Work Text:
WC A Lie I will not Tolerate
(A few days after Occam and the Cave Bears) White Collar Characters do not belong to me, they belong to Jeff Eastin. Original characters, mine. Original story and setting mine, mistakes mine.
The very next time Neal had a chance to get away, he took it. He was frustrated with his relationship with Peter and El. They both seemed to be unaware of his misgivings and to want to be as friendly as he had wanted to be when he realised that Kate was using him and how special Elizabeth was and, at the time, it had seemed as though Peter was a man to be trusted in any situation, and admired.
It made him feel lonely and foolish…what was wrong with him? He had almost idolised Peter at one point…which wasn’t fair to the man, either! He’d wanted to be ‘good’. As Peter Burke was ‘good’. And then he wasn’t. Law-abiding, perhaps, which just showed how spurious that concept was.
He’d loved Peter’s intellect, his wide-ranging knowledge that often surprised Neal, his sometimes dazzling people-skills, his protective instincts. And somehow all of those seemed corrupted, corroded, after Peter was in prison. Yes, he’d broken the law, but what did Peter think he was supposed to do in that horrible situation? He’d tried to make excuses for Peter, to think it was prison that broke that trust, that bond: prison had changed him, but not to that extent! It didn’t make him a different person! And how did that explain El?
Somehow it was like seeing his father change under his eyes from a friend he was growing to love to a self-serving coward. But, God willing, he’d never see James Bennett again… Peter and Elizabeth were there, wearing masks, over and over. Trying to con him that they were friends…he didn’t want that. Con someone, take their Ming vase, preferably leaving a replica they could enjoy just as much as the original, and go. Don’t con someone and try and take their heart. That vase broke a long time ago.
He was bright, he had multiple skill sets, he could charm almost anyone, yet he couldn’t seem to find one half-way decent partner. They could be obsessed or inflexible or lacking in imagination (Peter fitted all of those in some degree), some were self-absorbed and some were violent and all were untrustworthy at times.
Mozzie and June stood out brightly in this world as his only close friends. And Mozzie was off seeing the planet and letting the ear-bugs enjoy the various languages.
Whereas Steel seemed to genuinely like Neal and hadn’t shown any of the tendencies that his other partners exhibited. Not that Steel was a partner in that sense, and he probably didn’t have time to be a friend, he had his friends of his own class…Neal sighed.
Peter had made out that it served him right when a relationship went south, as though he’d always let other people down, or the ones that left had discovered his criminal propensities and therefore he should accept it as his just due. Which made him hate Peter a little more. No. Hate was too strong a word. Be disappointed in…perhaps that was it.
So when he could, he told June he was taking a break and left. It was nice that he had a suite of rooms there, seldom had to pack much…he joined the Keep for dinner and everyone was teasing Ophera and Brak about their new, very red-and-white kitchen, and Neal helped serve up and joined in the hilarity, which was simple and wholesome. He smiled across at Tamlin and waved at Joster. Steel’s look of obvious pleasure that he was there warmed him.
After dinner, with everyone talking back and forth, he helped wash up and put everything away and put things ready for the morning when there was always so much to do. It always reminded him of a carefully choreographed dance, this busy, familial, familiar togetherness in the kitchen: everyone moving around each other, turning the right way, giving each other plates, tossing towels. Ophera hugged him, Tamlin told him to tell Diana to get her pretty butt over here sometime soon, and it was only after the bustle quieted that he took some tea, ale and wine and went off to find Steel. He felt safe, at home. He was smiling to himself.
He hesitated at the doorway and Steel waved him in. “We were just talking about the horses Jarad sent. They are quite beautiful and he has not given them proper names.”
“You should be just the person to think up fancy names for them, Neal!” Brak told him.
“I have to see them first!” Neal laughed, taking one of the chairs after pouring the tea for Steel, wine for himself and ale for Brak. “One cannot name a pig in a poke!”
They spoke of Cara, and Thista’s obstinacy in staying in the little house by the forest.
