AN : So I haven't written anything for a really long time but today inspiration hit. So I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer : I OWN NOTHING! DON'T SUE ME!
She runs her knuckles softly down his cheek before repeating the action with her finger tips. This time moving over his jaw and down to his neck, following the curve of his Adams apple before reaching the hollow of his collar bone. She spreads her palm out flat against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his slow breathing under her skin. She moves it slightly over and she can feel his heartbeat, the slow rhythm below her fingers. She tries to match her own breathing to it, as if they were using the same heart and lungs.
She kisses her way along his chest softly, trying not to wake him up. She stills her actions when he stirs slightly, holding her tighter, but it's nothing. She runs her fingers down the planes of his stomach now, feeling the way his muscles move and clench below her fingertips.
When he moves this time he is awake, she meets his sleepy, half lid eyes with a smile.
"what'cha doin'?" he almost mumbles, looking at her with what could be a questioning look.
She laughs softly before stroking the side of his face, cupping his cheek.
"nothing really, I just couldn't sleep." she replies, moving herself further on to her stomach so she could see him better. "did I wake you up?"
He shakes his head slowly, "I was having a good dream and I woke up and it wasn't a dream."
"what was happening in this dream exactly?"
He lets out a soft humming noise, moving slightly to get comfy and wake up. "Well, we were in bed and you were singing something and doing exactly what you were just doing."
Just as their lips touch she feels the pulling of reality and before she can stop it she's awake.
She rolls over and reaches across to his side of the bed, but rather than meeting his skin, she finds his side of the bed empty. She opens her eyes and sits up, seeing the light in the hallway. He's either in the bathroom or getting a drink. She's about to move when it happens.
A stabbing pain straight through her stomach, so sharp she doubles over, letting out a pained groan.
She reaches down to hold her stomach, and when she looks down she sees it. Blood. Blood that should definitely not be flowing from her considering she's pregnant.
"Noah." She tries to shout through the pain and when he doesn't come she shouts it again louder.
She hears him coming down the hallway and just as the door pushes open and the light hits her face, the world around her goes blurry and dark. The last thing she remembers is her head hitting his chest as she slumped down against him.
He's running his hands under the tap when he hears the door open and close and Santana appears in the kitchen. She has a key for emergencies but pretty much uses it all the time to get into his and Rachel's apartment. He had to leave Rachel at the hospital while they did some tests, something about visiting hours and to come back later. He thought it was pretty disgusting considering he's her husband but apparently thems the rules. He kind of wishes Santana had been there to bitch that nurse out, it would have been more acceptable than him doing it. But then he changes his mind, he wouldn't wish going through that on anyone, especially a close friend.
He turns his head when she stands next to him in the kitchen, still running his hands under the water. He's been there for about 20 minutes, but they just don't feel clean. He can still see the blood on them, even though his head knows they must be clean by now.
When Santana places her hand on his arm he stops the tap and turns towards her. He sees the shock on her face when she takes in his appearance. He's got the blood off his skin but he hadn't had the idea to change his shirt or pants, which were now covered the Rachel's blood. It was dry, but that probably made it look worse.
"Shit." It's almost a whisper, but then she says it again, louder this time. "What happened?"
He turns back towards the sink, looking out of the small window at the skyline. "I heard her calling me from the bedroom, and when I got there she was pretty out of it, looked like she was about to faint. When I got closer I saw all the blood, there was so much. I didn't think people could bleed that much. So I took her to the hospital, I carried her to my truck and drove her to the hospital." He feels the tears spring to his eyes and he tries to blink them away, it doesn't help, "She lost the baby."
He hears Santana's long exhale, she'd obviously been holding her breathe through his story. And when she wraps her arms around him and whispers an "I'm sorry" he finally lets go. He cries. He didn't know it would hurt this much, worse than giving up Beth, another baby he'd never get to see.
