#Stazi_Die

[dontyoudarejudgemesworld]

Another one already, but only because I’m stuck in bed with a cold.

So here is Chapter two of The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far. Once again you can click here if you want to read it on AO3.  Not too much more to say about it, besides in general I hope to get one or two chapters up a week but wont make any promises. Real life is chaos and I have most of the fic written however it currently resides in a handful of note books so transcribing it is the name of the game. And with that allow me to fling yet another chapter of an insignificant fic int yawning void that is the internet

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The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far Chapter Two: One Conversation 

“Soos watch the Shack. I’m going out,” Stan barked as he headed out the door. The young man’s surprised but excited affirmative barely registered as he climbed into the Diablo and started it up. This was insane, it was noon on a Saturday in peak tourist season he should be leading tours and fleecing rubes. He shouldn't even be bothering with the woman. As far as she and the rest of the world were concerned Stanley was dead. The woman had already given him a free pass. She’d told him she’d understand if he didn’t come looking for her and bowed out. He had too many things on his plate; he had a lie to maintain to the world while trying to figure out the damned portal. She’d said he’d never see her again and he honestly believed her.

And that was why he was doing this wasn’t it? Because he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. He was far too curious, he’d always wanted kids when he was younger. He’d secretly wanted the whole shebang; a sweet little wife, a few kids, a house down the street from Sixer and his research. Of course that had derailed when he’d been kicked out and he realized he wasn’t exactly fatherly material. Worthless just like the old man said.

In retrospect he should have considered he might have a kid out there somewhere. He had spent many night is beds that weren't his own in search of warmth or some kind of fleeting companionship. And while he had normally taken steps to prevent such an outcome he had slipped up a few times. And with a list of one night stands a long as a New York phone book the odds had stacked against him. Still it hadn't really been a thought until last night when Stanley Pine’s illegitimate daughter came knocking on his door. His daughter.

The thought was still like a cold bucket of water every time. At first he’d tried to figure out how it wasn’t true. The test had been wrong after all paternity test were only 99.9% positive. She didn’t look that much like his mother her eyes had been brown like Ford’s and his. And the fact that she had six fingers…that was just a coincidence. Yeah, and pigs could fly while singing opera. He’d tried all night to find a lie convincing enough, but had failed miserably. Turned out 40 years of lying about everything wasn’t even enough practice when his own child was staring into his face.

And how the hell had she even found him? Seriously he hadn't gone by Stanley Pines for years especially when it came to women. Couldn’t risk dragging them into the shit show that was his life from the poor decision to spend a night or two with him. Yet somehow she’d not only managed to find out who he was but to track his ‘brother’ down in the middle of nowhere with proof. How the hell had she managed that? What kind of ‘friends’ did she have that obtaining federal evidence was possible? Was that even legal?

Not that she looked like she would have a problem if it wasn’t. While he knew that reading a book by its cover was never a good idea she looked rough. It wasn’t just her appearance either. There had been a hardness to her eyes that he knew too well came from years of running in dark alleys and knowing all the wrong people. And her voice had an edge to it beneath that southern drawl she had. The kind of edge that spoke of slit throats, gun fights, and darkness.

Pulling into the Twin Bed’s parking lot he spotted her bike in front of room six. He was sure there was some kind of irony or poetry or whatever in that. Shifting into park he took a deep breath.

One conversation to get some answers. That was all. He needed to know how she found him, after all if she’d dome it maybe someone else could. Sure, she thought he was Ford, but still his past coming back to haunt him in anyway was the last thing he need. That was why he was here…for answers.

Wow… a lie he almost believed.

“You can do this, Stanley. In and out,” he said as he switched off the car, but he couldn’t bring himself to get out. This was insane. He should just leave the woman be, he didn’t need more complications. Besides what could he give her besides trouble. Shaking himself his hand raised to start the car but the door to room six opened and he froze. His daughter stepped out shoving unruly black curls out of her face as she squinted up at the sun. Shaking her head she pulled something out of her pocket and lit a cigarette. Slouching against the wall she rolled her shoulders and stared off into the woods and Stan knew he couldn’t leave. Groaning he climbed out of the car and slammed the door causing her head to snap over to his direction. He froze for a split second feeling her eyes boring into him.