“She likes her privacy. I can understand that! I think that was one – just one – of the worst aspects of prison. I am blessed that I can at least drift away in my mind if I am not being harassed,” Neal told them. “I am not very good with noisy crowds. I am better with solitude, but I prefer having just good friends around.”
“Peter was here the other day,” Brak commented. Neal just caught out of the corner of his eye Steel’s ab-reaction to Brak speaking about Peter. His senses focussed.
“Peter came here?” Neal asked, trying to observe both men. “Why? He came to get me to come and help Elizabeth with the art, but why now?”
“We were surprised, too, Neal,” Steel said, calmly. “It is the first time since he came to your adoption celebration.”
“Whom did he come to see?”
“Master Caerrovon, I think, mainly, though he also spent some time with Leran and at the stables,” Brak told him.
“What did he come to see you about, my Lord?” Neal asked, totally confused, “- if it is not a secret.”
Again, Steel kept silent and, glancing at him, Brak informed Neal.
“Some old paintings that were found on the walls of some underground hollow system, mostly.”
“He didn’t!” Neal exclaimed, in English, all at once angry, scared and betrayed. “I don’t believe it!”
“Brak is telling you the truth, Neal,” Steel said, frowning a little.
Neal had to smile. He reverted to Sheel. “No, it is a way of speaking…I meant that I could not believe that Peter would come and talk to you about those caves, not that Brak is telling lies! I think he needs medical help, that man.”
“He was unsure as to whether you might have had a hand in the painting of the – caves - that were then sold for a large sum since they were made to appear to be extremely old,” Steel went on, “and since he could not find out the truth, he asked me to use any influence I have to stop you from committing any crimes. I think he dislikes a puzzle he can not solve, Neal, as much as anything. And I think he worries that you might get a criminal record again. He was not angry, Neal, it was a casual request for me to ask you not to do anything that could hurt yourself.”
At that moment Shiral motioned from the door for Brak to come with her, waving apologetically at her Lord and Neal. Brak stood, excused himself and left with her.
“How dare he?” Neal fumed, and all his problems with Peter ran through his mind like a movie on fast-forward. “He knows how important you are to me, how important coming here to relax is to me! Or perhaps he does not, but he should!”
“Is there any need to commit crimes, Neal? You have satisfying pastimes now, the system on earth is such that you are content to be a part of it, you are welcome here.”
“There is no need and I have very limited time, my Lord. Why would you think I had done these caves…because Peter Burke says I did? This is just a hypothesis of his based on a coincidence and the fact that I teased him. It is absurd!”
“So you are saying you had nothing to do with painting on the caves.”
“You can tell Peter Burke, should he return, that I never painted any stupid caves!”
There was a silence, and Neal looked up. Steel’s face was closed and he felt a twang of disquiet.
“Come, Neal,” Steel said, gently pushing the small table away from his chair with his foot and tapping his knee.
Neal balked. “Why, my Lord?”
“Because I ask it of you, Neal,” Steel said, mildly.
Neal got up, taking his wine, and settled at Steel’s feet. He could never resist the softness of his Lord.
“Now,” Steel said, still in that calm, soft voice, “why are you lying to me, Neal?”
Neal swallowed. “My Lord?”
“No, you are not leaking around your shields…Mozzie told me, when we were alone, bragged to me at length about your brilliance! So I ask again: why are you lying to me?”
Neal was astonished at the rush of fear that built in his chest. Oh, he knew that as his lord, and his father, Steel was entitled to punish him for a lie, (even though, his quick, crafty mind pointed out, this was more of a deception, a misdirect than an actual lie, though it didn’t sound as though Steel would care about that distinction), and considering the harshness of the society, that would not be a pleasant thing…but didn’t feel like a simple fear of the consequences of angering Steel…if Steel ever became truly angry. And the fact that he never seemed really angry didn’t mean he wouldn’t have him punished. He might think it was merely an appropriate response to correct his erring son….
