Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, it's characters, or anything else involved in it. Nor do I claim to own any locations that will make an appearance later on in the story; at this point in time I only own Grace Karofsky, Dr. Wellington, and...pretty much all the other doctors that make an appearance haha

Thank you everyone for all the reviews/alerts/favorites! They make me a very happy authoress. :D

A/N: Mmkay, so, in response to Hydelity:

The Extra Strength Tylenol caplets actually can come in bottles/vials/etc. of 8, 10 (vials only), 16, 24, 40, 50, 100, 150, 250, and 325. I chose 24 because, well...10 grams of acetaminophen is a nice even (and deadly) number xD

The overdose thing (from a medical perspective) will be addressed in this chapter actually, so I won't bother to explain that here haha I will tell Dave's side of things sometime later, though, just so you know =3

If there's any more questions/critiques/etc. that anyone has I'll be happy to address them to the best of my ability! :D

Now then, onto the fic! :D Paul broods a lot. Or, at least, he does so internally in my fic haha

This fic is unbeta'd.


Until the Sun Shines Again

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Chapter Two

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Few tragedies can be more extensive than the stunting of life, few injustices deeper than the denial of an opportunity to strive or even to hope, by a limit imposed from without, but falsely identified as lying within.
~ Stephen Jay Gould


It's been precisely 9 hours, 42 minutes, and 32 (33, 34, 35...) seconds since Dr. Wellington had came and went with the latest information pertaining to his son's condition, and 6 hours, 28 minutes from that since his wife had cried herself into an uneasy slumber. He himself had slept but not for long (only a couple of hours), despite it having just turned 3:13 the morning after 'it' had happened.

'It' being the reason why they were in the hospital in the first place; 'it' being the event that shook their family's foundation to the core; 'it' being their son's overdose on Tylenol, brought on by...

What, really, Paul wasn't sure of. There were far too many unknowns surrounding David's situation, unknowns that seemingly didn't have a place in sense and left far too many holes in the big picture. All that he knew, recounted to him by Grace when she had called to inform him of what had happened almost 10 hours ago, was that David had taken an overdose of Tylenol, and that, added on with information from Dr. Wellington, he had taken the overdose no more than four days ago. He knew the 'who', the 'what', (an educated guess of) the 'where', (roughly) the 'when', and the 'how' of the situation, but the 'why' – arguably the most pertinent point – remained a complete mystery; one that he couldn't solve on his own, or with his wife, or even with the doctor. The only one capable of shedding any amount of light onto the incident currently was unresponsive to the world with doctors hovering over him and doing their very best to correct the self-inflicted wrongs committed against the young man's body and self.

His hands clenched between his knees as he closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind and to calm himself as his thoughts steered to the part of the conversation with Dr. Wellington that he'd rather not have to acknowledge, but didn't have a choice in doing so: the overdose was an apparent suicide attempt, and not an accident as he had hoped (still hoped, to be perfectly honest, regardless of the few pieces of evidence to the contrary). It was not a definitive verdict of what had happened but it was close enough to being so, so close in fact that Paul, despite living through years of experiences and turmoils others could only dream of, couldn't even begin to understand even the slightest bit about it.

Why would David consider something as extreme as suicide? How did whatever David was going through end up so badly that he could no longer resort to talking to his parents or his sister about what was going on as he used to? It made very little sense and, when added on to the growing list of misbehavior and problems that had been following David around the last couple of months, did nothing to help Paul believe that he knew his youngest child anymore. Was David's behavior the last couple of months a direct link to his attempted suicide? Had his son been crying out for help and had been ignored, his behavior being written off as nothing more than a late-teenage rebellion? Was it his fault for pushing David too hard to always be better, to always be on top?

He didn't know and, despite the feelings of fear for his son, loathing for himself, and worry for their family, wasn't about to jump to conclusions that had no factual basis; he was going to remain objective at least for now, until his son was in the clear and would live, or, alternatively...

Just as Paul was about to block the thought from his mind, someone to his side cleared their throat to catch his attention before a couple of bottles of orange juice were thrust into Paul's line of sight. Blinking slowly he took the proffered drinks and turned his head to look at who was there, and was greeted by a haggard looking Dr. Wellington, sans the chart he held before. His body tensed for the worst. "How is he? Is he alright?"

Dr. Wellington smiled politely at the worry evident in Paul's countenance then spoke, his voice a soft yet commanding whisper, mindful of the slumbering woman near them. "David should make a full recovery, so long as the acetaminophen levels in his body continue to drop as they are."

Paul let out a sigh of relief, his hands tightening around the bottles of orange juice. "What happened? Last time we talked you said something about possible failure of multiple organs, and a probable death as a result of that."

