Chapter Text
"I should have taken you in my arms. I should have hugged you... Let's just start over. You and me, okay? Please forgive me. Please son."
Ethan's eyes are locked onto his, glassy eyes made gold by the weak light filtering in through the cracks in the rubble. He struggles to push himself up, his pale cracked lips parting in answer before falling back without a sound.
The waiting room is stifling, the harsh florescents reminisenct of the angry glare of the ambulance lights they had followed here. Zach's ears still ring with the wail of the siren, his son slipping further and further away, the image of them performing CPR forever burned into his brain.
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young
He scrubs his eyes angrily trying to press the memories away. The irony of Ethan's breathy recitel of Keats verse of two young lovers whose lips can never meet though they will always love one another was not lost on him. He glances at Simone huddled next to Lavery and his chest pinches. Mere hours ago he watched his son twirl her in his arms as they danced, the dimple in Ethan's left cheek, that Zach had always took note of, was arched high, his smile radiant.
Kendall comes over to him where he's slumped against the wall closest the opperating room door, silently drowning.
"Hey," she says softly. All the anger from earlier clearly forgot as she takes his hand with gentle hesitation.
"Hey," he whispers never breaking eye contact with the scuffed baseboard across the room.
They sit in silence for a long while. Zach would use the ticking of the clock to ground himself but it's far too chaotic for that, and Kendall's hand on his is far too warm and real. Not like the coolness of his son when he'd grabbed for his wrist to check for a pulse he could not feel.
"Zach?" Kendall starts when he pulls away from her.
Beside them the door opens and he scrambles to his feet as Joe steps out.
He doesn't wait to hear, just slips quietly inside prepared for the worst.
One of the OR nurses looks up from clearing away bloodied instuments. "You can't be in here, sir."
Zach doesn't hear anything more, laser focused on his son, the ghostly palor of his lithe body lying on the operating table blood staining the pad beneath him, his chest rising in time with the ventilator. In a daze he stumbles to his side cupping his cheek, the skin beneath his hand hardly warmer than it had been hours ago. Bruises blossom dark beneath the harsh operating lights. He traces the plains of his face, vaguely aware of Simone moving in behind him, grasping at Ethan's hand desperatly a sob in her throat.
"What is that?" she chokes. Zach doesn't need to follow her gaze to know what she's talking about. The metal tubes protrude from the flesh of Ethan's hips meeting above him to form a grisly point.
Joe sighs having followed her in. "It's an external fixator," he explains. "We need to get the bleeding under control and his vitals stable before we even consider surgery. And you need to let the team finish. I'll let you know when he's moved to icu."
"I'm not leaving him." Simone says, and Zach plants his feet.
Joe scrubs a hand across his upper lip and huffs a sigh. "Look, I understand you're worried, you've been through an ordeal. If you leave now without putting up a fuss I'll let you stay with him once he's moved," he says looking between the two of them. "Otherwise im going to have to have security escort you out."
Zach hesitates before reluctently backing down. He's not willing to risk being thrown out. He looks back at Ethan's still face, and traces a careful finger along the gash above his brow, wishing he could do more.
Stepping outside he watches as Kendall and Lavery comfort Simone. Guilt gnaws in his gut. Hours ago his son was smiling, happy with his fiancée. His chest tightens on the image of his still form under the harsh operating room light and he feels sick. His beautiful boy.
"Look," he says pulling Simone aside, "if you want me to leave I'll understand."
She gives him a hard look and yanks her arm away. "The only reason he even came here was because of you. He was looking for connection, belonging, and you broke his heart," she accuses. Kendall puts an arm around her squeezing and she sighs. "I'm not going to be the one to push you away, but if he wants you gone when he wakes up, you're gone. It's his descion," she wavers brushing furiously at her tearing eyes.
"C'mon," Ryan says gently taking her arm. "Why don't we go down and get you a cup of coffee or something." She reluctantly lets herself be led away dabbing at her eyes all the while.
Kendall watches them leave before turning on Zach with a hard look.
"What?" He sighs raggedly shifting his weight to his heels, bracing for the impact of whatever she's about to lay on him.
"You. Practically begging her to push you away. Don't you dare run away when he needs you most," she warns.
"He doesn't even want me," he snaps throwing his arms out. "And he wasn't too interested in forgiving me either."
"But he will." She reassures. "Eventually."
He looks at her then. "How do you know."
