Work Text:
Can’t promise that things won’t be broken,
But I swear that I will never leave
- Scene One – James Dean & Audrey Hepburn, Sleeping With Sirens
Banging at the door sends Will shooting upright in bed.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he rubs his face and glances over at the clock on his bedside table. 10:07 AM. How long had he been asleep?
With a groan, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, careful not to knock into or step on the dogs huddled around him. They lift their heads and watch him curiously as he jumps into a pair of pants and stumbles to the door, clumsily unlocking it and pulling it open a crack before the visitor can knock again.
Alana blinks at him twice before smiling, dropping the hand that had been poised to knock. As soon as Will has recognized her, he relaxes his shoulders, opening the door wide enough to reveal himself, repressing a shiver against the cold winter air that finds its way inside.
“Alana, I wasn’t, uh-- What are you doing here?” He furrows his brow at her as she shifts her weight to the other foot, shoving her hands in her coat pockets to warm them back up.
“Well, you missed work yesterday, and you didn’t come in today either. So I thought I would swing by and check in. Make sure you’re still alive in there.” She offers him a smile, and despite being startled by the unexpected visit, a part of Will softens.
“No, I, uh… I’m taking some time off. Visiting with someone I haven’t seen in a while. Sorry, I, uh, must have forgotten to mention it. You must be freezing; please, come inside.” He speaks hurriedly, the words leaving his mouth as soon as they come into his head. Most of the dogs have crowded behind him by now, and he motions for them to back up as he steps aside and opens the door wider. Alana thanks him as she quickly steps in out of the snow, shaking it off of her cap and coat as Will closes the door behind her. His words seem to have reassured her, her eyes brightening up a little.
“Oh, that’s lovely. I’m sorry to have interrupted.”
“No, no, it’s no trouble at all. Since you’re here, um, would you like to stay for breakfast?” He brings his hand up to the nape of his neck, scratching lightly at the curls there. “You’ve already driven all this way, I mean.” Alana smiles at him, forever endeared by his bashfulness.
“I would love to,” she replies. “I’d like to meet this visitor that’s so important that busybody Will Graham would take time off of work.”
Will shakes his head, chuckling as he looks away.
“Well I know you’re not staying for my fine cooking skills,” he teases, a hint of mischief in his tone. He takes a step back, motioning upstairs. “I’m just going to go wake them up, see what they want to eat.”
Alana nods her acknowledgement, reaching up to pull off her hat as Will turns to go up the steps. She runs her fingers through the roots to smooth out the frizz left behind, listening quietly as Will knocks on a door above her. After a pause, the sound repeats, followed by a name she can’t quite make out. For a moment, all she hears are footsteps. Then, a name; louder this time, worry edging its way in. She can hear Will moving through the hallway upstairs, calling out every few moments, his pitch increasing each time until he finally stumbles down the stairs, eye wild with panic. Alana’s smile falls, her face drawing together with concern.
“Will? What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head, looking around the living area.
“I can’t- I can’t find them, they- they’re not anywhere upstairs, they haven’t responded to their name, I- Shit, why can’t I find them, where could they have gone-”
Alana steps forward, reaching out to but not touching him.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, maybe they just-” She does not get a chance to finish; Will spits out a swear as his eyes lock on something over his shoulder. He flies into action, cramming his feet into his boots and shoving on a jacket as Alana looks over at what he had found – the door at the back of the house.
The door that had been left a crack open.
She is not able to get a word in as Will scrambles out the door, choosing instead to shove her hat back on her head as she follows him and the dogs to the back of the house.
Either Will doesn’t notice the dogs filtering out behind him or he doesn’t care, stopping several yards away from the house as he scans the snowy yard for footprints. Alana screeches to a halt beside him, her breath coming out in clouds of condensation.
“Will, what- What’s going on?” she pants, looking between him and the treeline. Will shakes his head and starts to walk, and she dutifully follows him, a larger grey dog tailing along behind.
