SN WIP: Danny in therapy fic - Part 5
Oct. 13th, 2004 07:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereThis may be changed later, if I find I've missed something that should be totally obvious to a grieving Jewish family. On the other hand, the scene didn't end up being too specific about details, so it'll probably be fine.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
Part Five:
***
Dan gritted his teeth against the casual chatter of the hospital staff. They were standing at the nurses’ station, discussing someone’s new house. All Dan could think was that in another room, down another grey carpeted hallway, his father was lying on an operating table and these people were talking about kitchen tiles.
Dan slid his cell phone out of his pocket, idly pressing keys as he toyed with the idea of calling Casey. He decided against it and brought up Abby’s number instead. “Hey Abby.”
“Dan?” she asked through the slight hiss of static.
“Yeah.”
“This reception isn’t great.”
“I’m sitting in a hospital and I probably shouldn’t be on the phone. I’m not going to complain about the reception.” A nurse in a blue uniform walked by and Dan sunk down in his chair, covering the phone with his hand.
“They’d have signs posted if you couldn’t use it.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Then you’re probably fine,” Abby said. “How are things?”
“Dad’s in surgery. Mom and sue are in the gift shop. I think they’re searching for that perfect post-bypass Hallmark card.” Dan kept his voice light, but Abby didn’t laugh. “Or maybe one of those teddy-bears that says ‘I love you with all my heart’.”
“How long did it take you to come up with that?” Abby asked knowingly.
“A while. I’ve had some time on my hands.”
“Where’s David?”
“He went home.” Dan stretched back on the plastic chair. “He’s not a big fan of hospital waiting rooms.”
“Why not?”
“When I was leaving for college, he’d already graduated and moved back home.”
“Meaning?”
“He was here the night that Sam--” Dan stood up and started walking outside, cell phone held tight in his hand. "Sam didn't die on impact. It was touch and go for a few hours."
"Ah."
"I missed it," Dan said, trying to blink away the memories. "By the time I got there, Sam was already dead."
"They told you about waiting for Sam?" Abby asked carefully.
"David told me."
"Why David?"
Dan's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "He was the only who'd talk to me."
"Really?"
"It was like six a.m. when I got there," Dan explained. "Mom and Susie were crying, just sitting on the living room couch and sobbing. I can still remember the horrible noise Mom was making... This moaning sound that she just couldn't stop."
"And your father?"
"He was upstairs, in Sam's room. Sam used to have this shelf of awards, certificates, stuff like that. Dad was wandering back and forth, reading over everything on that shelf. Picking stuff up and putting it back down like he'd never seen it before." In the back of his mind, Dan still had a clear picture of that moment: pushing open the door and watching his dad -- *his* dad, a guy who didn't give in, didn't back down for anything -- stare around the room, completely lost. It had been more shattering than Sue’s strangled voice on the other side of the phone, telling him that Sam had been in an accident.
“Sounds like he was in shock,” Abby said.
“Yeah?”
“Sounds like it. It’s a pretty common reaction, Dan.”
“Yeah, well. Mom was crying and Dad was cataloguing Sam’s stuff, and I ended up standing on the back steps, feeling like I wasn’t there at all.”
***
The wind was cold and biting, causing goosebumps along Dan’s arms. He had a sweater inside the house, but he’d rather freeze than have to go back inside. The last ten hours felt like a dream, like a horrible nightmare, and all Dan really wanted was to be able to wake up.
The back door opened behind him, and David came out, holding a sweatshirt. “Here,” David said, shoving the shirt at Dan.
“Thanks.” Dan pulled it on quickly. “Is it my imagination, or is there a reason no one’s talking to me?”
“I’m talking to you,” David said curtly.
“Yeah.” Dan wasn’t cold, but he still wrapped his arms around his ribcage. “But you’re the only one.”
