Alrighty. Here's Part 9 as promised. The longest yet, and hopefully ever. As always, I love reviews. Hope you enjoy!
Part 9
Rebekah hears Clint come in the door and hurries—waddles, really—at the tail end of the second trimester, walking is becoming awkward for her—to the front door to greet him. He sees her and his face lights up as she throws herself clumsily into his arms. "Welcome home. I missed you."
He kisses her hungrily. "I missed you, too. How are you and Jimmy feeling?" He places a hand on either side of her belly and leans down to kiss the bulge where the baby is growing. The morning sickness hasn't abated much in the past months, and although the doctor is concerned about it, all he'd been willing to do just yet was change her diet a few weeks ago; and if that doesn't help, he wants to hospitalize her and put her on an IV, an idea which Rebekah is staunchly opposed to. Today, though, she doesn't seem to be feeling overly nauseous, which Clint is pleased to see.
She grins. "Perfect, now. Two weeks is a long time to go without Daddy. Although if Daddy continues to call him Jimmy instead of Jack, we may ask him to stay away longer," she teases.
He chuckles. "Well, I still have my doubts that it actually is a Jimmy—or a Jack. How are you so sure it's a boy?" He examines her belly closely, as though it will give him some kind of clue.
She laughs. "I just know. I'm his mother. I know." She caresses his face tenderly and kisses him. "But don't worry. If it's a girl, she's Hailey Nicole. It's not a girl, though. I'm 99.999% positive."
"Hailey Nicole Barton. That's not bad," he returns the kiss, then brightens. "I got you something. I know you said you didn't need one, but I wanted you to have it anyways." He reaches into his pocket and produces a small velvet box.
She gasps as he lifts the lid to reveal a pear-cut diamond ring with a gold setting. The diamond has two smaller triangle-cut diamonds on either side which glitter even in the hall light. "It's gorgeous. It's really for me?"
He nods. "All yours, Becks."
She allows him to slide it onto her finger and gazes at it wonderingly as it sparkles on her hand. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome. Nothing's too good for my wife."
She giggles and kisses him again. "Don't say that. You'll spoil me."
"Good. You deserve to be spoiled after I made you have your wedding at City Hall." They'd gotten married a few days after they'd found out about the pregnancy with Natasha and a city clerk as their witnesses.
"I didn't mind," she smiles, slipping her arms around his waist.
"You look like you've been feeling better," he comments.
"Sure am. Wasn't sick at all yesterday or today," she beams, pulling him into the living room to sit on the couch. "How was your trip?"
He offers her a small half-smile. "Stressful." She nods and pushes him onto the floor in front of the couch, then shifts so that she's behind him. As she begins to massage him, he relaxes, slumping down and resting his head against her knee. "I swear, Becks. You have magic hands. You do this every time I get back from a trip and I'll be the one who's spoiled."
She chuckles. "You need to stay loose or one of these days your shoulders are gonna give out with all that archery you do."
He shakes his head. "You know I work out an hour and a half every day and train for two hours a day so that doesn't happen."
She sighs. "Even you can't last forever, Agent Hawkeye."
"Watch me," he teases, and she laughs.
"Oh, I intend to." She pauses for a moment as she feels a small cramp in her side.
"You okay?" Clint studies her intently.
"I'm fine. Just those Braxton-Hicks thingies, I think." She smiles reassuringly at him, and kisses him on the forehead. "No big deal."
That night, Rebekah is jolted out of her sleep by a sharp pain that flashes through her abdomen. She sits up in the bed, disoriented, and waits for the room to come into focus before she turns her attention to the sheets under her, which feel wet. She puts a hand to her inner thigh and feels moisture, so she flips on the bedside light and lets out a horrified gasp when she finds blood coating her fingers.
"Becks? What'sa matter?" Clint sits up groggily.
"I'm bleeding," she manages after a second, although any other words are cut off by another blinding pain in her stomach. She moans, unable to help herself, and Clint is up in an instant.
He's changed into jeans and a t-shirt before the pain has subsided fully, and he lifts her in his arms and carries her to the front door, where he grabs his keys and locks the door behind them. He places her in the passenger seat of her truck and they're on the road just as another pain tears through her. She clutches the door handle, her knuckles white as she waits for the pain to subside. "What happened?" he asks worriedly as she straightens again, panting softly.
She shakes her head. "I don't know. I woke up and there was blood."
"Well, I'm sure you'll be fine," he reassures her, although his tone is less than convincing.
They're at the hospital within minutes, and he jumps out and carries her into the emergency room, then sets her in a wheelchair as he explains the situation to the nurse at the desk. He returns a moment later with a clipboard in his hand and a nurse close behind him. "I have to fill these forms out, but I'll be in with you in just a minute, alright Becks?"
She nods through clenched teeth as the nurse wheels her away. "Just hurry, cuz it—" she's cut off as the pain returns, but continues just before the swinging ER doors close behind her, "hurts."
Clint hurriedly fills out the forms, although he isn't sure exactly what he's been putting in the blanks. As soon as he's returned the clipboard, he bursts through the doors and locates Rebekah lying on a gurney within a matter of seconds. He runs to her side and takes her hand, which she nearly crushes as the pain burns through her again. When she looks up at him, he can see how much pain she's in, but he doesn't mention it, instead reassuring her, "You're gonna be okay. They'll figure out what's wrong. I promise."
She nods, although she's still slightly panicked. A doctor comes in and introduces himself, though neither Rebekah nor Clint can remember his name. After only a minute's inspection, the doctor turns to the nurse and mutters a few hurried syllables. She nods and helps him push the gurney down the hall. Clint keeps up, clutching a railing in one hand and Rebekah's hand in the other. She's so pale. How much blood has she lost? The doctor pulls the gurney into an operating room and turns to stop Clint. "I'm sorry, son. You can't be in here. Just wait out here and I'll let you know what's happening as soon as I can."
Rebekah is only dimly aware of what's going on once the morphine is administered; colors and faint noises flash in and out of her awareness, intermixed with patches of blackness that vary in length.
"Mr. Barton?" Clint leaps to his feet as the doctor steps out of the operating room. "The good news is your wife is going to be alright; she'll recover with a few days' rest and shouldn't have any trouble getting pregnant again should you decide to try for another child."
Clint's shoulders sag with a relief for a moment, but then he straightens, almost afraid to ask. "And… the baby?"
The doctor purses his lips before he lowers his gaze and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barton. There was nothing we could do. He was gone before she got here. We believe the Hyperemesis Gravidarum—the exaggerated morning sickness—caused malnutrition in the fetus that it just couldn't recover from. Your wife fought for him, though. Her body did everything it possibly could to hold onto him. There's nothing you or she could have done, either. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is more common in first-time mothers, and hers was particularly severe. When she wakes up, you'll need to reassure her that the miscarriage isn't her fault."
Clint stands, unmoving, stunned. After a minute or so, he manages, "Him?"
The doctor nods. "It was a boy."
Clint sinks to the ground, a dull, throbbing ache taking over all of his senses, and he sits there, unable to move or speak or even breathe, for what seems like an eternity. Eventually, he stands. "Where is she?"
"In recovery," the doctor points down the hall and names a room.
Clint nods and stumbles to the room, where he sinks into the chair beside the sleeping Rebekah's bed and takes her hand in his before he lays his head down on the blankets, clinging to her for dear life.
Sad one, I know. But it gets better, I promise. Now go forth and review! Part 10 coming soon!
