"Hi Ryan" Ryans eyes connected with his fathers and his stomach churned.

"Hey," he said, curtly. He turned to Taylor. It wasn't uncharacteristic of her to do something like this and yet it felt like a stab in the back. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Would you excuse us?"

"No problem."

"Thanks." He turned Taylor around. It was taking all his energy to cool his temper. The last thing he wanted was to blow up on her right there, continue his dads legacy.

Taylor could feel the tension. "At least it wasn't a romantic surprise," she tried.

Ryan shook his head. "The note by my bed." It only took him a second to put the pieces together.

"Yeah, I found it, I went there and I found your dad. And I don't know, I thought maybe you were trying to reconnect with him," she looked embarrassed.

"Taylor, it's my business," he growled.

She started rambling. Usually he would find it endearing but right now he couldn't take it. "I know, I'm a meddler. But don't worry, once I lick my stalking addiction that's-"

"Can you shut up, Taylor?!" the voice that exited his mouth didn't feel like his own. It was too reminiscent of the man sitting only a few feet away. Taylor visibly flinched. Several people looked up from their meals, shocked. Frank sat watching, an expression crossing his face that told Ryan he was thinking the exact same thing. Ryan swallowed. If he became his dad, his dad would have won. "I'm sorry."

She stared for a second. "You've been thinking about him, right? Please. It's just dinner. He's you're dad."

Ryan looked over at Frank at shook his head. "No. I already have a dad," he countered.

Taylor gave him her best puppy dog eyes. "For me? It's valentines day?"

He hated that she would pull that. "Fine. Dinner."

Ryan mumbled a few responses here and there over their meal but truth be told he was barely present. The conversation between his girlfriend and his father sounded distant, like he was underwater.

He snapped back to reality by a question Taylor asked. "Oh my god, Frank. Are you in love with Julie Cooper?"

"Your dad and Julie Cooper. It's just so..."

Ryan unloaded cups from a tray, not looking up at Taylor as she spoke. "Incestuous, inappropriate," he could name more, if she wanted.

"Well look at you being all hyper articulate. No, I was going to say it's romantic," Taylor said.

It was like anything he'd ever told her about his father had gone in one ear and out the other. Nothing about Frank Atwood was romantic.

"Have you ever considered you're maybe being a little bit insensitive?" he asked. "Besides, she's with someone else."

Taylor usually prided herself on being able to tell what Ryan was thinking. This was like she was failing a very important test. "She doesn't love Bulit" she countered, it was all she had.

"Not the point. Doesn't mean she should be with my dad."

"What if they're meant for each other? He loves her. If we could at least help them get together-"

Ryan slammed the last of the cups down. "He loved my mom too." He noticed her flinch again. "Listen Taylor. I remember what he was like, how he treated mom and us."

Ryan didn't talk about it much but Taylor had felt his scars. She was always curious. "I'm really sorry, Ryan."

"I know Julie isn't perfect, but I also know my dad. She deserves better." He wouldn't wish Frank Atwood on his worst enemy. "I need to get back to work."

"Ryan, I just want you to know, I've been with my fair share of bad guys, and for the record, your dad isn't one of them."

Ryan gave her a long sideways look and turned his attention to wiping down the counter. Engaging in the mindless task was all he could do to keep hot, volatile anger from rising to the surface. "With all due respect mrs. Cooper I don't need you telling me what kind of man my father is," he said, curtly. It took a lot to push the words past his lips; He felt like he was choking on them. He'd been wiping the same spot on the table for a good fifteen seconds. He didn't want to look up at Julie with tears stinging at his eyes.

It wasn't like Frank Atwood had walked around with a giant neon sign reading "abusive asshole" attached to him. None of Dawn's boyfriends had. The first weeks of a new relationship and Dawn would be glowing. She would drink less, mother more, and beam at the boys about how she really thought that she'd found the one this time. The days would pass, though, and she'd start hitting the bottle again, she'd come home with bruises that she would explain away- calling herself clumsy. She'd only get more attached, though and things would move fast. Ryan and Trey would start showing up to school with unexplainable injuries too.

Frank had been the most charismatic of them. He was well dressed, clean, he would look Ryan's teachers in the eye and shake their hands when he came to parent teacher conferences, he took his boys on fishing trips... The man was a liar, a criminal, and a drunk but he could really work a crowd. He hadn't changed; he'd just adapted. What Julie was reading as a reformed man was just him weaseling his way into everyone's good graces.

"He's your father. I think if you would just give him a chance-" Julie's tone had turned from soft and sweet to almost annoyed. It was as though she was scolding him.

"Like I said earlier, we're closing up. I think you should go," he growled.

Julie stared at him for a moment, shocked by the amount of vitriol in his voice. "Fine," she said, hautily. She turned on her heal and exited the restaurant.

He wiped a tear from his cheek once he knew that no one was looking. It was the only one that had managed to escape while she was talking to him.

No one ever believed him when it mattered. They'd dismissed him when it came to Oliver and now to his father too. Maybe his Newport found family wasn't so different from the people back home as he had thought they were.

