Author's Note: So, I kind of had this little ficlet in mind. It shall be a two-parter, I think. I have all these plot ideas that I'm not sure what to do with, so, we'll see!

REACH FOR ME

Raise your hand and reach for me

Silent, slumber

Sweetheart, your thunder is my thorn

Blood, sweat and tears. These three things often attributed to a war zone; a war of the worst kind. And to Shelby Corcoran, lying upon that hospital bed, her bangs matted to her damp face, pain etched upon her features, it was nothing less than World War III.

She knew what happened during this thing called labour. She had been well aware that it was painful. She'd sat through that forty-five minute documentary in health class and cringed with the rest of them. But this, this was not on a beaten up twenty inch RCA television screen. This was really real and this really hurt. She could feel the tears within her eyes, and once they emerged, they would go unnoticed.

Shelby let out a guttural groan, another deep push. Damn baby, stubborn as her mother, was clearly not wanting to come out. And if another doctor, nurse or short, balding gay man told her to breathe in and out one more time, she'd punch them in face. Not that she was particularly violent, but eight hours in labour and she was just about capable of murder.

Her hands gripped the sheets on either side of her, the blue fabric wrinkling around her fists as she held her breath with the next push. Thank God for her vocal training, or she'd have been blue in the face by now. Although, the heated red tone her face had turned wasn't much better. If Shelby were to see herself right now, she'd be horrified by her own reflection. But checking out mirrors were not of the utmost importance at the moment. No, getting this baby out as soon as possible was the priority. If only to stop the pain, the pain of a watermelon being pushed through a straw.

"Push, you got this. Push!"

"Shut the fuck up or I'll be pushing you into the middle of the damn road," growled the twenty-three year old woman through her clenched jaw, her green eyes staring up at the lights on the ceiling above, grinding her teeth as her neck arched at another push, longer this time. It was more and more painful, but the action of pushing was getting a little easier. Another push. She started a low scream, every sound coming directly from her diaphragm.

Every time she opened and closed her eyes, a new bright spot emerged into her vision. If only she could really see metaphorical stars, maybe she'd be at least slightly comforted by their image. Instead, the blur of lights surrounded by immeasurable pain and the sound of her own harsh screams (which really couldn't be good for her vocal cords) filled her senses. And then there was a small sound, a hiccough, almost too soft for human ears. And less than a second later, screaming.

Tiny, little baby screams.

Shelby's breathing became more drawn out, breaths of relief as she felt like the air had suddenly become clearer than it had ever been before. She felt like she'd started to forget what it felt like in the absence of pain.

Her ears directed the rest of her head to turn towards the source of that wailing sound. Perhaps the cries were annoying to some, but as she spotted the little baby that she'd been waiting for for nine months, Shelby smiled, the cries were music to her ears.

Unable to do much, not move nor speak, she watched, her eyelids heavy, as the nurse wiped the baby girl's stomach, then her tiny hands, puny feet. Shelby fixated upon that hand, smaller than her palm, chubby little thing, fingers curled up at the knuckle. Then she turned her head, big brown eyes with a little mess of dark hair. Green eyes met brown and both mouths curved upward and that pudgy hand reached above her head towards the bed. The newborn reached for her mother.

Shelby's eyes didn't stray for what felt like hours, but in a fluid motion, the nurse picked the little girl up and the rest of the room, as well as the hustle and bustle that accompanied it, came back into focus.

"Miss? I'm going to give you some medication, it'll help you get rest," informed a nurse, who had been standing by her bedside longer than Shelby had noticed.

"N-no," Shelby croaked, her throat sore and speaking in her normal voice felt unfamiliar. "Where are they taking her?"

The nurse, dirty blonde with kind eyes, looked towards the other end of the room for a moment. "To her-"

But Shelby had already known the answer, asking the question was just a first reaction. "Can you get her? I just want to hold her," she asked, such inclination in her tone.

And the woman, in her pale green scrubs, smiled meekly, not wanting to hurt her current patient's feelings. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. You have to get some rest, okay, miss?"

"Please. Just for a minute," Shelby's voice was panicked, her words rushed and scared.

