In which my darling little OC makes her debut in the most cliché of ways. :)
—Special thanks to Maja! She deserves a shout out. After all, she did come up with half of the title.
And with that, I bid you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or any of its characters.
Essomenic Happenings
by The Sneezing Panda
She screamed.
It wasn't a scream of terror, nor was it a scream of pleasure that came from an amazing orgasm—sex was the farthest things from her mind—but a scream of pure, antagonizing pain that rushed through her veins and sent tears flooding down her cheeks.
When she wasn't screaming, she was muttering curses under her breath—curses that would make a sailor blush with shame.
The doctor shouted for assistance; he shouted words of encouragement to the frightened women before them, as did her blue-eyed blonde-haired demon of a husband that got her into that particular situation.
The aforementioned man bit back his own shouts of pain as his wife tightened her grip around his hand, nails sinking into his skin as she pushed. The same hand that was turning purple by the second.
Two more minutes and he'd need medical assistance of his own.
He brought his free hand up to her head and smoothed her hair back when she whimpered; he pressed his forehead to hers and made her look into his eyes, attempting to calm her down in a soft, low voice.
Her loud groans as she gave a final push were soon accompanied by the shrill cry of a newborn baby.
Tears of relief immediately stung her eyes as her head fell down onto the raised pillow, breathing heavily; a wild grin began to splay across his face. He cupped her cheek and gave her a kiss that lingered a little longer than it was supposed to before turning to the doctor.
"It's a girl."
In the waiting room of Humber River Regional Hospital, Michelangelo Scarlatti paced a hole through the floor.
"I bet it's a boy. I mean, you saw her baby bump: it must be a boy! They looked awfully secretive when I asked if it was a boy. Sam was trying to convince me of the possibility it could be a girl, but there was something about that suspicious gleam in his eyes... And you know how he can get, that troll. It's a boy. Twenty bucks it's a boy!"
Lewis Young, the only one listening who was even remotely interested in Spike's ramblings, jumped out of his chair and whipped out his wallet.
"Oh, this is to easy. It's definitely going to be a girl. Make it forty!" challenged Lew, a smirk playing his lips. Spike shook his head at the foolishness of the thought.
Confidant of his bet, Spike said, "Deal." And with that, they shook hands; Spike resumed with his pacing; Lew sat back down beside Ed Lane, Team One's bad-ass leader.
Ed rolled his eyes at his team's antics, muttering something about Jules picking an amazing time to go into labour. Sophie, whose head was resting on her husband's shoulder, picked up on the complaint and gave his arm a good beating. She glanced down at Ed's watch, which was wrapped snugly around said arm. It read half past four. Sophie couldn't help but secretly agree, thinking of all the glorious sleep she could be partaking in at that moment, in her comfortable king-sized bed as opposed to an old hospital chair.
The Lanes seemed to be the only sleepy and mildly irritated people, apart from Gregory Parker who sat still as a rock, as dead serious as a pregnant woman who threatened the end of all sexual activity. Greg paid no attention to the rest of the occupants in the room. He simply sat. And stared. And stared some more.
Perhaps he was still in shock and mildly horrified by the recollection graphic and detailed births provided by Sophie and Shelley.
The Wordworths were another story, looking as if they were about to crash from a caffeine buzz as they bounced in their seats silently, eyes trained on Jules' hospital door, waiting to pounce at the slightest opening.
It was because of their watchfulness that bordered creepy that they were able to spot Samuel Braddock exiting the room before those who were sleeping, bickering, or just plain zoning out.
Instantaneously, Wordy and his wife, Shelley, leaped from their seats and charged down the corridor. Their sudden movement caught the attention from the rest of Team One of the SRU, plus Sophie, all of whom immediately followed.
In Sam's arms was a bundle of pink: his tiny, rosy daughter; his sleepy little girl. Ed and Wordy clasped their hands on Sam's shoulders, shaking him slightly as they congratulated him in a whisper as to not startle the newborn. Greg simply smiled and nodded silently before turning his attention to the newest addition to the Braddock family.
"Look at her!" Spike gushed in a whisper, craning his neck to get a better view. A smirk slowly appeared on Lew's features. He turned to the bomb technician and stuck his hand out.
"Her," Lew pointed out, watching as Spike processed the information and groaned, reaching for his wallet.
Sam narrowed his blue eyes at the two, but before he was able to comment, he was distracted by Sophie.
"How's Jules?" was her inquiry; she knew just how tiring the whole ordeal was. Before Sam was able to reply, he was met with another question: this one, however, from Shelley.
"What's her name?" she asked in a dreamy voice, her blonde locks falling over her shoulders as she leaned forward for a better look at the unnamed child. However, before he could answer, he was bombarded by suggestions.
"Michelle? Michaela?" came from Spike who grinned proudly at his ability to think of female variations of his name on the spot.
"Lewisette?" was Lew's suggestion. He grinned just as proudly at his best friend, paying no attention to the quizzical stares he received from the other occupants of the hallway.
"What kind of a name is that?" Spike countered, shaking his head at such foolishness. Lew threw him a mock glare.
"A nice name," Lew argued. Sam opened his mouth again—
"How about a legitimate name, such as Edwardine? Or even Edwarda?" suggested Ed, foiling yet another one of Sam's attempts to get a word in.
"Karen?" Wordy conjectured, deciding to put in his two cents.
All eyes turned to Sam: they appeared too excited to wait around and guess. Sam looked down at the bundle in his arms and caressed her cheek lightly with his index finger, grinning widely when she caught it with her tiny hand.
"Maggie," he replied softly, "Maggie: short for Margaret."
There it was.
Maggie closed her eyes; shut the world out for the rest of that night; and blissfully slept, oblivious to the bets that were already being placed—one of which being whether or not she would grow up to be a sniper, just like her parents.
Maybe it's best she stays oblivious, speculated Spike, if she grows up to be quite frightening, just like her parents.
Basically, I'm going to write a bunch of short pieces, much like this one, centred around the new, happy family. Maybe even some multi-chaptered ones... ;)
I do hope this wasn't too cheesy.