I'm Not Him

The thump of ball on the cave wall clued Calamity into the rule breaking as he headed down the tunnel to check on his son. He frowned in annoyance. Prince wasn't listening again. Before he could reach the spawnling’s door the sound of glass shattering split the silence.

Two quick strides had the goth through the door. In the floor lay the shattered remains of one of the glass orbs and the ball rolled by the mess. The spawnling looked at his father, caught.

Cal crossed his arms. “You’ve been told plenty of times not to throw your ball in your room.“ He froze noticing the young Grey was barefoot. The black wearing smurf crossed the room and scooped his child up into his arms.

“I didn’t mean to!” Prince cried defensively. The spawnling wriggled and jerked, trying to get away. “Lemme go!”

“Stop!” Grappling during a fight was nothing like trying to hold on to a thrashing child. Cal nearly dropped him twice. “Stop!” The spawnling kicked his feet and flailed a tiny hand into his father's eye. At the end of his patience, the goth lifted the boy one handed to dangle by his arm and pulled back his fist. “I. SAID. STOP!”

He pictured his father's fist and  remembered the flash of light, the pain. At the last second the adult moved the child out of harm's way and slammed his fist into the stone. Bone crunched. Prince looked at him with terror in his eyes.

The child’s lower lip poked out. Tears welled in his eyes. Prince sniffed. He wasn't a child who wailed. Quiet snuffling sobs started.

Calamity pulled the boy to his chest. “I'm sorry. ... I'm sorry.” He cradled his son as he sat down on the bed. His hand throbbed. A reminder of what he’d almost done.

I'm not him. I'm not him. ... I almost hit him.

“Daddy. Why'd you do that?” Came the tremulous voice tucked under his chin. He was probably still crying.

“I lost my temper.” The goth answered honestly. I’m not him. He told himself again. “I only picked you up so you wouldn't step on the glass. But you squirmed so much I almost dropped you. You weren't listening so I got mad.”

“Oh.” Then after he'd understood, Prince added, “I’m sorry too.” His voice was level.

Cal sighed. “No more ball in your room. Ok?”

“Ok.” The spawnling agreed.

“Then we’re good.” The goth was content to let the conversation falter there. The pair sat quietly.

For all of a minute. “Doesn't your hand hurt?” Prince queried.

“Eh. I’ve had worse.” His knuckles were bleeding and he probably broke a few of the bones. “I’ll get it fixed after I get this glass up.”

“Lemme go get Unca Sin!” The spawnling pointed at the door. “He’ll fix your hand and the glass!”

Calamity raised a brow. “Don't bug him for a portal ride.” He was sure his son was going to do just that despite what the child claimed. He stood with the child held with his uninjured arm and placed him outside the door. Prince ran off, able to see in the darkness like his mother and unafraid.

The goth was left alone with his thoughts. He propped up his head with his good hand, staring at the broken orb on the floor. How long until he couldn’t stop himself? Would he wind up just like his father? He closed his eyes, feeling pain that wasn’t physical. I’m not him. I didn’t do it. The Grey didn’t cry.

That had long been beaten out of him.

_____

Just some angsty Cal from another spoilerific story of mine. And first of my third gen OCs, the little Grey Prince!