The trip to Rhy'Din had gone as well as Des could have hoped. He'd met most of his family members, and though he still felt like an outsider, he knew it would take time for them to accept him and for him to feel like one of the family, if he ever did. If it wasn't for his responsibilities back home, he might have stayed longer, but people were counting on him, and he couldn't let them down. It seemed there were people counting on him here, too, but only time would tell where things were going and whether anything would come of it. Christmas had been a mostly quiet event, with much of the family nursing the hangover acquired the night before. As for Des, he'd spent a good part of the day in quiet contemplation, exploring Maple Grove on his own and pouring over family albums. It seemed everyone either had their own plans for the day or had purposely left him on his own to sort out his head. Either way, he found himself at the dinner table with only Humphrey for company and an uncomfortable silence settling between them.

Despite his best efforts to convince his cook otherwise, Humphrey had been presented with a sit-down meal for Christmas Day, deeply grateful to Des for eating with him, even if it had been mostly in silence thus far. Jon and Vicki were closeted in their rooms, understandably so, and would no doubt emerge for the evening, but their Christmas was their own, and he wouldn't dream of interfering. As to others who had stayed the night ....breakfast had been an hilariously hungover affair, but one by one, two by two, they had slipped away to celebrate the day in their own company. The Old Man cleared his throat, finally lifting his spoon from the bowl in front of him, loaded with pudding and cream. "Very quiet, Desmond."

It was true - Desmond had remained mostly quiet throughout the meal, answering Humphrey's remarks with a single word or two in response to indicate he'd heard, but wasn't really paying much attention, his mind seemingly a million miles away, or maybe just a few miles away in the Temple District. "Hmm?" he asked, as he lifted his head from the quiet contemplation of his pudding, which he was stirring endlessly with a spoon.

Brown eyes twinkled over the spoon for a moment before Humphrey shovelled the mouthful in, taking his time in chewing before swallowing and speaking again. He wasn't blind; he knew Des had taken Piper and Lyneth home the night before, and he also knew Des had not come back to the Grove until after midnight. But he wasn't so crude as to jump to the first conclusion, no matter how likely it might have seemed. "I was commenting on your quietness," he repeated himself with a faint smirk. "Should I assume you to be tired, ready to leave, or reluctant to go back to New York?"

Desmond furrowed his brows as he quietly considered Humphrey's question. It was a question he'd been trying to sort out all day on his own. He wasn't accustomed to feeling this way - conflicted, confused, uncertain. He was used to setting clear cut goals and doing whatever was necessary to reach those goals. Meeting Piper had been completely unexpected - everything that had happened in Rhy'Din had been completely unexpected - and he wasn't yet sure what to make of it. "I'm not sure," he replied, as honest as he could be, still contemplating his pudding with a stir of his spoon.

Humphrey watched him a moment later, as though expecting something further only to be disappointed. His thick brows rose and fell, shoulders shifting in a shrug as he grunted and went back to his pudding. He felt on thin ice around Des; not a feeling he was used to in the presence of his family. Belatedly, he wondered if he should have invited a few others to dinner today, and a slightly mischievous thought suggested that Lyneth and Piper would have been good company.

Desmond wasn't much of an open book around anyone, except maybe Miranda who was either astute enough to read him or persistent enough to keep at him until he cracked open. The truth was that Humphrey was the closest thing that had ever come to a father figure in his life, and Des wasn't quite sure what to think of that either. "It's just....coming here....I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted in life. And now, I'm not so sure."

There was a pause as Humphrey wiped his lips clean, setting his spoon down in the bowl before him, and reached for his wine. "You still know who you are," he assured the younger man, confident that this was the case. "As to what you want from life; that changes for everyone with every era of their life that passes them by. Take Jon, for example; five years ago, what he wanted was to be a famous, Oscar-winning actor, with all the trimmings. Now, all he truly wants is to be a good husband and father, and if his career stays on track, that is a bonus. Or take a look at me; when I was your age, I wanted to be one woman's husband, and I went out of my way to make the man who married her miserable. A few years later, my first boy was born, and suddenly all I wanted was to take back everything I had said and done. And now all I want is for my family, all of you, to be well and safe, and happy if you can manage it." He smiled faintly, setting his glass down after taking a sip. "Or young Piper ....three years ago, she wanted to study Art History or some such degree and just have fun. I couldn't say what it is she wants now, but I very much doubt her wishes come before those of her daughter. Do you?"

