Disclaimer:All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them stems from my fond admiration (and a few personal quirks I will seek "help" for).
AN: This story is not set within the accepted "canon" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. So I get to "fool around" with them in ways in which they've never been seen, stretching that to the limit and suspending the "reality" that is "fiction" to start with…now there's a contradiction in terms!!!
(And yeah Goren I know the proper word for that is oxymoron…congratulations…you managed to take out the trash…what do you want? A medal?)This is rather bleak in places…
THE HOURS BEFORE DAWN
Bobby juggled the baby he'd barely got to hold in the last week. Somehow managing not to send a small, dark head crashing to the kitchen floor as he tested the temperature of the milk in the bottle. Exactly the sort of thing some people feared might happen.
He'd not needed to hear it all to know what was being whispered about, spoken of in his kitchen whilst he'd been sitting numb on the sofa. Receiving the latest lot of people who had come to express awkward and formulaic platitudes "at your loss Bobby". Like it was a set of keys went missing or he dropped his favourite coffee mug? Something that might turn up, or be replaced and win his affections over in time? Not his heart ripped in two by Jenna dying.
Bobby sat at the table with a slight shiver. T-shirt and shorts in the middle of a January night wasn't the warmest. Though, of course in his arm, Will was well wrapped up. Something else, those people no doubt questioned his sense or ability to be able to do. In a way they almost certainly would not if he were a woman. And maybe if he'd got to hold Will, feed him and take care of him more last week, he would not feel as he had at times all day. Like the baby was an alien creature.
Instead, and between their platitudes, the women had more or less taken over. Taken Will with more formulaic phrases like "No need for you to do that Bobby" or "Let me. You need to get some rest". Well no he didn't. He needed to be doing something. Not be sitting with reminders of Jenna all around him whilst in the kitchen they fixed bottles or cooed over Will as they cleaned him up. And talked in that low monotone about him. How Bobby was going "to cope", whether he would"manage on his own" and perhaps in a few cases, whether he was psychologically fit and capable of doing this.
Funny how all those concerned words on Will's behalf were more or less forgotten within 24 hours. Of them all standing around the hole in the semi frozen ground where they had left Jenna. Now, suddenly, he was alone and left to cope. Little wonder he'd not always been sure what it was he should be doing for Will all day. Been terrified at times he'd damage little limbs with his clumsiness and unfamiliarity with what he was doing. Sensed Will almost struggling against him and making sounds of distress, as yet another stranger held him. One whose voice and feel and maybe even smell were scary after that procession of soft voiced, soft bodied and softly scented women who suddenly vanished.
Will refused the teat of the bottle, turning his head away and making Bobby feel inadequate all over again. Like it must be him doing something wrong and he was slowly building "the case for the prosecution" with each thing he tried to do and didn't get right. For all those who had whispered about his fitness to parent Will. And of course suppressing those "demons" in his own head this was somehow his fault. Him who had wanted kids, him who had not been there in the hours after Will was born and when, suddenly, Jenna haemorrhaged. As if his presence might have saved her, when those properly qualified tried and failed.
"Please son" he pleaded to the squirming infant. "Please do this for me. It's down to you and me now and I really am doing my best"
Bobby wasn't sure if it was a miracle or sheer co-incidence that at that moment Will gave up his resistance, took the bottle and began to feed greedily. As if until then he'd been denied milk and it was like that all the time. He'd be sleeping and still in his arms, then the moment Bobby put him down begin to cry piteously. Or seem to be happy and content in that short time this age they were awake. But the moment he reached to touch him gently, or say something softly, the little guy would begin to scream, like he was hurting him.
"That's a good boy," said Bobby quietly and looking at that little face now lost a lot of that post birth "wrinkling". And wondering.
Wondering how it was possible to hold such strong and very contradictory emotions inside you. Of course he loved Will unconditionally and could see Jenna in him. In that curve of his ear for example was so like hers it almost hurt. Not sure if he was glad Will hadn't inherited her golden colouring would serve as even greater reminder of what he had lost, the price they both paid for the life in his arms. Love and yet there was also resentment, lurking somewhere in the dark parts of his heart.
That Will was somehow to blame for all this. If he'd not been conceived, taken so long to get born, not been so awkward and difficult they more or less had to pull him out of Jenna, she'd have had more strength. Not been so exhausted she could have fought harder or longer, when six hours later things really went wrong. That in some ways Will was "to blame" for killing his own Momma. Done it to punish him for wanting what so many people seemed to have that made them happy. Except Bobby never imagined this outcome.
Those nights near the end when Jenna would lie beside him shifting with a sigh, unable to sleep too long with the discomfort of her distended belly. Bobby's view of the future had been of them snuggled together on a winter night as Jenna nursed. Not him sat shivering with cold and uncertainty. Alone, miserable and lost without her and scared stupid he was going to fail the helpless, and occasionally infuriating, little thing in his arms.
And yet, he suddenly found himself smiling at the slurping noises Will was making on the bottle and then, when he spat the teat to get his breath, at the trickle of milk at his mouth. Bobby reached for a cloth to wipe it. For once Will not turning away from him and wriggling. He offered him the bottle again.
"Did you have enough son?" he asked carefully turning him so he could rub his back a little.
This time at least, there was no projectile vomiting of the whole lot all over him as he carried Will back to the bedroom. Laid him, was almost asleep again down carefully. And picked up his sister Cassie.
"Now you are your Mommy's daughter aren't you sweetie?" he said cradling the little fair head to his shoulder and then yawning a little as she did. "Me too Cassie. Kind of beat myself"
Five cocker spaniel puppies really were hard work to be hand rearing and there were still three more in the basket on the bed, before Bobby could get back to sleep tonight.
AN:Oh purleese…did you really imagine for one second Bobby was dealing with a human infant!!
AN :And for those like to know these things…the other puppies were a black bitch called Chaos and two gold dogs called Trapper and Pierce... just a pity Cruella De Ville's more evil cousin, Kitty Skinner, got the lot and made them into very stylish evening bags…mwahahaha!!