“Neal?” prodded Steel, interrupting Neal’s scurrying thoughts.
“I – I am not sure, my Lord,” Neal said, baffled by his emotions. He suddenly felt totally unsafe here! Peter was chasing him here! It felt like the time in the storage units, unable to save Kate, unable to get away. Trapped. Trapped on two planets. He knew that was ridiculous, it was illogical, but that’s how he felt! His ingrained instinct to run had his heart racing!
“It is not necessary, you are aware?”
Neal dropped his head, again startled at the apprehension now mixed with confusion and brokenness at his Lord’s gentle tone. Steel’s voice could be soft without any hint of sinister undertones, something Neal had seldom encountered.
“I – I am sorry, my Lord.”
“I know you are muddled, Neal. Let us work this out together. Why are you lying to me about these caves? Do you think I will tell Peter and he will try to hurt you?”
“He truly has no jurisdiction even if he knew for a certainty, my Lord. I do not wish him to know because he criticises me and – and – oh, I sometimes wish I had never met him, my Lord!”
“Neal!” Steel’s voice sharpened, and Neal flinched. “Neal, he can do nothing to you! If he tries, you can always come and live here. Nothing short of a massive army of warriors will take you from Steel Keep!”
Neal looked up at him. “I love you, my Lord.”
“I know, Neal. I love you, too. Now, can you explain to me about your need to withhold or alter the truth?”
“Can I think about everything, my Lord?”
“Of course.”
“Where will you be? I will go and help in the kitchens for a while.”
“I am going to check on a mare that may give birth, we seldom have births here and I wish to monitor her and make sure she is comfortable. She is beautiful, intelligent and very valuable. Then I will be entering records in the books, so I will be in my study. Try for me there, first.”
Neal went and all the kitchen staff were gone. He looked around and decided that the floor would probably be scrubbed the next day…so he might as well do it this evening. It was a hard job, but mindless, and he could think. If he didn’t do something like this, he really felt he would like to run. All his energy was gathered, his muscles were holding tension.
He concentrated on the floor of the main kitchen, leaving the rest for another slave, but he did the job well…by the time he was finished he was damp and sweaty and dirty, but the floor looked good and he was pleased. He went to his suite and showered before going in search of Steel…who wasn’t in his study. But there was a note : NEAL, I HAVE GONE TO MY ROOMS. JOIN ME THERE.
When he knocked the door opened and he went in to find Steel already sitting up in bed, reading a book that was spread open on his knees.
“Oh, I do not want to…”
“I saw you working when I went to assess the mare again after doing the paperwork, Neal, and I knew you would be a while. Come, sit, and we can talk without interruption.”
The dogs looked over and Neal petted them both, and they smiled their big toothy grins at him (teeth as big as cave-lions’, he thought) and he found himself smiling as he ruffled their lovely soft, thick fur. Then he rather hesitantly went towards the bed. Steel pulled up his feet and put the book aside, indicating that Neal should sit where his feet had been. Neal again paused. It seemed so disrespectful to sit on the lord’s bed!
“Not slave, Neal, son – remember?”
“Did you sit on your father’s bed, my Lord?” Neal smiled.
“Well, no. Not that I recall. He was a different type of man. If you prefer, I am ordering you to sit on my bed!”
“Oh, in that case - !” Neal toed off his house boots and got on the high, huge bed and sat cross-legged.
“Now, did you find an answer to my question?”
Neal looked down and plucked at the thick kaross that covered the Lord’s bed. “When you asked me, my Lord, I was filled with fear….”
“Because I had discovered that you were lying, Neal? Did you fear terrible retribution, son?”
“Well, I know the laws for slaves, and there are no child-abuse laws. You could choose to punish me severely, and you might think it a good thing to do to me, to teach me right from wrong.”
“Do you think it would accomplish that?” Steel asked, his eyes sparkling a little.
