Don't ask me where this came from, it stemmed from an idea that could possibly be considered as crack-like as the show, but whatever, it's done now – if you take the time to read, please let me know your thoughts, much appreciated :)
(Also, for anyone reading any of my still unfinished fics, (oops :/) I am working on them, this just would not leave me and I've been writing it non-stop for the last few days now so yeah, it jumped up the priority list ahead of anything else, sorry.)
Hope you enjoy...
Title: Give Me Love
Disclaimer: As always, I only own what you don't recognise from the show. Title from the Ed Sheeran song of the same name.
Summary: You don't bring souvenirs back from a Lost Summer; at least not these types of souvenirs. That sounds a lot like 'famous last words'.
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"Give me love like never before,
'cause lately I've been craving more."
'Give Me Love,' Ed Sheeran
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Prologue
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"Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here."
Marianne Williamson
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The brunette in the delivery room screams bloody murder and holds the hand of the dark-haired male by her side in a vice-grip.
He asks the various medical staff if there's not something stronger they can give her, to ease the pain (to ease his pain).
The nurse shakes her head, and the doctor tries to pacify her, tells her just one more push.
She grits down on her teeth and tells him if he says that one more time she's going to throw something very hard or very sharp at his face and then ask him about his pain tolerance levels.
He's clearly old enough that it would suggest he's been in the profession for a while, but she still doubts his ability since he ignores her threat and tells her instead that she's doing great, that she's fine, that they're nearly there.
She glowers at him and warns him not to say the next thing that she's sure is about to come out of his mouth.
Then she snappily mentions that she knows she's fine, she's hardly about to die before she gets to meet the one who's put her through all this physical trauma, after all, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
She feels him give her hand a small squeeze, although frankly she could be imagining it since she doesn't know how he gets to remain intact when she's in so much pain.
And besides, she reminds anyone who happens to be listening; she's supposed to be waiting.
He said he'd be there; he wanted to be there, so why is everyone so damn insistent on making her do this without him?
She falls back against the bed with a weighty sigh, beads of sweat along her hairline, and a dark haired male looking down on her with the heavy mass of concern as her exhaustion seeps into the bedding currently attempting to prop her up.
From her side she hears him ask what he can do; anything, he says, just name it.
Her head lolls onto her shoulder and she looks at him with an easy, lazy smile: he's always been there for her, always been willing to do anything for her.
The doctor tells her he needs her to push again, just one more time, he says, this is it.
She manages to roll her eyes at him muttering, you better be right this time, doc, and though she's not at all happy about how events have escalated and how they've accelerated the timing; she's really tired, and it really hurts and she really just wants to meet her baby.
She grips his hand tighter than before, because if she's being made to do this again she's going to make sure it really is just one more time. She concentrates, expels her last amount of energy and feels the relief flood her soul when eventually he drops his forehead to rest on hers, fingers still clasped close together, and breathes into her hairline; you did it.
I did huh? She smiles tiredly, resting her eyes along with everything else.
Yeah, you did, she feels him nod against her temple, his head turned slightly in the direction where she imagines her newborn is being held; she instantly wishes her baby was in her arms instead, and feels the ache in her limbs at the absence. He's perfect.
He? she whispers, and he nods his confirmation as she sighs contentedly at the news. Baby boy Bass.
He's going to be ecstatic.
She's just sorry he missed it; missed his son coming into the world.
She blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Maybe three times.
She's suddenly feeling inexplicably tired, and yet she knows this is no time for a nap.
He calls her name and she focuses on his face once again, can still feel her lips curved upwards as she says his name right back.
Good, he tells her, like he's coaxing a child, that's it, stay with me.
She's so engrossed in his presence that she doesn't see the doctor falter at the words; doesn't see him call over his colleagues to share anxious looks and make hushed, but hurried decisions.
His eyes keep catching the light like those little curved 'D' shapes she used to put on all her drawings of balloons as a child to make them look real, to show how they shimmered as they floated away.
He says he knows she's tired, says it like he understands, though he couldn't possibly.
Don't go to sleep, he sounds like he's pleading with her when he says that, which she can't understand.
I wouldn't, she tells to the little frown on his face.
She leans over to trace the lines across his brow with the tip of her finger and sighs with satisfaction when she feels them relax under her touch.
Silly, she chides him then.
He smiles back at her as he breathes out a small sigh that smells like relief.
I can't go to sleep, she tells him even as she hears the sleepiness creep into her voice, I have to meet my baby boy.
He breathes out again the same as before, but when she feels her eyes slip shut she can tell she's ruined the moment because now he's sucking in sharply and calling out her name like she's no longer right by his side.
She wonders why he sounds so far away all of a sudden; she just hopes he can still hear her.
And I want to see Chuck's face as he holds him.
There's a harrowing sound in the background and she wonders why it feels like they're moving away when they should be moving towards whatever it is that's in such distress.
Her eyes snap open and she's met with an intense, blinding light and a feeling of unease that grips her heart.
There are people in different colored scrubs hovering above her as she lies flat on her back being wheeled towards an unknown destination.
She reaches over to grab hold of a hand on one of the bedrails, one of the many that are hurriedly taking her away from that room and along the corridor with its bright, white beams overhead and confusing chatter bouncing off the walls.
She wants to ask the woman where they're taking her; but the words never leave her tongue long enough to escape her parted lips
She wants to dig her nails into the woman's neat flesh, grip tightly onto the ridges of her knuckles so she can't let go; but she's suddenly too weak and the woman just smiles sympathetically down at her and places her other hand over their conjoined ones in some misguided attempt at comforting her.
She wants to glare at the woman and demand answers and threaten retribution if they don't stop and tell her where her baby is and why she's not with him; but her eyes are already slipping shut once more, sticking to her cheeks with the tears that sink from their sockets.
She can still hear that noise ringing in her ears, knows now that its echo will haunt her for life; the sound of her son crying out for his mother.
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TBC…
I realize I probably say this with all my fics, but this isn't really like my other ones for reasons that should become clear very early on.
It's mostly Chuck-centric, but will have a large focus on the NJBC - I feel there should be a character option on the drop-down menu for them as a collective whole by now, but oh well, I'm telling whoever happens to be reading here instead.
Thanks for reading, feel free to drop me a line letting me know your thoughts.
First 'official' chapter should be up to follow shortly.
Steph
xxx