Chapter 5

The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty blinds of the Campbell apartment, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. Hughie sat motionless on the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the silent television. The news played footage of the Seven's latest heroic exploits, but Hughie saw none of it. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in an endless loop of that fateful night.

The jangle of keys at the door broke through his reverie. Hugh Campbell Sr. stepped inside, his arms laden with grocery bags. "Hughie? I'm home," he called out, his voice carrying a forced cheerfulness that had become all too familiar over the past few weeks.

Hughie didn't respond, didn't even turn his head. Hugh Sr. sighed softly, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. He moved into the living room, his eyes filled with concern as he took in his son's disheveled appearance.

"I picked up some of that lasagna you like from Gennaro's," Hugh Sr. said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. "Thought we could have a nice dinner together. Maybe watch one of those terrible sci-fi movies you love so much?"

The mention of the movies – ones he and Robin used to watch together – sent a sharp pain through Hughie's chest. He blinked, finally turning to look at his father. The worry etched on Hugh Sr.'s face made Hughie's guilt rise like bile in his throat. He was hurting, yes, but he wasn't the only one suffering.

"Thanks, Dad," Hughie managed, his voice rough from disuse. "That sounds... nice."

Relief flooded Hugh Sr.'s features. He reached out, squeezing Hughie's shoulder gently. "Why don't you go grab a shower while I heat up dinner? No offense, son, but you're starting to rival my gym socks in the smell department."

The weak attempt at humor drew a ghost of a smile from Hughie. He nodded, rising from the couch on unsteady legs. As he made his way to the bathroom, memories washed over him – countless similar evenings spent with his father, just the two of them against the world.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Hughie's mind wandered to his childhood. His mother had left when he was young, the details hazy in his memory. What he did remember, with crystal clarity, was his father's unwavering presence. Hugh Campbell Sr. had been mother and father both, juggling work and single parenthood with a determination that Hughie had always admired.

He remembered Little League games where his father cheered louder than anyone else, even when Hughie struck out. He remembered late nights of his father patiently helping with homework, despite his own exhaustion after long days at work. He remembered the way Hugh Sr. had supported his interest in music, scraping together money to buy Hughie his first guitar.

As Hughie toweled off and changed into clean clothes, the guilt intensified. His father had always been there for him, through every triumph and setback. And how had Hughie repaid that devotion? By shutting down, withdrawing into his grief and leaving his father to pick up the pieces.

When Hughie emerged from the bathroom, the smell of warm lasagna filled the apartment. Hugh Sr. was setting the small dining table, humming softly to himself. It was a scene so achingly normal that it made Hughie's chest tighten.

"Perfect timing," Hugh Sr. said, looking up with a smile. "Grab some drinks from the fridge, would you?"

As they sat down to eat, an awkward silence fell between them. Hughie pushed the food around his plate, his appetite still a fickle thing these days. Hugh Sr. watched him with worried eyes, clearly searching for the right words.

"You know," Hugh Sr. began hesitantly, "I've been thinking. Maybe... maybe it would help to talk to someone. A professional, I mean. There's no shame in it, son. After what you've been through-"

"I'm fine, Dad," Hughie cut him off, his tone sharper than he intended. He saw the hurt flash across his father's face and immediately regretted his words. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Hugh Sr. nodded, reaching across the table to clasp Hughie's hand. "I understand. Just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready to talk. About anything."

The unconditional love and support in his father's eyes nearly broke Hughie. He swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "I know, Dad. I... I haven't been fair to you. You've been amazing through all of this, and I've been..."

"Hey, none of that," Hugh Sr. interrupted gently. "You're grieving, Hughie. There's no right or wrong way to do that. I'm just glad you're here, talking to me now."

Hughie nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. They ate in silence for a few moments, the tension easing slightly.

"You know," Hugh Sr. said suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I was cleaning out some old boxes the other day and found your old karaoke machine. Remember how you used to belt out Billy Joel songs at the top of your lungs?"

Despite himself, Hughie felt a chuckle bubble up. "Oh god, don't remind me. I'm pretty sure the neighbors thought we were torturing cats."

Hugh Sr. laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "Hey, you weren't that bad! Well, okay, maybe you were. But you had enthusiasm, kiddo. That counts for something."

As they continued to reminisce, sharing memories and even a few laughs, Hughie felt something shift inside him. The grief was still there, a constant ache in his chest, but for the first time in weeks, it didn't feel all-consuming.

Later that night, as they settled in to watch one of their favorite old sci-fi B-movies, Hughie found himself truly looking at his father. He saw the grey hair at his temples that hadn't been there a month ago, the new lines around his eyes – signs of the toll recent events had taken on him.

"Dad?" Hughie said softly during a quiet moment in the film.

Hugh Sr. turned to him, eyebrows raised in question.

"Thank you," Hughie continued, pouring all his gratitude and love into those two simple words. "For everything."

Hugh Sr.'s eyes misted over. He pulled Hughie into a fierce hug, one hand cradling the back of his head like he used to when Hughie was small. "Always, son. Always."

As they held each other, the cheesy dialogue of the movie playing in the background, Hughie felt a resolve solidify within him. He would find a way through this darkness, if not for himself, then for his father. Hugh Campbell Sr. had always been his anchor, his constant in a world of change and loss. Hughie owed it to him – to both of them – to keep fighting.

The road ahead was still long and uncertain, the pain of Robin's loss still raw. But in that moment, wrapped in his father's embrace, Hughie knew he wasn't facing it alone. Whatever came next, they would face it together, just as they always had.

As the credits rolled and Hugh Sr. dozed off on the couch, Hughie carefully draped a blanket over him. He stood for a moment, watching his father's peaceful face, and made a silent promise. He would make things right, not just for Robin, but for his dad too. Somehow, someway, he would find a way to be the son Hugh Campbell Sr. deserved.

With that thought anchoring him, Hughie retreated to his room. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he allowed himself to find comfort in the enduring bond between father and son – a love that had weathered every storm and would see them through this one too.