David sighed impatiently and Dan didn’t feel like a young adult any more. This morning, he’d felt so grown up, finally moving out of home, becoming a college freshman. Now, he just felt like a little kid. An annoying little kid no one wanted to be around. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?” David demanded, leaning back against the side of house.
“All of it. I don’t get it,” Dan said. “Susie explained it on the phone, and I know what happened, but I don’t get... I don’t get *how* it happened. How it could possibly have *happened*. To Sam.”
David glared into the early dawn light, scowling at the pale pink clouds. “That’s pretty obvious.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom’s told you, Dad’s told you. We’ve all warned you.” David refused to look at him. “When Dad said your indulgences were dangerous, he didn’t mean only to you.”
“What?” Dan spluttered. “But I didn’t know--I never thought--”
“Of course you didn’t. None of us did.” David shook his head slightly. “If we’d known, you can bet Dad would have been a hell of a lot stricter on you.”
Dan hunched his shoulders up, thinking about every time Sam had asked him for advice, had asked him about dating and friends and being cool. Every time Sam had wanted to be just like him. “I didn’t mean for Sammy to get hurt.”
“I know. But while you’re standing here and brooding over why no one will explain it to you, you’ve got to understand that we spent three hours sitting in hospital corridors, waiting to find out if Sam would live or die. Knowing that even if he lived, there was a good chance he’d be nothing more than a vegetable attached to medical equipment.” David’s tone was harsh and angry, but it didn’t compare to the cold rage in his eyes. “You had your fun. You partied with your friends and Sam stepped straight into your footsteps. And now he’s dead.”
“God, David, you know I didn’t--” His voice cracked on the last word.
“I *know*. But I’m saying there’s a reason why no one knows what to say to you, Danny,” David said as he pushed himself away from the wall and walked back inside. The door swung shut, but Dan could still hear the sound of weeping.
***
“He said that to you?”
“It sounds worse than it was.”
“What made it sound better?” Abby asked doubtfully.
“He didn’t mean it. The next time I saw him, he apologized for even saying it,” Dan assured her. “He’d been up all night. Twenty-four hours straight. After that, he slept for a few hours and when he woke up, he apologized.”
“You believed him?”
“I knew he was sorry, Abby. David and I’ve never been too close, but he didn’t mean it.”
“So you believed his apology,” Abby said slowly and Dan suddenly realized he was too tired for this conversation. “But did you believe him when he said that you were responsible?”
“He didn’t mean it.”
“I know he didn’t mean it, but did you believe it?”
Dan carefully stayed quiet. He walked down another corridor and realized he’d lost his way to the exit. Looking around, he tried to retrace his steps.
“I’m asking the wrong question, aren’t I?”
“Is that rhetorical?”
“I should be asking if you still believe it,” Abby continued, “shouldn’t I?”
“It’s not--” Dan started, striding down another corridor. “I know he didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t true.”
“But you believed it was true, didn’t you?”
“Is this really the best time to discuss this?” Dan demanded, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “As we speak, some guy is cutting my father open and levering apart his ribcage. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what we need to be talking about.”
“It isn’t.”
Dan blinked, sure that was too easy. “It isn’t?”
Abby sighed. “Have you noticed the only time you talk about something personal is when you’re trying to avoid talking about something else?”
“What?”
“And considering how painful that memory must be, I can only assume that whatever you don’t want to talk about, you *really* don’t want to talk about it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“And I’m wondering if it’s your father that you don’t want to talk about--”
“Considering there is a chance that he could die on that operating table, I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to talk about it,” Dan said sarcastically. “It makes absolutely no sense that I’d want to think about something other than the possibility of my father as a corpse.”
“As I was saying,” Abby said, not at all ruffled, “I’m wondering if it’s your father you don’t want to talk about, or if it’s Casey. And your last comment makes it pretty clear it’s Casey.”
“Abby, I have to go,” Dan said, trying to swallow down the nameless panic.
“I thought you would.”
