Damien looked over his shoulder at Evaughn and bobbed his head. "Ready to leave?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, you two."

Damien felt the words land on his back. He turned and saw Cameron's wife, Amanda, her lips pressed into a thin smile. She neared the two of them, but only slightly. "Don't leave just yet. Please. I'd like to apologize for what just happened."

Amanda looked towards Cameron's direction. At present, he was being pushed outside, past Luka who was in the doorway shutting down his father's attempts at a conversation. "You were nearly hurt and in my house. I'd like to make it up to you both, if I can. What about dinner?"

Damien's wince was reflexive. "I wouldn't be too... comfortable with that. I hope you can understand."

"You can watch me. Or cook with me. I feel terribly about what's happened. It's unacceptable. And perhaps I'm being selfish, but you were hurt in my house, and I'd hate for that to be the last thing you part with." Amanda's eyes were green like Luka's. They held a light of apprehension.

Despite all of it, Damien readied his tongue for a polite no. At the same time, Morales entered in. "Mr. Ruhl? Do you have a moment?"

Is it about Neo? Damien looked to his side to consult with Evaughn, but the boy was in a conversation with the other pair of green. Luka was also apologizing on Cameron's behalf.

Damien called his name, and he turned. "I'll be outside with the lieutenant. Would you feel better waiting in the car."

"Luka's here. It's okay."

Damien nodded. He was confident that Luka was unlike his dad.

Morales pointed his chin to the gaping front door. "Follow me."

Damien felt the undertone of those words. Heavy and serious. They trekked a short distance to the patio, and he adjusted his quarter-zip sweater for no particular reason along the way.

Once the lieutenant paused, he exhaled through his nose. "Neo's brother. Damien, yeah?"

"Yes."

He made a slow and single nod as preface. "It's best we assume that Neo is working with Celine."

Damien swallowed.

"It's clear the person Neo is; locks on the refrigerator, signs that your boy was sleeping in the basement. Bars on his window..."

Damien found that he was shaking. "Vaughn was living like that...? This whole time, he was...?"

"Yeah." 

The truth was an arrow.

Morales squinted. "I know you... distanced yourself for a long time but did you really have no idea your brother was capable of this?"

I thought I knew exactly who he is. "I-I guess not. Thank you for telling me."

"I'm sure you have a lot to think about, Damien. And, take this." He pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a business card. "You can reach out to me if anything comes to you, or if you need anything from me."

Damien received it and nodded, appreciatively. He pointed a shoulder to the Altair's front door and he was back inside, but only barely.

Every step was heavy, weighted by heated blankets. Neither of the three noticed his entry, nor the water in his eyes as he looked at his son. The boys were on the couch talking, and Amanda was at her dining table thinking.

Meanwhile, guilt was a hand pushing Damien backward. All the while, he agreed with its tactics.

Amanda was the first to see him. He blinked his tears away as subtly as he could. Her offer sounded sweet now; it was likely that full meals were rare for Evaughn.

And not only that; staying here would buy him time before he had no choice but to drive Evaughn; Damien couldn't rely on Luka the next time.

So, he approached the dining table.

Amanda smiled. "So? What is the verdict on dinner?"

Damien pointed over his shoulder, towards the police car outside that Cameron had brought in for them. "That officer. Will he stay there while we're here?"

"Of course. He was planning to."

"And your ingredients, are they...?"

"Unopened. Cam doesn't cook, and I'm never home. I stopped by the grocery on the way home."

He looked at the long-haired boy. "It comes down to him, then."

She smiled. "Sounds good. I'll get the stuff. It's in my car."

Nodding, Damien walked over to the couch and stood beside it rather awkwardly. He prepared the words on his tongue.

Luka turned first. Followed by Evaughn, and Damien could hardly look at the latter although his words were directed there. "Vaughn... I know you wanted to leave, but it might be long before we settle down. Maybe this'll be better than ordering takeout. It's up to you."

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Damien bobbed his head, a bit unconvinced at his reply, but at this point, he knew his judgement to be the greatest liar. So he went.

At the same time, Amanda returned with a shopping bag, weighted. He kindly took it from her and brought it into the kitchen.

There, natural wood created cabinets and drawers while white countertops complimented its shade; like the rest of her house, it appeared as though no one lived here.

Damien set the bag on the island. He didn't part with it before inspecting each item. He made sure all of it from the seasonings to the eggs to each vegetable, were new and unopened and stamped with a logo from Fresh Mart.

When he was satisfied, he joined the woman at her sink washing her habds. She moved aside for him to do the same.

