Posted by Lieutenant Commander Thomas McGregor (COS) in Clearing the Air - COS at Home
After a long (but not interminable) shuttle trip, and a visit to the public transporter, Thomas was staring at the home he’d grown up in. It hadn’t changed a bit from when he’d last seen it three years ago, following the funeral reception for his mother. He could pick out the window from the room that had once been his, just over the door to the garage where his father kept the “toys” – ATVs for most seasons and snowmobiles for the winter. He’d liked it because it was easy to sneak out from, and much less dangerous than having a three-meter drop to the front lawn. Half a meter onto the garage roof, then shimmy down the drainpipe and he was out of the house and into the trees.

He let a small smile creep onto his face as he remembered using the route to try and learn parkour as a teen. He’d only broken his left leg once, his right ankle twice and various bones in his arms three times before giving up on that particular skill.

Still, standing here and reminiscing about things from more than a decade ago weren’t why he’d come home. Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he forced himself to walk up the drive. He made it far closer to the door than he expected before he saw movement in the front room, through the gauzy curtains that provided only the barest minimum of privacy protection, particularly given the sensor pods mounted on the fence posts at the end of the drive.

He strolled with precision and grim dignity up the three steps onto the porch, but before he could reach down and ring the chime announcing himself, the front door opened to reveal his father: Commander Conor McGregor, retired.

Both men stared at each other for a moment.

“Thomas,” Conor said, evenly, looking at his eldest son.

“Dad,” Thomas replied, the wistful smile replaced by a tight expression. Anxiety was roiling in his gut, and before he fully registered what he was doing, he’d closed the gap between them, raised his right arm and punched his father in the face.

COS

The punch was returned with a left to Thomas’ gut, before the younger McGregor let out a yell and tackled his father into the entryway, kicking the door shut behind them.

The split in his attention to do so gave his father an opening and the older man took advantage, quickly pinning his son in a half-nelson hold.

“Not exactly the welcome home I was expecting to give you, Thomas,” he said from behind him. “Nice to know you’ve kept up with your hand-to-hand combat training though, I’m going to need a minute with a vascular regenerator tonight.”

“Sorry,” Thomas said. “That wasn’t exactly the plan for this visit, no matter what I told my Captain.”

“If I let you up, will you explain just what you are doing here less than a month after you sent a message indicating you were on a deep space exploration mission in the Beta Quadrant?” Conor asked.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “It’s something we really should have done three years ago.”

“Alright,” Conor said, abruptly releasing his hold and standing, then offering Thomas a hand to pick himself up off the floor. “Is it something we should do over a drink?”

Thomas paused and considered the question. On the one hand, he didn’t want there to be any possibility of alcohol clouding the discussion and causing something to be misunderstood or ignored, but on the other…

“Yeah,” he said. “But just beer, no hard liquor until afterwards.”

“Fair enough,” Conor replied, beckoning his eldest son to follow him further into the house.

COS