“I’m hanging up now,” Dan said, fumbling at his cell.
“I’ll keep in touch, Dan.”
***
Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.
Part Five:
***
Dan gritted his teeth against the casual chatter of the hospital staff. They were standing at the nurses’ station, discussing someone’s new house. All Dan could think was that in another room, down another grey carpeted hallway, his father was lying on an operating table and these people were talking about kitchen tiles.
Dan slid his cell phone out of his pocket, idly pressing keys as he toyed with the idea of calling Casey. He decided against it and brought up Abby’s number instead. “Hey Abby.”
“Dan?” she asked through the slight hiss of static.
“Yeah.”
“This reception isn’t great.”
“I’m sitting in a hospital and I probably shouldn’t be on the phone. I’m not going to complain about the reception.” A nurse in a blue uniform walked by and Dan sunk down in his chair, covering the phone with his hand.
“They’d have signs posted if you couldn’t use it.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Then you’re probably fine,” Abby said. “How are things?”
“Dad’s in surgery. Mom and sue are in the gift shop. I think they’re searching for that perfect post-bypass Hallmark card.” Dan kept his voice light, but Abby didn’t laugh. “Or maybe one of those teddy-bears that says ‘I love you with all my heart’.”
“How long did it take you to come up with that?” Abby asked knowingly.
“A while. I’ve had some time on my hands.”
“Where’s David?”
“He went home.” Dan stretched back on the plastic chair. “He’s not a big fan of hospital waiting rooms.”
“Why not?”
“When I was leaving for college, he’d already graduated and moved back home.”
“Meaning?”
“He was here the night that Sam--” Dan stood up and started walking outside, cell phone held tight in his hand. "Sam didn't die on impact. It was touch and go for a few hours."
"Ah."
"I missed it," Dan said, trying to blink away the memories. "By the time I got there, Sam was already dead."
"They told you about waiting for Sam?" Abby asked carefully.
"David told me."
"Why David?"
Dan's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "He was the only who'd talk to me."
"Really?"
"It was like six a.m. when I got there," Dan explained. "Mom and Susie were crying, just sitting on the living room couch and sobbing. I can still remember the horrible noise Mom was making... This moaning sound that she just couldn't stop."
"And your father?"
"He was upstairs, in Sam's room. Sam used to have this shelf of awards, certificates, stuff like that. Dad was wandering back and forth, reading over everything on that shelf. Picking stuff up and putting it back down like he'd never seen it before." In the back of his mind, Dan still had a clear picture of that moment: pushing open the door and watching his dad -- *his* dad, a guy who didn't give in, didn't back down for anything -- stare around the room, completely lost. It had been more shattering than Sue’s strangled voice on the other side of the phone, telling him that Sam had been in an accident.
“Sounds like he was in shock,” Abby said.
“Yeah?”
“Sounds like it. It’s a pretty common reaction, Dan.”
“Yeah, well. Mom was crying and Dad was cataloguing Sam’s stuff, and I ended up standing on the back steps, feeling like I wasn’t there at all.”
***
The wind was cold and biting, causing goosebumps along Dan’s arms. He had a sweater inside the house, but he’d rather freeze than have to go back inside. The last ten hours felt like a dream, like a horrible nightmare, and all Dan really wanted was to be able to wake up.
The back door opened behind him, and David came out, holding a sweatshirt. “Here,” David said, shoving the shirt at Dan.
“Thanks.” Dan pulled it on quickly. “Is it my imagination, or is there a reason no one’s talking to me?”
“I’m talking to you,” David said curtly.
“Yeah.” Dan wasn’t cold, but he still wrapped his arms around his ribcage. “But you’re the only one.”
David sighed impatiently and Dan didn’t feel like a young adult any more. This morning, he’d felt so grown up, finally moving out of home, becoming a college freshman. Now, he just felt like a little kid. An annoying little kid no one wanted to be around. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?” David demanded, leaning back against the side of house.
