Disclaimer: This is not mine, though I do so much wish that it was.

A/n: Thank you to all you lovely folks who reviewed. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and I hope this chapter is just as satisfying. Either way, I'd love to know what you think.

Sacrifices of a Nightingale

A story by Ryeloza

Chapter Two

Tom practically ran out of the elevator toward the nurse's station of the maternity ward and almost tripped over his own feet in the process. As soon as he'd heard the word "labor" from the person who had called from the hospital, his whole body had gone numb in sweet relief. He'd barely been able to process the name of the hospital before he hung up and then he peeled out of the driveway after giving Parker only the briefest possible explanation of what was going on. He felt like he couldn't possibly move as quickly as he needed to and as a result he felt shaky and frustrated.

Tom rested his hands against the counter at the nurse's station and leaned as far into the nurse's personal space as he could. "Lynette Scavo. She was admitted—she's pregnant…" he sputtered, his brain going faster than his mouth. "I'm the father—not her father. She's my wife…"

"Yes. Okay, calm down, sir," the nurse said. Her tone was placating, and it helped to ground Tom. She wouldn't be so practical if things weren't going well. With painfully slow execution, the nurse scrolled through the computer files. "She's in room seven-ten."

In a day that had simply been a roller coaster of emotions, Tom finally felt a relieving spark of happiness. "So she's not even in the delivery room yet? I haven't missed it?" He grinned at the nurse and resisted the urge to lean over the counter and hug her.

"Oh, sir, I thought—"

"Thank you," said Tom, past the point of listening yet again. He backed away from the counter and began to follow the twisted maze of hallways marked only by occasional signs to direct him toward the room he needed. When he found seven-ten, he burst in without any inkling to stay quiet, and then stopped dead in his tracks. Lynette lay in the bed, asleep—the most welcome, beautiful sight he'd seen all day—but one glance at her told him that she'd obviously had the baby already. The realization hit him with a pang of heartsickness he didn't quite expect. He'd missed it. That wonderful, terrifying, miraculous moment was gone from him and he'd never be able to get it back.

Slowly, Tom crossed the room to the bed, reaching for Lynette's hand and then using his free hand to smooth back the hair from where it lay across her cheek. She didn't stir and Tom felt equally torn between disappointment because she didn't wake up and guilt for wanting her to. There wasn't more than a moment to process this, though, when there was a brief knock on the door and then a doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Scavo?" The doctor looked at Tom expectantly and he reluctantly moved away from Lynette so they could speak more softly. "I'm Dr. Hortez. I examined your wife and your daughter when they were brought in."

Tom frowned, again stumbling over his fast-moving thoughts. "Are they okay? What do you mean brought in? You didn't deliver the baby?"

"They're both fine," the doctor assured him. "Your wife had some slight tearing and we're monitoring the baby closely, but they're both doing well. Did anyone explain to you the circumstances of the birth?"

"No one has told me anything," said Tom, unaware that he mostly hadn't heard what they had told him. "What happened?"

The doctor frowned. Tom got the impression that he hadn't wanted to be the one to break this news to him and he had to remind himself that everything was okay to keep his nerves steady. Whatever had happened obviously hadn't been good. "Your wife went into labor around eight o'clock yesterday evening. She was being held against her will—"

Tom felt the blood drain from his face and the doctor held out a steadying hand, gripping his shoulder. "What?" he asked dimly as Dr. Hortez forcibly guided him to a chair. Tom sat gratefully. "By who?"

"I don't know all of the details, sir. I do know that the man is in custody now. He was the one who delivered the baby, sometime early this afternoon. From what your wife told the paramedics, it seems that the umbilical cord was wrapped around your daughter's neck, but it was removed quickly and, like I said, she's doing fine now. There's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," Tom muttered, briefly pressing his forehead into his palm and then looking back up at the doctor. "Are you sure they're okay? You're sure?"

"Yes. The paramedics gave your wife something to help her relax. She was a little hysterical, but she will be fine."

"Hysterical," Tom parroted, unable to stop. "She was hysterical. She was hysterical because she was being held against her will…I don't understand…Who would do that? Why…?" Tom stopped mid-thought and his eyes widened. Her car had been at Eddie's. Eddie, who'd seemed over-invested in Lynette since they'd taken him in. Eddie, who had attacked their son in the middle of their living room. Eddie, who'd grown up with an abusive mother who had mysteriously disappeared. But why? Why would he do that?

"Are you okay, sir? Can I get you anything?"

Tom ran a hand over his tired eyes and blinked back tears. There would be time to process all of this later. Time to talk to Lynette. Time to learn the truth. Right now there were more important things to focus on. Tom swallowed the lump in his throat. "My daughter. Can I see her?"

Dr. Hortez nodded. "I'll have one of the nurses bring her in." He put a hand on Tom's shoulder and patted it companionably before he exited the room. For a few minutes, Tom sat and simply tried to fight back the tears that stung his eyes, but it was a losing battle. Every time he got complacent, every time he started to take for granted that nothing would ever fell his indomitable wife, some unseen force stepped in to remind him how fragile her life truly was. Within these moments of pure clarity came the frightening realization that someday, sometime, there would be no miracle and she actually would be gone. The inevitability of this was a sickening, terrifying notion, and nothing Tom could do would block it from him mind at present. Eventually the fear would fade; eventually life would go back to normal, but for now the best he could do was to relish the fact that everything had turned out okay this time.

The door opened again while the nurse simultaneously knocked on it and she entered the room with a big bright smile and his daughter. In a heartbeat, Tom was on his feet and he hovered near the nurse as she pushed the portable crib over near Lynette's bed. Tom gave her long enough to stop and put on the break before he scooped the baby into his arms. The nurse gave him a slightly scandalized look—she'd probably wanted to give him a manual's worth of instructions—but Tom just shook his head.

"She's my fifth baby," he said, ignoring both the raw heartache for the baby they'd lost and the ambivalent pang over how he'd missed most of Kayla's life. "I think I've got a handle on it by now."

He didn't look at the nurse again, so he couldn't gauge her reaction to his comment, but he let out a little sigh of relief when he heard her leave the room. Alone, finally. Alone with his tiny, perfect, sweet baby; his little girl who was gazing up at him with the biggest eyes he'd ever seen on a baby. For an instant, every worry, fear and hurt of the day seeped away, and in this moment he had waited nine long months for, Tom finally let himself cry.