there is a wall in my life built by you (c)

Newleaf was beginning to break in through leaf-bare's seemingly impenetrable barrier. It snuck in with a slightly warmer breeze than usual, with a gleam of sunlight through the gray clouds, with the orange colors of dawn dancing across the sky. To most cats in the forest, it would signify hope and rebirth. Green would pop out of the dull gray piles of slush. Leaves would sprout on skeletal, prickly branches. All was starting anew. Bubblebeam tried to enjoy the subtle hints of warmth, tried to think hopefully about the future, but all thoughts fled from her mind. After all, she was on a patrol with her father--something that even just moons ago would have made her glad. Even during their time at the lake, during which she'd been miserable, she had done her best to speak with him. And yet the gulf between them seemed only to widen--and it had only worsened with the war. With the gleam of red fangs and the snarl of accusations, though they hadn't been levied at her. But even without that, even without the catalyst, she'd still been replaced. By Mintglade, her own kithood friend, no less. By a new litter of seven kits that trotted around in Sunfire's pawsteps as if he were the stars themselves. How long had it been since he'd reached out to her? Since he'd come near her? Since he'd even looked at her? Cast off, forgotten. Probably not even on purpose, but she couldn't decide which was worse. Would she rather be the weak daughter disowned for her cowardice and trembling, or the worthless one that wasn't even worth a second glance?

He hadn't sought out time with her. She'd been avoiding him. A vicious cycle that was only now stopped by a forcible paw, by Wolfblossom assigning the two of them to a border patrol together. With everything on the deputy-leader's mind, it was likely she hadn't even noticed the hollow expanse between father and daughter; it was probably an afterthought if anything else. But whatever the reason, Sunfire and Bubblebeam were now alone in the territory together. No excuses not to speak with one another. If they remained silent it was an affirmation of their new relationship, or lack thereof. She couldn't stand the idea. Even if he hated her, she wished he would just come out and say it. One conversation. That's all it would take. Why was it so hard for even her to form the necessary words in her mouth to ask? Eventually, the scent of incoming newleaf and the feel of melting snow beneath her pads became too much. She turned her head, pale-green eyes seeking her father's gaze. Noting the scars on his head from the skirmish that had left its mark--visible and invisible--on both of them, but mostly looking for his eyes, hoping to see into his soul. Praying that she would receive some answer, whether it was loathing or indifference. But as with everything else, she had to initiate. She had to start or nothing would happen. Eventually, a single sentence fell from her mouth. "How are your kits?" It didn't even carry the necessary bitterness; she'd lost the ability to care a few pawsteps behind them. All she wanted was an answer. Any answer. Father, please... speak to me.

It had taken some time, probably far longer than it should have, for Sunfire to realize how badly he'd fumbled his relationship with his kits. Not his and Mintglade's, no, they still saw the stars in his eyes, still brightened when he walked into the nursery. They still loved him, and trusted him... and the thought of that changing left a pit in his stomach like he'd swallowed a stone. But Juniperheart's kits, the ones that had made him a father, that had made him so happy, and filled him with so much love... he barely knew them anymore, and it was his fault.

Being assigned on a patrol with his daughter, for the first time that he could remember in ages, since before they'd gone to the lake, even, should have been a relief. How many times had they walked this territory together? How many times had he watched her bounce ahead of him, giggling, and turn to look at him with those green eyes so full of love and trust? Now, as those eyes met his they were just... blank. Tired. Defeated. And it hurt that he had no idea how he was supposed to fix it. Or if he even could. It was that possibility of failure that had stilled his paws every time he wanted to approach her, that had pinned his tongue to the roof of his mouth each time he even thought of initiating a conversation. What if he failed, again? What if he made it worse, and chased her further away? Hurt her more?

But now they were alone finally, and the silence between them was deafening. Sunfire had a chance, here, to speak, and even though he desperately sought some sort of reconciliation, he... didn't know how to start, because truthfully, he didn't even know what he'd done wrong, why the love had changed to fear. The warrior forced his mouth open, determined to say something, if only to ask about the weather to break this agonal quiet, but... Bubblebeam beat him to it.