Rachel comes home the next day, and all she wants to do is sleep. But then she remembers being in that bed and she can't bring herself to go anywhere near it. So she sets up camp on the sofa, she has blankets and books and dvds but none of it really goes in. For the most part she just sits and thinks about everything. About how this happened, wondering why it happened. Wondering if this is some kind of payback for something she did in the past. Thinking about a baby she'll never get to name, or hold, or love. No, she did love this baby. She loved it from the moment she found out she was pregnant. And losing it so suddenly was like being stabbed in the chest. She hadn't been very far along, only just starting to show, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.
She gets up and goes to the kitchen to get herself some juice. Her world is a haze, she is simply moving from place to place. Not really taking anything in. She can hear a voice from somewhere, she doesn't know if it's Noah speaking or the television. She doesn't care enough to tune in. She is quite happy in her own world. But not really, she's not happy at all and to be honest she can't even remember how it felt when she was happy.
She reaches into the fridge and grabs some apple juice, she pours some into a glass and stands for a second. Letting the world settle around her. She hears his footsteps coming down the hall and into the kitchen as she places the carton back in the fridge. She can see it happen before it does and simply stands there watching, his elbow catches the glass and it smashes on the floor. The apple juice spreading out slowly.
She doesn't want to be mad at him, it was a mistake, but she can't control the words coming out of her mouth. "For God's sake Noah, can you not watch where you're going? Is it really that hard to look around you? You do have eyes!" She can see the shock on his face as she reaches for a cloth and bends down to wipe up the spill.
He tries to bend down and help her, responding with a "Rach, I'll clean it up. Just go sit down." but she shrugs him away. He tries again to reach for the cloth but this time she glares at him. Moving away completely.
"I can do it. I don't need your help. I just want to be alone ok? Can you just leave me alone?"
He looks conflicted as he stares at her, she can tell he's hurt and she wants to care but she can't find the energy. He nods slowly before standing up and moving back down the hall. She sits down on the floor, staring at the space he left. Her brain is telling her to go, apologise for being such a bitch and just be with him, but she can't. She tries to force herself to get up but she can't. The darkness is too deep and she can't find the energy to find a way out of it.
I miss you. So much. I miss feeling sick in the morning, I miss the slight bump of my stomach and most of all I miss knowing you were safe inside me.
But you weren't safe. Not really. Because I killed you. I wanted you so badly, and its my fault you're gone. I know it is.
It's my fault I'll never get to see you, or hear you laugh, or see Noah's face when he holds you. It's my fault you'll never get to dance or play or sing. It's my fault you'll never be born.
I'm sorry, I didn't want this to happen. All I ever did was love you, from the moment I realised there was a you. But I wanted you too much, and so you were taken away from me.
I snapped at your Daddy today, he didn't deserve it but I don't know how to stop myself.
I feel so angry, and I know it's not his fault but he's the only person I can take it out on. I want to stop, I look at myself and say stop it. Just stop. But I can't. And I don't know how to get back to myself. I feel lost.
When you died, part of me died. And now I don't know who I am.
It's been exactly a week since they lost the baby. Nothing has changed, and he didn't expect it to really. But he also didn't expect Rachel to be so despondent. She doesn't have to be at work so she spends her days sat at the desk in the living room. Sometimes she simply stares into space, or out of the window. Sometimes she writes. He's noticed her doing that more and more. From his current position in the armchair he can see her scribbling something down frantically. He wants to know what it is, he really does, but he doesn't want to ask.
They haven't talked much lately, they still speak to each other, but they don't talk. Not like before. He has no idea what's going on in her head. She used to tell him everything, and now that's gone he misses it. He misses her. The silence is killing him. The doctor warned him about the effects of miscarriage but he didn't really think about it. Not until now. He's watching her, the blank look on her face, the same one that has been there for a week, her eyes are cold and dead and her lips turned down at the edges. She doesn't talk to him, or anyone. She hasn't spoken to her Dads since before it happened. And when Santana came over yesterday all she did was sit on the sofa next to her and stare at the blank TV screen before getting up and going into their bedroom. She has finally started going back in there, but not until after he brought home a new bedspread and mattress cover. But even that is different, he knew she wouldn't want to have sex but he at least thought she'd be near him. Now when they go to bed she stays as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He's not actually sure she's been to sleep all week. He's seen her napping on the sofa, but when they go to bed he usually falls asleep before she does. He just misses his wife. And he knows he's selfish when he wishes to himself that they could just get past this, but he's hurting as well and he kind of needs her. But she's not here.