“They-They’re autistic, and… There’s this behaviour that’s fairly common called ‘elopement.’” He speaks almost mindlessly, like reciting a fact, focusing on the faint prints under the fresh layer of snow. “It’s when they run or wander away from a safe place. From the outside, it can look like rebellion or disobedience, but there are a lot of reasons it can happen. Overstimulation, understimulation, fear, curiosity… They’ve always had a history of eloping, and I… Shit, I forgot, how did I forget?”
“Will, this isn’t your fault,” Alana supplies, frowning, but Will hardly even hears her. His eyes widen as he spots a figure in the trees, his pace increasing to a run.
As they come closer, the fear in Will’s stomach tightens. You are still in the pyjamas you wore to bed last night: thin flannel pants and an old T-shirt. You do not have a jacket or shoes, not even a pair of socks to block your now-purple feet from the rough terrain. You are stumbling, hands held out to keep your balance, swaying with every step. He can see traces of tears frozen on your cheeks.
Trying not to startle you, Will slows to a stop, softly calling out your name.
Despite his best efforts, you freeze in your tracks, head snapping to look at him with wide, terrified eyes. He feels his heart sink into his stomach, a cold feeling settling in his chest.
“Hey,” he starts, his voice soft, not too different from how he speaks to a stray dog. He steps forward slowly, carefully, keeping his hands visible. “Hey, what are you doing all the way out here?”
He can see your breath increase in speed as it clouds around you, breath catching as you shrink back.
“I c- I can’t- I c- I can’t g-o b-back,” you manage, jaw quivering in the cold. Will furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head in confusion.
“Can’t… Can’t go back? What do you mean?” You shake your head.
“I can’t- Sh-She’s gonna- She’s gonna do it ag-gain, I can’t let her do it again-”
“Hey, it’s okay, what are you talking about? Who’s gonna do it again?”
He moves towards you, holding out a hand to grab yours, and the panic it causes is immediate. You stumble backwards, tripping on a fallen branch behind you and barely managing to catch yourself before your head hits the ground. Will is quick to try and help you up, but, unphased by the fall, you scramble backwards on all fours until you are able to clamber to your feet. Dizzy, you put your hand to each tree you pass as you flee, your breath coming in shaky gasps. Will spits out a swear and begins to chase after you, but Alana’s hand on his arm makes him stop. He starts to protest, but she does not let him get far.
“They aren’t hearing you, Will.” And then, before he can even ask what that means: “I think… They look like they’re having a flashback right now.”
“I.. Flashback?” He swallows the dry lump in his throat, scrunching up his face. Alana nods, choosing her next words carefully.
“People who have been through traumatic events can go through periods of time where they feel like… like they’re reliving whatever it is that happened to them. Sometimes they can get so severe that they think it’s actually happening, like they’re dissociated from reality.”
Will lets out a shaky breath, looking off in the direction you had run. He can feel his stomach tightening with worry. You had never told him about anything traumatic; but, then, you had always been very private.
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do,” he admits, his voice soft as the snow around them. Alana trails her hand down slowly to wrap around his wrist. When he does not pull away, she settles her grip around his hand.
“Just follow my lead, okay? Keep your voice low, no sudden movements, do not get too close unless they let you.”
Will swallows and nods nervously, following wordlessly as Alana starts to lead him in your direction. You had not made it terribly far; they find you cowering beside a tree less than fifteen yards away, scanning your surroundings like a prey animal. Gently releasing her grip on Will, Alana slowly steps into your line of sight, then comes to a stop. She calls your name, just loud enough to hear, and your head snaps in her direction. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and your whole body shakes like an earthquake. She offers you a gentle smile, holding her hands where you can see them.
“Hi,” she says softly, keeping her body language relaxed. “My name is Alana. Are you [Name]?”
Scared and hesitant, you nod almost imperceptibly, and her smile widens just a bit.
“It’s nice to meet you. You must be cold; what are you doing out here in the snow?” You keep your gaze locked on her, but she can see you starting to crumble. Lower jaw quivering, your voice is only a whimper when you reply.
