A.N. So I wasn't really planning on continuing this story after the epilogue but I got a lot of requests and I can't say no to you guys! This is just a little sequel and I hope you enjoy! Relationship Problems has been kind of rocky but I plan on updating the next chapter soon.
It didn't cry.
That was probably the most terrifying moment. More terrifying than the car ride to the hospital, more terrifying than the months and months of watching Flaky bed ridden with sickness, more terrifying than the possibility of all the permanent scars.
The moment they had entered the emergency room, the moment Flippy had been at the reception desk without missing a step, the moment Flaky was put on the gurney and wheeled in the operating room, her nails digging half moons into Flippy's palm.
None of that compared to the feeling of the silence.
Flippy stood outside the doors, unable to stomach being inside and watching. He could still hear all the voices of the doctors, all the movement of nylon covered arms, all the scraping of instruments, and the deep throated screams coming from Flaky. That was the loudest of them all. Even muffled by four walls and thick double doors, each wail was agonizing, painful. He could feel the pain she was feeling conveyed through her voice, he could feel it low in his stomach and in his mind. He was wringing his hands over and over, grinding the bones together until he finally placed his palms over his eyes and pressed hard. He was temporarily blinded in a shower of sparks and black, and much to his dismay it didn't make the reality any less harsh. He was still awake and perfectly aware. He knew exactly what was going on and what would happen since the minute he came home to Flaky standing in the living room, a puddle from the water at her feet.
He still remembered the moment clear as day, when Flaky voiced the proposition. They had been lying in bed, the lights had been turned off and sleep was imminent when she murmured next to him, quiet as a whisper, "I want to have a baby."
And the lights had come back on and he had turned to her in shock, searching her face.
"I…I don't…Since when?"
She had shrugged, "For a while now."
"We've been married for less than 4 months," he'd said incredulously, "I mean it's just…are you sure? So soon?"
But he couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his lips. He was surprised to feel the happiness bubble inside him as his thoughts raced to comprehend why in hell he would want something this sudden too. He had looked into her eyes, smiling widely as she smiled back, her eyes sparkling in that way Flippy had learned her's only could.
"I'm scared," he laughed, "I'm going to be honest here, Flaky, if we actually do this."
"I am too," she said, excitement playing like a picture show across her features.
And then they had burst into uncontrollable, giddy, stupid laughter and Flippy had kissed her, their lips smiling and unable to connect properly.
Now here they were, 9 months later, their child about to make its first appearance into the world. It was a cold, dreary Wednesday in fall, the clouds hanging like an ominous blanket in the sky. It felt like they had latched onto Flippy's jacket as he stood here now, an unsettling mass of SOMETHING on his shoulders. And he had no idea what to do with it. He wanted to hold Flaky's hand and tell her he needed her and be reassured she needed him too, but his train of thought came to a crashing halt when the screams stopped. Flaky was quiet, and so were the rustling bodies on the other side of the door. The only thing he could hear was the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
He almost smiled, he almost felt happy. For a moment he thought maybe this was all over and he could finally walk in and hold their baby. He though he could see Flaky smile and tell her how proud and happy he was. But then he felt a shivering trickle of sweat beading on his head as he realized the silence shouldn't have lasted this long. There should be cries and squeals of life. There should be a noise connected the two new worlds coming together.
Silence.
And then the doctors voice.
"We're losing her."
Flippy felt the coldest sensation he'd ever felt shoot into his veins and everything was suddenly in hyper-drive. He just heard the first protests from Flaky before he burst through the doors, pushing past the nurse standing there. He was at her side instantly.
"Flippy," she was whimpering, sweat and tears completely coating her pale, flushed face. Her hair was plastered to her forehead as she wildly moved her head around. "Flippy, they're taking her, where are they taking her? Flippy, they said they're losing her. Flippy, I want to see my baby. Flippy please, let me see my baby."
Flippy couldn't breathe. The world slipped away from him, and all that existed was that room. That room and his wife gripping his arm next to him. He scanned the room, not even noticing the hands of the nurses tugging a medical suit over his clothes and shouting orders at him. Then he spotted them, by the wall, on a table with instruments and machines he couldn't pretend to understand. The doctor was there, the green cap on his head a splash of color on the white walls. And in front of him was a limp body, tiny, helpless, and apparently also breathless. It didn't even register in his brain that it was a baby. It didn't matter. All that was coherent in his thoughts was the fact that it was HIS daughter. It was his and Flaky's and she was lying on a table not moving while the doctors and two nurses began to roam their hands over the body. Wires blocked their fingers and all he could see were two, tiny feet. Still as ice. And he suddenly felt like throwing up.
He didn't know how to understand proper English anymore, hearing Flaky's pleas enter one ear and drift out the other. He didn't know he was wearing a suit until he looked down to see Flaky's hands twisted in it.
"I know," was the thing his mouth worked out and he lifted her hand to his face, burying his forehead in the top of Flaky's hand. "I know. I know. I know, I know, I know."
