Hi! I saw a post saying you were doing cc one-shot requests but then I realized it was like- over a week ago but I’m gonna try to ask anyway (mainly cause I’ve been fixated and need to feed on more content✌🏼)
Anyway- I’ve been interested in Julian Ramis, and how he kept getting kicked while he was down (poor boy didn’t deserve all that)…
so I’ve had this idea of an au where his dad somehow survives getting poisoned by Wilcox. The one shot could be like a moment between Julian and his dad in the hospital talking/apologizing to each other for their argument (or it could be something else! I’m up for ideas on this one!!)
Hey! Thank you so much for your ask!
I have been SEVERELY neglecting these one-shot requests! I'm getting my Master's degree, so life can get pretty hectic, unfortunately...but! I have finally finished your request! I would be more than happy to fulfill it and give poor Julian some much-needed relief from his constant trauma, and Edward certainly didn't deserve to die, either! So, without further ado, here you go!
His chest was killing him.
Well, not literally, although it had come dangerously close to doing so. And maybe, thinking “my chest is killing me” was hardly appropriate, given what had happened to nearly a dozen other parents at the high school.
When he had properly woken up some minutes ago, groggy, in pain, and dizzy, the first thing he’d seen was the ceiling, the sounds of voices of strangers and rhythmic beeping around him. It was the first time he’d woken up and stayed awake, the other few times he’d briefly stirred into consciousness, he’d only seen and heard random, blurry glimpses of strangers running around sterile surroundings.
Upon properly waking up, he’d been told he was in the hospital, he was alright, feeling some pain was normal, he was stable. He’d suffered a heart attack, he had to be monitored for a few more days, but the doctors and nurses thought the worst had passed. He’d stared at them before the last memories of where he’d been before, when he’d dropped the glass, screaming as a sudden, horrible crushing and tightness squeezed his chest, the pain radiating to his arm and neck. The way Rosamund had--had--
“Rosamund!” he’d gasped, wildly grasping at a nurse. “Rosamund! She--she--the drink--she was smiling, she was--”
“Edward, you’re alright,” the nurse had said, gently unclenching his fists. “Ms. Wilcox has been arrested.”
“She’s no longer a threat to you. It’s a miracle you survived, that the police found you when they did. She thought you were dead. You were dead, but the police were able to resuscitate you, and--”
“Mr. Ramis, we don’t want to overwhelm you,” another nurse had interrupted, shooting the first nurse a look. “You’re safe. Ms. Wilcox will no longer be a threat to you or anyone.”
“Rosamund,” Edward had still tried to insist. “She was--I never thought that she would--she--did she kill those other parents? She couldn’t have…she wouldn’t have, I know her, but she--”
“Edward,” the second nurse had said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about her right now.”
“Would you like to see your son? He’s been asking about you.”
The complete shift had caught him off guard as he’d stammered for several seconds before what she said had registered with him.
“Julian? He’s here?” The last interaction the two of them had was them screaming at each other, Edward yelling at Julian for barely avoiding prison for selling pot at school, saying he didn’t believe Julian’s claims of turning things around with his new therapist, and Julian shouting that he hated him before slamming the door to his room.
“He’s been here for hours,” the nurse had said, smiling slightly. “He would’ve been here, in the room with us directly, if we hadn’t ushered him out so he wouldn’t get in our way as we worked to save you.”
A new spike of anxiety had pierced through Edward, followed by a horrible realization that if Rosamund had succeeded in killing him, Edward and Julian’s last interaction would have been a shouting match. Julian was not a vengeful person, Edward knew that his son certainly wasn’t waiting for him to wake up so he could continue their argument, but knowing how close he’d been to death, that he had yelled at his son for something that barely seemed to matter given that he had almost died, had almost been murdered by his ex who was almost certainly responsible for killing nearly a dozen other people, that he..well, Edward barely felt worthy of looking at Julian right now. It had been stupid of Edward to go off alone with someone when there was a serial killer targeting parents at his son’s high school, even if he thought he could trust Rosamund, even though they’d spoken so many times in private about Julian, even if he needed something to take his mind off his fight with Julian. Edward was very much aware that he was the only adult in Julian’s life his son at least half-trusted, the only person, Edward thought, that actually cared about Julian, a fact that often caused Edward to stay up at night, staring at his room’s ceiling, wondering how he and Julian were going to manage, especially after Julian graduated high school.
But it would be beyond cruel to make Julian stay outside, and so Edward said, “He can come in.”
