Surprise! I didn't have intention of publishing a oneshot but this popped into my mind a couple of hours ago and it was just too good to ignore. I don't write Ainsley much so it was a lovely change to have her voice in my mind for a change and it was really fun to explore a more vulnerable aspect of her. Especially since her weakness appears to be her family being in danger. It was really fun to write and I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I did
Ainsley wakes up to the sound of a scream. It's so loud it pierces through the walls. She startles, feeling her heart pounding in her ears. It takes her a few seconds to realize it wasn't from her dream. The scream is very much real. She's never heard anything like it, so full of pain and terror. Then she realizes it sounds very familiar.
"Mom."
The rate at which she's on her feet and running is dizzying. She almost rips her phone from the wall it's plugged into with her urgency to move. Her bare feet echo on the floors as she races down the hall. She curses her desire for privacy from when she moved in almost a year ago, insisting that she'll need her own space since she's been used to living alone for so long.
Her mother's scream still resonating in her mind makes her hate every step that she was too far from helping.
Her fingers shake too much as she tries to work her phone. Dialing the number almost absentmindedly from memory as tears stream down her face, panicked breaths too short to fill her lungs.
She should call 911, there could be an intruder or a fire or. She should call 911.
"Malcolm Bright, leave your name and number and I'll call you back."
His voicemail taunts her as she tries to school her panic. She can't call anyone but him. She needs Malcolm. He'd know what to do. He'd know how to save her. He'd get there faster than any cop would.
Except maybe Gil.
Finally she's in front of her mother's door. She doesn't even bother knocking, instead reaching for and twisting the golden handle. Yet, it doesn't budge in her grip. She tries again, then once more before the horror truly sets in. Her door is locked and Ainsley can't hear anything coming from the inside.
Not that she can hear much over her own heartbeat.
"Mom!" She pounds on the door, tears flowing freely imagining everything horrific her mind has to offer. Her mother choking on blood, stabbed in the stomach collapsing just out of reach of the door, a gun trained on her temple if she tries to scream. Ainsley throws her weight against the door but it's no use, the wood is expensive and she just bounces painfully off it. She ignores the flare of pain resorting to pounding again with her good arm when the door swings open.
She freezes when a very tired and very concerned looking Gil answers. She thought he'd come fast but this is ridiculous.
Her rational mind comes to as her panic ebbs momentarily. Gil had dinner with them last night, she retired for the night before he left. He had a few drinks, there was no way her mother would let him drive and insist that he stay.
"Ainsley? Is everything ok?" She glances over his shoulder not seeing her mother anywhere behind him. She must have slipped into the closet, probably sitting at the vanity.
"I heard-" She thinks for a moment. Was it all a dream? She could have sworn… It sounded so real. "I heard a scream."
His shoulders drop, a soft look of understanding passes over the man's features. "A nightmare." He assures her.
"No. I know what I heard. I heard-"
"No, Ainsley." He stops her with a had up. "Your mother had a nightmare."
She tenses, confusion knotting her brows. She's no stranger to someone waking up screaming in the night. Hell, she grew up familiar with the sound of Malcolm's night terrors. A scream, the sound of running, a struggle, and then her mother's gentle voice coaxing him awake again.
It was always Malcolm though. Never her.
"I don't understand."
"She just had a nightmare. I've got her, kid. Don't worry."
She almost scoffs at his words. Don't worry? Not even when she was faced against a literal serial killer did she hear her mother make more than a yell. A challenge against her opponent. She always fought back. Always. How the hell would she be able to stop hearing that scream? She sounded so… helpless.
She's never known her mother to be helpless.
"I can't."
"Ains." She stops, only Malcolm calls her that but it's enough to disrupt her thoughts. "She's safe."
Her face sinks with realization. "The pills." Gil's expression only confirms it. The sad almost guilt that passes over him, and she knows. Her mother had talked to her and Malcolm about it before. How she planned to get clean. No more relying on pills and booze to survive. She didn't want to miss another moment. Those were her words.
Ainsley has had only a small peek at the bottles before when her mother was sulking over Malcolm's treatment of her. Ones she expected, having seen from Malcolm were there. Valium, Ativan, Marplan. Yet the one bottle screams in her memory now.
The sleeping pills.
"She never…" Guilt clenches in her chest. "I didn't know."
