TQ and Luke Find Out About the Car Accident
Something horrible is happening, Luke thought as he woke in a cold sweat, his heart racing. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly half past two in the morning. He must have been having a bad dream, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Vague waves of confusion and fear coursed adrenaline through his bloodstream. He squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on trying to slow his breathing so he could trick his body into going back to sleep. His room was hot though, and he couldn’t seem to get comfortable, even after his breathing had calmed down. Zoey had only been gone a day or two, and no matter how nice it was to be back in his bed rather than on the couch, the blankets still smelled like her. It was nice, but also frustrating, and it just made it more difficult to calm the adrenaline in his veins so that he could get back to sleep. He kicked off his covers and reached for his cellphone. It was definitely too late to text anyone, but he could play a game or something, at least.
Before he’d managed to pull up anything though, a pounding sound at the door downstairs stopped him in his tracks. “What the...” he muttered, trailing off as he glanced at the clock again to make sure he hadn’t imagined what time it was. Who would be knocking at the door at such an obscene hour. Only a crazy person, surely. Luke paused, waiting to see if the pounding stopped. There was a momentary pause before another round of pounding started. “Da...?” He called, not quite sure what he should be doing. His father and grandparents had gone to a play or ballet or something earlier that night, but they definitely should have been back by then. Luke had gone to bed early, but he assumed that his father was asleep in his room.
There wasn’t any answer, though, and a third round of knocking had just begun. Luke rose uncertainly from his bed and pulled a pair of pajama pants on over his boxers, then made his way into the hall. Confused and a little concerned, he made his way down the short hallway and opened the door to his father’s room. Frowning, he realized that the bed was untouched. That was weird...
TQ had stayed up a bit later than Luke, because she had wanted to see her grandparents again and tell them that she’d finally finished the book they’d bought her for her birthday. When they hadn’t made it home by midnight, though, she’d gone ahead to bed. She figured that they’d decided to wait for the performers after the show, or to go get something to eat. Her dad wouldn’t have been pleased if she was still up when they got back.
She stirred slowly, not realizing at first that anything was out of the norm. Then all at once she woke with a start, gasping for air as the pounding on the door downstairs echoed through the quiet house. She heard her brother calling for their father and waited quietly for her dad to tell them what the hell was going on. Why on earth was someone pounding so insistently on their door at...holy crap, nearly 3 am?
When no answer came, she crawled out of bed. Hugging her oversized t-shirt around herself, she crept into the hall. “Louie?” She approached quietly, reaching out to lightly rest a hand on his shoulder. She leaned around him, frowning at the empty bedroom. “Where’s Da?”
Luke jumped as TQ’s cool fingers touched his bare shoulder. He murmured a swear and glanced, wide-eyed, at her. He shook his head, stepping aside so she could enter the room and see if there was some hint that he’d missed about just what was going on. Something was definitely wrong. Their father never stayed up this late, and he’d have been beyond angry if some crazy randomly started banging at the door at such an obscene hour.
“I don’t know,” he answered, continuing to shake his head. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, swallowing back the lump of panic that was rising in his throat. His gaze darted from his sister to the empty bed where their father should have been. A nagging voice in his head was telling him that he was missing something, that there had to be some connection between the empty bed and the knocking at the door. Two things that were so clearly out of the ordinary didn’t just happen at the same time.
He was the oldest of the two, though and it had always been his job to look after his sister. He wasn’t going to stop now. It was his responsibility to find out what was happening and to...to fix it, to make sure his family was safe. His dad wasn’t there, so who else was going to do it? “Stay here. I’m going to see who’s at the door.” He paused a moment, staring at her with fear plain on his face. Then he turned away, forcing himself to move toward the stairs.
TQ drew her hand back quickly, gasping as her brother jumped at her touch. She hadn’t meant to startle him...which she realized belatedly she probably should have expected. She was scared and he had always felt thinks much more deeply than she had. “Sorry,” she murmured quietly, resting her hand on her chest. She gave one quick glance around the room, but there was something that seemed just...eerie about it. Quickly and quietly, she stepped back into the hallway and away from the room.
She kept her brown eyes on her big brother, focusing on keeping her breathing even. No matter how nervous she felt, she knew he was probably feeling worse and someone had to have their wits about them. Luke was always too worried about her to think about himself, but he looked after her. It was only fair that she let him feel whatever he needed. She’d remain collected and calm...or as collected and calm as she could...because someone had to. She reached around him to shut the bedroom door, keeping her gaze locked on his, her face just as neutral as always.
TQ shook her head slowly as he told her to stay there. “Lucas, I’m not staying here.” She wasn’t particularly quiet about that, but she didn’t think he heard her. She followed him anyway, walking quickly to keep herself just a few steps behind him. The pounding at the door was still going on. What if it was some ax-murderer or something? She couldn’t let him answer the door on his own.
Some days John really hated his job. Usually it wasn’t too bad, he was older now and so he didn’t get put on too many hard or overly dangerous assignments. But nights like that night were just...well, they made him glad that he was retiring in just another month or two. He’d arrived at the scene of the accident as the emergency workers were working to pull the last of the people in the car out of the wreckage. The old woman was gone on the scene, but both the blokes were still fighting. Neither had looked particularly good, but the older of the two was awake and hollering that he wouldn’t let the ambulance take him off to the hospital until someone went and told the kids.
Of course there were kids. John had hurried over, while all the younger guys were busy taking care of the scene. The words he’d exchanged with the man had only been relatively short; his grandchildren were at home in the city. They’d have been expecting their father, and someone had to tell them, had to let them know that things were okay. John had scribbled the address down, though he could feel in his gut when he looked at the poor bloke that things probably weren’t going to be okay. At least not for a while. Still though, the man needed medical attention and the only way he’d get it was if someone eased his nerves.
