AN: AN: This is a little Cyreese one shot.
It can be read with the others: "The Christmas Gift," "Everything Blooms in Spring," "Growing Season," and "Don't Hurry the Harvest," but it can also be read alone.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Tyreese knew that his wife had been very well trained by her ex-husband—a man that was one of the few people that Tyreese had ever hoped was enjoying a fiery afterlife—to never complain about anything.
Ed Peletier had taught her that the adage "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about" could extend to adulthood and be actually practiced by some assholes. If she let on that she had any complaint at all, Ed would do whatever he felt like doing to make sure she knew that he hated hearing her.
It was lucky for Tyreese, then, that he felt particularly attuned to Carol's moods and the subtle shifts in her mannerisms and way of being.
Tyreese woke before Carol. He sensed an uneasiness in her—the kind of feeling that he normally got when she was having a nightmare and, stirring in her sleep, woke him. He rolled toward her and fitted his body against hers. She calmed, and she didn't wake. He rested his hand on her belly, heavy with the growth of their child. He felt the tightening and the hardness of her muscles as they bunched beneath his palm. Immediately, his own stomach tightened. He'd read enough in the books he'd found on foraging runs to know what was happening—and he'd been preparing for this.
Tyreese knew that Carol wouldn't complain. She wouldn't want to draw attention to herself—not even at a time when she most assuredly would need it.
And he was willing to humor her for a bit because he wanted her to be comfortable and, honestly, he accepted that she might be more psychologically comfortable handling things her own way.
So, Tyreese got up and got dressed. He focused his attention on getting the fire going in the wood stove for breakfast, and he milked the cow. By the time he'd done that, the household had begun to stir. Carol greeted him with nothing more than a smile, a kiss, and a sincere thanks for what he'd done so far. She allowed him to caress her belly, but she didn't allow him to linger there for long before she put herself to work making breakfast for the whole family.
After breakfast, Tyreese left her doing what she felt she could do—or what she claimed had to be done. She insisted on sweeping the house, so Tyreese took the girls with him to begin their outside chores. As soon as they were some distance from the house, and well out of earshot for Carol, Tyreese pulled Mika and Lizzie together.
"Today's a very big day," he said.
"Is it your birthday?" Mika asked.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"No, but it's somebody's birthday—or at least tomorrow is, depending on how long it takes," Tyreese said.
Less than a second later, eyes got big. They'd been preparing for this. Tyreese had been preparing them for this. Lizzie immediately started to panic. When such a sensation came over her, she often hopped around like she couldn't possibly keep any part of her body still and she sometimes suffered from difficulty breathing regularly. Tyreese caught hold of her and instructed her to focus, knowing that they could get her under control if she could only find something on which to focus her attention.
After a moment, she was grounded, but Tyreese continued to hold her against him for the continued comfort that it offered.
"What if she's not OK?" Lizzie asked. "What if the baby's not OK? What if—Mama's not OK?"
"Lizzie—she's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine," Tyreese assured her. Of course, he had no way to guarantee such a thing and, if he was being honest, those concerns had occupied most of his prayers every day since he learned the baby was coming, but he could only handle one thing at a time and, right now, Carol and the baby needed his attention most. "I need your help, though. I need both of you to help me. We want to get everything ready for your Mama, right? We want her to be comfortable. I need your help making sure that everything goes just like it should. Can you help me?"
Lizzie always liked a job to do. She always functioned better when she had responsibilities—something to focus on. Mika, too, always loved to help, and she was excited about the arrival of their newest family member.
Both girls gave Tyreese sincere assurances that they wanted to do whatever they could to make things go smoothly.
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Tyreese let Carol work at the odd jobs that she found for herself. She swept the house, swept the porch, and gathered some of the late harvest food that was still coming in in small bunches. She fed the animals and watered them. Tyreese didn't bother her, but he did watch her from a distance. He saw the dramatic pauses she took—out of place for her normal working rhythm. He saw the slowness to her steps. He let her labor, though, the way that she saw fit and he kept some distance when he noticed that his presence made her tense—likely because she feared being unable to hide it from him and, being found out, feared some sort of negative reaction.
