"THE WAY THE WIND BLOWS." A LEEHAM FIC by Olivia
A night time breeze swayed through an open window, candles flickering every which way before fading out with the whistles of the wind. Darkness had soon consumed the room leaving only the sounds of the light breathing and a soft creaking to indicate that there was life beyond the walls of that small Manhatan apartment. Back and forth, back and forth. The pattern to the creaking was soothing with time, and it was only to a great reluctance that it came to an abrupt stop. Just as the pattern of noise had faded away with the wind, a cry sounded from that very corner.
"Henry?" called a male voice from the opposite end of the room.
"Shh." replied a voice of the darkness.
"Liv? Is that you?" The male, who could instantly be identified as Lincoln Lee, arose from the couch with a thud as his body collided with the coffee table. His words, although softer than the first set, were no longer the problem. The thud had been loud and pronounced just enough to disturb all the serene peace of the room.
The cries grew in volume, louder and louder by the moment, from what had only seconds ago been a peacefully sleeping baby. "Shhh baby. It's okay. Mummy's here." A voice just loud enough to be heard over the cries that were slowing was quickly identified by the peace it brought to that baby.
Olivia Dunham had been a mum for no longer than a month's time and already it had brought out a side of her that was once buried beneath her hard etched surface.
"I'm sorry baby boy." Henry, the tiny baby, hadn't even bothered to pull his eyes open, his body nuzzling to the comfort of Olivia's chest.
Rising from the rocking chair that once brought patterns of noise, her shadow slowly became visible in a flickered street light that the open window provided view of. Swaying on her feet, Olivia took small steps towards an open bedroom door. Henry, comforted by the way her steps synced with the soft but remaining cries of the wind, had no objections to add.
The room was filled with dimly lit shadows that were expanded by a small night light residing in the far left of the room. Olivia's upper body was soon hovering over Henry's crib, at the opposite end of the room. Gently laying him onto his back, Henry's fragile body rocked in it's place, side to side, before settling in stillness. Once he'd felt out his surroundings a soft gargle passed over his lips.
Olivia was no match for the emotions that took over her as she helplessly indulged in the serenity of Henry's soft breaths while he laid bundled in the same blanket that had once warmed a baby Olivia. Lingering at Henry's side, her hands slowly moved over his heart. Even without the application of pressure she could feel the rhythm to it's beating, just by the way he took each of his breaths.
Tearing herself away was becoming more difficult just by the thought, so when she finally did retract her body from it's seemingly warm spot against his crib, reluctance in each of her steps came with little to no surprise.
As both her feet passed through the doorway, exiting the room, her arm lingered behind holding to the door handle. She pulled it toward her slowly, gliding the door till it was cracked with just enough room for her to listen for Henry.
When her hand had fallen back to her side, her head followed it by rising slowly. The first thing her eyes met, as her head settled, were the piercingly vivid eyes of Lincoln who was watching her with a curiosity. Standing with a stance that indicated a relaxation and patience, the only thing that separated them was a few feet of empty space.
"When did you get back in?" He asked vaguely, curiosity not hidden in his tone. Olivia walked towards him, not a single expression to be read on her face. "It was just after ten. You were both asleep so I didn't want to wake either of you." Her reply came in a tone that differed vastly from the usual sarcasm coated tone she typically used.
"You should have." His face scrunched as his eyebrows lowered to serious expression that was over flowing with concern. "Are you okay?" He seconded.
Lincoln closed off a large portion of the gap that separated them, following her every move.
Much closer, at a more personal view, he was quick to notice how her eyes had drifted into a stare off toward the living room, indirect in their focus.
"I - " her voice was laced with a broken defeat as she pushed through the words, "I failed." Alive and present, as she admitted to it, the defeat seemed to set into her body language.
It hadn't been just her words, it was even more due to the way she had said them that brought a flood of sadness to his eyes. Never breaking their focus on that of her broken demeanour, he could feel the settling ache in his heart. Creeping within him was a haunting desire to comfort her in that instant, but quickly the voice in his head urged him against it because he knew she wasn't ready yet.
"I couldn't stop him. I couldn't save them. I couldn't save anyone." Her hands did far more of the talking than her voice did, weakly moving about in the small space that separated their bodies.
They had never talked about her time over there apart from when he'd first told her that he knew the truth and she had asked if he wanted to ask her any questions about it. Lincoln had truthfully, but he didn't. While he knew she may never show it, he could tell that something within her had been wounded and it wasn't a part of her he was sure if he could fix.