So John had climbed into his squad car and drove off to the appointed address. He was a man of his word and he would make sure those kids got to the hospital, whether his supervisors liked it or not. He stopped on the way, just briefly, to call his wife and let her know that he’d be a bit late getting home that night. Jamsie had been a bit concerned until she learned just why he was going to be late, then she’d told him he very bloody well not come home until his job was done. Good lord, he loved that woman.
He wasn’t sure how old these kids were supposed to be, but he had hoped that someone would be awake in the house despite the late hour. When he’d pulled up, though, the house was dark and quiet. It made him feel worse about the news he’d come to deliver. What a thing to wake up to. With a sigh he exited his car and approached the house. He knocked quietly at first, praying that maybe someone would hear, but that - of course - didn’t work. He began to knock harder. “Police!” Weary and a bit exasperated, he called out after what seemed like the hundredth knock at the door. “Please open the door, I know someone’s home.”
Luke knew his sister was following him, despite having told her to stay behind. He wasn’t going to fight with her though. He wouldn’t have won if he’d tried and he didn’t think he could handle an argument with her at that moment. Something was very, very wrong. He felt like a hand had wrapped around his throat and he couldn’t breathe. He moved quickly across the living room but stopped quite suddenly, just steps from the door, as he heard a voice call out from the outside.
Somehow he’d failed to notice the lights flashing through the window blinds. He felt his stomach drop and suddenly he knew. Or at least he had a very good idea. Their father would never just fail to come home without letting them know. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at TQ and then looked away. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the sudden flashbacks he was having to that night, years ago, when his mother’s illness had finally gotten the better of her. He couldn’t...
Slowly he made his way to the door. He didn’t know anything for sure. Maybe his father had just gotten drunk and done something stupid...maybe this was all a misunderstanding and...and...something. He had to get answers, though. He blinked rapidly as he approached the door, refusing to have any emotional response until he found out exactly what he was responding to. He unlocked the door and swung it open, unintentionally fixing the old officer that stood on the other side with an icy glare. “What?”
TQ stopped at the end of the stairs. The bright lights flashing through the window registered in her brain as soon as she saw them. She barely heard the voice on the other side of the door, but she didn’t need to. She bit her lip, meeting Luke’s gaze as he glanced at her. She watched his demeanor change and for a moment she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, which was disconcerting in and of itself. She always knew what Louie was thinking. He was like an open book.
She caught on slowly, though. She’d barely been five years old when her mother died. She didn’t remember the woman anywhere near as well as Luke did. To TQ, Allison Kelley existed only in photographs and a spattering of disjointed, nonsensical memories; blonde hair hanging like a curtain around TQ, as her mother kissed her face, the undeniable warmth she’d felt when her mother hugged her, the vaguest memory of a laugh, a playful smile. She didn’t remember losing her mother...she barely remembered ever having one, but she knew it was something Luke still had the occasional nightmare about. She knew it was something that still haunted her brother and she knew beyond any hint of doubt what Luke was afraid of as he approached the door.
A quiet sob escaped her lips, which surprised herself. It had been over a year since the last time she cried. She stepped forward, reaching out to Luke though she was still much too far back to reach him. She wanted to ask him not to open the door. Part of her hoped that if they just ignored it, it would go away; their dad would show up in the morning with the perfect explanation and he’d feel awful, but it would be okay because he was there. She wanted to tell Luke to go back to bed. She’d handle it. He was always looking out for her, it was her turn to look out for him. She wanted her Dad to be there to tell off this police officer for bothering them. To tell them to go back to bed. To protect them.
John took a step back as the door swung open. Wide-eyed, he stared at the young teenager who stood there, glaring at him. He exhaled slowly, looking past the boy’s shoulder to see the young girl who stood behind him looking frightened. Bloody hell. He knew he’d probably scared the poor kids half to death. Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet for a moment. John, he told himself, you are a police officer. You are a man of your word. You do what you came here to do, and you help these kids anyway they need.
He ran a hand through his sparse grey hair, meeting the boy’s angry look as softly as he could. “Lad, is your mother home? Any adults?” He reached out to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t want to make things any worse for the boy, considering the news he had to bare. He just wanted to try to soften the image of the big scary police officer come to potentially ruin their lives.
His gaze shifted from the boy to the girl who stood behind him. “Can I come in?” He asked, softly. He didn’t really want to deliver this news on the doorstep, but delaying it was just going to make it worse for everyone.
Luke stiffened as he heard the sob from behind him. His hand clenched tightly into a fist, fingernails digging painfully into his palm. His sister didn’t cry, and he’d always done everything in his power to make sure she never had a reason to. He’d promised his mother, once upon a time, that he would look after his family. He knew she hadn’t meant for him to become their savior or anything, but he had promised. He was responsible for them.
He felt helpless. Whatever this old man had come to say, he couldn’t protect her from it. No matter what was going to happen in the next couple of minutes, there was some connection between their dad not being home and this police officer standing on their doorstep. Even...even when his mother died, he hadn’t felt so scared and helpless; they’d known for a long time it was coming. His parents had done their best to prepare him and he’d known that it meant she wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. Nothing about this was expected.
His dad, his grandparents...they’d just gone to a show. It wasn’t even something uncommon; whenever they were all available, they liked to go see some sort of performance or another. If it wasn’t music related, neither of the kids were interested and the adults had long since stopped asking if they wanted to attend. They’d been through the same thing more times than Luke could count. He couldn’t...he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t answer the police officer. He felt like he needed to escape, to run away and pretend none of this was happening. He couldn’t handle this...he was just a kid. He shouldn’t have to be the one standing there, dealing with whatever bad tidings this git had brought them.