When he's finished paying all their bills he goes over and drops them on the desk near to her. He bends down and kisses her crown, but she doesn't notice.
"That's the bills done. I'll post them tomorrow."
She doesn't look at him, just replies with a "What do you want? A gold star?" and continues on with her writing. He watches her for a second, remembers a younger Rachel and her love of gold stars. Now she's using them as a way to hurt him, and he knows it's not her fault but it does still hurt.
He goes into the kitchen to start dinner and lets out a deep sigh of frustration as he starts cutting her vegetables. He needs to figure out a way to help her through this before he loses her for good.
I was thinking about you again today, how you might have looked, what your voice might have sounded like. If you'd have Noah's eyes, or my nose. And then I realised how much I missed knowing you were inside me. I never really felt you, but you were always there. And now you're not. And I feel empty, like part of me is missing. I'm trying to be myself, and I want to be there for your Daddy because I know he's hurting too but I can't. I just can't. I try to be how I was, to be with him and let this wall down but it's too hard. You were in my life for such a short time but it felt like forever, and now that you're gone I don't know what to do with myself.
I love you.
Mom.
She had her first therapy session today. It's nothing new, she was seeing a therapist for most of her teenage life. But she just doesn't want to go, she doesn't want someone to help her understand what happened or explain why it did. She doesn't want to understand what happened. She doesn't want someone to try and make sense of this, and act as though it will get better. Because right now nothing feels as though it will get better. This darkness is slowly taking over her and she doesn't know how to stop it. She's not sure she wants to stop it.
She's sat at the piano, staring down at the keys when Noah comes in and sits on the stool next to her. Her parents bought this piano for them when they got married, it's only small but at the time she thought it was the most amazing thing. Nothing feels amazing anymore. She can't even remember what amazing feels like.
"How was therapy?" he asks as his fingers run up and down the keys. She remembers being jealous of his talent with instruments, but that feels like a lifetime ago. A different Rachel in a different time loved hearing him play, now she doesn't love anything.
"It was 50 minutes of nothing. I don't need someone to tell me how I'm feeling, I know how I feel. Why are you making me go to this?" She looks at him now, and she tries to remember the last time she looked at him this closely and she can't.
She can see how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes are prominent. The amount of stubble he has is a good sign he's not really taking care of himself.
"I wanted you to talk to someone Rach, you're not talking to me so I thought maybe you'd talk to a professional, someone who doesn't know." She watches his face as he answers, the worry is evident in the creases appearing on his forehead. He looks older she thinks, and she feels a pang of regret for being the cause. It's the first real thing she's felt in a few weeks and it doesn't scare her as much as she thought it would.
She leans over and gently brushes her lips against his, lightly at first and slightly more. When he starts to respond she pulls away. She turns and watches the candle that's burning on top of the piano as he starts playing again, softly and slowly. She wants to knock it over, watch the flame eat away at the piano and the house and her. But she doesn't. She just sits there and watches and imagines.
He convinces her to take a bath with him. She's not sure how, but here she is. He's sat behind her, and she leans back on to his chest. He dips a sponge under the bubbles before lifting her arm in his and rising it off with the water. He does this with the other as well, and they both sit silently as he runs the sponge slowly over her arms and shoulders, pushing her hair to the side before soaking her neck. He nudges her slightly and she brings her knees up to her chin as she moves forward. She can feel him running the sponge down her back, squeezing the water down it and letting it run off, but it doesn't cause a sensation. She stares down at the water, watching it ripple and move when he moves behind her. She imagines being here on her own and how easy it would be to simply close her eyes and sink beneath the water. How warm it would be on her face, how she could just drift away under there. But then he's pulling her back against his chest and the image is gone. She focuses on him, the way his hands are moving up and down her arms and the way his body feels pressed against her. She thinks about how the old Rachel would react, but she doesn't feel anything. When his hand lands on her stomach and strokes it slightly she feels a sting, a pang of something, and before she realises what's happening a tear is falling slowly down her cheek. She doesn't wipe at it, just lets it fall into the rest of the water. If Noah notices he doesn't say anything, just keeps his hand over her belly. A belly that once housed the most perfect thing she could ever imagine. A belly that betrayed her and ruined everything she was hoping for.
