Blood Diamond
James Diamond came out singing.
That's how the story goes.
But Brooke Diamond knows the truth: James came out wailing. So much so she'd barely heard the doctors gushing "here's your baby boy!" as they removed him from her vicinity, wiping his wiggling, reddened, swollen body. Brooke's nose wrinkled at their enthusiasm, the gesture lost and ignored beneath the flurry of doctors packing up equipment and whisking James away. It was probably for the best, Brooke couldn't bring up enough energy to even pretend to be happy she now officially traded in the quiet of the past nine months for…this. To be ignored and forgotten. All for James; he demanded the world knew about his entrance, his existence, and, boy, did they know. He made sure of it.
All Brooke asked for was a few minutes to herself, but the attending nurses and the OB/GYN and the anesthesiologist wouldn't stop talking about him. How gorgeous he was. How precious he was. How cute he was.
Brooke wanted to throttle them all.
Cute? How could that cute thing destroy her like this? Make her puff up like a balloon like this? Ruin her body and her time and plans?
Everyone said James was supposed to make their lives better and, for a moment, she even bought into that lie. But now, Brooke laughed at that notion. How was this better? How was the constant heartburn better? How was the nausea better? How was the swollen feet and the frequent urination and looking as if she'd been stung by bees better? She couldn't believe Sterling stopped her from putting her face on, that he made her leave the house looking like this. And now James—James Neil Diamond as Sterling had somehow convinced her to name him—was getting all the attention. She was his mother! She carried him for nine months! Where was her oohing and aahing and adoration? He sure as hell didn't make it easy on her, she deserved some sort of praise.
And Sterling—yes her husband was given the perfect name Sterling Diamond—couldn't even man-up enough to come into the room, to be there for the moment. She didn't do this alone; he had a hand in putting them in their situation. But Sterling got to do what Sterling wanted to do while he was patted on the back and given cigars and touted around with his greasy band buddies like he was going to be the best father in the world. The same Sterling Diamond who, upon the due dating looming, decided to go on another quick tour run.
To keep interest in the band, he said. To keep the money flowing, he said. To make sure they were taken care of, he said.
Apparently, taking care of his hangover recovery was more important than her pushing out a whole child. His child that he wanted so badly. Sterling Diamond, Dad of the Year. She'd be sure his self-congratulatory plaque was made of tin. Only the best for Sterling.
James was deposited in Brooke's arms before she knew it, swaddled tight in a white blanket dotted with blue baby footprints. A small, pale blue cap sat nestled on his head, covering his dark hair. Her hold, hesitant and unsure, rocked him from side to side until he settled in the crook of her arm. She noted the odd cone-like shape to the back of his head beneath the cap. She hoped that would get fixed. Nurses smiled at her as they passed, wheeling out machinery and offering up congratulations. She ignored them, staring down at her little boy, at his round cheeks, his pursed red lips, and his tiny nose. He wriggled in the blanket, limbs pushing against the tight hold. Snuffling, his little tongue poked out between his lips, and then he opened his eyes.
Her heart squeezed, breath coming to a stuttering stop at the sight of him. At his eyes, those stark, illuminating hazel eyes lined with lashes so thick they curled against the tops of his cheeks. And when he blinked, wings fluttered. James looked up at her with those eyes, perfectly fanned and curious. Her lips compressed into a line and she turned away. When a nurse came back in Brooke asked for her to find her husband. She was done. It was his turn with James now.
a/n - i don't feel we got sufficient backstory for james and why he is the way he is. this only leads me to create so many headcanons to explain his behavior and, at this point, i feel like i know him better than the writers do. so here's a scene of a fanfic for james i've been working on. it's a meta-like introspection on him and his relationship (or lack thereof) with his mother and how that, in turn, made him appear to be narcissistic, conceited, selfish, egotistical, and vain when there's much more to him than that. what i have may change by the time i finish his fic but i hope you enjoy what i have so far.