"These mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb."

~Najwa Zebian~

I T H A D been Freya's idea to go for a walk. She knew her time with Falcon was limited since he'd soon be leaving for a completely different country. She still hadn't gotten used to that thought.

Falcon pressed Freya closer to his side as the wind began to pick up again. Freya didn't mind; she would use any excuse available to be close to him.

"When are you leaving?" she asked in a small voice.

Falcon looked down at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the path in front of them. He let out a heavy breath before speaking.

"The company's already been running with a temporary CEO for months now," he said, his voice growing quieter as he knew she wouldn't like what he had to say. "Jonathan said finishing school wasn't imperative; some people from the board are apparently going to help out until I get the hang of it. I don't need any degrees since the business is being handed down to me. Apparently, most people speak English, but he thinks I'll easily pick up the language once I'm there for a while."

Falcon paused for a moment, trying to delay the inevitable. The little nudge to his side made him draw in a breath as he finally answered her question.

"I leave in a few days," he mumbled. "Just enough time to get everything together and say my goodbyes."

The couple were quiet for a moment as they continued to walk down the path. Freya's brow creased in thought before she clutched herself closer to Falcon's side, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"I guess we'll have to make every day count," she didn't look at Falcon, her eyes travelling around the passing shops and people.

Her answer stunned Falcon slightly; he had expected a pout, maybe a few tears. He knew she was trying to be optimistic for his sake and he was grateful for it. It assured him that they'd make it.

Falcon stopped walking, pulling her into his chest as he buried his face into her hair.

"I'll miss you, baby," He whispered, pressing a kiss to her head.

Freya squeezed her arms tightly around his torso, as she let out a muffled sniffle.

"I'll miss you too," her voice was hoarse as she felt tears sting her eyes.

She pulled her head from his chest, not meeting his eyes as she sucked in a large breath.

"I'm sorry," she let out something between a laugh and a sob. "I don't-I don't mean to cry. I'm trying not to."

Falcon smiled softly at her, brushing away the hair from her face.

"I know, baby," he said before pulling her back to his chest. "But you don't have to act strong for me, baby girl. I already know you're strong. You can cry."

She really had been trying not to let her emotions get the best of her as she usually did, but her heart ached at the thought of not seeing him every day and she didn't know how else to handle it. At Falcon's words, the dam behind her eyes broke and tears spilt down the sides of her face.

Her cries were muffled by Falcon's shirt as he wrapped himself around her as much as he could. He didn't say anything, simply let her cry as he held her and kissed her head. It must have been an odd sight for onlookers. The tall tattooed man clutching a tiny girl to his chest as she wept. The couple didn't care; they knew they were unconventional, but it didn't matter to them.

They knew they belonged together.

~🎀~

It felt odd not to have Freya's presence around Falcon. As he drove towards the hospital, he kept thinking she was sitting in the passenger seat next to him, only to look over and see that it was empty. His frown turned harsher every time.

He had wanted to stay with his little angel, but the possibility of losing her father's newfound trust was something he couldn't risk. Things were going so well; he wasn't about to let all their troubles go to waste.

So, Falcon had had to leave Freya at her home, asleep and tucked safely into bed. Now he was heading to visit the one person he never thought he'd willingly see again. But he had to. He had to say goodbye.

No matter what the man had done, he was still his father.

Falcon's nerves scratched at his stomach, his heart pounding as he pressed the button for the elevator, waiting in tense silence as nurses and doctors bustled around him. He had to do this. He couldn't leave feeling the way he did.

He stepped into the elevator once the doors finally opened, allowing it to carry him up the floors until they reached his destination. Falcon didn't know the exact room his father was in; the woman in the lobby had simply told him the floor and then moved onto the next person.

He walked towards the reception area that was opposite to the elevators, clearing his throat in order to gain the attention of one of the nurses. A few pairs of eyes turned towards him, some quickly continuing on their way and others continuing to stare.

One lady who was seated at a computer decided to speak up.

"Can I help ya, sweetheart?" she asked with a welcoming smile.

Falcon gave her a tense smile back, not in the mood for pretending to be happy.

"I'm looking for Dennis Anders," he said, watching as she nodded and typed the name into her computer.

A few clicks and key hits later, the woman turned back to him and smiled softly.

"Room 312," she pointed behind her and to her left. "Down that hall."

Falcon nodded in thanks, avoiding the rest of the eyes that still wandered his form with interest. His mind was too distracted to pay them any form of attention.

Falcon made his way down the hall, mindlessly counting the room numbers in his head as he passed them.

300

301

302

He felt dead; his posture bent as he dragged his feet along the tiled floor. He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what he was going to say.

What did people in a coma even look like?

What do you say to a person in a coma?

Or more importantly, what do you say to your abusive, drunken father who is in a coma?

307

308

309

Falcon felt sick. Not an 'I'm so nervous' kind of sick; an 'I feel like I'm about to puke my guts out because I'm fucking terrified' kind of sick. He could feel the bitter taste in the back of his throat, nausea overtaking his body for a moment, making him sway in his spot.

He swallowed harshly. He had to do this. He had to.

Pushing away the lightheadedness, Falcon continued walking until he reached his father's room.

312

This was it.

He couldn't do it.

Falcon clenched his fists at his side, softly letting them rebound off his thighs as his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes, taking in a breath before slowly letting it out.

He could do this.

Not letting himself think about it for another moment, Falcon stepped forward and through the open door of the hospital room. The sight inside was not one he had been prepared for.

