AN: Hey guys! Thank you to all the lovely people who left reviews :D and wished me well. It really means a lot to hear from you guys so thank you so very much. It's been a rough month, my niece Trinity was born a month premature and only weighing 3 pounds. Thankfully she's now 4 and a half pounds and will be able to leave the hospital when she reaches five pounds! She and my sister are doing just fine :) As for me, well I've been better mentally but I'm doing okay at the moment. Hearing from you guys helps so keep the reviews coming please! This sadly is just another interlude that needed to happen!
Two days had passed since he had woken up from his unexpected coma.
And things were none the clearer to him, nothing made sense what so ever.
Especially how suddenly his father was doting on him like he had never ever done so before.
His father would be there every morning when he woke, with freshly cooked breakfast he would bring from home so that he didn't have to eat whatever the hospital cafeteria had to offer.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you'll get stronger if you eat something from home instead of this poorly made almost inedible concoctions they dare to deem food." Spoke Alastair who was seated in the chair next to his bed after he had set out a tray; in the center was a thermos of cold pulp free orange juice, and a breakfast scramble with sausage and bacon.
Wide eyed and slightly mystified at the sudden turn of events he dumbly stared at his father for a moment who in turn tried to smile at him.
He could only guess this was the older man's attempt and trying effort to put him at ease.
Numbly and quite mechanically he heaved the fork full of eggs to his lips and forcefully made himself swallow it.
It was surprisingly good, even though he could scarcely really remember his father ever cooking before now.
Even as a small child they had had a maid service do the cooking until he could reach the stove to do so himself.
Alastair shifted in his chair in a show of out of character nervousness that nearly made him drop the fork back to the plate, "Is it alright? I haven't cooked in a very long time I'm a tad rusty you see."
Blinking he smiled to his father in nearly equal nervousness, "It's very good father, thank you for making it. I bet it's quite better than what I would have gotten here for sure."
Grimacing some his father nodded in agreement, "They really do need to update their food stuffs in that dreadful cafeteria that much is for certain."
After eating about half of his breakfast and sipping his orange juice gingerly so as not to choke he looked around suspiciously.
He felt as if someone else should be here.
Like he was forgetting something, no someone very important.
Following his gaze Alastair sighed, "Are you looking for that red haired boy with the baseball cap?"
Flushing red to the very tips of his ears in embarrassment he nearly choked on his juice in the process, "I-I...no of c-course not! Why would he be here of all places anyway?"
Looking to his lap he gripped the blankets tightly at his sides, "I mean..."
A surprised chuckle made his eyes snap up to meet his father's somewhat amused gaze, "You know, I probably shouldn't be telling you this...your mother will be very cross with me for doing so but; somehow I can't bring myself to really care what she thinks at this point." Sighing softly the older man smoothed his chestnut brown hair out of his face tiredly, "That boy, Kevin...according to the nurses staff he visited you every single day you were in your coma. Sometimes even twice a day. He would come in the rain or snow, directly right after school."
Confusion and surprise clouded over his cyan eyes as he tried to process this new information, "D-did he ever say why?"
Alastair simply smiled sadly as he watched his son's puzzlement, "I'd expect he had many different and probably very important reasons for doing so, but you will have to ask him yourself I'm afraid. Feelings that strong should be conveyed properly from said person after all."
His eyebrows furred together, "Feelings...?"
A twinge of painfully odd emotion lodged in his throat as his stomach churned uneasily.
What had he forgotten?
Why would Kevin of all people diligently visit him?
Why not Marie?
"Try to eat the rest of your breakfast Eddward, you need your strength to recover properly you know that." Chastised his father but without the usual barbs of cold sternness.
What world had he woken up to?
Everything seemed to be turned on it's head.
Before he could give much more thought to it, the door of his room opened and in walked his least favorite person.
Isabelle looked pristine as usual, not a stray hair out of place.
Her icy blue eyes locked with his father's dark brown as if wordlessly ordering the man to leave the room.
Defiantly his father surprisingly stayed where he was and looked away from his mother with a snort, "Really now Isabelle, must you be in such a terrible mood so early in the day?"
