What I own: Some amazing heels that I never wear, a TV that is on the fritz and a BD movie marathon lanyard.
What I don't: Twilight. Despite a physical resemblance, I am not Stephanie Meyer. They are all hers; I just play with them and give them back when I am done.
Authors note: This was originally written for the Fandom4Preemies compilation to benefit March of Dimes, a cause very near and dear to my heart. Beta'd by my super amazing Masterbeta TammyGrrrl who makes my ramblings pretty. Dedicated, as usual to my beloved ficwifey SkyChaser whom I love more than kittens and portabella ravioli. A super special shout out as well to my beloved Life_In_The_Shape_Of_A_Girl who was just awesome and had a mini bebe of her very own. ChristagBanners made me a GORG banner for this piece which I will be putting up soon. Enjoy ya'll, reviews get you sneak peeks and panty flashes!
He was there every day, without fail. Dark blond waves hung around his face, the soft strands in a constant state of disarray from the strong hands that constantly ran through them, fingers tugging lightly on the ends. His handsome face was drawn and tired looking, full lips always turned down in a slight frown. His eyes though, his eyes were the worst. A dark, mercurial hazel, they were haunted and nearly flat, the dark circles beneath them horrifyingly prominent as he sat outside the window of the nursery. The spark returned to them only when he had one of the tiny infants in his arms. His daughter and son, Charlotte and Peter Whitlock, were born early, too early at not quite twenty-three weeks, the tiny twins struggling and fighting every day for the next breath, the next ounce, and the next blink of an eye.
In the beginning, for the first two weeks or so, the twins' mother Maria was there, by his side, but her presence was not actually felt; she was distanced from him, never touching him or her babies. Her visits growing more and more infrequent until she stopped showing up all together. Her last visit was almost two months ago and, from what I heard, she had simply packed up and left, not wanting the burden of the young lives that she had brought into this world, nor their father.
I watched both him and his babies from a distance. We had never actually spoken, as I worked nights, but I knew his story and my heart ached for him. The only place that gossip travels faster than a hospital is a church, and by the time I actually had a chance to meet the man who was so endlessly devoted to the tiny children that bore his name, I had heard nearly every variation on the tale there possibly could be: His girlfriend left him and the babies because she never wanted any of them; he worked all night and spent the days here, watching and hoping; he was independently wealthy… the stories were endless. It didn't help, of course, that he was ruggedly handsome and so endlessly devoted to his children as well as alone, so it seemed. Nor that the daytime NICU nurses were a gossipy bunch, many of them single and who had become slightly enamored of him. I had glimpsed others with him here and there, mostly in passing as I arrived early for my shifts. A small slip of a woman, with a shock of inky black hair stood by his side one day, grasping his hand. On another, a beautiful blonde and a huge man with curly hair and dimples flanked either side of him. The only one I had seen twice was a slender woman, dark hair flowing down her back as they both stood stock still, frozen in place as they watched through the window, their eyes glued to the transparent incubators that were home to the small babies. His silence shook me to the core and I often found myself wanting to speak with him, to ask what we could do to help but I had never had the chance, not until today.
I had impetuously offered to cover a daytime shift for Tanya, one of the younger daytime nurses, so she could attend a wedding or a bridal shower or something. I never asked for details and she never shared them with me. I had no qualms whatsoever with the young woman but she was exactly that, young. She was very good at what she did but it was obvious that it was not her passion, simply a way to earn a living until she had the opportunity to transfer to another specialty. I couldn't hold it against her, nor anyone else. Working in a NICU was difficult, to say the least. You never knew what you would see from day to day and often there was often as much heart break as there was celebratory moments, but the latter seemed amplified due to the struggle that even the simplest things involved.
