At what point the room had become silent, Robert Leingod did not know, but when he realized it, the stillness only drove the direness of the situation further into his heart. Granted, the monitors and machines produced steady sounds of beeping and humming, but they offered little in the way of hope and Robert Leingod needed hope.
Next to him, his wife stirred and whimpered a little in her sleep, and he glanced down. She looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes and frown lines appearing around her lips. It was all understandable, too, her exhaustion and the disturbing and oppressing nature of the silence. Neither he nor Ryoko slept well any more, not since Commodore Whitcomb returned with their son's nearly lifeless body two weeks prior. Everything changed that day, and Robert could not figure out how or why.
Oh, he knew what had happened. Commodore Whitcomb had been very forthcoming in the details, and he had appeared so contrite, so apologetic, and so guilty when explaining how a Vendeeni ship caught The Aquaelie off guard. The aquatic aliens had tried boarding the Federation vessel in an attempt to kidnap Fayt. They were convinced they needed no help from outside races. They simply required Fayt and his powers, and they would be able to take on all who opposed them. At least, that was how they behaved, but Robert believed it went deeper. They believed Fayt to be a threat of some kind and to someone, but they never revealed who or why they thought as they did. They simply wanted Fayt out of the way, and they would do anything they could to accomplish their goals, including murdering innocent people of any race.
However, the Vendeeni commander had not counted on Fayt fighting back and with fierce determination. No one had counted on that, not even the commodore, but still the Vendeeni commander remained determined. In a last ditch effort to subdue Fayt, Commander Snail-loc released a type of nerve gas – Commodore Whitcomb's medical team believed as much – into the air of the central corridor where Fayt and several crew members were standing their ground. Something about those actions triggered something in Robert's son, from what the soldiers said, and several bolts of blue light shot from Fayt's body, heading for the Vendeeni invaders and killing them within the blink of an eye.
The power surges hit their marks, but not before the gas had a chance to affect Fayt. According to the commodore's report, Fayt fell to his knees, gasping for air and trying to remain conscious. In another act of misfortune, one of the power conduits failed, and a surge of electricity managed to find its way to Fayt, rendering the boy unconscious as well as ill. From the release of his powers, the surge of electricity, and the effects of the nerve gas, the combinations created a condition that no one knew how to treat, and Commodore Whitcomb pushed his crew hard to return home so the doctors on Earth could find a cure. The news of the skirmish and his son's comatose state left Robert Leingod feeling angry and frustrated with himself and desiring to find someone, anyone, so he could vent his rage. He did not care if he killed the person, either. His son's health was far more important.
A slight cough captured his attention before his thoughts could go any further or turn any darker, and Robert immediately adjusted his wife so he would not disturb her. He had to get to his son's side. Fayt had been in and out of consciousness for two weeks, and no one knew how to save him, not even the top neurologists and diagnosticians. Robert needed to let his son know everything. The truth about the experiments, why he was still alive when Fayt believed him to be dead . . . everything that needed to be explained, Robert had to confess to his son, and he prayed his child would be able to forgive him. He took a pale hand into his own.
"Fayt?"
At the sound of his name, his son opened his eyes, and Robert's heart started to ache all over again. Pain shimmered in Fayt's green eyes, and his son looked more exhausted than he and Ryoko combined.
"Dad?"
The voice that spoke did not belong to Fayt. It could not have belonged to his son. It was weak, raspy, and failing. Fayt, in Robert's eyes, was a strong young man, someone capable of great things if he only possessed the determination and the drive. His son still had many years ahead of him, if only someone could save him. His child should not be so frail! It was an injustice, something to be corrected if only he knew how. Robert nodded at his son's weak inquiry.
"Yes, Fayt," he murmured. "I'm right here."
A faint smile touched the boy's features, and he grasped Robert's hand as best he could. Already, he could see the light in Fayt's eyes dimming, and something in Robert screamed out in rage and despair.
"You're safe . . . I knew you would be . . . I knew . . . He . . ." Fayt paused, his face contorting with pain despite the painkillers Robert knew flowed throughout his son's body. "He said I just had to keep believing . . . He said he would see to it that you and Mom would be all right . . . if I came home . . . He was right . . ."
The grip Fayt had on his hand tightened as a fierce spasm shook his son's lithe form. Robert saw the muscles in Fayt's arm twitching and jerking. Already, Fayt's breathing sounded harsh and uneven, and a choked cry escaped his child. Unbidden, tears formed in Robert's eyes as he watched, unable to give his son anything for the pain. His heart twisted and wrenched at the sight of his son's agony, and there was nothing he could do or say to soothe his child. The doctors had told him it would come to this. There was nothing they could do for Fayt anymore except to keep him comfortable and as pain free as possible. They were failing, in Robert's opinion. His child lay in a bed, dying and his body wracked with pain, and the doctors were failing to keep his son comfortable, as they promised they would do.
Still, as a parent, Robert could not remain idle. He wanted to say something, anything, to soothe his child, even if the words would be false in the end. Out of habit, Robert ran his fingers through his son's hair and whispered soft words of encouragement. They were lies, every line spoken, but Robert said them anyway, willing them to chase Fayt's pain away as quickly as possible.
When the fit ended, Fayt's body relaxed a little, and he lay there, gasping like a fish would do outside of water. Each breath his son drew in, each time it sounded full of pain and raspy, Robert's heart broke a little more. He could not deny the truth any longer. His son was exhausted. Fayt's eyes opened one more time.
"Dad . . ."
"I'm right here, Fayt," Robert murmured. "I'm right here."
"I'm so tired . . ."
"I know," he replied. Something inside of Robert shattered, and he choked as he spoke what he knew would be the final words his son would hear. "I know. Just . . . just close your eyes and get some rest. Okay? We'll be here. We'll always be here for you. We love you."
A grateful yet sad smile crossed Fayt's features, and Robert half-imagined he saw regret lacing with relief in his son's eyes even as their light started to diminish. He pulled Fayt into his arms and hugged his only child as Fayt's eyes closed, and he whispered his final words. Slowly, Fayt's breathing evened out then stilled until the monitors indicated Fayt's heart had finally stopped beating. Robert reached over and shut the machines off as the nurse entered the room, tears now flowing freely from his eyes. He then stepped away from the bed, his eyes never leaving Fayt's face and his son's words echoing in his mind.
Despite everything that had happened, despite everything Robert had done to his son as a toddler, Fayt still found it within himself to love and to forgive and to apologize. How, Robert did not know nor could he even begin to guess. He knew he could never forgive himself for using his son as an experiment. Why was Fayt and why was his son apologizing? Fayt had done nothing wrong, in his mind.
"Robert . . ."
Ryoko's voice and the touch of her hand on his shoulder brought Robert out of his thoughts. He turned to face her, knowing she would have that questioning and fearful expression on her face. She would want reassurance that their son would be all right, that he would be waking up again, even though the truth was painfully clear for the both of them. Fayt would never wake up again.