Cut to the beat

Open Your Eyes

Ellen smoothed down the fabric of her sweater as she stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't want to forget tonight. She doubted she would ever. Suddenly she was that little girl again, four years old watching her mother being pulled in a stretcher to the hospital for autopsy. Death. That's what this would ultimately come to right? Portraying someone so closely surrounded and shaped by death really gave Ellen a dampening on hope.

Her son had a fatal condition.

She looked into her green eyes, terrified. This was it. This night would be the night she would never forget. Ellen wiped off a piece of string from her clothes one last time before walking downstairs and heading into the car. She was seeing Patrick for the first time in three years and her heart was pounding. Would he be civil? Did he blame her? Was he angry? Ellen took a deep breath as she started her drive to UCLA children's.

Did he still love her?
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Patrick twisted his hands pacing down the long white corridors of UCLA children's. He could hear his visitors name tag rustling against his shirt as he moved back and forth. Ellen was late. He checked his watch nervously, a hand in his dark cropped curls.

"Patrick?"

The sound of her voice nearly made him drop to his knees. Soft. She was so soft and cautious. Patrick turned to face Ellen. She had a visitor tag hanging off her small green sweater. He looked up into her jade eyes and could already tell the tears held within. His stomach knotted. Patrick was still so angry at himself for all those years ago but that didn't matter now did it? Everett could be gone tomorrow.

"Ellen," Patrick whispered, closing the gap between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, feeling her sink into him. Ellen gave into his hug, sniffling as she fought tears. Her head fell into his chest as if it fit. It belonged near him. The previous years of cold shoulders melted away.

"Paddy I-I miss you," She hiccuped, everything overwhelming her. "Everett is sick. I don't know what to do-"

"Hey- no. I miss you too. You can't go see our son crying okay," Patrick assured her, wiping her tears with his thumb. His heart beat in double time when he heard Paddy for the first time in three years. It was like old times. As if the last three years of muted communication was gone. Patrick leaned in for a soft kiss but Ellen back away after he wiped her tears. She was angry again. That was not how she wanted this meeting to go. Falling back into his arms as if he had done nothing to ruin her? That was not the plan.

"We shouldn't. We can't. This isn't right." Ellen told Patrick before walking away. She couldn't forgive him for running away. She was stronger than that. Crying into his arms like a school girl? No, no Ellen wanted to be better. She opened the door to Everett's room, removing all words from Patrick's mouth.

It was a side window room with a nice view of the California hills. There lay a little boy with sandy curls, and shut green eyes. The Millers stood up, rushing to thank Patrick and Ellen for coming. Ellen froze, she wasn't happy to see the people who basically conned her from her own baby.

"He's sleeping. He sleeps a lot. Has trouble waking up. Thank you for being here." The husband said, walking to look out the window. He seemed extremely reserved about it all.

"I can wake him if you want to meet him." The wife added, walking around the side of the bed. Ellen gulped, twisting her hands. She went to sit on the little chair beside the bed. This was her son. This small , frail, little boy.

"Let him sleep. He looks peaceful. He's not in pain." Ellen replied, stunned. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted before he rolled over. Patrick walked over, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Now he was watching Everett.

It hurt Patrick to see his son. The boy he had signed away on mistake. He was never supposed to have seen him. He studied Everett, the hint of a smile crossing his lips as he realized that he had Ellen's nose. The curls were all his but the coloring again was hers. Sandy blonde. Dark flaxen hair, that grew wild like his had. Patrick glanced up at Ellen, seeing her cross her arms. She wanted to do nothing more but pick him up. Then Patrick noticed the wires connected to his son. Eerily he knew what they were. Being a doctor for 6 seasons still taught you things. He had a central line. He was staying for a while.

"Oh good. These are his birth parents, right. Ms. Pompeo, Mr. Dempsey. I am so glad. When we call birth parents they hardly ever show up together." The main doctor walked in, shaking hands. "I'm Doctor Lue head of neurosurgery here."

"Neurosurgery?" Patrick questioned, sitting up straighter. Ellen bit her lip, she was nervous.

"The disease Everett has is a genetic disease that affects the spinal cord, brain, and peripheral nerves. He's having trouble standing. Slow walker. Developmentally he's behind in terms of what a three year old should be at. These cells in his brain, called white matter? They're decomposing. There's different branches of this disease but each is case by case. For Everett," He paused, gesturing to the sleeping boy. "He's very young. So his development is like I said slower. He's supposed to be gaining motor function instead he's loosing it. Canavan Disease is a subgroup of this genetic mutation and while Everett doesn't have exactly it, or as so far as we can say. He shows some symptoms. Loss of muscle tone. He is a very slim child. Poor head control. Everett can't rotate his head that well. And the final symptom of that group of disease is irritability. I'm sure the millers were like other couples. They left the hospital and suddenly their baby was irritable and they felt bad. Especially as he was adopted. This was ignored until he began speaking and it was clear he was frustrating. And finally I'll discuss Childhood ataxia with cerebral hypomyelination. Big words. They really just mean that within the first five years of life, such as Everett is, his speech and motor skills are failing. He's delayed learning wise. Also he should be presenting with seizures. Ataxia is a term for the loss of body control which he looses during seizures. Then that body part he looses more control over. So he's good there right now. His leg twitches once in a while."

Ellen and Patrick looked stunned. Their son had so many issues that they weren't aware of. Ellen spoke up quietly, feeling ashamed.

"You said this is genetic...is there a possibility one of us carried the gene for this mutation which then formed?" She asked. The doctor slowly nodded.

"One of you is a carrier. We don't know who. We don't need to test who unless you two are expecting another child." He awkwardly replied. "There's no cure. This is the result of x gene mutations and they're more likely to manifest in males if the mother has the defective gene. But that isn't to say you are the only carrier Ms. Pompeo."

The room was dead silent until Everett's monitors beeped. Patrick looked down at Ellen, unsure of what to even think. She turned away, looking to the window. Patrick sat down next to his son again.

"So how do you treat him?" He questioned, angry. His blue eyes flashed cobalt. Ellen was hurt and he couldn't allow that.

"We took MRIs so we know which portions of his brain are failing first. To predict how he acts. Then we treat his seizures when he has them, if he progresses that far. Ultimately until his white matter is gone. He doesn't have long left. Everett is probably going to make it to four or five if he's lucky. This disease kills when presented in children." The doctor replied, bowing his head. "I wish I could help more."

"Ellen. We want to do something. Everett is your son and we didn't even realize that we signed the wrong contract. We want to give you custody of your son so you can take care of him. Before the disease kills him." The wife spoke up, cautiously approaching Ellen. "We don't have to decide today. But we're offering to. He is your son."

Patrick walked over to them, a hand on Ellen's shoulder. Custody? Would they honestly do that. He stood in silence. Ellen slipped away from them and to Everett's bed. She ran her hands through his curls. This was HER son.

"I want him. I don't care about the press or my job or anything anymore. I'll take years off dedicated to loving him. I can't just leave him. That's not what I do. My son. Please go forward with a case giving us custody." Ellen begged, watching the little boy. His eyes opened and he stared at her with big blue green eyes. He didn't speak. He didn't sit up. He just stared into Ellen's eyes. Eyes like his own. Sad eyes.