Desmond lifted his head from the contemplation of his pudding to look over at the elderly gentleman, who even Des had to admit possessed far more worldly wisdom than he did, no matter how mature he liked to think himself. He knew what his uncle was saying was true, and yet, it was unsettling to know that everything he wanted, everything he'd striven for might have changed in a single night's unexpected encounter. He frowned thoughtfully in reply to the question, wondering if Humphrey was baiting him or just trying to make a point. "No, Lyneth is her life now. She's more precious to her than anything or anyone." He understood that. That wasn't the problem.

Humphrey's head lowered, looking over at Des from that disconcerting angle, leaving the floor open if he wished to continue on. The very fact that Des had not even commented on his mention of Jon, or himself, but had focused upon Piper ....well, that was very interesting. Very interesting, indeed. But it wasn't something Humphrey was going to pry into, unless one or both of them wished to talk about it with him.

The fact was that Desmond had always known who he was and what he wanted. He'd always thought he was different from most people in that way - driven, sure of his choices and his goals. Why had all of that suddenly seemed to have changed" "It's never going to work," he found himself admitting to the old man, though he hadn't pried further. If Desmond didn't talk to him, Miranda would eventually pry it out of him anyway. "Her life is here. My life is there. She has a daughter. She has all of you. What am I supposed to do' I can't ask her to give up her life here and move there."

"That's remarkably fatalistic for such a successful young man such as yourself," Humphrey commented mildly, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned back in his chair. "So you have decided out of hand that there is no hope, no chance, and no future, have you? Odd, then, that you should be so reluctant to leave, if there is nothing here for you." He eyed Des sharply. "Or are you letting some foolish fear of living get in the way of your actually trying to give your life outside the work you do so well meaning?"

Desmond considered his uncle's words quietly a moment again before giving him a thoughtful reply. He glanced at the coffee cup in front of him, running a finger idly around the rim as he spoke, honestly and from the heart, more than he'd told anyone, even Miranda. "Before my mother died, I wanted it all. I wanted to be the best god-damned lawyer New York had ever seen. It wasn't about the money so much. My father had at least seen to that. I think they call it extortion. Keep your mouth shut and I'll give you all the money you could ever want. He broke my mother's heart and thought money would make it all better."

He dropped his hand away from the cup, but his eyes remained fixed there, unseeing. Seeing a past only he could see that no longer mattered. "She never got married. Never even dated. I think she always wished he'd come back someday, meet the son he never knew. I used to think about it when I was a boy. How I'd hug him and ask him never to leave, but as I got older, I realized, he didn't care, and he was never coming back. I grew to hate him, but instead of letting it destroy me, I put all that hatred to good use. I had to be better than him. I had to be the best at everything. And I was mostly. I've worked hard for what I have. I like what I do. I like putting scum like my father behind bars. Men who have no regard or respect for others. Men who use other people like....like garbage, to be thrown away when they're no longer needed."

"I had everything I wanted. Money, women, power. A promising career. 'You're going places, Desmond,' they'd tell me. 'You're going to be someone someday.'" He shrugged his shoulders as if none of it mattered. "And then Mom got sick, and none of it seemed to matter anymore. She lived her whole life trying to take care of me. Watching out for me. Everything I have, everything I am is because of her, and now..." He lifted his head, uncharacteristic tears glittering in his eyes. "And now she's gone, and I'm not sure what I want anymore."

