carpe diem

31

Regulus didn’t realise that telling his three friends about his parents being at the hospital would start a chain reaction in their sudden appearances on the ward. But, it appears that within the two and a half days that he was off and they found out, the three of them have devised a plan that has involved them 'coincidentally' finding a reason to come up to the neurology ward each day that Regulus is back on shift.

On Sunday, it's Barty.

Regulus is on a day shift, and unfortunately, Orion is still a resident member of the neurology ward. Regulus won't pretend that he threw up his coffee before he left for work that morning when Dorcas text to warn him that Orion hadn't self-discharged over the weekend and was still reigning hell from his hospital bed. Nor had his mother been banned from the ward, because apparently she'd been tight lipped and on her best behaviour since Euphemia threatened to get her escorted out of the hospital last time Regulus was in.

Dorcas' information that his mother had become slightly placated brought him not extra comfort.

She'd been placated because he wasn't there, and he didn't expect her to stay quiet when he returned.

When Regulus arrives for his shift on Sunday, he’d already been warned that his father’s health had declined over the weekend, hence the fact that he has no self-discharged.

Orion had another stroke on Saturday morning, a brain aneurysm so aggressive that he’d become paralysed on his entire left side despite being wheeled almost immediately into surgery. Since then, Orion has been on an equally as aggressive routine of medication to try and enable his brain to heal and his body to rest. By the time Regulus came in on Sunday, Orion hadn’t even been brought out of sedation. There’s also no way of telling if the paralysis he experienced before surgery is going to be permanent until he wakes up.

Though, no amount of warning could have prepared him for the true sight of his father; unconscious, intubated, pale, half-dead. The man who has always seemed so intimidating, so strong, so terrifying, is merely a limp and thinning body in a hospital bed.

Regulus thought it would bring him a sense of odd comfort, that he’d feel a deep rooted sense of revenge towards the man, that karma had finally done its devious work.

He doesn’t feel any of that.

Instead, he feels a sick punch of horror and pity.

Pity for the man that used to make his life living hell, is only holding onto life due to the interventions, tubes and machines keeping him alive.

Regulus doesn’t stay in Orion’s room for very long. He feels breathless by the time he leaves, sick to his stomach. His shaky legs barely manage to carry him back to the reception desk without giving out.  The pager buzzing in his pocket saves Regulus from a further spiral in his internal meltdown, and he looks at it to see a call to the surgery ward. Feeling a switch to excitement, Regulus doesn’t hesitate. If Slughorn wants him in a surgery, it’s less time on the ward with his sedated sick father and soon-to-be arriving mother.

Regulus spends three hours in surgery with Slughorn. It’s a grim surgery, but intensity distracts Regulus from his woes on the neuro ward.

By the time he gets back, Dorcas is in and flying around like a bee seeking out a flower with pollen. She waves at Regulus as she goes wizzing past, disappearing into one of the side rooms before Regulus can properly greet her. He gets a rundown from Alex that an epileptic woman has come up from emergency after suffering from multiple status seizures, therefore Dorcas is heavily occupied.

Regulus decides that while the ward is semi-quiet apart from their new patient, he takes the time to finish up the paperwork and prescriptions for Dorcas while she’s busy. After a while, Regulus looks up to swipe the file off the top of the reception desk when his eyes catch a familiar scrub-clad figure strolling onto the ward with far too much confidence.

Regulus frowns in confusion at the sight of his friend, here...

On his ward...

Looking suspiciously smug with himself.

What the fuck?

"Hey, Reggie-kins," Barty grins wolfishly, practically flopping himself onto the reception desk in front of him. "How are you this fine morning?"

"It’s the afternoon."

Barty rolls his eyes so hard Regulus is convinced it hurt. "It’s like four minutes past midday."

"Therefore, it is the afternoon," Regulus replies. "What’re you doing here?"

"I wanted to come and say hello," Barty shrugs. He rounds the desk and drops down in the spare chair beside him. "What’s wrong with that?"

Regulus watches the way Barty instantly makes himself comfortable, slouched back, legs splayed out in front of him, turning side to side gently in the chair as if he's a mischievous student gloating in the headteachers office instead of a doctor on a neurological ward in a hospital.

"You don’t do nice things at work without ulterior motives," Regulus counters.

"That is utterly insulting," Barty scoffs. "I wanted to come and check on you."

Regulus raises one eyebrow in a sharp curve. "Really?"

"Yes."

Barty’s reply is serious, tone leaving no room for humour or teasing. He really means it, and Regulus deflates with the realisation.

"She here?" Barty asks.

"Who?"

"The fucking queen. Who do you think, Reg?"

'She' is clearly his mother.

"No," Regulus sighs. "She’s not in yet."

"She coming in?"

"No idea," Regulus shrugs. "Orion is still sedated, so she might be staying away until he’s awake and has a purpose for her."

"One could hope," Barty muses. "You guys busy today?"

"Same as usual. I’m guessing you guys aren’t, considering you’re here."

"Snape is in," Barty shrugs. "I figured I’d put my psychological wellbeing first today and take a break from his sparkling personality."

"And what about my psychological wellbeing now that I have to put up with you?" Regulus asks, and Barty’s grin grows so wide it almost splits his face.

"Your psychological wellbeing is already lifted. I can see the sparkle in your eyes at how happy you are."

"They’re not sparkling. That’s the tears that are glistening."

"You’re rotten to me, Reggie."

"And you are diabolical."

Truthfully, it’s quite nice that Barty is here. They very rarely get to see each other on shift anymore, and they haven't hung out with each other on either of their wards since they were on the same night shifts months ago.

Since Regulus told them all about his parents being back in town, his three friends have been stuck to him like he’s bathed himself in gorilla glue and given them all a tight hug. They haven’t left him alone, physically or virtually. They’ve either been at his flat with him, or they’ve been more active in the group chat than the time that Barty was working and the other three were all watching the Gavin and Stacey Christmas special live and were texting reactions into the group chat to torture him.

It’s make Regulus realise that he has been so wrapped up in his own life, his own shit and chaos, that he’s missed out so much with his friends.

Barty and Evan’s relationship has blossomed, growing more and more with each day. They’re practically joined at the hip, Pandora whined about, ultimately leaving her to third wheel while Regulus is busy. They’re almost apparently shagging like rabbits, and got kicked out of Slug and Lettuce the other week while the three of them were out for dinner and cocktails because they got caught in the act in the toilets.

Regulus had great pleasure in mocking them as him and James, as adventurous as they had been, have never been caught.

Amateurs.

Pandora and Xeno’s wedding planning is slow moving but they’re picked out their venue and date for next year. Regulus felt absolutely floored when Pandora sat on his sofa and showed him photos of the place they’d picked out. A beautiful barn up in Scotland, surrounded by forests and grape vineyards and huge fields. The place is absolutely perfect, and every inch Pandora personified.

Regulus feels his heart swelling whenever he hears or thinks about Pandora’s wedding. He can’t wait to see it and experience it, though he knows that she could get married to Xeno in a pile of steaming pig shit, dressed in a black bin bag, and it would still be the most beautiful thing he’d ever see.

"Is that her?" Barty asks suddenly.

Regulus' head snaps up so fast that a sharp pain shoots down his neck, but that is nothing compared to the feeling of his stomach plummeting to his stomach.

His mother walks through the ward like a dark storm cloud rolling into the skyline, consuming the sun and blue horizon alike. The air suddenly becomes stiff and cold, as if all the valuable oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Regulus feels himself become stiffer, muscles tensing up as his mother approaches the front desk.

The first thing that comes out of her rotten mouth is, "Is he still sedated?"

Good morning to you too, mother.

"Yes," Regulus replies, clearly his throat. "We’re planning on bringing him out of sedation later this evening."

Clearly, judging by the way Walburga’s eyes harden with disappointment, this is not the reply she wanted to hear.

"He is needed in a conference meeting tomorrow morning."

Regulus can barely resist the sudden urge to scoff. Instead, his eyebrows raise and he says, "He won’t be up for that. He had brain surgery two days ago, and has spent this whole time under sedation. We don’t even know if the stroke has had lasting impacts."

"That is not good enough."

When is anything ever good enough?

"I don’t know what else to tell you. Orion is severely unwell. He can’t be doing conference calls and working from his hospital bed. He needs to rest and recover."

"He is needed at his firm."

Regulus takes in a deep breath to calm his nerves and frustrations. "I understand that, but—"

"Hi," Barty interrupts, smiling sweetly at his mother. "Walburga, right?"

"Who are you?"

"Barty Crouch Junior," he replies cheerily. "Regulus’ best friend, this hospitals finest cardiac doctor, and world record holder for the most tequila shots downed within two minutes."

Regulus internally sighs and face-palms. He closes his eyes momentarily, regretting ever allowing Barty to stay up here with him.

This is not going to go well at all.

His mother looks sharply at him. "This is the company you keep, Rasalas?"

"That is unnecessarily rude," Barty says, but it goes unnoticed by the woman currently glaring at Regulus as if he is the problem.

"You have become such an embarrassment since you left," Walburga spits. "Not that you were ever anything to be proud of anyway, but now? Now you make me feel ashamed that you still hold the Black surname."

"I can only apologise for the sadness you must feel at how I turned out, mother," Regulus says. "Now, is there anything I can help you with in regards to Orion's health?"

The question has his mother laughing bitterly.

"You are a disgrace of a doctor," she snarls. "You think you’re something special? You think you’re so brilliant? You are nothing! You can’t even save your own father!"

Regulus flinches, physically recoiling from her words that each feel like slap after slap after slap to his face.

He feels about three foot tall again.

He feels like that same tiny kid, taking the verbal abuse she used to snarl at him as a child.

Disgrace.

You are nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing—

"You can’t threaten me like that," his mother hisses, snapping Regulus out of his broken thoughts.

