I am so happy that this is the first Silk story posted. I have been campaigning for-EVER for there to be Silk category. This is fantastic! Yayayay!

Dedicated to Hedgie for being my fellow Silk fangirl. 3

Small Bump

"Clive…" Martha's voice was desperate and filled with pain. Her eyes were glassed with tears. Clive tried desperately to contain his emotions. He had never seen her like this before. She was his no-nonsense, northern blonde. "Yes," he barely managed to keep his voice level.

"Please…please don't leave me." Her words were drowned out by the wail of the ambulance but Martha's look was enough to tell him that he had to stay. But, regardless, Clive knew that he couldn't leave her. He was going to honour his promise to her: she could count on him for whatever way of support she wanted for this baby. But, he was there for her, it was always for her.

The paramedic rushed over, it was a man and a woman. Martha had never felt so terrified in her life. She loved this baby with her whole heart; the thought that she might be losing them filled her with such pain. She wished she could just submit to the intense desire to drift off into a dream. A dream where everything was perfect, she could have everything she most desired: a perfect family, with a perfect husband, and a perfect baby. But that was just a dream, no matter how hard she wished for it. The ambulance crew were deciding on the best way to get Martha from the steps to the vehicle. Clive watched as the emotions and pain washed across her face. He couldn't take this. With one smooth swoop, he picked her up into his arms and walked towards the ambulance, ignoring the protests from the paramedics.

As he reached the flat surface, Martha looked up into his eyes. Clive looked into hers and whispered the words, "I could never leave you."

Martha was carefully placed on the stretcher and Clive was instructed to sit on the seat at her side. He took her hand in his and gently stroked it with his other. Clive watched her face, etched with pain, but what he had found most odd was her pale lips; the red lipstick had faded, or been wiped away with the events of the day. Frustration, guilt and anger consumed him. Why hadn't he made Martha report Gary Rush? The medal? The intrusion? Everything would be so different if he had just made her.

Martha was shaking with fear, her mind being condemned to replaying the event with the formidably Gary Rush. Suddenly, she was consumed with anger. How could Billy even ask her to represent that man? That lying, thieving man. But, as a fresh stabbing pain hit her again, she was overwhelmed with worry and ultimately, grief. She brushed her free hand against her abdomen and whispered a silently prayer. Martha has taken the time, on many occasions, to state her disbelief in God, in fact, her dislike for him; jealous; self-obsessed; cruel. But, here she found herself, praying to a God she quite possibly didn't believe in. This proved the statement her old History teacher had loved to use true: "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Before they knew it, Martha was being wheeled into the emergency department of Greenwich Hospital. She was rushed into a cubical and thrust into the world of medicine. The language was entirely different from the language of law she was fluent in. Her heart raced through fear and she grasped harder onto Clive's hand.

The doctors quickly arranged blood tests and a nurse quickly performed them, before Martha was transferred to the maternity unit. Without waiting she was in a room fitted with a sonogram. A technician walked in and asked 'Mrs Costello' to arrange her clothing so that she could perform the ultrasound. Martha had had a sonogram before, everything had been fine. Everything had been more than fine, her eyes had welled up at the sight of her unborn child. But she had felt vulnerable watching all the husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends yet there she was alone. She had almost called Clive and begged him to attend with her. But, she hadn't. She had been alone for a very long time; it had not been the time to start getting worked up about it. The baby was her saviour, her blessing. She had someone she could love unconditionally, forever.

Clive looked over to the pale, frightened woman and saw the weakness that had come over her. He walked to her side and helped remove her robe. Then, he carefully unbuttoned her waist coat, pulled it off and waited for her to sit up so he could unzip her skirt.

Martha could not display her gratitude to Clive as she lay back down. Her eyes began to fill with tears because in truth she knew the outcome, bleeding in pregnancy wasn't a good sign. But Martha lived in a world where every case had the potential to prove the statistics wrong. It was out of the odds that she would have gotten Mark Draper off, or Rachna Ali. But, she had. They were free. Her reasoning left Martha clinging onto hope; a hope that deep down inside of her, she knew wasn't there. Whist waiting for the technician to re-enter, she placed her hand, once again on her abdomen. She then took hers and Clive's hand and lightly held it next to the other. Time stood still in this moment that they shared. Martha was infuriated with Clive at times. His arrogance frequently pushed her to the edge. But, Martha knew she could depend on him. He was kind and he was caring.

They were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the woman who was to perform the ultrasound, this prompted Clive to quickly remove his hand and place on Martha's arm.

Pulling up Martha's shirt up to reveal a small bump, the woman spoke, "I'm Nurse Farleigh, I'm going to perform the ultrasound. This may be a little cold," The nurse warned as she squeezed the gel onto Martha's stomach and slid the wand over. Suddenly and image flashed upon the screen. But the nurse remained silent. She moved it slowly back and forth. Clive looked to Martha, hoping she would be able to reassure him that everything was okay. But, Martha couldn't she knew what they were looking for and it wasn't there. The technician excused herself from the room.

Martha's hand searched for Clive's and grasped at its haven. They sat silently and Clive's mind began to wonder. His mind started replaying that trial in Nottingham. Martha was brilliant; 'she is brilliant' he thought. Then he remembered the events that lead to that night, that night which he had been longing for, secretly of course, since they were pupils together. Then, as the door reopened, his thoughts returned to the now. A much more senior-looking doctor entered and introduced herself. Dr. French her name was. Martha now looked terrified; it pained him to see her like this.

The doctor now picked up the wand and repeated the actions of the technician. It was odd, Clive thought, that the first time he was able to see his baby was quite possibly the last. He wished with every ounce of him that it wouldn't be until the doctor opened her mouth to let the words flow. "I'm sorry, we've both looked really carefully but we're not getting a heartbeat; I'm afraid your baby had died." Martha had known, she had known since the moment when Gary Rush's arm had impacted with her stomach. But, those words; the truth had killed any hope she had within her. She expected herself to break down in tears but she didn't. She could hardly take in the words. The doctor handed her a tissue to wipe away the residue of the gel and began to explain what was going to happen. Clive tried to listen intently but his heart ached. It yearned for his baby, his little boy, or girl. It seemed ridiculous and had gone against what Martha had previously told him but he had started to plan his life around Martha and the baby. Their baby. Clive looked over to the blonde barrister and was taken aback by her pale complexion. He could see the tears she was fighting back.

The image was left on that of her baby and Martha traced the outline with her eyes, trying desperately to memorise it.

Martha lay on her bed and felt a warm hand stoke her head. That was what set her emotions free. Tears overflowed from her eyes and she grieved for her baby. Her whole body shook with pain. Martha's mind played the scenes of a child in her arms which she had dreamed of so many times before. She avoided any thought of the small, white baby grow that she had purchased after falling in love with its beautiful embroidery. Every thought was a reminder of her loss. Clive took Martha in to his arms and held her on his chest. His hand brushed against her hair and he whispered the only words he could think of "it'll be fine" as a single tear slid down his face.