And now, here he was, waiting for his son in the bed.
He shifted in the white sheets, shuddering. He’d almost died. He’d almost died. He’d almost been murdered. Despite the nurses urging him not to think about Rosamund, it was impossible not to. His eyes flicked towards the room’s TV, his fingers twitching towards the remote near his desk. What would be on the news if he checked?
His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of approaching running footsteps towards his room as his son came into view, sneakers squeaking to a stop on the floor, as Julian locked eyes with him and cried, “Dad!” before breaking into sobs.
Edward’s own eyes stung and watered as Julian crossed the room to him, but before Edward could say anything, Julian began talking. “Dad, I’m so sorry I’m such a bad son, she killed parents who fought with their children, she thought that you were abusing me because I backtalked to you and am such a problem for you and I swear that I’m going to try harder and I promise that I was being honest with the therapy, but I know I’m awful and if you died, it would’ve been my fault, and--”
“Julian!” Edward managed to interject. “Julian, that’s enough!”
Julian shuddered, wiping his eyes, looking guilty, which, in turn, made Edward feel quite guilty.
“Julian,” Edward said more gently. “Julian, I’m not blaming you for anything. It’s not your fault Rosamund did…this.” So she was the serial killer. How did she--how could she--?
“But she killed parents she thought were abusive! But the only reason she thought that was because I’m such--such--because I’m a criminal! She should’ve killed me instead if she thought someone was--”
“Julian!” Edward said, sitting up abruptly. “Don’t ever say that!” It wasn’t the first time Julian had said something like that that had scared the hell out of Edward. When he’d tried to confront Julian about things like that he’d said, Julian had never wanted to talk about it, snapping that he was fine, and to leave him alone. Those conversations only ever resulted in shouting matches. Edward wasn’t good at comfort, maybe that was part of the problems he had with Julian. If he had a more emotionally aware parent, maybe Julian would’ve gotten his life back on track, gotten help.
“But it’s true!” Julian cried. “The last thing I ever told you was that I hated you! How can you still love me after that? How can you still want anything to do with me?”
Edward silently cursed himself for not being eloquent enough to voice his thoughts. Julian stared at him, anguish clearly written on his face, and the realization that if Edward didn’t say something now, something to comfort his son, to assuage his misplaced guilt, made him understand how he cared for him, something was going to break, the missed opportunity was going to have ramifications that were going to carry for years, maybe not ever be fixed, and Julian was going to remember nothing but the fact that his dad didn’t know what to say to refute the idea that this all was somehow Julian’s fault.
Edward didn’t feel strong enough to properly lean forward to embrace his son, and neither he nor Julian were very big on physical contact, but Edward shifted enough to take Julian’s hands in his and said, “Because I love you. You’re my son, and I would do anything for you. If Rosamund thought I was verbally abusive to you, that has nothing to do with your actions.”
Julian gulped, his lip trembling. “But--but I’m such a--”
“Stop,” Edward said. Words were tumbling from him, they often did when he was shouting at Julian when they were arguing, and he hoped he wouldn’t say anything unintentionally proving Julian’s fears. “Nothing about this is your fault. You’ve dealt with things in your life most adults haven’t.” Mentioning Julian’s past horrific, tragic mistake was something rarely done in their household, even in Edward’s angriest moments with Julian, he never threw Freddy’s death in Julian’s face, as that would be a remarkably evil thing to do, but Edward felt now was an appropriate time to allude to that and Julian’s year in juvie. “I’ve wanted to help you, but I know that I haven’t been doing what I’ve should. I’m not good enough for you.”
“No!” Julian insisted. “I--I’m--” He promptly broke into quiet sobs, looking down at the hospital floor before looking up. “I haven’t been trying hard enough. And you almost died.”
“I almost died because of a madwoman. You had nothing to do with that. My crazy ex-girlfriend, so to say. I guess being in a relationship with my son’s principal was a conflict of interest. It was going to end with either someone dying or someone getting sued. I probably should’ve known better.”
Julian cracked a small smile at that before reaching over the bed’s railings and hugging Edward, sniffing, his tears wetting Edward’s shirt.
Edward returned his embrace, albeit too weak to hug Julian with quite the same amount of strength.
He needed to hug his son more.
And maybe therapy would do them both some good.
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I hope you enjoyed (and I hope you see this, whoever you are, anon!) This was very fun to write! And to everyone else who sent in requests, I haven't forgotten you, either!