Humphrey listened, absorbing everything the younger man said, and winced internally. He knew what he was about to say was probably going to send the barriers back up again, but he wasn't about to do Desmond the discourtesy of a lie. "Because without her there to remind you of love and family and everything that makes life really worth living, you're in danger of becoming a man very much like your father," he said quietly. "A man who uses women and casts them aside, who has money and success and little else. But your soul needs more than material wealth, Desmond. The love of a good woman, the adoration of a young family ....these are the things your mother never had the chance to see you enjoy. But that doesn't mean you can't have them."

Desmond wiped a hand across his eyes, hoping Humphrey had not noticed the brief moment of weakness. He'd let the wall slip for a moment, but the truth was it had been in jeopardy of crumbling from the moment his mother had died, slowly weakening, bit by bit. Had coming to Rhy'Din been a mistake or a gift' No one could decide for him. Desmond had to admit that Humphrey was right - no matter how successful his was, if he had no one to share the joys in life, that success was empty and meaningless. Was it too late for him' Was he doomed to repeat his father's mistakes, or was there still time to change" "You knew my father," he said, his voice edged with bitterness. "Am I like him?"

Humphrey did him the courtesy of considering the question, though he had already formed his opinion of this particular area of interest. "At heart, no," he said, disarmingly honestly. "You're a good man, at heart. David had no redeeming qualities that I ever saw. However, Desmond, as you are now, with nothing but your work in an area notorious for making men hard and hateful, you hold the potential to become very much like him as you grow older. My advice" Don't."

"I'm a lawyer. It's all I know," he argued. He'd worked his *ss off to be where he was, and he wasn't sure he was ready to give it all up so easily, and yet, the he couldn't deny that the trip to meet his family had changed him. The people he'd met had changed him, got him thinking, realizing there was more to life than just a career, than just money and power and influence. He'd gone into law for all the right reasons, but his job was slowly killing the joy in his life. Des leaned back in his chair and shoved his fingers through his hair. "I have a lot to think about," he admitted. Not the least of which was Piper and Lyneth and the possibilities a relationship with them entailed. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he heard his mother say. "She'd want me to be happy," he said, thinking out loud.

"Yes," the Old Man said slowly, studying the younger as he considered his lot in life with the faintest quirk toward a smile. "Yes, I imagine she would." He nodded gently, setting his napkin to one side, signalling the end of the meal. "Do add something to your considerations, though, Desmond. No one ever said that to have the one, you must give up the other. If ever you doubt that, take a look at Caroline." His brown eyes showed a sharply intelligent light for a moment as he rose to his feet. "Are you set upon leaving tonight?"

"I have no choice," he replied. "I'm due in court in the morning." There were no ifs, ands, or buts about that. It was too important to miss or to leave for a junior attorney. He noted Humphrey's body language signalling that the meal and the conversation were over, and he pushed away from the table. "You've given me a lot to think about, Uncle," he said, for the very first time referring to Humphrey in a more familiar form, rather than merely by first name or as the "Old Man". "If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow the garage apartment for the coming weekend." He wasn't quite so bold as to ask that it become his permanent residence when he was in town just yet. Small steps for some, but big ones for the stoic lawyer.

Again, there was a suggestion of the smile Des had not quite seen in its entirety aimed in his direction in those brown eyes as Humphrey pause, leaning heavily on his cane. "Certainly, Desmond," he agreed graciously. "I'll have Hannah set some of the staff to cleaning it thoroughly for you." He made his way around the table, opening his hand to the younger man. "I am very pleased to have met you, Des," he told the lawyer firmly. "It has taken far too long to happen, but you will always have a place here, with your family."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that," Desmond replied, grasping hold of the older man's hand, a faint smile reminiscent of his younger brother slightly dimpling the lightly-bearded cheeks. In a matter of only a few days, Humphrey had earned Desmond's respect, gratitude, and life-long loyalty. "I hope I make you proud," he added, though he wasn't quite sure why. His father hadn't cared, and his mother would have been proud of him, no matter what he did. Despite being fiercely independent, that small admission betrayed the desire for familial acceptance, especially from a man as respected as Humphrey. "I'll see you next weekend."