He stared at the boy. The boy stared at him. It would have probably been awkward had someone else been standing there watching, but since it was just the two of them, they comfortably maintained their curious stasis until a distant third party shook them free.

"Jeff? Who's at the door?"

The familiar voice had deepened with age or tar buildup or both, but it still held that same twinge of sarcasm that had always been uproariously funny to anyone who wasn't its target. Rabbit had missed that voice, even though it had been directed at him more than once, and he turned to face it now, a flower opening to the sun.

Vic stepped into the hall with the same loping swagger he'd always had, like you were pulling him away from something really cool, but it was all right because you were more important. "Hey, Bennett," he said, his tone warming unevenly like a Girl Scout's campfire marshmallow.

"Rabbit," he corrected, noting the other man's brief smirk. "What? I doubt you started going by Kevin all of a sudden."

Vic shrugged. "Fair enough. I would've thought you'd have abandoned everything I gave you after all the things I did."

It was strange to hear him almost admit to having deliberately done anything wrong way back when. At the time, Rabbit had fought to justify Vic's shitty behavior by telling himself that was just the way the man was, though to be fair, it wasn't much of a fight. He had wanted Vic to be wild and abrasive, his heart of gold slightly tarnished but no less pure. Rabbit's memories grated against his feelings and he forced them apart, but not before the contact nearly made him frown.

"It's a good name," he said, mouth curving sweetly once more.

"Yeah. It fits."

It had. Rabbit wasn't sure if it did. He pushed away the nagging notion that this trip had been a mistake, clinging to all of the times he had found himself thinking of Vic, wanting to know what might happen if he could have just one more moment with him, face to face. Apparently, they were destined to spend that moment standing in the hallway of some duplex on Staten Island with a weird kid looking on, a kid with Vic's stormy eyes and crooked mouth.

"So. Who's this?"

Vic snorted. "About time you asked. This is my kid, Jeff."

Of course it was. That didn't change a thing. Rabbit reshaped his dreams in an instant, fitting this child into the life he imagined for them like a puzzle piece with too many arms. It wasn't too late. He could make this work.

Vic clapped the boy on the back. "Why don't you go get us all something to drink?"

The boy scampered off like the perfect movie child, one who said golly and had a cowlick and dreamed of a puppy for Christmas. Rabbit settled in for more awkward silence, stuffing his hands into his pockets, but it hadn't been more than thirty seconds before there was a crash and Vic was rolling his eyes.

"s**t," he muttered. "Be right back."

Rabbit watched Vic retreat the way he had come in, saw him turn the corner and duck out of sight only to be reflected in a hallway mirror on the wall opposite the kitchen door. The power he tended to forget, the weird new one that had clung to him the last time he'd left the other side, blared to life, turning their nearly imperceptible whispers into proper conversation. The broadcast cut out every time their lips shifted from view, but Rabbit heard enough.

"...ten bucks..."

"You'll get it after he's... smile and pour the damn tea."

"...'m telling m..."

The messy patch job he'd done on his mind began to flake away, leaving him brimming with sorrow and scorn. He had been right to stay far from here. He hadn't listened to himself and now things were cracked and slowly breaking. He had no idea what Vic had planned, but he didn't need to know the specifics. It would be humiliating, that he was sure of, which meant nothing had changed. This could not be repaired based on the strength of his feelings. It was wrong. He'd been wrong, and that was what hurt most of all. He jammed a spike between his memories and turned it until they snapped. The only way to fix this now was to tear it down.

Vic and Jeff emerged from the kitchen, the boy in front with a smile on his face and two cups in his outstretched hands. Rabbit took one.

"Thanks." He sipped, lifting his eyes to Vic's. Rabbit was quiet. He didn't speak until Vic was just about to, waiting until he inhaled to interrupt. "I've been thinking." Sip. "About how pathetic I am and how you must just love that. And about what you're trying to do here. I'll admit, I can't figure it out, so I thought I'd ask. Did you want to rub my nose in some perfect life that I missed out on? Did you think I would run home and cry? Or maybe you wanted me to kill myself, which... yeah, I might have done." He chuckled, gesturing with his glass and sloshing tea onto the floor. "Knowing you, there was a pity ******** in there somewhere, right? So what are you waiting for?" He set his drink on the ground and peeled off his shirt.

Vic's expression went cold and hard, a more dangerous version of the one he had worn while breaking Rabbit's heart all those years ago. "Not in front of the kid."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving him out. Do you want Jeff to watch? Or maybe he can join in? I mean, you're already paying hi—"

Jeff let Vic get in three solid punches before Rabbit heard the front door creak open. There was a breathy giggle, then an adolescent shout. "Hey! Dude! Uncle Vic's beatin' the s**t outta your friend!" He was pretty sure there were another two... three punches after that, or maybe two and a kick... before Lyn was looming over Vic's shoulder, tearing him away, and Rabbit was laughing, no, choking on blood, slipping into unconsciousness with Vic's rasping threats echoing in his ears.