"You were gone. For nearly two years?" Elk's surly voice laid out before the apathetic man, across smooth wooden table with an abscence of effort from the owner to cover it's bare self.
His eyes spiralled in bewildering emotions and confusion—as he absorbed Rhett's appearance. Dark circles clouded around his reddened, slitted siren eyes, the rigid brows drawing a stern sinking line, the longer hair—weeding tousled down his nap.
The gravity of his indifference, carved out from the grating life, Agent Czar seemed to age further away the road of his true matureness, and he wonders what caused such daunting aura to surround him.
The pain behind the thick curtains of his lashes, he had obscured with the shards of frost; Elk knew him, and he almost felt pity for the boy, forced to become a solemn, reserved man.
"What do you want?" Rhett asksed, with a tone so hoarse and grim.
Elk heaved out a weary sigh—putting aside his deny to answer him. "We need you back Czar."
He scoffed. "Should've thought about my influence before assigning my place to an insignificant man."
Elk opened his mouth to retort, but stilled and shut, discerning not a hint of irateness in his icy gaze. He then drove his grimace at Agent Knight, far beyond at the table where they previously sat.
A tilted glass of a half drunken, spilling beer in his hand, as he lay his head on the table, his mouth hanged open, the other hand sprawled on the surface, without a care in this world, snoring, snorting away the night.
Elk winced bitterly at the treacherous, mortifying sight of the supposed leader.
He moulded the hassled lines on his forehead with his calloused, wrinkling fingers. "He's hopeless." He muttered under his breath.
Agent Hunter stays quiet, it came in as a jarring exposure that his leader now had a son.
Amusement dancing in his orbs, as he peered at the baby, slumbering in Rhett's chest, breathing soft and steady.
The side of his face pressed, divulging only a side of the rosy, chubby cheek.
But it was enough for him to see that he greatly resembled his father.
"He's been through some tough trials, but he's excellent at the job." Elk responded, ashamed he even had to reason the Agent's foolishness.
Rhett didn't reply back.
"You're still the leader of the team Czar. So, do we have you back?" He inquired, his face lightened in hope.
"No." Rhett retorted, shattering his expectations.
"A team can never be led by two leaders."
"No, of course not. He'll be assigned a different role within the team. Is that not fine?" Elk grounded.
"Doesn't matter. I ripped myself off the title long ago." He remarked, greying several strands more of his aging hair.
"Why? Is it because of a woman?" He blurted out, dropping his gaze on the baby and upnat him.
"I thought you knew better Czar. Did you refuse your responsibilities for a harlot—" Rhett slammed the table, zipping Elk's running mouth shut.
"Not another word!" Rhett warned, his voice low and threatening.
His jaw tightened as he rivaled the glare with Elk.
Before Elk could crack his restraint anymore, Rhett's attention was drawn by the squirming baby, arising, fluttering the butterfly lashes. Blinking slow at him.
"Dada," the soft, honeyed voice called. Rhett's eyes mellowed.
And it did clash against the brewing pressure shrouding the table.
Rhett grabbed him by the under of his arms, holding him secure to his warmth.
"I'm here." He murmured, stroking Rhean's longer hair—curled softly like his mother's own did.
His features snared in hardness, straining pang of hammers in the heart.
It had him dizzy, clouding his gaze with the clustering, effervescent memories conquered by the claws of bitter fear and pain... inerrable words, and weighing, elusive emotions.
Rhean laid his head on his chest, as if; assuring his father; it's gonna be alright. The gesture had his withering heart pulsing again.
He embraced the boy closer to his warmth, soothing for a little while—his aching soul.
Elk and Hunter had their eyes swirling in bewilderment and curiosity at the rare tenderness of Czar, which he hardly ever allowed anyone to perceive.
He didn't remain the cold, ruddy kid he once met, or the rude and cluttered teenager he grew up to be; but he heightened to be a brilliant, accomplished man.
He felt pleasantness shrouding his heart, for he could see; Rhett was even a great father to his boy.
Elk took the glass of water filled to the brim, chugging it down in three big gulps.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Elk muttered, placing the hollowed glass back on the slab, his gaze lowered in remorse.
"Leave,"
"Czar you should-" "I said leave!" He broke sternly.
Elk sighed heavily. He then nodded his head. "You are a father now." He started again.
Looking straight into his eyes, as he did not rebuke him this time, he continued, "You should know what those parents feel, their little children are kidnapped, abused and sold for whatever wretched, inhumane rapture derived to realise their perpetual appetite."
