It's been a while, hasn't it. I once again got the itch to return to this universe, so I dug something out of my "to-be-posted" folder. This started as an exercise for a writing workshop, which I then deleted, then realized I actually liked, so I rewrote it and turned it into this.

Restless Nights:

This routine had grown all too familiar. Joseph walked lap after lap around the house, bouncing a restless Steve in his arms and desperately willing him to fall asleep. Ever since Sarah went back to work, he'd shouldered most the burden of bedtime. Usually, he enjoyed the time with his son, watching his eyes gradually flutter shut and his breaths reach a peaceful, sleepy rhythm. But in recent weeks, he'd fussed and cried long past his bedtime. Joseph wished he could chalk it up to typical infant sleep regression, but increased coughing accompanied the increased crying. They'd already doubled his daily CPT and put him on antibiotics, but a week in it didn't seem to be helping.

Joseph lay Steve's head on his shoulder and patted him on the back as he walked around the house, so far the only method that had gotten him to sleep. Just as Steve finally started to drift off, Joseph felt his little chest start to heave with another round of coughing. It wasn't particularly wet or rattling like he'd heard CF coughs could become, but the force of it was plenty to rouse Steve from the sleep he'd come so close to entering.

"Shhh, it's okay," Joseph soothed. He switched his hold to cradle Steve in his arms. Hopefully, the crying didn't wake Sarah. She needed to get up early for work tomorrow. Little baby coughs interrupted his wailing, each one like a knife to Joseph's chest. He wondered if another round of CPT would help, but he was so physically and mentally exhausted that he didn't think he'd make it through half an hour of pounding the cuppy to Steve's chest. "I'm so sorry that you're hurting, little man," he said, biting his lip. He knew parenting his first child would introduce him to a gamut of new emotions, but he never anticipated experiencing this kind of guilt. The defective gene that would alter the course of Steve's entire life, it came from Joseph. And he could do nothing to fix it. Parenting introduced him to a dozen new kinds of joy that he never experienced before, but at least as many new kinds of sorrow.

It took half an hour for Steve to near sleep again. Half an hour of Joseph telling him old army stories in a calming whisper and continuing to walk up and down the hallway. At last, Steve's eyes closed and his breaths evened out. Joseph gently laid him down in his crib and kissed him on the forehead. "I love you," he murmured. He tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door open a crack.

"He go to sleep?" Sarah muttered as he crawled beneath the covers.

"Did he wake you up?"

"Yeah." She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "A mom can't just sleep while her baby's crying, you know."

"I know. Hopefully, he'll stay down the rest of the night. This cough is hitting him hard, poor thing."

"It's scary. That something so simple can be so dangerous for him."

"Yeah. But we've got it under control. His doctors aren't that concerned."

"We're gonna have to get used to this sort of thing. He's never not gonna have a cough."

"I know. We'll get used to it."

"Hopefully."

"Let's get some sleep." Joseph's eyelids were already drooping.

"Good night."

"Night."

~0~

He awoke far too soon to the sound of Steve crying again. Joseph pushed the blankets down and swung his legs over the side of the bed to go get him. "What're you doin'?" Sarah asked blearily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered. "I gotta go get Steve."

"What?"

"Gotta go get Steve," he repeated, rubbing a hand over his face to wake himself up. "He's crying." Joseph shook his head and listened. The cries had fallen silent. That was either a good sign or a really bad sign. He leaned forward to get up, but Sarah wrapped a hand around his wrist to stop him.

"Joseph," she said solemnly. "Steve's not crying."

"Yeah, I think he stopped, but I'm gonna go check on him just in case."

"Joseph."

"What?"

"Go back to sleep."

"Not yet. I'll be back in a few minutes." Hopefully, Steve had already fallen back asleep and Joseph wouldn't have to make another dozen laps of the house.

"Joseph." She sounded deeply saddened for some reason.

"What's the matter? Do you wanna do it instead?"

Sarah didn't answer. Just burst into tears. All at once, Joseph realized what had happened, where he actually was. He hadn't been woken in the middle of the night by a crying Steve. Steve hadn't lived under the same roof as them since he was twenty-two years old. And he'd been dead nearly fifteen years.

"Oh my god."

This wasn't the first time he'd woken from a dream like this, unaware that he'd been dreaming in the first place and had now awoken in a very different reality. It didn't happen often, but when it did the ramifications lasted for days. He couldn't tell who took it harder; him or Sarah.

Joseph wrapped Sarah up in his arms and let her cry into his chest. He vividly remembered that conversation they'd had about getting used to hearing Steve cough. It had been way easier to adjust to that sound than to adjust to the aching silence that now permeated their home. Joseph would give anything to hear that cough again. He missed the days when a restless night had meant rocking a crying baby back to sleep or washing sheets that feeding tube formula had leaked all over. Today's restless nights were rocking his grieving wife back to sleep or staring at the ceiling imagining his son's voice and wondering if he even remembered it properly anymore.