Neal glanced up but did not perceive the humour from within the darkness of his own disquiet. “I – I am not sure. I knew the consequences before I lied. I – I did it instinctively, with no thought. Because I was feeling unsafe, in danger.”
“So we can say that we have established that you know right from wrong, and sometimes – perhaps often – choose to pursue the latter course?”
Neal answered, unhappily. “Yes, my Lord. In part it is because the more someone knows of you, the more vulnerable you become…Peter learnt everything about me and caught me. If I had just kept Kate a secret…anyway, that seems to be my life history.
“ And of course, I knew not that you would be aware that I was lying, so I expected no punishment.”
“If I wanted to know about you, Neal, I would ask. Your allegiance would compel you tell me, I believe. And while you were a slave, I could have had Lira come in and tell me everything about you from before birth! So that is a silly reason to lie to me!
“And the punishment might not be to teach you right from wrong, but to encourage you to do what is right, rather than what is wrong, which leads to unfortunate outcomes?”
Neal sat, thinking, his head down. Then he looked up and said, honestly, “The fact is, my Lord, that my behaviour has not been linked to consequences very often. I have lied and stolen and forged and lived well, my Lord, with good friends and joy. I did get caught now and then, but always escaped the worst till I was arrested by Peter.”
After a pause, Lord Steel asked, neutrally, “So would it be of some benefit to you and your clarity of thought if we embarked on a strict regimen of rewarding you only for good behaviour and imposing painful retribution for wrong behaviour, Neal?”
Neal looked up quickly, startled, and caught the impish glint in Steel’s eyes. “My Lord! You are a horrible tease!” he exclaimed. Then he went on, more seriously, “It sounds as though you had some experience of that, my Lord, with your father?”
Steel shrugged. “More mildly with Ophera and Brak, and yes, my father had rigid expectations, though he was always fair. Harsher discipline than many of my friends, I think, but never unfair. Perhaps you would like me to be as fair as that with you?”
“I agreed to become your son, my Lord, because you were always so generous and merciful! I have always been told, mostly by Peter, that it was fair and just that I was attached to him by my anklet and had no privacy and few choices. In fact, he said I was very lucky not to be in maximum security prison. Often. I think fair and just is not much fun.”
Steel raised his eyebrows. “That is not an answer, Neal.” Then he relented, “Finish your thought, Neal…when you tried to ‘go straight’ as Peter calls it?”
“We-ell, I did take the deal with Peter so I could find Kate, it was a con. But after all that mess I seriously tried to help Peter. I liked him, I loved Elizabeth…well, I loved Peter, too.
“But whatever I did, Peter often mistrusted my motives, said that I was just trying to keep out of prison. He often treated me with little respect, he invaded my privacy, he stole things of June’s to find out about my friends. He thought it was all acceptable because I should have been in prison. Perhaps that is true, but it made me feel I had to shield myself from him.
“I truly committed very few actual crimes unsanctioned by Peter, my Lord, while Peter was my handler, until I – I become embroiled with a nasty criminal to try and save Peter. And when I was dragged into real crime by these circumstances and bad people, I could not go to anyone for help to get away from them except Mozzie because Peter always expected the worst of me and would have blamed me, rather than helped me.”
“So you lived a good life when you lied and stole and cheated, but a confusing and unsatisfying life when you tried to do the right thing?”
Neal nodded. “My life with the FBI was not wonderful, I was always wishing for more, sort of stuck in limbo, and the good bits had seldom got anything to do with the FBI and very few to do with Peter, other than he got me out of prison.
“Solving the crimes was often fun, sometimes we helped good people, sometimes Peter praised me, but more often he preached at me, trying to make me a better person, I am sure, but it made me angry and he just seemed self-righteous, rather than praise-worthy or right or admirable or to-be-imitated!” Neal stopped for breath. “My life of crime was much more understandable, my Lord!”
“So when you lied to me…?”
“I instinctively lied to you because by this time in our relationship I would have lied to Peter.”
“Ah, the man with power over you?”
