We Endure
He’d told Isaac five minutes; he made it in three.
Parking haphazardly in the first available space he could find outside the ER, Owen tore through the entrance of the hospital, whipping his head around until he could find a sign directing him to the right wing. The receptionist seemed startled by his whirlwind entrance, but before she could address it, an NYPD officer greeted him. “Captain Strand, I’m Officer Burke. I was told to wait for you.”
The policeman couldn’t have been much older than Evan, a head of short, inky hair over green eyes and a soft layer of stubble on his chin. Owen ignored the solemn look on his face. “Where is he? Where’s TK?”
“This way, sir,” Officer Burke said, before motioning down a hall to their left. He led Owen through several wings and around a few corners, none of which Owen would remember later, before coming across Isaac standing near the door to room 417.
“Isaac?”
“Hey, Owen,” the detective stopped him before he could get within sight of the room’s windows, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you, Officer Burke. I’ve got it from here.”
The young man nodded politely at the dismissal, gave another soft tip of his head to Owen, and was gone.
Looking back at Isaac, Owen couldn’t ignore the grim expression on his friend’s face. He didn’t want to consider all the reasons why he wasn’t immediately shown into his son’s room, and he felt his heart plummet in his chest again. “You said he was alive. What happened to my kid, Isaac?”
“Do you want to sit down, Owen?” Isaac must’ve seen something on Owen’s face that was response enough, because he just sighed and continued, “He was found in an empty warehouse by the waterfront. An anonymous call to dispatch, he was—he was in rough shape, Owen. By the time the bus arrived, he was in cardiac arrest; they don’t know for how long. But they hit him with the Evzio, and we got him back.”
“Evzio? You’re saying my son overdosed?” Owen couldn’t believe the words had even come from his mouth.
“Prescription drug canisters and other paraphernalia were found at the scene. It also looks like he may have gotten into some sort of fight; he’s pretty banged up, and there was trace evidence of blood.”
Owen felt his eyes fall closed and he brought his hands to his face. He tried to pretend the tears threatening to escape weren’t a direct result of hearing his son had been beaten and almost overdosed to death. He wanted to scream, to hit something.
He couldn’t believe after everything his son had been through that Owen had let this happen.
“Owen, TK is alive. You have to remember that. The doctors aren’t sure what length of time he may have gone without oxygen or how his brain functioning could be affected. But he’s alive, and he’s breathing on his own. That’s a very good sign; you know that.”
Owen did know that, but the platitudes felt hollow all the same. He found himself nodding silently before looking at his friend, grief and self-loathing barely contained. “Thank you, Isaac, for finding my boy. I’ll—uh—I’ve got to…” Owen tried to motion towards the door, to express his intention to go to TK, but his brain felt like it wasn’t connecting to the rest of his body. Everything was muddled in a way Owen had never experienced before.
Isaac seemed to catch on and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Go on, Owen. See your boy. Everything else can wait. Is there anything else I can do? Anything you need?”
Suddenly, Owen was reminded that Gwen still had no idea where TK was, that Evan had no idea. “I—his mother, Gwen. She still doesn’t know where he is. And Evan, my nephew, he’s been—he’s been trying to find him all day. I have to—” Owen needed to get them here, but he couldn’t leave TK, not now.
Once again, Isaac seemed to sense his distress, watching as Owen struggled between staying with his son and taking responsibility for bringing the rest of his family here. Isaac put a stop to Owen’s panic and reassured him he’d bring Gwen and Evan both to the hospital. Owen made him promise not to tell them what happened aside from TK being found alive.
“I need to tell them myself,” Owen insisted.
With another nod of agreement and a pat on the back, Isaac took his leave. Owen wiped another hand down his face, attempting to steel his courage as he proceeded the last few feet to his son’s hospital room.
The sight of TK through the glass had Owen sucking in his breath in a rush, fear and grief washing over him again, before he lifted a shaking hand to the door. Stepping into the room and sliding the door shut with a soft ‘whoosh’, Owen couldn’t ignore how small his son looked layered beneath the blankets of the enormous hospital bed. TK wasn’t exactly small for a sixteen-year-old, but—Evan being the exception—nobody in the Strand family was exactly a giant either. This bed seemed to only exaggerate TK’s slighter frame.
