Disclaimer: I own nothing of Rent or the song My Little Girl. Both belong to their respected owners. I can say that I do own the plot and my original character of Isabelle Nichole Davis. 'Nuff said.
Italics are lyrics, thoughts and flashbacks.
A/N: I was listening to this song the other day and thus, the idea for this story came about.
Summary: Recently single dad Roger sings a song to his newborn daughter, Isabelle Nichole. Set to the song My Little Girl by Tim McGraw. One-shot. Takes place in 2011.
Genre: Romance/None
Rating: K
Roger squeezed Mimi's hand and looked over her shoulder. She was close to giving birth to their daughter. The two of them had decided on the name Isabelle Nichole.
Finally, the baby was out and Roger was holding her when the nurse suddenly pulled Isabelle out of Roger's arms and the doctor told him to leave.
"Why? What's going on?" Roger asked, utterly confused.
"Your wife is losing a lot of blood and we're doing everything we can to save her." The doctor answered. A nurse escorted Roger to the waiting room, where Mark, Maureen, Joanne, Collins and Angel were waiting, along with their families.
The six of them stayed with Roger, calling the sitters they hired to stay with their kids a little while longer.
"How's the baby?" Mark asked.
"She's perfect – ten fingers, ten toes, two arms, two legs, one head. I got to hold her for five minutes before the nurse pushed me out." Roger told Mark bitterly.
"What's her name?" Joanne inquired.
"Isabelle Nichole." Roger responded.
"She sounds pretty." Angel spoke up, resting her head on Collins' shoulder.
"She's beautiful." Roger said, picking up a magazine and skimmed through it when a doctor entered the waiting room, his teal scrubs covered in blood.
"Mr. Davis, may I see you for a moment?" the doctor asked. Roger nodded and excused himself from his friends. The doctor led Roger to the hallway outside of Mimi's hospital room and looked Roger square in the eyes, a solemn expression on his face.
"Doc, what's wrong?" Roger questioned.
"I'm sorry, but we couldn't save your wife. I'll give you a few moments to say goodbye before we take her to the morgue." The doctor answered. Roger wiped the tears out of his eyes and entered Mimi's hospital room.
"I love you so much, Meems and it hurts me that you're not with me now. I blame myself for everything that happened and I'm so sorry I pushed you into having a kid. You'll always be with me and I'll make sure to mention you to Isabelle, when she's old enough. God, Meems – take me with you!" Roger sobbed, holding Mimi's still form. He cried into her hospital gown, wishing he were the one who was dead – not Meems.
"Mr. Davis, would you like to see your baby?" a nurse asked. Roger nodded and brushed the tears out of his eyes as the nurse led him to the nursery. He spotted her in the second row from the end, wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket. Roger nodded and the nurse opened the door, squeezing some liquid hand sanitizer onto his hands. She then had him sit in a rocking chair as she handed him Isabelle.
"She's so beautiful." Roger whispered as the sleeping baby was placed in his arms.
"What's her name?" the nurse asked.
"Isabelle Nichole Davis." Roger answered, not looking up from his baby. The nurse smiled and let Roger and Isabelle have some bonding time.
Roger took in Isabelle's features. She had dark skin, like Mimi's. He noticed under her cap that she had strands of blond hair. Her eyes were closed at the moment, but Roger was sure that they were beautiful.
"Here." The nurse said, handing Roger a bottle. Roger took the bottle in his hand and gently nudged the nipple in Isabelle's mouth. Roger adjusted her position in his arms so that she could drink better. He smiled when he heard her suckling loudly.
"Where's her mother?" the nurse questioned.
"She died after childbirth." Roger answered, feeling the tears again.
"Oh. I'm so sorry." The nurse apologized.
"Thanks." Roger said, setting the bottle aside. He then sat Isabelle up and gently thumped her back until a small burp escaped from her lips. Roger smiled and held Isabelle in his arms, gently rocking in the chair.
"Would you like her to sleep in the nursery?" the nurse asked, watching Roger place Isabelle back in her basinet.
"Is that okay?" Roger inquired.
"Of course it is. I'm on nursery patrol. My name's Erica if you need anything." The nurse – Erica – told Roger.
"Thanks. I'm Roger – Isabelle's father." Roger introduced himself.
