"Aww, does Ian need someone to take care of him? Don't worry, I am sure Mom or one of our cousins would love to take care of you. Had my fill of that personally." Meghan would be here, actually checking on Ian if she weren't a warlock. If she could feel anything, she would be more concerned about him. "Damn, there goes my career prospects. Guess I will have to stick to being a warlock instead."
"I can only imagine, but you said it, I am a comforting presence." Meghan looked at him. He looked weird, more than usual. "If you say so, I should trust you. You are much more experienced in the world of love. Olivia, Ava." She shrugged as she made her way back to the door. "Just saying two times in two years, you gotta be more careful."
Mitchell Morrison had always been a hopeless optimist. He believed in the best of people, he believed that heartache couldn't last forever and that there were happy endings. Of course, these past 3 years, had worn him down. Mitchell still hoped, though. He was in the hospital now not only to visit his beloved, reckless, son but to attend another check up. A check in. Nothing had changed beyond the usual. Perhaps it was getting worse, it was so hard to tell with dark magic. Whatever was plaguing Mitchell's body now was unpredictable and it certainly didn't show up in any medical journal.
They'd been keeping it quiet, you know. No need to worry anyone. The last person he expected to run into was Meghan. He had been utterly unprepared. In a month of Sundays, he doubted he would ever be prepared. It knocked the air from his lungs seeing her there. His baby girl, who he had failed immensely. He had to remind himself that she was a warlock now, that he couldn't expect her to return any of the love he barely contained in his heart. It proved difficult.
Mitchell opened his mouth to say something - anything - when a sudden fit of coughing overcame him. It was nasty side effect, but nothing he wasn't used to now. "I- I'm alright, it's okay. Don't worry," he said in between, waving a dismissive hand. It might have been more effective if it hadn't been for the blood.
"You're such an asshole," Ian breathed, shaking his head at her. Maybe it was surviving this latest near death experience that had lit a fire under his ass, but he was suddenly so sick of this. Playing along with this bullshit. His heart pounded, palms sweated, he was haunted by real life fucking ghosts and it was her fault. As she said Olivia and Ava's names, and brought it all up again, it felt like the last straw. "You know what, Meg---," but whatever he was going to say, whatever he thought he could do, didn't matter. As soon as his dad walked into the room, nothing else mattered.
Ian was across the room, passing Meghan without another word, in the blink of an eye. "Dad," he whispered, holding onto him tightly while he had another coughing fit. Shit. This was supposed to be getting better, you know? All the check ups, the thumbs up messages from his dad, he'd believed it was getting better. Maybe he'd just wanted to believe it was getting better. "C'mon, dad. I've got you-," he said, trying not to freak out when he saw the blood on his dad's palm. He'd almost - almost - forgotten Meghan was in the room still. Damn it. "This has been great, Meg, but you can go now." @mystic-meghan
