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Ezra was absolutely worn-out, his panicked breaths had long subsided, but it didn't stop his chest from aching from the previous attack and wails. The alarm still rang overhead but his mind felt fuzzy and bogged down, hardly able to focus on it. It sounded so distant. He even started to question if he'd be better off letting an inmate find him, let them end his misery right then and there.
He determined it'd at least ease the awful uncomfortableness his body currently ached with. He'd be spared a fate similar to his father, grandfather, great-great uncle, all of them. A life full of humiliations, failures, and--worst of all-- insanity. He assumed at least. The teen couldn't deny he felt he already lived up to the self fulfilling prophecy--and oh how he loathed that term, the mere though making his stomach coil in nothing short of fear.
He surely was a humiliation to the Arkham name. Ill at the sight of blood, how was he expected to be a doctor? A pathetic little teenager, having hid at the first sound of the alarm.
Would it be a service to Gotham if he disappeared now? Or to himself perhaps? Was it selfish of him to even consider this way out?
He didn't get to think on this for long hearing footsteps rushing towards him. He ducked his head back in his knees, as if hoping he'd be invisible to the eye while sunk down to the floor, back to the wall. Hearing them stop however, he knew he wasn't overlooked.
"Ezra," the teen jerked surprised hearing the voice much closer than he anticipated, closer enough that it took no effort at all to hear it even with the alarm still above and the almost clogged feeling in his ears. He looked up, pupils the size of pin needles. His gaze quickly found his father's, and things instantly felt safe again, seeing Jeremiah kneeled down in front of him. A whimper tore from the back of his throat, a sobs swelling up again, just threatening to spill out.
"D-dad..." he croaked out, only now realizing just how scratchy his voice was, having only been used to cry for the past hour or so.
"I'm so glad I found you," Jeremiah sighed, hugging his son close to his chest, "I was so worried. So worried someone had gotten to you. Are you alright? Why are you on the ground?" he gently murmured, blindly brushing his son's hair away from his face a few moments before pulling him a bit away to look him over for any injuries.
Ezra sucked in a hard breath, whimpering a second time from the way it felt on the back of his throat, "N-no... no. I'm ok. I'm not hurt," he assured, voice barely managing above a mumble despite the boy's best efforts, "just... just got scared.." his gaze fell past his father's shoulder and instead on to the room that had led to his panic attack in seeing its destruction.
It took a moment but Jeremiah followed his son's eyes behind himself, taking only a few seconds to connect the unspoken pieces, "I see.... why didn't you just come to my office? You would've been safe there."
Ezra felt his heart pick up again. His father's office was a safe haven, until a breakout occurred at least. He felt tears swell up again, blurring his vision over. He quickly directed them down in shame, the floor at least all looked the same.
"Th-they would've expected it.... they would've found me, got to me. I-I would've died."
Ezra furrowed his brows lightly, wasn't that just what he'd been hoping for? To be taken out of his misery, even if slow and painful as whatever inmate found him first would've liked. His tears brimmed up further, weakly managing out, "I don't want to die..." his breath released itself shakily as he repeated in a broken whisper, "I don't want to die.... I don't want to die yet.."
Jeremiah frowned gently in confusion at the, seemingly out of the blue, statement, "Well I.... I'd hope not.." he looked his son over again, this time searching for any sign of what led him to this conclusion, this conclusion Jeremiah had hoped was obvious, "Ezzie," he murmured gently, concern and perplexity in his soft tone. It was enough to send the tears pouring forward once more, Ezra desperately wrapping his arms around himself.
"I'm sorry..." he whimpered, "I'm sorry... I just... I meant.." the fact he couldn't even find the right way to explain himself produced another whimper that was followed with a fresh cry, offering more apologies in place of an explanation, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..!"
Jeremiah's frown only seemed to deepen, but ge wrapped his arms around Ezra again, and pulled his face to his chest once more, soothingly stroking his hair, just as he used to when Ezra was a fussy toddler fending off sleep, "Shh... shh, dear. It's ok. I'm not even sure what you're sorry for," he hummed gently.
Ezra hiccupped in trying to suck a breath in, "I-I'm sorry," he insisted again regardless, "I'm sorry I'm a humiliation, a-and scared, and for even thinking I wanted to die. I don't! I don't want to die...!" there was an almost frantic edge to the teenager's words, Jeremiah could only feel surprised as the words sunk in completely.
He looked down at the pitiful mess of a boy, trying not to break into another hysterical fit, tears cascading down his face that had brightened in color once more--particularly on his cheeks-- clinging for dear life to his father's shirt as his head lay limply against him. Jeremiah rubbed his face, fending off his own urge to cry at the state his child was in.
Ezra didn't need to see Jeremiah break down as well with the thoughts polluting his mind. He needed his father's comfort, a luxury Jeremiah hadn't gotten to experience in his own childhood, which only made him more determined to push through and provide for his son.
"No need for all that," he whispered, pressing his mouth to the top of Ezra's hair, already feeling the heat radiating off his son, still he let his soft words vibrate against the disheveled mess of sandy brown hair, "You aren't a humiliation. There's nothing wrong with being scared, and you certainly aren't going to die. I'm going to make sure of that. I will protect you until I can't anymore."
He hugged Ezra closer feeling the teen lean further into him, muffling another wail. Jeremiah knew he'd sit there as long as it took until the sobs stopped racking his son's body, allowing him and his thoughts to be at peace.