#will decody

[normanbates]

[cosmic-creeper]

something so lonesome ** started a new dylemma thing. this is a snippet from the beginning, which is in Will Decody's POV. i think it's going to be a meandering one shot, exploring Dylan's character and his relationship with Emma from his, Emma's and Will's POV. title is slightly altered from the song by Hozier, "From Eden". ** Will Decody quietly slid the glass and metal door of his daughter's hospital room closed, the steady, reassuring beeping and humming of the various hospital machinery sealed within, and took a moment to just breathe. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since he'd last slept, and the two days had been long ones. He was exhausted down to his bones, and yet filled with a hope he hadn't dared entertain in years. The halls of the ICU of All Saint's hospital was humming with quiet urgency as he headed for the vending machines on the second floor- the coffee was apparently better there than the stuff in the waiting room here, one of the nurses had let him know, and Will was in desperate need of a caffeine boost. Not for the first time since he'd gotten the call that had set all of this in motion, Will's thoughts turned to his ex-wife. Where she was, what she may be doing. He supposed that it was natural when the wonderful person they'd created together was going through something so profound with such a staggering amount of bravery. Despite the fact that it had been near a decade since Emily'd left him and abandoned Emma, he wished that he could tell her, or that she could see for herself, just how special their girl had become. But in the circular fashion these thoughts tended to work in, he came right back around to the fact that if he rounded that next hospital corridor and Emily somehow happened to be standing there, he would most likely be singing an entirely different tune. As much as he prided himself on being a peaceful and forgiving man, it broke down to the fact that Emma had been and still was deeply hurt by her mother's abandonment. Like most parents, Will instinctively did not react kindly when someone-- anyone --caused his child any type of pain. A gurney rattled passed, pushed by a grim faced nurse and bearing an unconscious patient, and Will had to hug the wall to avoid his toes from being run over. When he turned the corner, there was no long-gone ex-wife, but he did see someone only slightly unexpected. Dylan Massett was slumped in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, asleep. A yellow-flowering plant in a terracotta pot teetered precariously in his lap and judging by the staggering stack of empty styrofoam coffee cups on the table next to him, he'd been there for a good long while. If possible, the young man looked even more tired than Will felt, and that was no small statement. Will had no idea what kind of relationship was between his daughter and Dylan, but he knew without a doubt there was one. He could recall with perfectly clarity the worried look on the boy's face when he'd come around to ask about Emma's health; and the determination when he'd been told that there was a way to get Emma what she needed given the right dollar amount. When Emma had disappeared before they were due to leave for the hospital, Will had no doubts about where she had gone and had been completely unsurprised that Dylan had been trailing behind her when she'd come back an hour later. That she hadn't gone to Norman, who she'd long held a torch for, but his older brother instead, spoke volumes. He'd noticed the shift from one to the other lately, and may have been concerned about what looked like an abrupt change of attention, but it wasn't, not really. While he may not have been entirely in the loop, like most fathers of teenaged girls, he knew that matters of the heart were sometimes unexpected and that Norman Bates had never returned Emma's affections, not in the way she had wanted him to. Dylan, he quite strongly suspected, was another matter entirely. He tucked his empty travel mug under one arm and moved the falling house plant from Dylan's lap before shaking the young man's shoulder gently. Will quickly straightened when Dylan came awake with a start, looking around with wide but groggy eyes. “Wha- Will?” Alertness snapped into Dylan's face as he realized who'd woken him. “Is everything alright?” “Everything is-- everything is good,” he said, handing Dylan his plant. Will didn't miss the slight blush that spread across the others face as he took it. “Thanks.” Dylan sat the clay pot on the table next to him, knocking over half of the empty coffee cups. “What time is it?” Will didn't have to look at his watch. “About seven in the evening,” he answered, eying the puddle of coffee spreading on the table, soaking the pages of an outdated copy of Redbook. “Dylan, how long have you been here?” “Uh--,” Dylan sat up and stretched, his voice straining with it. “About-- about fourteen hours, I guess. Huh,” he looked around, “I wonder why they didn't come and kick me out.” “And I wonder why no one told me you were here.” “I didn't, uh, actually ask anyone to,” Dylan flicked two fingers through the coffee mess, busied himself gathering his mountain of cups, “I was just... waiting. I guess.” He stood, arms full of still leaking styrofoam that spread small dark stains across the front of his gray shirt. “...For fourteen hours?” Will asked, astonished. Why on earth had he done that? Dylan had certainly never hidden his concern for Emma before. Dylan had crossed the waiting room, dumping his trash into the stainless steel bin. There was a paper-towel dispenser mounted above the hot water carafe that was offered for tea and the reportedly sub-par coffee maker. Dylan snatched a handful of the paper-towel and mopped the little table off. He didn't answer Will's question, just picked his plant up and stuffed it under his arm like a football. “Tell you what,” Will gestured down the hall with his own eco-friendly travel mug, “would you like to come down to the second floor with me? I hear the coffee there is far superior, and it looks like we could both do with a walk.” To be honest, Will wasn't sure whether he was amused by or worried about Dylan at the moment. He looked like a strong wind would knock him over, and with all of the fretting he'd been doing over Emma, Will didn't see why he couldn't spare a little for Dylan, too, now that Emma had been given an extremely shaky okay. Dylan went a little green. “No more coffee,” he said, mouth twisting. Dylan's brow scrunched a little and he sent a glance back to the bin across the room as they started toward the elevators. “Emma'd probably chew me out for not re-using. I don't know why I didn't, that was stupid.” Will fiddled with the top of his mug. “Yes, she probably would. But since you just slept in one of those medieval torture devices they call chairs, I think you've earned a pass.” **

[et-regina]

So Emma's dad is Professor Quirrell. Revelation.