A Scripta

Sherry smiled at Michael. "I saw a present under the tree for you," she said.


"For me?" He looked right at Sherry. "But Santa didn't come yet." Michael also realized that he had nothing to give them, and he had one day to go shopping - something he hated - on the worst shopping day of the year.


"Santa doesn't come for adults," she informed him seriously.


Meanwhile, Jason had come around Peter and approached Kevin's mother. He gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and asked, "What's for dinner?"


"I made Kev's favorite," she said with a smile. "Roast beef and rosemary potatoes."


"With broccoli with cheese?" Kevin asked.


"Of course."


Kevin looked at Michael and smiled. "You'll love it."


"Yeah, well," Peter put his hand on the door. "I have to go. See you on Christmas."


"Bye," Michael called, but the door had already shut. He looked at Jason and his wife. Jason gave the smallest of shrugs, and then turned to Kevin. "So what have you been up to?"


"Oh, heroing," Kevin said.


"Like what?" Michael watched him, and he looked genuinely interested, not fishing for something to throw back at them later. Kevin also got that, because he started into an adventure. They moved to the kitchen table, and father and son were talking away. Michael and Sherry stayed in the kitchen, overhearing the story. It was about one of the many fights in Paragon against demons, in the bowels of Oranbega. Kevin could weave a good story, probably after centuries of doing this kind of thing over open campfires on campaign. Kevin slipped with his name a few times, but his father didn't call him on it, wrapped up as he was in the story. Michael quietly helped in the kitchen, getting things ready. Michael made paper flowers with the napkins to Sherry's glee.


Kevin had gone into a second story, while Michael and Sherry set the table. Kevin looked at the flower and smiled, pausing for a moment in his story. Michael smiled back, and started getting the food out on the table. They all sat down, and Kevin's mom poured wine. Michael put his hand over his glass. "Sorry, I'm a teetotaler."


"Can I get you anything else?"


Sherry piped up, "You drink tea?"


Michael smiled at her. "Yes, I do, but teetotaling means I don't drink alcohol." Michael looked up at Kevin's mother. "Some more of that lemonade would be great."


"How come?" asked Sherry, tearing into her roast beef.


Jason said, "Sherry, you don't need to ask. If he doesn't drink, he doesn't drink."


"Daddy says it relaxes you."


Michael said, "I can think of other ways to relax." He paused, and immediately realized he needed some examples other than the ones that he and Kevin were probably thinking. "Like meditating."


Sherry looked up at him. "Oh, you sit Indian style and float in the air?"


"Not quite." He took the offered lemonade and they settled down to their dinner.


"So what do you do?" Jason asked, looking at Michael.


"Support," Michael said.


Kevin added, "He's our healer and creates wards to protect us."


"Oh, really?" Jason turned to Michael. "That's good."


His mother said, concernedly, "Does Kevin get hurt a lot?"


"I take care of him," Michael said with a smile, and took Kevin's hand. "Don't worry."


Kevin got up and helped clean the plates, leaving Michael with Jason. "What are wards?"


"Protection spells."


"Spells?!" Sherry yelled from the kitchen. "You do magic?"


"I don't pull rabbits out of hats."


Jason chuckled. "Protection and healing, that's important."


"Show me a magic trick!" Sherry came out of the kitchen with her hands wrapped up in a towel.


Jason said, "Honey, it's not that kind of magic."


"I don't mind. What's your favorite color, Sherry?"


"Purple!"


Michael smiled, "Mine too." He made his hand into a fist, and opened it - there was a small ball of purple light in his palm. Sherry squealed. "Let me see your hand."


Sherry slowly offered her hand, and he placed the light in her palm. She stared at it, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Wow!" She went to touch it with her other hand, and it disappeared. "Awww..."


"It was a glamour, an illusion," Michael said. "Once you tried to touch it, it disappeared."


"Do it again!"


Jason shook his head and guided Sherry back to the kitchen. "Another time, honey. Go help Tia."


Sherry went back to the kitchen. Jason regarded Michael for a minute. "How dangerous is it, Michael?"


Michael went to sip his lemonade but it was empty. "We put our lives on the line every day," he said, "I won't sugar-coat it. But Kal - Kevin - he's one of the best and strongest fighters I've ever seen."


"Kal?"


"Kalius. That's his superhero name."


"What's yours?"


"Grimaulkin. Grim for short."


Jason sipped his wine and nodded. "There's stories in my family, distant uncles and cousins, way back, that were career soldiers. I heard stories of one of my distant uncles who lifted an ambulance cart off someone who they later found out was a general in the army. He got decorated for it."


"So you believe Kevin?"


"Believe? Do I have a choice?"


"Sure. You could ignore it."


Jason studied Michael. "I always support my children in everything they do, even if I think their choices are bad at first."


"Do you think his choice is bad?"


"At first I did. But not anymore. It sounds like he has good friends to help him."


"We are a good team, Jason. We help each other."


Kevin came out of the kitchen. "Getting along?"


"Yes, Kevin." Jason tipped his wineglass to Michael. "You've got a smart one, here."


Michael laughed. Kevin came over and put his arm around Michael's shoulders. "We'd better be going back. We haven't even had a chance to unpack."


"Okay." Jason got up. "Coming over tomorrow? We're having the usual suspects over for Christmas Eve dinner."


Kevin said with a look that meant he really didn't want to come over, "That's usually for your friends."


"They haven't seen you in over a year. I'm sure they'd want to see how much you've changed."


"I'll think about it," he said, and got their coats.


Michael peered at Kevin as they got in the car. "What's wrong with coming over tomorrow?"


Kevin turned the key and started it. "It's usually dad's friends from work, people from the neighborhood."


"There's something you're not telling me."


Kevin concentrated on driving. "One of dad's friends had a gay son. I was involved with him for a little while, before I came out."


"Maybe he won't be there."


"He committed suicide three years ago."


Michael looked out the window. "They blame you?"


"No, but I'll probably be a reminder." He took a turn. "Maybe we can take in a movie or something."


"Okay," Michael said, and settled back for the drive to the hotel.