Ch.4 Faint

Shane POV

I woke up with my arms wrapped around Mitchie's soft waist, and a smaller, equally soft body nuzzled between us. I yawned and saw little Rae curled up in between us, her little brown curls all over her face.

How did she get there? I thought groggily before picking her up gently and walking down the stairs. It was seven o'clock in the morning.

I yawned and took my baby girl over to the couch and set her down. She had the happiest smile on her face, making me smile, too. How could this little angel be sick?

I sat down and took her into my arms and my lap, attempting to fall back asleep as it was way to early to be awake in the morning. But soon enough little Rae was awake too, poking my arm.

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!" she demanded in a whisper. I grumbled and opened my eyes.

"I'm already awake, baby girl," I smiled at her.

"Fine," she grumbled, "Why did you come downstairs?"

"Because I thought it was a lot later than it was," I ruffled her curls, "How did you get in Momma's and my bed, baby girl?"

"Stop calling me baby!" Rae insisted, "And I was scared. I felt sick."

"Like what kind of sick?" I asked, gently squeezing her little hands.

"Like, my tummy ached," Rae explained, patting her stomach. I frowned. This wasn't good, either.

"Do you think you had too many cookies?" I finally decided to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"I think so," Rae nodded, "And maybe we played Airplane too much."

"Okay, no Airplanes today," I nuzzled her nose, "We'll watch movies, how about that?"

"Yay! Movies!" Rae clapped her hands eagerly, "Which ones?"

"How about Winnie the Poo?" I asked with a smile.

"Yay!" Rae jumped up and ran through the kitchen over to the music room, where we not only kept our recording things and our instruments but also our various CDs and DVDs. I heard her rummage around and come back quickly with the original Poo movie. I put it into the DVD player and soon we were curled up together on the couch, her giggling at all the old jokes. It was nice to watch a movie that I grew up with, with my daughter.

"Daddy?" Rae asked suddenly.

"Yes?" I replied, kissing the top of her head.

"Why does Tigger spell his name T-i-double guh-er when er isn't a letter?" she asked in confusion, "Or guh."

"Because that's how he thinks it's spelled," I smiled at her.

"Oh," she appeared thoughtful, "That's funny."

"It's supposed to be," I chuckled, "You silly girl."

She giggled and we continued to watch.

"What are you two crazy kids doing down here?" I heard Mitchie's amused, happy and groggy voice demand.

"Watching some Winnie the Poo," I replied with a smile.

"Tigger's real funny, Mommy," Rae giggled.

"Well, of course he is. He's always really funny," Mitchie rolled her eyes and picked Rae off of my lap, "Who wants some cereal?"

"Eww," Rae stuck out her tongue, "I don't like cereal. I want pancakes!"

"Nope, today we're having cereal," Mitchie insisted, "I worry about you. You're a growing girl. You need some healthier food in that tummy," Mitchie patted Rae's stomach.

"Fine, cereal," but then Rae's eyes lit up, "I want Cookie Crisp!"

"Nope," Mitchie popped the p, "We're having Special K."

"Aww Mommy!" Rae whined.

"No complaining here, missy," Mitchie scolded, "I want you to grow up big and strong like me and Daddy."

"Oh-kay," Rae sighed dramatically. I picked her up from Mitchie and twirled her around, looking to consol her.

"If you have Special K, you can but sugar on it," I hissed in her ear.

"No, she may not," Mitchie cried. I looked at her like she was crazy.

Mitchie just shook her head and stomped upstairs, tears in her eyes. I set down my confused daughter and sighed.

"I'm going to go talk to Mommy. You watch some more Winnie the Poo, okay Rae-Rae?" I instructed softly.

"Okay Daddy. Is Mommy mad at me?" Rae asked with a desperate look in her eyes.

"No," I reassured, "She's not mad at you at all. She's just scared."

"Scared about what?" Rae insisted, not letting me go. I sighed.

"That you're sick. Don't worry, okay baby?" I kissed her forehead. She nodded.

"Okay Daddy. Go tell Momma I'm not sick!" she instructed. I managed a weak smile.

"I'm trying, baby girl." Rae ran off to go watch some more of Winnie the Poo and I headed up the stairs.

"Mitchie?" I called softly into our room.

"Yeah?" her voice was a hoarse whisper. I went inside and pulled her up into my arms, sitting on the bed.

