Itâs probably the most cryptic way to go about this entire conversation, but how does one lead into a conversation where the topic of conversation is: Hey I murdered your Dad against my will. It doesnât exactly roll off the tongue. âNo, no, you didnât do anything. I just need toââ What does she need to do? Explain herself? Grovel? Apologize? Probably all of the above. âI need to explain something to you, something that happened when I was undercover.â Kind of? She had been caught by that point, but that was neither here nor there. âThe night⌠your Dad died⌠it was the Brotherhood that was supposed to kill him. It was my job to sabotage them, and it almost worked. But, I was with a mind controller, and she discovered me and what I did.â She takes in a breath, bracing herself for the next words out of her mouth. âShe forced me to take us to him. She⌠made me k-kill him.â She stumbles over the word kill, stomach churning at the confession. âIâm so sorry, I know that doesnât really mean anything, but I am. I couldnât stop her or get rid of her. I tried to fight it, but she was too strong.â None of this does him any good, she knows this. But, she desperately wants him to understand that this was not her choice. She was not given a choice.Â
âoh.â is all river can say.
after a lifetime of him walking on a tightrope with his father, itâs all he can say. two figures trying, trying, trying to meet in the middle. even now, after heâs dead and gone and buried, he doesnât know which version of his father he should mourn. is it the father who caught and stopped him from grating off the feathers that began growing on his back when he was eleven? is it the father who unfastened his seatbelt to pull him in for an embrace the second after heâd told him how he felt about boys when he was fifteen? is it the father whoâd always told him he could do whatever he set his mind to as long as he found his passion?
those are the only acceptable versions of his father he can mourn. not the one who sat his family down to talk about how they had to keep a tight lid on their mutations for his very first campaign. or the one who told him to be patient because it wasnât the right time to come out to the public as a family of mutants. or the one who let him walk away from their family when he made up his mind about never protecting people like himâeven if it was just for show.
every hope river had, every fear, every sliver of angerâ
âall undone in a moment. and by someone whoâd been unwilling to kill him.
âoh,â he says again, quieter this time. âlook, youâyou came to me at a bad time. iâi got a lot going on right now, andâŚâ riverâs eyes shift, unsure how to string up the next bunch of words coming out of his mouth. âi get it, like, yeah, you were doing your mission or whatever, andââ it only hits him right then that heâs looking at his fatherâs murderer. willing or not.
morbidly, river chuckles. âfuck, dude, i always thought whoever killed my dad would look more like blofeld or something.â maybe a seasoned hitman who felt no remorse. or someone who had some clever speech to orate before doing the deed. it was nothing like that, apparently. âbut⌠itâs just you.â
he awkwardly scratches the back of his head, nails digging deep against his scalp as he does. he feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. âi mean, he wasnât a good guy, so. and not that iâm, like, a fan of the brotherhood or anything, noâtheyâre a bunch of even worse freaks than we areâbut i get it⌠i get it. if it didnât happen then, it wouldâve happened eventually, right? heâsâheâs not a good guy.â river flashes another breathy chuckle at finleyâbut this time, itâs unclear whether heâs laughing or crying. his hands are shaking, and only now does river notice his nervousness: how his fingers have been drumming against the pocket of his jeans for what feels like an eternity.
âso, uh, is that it? that all you wanted to say?â