This came to me fully formed on valentines day and would not leave me alone no matter how much i tried to convince it to, so here it is.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as always.
Chapter One.
For you there will be great joy,
great love,
no need to be sad,
magic waits for you,
so sleep.
The strangled yelps and aching sobs echo around the walls of her home, they pierce the edges of her unconscious mind like daggers and force her to drag her heavy lids open.
Someone is in pain, inconsolable as they cry, heart breaking calls from another room, someone she loves. She is so attuned to the noise and distress, the needs of those that fill her heart, that her body reacts to it even in sleep.
The second her eyes are open the noise stops and she lays confused as to what woke her in the first place, then another gut wrenching wail is let loose from nearby and she sits up.
It's muffled, hidden almost, and as she rises she shakes her head, people think she is stubborn, fierce and determined, she has nothing on him at times like these.
The edge of the bed creeks as she shifts her weight and leans over it, hard wood to the backs of her tender knees as she stands, slowly, hoping the world will wait just long enough for her mind to wake up, her throbbing muscles to catch on, be aware.
She stretches, arms above her head, a light twist to her waist, and lets out a sigh. It parts her lips, ruffling her hair as it races free of her body.
There is no frustration in the sound, no malice or anger she doesn't begrudge him waking her again, she is resigned to it, accepting it with all her heart because she knows he needs her.
She moves with the grace of someone who is used to traversing rooms in the dark, clambering past things with little sleep and hardly any notice.
But, out of habit and not because it's really required, she flips the light switch as she reaches her own door, fingers finding it deftly in the dark with a snap of her wrist.
Brilliant, blinding, white light floods the room.
"Woah," her hand flies to her eyes, shielding them all too late from the intensity that shines from above realising she made a mistake and fused her retinas with the harsh light. "Oh holy…" Her face scrunches into her palm, fighting the stars that invade her vision, and she falls into the frame of the door, steadying herself against the wood as she fights the pain.
She clings to the proffered darkness for as long as she can, revels in the simplicity of shadows at play across her hand, letting the ache in her eyeballs soothe itself away.
Another clench to her heart, a dejected sob a little nearer than before breaks through the dark and she abandons the cave of her hand, the security and darkness offered. Her feelings mean nothing in this moment.
Years of late hours mean nothing, an occupational hazard she deals with and, skipping over carelessly tossed shoes, she realises it's probably a blessing that she is used to a lack of sleep.
It has become a habit lately, one she thought they had broken, one she had convinced herself they were passed…stupid.
Nothing she does seems to make a difference, and the only way to stop the sobs and aches that echo in the night, in her heart, is to be there, her presence is in and of itself a light in the darkness for him, she pulls him back, guides him safely to shore.
How could she not when he has done the same for her.
Always.
She finds herself outside the door, which is still cracked open just a little bit, the bedroom next to hers, near yet so very far away at times like these.
She pushes at the wood and watches the door swing wide. The light from her bedroom spills into the hallway but doesn't illuminate enough of the room for her liking so she flicks on another lamp, one at her side, and smiles because now she can see him.
Walking the length of the room quietly, she finds herself standing next to him as he lays in his bed, her fingers reach for him as silent tears now trickle across his cheeks.
Its impossible for her to contemplate the level of love she feels as her finger tips slip through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he becomes aware of her.
It grew through time, blossomed in ways she was unprepared for, now it consumes her, in the best way, in every way.
He turns into her touch, lifting to the feel of her fingers, reacting the moment he knows she's there, the smell of her surrounding him and her gentle stroke across his cheek, as she thumbs away the newest tear, causes his eyes to open.
With his eyes wide she gets a little lost just staring at him, she can't still her hand as it repeats its tender motion across the back of his head, through his hair, gliding his forehead before it falls back to his cheek, her head tilting as his eyes seek her and follow her face.
She is trying desperately, fighting with every ounce of willpower she has, not to fall to her knees and cling to him, to love away the pain with more than just the brush of her thumb.
Another tear slips loose and she breaks the silence.
"What's the matter?"
He stirs more at her voice, like he's suddenly aware she's there and real and tangible. His mouth opens, and she waits, but all that leaves his body is another sob.
She's had enough.
Screw the rules.
She reaches down and pulls him to her, scooping her son up swiftly to nestle him against her neck, one hand supporting his weight as she strokes her fingers through his hair.
He is supposed to be crying himself to sleep, settling himself at night, but why should he when she can love him and console him? Why should he when the sound of his distress cracks at the edges of her heart?
Why should he miss her when he doesn't have to?
Her nails, gentle, at the back of his scalp settle him as he makes snuffled snorts and burrows into her neck, seeking her warmth and her scent.
So like his father.
She feels his soft mouth open against her neck, another sob about to break loose and she sighs, her hand patting gently as her fingers still roam through his silky hair.
"Shh kiddo," she mumbles, but she stops dead as the words leave her mouth, tickling past her lips in shock, oh, she picked that up from his father.