Or perhaps it was just Owen once again seeing his son as that seven-year-old boy who needed to be sheltered from the inhumanities of life.
Forcing himself to step lightly over the sterile hospital tiles, afraid he’d make too much noise and disturb his son, Owen dropped slowly into the seat beside the head of the bed. Sweeping his eyes over TK’s face, taking in bruises along his jaw, a black eye and split lip, Owen felt the pang of guilt and sorrow spear his chest once more.
“Oh, TK…what’d you do, son?”
Owen ran his hands down his face again, pressing against his eyes harshly to fend off the threat of further moisture, before leaning forward in his seat. “How could I let this happen to you? I should’ve known…should’ve seen something. Why didn’t I…”
Sighing, Owen knew the answer to that. Not for the first time since the Towers came down, he wondered if Gwen was right, that he really did always put his job before his family. He could justify to himself all he wanted that the 252 was also his family, but it was hard to make a comparison when his own flesh and blood was lying near-dead in a hospital ward.
“I guess you and I both know there’s a lot I don’t notice about you these days, huh kiddo?”
Owen gently cupped his hand to TK’s jaw, taking in the rough scrape of stubble growing there, before sliding it up through his hair. He brushed away a few loose strands hanging over TK’s forehead, and took a moment to appreciate that—even with the trauma to his face and the overdose—his beautiful son was thankfully still here. Alive.
Giving a brief glance over the monitors, making sure everything seemed to be beeping and tracking as it should be, Owen accepted the rhythmic reassurances of TK’s living status, before checking his chest to be sure it was still rising and falling. Once he was as satisfied as he could be, he let his hands slip from his son’s head before grasping tightly to the teenager’s hand, being cautious of the bruises and splits around his knuckles.
“It’s going to be okay, TK. I’m here, and your mom and Evan are on their way. They’ll be here with you soon. And we’ll fix this, I promise. It’s going to be okay.”
Owen wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure TK or himself. ‘Probably both,’ he reasoned to himself.
Raising his eyes back to TK’s face, he willed his son to wake, to return from wherever it was in his head he’d retreated to. “Come back to me, son.” When no response came, Owen could only squeeze his son’s hand that much tighter.
He didn’t know how much time passed while he sat there burning a hole through TK’s face with his eyes. It could have been minutes, days, or eons that Owen sat there waiting for a change in his son’s expression. His brain felt like it was still cloaked in a fog, uncertain of anything outside the subtle inhales and exhales.
Eventually, the clouds around his mind did dissipate. But it wasn’t TK that had Owen emerging from beneath the depths of emotion he’d let himself sink.
It was the sound of pounding feet, heavy breathing, and a cry of “TK! Uncle Owen!” that had the exhausted fire captain whipping his head to the door of his son’s room. Within seconds, the pounding feet had reached them and the door all but slammed wide with the force of Evan sliding it open. The kid didn’t even turn to make sure the door hadn’t broken or even just closed again behind him.
The sight of his young cousin seemed to stop Evan cold, and Owen couldn’t stand the haunted look gracing his nephew’s normally happy exterior.
“He’s alive, Evan. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s alive.”
“Uncle Owen, I—” He couldn’t finish whatever he’d been trying to say, his breaths stuttering to little more than a choked whimper.
“It’s okay, kid. It’ll all be okay. Come here and sit.”
Owen slid over the second chair beside him and motioned for his nephew to join him. It seemed to take Evan a small eternity to cross the threshold of the room, but when he finally did, he collapsed almost boneless into the uncomfortable hospital chair. He hesitated before placing a hand on TK’s leg, obviously needing a stronger connection to his brother in everything but legalities, before turning to stare at Owen. “What happened?”
Turning to look at Evan, Owen was both grateful Isaac had kept his word and utterly at a loss for how he was going to tell his nephew. ‘Facts, not fiction, I’d always promised him,’ he thought.
“Dispatch took a call about a person in danger at a warehouse by the waterfront. He…he’d been in a fight of some kind. And he, he was—” Owen tried to gather the courage to say it out loud. Unable to look his nephew in the eye, he turned to TK again. “He was in cardiac arrest. Overdosed on prescription opioids.”
The sharp intake of breath was not unexpected, but Evan’s broken “No…” seemed to rip a whole new piece of Owen’s heart out. “TK…I’m so sorry.”
