Stuck

By Zoé Daoust

The Situation Couldn’t Be Worse. 

      Trapped in a locked room with his adoptive father, who he hadn’t spoken to in ages. They just had to have planned the same night to investigate Maddox Enterprises, didn’t they? 

     In fact, if you gave Lorcan the option of being in this tiny box of a room with literally anyone else, he would pick them over his father. He’d probably even take the guy who killed him, over this.

     “Can you SIT DOWN!? Your pacing is driving me insane, more than I already am!” Lorcan yelled, throwing out his arms in frustration, as Alfred turned to pace the tiny room once more. Rescue was likely still hours away, if it was even coming considering their signals were jammed, and he couldn’t take the pacing any longer. He knew he should have waited another day. Or at least took Leo with him to investigate. Then he wouldn’t be stuck alone with his father. 

     Alfred turned to glare at his son from behind his mask at his angry exclamation

 and did as ordered, sitting down in the opposite corner. The bare room didn’t leave much to look at. A blank screen on one side, no windows, and the locked, solid metal door that kept them in this hell. 

     “Well, at least I’m making an attempt to figure out an escape, not just sitting down.” Alfred shot back, in an angry tone. Lorcan snorted. 

      “Yeah, because pacing back and forth is a great use of your energy and absolutely aids us in getting out the bloody door. I’m sure it’s terrified of your pacing, and will pop riiiiiight open if you continue.” He said sarcastically, gesturing for Alfred to continue. 

       “I am being proactive,” Alfred said, adjusting his cape to better access his weapons, “If someone were to attack and I’m seated? It takes longer to get in a stance.” Standing once again, he went back to watching the door. 

       “Equally, if you sit down and anyone comes in, I can just shoot them.” Lorcan countered, pulling one of his guns from its holster to spin lazily around one finger. 

      “Don’t you dare.” Alfred growled, not a trace of his old loving father left in his voice. Just the angry vigilante ready to do anything to stop crime. Or his son. 

      “Whatever.” Lorcan laughed, “You’re not my Dad.” Then he paused. 

      Alfred looked at him, leaning against the wall, “I think you’ll find that, legally, I am.” He raised an eyebrow at his son. Lorcan realised, cursing internally, he completely set himself up for that one. 

      He made a gesture that would earn him many gasps in polite society and made a decision to be petty by turning away to face the wall so he couldn't see his father anymore. 

     An awkward silence filled the room, Lorcan being petty, and Alfred unsure whether he should try to speak to his son or not. Still, there was nothing else to do but talk, with no rescue for hours, if at all, and no clear way to hack the door’s security. 

     “I know it’s not great being locked up again,” Alfred tried, watching Lorcan tense as he spoke, “But if it’s any consolation, I’m here this time, you’re not alone.”

     Lorcan repeated his gesture. He really didn’t want to speak about that right now, he was already struggling to hold off his panic. Their relationship was broken, he couldn’t fix it, didn’t want to fix it, and did not want to talk about his death right now. Especially not with the man who let his killer roam free. 

     “Kid…” 

     “Don’t bloody call me that! I’m not your kid anymore, and it’s clear you didn’t care.” Lorcan hissed, and that made Alfred freeze, staring at Lorcan in shock. 

     “You think I… I don’t care about you?” Alfred asked quietly, uncrossing his arms and standing straight. 

     “Uh, duh, I know you don’t,” Lorcan scoffed, “You tried to kill me.” He added, finally turning to face the man. 

      “What.” 

      “Don’t act so surprised,” Lorcan hissed, anger growing. 

      “When- What- I would never. You’re my son, and as much as I dislike some of the things you do,” he said looking at Lorcan’s abundance of guns and other weaponry as he spoke, “But I still love you, kid.” Alfred admitted, honesty in his eyes that made Lorcan sick. 

      “Man, that’s convenient. So is that selective memory or do you just not take trying to slit someone’s throat as a murder attempt anymore? Lorcan snarked, shooting up, holstering his gun in an attempt at restraint, needing to move to channel his anger burning in his veins, demanding violence. 

