Title: Son of Men
Chapter: 10
Rating: T
Summary: When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.
Author's Note: Every author craves feedback! ;)

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In all his life, Peter had never felt so lost. Here he was, standing in the middle of a busy hospital hallway, and all he could do was wait. Forty minutes since Olivia had blacked out at Forest Park. Thirty since she had shortly regained consciousness in the ambulance, only to reach out for his hand and hold on to it tightly before she had passed out again. Twentyfive minutes since they had reached the hospital and they had brought her to the ER. And twenty minutes since they had thrown him out of the exam room.

Twenty minutes since he had last seen Olivia, lying unconsciously on a gurney. She had looked so still, so motionless, as if all life had been drained from her. Her face was ashen, her skin sweaty, her touch eerily cold. He had seen her like this before. Unconscious in a hospital bed and noisy machines attached to her, monitoring just how little life was left inside her.

It had been brutal to see her like that the first time, not knowing when or even if she would ever wake up. Back then, he had vowed to himself that he would make sure that something like that would never happen again. He had vowed that he would always be there for her, would always protect her, no matter the cost. Yet here he was again, in a hospital, helplessly waiting for any news on her condition. Once again, he had failed.

"Mr. Bishop?"

Peter turned to his side and found a middle-aged nurse standing next to him. She was smiling at him warmly, holding out an arm towards an open door further down the corridor. The way she carried herself, her demeanor and the way she looked at him, she seemed to offer the one thing he needed right that very moment: someone who cared.

"There's a couch in the waiting room that I hear is very comfy. You and your baby look like you could use a break while you wait for news on your girlfriend."

Peter's eyes first fell on the crying baby in his arms, before he nodded at the nurse silently which was answered by an even broader smile on her face, "Boy or girl?"

"A boy."

Peter's reply was curt while he still held his screaming son his arms, pressed tightly against his chest. He had all but forgotten about that tiny body he was holding on to so tightly, the screaming and wailing nothing but a background noise that had blended in with the rest of the commotion around him which he had so skillfully blocked out from his mind the moment they had entered the hospital. His mind had been so fixed on Olivia and her well-being that Henry, that little boy in his arms, his little boy, had almost sunken into oblivion.

"Do you want me to take him? It would give you a little time to breathe."

But Peter didn't want to surrender the precious cargo that he was just reminded of. It was odd, he thought, not wanting to let go of a child that essentially was a stranger to him, but maybe it was just like people always said: when you actually see your kid, you'll come around eventually. You'll always want to love and protect them. Now, looking down at that screaming little boy who stared up at him through his tears, an occasional hiccup erupting from his lips, he knew that one thing was true. Even though he wasn't quite sure yet what exactly he was feeling for Henry, he knew that he would always protect this boy from anything evil in the world.

"Would there be anyone available to check him out?" he finally croaked out, his voice hoarse and dry. He shifted the baby in his arms, one hand gently rubbing Henry's back in circles while his lips were brushing tenderly against his forehead in a desperate attempt to calm him.

"Is there anything wrong with him?"

"I was told he had some rashes on his body. I just want to make sure he's all right."

There was that warm smile again on the nurse's face, that smile that seemed to be reassuring him that everything was going to be all right, "I'm pretty sure I can find someone to have a look at that little darling. In the meantime, why don't you have a seat in the waiting room? It's a lot less noisy and busy in there."

Peter just nodded at her silently while his feet carried him rather involuntarily towards the waiting room. The room was empty at this time of the night which he was rather thankful for. A moment in silence, a moment to breathe, without anyone around he needed to worry about. The old couch creaked loudly under his weight as he sat down, his feet coming to rest on the small table in the middle of the room that lay stacked with old magazines.

Then he shifted Henry from where he was resting against his shoulder. His strong, but shaking hands were holding him in an upright position as he sat him down in his lap. Henry was still wailing loudly, eyes squeezed shut, fingers curled tightly into fists.

"Hey buddy," Peter croaked out while his fingers gently stroked the boy's head, and he felt the tiny body finally relax in his lap, but just a little. For a moment, Henry opened his eyes and looked up at him, tears still streaming from his eyes. His bottom lip was stuck out and quivering as he sniffed and whimpered until a tiny hiccup interrupted the brief moment of calmness and the baby broke out in cries again.