Tyreese cursed Ed Peletier's name more than he usually did, but he quietly and methodically prepared things. The girls helped him fill all the buckets and stock the inside wood box with wood to keep a fire burning for when he needed hot water. They helped him pad the bed with extra towels that he'd acquired on a run, and they helped him pad a spot in the living room floor since Carol had made it clear, repeatedly, that she'd rather not give birth in the bed for the simple fact that the floor would be easier to clean. Though Tyreese couldn't argue with her logic, he still intended to make it as comfortable as he could.
Tyreese sterilized everything his reading had told him he would need, and he prepared a mass of extra towels, rags, and soft cloth for any need he might have—all of which he'd been hoarding for some time in anticipation of this moment.
It wasn't until he knew that everything was ready, and his spying on Carol told him that the time was near, that Tyreese realized how truly terrified he was and that keeping busy, honestly, had been as important for him as it had ever been for Lizzie.
Tyreese had never delivered a baby before, and his first time was also the most important time of his life.
Still, Carol needed him, and if she could hold it together to do the hard work of getting them this far and bringing the baby into the world, the least Tyreese could do was hold it together to help her cross the finish line.
Satisfied that everything was ready, Tyreese got the attention of the girls who—armed with the food that Mika was cooking in the kitchen—would retreat to their bedroom to entertain Judith for the night however they possibly could. Tyreese and Carol hadn't sheltered them at all, and they knew exactly how this was going to happen, but Tyreese didn't figure they needed to be witness to it, not unless they absolutely wanted to be.
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"You know you can—react, Carol," Tyreese said.
She was panting at him, from time to time, but she'd said little else about the process since he'd let her in on the fact that he knew that the baby was coming and thought it was best if she let him help her the rest of the way. He had learned enough from his reading that he could examine her and tell, at this point, that their little one should be making some kind of appearance very soon, but he was still operating purely on knowledge gleaned from reading and some pretty misleading television.
"I don't wanna scare the girls, Ty," Carol spat out at him. He accepted that she couldn't make sentences very well right now that weren't at least a little stilted.
Tyreese squeezed her hand in his.
"Hey—look at me, Carol. Focus on me." She did look at him, and he couldn't help but smile at her. "You don't have to hide from me, and you don't have to hide from the girls. They know what's happening here. We prepared them for this. But I need you to be honest with me, because—I have to know what's going on here. I'm in the dark. And I can't help you if you won't let me. Let me help you—this is important to me, too."
She stared at him a moment longer—she held his hand, and then she squeezed it. Her face drew up in sincere pain and she tightened her hold on him.
"I need to push," she said, her words coming out harsh and louder than before.
Tyreese's heart thundered in his chest, and he nearly thought he'd cry over nothing more than the confirmation that things were moving along as they should be.
"Then you push, Beautiful. You know what to do. I'm just here to help you."
It was true. Tyreese soon figured out that his role was entirely one of helpmate. Carol knew what to do. Her body knew what to do. Even though movies and television had led him to believe that she might be entirely outside of herself with pain and would rely on him for absolutely everything, nothing could have been further from the truth. She'd guided him in delivering the baby, really, and he'd simply helped her.
And it had been Tyreese that had felt lightheaded and very much like he might pass out as he'd helped their baby make its way free from its mother's body. When the weight of the small body fell fully into his hands, Tyreese had to steel himself, for a moment, against the shaking that involuntarily began in his body.
"Is the baby OK, Ty? Is it—is it OK? Help it breathe, Ty—oh—help it breathe."
Even as Carol's frantic instructions reached his ears, Tyreese had turned the tiny body over and patted its back gently, as he'd been instructed to do in his reading. He felt a rush of relief pour over him when he heard the first spat cries—which quickly blossomed into loud and determined complaints about the whole business of being born—that issued forth from the little body.
He wrapped the tiny little body quickly and passed the baby over to Carol who may very well have hurt herself trying to reach the baby if he'd asked her to wait much longer. She took the baby almost like she was starving for it and pulled it close to her to examine it.
"It's a boy," Tyreese said, laughing to himself at the natural desperation that Carol clearly felt to examine and immediately nurture her newborn.
"Is that the baby?" Mika asked, peeking around the wall from the hallway.
"You don't want to come in here if you don't want to see a lot of—evidence of birth," Tyreese warned. "That's the baby."
