I realized it's been a while since I've written for this fandom, since I tend to have those phases where I'm obsessed with one thing for a month or two, and then move on. Anyways, this idea kinda popped into my head yesterday. Randomly. Very randomly. It's probably from me listening to this one song over and over again (for all of you Grey's Anatomy fans, it's the one that plays at the very end of 17x02 when that person returns (omg you have no idea how I screamed)). A few lines of it are included at the beginning of this fic (at least, after the A/N). So check it out if you want! Sleeping at Last might just be my favorite artist now. (And, while the song is "Breathe Deep"; coincidentally, he also has a song titled "Breathe Again".)
If every breath is sacred
God, I want to breathe
Deep enough to feel something
Deep enough to believe
-"Breathe Deep," Sleeping at Last
Gasps tore through her.
One...
"Please, don't do this."
Five...
Tears streaked down her face.
Eleven...
"Please please please. Oh God, please."
Seventeen...
She wasn't aware of her harsh sobs, nor the tears that fell off of her chin and the cold that permeated the air. The many sirens of police cars and ambulances sounded behind her, utter chaos sounded behind her; but they were like echoes, like ghosts in the back of her mind so she didn't pay attention to any of that because her baby boy wasn't breathing.
She pressed desperately into the little and still chest beneath her, occasionally breathing air into his slack lips. She remembered, vaguely, when he had just been born, all small and chubby cheeks and blue eyes and messy blonde hair and a smile that shone like the sun and-
She sniffed, ignoring the blue tint of his normally rosy lips and pressing into his chest with even more vigor. She wasn't a paramedic or a doctor; she didn't know if she was breaking his ribs or not, hoped she wasn't. She didn't know if she was even doing this right, damn it, 'cause she could hardly think right now. But she had to do something.
"Breathe, breathe. Just breathe, Henry. You can do it." She barely recognized the damaged and trembling sounds that came out of her mouth as her own voice, but pushed on. He couldn't be dead. No, no. He just couldn't be.
Spence was suddenly at her side...or had he been there all along? She didn't know. She didn't care to know, really. He held a dry blanket in his arms. She blinked, and was close to croaking out something like no or it can't be or anything along the lines of denial, anything churning through the mess that had become of her brain, before he simply set it aside and helped her by blowing in rescue breaths, curly brown hair dripping lake water onto Henry's pale cheeks.
A breath caught in her throat (something her son didn't have the luxury of doing), and she continued her ministrations, pressing and pressing and pressing into his small and delicate chest and hoping and wishing and praying to God that he'd just breathe.
Breaths and gasps and sobs tore through her body, but Henry's apparent absence tore through harder, like knives tearing ragged holes through her skin, through her heart with no mercy, like a rough noose tied around her throat or a bullet to the chest.
Please...
If Henry died, then she could've stopped breathing right then and there.
Please...
She was so tired. She'd been on adrenaline the last few days, hadn't taken time to rest because her kids had been missing, hadn't cared about her own health because her kids had been missing. And she was just so tired. And then, with all of the work they'd done to find the guy, and everything she and Will had been through, for it to end like this?
No. She couldn't accept that.
Henry was a fighter. He had a huge heart, and blue eyes that saw things even she didn't. He always wanted people to be good, to be better. He loved his baby brother - and, oh god, Michael. Michael still needed her, Michael was probably just as distressed; but he was breathing, so she allowed herself to be selfish for once and focus on her eldest.
She pressed into Henry's chest, covered by a damp shirt with some Marvel superhero on it, watched vaguely as Spence brushed some of his damp blonde hair aside, watched as their damp strands of hair tangled as he tried to breathe for him. She felt so helpless, wondering why the world decided to torture them so.
And then he coughed out water, and it sounded painful and choked, but he was alive! She sobbed once in relief before she helped Spence roll him to the side so he could breathe more easily. She rubbed soothing circles into his back as he gasped for breath. They were raspy and he was wheezing but it might just have been the most beautiful sound she'd heard in a while.
She grabbed the blanket and wrapped him up in it like a burrito, waited until his lungs weren't burning so much before gathering him up in her arms and letting the rest of the world do whatever it wanted as long as it left. Them. Alone.
He laid his head on her shoulder, just trying to breathe, tears falling because his chest probably hurt. Guilt pooled in her stomach at that, but she just held him to her, rocking them back and forth as he simply breathed, doing something that was second nature to most people, that was supposed to be second nature to most people. It was what he was supposed to have been doing all this time.
She realized vaguely, as she watched her own tears dampen his hair further, that she was still crying, that her breaths were still coming a bit too quickly (though not as quickly as his). She swallowed, and tried to will herself to stop because Henry needed her to not be a mess, but it seemed that she had lost all control of her emotions in the last few minutes.
"You're okay," she breathed out. "Just breathe, Henry. Mommy's here, you're okay. You're okay." She gave a sort of breathless laugh and laid her cheek on top of his head.
Somewhere behind her, Tara was calling for the medics. Somewhere behind her, police officers shouted at each other, securing the scene against nosy reporters and a few concerned individuals. Somewhere behind her, Emily or Dave or Spence or someone had picked up Michael and was consoling him. Somewhere behind her, Will was apprehending the son of a bitch who had taken their children. Somewhere behind her, Matt and Luke were helping Will in apprehending (she used that word lightly) said son of a bitch.
But, in front of her was Henry, who was breathing, whose cheeks weren't quite back to their usual rosy color but they would, because JJ wouldn't allow it to go any differently.
She was still rocking them back and forth, her arms still tight against his tiny body. She thought she could breathe more easily now, the noose around her neck and the bands around her chest having loosened.
She pressed a kiss onto his forehead, and tried not to worry about how cold and clammy he felt. Somewhere behind her, Will had reunited with Michael, their happiness spreading infectiously through the area. Somewhere behind her was a Michael wondering why his mommy wasn't paying attention to him right now.
She felt a little guilty, she did; but for now, for now, Henry was her everything.
"Mommy?" he mumbled, blue eyes opened and confused and wet but full of life.
"You're okay," she repeated. "You're safe. We're gonna go to the hospital, and the doctors are gonna have to check you out, but I'll be there, and Daddy will be there, too." One lone tear trailed down her face, and she wiped it away quickly. "We'll be there. I promise you we'll be there."
"Michael?" he asked after a second or two or three, brows furrowing in an admittedly adorable manner.
A fragile smile lit up her face. "He's not hurt. He's...upset, but he's with Daddy."
"Okay," he mumbled, nodding a little before laying his head back onto her shoulder, breathing definitely strained but heart still going strong.
She continued to rub his back as everything seemed to fit into place again. She looked up at the sounds of the medics heading towards them, then looked down again at her son.
Her breaths quickened. His eyes were closed.
She closed her own and tried not to break down completely. There would be time for that later. There would be time for a lot of things later, like ice cream and Star Wars and gifts, lots of gifts from Penelope.
She breathed.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
And felt his soft huffs of breath tickling the skin of her neck.
She thought she could breathe again.