#willy foster

Will had woken up early, as always, but this time on the verge of another panic attack. He was sweating, panting, unable to breathe; he was being suffocated, choked, head swimming, eyes streaming-

Usually Molly woke up with him when he had one of these attacks or nightmares, as was inevitable when two people shared a bed, but this time she remained fast asleep. Will briefly debated waking her before deciding against it – he’d let her rest.

Instead he went downstairs, not bothering to change out of the shirt and underpants he had slept in, and tried to breathe deeply. He had to keep reminding himself that he could breathe, that it was just inhaling and exhaling air into and from the lungs; the air in the house was warm and humid, suffocating him. Will eyed the door that opened out onto the porch and decided to try and get some fresh air outside; as his hand closed on the door handle, he heard the clatter of paws against hard wooden flooring and saw Winston quietly padding over to him. Will gave the dog an affectionate rub behind the ears before opening the door. “Come on, before you wake the whole house up.”

It was relatively warm outside that morning, the sun already up and warming the sand on the beach; the sound of waves gently crashing on the beach calmed Will down immediately. Winston trotted further out into the garden, circled a patch of grass and squatted to do his morning business whilst Will sat down on one of the porch chairs and started taking deep breaths. He briefly registered Winston coming back after a minute and sitting by the chair, close by in case Will wanted to pet him, but it was all going to hell. The ugly scar on his stomach was burning at the memories, and Will could feel himself start to sweat profusely again; he couldn’t escape it, even in his own dreams, even in Marathon, no matter how far away he knew Doctor Hannibal Lecter to be. He couldn’t hurt him anymore, couldn’t manipulate him, but the damage was already done.

After ten minutes – although it felt like far longer – the attack was starting to subside; his breathing was coming easier again, he could concentrate on the here and now. Winston nuzzled his leg with his wet nose, and Will began to pet him absently; the fur was soft beneath his fingertips, a sharp contrast to the ugly raised scar permanently etched into his abdomen.

Will heard the porch door open and sighed. “It’s okay, Molly, I’ll be back up in a minute; it’s passing now.”

“Will?”

It wasn’t Molly: when he turned his head he saw Willy standing there in his superhero pyjamas, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Sorry. I thought it was your mother. Did I wake you up?”

Willy shook his head. “No; I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I heard the door open.”

“Why couldn’t you-…Oh. Right. First day of school,” Will remembered, and then he gestured to the empty chair next to him. “You wanna sit out here for a while?”

Willy nodded and clambered into the seat. Winston looked at the boy for a moment before moving his head to rest on Willy’s knee, lapping at his hands with a rough tongue. Will would have to remind him to wash his hands later now, knowing Molly would have a fit otherwise.

The two sat in a somewhat awkward silence for a few more minutes, just watch the sea and the beach. Finally, Willy looked at Will and spoke.

“Do I have to go to school? Can’t I stay here on the beach?” He asked. “I can help with the dogs, o-or I could even help you fix up some boats…please, Will?”

“As much as I’d love have you help me out on boat engines, your mother wants you in school,” Will told him, not dishonestly. “It’s a good school; you’ll like it.”

Willy looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”

Will wasn’t sure what to do; even though Willy wasn’t his son but his step-son, he did honestly care for him. He reminded Will of Molly with that carefree spirit, the large bright blue eyes, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He sometimes wondered if he cared more than he should.

“Hey,” He muttered, looking at the boy. “You’ll be alright. You’re a real smart kid, Willy, so I wouldn’t worry; your mom does that for you.”

Willy gave a tiny hint of a smile, which could only be a good sign. “I know.” He paused, hesitating almost, and looked at Will curiously. “Why are you up so early?”

He didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to Will, of course; as far as Willy was concerned, his step-father was a nice man who worked on boats and loved his dogs – he didn’t know about Hannibal Lecter or the murderers or any of it. Molly didn’t really want him to know about it either, not until he was older at least, so he had to think for a moment on what to say.

Willy, however, beat him to it. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed slowly. “Kind of. I think Winston needed to relieve himself anyway.”

Willy gave Winston a scratch behind the ear; it was clear he liked Winston best, and Will suspected it was because Winston was the first of the dogs Willy had met. It seemed a long time ago, he thought, when he’d first met Molly and Willy at a park somewhere whilst on a walk with Winston; so much had changed in a year and a half.

“I didn’t know that grown-ups had nightmares,” Willy said curiously as Winston pressed his snout into his hand. “What are they about?”

“Well…bad stuff,” Will answered evasively. “You know that there are a lot of bad people out there? Sometimes it scares people a lot.”

“Does it scare you a lot?” Willy asked, tilting his head.

His scar tingled slightly, and he could swear he felt a ghost of a breath on the back of his head. “Honestly? Yeah. Sometimes.”

There was another minute of silence where they just looked out over the beach; a woman jogged past one way, a man the other. Winston moved away from where the boy was petting him and found a comfortable spot on the porch to lie down on. More silence.

 “I wish I could stay here with the dogs,” Willy said again, looking extremely saddened. “I don’t wanna go to a new school; I don’t know anyone.”

Will tried not to feel too guilty; it had been his idea to move them out to Marathon in Florida after his and Molly’s wedding, for a new start, and Willy hadn’t had very much of a choice in the matter. “Well…you can play with the dogs when you get home,” He said, feeling somewhat useless. “Besides, the boat I was going to work on today may take a while; I’ll probably still need some help by the time you come back.”

Willy looked at Will hopefully. “Really?”

“Sure, I don’t mind you helping,” Will agreed, rubbing the back of his neck; he was still sweating somewhat, but it wasn’t as profuse as it had been when he’d first come outside. “You just come and find me when you get home.”

Willy beamed brightly before giving a yawn and stretching out his arms. “I think I’m gonna go back to bed before Mom wakes up. Can I bring Winston?”

Will looked at the dog, who just stared at him, before shrugging. “Sure, just don’t let him on the blankets.”

“I won’t - thanks, Will! Come on, boy!” Winston looked briefly at Will, as if to check he was okay, before standing and following after the Willy.

Will watched them go inside, unsure of how he felt about having this conversation with his step-son; he somewhat wished that he could have offered more comfort to the boy, consoled him in some way, but he was afraid of overstepping the line of what was appropriate. He wasn’t Willy’s father, and they both knew that – Willy still remembered his father, watched baseball whenever he missed him. Will was just…’Will’, the man who had married his mother.

Sometimes he remembered how he had once wished for a family; he had wanted to get married, settle down, take in all the strays he could find and maybe even have children, if the time was right. Well, had he done that? He had married Molly, they were settled in Marathon and they took in strays that no one wanted – they hadn’t discussed children though, not ever. Willy was already there.

Will could almost hear that voice speaking to him in his ear, as if that man were standing behind him at that very moment.

You know better than to breed, Will.