“I don’t- I don’t know where I am,” you admit, almost in tears. Alana nods understandingly,
pulling a sympathetic face.
“You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia,” she offers, and your expression shifts as you try to work out where that is.
“I… Vir...ginia?” Your voice is almost too quiet to hear, but she nods.
“That’s right.” She is calm, reassuring, watching as your shoulders start to fall. “Where did you come from, sweetheart?”
After a very long pause, you slowly give her the name of your hometown, and her eyebrows raise as she parts her lips.
“Ohhh,” she says softly, mimicking what might be amazement. “You’re quite a long way from home, huh?”
You don’t seem to acknowledge this, swaying on your feet as you lean more of your weight against the tree. Your whole body is shaking like a leaf; as much as Will wants to scoop you up and take you home, he keeps his feet planted behind Alana.
“I-I don’t know where I am,” you repeat, on the verge of tears.
“You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia, sweetheart. My name is Alana Bloom,” she repeats, trying to pull you back to reality. “Your [friend/boyfriend/etc.], Will, called me.”
“W-Will…?” The mention of his name seems to make you perk up, bringing your eyes up to her face. Smiling at you, she nods.
“Yeah. He couldn’t find you; he was really worried. He called me to come help look for you.” It was a partial lie, but she reasoned it was an okay one. Truthful or not, it appears to bring you a little closer to trusting her, shuffling one foot forward.
“Will?” you repeat. Nodding kindly, Alana glances back at Will and motions for him to step in; in your panicked tunnel vision, you must not have seen him. Nervously, Will takes a couple of steps forward and quietly calls your name.
Your gaze locks onto him, and it only takes a second as he watches you crumble into tears. Reaching out to him like a child, you stumble forward as his name barely manages to slip past your trembling lips. Though hesitant, Will is quick to meet you halfway as your knees buckle, and he is just able to catch you before your knees hit the snow.
You are sobbing as he tucks your face into the crook of his neck, sighing against you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. With his arms around your torso, he pulls you up and against him, chest tightening at the feeling of your cold body against his.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, reaching up to rub your back. “I’m right here, you’re safe, it’s okay.”
It is all you can do to sob into his jacket. Beside you, Alana quietly shucks her coat and offers it to Will, nodding in your direction. He offers her a grateful and somewhat apologetic look as he takes it from her, then turns his attention back to you. Carefully, making sure that you know it is coming, he drapes the coat over your shoulders and pulls you back against him.
For a few moments, he stays still, only offering you hushed comforts and the occasional squeeze around the ribs. When he notices the sobs starting to taper off, he shifts you against his torso. He opens his mouth to speak and then pauses, closing it again. Remembering your brief conversation with Alana, he shifts his approach.
“Hey,” he says softly, pulling back a little to try and see your face. Your head is dipped, your face red with cold and tears, but you do not seem scared of him anymore. “My house is just up that way-” Here he pauses to point towards the house, though you are not looking at him – “How about we go inside? You must be cold.”
Still gasping and sniffling, you nod slowly, leaning forward to bury your face in him again. He sighs in relief. Your shivering is truly starting to scare him, and he wants nothing more than to bundle you up inside with the dogs.
“I- Here, I’ll carry you, okay? That way you don’t have to walk.” It takes you a bit longer this time, but (to his relief) you nod again. Making sure to keep his movements slow and deliberate, he makes sure that he has a good grip on you before slowly getting to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself. After sharing a tentative look with Alana, they slowly start their trek towards the house.
By the time they make it back to the farmhouse, Will is not even sure if you are awake anymore. He knows that you certainly need the rest, but you not being conscious and responding to him is making him wary. Alana is quick to grab the door, and Will nods his thanks as she slips behind him and shuts the door.
The dogs had long since made their way back into the warmth of the house, and they crowd around him, sniffing curiously, as he walks the familiar route to his room. Carefully, trying not to disturb you much, he lowers you onto the bed. It will be safer this way, he reasons – he will be able to keep a better eye on you in here.