"They're... fine," he said dully, matching his daughter's stride as they padded side by side. His brows drew together, and the nub of his tail twitched almost anxiously. He didn't know how to do this, it was too hard, too daunting... Sunfire had never met a challenge in his life he wasn't willing to face head-on, but this hurt couldn't be solved with teeth and claws and rage... and, well, what other way was there?

"But you're... not. Not fine." The words were out of his mouth before he could get the barrier back up - something, anything to keep her talking, to take place of the awful silence. It was a statement, not a question, and an obvious statement at that. It was far too obvious to him - to anyone with eyes, really - that the young warrior had not been fine for a really long time. Sunfire slowed to a halt, yellow eyes seeking his daughter's. "Bubblebeam, are you afraid of me?"

There was no anger in his voice, no frustration, no rage. Just a quiet sort of almost-acceptance, like he knew the answer to the question already. And he did, didn't he? It only took having two eyes to see what was right in front of him. But he wanted to hear it, he wanted her to tell him. Maybe then, if it was obvious, there could be a solution.

For a few more agonizing moments, Bubblebeam feared that her efforts to start a conversation would be in vain. What if he said nothing? What if this stifling silence between them wasn't surpassable? But finally, he spoke. She blinked, continuing to look at his face, drinking in the response he gave. Two words. That his kits were fine. Implicitly, not including her. Plodding along next to her as though his golden pelt weighed him down... or as if her presence weighed him down. She bit down on her tongue to still the strange mixture of emotions that rose up--but before she could truly comprehend them, Sunfire spoke again. He actually turned to look at her, really look at her, and what he said almost made her wish that the silence had continued. Her father had noticed her, then... and still this gap had only widened. Only now when they were forced to speak had he chosen to address it. And his question was not one of her own well-being, but of his. Whether she was... afraid of him.

Her paws slowed to a complete stop, mirroring her father's. Pale gray-green eyes surveyed his face, taking in the yellow gaze opposite her. Did he care? Did he really care for her sake, or only for his? It wasn't the question she'd been hoping for. But, painfully, it wasn't a difficult question to answer. Her ears swiveled back on her head; it took all her strength not to break eye contact. "Yes." She hated the answer. It tasted sour as it left her mouth. She was giving him the reason he needed to finally cut her off for good. "But I don't want to be," she clarified, voice breaking. "I still love you, of course I do. You're my dad. It's just, I... I don't know if I know you anymore. Or if I ever knew you." It felt as if something was constricting her heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter until it would pop, but she couldn't back away from this interaction. Not when these words needed to be said; not when she desperately needed to see how he responded. She watched his face as she spoke, hoping to see remorse, or understanding, or something other than the awful acceptance of their bond fraying so easily. "How could you attack a medicine cat? Someone who didn't ever do anything wrong to you? It's just--horrible. I never thought you would do anything like that. And, and you killed a cat. You killed someone." The words fell quickly from her mouth now, in the way they did when passion took hold of her. Usually it was a fountain of curious questions, or happy ramblings, but now each word was laced with the lonely misery she'd been laboring under for moons. "Thymelight and Honeydew were there; they told me everything. But I didn't need them to tell me. The version of you that I saw coming back from the battle... it wasn't my father. Your fangs stained red, your angry words towards all of your Clanmates--I couldn't see you in them. Or maybe that's what you've been like all along, and I just couldn't see it. Maybe that's why I got this scar on my face."

She shook her head, ignoring the way that the claw-mark across her eye itched when she focused on it. "I mean, I know it wasn't your fault. I guess I just feel really bitter about the whole thing. It's not your fault we got attacked, it's not your fault that we had to go on a journey and leave home, but when everything got awful, you weren't there as much as you used to be. And the sadder I got, the less you wanted to talk to me. Like... you were ashamed of me." It was becoming difficult to speak past the lump in her throat, but she pushed onward, unstoppable like an overflowing river. It would be better to take things slower and wait for answers... but she'd never been able to stem the flow of her words once they got started. "Then you just--turn around and have kits with Mintglade. She's my age. And I guess, with all your new kits you don't have time for us anymore. All of us, you've left us alone. Especially Hemlockfox; he needed you and you haven't been there for him. I know I haven't tried my hardest to approach you, but... I felt unwanted. And you haven't done anything for moons to make me feel otherwise. I know I could've done better in the skirmish, or I could've been more skilled like Hemlockfox, and I know that I'm disappointing but you should love me anyway. Shouldn't you? You still care, right? Tell me that you're still the same cat who raised me. The one I know." Bubblebeam searched Sunfire's face, as if she could find some answer in the movements of his whiskers or mouth. "Say those awful things weren't you, Dad," she pleaded. The familiar term of endearment that hadn't fallen from her tongue in so long felt odd to finally say with such desperation, rooted to the ground like this. "Please..."

