#ziggystvrdust

Since the ordeal on Halloween, Sheppard didn’t have dreams when he slept.  Either he was sleeping too soundly or the medication was just blocking out the memory of the events.  But now, his eyelids were concealing eyes that rapidly moved back and forth in his skull and he was mumbling nonsense syllables as the dream played out.  The mumbling turned into more frantic sounds as it went on and before long, he was shooting upright, covered in sweat with a scream in the back of his throat.

The doorbell rang not long after and Sheppard pulled himself up using his crutches, hobbling over to the door and reaching down to pull it open.  He didn’t know who he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the tall, greying man and slightly shorter woman in a pantsuit standing in front of him.  “Dad?” he furrowed his brow, looking between them.  “Mom?”  The two looked at him, nodding and smiling a little sheepishly.  

“Hello, son,” his father nodded.  “Are we too late for Christmas?”  They both had gift bags full of gifts and his mother was holding a bottle of wine in one of her hands.  Shepp’s jaw was slack and he looked behind him, looking for backup.  

 “So, the Cubs won the Series,” Richard said after Ziggy and Linda walked into the kitchen to start working on dinner.  Baseball had always been Sheppard’s favorite sport and, besides fishing, it was their thing.  Of course, Sheppard and his father were both Yankees fans, so the thought of Chicago winning anything was both hilarious and infuriating.  

@ziggystvrdust

Discharge papers had been signed.  Everything except for the cannula attached to the portable oxygen tank in his lap had been disconnected and removed.  Physical therapy instructions had been given and follow-up appointments had been set.  They were all packed up and Sheppard was sitting in a wheelchair, wearing an actual set of clothes (gym shorts and a sweatshirt) for the first time in weeks.  Nurses had been in and out, wishing them well and telling them that they’d miss the singing and other shenanigans around the floor.  

“Momma! Who dis?” she exclaimed, pointing at a picture of a little boy. Now, there was a picture she hadn’t seen in a while. Five years, to be exact. Ziggy smiled, pulling the little girl into her lap. 

“That would be Dawson, your big brother,” she explained, nostalgia taking over as she ran her fingers gingerly over the photo. In the picture, her late son grinned up at the camera, face covered in strawberry ice cream.

“My big brudder?” Joy asked, looking up at her mother. “How come I never met him?” she asked, frowning.

Ziggy sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her. “Well, baby, he was very sick,” she said, figuring lying to her would be worse than the truth. “He wasn’t much older than you, actually. But mommy lost him, and I miss him very much,” she explained. The little girl in her lap frowned, wrapping her short chubby arm around her waist.

“I’m sorry momma. What was he like?”

Ziggy laughed, wiping the tear that had strayed down her cheek. “Well, he was a lot like you actually. Goofy, adorable, sweet as cherry pie,” she teased, peppering her cheek in kisses, with a reward of adorable giggles from the three year old. Behind them, the front door opened with the arrival of Sheppard home from work.

“Daddy!” Joy exclaimed, bouncing up and rushing over to her father. Ziggy laughed, shutting the photo albums and standing up. She lifted up Joy so Sheppard wouldn’t have to bend down.

“Welcome home, sweetheart! How was your day?”

Sheppard loved coming home to his girls, loved walking in to hear the excitement in his daughter’s voice when he opened the door and stepped through, and this time was no different.  As she ran up to him, he had just enough time to take his backpack off and unhook Cheesecake’s harness, who quickly stepped out of it and licked the little girl before running off to the kitchen to get some water before she reached him.