Work Text:
December, 2000
Nora Mulrooney followed the doctors wheeling her son through the hospital in a daze, barely processing the ache in her chest. She could hear the doctors asking him questions, but the words weren’t processing in her mind. They took his gurney from the ambulance bay into a big room with green walls and began to examine his head and neck, taking X-rays and blood for tests. Her six year old was lying in a hospital bed with a neck brace, and she couldn’t help but feel it was all her fault. Driving in Philadelphia winters was nothing like driving in Chicago snow. Nora had thought she could handle making the drive up for a short visit between Christmas and New Year's, but the visibility had been awful and she'd spun out on black ice. The rear of the car slammed into a pole, right next to where Connor was buckled into his car seat. A bystander had thankfully called 911 and the ambulance came quickly. Now, Nora prayed to God that Connor would be okay.
From what she could tell, he wasn't hurt too badly. He was awake and talking, answering questions from the doctors and nurses. But she knew that didn't mean nothing could go wrong. The first thing he'd said through his tears at the crash was how much his head hurt. She'd heard stories of people not becoming paralyzed until hours or days after an accident because the swelling was slow.
A pretty doctor, with curly hair and brown skin turned to Nora, finally, and broke her from her daze. “Ma’am, I’m Dr Finch,” she said, her voice even and soft. “What’s your name?”
“Nora, Nora Mulrooney,” she choked out, watching a nurse speaking quietly with her son and making him laugh. Dr Finch wrote something down on her clipboard. “Is Connor going to be okay?”
“I think so. It looks like he’s got a whiplash and a broken arm, as well as a minor concussion, but it doesn’t look like anything too frightening. I do want to take him up for a head CT to double check that, though. In the meantime, is there anyone I can call for you? Connor’s dad maybe?”
Nora shook her head. “No, he’s- I don’t have his number anymore. I’ll have to, um, send him a letter maybe.”
“Okay, anyone else, then?”
She shook her head again. “We’re visiting Chicago from Philadelphia. I’m just not used to this snow, I lost control of the car for just a second-”
Dr Finch placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “This sort of thing can happen to anyone. We see it all the time, even from people who are used to driving here. Have your injuries been evaluated?”
“Just some bruises from the airbag. Please, I’m fine, just focus on Connor.”
The doctor pursed her lips but accepted Nora’s answer. “Alright, but please speak up if anything starts to feel wrong.” She then looked back down at her clipboard and flipped up the top page to read something. As she did, Nora noticed the name that was written at the top.
“Oh, Connor’s last name isn’t Mulrooney,” she said quickly, realizing she had made the obvious assumption. “It’s actually Malucci.”
Dr Finch’s eyes widened and flicked up to hers immediately. “Malucci?” she asked, bewildered.
But before Nora could respond, another doctor came barging into the room with a familiar swagger in his step. “Hey, Cleo,” he called out in that charming, boyish voice of his. “Need any help in here?” Nora’s heart dropped to her stomach as her head whipped around to the intruder. Dave locked eyes with her immediately, and turned pale as a ghost. “Nora?” he breathed, dumbfounded, before realization dawned on him. “Cleo, is Connor okay?” he asked, turning to his coworker in panic. Dr Finch still looked disoriented, and was glancing between the boy on the bed and the man in front of her in shock.
Nora felt her own shock turn to fury. “Oh, now you care?” she sneered at Dave, venom dripping from her words.
He met her eye with his own anger. “He’s my son, Nora! I care about him more than anything!”
“Dad?” Connor sat up in his bed, but the nurse quickly guided him back down. She was also clearly observing the conversation, and from Nora’s experience with nurses, she knew full well that the entire hospital would be aware of this encounter soon.
Dave stepped forward, making for Connor’s bedside, but Nora’s arm shot out to stop him. “Absolutely not,” she barked. “He is your son, but you are not his dad. You couldn’t even keep your promise for a month!”
He at least had the decency to look ashamed. “I was in Grenada, Nor. I had to leave for school,” he insisted, but she refused to take that bullshit excuse again.
“It is not my fault you fucked off to Grenada because you couldn’t handle being a father!” she shouted, jerking her finger in Dave’s face accusingly. “I told you what I needed from you, and you left ! ”
Dr Finch was now fixing him with a disapproving look, while Connor had wiggled up to stare at his father in disbelief. It was probably strange to him to see the man at 27 instead of 21. Nora had always shown her son the old pictures she had of them in college. She had a large assortment, after all. A few of them hanging out together, benchmarks of her pregnancy where he held something the same size as the baby next to her stomach, tons of snapshots from the baby shower, a few from graduation, many from Connor’s baptism, and, her favorite, the picture her mother had taken of Dave holding Connor for the first time. He was staring at his son with pure love and wonder in his eyes, cupping his small body so carefully. Nora always wondered what had happened to that version of Dave, the version that had always promised to be there for her and the baby. She would always miss that Dave. Maybe that was why she showed Connor the pictures without being asked. She'd never wanted to keep Connor from his father, she always gave him what Dave sent him for his birthday and Christmas, she'd answered all the questions he'd asked, and she never contemplated changing his name to Mulrooney. But she'd never really liked Connor calling him "dad." As far as she was concerned, Dave had given that title up when he left.
“I didn’t want to leave,” Dave insisted, grabbing her hand in his and breaking her from her thoughts. She wrenched it back quickly. “It was a backup, okay? I applied everywhere close to you!”
Nora scoffed, disgusted. “You went to med school in Grenada because you couldn’t even get into Lake Erie?”
“We met at a frat party , Nor! I tried to shape up, but it wasn’t enough. I went there so I could still be a doctor and support you. I never missed the checks I promised you, or Christmas, or his birthday-”
“Connor didn’t need those checks more than he needed his father, Dave,” she spat, cutting him off. He looked away in shame, opening his mouth for a moment before closing it again and clenching his jaw. "You never even sent him a letter. The cards and presents don't count for that. He doesn't know anything about you beyond what I can tell him! And me? The one you left alone with a baby? You told me you were leaving after you packed your bags. You got a new phone number and never sent it to me. I found out you were back in America from the return addresses on the checks. What don't you understand? You left us. You gave him up. You gave me up. And you don't get to come back now."
Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. Everything she had wanted to yell at him for the past six years came spilling out, and so did the angry tears she'd thought she'd cried out during those early sleep deprived nights while Connor wailed and screamed in her arms. Dave just looked at her with pain in his eyes. Good. After all the agony he'd caused her, he deserved to face the pain now, too. He didn't speak, didn't try to defend himself. Nora wasn't sure if she was relieved or angry about that.
“Now,” she said, her voice even but still cold, “I think you need to leave. I don’t think you’re allowed to treat your own son, anyway.”
Dave looked at her for a moment longer before a look of resignation crossed his features. His jaw ticked as he turned around and stormed back out the door.
Nora let out a few shaky breaths before turning to Dr Finch once more and attempting a forced smile. She was used to faking a smile while speaking to others as a social worker, but even she could tell this one was pathetic. “What is it were you saying about a CT scan?” she asked, exhaustion seeping into her voice.
Dr Finch closed her mouth and gathered herself once again, then began to explain what they would be looking for when they took Connor up for the scan. Nora pushed her thoughts of Dave aside and nodded along as she listened, drifting over toward Connor's bed and gripping his hand in hers.