He looked dead.

Pale skin, sunken cheeks, dark circles lining the perimeter of his eyes. He looked completely and utterly dead.

Falcon's first instinct was to call out to a nurse, but the small movement of his father's chest stopped him. He wasn't dead.

Falcon didn't feel all that relieved. More panicked than anything. He stood in place for a moment, his eyes never leaving the pale face of his father. His heart stuttered in fear, almost as if it expected his father to rise from the bed and throw him across the room.

Falcon felt nerves shoot down his arms, all the way to his fingertips, as he stepped closer. The lightheadedness reappeared and Falcon almost stumbled into the plastic seat next to the hospital bed.

His hands shook, no longer under the control of a sane mind. God, why was he here? He shouldn't be here. This was a mistake. He should just go back home. Back to Freya.

His heartbeat increased with his thoughts, the sickness in his stomach bubbling up his throat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples as a headache slammed his skull.

Fuck. He had to do this. He just had to get it over and done with. He couldn't keep living like this.

Falcon flattened his palms on his thighs before clasping them together and letting his head hang down. It was easier if he couldn't see him.

He didn't know what to say. Or maybe he had too much to say. Either way, words refused to leave his mouth and Falcon let out a frustrated breath. He brought his hands up, rubbing the heel of his palm into his stinging eyes.

"God, why is this so hard?" he muttered to himself. "I feel like such a pussy."

Falcon let out a short chuckle, letting his hands fall from his face as he leaned back in his chair, eyes still closed. He let his head fall back, opening his eyes to be greeted by the view of the ceiling.

He hated hospitals. They were so clinical and clean and... white. It was meant to be a place people were healed, so why did it seem so dead?

Falcon forced his eyes back on his father. His stomach still hummed with nervous energy, but he pushed it down.

"I can do this," he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I can fucking do this."

His fingertips brushed up against the familiar box of cigarettes in his pocket. He hadn't smoked in what felt like months. He could really use one at that moment.

He took the box out of his pocket, holding it in his hands as he read the label. He let out a choked laugh, rubbing a hand down his face before harshly rubbing away a stray tear before it had the chance to fall.

He looked up at his sleeping father with a dry smile.

"This is your fault, you know," he said, holding up the box of cigarettes as if he could see it. He sniffled, rubbing the end of his nose. "Your fucking fault. Everything was your fucking fault."

Falcon instantly felt the guilt weigh down on his stomach and he let out a sigh.

"Okay, that's a slight lie," he sniffled again. "Some of it was Kace's fault. Some of it was those men's. But it was mostly yours."

Falcon paused for a moment, squeezing his eyes closed as he revisited the events of the past nineteen years of his life.

"You really fucked me up, you know," the tears crowded his vision, but he did nothing to stop them this time. "Fucked mum up. Fucked Kace up. Fucked everything up. You're a fuck up."

He let out a chuckle, the first tear escaping down his cheek.

"And you know what makes it worse," Falcon's voice broke. "I remember what you used to be like. You were a good dad. You had some bad secrets, but you were a good dad. A good husband. But fuck, you were a horrible person."

Falcon shook his head as his throat began to close up. The words pouring out of him.

"Such a fucking dick," he spat. "How could you fucking do that to us, huh? You had a wife and kids at home and all you could think of was the fucking money. Why not get a fucking better job, asshole?"

He violently wiped away the tears that dripped from his chin. He glared at the wall in front of him, his fists clenching in his lap.

"And then you take it out on me," Falcon growled. "On a fucking five-year-old kid. And until you ruined him, Kace was a fucking brilliant brother. He might be a fucking violent psychotic bitch now, but at least his sane mind knows the value of family. And what do you know? Huh? The value of fucking money?"

He hung his head, allowing it to fall into the palm of his hand as silent tears poured down his face.

"You ruined me as well," he let out a pained groan as Freya filled his mind. "Fucking ruined my life. Do you know how much shit I had to go through just to be with the girl I love? Do you know how much shit she had to go through?"

He took a breath, returning his gaze to his father as he stared at his still face in betrayal.

"It eats me up inside," he choked. "Fucking claws at my stomach. It makes me feel sick. She got hurt because of you. Because of what you did to me. Because of what you did to Kace."

Falcon let out a sob, holding a hand to his heart as it constricted painfully in his chest.

"Fuck you, dad," he cried. "Fuck you."

His head felt light - he didn't know if it was from the dizziness or because he was getting out years of pent up emotions. He cried harder as the next few words flew out of his mouth.

"But I forgive you," he sobbed. "I forgive you for being a piece of shit father. I forgive you for getting mum killed. I forgive you for fucking up my life."

He sucked in a choked breath, his throat sore from crying.

"I forgive you," he sniffled, clearing his throat as he sat up in his seat. "Because I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna fix the shit you did. I'm gonna fix myself. I'm gonna fix my baby. I'm gonna fix Kace. I'm gonna fix you. I'm going to fix it. I promise."

Falcon let out a deep breath, standing from the little plastic seat before taking a step closer to the bed. The box of cigarettes was still in his hands and he glanced at it for a moment before returning his gaze to his father. Without looking, he placed the box on the nightstand next to the bed.

He chewed the bottom of his lip for a moment, his hand resting on the box as a part of him refused to let go. Not of the cigarettes, but of that part of him. That fucked up, screwed over little boy.

His hand fell from the box, falling to his side as he forced his feet to walk away. He would keep his promise. He would fix everything.

If it took the rest of his life, he'd fix everyone.