DON'T TAKE THE GIRL

A/N: This is a oneshot/songfic that takes place during BSC 10 Years Later. Ben Hobart's thoughts and actions while he's waiting for Mallory to wake up.

I looked at the emerald ring on my wife's right middle finger as I held her hand in both of mine, and heard the rain falling steadily outside. Just minutes ago, I was watching our twins being born. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. But then, all of a sudden, she'd started hemorrhaging, and in no time flat, the entire delivery room was filled with frantic shouting.

"Get him out of here!" one of the nurses commanded, and before I knew what was going on, one of the doctors, a real ox of a man, had grabbed my arm and marched me out into the hall. It all happened so fast.

The doctor came out a few minutes later. "Mr. Hobart, your son and daughter are just fine," she said.

"They are? Oh, thank God," I said, clutching my chest.

"We were able to stop the bleeding, so your wife did not need a hysterectomy," the doctor continued. "However, the blood loss she suffered has caused her to slip into a coma."

No. Not Mal. This can't be happening! "How long will she be out?" I wanted to know.

"We don't know yet," the doctor answered. "She lost quite a bit. It could be days before she comes around."

Blinking back ears, I managed to whisper, "Can I see her?"

"Absolutely. She's on her way to the recovery room now. I'll take you to her."

I don't know why, but on the way to the room, part of me expected to find Mal hooked up to every machine under the sun, just like Granny Hobart—Dad's mother—had been shortly before she'd died. I was sixteen then, and it was one of the worst days of my life. I felt like I was reliving it all over again.

When I entered the room, all I saw were a respirator and heart monitor. But I still felt helpless about seeing my lovely wife lying there, and knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

"I'll leave you two alone," the doctor whispered before stepping out of the room.

I sat down on the stool beside the bed. "Mal," I said, taking her hand in both of mine and trying to keep my voice steady, "the babies are fine. They're both perfectly healthy, and look like both of us. Well, mostly like you. They need you, honey, and I need you, too, so you've got to hang in there for us, okay? Don't you give up on us, you hear me? I never knew you to quit at anything, so don't you quit now."

I squeezed her hand, even though I knew she couldn't feel it. I also noticed the emerald sparkling in the light of the bedside lamp, and it reminded me of the way her eyes sparkled whenever she smiled or laughed, and I longed for her to wake up and let me see that sparkle again.

I sat there in silence for several minutes, just watching the clock and praying. Finally, the doctor came back. "Mr. Hobart?" she said. "Visiting hours are over."

I patted Mallory's hand as I stood up. "I'll be back later, okay?" I said, kissing her forehead.

The doctor and I stepped out into the hall. "Now what?" I asked.

"Well," the doctor said. "I'd suggest you go home and get some rest. It could be a while before she wakes up, but you can come back in the morning to be with her."

"Okay," I agreed as I headed for the elevator.

I just hoped she was right.

During the ride home, I happened to have the radio on the country music station. As I pulled out of the parking lot, a very familiar song began to play:

"Johnny's daddy was takin' him fishin' when he was eight years old

A little girl came through the front gate, holdin' a fishin' pole.

His dad looked down and smiled, said, 'We can't leave her behind.

Son, I know you don't want her to go, but someday, you'll change your mind.'

"And Johnny said,

'Take Jimmy Johnson, take Tommy Thompson, take my best friend, Bo.

Take anybody that you want, as long as she don't go.

Take any boy in the world.

Daddy, please, don't take the girl.'

It was then that I recognized the song as "Don't Take The Girl" by Tim McGraw, which happens to be one of my favorites, because like my youngest brother, the guy's name was Johnny. Anyway, the song continued:

"Same old boy, same sweet girl, ten years down the road

He held her tight and kissed her lips in front of the picture show

Stranger came and pulled a gun, grabbed her by the arm.

Said, 'If you do what I tell you to, there won't be any harm.'

"And Johnny said,

'Take my money, take my wallet, take my credit cards.

Here's the watch that my grandpa gave me, here's the key to my car.

Mister, give it a whirl.

But, please, don't take the girl'."

The next thing I knew, I was really into the song, which was when I started singing along, despite my lack of musical talent:

"Same old boy, same sweet girl, five years down the road

There's gonna be a little one, and she says it's time to go.

Doctor says, 'The baby's fine, but you'll have to leave, 'cause his mama's fadin' fast.'

And Johnny hit his knees, and there he prayed,

'Take the very breath You gave me, take the heart from my chest.

I'll gladly take her place if You'll let me, make this my last request.

Take me out of this world.

God, please, don't take the girl'.

"Johnny's daddy was takin' him fishin' when he was eight years old..."

After the song ended, I thought, Please, God, don't take the girl. It seems like good old Tim McGraw knew what I was experiencing at that very moment.

The next morning, I returned to the hospital to see if there was any change in Mal's condition. I know you may think I didn't need to, but anything was better than sitting around the house all day, waiting for the phone to ring.

When I approached the nurse's station, I saw the doctor looking at a chart, and wondered if it was Mal's. "Dr. Weber?" I called.

"Good morning," she said, looking up. "Your wife appears to be waking up."

"She is?" I exclaimed. "Can I see her?"

"Follow me," the doctor answered, and the two of us hurried down the hall.

When we got to the room, I was so excited that when I sat down on the stool, I almost fell off. I couldn't believe that she was finally waking up. I reached for her hand just as she was starting to stir.

"Mal?" I said. "It's Ben. Can you open your eyes for me?"

As soon as I said that, her beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, and she looked right at me. Even though she was still a little out of it, I could tell she was happy I was there.

Then she smiled at me. "Ben!" she slurred happily. That's when I knew that she was going to be all right.

Now that I look back on that day, I know He heard not only me, but also the song on the radio. In that moment, all was right with the world.

THE END