Important A/N:  Keep in mind this is the 1930s and child car safety wasn't a big issue.  Most cars manufactured before the 1950s didn't even come with seat belts.  So don't think Roxton was being a bad or careless father.  He was just a man of his time.  Plus, in England, they drive on the LEFT side of the road.

Chapter Eight

Angels Turned Away

Part One

Being a man of independence, Roxton usually preferred to do things on his own: and driving was no exception.  He wasn't one for material endeavors, but he admitted that he loved his brand new 1932 Ford Deluxe Roadster.  Yet, sadly, it was a two-seater.  So they had also bought a 1930 Ford Model A when Marguerite had gotten pregnant, which was in the garage being fixed.  Not wanting to bother the chauffer who drove the limo (he was under the weather), Roxton sighed and bundled Adam up in his down-feather coat.

"Don't forget to get his car seat from the other vehicle," Marguerite called to him from the sitting room.  She was busy organizing the party for Friday's banquet.  The event had come about unexpectedly, leaving Marguerite rushed and irritable.  She only had five days to put together a party suitable for Lady Rebecca Roxton who was visiting from Paris where she lived with her sister since the passing of her husband, Lord William Roxton III.

Roxton waved her off even though she couldn't see it and shook his head amusingly at his son.  "She can bloody well forget that, can't she, Adam?  We're only going a couple blocks away and in my day, there weren't car seats and everything worked out just fine."  He tapped the toddler on the nose with his finger.  "Are you ready to buy grandmother a gift?"

Part Two

By the time they had left the store, the night had turned pitch black and snow fell steadily, blanketing the earth in a thick sheet of white.  Driving slowly through the city, Roxton squinted out of the windshield.  "Damn this blasted London weather."  He glanced at Adam and cringed.  "Don't tell your mother I swore.  But you know," he peered back out the window, "sometimes I miss the old plateau.  It was never cold, expect for when the ice people came crashing to earth causing a short term Ice Age, but that's a whole other issue altogether."

Adam stared at him blankly then crawled onto his knees and reached across the seat to pat his father's cheek.  "Dada, I hungry."

"I am hungry, Adam.  Am.  Don't forget your verbs."  He tousled the child's hair, then grabbed his legs and yanked him back onto his behind.  "Stay seated, buddy."  When he peered back out into the night, a pair of headlights danced in his vision.  Roxton glanced slightly to the left to avoid being blinded.  He rarely had time to register when the other vehicle veered off into his lane.

In a split-second, Roxton flung himself over Adam, using his massive body as a human shield as the other vehicle smashed into the Roadster.  The force of the impact sent the car spinning, throwing Roxton off of Adam and slamming him against the driver's door.  In a horrifying moment that would live with him for the rest of his life, the car crashed into a tree and as the passenger side crumbled like paper, engulfing Adam in the twisted metal, the child gave a bloodcurdling shriek that pierced Roxton's heart.

Then all fell deathly silent.

Roxton scrambled across the seat, his hands frenetically searching for his little boy.  "Adam," he called desperately.  "Adam, buddy, I'm here.  Daddy's here.  I'll get you out."  He pried his hand into the wreckage, feeling around until his fingers swept across the fabric of his son's coat.  Adrenaline overflowing, he lifted a hunk of metal, grunting with the effort.

When he managed to create a gap big enough to pull the child out, Roxton reached back in and carefully removed his son.  "Adam," he gasped, staring in panic at the blood that pooled from his head.  "Adam, buddy, can you hear me?"  He pressed his palm against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the life that was seeping out of him.  Please, dear God, let him live, he silently pleaded.  I beg you, don't take him back.  Not yet.   A parent should never bury their child. 

Adam stared glassy-eyed up at the sky in shock, his eyes slightly wavering until they settled on Roxton.  "Dada," he whispered before growing still.  Fear clenched Roxton's soul and agonizingly squeezed his heart as he shakily reached to check for a pulse.  Blood gurgled from numerous wounds, soaking the ground crimson beneath the lifeless body.

Roxton cradled his son tightly against him as an excruciating wail was torn from deep inside him.  Not his son.  Not his little boy.  He frantically ran a hand through the toddler's dark hair that was matted in thick blood.  Hot tears burning his eyes, Roxton glared up at the stars through the falling snow and released a scream that sounded like it was wrenched from a tormented animal.  "Damn you," he screeched through his tears.  "You should've taken me!"  He rested his head on his son's, rocking them from side to side.  Sobbing he mumbled: "You should have…taken…me."

End Chapter Eight

I didn't accomplish my goal, did I?  This isn't nearly sad enough.  Sorry for the disappointment.  I'll try better next time.

WARNING: I AM CHANGING THE TITLE!!  NO ONE GET CONFUSED!!  Mirage will be turning into Death of the Innocent!  I think it is a much more fitting title.