It’s then that he notices she’s not looking at him anymore, but instead staring at Barty with a gaze cold enough to freeze the sun, who is also no longer sitting next to Regulus behind the reception desk.

Instead, Barty has moved so that he is standing nose to nose with Walburga.

When the fuck did that happen?

"I can, and I just fucking did!" Barty counters, eyes as equally as cold and sharp as his mother’s. His friends jaw is clenched so hard Regulus is sure his teeth are cracking under the pressure. "You don’t get to talk to him like that!"

"He’s my son!" Walburga seethes. "I can talk to him however I want!"

"He hasn’t been your son since the day he finally escaped your abusive, narcissistic prison in France! He is not your son, and he is nothing like you, and we are all so fucking grateful for that. Because you?" Barty laughs cruelly. "You, Walburga, are the epitome of ?. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap while doing the Macarena bullock fucking naked in front of Tom Hardy himself than have to share oxygen with you again."

Regulus feels his jaw drop.

For a moment, his mother looks as shocked as him at Barty’s graphic and slightly ludicrous remark.

Then, her eyes harden and burn like molten melted glass.

"I will have your job," Walburga warns.

"Take my job, sweetheart," Barty smiles, unfazed. "You think I care about my career more than the lad behind me? No fucking chance. Your threats are more empty than your fucking blood volume will be if I ever catch you speaking like that to my best friend again. Now, feel free to fuck off back to whatever rat-infested sewer you crawled out of this morning."

Regulus is up and out of his seat in a flash, rounding the desk and pushing the pair of them apart before Barty actually punches her.

"Barty—" he starts, the single word coming out like a gasp. "Please, stop this."

"No," Barty replies, shaking his head. "I won’t stop until she does what is needed to be done and finally leaves you alone." He looks at Walburga, "You want to threaten me? You want to report me? Try me, cunt, because the moment you go after my job, I’m going after yours! You’re a nasty child abuser, and I will have yours and your husbands precious law firm dragged through the mud faster than you can lather on your anti-wrinkle cream every morning!"

"What’s going on?"

Simultaneously, all three of them look to the side to see Dorcas standing a few feet away, eyes darting between all of them. Regulus' heart is beating frantically in his chest, his stomach summersaulting to the point that he feels like he's moments away from vomiting the coffee he drank earlier all over the floor. He swallows down the bile rising in his throat - spewing up on his mothers shoes is not going to help this situation at all.

Out of all of them, Barty is the first to respond to Dorcas' question.

"Just a little reality check for this charming woman here," he says.

"This man threatened me," Walburga snaps, pointing at Barty. "And, he abused me with vulgar language."

Regulus' stomach drops to his feet. Barty has landed himself in deep shit. He's wearing scrubs, on shift, and graphically threatened Regulus' mother.

"I see," Dorcas says slowly. Her eyes travel to them all, settling on Regulus for a beat longer. Then, she takes a slow, deep breath before looking at Walburga. "Mrs Black, are you here to see your husband?"

"I was here to see if he was awake."

"He won’t be awake until late tonight, more likely tomorrow morning," Dorcas replies, tone slightly stiff but also placate. "You’re welcome to sit with him, but I would advise that you stay in his room to avoid further confrontations with our staff."

"I have no need to sit at his bedside while he's asleep," Walburga scoffs. "He's hardly any use when he's unconscious."

If Dorcas is surprised or horrified by his mothers admission that she doesn't care for Orion's wellbeing aside from his purpose at their company, she doesn't show it.

Instead, she nods, face lacking reaction.

"We'll phone you if there are any updates," Dorcas says, polite but dismissive.

"Be sure that you do," Walburga threatens.

She turns away from Dorcas, eyes cutting to Regulus, then to Barty still stood behind him. Her gaze hardens, and when she looks back at Regulus for the last time, she has the look that used to promise punishment and pain.

It's not any less terrifying. Only this time, Regulus knows it's a promise of chaos.

Walburga is not going to let go of this completely. She's going to reign hell down on him and Barty.

However, despite feeling like he's going to collapse, Regulus strengths his knees and raises his chin at his mother.

Do your worst, he thinks.

Walburga stares down her nose at him. Grey eyes so like his own, the cheekbones sharp and high that was passed down to him. Regulus has always looked more like his mother than his father, and when he stares at her like this, he wonders if Sirius always used to see it too.

Eventually, she turns away. Her coat bellows in the wind like a black shadow following her as she storms off and out of the ward.

As soon as she’s disappeared out the double doors, Regulus lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. His chest deflates, his ribs aching and lungs burning. The crash of adrenaline that was thrumming through his body seems to let him free of its sharp talons, and he sags where he’s standing.

Holy fuck, he thinks blearily.

Did that just happen?

Even a few minutes after she’s gone, the three of them stand in silence. The commotion of Barty’s outburst managed to not attract a crowd, or perhaps Dorcas shooed them off when she saw what was happening, but at least that means no other members of staff or patient’s visitors are standing around and witnessing the fallout.

The shock seems to wear off from all of them at the same time.

"Barty, what the fuck?" Dorcas hisses suddenly, sharp like a cat and almost spitting through her clenched teeth. "Are you insane? You're in fucking uniform!"

"I don't give a fuck!" Barty snaps. "She's not hurting him anymore, Cas!"

"I know that, but do you have any idea how much damage you could have done? She'll have your head and your career now!"

"Like I said to her, Reg is more important than my job," Barty replies coolly. "I couldn't protect him for years when he lived with them, therefore she is not hurting him anymore while I'm around now!"

"Thank you," Regulus murmurs, silencing them both. "You shouldn't have done that, but thank you. No one... no one has ever stood up to her like that for me."

Apart from Sirius, Regulus thinks.

But that was a long, long time ago.

Regulus can’t forget all that Sirius did for him, but they’re brothers. Sirius was in it with him, they had a type of protectiveness for one that was natural and for the most part, unbreakable.

Barty is his friend. He’s a friend who’s only been in Regulus’ life since he was 18, and yet, the first time he’s been faced with Walburga Black, he looked down his nose at her and threatened her without a split second of hesitancy.

Regulus feels completely whiplashed by the notion of it all.

"That wasn’t even the start of it, Reg," Barty says, shaking his head. "Trust me. You’re worth more than this stupid job, and I’ll fucking tell her that again. She’s lucky I didn’t punch her in the face so hard her nose came out the back of her skull."

"Barty!" Dorcas shouts.

"Don’t give me that 'she’s a female' crap either!" Barty barks. "You know I would never hit a woman. But her? She’s not a fucking woman. She’s a child abuser that deserves to have her neck broken by a fucking shit covered crow-bar. If she can leave scars on a kids body, then I can break her nose without considering it even."

"It’s okay, Barty," Regulus says. "Calm down."

Regulus really does need him to calm down, because even without seeing what he’s just seen, he knows that Barty isn’t lying.

He really would break his mother’s neck.

"Your violent tendencies should be fucking analysed, Crouch," Dorcas mutters, shaking her head. Then, after a moment of silence, she starts laughing slightly. "Did you seriously say you were going to drag her law firm through the mud law firm faster than she can lather on her anti-wrinkle cream?"

"I did," Barty nods. "I also said I’d rather shit in my hands and clap while doing the Macarena naked in front of Tom Hardy than breathe the same air as her."

"Fucking hell, Barty," she shakes her head, chuckling. "How do you come up with that shit?"

"I’m as creative as I am attractive," he shrugs, grinning, and fucking hell does he looks so impressed with himself. He winks at Dorcas, and when he looks at Regulus, his face softens. "Are you alright, Reg?"

"Yeah," he replies, nodding shakily. "I’m fine."

He doesn’t feel fine.

He feels shaken with adrenaline so bad he’s practically vibrating.

Barty really did that.

He threatened his mother.

He threatened Walburga Black, and he didn’t bat an eyelid in fear.

In hind sight, Regulus shouldn’t be surprised. The first time they went out when they were freshers in uni, Barty got into a fist fight with another uni student when they kept pestering Pandora for her number and wouldn’t leave her alone. They learnt pretty quickly after that that Barty has never been one shy of throwing hands with people that piss him off. He quickly became the groups brute, and the three of them had to keep him on a tight non-violence leash during nights out incase he decided to try and take on groups of lads at a time.

Barty has always been a bulldozer.

His temper has always been balancing on thin ice.

Regulus really shouldn’t have expected any less, yet seeing it live, and against his mother? He feels floored.

It all happened so fast as well.

One minute his mother is asking why Orion isn't awake, then she's spitting poison at him about how he's a shit doctor and he's 'nothing', then Barty is threatening her with colourful and insanely descriptive scenes.

Regulus doesn't know how it spiralled out of control so quickly.

"Here comes the knight in shining armour," Dorcas says, but her eyes are trained on something over Regulus’ shoulder.

"More like the well trained puppy," Barty adds as Regulus looks behind him.

Knight in shining armour or trained puppy, Regulus doesn’t care, because the sight of James walking towards them, a coffee flask in each hand and messy curls haphazardly spilling over his glasses sends Regulus’ body from emotional overdrive to a feeling of safety.

"Hey, baby," James smiles, bright eyed and grin wide as he comes to stand in front of the smaller man. His expression shows he’s none the wiser to the atmosphere he’s walked into.

The relief Regulus feels flood his body is consuming, like a blanket of heat enveloping him after he’d spent too long out in the cold.

"Hi," Regulus replies, and he has barely got the single exhaled word out before he's falling face first into James' chest.

He feels the taller man put the coffees down, but Regulus doesn't care about because as soon as James' arms are around him, he feels like he can breathe again.

"You alright?" James asks, and Regulus only reply is to bury his face in James’s chest like he wants to burrow through his ribs and hide in there. "What happened?" James asks, and by the sounds of it, he’s asking the other two around them.

"I told Walburga where to shove it," Barty replies. "Graphically."

"Very graphically," Dorcas adds.

