Gray hung in the air, it was thick and it was everywhere. The clouds rolled infinitely over the sky; it was cliché, like in every movie or book. People filed in, in their best black clothes with their black umbrellas. The sky peppered the event with a wispy mist. The black umbrellas moved orderly and silently to their seats, they were all soundless and wordless their only communication was the blank or sorrowful eyes that lay, today, deeper in their porcelain faces. At the center of this macabre event was a sorrowfully beautiful solid wood casket. It glinted in the grayness, draped in flowers and décor. The dull, overcast event held irony for the son of the casket's resident. His blueness painted his face grey as he considered that the box that carried one to the grave, the same box to be covered in dirt and to never see the light of day, was ornate and polished; the casket was the most uplifting and beauteous thing at a funeral, the death box gives the most hope. The darkness around his eyes matched the clouds that hung over head. This common event was so unique, so drab yet so memorable, its importance was obvious, but he wished to be locked in his room yet he wants so much to be there. His internal contradictions moved his eyes distantly he only noticed peripherally that the seating was beginning to fill, the black umbrellas sat orderly and mundane waiting in awkward, whispering silence. He filed in with the umbrellas, his own fitting in next to his widow mother and brother-lacking uncle. Somehow the dullness could not sway the color of the grass and trees in a spring funeral. The last arrivals were family, friends, the police chief and his daughter Olivia; her presence returned color to his face and a renewed vigor in his lifeless body. He sat quiet as he half listened to the local priest drone on about a man he never truly knew.

Then it was the family's turn to speak "I think Hank Jr wants to be the first to speak." The priest invited, though it wasn't a question. Hank pulled himself out of the doldrums and convincingly dragged his feet to the podium wherein he was to comment on the death of his dearly beloved father.

"As most of you know," he started ", my father was a strong business man; he had an iron will and a poker face that was carved in stone. The one thing that was not strong about my father was his heart. His heart was frail, and we recently had a business scare, business was important to my father, second only to family. I'm sure you heard the news that our company found that large sums of money had been stolen from us. Thankfully Uncle Tom invested in our company keeping it from bankruptcy, unfortunately the stress was still too much and two weeks later my father suffered a heart attack. He was a good father a wonderful business man and from what I hear a good boss. We spent a lot of time together, every weekend we cooked a big dinner, I remember once my father said that people were like recipes, except you don't stick them in the oven at 350 and bake them, unless they owe you money." Small laughs rang from the gathering. Hank glanced at his mother who sat with tears in her eyes and a chuckle on her lips. His uncle too was reminiscing and had a small smile. Hank's eyes wandered over to the chief of police, then to his daughter Olivia. She looked up at him and gave a soft smile and a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

Hank continued "My father Hank T. Danton senior would be proud to have this group of people here at his funeral. Some part of me expects him to be sitting amongst you shaking your hands, making sure you're enjoying his funeral and directing it to make sure it goes flawlessly. He was the man everyone loved and everyone wanted to be. He loved this town, so much so that he kept his base of operations for Danton software Inc. in our small south Boston metro town. There is nothing really more for me to say other than I loved my father and he will be severely missed, so now my Uncle would like to say a few words." There was small clapping as he returned to his seat. To his right was his lifelong friend, Daniel.

He leaned towards Daniel and whispered "Dan, after this I could use a drink."

"Cheers," He said half jokingly, "and which pub are we to spend the rest of the evening in the O'Malley's to the left or the O'Malley's to the right?"

"Left, the brother on the right gets too much enjoyment out of kicking me out, besides the one on the left has better breathe." He teased.

"Poignant," Daniel remarked "it's a deal then."

Hank leaned to his left "Mother, Dan and I will meet you back at the house."

She gave him a concerned look "Well, where are you going?"

"We have some, business, to attend to." He lied.

"Fine, just don't get into any trouble." She mothered.

Hank leaned back into his seat and blankly listened to his uncle finish his speech. He detached himself from everything around him and only came back to the reality he so hated when he realized it was over. He and Daniel got up and started walking to the pub where Hank could take the edge of the pain when he heard a soft voice "Hank?" Olivia called "and where are you two headed?"

"O'Malley's" Hank responded.

"Left or right?" she asked.

"Left" they both chimed.

"Care if I join you?" she smiled.

"It's not exactly a place for a lady." Hank teased.

"I think you're both forgetting something; I'm Irish, I can drink you both under the table." She thwarted.

"Olivia!" her father beckoned "It's time we go home."

"Coming father, well perhaps some other time then." She left.

"It's a shame old chief Patrick keeps the reins held so tight on her, you've been in love with her for years and nothing."Daniel commented "He is so stiff, maybe we should invite him to have drinks with us, maybe then he could loosen up."

