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Lora turned off the shower, brushing the excess water off her body with her hands before stepping out and reaching for the first of three towels. She wrapped it around herself, then grabbed the second, flipping her hair upside-down and winding it up and on top of her head. Sighing, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the third. Still dry, just as it had been all day.
She shook her head, tossing away the worrying thoughts that had already begun to build in her head as she settled into her night routine, smoothing cream on her face, then brushing her wet hair out and drying it, all the while waiting to feel the distant thud of the garage door two floors beneath her. It never came, even as she pulled on her pajamas and stepped out of the bathroom, turning the lights out.
Worry piled on her shoulders as she stepped into her bedroom. She had half-expected to find her husband there, waiting on the bed as he often did, having somehow snuck into the house without alerting her. But the bed was empty, the house silent, the record player still.
I wish there was a tracker I could put on him, she thought to herself, crossing the room to the stereo, bending down with a small grunt. Maybe I'll invent that next. Her fingers traced lightly over the spines of the records, and she selected one, smiling down at it – Holst's Planets, one of her personal favorites. Lora unsheathed it, laying the slip cover and folder to the side, lifting the lid of her turntable and gently setting it on. For a moment, her hand lingered over the needle. Alan always set it by hand, too paranoid about the auto-start feature ruining his records to let it set the needle for him.
Lora, however, was not paranoid, and was also far too tired to even think about setting the needle on her own, so with a fond smile, she lowered the lid and clicked the auto-start button. Moving back to her side of the bed, she scooped Number the Stars up and pushed her blankets back, settling into bed. She could barely concentrate on her book, every single creak of the house bringing her eyes up to the bedroom door expectantly, as if maybe this time Alan would show.
It had always been like him to overwork himself, and Lora knew this, but the last few months had been uncharacteristically hard on him. He'd stayed at Encom far later than normal – sometimes until ten or eleven at night – and had barely spoken to her in the meantime, except on weekends. During the days, she kept herself busy with her children and school activities and homework and even the little work she was doing on the side for Encom's new research and development team, but at night, the fears always came creeping back in.
She was losing her husband, and she knew it. It wasn't that he was in an affair – Lora knew very well just how scared of women her husband was – or that he was involved in any sort of shady business dealings. He had been just as open and transparent with her as he always was, telling her every night that he was 'just busy', and she believed him. Kevin Flynn's disappearance and all that had come with it haunted him. She could see it in his eyes, in the heaviness beneath them. The grey on his temples, an odd sight for a man barely brushing forty, had become thicker by the day too, it seemed. He was tired and worn-down and frankly, weak. It had been a lot, trying to run a company for his friend, and now that Kevin was gone, it had become even harder, especially with half the press trying to weave the conspiracy that Alan had, for reasons unfathomable to Lora, murdered Kevin.
Add to that a persistent cough brought on by Alan's own weak immune system and increased by the stress he'd been under, and Lora knew it was only a matter of time before he fell so far she couldn't bring him back. And she always brought him back.
The record player made a thunk-tick! noise as it hit the end of the first side, Lora glanced down at her book, and growled at the fact that in that time, she had only read one page!
"Stop letting your thoughts get the better of you!" she snapped at herself through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling as if she could just will the tears gathering on her cheeks back into her eyes. She glanced down at the bedside clock, laying a hand on top of it. "It's only nine thirty. He'll be home soon, just you –"
"Mommy?"
She flinched, almost right out of the bed, and looked towards the door, her shoulders sinking. Setting her book to the side, she wiped the tears from her face, opening her arms to her three-year-old daughter, standing in her doorway, a stuffed rabbit wedged in her tiny arms. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked softly as the little girl climbed onto the bed, crawling across into her mother's arms.
"Thought Daddy was home," Elanor whined, curling close to her mother as Lora settled her pillows and lay down, turning Alan's bedside lamp off. "Was gonna come say hi."
Lora sighed, smoothing Elanor's hair – the same straw-blonde as her own – back with a soothing hand. "He isn't," she said, forcing hope into her voice for her child's sake, "but I'm sure he will be soon, okay?" She pressed a small kiss to Elanor's head, thankful at least that only one of her children was easily woken by nightmares, and that it had been Elanor at her door and not Jethro's alert dog, Byte. "You wanna curl up here and wait?"