"She was here?" James asks, his arms tightening around Regulus slightly.

"Yeah, you just missed her," Barty replies. "No worries though, big guy. I finally got my two-pence in with the bitch."

"Good lad," James says, and Regulus can hear the humour yet seriousness in his voice. "Wish I’d been there too."

"I must say, easily up there with my top five arguments to date. Might have to ask security for the camera footage to have it played at my wedding and funeral."

"Funeral is more likely to come first with the shit you were saying to her," Dorcas muses. "If she doesn’t kill you, your boss will."

"She can fucking try," Barty laughs. "I’d faster mow her down with a dust bin lorry if she comes near me again. Or Reg, for that matter. That bitch better watch her back."

"Jesus," Dorcas mutters. "You’re off your rocker, Crouch."

"Shut her up though, didn’t I?"

"Get off my ward, Crouch," Dorcas says. "You’ve had your fun, now get out of here before Snape comes looking for you and ruins all of our days."

"Ay captain," Barty replies. "See ya, Reg. Let me know if she comes back and is up for round two."

"We will not," Dorcas grumbles.

Regulus hears Barty move to go. He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder once, and when it disappears, he knows Barty has gone. James’ arms don’t slack around his back and shoulders, and Regulus stays pressed into his chest, his own arms around James’ waist and hands clenched tightly in the taller mans jacket on his back.

"One of these coffees for me I hope, Potter?" Dorcas asks.

"Yeah," James’ chest rumbles lowly as he speaks. "Skinny flat white with two sugars."

"Spot on," Dorcas replies. "Many thanks. You sticking around? Regulus is good to take his break about now."

He’s not, because he’s not scheduled to have his break for another hour, but Regulus appreciates the statement. Dorcas has probably taken one look at him nestled in James’ arms and realised he needs a breather before he goes back to work.

"I’ll stick around as long as I’m allowed," James replies.

"Good," she says softly. "He needs it."

I do, Regulus thinks pathetically. Fucking hell, there is nothing more that he wants than for James to hold him until the shock wears off enough for him to be able to laugh about the ludicrous things Barty said to his mother. Because he should be laughing, he should be on the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks as he wails like a hyena on laughing gas at the absurd shit Barty came out with.

He can’t laugh now though. He still feels like he has a vice clamped around his chest that’s compressing his ribs and lungs. His mother’s eyes and warning words burn a hole in his brain, stopping him from laughing and feeling pride at the stand Barty took for him.

A hand gently touches his shoulder, stroking it slowly. He turns his head, seeing Dorcas standing beside him and looking at him with eyes so warm and caring they could melt ice.

"Take your time, Reg, okay?" She murmurs, kissing his cheek. "Don’t rush back, sugar. I’ll hold down the fort."

"Thanks, Cas," Regulus croaks.

"No sweat, star," she teases, the nickname making Regulus inwardly roll his eyes.

"Y'know I hate that nickname," Regulus grumbles.

"I know," she grins at him. "But I love watching you pout and glare like a feral kitten whenever I say it."

This time, Regulus does roll his eyes, and then he petulantly buries his face in James' chest again.

He hears Dorcas sigh softly.

"Thanks for the coffee, Potter," she says.

"No problem, Meadows," James replies.

Then, a few moments later, the sound of retreating footsteps tell Regulus that the two of them are alone. Or at least, as alone as they can be in the middle of a hospital ward.

He feels a kiss press to the crown of his head.

"I wish I had been here to protect you," James says.

Regulus squeezes his waist in a tighter hug.

"It’s okay," Regulus says truthfully. "Barty did enough on his own."

"He’s officially my favourite out of your friends."

"He’s a menace."

"Maybe so," James murmurs, "but anyone who stands up to your mother for you is a legend in my eyes."

"He’s going to get in so much trouble," Regulus whispers, feeling his stomach swoop at the realisation. "It wasn’t worth it."

"He did it for you, Reg," James replies softly. "Because you’re worth it. If it’d been Barty’s mum or dad spitting shit at him, wouldn’t you do the same?"

Yes.

Truthfully, Regulus wouldn’t hesitate. Barty’s parents would have to do half the shit his own parents have done for Regulus to risk losing it all in reprimand for standing up for his friend.

Still. That doesn’t mean he has to like Barty doing it for him.

"Your coffee is getting cold," James says, though he doesn't sound annoyed. If anything, he sounds as content as Regulus feels.

"I just want to stay here for a little while longer."

A soft kiss is pressed into his hair.

"Okay, baby."

Walburga doesn’t come back for the rest of the day. The rest of Regulus’ shift passes smoothly, and just before he goes home, him and Dorcas ease his father off the heavy sedation keeping him asleep.

Later, when he gets home, he barely has time to have a shower before his phone goes off and he’s stuck on a FaceTime call with Barty, Evan and Pandora. Barty does not hesitate to reenact the confrontation he had with his mother for the other two, who appear to eat up Barty’s actions and dramatics like a starving dog to it’s first meal.

Talking to the three of them makes Regulus realise the hilarity in it all. He finds himself laughing with them all, it finally sinking in the discourteous stuff Barty was saying to his very prim and proper mother.

That night, Regulus goes to bed with aching ribs from laughing too much.

***

Pandora comes in the next day. After the catastrophe that was Barty’s encounter with his mother, Regulus feels an instant sense of suspicion when he see’s his blonde and bubbly friend come springing onto the ward the following day at midday.

Thankfully, his mother has not graced them all with her presence today. According to Dorcas, she phoned while Regulus was in with a patient to say that she would not be returning to the hospital until Orion was awake otherwise she would be wasting her time. Regulus doesn’t care though, because Walburga’s blatant heartlessness means he has a day without being disturbed by her. Orion is coming out of sedation slowly, his body weak and clearly not ready to wake up yet.

That’s fine, Regulus assures, because the longer his father is asleep, the longer he doesn’t have to deal with either of them.

"Dora!" Dorcas cheers, practically shooting out of her chair to round the desk and yank Pandora into a huge hug. "Hello, babe! How’s it going? Any mean midwives we need to threaten today?"

"No," Pandora laughs. "No one’s been mean today. I actually delivered twins this morning!"

"Twins?" Dorcas recoils, cringing and sitting back down in the chair she was in. "That poor woman."

"It was beautiful, Cas."

"I think we have different perspectives of 'beautiful'."

Regulus couldn’t agree more. He may be bias as a gay man, but he can’t think of anything worse and not beautiful than staring a vagina in the face while it’s stretched open not once, but twice, by a slimy baby head.

Nope, Regulus thinks. Dicks and men all the way.

Pandora rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning from ear to ear as she perches on the desk.

"I can’t think of anything worse than childbirth," Dorcas says, looking like she’s going to vomit at the thought.

"It’s hard work that reaps priceless rewards," Pandora replies.

"What?" Dorcas argues. "Like sleepless nights, shitty nappies and a lifetime worth of paying for someone else?"

Pandora flashes her a flat look. "Like the reward of new life, Cas. Don’t be so pessimistic."

"Is it pessimism, or realism?" Dorcas counters.

"It’s ruining my good mood."

"Oh, Panda," Dorcas pouts, "I’m sorry, sweetie. You know we’re proud of you and all the vagina’s you save from tearing."

Regulus recoils as he cringes, mind trying to not visualise that graphic image, causing Dorcas to chuckle at him as Pandora beams at her and the compliment.

The phone beside Dorcas rings suddenly.

"Place your bets, lads," she says as she reaches for the phone. "What department do we think it is? Whoever gets it wrong has to buy next coffees."

"Emergency," Regulus says, and judging by the narrow of Dorcas’ eyes, that was the answer she was going to say as well.

"Cardiac," she chooses instead. "I reckon it’s Barty phoning you for a lift later."

Pandora snorts just as Dorcas picks up the phone.

She turns to Regulus, "Barty’s not in today. Dorcas has already lost."

"I know," Regulus whispers, winking. "She lost the moment she gave me the opportunity to choose first. It’s almost always A&E that call us."

As Dorcas puts the phone down, she rolls her head back and groans loudly.

"That good, huh?" Pandora teases.

"They need neurology down in emergency, Reg," she explains.

"Don’t pretend you’re not happy about it," Regulus muses.

"I’m not happy about it today!" She stresses. "That was Trewlawney. If she’s the doc in charge down there, it’s going to be fucking shambles."

"She’s too soft for emergency," Regulus agrees.

Doctor Trewlawney isn’t a bad doctor, she’s just a flapper. She also seems to be unable to handle stressful or intense or pressured situations. The first time Regulus met her, he was doing his placement as a student in A&E and he found her in the linen cupboard crying because she was having a meltdown about how busy the department was. Regulus wouldn’t usually judge, because he’s all for having a little private meltdown in a cupboard, but the department was at its quietest that day.

Therefore, whenever Trewlawney is on, it’s almost guaranteed that the department is going to be in complete disarray.

"You owe me a coffee," Regulus says as she rounds the desk, stomping as she goes.

"Fuck you, Black," she grumbles petulantly. "I’ll bring you one back up if I am ever set free."

Regulus flashes her a grin as she sulks off,

"Busy today?" She asks.

"Always," Regulus replies. "Can’t say it’s been as exciting as twins being born, but that is absolutely fine with me."

"Is he awake yet?"

Regulus shakes his head. "Shouldn’t be long now. We’re coming up 18 hours since we eased him off the sedation."

"How’s he doing?"

"Hard to determine while he’s still asleep," Regulus shrugs. "He’s already booked in for physiotherapy after he wakes up. We don’t know the damage for certain, but judging by the severity of the aneurysm, there isn’t a chance he’s not going to have some permanent paralysis."

"Blimey," Pandora breathes. "How well do you think he’s going to take that?"

"About as well as one would take having both their legs chopped off," Regulus sighs. "I’m not convinced he’ll even do physio."

"But he might need physio?"