TQ took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled as she looked up to meet the police officer’s eyes. She waited for Luke to answer, but when no answer came, she turned her gaze on him. Her lip trembled as she took in how tense he was, how his hands were squeezed tight into fists. He was the one that was supposed to be relaxed. He was the easy going one. She was the angry and aggressive one...
Unable to contain a quiet whimper, she stepped forward, closing the distance between her and her brother. “Our mum’s dead, sir...” she said quietly. Gently she rest her hand against Luke’s wrist and tugged him backward away from the door. She bit her lip, reaching to flip the light switch by the door. For an awkward moment she stood there, unsure of what to do. Luke was always the one that handled things when their dad couldn’t.
“Erm...aye, come in.” She pulled Luke to the sofa, gently nudging him until he sat down. “Ye can...erm...sit...take I seat, I mean. I dinnae know if ye want...” she shrugged, rubbing a hand over her face. She forced herself to breathe in slow, steady breaths and to not look at the flashing lights. She could almost pretend that he was just one of her father’s friends. Maybe one of the other veterinarians from the zoo, nice enough a bit awkward and unsociable. TQ had always gotten on with them well enough. She had a tendency to be a bit awkward and unsociable herself. She sat down next to her brother, taking his hand tightly in her own.
John patted the boy’s shoulder in a way that was meant to be comforting but mostly came across as awkward and he quickly let his hand fall back to his side. Ugh, he had been the bearer of bad news more times in his career than he cared to count. He didn’t know why this was so awkward for him. Maybe because they were just kids, maybe because it was late...both in actual time and in his career...and he was just tired. Still. He needed to get himself together. However hard this was for him, it was going to be worse for the two kids. It was their family on the line.
And of course there was no one else there for them. John fought to keep his face carefully blank, exhaling slowly before he nodded. This night just kept getting worse. He stepped lightly into the house, quietly shutting the door behind him. He sank into the chair across from where the kids sat and ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled slowly, taking in the way the boy glared at him and the girl’s unreadable mask of an expression. They’d obviously had experience with loss and he saw in them that they had guessed what he’d come to say. He didn’t want to be the villain in the story of these two poor kids he’d never met before, but...he didn’t have a choice. He’d given his word to their grandfather.
He exhaled slowly. “I’m Officer John Maddock,” he started slowly, his gaze drifting between the two stricken faces of the children. “An hour or so ago, I responded to reports of an automotive accident. Your father and grandparents were in the car. Your grandfather refused to go to the hospital until someone came to let you two know what happened-” he had to stop talking as both the kids interrupted and began speaking over him. He held up a hand to silence them. “When I left the scene - he would not let them take him until I did - he and your father were...” he licked his lips, trying to find the proper wording. “They needed to get to the hospital quickly. Your grand father was awake, your father wasn’t.”
Luke’s fist relaxed and he moved to take TQ’s hand in his own. He allowed himself to be pulled toward the couch and sat down. He couldn’t seem to make any sense of the chaos going on in his head. Something had happened to his dad and his grandparents, there was no way he could do anything to make this better, but he felt like he had to. He was supposed to look after his sister but how could he protect her from this. Why was...he was...he was supposed to be looking out for her and here she was handling the whole situation while he just stood there like a useless freaking idiot.
He tried hard to focus on what the officer was saying, but only snippets of the actual words were coming. It was like his head was filled with white noise. Car accidents, hospitals...”Are they okay?” He asked, his glare dissolving into a look of sheer panic. He moved to wrap his arm around TQ’s shoulders. “Are they okay? Can we see them? Wh-” he quickly fell silent as Officer Maddock motioned for them to be quiet.
This couldn’t happen. Not again. His dad, his grandparents were the only family he and TQ had left. Who would take care of them? Where would they go? He nodded slowly, mostly for TQ’s benefit as the officer elaborated a bit. So...it was slow to register in his mind. His eyes squeezed closed as the words processed and his body shook with a silent sob. “Gran?” he asked, unable to bring himself to open his eyes. “What about Gran?”
TQ’s eyes began to sting with unspilled tears before the officer even began speaking. She clung to her brother’s hand as if it were anchoring her life. Whimpering, she kept her teary gaze on the officer’s face, focusing intently on his words. She didn’t want to miss anything, any small sign of hope. They were hurt, that’s all. Some bumps and bruises, they’d be fine. People were always taken to the hospital after accidents, weren’t they? Just to get checked out and to make sure there was no real damage? She and Luke had never done anything. She wasn’t always the nicest person, she knew that. But the world wouldn’t be cruel enough to take both her parents from her, and the only set of grandparents she really know. She hadn’t done anything to deserve that.
“But he’s okay, aye?” She cried out, hot tears finally spilling over. She hated crying. She hated the way it made her nose run and the way her her eyes burned and turned red and puffy. She hated the sticky feeling of her cheeks afterward. She hated the way her body shook and it hurt to swallow, the way her face wrinkled up and trembled. “They’re all okay, they just need-they just need...” she wrapped her arms around Luke, pressing her face against his chest as the officer continued.
She hadn’t missed his words either, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up to see how Luke was taking the information. Her breathing came in short, gasping gulps of air. Her lovely Gran...who baked her all sorts of sweets and always brought her new books and would listen attentively to anything she wanted to talk about and would scold her dad for trying to get her to wear girlier clothes even though she hated them. TQ couldn’t even begin to process the idea of a world without her Gran in it. And Papa and her father...she couldn’t...how...how were they supposed to get by without any family left?
