Acrasia

Chris just stood there, listening as Rae's footsteps as the disappeared down the street. His hands shook as he lit the cigarette, taking a long drag and sitting down on the park bench. He pulled a knife out of his pocket, using it to pick dirt off of the bottom of his shoe, and tried his best to picture the future.

He'd go to the police station in New York, show them the records and weapons, and tell them where his "kidnapping victims" were. Rae and Tyler would most likely be the ones to argue the most that Chris was a good person, but the police probably wouldn't believe them, and call it psychological trauma. As for himself, he'd be locked up in a jail cell for a couple of days, but wouldn't be alive long enough for a trial. The organization would be sure to pick him off of their radar for causing so much trouble. They probably wouldn't spend much effort on him, either. Probably just a member disguised as a police officer who will put a bullet in Chris's head while he was asleep. It was all just so predictable.

Chris dropped the cigarette on the concrete, crushing it with his foot a little harder than it needed to be crushed. He couldn't see how he was being selfish, when he was the only one really getting hurt from all this.

He found himself digging the knife into the wooden park bench, carving a crude 'FUCK EVERYTHING'. He thought about talking to Rae and easing the tension, but decided against it. He knew she was extra tense after hearing the news of her father. He had been the same way with his mother.

Chris quietly slipped into the motel room, looking around for Rae. He heard sniffling coming from the bathroom, and leaned against the doorframe, listening.

"I just don't get how all of this happened," Rae sighed. "Our lives have all gone downhill since we started coming to LA. Shit, Chris and I even broke up once."

"Yeah, but then you did get married," another voice spoke up. It sounded like Jeremy.

"Yeah we're married, but he's pretty much committing indirect suicide for me. When I said I wanted a Romeo and Juliet romance this was not what I meant."

"I mean, maybe it's for the best. It's not like you're going to die a lonely widow or something. Most marriages that happen before you're 28 end up in divorce, anyway."

"Divorce, Jeremy. Not fucking murder!" Rae sounded angry now. "And we weren't going to get divorced. We're way too fucking in love to get a fucking divorce."

"You just spent the last twenty minutes calling him some of the most creative variations of douchebag that I've ever heard. A+ for colorful vocabulary, seriously."

"Yeah, I did," Rae sighed. "It's complicated, okay?"

"You know, if it makes you feel any better, I've got a tazer gun you could shoot him with without severely hurting him. Jussayin."

Chris furrowed his eyebrow, not wanting to hear Rae's response. He opened the door to the motel room again and closed it hard, so they would hear it. The talking suddenly hushed down to frantic whispers as Chris plopped himself down on the bed. Jeremy came out soon after, slipping out into the hall without looking at Chris. Rae came out a few minutes later, looking slightly pale. They stared at each other for a moment, both speechless.

"You're not really gonna do it, are you?" she asked.

"No," Chris lied. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay," she sighed, then furrowed her brow in confusion. "Where's your ring?"

"Ring?" Chris frowned, glancing down at his hand. "It's in my pocket. I was doing push-ups and pull-ups and whatnot and didn't want it to get dirty."

"Okay, I see," Rae said slowly, glaring at Chris. He quickly put the ring back on his finger, satisfying Rae. She sighed, then followed Jeremy out the door.

Chris thought about going after her, but decided against it. It would've made it harder.

.::.::.

"Flight 392 to JFK Airport has been delayed until 2:30."

Chris cursed under his breath, nervously checking his watch. The flight was delayed two hours, but he didn't have two hours. Two hours was plenty of time for someone to find him. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed to the information desk, impatiently staring down the people in line in front of him until they got uncomfortable and left.

The woman at the desk gave him a cheesy, makeup-caked smile. "Hi, how can we help you?"

"Look, I'm in a rush," Chris sighed, leaning forward on the desk. "Is there any way you could switch my flight to one that's leaving right now?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't do that, sir," the lady shrugged. Chris thought for a moment, then looked back up at her.

"You know, you are a very beautiful woman," he said slowly.