"He might," Regulus nods. "But he won’t allow such time off work, not after all the time he’s already spent here. My mother has been in almost every day asking when he can leave because he’s 'needed at the company'. Plus, doing something as dependent as physiotherapy is something he will perceive as beneath him."

Pandora frowns. "That’s stupid!"

"I never said he was very intelligent," Regulus mutters. "Well, he is. Very intelligent, actually. That’s half the problem, the other half is his pride."

It’s the curse of the Black name; relentless stubbornness and crippling pride. It’s something Regulus hates that he see’s in himself, a part of his personality that he hates knows comes from his parents and has caused him countless problems. He’s put his own pride above his feelings, above other peoples feelings. He’s hurt people because of it, ruined things that didn’t need to be ruined.

He gets it from his parents. Their social status and public appearance is more important to them than anything. It’s part of the reason why they were so hard on Regulus and Sirius growing up; because they had to fit into the desired image. When they didn’t fit naturally, they tried to break them into the mould.

Orion’s status as a lawyer will be fractured if he has to take time off to do physiotherapy. He’s already missed more time in the office and in the courts than him or his mother would have liked. He’ll have to weigh up the options of more time out, the blow to his pride by doing something as mundane as physiotherapy. Or, he takes a bruise to his intimidating and stone-cold public appearance by continuing his practice with the repercussions of his strokes.

"Doctor Black?"

"Yes?"

"Mr Black is awake. All his numbers are good, I’ve told him you’ll be in when you’re free for an assessment and consultation."

Of course, Regulus figures. Just as Dorcas disappears, the prick decides to wake up and leave Regulus the only one to assess and talk to him.

"Thank you. I’ll go in now," Regulus replies to the nurse. Then, he turns to his friend. "Sorry, Pan."

"It’s fine," she smiles at him as he stands up. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," he murmurs. I’m going to need it.

Orion is sat up in the  hospital bed, blinking slowly up at the ceiling and breathing deeply through his nose. When Regulus walks in, he drags his eyes over to him, hardening instantly.

The man was so much more bearable when he was unconscious.

"Afternoon, Mr Black," Regulus greets."How are you feeling?"

"Horrendous," his father grunts, shifting on the bed. Regulus instantly spies that he didn’t us his left arm when he moved. Instead the appendage stayed stiff and still at his side. "What did you do to me?"

Regulus tries not to get immediately frustrated with Orion’s accusation that they have done something to him, but it’s very hard. This man is an asshole, and the moment he opens his mouth, any form of forced sympathy and patience Regulus had disappears in an instant.

What a prick.

"You had a brain aneurysm on Sunday morning," Regulus explains. "You were rushed into emergency surgery for a procedure called a thrombectomy, where the surgeons removed the clot in the blood vessel in your brain. You’ve been kept under sedation since, and we began to wean you off it last night to give your body time to rest and recover."

Regulus says all of this as slowly and as gently as possible, but Orion still blanches in horror.

"What day is it today?" he asks, voice muted and low.

"Today is Monday," Regulus answers. "You’ve been unconscious for two days."

"Two days?!" Orion roars suddenly. "You’ve kept me here for two days?! That is unacceptable! I have a very important court case due in less than a week, Rasalas! I can not be here sleeping when I should be at the office!"

"Pardon my bluntness, Mr Black, but did you miss the part were I told you had a brain aneurysm?" Regulus replies, deadpan. "The blood vessel in your brain was on the verge of bursting and could have caused you to have a large and likely fatal brain bleed. If we had not performed that surgery, you would have died."

"Being here is making me weaker. You have got me pumped full of these special drugs that are supposed to stop these occurrences from happening!"

"No medication or health is full-proof," Regulus explains, feeling like his patience is very much going to snap like an overstretched rubber band. "The anti-coagulants we are giving you are to prevent further strokes or aneurysms, but they are not guaranteed. There are more tests we wish to run to be able to determine the next course of action to make further strokes more unlikely for you."

His father stares at him, lip curled up as if every word Regulus has said is utter lies and he’s being manipulated.

"I need to asses you and your neurological functions to see if there have been any lasting impacts of the aneurysm. After that, we will discuss with you the potential for physiotherapy to try and restore—"

"Physiotherapy?" Orion interrupts. "Absolutely not."

Regulus sighs heavily through his nose. "Mr Black, physiotherapy will be vital to your recovery—"

"I do not care!" Orion shouts. "I am not doing therapy. Black’s don’t do things has weak as therapy!"

"No one is going to force you to do anything," Regulus says. "You have your human rights. You can refuse treatment and referrals. What I would wish to ask of you, is to consider it. Shall we continue with the assessment, or would you like me to come back later?"

"Do it now," Orion demands. "The sooner you get this ridiculousness out of the way, the sooner I can leave."

Regulus decides to not continue the argument that Orion leaving anytime soon is going against all forms of medical advice. Medical advice aside, Regulus wants this prick to leave. He’ll rehash this conversation at a later time, but for now, he just wants to get the prime part of his job out of the way.

This assessment on his father seems to take what feels like a hundred years.

The consequences of Orion's stroke are no surprise to Regulus. He had a hunch that his father was going to have lasting consequences, so when Orion failed to mobilise his left arm and leg, and detect sensation on the entire left side of his body, including his face, Regulus is not shocked. Overall, his left side has taken the brunt and when Regulus reiterates this back to him, Orion is less than impressed.

Again, Regulus is not shocked.

No one likes to be told they're paralysed on their left side. It's no surprise that Orion takes it particularly poorly.

"This is unacceptable," the old man snarls.

"It can be eased with physio and therapies, but unfortunately it is unlikely you will be able to get full mobility back in your left arm and leg," Regulus explains, peeling his gloves off his hands. "Motor skills like walking and movement of your arm are generally more able to be restored with continuous therapies—"

"What did I tell you earlier, you insolent, stupid little boy?" Orion interrupts sharply. "I am not doing physical therapy, Rasalas. I do not have time for such stupidity! How am I meant to continue my company while partaking in bloody childish exercises?!"

"The consequences of your stroke could be more impactful to your practice than taking some time away to try and lessen the paralysis," Regulus argues.

"It is not an option!" Orion shouts, voice booming. "You and the other stupid doctors here were unable to stop this from happening! I will be damned if I take anymore advise from the rest of you blubbering idiots!"

By the time Orion has finished, his voice is echoing so loudly that Regulus is sure the entire ward can hear him. The man's face has become increasingly red, eyes wild like a feral animal and if he wasn't so physically weak, Regulus is sure he'd be off the bed and be holding him against the wall by his throat by now.

"My reputation is already tarnished from my stay here," his father continues. "Our name has been dragged enough by yours and your brothers actions, and now everyone will percieve me as weak as the two of you for being forced to stay here. I refuse to allow for anything else to embarrass myself, your mother, or our company. You have ruined enough, Rasalas! You will not ruin anything else by manipulating me or my health with your—"

Orion is cut off by the door opening softly, and Regulus looks over his shoulder. He expects to see one of the HCA’s, or nurses, or worst; his mother.

He’s shocked to see his blonde friend, whom said she was going back to the maternity ward, slipping into the room.

"Pandora?" Regulus frowns in surprise. His stomach swoops with trepidation, and he narrows his eyes at her. "What are you do—"

"Hi!" She interrupts, beaming and clearly having no bloody shame about the fact that she has just barged into his father’s private hospital room. "I thought I’d come and introduce myself! I’m Pandora, one of Regulus’ friends."

Orion's face twists with spite, as if he's just sucked a lemon and his taste buds are recoiling at the sourness. The anger in his expression doesn't diminish, and if anything, he looks even more annoyed.

"What do you want?" Orion asks, lip curled up with distaste.

Regulus feels a surge of anger at how Orion is looking at Pandora like she's a sewer rat.

"Oh! I’m a student midwife! I’m in my third year, so almost qualified which is both equally as exciting and terrifying!" Pandora rambles, apparently unfazed by his fathers hostility. "I delivered twins this morning, which is why I’m here. I wanted to come and tell Reg, because it was my first time delivering twins and it went so, so well! I even stopped her from tearing, which is also very impressive."

Orion's face contorts with confusion, likely unsure as to why Pandora is telling him all of this.

Regulus is pretty confused about it too, if he's honest.

"You see, tearing the perinuem is unsurprisingly common amongst childbirth, due to the amount of unbelievable stretching and widening the hole of the vagina has to do," Pandora continues. "There are actually four types of tears, and we always strive to avoid anything worse than a second degree tear. Of course, tearing the perineal muscles are not good, highly unpleasant and no one likes to have a needle near their vagina. However, third degree tears mean that the anal sphincter is torn, and even worse, a fourth degree tear means that the rectum has also torn! This is incredibly painful for the mother, usually involves surgery to repair and can cause multiple problems later down the line with things like passing bowel movements."

Regulus feels his face drop with mortification.

His best friend is explaining fucking vagina and asshole tears to his very political father who looks like he’s going to combust.

"There was also no problems with delivering the placenta, which was a huge relief because sometimes with twins, it came be larger and harder to deliver," Pandora adds. "I don’t know if you saw the placenta when Sirius and Regulus were born, but it’s an impressive thing. It looks like a lumpy, brown cushion! Well, actually, that’s probably the nicest way to describe it. I think it looks more like a blended up liver that’s been left out in the sun for too long. It’s probably the least pleasant part of childbirth, and I’m personally not fond of when mothers take it home with the intentions of eating it. Though, it has been proven to have many healthy remedies to eating the placenta. Including—"

"Okay!" Regulus interrupts. "That’s enough, Pan. Please. Enough," he emphasises, and when Pandora seems to have finallystopped talking about tears and placentas, he turns to his father, "We’ll leave you to rest for now, Orion. I’ll ring your wife to let her know you are awake, and you can discuss it with her about physiotherapy."