John rubbed a hand over his face. He felt like some comic book villain, designed just to destroy lives. Giving people bad news was never easy, but these poor kids had already lost their mother and there wasn’t anyone they knew there to comfort them. For all he knew, the loss could have still been recent. The universe was cruel and there was no way these kids deserved this. He’d seen the shape the blokes had been in at the scene and he wasn’t a doctor so he wouldn’t comment out loud, but he couldn’t see how there was terribly much hope for them.
He exhaled slowly, meeting the lad’s eye with the slightest shake of his head. “I’m so sorry, lad. I can take you right to the hospital now. The doctors will be able to tell you more than I can.” He chewed on his lip, rubbing at the back of his neck. “If there’s anything I can do for you two, you let me know.” Jamsie would have killed him if he didn’t offer to do anything and everything within his power to make this easier on the poor kids. They’d never had kids of their own, but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. Jamsie loved kids more than anything and John loved her. Children just hadn’t been in the stars for them.
John wished he could say or do anything to make things easier for them, but there wasn’t a lot that could make sudden and unexpected death easier. Not for anyone, but especially not for a couple of kids who had already lost at least two family members in their short lifetimes and stood to lose two more. He considered offering them some of the pastries his wife had sent with him for the day - there was a box in his car - but somehow he didn’t think that would have done much good.
Luke struggled to take in several slow, deep breaths. He had to keep himself together, because TQ was sobbing and...that wasn’t something that happened. Ever. He hugged her tight, brushing his fingers soothingly over her hair. He couldn’t fall apart when she needed him. Someone had to look after the two of them. He was trembling, he couldn’t stop that, but he wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t. He needed...he need Zoey. He needed the one person that made him feel like a more complete human being. He needed to get himself and TQ to the hospital and he needed...someone had to tell Uncle Garrett, they were his parents too...how could...he was just a kid. He didn’t know what to do.
He shook his head. He licked his lips and rubbed one hand over his face. “We dinnae...we dinnae know ye...” He spoke quietly, his voice cracking from emotional strain. “Thank ye, but...” he shook his head again, slightly frantic, and he gently pulled back from his sister. Gently, he rested a hand on either side of her face and lifted her head so he could look her in the eye. He spoke carefully, evenly. “Tereza. Go up stairs and pack a bag, aye? Get dressed, pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because we may have to stay at the hospital for a bit from the sounds of it. Pack for me too, and grab anything you think Dad might want. I’m going to...” he paused, biting his lip as he glanced at the clock. He didn’t want to have to wake people up. Dad hated when he called anyone before 10am. He’d always taught Luke to respect people’s need for sleep. He figured an excuse could be made for the situation though. “I’m going to call...some people.”
TQ was not the sort to scream or wail or cause a scene. Even then, she sobbed quietly save for the quiet hiccoughing gasps that came as her body shook. She could feel Luke trembling against her, but he wasn’t crying which surprised her on some level of consciousness that she was only vaguely aware of at the moment. It was almost enough to make her laugh...in an entirely crazed sort of way. Just minutes before she had been forcing herself to stay together so that he could freak out and that quickly the roles had reversed. She knew on some level that she shouldn’t let him do that for her, but...she couldn’t stop. Their gran was...
Another quiet sob wracked her body. Why was Louie telling Officer Maddock that? The officer had just offered to take them to the hospital and he was rejecting the officer? She began to protest, but then he was speaking to her and it was hard to listen because her brain was a mess, but the instructions were simple enough and he was looking out for her like he always did, that stupid arse. She nodded slowly, wiping the back of her hand against her face. It did nothing to stem the flow of tears, though. They kept coming and she kept hating them. “I drooled on you...” she murmured between her body wracking sobs. She reached to wipe his chest with with her sleeve. “Sorry...”
Slowly she climbed to her feet, and then, with one last glance toward Officer Maddock she headed upstairs to do as her brother had asked. Her stuff would be easiest, so she’d take care of that first. She dumped her school bag on her bed, ignoring the mess of beaten up textbooks and scraps of old parchment. Hurriedly, she stuffed a pair of jeans into the bag and a t-shirt. She tossed in some deodorant, a small photo album and a couple little odds and ends...stupid things. Stupid. Her dad’s mother was...she was...Gran was dead. He wasn’t to care if she brought him some stupid stuffed animal that they’d gotten at the zoo or some pictures of them the time they’d gone to Loch Ness to see if they could find the monster because Luke had found out it was a real thing. Why would he care about any of that?
She sank to the floor, her back leaning against the edge of her bed. She had stopped crying as she worked, but another sob shook her body and a fresh wave of tears began to fall. Reaching behind her to pull her pillow off her bed, she pulled her legs up to her chest. She hugged the pillow tight, burying her face against the cloth to drown out the sound of her own crying. Several minutes passed as she sat there, sobbing into her pillow.
TQ lifted her head, to see Molly standing at her side. The big white ball of fluff that was her cat waddled over to rub against her side, purring loudly. Between her sobs, TQ gave a small, grateful laugh. She dropped her pillow to the ground and scooped the cat off the ground, hugging her against her chest. “Please, please let them be okay,” she murmured, crying into the cat’s fur. “I know I’m not nice and that I can be rude and hateful and judgemental, but I’ll try harder. I’ll be nicer, I swear I will.” Her whole body shook. She wasn’t sure who she was even talking to, what deity or mythical being she was offering her bargaining chips to. In the back of her head, she even knew that it was stupid and irrational and that promising to be a better person was both useless and a lie. She was who she was. Yet, the words kept spilling out. “I’ll be friendlier, I’ll have more tact. I’ll do anything, but please don’t take my family from me. Don’t do that to Louie. We haven’t done anything to deserve that, please.”
