A.N: Inspired by repeated listening of "Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down. Lovely, lovely song. I haven't written anything fic-like ever since my last IHTBY update, so I'm feeling a little rusty. Meehhhh. [small voice] So, this might just suck. If it does, I apologize.[/sv] I'm using a different POV for narration, so I hope it doesn't weird anyone out. Big thanks to Surya for reading this over and telling me it didn't completely suck. ;-)
Dedicated to the Trories at Fanforum: keep the love alive! And to Priya, happy belated birthday! Here's a late gift. Lastly, I give kudos to April for semi-inspiring this with her wonderful ficlet. Go read 'The Winter Ritual', if you haven't already.
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Here Without You
by inmyeyes
I feel a familiar touch against my cheek. Struggling against the blanket of fog around my mind, I push my eyes open… and see you.
"You're late, Tristan," I say blearily, with a half-smile.
You smile apologetically, raising my hand to your lips. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I came as quickly as I could."
"I know, it's okay; Mom was here with me."
You lower yourself onto the chair beside my bed, but I move over slightly and pat the empty space next to me.
"You look exhausted, Tris. Didn't you get any sleep on the flight?"
You shake your head ruefully. "I drove all night."
My eyes widen in dismay, and I insistently tug your hand. "Get in bed, Tristan."
You try to stifle a yawn but it escapes anyway. "Yes, master," you jokingly agree.
Moments later, we're sandwiched together on the small hospital bed. It's a tight squeeze, but neither of us mind. My arms greedily wrap around your body as I burrow closer to your warmth. "Mmm, I missed you."
I feel your lips bestow a kiss on my forehead. "Me too." You tip my head up until our eyes meet. "I really am sorry that I wasn't here."
"You were right," I place his hand on my chest, where my heart is steadily beating. "here with me."
His eyes were full of love… and apology. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, his arms pulling me tight against him.
I return your tight embrace, knowing how much you wanted to be there to welcome your son into the world. I feel your body tremble slightly, and that alarms me.
"Tristan," I whisper, stroking your hair, "what's wrong?"
You don't say anything… and somehow that alarms me even more. But you've stopped trembling, and that eases the fear lodged in my heart. We stay wrapped up together for long minutes, but I don't mind. It's only been three days since you left for that business trip, but I missed you dreadfully.
When you pull back from me, I can still see the sheen of tears on your cheeks but something in your eyes tells me not to say anything. So, I don't. Instead, I gesture to the bassinet on the other side of the bed. "Have you seen him?"
Your eyes light up with happiness, although a shadow of regret still lingers.
"Why don't you pick him up?" I prod gently.
"Can you do it? I-" You look uncertain. "I don't want to hurt him."
I can't help but giggle. "Oh, you silly goose, you won't hurt him." But I see the pleading in your eyes, so I sit up and reach for the baby.
As he lies in my arms, his sleep undisturbed, I marvel again at how tiny and perfect he is. He's the best of you and me, and you beam happily and agree with me. You look almost scared as you reach out to touch him, your finger running a soft trail across his forehead, down his nose and across his rosebud mouth.
The baby yawns as he leisurely awakens; his blue eyes open as he lazily stretches and the look of wonder that crosses your face warms my heart. Your son reaches out to grab your finger but he misses, and an abject look of dejection passes through your eyes. But when I look again, all I can see is love for him… and for me, when your gaze turns to mine.
"He's beautiful," you say in a reverent whisper.
I can't contain my smile of complete joy. "I know." I lean down to kiss his soft cheek and am rewarded with a gurgle. "He looks just like you." You look so unbearably happy at my words that I smile and reach out with my free arm to embrace you.
The embrace slowly turns into a kiss; a sweet meeting of lips and souls, and in that moment, with you and our baby boy in my arms, I feel like life is complete, that it can't get any better than it is now. I feel enveloped by love; safe, comfortable, content and never wanting anything else.
We, all three of us, lie there on the bed, looking for all intents and purposes like the perfect family. The baby has drifted off to sleep again, his head resting comfortably on the crook of my arm.
"You know," I say, turning to you, "he needs a name."
"David Jordan DuGrey," you immediately offer.
I raise a brow in surprise. "You've been thinking about this."
You shrug nonchalantly, but I am not convinced. I look down at his sleeping face, then back at you. "David means beloved."
Your mouth curls up in a half-smile. "That's why I chose the name."
I cuddle closer to you, exhaustion catching up with me. "All right then. David, it is."