"I’m not doing it, Rasalas!" Orion barks. He looks pale and green now after Pandora’s explanation.

"That is your decision," Regulus replies. "Excuse us."

Then, Regulus is grabbing Pandora as quickly as he can and literally shoving her out the door in front of him. He slams the door behind him before spinning around to his friend.

"What the fuck was that about?" He hisses.

"What?" She asks, shrugging. "I wanted to introduce myself."

"I meant the part where you almost caused him to have another stroke by explaining the process of shitting out a bloody placenta!"

"You don’t 'shit' it out, Reg. It comes out of the—"

"I know! I know!" Regulus cries. "You’ve told me a hundred times! I know where it comes out of. Why did you tell him?"

For a moment, Pandora is silent.

Then, she shrugs and says, "It was funny to see his reaction."

Regulus is pretty sure he’s buffering. Like an old computer being asked to do too many things at once, he’s virtually crashed and shut down.

Then, his fathers pale, green-hued face flashes in his mind, and Regulus bites his lip to stop himself from suddenly grinning like an idiot.

"He looked horrified," he admits, barely fighting his laugh. "Holy shit. He looked positively disturbed, Pan."

"Good," she smiles. "That was the point! I could hear him shouting at you from out here. I knew my bubbly personality and explanation of placentas would shut him up."

Regulus laughs, his father’s face flashing in his head again. He looked so appalled, so shocked by Pandora’s surprise presence and then explanation of her day. Her graphic description of the process of childbirth and the passing of a placenta well and truly shut his father up.

Bloody brilliant.

***

The next day, Evan randomly shows up.

The moment Regulus spots him standing by the reception desk when he comes out of a delusional patients private room, he reaches a new level of hysteria.

"No!" Regulus barks sharply. "No! No! No!"

Evan holds both his hands up in startled and mock surrender. "What?"

"I am not doing this again! Get out of here!"

"Doing what?" Evan asks, feigning innocence like a little shit. "What are you talking about, Reggie? I just figured I’d drop by to give you some blueberry muffins that Lily brought in this morning."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "I don’t know what you and the other two have planned, but I swear to God, Rosier, if you are here to cause chaos with my parents today—"

"Not 'chaos' as such," Evan cuts him off with a nonchalant shrug. "Don’t worry, Reg, I won’t threaten your mother like Barty or be like Pan and describe the process of childbirth to your father. I’m… I’m just here to make sure they don’t give you anymore shit."

That doesn’t reassure Regulus in the slightest.

"And how do you plan to do that?"

Evan seems to muse on the idea for a few seconds.

"I’ll throw blueberry muffins at them."

Regulus blinks. He blinks again. He looks at the box of muffins in Evan’s hand, then looks back up at his friend.

He supposes there are worst things one could do to someone. Plus, on Evan’s spectrum of vengeance and malice, that’s pretty average. Evan isn’t a violent person by nature, he’s always been the mediator of the group and has only ever got involved in the physical altercations when he’s had to drag Barty out of them kicking and screaming.

Throwing cakes at adults is far closer to Evan’s form of body guarding.

"Well… that would be an awful waste of Lily’s muffins," Regulus mutters, holding his hand out for the box of muffins that he hadn’t even realise Evan was holding when he came in. "Find something else to throw. Preferably nothing valuable."

Evan grins, handing the cakes over.

"Permission granted?" He asks as Regulus sits down and unboxes the tub of muffins.

Instantly, the strong smell of blueberries hits Regulus’ nose like an aphrodisiac. He internally groans. He loves blueberry muffins, and more so, he really loves Lily’s homemade ones.

He’s pretty sure she’s laced them with drugs, because Regulus is addicted.

"If you must," he replies, tearing off a large chunk and tossing it in his mouth.

He can’t stop the muted moan that escapes his throat. If Lily wasn’t such a good paediatric nurse, Regulus would say she’s wasted not being a baker. That woman is a talent.

"They’re good, aren’t they?" Evan smirks, sitting down beside him. "She brought in a bloody ton. Barty’s already stolen a bunch of them, the fat bastard. There’s hardly any left for the girls Lily actually brought them in for."

"I expect no less from Bartemius," Regulus muses.

"He came down before he left after his nightshift. Thought he was coming down to see me, but he stole a load of muffins and barely gave me a goodbye kiss while he was running away from Lils," Evan huffs. "He’s sleeping round mine today. I bet he ate the muffins in bed."

"Lovely," Regulus chuckles. "Crumbs and cuddles for you tonight."

"Crumbs and something else, more like," Evan smirks. "Cuddling comes later, Reggie-kins. You know this."

Regulus rolls his eyes. He didn’t realise that when his two friends would start shagging that he would become a soundboard for their escapades. He hears more about their sex life at the moment than he sees James naked.

"Don’t roll your eyes, Reg," Evan scoffs. "As if you and James aren’t the same. We all know you’re an absolute menace in the bedroom."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You would have made a very successful porn-star."

"Fuck you!"

"Barty wouldn’t be bothered," Evan shrugs. "Actually, he’d probably join in."

Regulus rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.

"Speaking of which, lover-boy at three o’clock," Evan mutters around a mouthful of muffin.

Regulus’ head snaps up to see James walking towards the desk, donned in his green paramedic uniform and his combat boots making his legs look a mile long.

"Hi," Regulus exhales, feeling momentarily stunted, as he always does, when he sees James in his work uniform.

It’s quite unfair really, that a man can make a uniform look so damn good.

Regulus is pretty sure he’s close to drooling.

"I’ve only got five minutes till we have to clear, but I wanted to come up and give you this," James says, handing over the coffee. "And this," he adds, before he gently lifts Regulus’ chin and plants a soft kiss on his lips.

Regulus’ stomach swoops with something warm and gooey. He knows he’s smiling like an twat when James pulls away, looking up at the taller boy like a love-sick idiot.

"Thank you," Regulus smiles.

"You’re welcome," James replies softly. He looks at Evan next to him. "Sorry, Evan. I didn’t know you were up here, otherwise I would have—"

"No sweat, Potter," Evan waves him off. "I’m not taking it personally. Want a blueberry muffin?"

"No," Regulus says, snatching the box of muffins and tucking them by his computer screen. "The muffins are not up for sharing."

James’ eyes widen in surprise just as Evan barks out a loud laugh.

"Bad luck, Potter. I guess no muffins for you," he chuckles. "Reggie here is very territorial of Lily’s infamous blueberry muffins. It was barbaric of me to even assume he’d be willing to share them with the supposed love of his life and personally coffee supplier."

"I don’t feel bad, so you can stop with the dramatics," Regulus huffs, rolling his eyes at Evan. He looks at James, "Sorry, b—"

"No worries, love," James smiles. "I wouldn’t want to share homemade muffins either, especially not blueberry ones."

"You’re too nice to him," Evan mutters. "Stand your ground, Jamesy-boy! Fight for your share of the blueberry muffins!"

Regulus cuts him a cold stare. "Shut up, Evan."

His friend squarks loudly and slumps back in the chair, hand on his chest in mock hurt.

James’ low chuckle snatches Regulus’ attention back to him, like a moth to a flame, heat floods his body. He’s leaning on his elbows against the raised shelf of the desk, and the way his arms are folded make his biceps and shoulders stretch the fabric of his polo shirt.

"Right, I need to go, but when I bring someone else in I’ll come back up, okay?" James says.

"Alright," Regulus nods, feeling selfishly deflated that James has to go already. "You still coming over tonight?"

"Of course I am," James replies, kissing him again. "See you later, love. See you, Evan."

"Bye, sweetheart!" Evan sings, grinning.

James waves as he walks off, and Regulus feels transfixed as he watches James walk away. Or, more specifically, looks at the way his trousers hug his ass like they’re holding on for dear life.

Evan sighs beside him. "What a lovely specimen."

"What?"

"I said, what a lovely specimen," Evan repeats, taking his eyes off James’ retreating back.

Regulus blinks. Looking between Evan and James as he disappears out the door. Then, he looks back at Evan.

"You have a boyfriend."

"Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine sight when I see one," Evan shrugs. "Plus, Barty stares at James all the time too. We both do. It’s a mutual feeling."

"What?" Regulus reels back. "Staring at James? My James?"

"Afraid so."

Regulus feels a blast of white hot anger burst in his chest.

"Eyes off before I gouge them out, Rosier."

"So jealous, Reggie," Evan teases. "You should be flattered!"

"I’m angry. Stop staring at him."

"It’s not staring, it’s admiring."

"I said stop it," Regulus growls.

Evan chuckles as he continues to make his way through the rest of Regulus’ muffin.

While Regulus doesn't blame Barty or Evan or anyone looking at James, because that man is fine, he still doesn't like it.

James is his, and his only.

Everyone else needs to keep their eyes and hands off, otherwise Regulus is going to commit some crimes.

Regulus is so annoyed he ignores Evan for a whole 30 minutes. For some reason, the blonde stays at the reception desk and seems very content with talking to himself. Regulus is pretty sure he's probably supposed to go back to his own ward at some point, but Regulus is glued to the computer filling out the reports and findings of his mornings ward round, so he doesn't mind.

He knows Evan has an ulterior motive to being on the neuro ward, just like Barty and Pandora did. He knows that Evan is waiting for something, and he can't be bothered to waste the energy to get him to leave. There's a small part of him that is curious as to what Evan plans to do, as he is probably the most tame out of them all. Barty's threats and violence was expected when he came face to face with Walburga, and Pandora's vice of making Orion so uncomfortable he forgot his train of thought was hers.

But Evan? He's about as cruel and mean as a ladybug.

Regulus' curiosity is answered when Walburga walks out of Orion's room almost an hour after Evan turned up. She'd come in earlier that morning, bringing a storm with her as she blew into the hospital ward early that morning and went straight into Orion's room.