I entered the hospital just before dawn on a grey Thursday morning, nearly an hour early for my shift, still bundled up against the cold sleet that pounded down in the dreary grey of this Seattle morning, two warm green and cream colored cups clasped in my hands. I glided silently through the quiet hallways, the antiseptic smell of the hospital and the soft whirring of the air unit bringing a sense of quiet calm and familiarity to me. This place, this hospital, an institution that so many people hated and feared both in good measure and for very good reasons were my solace. It provided a measure of comfort that nothing else could match for me.
"Why?" The simple word, nearly a plea, fell on my ears and I stopped in my tracks outside of the very ill-named "Meditation Room". It was repeated again and again, an anguished mantra that was so very common in this place of birth, death, illness and recovery, followed by a soft crash, the splintering of wood and then nothing but silence.
Swallowing my slight fear I peeked into the room, my eyes dancing around the small space, the dim light not really helping me in the least. A book lay, splayed open against the far wall, its pages rustling in the slight breeze from the air that constantly circulated. My steps were muted by the carpet as I slowly entered the room, attempting to search for the person I knew was in here. A soft gasp slipped from my lips as my eyes rested on the figure. He sat on the floor against the wall, legs drawn up in front of him, head bowed and his left hand cradled in his right, small drops of blood hitting the bright white carpet.
Ignoring my better instincts, I crossed to his side, keeping my distance, my voice soft.
"Are you alright?" The question seemed foolish, and it was, but it was the only thing I could think of as I stood beside the devastated man.
Weary hazel eyes, shielded behind blond hair, met my own and I felt my heart break slightly as my mind whirled with any number of possibilities that could have befallen this man's tiny children.
"I-I'm alright ma'am, thank you." His voice was low and smooth, a soft southern twang noticeable as he spoke.
I frowned and crouched down beside him, setting my coffee cups down and pulling off my gloves, extending a hand to his.
"May I have a look?" My voice was soft and I tucked my dark caramel colored hair behind my ears. He lifted his head and I fought to contain a gasp. Tear tracks shone softly on his golden tanned cheeks and I had to fight with myself not to wipe them away. I forced my gaze back down to his hand, as I took it in mine, forcing myself to maintain a professional demeanor. The knuckles on his left hand were cracked and bleeding, a few splinters of wood sticking out from the wounds. I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth for a moment and sighed softly. Shifting slightly, I sat on the floor and dug in my bag for a moment, searching for the small first-aid kit I always kept in there. It may not have been the best choice but I wanted to do what I could to help this man, who was so obviously hurting, that I didn't really care. Slipping on a pair of lavender nitrile gloves, I carefully plucked the splinters from his hand, dropping them in a small baggie before applying a bit of antibiotic ointment and wrapping his hand in gauze. Silence hung heavy between us as I worked, but not an uncomfortable one, quite the contrary. I could feel his gaze on me as I tended to his small wound and only looked up once my work was done, catching his eyes. Snapping off my gloves I gave him a small smile and offered a cup of coffee, which he took with his good hand.
"So, what did the pew back do to you?" My voice was slightly teasing and I was rewarded with a soft, deep chuckle.
"I just… things are difficult right now." With a sigh, the man tugged his hand through his hair, hissing softly as the tangled locks caught on the gauze.
I took a small sip of coffee, the rich, bitter brew sliding down my throat before I spoke again, hesitantly. "The twins… are they okay? "
His head snapped up and a brief flash of surprise crossed his features. "Yes, they are… they are very well. Dr. Cullen said they should be well enough to come home soon." There was a tinge of sadness in his voice and a smile tugged at his lips. "I should be happier about that news, I know." Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to me and set the coffee cup down, extending his hand. "Forgive my poor manners, Ma'am, I'm Jasper Whitlock."
I responded in kind, watching in slight fascination as my hand disappeared inside his, giving a small handshake. "No apologies needed Mr. Whitlock. I'm Esme Evensen, I'm one of the PRN night nurses in the NICU."
"Mr. Whitlock was my father, please call me Jasper." His reply was nearly immediate and he gave me a quick glance before continuing. "I thought I recognized you, even if just a little."