Pursing her candy apple red lips into a displeased frown she simply sat in the only other free chair in the room on the other side of her son's bed, "Trying to test my patience already Alastair? I thought we had discussed this? Have you not told him yet?"
Frowning in his own displeasure Alastair almost seemed to sneer, "The boy has barely woken from a horrific head injury that landed him in a coma. I thought it best to let him recover first before springing any news upon him."
Rolling her eyes her gaze finally landed upon her son, "I've enrolled you in an all boys boarding school in Oxford. As soon as you are healthy enough to be discharged you will be leaving Peachcreek."
A cold spasm of frost swirled about his insides nearly making him lose what little food he had previously consumed, "I-I...but...you did what?" He mumbled out in a jumbled disarray of words.
Sighing Isabelle sniffed in a most annoyed manner, "You heard me correctly Eddward darling, you know I do not like repeating myself."
His eyes water slightly, "But w-why? This is so sudden, I only have this year left of school. It would be very..." He searched for the correct word and trailed off.
"Stupid? Idiotic? Yes I wholeheartedly agree with Eddward." Alastair chimed in swiftly.
Narrowing her eyes at her husband Isabelle gritted her teeth, "He's better off in more cultured surroundings. We agreed on that did we not?"
Alastair glared, "No we most certainly did not. You made that decision for me as usual Isabelle, and I'm finally voicing my opinion on the matter. It would be very negligent on our parts to take him from his current schooling and environment just for a period of a few months to complete his high school education. He has friends here, whereas he would not in Oxford."
Laughing softly Isabelle propped her chin against her palm resting the elbow against her perfectly folded legs, "Friends? What does he need friends for to learn? Besides you didn't seem against in before his accident. What suddenly changed?"
All he could do is watch helplessly as both his parents parried the conversation back at one another like a well skilled but dangerous game of fencing.
The older man gave pause for a moment briefly looking at his son with a conflicted expression on his face before turning his stern glare back toward his uppity bitch of a wife, "My perspective changed when our son, our ONLY son mind you almost died. I think he's well deserving of some happiness after given the way we've brought him up."
"How dare you! I've raised him to be a well proper and polite adolescent." She spit back at him.
Alastair gave her a cold and calculating look which held an edge of sorrow to it, "No Isabelle you did not, we as a whole did not raise him to be the polite goodhearted person that he is now. We pawned that off on others we hired to watch him. We as parents failed because of our own petty grudges and feuds to realize that he was left alone to grow up on his own, to figure out how to be a person on his own. We get no credit for how Eddward is now other than for the bad parts, because he practically raised himself and you very well goddamn know that."
The hospital guest chair screeched backward in a hiss on the linoleum floor as Isabelle suddenly stood upright, "I will not sit here and take these...these horrid inaccuracies from you of all people!"
Her usual calm mellow voice took on a banshee like shrillness as her calm and collectedness melted away to reveal raw anger and disgust.
"By all means there's the door." Motioned his father.
"This...this is not the end of this discussion, mark my words Alastair, you will regret this." And with a stomping click of her three inch black heels Isabelle Vincent stormed out of the hospital room.
Rubbing his face in his hands Alastair seemed to deflate instantly afterward.
Hesitantly he took a shaking hand and placed it on his father's shoulder gently.
He smiled one of his gap toothed smiles, tears rolled down his cheeks absently and he used the back of his other hand to rub at stray tears away as they fell, "Thank you...dad"
Lifting his face from his hands Alastair had tears in his own eyes.
Now they may not be the same color as his own, but it really just occurred to him that maybe his eyes weren't like his mother's after all.
Maybe his eyes were like his father's.
Tired, sad, but kind.
"I think that's the first time you've called me anything but father in a very long time."
Flustering deeply he rubbed at his eyes, "Sorry...I didn't mean t-"
"No! No...it's...it's nice to hear you call me dad. It feels almost like I've been forgiven." His father mused softly smiling a tired smile of his own.
They sat in comfortable silence like that for a good while just seemingly enjoying the company of one another.
For the first time in his life, his father, no his dad might actually be right.
Maybe he did forgive him.
And that was a start to something much more wonderful.
Sobbing softly he smiled through the tears as his father smoothed out his hair.
It's never too late to try and be a family, even if it's just the two of them.