Piece by Piece

4. Emancipation

The year 1992 was supposed to be a year of hope.

Davyn remembered that autumn day in 1991 when his father had returned from work all smiles and had announced that their lives, as well as everyone else's were going to get so much better.

The Cold War was over. Sirius saw this as an opportunity for all the inventivity and funding to go into improving lives and make it easier for Americans rather than outsmarting the Soviets. Because now, all the brilliant minds of the country could focus on something else.

The people.

And whatever great goal was in store for Davyn, it would be coming with more purpose than ever. He was meant to make the world better, and he would.

At that time, Davyn had fully believed his father. He always did. And his words seemed to ring true. A mere couple of days later, the news hit television stations everywhere and it was all anyone could talk about. The USSR was no more. America had won. It would be a time of peace and hope. A time of prosperity. For a few months, it even felt that way.

Then, Sirius had turned a bit more serious, losing his exuberance. Davyn hadn't noticed it then, because everyone around him was still in full celebration. But now that he thought about it, trying to find any rhyme or reason for his father's untimely demise, he could see it.

Sirius had lost his smile after the new year. They'd had a wonderful family celebration, but then everything seemed to darken. Training had become a bit more serious, his father demanding more and more out of him. He was quieter, didn't mention his secret purpose anymore. And then, just a few days ago, he'd seemed... sad.

Why was he sad? What had happened that had fizzled out his hope? Could it have been a very complicated suicide?

No, he would never do something like that. He was a fighter. A visionary. He didn't break his promises.

He wouldn't do something like that without giving Davyn some pointers, telling him how he was supposed to handle this, go on. His father would never abandon him.

And yet, it was his ashes they were lowering into the ground.

Even if Davyn had been half convinced that Freider would throw him out of the house for hitting him, his older brother actually complied and organized a funeral, even if they would be burying an urn.

It was still a nightmare. Their mother wasn't there, Ron was a mess of nerves, and Bill, who had taken the trouble to actually show up, didn't care.

It had been so long since Davyn had seen his oldest brother, he'd even forgotten what he looked like. Yes, he remembered he was blond, but not the dirty unkept kind, and he was almost certain he didn't have a beard last time. Whenever that had been. Bill had left the house when Davyn was only eight and hadn't come back a lot since.

The service had been short and lacked any kind of feeling, a random priest none of them knew giving a generic sermon. It made Davyn feel even worse if possible. Like his father had died again, this time not in body, but in spirit.

Rain pelted them, turning the remaining February snow into muddy mush. It felt appropriate somehow. A representation of how the hope had fizzled and died, being replaced by dreary reality.

Davyn didn't even feel it, his eyes fixed on the headstone Fredier had hastily put together. It contained both their parents names, even if their mother was technically still alive. He'd mention he'd have the years carved in later because it had all been short notice, but at the moment, it felt as if both their parents had died. Which wasn't very far from the truth. After all, their mother wasn't there. Davyn wondered if she ever would be again, or if she'd live the rest of her life in the asylum.