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Wednesday slipped into the nursery, turning on the lamp. If Dean was sleeping, she didn’t want to wake him up from the bright light.
Leaning over the crib, she could see that he was awake, actually, dressed in a plaid onesie that Tyler bought for him. Her child flailed his arms a bit, giving her a toothless grin.
She was not prepared for how much this would affect her.
An unfamiliar wave of emotion that she’d not experienced since being pregnant came over her. It was so strong that her whole chest began to ache.
Wednesday picked up her son, adjusting him in her arms. With one hand on the back of his head, she held him close to her. She took a deep breath or two, unable to get rid of the mental picture of seeing the deceased body of that boy that was not even a year old yet.
She wasn’t usually bothered by what she would see on the job, but what she’d come across today haunted her.
He’d suffered blunt force trauma by an unknown weapon. Murdered by his mother and dumped in the woods behind their home. A witness had seen her carry him out there, all wrapped up in a blanket.
Wednesday had been the first detective at the scene. She, other than the medical examiner, had been the first one to see the body.
She was not squeamish. It was not the state that the body was in that had her feeling quite strange for the rest of the day. Perhaps it had to do with the very slight resemblance the child bore to her own.
And it made her want to go home at once.
Wednesday wasn’t usually like this. She didn’t let her emotions dictate her actions.
All she knew was that she’d wanted to be here, holding her son and not letting him go.
No one was watching the two of them right now, Tyler was not here so she pressed a kiss to her son’s head, closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath.
Taking a seat in the antique rocking chair that was given to them by her parents, Wednesday adjusted her hold on him, her chest constricting. All day, she’d oddly yearned for this moment and now to be here was almost too much.
“Hey,” Tyler whispered, coming into the room. “I heard you come in.”
He must have just stepped out of the shower; his hair was damp, curls hanging down on his forehead, the smell of his shampoo wafted in the room.
She glanced up momentarily. “Hello,” she muttered.
“How was your day?” He asked, dropping a kiss on her head.
“It was fine.” She didn’t want to get into the details right now.
“Yeah?” Tyler made an exaggerated facial expression at Dean, leaning in to kiss him too. “Tell Mama you were a good boy and drank all your bottle.”
Normally, she detested hearing such talk from him, but did not mind tonight.
“Is that right?” Wednesday often spoke to her son, but did not pretend to engage in conversation with him like Tyler or Enid did. She made an exception this time, however.
As if he understood, Dean babbled. Wednesday brushed her hand through the few wisps of curls that sprouted up from his head. He would probably have a headful of them like Tyler did, though she hoped they would darken a bit more as he grew older.
Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Tyler looking at her.
“Is there something else you would like to say?”
“What else happened today?” Tyler had seen straight through her lie moments ago. Wednesday said nothing while he rested his hand on her upper back near her shoulders. “Did something happen?”
Wednesday’s stomach coiled. She tried to keep her focus on her child. Dean was opening and closing his hand, grabbing ahold of her shirt then letting go of it. “Today I was called to a crime scene.”
He nodded.
“The victim was a child,” she recalled, unconsciously hugging her own child tighter.
“Okay...” Tyler said slowly.
“He bore a very slight resemblance to Dean,” she finally revealed.
Tyler’s face softened. “Oh, baby.”
Wednesday lowered her gaze. He wrapped his arms around her loosely, minding that Dean was still in her arms. “It shouldn’t have affected me. It’s ridiculous.”
She was better than this. At least, she thought she was.
“ Hey ,” Tyler slid his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so she would meet his eyes. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Ever since this pregnancy progressed, she didn’t feel like herself at all. Then, after Dean’s birth, this strange feeling intensified. It never occurred to her how much she might change after childbirth. Until now, until she found out how much yearning she could feel to be near her son again.
Tyler studied her face for a moment or so. “That really bothered you, didn’t it?” He said quietly.
Dean started to whine softly. Wednesday leaned back in the chair, beginning to rock him. It seemed to soothe him.
And...perhaps it might have been soothing for her as well. Sitting there, holding him close to her, feeling him against her, seeing his chest rise and fall.
“I don’t know what came over me,” she broke the silence. “I saw Dean laying there on the ground.” Logically, she knew he wasn’t. She didn’t hallucinate , but the blonde hair and chubby face did it for her. “It was...quite troubling to see.”
Wednesday glanced down. Dean had fallen asleep, his cheek squished against her. Her hand, a feather-light touch, brushed over the side of his face.
She breathed out deeply once more, putting the mental image of that child out of her mind for good.