When Regulus had phoned her yesterday to tell her Orion was awake and the findings from his assessment, she'd hung up. Regulus was expecting her to come in yesterday and verbally assult him over it, but she didn't. Instead, she came in today and disappeared into his fathers room without a word.

The silence makes Regulus feel more on edge than the screaming matches.

Walburga makes a reappearance mid-afternon. Like she went in, she comes bursting out of Orion's room and crosses the floor to the reception desk before Regulus can mentally prepare himself for it.

"Rasalas."

Regulus feels himself stiffen. "Yes?"

"We are leaving," Walburga replies. "We need to get back to France and we don’t have anymore time to be accommodating to this ridiculousness."

Regulus can barely refrain from jumping up and down with joy.

Finally, they are leaving!

"We can not stop you," Regulus replies, managing to hide his inner celebration. "Orion is an adult with the capacity to make his own decisions about his care and treatment. What you must understand, is that you and him are going against medical advice by self-discharging."

But don’t let that put you off, Regulus mentally adds. Please.

"Your 'medial advice' has done us no favours so far," Walburga snarls, tone switching immediately.

Regulus mentally slouches. She's clearly spent all morning planning their escape back to London and in that time, the pair of them haven't failed to find someone to blame for Orion's declining health.

"You have done enough, Rasalas," she says. "You’ve ruined this family enough, and I will not let you ruin it anymore. You have tried to sabotage your fathers business, our reputation, and have attempted to ruin your fathers life because you were too weak to withstand our teaching methods as a child—"

Walburga cuts herself off. Or more accurately, stops talking abruptly and jolts in shock because a fat tearing of blueberry muffin hits her square on the forehead.

Regulus’ eyes widen.

Evan did it. He really fucking did it.

He just threw a bit of blueberry muffin at his bloody mother!

"Did you just throw that at me?"

"I did," Evan nods. "Figured you’d want something sweet to make you less bitter."

"Excuse me?!" Walburga shrieks.

"Did it work? Because it doesn’t sound like it."

The elder Black’s eyes narrow dangerously. "How dare you?"

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Mother, please excuse Ev—" Regulus starts, but he doesn’t get to finish his words before his mother cuts him off.

"You truly are a weak, embarrassing excuse for a man," his mother spits at him.

Regulus jolts back in surprise. How has this once again turned around on him? He didn’t throw the bloody muffin at her!

"Don’t think we don’t know what you’re doing! You’re bringing these people here, forcing them to bombard us, because you’re too spineless to face your own parents!" She hisses. "You need protecting, you always have. We always knew you were too soft, and clearly age has no made you any less. You’re still the pathetic little boy we tried to toughen up all those years ago."

Regulus can’t stop his heart from hammering relentlessly in his chest.

Memories as child of cowering behind Sirius to get away from his fathers temper or his mothers punishments. Years of hiding in cupboards or running through the house to escape their fists or slaps or hurling wine glasses aimed at his head.

Regulus has always needed protecting.

When Sirius wasn’t there, he crumbled. He had no one to hide behind, and it wilted him down to the point of taking a blade to his wrists.

Regulus isn’t strong on his own.

He tries to be. He tries so hard, which is why he’s always tried to be unattached and independent since he moved to London. He tried to not get close to Barty, Evan and Pandora. He tried to keep James at arms length, to turn him into a one night stand, but he couldn’t. His friends wormed their way into his life and have settled there. James has carved a shape of himself in Regulus’ chest and whenever Regulus has pushed him away, he’s left a gaping hole he can’t recover from.

"Hold on," Evan cuts in sharply. "Myself and the rests of Regulus’ friends have not been coming in this week because he asked us to. He didn’t ask us to, firstly. I actually think he’s quite mortified by our arrivals these last few days, but we are refusing to stand by and allow you and your equally despicable husband to torture him anymore.

"He’s always needed protecting," his mother replies, eyes cutting to him. "Too weak to stand up for yourself."

Regulus closes his eyes. He feel like his sternum is cracking under the weight of her words and is going to crush his lungs.

"Right, that’s enough!" Evan snaps coldly. "It’s not that Regulus needs protecting, you batty old witch. He’s the strongest motherfucker I know. He can stand up for himself mighty fine without us, but he’s also human. No one is immune to their own parents abusing them physically and emotionally. He doesn’t 'need' protecting, but he deserves it. He deserves it more than anyone. He deserves to be stood up for, just like you deserve to be told to shut the fuck up!"

Regulus' eyes widen with surprise.

Fucking hell, he thinks. Evan is spending far too much time with Barty.

Regulus' eyes snap to his mother, who looks positively fuming and struck. Her own eyes are wide, both with surprise and indignant. Her mouth is twisted in a gnarly line, her thin lips even thinner as they're pressed together like she's about to combust.

"Now," Evan continues, "unless I heard you incorrectly, you said you and your husband were leaving. I suggest you start now, because I heard your husband has suffered the very common symptoms of a stroke and can’t walk by himself. Might take you a while to get to the elevator doors, so off you fuck and feel free to not say your goodbyes."

His mother's silence unnerves Regulus. She stares at Evan, eyes calculating and expression cold. If there was one thing Regulus learnt growing up, is that his mothers silence and that look usually bode for a punishment that would be felt for a long time. Whenever his mother went silent, it usually meant her temper was beyond controllable because she was thinking of all the ways she could hurt him.

It was the same look she had before her last punishment to Sirius.

The same night that caused him to get to breaking point at run away.

Nothing good ever came from his mothers silence.

When she turns to him, he can't help but flinch slightly.

"Anything to say, Rasalas?" She asks.

Regulus feels his chest constrict painfully. He feels Evan move closer to him, as if he can sense the danger of his mothers simple question.

Truthfully, Regulus doesn't feel the danger. He's too overcome with the weight and exhaustion that suddenly crashes down on him.

There is so much he wants to say, yet there is nothing at all.

What is there to say?

What's left to admit?

"Goodbye, mother."

Two words.

Two simple words.

Two words he said to her six years ago before he boarded that plane, two words that meant more to him that it did to  her at the time, because she didn't know then that he wasn't coming home.

Two words that seem to hold the weight of the world because this time, he means it more than ever.

"Walburga?"

She turns, and Regulus sees his father standing, slouched and pathetic, by the door of his private room. He's dressed, for the first time, he's no longer in his hospital gown. Instead, he's in a crisp black suit, tie missing and shirt tucked in haphazardly. He's slumped against the door frame, looking pale and shit.

He shouldn't be leaving, but Regulus has never been happier to see someone go.

"We're leaving, Orion," his mother says, tone clipped. She spins around. "The chauffeur should be outside by now."

Evan's eyebrows rise at the word 'chauffeur', but Regulus is not surprised. Somethings never change, and his parents pride is not one of them. He wonders, for a moment, if it's Kreacher outside waiting for them. A small part of Regulus wants to go down and see him, to show him he's alright, to show him he did what Kreacher wanted him to do; he got away. He got away, and the life he's built is one of a good man's dream.

But he doesn't.

It might not be Kreacher, and even if it is, Regulus doesn't want to prolong his parents staying in London just to exchange some niceties with his old butler.

"Do you need a wheelchair, Orion?" Regulus asks.

The look his father flashes him is one of indignant and annoyance. Despite not looking like he can rake two steps without falling flat on his face, the man looks truly horrified at the offer.

"I do not!" He hisses. "Walburga, grab my bags."

Regulus is surprised when Walburga does as she’s told. The imbalance of power between his parents has always been something that has kept them distance from one another in turns of intimacy. They’re more business partners than they are husband and wife, purely because neither of them allow the other one to be the alpha in the relationship.

Regulus certainly didn’t learn what love was from the example of his parents.

Walburga does not like to be told what to do, no more than Orion does. So when his father instructs her to get the backs, Regulus is struck to see his mother do so. He supposes Walburga is that desperate for Orion to get out of the hospital and continue to managing the business they’ve worked so hard to create that she’s willing to take orders from him.

When they start walking though, the sight of Walburga not sharing an inch of help to Orion’s mobility looks like Regulus’ precedence of normal between the two of them. Walburga is three paces in front of Orion, not looking back to make sure he’s alright as he hobbles horribly with a bum leg away from his room and towards the corridor.

"He's not going to make it down to the car park," Evan whispers as they watch them go.

"I'll be lucky if he makes it off the ward," Regulus murmurs back, "but with any luck, he'll fall down the stairs and break something bad enough that he'll be transferred to ICU."

Evan snorts, and just at that moment, Alex comes out of the break room.

Her eyes widen with surprise at the sight of their sick patient hobbling down the corridor towards her.

"Mr Black, are you—"

"We're leaving," Walburga cuts in, not even looking at her.

Alex's mouth opens and closes like a fish. She so desperately looks like she wants to intervene.

She looks at Regulus, and he nods.

"Let them go," he says.

"Have they signed—?"

"No," Regulus interrupts tiredly. "I'll do the paperwork. It's fine. Just let them go, Alex."

The three of them watch as the elder Black's make their way down the corridor. Walburga walking with confident and stern strides, and Orion swaying and limping beside her with the physical strength of a sleepy two year old. There are various moments when Regulus is convinced that his fathers legs are going to buckle underneath him and he's going to fall flat on his face, but somehow, the two of them reach the elevators and disappear inside it.

The moment the doors close behind them, blocking them from sight, Regulus realises a breath that makes his chest ache, and he collapses heavily into the chair.

"Well," he mutters, resting his elbows on the desk and hiding his face in his hands. "That went well."

"I think it went swimmingly," Evan says beside him.

They’re gone, he thinks. They actually walked out! His parents, his worst nightmare, has just left and for the first time in weeks, Regulus feels like he can breathe.

"You alright, Reg?" Evan asks.

Regulus lifts his head with a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. He tilts his head and looks at his friend, who’s looking at him with concern.

"You said you weren’t going to throw the muffins."

Instantly, a small smile twitches on Evan’s face, tugging the corner of his lips up.

