Through the Dark

Chapter 23: Panic ensues

He only wanted for them to have the best life possible, the life he knew Hunter deserved. Was that so hard to ask for? When will all his misery end?

Was it too much to ask, after all? To have wanted the life they now lead, to have wanted Hunter to be safe, to have wanted his son to come home to him every night with a big grin on his face. He wanted to see himself grow old, weary perhaps, of time, but having little boys and a little girl on his feet calling him 'Grandpa', but was able to change himself for the better.  To see his Hunter grow up to be the man he ought to be, the man he was destined to be.

He knew that he was a vile, cruel man. He chose a hard path, a path filled with thorns. He knew he was not to be pitied. He did everything out of selfishness, for petty reasons.

But Hunter... Alexander didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve to have cancer, he didn't deserve to be burdened with such foolishness as Prophecies.

He didn't deserve Hunter. He knew that. But God, he also knew that Hunter was a good boy. He would be a good man. He deserved a chance to live a good life, away from Dark Lords, from crazy Headmasters and malicious Pink Toads.

And with all these in his mind, Ezra shed his tears for all the suffering his boy endured all his short life, and mourned for all that might have been.

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When Cazalon approached him, there was an evident look of relief on his face. Ezra wanted to hear whatever it was that Cazalon had to say.

"Sir, I know you are quite perturbed..."

Perturbed? Ezra wanted to mock Cazalon then and there.

"...but I want you to know that your son is well and alive, sir. His attack was due to the impact on his ribs and sent a trigger on his fragile lungs, filled with water and thus, made him lose breath. We need to drain the fluids with vialed Furosemide for now..."

Ezra didn't listen for another second. He sagged against the wheelchair, his body's tremors decreasing.

Once again, Hunter proved himself that he was the Boy Who Lived.

"Can I see him?" He asks out of the blue. He looks up and meets Cazalon's eyes. The man's eyes was instantly filled with confusion. He must have been saying something, but Ezra doesn't care one bit.

"I-- what? Pardon, sir?"

Ezra might as well have had Cazalon burned or flayed by the intensity of his gaze, "Can. I. See. Him?"

"Oh," Cazalon exclaims, "I, uh, yes, sir. Of course."

Cazalon might have been take aback, but doesn't show it. Instead, he wheels in Ezra and leaves silently.

Ezra looks at Hunter on the bed. The obviously looked loads better, although he averted his gaze away from the machines around the boy's body. He did not acknowledge the beeping of the monitors, but focused solely on Hunter.

More shallow than normal, but was better than a few hours ago. There was a tinge of color on the once bluish lips. The slightly feverish heat was gone. All that was there was Hunter Alexander Hartford, his son, and it broke his heart to have seen him lying there, unmoving.

He held out a hand and took the boy's palms on his own.

He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, watched the clock and when he felt he couldn't take it anymore, he slumps his head against the boy's bed. He can't cry anymore.