"I know you want your mom, buddy, I know."

Peter lifted the baby back up and placed him in the crook of his arm, cradling him gently in what he hoped was a lulling position. He didn't know much when it came to babies, and whatever little he knew, wasn't doing him any good right now. It was moments like these when he was reminded again just how much he actually relied on Olivia in situations when he just didn't know how to go on. She always knew just the right thing to say or do.

"My mom," he began to tell his son while he tenderly rocked him in his arms, "my real mom – she used to sing to me when I was little. It's one of the few things I still remember of her."

At the sound of the soothing voice, Henry opened his teary eyes again and stared up at Peter. Little fingers reached for Peter's shirt and clawed at it, and the baby wriggled in his father's arms, trying to turn towards his chest for comfort while a mixture of hiccups and whimpers erupted from his lips.

"You want me to sing for you?" Peter chuckled lightly at the sudden change in Henry's behavior, "I'm not a good singer, you know. It'll probably make you just cry even more if you hear me sing."

He drew the boy closer to him, one hand gently cupping the back of his head as he held him close to his body. The baby was slowly quieting, having exhausted himself from his constant crying and screaming.

"There's this song my mom always used to sing to me. It was my bath time song," Peter knew that Henry most probably wasn't understanding one word of what he was telling him, but if there was one thing that always helped him cope, it was talking – even if the person he was talking to was just a six month old baby. "I hated water when I was little. So my mom bought me this plastic submarine. It was bright yellow and the most hideous thing you've ever seen. Whenever I needed to take a bath, we'd pretend we lived in that submarine and sing our song."

A loud hiccup echoed through the empty waiting room which not only startled Peter but also Henry himself, and the little boy started his wailing again.

"In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea," Peter sang to him softly, "And he told us of his life, in the land of submarines."

Henry's big round blue eyes once again focused on his father, enchanted by the soothing sounds coming from him. He snuggled closer to Peter's chest, making himself as comfortable as he could get. Having noticed that his singing voice seemed to have a rather calming effect on his son after all, he continued to sing, "So we sailed on to the sun, till we found the sea green. And we lived beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine. We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine..."

The baby's whining and whimpering slowly died down when he noticed that he was safe and protected in Peter's arms. There was a big yawn coming from Henry, followed by another hiccup which again, startled him, but didn't cause him to cry.

"Not the best lullaby, huh?" Peter's fingers trailed over the boy's forehead and down his cheek before his whole hand came to rest on the baby's belly, softly rubbing it in circles to lull him to sleep, "Your mom probably sang you one every night, didn't she? I'm sorry I don't really know any. Maybe..."

For a moment, he just looked at his son that lay so comfortable in his arms. Eyes half closed, he had finally quieted down completely, and it was only a matter of minutes before Henry would drift off to dreamland. So Peter started to hum, no song in particular, while he thought about a lullaby to sing his son to sleep. Oddly enough, the first thing that came to mind was an old jazz song that he hadn't thought of for years.

"Hey Henry," he started, and the boy's eyes immediately snapped open at the sound of his name, "I like jazz. How about you? You like Ella? Or old Frankie boy?"

Henry's response was another yawn while his eyes drifted close and then snapped open again just to slowly close once more only a few seconds later. A few stray whimpers were still escaping his lips but just like before, he soon quieted as Peter began to hum once more. Henry struggled with all his might to keep his eyes open, but sleep was just too overwhelming for the little boy. Another yawn followed before he drifted off into dreamland for good.

"You're just a little lamb who's lost in the woods," Peter continued his tune, a broad smile playing across his face, "You know you could always be good to the one who'll always watch over you."

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AN2: For anyone who's interested what songs I used - the first one was "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles (I think most of you got that one ;) ). I used it as a thank you for my lovely, lovely, lovely betareader who is a huge Beatles fan. Plus - I LOVE the movie! Psychadelic dreamtime, ahoy! The second song I used is "Someone to watch over me", a song written by George and Ira Gershwin and performed by great singers like Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald. I fiddled with the lyrics a bit though so they fit for Peter and Henry.