Smoothing his face into his mask he strode towards her calm and collected even as his brain screamed for him to run the other direction. Twenty seven steps is what it took to reach her. For a moment they just stood staring at each other before she exhaled a cloud of smoke away from him. “Well, if I was a betting woman I’d have lost,” she said with a smirk, “So…uhhh nice day, huh?”

“Uhhhh yeah real…uhhhh sunny,” he replied rubbing the back of his neck nervously. A heavy silence descended as they stared at each other. A few awkward moments passed before she stubbed the cigarette out on her boot and cleared her throat. “Look I think I’m gonna need a beer for this. You?” she said cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said and relief flashed on her face and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Well come on in,” she said as she opened the door to her room. It was small and tidy with a twin bed and a dressed with an old TV perched on top of it. In the corner was a small table with two chairs and a mini fridge. Walking over she pulled two bottles out and popped the tops before sitting down and sliding one over towards him. Taking a seat he nodded his gratitude as he picked it up as she took a long sip of her own. Following suit he stared at her wondering how he had missed how much she looked like Ma. “So I’m sure you have a million questions so go ahead and ask away,” she said and he considered where to start.

“Sure, so uhhh how’d you find me? I mean Stanley wasn’t exactly…,” he trailed off causing her to smile.

“Forth coming with his identity,” she finished for him chuckling, “Well yeah it took a while. He told my mother his name was Stetson Pinesworth,” she admitted, “But I’m a professional P.I. so I was able to follow the strings. Once I chased down his real name it was relatively easy to find you and your older brother Sherman. I considered not going any further but…,” she shrugged, “I thought y’all might want to know that Stanley had some small part of him out there even though it seems like…he was a bit of a black sheep so to say. And I chose to come find you instead of Sherman because I figured with you being a genius and all you could make a call on if Sherman and his kid needed to know. Plus I admit I was curious of what my father looked like and since you’re twins…,” she told him with a shrug and and awkward smile as she took another drink. Letting out a huff of laughter at that he grinned back. He noticed that her words were more precise then yesterday and that her accent seemed to all but disappear. So this is her professional voice, he thought taking another small sip.

“Well sorry it couldn’t be more appealing kid. I wish I could say you got lucky and took after your mother but truth is you look like our Ma when she was young,” he said and she laughed putting him a bit more at ease.

“T’ain’t that bad. It takes a special kind a looks to rock a fez,” she added with a smirk a bit of her drawl slipping through. “Hey it sells the Mr. Mystery a bit more,” he replied, “So yur ma was…,” he asked and she scowled slightly.

“Mary Pisano. She wasn’t…the motherly type. Drink and drugs were way more interesting then her kids. Far as I can guess she got her claws into your brother at a bar and had some fun. I wouldn’t judge him too harshly if I were you though she was real good at that sort of thing. Poor sap probably had no idea what he was getting into,” she told him her voice hard and each word sharp, “She doesn’t really matter. By the time I was nine I was in the foster system. So there isn’t really much to know there,” she added and he took the hint that that wasn’t a subject she was real keen on talking about. Taking a drink he tried to remember her mother but the name meant nothing to him. He wished that he could honestly say that she’d been something special to him, one of the ones worth remembering but no. Just another nameless port of comfort in the sea of misery that was his life.

“Yeah, well he was a bit of a hound,” he said quickly taking another drink to cover his own discomfort.

“Like I said I cant blame him. She was beautiful and that can make any man stumble from time to time,” she said with a smile that he returned. For some reason  the fact that she seemed to honestly mean those words made him feel a bit relieved that he didn’t recall her mother.  

“I suppose that’s right. After all there’s a million stories about men doing dumb shit because of a pretty girl. So you got any questions for me?” he asked and she shrugged.

“I mean yeah a million but I cant really think of them now. Like I said I never really expected you to come ‘round, and I would imagine you cant answer most of them since you ain’t him,” she admitted, “I guess…I really just want to know if he was a good man,” she said after a long moment of consideration. He felt his face fall at that. He wasn’t a good man, he was a liar that sold junk to tourists. And before he’d been…well just about everything except a good man.