“Yes, and I had just the other day been misleading him, confusing him so he was totally unsure if I had done the things or not! He often just gets – I know not, Lord – angry? I am your son, and if you choose to punish me for wrong-doing, it is just, Lord, and I accept it.
“He should have no power over me, now. Yet he always has the ability to make me feel weak, a failure, untrustworthy, though I try not to let him see that he can. I loved him before I knew him well…he was a myth I created, I think.
“And then I became frightened when you knew I was lying, but that I comprehend. My success and my freedom and everything about my life was about being an efficient liar, an efficient forger, thief, conman. Failing meant possibly dire and terrible consequences – prison, capture, beatings, death.”
“So why do you lie to me, Neal? There is no need, you know.”
Neal looked up, and his eyes were sad. “I am so sorry, my Lord.”
“I would rather you lied not.”
“You do not mind that we painted the caves?”
Steel sat back and thought a moment. “It seems as though everyone won, from what Mozzie was saying. Neal, I would be distressed if you were hurting innocent people, or damaging beautiful things. I have not heard that you have ever done these things.
“Even Peter says that you never stole from anyone who loved their art-work or could not afford to lose what you gained. I see that in his work the laws are as strict and uncaring and inhuman as those towards escaped slaves here…there is never an inquiry about the conditions of the Keep from which the slave escaped, for example, and that is not fair. The slave is executed.
“I do not know how I would feel or react if I found you were harming people. I would be very disappointed, because I am sure that is not who you are.
“Within these walls, I do not believe you would harm anyone, though some of your pranks have been…irritating. But I repeat: you need never lie to me. I believe that you would never do anything that would infuriate me, certainly painting some caves and selling them because experts say they are worth a great deal seems a crime of the experts, not you!”
“It is true: I never signed them. I should have told Peter that! How is it a forgery when I never pretended it was anything other than what it was: animal sketches on a cave!”
“Yes, and for that silly reason you decided our allegiance, my protection, no longer in force, Neal. So you lied to me.”
“I did lie, my Lord, but I never disregarded my allegiance or your protection. It - it is a fault of mine, I sometimes…I am probably not worthy of your…any more than Peter’s…”
“Stop it, Neal! If you say you are unworthy, you question my choices! You are mine, forever. Whatever your behaviour!”
“Are you - are you going to punish me for lying to you, my Lord?” Neal asked, humbly.
“I might! – you mistook me for the image you have of Peter at his worst! That is worthy of terrible punishment!”
Neal chuckled a little, more than a little relieved. Steel went on, “No, silly boy. You are my son and I love you. I would encourage you not to lie to me because if you do I cannot help you, nor learn to understand you and appreciate you.”
Steel paused a moment before continuing,
“I will not promise never to punish you, Neal. There may well be circumstances where I would feel it was necessary. I would rather not, but do not take advantage of that, for I have limits to my patience and if I am forced beyond them I will not hesitate to correct the situation. You know I handle problem children, young and older, in the Keep, and I have no misgivings about punishing bad behaviour…adequately.
“But I have never yet felt that you approach being genuinely bad, however, merely mischievous.”
Neal looked down. There was a firmness in Lord Steel’s tone, indeed in his whole energy, that left Neal in no doubt that he would thoroughly regret pushing his Lord too far. But this relationship had never been a con for Neal, and he had never expected his Lord to be anything like as patient and gentle with him as he had been! He had sworn allegiance, even the first time, knowing the risks and consequences. He had, in effect, given his life and safety and well-being into the hands of this man, this alien within an authoritarian alien society, and had never regretted doing so.
Lord Steel watched him, reading him, knowing Neal’s thoughts. He smiled a little and then asked,
“But is it at all possible to ask Peter to stop treating you this way, or explain to him why your feelings towards him have changed?”
“I am afraid it might make things worse, my Lord. They seem not to realise the times they have hurt me, and if I tell them they will be upset and angry, perhaps thinking I am over-reacting.”
“May I offer some advice, Neal?”