"Dan, I don't think even LSD could loosen that man up." Hank said solemnly.

They made their way to the quiet pub and found seats at the counter.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.

"Whiskey." Hank said blankly.

"Hank, are you sure? I mean it's ten in the morning"

"Dan, my dad is dead."

"Well, then make it two." Daniel decided.

They sat for hours in silence. People came and went. Their glasses filled and emptied. Eventually Daniel stopped drinking and just sat and watched Hank sit there, even when the bartender switched the whiskey for water. Hank just sat distant, dark and cold. He sat there, mechanically drinking until he finally said "I have to know, Dan, I have to know."

"What, what do you have to know." Daniel asked.

"Who took that money from my Dad? I have to find out." He whispered.

"Why, the police will take care of it. I mean your Uncle is friends with the chief. "

"Because, Dan, whoever stole that money is why my dad is dead." He explained.

"You're right, but for my sake don't obsess."

"I'm serious, I have to find out!" He shouted. People in the bar paused, there was silence for a moment, but the moment passed.

"I'm sorry…..I'll do whatever it takes to help."

Hank's darkness ate at him. He spiraled down in the coming months. He withdrew into to his inner darkness and bleakness till all that was left was a grey shell. He roamed the family home, lost and indifferent. His only joy was when Daniel visited but especially his time spent alone with Olivia. Her red locks, fair skin and green eyes were what he thought about if he thought. In his thoughtless moping there was a question, one without an answer. "Who cheated my father, out of money, and out of life?" His morbid disposition was complicated by the fact his uncle took up residence in his home. Uncle Tom and Hank's mother were spending lots of time together. "Hank dear, why don't you go out and do… something?" his mother said. "Yes, your mother's right why don't you go and take a walk and be under the beauty of the Sun." his Uncle added. "Oh, trust me I've had enough sun." Hank countered. "Just do…. something. Dear, your Uncle and I care about you, we just want you to be happy. We want to help you." She pleaded. "The best way you can help me, is by bringing my father back. If you can't then leave me alone." His mother's face was hit with shock, blindsided with sorrow and iced with speechlessness. Uncle Tom's face showed slight concern, but it wasn't fatherly. He may have been his father's brother but he was not like his father at all. His father was strong, iron yet caring. His Uncle was shaky, internal, and beady eyed.

Hank trudged into the next room and his uncle followed. "You shouldn't talk like that to your mother. She's hurting enough already." his uncle scolded.

"I wouldn't have to if you both would let me go back to school." Hank brooded.

"You know you're not ready, besides you can go back next semester. Your mother and I want you here." he pleaded.

"What is with you two lately? You're a united front all of a sudden." Hank asked.

"Hank, we're going to get married." he answered.

"What?! Isn't my dad's company enough, now you want his wife too?" anger boiled in Hank's face, his moping legs gained strength in anger and he bolted out of the room and up the stairs.

"What happened?" his mother asked.

"I told him."

The sun dove below the horizon and the darkness inside Hank blanketed the world. Not even the thought of his beloved Olivia or the words of his best friend could console him now. The stranger, the enemy… was marrying his mother. He went to his bathroom, turned on the water and washed his face. The water felt electric on his skin, and his heart was pounding. He looked up into the mirror, and he heard it, a voice saying "Do something."

He looked into his eyes, they weren't his own. He looked down at his mouth, and his lips mouthed and formed the words "Do something."

He stood up straight, and then those words echoed around him. He spun around and there his father stood. "Do something." He hissed.

Hank sat up in bed, his back like a board. His breathing was heavy, his heart palpitating, and his body covered in a cold sweat. He threw the covers off of himself and pushed threw his door and rushed down the stairs silently. He went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. He looked around and noticed the door to his Uncle's office was open slightly. He put down his glass and slowly walked toward the door. He entered the dark room and just stood for a moment. He looked around and something in the trash caught his eye. He moved for it and pulled it out of the bin. It was a manila folder, he opened it and scanned the page he noticed a number 2 million dollars, the exact sum of money stolen from his father. He looked up from the file and saw his Uncle's computer on the desk. He sat in the chair and wiggled the mouse, the screen glowed on. He clicked on the start button at the corner of the screen. He looked back on the piece of paper that now lay on the desk. There was an account number on it: 00914583023. He typed it into the search bar. A file popped up it had no name but it was password protected. He tried many different names and dates; then he paused and thought of one name, his mother's. He typed the name Margaret into the little box and the file opened. It contained his Uncle's bank files and a 2 million dollar transfer from an unknown bank account to an off shore account in his Uncle's name. Shock, anger, and sorrow filled his body and he began shaking. He didn't know what to do; he closed the page, turned off the computer and grabbed the phone. At first he was going to call the police, but he remembered that his Uncle and the Police chief were close friends. A chill ran up his spine, his uncle controlled the police, and Olivia's father has been covering up his father's death. For all intensive purposes his Uncle killed his father. "He must have known." Hank thought. The shock of his after finding out that his brother stole that money from his company then had the nerve to buy up stock so as to "help", must have caused his attack. His fingers began dialing the only person they could, Daniel. His hand shaking he held the phone to his ear and pleaded for Daniel to come over as soon as possible. Hank stood outside on his porch until Daniel's car pulled up.