I feel your arm tighten around me, a whispered 'I love you', then the lingering touch of your lips on mine, before sleep takes me away from you.
"Mommy?"
The sleepy voice shakes me out of my memories and I quickly brush my tears away. I turn to see the three year-old tottering towards me, dragging his favourite soft toy with him. The sight of him sleepy-eyed and dressed in his Sesame Street pyjamas brings a smile to my face. "David, sweetheart, what's wrong?"
His lower lip juts out in a pout as he proclaims, "I had a bad dream!"
As he nears the armchair, I pick him up and hug him tightly. "It's okay, Mommy's here," I murmur soothingly. His little arms twine around my neck in return and I feel my eyes start to sting with tears.
Damnit.
David pulls away and his face puckers in a frown. "Mommy, what's wrong? Did you have a bad dream too?"
I close my eyes against the wave of pain. Trying to smile, I reassure the little boy, "No, it was a good dream. The best kind of dream."
His ocean blue eyes light up… and I'm reminded of you. His eyes are exactly like yours. He has the same blonde hair, messy and untameable. And his lips curl into a smile so similar to yours. He has so much of you in him… and sometimes it's a painful reminder, but mostly, it makes me feel like I still have some part of you here with me.
"The kind of dream where Daddy's here? Those are the best kind," David says happily. He clutches his toy to his chest as he shares his secret, "I wished for Daddy when I blew my candles out."
"Oh, sweetheart, you know that Daddy can't be here."
"I know," he answers, his smile slowly vanishing. "But I wanted to wish for him anyway."
I stroke my fingers through his soft hair, not caring about the tears streaking my cheeks. "Remember what I told you?"
He nods, as some of the joy creeps back into his eyes. "You said that Daddy's always here." His small fist rests over his heart.
"Yup," I nod, smiling through my tears. "He's always there."
I wake up, hoping to see you… instead, I see my mom's worried face. I'm immediately awake, and this awful premonition runs through me.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
Mom looks unwilling to say anything.
"Mom, what's wrong? Is it David? Is my baby okay?"
She tries to smile, but fails miserably. "The baby's fine."
Relief washes over me. "Where's Tristan? Has he gone to get coffee for me?"
At the mention of my husband, a choked sound escapes from her throat, and I shoot her a confused look. "I know I'm still not supposed to drink coffee, but Tristan knows much I've been craving it." Mom is still sporting the deer-in-the-headlights look and it's starting to worry me. "Mom?"
She takes a breath. "Rory, baby… Tristan's not here."
"Thank goodness you told him to go home; he looked really exhausted. He said he drove all night."
"Rory, what are you talking about?"
I give my mom an exasperated look.
"Tristan isn't here." A meaningful pause before her whisper fills the empty room. "He never made it here."
"Mom?"
She grabs my hand. "He never made it here," she repeats.
That awful feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. "Wh- what?"
"Sweetheart, Tristan was in an accident last night."
My entire body tenses. "I don't understand."
I don't want to understand.
"He was hit by a speeding car at the intersection six blocks from here."
No.
"Rory… he didn't make it."
You was here. Last night, you were here with me.
My voice is strong when I say, "No." I shake my head vehemently. "It's not true. It can't be true. Tristan was here last night. He was here with me. He named David. No." I force a laugh. "Don't joke with me, Mom. Where's Tristan?"
"Rory…"
"No." But my eyes are already filling with tears. "Where's Tristan, Mom?" I demand. "Tell me where he is!"
Oh God. No.
I wrench my hand out of her grip and cover my face, angrily swiping my tears away. I plead with her, "Tell me Tristan is okay."
Mom sits down on the bed next to me, wrapping a supporting arm around my shoulders. "Rory… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
They say that time heals all wounds.
Bullshit. All time does is numb the pain, until it reaches the point where you can live with it, where you can go through each day without breaking down; until the pain is muted in favour of the memory of happier times. But it's still there, it's always there, lurking in the recesses of your mind… waiting for night to come.
Tonight, I wish you were here with me. Oh, I wish that every night… but more so tonight.
Tonight is the hardest night to be here without you.
As I hold our son in my arms, I think of how I lost one love but gained another. But as I drift off to sleep, I almost feel familiar arms around me, and a soft pressure against my chest where my heart beats steadily.
Somehow I know that I'm not completely without you.
P/S:
An update of 'It Had To Be You' is coming soon.