“Of course, my Lord!”
“I think you are being unfair to yourself and to Peter.”
“Oh.”
“I know I am drawing conclusions only from what you, and Mozzie, and Peter himself have told me, from the small amount of your interactions I have witnessed. So please forgive me if I am over-simplifying or if I have not a clear picture of events.
“But I know Peter loves you, and I know you loved him at one point, though you both disappointed the other, you by breaking his precious Law, and he by not taking your feelings and motives into account and supporting you. I would say that he was insensitive many times, over what probably seemed to him trivia, and what seemed to you important indicators of his true feelings for you. So you became wary, you moved away emotionally. He sees that not and you feel that proves your deductions about him.
“Mozzie, who obviously holds his own reservations about Peter based on his profession, tells me Peter is trying hard to be your friend, but believes that you are holding resentment from earlier events and the fact that he does not comprehend that makes it even worse!
“Mozzie, by the way, knows that you have not told him of those incidents in detail, but trusts that you will if he ever needs to know the whole.”
Steel sat and thought a moment, putting his thoughts in order, then continued:
“So my understanding is that since Peter wants to be closer to you, and you want to start protecting yourself as Mozzie has always done, you have two choices: You need to somehow put all your negative feelings for them behind you and start again as though there is no history between you, or you need to distance yourself from both Peter and Elizabeth because otherwise you are all being hurt.
“You could just avoid them, but fair that would not be, Neal. You need to tell them how you feel and why, whether or not they understand, son. You need to do it to honour your feelings, and perhaps to clarify your own thoughts. And you need to at least give them the chance to understand.
“At present there are three people who are hurting and walking hand-tied in the dark. I do not know if the relationship can be saved. It feels not. I only wish you to think about how few people in the…universe! …have Peter’s heart, courage, mind and honour, things you respect. How many of us can have friends like that? Which is not to negate the fact that the differences may be too great to overcome.
“You hear that Peter is asking questions, you react, over-react, with anger and alarm out of all proportion to the deed or his power over you, at least within our Keep. He probably is the same, over-reacting when you have done something outside the range of his power, but his response is suspicion rather than alarm.
“I would ask you : what do you think Peter can do to you? He cannot put you in prison, you can just leap here! If he comes here, I doubt he would bring enough men to take you back. If he truly tried to hurt you, you have my protection, personally and our own way of repulsing an attack! You are no longer the vulnerable boy you once were. So all you should be worried about is his attitude towards you. Which may be distasteful, but hardly life-threatening.
“But this has gone on long enough, Neal. You need to put an end to it one way or the other.”
Neal sat completely silent for many minutes. Then he said,
“Everything you say is true, my Lord. I miss having Peter and Elizabeth as friends. We had some wonderful times together, hopeful times. I wish they could have become closer friends. If it was merely resentment, I could walk away from the hurt and start again. My problem is that I have had very few people I could trust. Whom I could rely on to be on my side, no matter what.
“My Lord, right now you are telling me I have handled this incorrectly, you know I have lied to you and to Peter – misdirect is what I would call this, but if you want it in black and white it is a lie – and you are on my side. Even if you were furious, even if you had beaten me for lying to you, Lord, you are on my side.
“Mozzie has always been the same. He and I have had some …differences of opinion that make the arguments between Peter and myself seem as nothing! We have had some fights! We have walked away from each other never knowing if we would see each other again!
“And yet, if I said to you right now I need your help, everything else would be forgotten, at least until the problem was solved. At any time, if I could have called Mozzie, he would be there for me…and was, for Peter and Elizabeth’s sake, too, but because I called him.
“That was not there in my relationship with Peter and Elizabeth. Sometimes, especially early in the relationship, they supported me, but it seemed to become less and less as the years passed. So though there were many good times, yes, there was lack of respect, and there were arguments, quarrels, even a partially-real fist-fight at one time, but the real problem is I will never be sure I can trust them again.”