“All of it. I don’t get it,” Dan said. “Susie explained it on the phone, and I know what happened, but I don’t get... I don’t get *how* it happened. How it could possibly have *happened*. To Sam.”
David glared into the early dawn light, scowling at the pale pink clouds. “That’s pretty obvious.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom’s told you, Dad’s told you. We’ve all warned you.” David refused to look at him. “When Dad said your indulgences were dangerous, he didn’t mean only to you.”
“What?” Dan spluttered. “But I didn’t know--I never thought--”
“Of course you didn’t. None of us did.” David shook his head slightly. “If we’d known, you can bet Dad would have been a hell of a lot stricter on you.”
Dan hunched his shoulders up, thinking about every time Sam had asked him for advice, had asked him about dating and friends and being cool. Every time Sam had wanted to be just like him. “I didn’t mean for Sammy to get hurt.”
“I know. But while you’re standing here and brooding over why no one will explain it to you, you’ve got to understand that we spent three hours sitting in hospital corridors, waiting to find out if Sam would live or die. Knowing that even if he lived, there was a good chance he’d be nothing more than a vegetable attached to medical equipment.” David’s tone was harsh and angry, but it didn’t compare to the cold rage in his eyes. “You had your fun. You partied with your friends and Sam stepped straight into your footsteps. And now he’s dead.”
“God, David, you know I didn’t--” His voice cracked on the last word.
“I *know*. But I’m saying there’s a reason why no one knows what to say to you, Danny,” David said as he pushed himself away from the wall and walked back inside. The door swung shut, but Dan could still hear the sound of weeping.
***
“He said that to you?”
“It sounds worse than it was.”
“What made it sound better?” Abby asked doubtfully.
“He didn’t mean it. The next time I saw him, he apologized for even saying it,” Dan assured her. “He’d been up all night. Twenty-four hours straight. After that, he slept for a few hours and when he woke up, he apologized.”
“You believed him?”
“I knew he was sorry, Abby. David and I’ve never been too close, but he didn’t mean it.”
“So you believed his apology,” Abby said slowly and Dan suddenly realized he was too tired for this conversation. “But did you believe him when he said that you were responsible?”
“He didn’t mean it.”
“I know he didn’t mean it, but did you believe it?”
Dan carefully stayed quiet. He walked down another corridor and realized he’d lost his way to the exit. Looking around, he tried to retrace his steps.
“I’m asking the wrong question, aren’t I?”
“Is that rhetorical?”
“I should be asking if you still believe it,” Abby continued, “shouldn’t I?”
“It’s not--” Dan started, striding down another corridor. “I know he didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t true.”
“But you believed it was true, didn’t you?”
“Is this really the best time to discuss this?” Dan demanded, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “As we speak, some guy is cutting my father open and levering apart his ribcage. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what we need to be talking about.”
“It isn’t.”
Dan blinked, sure that was too easy. “It isn’t?”
Abby sighed. “Have you noticed the only time you talk about something personal is when you’re trying to avoid talking about something else?”
“What?”
“And considering how painful that memory must be, I can only assume that whatever you don’t want to talk about, you *really* don’t want to talk about it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“And I’m wondering if it’s your father that you don’t want to talk about--”
“Considering there is a chance that he could die on that operating table, I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to talk about it,” Dan said sarcastically. “It makes absolutely no sense that I’d want to think about something other than the possibility of my father as a corpse.”
“As I was saying,” Abby said, not at all ruffled, “I’m wondering if it’s your father you don’t want to talk about, or if it’s Casey. And your last comment makes it pretty clear it’s Casey.”
“Abby, I have to go,” Dan said, trying to swallow down the nameless panic.
“I thought you would.”
“I’m hanging up now,” Dan said, fumbling at his cell.
“I’ll keep in touch, Dan.”
***
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Date: 2005-09-04 02:52 am (UTC)