A little boy stood in the doorway to his bedroom, narrowing his soulful blue eyes to try and count how many bottles he could find littering the living room tonight. It was a measure of how safe leaving his room would be tonight. One or two usually meant safe. Three was getting dangerous. Three meant it was safe if he was quiet. Five meant stick inside. More than that meant even his bedroom probably wouldn't even protect him. One, two, three, four, five.

He took a single defeated step back into his room.

The front door opened and closed. The teenager and the woman who entered were near silent as she guided him past the couch, towards where the tiny blonde was hiding. "Bed, Trey. We'll talk about this in the morning," she hissed.

A voice came from the couch. A very tall man rose from the couch, setting another bottle down heavily on the coffee table. "Are you really gonna let this little delinquent get away so easy?"

"Whatever, Dad. That's fucking rich coming from you. I stole some cigs, who cares?" Frank Atwood's criminal activity was a mostly unspoken of in the house. The second Trey said it, he knew it had been a mistake.

"You think that's any way to talk to your father?" Frank gave his shove that sent him stumbling back into a book case. Trey gathered himself and didn't respond. Frank didn't let that last long; As soon as Trey was on his feet he shoved him again. "When I ask you a question, you answer it."

This time Trey didn't even bother getting up. "No. I guess it's not how I should talk to my father." There was detectable malice behind the words. Frank picked up on it in a heartbeat.

"I don't have time for back talk from you right now," Frank said, raising his hand.

"Baby stop, please." Dawn reached out to touch her husband's shoulder. His hand connected with her face instead. She stumbled backward and held her cheek. It was far from the first time that this had happened but it still shocked her to this day.

That was all it took to send Trey over the edge. "Don't fucking touch her," he yelled. He knocked his father back a few steps but Frank recovered fast, getting his oldest son on the floor in seconds with swing of his fist.

Frank strode past his wife to return to nursing his bottle. He didn't say another word to his son. Trey was able to recover after a couple seconds. He got up and shouldered past his younger brother into his room, one arm held up to his nose to stop the bleeding. He grabbed a bag and went out the other way, leaving the family home without a word. His mother was in too much shock to stop him.

Upon watching his big brother leave, Ryan started packing too. He followed his big brother around like a lost puppy, now wasn't any different. He almost made it out the door too but Frank grabbed onto his backpack and pulled back roughly. Ryan turned to face his father, not looking in his eyes but rather up at the bottle he's polishing off. Seven. He'd already far surpassed Ryan's safe numbers. The eight year old braced himself.

"Where do you think you're going." This time Frank spoke in a distinctive slur. With Trey out the door and Dawn cowering in their bedroom he was at his fathers mercy.

"I just wanted to follow Trey," Ryan tried to keep his voice from shaking.

"You're running away too huh? Like a little bitch. Scared without Trey around?" Frank questioned. He gave Ryan a forceful push that sent him to the floor. He landed on his arm awkwardly. Ryan barely made a sound but from the loud crack and the wince on his face it was obvious it hurt.

Frank pulled him up roughly by the injured arm. Ryan stared at his fathers shoes. He'd do anything not to appear weak. How he reacted didn't matter, though. Frank was dead set on giving someone hell tonight so Ryan would have to pay for his brother's offenses.

"Mmm-mm. Principles office." The teacher said the second he saw Ryan walk in all black and blue. "You know the rules about fighting."

Ryan had no energy to argue so he just did as he was told.

"It wasn't me. It was my dad." This was a long time coming. Ryan had been working up the courage to tell someone for weeks.

The principle looked down at him from over her thin glasses. "That's a serious accusation, Ryan. I've met your father." He could already sense that she didn't believe him.

"And?" he asked.

"I've sat in front of many students and I've dealt with many awful parents. I know you, I know your brother, and like I said, I've met your father. Your father just isn't one of those parents. These fights you're getting in have to end. You should stop lying about your father. It's time you learn how lucky you are to have the family you have." Ryan just stared back at her, watching her write a note. "Detention. Two weekends. Be there."

Ryan stood by the bar, rubbing his shoulder unconsciously. He was snapped back into the present by a hand landing on his shoulder. He flinched back hard, causing him to crash into some bar stools. His heart rate steadied a bit when he registered Sandy.

"You seemed stressed so I thought I'd drop by. Give you a ride home. You okay, kid?"

Ryan started to protest but changed his tone in a matter of seconds. "Honestly? No," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you think it's wrong of me to still hate my father?" he asked.

Sandy rubbed his foster son's back and shook his head. "There's no wrong way for you to feel about him being back in your life," he assured.

Ryan nodded and sunk down onto a barstool. "I just don't trust him," he sighed.

Sandy pulled a stool up beside Ryan. Neither did he. "For someone who's been through what you have? Honestly, of course you don't."

"I mean, even if he's this whole new person he says he is I just can't bring myself to care."

Sandy nodded. "You know that I am a big fan of second chances," obviously, or Ryan wouldn't be there. "But I think there are things a person can do that are unforgivable. Laying hands on a child, thats..." he stopped when he noticed the significant discomfort on Ryan's face. "I'm sorry, Ryan."

"'s fine. Lucky for my I already have the best father I could ask for" he caught Sandy's eye and almost smiled.

Sandy pulled him into a warm embrace.