“I asked ye over to help, not cast judgements, Dylan,” I reminded him with an edge of annoyance.

I glanced over at the lad sleeping on my couch while my coworker continued to pace. His expression screwed up in a mixture of distress and annoyance. He shook his head for the fifth time.

“This isn’t safe, Maeve. It isn’t the same as you housing one of the vets for a few days,” he said, pausing in his pacing long enough to make eye contact. 

“I found him in the alley, Dylan. Injured and panicked,” I repeated for the third time since he’d arrived. “The lad needs help.”

“Which is why you should contact the police. Let them handle this,” he countered.

I frowned at the higher volume. Gestured with my head toward the couch and held a finger up to my lips. He rolled his eyes.

“You know I can’t do that-”

“Why not?!” he shouted. “What do you think the police are for? Not every homeless injured person on the street is your responsibility!”

“Oh, honestly, Dylan. Half the vets registered at the VA were homeless at some point. He’s not hurting anything being here,” I said with a wave of my hand toward the lad in question. The now very awake lad who was watching us closely with shiny, glassy looking eyes. The softness of sleep had been replaced with rigidness in his posture.

“I’m calling- Hey!” he objected as I tried to snatch his phone.

He tried to pull it out of my reach which just made my hand collide awkwardly with his wrist. The phone bounced to the carpet. I ignored the glare he sent my way. Shook my head. Looked back over at the feverish, wide-eyed lad laid out on the couch.

“Ye know better than to bring extra stimulus into a closed environment with a panicked individual,” I quietly scolded with a glare of my own. “Your shouting is what woke him. Don’t make things worse.”

Dylan snatched his phone from the floor. “What if he tries to-”

“Catch yourself on. He’s not hurting us by being here and if he does you’ve got speed dial,” I cut in.

I glanced back toward the couch at my startled guest. Softened my expression. Tried to erase the irritation from my face when I noticed his quiet quick breaths. He froze when his eyes met mine.

Dylan grabbed my arm when I went to step closer. He looked pointedly at his phone. I shook my head. He ground his teeth, opening his mouth a moment later ready to scold me I’m sure, and then promptly shut it when I raised a brow, throwing a pointed look of my own at his hand still lightly gripping my arm. That settled, I stepped away and took a knee a few feet in front of the couch. Took a breath to settle my nerves.

“No one is gonna hurt you, lad,” I said softly.

His eyes darted up at Dylan, injured arm coming under him to try and push himself up. His quiet breaths became more pronounced pants with the effort.

“Is alright,” I tried to soothe once he was sitting upright. “I asked my coworker to bring you some clothes. He’s not gonna hurt you.”

Deathly still except for his quiet labored breathing, the lad’s gaze shifted solely to focus on me now. He grimaced as he set his injured arm over his stomach and covered it with his prosthetic one. The metallic fingers clenched, spasmed as if in pain, and then gripped again at his other elbow. His focus wavered as he shakily exhaled.

A minute passed it felt like. Then five more. Probably a few more after that.

The lad’s fast breaths eventually slowed. The rigid posture was still there, but the sharp focus he held on me was slipping. For the first time in a while his gaze wandered behind me, probably to Dylan who had been quiet.

“There, see? No one gonna hurt you,” I said.

He pulled in a sharp breath, some of the alertness coming back to his eyes, when I shuffled a pace closer on my knees.

“Just getting your blanket,” I reassured.

He stared at it vacantly as I lifted it from where it had slipped to the floor and held it out for him to take. The vacantness morphed into the slightest tinge of confusion the longer it was held up between us.

“It’s warm. Got a bit a weight to it.”

He continued to stare, the slightest dip between his brows. He made no move to take it.

“Is it too painful to lean forward?” I asked. “Would you like me to drape it back over you?”

A heavy blink sapped some of the alertness from his gaze again. He took a deep breath, rapid blinks made to try to stay awake. His head tipped back to keep me in sight as I slowly stood.

“Is alright lad. You’re alright.”

Carefully, I laid the blanket over his body. Whispered reassurances when he flinched away from the cool rag I picked up to wipe his brow. Gently brushed a few dark locks out of his face as he began to blink heavily again.

He was fighting sleep. It was obvious in the way his gaze sharpened every now and then with a sharp breath. His shoulders would straighten before inevitably relaxing back against the couch cushion when his eyelids would start to get heavy.

“Soldier gonna keep on marching on. Head kept down 'til that work is done,” I quietly sang as I wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.

“You’re singing?” Dylan asked incredulously.

His voice pulled the lad back from the edge of sleep. He pushed himself further back into the couch, cringing away while still sitting up straight, and kept a wide-eyed gaze on Dylan behind me.

“Better a lullaby to help him sleep than work him into another panic,” I replied in a quiet, calm tone.

I wiped the sweat from his brow again. Gently patted his cheeks with the cool rag. Quietly I resumed my singing.

“Soldier gonna keep marching on. Waiting for that morning sun.”

Half-alert blue-grey eyes turned their gaze back toward me. Wide and searching. Skittish and… defiant almost. He was waiting. 

I pulled another blurry line from memory. Vaguely heard Dylan’s nervous muttering sounds in the background.

“You wanna take a drink of that promised land. Wipe the dirt off your hands. Come claim your cup.”

His brows dipped a little in confusion as I tucked the blanket more snugly over his shoulders.

“Keep marching on to home... You got dreamer's plans.”

The next deep breath drew in more smoothly. Half-closed, drowsy eyes shifted to my coworker for a moment.

“You’re alright, soldier. Sleep,” I murmured as I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you here.”