Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’d been calling it the last day. The irony didn’t sink in until much, much later. 

It was the last Friday before Sal was supposed to start kindergarten. He was anxious about school and Diane wanted to make it special for him. She planned the whole thing. Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, trips to the library and the toy store, an afternoon playing at the park. When Henry got home from they were going to make homemade burgers and milkshakes and eat in the living room while they watched a movie.

“It’s just kindergarten, Diane, he’s not going off to college,” he kept saying, but it was a big deal for his wife so it was a big deal to him too. And he could understand it from her point of view. After Sal was born she’d quit working at the diner to be a stay at home mom, and now he wasn’t going to be home all day to need her. They’d talked about her maybe finding a new job. Or maybe having another baby. The budget would be a little tight, but Sal was an angel of a kid, if their second was anything like him it wouldn’t be that bad. He could pick up some overtime, they could save up a little ahead of time. 

So that morning Henry Fisher left for work. Just an ordinary morning. An ordinary day/

He stopped in the breakroom in the middle of the afternoon to make himself a cup of coffee for a little pick-me-up, only to find a couple of his coworkers staring at the small TV in the corner. “Hey, what’s going on-” he started to say, but one of them shushed him hastily.

“...a shocking discovery in Parrish Park, an unidentified child was found wandering with severe injuries and heavily bleeding. He was unable to provide his name to the good Samaritans who found him, but he was able to tell them that his mother was at the park as well. Tragically, the woman was found unconscious and likewise injured in a secluded area of the park.”

Henry felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as he poured coffee into his styrofoam cup. God, hopefully that wasn’t the park where Diane took Sal. Something like that would be horrific to witness, and Sal was such a sensitive little kid. He’d have nightmares for weeks. 

“Both the child and his mother were rushed to St. Gerard’s in critical condition. It’s not clear yet if they’ll survive their injuries, and police say they’re unsure of the cause. The boy was only able to say that he remembers seeing a dog, so the park authorities say they’ll do a thorough survey of the park and surrounding areas in search for the animal that might have caused this terrible accident.”

He tore open a packet of sugar and tipped it into the cup. That was insane to think about, a dog going so absolutely batshit that it could injure a grown woman and a little boy like that. And little kids usually loved dogs, Sal had been begging for a puppy or kitten for ages. Now that he thought about it, maybe it would help Diane with him out of the house so much, a dog or a cat might be good company. 

“At this time both the woman and child remain unidentified. The woman is in her mid thirties long blonde hair, approximately 5’4”.”

Henry paused, then shook his head. No. That could describe a dozen different women. Pretty vague, actually.

“The boy is about four or five years old, around 3’5” tall, blue hair and blue eyes.”

He froze.

“Both victims are in critical condition. If you recognize them please call the number on the screen with any information.”

One of his coworkers turned towards him. “Jesus, that’s insane,” he said. “What kind of dog could-”

Henry stumbled back. He dropped the cup, hot coffee spilling over his clothes, and he ran. 

The drive to the hospital was a blur. There was a distinct chance that he ran at least one stop sign, but he didn’t care. His mind had gone blank, the only thing he could think about was his wife and his son.

He parked haphazardly, grabbing his keys without locking the doors, and ran into the hospital. Where was he supposed to go? Emergency room, probably? 

“Sir, is everything all right?” a nurse in a pink uniform asked him.

“My wife,” he blurted out. “My wife and my little boy, the park, they were…there was an accident-”

His words spilled out, panicked and uncontrolled. Somehow he ended up in a waiting room, a cup of ice water pressed into his hands. All he could do was stare blankly at the floor.

“Mr. Fisher?” 

He nearly spilled the water. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” he said. “Diane and Sal-”

The nurse nodded solemnly, holding a clipboard tight in her hand. “I just checked, they’re both still in surgery,” she said.

“Are they-”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much information for you yet,” she said. “They’re working very hard, I can assure you of that. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s an update.”