She smiles against him, her cheek to the soft side of his snuffling face, it takes her a few seconds, as she enjoys his tiny form, before she realises she doesn't hear crying.
"You like words huh?" She walks slowly from the room, heading to the couch. She flicks the lamp off again as she walks past, walking to the window so she can drag back the curtain, let the city lights spill in instead, muted and soft.
"Lots of words, me rambling on at four in the morning, hey baby?" She keeps him at her shoulder as she drops onto the sofa, her back against the arm rest as she raises her knees, draws them up to her chest, and tilts into the large cushion at the back.
She rests her head, sighing deeply before she moves the small bundle in her arms, a few seconds of comfort, her own, before she releases him again.
She transfers him in one fluid movement until he lays with head and back against her steady thighs and his feet across her chest, she smiles at him, staring, resting opposite each other.
Laying one hand across his stomach, to keep him in place, she uses the other to trace the side of his tiny head.
"Are you related to me at all?" She asks laughing softly, a small shake of her head as she wonders. The tiny face stares back, endless blue realms of amazement that trap her, pull her in, watch her in confusion. The baby calm, content and lost in the tones and rhythm of her voice, eyes blinking steadily.
"This isn't mine," she speaks as again her finger traces his hair, dark, darker than she expected, the slight curl of deep rich brown around the edge of his ears, a longer one on his forehead that she runs the pad of her thumb across.
His mouth opens, a small mewl seeking attention squeaks at her and she laughs, "Oh you're going to be a handful aren't you, and these," she runs his ear between her fingers, sliding the lobe softly between two of them "have nothing to do with me."
He scrunches his nose comically as she thumbs his ear gently "That can't have hurt you little liar." She coos over him, watching as another scrunch of his nose and curl of his lips seems to beg to differ.
He's talking back already, oh god she is in so much trouble.
Her hand deviates from its path and she skims his nose, watching in fascination as the small movement makes him shiver "Not mine either." she comments with a small shake of her head and a heavy pout, play acting for the baby sitting in her lap, her attentive audience.
"You are going to look nothing like me, baby boy, but you're still mine. Got that kid?" she pokes him ever so gently in the stomach as if he had argued with her, narrowing her eyes before she lets out a soft, tired, laugh "Not much of a conversationalist are you?"
She yawns, the night catching up with her, she's a new mother after all, exhaustion begins to creep in around the edges and her hand curled over her sons stomach suddenly doesn't seem enough.
She places both of her hands on him, one at his head to steady him, one remaining over the soft bubble of his squidgy tummy.
She shakes her head at the words in her mind, 'tummy' and 'squidgy'. with no idea where they cropped up from the realisation hits her, so much will change, has changed, and it takes her completely by surprise.
Something as basic as your daily vocabulary has to adapt for something so tiny.
You take the harshness of the world away just a little bit with the softening of your words. Until they grow, until they are big enough and you've given them strength enough to face the realities.
Always the truth, but softer, gentler.
She captures his tiny fingers with a single digit of her own, placing it in very centre of his sleep warmed palm and she realises maybe this is where their connection will lie. Not in similarities of appearance, but in touch, in the day to day of life she has yet to give herself over to.
In love.
That makes everything seem so simple. Love.
His chest starts to hitch, small catches of a sob form from nowhere, and she looks on in confusion, never entirely sure of how to console him when he's like this.
She will learn, but for the moment she knows her voice will soothe him, a while longer at least.
She will forgo sleep until he is ready, her hands slipping beneath him again, curling him back into the crook of her shoulder so she can move.
She cradles him in the curve of her arm so she can stand, feet to the cold floor making her miss the warmth of her bed before she raises herself and meanders to the window.
She introduces her son to the city that will be his home, lifting him in the pale light of dawn that creeps over roof-tops and finds his sleepy head.
She smiles. The light finding his eyes, too bright, he flinches and mewls.
"Don't cry baby boy," she hums raising him once again, the parental shifting a dance of balance and precision, finding a rhythm, she lets him slip lower down her chest until his head rests over the steady beat of her heart "look at all that's waiting for you in the world my boy, magic, love, wonder." She smiles, she cant wait for him to see it, show it to her in brilliant brand new lights every day.
She strokes his hair again, soft, dark, his fathers, she smiles again "Love waits for you somewhere out there my boy, like it waited for me, like it found me." She kisses his head as he sighs, sleep coming at last "Like you found me."
Turning from the dawn, she cradles her son close to her chest as she wanders back to his bedroom, "Sleep baby," she whispers against the crown of his head "dream of all the things you will find in the world, dream of the love that changes your life, that finds you when you least expect it."
Approaching the door she turns on the lamp again and settles him quickly, it feels good when she moves with ease and habit, when she does something as simple as shifting the sleeping infant from her hands into the safety of his bed.
Settled and sleeping, she covers his little body to keep him warm, her fingers linger over his buttons as they slide up his chest. Her voice a soft caress across the darkness, the last thing he hears "I hope your dreams are magical baby.