A/N: This story briefly explores the subject of child abandonment, adoption and touches slightly on grief. This was not meant to be an insensitive approach. May be triggering to those that have difficulty with above referenced subject matter. Please always read the Author's note for warning on subject matter to prevent potential triggers.

Don't like, don't read. If you would like to see a timestamp, please review or provide feedback. Otherwise this will remain a oneshot writing exercise.

This is cross posted on AO3 under a penname IloveTorun

This was without a doubt one of the hardest decisions he'd ever made. He sat on a bench, peering overtop the old newspaper that he'd nicked from the hospital waiting room. The man was a good father. He had four boys that ranged in age. Watching from afar, he knew that he'd made the right decision. He just never imagined it'd be this hard. He lowered his head, so it was hidden by the newspaper.

He'd just lost his wife. He didn't know how he ever survived without her. How did he grow up, become the man he was without her? She made him the man he was today. And now she was gone. As if he'd walked into a warm, brightly lit room and the bulb overhead just shattered. Darkness engulfed him. He couldn't do this.

"I'm sorry…but I have no choice." He whispered, standing up and leaving his two-month-old newspaper on the bench. There was something he needed to do. Preferably before the family returned home. It was only fortunate that the family lived in what looked like an old and refurbished fire house.

Some may think it was weird that he knew so much about the family, but he'd been watching them for the last week. He'd stumbled upon the oldest boy in the family, he took good care of his brothers. One of the younger boys looked like he'd fallen while riding his bike and scraped up his knee. The oldest child was knelt on the pavement outside, checking the scrape on his little brother's knee. The little one was doing his best not to cry.

Walking through the park, he went to his car. He'd left it running, like an idiot. But a smart idiot. In the back seat, a baby carrier was situated. The occupant was sleeping, thankfully so. He didn't know if he could listen to the crying another moment longer. Without his wife to take some of the pressure off his shoulders, he was fast losing what little patience he had. Looking into his rearview mirror, he silently apologized, only to his son. He couldn't do it. When his wife first told him she was pregnant, he was excited. They both were. He didn't care whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Just so long as they were healthy. They both eagerly discussed names, nursery plans, godparents and when to take the baby in for their christening. All their plans fell apart though. The baby was on time, that wasn't the problem. The cord wasn't wrapped around the baby's neck as they feared. Nor was the baby breach. The baby's mother had undiagnosed eclampsia and she had pulmonary edema during labor. She died, it seemed only minutes after the birth of their son.

He tried. He was so tired. The baby just cried, morning, noon, and night. He couldn't get the baby to eat. Not any more than a couple suckles from the bottle. He was mad. He loved the baby because she loved him, but he also hated the baby because he took her from him. He didn't want to hate her baby. Their baby. Their son. That's why this was ultimately the best decision.

Putting the car in drive, the bereft man began to drive. He didn't go straight to the old firehouse. He wanted to have just a few more minutes with her baby…their baby. It was for the best. He couldn't give him the life he deserved. Not with the hatred that he'd developed for the life that they created together. Stopping a block away from the firehouse, he dug into his glovebox. He pulled out a paper napkin that came from a fast-food place and a marker. Lightly resting the napkin on his steering wheel, he shakily wrote a little note down. Tears pricked behind his eyes, but another look in the mirror reinforced that this was the right thing to do. He deserved better than a broken family. He couldn't give him what he needed. With his wife, yeah…they could. But without her…no. He very much couldn't. It hurt to try.

Sucking in a deep breath, he decided the time was now. He couldn't put this off. If he did, let his cold feet get the better of him, he'd be doing his son…their son a great disservice. He couldn't love him without her. It was now or never.

Climbing from the interior of the car, he went around to the back passenger side. Kneeling on the seat, he deftly unbuckled the baby from the carrier. Grabbing the blanket he'd brought from the hospital, he wrapped the slumbering newborn, swaddling the finally sleeping angel. He exited the car, swallowed thickly as he crossed the road. He looked around, didn't see anyone nearby that may try to stop him. He'd better do this quickly. He couldn't get cold feet now. Quickening his pace, he grasped the handle of the safe-haven box that remained outside the old firehouse. Taking a moment, he swiftly raised the baby and kissed his forehead. Tears welled in his eyes as he settled the baby in the box and closed the safety door. It'd keep the baby from getting cold in the early spring weather.

As he stepped back from the safe-haven box, he finally let his tears fall. Turning, the bereft father sprinted back across the road and got in his car. He locked the door, trying to make himself stay inside. He couldn't leave though. He had to know, was he making the right decision? Was this really for the best? He was her baby too and without the baby, he had nothing left of her. That thought almost made him go back for the baby, but a passing vehicle soon parked outside the old firehouse. He watched with bated breath as the father and four boys exited the car.

He sat not far away and had left his window open so he could hear if the baby cried. Which he was doing now. And that cry jerked at every instinct he possessed. What had he done? Now it was too late to retrieve him. There were witnesses and even if they did overlook the baby's presence, he'd already proven to himself that he wasn't fit to be a parent. He'd abandoned his son, like he was rubbish. Lied to himself that he was sending him off to a better life. Then he heard it.

"What do we have here?"

Looking up, he watched as the father of four had opened the safe-haven box and removed the baby from within. The baby was wailing, that angry newborn cry. It echoed in his ears. It's all he'd heard from the baby since he brought him home from the hospital. The four boys were gathered around the father who was cradling the newborn close.

"Dad, there's a note." The boy that he'd seen tending to his younger brother that day a week ago said.

He knew the note he'd left with his son. It was a plea.

Please, raise my son as if he were your own. You're a great father, you can do so much better than I can. I wasn't cut out for this. His name is Alan.

Please don't look for me, I don't deserve to raise him.

It was by chance that he'd stumbled upon this small family. He wasn't from this area. He left his home state after his wife's death, traveled around for the last fortnight until he found himself in Kansas. He'd been living out of his car, walking around city parks with his son when he couldn't get him to stop crying.

"It's okay Alan, no need to cry little man." The father murmured as he nestled the baby against his shoulder. "Scott, go inside and call 911. We need to report this."

The bereft man let his tears continue to fall as he waited until the family including his son went in beyond the firehouse doors. Once out of sight, he started his car and pulled away from the curb. He knew he'd made the right decision. Even if it was the hardest choice next to accepting the news when doctors said they couldn't do anything to save his wife and to discontinue resuscitative efforts.

"I love you so much, please forgive me."

To be continued...