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but Molly was tolerant. The cat sat there, purring away as her coat became increasingly matted with the products of TQ’s snobbing. Slowly, the sobs faded to small hiccoughing gasps. She didn’t want to do anything except go back to bed and hope that when she woke up in the morning it all proved just to be an awful, awful dream. She didn’t have much choice though. The mission Luke had given her was a pretty easy one. She could manage that much, at least.
She was about to throw on the same jeans and t-shirt she’d worn the day before when she noticed the wrinkled ball of pink laying discarded in her closet. She hated that dress. She’d never even worn it. But it was the stupid sort of thing her dad was always trying to get her to wear. She hesitated...Gran had always snapped at him to leave her be, girls didn’t have to be girly, but she wanted to make him happy when he woke up. He always wanted her to wear the stupid pink dress. She sighed, and pulled it off the floor. Trying to get the wrinkles out, she shook it vigorously through the air.
John watched quietly as the boy visibly tried to calm himself. It was a bit impressive. The kid was strong, clearly, and obviously cared about his sister. He respected that, even if he didn’t think it was exactly healthy for the boy to shut off his own feelings which is what it looked like it was happening. It was like he’d watched a complete role reversal between the two and it made him wonder what the kids had been through that left them so intune to what they needed from each other. It was impressive, yes, but it was also a little bit sad. Siblings didn’t generally get on as well as all that, especially not as teenagers.
He nodded, in reply to the boy’s reply that he didn’t know them. John understood. If he were about to approach some potentially horribly situation with Jamesie, he’d definitely want someone he knew and trusted at his back to support and comfort him. Teeangers weren’t that trusting to begin with. He couldn’t blame the boy for not completely trusting the strange police officer that had come to tell him his grandmother was dead and grandfather and father were both seriously injured.
John listened quietly as the boy gave out instructions to his sister, taking note that the girl’s name was Tereza. He still didn’t think either of them had mentioned the boy’s name. He wasn’t going to press, though. The kid seemed to be handling the situation as best as he was capable which was both respectable and, again, a bit sad. The kid shouldn’t have had to handle the situation. He couldn’t have been older than maybe fifteen. He shouldn’t have had to be in charge.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, reaching out to rest a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder after Tereza had gone upstairs. “I can call anyone you need, lad. You don’t have to take on the weight of this by yourself.” He wasn’t going anywhere. Not, at least, until someone was there to look after the kids. They didn’t need to be left alone on top of everything else and John was, after all, there to help.
Luke managed a small weak smile as TQ tried to wipe her drool off his chest. He hadn’t even noticed and he really didn’t care, but it was just like her to get distracted by something ridiculous like that so that she didn’t actually have to think about the bigger things. Neither of them had ever been particularly good at dealing with...life. They had just developed different ways to handle their avoidance of emotional topics. He pushed her hand away, gently nudging her off the couch.
He watched in silence as she climbed the steps, then turned his brown eyes toward Officer Maddock. He glared, shrugging the man’s hand off his shoulder. “I do, actually.” He said, simply. “Like I said, we don’t know ye. I won’t...my uncle and my friends do not need to hear bad news from strangers. Ye can sit there, if ye have to, but I’ve got to take care of it. Not ye, and I’ll do it on me own.” He was still trembling, but his gaze was determined. Slowly, he rose off the couch, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, and walked into the kitchen.
He froze in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d been sitting there at the kitchen bar just hours ago, discussing misadventures at school with his Gran. Just a little while ago she’d been laughing at his stupid jokes and chiding him for not being more careful and filling him up with cookies and sweets and she’d never do that again. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t...if he started crying, he might never stop. He couldn’t afford it. His heart rate was increasing, he could feel it in his chest. It was becoming harder to get air into his lungs, but he pressed on.
His father kept a little phonelist on the refrigerator. Everyone was on there, except Luke’s maternal grandparents. That was where he needed to go first. He pulled the receiver of the house phone off the hook, scanning the list until he found his Uncle’s number. No matter how badly Luke wanted his friends there with him, or some familiar adult that could at least take charge of the situation, Uncle Garrett had a right to be the first one told.
The phone rang and rang, and with each ring Luke’s could feel his heart beating harder. What if something had happened to Uncle Garrett, too? What if in one fell swoop some cruel trick of fate really had wiped out his entire family. Oh god, what if he and TQ were the only Kelleys left? Who would look after them? Where would they live? They had no one else, nowhere else to go. After what felt like the eightieth ring, the phone kicked over to voicemail. “Uncle Garrett...” Luke started, his voice cracking with suppressed emotions. How did he do this? How was he supposed to tell someone via recorded message that his mother was dead? That his father and brother were in uncertain shape? “Erm...it’s...it’s Lucas. Yer nephew...” he didn’t even know, Garrett. Not really. Luke’s dad had never really gotten on with his brother and so Luke and TQ had never been around him that much. “There’s...there’s been an accident. I...I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. Gran..she’s...”
He stopped, gritting his teeth together, forcing down a deep breath. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - cry. Not now, not in the foreseeable future, and not while was on the phone. “Ye have to call me back...Tereza and I...Dad and Papa are...everyone’s going to be at the hospital, so just...just call me back when ye wake up, or when ye get this...” he rattled off his phone number. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if there was anything else to say. He couldn’t...he was sure there were other things that needed said but he had other people to call and there was only so much that could or should be said in a message.