"Oh gosh," she blushed, flipping her fake blonde hair over her shoulder. She giggled in a bad attempt at being flirtatious, but the smile quickly faded from her face.

"What?" Chris frowned.

"Pig," she glared at him, gesturing to the ring on his finger. He rubbed his forehead awkwardly.

"Look I really need to get to New York. My grandmother is on we deathbed and my son's dog ran away and-"

"You're holding up the line, sir," she interrupted, glaring at him. "There's nothing I can do."

Chris rolled his eyes, pushing away from the desk and plopping down in the chair by his gate. The person sitting next to him moved over a chair, giving him a suspicious look. Ten minutes of anxious waiting went by, and countless numbers of scenarios flashed in his head.

"Christopher?" familiar voice spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. Chris looked up, his eyes suddenly going wide as he melted into his seat. His heart was beating so hard and fast he could feel it pounding in his chest.

"Dad?" he squeaked.

Jim Huntington stood right across from him, his expression something between happiness, relief, and anger. He gestured for Chris to follow him around to an empty gate, where it was quiet. There, he surprised Chris by throwing his arms around his son and going on and on about how glad he was to see that Chris was alive.

"How did you find me?" Chris muttered.

"That girlfriend of yours- or should I say wife- called Marissa. And Marissa called me," Jim explained in a hoarse voice.

"How did you know?" Chris asked stupidly.

"Your sister told me everything last night. Everything, Chris. You know, son, you're a real freaking screw up. You're a screw up that screws everyone else up," Jim shook his head. "And that's my fault. I didn't realize until I thought you were dead. Thank God I caught you before you actually do end up dead. You know, stepping foot in New York is asking for a bullet in your head."

"Huh?" Chris frowned.

"You didn't actually think that your plan was going to help anyone, did you?" Jim rolled his eyes. "It would've made things worse than they already are. Luckily, you've got me to clean up after you."

"Now hold on," Chris stepped back, "Who said I wanted your help? All you've really done is ruin things for me."

"I know, I know," Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. "Like I said, you're a screw up because of me. And I'm sorry. But I love you, okay? You're my first kid, and my only son. I love you, Chris. I really do. Can you ever forgive me?"

Chris hesitated, but gave in. He was desperate.

"You know, you really do take after me," Jim smiled. "Always so defensive."

"So, you have a brilliant plan to get me out of this mess?" Chris changed the subject. "Won't you get in trouble with the Organization?"

"I'm retired. As soon as all this is over, I'm handing the manor over to your sister and moving to that summer home we have in Barcelona. Maybe find myself a nice redhead like you did."

"Dad!" Chris stopped him, eyes wide.

"Anyway, I'm taking care of the responsibilities you've left me. You know these missing reports all fade away within a matter or days, and as for Rae's family, I'm going to Nebraska to personally meet them. Give them a good lie as to where you've been, and make them a promise that you'll bring the grandkids over for visits. And hey, you better believe I'll be spoiling your kids. No grandchild of mine is going to play with peasant toys," he mused with a dreamy grin.

After a lot of convincing, Chris finally pulled out his plane ticket and ripped it in two, tossing them in the trash as his father led him out. The two made small talk before stopping when they heard the sound of loud bickering. Chris grimaced, realizing it was Rae and the gang trying to get past security and probably being suspected of terrorism and hiding a bomb in Britney's now-growing belly. Rae spotted him on her radar first, running over to him and giving him the hardest smack across the face she had ever given him.

"This is becoming a regular thing for you, isn't it?" Chris mumbled, rubbing his stinging cheek. Rae responded by throwing herself on him, locking her arms around his neck so he couldn't get away again.

"Don't ever do that to me again," she scolded, giving him a hard kiss on the cheek. "God, I'm so glad we found you."

"As are we," a voice sounded behind them.

A middle aged-man in a grey business suit stood in front of them, flanked by two burly bodyguards. He gave them a sly grin, and flashed a badge.

"Checkmate," he smirked.