Sunfire saw the effort it was taking for Bubblebeam to look at him, and for a moment he wasn't sure she was going to answer him. But then, a single word,yes. He'd been expecting it, but to his own surprise, Sunfire couldn't help the disappointment from showing in the way he broke eye contact and shifted back on his haunches, leaning away from the gray she-cat. His own kit... afraid of him because of the measures he'd taken to protect their clan.

He exhaled heavily through his nostrils, trying to summon a response, but before he could get to it, his daughter spoke again. Sunfire flicked his ears towards her, listening. She didn't want to be afraid of him, she still loved him. But she didn't know him? Had she ever? The yellow tom blinked, a frown playing at his mouth. No, he guessed Bubblebeam never truly had known him. None of his older kits had, except perhaps Hemlockfox. He'd tried to raise them traditionally, to follow the ways and the pace of the clan, but all that'd done was ensure they were alienated, corrupted by weak mentors and cats who weren't willing to do the hard, necessary things.

Bubblebeam continued even still, and Sunfire sat in silence, unwilling to interrupt her. He tried to keep his face neutral, but the more and more she spoke, the heavier his expression became. When she finished, the tom was quiet for a long time. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, now that Bubblebeam had already said so much. What could he possibly say, to make this better? That he would never do it again? That he was sorry he'd taken drastic measures to protect the clan? To protect her? No... he couldn't lie... at least not so blatantly.

Sunfire looked up to meet her gaze. "Everything terrible I've ever done, every drop of blood I've spilled, the life I took? That was for SkyClan, not because I'm some bloodthirsty monster, not because I wanted to maim just for the sake of being violent. You weren't there, Bubblebeam... if I hadn't killed him, he would have killed me. Mottlestar tried to kill me, and nearly succeeded. ThunderClan and RiverClan didn't come to that fight to lose, they came to kill. They never would have stopped at just Beechfang." Another small sigh escaped Sunfire, and when he spoke his voice was low, almost a mumble. "And I didn't know he was a medicine cat when I... went in." His nostrils flared. Sunfire slicked his ears back.

Round yellow eyes regarded Bubblebeam with genuine sympathy now. "I'm sorry you got hurt when I took us to the Oak. I tried to stop that ThunderClanner... I tried, but I had to hurt Mottlestar bad to get back to you and I was too late, anyway. And then at the lake, everyone was so sick, there was hunting to do, and patrols, and..." Sunfire trailed off and swallowed hard. "And your brother..." the large tom pulled up tufts of grass as he kneaded the ground at his paws. What could he even say about Hemlockfox? His son wanted nothing to do with him, and Sunfire didn't even really know why. They'd been supposed to tell the leader and deputy about his prophecy, about having to move to WindClan, and he'd frozen up. If Sunfire went behind him and told them, he'd be betraying Hemlockfox's trust.

"I should have been there more for you, and for your brother and your sisters. That, I don't deny. But if I've been distant it's not because I'm ashamed of you, or replacing you," his tone was almost aghast as he enunciated the word. "I'm not- I could never replace you." Shoulders sagging slightly, he tipped his head back to look up at the sky. "My feelings for Mintglade were... unexpected, and I'm not going to try to justify it to you, but I really do love her.  I love all of you, and I've kept my distance because it seemed like you wanted me to. No other reason."

Sunfire shook his head, rolling his shoulders back with a heavy exhale. He didn't even know if he'd replied to everything she said, but he was all out of words, now.