"You couldn't." He assures her gently with a sad smile. "She would never have let you or Malcolm know."
"Is she…"
"At the vanity." He nods, understanding her question. Sitting at the vanity is almost never good. After moving in Ainsley often found her there, so locked in her own thoughts she didn't hear or see her come in. She understands why, in a way. It gives her space to think, where the walls never feel too much like him. The closet was always her space. Ainsley remembers it almost looking the exact same as when she'd run in to play makeup with her.
She wonders if the familiarity is a comfort or a punishment.
"You want to see her?" Ainsley chews on her lip, thinking. Would her mother want her to see her like this? Probably not. Yet she had to have heard them talking. She doesn't hear her protesting either. She would not be shy to request her time alone. She nods. "Come on." Gil guides her into the room, softly knocking on the door before opening it just a little. "Jess, sweetheart. Someone wants to see you."
No protest again. Ainsley shuffles forwards, suddenly feeling very much like the shy five year old who came to check on her older brother after he had a nightmare. She always had her favorite stuffed rabbit ready to share to keep away the bad dreams. She wishes she had the bunny right now. To wordlessly pass to her mother without needing the explanation. Without having to say what they both already know.
Her mother turns to her, eyes dark from lack of sleep. Ainsley wonders how long it took her to work up the courage to close her eyes. How long it took for them to fly back open in terror. They're red rimmed too, from tears, she recognizes. She's never seen her mother cry. The thought terrifies her.
Yet when her mother sees her, the expression changes. A soft look of guilt and understanding. "Oh baby," She reaches out a hand and Ainsley goes to her. More tears she didn't know she had left spilling down her cheeks. She rises from her seat meeting Ainsley in the embrace. She wraps her arms as tight as she can around her mother, her face burying into her shoulder. All the fear and sadness she felt melts out of her at once. The slow stream of tears turning into full body sobbing in the comforting touch. Fingers comb at her tangled blonde curls, separating the knots from her own restless sleep. "I'm so sorry I scared you sweetheart." She whispers in her ear.
She shakes her head trying to reject the apology. Yet the crashing realization that her mother isn't this pillar of strength and bravery weighs heavily on her. She wonders if Malcolm even knows.
Oh god, she's going to have to explain her crying voicemail to Malcolm.
"Are you ok?" She finally asks when she has the strength to talk.
"Oh my sweet girl." She breathes, pulling away just to trace her jaw. "I've got you right here, I'm more than ok." She places a kiss on her hairline enveloping her in a hug again. "It was just a nightmare. I'm ok." Ainsley bites her tongue at the thought of what her nightmares could possibly look like. Malcolm's were terrifying to hear about and he has suppressed memories.
Her mother knows every face, every name. Every single image.
Gil's knock interrupted her second wave of panic. "I talked to Malcolm. Figured he might see Ainsley called and panicked when he woke up." She feels her mother nod in understanding.
"He's not coming, is he?"
"No. I managed to convince him everything was ok."
"Good." She pulls away from the hug, though her fingers still linger on his arms. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" Ainsley looks between her and Gil. A selfish part of her wants to nod, curl up next to her mother and keep her safe from the nightmares just like she did for her after the memories of Endicott started resurfacing.
"It's ok kid. I'll sleep in a guest room tonight."
"Nonsense." She scoffs. "The bed could easily fit all three of us plus Malcolm. That is, if you're ok with it." Ainsley realizes she's talking to her and nods. Gil had always felt like a father to her, even when his focus was on Malcolm. He always asked if she'd like to tag along to a baseball game or a trip to the planetarium. Anything to make them feel like normal kids.
She still has the stuffed astronaut he bought her.
"Is that ok with you?" Ainsley asks Gil and he smiles, wide and warm. Nothing like Martin's.
"I'd like that."
They fit comfortably back in the bed. With Ainsley hugging her mother close to her. She's more than used to the octopus grip and settles in, manicured fingers scratching her back in smooth lulling patterns. Gil takes place behind her mother, safely cushioning her between the two of them. This way she's protected from both sides. Ainsley smiles at the image but it does calm her when she sees him offer his arm to lay on to her mother.
They both fall asleep before she does. Neither stir while she listens to the soft noises of the quiet slumber. She hopes, against everything that has happened, that they get to keep this soft moment. After everything that's happened her mother deserves to be happy. She thinks with him, she could be.
Maybe they all could be.