"I'm s-sorry," I heard her whisper, "But if th-there's a ch-chance she has… d-diabetes… I don't want to make it worse."

"It's okay Mitch," I breathed, "I don't want her to be sicker, too. But she's also a four year old girl. She doesn't understand that she has to be careful," I sighed, "And I don't want to see that brokenhearted look on her face when we make her eat bland cereal."

"I know," she groaned, "I don't want to hurt her."

I kissed Mitchie softly, "We'll figure this out, baby. I promise." Mitchie nodded and held each other for a few more long moments

CampRock

I watched as Rae played in the family room with her toys, giggling to herself. Mitchie was out getting some books from the library. I was waiting for a call from the record label about my new songs. The scared air of the morning had left for the pleasantness of the afternoon. Rae's childish giggles filled the house.

The phone rang and I picked her up with a laugh. She giggled hysterically as I twirled her around and picked up the phone.

"Hello, Grey residence, Shane Grey speaking," I answered into the phone.

"Ah, Shane, good, we've caught you. We really like the new songs you've recorded. Get a few duets with Mitchie and you'll have your second solo album by Christmas or even the end of the summer," a man spoke.

"Good, I'm glad you liked them," I smiled into the phone, "I was mixing up my sound a little, so I didn't know…"

"The good thing about being a musician for ten years is that people now buy your CD no matter what, because they know it will be good," the producer chuckled, "And about your request with Ms. Geller…"

"Something's come up in Cait's life recently," I muttered, "I didn't even get to tell her about this."

"Ah. Well, we'll discuss it later. She is a fantastic producer, from what we've heard. It's just, her discipline records in school and such…" the producer's voice trailed off.

"Don't worry, she's great. But as I've said, she really can't be reached right now," I insisted.

"Of course, of course," the producer nodded, "Well, I will call you later Shane about those duets."

"Yes, sir," I sighed and hung up. Rae was giggling in my arms.

"Daddy! Put me down!" she laughed. I rolled my eyes.

"I don't think so, baby girl!" I chortled, spinning her around.

"DADDY!" she screamed. This wasn't playful. I stopped spinning her around.

"What is it, Rebecca?" I whispered. She looked sick.

"My tummy really really hurts!" she cried, "And I'm really really dizzy!" she punched my arm lightly.

"Ow!" I pretended it hurt, "Rae! Don't punch people!"

"Uhhh," she groaned, and all of a sudden she was passed out on my shoulder.

"Rae! REBECCA!" I screamed, thinking, Oh shit, oh shit, not Rae, please, not by baby angel.

I ran with her in my arms over to the phone and dialed 911.

"Yes?" a bored voice asked. How come people at the 911 staff always sounded so bored?!

"My four year old daughter just fainted," I panted.

"We're on our way," she sighed and hung up. I rolled my eyes and rocked Rae, tears pouring down my eyes.

Suddenly Mitchie came in. Oh, just perfect timing, Mitchie!

"Hey Shane… what happened to Rae?" she screamed.

"She's fainted, I already called 911," I explained. She forcefully took the limp little girl from my arms.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," she sobbed, "Come on Rebecca, please," she sobbed.

Sirens wailed outside the house.

CampRock

Mitchie sat in a chair, her legs shaking madly. I had my face in my hands. Soon enough, a doctor came outside.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grey?" he asked calmly. We both stood up at once and gripped each other's hands.

"How is she?" Mitchie whispered, "How's my baby girl?"

"She's fine now," the doctor reassured, "She's watching cartoons on the hospital room television."

I breathed out a gush of relieved air as Mitchie let out a relieved whimper.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Mitchie gasped.

"Can we go and see her?" I begged.

"In a moment, sit down," the doctor ordered. I knew what this was. Why she had fainted.

"Rae was over exerted, and probably scared, which is why she fainted," he explained.

"Of course," Mitchie looked at me and glared.

"However, she wasn't overexerted too much, no more than a little girl her age could handle," the doctor sighed, "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr. and Mrs. Grey, but when we were running tests on her we found…"

I knew what was coming, and so did she.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grey, Rebecca has Type One Diabetes."

AN: And… scene! Haha. I've been having fun today. I watched Camp Rock, I read my book, I wrote this chapter… I'll write another chapter, maybe two… Don't hate me… I love you all, please review!