A sob took him by surprise, shaking his body. He was trying hard to keep everything under control, but he felt like he was spiraling into chaos. He felt like he was choking on the lump that had formed in his throat. He couldn’t breathe but he couldn’t afford to stop breathing, either. Without thinking about it, he took the wireless phone and walked out the back door. He collapsed onto the small porch, struggling to get the chilly air into his lungs as he rested his head against the railing. After a moment, he began to pull up Zoey’s number in his contacts list, be he just...he couldn’t call her. She had more than enough to worry about. The last thing he wanted, no matter how horrible he felt, was to make her worry about him. He wanted to speak to her more than anything, to have her comfort him, but he couldn’t burden her. He couldn’t.
He stumbled down the small set of stairs, dropping to his knees. His stomach heaved, spilling the remains of dinner and late night snacks onto grass and concrete. He was angry at his body for falling out of his control, angry at himself for feeling so bloody helpless. He took several deep breathes, fighting to get himself back under control. He couldn’t afford to do this right now. Another heave rocked his body, more of his stomach contents splattering across the ground. “Stop,” he growled, slamming his hand against the concrete. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” He punctuated each word with a smack of his hand against the rough concrete, until his lefts hand was scraped raw and bloody.
Luke wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the grass, but eventually the panic subsided leaving him with a numb sort of emptiness. He crawled back up the stairs and reached for the phone. “Sorry, about the hour Mrs. Grant...” he said, a calm hollowness to his voice. “Could you drive TQ and I to the hospital? We’ll be ready, soon. Just...come over, we’ll explain when you get here.” He headed back inside, dropping the phone onto the counter as he passed through the kitchen.
He stopped in the living room, cradling his bloody hand against his chest. “My friend’s mother’s going to come and take us to the hospital. She only lives right down the street, so she’ll be here in a couple of minutes. Will you...will you explain to her what’s going on? I need a really quick shower...” Without waiting for a response, he made his way upstairs. “Mrs. Grant’s going to be here in a couple of minutes, T, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He informed his sister before heading into the bathroom.
Andalee Grant had been sound asleep next to her husband, a feat that did not often get accomplished when both her teenage sons were on holiday from school. Usually, at least one of the two was awake somewhere in the house, making noise until ridiculous hours of the morning. She was thankful, though, that Jack had gone off to spend sometime with his girlfriend and her family and Isaac had worn himself out playing rugby with his friends. For once, the grant household was quiet.
So, when the phone rang in the middle of the night, she woke with a start. Her initial thought was that something had happened with Jack. That there had been some accident while they were off on whatever excursion the girl’s family had planned. A glance at the ID told her that that wasn’t the case, though. She frowned as she answered the phone. Greg would surely have been asleep at that hour, and neither Lucas or Tereza would call the house that late. If they absolutely needed to reach Isaac, they’d have called his mobile.
“Hello?” She answered, rubbing her sleep bleary eyes. “Lucas? Sweetheart, what-?” He didn’t seem to be listening, though. He said something about the hospital, which immediately set off red flags in Anda’s head. Where was Greg? Why couldn’t he drive them? “Aye, honey, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Frowning with concern, she hung up the phone and shook her husband awake. She filled him in and told him to stay there. She’d call him after she knew what was going on.
She got up and dressed quickly. She grabbed her keys and drove over. Even if her house was only a few houses down the street, if the situation was as bad as she thought it might be, she didn’t want the kids to have to take the time to walk over to it. The flashing lights of the police car outside the Kelley household was immediately concerning. She didn’t even turn off the car; she just parked and ran up to the house, entering without knocking.
She had expected the kids to be waiting there, ready to go. There were no signs of either of them in the living room, though, just an officer sitting there in uniform. She crossed into the room, dropping into the seat across from the officer. “What’s happened to their father? His car’s not in here...how bad is it? How are the children? They really don’t have anyone else...” she frowned in concern, her hand resting on her throat.
John gave a single nod, watching as the boy walked out of the room. He wasn’t going to force the boy to listen to him. As the lad had said; they didn’t know him. He was just the one that came bearing bad news. “I’m not going anywhere, lad.” He said quietly, keeping his face impassive as the boy walked away. He had told the old man that he’d take care of his grandkids and he’d made the same promise to Jamsie. For several long minutes he sat in silence, save for the quiet crackling of the radio on his belt. He was off duty, now and could turn it off, but the familiar sound was comforting to his frayed nerves.
Eventually he couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. He rose from his chair and wondered slowly around the room. It wasn’t particularly homey, but living rooms were always a good way to learn small details about the family that lived there. Someone was a drummer, judging by the worn kit in the corner. The cleaning had been a bit slack, as several items in the room were covered with a thin layer of dust and there weren’t many pictures hung, but those that were all showed the children much younger than they were now; chubby cheeked and laughing, often in the arms of a blonde woman with a warm smile. None of them were professionally and none involved the father, though John imagined that was because he’d taken most of them. It looked like they’d been rather young when they lost their mum, poor kids.
He was pulled from his curious poking around by the sound of a door shutting in the direction the lad had gone off too. Quietly he moved over toward the door the boy had disappeared through, slowly opening it so he could peer through. He could see the lad through the window, sitting on the porch. He wondered if he should go out and try to comfort the boy. After a moment of deliberation, though, he’d decided that the kid had made it quite clear that he didn’t want John’s help and John really doubted that he was going to go anywhere or do anything that would leave his sister behind, so John would leave him to himself, for now. He shut the door just as quietly as he’d opened it and settled back into his seat.