     “Slitting your throat? What-?” Alfred asked as Lorcan's hands itched to punch something or draw his guns. The confusion in Alfred’s voice suddenly hit him, and Lorcan conceded that he must be a pretty great actor. Cause if not, then what on earth is going on?

     In a sudden move, Lorcan surged forward and pushed his forearm against Alfred’s throat, “DON’T lie to me!” 

     “Kid?” Alfred asked quietly, as he was shoved against the wall by his son, his voice carrying across the empty room, giving no indication of knowing what Lorcan was talking about. 

     “Don’t lie!” Lorcan hissed, Alfred’s confusion only angering him more. 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alfred admitted. 

     Lorcan roared and pulled back his fist to punch his father in the nose, the mask negating most of the damage, but the older man still let out a grunt at the action. Lorcan stepped back, breathing heavily and erratically and yanked off his own mask, before pulling down the collar of his jacket, the nasty scar lining his neck on show, still reddened from its recent healing. It hadn’t been that long ago and Lorcan was still furious about how Alfred had handled the entire thing. 

      “What-” Alfred let out the smallest of sounds, the word barely there, but tinged with so much confusion and hurt. 

      “What do you mean, ‘what’’? Huh? You’d rather let the bloody serial killer live than me? You threw a knife at my neck and left me to bleed out.” Lorcan growled, hands dropping from his jacket collar to hang at his side, lax, anger draining out of him at seeing the red mark forming near Alfred’s nose. “I’m the disappointment, I know, but I never thought you’d try to kill me.”

      Alfred stared at the scar in horror. “I did- oh god.” he breathed, “I never- I- The gun. I was aiming for the gun, and I- There was no time, and so much- oh god.” He said, stumbling over words, and staring at the scar. “I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry.” Alfred exhaled, standing properly, shaking hands reaching out but waiting for permission. Lorcan gave a slow, hesitant nod, but allowed Alfred to move the jacket once more. The younger man flinched, as his father slowly ran his thumb over the wound, pain and guilt in every corner of his face as he stared at the scar of his own making. The scar on the wound that almost killed his son.

     “I am so sorry kid, I hurt you, I left you, abandoned you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I keep failing you. I let you die, for god's sake! You deserve so much better. I’m sorry.” Alfred apologised, eyes shimmering with tears. Gosh, the old man was going to cry, because of him. 

     Lorcan suddenly felt drained, anger shrivelling up and disappearing, all he wanted to do was curl up and take a nap. Somewhere he wasn’t trapped… but no. 

     Lorcan swore, no malice or anger in his voice then leaned his head against his father’s chest, knocking his hands out of the way in the process. 

     “I’m so sorry.” 

     “Whatever old man,” Lorcan sighed as he relaxed against his father for the first time in ages. Alfred hesitantly wrapped his hands around Lorcan. He didn’t resist and instead brought his own arms up to hug his father in return. 

     “Please let me make it up to you, whatever it takes.” Alfred pleaded in a quiet voice. Lorcan frowned because that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill his killer, but… it felt like love and safety, wrapped in a hug, rather than forcing himself to hate the man he once thought of as his father. 

     “Kill my killer then.”

     “You know I can’t do that kid,” Alfred replied instantly, Lorcan scoffed but neither man broke apart from the hug. 

     A thud and a clink brought their attention to the door, Lorcan’s older brother appearing as the metal slid open. 

     “Man, if locking you two in a room for an hour was all you needed to hug? What were the last few months about? I could have done it for you!” Adrien whined, surging forward to join the hug, knocking the two over in the process.

     “You bugger! Get off me!” 

     “Nah, cuddle pile with my favourite vigilantes! Now all we need is Cedric!” Adrien grinned as Lorcan squirmed but didn’t leave the pile. 

     “This family is a nightmare.” Lorcan hissed and earned a pair of laughs in return, God he needed to un-adopt himself. But he smiled slightly and stayed in the hug. 

By Zoé Daoust