Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Unwelcome News

When Peggy brought up the message that Will had docked, I had simply nodded and asked her to bring dinner up to our rooms. Rigel, already brushed and fed, waited there as well. Having been granted access to the liquor upon our return from the cabin, I had finally indulged myself and brought up a bottle of Will's favorite whiskey and a container of ice for him. I pointedly did not look at the yellow telegram lying in wait for him, and adjusted the sleeves of my black dress.

When the door opened, his face immediately fell. "Ana, what is it?"

"Will," I picked up the flimsy telegram, "I'm so sorry."

His bag hit the floor, his face ashen. "What?"

"It came a three days ago, from Peg." I held it out to him, already knowing what it said. Willie, Ma has died. Peacefully, but it's a blow to all of us. The funeral will be in two weeks, please try to come. Love, Peg. I watched as he took it, his fingers shaking. "I've arranged tickets for us, we will make the funeral Will, I promise you that." Rigel gave a whine, his ears low. "Will?"

His voice was thick, and he crumpled the paper in his hand. "I need a moment, Ana. Please."

"Of course," I moved to the door, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll just head up to the office, but I'll be back." He nodded, and I could see tears in his eyes. He deserved privacy, that first blow hit like a train and I knew it all too well. In fact, it was rising in me again when I reached for the doorknob to the office. I couldn't go in there, in mourning, and look at the portrait of Father and Mother and myself, back when we were all together and happy. Knowing that we could never be together and happy again, that Father would never get to see how happy I was being Mrs. Murdoch.

So I turned to the library, noted the time on the clock, and decided that I would wait an hour to return to Will. An hour to peruse the models Will had made, to pick out a few books to take to Scotland and an hour to try and figure out what to say. There really wasn't anything to say though, no words would make it better. The only way you could get through it was to just learn to live with it, the hurt would always be there but it wouldn't always hurt as bad. When I heard the clock chime the hour, I slipped back into our sitting room.

Will was sprawled on the settee, Rigel draped across him and the whiskey half drunk, but not a glass to be seen. His eyes were shut, but he clearly heard me come in for he twitched a bit. I fetched a pair of glasses, filled them with ice, and poured whiskey for both of us. His eyes flicked open, "I talked to her before I left Ana, she sounded alright." There was nothing to say to that, so I silently slid the glass to him. He slurped at it greedily, "She was fine."

"Will," I went to my knees beside the settee, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek. "Sometimes these things just happen."

"But," He shook his head, and Rigel gave a whine. "I thought she had more time."

Closer I could see his eyes were red and puffy, and the handkerchief I had given to him so long ago was wet and crumpled in his lap. "I wish I could tell you that it won't hurt after some time, but I can't." He furrowed his brow at that, and I could see him almost say something before dropping his head back down. I gently lifted his chin, "I do have some experience in losing a parent."

Will's hand, heavy and clumsy, stroked my hair. "I know, but sometimes I forget. You seem to just keep moving, like you don't even remember the pain."

"I do, and I still feel it sometimes." I brought his hand to mine and kissed his palm, "It's like a cut that's scabbed over, it doesn't hurt as bad but sometimes you see the simplest thing and then it hurts as much as it did to start."

"It just hurts so much right now." He whispered, cuddling me close.

I curled my arms around him, "We'll be going to Scotland in two days, us and Rigel." I braced myself for the next bit. "I've arranged tickets for us on the Olympic, and our trunks are already on their way."