Owen raised the hand that wasn’t holding TK’s to Evan’s shoulder and pulled him into a soft side hug. “He’s going to be okay, Evan. We got him back, and he’s-he’s going to be fine.”
He hoped the kid didn’t notice his slight hesitation, his uncertainty, or the way Owen was unable to look him in the eye while he said it.
Evan’s breath hitched again, and it sounded like he was trying his damndest not to cry. His bright blue eyes hadn’t left TK’s face since he’d stumbled into the room. “This is all my fault.”
Owen inhaled sharply and turned his head to look at his nephew. “What? Evan, no, why would you think that?”
“Because” his nephew started, sounding so broken, it pained Owen. “I left him alone. If I hadn’t wasted time going to the library or staying on the phone with Maddie this morning, he wouldn’t have gone there. This never would have happened.”
Evan punctuated his last sentence with another clench of TK’s leg, while his other hand formed a tight fist. Owen couldn’t stand the way Evan was blaming himself for something he wasn’t responsible for, something he couldn’t have even prepared for.
“Evan, kid, look at me.” Owen grasped his nephew by the shoulders and turned him to look him in the eyes. “This—this isn’t your fault. Not even close, okay? If anything,” Owen glanced at TK again before inhaling deeply. “If anything, it’s my fault. For not paying attention. For not noticing what was wrong with my son. For not telling you the truth.”
When his nephew tilted his head in confusion, Owen grimaced in shame. “TK, he’s had some trouble, Evan. Broken curfew, lied to me and his mother, doesn’t always tell me where he is. I wanted to believe it was nothing, but it’s obvious now that was a mistake.” He dropped his head to stare at his lap, still clinging to his nephew’s shoulders and absorbing the hopeful essence the kid always radiated even now in these worst of circumstances.
They sat that way for a few seconds before Owen lifted his head to stare at Evan again. Gently cupping his left hand to Evan’s face, he confessed the truth. “Half the reason I brought you here was the hope that you could bring TK out of whatever state he’d fallen into. You’re such a good influence on him and he’s always so happy whenever you’re around. I guess I thought you being here for more than just a few days’ time would make things…normal again.”
A hollow look crossed his nephew’s features before Evan turned to look at TK once more. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work…that my being here hasn’t made a difference for him.”
“No, Evan, no. You don’t understand; it has made all the difference. You saved TK’s life tonight.” The kid turned back to him, obviously confused again. “Without you calling me? Telling me TK was missing? I would’ve had no idea to go look for him. I would’ve been at work and not thought twice about what TK might be doing if he didn’t answer me right away. I’d have assumed he was just busy doing who knows what. And by the time I’d have figured out something was wrong and gone looking,” Owen sighed softly in resignation before finishing his confession. “TK would probably be dead.”
Admitting that out loud, the tragic thoughts that had been circling Owen’s mind since he’d set foot in the hospital, sent shockwaves of guilt and failure through him again. So severe was the weight of his confession, he almost missed the shattered look crossing his nephew’s face. The thought of TK dead made Owen want to die himself, but he also knew anything happening to TK would devastate Evan in a way even he probably couldn’t comprehend.
“You saved my son, Evan. You’re a hero.”
The reverence in Owen’s words were apparently too much for Evan because the kid finally broke down in tears, falling into his uncle’s arms and sobbing brokenly into his chest. Owen just let it happen, brushing his hand through Evan’s curly locks and doing his best to remain solid in the face of his nephew’s breakdown.
The two men remained locked in the embrace for a few minutes more until Evan’s crying subsided. When they finally parted, Owen turned back to stare at TK’s monitors again, giving his nephew a minute to collect himself and wipe his red eyes dry. Evan cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the chair, grasping onto TK’s shin once more.
“So…what do we do now?”
Owen gripped his son’s wrist with one hand, taking solace in the steady thrum of TK’s pulse, and latched onto Evan’s shoulder with the other, his gaze never leaving TK. “We endure, Evan. We wait and we endure, whatever happens next.”
Just then, the hurried sound of heels clicking down the hospital hallway, followed by a rushed, “Where is he? Where’s my son?!” met their ears.
“But first,” Owen closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I have to tell your aunt.”
Both men turned to face the door just as it slid open in a rush of air, and the copper haired force of nature that was Gwenyth Strand stormed into the room.