DRABBLE REQUEST TIEM!

[candy__chan]

Okay, I am bored. And inspiration-less. And I saw that awesomely awesome post that ptps did for art requests. So I thought mebbie to get the plunnies running again, I'd offer a drabble request.

Because me + drawing = you all go blind. So!

I AM OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS!These will probably be short-fic, unless something really noms on me. Not putting a

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One Night [2/3]

[candy__chan]

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a different sound. For a moment his exhaustion-befuddled mind thought it was merely more thunder, but when he heard it again in quick succession, he realized that it was a knock on the door.

A glance at the clock proved that it was quite late, and a look out the window told him that it had been dark for quite some time, as there was no light left from the sunset. He’d had late-night visitors to plead his help before, but it was not a common occurrence.

Hershel walked back down the stairs and hit the switch that turned on the lamp over the porch; he fumbled with the lock for a moment before he was able to open the door.

He saw a figure standing several meters away from the door, just beyond the reach of the light. He was able to make out enough to tell that the form was a woman; the way the beige coat hung around curves gave that much away. But he couldn’t make out any other distinguishing features. The facial features were completely hidden in the darkness. And she seemed to be backing away from him and the door, one slow step at a time.

“Miss, is everything-“ he started to call out to her, reaching with one hand. Perhaps she was hurt, or in need of some help. Or…

A noise at his feet drew his attention, and he glanced down. There, sitting on his front porch, was a small basket with a pale blue blanket tucked into it. And there was something moving beneath the blanket.

It clicked suddenly, and his eyes shot back up to the woman. “Miss, please-“

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed before she turned and fled into the darkness. Her light colored coat was the last thing to disappear, swallowed by the night.

Layton was fully prepared to give chase (despite the fact that he was wearing neither shoes nor coat against the cool night air), but he stopped short when he heard a soft cry from the basket at his feet, beneath the blanket.

He knelt carefully; his hands shook only slightly as he reached out and lifted the blanket, already fairly certain that he knew what he was going to see.

…and he was right.

There was a baby in the basket.

The infant was awake, and crying softly, tugging at the blanket with tiny fists. Hershel assumed that the child was a boy, given that both its clothes and the blanket were a similar shade of light blue.

…was that woman…

…had she just…

…oh good heavens.

The cries grew louder. Now at a complete loss, he reached into the basket and carefully gathered the child up and stood with the baby in his arms. Remembering something he had been told when meeting a friend’s newborn, he took care to support the baby’s head.

“Shh…there, there,” he said softly. Some unknown instinct told him to try rocking the baby. “It’s all right…” He glanced up into the darkness into which the woman-this child’s mother, if his guess was right-had last been visible. He saw nothing.

Somehow, he was fairly sure that she wasn’t going to be coming back.

He stood there in the glow of his porch lamp, holding the whimpering infant, and looking out into the night.

And it was starting to rain.

-o-