"Because deep down Ethan still wants a father, Zach. He wants you."
He sighs deflating and takes a seat in one of the hardbacked chairs. "I've done nothing but hurt him since he showed up." Because he knows no matter how well intentioned, the wounds he inflicted on his son were deep.
"I know," she says quietly.
"And what's worse," he says trying to breathe through the guilt, "is I did it before I ever even got to know him. I thought I was protecting him from some invisible curse," he says frustrated," but he wasn't raised by my father. He's not like me or like Michael. He's not truly a Cambias. Not in that way." He exhales rubbing his palms against his slacks. "I glimpsed the heart of my son tonight. He was so gentle with Simone. So loving. I wish... I wish I could have got to know him like that."
She squeezes his hand and rests her head against his shoulder.
He doesn't move, keeps his arms crossed over himself so she can't see how his hands shake now that his muscles have finally loosened themselves. He feels numb, dizzy and bereft.
"I thought he was gonna die," he conffesses in a low murmur reaching up to scrub at his eyes. "I watched him become completly insensible watched as the color drained from him leaving him cold as ice and calling for his mother," he chokes throwing his hand down, "and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't stop it."
"He's not dead," she says firmly, steeling her own nerves. "You have the oppourtunity to set things right between the two of you."
Zach shakes his head and looks off, lost in memories of every interaction he's had with his son.
"He saved my life pulling me out of the burning stable," he comments watching a nurse go by.
"He saved mine pulling me from the water." Kendall says.
"God," she half laughs half sobs.
"I'm sick to death of the revenge and the scheming and the drama of this town." She wipes at her face with a shakey hand. "I'm going to check on my mom," she says abruptly.
Zach scrubs his face, pressing against his eyelids harshly for a moment before pushing to his feet in an urge to move.
He wanders the halls awhile. Stops inside the gift shop where the sight of all the floral arrangements remind him of Ethan's happy talk of the wedding.
On a whim he selects a colorful arrangment of lavender and netted iris, before finally giving in and heading for the chapel.
Despite the commotion and influx the explosion brought he finds the chapel still and empty.
Wearily he finds a seat and lowers his head to begin interceding for his sons life.
I can't feel a pulse my son is dying
Zach jerks awake to a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" He asks blinking at Myrtle in the dim light.
"I was visiting a friend when they started rushing everyone in from the explosion. I heard about Ethan." She says giving his shoulder a squeeze.
He nods, jaw working as he waits for her to take a seat. "We were trapped down there together," he says. "Probably the kid's worst nightmare. He thought I hated him," he conffesses. "But I don't." He looks at her blinking back tears. "I love that kid more than I thought possible."
She listens quietly rubbing the back of his hand.
"And I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for the things I've done."
She takes her time before responding. "Bianca had a theory," she says. "His bank account isn't the reason that he hangs on to his part of the empire. She says that it's because he has a need to keep a connection between him and his father." She gives a gentle squeeze. "I think she's right."
He shakes his head. "The only thing I've managed to do for him is teach him dad's love hurts."
She looks at him sternly. "Then don't squander a second chance."
He regards her for a long minute before looking up to the cross hanging before them. "What do you think," he asks sardonic and nods towards it. "Think he'd listen to a guy like me?"
Her smile is gentle. "Of course," she says.
He nods his head a few times throat tightening and takes a deep breath. "Would you pray with me?" He asks finally meeting her eyes.
"There you are." Kendall calls as he steps from the chapel.
"They've moved him."
His face has been cleaned up and his hair smoothed back when they're finally allowed back to his room. Zach stands in the doorway marvling at the ability a hospital bed has at making one look both small and fragile. His feet move of their own accord and he steps closer to where Ethan lay, breathing tube still fixed in place. The bruises have deepened against his sallow skin the cuts still a stark red. He rests a hand on his arm willing him to be okay. His only son. He passes a hand across his lip fighting the urge to bolt. He's used to running, nearly hightailed it out of town the first time Ethan put him in a tight spot. If Erica hadn't shown up and hit him with some hard truths about parenting. Still, he wonders
if he had said he loved him sooner would it have made a difference.
Would his temper have burned so hot if he had put away the superstition of a curse, could he have helped him more, persevered more of that integrity he had when he first showed up in Pine Valley. He sighs rubbing circles against his limp arm with his thumb, forcing himself not to look away as if paying penance.