Steel looked down sadly. “Then end it, Neal. Let each of you move on. I still suggest you explain, because this is a festering wound within you, son, and will take long to heal if you do not dig out the darkness within that wound…and perhaps you will find that if you voice your emotions, they will understand, or have an explanation you have seen not.”
“I do not like gun fights, I do not like sword fights, I do not like confrontation of any sort, my Lord.”
“Will you do as I ask?”
“If you ask, I must, my Lord. And I trust your empathy. But, but I only do it because you ask!”
“I am sorry, my boy.”
“How old do you think I am, my Lord?”
“Oh, Mozzie and I did complex calculations before I chose you both to be my heirs. If you had been born here you would be, if I remember correctly (Mozzie will tell you accurately) about a half to two-thirds of my seasons. So yes, you are not a child, but something like a teen - ager, I think Mozzie called you.”
“You seem so young to me, my Lord.”
“Yet you choose to submit to me.”
“I love you and trust you and I believe you are a strong man. That has nothing to do with age.”
“The more you stay here and take advantage of Lira’s healing, the younger you will look, my son. Be not offended that I call you boy when you have had a great deal of life experience, perhaps much more than I do, I mean it not as a criticism. And I will cease if it bothers you.
“Mentally and physically, you are in extreme and excellent health. But spiritually and emotionally there are many areas you are hurt and young, Neal. As you once said, I collect people so I can take care of them. Not because they are inferior, but because I have been blessed with stability and a sense of who I am.”
“There is something…”
“That is, Neal?”
“Of all the people, all the slaves, why me, why Mozzie?”
Steel laughed. “Jarad was also a slave before he became my sheildmate when we were younger, and immediately a friend. Technically, he is still a slave, until he collects his freedom papers!
“Neal, I collect people to help them, protect them from worse fates, perhaps. The ones that seem suitable to become part of my permanent Keep, stay. I have removed, sold, those who cause trouble - ”
“More than relocating paintings and meat, my Lord?” Neal grinned his charming grin and Steel threw a pillow at him, making him laugh.
“I will withhold the information you sought, Neal!”
“No, please – go on, my Lord! I will behave!”
“I filled my Keep with good people, people who laugh and play and work well together, people I like to have around me, people I trust.
“But Neal – I am not only building a Keep. I am building a family. Jarad is like a brother, you and Mozzie are my sons. I am trying to convince Brak and Ophera that I would they were my uncle and aunt, but they are a little confused as to how to be my family!
“So my Keep is made up of people I like. My family is made up of people I love, Neal.”
“Oh!” Neal’s eyes brightened with tears. “And I lied to you!”
“Yes, and you may again, I accept that, but I still love you.”
“How, my Lord? It was because of my lies and …illegal actions …that Peter never really accepted me. Never trusted me. Held me at arm’s length, we would say. I never hurt him or Elizabeth, or I did not ever mean to do so.”
“Because, silly boy, you lie to me about things, about facts. You have seldom, if ever, lied to me about who you are.”
Neal looked down again. “I warned you right from the beginning. I am a criminal.”
All at once, Steel’s voice cracked like a whip: “Come here, Neal!”
Neal jumped, looked up and saw a frightening scowl on his Lord’s face. “Wh-at, my Lord?”
“Come here, now!”
Confused, Neal scrambled over the bed. As soon as he was close enough, Steel grabbed his arm and pulled him off-balance, slid his hand down till he had Neal’s wrist, which he rotated so it was palm up, then slid down further and took his fingers in a hard grip, bent them backwards and whacked his book down hard on Neal’s palm with a loud crack once, twice, three times!
Neal gasped, his eyes huge, shocked more than hurt, although his hand stung and then throbbed. It had happened so fast!
“If you ever say that again in my hearing, you will be truly sorry, Neal!” Steel thundered, maintaining his hold on the younger man.
“Wh-what, my Lord?”
“That you are a criminal. That is not who you are. It may be what you do, sometimes, it may be a label Peter and his systems pasted upon you, neither of which is accurate or complete. It is certainly not a description of the kind, sensitive, creative, loving and loveable man you are.