He sank back into the uncomfortable vinyl chair. They were just going to the park. They were just going to the park. What the hell happened? Why did it have to be his wife and his son?

The last time he sat in a chair like this it was when Sal was born. That was a completely different kind of day. He was afraid, sure, he was scared shitless, because suddenly fatherhood wasn’t just an idea, it was real and it was happening. But Diane wasn’t afraid. She was fearless and she was strong and he had never seen her so happy as he did that day. It was different for her, though. She was ready to be a mother the moment she felt her body start to shift. He didn’t feel like a father until the moment his baby was placed in his arms. And then it felt like the whole world made sense. Just the three of them.

Now nothing made sense anymore.

He sat hunched over in the chair, trying to replay that morning. Did he remember to bring Diane her coffee? She always said he made it best. What did they talk about? Did he kiss her goodbye? Did he tell her he loved her? Oh, god, did he remember to look in on Sal before he left? He was usually still asleep when he went to work, but when he wasn’t running late he always tried to check on him, kiss him goodbye and tuck him in again before he slipped out the door.

What if he forgot? What if he never got that chance again?

“Mr. Fisher?”

A doctor this time, gray haired, heavy lines around his eyes. His pale blue scrubs were spattered with blood and Henry’s stomach turned. “That’s…that’s me,” he said. His mouth went dry. “Do you…what’s happening?”

“I’ve been operating on your son, we still don’t know the full extent of the damage but he is stabilized for now,” the doctor said.

Relief washed over him. “Oh, god,” Henry said, pressing his palm against his chest. “Okay. Okay. He’s…he’s stabilized? What does that mean?”

“We were able to stop the bleeding, but they’re still running some tests,” he said. 

“He’ll…he’ll live?”

“He will,” the doctor said. “We’ll have more information for you shortly, but for now it looks like your little boy is going to pull through.”

“Oh, thank god,” Henry breathed. “And…and my wife?”

“There’s another team working on her right now, but we’ll let you know as soon as there’s news,” the doctor said. He clapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “But the good news is that your son will make it. We’ll bring you in to see him once he’s in recovery.”

It was like he’d been underwater since he first saw the news on the breakroom television and now he’d finally broken the surface and gasped down real air again. His son will make it. His son was going to live. His son was going to be okay.

Now he just had to wait for the news about Diane, and then wait for the all clear to see them. It was going to be okay. They’d be in the hospital for a while, and he’d visit them every day, he’d bring flowers for Diane and new toys for Sal. When they got discharged he would take time off of work to take care of them, until their stitches were out and their bandages removed and the whole thing forgotten except for a handful of pale scars and some bad memories. He and Diane would have their second baby like she’d been dreaming for ages, he would take Sal down to the shelter and let him pick out whichever puppy or kitten he wanted. Everything was going to be okay.

“Mr. Fisher?”

He looked up, blinking out of his reverie, but when he saw the doctor he knew. He just knew.

“My wife-” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew the answer but he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fisher,” the doctor said. This one was younger, in sickly green scrubs, but there was no mistaking the blood that covered him or the haggard sadness in his expression. “We did everything we could, but her injuries were just too severe.”

The thought kept replaying in his brain. Diane is dead Diane is dead Diane is dead.

“What…what happened?” he choked out.

“To be honest…we’re not quite sure,” the doctor admitted. “Your son told the people who found him that he and his mother were attacked by a dog, but their wounds don’t look much like an animal attack.” He exhaled slowly. “I know you’re waiting for more information on your son right now, I’m sure the last thing you want to hear at the moment are the details of your wife’s injuries. We’ll let you know when you can see her.”

Henry’s legs abruptly gave out from under him and he collapsed into the chair. His wife was dead. His wife was dead.

It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t cry over her, not yet, not while it didn’t feel like it had actually happened. And right now he couldn’t think about that, he had to think about Sal. His little boy needed him.

