Once again Brandon found himself pacing frantically in the bustling waiting room of the San Diego Hospital. His hair was sticking up every which way, and his eyes were swollen and red from unshed tears. He kept nervously twisting his wedding band on his finger, ten times to the right, ten times to the left, and then repeating the process. The young husband and father was so nervous, his heart was beating rapidly, almost straight out of his chest. He sat in the nearest chair, his jiggling leg a large indicator of the anxiousness coursing through his body. He had been this way since the love of his life had disappeared behind the double doors on the metal gurney. Nobody had returned to give him an update, causing his mind to wander, settling in the darkest recesses of worst case scenarios.
Their family had waltzed into the waiting room an hour previous, automatically demanding updates from him. Questions to which he had no answers. And the thought pained him so. He say with his head in his hands, refusing to let the tears fall down his face freely, cursing himself at each year that slipped through with every blink. His eyes took in the small green converse sneakers that entered his point of view. Brandon quickly wiped at his eyes, smiling sadly at his son.
Avery's eyes looked deeply into his father's, and with a small huff, the small child climbed into his father's lap. The youngest Foster turned his head to stare at his father, as then looked at the rest of his family.
"I know it hurts daddy, like when I hurted my knee, but momma...she's gonna be okay. Cause she's my momma" the small boy whispered, touching his small hands to the older man's cheeks. He nodded his head, his light brown curls bouncing with the motion, and smiled at his father.
"Thanks Avery." Brandon replied, moving the flop of curls off of his sons head, and placing a gentle kiss there. "Daddy really needed to hear that." The older man continued, smiling fondly down at his son.
Brandon stood quickly once he saw the doctor that escorted Callie behind the double doors, return to the waiting room. He clutched his son to his chest, drawing his strength from the small child. His heart seemed to stop beating in his chest when he saw the doctor pull his scrub cap from his head, wringing it in both his hands, and exhaling before making his way over to Brandon and Avery.
If you paid attention to the dynamics of the family that had dominated the waiting room, you could see the palpable tension. Mike had come at the prompting of his ex-wife, and was standing off to the side talking to his fiancé when the doctor approached his son. Stef was currently walking back and forth before the vending machines, debating wether or not to get something from them or punch the glass in. Lena was grasping Jude tightly to her chest, silently comforting the teenager while crying hot tears of her own. The twins were whispering to each other in the corner in Spanish, Mariana was constantly reapplying her mascara, to replace the makeup she was crying off.
None of them were prepared for the scream that ripped from the man clutching his son a few feet away. They never would have imagined the reverberating sound his knees would make when they hit the tiled floor. Nobody would have thought to describe the heartbreaking scene before them. Brandon wasn't aware that he was causing a scene, and even if he was aware, he wouldn't have cared in the first place.
A week later found the small diverse family sitting in the living room. Avery had long since been put down for a nap, the day's activities wore the small child down. Brandon sat with a glass of scotch held in his right hand, the young man was sipping it slowly. Wincing with each sip he took. He looked across the room at his mother, who was sitting there sipping a glass of red wine. He sighed, slipping the tumbler onto the table, before standing and stripping off his sports coat, and tossing it onto the couch behind him. His hands fell into place on his hips, itching to place them around. his wife's small waist.
Brandon couldn't stop the steady flow of tears that cascaded from his eyes now, sobs rolling through his body. Shaking loose in him the pain that he had tried to bottle up for the last week. Finally feeling what he had only felt in the privacy of his bedroom or in the bathroom with the shower turned to full blast. He let himself cry the tears that had been threatening to spill over since he picked himself up off of the hospital floor, and walked out into the California sun.
Lena slipped her arms around her oldest son, holding him to her, much like she frequently holds his mother, and let the young man cry out his frustration at the unfairness of a life lost. She did not try to calm her son, letting him self soothe, because deep down she knew that nothing she could say would ease the pain in his heart. Her eyes sought out those of her wife, scolding her with just one look, because in this room, the blame could only be placed on one person. If Stef hadn't been so childish, so crass and hasty in her declaration that Callie wasn't good enough for their son. Then their grandson wouldn't have asked if he was good enough, and in turn Callie wouldn't have gotten so worked up.
Stef stared into her wife's eyes, recoiling inwardly at the sheer anger she saw there. Instantly hating herself for putting her family in this hellish situation. Never did she think she was going to have to mourn for the loss of a family member so soon. She stood in her heels, maneuvering herself around the strewn toys, to stand before her son. She knelt down to him, reaching out to him, to smooth his hair down. Her heart broke when he flinched away from her, his green eyes snapping to look into her own.
"Don't." He hissed. "She would still be here if it weren't for you." He continued. Brandon pulled himself out of his mother's grasp, before standing on his shaky legs.
"I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this." He whispered into the darkness, before climbing the stairs slowly, his thoughts racing a mile a minute around him.
Brandon stood with his hand on his bedroom doorknob, silently debating wether or not to go into the room. He took in a deep breath, before turning the knob and entering the dimly lit bedroom. He stood inside the bedroom, undressing himself silently, before sitting at the keyboard his wife had set back up in the corner. He slipped his headphones onto his head, glancing over his shoulder at the pack and play that held his sleeping son.
Slowly his fingers caressed the black and white keys, letting himself remember the first time he ever made love to his wife on this very bench. And with each key he played, he remembered bits and pieces of the life they built together, tidbits he had forgotten over the years. The young father let his tears flow freely now, his heart constricting as his mind settled on the hospital scene last week.
He thought back to the two years they pretended to not care about each other, a wasted two years now if he ever thought of one. Two years that they could have been loving each other, and making love. Two years sooner that they could have had Avery, two fuckig years without her...
He let the thoughts float away with the end of his song, letting his mind settle on nothing but the soft breathing of what was left of his family behind him. Grateful for what he had left but still horrified at what he had lost and terrified as to what was to come next. He reached forward and turned off his keyboard sighing heavily.
Brandon stood, crossing his bedroom to climb into his bed.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry." He repeated moving closer to the sleeping form of his wife, his arms curling around her middle. Palms splayed flat on her stomach that would no loner be growing with his second child, his daughter. Callie turned around in the bed, cuddling deeper into her husbands chest. He could tell she had cried herself to sleep and his heart broke for her, and himself, and for their son. Whom they had yet to break the news of his unborn sisters passing.
"I love you, Callie." He spoke pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm going to make this up to you." He promised her before clutching his wife closer still to his body and falling asleep.