"I told you when I chose you as my son, you are not to say that any more, and you just disobeyed me! Do not own anything you do not choose to own!
“It is another thing that has to stop!”
“My Lord, may I have my hand back?” Neal was bent at an uncomfortable angle, his wrist twisted by Steel’s grasp.
“No! Tell me you understand what I have said to you!”
“Or…?” Neal bit back a chuckle.
“I will smack you with this nice hard book again – first on your hands and then on other, more tender places!”
“I understand! I understand! I am not a criminal! That is not who I am!” Neal exclaimed, laughing, and Steel replaced the book beside the bed and used Neal’s wrist to drag him against his chest, where he held him and hugged him.
“Ouch!” murmured Neal, curled against Steel’s warmth, rubbing his palm.
“You just found a lie I will not tolerate, Neal!” Steel said, softly. “I will not allow anyone to say bad things about those I love!”
“I am glad you are more demonstrative, my Lord, than you were at first.”
“I told you I liked that about you, : despite the protocols, you found a way to touch me without disrespect. And I am now also free to be demonstrative of my annoyance over aspects of your behaviour I dislike, you are aware?”
He smiled and hugged Neal close, then pushed him gently away and said, “Now go to bed, son! But remember!”
“May I stay here a little while, my Lord? While you read? I will not interrupt.”
Lord Steel settled himself more comfortably, and Neal lay on his side with his one hand and one cheek on Steel’s bare shoulder and watched the dogs as they groomed one another. It had been something of an emotional evening, and slowly he felt the upheaval within him smooth and calm. Eventually, when his eyes were threatening to close, he felt Steel lean over and kiss his forehead and Steel said, “You are all but asleep, Neal!”
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you. I needed this.” His eyes focussed on some of the words on the open page and he asked, “What are you reading, my Lord?”
“It is a book about how to integrate people with different ideas and beliefs and cultures so that they can live and work together happily or at least peacefully, to overcome arguments and disagreements.”
Neal’s voice was flat as he spoke English: “A book about what we would call ‘conflict resolution’.” He gazed in some disbelief into Steel’s eyes and asked, “You whacked your son with a book on conflict resolution?”
“Whack – ?”
“A word immitative of the sound - onomatopoeia it is properly called - it means to hit, beat, spank. But in the right circles whack can also mean kill, murder, do away with.”
“Your English is a difficult language.”
“Do not change the subject, my Lord! I am sure you have a paddle somewhere with ‘Applied Psychology’ engraved onto it!”
Steel chuckled. Mozzie had explained – and complained - about psychology.
Neal spoke in Sheel: “You smacked me with a book about how to solve disagreements.”
“Why, yes, son, I believe I did.”
“But - !”
“Are you telling me the disagreement between us is not resolved?” Steel closed the book and hefted it, thoughtfully.
Neal grinned at him. “I am fully confident that you do not need that book, my Lord. In any way.”
“The information within it may be somewhat redundant, but I feel it may still have some use to me.”
“Mmmhmm?” Neal hummed, and hugged him, laughing softly.
“Go to bed, good sleep and dreams, Neal.”
Neal clambered off the bed, slipped on his shoes and grinned at Lord Steel.
“Good night – Daddy!” he said, cheekily and skipped off, only remembering as he reached the door that these locks were intelligent and interactive in ways that Earthling technologies weren’t…but the door opened without difficulty and he made his escape.
But he lay in bed a while, thinking about how different Steel and Peter were and how comfortable he felt here, and wishing Peter could have been a little more like Steel. Or a lot. Even if, he smiled to himself, he called him a boy, thought of him as a child.
Neal didn’t have much experience of how fathers and older sons interacted, of course, but he couldn’t help but think that smacking a child’s hand was more a punishment for a three-year-old than a teenager!
He snuggled down and fell asleep smiling, feeling safe, accepted, loved.
Home.
Fin
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