TWENTY-SEVEN

I'm an idiot.

There was no doubt about it: he was an idiot. He had agreed. He had agreed to visit Falcon. Just because he happened to share blood and genetics with the man, it didn't mean it wasn't insane.

He was gonna do it. He was going to visit Falcon, the country's most feared terrorist. Three times a week. Wasn't that a laugh?

Ha.

Now what?

What am I supposed to do now?

Zach curled his arms around his chest, keeping his head down. He walked at a brisk pace, trying to get as far away as possible from the man's apartment. Most of the shops had long been closed, jailed doors protecting their establishments. There were few cars on the streets. The late night was silent; the moon shone brightly.

After he turned a corner, out of sight of the man's neighborhood, Zach paused and pulled out his phone. He checked the time.

It was after one o'clock in the morning.

Well, crap.

Zach put his face into his hands. The others were going to ask where he'd been. What was he supposed to tell them? How were they going to take this?

His thoughts wouldn't stop rushing in a whirlwind. What kind of nonsense was this, anyway? Why had Zach allowed himself to be manipulated? This was ridiculous. He replayed the scene over and over again, but he still came to the same ending each time. Zach wasn't sure what to believe any more, but…

A few things alluded to the truth. Hawke had talked about Abigail, Zach's mother, with such tenderness there, as if he had truly known and loved her.

And then there were the paintings.

It was a ridiculous charade if they weren't real. Whether forgeries or stealing them – would Falcon really go to all that effort to lead Zach along? Faking her paintings was a waste of time. Falcon didn't need to dance around – the man had more than enough power and plenty of blackmail to coerce Zach.

It had to be true.

He really was Sebastian Hawke's biological son.

So, where to go from here?

Zach leaned against the wall, lightly bouncing his head against the brick. He sighed. He pushed himself off the wall and buried his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes burned with tears. The cold air exaggerated the pain.

Michael Bennet wasn't his real father.

Zach rubbed his eyes. He quickened his stride. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let those thoughts in his mind. But they came anyway. A wave of uncertainty flooded his heart. There were so many questions left unanswered.

And because Michael was dead, there would be no resolution.

He would never know Michael's truth. Had the man known Zach wasn't his son? What if he hadn't known? Michael had treated him like his own son when Zach was just the product of a previous marriage.

He felt like an imposter.

He's still my Dad. He was a good man. He wouldn't have cared about that. He loved me. That's all that mattered.

His thoughts consumed him. Memories of old filled his mind. Voices of the past echoed in his ears. He sought solace in them. He sought answers.

Neither came.

A father ran along side of a little boy, teaching him how to ride a bike. A little boy waited anxiously for a father's return from work. A father and a mother laughed and danced together while making dinner; a little boy watched in delight. A father played with a little boy; an epic tale of death and hardship with dinosaur toys blossomed between them.

Zach halted; his shoulders hunched over. He clasped a hand over his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His body shook. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, sobbing uncontrollably. The memories stabbed his mind and heart. Sorrow ached in his muscles; longing tore his soul.

Minutes passed. Zach rubbed the sleeves of his hoodie against his eyes. It took him a few minutes longer to calm down. He pulled the hoodie over his head. He kept his head bowed, staring at his steps as GPS led him home.

The walk back wasn't long. He hurried along the path to the door of their apartment. He shut the door behind himself, letting out a long exhale and rubbing his hands over his arms. The chill of the night was still deep within his flesh. He took each step up the stairs as silently as possible. At the top, he unlocked the door and walked inside the dark apartment. He shut it behind himself with a small click.

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As Zach walked into the room, he paused. Hikaru was asleep in the desk chair, slumped to the side. Her weight rested against the wall. She shifted at the sound of the door, sitting up. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Zach… Oh, thank goodness," whispered Hikaru, bolting up and rushing to him. She threw her arms around his neck. "I was so worried. You were gone for hours. Did something happen? Did you get lost? Why did you stay out so late?" She let out a relieved sigh; her hands tightened around him. "I'm so glad you're okay…"

Zach patted her on the back. His mouth went dry. What do I tell her? "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I lost track of time."

She pulled back and gave him a squinty look. "Really? You? You lost track of time?"

Well, she had a point.

"I'm sorry," said Zach with a weak smile.

"Well, you're okay. That's all that matters," whispered Hikaru. "I sent the others to bed an hour ago. They might still be awake, but…" She gave him a look. Zach sighed.

"I'll apologize in the morning."

Hikaru smiled, giving him an approving nod. "I think they'd appreciate that." She patted him on the arm. "Well, good night."

"Night," whispered Zach with a wave of the hand.

Hikaru slipped inside the girls' bedroom. Zach did the same. The boys' bedroom was silent, with only the deep breathing from Jacob and the occasional snore from Drake. Zach got into bed without changing and curled under the covers. He turned onto his side, looking up at the painting on his wall.

