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Marcus Damhnait did not have many visitors, save his lawyer. His daughter drowned in a swimming pool when she was a toddler, and his wife burned to death in the home they raised their family in. His only son had not spoken to him since the trial that sent him away nearly five years ago. Rehab might not be jail, but it was still a lonely place.

After Marcus completed his own rehab cycle, he was moved to this refitted asylum. Nuthouses weren't only for the crazies anymore, and he stayed in a wing composed of other recovering addicts -- people whose crimes were weighed on their drugs of choice, not their personal identity. There were days when Marcus thought jail might be better, but he was not so foolish to ever say so. Today was one of those days he would not complain about because, today, he had a visitor.

When Marcus crossed the room toward the assigned table where the blue-haired girl waited, there could be no denying that this was Parker's father. They had the same dark hair and hawkish features. Parker lacked his father's square chin, but he had the broad shoulders. The height was comparable, as was the general build. Marcus's dark hair was peppered with gray, but he was not balding or pudgy. He walked with a limp, though he tried to disguise it with a high chin and thrown-back shoulders. He looked like an old sports star cut straight from a fading baseball card. None of that really mattered -- it was the eyes that set them as father and son. They were precisely the same shade of cool, ice water, set off by an identical fringe of lashes and narrowed.

Marcus was led to the table by a nurse wearing pale blue. His own uniform was starkly white and starched. The generous material caught across his broad shoulders. From a distance, Marcus appeared almost Grecian -- an Olympian of old -- but, up close, his hard life showed in the deep lines around his eyes and mouth, the sunken gray beneath his eyes.

He sat, and the attendant left, letting him know that he had thirty minutes. Marcus smiled, exposing a row of nearly perfect teeth, save his left canine which curved inward. "What is a beautiful girl like you doing here," he said, characteristic charm winding into the words. "You aren't an illegitimate child that has been kept from me, are you? Though I must tell you... there was only one love in my life, and she never gave me a daughter like you." He laughed then, free and easy, like they were sitting in a field having a picnic instead of an asylum.

Marcus did not know this girl, but he was curious about his visitor. Even if this was a case of mistaken identity, he was happy to chat it up with a nice girl. She looked to be about his son's age. This brought a pang of sadness to his gut, but it was a familiar one.

Marcus leaned forward when Dani did and smiled. "Well, hello, Dani. I'm Marcus Damhnait -- but I think you know that." He studied her carefully. She seemed so tense, so fixated. He had been kidding about the illegitimate child thing, but the seriousness in her eyes made him reconsider. It wouldn't be the first time that some lost kid came wandering around the ward searching for a dad. But they were not his, never were. Marcus only had Parker, and he really didn't have Parker at all.

While Dani summoned her strength and words, Marcus did not flinch, his expression as flat and smooth as the cool metal table they sat at. In the face of everything, Marcus had always been unflappable. It was a trait that Parker hated, but that he seemed to mime just the same. Parker never wanted to show his hand, but he lacked the hardness of his father. Underneath the crust, Parker was all soft and runny. His father was made of different stuff.

That being said, when Dani mentioned his son's name, the corner of Marcus's mouth twitched -- a microexpression of sorrow -- and then returned to its easy grin. "Parker has a girlfriend," he said, nodding. The man drew in a breath and sat back. "I only hope he is as charming as his dad is." Marcus grinned again, even when Dani mentioned the letter. In the same way that Parker hid behind his seriousness, Marcus hid behind his charm. One of them simply had a more socially acceptable mask -- and it wasn't Parker.

Marcus glanced down to the table. "I'm glad Parker is alive, and well," he said, skirting the question at hand. "It's good to know that." He looked back up, speared her with a gaze. "I haven't seen my son in a few years, but I don't think he knows you're here. Is there a reason you look sad? Sadness doesn't sit right in your eyes. You were made to be a sunshine person, a ray of light, am I right?" He grinned again. It was a smile you could love; it was a smile you could learn to hate.

There was something unflinching and pleasant about Marcus. In the face of Dani's tension, he seemed perfectly at ease. It was as if she were the prisoner, and he was just visiting. If not for the stark white of his clothes and a certain gauntness in his face, Marcus Damhnait would appear like a wrongly convicted man doomed to dwell in a place for the guilty.

