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“Maybe,” Fergus said, still holding his eyes as he stood. “Or maybe we only make ourselves that uncomfortable when the person is truly something special. When ya can’ bring yerself to trust that anyone else would keep ‘em as safe as you will because ya love them too much ta let a single hair on their ‘ead be touched.” He pulled out a business card and set it on the table next to the photos, picking up his lighter. “That’s my direct line,” he said. “If ya ever want ta talk, or if ya need anyt’ing at all, give me a call or text. I keep all hours so it don’t matter when. I’ll be there for ya.”
Issac looked at the card, a bit surprised that it looked like a completely normal business card for a photography studio, with a clover matching the tattoos on Fergus’s and the other’s necks.
“Take care of yerself, Issac.” Fergus started to reach out for Issac’s head, but seemed to think better of it and pulled his hand back. “I know no matter what ya’ll do, they’d be very proud of the man you are and will become.”
Issac wasn’t sure if he was glad or upset that Fergus hadn’t touched him, suddenly remembering how Fergus used to pat and stroke his head when he was small.
He was already walking away, coat over his arm, when suddenly he stopped at the door and looked back. “I almost forgot,” he said. “The lad that… that was in the pub, Tommy. ‘E wants to know if ‘e can pay ya a visit and ‘ave a chat. I told ‘im I’d ask.”
It took Issac a moment to remember the teenager who had saved his life from Finnegan’s bullet. He nodded. “He can visit. I think you are in contact with Snake. Just give him Thomas’s information, and he’ll get it to me.”
Fergus raised an eyebrow but nodded. “I’ll do that as soon as I leave. I hope to ‘ear from ya again, Issac. I don’t want this to be a goodbye.”
Issac didn’t answer but Fergus didn’t seem to expect one either. He just nodded again as he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
* * *
Felinus didn’t see O’Hare when he went back up to Issac’s room. Esposito had declined to come back with him, insisting that he would have a proper conversation with Issac once he was out of the hospital. Nikola also declined to say goodbye after he told Felinus that O’Hare had left already.
Issac was sitting up in bed, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, but calm as he glanced at Felinus then back down at the stack of small papers in front of him. “Hey. How was the cafe?”
For a moment, Felinus stood just inside the room and watched Issac. He had known that whatever O’Hare wanted would be emotionally taxing on Issac, but at least it hadn’t seemed to break him as his fight with Dimitri had. “Terrible,” he said, taking off his jacket as he walked over to the bed. “What have you got there?”
“Photos,” Issac said softly and Felinus froze. “I… I can’t seem to bring myself to turn the rest of them over.”
Slowly, Felinus closed the distance and looked down at the top of the stack. The same man and woman he had seen in the Christmas photo from the police report were in it, their toddler son caught mid-clap as they all laughed. It was a beautiful candid shot of a happy family, with none of the stiff posing from the other photo, just pure love and joy. “Scoot over,” he said, walking around to the other side of the bed and throwing his jacket towards the couch, not caring if it actually made it or not.
Issac looked up at him with a frown but moved to the side to make space as Felinus took off his shoes next to the bed. Not for the first time, Felinus was thankful that neither of them were particularly broad, though he wondered if Issac would broaden out like his dad once he was at a healthy weight.
“Okay, baby boy,” he said, sitting on the bed and gently pulling Issac into him, feeling him fit naturally against his side and shoulder. “We have two things we can do right now: we can go through those together and you can tell me what you remember, or we can put them back in the envelope and watch a movie. I can ask someone to bring you one of those photo albums that are just sleeves to slide them into and you can put them in one at a time, as slowly as you like.”
Issac rested his head against Felinus’s shoulder, not looking up at him. “You aren’t going to ask me what we talked about?”
Felinus hesitated. If he said he didn’t want to know, he’d be a liar. But there was something more important than his own desires. “If you want me to ask, I will ask,” he said, pressing his lips against Issac’s temple. “But it’s up to you if you want to tell me and how much.” He picked up the picture carefully when Issac didn’t respond. “You were right about your mom. She is very pretty. Who took this?”
“Fergus did,” Issac said softly. “He- he used to carry a camera with him, at least, any time I saw him. It was a nice one, with a flash and parts he could change out to get better pictures. I think most of what I remember about him is from behind a camera.” He paused, his head shifting deeper into Felinus’s shoulder. “He told me how they met. He had been at the dance, too, and Dad told him a little bit about what was said. He said people would approach Mum just to be told to fuck off by her because she didn’t go to the dance hall to do anything but keep an eye on her friends.”
“How did your dad get her to talk to him,” Felinus asked, studying the woman’s freckled face.
“I… I don’t think ‘get her’ is the right phrase,” Issac said and Felinus looked down to see him frowning. “Fergus said Dad fell in love the minute he saw Mum across the room but another guy beat him to approaching her and said some nasty things that made Dad mad so he grabbed the guy and scared him into apologizing to her… Kind of… Kind of reminded me of you.”
Felinus felt his heart do an odd flip flop but Issac kept talking before he could say anything.
“The second the guy ran off though, Dad got embarrassed. I can’t quite imagine you getting embarrassed about anything.”
“Hm, maybe if you met me back when I was their age, you could,” Felinus said, studying the young faces. “They would have been in their mid-twenties in this picture.”
“It was Dad’s birthday,” Issac said, reaching out and turning Felinus’s hand to show the back.
“Lukas, Sarah, Issac, Five Points Park” was written in neat, sharp handwriting with a date that would have made Issac two or three.
“Five Points Park,” Felinus muttered, trying to remember why that sounded so familiar.
“Five years later,” Issac said softly, “a group of men opened fired on the playground in that park. It was full of parents and small children that were too young for school.”
A vice grip took hold of Felinus’s chest, remembering the name being whispered amongst the women in the Villa’s kitchen when they thought the hoard of kids running the grounds were out of earshot. “How do you know-”
“The park was near my elementary school,” he said, just as softly. “Dad used to pick me up sometimes for lunch. There was a guy who sold German sausages on one of the points. He’d buy us lunch from him and we’d sit and talk. Those conversations were always in German. Mum knew some German but didn’t speak it very well, and most of the guys at the pub didn’t know anything more than a handful of words that Dad would use the most. Dad used to tell me that it was rude to speak a language other people didn’t when you were in their company so we spoke mostly English or would go back and forth, but those lunches… Those conversations were just for us.”