She stands up and climbs out of the bath, not looking back at him as she grabs a towel and walks out of the bathroom.
I miss him. I miss your Dad. I miss being with him, and talking to him. But I don't know how.
I feel lost and confused and angry and hurt. And I know he must feel that way too, but I can't find it in me to care. I want to. I want to let him hold me and kiss me the way he used to. I want to just be here with him. I know I'm hurting him and I don't want to.
I hope you can forgive me. In my head you would be just like your Daddy. I could imagine you both pulling that face that stops me being mad, and him teaching you to play guitar, and you having his eyes. I'm not doing this on purpose. If I could stop I would. But I don't know how to stop.
I feel like I have a hole inside of me, and everything I used to be has fallen through it and has been lost. All that's left is a shell, an outer body with nothing inside.
I don't know how he can even stand to be near me. He should hate me for what I did to you. I hate me.
He comes home early when Santana rings him and says Rachel wasn't at therapy so she couldn't pick her up. He finds her at her desk like always, writing something down. He kisses her crown like he always does and she ignores him like she always does.
He gets some water in the kitchen and then moves back to the living room, looking out of the window across from her desk.
"So two sessions and you're already skipping?" he asks, not making eye contact, just sipping his water and watching the world outside.
"I don't see the point in going. It's a waste of time and money." She sounds annoyed that he's home, and he kind of wants her to be. He wants her to show some emotion, anything. Because the pod person she's become isn't an option. So if he has to annoy her he will. If that's what it takes. He'd do anything for her.
"Hmm, maybe you're right. But it's too nice a day to spend indoors. Lets go for a walk." He turns to look at her, and she's staring at him like he's grown another head. He smiles at her but her expression doesn't change.
Finally she answers, "A walk?" and he simply nods.
"Yeah, some fresh air will do us both some good. Come on." He holds his hand out towards her but she doesn't take it. She does however get up and put her shoes on, throwing a curt "fine" back at him as she goes to find a coat.
If it was a normal day, as in a day before any of this happened, he'd have shot back a remark about how unloved he felt or how she didn't have to do him any favours, but he thinks saying any of that will only result in her staying in the house again.
So here they are, walking down the over populated New York streets. He has no idea where to go, but the thought of her spending another day sat in the house was driving him mad. The look on her face says she doesn't want to be here, it's all stony glare and angry posture. One hand is holding tightly to the strap of her bag and the other is currently occupied by his own hand. He took hers. But she didn't pull away so he figured that was a good sign.
He can see her getting more and more frustrated as they wander, probably because this is pointless. They're not going anywhere and they both know it. So when they pass a small cafe he stops and says they should get some food. She finds a table as he orders and he's watching her as he waits for their drinks. There's a woman with a baby across the room, he didn't even notice her when they came in. But Rachel is staring straight at them and the look on her face is breaking his heart. This was a bad idea. He can see it now. But he really just wanted to try and help her move on with her life. So when their drinks arrive and he carries them over to the table he prepares himself for the worst. Which he quite quickly receives.
"Why did you make me do this?" She pretty much whisper shouts at him, her eyes never leaving the baby for a second.
"I didn't make you do anything," he says in a tone he knows she won't appreciate he, so he collects himself before continuing, "But you needed to get back to the real world. You can't hide in our apartment forever."
She looks at him now, he's half expecting her eyes to shine how they used to when she was pissed off at him, but they don't. She still has that blank stare, it's just hidden under a scowl.
