Author's Note: Thanks y'all for all the reviews and follows! And I agree! I thought it was my civic duty to create more Hal w/ Ear Bug stories. So…here it is! I apologize for another short chapter, but I just gotta get things rolling, ya know?
Chapter 2
"There's something wrong with him," Tom Mason exclaimed quietly for fear of disturbing his son from the other room. The severity in his voice, however, wasn't lacking. He was afraid. Attempting to stop the trembling in his fingertips, he grasped the insides of his shirt. He would not lose another son to the aliens that destroyed his world.
Anne shifted uneasily, sympathy in her eyes. "I know, Tom. But I'm not sure if it is something that can be so easily fixed."
Tom furrowed his brow. There was a crash of metal from the corner of the infirmary, and his eyes darted towards the makeshift nurses scuttling to clean up whatever they had dropped. He turned his eyes towards the room that held his eldest son. When he was satisfied that the noise had not troubled him, he returned his gaze to Anne, someone he had grown to call more than friend. But that Anne was now gone, masked by a firm professionalism that could have only been conjured by much pain and loss.
Tom's stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"
Anne bit her lip, her mask faltering only slightly, "I don't know. Physically, there's nothing wrong with him."
"Physically," the incredulity was heavy in Tom's voice.
The doctor touched his arm gently, "You have to listen to me, Tom. He's been through a lot and—"
"We've all been through a lot," He interrupted angrily. He couldn't believe what Anne was insinuating—that his son, his first child was…He shook his head quickly, jaw pulsing.
Anne grimaced, "Some can't cope as well as others, Tom. You know that."
"He was fine!" He couldn't help but bark at her. Only when she tightened her hold on his arm did he realize he'd lost his composure, that the nurses and doctors were bound to be watching now. He sighed and lowered his voice, "What about the warehouse? Karen kissed him and he fell unconscious." Tom denied the urge to spit out the sour taste in his mouth. Once they had found out Karen's parents were killed in the initial attack, he had taken responsibility for her, laid awake at night, in a cold sweat of guilt, for days when he had found out her fate…and to think she harmed his son? It was disgusting to say the least.
Anne nodded her head slowly, watching him carefully. "It's possible. Which is why we're continuing to monitor him. But Tom."
He reluctantly met her hard gaze.
"What if you're wrong?"
The fear was icy shards in his stomach, but he managed to shake his head at her, "I'm not." But what if he was? Tom stepped away from her, and she reluctantly allowed him. He brushed past a doctor who nearly dropped a bottle of rubbing alcohol, muttering apologies. He has to get out of here. The stench of blood and peroxide from the recent battle was still thick, and it was sickening.
Once he was out of the infirmary, he settled on a brick wall and slid down to the floor, resting his thumbs against the bridge of his nose. Inhaling deeply, he looked up to the ceiling. Hal Mason, his son, was a fighter. Is a fighter. When Tom had to tell Hal the tragic fate of his mother, it was Hal, with tears in his eyes, who volunteered to go look for Ben. To think that after all Hal had gone through, only now, when he had come so far, to lose himself, seemed cruelly unfair.
He had to believe that Anne's suspicions were wrong. Hal would have to be okay. Even when no one else was, Hal was okay.
Post Traumatic Stress, Tom let the words that Anne did not dare to speak mingle in his mind. Hal.
The combination seemed almost silly.
Almost.
The word stuck in his mind likea ton of bricks.
