Hope

Crying echoes through the room, the wind howling through the broken window causing the little boy to wail all the more. I try to shush him, bouncing him in my arms, but the crying doesn’t stop.

Tears well in my own eyes as I hold him close, wrapped in all the blankets I can spare. I can’t stop him from crying, his cheeks red from fever and his voice strangled from overuse.

His tears are interrupted by harsh coughing, the hacking motion taking what little breath he has away. All I can do is pat his back and sway him gently, softly placing comforting kisses on his brow.

I can’t help him. I can’t fix this. I can’t.

~~~

Lavere is awake. The sky is still dark, but the alien baby is awake. His loud cries muffled by the walls of my room pierce my eardrums as they repeat through the baby monitor by my bed. I’ve tried to let him cry it out, but the noise hasn’t let up for over an hour.

Groaning, I slowly roll from my bed, the hairs on my arms prickling with the loss of warmth from the covers. Gingerly I shuffle from my room, careful not to make a sound as I creep down the dark hallway to his room. I have to check on him. Maybe he’s not feeling well, or his blanket fell from his crib.

Prying the door open, I slip through the small gap, shutting the door behind me in hopes it blocks the noise from waking anyone else.

“Hey, Lavere, what’s wrong? Why’re you so sad?” I coo, lifting him from his bed and into my arms.

He continues to wail, chubby hands latching onto my shirt as he sobs crocodile tears on my shoulder. The blue floating light passes by us, casting Lavere’s face is a soft glow. Placing a hand on his face, I check his temperature, noting that his skin feels okay; not too hot.

“Hush, you’re okay now,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I begin to bounce the baby, pacing up and down his room.

He isn’t in need of a change, his face ins’t hot, and Aliston’s instructions said Lavere didn’t need to be fed during the night anymore, but what if he’s wrong? What if Lavere isn’t as weaned from his nightly bottle as Aliston says?

Suddenly, Lavere stops. I look down at him, his chubby cheeks stained with tears.

He hiccups...and the wailing continues.

“Oh please, little one, what’s causing such a fuss?” I lift him from my shoulder to cradle him in my arms, head in the crook of my elbow.

“Em?” Caster’s standing at the door, his head poking through the small gap.

“Quick, quick, come in before the noise wakes someone up,” I hurriedly whisper.

Caster slips in through the door, stumbling as he attempts to shut the door as quickly and quietly as he can behind him.

Strangely enough, he’s dressed in a very human looking sweater and a pair of plaid pyjama pants. The sweater looks a little a little big, the should slipping down his chest and the sleeves dipping past his fingers.

“What’re you doing up, Caster?” I ask in a tired voice.

“Water plants.”

At two in the morning?

“Okay. So why are you in here?”

It’s easier not to question him and just run with it.

He nibbles at his lip, stepping closer as Lavere lets out a rather piercing cry. “Well, I see you tired. So, Caster come help.”

His sentences are so disjointed it makes me wonder if his speech issues aren’t related to his difficulty in learning the English language. Both Aliston and Avørek seem to have gotten the hang of it, so what’s stopping Caster from learning it too?

“It’s okay, Caster. You can go back to bed. I’m used to running low on sleep anyway.”

“Running?” He questions, tilting his head.

I smile at his naivety, but don’t bother trying to explain it to him. It would take too much time and I don’t think my brain is awake enough to even attempt to have that sort of discussion with him.

“Look,” I sigh. “I appreciate you coming to help, but you should go back to bed. Lavere will calm down eventually.”

He ignores me. Instead, Caster reaches out and gently plucks Lavere from my arms, cooing softly. I let my shoulders drop in defeat as Lavere continues to cry. I was hoping maybe the presence of a familiar face would make him calm down.

“I’m going to go get a bottle. Maybe that’ll help,” I murmur.

Earlier today, Caster guided me through how to prepare the pink-ish milk drink Lavere is still semi-dependant on. Even though Aliston says the small alien baby is the equivalent of a human six-month year old, and that he doesn’t need as many feeds, Lavere seems younger. He’s showing no signs of teething, and from my day with him, he seems to act more like a four-month old.

I could be wrong. After all, I’ve never had to take care of an alien infant.

Quickly I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, making up a bottle before quietly tiptoeing back up to the nursery. Lavere’s cries have lessened, little hiccups reaching my ears as I open the door instead of screeching wails.

Closing the door behind me, Caster stands in the middle of the room humming gently as he sways side to side. Lavere stares up at the alien with a wobbling lip, but at least he isn’t bawling.

I smile at the sight, glad that Caster was able to get the whirring screeching to stop.

“Thanks for helping, Caster,” I whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder to still him as I lean over to nudge the bottle against Lavere’s lips.

Eagerly he begins to drink, a sigh of relief drawn from my chest at the sight. Caster smiles gently at the little baby, his humming continuing as Lavere’s eyes begin to droop.

“Let’s get him back to bed.”

Caster nods, shifting Lavere to place him back in the bassinet. He removes the empty bottle and allows me to step forward with the blanket.

The sun is beginning to rise, and so I swaddle Lavere in the blanket, allowing one of his arms to be free from the tight wrap. Carefully, I place another thin blanket over the top of the cot to block out some of the morning light.

“Come on, let’s go before he decides to wake up again.” I tug at Caster’s sweater, guiding him out of the room so he doesn’t run into anything.

After a single day with the blue eyed man, I’ve discovered he’s not very coordinated.

Letting out a yawn as I close Lavere’s door behind me, I smile at Caster who looks just as tired as I feel.

Stretching, I move towards my room in hopes of getting a few more hours sleep before Aliston expects me to be up, only, Caster is following me.

“Uh, Caster? Why are you following me into my room?”

He blinks sleepily, pushing past me to shuffle towards my bed.

“Aren’t you going to go back to sleep?” I ask, confused.

“Yes,” He mumbles.

He climbs up onto my bed, murmuring under his breath as he pulls back the quilt and tucks himself in.

“That’s not what I- never mind.”

There’s no point. He’s already fallen asleep.