He had slowly started to drift off when the sound of the door opening and shutting snapped him back to alertness. He sat up a bit straighter, turning his gaze toward the kitchen door. After a moment the boy appeared, cradling a bloody hand against his chest. John opened his mouth to ask if he wanted help dressing the hand, but the boy began speaking before he’d gotten a chance to get any words out and was already heading off up the stairs before he could answer. “Aye, lad, of course,” he said to the boy’s retreating back, frowning to himself.
It was only ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the front door opened and a dark haired woman entered without announcing herself. He began to rise to greet her, but she was making her way over to him, moving faster than he could get around these days. He sighed, pressing his lips tightly together. “Officer John Maddock, ma’am.” He introduced himself, offering her a hand to shake before he took a deep breath, preparing himself to tackle her string of questions.
“Their father...I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to get anyone’s name, though the boy referred to his sister as Tereza...and grandparents were involved in a car accident. The grandfather refused to go to the hospital until someone promised to go see to his grandchildren, and that’s why I’m here now.” He exhaled slowly, leaning forward to place a hand on the woman’s arm. “Their grandmother was pronounced at the scene. I’m no doctor, ma’am, but things weren’t looking too well for either gentleman from what I could tell; their father was not conscious, their grandfather was but...” he shook his head, trying to suppress the fresh, graphic memory that had flashed into his mind.
He glanced toward the steps and then let his gaze fall back on the woman. “The children are...they’re handling it as well as can be expected. I’ve told them about their grandmother, but I...haven’t told them just how bad things are with the other two. They seem like good kids, maybe I should have...but, no, as I said, I’m no doctor. I didn’t want to give false information. They’ve got enough to take on as it is...” he sighed, rubbing his hand over the thin coat of stubble across his chin. “I would like to escort the lot of you to the hospital, if you don’t mind.” It was the least he could do, really. The kids may not have wanted him to take them himself, but he could still do his best to make sure they got there as quickly as possible.
TQ sat on the edge of her bed, her breath coming short little gasps as she tried to smooth her wrinkled dress over her legs. She wasn’t sure how long the dress had been laying on the floor of her closet. Her dad had bought it for her ages ago and she’d never worn it, but she couldn’t imagine it had been on the floor the entire time since her last visit home. Her dad was sure to tidied her room while she was away, even though that was a bit annoying. The point was, though, it shouldn’t have been that wrinkled and the wrinkle shouldn’t have been so bloody stubborn. A sob tore through her just as Louie appeared at her door and began speaking. She gasped, jumping up.
“The dress is too tight,” she murmured, not really listening to what her brother was saying. She looked down at the dress and tugged at the top of it trying to make it fit better. “But he’d want me to wear it, though? He’d like it...maybe I shouldn’t.” She turned to look at her brother but he had already walked away. She covered her face with her hands and collapsed back onto her bed, her body shaking with tears. No, he probably wouldn’t like the dress. It didn’t fit right and so it didn’t look good on her. She had to have another dress somewhere, one that her dad would like better.
She crawled out of her bed and pulled her trousers back on under the dress, switching it out for the first pink shirt she found. It was an older one, too and still a little bit tight, but it fit better than the dress and it was easier for her to deal with. While pulling her hair up into a quick ponytail, she took several deep breaths until the tears stopped flowing and her body stopped shaking. Forcefully keeping her breathing even, she moved about her room, gathering up a change of clothes for herself before moving to her father’s room to gather up the things he’d probably want. Luke was the last person she packed for, tossing his stuff into her bag.
She made her way downstairs slowly, quietly, straining her ears to listen. Unconscious...they didn’t look good...the words floated up to her like bullets to the chest. She leaned against the wall, forcing her breath to stay even. She didn’t move until she was sure that she could move steadily. “Hello Mrs. Grant,” she said quietly, moving to sit down on the couch next to her friend’s mother. She sat her bag on her lap and wrapped her arms around it. As soon as Luke was ready, she was ready to go.
Luke always took quick showers. He saw no reason to spend fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes at a time in the shower. This time, though, was probably the quickest shower he’d taken in his life. He inspected his hand as he climbed out of the shower and concluded that it would be okay. It was rubbed raw and there were a couple of pretty decent scrapes across his palm, but they would heal well enough and it wasn’t like it was his dominant hand. He’d survive. He quickly wrapped it in bandages from the bathroom medicine cabinet and then stopped thinking about it. A hurt hand was barely enough to register on the radar of his thoughts.
He pulled on the same clothes he’d worn the day before and ran a quick comb through his rapidly curling hair. Generally he would apply the straightening potion to it straight out of the shower, but that hardly seemed important. His dad wouldn’t bloody well care if his hair was straight or not. Quickly, he put some food out for Toad and then looked around his room searching for Brockley. It was a little embarrassing that he still had a tendency to sleep with the tattered stuffed broccoli, but the stupid thing had been with him since he was born. It was a comfort item, one of the few that he really had, and if there was ever a time...well, he’d have just liked to carry the stupid toy with him.
Usually Brockley stayed on his bed but he wasn’t there. Luke threw back the covers, already knowing he wouldn’t find the ratty toy there. He spun around and looked on top the dresser. No...he dropped to his knees and searched under the bed, no. The closet, the end table, the piles of dirty laundry, the trunk of school things...where the bloody hell was the stupid thing? He could feel his test tightening, his throat constricting, his lungs struggling again to find air. Frantically, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Where is it,” he muttered, tearing the pillows and blankets off his bed. A long string of whispered curses flowed from his mouth as he tore apart his room. Had TQ packed the stupid thing? Frustrated, he kicked over the chair at his desk.
