"I'm sorry sir," Dove says. He hates to be the bearer of bad news but the doctors are all too afraid to approach Mr. Gold themselves. He can't quite remember how it happened, but one of them managed to rope him into doing it. He needs to just get it out now, like ripping off a band aid. The hours of waiting are over now. There is nothing left to wait on. "Your son is dead."
Somehow, he had already known.He’d felt it. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. Ever since the accident,his son had been unconscious and Gold had been getting his own wounds looked after– despite his insistence that hewas fine and wanted to see his boy. The doctors seemed to thinkthat his ankle was permanently damaged, that he’d likely have to usea cane when he finally got out of this cast. What did he care? What did it matter? He would have given both ofhis legs for his son to be alright. No, he would have rather died. If oneof them had to, he would have preferred it be himself and not the childwho was barely a teenager.A limp. He could handle a limp. He didn’t know if he could handle t h i s. They’d been too cowardly to tell him themselves, eh? To tell him that despite all of their promises to do all they could, they had failed and Bae was dead.He wanted to rage at them, to shout and curse and threaten to evict every one of them, and perhaps later, he would. For now, there was only onethought on his mind.“I want to see him.” He was surprised at how even his voice sounded, howc a l m. Inside, he was screaming. “You go back, and you tell them that I want to see him now.”