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“Please, dad,” Kipo pleaded, giving her best puppy-dog eyes.
Lio sighed and lowered the dish he was washing. This wasn’t the first time Kipo had pressed him about this, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He understood where she was coming from, but how was he supposed to explain that things just weren’t that simple?
Ever since Hugo’s imprisonment, Kipo had been pestering Lio – and likely Hugo as well – to meet with the former dictator to patch up their relationship. Lio had more than a few reservations about the idea. Not the least of them being that the last time he and Hugo had interacted, Hugo had mind controlled him. No matter how Lio had hurt him in the past, it didn’t make that okay. It certainly didn’t mean that Lio needed to forgive him for it. Apologies could be owed, and Lio had given them, but forgiveness could not.
Also among Lio’s chief concerns was whether Hugo even wanted to see him. He’d offered olive branches before, and each time Hugo had dismissed them. All his efforts to make peace had been answered with snide remarks and additional doses of pheromones. If all visiting would do was open old wounds, then what would be the point?
Lio looked back at his daughter. His heart ached knowing how much this meant to her. Maybe that was the point. Maybe the result mattered less than demonstrating, both to her and to Hugo, that he cared enough to try.
He set the dish down in the barrel, sighed again, and relented. “Okay, I’ll – OOF!”
Kipo had leapt to hug him before he could finish his sentence. “Thanks, dad!” She let go, allowing him to dry his hands and turn around to face her properly. She was giddy and almost bouncing with excitement.
Lio felt another twinge of heartache at this. Her hopes were so high, it was almost certain they’d be dashed. “I can’t promise how things’ll go,” he cautioned. “Thirteen years of bad blood doesn’t get fixed in one conversation.”
“I know,” she said, some of her energy sapped away, “But it can’t hurt to try, right?”
Lio prayed she was right.
A tight knot of anxiety twisted in Lio’s gut as he approached the door to Hugo’s cell. As much as he hoped this meeting might go well, the experience of the past few weeks made it clear that it wasn’t likely to. Trying to steady his nerves, he took a deep breath and then opened the door.
For the first few days of his incarceration, Hugo had been housed in a specially designed plexiglass cage scavenged from the Human Resistance base. While the Timbercats – and Wolf – had been content to leave him there, Lio refused to see him caged again. It had taken Kipo to convince them, but the Timbercats had relented and modified a small, one room dwelling at the edge of the village to act as a more humane cell.
For the most part, the cell looked much like any other Timbercat home. Against the far wall was a massive cat bed, loaded high with pillows and a fleece blanket, and all in clashing plaids. Next to the bed, a low table held a pitcher of water and a drinking glass. A small shelf held a growing collection of books, gifted by Kipo, and a battery powered lamp to read them by. A slatted wooden screen provided privacy around a wash area.
That was where the similarities stopped. The only window had been barred over, and the front of the room was divided by a plexiglass barrier. The barrier stood about six feet in from the door of the home, allowing just enough room for a coffee table and a couple chairs to be placed facing the rest of the cell. On the other side of the glass, a single chair faced the makeshift visitors’ area. An electronic keyboard stood under the window, though marks on the floor indicated that it had been moved back and forth between there and a spot just on Hugo’s side of the barrier.
It was at the keyboard that Lio found Hugo as he entered the room. Idly playing a simple melody while staring out the window, he looked much as he had back in the old burrow. Not for the first time, it occurred to Lio that that, too, had been a cell; One even smaller and more sparsely furnished than this one.
“How long do you intend to stand there and gawk?” Lio jolted slightly at Hugo’s voice. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been watching, listening, or that he had been noticed. “Much as I’m sure seeing me caged brings back fond memories,” already this was going poorly Lio thought, wincing at the accusation, “I’m not really in the mood for an audience.” Hugo didn’t more than glance at Lio as he spoke.
Lio took a deep breath. “So…,” he fumbled for something casual to say. Something innocuous that wouldn’t lead to an outburst or argument. “That’s a nice song,” he settled on, “it sounds kinda familiar.”
Hugo didn’t look up. “Kipo played it the last time she visited,” he responded flatly.
“Oh, that explains it,” Lio said with a small, nervous chuckle. “Seems music really runs in the f-“
“Why are you here?” Hugo had stopped playing and turned to face the visitors’ area, giving a look that clearly indicated that this particular guest was unwelcome. “Do you want something, Lio? Or is being forced to make small talk with you just another part of my sentence?” Venom dripped from every word.
Lio took a half-step towards the barrier, opening his arms in a gesture he hoped would convey his sincerity. “I just… I wanted to talk. About what happened back at the observatory.”
“You mean when you abandoned me to fend for myself in a world eager to kill me?” Hugo asked, sarcasm thinly veiling the anger that seemed to always lie just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt. “I don’t see that there’s anything more to discuss. You left me alone to die while you got to live your comfy life with your new child. I survived in spite of you, and now I’m stuck here listening to you blather.”
