He didn't know what to think, really.

It all happened so fast.

One minute, they were cruising down the highway, arguing about who-knows-what.

The next, they were in a frozen lake, glass and blood littering the floor.

He only had a single scrap.

Eric was a different story.

He had been lurched into the side window, head first. Red could still remember blinking and looking at his son, there in the drover's seat.

Glass stuck to his face as if his crimson blood were glue, piercing his skin like it was Styrofoam. His eyes were closed; bruised so they were unable to open, more like it. He didn't move as cold water began to leak upon his head.

"Eric?" Red asks quietly--for the first time, he is concerned for his son. He does not answer.

With a shaking hand, he reaches out and shakes Eric's shoulder. There is still no answer. As screams and sirens blasted from outside the car, and water slowly filled the car, Red could only stare at his son, who wasn't breathing.

TSSTSSTSSTSSTSSTSSTSSTSSTSS

"Is anyone here with Eric Foreman?" A nurse called out into the waiting room. Eight people stood up.

Donna Pinciotti was among them, her red hair mussed with sleep. Beside her, Steven Hyde was in a black T-shirt and rumbled jeans, his sunglasses, for once, off. Fez, Michael Kelso, and Jackie Burkhart all shared a couch in the waiting room. For the first time ever, Fez and Kelso didn't discuss Playboy while Jackie examined herself in a mirror. In fact, none of the teens said anything, just stared at their feet and waited.

Laurie Foreman worried for her brother, curled in a chair by her Kitty's side. Both women looked like they were crying.

Finally, Red Foreman. The man in the car with his son. The one who had been yelling at him, calling him a dumbass, being a bastard to him. Eric didn't deserve it, and now he could be dead. That'd be his last memory of his father: a screaming bastard who hated him.

"How's he doing?" Kitty asked the doctor that had walked into the waiting room. Her fingers were wrapped around Red's forearm, squeezing into the flannel material. The kids crowded from behind, Donna pushing past Jackie to get to the front.

The doctor looked at his feet and said the dreaded words:

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we couldn't save him."

--

A\N-This was just some little thing I made to pass the time. Not that good, sorry, folks. G'day.