#dear levi

When Tom blearily blinked his eyes open early on Saturday morning, his first thought was of his son. 

Levi, his heart seemed to say. Its beat had a new rhythm. 

It was strange to feel brand new, as if he had been born alongside his son, when nothing had physically changed about him. He looked exactly the same as he had yesterday, but his heart had changed. As if he had been turned inside out. As if he had washed clean. 

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his son. Seeing his deep blue eyes, his red hair, his pink, folded skin. It was early, Tom was always an early riser, but he was eager to get out of bed today. The last few months--the last few years--had been difficult. Ghosts plagued his dreams. He slept fitfully, full of regrets. Last night, he hadn’t dreamed at all. He awoke ready for the day, eager for it, wanting to clutch the sunlight in his hands. 

Tom rose from bed, quietly making his way downstairs, letting the dogs out and then making a pot of coffee. John would be down soon to start breakfast for Phillip’s birthday. It would be a gloriously lazy Saturday. Tom could spend all morning with his son. He was meant to take him home from the hospital, something that had his nerves buzzing as he finished his coffee, watching the sun rise. 

It was still early, but Tom couldn’t wait any longer. 

He took the car seat they’d bought and put it in the backseat of their shared truck. Checked the instructions, adjusted it--checked the instructions again, until he was completely satisfied that it was secured properly. 

The drive to the hospital felt somehow both impossibly long and infinitely short. In a breath--holding his breath--he was pulling in and parking the car. 

He cursed under his breath as he tried to detach the carrier from the car seat base, but eventually managed, his cheeks hot as he pulled away and shut the car door, the car seat swinging by his side.

As he entered the hospital, he suddenly felt self-conscious, like everyone was watching him. He wondered what they were thinking. That he didn’t know what he was doing, that he was incompetent. They wouldn’t be wrong, but he would learn. Tom was not the brightest, but he was the most determined. 

His son deserved a good father and that is what Tom would be. 

On the way to the maternity ward, he got several more questioning glances and he started to feel proper uncertain, the feeling creeping beneath his collar until he was reaching up to tug on his shirt. Another nurse passed him, double-taking as she walked to her coworker and then whispered to him, still watching Tom. 

Tom ignored it. It didn’t matter. He knew there were all sorts of rumors around town about himself, Annie, the baby--what kind of father he was or was going to be, but how could they know? Tom didn’t even know yet. 

“Tom--” said one of the nurses as he passed. He recognized her as one that usually worked down at the A&E. Funny she was doing a rotation up here. 

He smiled, gave her a little wave. Kept walking. All the way until he got to Annie’s room. 

It took several moments for the sight before him to make sense. Sunlight poured white into the room. Everything was perfectly still. The bed was made as if Annie had never been there at all. As if the whole thing had been a dream. It couldn’t have been a dream. Tom had held his son in his arms. He remembered the way he smelled. 

Someone touched his shoulder. “Tom--” 

He flinched and looked towards the same pretty nurse, her dark hair pulled back by a brightly covered scarf. It was decorated with birds. Cranes. Storks. 

“What--” His gaze was wild as it turned back to the room, searching it, looking for Levi’s bright red hair against the white sunlight, the white walls, the white sheets. 

“Where--where is my son?” 

The nurse frowned. “Didn’t--didn’t Ms. Tremaine tell you?” she asked uncertainly. “I thought--They left yesterday afternoon. We told her she could stay as long as she wanted but there was some--special suite she had reserved up in London. There was no reason they couldn’t go, the baby was perfectly healthy.” 

“They?” 

“What?” 

“You said they.” 

“Oh, yes. Ms. Tremaine. Her mother, I think, and a woman with blonde hair? I didn’t recognize her…” 

Eloise. His sister had betrayed him. Had stolen his son. 

Tom had thought--

No. Tom had not thought. His only thought had been for Levi--the only thing he had felt was the rush of  joy, of relief and reincarnation. He hadn’t thought once about the Order. For once, he had not be haunted by anything. 

And now--

“They’re gone?” he repeated. His voice sounded far away.

“I am sure you can call her…” the nurse suggested gently. 

No. There would be no calling Annie. If she was with his sister, if she was in London…then he would never see his son again. They had probably taken her phone. He couldn’t even bring himself to care what happened to her. All he could think was: they had taken his son. He would never see him again. 

“Er, right, well--” the nurse started, Tom didn’t think even she knew what to say. Her gaze fell to the empty car seat in his hand. Tom’s gaze followed.

Empty. It was so light in his hand, he could throw it like a shot put, across the hospital room and out the window. He considered it. Instead, he just stared at it. Empty. He wanted to cry, to scream, but he didn’t think he could. He was empty too. 

“Thank ye,” Tom said with a nod. 

The nurse nodded uncertainly back. “Can we--”

“I have to go.” 

Tom turned on his heel and fled, back through the winding halls, down the stairs, into the parking lot. Annie was gone. The Order had his son.