“Well…,” he began but she waved her hand to silence him.

“Before you go getting all squirrelly on me I literally have a collection of files on his criminal record. He was a con among other things I know that. But just because he was a criminal doesn't mean that he was a bad man,” she told him and he felt his face twist in confusion causing her to let out a low chuckle, “Look I know that just because someone was a criminal doesn't mean they were all bad. You do what you gotta to survive. So I ain’t askin’ if he was law abidin’ I’m askin’ if he was a good man? If he had a good heart,” she explained and he stared at her mouth slightly agape for a long moment. He’d never though of it like that. Was he a good man? He certainly tried to be but he felt like he’d failed. Sure he’d never hurt anyone he didn’t have to or stolen from people who couldn’t afford it. But still…

“He tried to be,” he said finally, “I mean his heart was in the right place but it always seemed to go wrong. He wanted to make things right for the family but seemed to just fall from one bad situation to the next.I don’t know if that makes him good or not,” he added finally and she nodded.

“I would think it did. I mean my opinion is to judge more by intent not out come generally,” she said with a soft sigh, “The saying is that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I cant dismiss the intent just because the final destination sucks,” she told him evenly They lapsed into silence for a few minutes before she finished her drink and rose to get another. He watched her move to the fridge considering her. It was strange to him that she seemed so nonpulse about the whole thing. What kind of life had she led that she could calmly dismiss his criminal record so easily?

“I see you had your extra finger removed,” she said finally breaking the silence and pulling him from his thoughts. Looking up at her he realized that she was looking at the ‘surgical scars’ he’d given himself after the funeral. He’d done it because he was tired of wearing those damned gloves all the time around the family.

“Uhhh….yeah. They were starting to lock up and I figured it would be better to do it before they got real bad,” he said quickly hoping that she didn’t see right through the lie. She seemed to be able to read him, and he guessed if she was a PI she would have to be able to tell a lie when she heard one.

“Makes since. I mean I only have it on my left hand but the docs warned me that it was prone to arthritis. Figure I’ll deal with it if it happens until then,” she shrugged and he was a bit relieved that he had chosen the right excuse. “So I gotta say you’re pleasant enough to talk to but I’m thinkin’ maybe I ain’t ready for your brother and his family just yet,” she admitted suddenly and he blinked in surprise.

“What? Why?” he asked wondering if he’d done something wrong.

“It isn’t you,” she laughed seeming to read his feelings again, “It’s me. I’ve always been out on my own. Which was fine. I’m a big girl, but I’m finding talking to you is…a lot. His family seems pretty close knit where as you seem a bit more of a loner…another reason I decided to talk to you. The idea of being introduced to any more of you right now is…Unsettling. If you even think that he would care,” she told him with a grin.

“Shermie is a big softy, he’d love to have you around,” he assured he quickly, “I suppose you could say he’s the sentimental one out of us. But yeah I can see where you’re coming from,” he admitted thinking about it for a moment. Shermie had always been the glue the bound them together. He’d always made sure to stay in touch and insisted that Stan had a relationship with his nephew and the twins (to the point that violence had been threatened if he didn’t show up at family gatherings at least once in a while). After he’d faked his own death Sherman had seemed even more hell bent to keep keep the family together, if he found out that his ‘dead’ little brother had a daughter she’d be dragged into the fold kicking and screaming if necessary. And when Stan considered what she’d just said he could only imagine how uncomfortable that would be for her.

She gave him a grateful smile and opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off by her stomach letting out a loud gurgling sound. He almost laughed out loud as she pressed her hand lightly to her stomach her cheeks coloring a bit like a guilty child.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten in..,” she paused appearing to think about it for a moment, “…a while? Time has gotten away from me lately,” she finished lamely. Cocking an eyebrow he gave an amused smile as he shook his head.

“Day drinking on an empty stomach, huh?” he said rhetorically as he stood up, ”Not a bright idea there kid. Come on. I’ll show you the best place in town,” he offered,”We can continue awkwardly staring at each other over food,” he added and she let out a bark of laughter that broke the tension he hadn’t realized had descended on them.