Mom, I need some answers.

I have too many questions. I don't understand. Am I supposed to believe what he says about you? Why'd you pick him? How did you meet? He couldn't have been a criminal then… Right? Why did you like him? I guess… I guess he's good looking.

Really, Mom?

But… could physical attraction truly negate all reasoning?

No.

Abigail had not been like that. His mother had been vibrant and amazing. She couldn't have been shallow. No, Zach couldn't believe she'd love Hawke if she didn't have a good reason. She had been kind, a woman of strength. Zach couldn't remember a time when he had heard her badmouth someone.

Mom, Dad… I wish you were here. You'd know what to do.

Zach fell asleep to old memories, his tears soaking his pillow.

Early next morning before school, Zach was seated on the desk chair, trying to look as contrite and meek as possible. The other five were gathered around him, giving him varying degrees of stern looks.

They were being so adorable.

Sevati stood still as a rock, her jaw clenched and her brows furrowed; her expression was borderline irritated and impassive. Drake kept rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Jacob's eyes were wide with concern, glancing between the others. Hikaru had a hand over her mouth, but the twinkle in her eyes gave away her mild amusement.

And Brielle, well… she was downright pissed.

"Where were you?" demanded Brielle. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Her foot tapped on the floor. Her chest puffed up. "Do you have any idea how worried we were!"

Zach didn't answer. He made the right choice.

"You didn't eat lunch. You barely touched your dinner!" continued Brielle, her rant going strong. She listed every sin one finger at a time. "You haven't slept, Drake says. You're exhausted. You're stressed. And you're gone for over five hours?! Are you crazy? You'd be so pissed at me if I did something like that. And all you have to say is, 'I'm sorry'?! What?! No! That's not good enough!"

Sevati opened her notebook and penned something in it. She ripped out the page. In big bold letters, pointing an arrow towards Brielle, the word 'THIS' was written.

Zach sucked on his lower lip in the desperate attempt to stop a snorting chuckle. If he laughed… oh, boy…

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"We all went to bed wondering if you were going to make it home," said Sevati, lowering the paper. "It wasn't fair to cause us so much concern for your wellbeing. You need to take better care of yourself."

Jacob nodded. "That's right," he said. "What they said."

"I agree with the girls," said Drake, taking a deep breath and folding his arms. "You made us frantic with worry. You suck."

Zach couldn't stop the laugh that broke through his lips. He clapped his hands over his mouth. Brielle puffed up, wounded fury erupting through her features.

"He thinks this is funny!" cried Brielle, throwing her hands into the air. "I can't even—I can't!"

"No, I'm not laughing at you guys," said Zach quickly. He put on a pout, trying to look repentant again. "I'm not laughing at you. I understand. I will try my very best not to make you guys worry again. I'm serious."

Brielle narrowed her eyes.

"You're just really cute, Bri," said Zach with a smile. "And sweet. You all are. But thanks. I really appreciate it."

"You're missing the point!"

"All right, I think you've scolded him enough," said Hikaru, a mild laugh in her tone. "He understands. You better get ready for school. Quickly now."

They all nodded. With two fingers, Brielle pointed them at her eyes and then at Zach, repeating the gesture two more times, a stern look on her face. Zach's lips trembled. He put up a pair of placating hands, but her glare didn't lessen.

With the others going about their morning to get ready, Zach stood up. I have to go again tonight. His stomach twisted.

Should I tell her?

"You're sure you're okay?" asked Hikaru, looking back at him.

His heart faltered. He gave her a tense smile. "Yeah, I'm good," Zach said. "I'm fine."

I can't… not with the others around.

Where would I begin anyway?

"All right," said Hikaru with a bright smile. She turned away. Zach watched as she went into the kitchen. She pulled out a few pans, some eggs, and some rolled oats, going to work on making everyone breakfast.

Maybe staying silent was foolish. He'd have to come up with an answer, sooner or later. They'd find out eventually, whether he told them or not.

They'd find out the truth.

The truth…

How could he put into words about what had happened last night? How could he tell them his feelings? How could he describe all the horror, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the betrayal upon learning his father was someone else – and a criminal no less?

He could barely process it all himself.

And what exactly would he say anyway?

'So… yeah… I got blackmailed by Falcon and coerced into going to his apartment. Turns out he's a decent guy who knew my Mom. Like, knew her knew her. Falcon's my biological father.'

Lovely.

Now to figure out how to slip that into an everyday conversation. How simple.

A thought crossed his mind, a sinister, illogical one. What if his friends looked at him differently? What if they stopped trusting him? What if? It was a ridiculous fear. Zach knew it. He knew it.

I'm the son of a criminal.

Zach ran a hand over his face.

Damn it.