Rhett dropped his stare on the table, a lone muscle in his jaw clinching. "I can't. I'm not qualified."
Elk pricked up a brow. "You and I both know you're more than capable."
A rueful smile curved up the corner of his lips, his eyes blank and gloomy. "I couldn't even protect my wife." He looked up at him.
"Am I not coward enough to force downfall on those children? When I had already been defeated when my wife–"
"When my wif—" a knot formed in his throat. He swallowed. Slicing apart the words. For it's too heavy—dreadfully grueling to depart out his tongue.
An overwhelming conflict of tremor and remorse boiling inside his ribs. His feet harrowed to the ground, the agonizing burden of the cold gallows of blood running in his veins, revolting.
Numbing thunderbolts, burning his body.
But as the breaths go by, he's succumbing to the paralysis bearing every sense of feelings.
"What happened to your wife?" Elk asked timidly.
Hunter's brow creased with concern.
Rhett gritted his teeth.
Refusing.
"Is she no more?"
"She's alive." Rhett returned harshly. As if the mere thought killed him. Piercing stare at Elk.
He lowered his head. "She has to be." He whispered, barely audible.
"Then is she not well?" Elk persisted, frowning deep as Rhett inhaled shallowly, his breathing wavering.
He speculated of the matter being deeper then he presumed it to be.
"She was abused," he paused for a dig to breath. Eyes twitching, burning with unshed tears, but he blinked them, letting the grief hurt him, like he always did... sinking him deeper into the unbreathable shadows of the abyss.
"She's taken away from me. I can't find her. No matter how hard I try." His body shuddered as he spelled the heaviness out.
Now as he said it. Everything felt felt more real. This night terror was his truth.
Months had passed. And still, he failed to decipher the abrupt collapse of the world, the rules in the crumpled up paper toying him, crushing his name within.
Every day without her went by creeping and blurry.
A long, tormenting, deadening nightmare, he believed he would gradually be shaken out from. Nothing after her felt real to him.
She was here.
But she was not here. Everything confused him.
But now, as he morphed the searing pain of the soul into letters escaping his lips, the colourless world... Darkened further; barelling him mercillesly into the grossness of his existence.
There loomed a stiff, torturous air around them. Elk paled, regretting even asking about it, berating himself for throwing such a ruthless remark on his wife.
"I'm–I'm really sorry." He closed his eyes, gulping down his fickle claims, his throat drying out on him.
"Was it Raka?" Hunter asked him, gathering him glances.
Rhett fisted hand on his thigh clenched, coarse veins protruding the thinly buried reins on his neck.
Hunter cramped his jawbone, enraged and crippled with bruising emotions. He never knew of it, nor did he assume his teammates did.
"Raka?" Elk wheezed, his eyes rounded in trepidation. "How did it turn this way?" Earning no response, he glided his head at Hunter.
"Did you know about it? And you did not think of informing?" Elk seethed.
"It's a personal matter." Rhett said.
Elk's darted to him. He sighed.
Then the old owner finally came with their orders.
She placed the dishes slowly on the table, muttering apologies for being late, and complaining regarding a drunk man, her worn-out bones, and that she lacked employees and no one wished to work in her restaurant.
Her blabbers immediately caught the exploration of the little boy, for he raised his small form and drifted his head, glimpsing at the old lady with his now wide awake, glistening doe almond eyes.
"Oh... My heart melts at the beautiful lad." The woman cried out, pinching his reddened cheek.
Baby Rhean stared at her, and then moved his body away, nestling once more in Rhett's embrace, grabbing his hoodie with short chubby fingers.
She frowned at the child, her features drowning in sorrow.
Rhean didn't like mingling with strangers.
Elk cleared his throat, finding her in an awkward position.
She looked at him. "Will you need anything else?"
He shook his head. "Nothing at the moment. Thank you."
"Then I shall be here when you call." She smiled, sauntering within the crowds of wasted men summoning her for more liquor.
"How old is the child?" Elk sowed his eyes on the baby, now realising how identitcal he looked to his father, especially when he had seen portrait of Rhett being of around, this same tender age.
"A year old." He replied, sliding his gaze on his son. He then wiped away the drool trailing down his lips.
Elk nodded knowingly at him, and their table became quiet and stuffy again. Neither of them picked their spoon with the appetite to even graze the food.
"Czar, let's strike a deal." He put forth, perking Rhett's scrutiny on him.
"I'll help you find your wife. I'll do anything in my power to bring her back. But you have to be back."