A/N: Okay, so when I started this, I was like totally planning on writing something completely different. To a song no less, but as it often does with me, nothing goes to plan. So this is the outcome to this. It's depressing and twisty, so hopefully you don't get too confused. Enjoy and review.
Disclaimer: Chris and Stephanie own themselves and Aurora....
Breathe
Breathe, just breathe. In and out, exhale, god just breath - you know how. Youknowhowyouknowhow. You've been doing it since you screamed your way into this world, you can't stop now. Breathe, just breathe. It's innate! You can't forget, it's programmed into you! You can't forget, you just can't. Please breathe pleasepleasepleaseplease.
"Stephanie." you whisper brokenly. Your hearts breaking, but unlike hers, at least it's beating.
You crawl forward, you hands pushing down onto broken glass, tearing your skin - your knees follow, scrapping against the road. Blood pools, it pools and leaves a crimson trail behind you. But you're crawling to a bigger pool of it, only this time it's hers and it's seeping out of the cuts on her. Too many, too many cuts. Stop, please stop, don't bleed. Don't, just don't. Don'tdon'tdon't.
Your hand reaches her first and she's cold. She shouldn't be cold, don't be cold, I'll keep you warm. You pull yourself up into a sitting position and reach and pull her to you. You rock her. "Wake up."
She never did listen to you, always stubborn that one. Your hand slides down and rest on her stomach. Kick, please kick. You choke on the sob that makes its escape and you're not sure you own heart is beating anymore. "Stephanie, wake up!" You're yelling now, and you look up and you see people are watching you. "Help me! Help her!" But they don't move they just stand there, they just stand there and watch.
How can they just watch you slowly die? Can't they save you from this?
Can anyone?
Can you not go back 30 minutes to when you were holding her hand as you drove back from the restaurant where you had just had a baby shower, for your daughter.
Your daughter. Two months until you hold her in your arms.....two months until you would have held her in your arms. You would have called her Aurora. Aurora Rose.
Now you'll just lay a rose on their coffin.
"Don't leave me."
She already has. They already have.
He's a husband and a father without a wife or a daughter.
There are people by him now, trying to take Stephanie away from him, but he won't let go – he won't let them take her away from him. She belongs to him, she's the mother of his baby. His baby girl, they have the nursery painted pink, he'll take them home and they'll sit in there and laugh at the silence, because they won't ever have that again when she's born.
Silence will be the only thing in their house now, Stephanie will never call out his name or he hers. It'll be a void of sound. Silence, silent, quiet. Deafening.
She's not in his arms anymore. They feel empty, so does his heart. He hears them zip something and he looks round and the zip passes Stephanie's stomach (Aurora) and past Stephanie's face. He's staring at a black bag. She's in a black back, get her out of there, get her out! Now! But they're not listening to him, because he's screaming it inside his head. The tears roll down and over his cheeks and he watches as they lift her and carry her away.
He just sits, he's numb. Someone's trying to tend to his cuts (his only injuries) but he can't feel them, so they can't hurt. He falls to his side and heaves, his stomach now as empty as his heart.
"Bring her back." His voice is hoarse and he's trying to get to his feet but he can't find the energy. I need her back, she keeps me alive. Bring her back! "I need my family!"
He's in the hospital now, in a bed. It's hard against his back and the lights are harsh to his eyes. Every time he closes his eyes he sees her face covered in blood, so he keeps his eyes open, staring ahead. He can see her parents and her brother, Vince is trying to talk to him, but he hasn't spoken since he asked for his family back. Shane is holding Linda to him, she's sobbing her heart out. He can't cry anymore, he's used them all up.
His head turns when Vince mentions Aurora, and he notes that the old man is gripping his bedside tight and the pain on his face makes Chris think of his daughter. The tears slip out, one, two, three, fourfivesixseven – they're gone when he manages to stop. He thinks he remembers hearing Shane tell him they'll be back tomorrow. He won't.
He'll be with Stephanie.
His eyes slide close against his will and he sees her face. He tries to fight to open them, but he's exhausted and looses that battle.
He sees her face the entire night, and the blood continues to flow. He's almost drowning in it in the morning, but then his eyes snap open.
He's not in the hospital anymore.
He hears laughing, he knows that laugh.
She's not bleeding. She turns to him and she smiles. "Are you ready to go?"
"Go?"
"Home?"
They're in the restaurant, and she's not bleeding. His hand reaches out and lands on her stomach, Aurora kicks. Her hearts beating. "Stephanie?"
"Yes?"
"Are you really here?" He felt her die, how can she be standing in front of him, two months away from letting him hold their daughter in his arms?
"Of course I am," she tells him with a smile, reaching out her hand and taking his. She's warm. "Where else would I be?"
He doesn't want to think about that.
He pulls her onto his lap and kisses her, tastes her. Imprints another memory of their life into his memory.
"You fell asleep." She lets him know with a smirk. "You looked cute. We you dreaming? You didn't look peaceful."
A dream? A nightmare.
This was what that was? Only a nightmare? It felt too real.
His hands tightened around her and held her. They sat there for a while, quiet. They were the last too leave, he remembered in the nightmare they were the first too leave. "Let's go home."
"Okay."
She stood, and pulled him up and into her, kissing him like she always did. "I love you."
"I love you too Steph."
She grinned and rested their hand on her stomach. "You make my heart beat."
"Funny that, you make mines as well."
They got into their car and drove. He held her hand, tight, afraid to let her go.
It all felt familiar. Too familiar.
There was flashing lights at the crossroads ahead and he slowed to a stop like the people in front of him.
He could see her lying there, bleeding – this was where it had happened, where his hear was breaking and hers had stopped beating.
"What happened?"
He turned his head and looked at her. She was right there, she wasn't lying bleeding. "Guess there was an accident."
"I hope no one got hurt."
"Everyone's fine."
End.
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