By: Morgan
Disclaimer: Saban owns all PR characters and stuff. The only crap I own is the crap I make up myself. Yadda yadda yadda. Please don't sue me.
Distribution: Anywhere as long as you ask me first.
Rating: R I guess for language, adult situations and some other stuff too maybe.
My Notes: This chapter is short. Yes, I know this. I didn't have time to write a thirty page chapter today so just bare with me on this one. The next one should be out soon after this one and I hope you guys like it.
*****
Thomas Oliver's House
Tuesday, November 11, 2000 5:14 P.M.
Stone Canyon, Ca
:::Briiing:::
Tommy threw down the pig pot holder that he had been using to drain the water from some soggy, spaghetti noodles. He exited the spacious kitchen and went to pick up the black cordless telephone that lay on the coffee table beside the plush, white leather couches.
"Hello," he said as he bent down to pick up his dress shoes from where they had been left on the floor. Seeing that the bedroom door was open down the hall, he threw them, one actually going where he wanted it to and the other hitting the wall with a loud thud and collapsing in front of the door.
"Hey Baby, it's me. Didn't I tell you not to throw your shoes in the house," the voice on the other end teased.
He laughed. "Sorry Beautiful. Where are you?"
"I'm on highway thirty-five stuck in this Hell we call traffic. My exit is coming up shortly so I should be home soon. Do I need to pick up something for dinner on the way?" She shifted in the large driver's side seat and adjusted the seat belt that was hooked over her very large, ever-growing stomach.
'I can't wait until I have these babies. I feel like I'm carrying a litter around inside of me. I can't see my feet, sex is becoming harder from thinking up new positions, I keep having these annoying mood swings, this seat belt is cutting into my liver, and my breasts are killing me!'
Tommy suddenly remembered he had left their dinner to burn and hurriedly made his way back to their large, newly remodeled kitchen. "Nope, I'm fixing dinner as we speak my love."
She grinned, loving that he did these small, simple chores for her. "I knew there was a reason I married you Mr. Oliver. I'm starved."
"Well, that was nice Mrs. Oliver," he teased as he checked on the garlic bread that was baking in the hot oven. "How are my three favorite people doing today by the way? Ha, that rhymed..."
"You're hopeless...And we are all fine. Baby on the right has been in a bad mood all day, kicking the crap out of me, but I don't mind. I love it when I can feel them move around in there. It lets me know they are all right all squished together." Kimberly rubbed at her tummy as one of the baby's tried to shift positions again. She was seven and a half months along, and there was not much more room for the two in there anymore. She liked to talk to the babies, to let them get to know her voice before they made their grand entrance, even though some people though she was weird or joked about it. "I know, I know. You want to come out and see us, but you'll have to wait a couple more weeks little ones. Mommy and Daddy cannot wait to see you, but we still have to paint your nursery so you will have to wait a little while longer."
Kim activated her blinker as she navigated her car off the highway and got onto the service road to make her way home, glad that she did not have to make a pit stop by the grocery store tonight.
"And you make fun of me when I talk to them..." He smiled, loving the playful back and forth banter that the two share.
'What would I do without her?'
"I do not. I just don't see why you have to make those faces when they can't even see you..." She laughed as she did at times when he would lay his head softly on her belly, talking to their children from where they rested inside her womb and making those faces grown ups make when they try to entertain small children. You know they ones I'm talking about.
"All right, you have a point there. I'll stop making those faces if you tell your mother we are not naming our little girl Anastasia..." They both kind of snickered at the thought of one of their kids named that.
'Anastasia Oliver? Yuck.'
"I'll tell my Mom that when you tell your grandma that Blade is not quite the name we are looking for when our son arrives." They had found out the sex of the babies at their second sonogram two months prior and both had been ecstatic to learn they were having one girl and one boy. When their children were born their lives would be complete.
"I'm not telling her that. She will give one of those two hour lectures about how Blade is a nice, strong name. Then, I will have to act like I like that name and we will be back where we started from."
"We're not naming him Blade Tommy, that's the end of it."
"Okay, but when Grannie finds out your ass is grass." They both laughed again, glad that the day was over and they could finally relax.
"Oh, I'm scared of her, she muttered sarcastically. "I hope she doesn't get out her cane and try to beat me with it."
"Kimmie, Kimmie. That's my Grannie you're talking about. She doesn't have a cane...she has a walker and she can walk pretty damn fast when she wants too," he joked as he poured himself and Kim some nice, cold milk in two gorgeous, tall wine glasses.
'Even though she can't have alcohol, I can still wine and dine her.'
"Whatever Tommy," she bantered back.
A blue truck came out of no where right as Kim turned the corner on a street just four blocks from their apartment complex. It hit her head on and sent her red Kia spinning and crashing into a big light pole. Kim was knocked unconscious on impact, and the man who hit her just sat in his totaled truck, unharmed and intoxicated, not knowing exactly what was going on.
"Kim? Are you there baby?...Kim? Are you okay," Tommy asked with a puzzled expression as there was a loud noise.
Tommy heard nothing after the deafening crash had made its way to him through the telephone receiver. Then, all of a sudden, he heard a voice, but it was not his wife's.
"Oh God, call an ambulance! I can't get the damn door open! Chris, get over here, she is pregnant...Oh God," a young lady cried out as she supposedly went to check on Kim.
'No, this can't be,' Tommy thought as he listened to the scene unravel.
"Kim! Baby, talk to me!" He paced around the kitchen, hoping to hear his wife's sweet voice or receive any sign at all that she was okay.
There was no answer. And then suddenly, the line went dead...
*****
Okay, what did you think. Do you think I should continue this one? If not that's fine. Well, please read and review! Thanks. ~Morgan~