"I know, but she was getting too big for her boots and it was the first thing I grabbed," Evan replies solemnly. "It’s alright though, I didn’t waste a whole muffin."

Regulus chuckles, feeling breathless and borderline hysterical. This entire week has been insane. From Barty threatening his mother, talking about doing the Macarena naked in front of Tom Hardy and calling her dirt, to Pandora overwhelming his father with graphic descriptions of childbirth, and now Evan, precious, peacekeeper Evan, who threw blueberry muffin at his mother and called her bitter. Regulus feels like the whole thing has been a fever dream.

Even more so now, that the room that has haunted him for weeks is now empty.

His father is gone.

His mother is gone.

His parents have left, and Regulus feels like the clamp around his chest that has been squeezing and squeezing and crushing his lungs, has finally released.

When Regulus finishes his shift hours later, he makes his way back to his car but before he starts driving, he pull out his phone.

He’s had a nagging feeling all day that he needs to let Sirius know that their parents are finally gone, and now he’s alone in his car, he figures there’s no better time to do it.

"Hey," Sirius answers after the fourth ring. "You okay?"

Regulus suddenly feels like he’s swallowed a shard of glass.

"Fine," he rasps. "You?"

"I’m good," his brother replies. "What’s up?"

"Just wanted to tell you that Orion self-discharged today. He’s not at the hospital anymore, and as far as I’m aware, they’re going back to France at the end of next week."

Sirius is silent on the end of the phone for a moment.

Then, a quiet, "Really?"

Regulus swallows around the lump in his throat. He closes his eyes.

"Yeah, Sirius," he croaks, fingers tightening around his phone. "They’re gone."

"Holy shit," Sirius laughs, sounding breathless. "Holy shit! It’s… it’s over, Reg."

"Feels like it," Regulus agrees. "As soon as they’re on that plane, we’re free again."

"Thank fuck for that," Sirius sighs through the phone.

The weight of reality finally sinks into Regulus. It feels better than when he made it to Edinburgh away from them, or made it to London, or changed his name. The freedom he thought he felt then feels minuscule to the freedom he feels now.

When he comes into work tomorrow, he doesn’t have to face his father. He doesn’t have to wait in raw anticipation for his mother’s arrival. There is no fear, no trepidation, no anxiety. When he comes in tomorrow, he’s Doctor Black, or neurosurgeon student Regulus. The confidence he’s grown in his work and his practice won’t be tarnished by his mother’s spiteful words, or his father’s disappointment and accusations.

"You busy Saturday?" Sirius asks.

"Why?"

"Us four are going to play tennis and I was wondering if you wanted to come? I need to redeem myself for last time."

"Every last time, you mean. You haven’t beat me once, Sirius."

His brother scoffs through the phone. "You’ve been cheating."

"It’s impossible to cheat at tennis when Peter is the referee."

"He’s picking favourites."

"Jealous that I’m his favourite?"

"Fuck you," Sirius grumbles. "So, Saturday?"

Regulus muses on it for a moment.

"Okay," he agrees. "I’ll never turn down an opportunity to crush your pride."

"You’re such a little shit."

On Saturday, Regulus stays true to his word. He crushes Sirius' pride and basks in joy as his older brother breaks his tennis racket in frustration when Regulus, once again, wins.

***

Everything comes crashing down a week later.

On very rare occasions, Regulus has spent his entire shift down on emergency ward. Usually, doctors being called down to the A&E department from their own specialised wards is due to a shortage of emergency and trauma doctors or a major incident. On Wednesday night, Regulus arrives at work to be told that emergency phoned up about an hour before his shift started asking for assistance due to Fleur being the only doctor on shift down in A&E. Regulus isn't too keen, mostly because he finds it quite infuriating dealing with the magnitude of chaos that comes through the emergency doors, but Fleur has always been good to him and it's either Regulus or the agency doctor he was supposed to be working with.

Hence, why on Wednesday night, Regulus is down in emergency and feeling entirely like an angry fish out of water.

Regulus has had a good week. After Orion self-discharged himself, he had a two good days at work, participating in surgeries with Slughorn that has blasted his studies and training further than anticipated. He had a cocktail night with his three friends and James on Thursday night, thrashed Sirius at tennis in front of his friends on the weekend, and spent Sunday shopping with Barty, Evan and Pandora where he bought himself far too many skinny scarfs than he needs and a collection of overpriced face wash.

It’s now Wednesday, and he’s on his third and final nightshift before he has two days off which he plans to spend laying around in bed with James alternating between sleeping, cuddling, and burning calories by sex.

That’s it.

That’s the plan, and it’s a bloody good plan if you ask Regulus!

All he has to do, is get through the rest of this wretched shift.

Not too hard, right?

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

The first four hours of Regulus’ shift is spent stitching up peoples injuries, scheduling scans, helping the orthopaedic doctors realigning bones when the nurses are busy, and side-eyeing paramedics that bring patients in that Regulus knows are going to annoy the hell out of him.

He see’s James once, when the older man brings a patient in for handover and when Regulus rounds the curtain to take a handover, James stops short at the sight of him.

"Reg?" He asks, blinking.

The other paramedic who was striping the dirty sheet off their stretching snaps up straight and gasps. He points at Regulus and says, "This is Reg? Your Reg?"

Regulus raises an eyebrow at James. "Talking about me at work, are we?"

"Only good things, sweetheart," James smirks. "Reg, this is Fabian, my crew mate. Fabian, this is—"

"The infamous Regulus Black," the man grins, rounding the bed. "Fucking hell, if I haven’t heard enough about you, lad! James does not stop talking about you! Nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Nice to meet you too,"Regulus replies, feeling his cheeks burn.

"I’ll take the stretcher back out to the truck and let you handover, mate," Fabian says to James, and then he smiles down at Regulus, "Nice to finally meet you, Reg. Have a good rest of your shift."

"Yeah," Regulus murmurs lamely, "you too."

Fabian leaves with a clap to James' shoulder and a friendly smile flashed at Regulus. James says his goodbyes to the patient on the bed, before leading Regulus back out the curtain.

"Everything alright?" He asks. "Why are you down here?"

"You talk to your crew mate about me?" Regulus asks, perplexed and completely ignoring James' questions.

James blinks at the question, but a moment later, the confusion is gone and his eyes twinkle with genuine warmth.

"Of course I do!" James beams. "You’re my Reg. I can’t stop talking about you even if I tried."

Regulus feels dumbly star-struck.

"I'm thinking about you all the time, it's inevitable that I'm going to end up bringing you up to Fabian at least once a shift," James shrugs. "Plus, half the times we drop off here I end up leaving him to clean the truck because I'm bringing you coffee. He wants to know what the fuss was about, and I'm not ashamed to tell him that you're brilliant."

"O-oh," Regulus replies dumbly.

"I promise, baby," James smiles. "I've only told him good things. Things I'm not going to repeat to you because I don't want your ego to be as big as Padfoots when he hears what I have to say about him."

Regulus smirks, "That good then, huh?"

"The best," James winks.

Regulus is still feeling warmed and gooey hours later when a nurse comes striding up to the nurses desk that he's currently inhabited at.

"Doctor Black?" The nurse asks. "Are you happy for a handover for Orion?"

And just like that, Regulus body goes cold and goosebumps appear on his arms.

"Orion?" He asks, unable to keep the dread out of his tone.

The nurse frowns at him.

"Yes," she replies slowly. "Orion Black. He’s just been brought in via ambulance. Is there… is there a relation?"

Unfortunately.

"There is," Regulus replies honestly.

"Is that going to be a problem?" She asks, though not unkindly.

"No. He’s been a patient up in neuro for a period of time recently," Regulus replies. "Our relation is not an interference."

"Okay," she nods. "Happy to have a handover?"

Not really, Regulus thinks grimly. He thinks about telling the nurse to go and give it to Fleur, but that’s not really fair as the other doctor is currently stacked down in the resus room.

If she can handle eight beds of critically ill patients, Regulus can handle Orion for one more shift. He did it for weeks, he can handle one more day.

"Go for it."

"So, Orion Black, had a fall leaving his hotel room today. Fell down a single flight of stairs, top to bottom, approximately 14 stairs. Cause of fall was a loss of balance, he has recently been had a stroke that has left him with left sided weakness - I’m assuming you know about that as you said he was admitted upstairs not long ago. He has a laceration approximately seven cm on his forehead, that the ambulance crew have cleaned and bandaged with wet gauze. No other injuries."

"Obs?"

"Fine with the crew. Blood pressure slightly on the low side, but everything else within baseline. He was confused originally but is now GCS 15 and alert."

"Any loss of consciousness?"

"Yes. Loss of consciousness for approximately 15 minutes."

Regulus stomach clenches. 15 minutes unconscious is actually quite a long time after a head injury. That is not good.

"Reports of any neck pain?"

"No. He’s cleared for c-spine. He was immobilised when he came in but he’s taken the neck-brace off himself."

Regulus rolls his eyes. He’s not surprised at all that his father is ripping off medical equipment designed and applied for his safety.

That man is impossible.

"Okay, I’m going to phone CT and get him into a scan right away," Regulus says. "Can you get me a fresh set of obs and a set of bloods?"

"Of course," the nurse nods, quickly scurrying off and disappearing behind the curtain that his father is laid in.

Regulus sighs heavily. For fuck sake! He mentally screams. Why did this have to happen? Why are they still in London? And why, why did his father have to stack it down a set of stairs and land in A&E the same night Regulus is covering it?

His luck? Nonexistent.

Someone is looking down on him from above and shitting all over his life.

After he's booked the CT scan for Orion, he opens up the group chat with Barty, Evan and Pandora on his phone, furiously typing a message.

Regulus (22:34) ladies and gentleman, i am claiming the world record for having the worst luck tonight. guess who just got brought into A&E

Evan (22:35) no fucjing way!!??