Dan rolled down the window "What's wrong? Why'd you wake me up?"

Hank didn't speak he just jumped in the car and said in a shaky voice "Dan, drive." Daniel's foot pushed the gas and rolled up his window.

"Wanna tell me what all this is about?"Daniel asked.

"Dan, I found something." He murmured.

"What'd you find?"

"My, my…..Uncle, he stole the money; he's the reason my dad's dead." Hank stuttered.

The car swerved and Daniel pounded the brakes. "What?! How? I mean, how do you know?"

"I found the money in an offshore account under his name in his computer."Hank said gloomily.

"What are you going to do?" Daniel asked concernedly.

"I don't know Dan, but whatever I do, you can't let on." Hank paused, "I might be able to get him to confess if I freak him out enough."

"How are you going to do that?" Daniel asked in disbelief.

"By flipping a switch, I'll be cheerful all of a sudden. He'll get suspicious and maybe I can get him to confront me." He schemed.

"Are you sure?" Daniel asked.

Hank shot him a look and he knew there was nothing he could say or do. "Fine, I'll go along with it."

Daniel drove him back home and Hank made his way in to his house. He went up the stairs and crawled into bed. In his head he was telling himself to think cheery.

The sun rose and if there was a rooster it would have been crowing. Hank opened his eyes and sunlight streamed in his room through the windows "Be cheerful." He whispered. He popped out of bed and found the brightest shirt he could, then he pulled on his jeans and walked down stairs.

"Hello, mother." He said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, someone's awful chipper." She said.

Hank poked his head into his Uncle's office. "Good morning Uncle."

"Hank, my boy! You seem…happy." His Uncle mused.

Hank looked in the chair next to his uncle "Well if it isn't our friendly neighborhood police chief."

"Oh, um, yes hello." The chief muttered.

"Well I'm off for a walk." Hank finished. He left and left a cheery trail behind.

"I wonder what's gotten into him." His Uncle asked.

Concern spread over the chief's face. "You don't think it could have to with Olivia, do you?"

"No, no somehow I don't think it has to do with her." His uncle spoke suspiciously.

The chief stood, "Tom, I've covered for you a lot, but I can't lose my daughter, she's all I have… since her mother. I can't lose her because your nephew whisks her away in pursuit of some fantasy!"

"Patrick I understand, but I don't think that's why he's acting like that. I think he knows." Tom said blankly.

"We'll just have to find out won't we?" The chief said rushing out the house to try to find his daughter. Hank's uncle began to break out into a cold sweat. He needed to do something and fast.

People often seemed happy before a suicide; he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little tin container filled with sedatives. "I guess my nephew stole some, officer." He whispered to himself

Hank walked through the streets of the town lost in thought. He thought he could actually pull off his plan, until he walked past the park. In the trees he could see the spire that was his father's grave. For him the sun eclipsed and all color drained from his body and the world around him. Without thinking he made his way into the park cemetery and to a bench near his father's grave. For a while he sat in silence; the occasional tear finding its way out of his eye and down his cheek. Then his lips began telling his father of all that had happen all that he learned. Before he could come to his plan he noticed the time. He got up and made his way home, trying to regain his false happiness, but he couldn't completely get back to that place. It was dark by the time he got home; he hadn't noticed how far he had gotten, of course. He ended up at a point from the street where he could see Olivia's bedroom window. He entered his home and barely noticed his Uncle sitting in the dark. Their eyes met for a moment then Hank found his way up stairs and into bed. He slept for a long time that night. His body recovered from the night before and prepared for the next day.

When he awoke it was well past noon. He dressed and made his way down stairs. Trying to hold an optimistic disposition, he said his good mornings and made his way to the park. He sat there on the bench until he looked up and saw the chief. The chief saw him and walked across the road toward him. Hank stood up and anger and was filled with anger.

The chief came barreling toward Hank. "You stay away from my daughter!" he shouted.

"What right do you have to yell at me!?" Hank screamed.

There wasn't really any people around them, only oblivious cars passing by. The trees gave them a certain degree of privacy. Hank kept screaming at the chief, again and again until… "I know the truth! You dirty cop, because you won't do your job my father's killer is living in my house!"

