing how to defend himself with a knife. He was so happy to see his son had kept it, kept it on him, even.
Caleb was fine now. He was up on the crutch. Back to work. Work would help him focus. Keep his mind away from the things he wanted to say and do.
He started pulling carefully at the rubble blocking the exit. "Rescue teams have been dispatched. I'm going to start carefully digging our way out to them. I need you to keep an eye out for anything moving that I'm not making move. That should help keep you off your leg. Would you do that for me, son?"
Shit. Bradley continued to move rubble, not looking at him, trying for all the world to move naturally, act casual. Act like he was Colonel, the kind of guy who would call everyone son. Regardless of gender sometimes, too. Everyone was "son." That's all it was. It wasn't his mind hyperfixating on being so close to his son after years and not being able to DO anything about it, no, not one bit.
Caleb Voclain
But he couldn't. Not while Perses held all the cards.
The knife almost made him cry. He recognized it, it was a gift he'd sent for Caleb's 17th birthday. He'd been too young for the pistol he'd sent later, but he was just old enough to start practicing how to defend himself with a knife. He was so happy to see his son had kept it, kept it on him, even.
Caleb was fine now. He was up on the crutch. Back to work. Work would help him focus. Keep his mind away from the things he wanted to say and do.
He started pulling carefully at the rubble blocking the exit. "Rescue teams have been dispatched. I'm going to start carefully digging our way out to them. I need you to keep an eye out for anything moving that I'm not making move. That should help keep you off your leg. Would you do that for me, son?"
Shit. Bradley continued to move rubble, not looking at him, trying for all the world to move naturally, act casual. Act like he was Colonel, the kind of guy who would call everyone son. Regardless of gender sometimes, too. Everyone was "son." That's all it was. It wasn't his mind hyperfixating on being so close to his son after years and not being able to DO anything about it, no, not one bit.
Caleb Voclain