She moved to begin pulling out drawers in search for something. Damien watched avidly as the woman opened three different drawers and closed each one right after. She clicked her tongue and muttered something to herself, visibly annoyed that the thing she was searching for was in the fourth drawer. She took a breath from the irritation of it all.

She glanced at Damien who was amused at it all.

"You can laugh." She chuckled, pulling out a small knife. "God, I can never remember where anything is when I come back."

"Are you away from home that often?"

"Usually three months at a time. The longest was six when I signed two contracts back to back. Never again."

Nodding, he wiped his wet hands on a nearby towel.

Amanda had already made herself busy; she was head deep in the grocery bag, getting out necessary ingredients for their dinner and rinsing them off. Damien turned towards the counter until they were shoulder to ear.

Damien suddenly remembered something that had almost escaped his mind. "That pun about a verdict..."

She scrunched her brows.

"Did you say that because I'm an attorney?"

"Oh—here, dice these." She placed an onion, red bell pepper, and a couple of garlic cloves on a cutting board in front of him. Then she tilted her head up to him. The lazily-tied bun on her head flopped accordingly.

"Damien, you told me yourself."

He frowned. "We met hardly an hour ago."

Her jaw lowered a bit. "You really don't remember me. I'm that forgettable?"

"Not at all. I just don't seem to... remember." He cringed at his choice of words. "Remind me."

"I figured you wouldn't." She laughed. "You didn't seem to be interested in me at all when we met."

By now, Damien's hand forgot it was holding a knife. It stilled.

"I was in New York City when I saw you at a park. I asked to hook up with you, and you were quick to decline," she explained casually.

With worry, Damien glanced into the living room.

"They aren't listening."

At present, Evaughn was on the couch, and Luka was walking towards him, holding two bags of chips.

He sighed internally at that. Then back to the cutting board, he started with the bell pepper and hoped the taps of knife onto cutting board would drown their conversation.

"Yeah. You told me you couldn't." Amanda went on indifferently. "That it isn't your thing, and you're not looking for anything."

"I remember," he said quietly. Thoughts of Bailey emerged, and he could not stop them. He hadn't yet let her die that third death.

"Is that true? You don't even want a relationship?"

Damien's next slice was off. He nearly cut himself.

"A-are you okay?"

"Yeah." He shook his head. "I'm okay. I... I'd like it if we didn't talk about that."

"Oh. Sure. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize, it has... nothing to do with you."

It got a little awkward then. In silence, Damien cut the ingredients into cubes, while Amanda placed a shallow pan on the stove and added cooking oil.

"You can add those in here."

He pushed his the cubes into the pan. The oil hissed, and then Amanda was lightly stirring.

"Be honest," she prefaced. "You're not disgusted by me approaching someone even though I have a husband?"

Damien had his back to the counter. "It isn't my place to judge."

"Yeah? I appreciate that. But, I'll explain myself anyway." On the opposite end of the stove was a can of tomatoes along with the spices she had gotten. She sprinkled them in one by one. "Back when I began traveling, Cam and I realized we would basically be long distance, so we decided it would be alright."

"Ah." He said, although he'd never think of doing such a thing with Bailey.

"As long as we stayed honest with each other." She poured in the canned tomatoes. "And he was honest about that. But with other things, Cam hid a lot. It makes sense now with everything aired out. When I'd ask about Celine, he'd steer the conversation."

Damien shifted at the name. From his understanding, she's the woman Cameron was working with, and the current talk of the nation.

"I was never too fond of her," Amanda continued. "I didn't know why until I stumbled across a research paper that she published. Apparently, she was doing a PhD."

Damien didn't realize how invested he was until Amanda interrupted herself.

"Oh, bring the carton of eggs, please."

"Sure," he said. In no time, he returned with it.

"We just need four."

He eyed the tomato sauce they had created. With the back of her wooden spoon, Amanda created a crater in the sauce. There, Damien cracked an egg. They repeated the action three more times before it was left to boil.

They washed and dried their hands afterwards. Amanda went to stand with her back to the island; she faced Damien, who still stood by the sink.

"What was her paper about?"

"APD. Antisocial personality disorder. And after asking Cam a million times—" Amanda made a show of rolling her eyes. "—I learned that Celine was researching her own disorder; she's a diagnosed psychopath."

Damien blinked. Neo is working with someone like that...?

"A section of her paper talked about the genetics of it all. Ever since reading it, I noticed that Cam isn't that different from his sister, and my Luka, he... he isn't that different from his dad."

Instinctively, Damien's eyes searched for the boy in question. On the couch, Luka was doing most of the speaking and Evaughn, listening intently.

Lines formed on Damien's forehead as he turned back to Amanda. "In what way?"

"When someone is in pain, a psychopath feels nothing, while an empath feels... everything. Luka is diagnosed an empath."

