A particularly bad nightmare had Will fighting with the loose sheets, monsters in his sleep that prevented his reaching her, almost symbolic of his consciousness' reluctance to let him near her, especially after their shared kiss the week before. His limbs scrambled, his mind searching for reassurance in open, empty oceans. It was her voice awake and alert on the other end of the phone that pulled him from the final strings of his nightmare; that awakened his bones. His heavy heart fell, the hour ticking close to midnight and he had called her in the throes of a sweaty sleep induced panic attack.
She had muttered quick words, promising to be by his side at the earliest possible minute. His stomach shifted, the weight making him heavy as he sat on the edge of the bed, his feet anchoring him firmly to the ground. His stomach churned, the feeling reminiscent to a child who had eaten too much birthday cake. He had let her disconnect the call without telling her she need not come to his rescue. His hand smacked the side of his skull; one hard heavy hit follow by smaller flutters of a humming bird wings, rampant in its insistence.
She already knew he was unstable, she saw it in the way he held himself, eyes forlorn, appearance abandoned. She did not need to see the real destruction, the ugly truth of it seeping through his pours and melting on the carpet. And yet, he wasn't stopping her.
A small part of his mind whispered almost comically that he was easing her mind, stopping the anxious worry she always seemed to hold in her eyes. There was not use, Alana always worried. It was a constant variable in her personality; something Will knew would never change. He didn't know the exact details of her story, but he knew enough to know that little Alana Bloom had once been carefree until her brother died. It was a factor to the worry lines that sometimes appeared on her face or the sliver of grey that winked in her eye. It wasn't the whole story though.
There was something special, extraordinary even locked away in a hedged garden that seemed to be the root source of Alana Bloom's worry and care. She never spoke, not once in detail about the things that played in that garden, locked away behind trimmed hedges and a wooden gate. He could hear laughter there some days like a child was breaking through Alana's tough walls. He only ever imagined it was herself, one of her many childhood traumas locking her miniature away for safe keeping. She didn't just lock herself away in the garden shrouded by constant worry; those she loved remained there to, forever safe and happy if she could help it.
He was sitting in the living room, fingers twitching in his lap when he heard her knuckles rap against his door. His stomach continued to churn, birds taking flight as a sheen of sweat shone on his brow. It was when he pulled the door open the hinges squeaking with the momentum that Will Graham felt his stomach sink further.
Alana Bloom was not alone.
The light from the house poured out onto the porch like molten gold, its warmth enveloping Alana and her companion in a soft yellow hue. She stood, still dressed in the clothes he had seen her in at the academy that morning, child in her arms. Will stared at the strangeness of Alana Bloom standing before him, child's face buried in her neck, brown curls mixing with her own hair in the air between dark and light. Uncomfortably Alana shifted the child's weight in her arms while Will proceeded to stare, his mouth agape ever so slightly. The whisper of her voice pulled him back to reality, his jaw snapping shut. "Is everything alright, Will?" She asked, worry evident in her voice. He had called her in the middle of the night, voice heavy, words panicked. It was only a matter of assumption that something had gone awry.
She had to shift the sleeping child yet again to enable her hand to reach out and touch his warm and somewhat sweat coated forehead. Stumbling back a step at her close contact Will let her into the house, a weak half mumbled apology falling from his mouth. "You can put him down if you would like?" Will offered, watching as her arms fought to keep hold of the child's sleepy weight. He was only half way through his offer when she started to tip toe across the floor, mindful not to stand on scattered dog tails. As she passed each sleepy animal the dog in question raised his head, nose poised to smell the air and unfamiliar yet exciting scent of little boy, cookies and dirt.
He did not ask about the boy as he watched interest peak in Winston, the question burning his tongue. She trusted him enough, or was at least panicked to the point that she had not thought twice before bringing the child. He did not need to push it. Will Graham did not ask about the little boy.
Finding a blanket folded over the top of the lounge Alana laid it over the boy, tucking it securely under his chin before she slipped off her shoes and moved towards Will. His mind argued that she was a woman on the prowl, the gentle yet assured steps she took dripped of confidence, of intent. But, Alana's intent was to care, to worry, not the naughty little pictures his mind dared to hope for.
Concern etched its way across her brow as she stood in front of him, her height stopping at his shoulders was a minor fact to Alana as she raised her hand and pressed it to his forehead yet again. She clicked her tongue, the sound almost like gum popping but gentler than that, softer, caring, worried; "You're warmer than anyone would like." She muttered, her tongue still clicking. The sound reminded him of a little girl he met at the fishing dock when he was five, Mary, she clicked her tongue in the same way as she sung 'Hickory Dickory Dock'. It was almost soothing if the stab of a potential friend lost had not wound its way up his throat and lodged itself behind his teeth.
