TW: Implication of child abuse

To Michael's dismay, Garte paid little attention to what Derek was doing.

At least, he gave Michael that impression. The idea of Derek trying to stop Garte from saving his son was not unbelievable, and the thought loomed in the back of his mind.

Garte knew that Derek loved both his children, Melissa and Aaron. But, to an outsider looking in, it would appear that the Ultima was indifferent towards them. For those who weren't familiar with the Ultima curse, they chalked it up to Derek and Rachel having children much younger than they had expected. Garte knew, however, that it was the generations long curse that surged through their DNA.

Unbeknownst to Derek, Michael, Zack, and Elizabeth knew arguably more than Derek did about his own burden.

It was a point of contention at times between Garte and Derek. He knew he shouldn't get involved in the Lycan family matters, but Garte always pressed for Derek to be gentler with his children, present and more patient.

"You're so hard on them, man," Garte would comment.

"I don't tell you how to parent your children," Derek would glare at Garte. "Don't try and tell me how to parent mine."

So, even though there was doubt also looming in Garte's mind about Derek's actions, Michael's claim was not that unbelievable.

The children were being tested on again. Garte was forced to wait outside, and he tried to distract himself with anything he could. Reading a book of any genre was his go to.

He sat in the uncomfortable chairs, entirely engrossed in the newest novel he was reading. The world seemed to form around him as he tried to piece together the nuance and find the hidden statements in between the lines.

"You know, I would've never taken you for a reader," Zack's voice shattered through the silence.

Garte looked up, leaving his book open. He gave Zack a confused look instead of responding.

"I mean, I've known you long enough to know you are," Zack continued as a response to Garte's silence. "But, well, you know."

Garte nodded. Zack had again been referring to Garte's focus issues, which he had brought up multiple times in the past few weeks.

"Aren't you supposed to be in there with Garroth?" Garte questioned.
"Elizabeth's got it," Zack shrugged and sat next to Garte, staring at the wall.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Garte would occasionally glance over at Zack, waiting for some kind of statement to shrug off the silence.

Zack was staring constantly at the wall. He had been asked by Michael and Elizabeth to go talk to Garte, maybe get on his friendly side in order to gain his trust more. Though the two were once good friends, they naturally drifted as life went on.

"It's hard doing tests on your boy," Zack commented.

He didn't mean to say that out loud. Garte was not aware of the physical, painful testing that they were putting the children through. To his knowledge, it was intellectual testing with the occasional blood draw.

"What... do you mean by that?" Garte hesitated.

Zack cleared his throat and shook off the fact that he had blurted out what he didn't mean to say. He shifted in his chair slightly.

"I mean, watching him just be well again after everything," Zack said. "It was a month ago that I was doing CPR to save a four year old. I've never shaken the image of it."

This was entirely true. There were many things that, as a doctor, Zack would never get used to. Dying and death of adults was one thing for him, but the death of children rocked his mind back and forth.

Garte nodded silently. He couldn't shake the image either. He also couldn't shake the deadweight feeling of his son, or the way his skin glowed with a hue of green, or the way the monitor sounded when it flatlined.

"What're you reading?" Zack quickly changed the subject.

Garte flipped the book closed so Zack was able to see the cover. "Fahrenheit 451," he responded.

"Haven't you read that three times already?" Zack laughed, shaking his head.

"What's good is good," Garte smiled. "Not my fault I have taste."

Zack smiled and nodded. He drew in a deep breath, once gain filling the awkward silence that lingered.

"You and Derek excited to start selling?" He inquired.

Their clear business plan was to let the testing on the children finish and, if all went well, which was the direction everything seemed to be headed, Derek and Garte were to begin selling as soon as they could. Their charming and quick-witted attitudes helped immensely when trying to attract new customers.

"Yeah, I think so," Garte nodded. He wasn't necessarily hesitant, but nervous as to how clients were going to receive what appeared to them as a black market, underground healing potion.

"You guys will do fine," Zack assured. In a matter of seconds, he received a page from Elizabeth.

Excusing himself, he stepped into the adjacent room, where testing was being performed on not only Garroth, but Aphmau as well.

Garte sat patiently waiting and didn't open his book again. Minutes later, the metal door swung open. Both Garroth and Aphmau were led out by Elizabeth.

Garroth immediately walked towards Garte, placing a hand on his father's knee. Garte stood up, grabbing everything he needed as well as Garroth's hand.

"We're good to go?" Garte asked, not daring to make more conversation. He could see that Garroth was exhausted and needed to be taken home.

"Yep, all good," Elizabeth replied.

Garte nodded and smiled down at Garroth, who smiled back tiredly. Garte looked at Aphmau and waved his hand.

"Bye, Aphmau," he said. "We'll see you next week, yeah?"

The little girl raised her hand, waving goodbye. She held tight onto her father's pant leg and shied away behind it ever so slightly.

"Bye, Aphmau!" Garroth said, also waving his hand.

To this, Aphmau gave a more enthusiastic wave back. Both Zack and Garte smiled at the two of them, and Garte led his son to the car.

Before they reached outside, Garte pulled Garroth's jacket that was resting on his arm and knelt down. "Let's get this on you before we go outside," he told his son.

Garroth resisted, shaking his head and pushing his jacket away. He explained to his father that he felt too hot to wear his jacket, and that he didn't need it.

"Gar, it's still winter," Garte explained, though smiling. "You've gotta wear a coat, buddy."

"But it's so hot, Daddy," Garroth whined.

"Not outside."

"It's hot everywhere," Garroth stated.

Garte sighed and decided not to fight with Garroth anymore. He figured that this was not the hill to die on. He knew that Garroth would learn from experience that the striking winter cold was not to be messed with.

They walked to the car, and to Garte's surprise, no complaints came from Garroth. The little one was not even shivering when his father buckled him in.

The drive home was silent and soothing. Garroth stared out the window as snow began to lighten the ground. The snowflakes were large and promising of playing outside in the winter to him. The coziness that came with winter was in sight, unlike that of the bitter fall cold.

Garte drove into the garage, gently placing a foot on the brakes and changing the gear to Park. He stepped out of the driver's side after closing the garage door and opened the car door to help Garroth out of his seat.

While riding home, the little one's space decorated shirt pulled down from his collarbone with aid of the carseat straps. Garte was taken aback by the sight of what appeared to be a mix of red, blue, and purple meshing together on his skin. He knelt down to get a closer look.

"Garroth," Garte said, pulling back the collar of his shirt. Garroth's skin was hot to the touch.

His heart was racing. This was an early sign of his fatal leukemia. Could it have come back?

He thought of worse. Was something other than intellectual testing happening in that room that he wasn't allowed in?

Garroth knew exactly what his father was shocked by. He winced a slight bit at the touch, but looked at the injury that Garte was looking at.

Doing his best to keep himself composed, Garte took a silent, deep breath. He looked at Garroth with a calm and serene looking on his face which took all his effort.

"What happened, buddy? Who did this to you?"