A Life Well-Lived, Chapter 2
A Life Well-Lived
by CSIGeekFan
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from the show.
Author’s Note: I want to give a big shout out to lucsmum and seattlecsifan for their wonderful beta work.
Chapter 2
“Luke! A juvenile delinquent’s at the door!” Reid yelled upon opening the front door to find his great-grandson on the stoop.
“Gee, thanks, old man,” Kyle sardonically replied, not even trying to step inside. He learned early on that while Reid might love him, the old man didn’t put up with bullshit. And Reid had a sensitive bullshit meter. So while he waited for Luke to arrive, Kyle and his great-grandfather stared each other down.
Kyle dropped his gaze first, but only after Reid asked, “So, stolen a Jag yet? Always wanted one of those.”
“Nope. Just Mom’s sedan,” he replied.
“Luke! Your boy’s got shit for taste!” Reid bellowed over his shoulder, and then smiled wide.
The teen grinned and waited for just a second longer, before Reid patted him on the shoulder. Neither man nor teenager had ever felt comfortable with too much physical affection. The exception to the rule arrived, moving quickly for an old man, and wrapped an arm around each of their waists.
“Oh, Kyle, I’m so glad you’re here,” Luke said, with his standard smile.
Kyle didn’t mind his Grandpa Luke’s hugs so much, or the arm around his waist that held him close and led him down the hall to the conservatory. He didn’t mind so much when Luke led him to a seat and held his hand in that way only a grandfather could. And of course Kyle knew he had that bemused look that even the hardest of men held in Luke’s presence.
But when he looked across the little table at Reid, he smirked because the old bastard had the same expression on his face.
They’d been sitting there for fifteen minutes, sipping iced tea, with Kyle filling his grandfathers in on his penance - schoolwork. He’d barely opened his mouth to explain the assignment that had perplexed him, when he saw it happen.
Reid’s body tensed. His balance shifted a little, and those sharp eyes became dull with confusion.
“Luke?” the old physician asked, glancing around the room, until his gaze shifted to his husband.
“Hello, Reid,” Luke gently replied, shifting to place his hands on his husband’s face. Childish fear radiated from Reid, but he allowed Luke to help him rise from his chair and lead him away. As they left the room, Luke gently said, “Why don’t we go take a nap.”
And as simple as that, Kyle’s great-grandfathers hobbled out of sight. Just as Kyle made to leave, the housekeeper brought in a fresh pitcher and intoned, “Mr. Luke would like you to remain.”
The tone broached no argument.
So the teenager did. He waited for nearly an hour, trying to ignore that pressure in his chest when he thought of that look of blind confusion on Reid’s face. For that entire time, he looked at every object in the conservatory - from the nude Greek statues (that Reid had introduced to him as two-thousand year old porn), to the potted trees, to the lounge chairs near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He tried so hard not to think about Reid that he didn’t hear Luke return.
“I’m glad you waited,” the old philanthropist said, taking his seat once more.
Kyle’s heart hurt when Luke smiled sadly and said, “At least he remembered my name this time.”
X X X X X
“The best revenge is a life well-lived.” - Chloe Neill
“If you don’t do it now, you never will,” Luke said, as he and Reid stared at the door from the street.
“Then we can leave,” Reid replied, turning away, only to be spun back into position.
“Reid,” Luke gently chided, grabbing his husband’s hand in his, “If you don’t try to make your peace, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
In his mind, the older man grumbled; but he knew his husband made sense. Their first child, expected to arrive in just two months, became so very important the second they were informed the surrogate had become pregnant. Reid had never expected to love anyone, until he met Luke. It never occurred to him he could love a fetus until he felt that first kick. And God did he love that baby. Embarrassingly so.
“If you don’t do it, you’ll always wonder if you denied our child another grandparent of sorts,” Luke reasoned in the ensuing silence.
So Reid bolstered his nerves, slapped a pissy look on his face, stepped forward, and walked right up the stoop in the old xml:namespace prefix = st1 /Brooklyn neighborhood. With a sharp rap on the door, he impatiently waited, shoving his hands in his pockets. The only outward sign of nerves showed when he jiggled the loose coins in his pocket.
When the door swung open, the old man who answered immediately squinted, and asked, “What the hell do you want?”
For a moment, Reid stared hard at the cold, unfeeling uncle who had raised him. Then he felt Luke’s hand slide into his, and his stance shifted. Something inside softened. With a glance at his husband, he garnered strength, turned back to the man that had brought him up after his parents died, and said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m happy. And that I’m going to be a father. A damn good one.”
“Is that so?” Angus Oliver asked, tilting his head. The sneer softened a hint to reveal a little amusement in his patrician features. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Check,” Reid softly said, referencing the one thing his uncle would understand - chess. “Whether it’s mate is up to you.”
With that, he squeezed his husband’s hand, turned, and walked away, without ever letting go of the man who mattered most - the man who so often gave Reid peace, whether he sought it or not. Once again, Luke had been right. Their unborn son deserved the opportunity to know all of the people who had formed his fathers. Reid didn’t expect much to come of it, but he actually hoped Angus would take the offered olive branch.
The next morning found the two men bantering over where to go, as they played the part of tourist. Luke tugged on Reid’s hand, making the auburn-haired man grumble good-naturedly and kiss the young blond. Neither noticed Angus watching from across the street.
Reid’s uncle had known he sucked as a stand-in father. He’d spent the first two years after his brother’s death trying to figure out how to cope with the loss and grief. And he’d been out of his depth, trying to figure out how to raise a boy. So he’d pushed Reid to try and excel… pushed the boy to make something of himself through chess. In the process, he’d pushed that boy completely out the door.
Since then, he’d carried the shame of that last fight with him in his pocket. The chess piece rubbed at his leg, sometimes bruising the flesh. He’d quietly accepted the penance of that pain, along with the loneliness in which he’d wrapped himself.
All the night before, after Reid and his friend had left, he’d looked at pictures and realized he’d been given another chance. Not many got that gift.
So as the two men hand-in hand turned, Angus Oliver held up a hand in greeting. It was a start. The first, tentative step of many.
Luke and Reid stayed in New York an extra week at Angus’s request.
The old man calmly sat in the waiting room of Memorial Hospital, surrounded by the Snyder clan, the day little David came screaming into the world. The baby took one look at Angus and wailed like a banshee with a megaphone. With a grumbling sort of gratitude and perpetual frown, the old man held that precious little creature in his arms, admiring ten tiny toes and an amazing set of lungs.
Then several months later, Angus silently cried as he packed, keeping his head ducked and the joyous smile out of sight. It wouldn’t do for those around him to witness his happiness. But he was happy. His nephew had offered him a place in their home, all the way out in Illinois. And Angus jumped at the opportunity. He hadn’t gotten to see Reid grow up like a normal little boy. He’d get to see David.
X X X X X
Kyle wasn’t surprised to find Reid’s scrawl at the bottom of the page this time - written diagonally, so the teen had to tilt the book.
I’ll grudgingly confess that you were right. And yes, that hurt to admit. Kinda like pulling a spike out of my skull.
Kyle remembered seeing pictures of Angus Oliver in an old family album his mother kept on the living room shelf. There hadn’t been many photos of Reid as a child - only a couple chess tournament pictures of Angus and Reid standing stiff. And one revered picture of Reid’s parents and his little brother, so tragically lost.
Quite a few pictures of Angus graced the pages, though. Professional photos showed Angus holding the infant David, until the young boy turned five. Shortly after little Davie’s birthday, Angus suffered a heart attack and passed in his sleep. The only reason Kyle knew of him was because his mother would now and again drag the album out and sigh her way through it.