Work Text:
“Professor?”
“Yes, Luke?”
The two are on their way to a case. Emmy had to stay behind, vaguely explaining that it was family business, and Hershel had no need to press for details.
As usual per their car trips, it wasn’t silent for long. Luke, being a child, had a hard time sitting still if he wasn’t occupied, and that meant that there was hardly a minute where they weren’t in discussion about something or other.
If Hershel was honest, it got a bit bothersome to him at times. Concentration requires silence for him, and with one young apprentice and one enthusiastic assistant, silence was hard to come by. He wouldn’t dare ask them to be quiet, though. Not only would it be ungentlemanly, it would be quite rude. And it truly wasn’t that big of a deal. Hershel just wasn’t acclimated to children, particularly of Luke’s age.
Brenda and Clark had commented that he would make a great parent over the few times he’d come over to give them a break from parenting. Newborns were taxing on any parent, and Luke had been quite the active baby.
He’d always insisted on the opposite. There was something in him that he could feel wouldn’t do well with the responsibility. He could do well for himself, but taking care of another person, holding their life in his hands, that was something he wasn’t cut out for. Knowing any mistake could snuff the light out of them paralyzed him.
Hershel would always point out after such comments that Claire was more suited to parenthood. She was responsible. She did well for herself, and managed to take care of Hershel as well. Claire had her life together while he’d struggled to even find out what he wanted.
But watching Claire shake a rattle by Luke’s face, Hershel had thought to himself that perhaps, one day, when Claire had moved up to a position as scientist, and he’d become a college professor, then maybe.
Maybe.
Of course, it never happened. Clark and Brenda had moved to Misthallery when Luke was two, and less than a year later the accident took place.
And in Hershel’s line of work, it was rare for him to interact with children. He taught students that were mostly mature, and the cases the police called him in for rarely involved children, and when they did, he didn’t usually need to interact with them all too much.
All to say, Luke’s childish tendencies occasionally threw him off, but it didn’t bother him. Luke was a good boy, and startlingly bright for his age. His main difficulties that Hershel would have to work on would be his emotional maturity. As Hershel observed, Luke was a bit hot tempered, and prone to pettiness. Hershel never let it get out of hand, but he did intervene when it seemed Luke was getting too worked up.
But he never took the reins fully. Luke was not his child. He may be spending most days with him, but he was not Hershel’s child. And Hershel was not his parent.
“Do you have dreams?”
Well, Hershel wasn’t anticipating this. Most of their topics ranged from Hershel’s work to Luke’s animal friends, but they rarely got into details this way. Hershel considered himself a man of science. Dreams were mere things to be brushed away with the light in the morning, not to be thought of.
“Dreams in which way?”
Luke looks up at him, “sleep dreams.”
“Sometimes.”
It wouldn’t do to give Luke too much information here. Most of his dreams were less than pleasant, and if he explained more there was a whole rabbit hole he’d like to avoid if possible. There are things he’s experienced that he’d rather not share with the boy.
“Do you ever have ones that happen over and over?”
He knew where this conversation was headed. Luke often preferred to get the input of those around him before putting his struggles onto the table. If Hershel had to guess, Luke had either been having nightmares since he’s left his hometown, or repetitive dreams that have been bothering him. It wouldn’t do to have Luke bottle this up, but that means he’d have to put a few of his cards on the table.
“Sometimes.” He says again, and Luke looks at him intently,
“Well, what do you dream about?”
He has to tread lightly here.
“I hardly remember them when I wake, but I always remember reaching.”
Luke waits patiently for more, then asks, “reaching for what?”
That’s a bit more difficult.
Sometimes he’s in the ravine reaching for someone long gone. Sometimes he’s reaching for her as she’s grabbing her coat to go. Sometimes, bizarrely, he’s standing in a doorway, being pulled away. One hand is reaching out to another set. It’s familiar, as the other person lets him go. He knows where he is. He knows who that boy is. And yet he’s never been there before, never met that other person. And his name is on the tip of Hershel’s tongue.
“I’m not sure.” Is what he ends up saying,
“Oh.” Luke is silent for a minute or two, “I’ve been having bad dreams a lot recently.”
Hershel hums. So it was as he thought, “what do you dream about?”
“It’s stupid.”
“It might help to get your thoughts out.”
“I still dream about the specter. Isn’t that weird?”
“…”
“In my dreams people die. It will be like when we were in the hotel room, but we didn’t get back fast enough, or when Descole was chasing after us, or sometimes my parents are there, or Arianna, or Crow-”
“Luke, you need to breathe. Just take a moment to compose yourself.”
“Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Even if the event is over, it still affects you, doesn’t it?”
“I guess.”
And then there is silence, for a little while.
“It’s not uncommon to have recurring dreams.” He can see out of the corner of his eye that Luke turns to look at him, but he keeps his eyes on the road. “I’ve found they manifest mostly when you’re anxious about something. Are you anxious, Luke?”
Luke doesn’t answer, and Hershel spares a glance to see that the child is picking at his nails. Luke stops when Hershel calls his name.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Sorry.”
And he falls silent again for a little.
“It’s almost been a year since I’ve even lived in Misthallery. I thought the dreams would stop.”
“I still have dreams about things that happened when I was young,” he says softly, “if it helps any, the frequency of nightmares has gone down with time.”
Hershel doesn’t mention that he dreamed significantly less after his assault. The doctors said it was brain damage when he had brought it up. But Luke looks hopeful, at least.
“Did they really?”
“I have no doubt in my mind that eventually these dreams will stop, my boy. A gentleman must exercise patience, though.”
Luke nods, “I can be patient.”
Hershel smiles. He will be patient with time, but he can’t imagine the boy as anything other than impulsive in the moment. He was shaping up to be quite the gentleman indeed, but there was still a bit of work to be done.
“Oh, oh!” Luke strains on his seatbelt as he twists to look out the window, “is that where we’re going?”
Hershel nods.
There’s a little town coming up on the side. Hershel has been called in to help them. Apparently, there’s a little thief running among them, and it’s been quite a bother attempting to catch them thus far.
Hershel is thinking of letting Luke take the reins a bit with this case. He’s a bright child, and this case appears to be relatively safe for him to analyze. He trusts that the boy can handle this.