Challenge Name and Number: #038, Take My Hand
Drabble Title: Another Chance
Word Count: 533
Warnings: Beware the angst. And the bits of fluff.
Pairings: None.
Author's note: No idea where this came from. Honest.
Summary: It only had hours to live, most likely. Set during canon.
It was jaundiced, its closed eyes sunken back into its skull from malnourishment. The thin and feeble wail coming from the depths of the rags that wrapped it was barely audible; this poor babe had been granted one small bit of luck in its short life, in that it had been placed by an open well. The sound of its cries had filtered down to where she had been and after listening to them for nearly a day they had been enough to finally draw her out.
This infant was only a couple months old but it likely only had hours to live, she thought pityingly as she looked down at it. Whoever had abandoned it here must not have had the stomach to watch it die, and so they had left it here in hopes that it would pass on quickly or a passing wild animal would finish it off.
She glanced around her before getting to her knees beside the child, eyeing it sadly. Had Fate been kinder, her own baby would be about this age; the miscarriage two months ago had robbed her of a son and this poor wretched creature only served as a reminder to what she had lost.
She had not realized that her hand had actually been resting on the baby until something cold but firm grabbed her finger and she jumped, startled golden eyes going to to her hand and registering what was holding her. Somehow, the child had managed to untangle its hands from the depths of the blanket so it could grasp her finger.
The grip that held her was surprisingly strong, she noted as she watched the tiny knuckles go white. Her gaze shifted to the infant's face and she realized in surprise that its eyes had opened, a spark of hope glimmering in the dulled orbs. Even its cries had increased in strength; the thin sobs grew in volume even as she watched it.
When its glazed eyes locked onto hers she sucked in a sharp breath, because she could see the silent message that the baby was trying to convey to her—this child wanted to live.
She hesitated a moment longer before her resolve hardened and she reached for the infant, lifting it into her arms and cradling it closer to her to shield it from the night air as she rose to her feet. Her husband would be furious at her for bringing it into their world, but let him rage at her all he wanted. She had lost her own son to causes that were beyond her control; if saving this infant's life was in her power then she would do whatever it took to ensure that it lived.
She did not know when it happened, but it was not until she was going down the stairs leading to her underground home that she realized one of her hands had unconsciously enfolded the wailing infant's own, holding it in a reassuring and comforting hold.