Ignoring the cat-calls of the men that always seemed to congregate in the lobby of the apartment complex she had the misfortune to call home, Sloane moved as quickly as she dared towards the stairwell, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush as soon as the door swung closed with a muted thud behind her. The click of her heels echoed around her as she took the steps two at a time, a bark of laughter passing through the door as the men in the lobby settled on someone else to heckle now that she had disappeared giving her reason to exhale in a sigh of relief over having made it thus far. And before too long, the sound had fallen away altogether, the familiar smell of the curry her neighbors always made every night for dinner tickling her nostrils as she exited the stairwell and headed to the tiny apartment at the far end of the hall.
Familiar laughter, muted though it was, passed through the door as she slid the key into the lock, and twisted, her shoulder bumping against the wood to give the barrier the necessary push to open completely. Sloane recalled having asked the landlord to send the building's handyman to take a look weeks ago, as the door could not be opened from either side without sticking to the frame. But of course, like so many other things in the building, the request had gone ignored, the landlord's penchant for using rent money on anything other than upkeep and maintenance well known, whether his tenants wanted it to be that way or not.
As soon as she had shouldered the door open, however, Sloane found herself emitting a shocked huff as she was bowled backwards until her back thudded against the door she had been attempting to shut behind her, a pair of gangly arms wrapped around her legs while the warm sensation of a head thumping against her thigh made itself known.
"Mama!"
"Hey, Ri," Sloane replied, gently disentangling the boy's arms from around her leg, and crouching just enough so that he could wind them around her neck, instead, "How're you feelin', bud?"
"Better. Mrs. Potter let me have chicken soup."
"She did? That sounds awesome!"
"He ate it right up," The aforementioned Mrs. Potter assured, rising from the sofa, albeit a bit slowly, and stepping around it to regard the young boy and his guardian with a fond smile, "I ever tell you how it warms my heart to see him call you 'Mama'?"
"You may have."
"Well, it does. He adores you, and I think I can see why."
Unsure of exactly what to do in the face of such praise, Sloane returned her attention to Riley as she rose to her full height, one hand lifting to smooth some of his auburn curls away from his brow, while the other tucked a stray lock of her own hair behind her ear. She was well aware of the warming of her cheeks in response to her elderly neighbor's words, along with the startling sense of warmth in her gut, whether she truly felt she deserved the praise or not. But no matter how uncomfortable she might feel in the wake of any sort of recognition over something she had hardly done to be a hero, Sloane forced herself to smile as she looked back towards her neighbor, while her fingers still combed through Riley's hair.
Hair that was so very much like her brother's that it pained her as much as it gave her comfort.
"Thank you, for watching him again," She began, watching as the older woman reached towards the table beside the sofa, and secured her small purse on her arm, "Sorry for the-the last minute notice."
"Oh, it's no trouble at all, dear. You know I love watching your little boy any time you need."
"I promise I'll have your money together by the end of the week."
"I don't suppose telling you I don't expect payment at all will change your mind?"
"Nope."
"Well, there's something to be said for trying," Mrs. Potter sighed, moving towards Sloane to pat her gently on the shoulder, before turning her attention to where Riley stood at her side to speak once more, "You behave for your Mama now, okay?"
"Okay."
With those assurances made, the woman moved towards the door with Sloane following after to shut it behind her retreating frame, the muted commotion from the television finally registering in Sloane's mind as she winced after using her shoulder to force the door closed, and turned back to face Riley first-hand. Tilting her head to the side, she regarded her nephew for a moment in silence. His wide blue eyes that were the exact shade Drew's had been. The unruly hair that tugged at her heart every time she looked too closely. And the slightly lopsided grin that threatened to melt her heart every time Riley sent it her way…
That grin? That was all him.
"What are you watching?"
"Spongebob," Riley informed, the confession bringing a laugh to Sloane's lips as she recognized the no-nonsense way in which he admitted it, and allowed him to take her hand to tug her over towards the sofa, "It's still on."
"Okay," Sloane allowed, plunking down on one of the dilapidated cushions, and grinning faintly as her nephew curled against her side and tugged her arm around his shoulders almost immediately thereafter, "But not too long, okay? I'll get you to bed at a decent time, if it kills me."
She probably gave Riley too much leeway, if truth be told, but sometimes the prospect of resisting his whims on one of his good days, where he wasn't feeling miserable, was far more daunting than she cared to admit.
…
Jolted out of a doze some time later, Sloane drove a hand through tousled hair and levered herself up into a semi-seated position on the sofa, a soft groan escaping as the spasm her back gave in response to her current sleeping arrangements threatened to knock her over. As soon as she was able, she forced herself to swing her legs over the side of the couch to place them flat upon the floor, her head dropping into her hands while her elbows came to rest upon her knees. For a moment or two, she failed to entirely surmise what it was that had woken her, her brow furrowed as she ground the heels of her hands against her eyes. But then it dawned on her. The sudden rustling she heard coming from down the hall, followed by the muted, but no less distinct sound of a rattling cough that joined it not long thereafter.
Riley.
Scrambling up from the sofa cushions, Sloane hurried around the sofa, only emitting a soft hiss as she stubbed her bare toe on the leg of the coffee table in the process. Still, she was somehow able to stumble to the end of the hall, one hand pushing the door to Riley's room open, only to find that what met her eyes as soon as she had done so very nearly stopped her heart in her chest.
Riley was standing in the middle of his room, one hand attempting to cover his mouth while the other clutched at his pajama top, swaying on the spot as he tried and failed to catch a breath.
