Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just using them for fun.Chapter Text
The television in the corner of the room is old and the picture comes in fuzzy, but he doesn’t have to see the news report to know exactly what’s on the screen.
A reporter comes into focus, her face somber and lips pressed tightly like any other expression would force her to lose the merger control she has over her emotions.
“We’re back with up to the minute details about the tragic school bus accident we’ve been covering since news of the story broke. For those of you just joining us, there has been a fatal accident on the southbound side of I-35. A school bus carrying 48 fourth grade students from Highland Park Elementary School as well as two teachers and a bus driver returning from a field trip, was slammed into by a dump truck who seemingly lost control and flipped the bus. It is unsure what caused the dump truck to lose control but the initial crash was exacerbated when the gasoline from the fuel tank of the bus ignited immediately after impact. In what we are discovering to be the second deadliest bus disaster in United States history, it has been confirmed that all adults and 47 of the students were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.
We’ve also gotten news that rescue efforts were hindered by the clouds of dark smoke and threat of further explosion. We’ve learned that the bus fell with a majority of its exists blocked and the dump truck prevented evacuation from others. Rescue officials have now released the name of the lone survivor, a miracle nine year old who managed to get himself partially out of the bus before the explosion but was pinned under the wreckage and unable to escape on his own.
The man turns towards the television and sees a smiley picture of his son, one that had been taken only a few months prior during the start of school.
We’ve learned that the boy is a students of Highland Park Elementary and the school has graciously provided us with his photo, showing a vibrant and energetic boy who, as we speak, is now struggling for his life. Jared Padalecki was brought to Austin Surgical Hospital and is currently in the ICU while a staff of medical professions work around the clock to save this brave little man’s life. Earlier today, our news crews caught up with his parents, who were understandably beside themselves and unable to speak on camera but they ask for your prayers and well wishes while it is still uncertain if their son, Jared, will survive.
The news clip switches over to footage of a swarm of people near the hospital while police try to usher a distraught man and woman, arms locked around each other, into the hospital.
Gerry gets to his feet and flips the television off before cameras are thrown in the tear streaked recorded version of his and Sherri’s faces or before they show another picture of Jared, the one where he’s playing with his siblings. He knows exactly how the news report is going to go because it’s been running on loop, changing a bit to filter in new details, since news of the accident broke through major airwaves.
He’s tired and his hands are rubbed raw from wringing them but he can’t leave.
Sherri hasn’t stopped crying for hours, only quieting every now and then so that she can take a shuddering breath and let it all out again.
A sick part of him wishes that the doors to the ICU will open and someone will tell him that it’s over. One way or the other. He needs to know and waiting is tearing everything in him apart.
If Jared is too broken to be saved, then he hopes his son can find peace.
He hates himself for even thinking that.
When the doors finally do open, the doctor who greets him is exhausted looking. He’s got a picture of a smiley little girl taped to the pager at his hip and Gerry thinks, “this man gets it. He knows. He loves something like I do.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki?” the doctor offers as he looks from the man to the woman. “I’m Dr. Ferrara and I’ve been on the team that’s been working to save your son’s life.”
“Is he dead?” Sherri asks with a hand cupping her mouth. “Is he?”
The doctor takes a slow breath, eyes sad and creased with years of that very emotion. Gerry’s eyes fall onto the surgical mask hanging under his chin and get stuck on a splotch of red blood. Jared’s blood. He feels sick; the world’s spinning and he has to hold onto the arm of a chair to say upright.
“He’s…alive. For now. We…His inhaled a lot of smoke and he’s having trouble breathing but that’s not that part we’re struggling with. See…in the crash, his spine was compressed for an extended period of time. He bled out a lot and we’ve got him on several blood transfusions but the damage done…I don’t know what kind of long term effects we’re dealing with here. I’m not trying to sugar coat this. There have been severe traumatic injuries to your son’s spine. With the swelling and the…” He trails off and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what we’re dealing with.”
Sherri gasps and collapses into Gerry’s chest, burying her face and hiding away from what the man has to say because she can’t handle it.
“What’s the worst case scenario we are looking at here?” Gerry is brave enough to ask.
“He dies,” Dr. Ferrara states bluntly.
“And the best case scenario?”
“He lives.” There is a pause like the doctor is trying to find words. “But every test we run points towards lack of response in his lower extremities. We’re talking paraplegia. Best case scenario? We’re talking about paralysis from the waist down.”
“Permanent?”
“With the damage to his spine? Yeah. Permanent. I’m so sorry. I wish I had better news but – ”
“Just make him live,” Gerry demands.
He stops listening then. The rest doesn’t matter.
He closes his eyes and the smiling picture of Jared from his fourth grade school photo is painted on the backs of his eyelids.
Jared is a fighter. He is.
He’s got to survive because Gerry isn’t sure anyone else will be able to keep living if he doesn’t.