God, he was going to have to tell Sal that his mother was dead. 

He stared dully into space, slumped in his chair, until the first doctor approached him again, accompanied by a woman in the same pale blue scrubs. “Mr. Fisher, we need to talk you about your son,” the man said. He just shrugged, he didn’t have the energy to answer. “First…we want to offer our deepest condolences about your wife.”

Henry felt his air seize in his chest and he slumped down farther. “Please. Just tell me about Sal,” he said.

The doctors looked at each other. “Your son is-” the woman began.

“Am I going to lose him too?” Henry asked dully.

“No, no, at this time…well, at this time he appears to be stable,” she said. “But you need to understand, his injuries are severe.”

“What kind of injuries?”

He wasn’t prepared for the descriptions they gave him, calm and clinical and devastating. Missing teeth and a broken jaw, wired shut. Shattered occipital bone. Smashed cartilage in his nose. Fractured skull. At least a hundred stitches. Possible brain damage.

“What do you mean, possible brain damage?” he asked when he finally found his voice again.

“Unfortunately we won’t know until he’s conscious and we can run more tests,” the older man said. “We’re going to keep him in a medically induced coma for the time being, We’ll have to operate again soon to try to save his eye.”

Just this morning he was getting ready for kindergarten and now he was going to lose an eye.

“Is he…is he going to be normal?” he asked. “I mean…will he be okay? Is there a cure?”

The doctors exchanged another look. “Your son’s injuries are extensive,” the younger woman said gently. “I’m afraid this is something that can’t be cured. We feel confident that he’ll recover, but the damage is permanent.”

Everyone always said that Sal looked like his mother. Sure, he’d inherited his coloring, but those big eyes with the long thick lashes, the pert snub nose, the bright dimpled smile- all Diane’s. Now he wasn’t even going to be able to see his wife’s face in his little boy. 

“When can I see him?” Henry asked hoarsely.

"Mr. Fisher, you might want to take some time to prepare yourself. Sal is-"

"I need to see my son."

They stopped arguing and brought him back to recovery without another word. He stood there for a moment, just looking at his little boy. Sal was a tiny figure in the big bed, hooked up to wires and tubes and monitors. His face was lost in a swathe of bandages; he could see one closed eye, the thin skin heavily bruised, his long lashes brushing his cheek. 

"Hi, baby," he said quietly. "Daddy's here. It'll be okay."

Gingerly he reached out and ran his fingertip along the curve of Sal’s cheek. Instead of warm, babyishly soft skin he only brushed cool gauze. It was like he wasn’t even real anymore. If it wasn’t for the faint rise and fall of his little chest, it would almost be like his son was dead.

Abruptly Henry turned and left. He walked out of the room, out of the ward, out of the hospital. Logically he knew he needed to call a funeral home, notify Diane’s family, call the plastic surgeon the doctors recommended. Call Sal’s school and tell them he wouldn’t be attending kindergarten after all. 

Instead he walked aimlessly for a while, drowning in his own thoughts, until he passed by a liquor store. He rarely drank, but he ended up at the counter handing over cash in exchange for a bottle of vodka in a paper bag. It was cheap and burned like hellfire, but the burn reminded him he was alive.

He found himself at the park, gripping the bottle tight as he stared at the yellow caution tape flapping in the gentle early evening breeze. He was supposed to be home. He was supposed to be grilling burgers on the back deck while Diane made french fries in the oven and Sal followed her around the kitchen like a little shadow. They were going to eat homemade burgers and milkshakes in the living room, cuddled up on the couch while they watched one of Sal’s favorite VHS tapes for the millionth time. It was supposed to be the last Friday night before he went off to his first day of school.

Instead he was standing in front of yellow caution tape, staring at the drops and puddles of sticky half-dried blood in the green grass, his son’s blood. And his wife was dead.

It was the last night after all, he thought bitterly. The last night before everything changed. Just not in a way any of them had planned.