Damien nodded slowly. He remembered Luka and Cameron's conversation.

"He and Celine are opposites, but still they're... similar." She worded. "Their moral reasoning is... off sometimes. Too little or too great."

Damien noticed how much quieter Amanda had gotten.

She sighed. "As siblings, Celine and Cam share some DNA... including those that increase chances of psychopathy. I think Cam passed some of those traits down to Luka, whatever they are."

Damien saw clearly the distress on her face. "Do you believe he'll do terrible things?"

"I don't know," she answered. "For some reason, Cam was convinced that assisting in murder and trafficking was okay." She looked over at her son. "I'm not worried as long as he's surrounded by good people. I hope those two stay friends."

"Me too."

Amanda walked towards him where the stove was. She removed the lid and smiled. "It's ready."

"It smells good. What's it called?"

"Shakshuka. An Israeli dish."

"Ah."

"Yeah. We just need to top it off with parsley and then..."

Damien's phone had rung at that moment. He pulled it from his pants' pocket and glazed over the caller's name: L. Damien quickly hid the phone. "Excuse me, I need to take this. Is there a door to outside?"

"Yeah, over there." She pointed.

Nodding, he walked to the only door in the kitchen. Once outside, he wasted no time to accept the call.

"Hey, it's me. My apologies for the late response. I'm calling to let you know that your payment went through successfully and I will be handling your request soon. Don't bother to call back. Just sit tight and I'll do the rest."

What? No, I... I need to cancel this.

Damien pushed some buttons on his screen to make the call. While the ringback tone sounded, he dug a hand into his hair and slid it down to his nape.

Please...

"Hey, it's me. My apologies for the late response. I'm calling to..."

He dialed the number again, anxious this time. The same tone rang, and the same recorded message played out. "Hey, it's me. My apologies..."

"No." Am I too late?

The hand in his hair lost strength and dropped. It was midday and the sun was steaming. He felt hot inside his quarter-zip. So hot.

If he didn't cancel, then L would carry out his request. And his request was for her to kill him.

Damien rubbed his face and paced. He thought of what to do now that contact with L was thwarted. How he could prevent a skilled hitman from completing a request that he ordered.

What do I do now?

The door behind him slid open a bit. Damien turned abruptly. Evaughn had only his head out.

"Dinner is ready. Are you coming soon?"

Damien felt his heart sink. "Yeah." He looked away as the rawest symptoms of both shame and guilt covered him in overheated blankets. What now?

Was he to fail his son for a second time?

Was that truly his fate?

Was that how stupid he was?

He hoped Evaughn would go back inside so he wouldn't see the look on him. However, the boy did just the opposite; he pushed his entire body outside, slid the door shut, and stood beside his father.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

Damien turned to him. For some reason he, too, wore shame on his face. "For what?" he asked softly.

"I don't know what to call you."

Damien tilted his head, a bit confused.

"I'm making everything awkward because of it." He laughed a laugh suppressed and soft.

Until now, Damien hadn't registered that Evaughn was trying his best not to call him any sort of title. He hadn't thought of it much, but now it was clear as day the stress it was causing his son.

Damien looked the other away.

How didn't he notice until now?

Was he already screwing things up as a father?

Was that how stupid he was?

"I called you, um, D-Dad, earlier, and I can tell it weirded you out since you aren't... looking at me right now. I'm sorry."

"That's not it." Damien quickly answered. He looked into brown eyes and parted his lips to start. But he couldn't. Why were there so few words on his tongue when those in his head were so many?

He... tried again.

"Don't apologize, Vaughn, it... it's my fault entirely; I'm the reason we have to start over. It'll take time for me to earn your trust, but that's okay. I want more than anything to earn my title as a father. I hope you can accept me. And also, I... I want you to be strict with me."

"Strict...?"

Damien nodded, and his voice quieted. "Don't accept me so easily."

"Oh." Evaughn kicked his foot on the ground.

He smiled. "Also... when you called me Dad, I didn't for a second think it was weird."

His pupils dilated. "Really?"

"Yeah. If you want to use it, I would like it a lot. Or, you can call me Damien for now. It's up to you."

Beaming, Evaughn turned around and opened the door. He was halfway inside when he twisted his body and said, "I think Mrs. Amanda will be upset if we take any longer."

"Right, right. I'll be just a minute."

"Okay. See you inside, Dad."

Damien's heart lightened abruptly. It showed in his eyes, the warmth he felt from hearing him say it. "S-see you," he managed. Evaughn left with a similar expression.

When the door closed, Damien pressed his smile inside and turned to the sun. He wondered why things had to go like this.

Why this would be where their progress ended.

All because of how stupid he was.