Alana remained oblivious to internal pain as she scurried off to the kitchen, one of the smaller dogs following at her heels. "Why did you call?" Her voice was like twilight in its gentle tones and hushed sounds.
He had followed her to the kitchen, in much the same way as that of the small dog; eager for her to pat down his wild hair behind his ears. He was surprised when anger did not grace her voice. He stuttered for a moment, tongue heavy, mind blurred as he followed her with his eyes her petite body moving around his kitchen as though she inhabited the space. When she pressed a wet cloth to his forehead, the cool soothing feel of it cleared his mind. "I don't know." He lied easily. His eyes took in the room around her, only ever settling on the slight curls in her dark hair or the red of her dress. Sensing her disappointment, he heaved; "Sorry. You shouldn't have to be on nightmare duty."
Gently Alana shook her head, her hand smoothing down his wild hair. "Didn't I tell you?" She looked at him, comically puzzled. "I like shooing away the predators at your door." He opened his mouth; something she knew would be about the inappropriate hour. "I was picking him up from my brother's anyway; coming here was just a detour." She nodded towards the living room before turning her attention back to Will. "Are you sure you're okay?" He only nodded.
"I dialled before I thought. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle." Another lie.
Alana smiled softly, her arms moving to cross over her chest knowing that he could hold the cool compress to his own head. "Your subconscious thought otherwise." She pointed out with a continuation of her sweetly soft smile.
He allowed a simple rise and fall of his shoulders to answer for him. Will couldn't help his need to constantly make sure she was okay, and he certainly wasn't going to tell her that was the case. Not when in his dreams she lay dying, her voice whimpering his name.
With slow progression they moved back to the living room, Alana's attention wholly focused on the curly haired little boy, dead to the world on Will's couch. "You don't have to stay," Will started "I'm interrupting your time with your nephew."
She giggled slightly, the noise alive on her tongue before her face contorted and the sound turned into a dead sigh. "Will." She called for his attention, waiting for him to look her in the eye she kept er own trained on his face. She had to be honest at some point in her life, and knowing that Will knew of his existence now only meant questions later. She was so caught up in the lie that she just didn't want to lie anymore. "He's my son." Her eye's flew from his face, getting caught to the light fixtures like an obsessed moth. She couldn't look at him.
Will did not speak. Alana felt she had to.
"His name is Conrad, and he's five. I, ah, no one knows about him." She shifted, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. It would be the only barrier she put between them, she had to get it out. Alana had a perfectly good reason to be defensive and a good reason as to why her own son lived with her older brother. Just like Will Graham, Alana Bloom had once been unstable. She had a rocky few years after the youngest of her three older brothers died, instability, and rebellion. But she grew out of that. Alana found her second and third pairing of daemons after an attack that seven months later resulted in the birth of a premature child.
"I, I couldn't look at him when he was born." Her voice shook, air trapped in her lungs. "God," Her head tilted back, tears burning at the back of her eye lids. "I was so unstable I had to live with my brother!" Alana's hands were shaking as she rolled her fingers into her palm, the nails biting down sharply. "I love him, I love him so much I just can't take on the responsibility. I look at him and I remember what happened, everything. Some days I just can't stop thinking about how he's going to grow up, who is he going to be more like. I can't stand the thought of my son being his father." The garden gate creaked open, and yet the only thing Will could do was hug the woman whose life was laying bare at his feet.
Alana Bloom was as unstable as he was. And most of all, Alana Bloom had a little boy.
He revelled silently in the moment that he got to hold her, his chin resting on the top of her head as he squeezed her tightly. Trying to glue back her broken pieces Will watched as Winston nuzzled at the little boy's face.
Conrad stirred, a sleepy grumble passing through his lips as a little hand covered his face. Winston's cold nose fluttered over the boy's cheek, lulling him with shock out of his blissful dreams. Alana was pulling away from Will the minute she heard the boy's breath hitch and his shaky exhale. She scooped him up before he could whimper 'Mommy'. Winston innocently sat at Alana's feet, his head resting on couch beside her leg, not once did he dare touch the child she was rocking.
Pressing a kiss to his messy chocolate curls Alana focused her energy into the little boy. She loved him, but she could not love him the way he needed her too. Alana whispered to the boy quietly, one hand still playing with her curls while the other scratched Winston behind the ears.
She sat, her head ducked to the little boy's height as they conversed. Will smiled shyly when Alana pointed to him, a small smile tugging at her lips. He found himself terrified under the scrutiny of the little boy tucked into his mother's side.
"You have dogs." Conrad beamed behind a shy smile, his fingers pulling at his bottom lip.