"Mm-hmm." Elanor nodded vigorously. She was quiet for a moment, soothed by the constant motion of her mother's hand rubbing circles on her back, but eventually the nightmare returned to her, and she began to cry. Lora curled her daughter closer, wrapping both of them in her heavy comforter.
"He's alright, baby," she soothed, pushing as much certainty into the words as she could manage. "Nothing's wrong. He's just got a lot to do at work right now since Uncle Kevin's traveling, and –"
"I want Uncle Kevin, too," Elanor whimpered, sniffing loudly. "Mommy, why did he leave? Was…was Sam being bad? Sam's not bad."
She sighed heavily. Sweet Sam. I'm so sorry. "No, he's not," she said softly, "and that's not why Uncle Kevin left. He just…he had something he needed to look at in that big world of his. He'll be back too, someday." Hopefully.
"Okay." That answer seemed to satisfy Elanor – either that, or she was falling asleep again, evidenced by the giant yawn she let out.
"Go to sleep, sweet pea," Lora soothed quietly, letting out a giant yawn herself. "Daddy'll be home before you know it."
"Lora. Lora."
Lora slowly peeled her eyes open, whimpering in protest at whoever was shaking her shoulder. "Go 'way," she mumbled, curling Elanor closer. She heard a heavy sigh, felt the bed sink.
"Lora."
She squinted, nearly blind without her glasses, curious to who her midnight visitor was. Her eyes snapped open and she was suddenly awake. "Alan!" she cried softly, throwing an arm around his neck and drawing herself to him. "My God, Alan, you've got to quit doing that!" She pushed him away, looking over her shoulder, squinting at her clock. "For crying out loud, it's eleven-thirty, and –"
The words fell out of her mouth as she turned back to him. His eyes and cheeks were red and puffy, and she could hear a heavy rasp with each stuttering breath he took. "You've been crying," she said gently, glancing down to ensure she hadn't disturbed Elanor as she sat up, placing both her hands on the side of his face. "Oh, Alan."
"I didn't want to wake you," he whispered, every half-word catching in his throat. "Or Ella."
"Ella's fine," she said softly, reaching down to scoop the little girl into her arms as she slipped out of bed. "Jet too," she added, sensing the question in his eyes before he said it aloud, standing with her as she moved around the end of the bed. "She had a nightmare again, I think. Didn't say what it was, but she asked about you and –" She didn't dare speak Kevin's name, knowing he was the exact reason her husband was standing in her room, his briefcase still in his hand, his work shoes and coat still on tight.
"Come on," she said quietly, nodding for him to follow. He did as he was asked, trudging along behind her as she made her way back to Elanor's room, tucking the little girl back in amongst her plushies, stepping back to let Alan kneel beside her.
Tears formed in Lora's eyes as she watched her husband carefully set his briefcase down, the light catching perfectly on his wedding band as he reached forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the three-year-old's temple. She mumbled in her sleep, and Lora couldn't help her smile as she heard the tiniest, groggiest, "Daddy?"
"I'm home, baby," Alan said softly, somehow managing to keep his voice level, allowing himself a small smile. "You can go to sleep now."
"Oh. Okay," was the tiny reply, Elanor rolling over and immediately dropping back off to sleep, her query for the night satisfied.
Alan stood, picking the briefcase up again. Lora shook her head and reached forward, taking it in her own hand, lacing her other arm tightly around his and leading him out of their daughter's room. Down the hall they went, Lora doing her best to fight tears, Alan simply following where she led, too tired to protest.
They made their way into the kitchen, and Lora flicked the lights on with her pinky. She set the briefcase down in the coat closet, then returned to her husband, standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the floor. "C'mere. Let me have that," she said quietly, gently taking the lapels of his coat in her hands, helping him shrug it off. She returned it to the coat closet as he kicked his shoes off, smiling slightly as he brushed up against her while tucking them away. He removed his suit jacket, too, and loosened his tie, slowly coming back to life as article after article of clothing stained with the scent of Encom's offices left his body.
Without saying a word, she moved to the stove and plucked the kettle up, filling it with water before setting it back down. She rifled through the mug cabinet, finding Alan's favorite mug – a mug covered with the schematics of the exact biplane his own father flew – and setting it on the counter. She found his favorite peppermint tea sitting on the front left of the tea shelf, just as it always was, and opened a bag, gently laying it in the mug.