"Because of how late he got to us, we chose forgo the usual treatments that are done with activated charcoal and NAC, N-acetylcysteine, and instead chose to do treatment by means of liver dialysis. The dialysis was run for seven and a half hours while we assessed his physical state and constantly monitored him for any possible signs of organ failure. As of right now he is in the clear and is due for another liver dialysis in-" Dr. Wellington glanced down at his watch before continuing speaking, "-approximately 17 hours if there remains any acetaminophen in him, and will continue to repeat the procedure every 24 hours until there isn't any left. We came out earlier to inform you of his condition, but at the time you and your wife were asleep and we didn't want to disturb you; any sort of sleep is always needed if you can get it when a family member or someone close ends up in the emergency room."

Paul 'hmm'ed softly in acknowledgment as a question nagged at him. "There is something I've been wondering about...you've said that David arrived 'late' in the overdose time line, and, as a result of that, things which thankfully didn't happen could have happened, and that you even had to alter your treatment for it. How is it possible, then, that he was able to go on this long without anyone having taken notice of it?"

"Acetaminophen poisoning is one of those problems that doesn't necessarily present itself at the onset. While there are indeed symptoms of the overdose, there is nothing that necessitates a person to having any symptoms at any point in time after the overdose. It is very common for patients to come in having no signs of an overdose hours after accidentally – or purposefully, as the case may be – taking it; it's also not unheard of to not have any symptoms 24 hours later or even at all, depending on how much of an overdose was taken. There are also cases of people who have had certain non-specific symptoms, like vomiting or diarrhea, that eventually taper off that they mistake for a simple illness because no other symptoms developed as time passed. In David's case I would have to guess that any symptoms he had didn't develop until the poisoning progressed far enough that it began to really affect his liver, which presented itself in the form of the pain that was reported to me by your wife. A step beyond that would've been liver failure, which thankfully hadn't happened since that would've brought on a whole slew of problems."

Paul swallowed hard and nodded in understanding as relief flooded through him. They were lucky, then, that Grace had found David when she had. "Is David awake?"

"David is still unconscious, but he's been moved to the ICU. It is still too early in the morning for visitations, but I can let you in to see him for a few minutes if you wish."

Paul nodded again and turned to his wife, who had ended up sprawled on her side across the line of connected chairs right next to him. Gently he shook her shoulder and spoke softly to coax her out of sleeping. He continued the motion until she awoke, eyes blinking blearily against the harsh light of the waiting room and a quiet yawn slipping passed parted lips. It was only until he managed to lock eyes with her did he clear his throat through the lump that sudden had caught there. "Grace...David's going to be fine. He's not awake, but he's in the ICU. Dr. Wellington gave us permission to visit him outside visitation hours, even though it will only be just enough time to see him."

Almost immediately Grace sat up, eyes wide and filling with tears as she turned her attention to the doctor. "Really? My baby's really going to be alright?"

Dr. Wellington nodded, smile still in place as he gestured down the hall. "It really will be for only a couple of minutes, but if you'd like to, follow me..."

Hurriedly his wife pulled him and herself up off the chairs as Dr. Wellington started on down the hallway silently, their footfalls echoing in the quiet as they shuffled after him. It was mere minutes later when they reached the double doors that led to the ICU and passed through them, their breaths caught in their throat as the anticipation to see David grew with every step. Soon enough they passed by bed after bed, charts hanging from chart holders at the foot of them declaring which patient was who, until they reached the farthest one down the line and stopped in front of it.

David was by no means a small boy, but at that moment he seemed to be far frailer than that Kurt boy Paul remembered from when he had been called to the school by David's principal because of that death threat. The teenager's normally slightly rotund and filled face was pale beyond comparison, his cheeks sunken in and taking a turn toward unhealthy. His body from what he could see, now that Paul was actually able to see his son longer than what it took to eat dinner (which was the longest time frame they spent together nowadays), lacked the muscle growth he had gained from when he had been a part of the football team; he was still a far cry from being truly weak in appearance (he still participated in hockey after all), but a notable difference was there that Paul couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before. With his son like this, lying in bed unconscious, it only revealed just how much David was hiding behind his tough persona, just how exhausted the boy truly had been and how his body – albeit slowly – was breaking down under the strain of whatever it was that was weighing him down.

Apparently the problems took out David's mind a lot quicker than his body.

Silently Paul moved the bottles of orange juice to one hand and rested the other on his wife's shoulder as she began sobbing at the sight of their son's unresponsive body, IV drips connected to the veins in his arms and, for all intents and purposes, appearing to be dead to the world. The vital signs monitor to the side of the bed let out a soft beep every second as it spat out the information it received from the various wires and things that were attached to multiple parts of David's body, a sound that blended in with the other soft beeps from all the other monitors in the room.

Paul watched quietly as his wife hesitantly moved to their son's side and gently squeezed the boy's hand, tears streaming down her face and falling onto the stark white blanket covering the lower half of David's body. She remained in position a few moments longer as she whispered something Paul couldn't quite make out to David before she released his hand and took an unsteady step away from the bed.