Alana bustles into the room as he straightens back up, holding an armful of blankets from the living room. She places the bundle onto the empty side of the bed and steps back, watching as Will takes a seat at the foot of the bed. His touch is light and hesitant as he examines your swollen feet, purple from the cold and bleeding from the terrain.
“What do you need from me?” Alana whispers, face softening as she studies the damage.
“There’s a first aid kit under the sink,” he answers without looking up, his voice quiet but firm. “And, uh, a bowl of warm water and a washcloth.”
Alana nods dutifully and steps out of the room. He listens to her move around as he continues to assess you, trying to rub some of the warmth back into your bones. One of the dogs, a small heeler mix, settles itself by your side and licks at your hands to do the same. Yet another, a little terrier, curls up in the crook of your neck, its head resting on your collarbone.
Alana returns swiftly with the requested items, kneeling down beside the bed as Will mutters his thanks.
Dampening the washcloth in the water, he carefully works at the soles of your feet, wiping away the blood and debris. He freezes everytime you shift in your sleep, exhaling in relief when you do not wake up. Once satisfied that all of the dirt is gone, he pulls the antiseptic from the kit. Spraying it on a fresh pad of gauze, he sets about cleaning the lacerations, only pausing to grab a new gauze pad once that one has turned red.
Setting the antiseptic aside, he takes a moment to spread a layer of antibiotic over the injuries before carefully wrapping them up, taking care to make sure that the bandages are not too tight. Alana takes the used supplies from him once he is finished, stepping out of the room to put everything away.
Will uses this moment to layer the blankets over you, glad to note that your shivering has started to subside. For a moment, he only watches as a few of the dogs settle themselves over the blanket, huddled against your thawing body. Normally, he would not allow them to crowd you like this. Considering your current state, however, he considers their concern a blessing.
Bracing one hand against the headboard, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment before pushing himself back up. He moves forward to pat one of the dogs’ heads, scratching it behind the ear for a moment.
“Keep an eye on them for me, okay?” And though the dog cannot answer him, Will can swear that he sees understanding in its eyes.
After another moment of hesitation, worried to leave you alone again, Will finally picks up the discarded coat and turns to find Alana leaning against the doorway, her expression soft with care. He gently ushers her out and closes the door halfway behind them, leaving enough room for the dogs to come and go. He does not speak again until they have made it to the kitchen.
“I, um… I apologize, I didn’t-” Alana is quick to cut him off.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Will.” Her eyes are brimming with sincerity. “Truly. I’m just glad we found them alright.”
Suddenly exhausted, his shoulders drop as he nods.
“I… Yeah. Thank you,” he manages, barely meeting her gaze. She smiles at him, nodding.
“Of course. I’ll, uh… I’ll go ahead and leave you be. Let you relax, keep an eye on them.” Will nods his agreement, looking at her appreciatively.
“Right, yeah. Just… remind me that I owe you breakfast one day.” Alana grins, taking her coat from Will as he offers it to her.
“I won’t let you forget it,” she half-teases, shrugging on the coat and taking a few steps towards the door. “Shoot me a text if you need something, okay? Anything at all; I’ll come running.”
The corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile, and he nods.
“I will. Drive safe, okay?”
“I will.” Her smile softens, and she gently rests her hand on his arm. “I’ll check in later, make sure you two are still alright out here.”
“Okay,” he nods, and she drops her hand, stepping towards the door. They offer one another one last goodbye as she steps out, and he stands at the door for a moment to watch her go. He offers one last wave at her retreating car before closing and locking the door, and immediately all of his energy leaves him. Stripping his coat and sliding out of his shoes, he stops in the kitchen to fill a couple of glasses of water before quietly padding back to his room.
He relaxes instantly when he sees your sleeping form still where he left it, the dogs still tucked tightly against your body. Resting the glasses on the nightstand, he slips around to the other side of the bed and carefully slips in, earning a few mildly irritated looks from the pups as he disturbs them. Offering an apologetic look, he settles in beside you. He takes the time to study you one last time before finally shutting his eyes.