"Dr. Bradley?" she asked softly, garnering the tiniest, most lifeless smile from her husband as he leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. She wormed her arms between his, pressing herself flat against him, looking up and breathing in the barely-there smell of his cologne. "What, pray tell me, are your woes of the day?"
His smile faltered, and he stared at her for a moment, his hand simply rubbing a small up-and-down pattern on her back. "They've given up on him," he choked out. "On…on Flynn."
This much she'd known was coming. She leaned back against him, tightening her hold on him, feeling him do the same. "I'm sorry, Alan," she said softly. "You and I know he's still out there, and little Sam. We'll hold out hope for him, even if they don't."
"And they voted me out." He swallowed hard as he felt Lora tense against him. "Unanimously."
Fear froze Lora's veins solid. She looked up at him. "Out of the company?" she asked breathlessly, unable to help the way her eyes darted about the room, taking in the luxury and beauty of what they had built together, thinking of her kids and their schooling and –
Alan shook his head violently. "No! Oh, no, Lora, I'm so sorry –"
The coughing fit began and Lora backed away slightly, giving him room to turn his head away, her hands still settled on his waist. He pressed a hand against his own chest, clearing his throat. "Not out of the company, no," he whispered, his voice hoarse, a telltale sound that Lora knew meant he was on the verge of another fit. "Just…off the board. Out of the position of…of CEO."
She raised an eyebrow, still worried that her beautiful world would come shattering down around her. Not that the material mattered, she reminded herself, it was simply that they had built it all together.
"Chairman," he spat out before another coughing fit took him, this one far worse than the last. She could hear the awful sound of a wheeze on occasion, and gently tugged at Alan, motioning for him to follow her to the ground.
"Stay here," she said softly, pressing a hand to his temple as the kettle began to scream, leaving him for just a moment. Her hands shook as she poured the tea, the fears she'd held back flooding into her mind all at once. She was going to lose him. Alan Bradley was on the brink of losing himself – whether to illness or despair, Lora wasn't sure – and there was nothing she could do to bring him back.
No, she told herself, squaring her shoulders, forcing her hands to stop shaking as she sank to the floor, pressing the mug into her husband's hands with determination. I will fight through this with him. Every step of the way, no matter what. If he goes down, I will go down with him.
"Breathe," she said, helping him sit upright, gently tilting his head back to open his airway. "Breathe, Alan. Deep breaths. Give me the best you can, come on." She pressed her lips together. "I'm not giving up on you, so you better not give up on me."
His eyes flickered down to her, and for a singular instant, she saw a flicker of the old Alan, of the fighter, the programmer, the man she'd fallen head over heels in love with because of his heart and soul. The dertemination to help Flynn – the same determination that now rendered him almost deathly ill on his own kitchen floor – flashed back for just a moment, and Lora couldn't help but smile.
He nodded, and she nodded back at him, clutching his wrists, her own eyes filled with tears as slowly, his breaths grew deeper. The rasp still remained, and she made a mental note to call a doctor – and possibly Roy – the next day. "I'm right here with you," she said, "every step of the way. I made a promise to you, Alan Bradley, that I would love you for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part, and I intend to do whatever the hell I have to to keep that promise, alright?"
Alan nodded again. "Lora," he rasped, "I – I'm…"
She pressed a short kiss to his lips, just enough to shut him up, and he smiled warmly at her, tears gathering in his red eyes again. "Save your breath," she said. "You're not leaving this house until I say. Chairman or not, you're sick, and I'm not about to let you out of my sights."
He simply nodded one more time, the smile remaining on his face. She gently pushed the mug up towards his face, watching as he took a sip before taking it from him and setting it on the island. Standing first, she offered her hands to him. "Together, alright?"
He took her hands, tears still in his eyes, a smile still on his face, and let her help him to his feet, pausing for another coughing fit. She grimaced. "First things first, we're getting rid of that cough. But before that, you need sleep," she said. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and in bed."
"Thank you," was all he said, leaning down to press a kiss to Lora's head as she helped him upstairs, the mug held tightly in his hand. All the worries of Encom were still in his mind, nagging at him like the scratch in the back of his throat. But for the first time in the six long months since Kevin had vanished and Encom had tumbled into chaos, he felt a glimmer of hope in his chest. Together, his mind repeated, and he tugged Lora closer. We'll get through this together.