Fine, just bloody fine. He was fifteen bloody years old. He’d be an adult in a year and a half. He didn’t need a blasted broccoli doll in order to face the real world. He picked up the first thing his hand reached, an old glass framed picture of him and his mother, and tossed it against the far wall of the room where it shattered and fell to the floor. He stared at the pile of broken glass for a moment and then turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He’d deal with that later.
Luke hesitated at the top of the stairs, taking several slow, deep breaths before he made his way down. “Hi, Mrs. Grant. Thanks for coming,” he greeted in the same hollow voice he’d used on the phone. Calmly, he offered his hand to his sister. “We’re ready to go now, I think?” He glanced back and forth between the adults and then headed toward the door. He pulled a key off the hook by the door and held the door open. “Come on, then.”
Andalee frowned, impatiently and briefly shaking the officer’s hand. “Andalee Grant,” she introduced herself, rather snippily. She appreciated the niceties, generally, but not at the moment. She needed to know what was happening. Lucas and Tereza Kelley had been among her son’s best friends for nearly as long as they’d been alive. They were family. Over the years the kids had spent nearly as much time at the Grant household as they had at their own and Anda would not have hesitated to treat either of them as her own. Something was clearly wrong, and she needed to know what it was. Greg may not have always been the best parent but he was the only one the kids had and if he was hurt, someone was going to have to make arrangements for the kids.
“Lucas. Luke. His name’s Luke. Their dad’s Greg, Tereza goes by TQ.” She hurriedly explained, shaking her head. The names seemed sort of important, but the fact that the names seemed important also felt incredibly idiotic. Finding out what happened to Greg was far more important than this stranger knowing everyone’s names, but it was almost reflexive for her to fill him in. She waved her hand dismissively through the air, signaling that Officer Maddock should continue. As he did, though, a quiet gasp escaped her lips and her hand flew to cover her mouth. She had only met Mr. and Mrs. Kelley less than a handful of times, but they’d never seemed anything but wonderful and the children spoke highly of them. Isaac had once spent a week at their home with Luke and TQ and had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Anda felt like a fist was clenching her heart, squeezing it until it was struggling to beat. She had been there when the children had lost their mother, she had watched the whole family struggle and had helped out where she could. They didn’t deserve anymore loss or heartache in their lives. Her lip trembled as her hand settled on her chest, her mind racing. Greg hadn’t been conscious when they’d taken him away...what if...who would look after the children? She knew full well that they didn’t have any other family worth mentioning; she hadn’t heard them mention their mother’s parents in ages and Greg had never had much in the way of kind words to speak about his brother. Could she and her husband take the kids in? Their home didn’t really have room for two more occupants, but they could probably work something out...
But she was getting ahead of herself. The fine doctors at the hospital would take care of him and while he was in the hospital, the children would probably spend most of the time there with him. When they weren’t there, they were welcome to stay at her home, or at their own. Luke was old enough now to look out for himself and his sister. She nodded, not really listening to his musings about whether he should have told them about what state their father and grandfather were in. His feelings were of no matter to her, she didn’t know him and she had much more important concerns. “Aye, you probably should have, but it’s done now. An escort would be lovely,” she nodded, distantly.
Quiet footsteps called her attention to the stairs. “Hello, sweetheart.” Anda greeted TQ, quietly as the girl joined her on the couch. She reached out to stroke her hair, just once, twice. Ever since Allison had died, the girl had been insistent that she do as much as possible for herself. She didn’t like to be treated like a child and she’d likely have resented it if Anda showed too much affection. “We’ll go just as soon as your brother comes down.” She rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder for a moment before letting it drop.
“Luke,” she gasped, spotting the boy’s bandaged hand as he appeared at the foot of the stairs. “What did you do to your hand?” She rose from the sofa, taking a step toward him. “Yes, yes of course. Let’s go.” She reached out and brushed her hand over the boy’s damp hair before turning and following him to the door. Hopefully when they arrived the doctors would say that things weren’t as bad as the officer had said. Hopefully everything would end up just fine.
John nodded slowly, making a mental note of the names as she introduced them. He understood her obvious impatience, but he also was glad he’d told her. He knew that Jamsie would want him to make sure that the kids were going to be alright. Especially if he was right in his suspicions that neither of the men were going to be able to pull through the damage they’d suffered in the accident. He would probably head home after seeing them all safely to the hospital, but he would try to make a point to check in on the family tomorrow or one of the days in the near future.
He watched in silence as the children returned from the upper level of the house. Shifting awkwardly where he sat, he worried about interrupting their quiet, strained intimacy. Should he say something? He was so much better at this when he was on duty. The minute his shift ended, he seemed to lose a large amount of his confidence. He just wasn’t ever entirely sure what the correct path of action was. He rubbed at his chin, absent mindedly fiddling with the antennae of the radio at his hip. He, like Mrs. Grant, was wondering just what was going to happen with the children if Mr. Kelley didn’t make it through. He’d had to deliver bad news to families plenty of times, but only twice in his long career had he ever personally had to deliver such devastating news. He felt more invested than a proper officer should be.
“Aye, lad,” he agreed gruffly, rising from the seat in which he sat. “We can go. Mrs. Grant and I have agreed that I’ll escort the lot of ye.” He followed the small group to the door. “I don’t expect there will be much traffic, but just in case...” he trailed off. No one was listening to him anyway. He left the house and waited awkwardly beside his patrol car until Mrs. Grant and the children had gotten in her car. He pulled out ahead of them to lead the way. He really needed to get home and hug his wife and maybe together the two of them could figure out something to do to hope the family out.