Paul for his part stayed at the foot of the bed and rested the orange juice bottles in his hands against the railing there as his body shook with suppressed sobs. Closing his eyes he sent a silent prayer to God wishing his son's full recovery and for Him to watch over David before Paul took a step back and detached himself from the bed. Grace already had made her way to his side and was nodding to Dr. Wellington that they were done visiting David for now, since they knew, what with him being a doctor and all, that he was probably too busy to supervise their temporary visit to the ICU.

It was with heavy steps and an even heavier heart did they leave the ICU, their thoughts (why did David do it? Was is their fault? Were they bad parents?) guilt-tripping them every step of the way.


The next time they visited David, nearly 6 hours later, there were no obvious differences to his condition, nor had he woken up prior to or during their hour-long stay with him, a fact that had both Paul and his wife worried up until a nurse informed them that that was due more than likely to the fact that David's body was exhausted and needed time to recover. Exhausted from what Paul nor his wife had any idea, but it certainly was far from the first thing to happen within the past 24 hours that neither of them understood.

What they did understand, however, was that David wasn't likely to wake up any time soon (at least not within the hour) so they had plenty of time to get a much-needed meal from the hospital cafe to give them energy as they waited.

The walk to the cafe was a long and quiet one, which was unusual considering that Grace was normally the chatterbox in the family (a trait that passed onto their daughter, much to Paul's chagrin). Even so, the silence between them was not uncomfortable but instead was more of the companionable nature; it also helped that Paul's arm at the current moment didn't belong to him but to his wife, seeing as she had latched herself onto it from the moment they left David's side the second time until now as they turned around the corner in the corridor and spotted the sign that declared that the "High Street Cafe" was just ahead.

After walking for another couple of minutes the entrance to the cafe appeared before them beyond a couple of double doors, which they walked through and quickly made their way around the cafe gathering what they wanted. Before either knew it, they had paid for their meals and were sitting in one of the booths in the dining area, eating in silence; it didn't last long.

"Paul...what should we do about David? I don't- I don't think this...thing...was an...accident, you know? E-even Dr. Wellington suspects that it was on..." The final word caught in Grace's throat and wouldn't come out as tears began welling up at the corners of her eyes.

That had been happening a lot over the past day. Paul sighed quietly and reached over to cup his wife's cheek in his hand as he ran his thumb just under where the salty tears were forming. "At this point in time all we have is speculation about what happened. Admittedly all the signs that we have point in that direction, but until David awakens and confirms anything, I think we have a right to hope." His features softened as his voice lowered to a whisper. "Either way David is our son and as such he needs our support and our love. Anything else can be decided upon when the time comes."

Grace nodded as an almost silent, indistinguishable noise slipped passed her lips. Slowly she brought up a hand to cover his and closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

They sat that way for an indeterminable about of time, the world blocked out beyond them, but before long his wife sighed and pulled his hand away from her face, while at the same time interlacing their fingers. Hesitantly she spoke, her eyes downcast to land on her abandoned breakfast. "I wish...we could start this week again, back to before David took the Tylenol. Maybe then we would've seen something that hinted that this was going to happen, even just a little bit..."

Paul sighed again and nodded in agreement, although a part of him was skeptical that they would've seen anything. If they hadn't the first time around, how would they even with knowledge of what was to come?


It was on their way back to the ICU, 45 minutes later, that they ran into the nurse that had been attending to David the second time they went to visit their son. The smile on her face immediately brightened their moods, even if it was only marginally.

"I was just going down to the cafe to fetch you two! David woke up a couple of minutes ago and asked for you; I figured I'd come and get you myself rather than having you called through the intercom."

A shock ran through Paul as they paused in their stride as the first smile in hours mutually appeared on both his and Grace's faces. Their son was awake. Their son would be alright; whatever was to come could be dealt with, but for now...

For now there couldn't have been better news.


A/N: Well, that chapter certain was quite a bit longer than the last two :D Tell me whatch'y'all think, mmkay? Reviews are very loved!

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE (I.E. READ THIS, IF NOTHING ELSE).

I have no idea when the next update will be. I will be leaving tomorrow (Saturday, December 11th) to visit family before my surgery on Tuesday (I'm having a tumor removed from someplace in my head, for those who're curious :3). As a result of that surgery I will be hospitalized for roughly a week, and then will pretty much be banned from using my computer for like a week after that, depending on if my mom feels like being nice or not (she's the one who declared that she's going to steal my laptop away from me after all haha). SO. What that means is, I probably won't be able to update again until around Christmas/New Years so I apologize for that. Whenever it does come, though, it will be another Paul chapter, followed (finally) by Dave's debut! :D

I hope everyone has a happy holiday! :3