How Green Becomes Wood

"Please explain to me how you can justify bringing up that part of my life as though it is nothing, speaking about it flippantly, and then act as though I have committed a faux pas by reacting to it." Dark replied, "What exactly did you expect me to say? I have not done it in years. You have nothing to fear."
 
"I didn't say anything flippantly, and it wasn't even supposed to be for you," Xander snapped. "I muttered a thing. That's it. How you took it is your problem, not mine. Forgive me for not saying it in a different language so you couldn't understand. You say you haven't done it in years, fine. Whatever. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about how you're just as much of a fragile meat bag with head problems as the next guy." He tossed a plate into the sink so hard it broke in half. "I knew that already, but I didn't want to think about it! I wanted you to stay invincible for a little longer. A year and a half isn't long enough. There. Happy now? No." He started to reach into the water for the broken plate. "Of course you're not happy because you're never happy."
 
"I am sorry to have robbed you of that notion." Dark replied, his shoulders slumping forward. He had liked them seeing him as invincible, too, and knowing that, at least Xander, didn't anymore, made him feel small. That armor being stripped from him hurt like he could not express, and he hadn't meant for it to happen.

Unsalvagle as his broken image might have been, an image that made him feel good about himself, he still said, softly, after taking a long time to think, "I did die, once. When I was seventeen. But I am alive now, because I could not be held. And I think, sometimes, when I am overwhelmed, that I could not kill me, what ever I am dealing with cannot either." He sighed, staring down again at his dog, "I never attempted to obscure the fact I have mental illnesses."
 
"It's supposed to be over," Xander said, fishing out the pieces of plate. "That's all supposed to be in the past. You've been in therapy and with a good environment for like a century; that's supposed to have done something for you! You're supposed to be healed and all that. You're supposed to be..." He hesitated, not certain where he was going and having lost a little bit of his steam. "Oh, forget it. What do I understand above anything?" He tossed the plate pieces in the trash and kept going.
 
"There are some things that cannot simply be fixed." Dark replied, looking solemnly at his son with tired eyes, "I am better. This is my improvement. It may surprise you, but I am proud of it. Like Kafka, I have spent much of my life resisting the desire to end it. But I do not feel that way anymore. I do not want that, anymore. And have not in a long time. When I was your age, I spent... 95% of my time wanting it to be over, by any means, I spent it hating every single thing about myself, and the world, I spent it either angry, or numb, or... just... sad, but now? After that century of therapy? When I wake up I do not feel disappointed, anymore. 95% of my time, I like myself. I can look at myself in the mirror. I do not dread the day. So as much as it would be nice to be at 100%, making it to 95% is... beyond anything I could have dreamed of. I am always going to have triggers, I am always going to have bad days, but I have grown to be someone I can respect. I am proud of how much I have managed to grow."

He looked away again, frowning deeply, but then he nodded to himself, "The fact we went through everything we did last year, and I never once fell back into my old habits? The fact I intervened on a man assaulting you and Alec, and despite all of the memories and pains it dredged up, I never did those things again? It may not seem like it to you, but even though my depression worsened significantly--- that is a victory."
 
Xander's hands stilled until he stood with his hands in the soapy water, not moving as he absorbed what Dark said. He didn't respond at first, his hands redding in the heat. Finally, quietly, he said, "But you still aren't happy. You won't even say that you can be happy. When Alec asked if quitting would make you happy, you said you'd be content. If after all of that, even you can't be happy when you, of all people, have earned it, than what hope..." He trailed off. What hope did someone like him have? But he didn't want to voice the words. This wasn't about him. Not really. "What hope is there that you won't go back someday? I just... You don't have to be like Daizi or Alec or Peter, I just need to know that you are okay. Like really okay. I don't understand why you can't be... I don't know the right word. Cured, I guess."
 
"I am not unhappy." Dark replied, resting his forearms on the table, "And when I said it would make me content... That is what I strive for. All I want is to be at peace. I can feel happiness, and I can feel joy. I do feel those things. I was very happy on Father's Day. I am happy when I get a new tattoo, or when I am able to give something to you or your siblings that I never would have had access to mysf. But I, taken at a grand scale, am not a happy person. Cooger is. Alec certainly is. Ivy is, at least for now, and I suspect Sally and Jack are, too. But that is not my reality." He took a long, slow breath, either like he was gaining strength from the atmosphere, or like he was treating the air like a cigarette, "but I do not even know what feeling like that is like. The thought of it feels like wearing someone else's shoes."