"I'm so sorry, just take some deep breaths."

"She's my baby, how can you say no to me?" Shelby couldn't breathe though, deep moments of gasping, like something was lodged in her throat. Melodramatically, her heart had gotten stuck.

But the nurse couldn't bring herself to say no. She couldn't let Shelby's begging get to her, but the pain in her eyes... she just couldn't. Pulling the syringe from the platter on the table, she held the IV cord, and started to inject the medication.

"No, no, no, no, please, don't do that," Shelby begged hastily and repressed tears began to fall. "Please, please, I want to see my baby. Please, stop, no." She swallowed heavily trying to keep steady breaths. "Please, just..."

In the dark of the one bedroom apartment, the only source of light came streaming in through the large glass windows, the lights of the city creating silhouettes on her face, Shelby awoke.

Her brow was moist, sweat from her tossing and turning running down her temple. It'd been her common way to wake up for the past few weeks. And it was not a great start to any morning. She'd wake up disgruntled in the middle of the night too; leaving dark circles under her eyes that proved a lot of work to cover up. It wasn't good, certainly, to have woken up in this way.

She had an audition today, an off off Broadway play which seemed disastrous at best, but she'd take what she could get. The first week here was mildly pleasant. She was ready to jump right into any audition, but they didn't come as often as she thought. And the auditions didn't go quite as flawlessly as she'd assumed. This one though, with her favourite Dreamgirls song in her repertoire (though she'd been advised against it as white people couldn't be in Dreamgirls, a fact that depressed her), she was sure it would be a breeze. The lack of sleep was of no concern.

Finally awake, body temperature cooling down as she stared out at the New York skyline, Shelby stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door, finding an unopened bottle of orange juice, popping it open and sitting down at the kitchen counter. It was a little lonely here, but she figured she could handle it. No one to hear her at night, no one to bother her asking why. For no one had the right to ask her and nor would she ever tell.

She got dressed, lazily, she simply didn't have her heart in it. Irregular considering if anyone knew her in the least, they would know she did nothing halfheartedly. Shelby'd been the most passionate of people since she was six years old. Anything and everything was an event, because every moment of life led up to the succession of her dream. And soon, soon that dream would come true. And that thought brought her back to her stronger self. Regardless of what had happened only a month prior, she could pass through this day with a smile. Whether that smile be real or fake was irrelevant.

She'd taken a cab, throwing in a generous tip, she did have money to spare after all. The moral dilemma of where that money came from didn't even occur to her until she'd spent it on multiple pairs of very gorgeous boots. She glazed over the script in her hand as the cabbie weaved through NYC traffic. At first, this had startled her. Being from Ohio, the drivers here believed they had right of way and she had almost been run down the first day, that didn't happen in the midwest. Her new plan was to figure out the subway system, she'd never be able to handle near death experiences every single morning. And hopefully, it would also be quicker.

The waiting outside the office was the difficult part. Auditions had to be the most nerve-wracking part of acting. It decided the future, and that was just terrifying. Shelby, though, was one confident woman. Of course, she was tired and a little hoarse, so perhaps not in the best shape to shine that confidence through. She made her way through various vocal warm ups, not really paying much attention to the other people waiting. In fact, she was a little smug about it. Maybe they'd hear her voice, which was truly a gift from God, and simply be scared off. Perhaps, a little too cocky.

The audition was over and done in a matter of ten minutes. She knew the answer before she'd even left the room. Shelby had done her best to show tenacity, the best of her skill. But the looks on their faces, intrigued by her talent but bored by her performance, proved what she knew; her heart wasn't in it. That was her trouble lately, wasn't it? Her heart was somewhere else.

Making her way out onto the street, she stumbled toward the curb, heaviness in her posture. Letting her exhaustion overcome her, she fell back on the steps of the apartment building behind her, her head lolling tiredly against the fence that bound a makeshift garden.

Here she was in New York City, ready for every dream she ever had to come true. Only it wasn't happening. And Shelby feared she ruined it before it even began.

Author's Note: I love reviews, so please do so! This is mostly just drabble in the form of backstory, I know. But the scene got stuck in my mind as I was writing another one shot.