General Hospital OC One-shots

Our Sons

October 1955

Anne sets her son down on the porch for just long enough to knock on the door before picking him back up again. She kisses the side of his head, running her fingers through his thick black hair. He blinks at her with his blue green eyes and their innocence, something only a child as young as him still has.
The door opens, an exhausted looking brunette woman resting on the door frame. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Anne Harper, I'm looking for Donny McKean, do I have the right address?" Anne asks, trying to get a glimpse inside.
"This is the McKean house, but Don's not here. I'm his wife, Veronica McKean." She introduces, still keeping the door mostly shut.
"I need to talk to Donny, it's important." Anne tells her.
"Don isn't here."
"When will he be back?"
Veronica shakes her head. "Hopefully never. He's in prison. He will be for a long time, maybe forever."
"Wh-what'd he do?" Anne asks, covering her son's ear with her hand.
"He tried to kill our son, after touching him in a way no should touch a little boy. Why do you need to see him?" Veronica asks.
"He promised he'd take care of medical bills. I can't afford to take my son to a doctor and he's only gotten sicker in the last week. I thought it would go away but his fever keeps getting higher and he's so weak. Please, I need help."
"Why would Donny help your son?" Veronica asks, narrowing her eyes at the boy.
"Donny is his father. I didn't know he was married, I swear." Anne says, turning her attention to her son. "Please, Alan needs help."
Veronica's eyes soften, she opens the door wider. "Bring him in, it's freezing outside. Is he hungry? I can warm him up some soup."
"That'd be lovely." Anne says, carrying Alan over to the couch, laying him down. Veronica grabs a blanket off the other couch and covers him while Anne puts the pillow under his head, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I'll be right in the kitchen, we're going to get you a bowl of soup. Doesn't that sound good?"
Alan nods, letting go of his mom's hand, tucking it under the pillow. Veronica helps Anne stand, leading her to the kitchen. "How old is Alan?"
"He just turned four in July." Anne tells her. "How old is your son?"
"Tom will be seven in December."
"Tom, that's a handsome name." Anne comments, taking the can of soup from Veronica.

Tom comes down the stairs, slowly. He turns into the livingroom, holding his toy planes close to his chest. The younger, but not much smaller, boy on the couch sits up, his hair damp with sweat. Tom gives him a half smile. "Hi, I'm Tommy."
Alan returns his smile. "I'm Alan."
Tom climbs onto the couch, dumping the planes between them. "Why are you here?" He asks, pushing the blue and white plane closer to Alan.
"My mommy said I'm gonna get better here." Alan tells him, cautiously taking the toy.
"Are you sick?"
Alan nods. Tom shrugs. "I got sick too, I had to be in the hospital. It was scary, but I'm all better now. But I got this scar on my head." He says, lifting some of his fluffy hair.
"I don't wanna scar on my head." Alan says, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"I didn't get the scar cause I was sick. My daddy hit me. He hit me a lot. I have a lot of scars. Mommy said they won't be there forever, not all of them. Do you like planes? My best friend, Dublin, he likes planes too. We made a big plane out of a box and his dad picks it up so we can fly, but it's at his house. Dubby's dad is nice, he's a doctor. Maybe he's gonna help you get better."
"I wish I had a best friend." Alan says, running the plane over the pillow, making plane noises.
"I can be your best friend." Tom says.
"No you can't. You have a best friend already."
"You can have more than one best friend." Tom tells him, very matter of factly. "I bet Dubs will be your friend too. He's really nice. And he has little brothers."
They look towards the kitchen, smiling at their mothers. "You must be Tom. He's a handsome boy, and look at those eyes." Anne beams, turning to Veronica. "He looks just his father." She whispers.
Veronica takes the bowl of soup and brings it to Alan, taking the plane from his hand. "Baby, take care of your toys, you're not getting any new ones if you break or lose it."
"I was just letting Alan play." Tom argues, handing the toy directly back to his new friend.
"Alan needs to eat his soup so him and his mommy can go." Veronica says, taking the toy again, this time placing it on the coffee table.
Tom crosses his arms and slouches onto the arm of the couch.
Alan pushes the bowl of soup away, glancing up to his mother. "I'm not hungry, and my tummy hurts."
"You have the name and number I gave you, Dr. Holmes will help. Just tell him you know me. I think it's about time you and Alan got going." Veronica says.
"But Mommy!" Tom protests. She shooshes him.
Anne pulls Veronica out of earshot of the boys. "They're brothers, please."
"Having the same father doesn't make them brothers, maybe by blood, but they're not and never will be family. Our sons-"
"Not our sons. Your son and my son. You need to leave, and don't ever come back."
Anne grabs Alan's arm, pulling him off the couch and to his feet. Tom gets up and runs after them, Veronica goes to grab him, stopping before she actually touches him.
Tom hugs Alan, putting the plane back in his hand. "You can keep it, I have more. Goodbye Alan."
"Bye bye Tommy. Thank you for the plane."
Anne picks up Alan, him still waving to his friend.