"Rachel..." he starts but he can't finish as she's already stood up, shaking her head at him in the process. She grabs her bag from beside her chair and walks quickly out of the cafe. He leaves some money on the table and goes after her, putting his jacket on as he walks. He can see her just a little ahead of him but doesn't speed up. He wants to see what does on her own, in the reality she'd spent so much time avoiding.
She walks pretty quickly for a while, dodging people and moving through the crowds. But then she stops suddenly and presses her hands against a shop window. He makes his way over to her slowly, appearing in the window behind her. She's staring in at an array of baby clothes, all different colours. And he can see the pain in her face in her reflection of the glass. He moves closer to her and she leans back into him slightly so he brings his hands up to her hips.
She lets him guide her away from the window and back into the flow of the street. He doesn't let go of her hand the whole way home, up the stairs to their apartment and even inside. And when she goes towards the bedroom he goes with her. And when she cries into her pillow he lies next to her and rubs her back. He feels like maybe they've had a bit of a breakthrough today.
I'm sorry.
She wakes up one day and her chest doesn't feel as heavy. She looks over and sees Noah still sleeping and she reaches out and runs her fingers down his arm. He's led on his stomach, his face is turned towards her and she can't help but smile and how innocent he always looks when he's asleep. She gets up and brushes her teeth, then goes into the kitchen to get some water. She's in a world of her own when he comes up behind her and kisses her crown, before reaching around her to fill his own glass. She leans back in to him and he wraps an arm around her waist. They stay there for a while, both drinking their water.
He breaks the silence, "Why are we up so early?" he asks and she laughs slightly at him. When she turns to look at him his eyebrows are raised and she realises he probably hasn't heard her laugh in a while.
"I wanted a drink. I don't know why you got up." She answers, laying her palm flat against his chest and feeling it rise and fall as he breathes.
He hums and reaches up to brush some hair from her face. "I missed you." he whispers.
"I would have been back in a minute," she says, avoiding his eyes, and staring at his chest intently.
"That's not what I meant. But I knew you'd be back. I just had to wait for you." She meets his eyes and sees a whole raft of emotion in there. So she reaches up and pushes her lips against his.
She's definitely not 100% herself, but today is there first day she's felt any resemblance to her old self. Her therapist did tell her that one day she would just feel better, and she honestly thinks that today is that day. She runs one hand up and down the back of his neck as the other wraps around his back to keep him close. She's missed him, more than she realised. It just took her a while to realise it.
"Lets go back to bed." he says against her lips and she nods her head in reply.
It's been 7 months since they had the miscarriage. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about it, and he knows for a fact that she thinks about it a lot more than he does. Mostly he worries that something will push her back into the darkness but so far it hasn't. He knows if he keeps waiting for it to happen it more than likely will, so he tries to not dwell on it. But he is her husband after all so he has a right to worry.
He gets out of bed and knocks on the bathroom door, she's been in there for ages and he really needs to go.
"Baby, have you fallen in the toilet? Because I really gotta pee."
The door swings open and she's sort of smiling way too widely for his liking. It's kind of creepy, especially for someone who has been locked in the bathroom for about 10 minutes.
He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow and her smile only grows. She reaches out and holds on to his forearms, squeezing them slightly before she hugs him.
"What's going on?" he asks, concern evident in his voice. She's really starting to freak him out. She hasn't acted this weird in a long time.
"I have some good news," she says against his neck before pulling away slightly so she can look in his eyes, "I'm pregnant."
He feels his jaw slacken as his grip on her tightens, and when she laughs he can tell she's about to cry. So he pulls her to him again and lets her cry into his skin. He can't believe it, he's in shock. Pregnant.
When she moves away she takes his hands and rests them on her flat stomach, and this feels all too familiar. She must know what he's thinking because she reaches up and runs her fingers down his cheek.
"I have a really good feeling about this," she says quietly, as if speaking louder will disturb this dream that has settled around them, "We're going to have our family. I can feel it."
And all he can do it look at her, this perfect woman, who is still perfect to him despite everything they've been through, and think how lucky he is to have her. He kisses her softly before his eyes fall back to her stomach. He rubs his palm over it and hopes that this time will be better. Will be right. And he has a really good feeling that it will be.