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Rescue Me	By : Marblez Category: Twilight Series > AU/AR > Het > Het Views: 1966 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Six.
The front door slamming woke him from his drink induced sleep, the sounded crashing round his skull and making his hangover feel even worse. Rolling over he was unprepared for how close he was to the edge of the bed and founding himself falling the two feet to the floor.
"Ah fuck…" he moaned as he struggled to his feet, one hand holding the side of his head in attempt to get his brain to stop pounding against the sides of his skull. Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
The boy was home.
Looking at the clock he frowned as deeply as his hangover would allow, what the fuck was the boy doing home at half nine? It was a school day…wasn't it? Yes, yes it was, it was Wednesday. The boy should be at school. Why wasn't he?
Before he could demand an answer he heard the boy run down the stairs again, his feet even louder than before making his temples pound even worse…God he needed an aspirin. Stumbling out of his room he was half way down the stairs when the boy began to shout,
"Stay the fuck out of my life!"
"How dare you-" he began, hurrying down the rest of the stairs and into the hall only to stop sharply, both physically and verbally when he saw the boy on the phone in the living room. He wasn't talking to him…but if he wasn't talking to him who the fuck was he talking to?
"I don't need your help. I don't need your pity! And I don't need you interfering with my life!"
The boy was crying as he shouted down the phone. How pathetic.
But wait…who was he talking to? What did he mean by that? Had he told someone something he shouldn't have?
His fists clenched at his sides seemingly of their own accord.
"It's my life and my problems! Stick to your own!"
The boy slammed the phone down, sobbing pathetically now.
"Who the fuck have you told?!" he finally demanded of the boy, blocking the only door in and out of the living room. The boys eyes widened in panic, obviously he'd thought he'd still be passed out.
"N-No one…"
The boy backed away from him until his back was pressed against one of the walls, knocking the photo behind him so it hung at an odd angle.
"Then who the fuck were you just talking to?!"
The boy flinched as his voice raised angrily, wide blue eyes moving from his angry face to his clenched fists before he stuttered out a reply,
"N-No one…the doctor…the doctor guessed and…"
His right fist slammed into the boys jaw and he stumbled to the side, knocking the photo off the wall completely. Unbalanced it took only another light punch to the side of his head to have him tumbling to the floor at his feet.
"You told a doctor!"
"No dad! He guessed! Please dad, please…" He cowered, arms hiding his head, legs curled up to protect his stomach. "I told him you didn't…you wouldn't…I told him I didn't need help…please dad…"
"You lied to him?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes dad…"
"Like you lied to me?" he demanded.
"No!" the boy gasped.
"Oh yes you did boy, you lied to me. I asked you if anyone suspected when you went to the hospital and you told me that no one did," he spoke in a remarkably calm voice considering the amount of anger that was growing inside of him. "You lied to me."
"Please dad…" the boy sobbed loudly.
"You lied to me!"
He kicked to the boy hard in the leg, making him cry out. Another kick followed to his arm and then another to his stomach as it was momentarily unprotected and another to his leg and another to his arm, all the while he growled down at the crying boy,
"Never-ever-lie-to-me!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Eventually he stopped, leaving the boy whimpering on the ground as he stumbled into the kitchen to find an aspirin…and a beer. When he returned to the living room, chilled beer in hand he found the boy still lying where he'd left him."Clean up the mess you've made," he ordered as he sat in his favourite chair and searched down its sides for the television remote. The boy stumbled up, picking up the photo first and re-hanging it. As he did that Ethan Whitlock lost interest in his search for the remote, staring instead at the photo now hanging on the wall.
She was beautiful, staring out at him with those big blue eyes, her blond hair curling about her shoulders, caught forever in a bouncing motion as she'd played with the baby on her hip. The baby with those same blue eyes and that same blond hair. His wife, Emily Whitlock and his son, the boy, Jasper Whitlock. The boy was the spitting image of her, one of the many things he hated him for.
The photo had been taken on the boy's first birthday back when everything was perfect, when he had a good job with the Army, when his wife was young and carefree, when his life was filled with happiness.
A long time ago, a time he'd almost forgotten.
Seven years after that photo had been taken his wife had left him in the cruellest way possible and it was all that boys fault! He'd been riding that stupid bike he'd begged and begged for…hadn't been able to control it…he'd swerved into the road…she'd rushed out…pushed him out of the way…
A physical shudder shook his body as he remembered the sight and the sound of his wife being hit by the lorry that should have hit his son. His son, he'd stood there screaming and bawling, staring at what remained of his mother. Ethan hadn't had time for him, had shoved him out of his way roughly, hadn't wanted to touch him.
The Doctor's had told him she'd died instantly, that she wouldn't have felt the pain of all her injuries. It was meant to comfort him but it didn't. Neither did the ever present comment that she'd died to save his son. How he wished she hadn't! She was his life! She was the thing that kept him going, kept him sane…not that boy.
He hadn't let the boy come to the funeral.
Hate had replaced any tiny bit of love he'd felt for his son and the drinking had replaced his wife. Eventually the drinking got so bad the army let him go, dishonourable discharge for drinking while on duty. He'd beaten the boy hard that night, it was his fault, everything that had happened was his fault. They'd moved and now no one knew about his hate of the boy, only of his drinking, to the town of Forks he was a bum and an alcoholic surviving on benefits. Or at least they had until now.
The boys fault again.
And he'd been punished like he should be.
But he could never punish him enough for taking away the one thing that made the world all right, that made being alive all right.
"Why couldn't it have been you?" he asked out loud like he had many times before, starting not long after her death.
"I don't know dad," the boy sighed sadly just like always before leaving the room, leaving Ethan alone to drink his way though the day.

A/N That came out of nowhere and wouldn't leave me alone. Sheesh I sorta wanna feel sorry for him but I really, really can't! And I wrote him! Hope it doesn't disappoint. (Sorry it's a bit short.)
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Rescue Me