#pibbs

@exsgttibbs

Paul Patts had a lot to do these days. He had the trial comin’ up, which meant meetings with his lawyer, whether over the phone or in person, at least once a week. He was getting together a witness list and was drafting up his own proposal for the Board with his lawyer too. And ‘course, in just a few months he was going to be going back to school, which meant that Paul was attempting to fit in more time to read between all the studying and prepping and taking care of his two-year-old kids-- and by the way, they really did call it terrible twos for a reason. Patrick had learned what a tantrum was and had taught it to Penny quite soon after. Because what was worse than one screaming kid? Two screaming kids.

Needless to say, Paul didn’t need anything more to worry about.

And so, as it goes in stories, one day he received a knock on his door.

Paul went to open it, expecting-- well, it was probably Rog, wasn’t it? If it wasn’t Rog, it had to be one of Stan’s friends. If it wasn’t one of Stan’s friends then maybe it was their landlord finally coming round to fix the AC. What he didn’t expect to see was one Tabitha Dodson, with a backpack and a suitcase.

“Hi Uncle Paul,” chirped little Tibby. She gripped her backpack straps. “Where’s my real dad live?”

Well, shit.

(What was worse than two screaming kids? Two screaming kids and a runaway one.)

Paul had called Will naturally, ushering his niece in and getting her some juice (only thing they had in the fridge sides beer and liquor so…). She sat on his couch, swingin’ her legs, looking rather unflummoxed for someone who had clearly ran away from home, hitchin’ a two hour train ride all the way to little, hidden Swynlake. He’d get the full story from her soon, but first he called up Willis Tibbs, telling him in no uncertain terms that shit had just hit the fan and his biological daughter was here to see him-- and she, somehow, knew.

And so came the second knock on Paul’s door, less than an hour later. Paul opened it up for Will at once. “She’s uh-- well-- see for herself.”

@paul-patts

Tibbs had done a lot of thinking since he had seen Ambrosia, and spoken to Sweet. He had told Ambrosia that he wouldn't get involved, at least not directly, but the more he thought about it, about what Paul had said at the table, and about what Sweet had said after, well - Tibbs was starting to think that it had been a mistake. No, in fact, he knew it - he had made the wrong decision, and there were no two ways about it.

But it wasn't as easy as just calling Ambrosia and telling her that he wanted to be an active part of Tabatha's life. Oh, no, it was far more complicated than that, and the main reason was the fact that Tibbs had no ideahow to be a father. He had barely interacted with children in the near 4 decades he had been alive; a few of the men and women in his regiment had kids, but he didn't really see them, more just heard about them, or saw them in passing. He'd never had any brothers or sisters, and his extended family either lived abroad, in Germany or Cyprus, a few of them up in Scotland, so he'd never really dealt with their children either. He didn't know what he was doing, and he knew better than to approach Ambrosia with absolutely no clue what he was meant to do.

@exsgttibbs

Paul was taking a weekend trip home to London for his niece’s birthday.

Paul was smuggling back a surprise guest.

Yeah-- Willis Tibbs was coming along. Paul had cooked up this plan nearly a month or two ago, was it, now, when Tibbs had first come to Paul with those worry lines on his forehead and regrets piling up on his shoulder, day after day he went without knowing his daughter. Paul had promised to help him find a way back into little Tabitha’s life again. And true to his word, Paul had called Ambrosia on his behalf and talked to her about the conversation...sort of.

Tibbs wants to meet Tabitha. He changed his mind--

-- oh, and what’s to stop him from changing it again, Ambrosia had shot back, with a vicious scoff. Paulie, I told you not to stick your nose in this. Stay out of it. I love you, but I will bloody well kick your arse if you come near my family.

He has a right.

He has no right. She’s my daughter.

So that had gone well.

Paul had given her every opportunity though. And he knew his sister, who was the most stubborn person he knew. If Ro said she didn’t want Tibbs to meet his daughter, then she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what arguments Paul or Tibbs made. And in the meantime, Tibby would get older and older, still thinking her daddy was Harry Dodson, and soon the window would be closed for good. She’d be grown up and her meeting Tibbs would be sad for everyone, all those years gone, nothing more to make the most out of. Tibby would have spent her entire childhood lied to and her father woulda spent decades shut out.

Paul was doing this for Tibby. Paul was doing this for dads everywhere, honestly.

So he and Will were here. In the East End. Nearly right outside of Harry and Ro’s place, where a birthday party was happening inside.

Tibbs had never been a particularly nervous person. He couldn't be, of course, not in his line of work, but even before that - he sat exams with relatively little stress, didn't worry about journey times or meeting new people or anything like that. He was hardly relaxed, he just wasn't particularly easily phased.

And then there was today. Today, when he was sitting in a cafe - one he'd never even been in, jesus, how long had he been in Swynlake again - in clothes that weren't scrubs - for the first time in about 6 days - waiting on Paul. Paul and Ambrosia, to be more exact, because he was a doctor and a soldier, once upon a time, and he was accustomed to being exact.

He was rambling. In his own head. Great.

Tibbs checked his watch one more time, and then ran a hand over his tired face, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. There was nothing particularly uncomfortable about the seat itself, more about its position, in this cafe, where he was due to meet a woman he hadn't seen in--

Well, in a good long while.

He knew it was silly to be so nervous. Whatever he and Ambrosia had once had, it was a long way away now, so far away that it wasn't even in the rear view mirror anymore, not even a speck on the horizon. So much had changed since then; he was a far different person. Older, wearier. As if on queue the small of his back began to ache, and Tibbs hissed softly to himself, the only reaction he would allow himself to give.

Another glance at his watch. This was what he got for being stupidly early. A lot of waiting around, more than enough time for him to psyche himself out.

For the last twenty minutes, as the bell above the door had chimed, his head had jerked up, eyes scanning the entrance. Now, though, he kept his gaze steady, down at the paper he had brought with him. Just keep looking down, and maybe it'd all just go away.

Paul: Sooooo remember how I said Ambrosia was coming to town but then the town literally went to Hell?

Paul: Well uh she rescheduled her trip lmao