The chief's face grew pale and he began backing away. Hank didn't let up he started pushing the chief's shoulders. He kept pushing him and pushing him until they were at the curb. The chief staggered back into the street and gave Hank one last pale sorrowful look until a semi-truck carrying groceries blindsided him. Hank's feet moved of their own will, though his eyes were fixed on the ever shrinking image of Olivia's mangled father, growing smaller and smaller. His breathing was labored and his feet were numb.

The image of his house was growing larger and larger. Blood was pounding in his ears but he could still hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. A few yards from his house he caught his breath, wiped the sweat from his face and forced composure into his face and body. He walked toward his house unassumingly, his heart un-quieted. He sauntered up the steps and into the house. In the kitchen his Uncle stood. "Hey, you okay. How about a drink? Just sit right here and relax." He patted the seat under the counter. Hank moved slowly into the kitchen and before he could sit his mother came through the door. His Uncle quickly slipped the poisoned refreshment toward his nephew and future stepson. "Margaret, I didn't think you were going to be home until later." His Uncle said surprisingly.

"I finished shopping early. Boy am I parched, that looks good." She said reaching for the glass meant for Hank.

"Margaret!" he shouted.

"What, Hank doesn't mind, do you dear?" she reasoned.

"No" Hank replied.

His Uncle's face grew pale as Margaret sucked down the ice cold glass of death.

"I'm going to head up stairs, maybe take a nap."She said unknowingly.

His Uncle got up and slowly moved into his office. Hank's brow furrowed. A thought struck him, proof, he needed more proof. He slipped his coat on and headed out of the door. He got in his car and pulled out of the drive way speeding on to the road. His adrenaline pumped, his sense of self vanished and as he passed the scene of the accident time nearly froze. He saw a black body bag and officers restraining a crying, screaming kicking Olivia. He refocused on the road, not noticing the solitary tear rolling down his face.

He pulled into the parking lot of Danton Software Inc. He opened the glove box and pulled out the key. He ran to the front door opened it and locked it behind him. He ran through the hallways up the stairs until he was at the door to his father's office. He pushed it open and walked into the dark room. His nostrils were hit with the scent of his father's cologne. He walked in and ran his fingers across the desk. He felt under the corner where the compartment was that hid his father's gun. He turned on the computer and typed in the password, junior, his eyes glinted as the screen popped up. His mother, father and a younger him stared at him smiling on the beaches of the Florida Keys. He moved the mouse to the bank files but was interrupted by the sound of someone outside the door. He powered off the screen. His hand pulled the gun out of the compartment and his feet moved him invisibly into the shadows. The door handle turned and the door opened. Black shoes walked in with his Uncle attached to them. His uncle moved toward the computer. Hank stepped out of the shadows gun loaded and pointed toward his mother's fiancé.

"Hank, how long have you been here?"His uncle asked timidly.

Hank stepped forward and held the gun firmly pointed between his uncle's eyes. Any trace of comfort left Tom's eyes.

"How long have you known?" He asked bleakly.

Hanks face reddened and his eyes watered. "The night you told me you were going to marry my mother." His voice quivered. "How dare you marry your brother's wife, especially after causing his death!"

"Hank, I didn't mean too…" he started.

Hank interrupted. "Shut up! Okay, just shut up!" he was shaking, "It doesn't matter if you purposely killed him, you stole 2 million dollars, and he found out didn't he. He confronted you and it gave him a heart attack!"

"Hank" his uncle said calmly, "Just calm down…" his hand moved behind his back and slowly and pulled a gun out from behind him. He pointed it at his nephew.

"Put the gun down." Tom said slowly.

"Why, so you can kill me too!" Hank screamed.

"I didn't kill him!" His Uncle screamed and his hand shook. His face was red.

"You killed your own brother!" Hank hissed.

"No!" His uncle bellowed. The gun shot filled the air, and the bullet burrowed through the air and into Hank. He fell backwards on to the carpet and his blood flowed from his body. His Uncle's face became panicked. His shaking hand pulled his pill box out of his pocket and he pulled a handful out.

"You over dosed, and came here. Crazed and talking nonsense. You pulled a gun on me and I defended myself." He rationalized.

He looked over at the bleeding Hank. "Open your mouth."

"What?" Hank said half dazed.

"Open your mouth." He said as he went over to Hank. He took the pills and shoved them into Hank's mouth.

"Swallow."He ordered, his hand clamped over Hank's mouth until he swallowed.

He got up and paced the room muttering to himself about how to clean up this mess. Hank's eyes were daggers. He struggled but he grasped the gun, shakingly pointed it at his Uncle, his weak finger pulled the trigger. The figure of his Uncle sunk to the ground. Hank's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. They slowly closed and he would be at peace but, ringing in his ears were the screams of his beloved Olivia.