Saturday Morning Surprise

"Urgh, bill, bill, junk, take away menus, bill..." Tom said as he absent-mindedly flipped through his mail. He'd woken up early for his morning run, but was already regretting it. The stairs up to his flat had never seemed so steep, he thought, breathing heavily.

He hadn't been out running in months, but with the weather warming up, he thought it a good idea to start back up; his muscles, however, were reminding him that this might not be the best idea. His legs ached as he climbed the last few steps. "I used to enjoy this?" He muttered, wincing as he felt his hamstrings burn. He sighed and paused momentarily as he reached his floor, closing his eyes and arching his back, waiting for it to crack back in to place.

Groaning, Tom turned to his flat, desperate to jump into a hot shower and collapse in front of the TV. He stopped suddenly when he saw something sitting outside his door. He walked closer, trying to figure out what it was. He gasped, taking a small step backwards. "What the hell?" There was a car seat in front of his door.

For a fleeting moment, he thought of turning around and running straight back down the stairs. But then he saw movement, and he knew he couldn't just leave.

Tom gently moved the bundle of pink blankets, seeing the baby's face for the first time. His heart melted at the sight of the baby sucking on her fist, causing sufficient amounts of drool to escape from the sides of her mouth.

"Looks like Dan has finally gone and done it," he muttered to himself as he crouched down beside the car seat.

That thought flew out of his mind when he saw the envelope. The blanket half covered it, but he could still make out his name written haphazardly across the front, he instantly recognized who this writing belonged to.

Never before had the mere sight of his own name instilled such a sense of panic within him, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow. His breath was ragged as he sank back down onto the ground, next to the baby.

Once he had composed himself, or as much as he was able to in the circumstances; he gingerly reached down and seized the letter, withdrawing his hand as soon as he had the envelope safely in his grasp.

He was almost too afraid to read what it said, but his curiosity won over his fear, and he anxiously scanned the words.

Dear Tom,

I can't even begin to explain this. I'm so sorry; I know I should have told you. Trust me when I say I have no choice; I have nowhere else to turn. I know this is for the best.

Her name's Emily and she was born on 15th September. I've put all of her paperwork in the bag including her birth certificate and medical records. I know you can provide a better life for her than I can.
I'm sorry.

Charlotte.

He swallowed, his heart having leaped into his throat. His daughter? He and Charlotte had a daughter? He stared apprehensively at the car seat again and, after a moment's consideration, he leaned over. Taking a deep breath, he peered nervously into it, and didn't know why he was surprised to see that there was, in fact, a small child inside. That fact still surprised him; in the back of his mind, he still considered the possibility that this was all just an elaborate prank. That thought was instantly pushed from his mind, when he noticed how much of himself and Charlotte he could already see in Emily. Her skin was a light olive complexion, just like her mum's and her eyes matched his perfectly; it was like he was looking at a photo of himself as a baby.

He stared at the little person in front of him, unsure of what to do next. His mind was in overdrive, trying to process all this information. He gently picked up the car seat, praying he wasn't going to disturb the peaceful baby. He opened the door to his flat, quickly glancing around before continuing inside. He delicately placed the car seat on the counter top making sure that it was well away from the edges. The last thing he needed was for the thing to topple over.

For once he was glad that his roommate, Dan wasn't there; he really didn't need to have to explain this to him right now. He wasn't even sure what he'd say; apart from what the note had told him, he had no idea what was going on. Was this a permanent thing? Was Charlotte even planning on telling him where she was?

The absurdity of it all suddenly hit him, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. How the hell was he someone's father? He knew how, but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it yet. How could Charlotte not have mentioned this to him before? She'd had months; it had been sixteen months since they had broken up. The cynical side of him couldn't help but wonder if it had to do with Sybil. Charlotte had to know they were together now, and maybe she had done this as revenge or out of spite. He knew in his heart that Charlotte wouldn't really stoop that low, but the thought still lingered in his mind.

He took a seat at the counter, resting his chin heavily in his hand as he read the note one more time, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

He looked up and noticed that Emily was looking at him intently. He smiled, and with his free hand he used the corner of her blanket to wipe up some of the dribble that was trickling down her chin, finishing the process off by tickling the end of her nose with her blanket, causing her to laugh.

He knew he was good with kids; at least, that's what his niece and nephews told him. He loved going over to his brother's house and playing with Briana, Eamon, and Finn. But he also knew that being a father was completely different than being a fun uncle (something that Kieran constantly reminded him).

How on earth would he be able to care for a child? He barely made enough money to support himself, nonetheless a baby.

He shook his head, almost ridiculing himself, as he pushed the thought out of his mind. Of course he wasn't going to be caring for a child. This was all just some sort of mix-up that would be cleared up. He could go back to living his life, in which the most pressing issue was getting himself cleaned up, before heading over to Sybil's for lunch.

His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of whimpering, and his eyes locked on the car seat as he awaited an ear-piercing scream. The whimpering continued, and slowly turned into more of a cry than a whimper. He nervously moved his chair closer to the baby, staring down at her and clearing his throat.

"Um, hey there, Emily. I, uh... I know that you don't know who the hell I am, but don't you worry, okay? We're going to figure this out in no time." His words apparently had no soothing effect on the baby, as she scrunched up her face, and her cries grew louder and the hiccups began. Without knowing what else to do, he gently lifted Emily into his arms. "Okay, okay, don't cry. Shh!" He said in his most soothing voice, flipping on the TV, hoping that would calm her down. "Urgh... look! It's This Morning... I know... I hate that show too." Emily's cries continued, and he threw a desperate glance around the flat, looking for something, anything, that would calm her down. He saw his keys sitting on the counter where he'd left them. He picked them up and dangled them gently in front of her face, hoping that would stop the tears. It worked - for about five seconds, before her cries became sobs, and she threw herself back in temper at his lame attempt to occupy her.

He shook his head again when this didn't work. His face suddenly lit up as he thought of his one hope that remained. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number, anxiously waiting for them to pick up.

"Sybil? It's me. Can you come over?"

I'm still really new at fanfiction, so please be kind. I know I'm not the best writer in the world. But you wont improve unless you keep practicing. I know it doesn't look like it now, but this will be a very Sybil/Tom orientated story.