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Lizzie called from somewhere behind her sister.
"It's a boy," Tyreese said, laughing to himself when the two girls squealed in delight at the thought of their new baby brother. "You'll see him in the morning. Take care of Jude, OK? Let me take care of things here, and let's let your Mama and the baby rest. You'll see him in the morning."
Tyreese glanced back at Carol. Their baby boy had already found a breast that had been laid bare to him, and he already knew what he wanted from it. Carol was watching him with a look that Tyreese could only explain as rapture—not that he'd ever actually seen anyone look so completely enamored of anything before.
Tyreese went to work, focusing on what needed to be done. He helped Carol to deliver the afterbirth, something that seemed to bother her very little, and he did the best he could placing a few stitches with shaky hands that would help her with healing. Not surprisingly, she gave no complaint and thanked him for his help—apologizing to him, when he cleaned things up, for not helping him.
He carefully washed the baby off with warm water, and he gave Carol the things she'd need to dress him while he washed her as lovingly as he had their son. Finally, he moved her to the towel-covered side of their bed where she normally slept and arranged pillows and blankets to make a nest that would be comfortable for her and their brand-new arrival.
It wasn't until Tyreese had finished mopping and cleaning up, and had checked on the girls—all three of which were finally sleeping—that he started to let himself feel tired and started to let reality sink in.
Tyreese's heart pounded like he didn't know what to expect as he eased open the door to the bedroom. His heart fluttered when he saw the sight, in the flickering light of the oil lamp, that he should have expected to see there—a sight he didn't know if he could ever be fully prepared to see.
"What's wrong?" Carol asked, looking up from fussing over the baby in her arms when she noticed that Tyreese hadn't moved from his spot.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"Nothing's wrong," he assured her. "I was just thinking—you're so beautiful."
"I must look terrible," Carol protested.
Tyreese crossed the floor to her. He leaned over her and kissed her. It was the first kiss of hers that he'd tasted all day. He was hungry for it.
"You always look beautiful to me," he assured her when the kiss broke. "But you look especially beautiful right now."
"You flatter me."
"I'm honest."
Tyreese realized his hands were shaking as he touched a fingertip against the cheek of their newborn son. The baby was awake and he stared somewhere beyond the both of them with a furrowed brow.
"He's very concerned," Tyreese said, laughing to himself. "I suppose this has been a very confusing day for him."
"He's perfect," Carol mused.
"He is perfect," Tyreese agreed. "And—you're perfect."
"Ty…"
"Don't try to talk me out of my opinions, Carol," Tyreese said. "You gave me my son. My perfect son. I'm entitled to believe that you're perfect, and I do believe that."
Carol smiled at him sincerely.
"You're really happy?"
"I couldn't be happier," he assured her, knowing that sometimes she was overcome with insecurities—a plague left behind by Ed's sorry existence. "I promise."
"Do you think the girls will like him?"
"They'll love him," Tyreese assured her again. He walked around the bed, stripped down to prepare himself for bed, and washed quickly with a bowl of water and a wet rag he'd put there earlier—sure that he would have very little energy for bathing himself when all was said and done. He hit the important parts and eased into the bed, careful not to jostle Carol too much. She wouldn't complain—he doubted if she ever would—but he could be certain that her body had to be feeling at least some kind of repercussion from all she'd been through that day.
He always wanted to be gentle with her, but he wanted to be particularly gentle with her at the moment. Still, when he'd carefully fitted himself next to her so that he could enjoy both her presence and the presence of the baby, Carol leaned into him and nuzzled against him.
"Ty—what if it happens again?" Carol asked.
"What?"
"We don't have any protection. That's what happened. What if it happens again?"
"Then we'll handle it. Just like we handle everything else."
"What if we're not as lucky? We might not have been lucky. He might not have been perfect."
Tyreese's stomach tightened. He leaned his face close to hers and shushed her quietly before he nuzzled his face against hers. She worried and, sometimes, she could practically worry herself to death.
"We'll handle everything in its time," Tyreese assured her. "But for now? He's here. And he's perfect."
"He doesn't have a name," Carol said.
Tyreese laughed to himself.
"There's time for that, too," he assured her. "Here—just relax. Close your eyes, if you want. I've got you. Both of you. Let's just enjoy him for now."