Of course, he was not that man.

While Dani spoke, Marcus laid one hand on the table, fingertips resting lightly. He made no move to interrupt her, and the only sign of emotion was the occasional narrowing of his eyes and shifting of his hand. When she finished, he took several moments to chew over the words before speaking.

Marcus did not lean forward this time. "Dani," he said, voice falling a few octaves, "how old are you?" He paused, but it was evident that he was not waiting for a response. "Because I am almost 42. 42 years I've spent figuring out my life. I have been married, I've had two kids." This would be news to Dani. Parker only briefly mentioned his dead sister in the hospital and not in logical terms. "I've watched my wife die. I've watched my son leave me. And now I'm a prisoner." Marcus brought his other hand to the table and knit his fingers.

"I am certain that you think you are doing a good and necessary thing. I believe that you feel it is your place to come here and talk to me." His gaze flashed up to meet hers. "But you are a teenager who I have never met, and you are trying to force yourself into a situation where you do not belong. I'm not sure what gave you the impression that you were entitled to pry into my feelings in this way. I can't even be sure that you are actually dating my son, Dani, because I have not directly spoken to him in two years." This got a small flinch from Marcus. There was a time when Parker visited, even though that was stiff and infrequent. That time had ended, and had been replaced by passing words sent through his lawyer. And now, this girl. This was not what Marcus wanted. He wanted his son, not some self-righteous child to burst into his midst demanding answers.

Marcus might have been the imprisoned one, but he would not be talked to like that by a child. "You took a risk in coming here, sure, and I'm happy to hear that Parker is well -- though I have no way of verifying that you are little more than some broken-hearted girl he knew -- but I'm not sure what you are hoping to accomplish. You are already here talking to me. Whatever risk there is, you already took it." Despite the sharpness in the content, Marcus did not sound angry, accusatory, or annoyed. He was merely rattling off facts to her, facts that she seemed to have missed when she made the triumphant decision to come here. "And pardon me for saying so, but if you cared about my son as much as you say, then it doesn't make much sense that you would come here, especially knowing that it would really, really piss him off."

Marcus, too, felt protective of his son. Because it was his son. Marcus had made mistakes -- many mistakes -- but it didn't take away the love he had for his son. "My intentions with my son are that he is my son, Dani. Nothing can change that," his eyes darkened, "even if Parks wanted it to." Dani was wrong to try to force herself into their family situation. Marcus knew that. What he chose to ignore where the valid concerns that she might have. He didn't once touch on his addiction, or on his imprisonment, or on what he had put Parker through. In his mind, he didn't need to. Dani was a kid. She was a kid barking at an adult about something that she couldn't understand.

When Marcus turned his familiar gaze on her, it was not out of scorn or mockery; it looked more like pity.

"Maybe I can understand how this doesn't matter to you, but I thought, I have to at least give this a try. See where you're coming from, see if there's a reason for Parker to keep hating you."

Parker was Marcus's sore spot just as Marcus was Parker's. The moment the words left Dani's mouth, his expression fell, and he did nothing to hide it. Marcus knew Parker was angry with him. Marcus knew he had been a shitty father at times. Marcus knew that he was selfish when he should have been helping his son cope with Imogen's death. But Marcus was coping too, at the time, and coping was something he had never been good at, not even as a kid. That was Imogen's role. He got involved with painkillers in the first place because of his staggering inability to cope with loss, and that was just the loss of his baseball career. His wife's death? Knowing that he saved Parker and couldn't save her from the fire? It still kept him up at night. He knew all of this, and yet it still burned like a hot iron rod thrust through his chest to hear this stranger say it to him.

"I thought you were dead."

Was Parker really more content to think of his father as dead than a disappointment? The thought emblazoned itself across his vision. All he could see was flashes of memory -- his son smiling, laughing, playing. Marcus realized too late that those smiles grew less and less frequent as he aged; that his laughter grew scathing, or nonexistent; that he never wanted to play the way other kids did. It took imprisonment for him to look at this, and that was something Marcus would spend his entire life confronting.

"Why would Parker lie to me about this? I figured he was ashamed, or you were a really bad person that he just didn't want in his life."

Another dagger, white hot and searing.