Hugo had walked up to his side of the divider as he spoke. Lio was tall, but Hugo towered over him and was clearly trying to use his size to intimidate. That and his words were the only weapons he had left to him.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Lio began, sitting down in one of the chairs on the visitors’ side of the room. “All I’m asking is that you hear me out.” He met Hugo’s eyes, his expression indicating he didn’t intend to leave until Hugo at least gave him a chance.
“Hmph, fine,” Hugo relented. “I’ll indulge you for now. Though I don’t expect you have anything to say that I haven’t heard before.” He sat down on his side of the barrier, crossing one leg over another and giving Lio a look of only partially feigned interest. It was clear he didn’t expect to be swayed, and that he was only barely tolerating this surely pointless exercise.
“About what happened back then,” Lio started, plunging in head-first. This was never going to be an easy conversation. Might as well get right to the heart of it. “I’m sorry. Between running and trying to protect Kipo…,” he paused to sigh. “I let my fear get the better of me.”
“Oh, you were frightened?” Hugo’s tone was accusatory, and he raised his voice as he continued. “I was a child! On my own! I finally found someone I had thought I could trust, and you left me alone again!” Anger flashed brightly in his eyes as he bared his fangs. How quickly it had come to the surface.
The response hurt. Lio had always known Hugo was scared, and the reminder cut deep, but he had no right to pretend that Lio hadn’t been in just as much danger. Struggling to maintain his calm – both of them getting angry wouldn’t help anything – Lio countered, “You weren’t the only one in danger. It’s hard to fight off megas and other threats when you’ve got a newborn to take care of.” Hugo scoffed, but Lio continued as if he hadn’t heard it. “And you didn’t exactly help things. You could’ve seriously hurt Kipo, grabbing at her like that! What was I supposed to do? Let that happen?” Despite his efforts, Lio’s voice had begun to rise at Kipo’s name.
Hugo looked away, still furious but without a retort. Lio wasn’t surprised. Even before adopting the persona of Scarlemagne, Hugo had been slow to admit fault. Lio took a moment to collect himself before continuing, “I’m not trying to place blame,” another dismissive noise from Hugo punctuated the thought. “But this,” he gestured between them, “is a two-way street.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “And what is ‘this’,” he mirrored the gesture, “exactly?”
“Reconciliation,” Lio answered, as much a question as a statement. Seeing Hugo’s jaw drop, Lio jumped back in before he could come back with some sarcastic quip. “I know it seems impossible right now. We’ve both hurt each other, and I don’t know what either of us can do to make it right – if we can make right. But I do know that we’ll both have to put in the effort if we’re ever gonna have a chance.” Lio looked directly into Hugo’s eyes. “And I want to try.”
Again, Hugo had no response. He looked away from Lio, refusing to make eye contact. Lio’s shoulders dropped. While this wasn’t an unexpected outcome, it was still disappointing. “Goodnight, Hu-“ he paused, vividly remembering the effect that name had. “Well, goodnight.”
At that, Lio stood and turned to walk away. As much as Lio had expected the meeting to end like this, he’d still hoped for more. He still missed those happier days when he and Hugo would play, and sing, and laugh together. More than anything, he missed Hugo. He was reaching for the door when he heard Hugo stand up and speak.
“Wait.” Hugo’s tone was hard to read, seeming at once angry and pleading. Lio turned to face him and was greeted by a similarly conflicted expression. “For the sake of argument, let’s say I wasn’t totally averse to the notion… what would this ‘reconciliation’ entail?” Hugo feigned casual disinterest as he asked, but Lio saw the sincerity lying just beneath.
Lio half-smiled as he walked back toward the glass and sat down in the chair again. For all the resentment that had built over the past thirteen years, some part of Hugo still wanted to be family, and that might just be enough for this to work. “I don’t know,” Lio replied honestly. “I think that’s just something we’ll have to figure out as we go. But talking is a good step. Maybe we can start there?”
“Well,” Hugo said after a moment’s silence, “I suppose it’ll make Kipo happy.”
They spoke for some time before Lio left for the night. He wanted to keep talking, to keep going until they’d talked enough to make up for thirteen years of silence, but he knew that wasn’t possible. As he’d pointed out to Kipo, a single conversation couldn’t undo all the hurt between them and trying to force it to would only invite more bad blood.
So Lio left, promising to return. Hugo had long ago stopped believing Lio’s promises, but a small part of him held onto the hope that this one would be kept. As Lio walked out, Hugo went back to his keyboard and played the last bars of the song he’d learned from Kipo.
Both knew they were still a long way off from mending the damage done between them, but at least now they were on the road, together.