Before Sloane had fully realized it, she was kneeling at his side, one hand rubbing soothing motions against his back, and drawing him close while the other fumbled on the table beside the door until her fingers closed around the familiar shape of his inhaler. She could feel her nephew starting to sag against her, trembling limbs no longer capable of holding him upright. And as soon as she had assured herself that he could still manage holding the inhaler to his lips, she was rushing back to the den, a single, frantic glance around the small room giving her a glimpse of her cell phone where it rested on the table beside the couch.
Though she could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage, and her own breaths were coming in short gasps, Sloane somehow managed to make it back to Riley's side, while barking out the address for emergency dispatch, her hand trembling so fiercely that the phone clattered from her fingers onto the floor not long after the call had disconnected. She had always hated this part. Feeling so helpless to do anything for Riley until they got him to the hospital after a flare. No matter how many people tried to reassure her that this was all par for the course-that kids with cystic fibrosis had as many bad days as good ones, and even a good day could turn sour in mere seconds-Sloane had never been entirely capable of suppressing the fear that each setback Riley experienced was somehow direct evidence of her own failure as a guardian.
At times, she still didn't comprehend her brother's final wish to leave the little boy in her care, and it would have been a lie for Sloane to pretend she did not highly suspect that every decision she had made thus far could only have let him down.
…
"Hey, Choi! Blackhawks game tonight. You in?"
"Already got plans, Will. Sorry," Ethan declined, glancing up from the tablet he had been poring over, and meeting April's brief gaze with a suppressed smile, "Maybe next time."
"That's what you said the last time, man."
"Maybe you could try Jay?"
"Jay's got plans too," Will remarked, running a hand through hair that was in desperate need of a trim, and slumping into a chair beside one of the open computers before going on, "Guess I'm flying solo at Molly's."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"Yeah? Speak for yourself."
"Someone afraid they won't reel in the ladies all by themselves?" Doris quipped, gently nudging Will's knee with her own to persuade him to make a path for her to step between him, and the desk so that she could access the computer that he had effectively blocked as soon as he sat down.
"That's not-no, that's not it at all."
"Hmm. I don't believe it."
"Well, it's the truth," Will pressed, ignoring Doris' scoff as she gently nudged him aside, and stooped over the keyboard to pull up a patient chart, and turning towards Ethan instead in hopes of enlisting aid, "Any time you want to add something, Ethan, feel free."
"Nah. I think I'm doing just fine right here."
"Thanks for the help."
"Any time."
"For your sake, I hope the night stays slow, then," Will said, unable to resist the laugh that broke free as he caught the pointed looks both Doris and April sent his way, and shrugging as though he was completely unaware of the habitual pick-up in cases that came about every time someone mentioned anything even remotely related to it being a slow day, "These tickets are kind of non-refundable."
"If you just jinxed us, Will Halstead, I hope you know I'm never going to forgive you."
"I think I can live with that, Doris."
"What can he live with?"
Turning slightly in response to the familiar voice, Will found himself suddenly face to face with the woman he had honestly been trying to avoid, though he never would have admitted that reality aloud. Natalie had only been back to work for a few days, after an accident that very nearly took her life. An accident that only came about because of him. And after learning that she was apparently very much in a place to move on from the relationship he thought had been solid, it hadn't seemed all that unreasonable to keep his distance.
Or at least it hadn't, until he realized his hopes of being able to keep their interactions at work to a minimum would be far more difficult to achieve.
"He jinxed us," Doris stated, folding her arms across her chest, and directing a look at Will that he knew held no real venom, despite her attempts to the contrary, "And he was bragging about Blackhawks tickets."
"I was definitely not bragging-"
"Trust me, Will. I know you. You were probably bragging," Natalie teased, a smile pulling at her lips despite the lingering wariness that remained apparent in her eyes, "Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave soon? Traffic is probably awful."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me."
The remark was out before Will even had a chance to stop it, as though the instinctive way in which he and Natalie used to tease one another had never really gone away. And although he was well aware that some of her smile had faded, to be replaced by an expression that was almost confused, instead, the almost immediate apology that he wanted to give her had died in his throat, his attention turning towards Maggie's sudden appearance as she effectively jolted them all from the remnants of their idle conversation.
"We have incoming. Going to treatment two."
"On it," Ethan confirmed, standing in one fluid motion, and preparing to follow after Maggie just as the aforementioned patient was wheeled on a gurney through the sliding doors; a pale little boy with blue-grey lips that looked entirely too small for the space he rested on. Having already snagged a pair of exam gloves, his entire focus had shifted to his patient, barely noticing the young woman who hurried along after the paramedics, and followed them into the treatment bay without a second thought. But, just as he had been prepared to take the first look at the little boy in question, and determine how exactly that woman was related to him, Ethan found the act waylaid by Will's sudden appearance in the doorway, his expression startled, to say the least, as he stared at the harried young woman for only a moment longer before he spoke.
"Sloane?"
…
Hello there, loves! And welcome to another new chapter in Sloane's tale. I know, I know, I promised a longer one last time around, but I struggled a bit writing this, for no other reason than being distracted by drama at work (and, being that I'm so unsure how much writing time I'll have this week, I wanted to get something out, rather than nothing at all). By the time I finally got the muses to cooperate, it seemed ending like this might have more impact than simply plowing ahead with Sloane's reaction to a reunion with Will, instead. So hopefully, all of that said, the chapter isn't too terrible? If it is, needless to say, I am more than willing to take it down and try again.
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story thus far (and special thanks to ChiTown4ever for leaving such a lovely review as per usual)! I truly do appreciate the support, and like always, I cannot wait to hear what everyone thinks of this latest installment! More fun is on the way!
Until next time, darlings…
MOMM