I nodded again and shrugged off my jacket, smoothing the sleeves of the white t-shirt I wore under my pink scrub top down before settling against the wall next to him, weighing my words carefully. "I'm kind of sporadically there, just when they need me. "I took another sip of my coffee and paused for a moment, weighing my next words very carefully. "You said the twins are doing well and good to be coming home soon?" Jasper nodded silently, his strong fingers toying with the sleeve on the paper cup he held.
"That's what the doctor said, possibly as early as tomorrow. They are both over four and a half pounds now, and breathing on their own…" A smile crossed Jasper's tired features as he spoke of Peter and Charlotte and the joy in his voice could not be missed. "I just… I'm afraid." His final words were barely a whisper and my heart broke a bit. I kept silent and waited, giving the man beside me the time he needed to continue. "Their mother, Maria, she- well she couldn't handle it, she never wanted them and to have them be so early… she left. I'm all they have, for the most part. I've a few friends and family but I have no idea what it is that I'm doing. I'm twenty eight for fuck's sake, and these amazing little lives are depending on me for everything. I want to be able to give them that but I just… I don't know how!" Jasper's hands threaded back into his hair again, tugging on the unruly strands before dropping his head back against the wall with a soft thud, his eyes squeezed shut. "I have a house- a home even, that's not an issue, but those babies, MY babies… they deserve more than just me. They NEED more than just me. I have to work and I don't trust just anyone to stay with them. I don't even know where to begin." His voice was so sad that I didn't even think before speaking, my words just tumbling out.
"Let me help you." My voice was quiet, but sure, despite my whirling head. Jasper's head snapped up and his hazel eyes met my own, searching my face for an answer.
"Are you serious?" His surprise was still evident and I nodded simply, taking a sip of my coffee before replying again.
"I am, very. I know it must seem odd but I just.. I feel like I can help you. I have experience, obviously, my schedule is flexible… it's worth a try at least. If- if you want to that is." I shifted my gaze to my feet, the dim lights of the room shining softly on the iridescent clogs that covered them, one of my only concessions to fun that I allowed with my serviceable pale pink scrubs and white long sleeved t-shirt.
Jasper scrubbed a hand along his face slowly, his eyes closing for a moment as he seemed to weigh his options, and my words before meeting my gaze again.
"I might- I mean- it's worth a try, right?" Jaspers voice was hesitant and hopeful at the same time.
I take a small sip of my coffee before I reply, quickly casting a glance at my watch. "It is, absolutely. It may work out, it may not but it's one of those things that you never know about for sure until you try."
Jasper smiles then, and I am taken aback slightly. I had seen tiny smiles from him, forced, polite half smiles, never quite honest enough to reach his eyes, but this, well, it was genuine and quite stunning. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners and his grin was all bright white teeth, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
"Wise words Miss Esme, wise words indeed."
I return his smile and reluctantly, push myself up off the floor, dusting the soft pink cotton of my pants off as I sling my bag over my shoulder. "As much as I'd like to stay, I actually need to go and clock in. There are some amazing little ones that I've missed recently." Shifting my bag into my other hand, I dig around in it for a moment, fishing out a business card and handing Jasper the tiny rectangle. "If you need anything at all and I'm not here, please don't hesitate to call." I shift my weight awkwardly from foot to foot as Jasper puts the card in his pocket.
"I'll be sure too, thank you ma'am. For everything." His voice was thick with emotion and I could hear the implications of the words that still remained unspoken. Giving Jasper a warm smile, I tilted my head in a small nod before turning and heading out of the small chapel. My shoes squeaking on the shiny linoleum as I headed for my unit and the tiny patients that gave me purpose.
Pups fic rec corner: Okay, two stories for you today… Both by AbbyMickey24 . The Godparents and She's Not Real. I just can't even tell you how amazing they both are. Go, read, review and love. Don't forget to tell her pups sent you!