His fingers scratched at the back of his head, Will nodded. "Uh, yeah." He saw Alana smile; a glorious sun emitting smile. "Do you like dogs?" Taking a step towards them, almost like walking a dangerous plank Will asked his question softly. The boy wasn't watching the man's gentle actions, instead he eyed the pack, treasure troves gleaming in his young eyes.
Conrad nodded vigorously, trying to put his love for the animal in a simple nod. "Uh-huh." He mumbled, Alana's hand's stilling his bobbing head. "But, Uncle Benji said I can't have a dog."
"Why not?" Will was familiar with the notion, his father's stern voice ringing in his head. They lived week by week, his father working in various docks up and down the country. They moved when work ran out, or when his father caused trouble with the locals. They couldn't afford a dog through their lifestyle and their own pocket.
The boy shrugged, childish understanding ringing through his words; "Just 'cause." It need not be any more complicated than that. His Uncle said no, that was that for the boy and his wish of owning a dog. Will had moved to stand by the couch, drawn towards the boy's intense admiration. It was there the little boy caught him completely off guard, his head turning to lock eyes with Will. The man disliked eye contact, it made him uncomfortable, and most of all he found the whole engagement unnecessary. Conrad held him captive. Sincerity shone through in his gaze but it was also that of heterochromia iridum. The little boy before him had one blue eye and one green eye. Will stared with open wonder at the little boy's appearance, his skin tone was a little bit darker than his mother's, more honey than pale, his hair held the same colour with a little more curl and his one blue eye held that of the stormy seas that raged in his mother's expression. "Do they have names?" Conrad's voice broke through Will's focus.
Crouching down beside the end of the couch, where Alana was sitting, Will took the little boy's hand gingerly and reached out for the terribly patient stray whom of which was itching to be noticed. "This is Winston." Will laughed, as the eager dog nudged the little boy's hand, directing him to run tiny fingers through his smooth coat.
Scratching the dog thoroughly Conrad looked to Will for further introductions. Sliding across the floor by an inch Will was stopped by the little boy's hand holding him steady on his shoulder while the child himself slipped down from his mother's lap. Winston followed lazily as they moved across the floor to another two dogs.
"Sadie." Will introduced as he took the boy's hand again and extended it to the patiently waiting animal. "She was here when I moved into this house. Someone just left her behind." Will added as Sadie looked up at the little boy, her nose on the ground anticipating his touch. Conrad looked appalled, his eyes wide and gleaming with shock. At five-years-old he could not comprehend how someone could abandon such an animal. His fingers graced the top of her head softly before the boy leant forward on his knees, his arms wrapping softly around the dog's neck as he embraced the gentle creature.
"This one here is Rufus," Will indicated to the smaller scruffier dog lying beside Sadie. "He found us." They moved around the room in the misshaped circle the dogs were sleeping in. Will introduced the boy to each dog quietly before giving him a small sentence or two about how the animal came to be in his care. Conrad listened with an admiration that seemed to shine like the boy had not heard words in years. He was lapping at a cool ice-cream in the hot summer months as Will Graham talked, telling him miscellaneous adventures with dogs.
It wasn't long before they looped back around to Alana who sat patiently, albeit a little tiredly on the couch. She smiled at the little boy, now surrounded by a pack of dogs who were easily counting him as their own. "Can I take one home?" He asked sweetly, thick eye lashes fluttering against his cheeks while he kept his arms wrapped lovingly, if not possessively around Winston.
Alana laughed, short and sweet before she turned disapproving eyes on her son. "Sweetheart, these are Will's dogs. They're not for sale. Besides, if you took one home Uncle Benji would be very mad." Conrad's bottom lip fell, a pout in the making. He quickly remedied the look at his mother's swift glare before his face almost split in two.
"It can stay with you!" He bargained seeing no fault in the idea. Alana gave a brisk shake of her head before moving to stand.
"You are welcome to visit whenever you want." Will spoke up, not quite sure as to where the offer came from. To be honest, he liked the gentle and warm boy with his loving attitude and fondness for Will's pack.
Conrad's chin picked up, a grin forming across his face as he looked to Will first and then his dead out of luck mother. The boy flung himself at Will, almost toppling the grown man with his might. "Can I come back tomorrow, Mr Graham?" He asked eagerly, a tone and look on his face that had Will puzzled at how the boy did not already have everything he wanted.
"If your mother says it's okay." Will offered a look at Alana before turning his gaze back to the little boy whose nose was nearly against his cheek, his mix-matched eyes pouring into Will like he was trying to devour the man's secrets.
Defeated, Alana nodded softly, her own son far too persistent for his own damn good. She smiled softly at the frightened man, child wrapped around his torso worshiping the sun and stars he had just created. She watched on quietly as Will Graham in turn embraced her son.