These things this girl was saying... They were things that Marcus feared his son might feel, or think. He even suspected it. But to hear that Parker was actually saying these things out loud to other people? It crushed him. If he was not imprisoned, it was precisely the kind of thing that would have him back to painkillers. This made his frown deepen.

Parker was his son. Nothing would change that. Marcus knew his wrongdoings, and he would carry those things with him the rest of his life. He wasn't asking Parker to forgive him in the letters -- not outright. Marcus just wanted to talk, a meeting, a little presence. Deep, ugly burns scars covered Marcus's arms. And why? Because he dove into a burning house to save a son that hated him. He saved Parker because he loved Parker, and he had already lost one child, little Colie drowned in the bottom of the pool. That guilt was almost heavier. That guilt was suffocating. Marcus knew that Imogen would have done the same thing in his shoes. She would have wanted Parker to live. So why did Parker only see that Imogen died, instead of looking at the fact that Marcus had saved him?

There was a time when Parker visited. It was never warm or loving. Sometimes Parker didn't say anything. Now, he didn't even call, or take his calls. Marcus didn't even know Parker's cell phone number. The last he heard was from his lawyer telling him that Parker refused to testify at his appeal. Marcus never asked Rick to do that; he didn't want to hurt Parker more.

After Dani finished, Marcus looked down at his hands. He didn't say anything at first, just traced the inside of his palm with his thumb. He took a breath and then glanced up to Dani.

Marcus smiled, but it was not easy, or charismatic. It was sad. "Well, you certainly have told me a lot," he said. He linked his hands into a fist, propped his elbows on the table, and pressed his mouth against it. It took a long time to collect his thoughts, but when he spoke, it was slow and deliberate and devoid of the charm or wit that he had displayed earlier:

"I do not know if I am what is best for Parker. I don't know if I was ever good for Parker. His mother was the parent. She was born to do it. It was always easy for her, and a chore for me. I cannot change that now. I can't change a damn thing about what I've done, or how I treated him, or who I was. That is not an option. If I could go back and re-do my entire life, I would. In a heartbeat. But I wouldn't change marrying my wife. I wouldn't change loving our two kids. But everything else? Everything else I would change."

A door opened behind them, the same door Marcus had come through before. He closed his eyes and sighed. That was the officer coming back to get him. He didn't have much time. "I don't know what Parker has told you about me or our family, how detailed he was with you. But my son has his reasons to want to cut me out of his life. It doesn't mean I will stop trying to make everything up to him." The officer approached and held up five fingers to Marcus. Marcus nodded and looked back to Dani. "I want what is best for Parker, but I also want my son to be a part of my life. I'm not who I used to be." Did Marcus know that for sure? It was easy to be clean in rehab. It was easy to say the right things when he had no freedom. Even Marcus wasn't sure, but he wanted his son back.

He raised a hand to touch at his lip. "It was the drugs," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't me. It was the drugs." And there it was: Marcus Damhnait hadn't fully taken responsibility for his actions, not yet. In his mind, it was drugs that made him bad and unfit. Without them, he was the dad Parker had always wanted. This is what he thought.

The officer stepped forward and put a hand on Marcus's shoulder. He nodded and stood up. There hadn't been much time for Dani to talk in all of that, but maybe what he said could help. Maybe it could build a bridge where there was only rubble, even if it meant going through a stranger. "Dani, I just want to talk to him. Tell him that. I just want to talk." The officer nudged Marcus away, but he held up a hand. "Please, one moment." The officer raised an eyebrow, but softened it. He didn't release his grip on Marcus's arm.

Marcus glanced back to Dani. "You came here. So you care, in some way. Well, if you care, that's good. Parker deserves someone who cares. Parker needs someone who cares. I didn't give him that stability." The officer muttered something about leaving, and Marcus nodded. He had already risked it this much, but a blemish on his record would be a bad thing, especially with the appeal coming up.

As he walked away, Marcus glanced one last time at Dani and said, "I meant what I said in the letters." He wanted to remember this girl's face. If she had a connection to Parker, then she had a connection to him. If his son was happy, then he would have to be happy. But was Parker was happy? Or was he permanently damaged? Was he a bird with a broken wing before it could even fly? And was all of that Marcus's fault?

These were the thoughts that seeped into his mind like acid as Marcus Damhnait left the room, shoulders back, head high, and heart heavy.