"She's a precious little girl." Erica said. Roger nodded in agreement and closed the nursery door, looking at his daughter sleeping in her basinet.
Gotta hold on easy as I let you go
Gonna tell you how much I love you
Though you think you already know
I remember I thought you looked like an angel
Wrapped in pink, so soft and warm
You've had me wrapped around your finger
Since the day you were born
You beautiful baby from the outside in
Chase you dreams but always know the road
That'll lead you home again
Go on, take on this whole world
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl
Twelve-year-old Isabelle Davis ran to her room when she heard her father enter the house. She knew she was in trouble – he had told her to do one thing and then she could do what she wanted.
"ISABELLE NICHOLE DAVIS!" Roger shouted. Isabelle poked her head out of her room, brown eyes full of fright. She had dark skin, blond hair and big chocolate-brown eyes.
"I know, Dad – I forgot to empty the dishwasher – I'll do it now." Isabelle said, taking her iPod buds out of her ears and emptied the dishwasher. When she was done, she shot her dad a crooked smile.
"You know, it's okay. I'm glad that you did it now." Roger said, tugging on Isabelle's ponytail.
When you were in trouble that crooked little smile
Could melt my heart of stone
Now look at you, I've turned around
And you've almost grown
That night, Roger passed by Isabelle's room and saw her fast asleep, a favorite stuffed animal clutched to her chest. The moonlight poured in from the large picture window next to the bed.
"I love you, sweetheart." Roger whispered.
"Daddy, I love you more." Isabelle whispered back as Roger walked away.
Sometimes you're asleep I whisper 'I love you'
In the moonlight at your door
As I walk away, I hear you say
'Daddy, I love you more'
You beautiful baby from the outside in
Chase your dreams but always know the road
That'll lead you home again
Go on, take on this whole world
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl
"Dad, this is Matt. Matt, this is my dad." Fifteen-year-old Isabelle introduced her current boyfriend to her father. Roger nodded a hello and watched the two of them head to the living room and pull out some books.
"What do you think the author meant when she had Natalie say…." Isabelle asked Matt, her nose buried in the book they were reading for their English Literature class. Matt seemed more interested in getting Isabelle's clothes off. She told him to stop it and eventually Matt did.
When Isabelle was a senior in high school, she met David, a respectable, polite, friendly young man who was in Isabelle's grade. Roger thought they looked so perfect together when he shot their picture for prom. Isabelle was in a strapless ankle-length purple dress and had her blond hair piled on top of her head. David wore a tux with a bow tie that was the same color and shade as Isabelle's dress.
While the men waited for Isabelle to finish, Roger noticed that David kept shifting his feet and avoiding eye contact.
"David? What is it?" Roger asked.
"Mr. Davis, can I ask you a question?" David inquired.
"Sure – you can ask me whatever you want."
David mumbled something that Roger couldn't quite understand.
"What was that?"
"May I have your blessing to marry Isabelle?" David repeated.
Roger studied this young man – he treated Isabelle like a princess, seemed respectable and unlike the other guys that Isabelle dated over the years, had the soul of a poet and the heart of a man's man.
"I'm ready." Isabelle announced, struggling to get her shoes on. David rushed to her aide and fastened them for her. She rested her hand on his shoulder and kissed his neck. He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist as they posed for pictures.
"Have her home by eleven-thirty." Roger told David. He nodded and escorted Isabelle to the limo he had rented for the evening.
Roger was in bed, reading, when he heard the door open and close again. He looked at the clock – it was 11:25. He watched from his bedroom door as Isabelle and David kissed goodnight.
Someday, some boy will come
And ask me for your hand
But I won't say yes to him unless I know
He's the half that makes you whole
He has a poet's soul and the heart of a man's man
I know he'll say that he's in love
He won't be good enough
Four years later, Roger led Isabelle down the aisle to where David was waiting at the alter.
A year and a half later, David and Isabelle Roberts welcomed a daughter that they named Regina Hope Roberts. Roger smiled down from heaven, knowing that his little girl was happy with David – her boyfriend since her senior year of high school and now they were married and starting their family.
You beautiful baby from the outside in
Chase your dreams but always know the road
That'll lead you home again
Go on, take on this whole world
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl