Hey, everyone! Being self-serving and posting fic because today is setting up to be a shit day and reviews make me happy, so... But hey! You guys get fic!
As always, reviews are love, even if it's something short.
Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.
Warnings: Mpreg, short mention of boypussy (only in the very beginning of the fic, otherwise, you can just pretend it's regular mpreg after the first two paragraphs), and miscarriage/stillborn birth.
The Cries They'll Never Hear
One-shot
There were tears on his cheeks as he pushed, wishing—not for the first time in his life—that he had been born a normal guy and not part of the third gender where the bottom half doesn't match the top half and where figuring out where his hormone levels were at always made his head hurt.
The doctor urged him on again and he heaved a broken sob as he gave another push. Felt the pressure inside him disappear as his daughter slid from his body without a sound.
There would never be a sound.
He fell back against the pillows, eyes closed as the tears fell and he heard people milling around. Finn's hand was still in his, fingers tangled and shaking in his grip.
The doctor asked Finn if he wanted to cut the cord.
He pressed both hands over his eyes, pressing harder when Finn's hand disappeared and he heard the snip.
Gave another sob, because the room was just too quiet.
There should have been crying. His and Finn's baby girl should have been crying as she took her first breaths. He had always imagined that Finn would cry when the baby was laid on Puck's chest, swaddled in pink and theirs.
But their baby wasn't crying.
They were crying, bawling, but not because their daughter had been born.
They were crying because their daughter had died.
Died before she was ever born, before some people out there would even consider her to be alive. But she had been alive. Puck had felt her for months, shifting and kicking in his stomach as he sat in his senior English class. She always kicked his bladder whenever Glee got boring, like she was giving him an excuse to leave.
She had been alive. Maybe she hadn't been outside of his body, but she had been alive.
Evelyn Puckerman-Hudson had been alive.
He didn't understand how this could have happened.
Everything had been fine yesterday and now…
The name Evelyn was supposed to mean life.
But as the doctor asked Finn if he wanted to hold her, hold their dead baby girl, Puck wondered if this was his punishment for all the mistakes he'd made and the people he'd hurt over the years.
The class ring Finn had slid onto his left hand two months ago suddenly felt cold around his finger, almost unbearably heavy and for a second, he wondered how much longer he would wear it before Finn left him too.
His hands dropped from his face only long enough for him to see the unmoving bundle in Finn's arms. Then, his hand was over his mouth as bile shot up his throat.
A nurse steadied a bedpan underneath him as he vomited, tears still falling just as fast as the mess surging from his mouth. There was a hand on his back, rubbing in what was supposed to be comforting but only made him feel worse.
All he had needed to do was keep Evelyn safe and healthy. Carry her. Feed her. Give her somewhere to grow until she was ready.
When she'd stopped moving in his stomach, he should have known. She'd been active since the beginning, keeping him awake all night for months.
Over the sounds of his heaving, he heard the doctor tell Finn that sometimes these things just happen. That sometimes, the child just dies in-utero and they don't always find out why.
He says it wasn't anyone's fault, but Puck knew it was his.
She had been in his body.
It had to be his fault. Somehow, it had to be.
He fell onto his back, lids heavy and lashes wet as he looked at Finn again.
He was still holding Evelyn, but Puck could see wet dots littering the pink blanket a nurse had wrapped her in.
"Do you want to hold her?" Finn asked, choked and just as broken as him. He laid her on his chest before Puck could even consider if he wanted to.
Something in him broke all over again as he stared at the too-pale face of his daughter.
He almost puked again when he touched her cheek and felt cooling skin.
He couldn't do this.
Somewhere between his sobs and the frantic shaking of his head, someone picked her up and carried her away.
Finn tried to touch him, but he just curled into a ball, ignoring the ache in his muscles as he closed his eyes again and wished this was just a bad dream. That Evelyn was still healthy and moving inside him. That the doctor hadn't done an ultrasound and told him he was sorry, but there was no heartbeat and they would have to induce labor to get her out.
Finn stood there, whispering his name and begging Puck to talk to him, but he just shook his head. Whispered at Finn to go away.
He didn't.
He heard Finn sink into the chair beside his bed and curled in on himself tighter.
Another sob ripped through him and he asked himself just how long it would be before Finn gave up on him and disappeared just like everyone else Puck had ever let himself love.
The End