Once more, he was quiet, thinking about the end of Xander's statement, "I cannot be cured because there is no cure. There is no treatment which can entirely mend what is broken. My brain is incorrect: childhood trauma, and abuse, and neglect literally changes how your brain develops, and I can do nothing to undo that. What I went through was extreme, and unfortunately, nothing can completely undo it. But I am okay. Now, at thirty-nine years old, living in my dream house, with my wife, and my children, and mu dog? With my best friend, my brother, only a phone call away? I am okay. I love my life, and i do not anticipate ever going back to how I once was. At least, not without some mass calamity: If you, Alec, Daizi, and Ivy all died in an accident, then... I think a lot of my healing would be undone in an instant. But otherwise? I am okay. I may not be invincible. I certainly carry the scars of a long, often-difficult, and complicated life. But I have survived all of it. And I intend to continue surviving it."
 
Xander took a shaky breath. "I just need you to be okay." Tears dripped into the sink water, and it took him just a second to realize they were his. He rubbed at his eyes angrily, getting water on his face as he did so. "I just need you to be okay. I need you to be here when we come home. I need you to be working on that little carnival. I need you to be downstairs working out or running or just existing because... I just... need you to exist." He bent his head, heat flushing his cheeks in shame, but the stubborn tears wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so stupid."
 
"I am okay," Dark said, rising to his feet and going to stand beside his son, although he still did not touch him. "I promise you, I am okay. I am not going anywhere and I do not want to go anywhere. I have my struggles, just like anyone does, but I have them under control, and I have help. You do not need to be afraid for me, Xander. I promise you do not have to be afraid for me." It hurt, watching his son cry over fear of what might happen to him, although it was also sort of touching, but for Xander to be this upset over him... he couldn't guess what the teen might have seen or noticed.
 
Xander took several gulping breaths to force himself to calm down and roughly rubbed his eyes again. He was leaning toward Dark without even realizing it, though he did not touch him. "It's okay if you're weak sometimes, or mess up, as long as you always come home," he said softly, his voice shaking a little. "And I'll try not to push you so hard. You're just..." He didn't know what to say at first until a word came to mind, and he whispered it so softly it was barely audible, "Safe." He shook himself and cleared his throat. "I gotta finish these, I guess."
 
"They can wait." Dark told him, standing as close to his son as he could manage without touching him. "I am always going to come home. I am always going to be here. I promise. There is nowhere else I would want to be. You are not going to lose me, Xander. You never could."
 
Xander finally reached over and gripped Dark's shirt, crumpling it in his fist as he gripped it tightly. For a brief moment, he leaned his whole body against Dark and rested against him. He'd stopped crying, and he had nothing left he could say. He just wanted to be near his father and not think about how temporary life was. How vulnerable everyone, even someone as mighty as Dark was. He'd never had this as a child, had someone he could view as being totally invincible, and he hadn't meant to see Dark that way, yet somehow, he gotten to this point where the idea of losing Dark made his head spin and filled his heart with panic. As with everything that made him uncomfortable, his impulse was defensive anger even now, but he didn't like it. He didn't want it. He just wanted to be safe. Just for a little longer before he had to face the world.
 
Dark swallowed hard and wrapped his strong, scarred arms loosely but certain around Xander, only for the time he was leaning against him. Then he let go, and repeated himself, bending slightly to be closer to Xander's level, "I am not going anywhere. And I do not want to. I am going to be here, at home, waiting for you. Every day. Just like always. And I am so sorry to have frightened you."
 
"It's okay," Xander said quietly. He wasn't touching Dark anymore, but he was still turned toward him. "It wasn't your fault. Not really. I'm... sorry... that I didn't react well." Sorry was still strangely hard to say, but he was getting better at it.
 
"I forgive you." Dark replied, his expression soft and sad, "I can understand why it is difficult for you. It is not something I have personal experience with, but... I can guess, if nothing else. But in the future, those things you were saying about it... They are not helpful."
 
"I'll try not to," Xander promised quietly. He gripped the edge of the sink, feeling... sad. Empty, but in an okay way. Not great, but okay. He wasn't sure how to move on from this point.
 
"Thank you." Dark replied, still feeling truly wounded by some of what Xander had said, but trying not to show it, because he didn't want the teen to feel guilt over their conversation. "You should go relax. I can finish cleaning up here." He rolled up his sleeves and picked up one of the plates, but then hesitated. "You do not have to do it now, but when you are ready, you should tell Daizi you apologized to me."
 
"I started it," Xander said, gesturing to the sink, "I want to finish it. At least the dishes? And... I'll talk to her later." He wanted to talk to her never right now, but he figured Dark was right.
 
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"If that is your preference, I will not stop you." Dark replied, and with a soft groan, pushed his hair back using both hands, "She is very protective of me. That is why she was sharp." Although to be totally fair to Daizi, all she had done was tell Xander what he had said was inappropriate.
 
"I know," Xander said simply. He finished washing the dishes that were left and wiped down the counter. There was still work for Dark to do. For his part, he headed outside and toward his shed. He wanted alone time, but if he tried to get to his room, he'd have to pass his brother and his mother, and he was not ready for that right now.
 
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