Pandora (22:35) are you in A&E???

Regulus (22:35) yes i am. this is the last time i do a favour for delacour

Pandora (22:36) baby no :(( what happened to him?

Evan (22:36) bartemius get your ass down to emergency right now to look after our king

Regulus (22:37) absolute idiot fell down the stairs because he didn’t follow my advice and do physiotherapy so his legs are fucking useless and now he’s here again

Evan (22:38) HAHAAAAAA

Evan (22:38) karma’s a bitch

Pandora (22:38) is your mum there?

Regulus (22:39) haven’t seen her yet. hopefully she won’t grace me with her presence tonight

Regulus knows his night will only get horrifically worse if Walburga comes in too.

Eight days ago, he thought he was rid of them. He's been basking in his freedom ever since, and now, it's been squashed like a bug.

A sharp alarm sounds through the ward suddenly. Regulus' spine snaps straight, recognising the siren that indicates a patient has lost a pulse. He looks up at the small screen above the desk, where the cubicle number is indicated.

His heart sinks when he realises what number it is.

Regulus is moving before his brain has time to catch up with what's happening. He moves like a beam of light through the ward, hurtling towards the cubicle he's been trying his hardest to find reason to avoid.

"What happened?" Regulus barks as he comes rushing into the curtained off space.

"I-I don’t know!" The HCA already in the bay cries. She's standing beside the bed, looking flustered. "He was just talking, and then he just s-stopped, and then he went unresponsive and his blood pressure went through the roof! I can’t wake him up!"

His father lays on the bed, skin waxy and colourless. His eyes are half closed, mouth slack, and body limp. He looks so much worse, thinner and ragged, this the last time Regulus saw him, that he barely even looks like his father anymore.

Regulus rips his pen torch out of his pocket as he rushes up to the head of the bed, pulling Orion's eyes open and flashing the torch in them.

Orion's pupils are blown wide, not responding to the side, and looking slightly up to the right.

"He’s haemorrhaging. His pupils are dilated and fixed," Regulus says, pressing his fingers into Orion’s neck. The lack of pulse beneath the pads of his fingers makes his stomach swoop. "Absent carotid pulse. We need to get him on a board."

The moments the words leave his mouth, he’s shoving the side of the bed down and grabbing the flat slice board off the wall behind him. The HCA has rolled Orion onto his side, so Regulus shoves the board underneath him and as soon as Orion is on his back again, Regulus is crossing his hands on top of one another and shoves hard into the centre of Orion’s chest.

The feeling of ribs crack harshly underneath his hands, a pop and break of his bones as Regulus presses down on his chest.

"Put the pads on and do a rhythm check," Regulus orders. "Have you ever done this before?"

The HCA nods, and Regulus only asked because they look scared out of their wits.

"Only once," they add.

"Okay," Regulus nods. "I’ll walk you through what needs to be done. Firstly, grab the crash cart machine in the corner. In the side there is two pads, you’re going to stick one on the right side of his chest, or your left, and the other one goes underneath his left arm."

The HCA runs to do as they’re told, almost tripping over the cart in the process. With shaky hands, they stick the pads on around Regulus’ own chest compressions.

"Good. Now, on the monitor behind you, press the button that says 'analyse'."

When they do that, Regulus steps back, taking his hands off his father’s chest.

The rhythm that comes back is not shockable, and it reads right at the same time that a pile of nurses come running round the closed curtain.

The process of CPR and life support is one Regulus is well adverse with. It’s actually very simple, learnt and followed through a flowchart with very basic but vital steps.

The HCA who was with Orion when his heart stopped and another nurse rotate doing chest compressions. Regulus does quick work with intubating Orion and while he’s at the head end doing the ventilation breaths in between compressions, he’s able to shout orders and co-ordinate drugs being given by the other nurses. Within minutes, they have their airway stabilised, fluids running, adrenaline in and more at the ready, and a rotation of people to swap out for the chest. 

It’s surprising how much time passes. Regulus quickly falls into a mode of complete focus, his brain not linking the man he’s breathing manually for as his father, but instead a patient that needs to be resuscitated. Between the movement of staff, the mental cataloguing of adrenaline being administered and the continuous rhythm checks showing Orion’s heart is not in a state that can be shocked, Regulus feels surprised when he looks at the clock to find almost an hour has passed.

"Okay, everyone," he speaks to the room. "We’ll go for another 15 minutes if everyone is happy, that will give us a chance to push another four more adrenalines. After 15 minutes, we’ll reassess."

A round of nods is his reply.

For the next 20 minutes, Regulus directs adrenaline being pushed, rhythm checking and managing Orion’s airway. The scene isn’t quite so chaotic now everything has a bit of a routine and rhythm to it, everyone has something they are working with and managing.

When the hour mark hits, Regulus turns towards the room again.

"Alright. We’ve reached 60 minutes. BLS started as soon as pulse was ceased, so that is a total of 60 minutes downtime with consistent resuscitation attempts. We have been in asystole and PEA rhythms throughout, never reaching above 28 beats per minute. We have ran a bolus of fluid, adrenaline on average every three minutes to no effect. Assessment is deeming the cause of this to be a potential combination of thrombosis, internal haemorrhage and hypovolaemia, and hypoxia. Have I missed anything?"

"No," everyone replies.

"Okay. With over an hour of downtime with no change, is everyone happy to cease resuscitation attempts?" He asks.

Another round of nods.

"Okay. Off the chest, stop the fluids," he instructs, and as one, everyone stops what their task was and steps back. Regulus looks down at his fob watch. "Time of death, 23-49."

The air in the room changes in an instant. As it ways does when time of death is declared, the adrenaline coursing through everyone’s body, the fight for chest compressions, the hope for that return of a heartbeat, crashes into them all. Everyone slouches, their bodies sagging as they stand, breathless and defeated, around the body they’ve failed on the bed.

Then, it hits him.

All at once. Like he’s stepped off the curb in front of an arctic lorry doing 100 miles per hour.

He’s looking down at his father.

The dead body in front of him is his father.

The person he just declared time of death on, is the man who gave him his life and his name.

Regulus’ heart hammers in his chest. His entire body goes cold, his hands trembling as he takes them away from the intubation tube tied into his father’s mouth.

He just did chest compressions on his father.

He broke his ribs, he shoved tubs down his throat, he’s stared at the monitor that showed no cardiac activity.

He just did CPR on his father, and it didn’t work.

His father is dead.

Oh fuck.

Regulus looks up at the rest of the room, but it spins out of focus. His chest stutters painfully, his He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe!

"Excuse me," he croaks, the words barely intelligible as he stumbles away from the bed. He trips around the nurses, rushing to get out of the room that’s far too small. He practically falls through the curtain, but the walls of the hospital continue closing in on him.

The feeling of his fathers cold skin can still be felt on his fingers.

The sound of his ribs cracking and breaking beneath his hands rings in his head like a violent alarm going off.

The rapid desaturation of colour in his father’s lips as his blood stopped pumping.

This isn’t happening.

This can’t be happening.

This is some twisted dream. This is some fucked up nightmare that he’s going to wake up from in a minute, back in the present where he’s in bed with James, wrapped in the older mans arms, safe and sound.

He’s going to wake up and his father isn’t going to be dead.

Except, it’s not a dream or a nightmare.

Regulus falls through the entrance doors to the emergency department, stumbling outside to the drop off and ambulance parking. He knows he looks like an idiot right now; stumbling away from the building on shaky legs, gasping and stuttering for breath, but he doesn’t have the capacity to care about it right now. He feels like his head has been plunged under water, everything sounds muted apart from his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.

His father is dead.

His father just died.

The man who gave him life, who gave him his name, is gone.

He’s gone, and Regulus couldn’t save him.

He hears someone call his name. It’s distant and muffled, as if they’re at opposite ends of a tunnel calling for him. The sound of Regulus’ own gasping, heaving cry breaks through the fog around his ears, and he stumbles as if he’s been punched in the gut.

Two hands grab his shoulders and suddenly he's yanked into something warm and soft, arms wrapping around his back and holding him close. He pushes his face into the persons chest and he finally sobs, breaths coming in short, broken gasps.

"I'm here, mate. I'm here. You're alright. You're gonna be alright," they say, and Regulus recognises their voice instantly.

The arms around him feel suddenly so familiar.

The arms around him feel like home, like safety, and Regulus can't stop himself from falling into them.

Barty.

His knees buckle suddenly as a sob rips from his chest, and Barty goes down with him, lowering them both to the ground of the A&E drop off car park.

"I've got you, Reg," Barty says. "I've got you."

"He’s dead," Regulus gasps. "H-he’s d-dead and I— I-I did— I tried—"

"I know," Barty nods into his hair. "I know, Reg."

Regulus shakes his head. "I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him, Barty. He— I t-tried, I tried so h-hard!"

"It’s okay," Barty murmurs.

But it’s not, Regulus wants to scream.

None of this is okay, because his father is dead, and Regulus is falling apart over it. A physical pain in his chest is crippling him, hurt consuming him.

It’s not supposed to be like this, he thinks. He’s not supposed to fall apart like this. His father was the worst man alive, with his beatings and his vile words. His father was vicious, nasty, and violent. And now he’s dead, and Regulus is crying about it.

"I’m supposed to hate them," Regulus sobs. "I h-hate them, so why does this fucking hurt so much?"

Barty's arms tighten around him, as if he's trying to hold him together and stop him from falling apart. Regulus shakes in his arms, gasping wetly. Sharp pain stabs through his chest and his stomach, the grief swallowing him whole.

He pushes his face into the Barty's chest and fucking wails.

His father is dead.

His body is lifeless and rapidly cooling in the hospital bed that Regulus just ran away from.

And Regulus?

Regulus is finally shattering.

Like a glass vase thrown onto the floor, he is falling apart.

Piece by piece.

— tbc.