Staig One Shots

Some Time Later

(AN: Hi friends, I haven't been updating a lot on here, as I've begun to pursue other projects, as well as life getting in the way. It's currently late and I've decided to write something small. For old times sake, as well as showing improvement overtime, if this counts as improvement.)

A small breeze blows my hair to the side. I glance down at the hat resting comfortably in my hands, smiling softly at its presence. I've had it since I was a kid. My fingers poke through the tear in it, as I contemplate if I should still keep it, or if I should just throw it away.
I hear the screen door click open and close softly, as my once empty presence is filled by another person.
"Are you okay?" His voice is gentle, and concerned.
I'm silent. As my middle finger falls into the hole. I let out a gentle sigh. Dropping the hat onto the ground, my gaze go to his arm, and glides up to his eyes.
"I guess all good things come to an end." I shove my hands in my pockets, guiding myself to the other side of the porch. Setting myself on the swinging chair he had installed a couple weeks prior.
My hand flies through my hair and plays with it. Styling it.
He comes with, taking a seat beside me. When he settles in I place my head on his shoulder. His hand intertwines with mine as he places his head atop mine.
"You should rest, love." He softly mutters
"Something has to go right, if so much has gone wrong." I can feel the weight behind my eyes.
"Come inside with me. Come lay down."
"But I..."
"No but's... c'mon..."
He gently stands up, and has me follow him back into the house. A place I've learned to call home. I glance at our photos on the wall. One displays a picture of us and our son. It makes me smile, seeing him.
He leads me upstairs, and that's when I let go of his hand. Going into the room of our son, fast asleep in his crib. The sound of the mobile spinning and playing soft music for him to sleep soundly.
"Craig..." He says, coming behind me to wrap his arm around me. "It's late." He reminds me
"I just have to stay a little longer..." I whisper, my hand reaches down to caress the face of our child. So beautiful and innocent, not a care. Just resting.
"I'll make sure Conner stays safe throughout the night. We can play with him in the morning, when he's awake."
I give in, gently sighing and walking with him to our room. He has me walk in front of him, so I'm not distracted by any of the other things around. It has been a while since I've gotten good rest.
I strip down to my boxers, and Stan changes into pajamas, and I finally climb into bed. Cuddling into the mattress and grabbing ahold of the pillow.
"Can he sleep with us..?" I ask, knowing that the previous nights I had slept on the floor of Conner's bedroom until he woke me up with his crying shortly after.
"He'll be okay in his room, dear." Stan replies, crawling into bed beside me, he pulls me in and holds me comfortably. He always knows how to make me feel safe. He kisses the back of my head.
"I love you, pumpkin" he mumbles, already half asleep.
"I love you too." I respond, holding onto my pillow as I look out the window, staring up at the stars. Beautiful.

The sound Conner crying wakes me up in the middle of the night. I shove my head in my pillow and groan loudly, the beeping abruptly stops mid beep, and I feel an arm wrap around my waist.
   "Don't worry love, I got it." He mumbles and kisses the back of my head before he pulls himself up. I watch him walk away and my eyes begin to drift shut once again.
    I don't know how much time had passed, but eventually the next thing I hear is the door creaking open.
    "Daddy is right there, don't worry, no more tears." I pry my eyes open to look at Stan handling our son. Holding him with such care, and getting back in bed, laying him down safely wrapped next to me. I smile and kiss the forehead of my beautiful baby, which makes him giggle, and I follow suit.

      "Craig, it's been three months." Stan states as he places a cup of coffee next to me. A sigh escapes me as I grip his wrist, which is still holding the mug.
      "It just. Happened so fast." I have never felt more ashamed in myself. For loving, for letting my guard down. "Soon enough. You'll be gone too." I look at his arm. Studying the tattoo on his muscular forearm. His hand draws back as he walks back into the kitchen.
        "I'm not going anywhere." He reassures me, fixing himself back at the stove where he has breakfast going. "What happened to Conner... was sick and twisted, and it's not like the police force in this town would help anything anyway" he's not wrong. They could barely find a pen if it was right by their foot.
          "Maybe I just wasn't good enough." I sip at my coffee.
         "Oh Craig... We will find him. I promise. No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes. I will make sure he's in your arms once again." He sets a plate by me and kisses my forehead.
           I can't help but smile, but I don't know what to say in response. My heart is torn to pieces without him. Who knew such a small, helpless individual could have such a big impact on me, I didn't know I had the capacity to have this much grief, but it's tearing me apart.
      Who took him?