How Green Becomes Wood

Guessing what was in Tristan's mind, Dark told him, "I do not believe you need to fear him returning. I may not know your father, but I have known many like him. It is easy for them to be that way if they believe they are untouchable, but he is not. He knows, now, that he is not. At least not here."
 
Dark's words calmed Tristan. Then something about the phrasing caught his ear. He looked up at Dark guardedly. "Did you do something to him?" he asked cautiously. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if Dark said yes.
 
"I told him he committed a misdemeanor and assured him I would be contacting the authorities, that is all." Dark replied, "That is all it took for him to go running. He gave the flowers back."
 
Tristan buried his face in his hands. "I cannot believe you did that." This would probably lead to retaliation, wouldn't it? Some sort of harassment? Yet... He felt relieved. So very relieved that someone could stand up to him. "Thank you," he said softly to Dark, sincerity in his tone.
 
"I informed him he is no longer welcome here," Dark answered, "so if he does decide to return, he will be trespassing. And you will have recourse. You do not need to go to Easter, either."
 
Tristan finally looked at Dark in surprise. "You heard that? How much did you hear?" He looked away, suddenly flushing in embarrassment. He was a grown adult. He had his own business, for crying out loud! How many people under thirty could say that? Yet, here he was needing to be rescued while he cowered and shrank away like a child. He knew what Dark had said earlier about feeling small, but that didn't fully stop his shame at himself.
 
He wasn't sure how to answer that. He felt like he should apologize for reading the article, thinking that must be what Dark was referring to, but he simply wasn't in the right frame of mind to do so. "No, I do not suppose they do," he agreed. He sat staring in the middle distance, no longer panicking, but now thoroughly miserable. "I should close the shop," he finally said. "I do not think I can sell many flowers today. Not right now." He turned and started slowly pushing his chair forward, his movements stiff and pained. He stopped, though, and turned back toward Dark. "I have two younger brothers," he told Dark. "Six brothers in total. And a sister I barely remember. She was - is - the eldest, and when she was seventeen... she left. She escaped. I grew up hating her for leaving the fold. Now... now I wish she'd taken me, all of us, with her. I thought maybe... maybe I could reach my younger brothers. They are in their twenties now, but they were kids when this happened." He tapped his chair and looked away. "They look at me how I think I looked when I thought of my sister. I wonder if they think I abandoned them."
 
"Callum was fifteen, and Séamus was twelve," Tristan told him. He looked away and sighed. "Maybe, if I'd reached out when they were younger, maybe I could have done something, but I... I couldn't. I was barely in a position to take care of myself. I couldn't take care of myself, not for a long time. At least they had a roof over their heads. At least they were fed. I want to reach out more, but every time I do, it's like touching tar."
 
"In every emergency, they tell you to help yourself before you help others." Dark told him, "If do not prioritize keeping yourself safe, then you and the people you intended to help will all be worse for it. Even emergency rescue teams are taught to wait. And now..." He gestured with one hand, then sighed, "A person needs to be complicit in their own rescue. It does not matter how many ropes you throw, if they will not grab onto it, and you have to be careful, when throwing that rope, not to be pulled back down into the tar with them."
 
Tristan didn't say anything at first, running his hand along the top of his wheel. Finally, he said, "Thank you. I'm sorry. That you got caught up in this. And for Alec." He shook his head, not sure why, just to move, he supposed. "You should take Alec home. And tell him I'm sorry for all of this."
 
Dark stood up, "I am going to clean up the glass first. And... Alec is my son. You are his uncle. I am already part of it." Grabbing the broom and dust pan, he headed through the beaded curtains and said, "You should go home. There is nothing here which cannot wait."
 
Tristan wheeled over to the nearest table and rested his elbows on it, his head in his hands. He needed a moment. Just a moment. Time to sort through his thoughts. If Alec was Dark's son, and Tristan his uncle, did that mean Dark was accepting Tristan as a part of his family? A brother-in-law, as it were? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Part of him yearned to be a part of this family, a real part. He knew that Dark and Daizi had both made comments in the past about accepting him, or something similar, but he'd never really taken them seriously. Why? Because he was afraid. His only real, defining example of family had been the one he'd grown up in, and he was terrified of that sort of commitment ever again. Which, logically, he understood was completely a failing on his own part and why he'd never been able to really keep a girlfriend for more than a few months (though there were often other valid reasons to end the relationship). He let his own fear guide his life, cutting out people who cared because he was afraid. Yet, here was someone who'd shown up every single time he had a need, who'd never asked for something in return, and who'd now gotten involved in something potentially dangerous, and why? To help him. To be there for him. Dark was a hero in Tristan's life, and Tristan could never, ever tell him that. For one thing, Dark would probably give him one of his withering looks if he did. But Dark... Dark was family. Tristan was finally seeing that, finally accepting that in a way he'd never been able to before. Alec and Xander were easier - Xander barely felt like he had a relationship with him, though he was always very civil now that they'd gotten past the bumpy stage - and Alec was more like a younger friend. It was a little easier to feel uncle-ish with him. And Daizi was always loving and caring. It was still strange to think, but maybe, just maybe, he could accept it.

He took a deep breath and straightened. He felt ready to go home now. Ready to drive responsibly. He wheeled to the separation and pushed the bead curtain aside. "Could you, if it is not too much trouble, lock up for me?" he asked Dark meekly. "I think you are right. I should head home. Are you okay here?"
 
"Yes, I can lock up," Dark answered, "Is there somewhere you would like me to put the keys when I am done, or should I bring them tomorrow? I cannnot stay, but Alec is in school when you usually open I believe."
 
"There's a loose brick next to the back door. The keys should fit there, I think," Tristan said, handing them over. "If you don't think they will be actually hidden, then I can come pick them up from you tomorrow. I do not want to inconvenience you any more than I have. Thank you."
 
"Thank you," Tristan said one more time. Then he left, trusting Dark to lock up and look after things. He left out the back, and soon was heading home. Once home, he went straight to the shower, and soon ended up in bed in his most comfortable pajamas, his favorite comfort food, a book, and the tv going. It wouldn't stave the dark thoughts forever, but for now, it would help.

Alec waited in the car, lightly chewing on the knuckle of one finger as waited anxiously for Dark's return.
 
It didn't take long for Dark to sweep up, lock the doors, and hide the keys. Then he went to the car, and got in, "I apologize for the wait. I wanted to make sure your uncle was okay, then I swept up and locked the store so he could go home. Are you okay?"
 
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