There's Something in the Woods

10: October 1st, 2017 8:48pm, Climax Springs

Maggie

I sit at the head of the bed, my babies tucked under either arm. Cried themselves to sleep, snuggled up next to me. Safe. Safe right now, where I can hold them.
Todd is under three blankets, in his thick fleece pajamas, shivering still as he presses against me. I kiss their fair heads and hold them close now as darkness falls.
"I'm sorry I can't remember you," Todd whispers, face in my stomach, as I stroke his cold skin. So cold.  He sobbed and wouldn't let the doctors near him. They say it's probably shock.
"Shh, it's okay. It doesn't matter," I say, continuing to stroke his hair, "We don't need you to remember us. We are just so happy to have you here."
"Dad's mad at me," he says.
"No, no, he's just scared."
"No, like, I just think. I don't remember him. It's not that I don't remember him. I remember him being different," he says, quietly, "Like I imagined he'd be different."
"It's okay. You're in shock, it's all okay. You're safe home with us now, and I'm going to take care of you," I say, cuddling him tightly.
"Thank you," he whispers. And then he passes back into a trembling sleep, his skin so cold against mine, as if he'll never be warm again.
I listen to the rhythmic sound of my babys' breathing. That steady, comforting sound, knowing that they are here with me, safe.
Then the familiar footsteps down the hall. He knocks, but I don't need that. I know the tread of his feet, soft and lighter than a cat, and twice as quick as they ought to be at any given time.
"They're asleep," I say, quietly, as Doc steps in. "Close the door."
He nods, taking off his jacket and shirt, a gun in a holster on his chest. Then, he wordlessly comes and lies across the foot of the bed, tipping his face to look at his family here, so perilously close to safety.
"I don't know what it was," he finally says, looking at Todd.
"The police still don't know anything?" I ask, quietly.
"The police say it was a bear. I think it—I don't know," he says, quietly, "Is he still freezing?"
I nod.
"It's gotta be ninety degrees in here," he says, quietly. I have the heat going of course. He was freezing. Tabitha is in her short sleep things and sweating.
"You can go," I say, quietly.
He smiles, head still tipped to me, motionless save the rise and fall of his thick chest, "Don't be stupid. I'm not ever going anywhere. I told you that."
He did. On the edge of a roof. I told him he could go. That I wasn't going to jump. That I just wanted to be there in the quiet, looking down at what could be forever. And he said he'd stay and remind me why I wasn't going anywhere. And why forever could be right here.
"He's just so cold. Tabitha's sweating too," I say, wiping her damp forehead.
Doc nods, sliding a bit more up on the bed, "You feeling all right?"
"They found my baby on the side of the road covered in his and my mother's blood," I whisper, my voice shaking.
"I know. And now I don't know what it is I'm protecting you from, you three—four," he stretches out a hand to gingerly lay on my stomach. Soft, and gentle with his calloused, world beaten hand. "This one moving?"
"Yeah, more than enough," I say, moving my hand from Tabitha to hold his hand there, just like I would when I was carrying these two. I didn't think he believed it. It wasn't real for him, he wasn't throwing up five times a day and trying to count their kicks and going to endless doctors each more condescending than the last. I'd take his hand and tuck it against my stomach. "One there, and there," I would guide his fingers to feel where each twin lay. He smiled and said nothing. Maybe he already believed in them, maybe he didn't dare believe. I don't know.
"Good, at some point I'm gonna tell your father that for personal reason these babies and you are never leaving my sight for the foreseeable future," he says, moving to curl up with us, on Todd's other side, a big arm around my shoulders, and the other one still on my stomach.
"I think he's given that up," I say, lying my head against his shoulder, content. Safest place in the world. My babies are right here safe in my arms, and he's holding me. All is allowed to be right with the world again.
"Good, we should all give up sometimes." Doc says, face in my hair.
"I thought you were against that."
"I'm against everything, but mostly I'm against pretending to be things we're not. That I'm giving up," he says.
"I'm not telling them," I say, quietly, "It's too late." As much as I want to do nothing more than sweep my babies off home with us. And be a family. And have my kids. I know that can't be. We lied too long. Telling Tabitha she just lost a grandmother not a mother? She'd hate us for lying, now.
Doc says nothing. He care less I think how the kids would feel and more how he'd feel us all under one roof. Permanently. That's not necessarily a bad thing, his lack of empathy, he's a very competent monitor if meds get screwed up, however I'm trying to avoid him actually just legally kidnapping all three of us into a apocalypse bunker I know for a fact he has.
"Shh, we're okay, you don't have to fight the whole world for us," I say, quietly.
"Remains to be seen," Doc grunts, probably thinking of eight different ways he could in fact fight the entire world to prevent anyone in it from ever harming any of us in any way.
"We got him back. He's safe, we can take care of him," I say, leaning back into him a bit more, but not closing my eyes. I can't. If I sleep I might dream of Todd being missing again. And so long as I'm awake, I know he's right here.
"We didn't get your mother back," he says, quietly, "Or little Bonny."
"I know, I feel bad for Bonny, her mother must be in pieces, I don't—maybe they'll still find her," I know that's not true though. If they find her she'll be dead, anyway. Too much blood spilt.
"Not your mother?" He grunts. My mother hated Doc, very nearly as much as she hated me I think. Well. I've been told she didn't hate me. But she told me I wasn't fit to raise my children, she told me there was something wrong with me. She told how horrible I was, far too often, for me to pity her now. Not my children, no, she had to prove she could be the perfect parent so of course she was good to them, prove that the problem was with me. It needs to be clear that she would have hated whoever I wound up with, independent of Doc being Doc, she would have hated him. The last time we spoke she went on about him getting me pregnant, this time. She never could see that I didn't care. Were we a bit young the first time? Yes. Were we stupid? Yes. Was it an accident? Yes, of course, it was we were dumb idiot kids. But we loved our babies, I wanted my babies I was for the first time happy and loved I had a man who loved me and our two wonderful children. Who she stole from me.
"No. Not my mother," I say, quietly.
Doc says nothing, continuing to hold me. His skin is hot and sweaty in this sweltering room.
"What happened to him?" I ask, quietly, touching Todd's skin. He's clammy, not warm, but at least no longer freezing.
"I don't know, I wish I had answers but—the answer is, somehow it's over. Whatever, weird, thing that should never have happened. Now it's over," he says, quietly.
"What if it's not?"
"Then we fight it."