The tarp that separated the view of the lower half of Flaky's body was still in place, and it made Flippy's gut wrench upwards. That was where this was coming from. That was where it was supposed to happen; a child, a normal birth, crying and screaming from a new mouth.
He asked what was happening, but none of them seemed to notice.
"What's going on?" He repeated, this time a little more forcefully, and when there was no reply again, "TELL ME WHAT'S HAPPENING!"
He broke free of Flaky's grip and bolted to the table, but was caught securely by the arms of two nurses. They struggled to hold him back, yelling, demanding, and even though all his thoughts were a mess and he couldn't hear it, the small heart monitor connected to the small wrist began to come to life.
It was slow at first, almost non existent. It could have been accidental.
He wriggled himself loose of their grip, their hands reaching and clawing at his suit until in tore away in their nails and he was running again. But halfway to the table, the first steady stream of heart beats sounded. Then they sped up, and the tiny body squirmed. Coughing and wheezing at first, but then, just as Flippy pushed through their shoulders and came to the side of the glass incubator, the first cry split the air.
And if it wasn't the most glorious sound Flippy had ever heard.
He was unable to move when it first pierced the room, and by the second cry he felt his legs give out, and he fell to his knees. At eye level, inches from his face, his breath clouding the glass, lay the most beautiful being in the entire universe.
His life and their life was suddenly pin pointed to a single object, and he heard Flaky's sobs of relief from behind him.
"Congratulations," the doctor said, kneeling down next to him. "It's a girl. A healthy baby girl."
He laughed; the kind of laugh some one does when they have no idea how else to react. It's made up of irony, sadness, grief, happiness, joy, and an uncontrollable flood of relief. He laughed and reached over to hug the doctor, who he noticed too late was covered in blood. He hugged him like he'd known him for years, actually kissing him briefly before stumbling up to look at his child once more.
She was wonderful; soft, almost translucent strands of red hair matted on the slightly squished head. The umbilical cord was cut, and several cuffs and tubes clung to her little arms and legs, squirming listlessly. Flippy watched as she raised a hand up, grasping thin air, the chubby, short fingers silently leading a symphony. He put his hand against the glass, tears streaming down his face as he whispered,
"Welcome to the world, little one."
Flaky's blood pressure had sky rocketed, and the doctors were hesitant to remove her from the ICU. But on the second day of her seclusion, she snuck out of the doors, dragging the IV stand with her and padding with her bare feet to the infant ward where Flippy was standing, peering through the window that showed the organized rows of newborns. She wordlessly stopped, standing beside him as they shared a moment of absolute silence and stillness, an almost telepathic understanding flowing between them, before she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair, the flakes of dandruff falling away with his touch. When she looked up at him, she furrowed her brow at the unsettling look on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly.
"Hm? Oh, nothing," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. She was too tired to ask again.
Four days later, the new parents were comfortably ensconced in their bed, lying on top of the covers on their sides, looking down at the child asleep between them. She was wearing a loose onesie with ducks on it, a hand me down from Flippy's grandmother, and wrapped in a bright pink baby blanket, gifted via Cuddles. It didn't take long to have her perfectly swaddled and lulled to sleep, Flaky humming softly.
When the quiet in the room had stretched into hours and the moon was high in the sky, darkness fully settled, Flippy spoke.
"What are you humming?"
"Hmm?" Flaky said, looking up.
"You were humming," Flippy repeated, "but I don't know the song."
She blinked a couple times before chuckling softly.
"I don't know it either."
"We should write it down."
"Yeah?"
"Give it a name."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not, you have a beautiful voice."
Even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, a slight flush rose on Flaky's cheeks and she looked away, focusing her gaze back on their child.
"She hasn't cried yet," she whispered.
"I know. The doctor said its normal."
"Flippy?"
"Yeah?"
"I want to hear her voice."
"Me too."
"I bet she'll sound like you."
"God, I hope not."
"I like your voice!"
"Yes but I'm a guy. She needs your voice."
"I don't know, maybe it will be a mix."
"Wouldn't that be great?"
"Was that sarcasm?"
"No, I'm being s-"
They both stopped mid-sentence as the baby stirred slightly, opening the flushed lips and letting out a contented sigh. When her eyelids ceased flickering, Flippy and Flaky looked at each other, both of them wearing similar smiles. But Flippy's smile faltered when a similar feeling to the one he had felt in the infant ward uncoiled in his stomach. He looked down, swallowing a lump in his throat, and felt cold fingers brush his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"Don't wanna."
"Too bad."
They shared a chuckle before the heavy atmosphere settled around them again, and Flippy felt his heart drop. When he looked back at Flaky's face, he saw everything he needed to push him further. Trust, understanding, and a deep feeling of fear.
He took a deep breath.
"Do you think I'll be a good father?"
She raised an eyebrow and said, "What?"
"I mean," he continued, trying not to fidget, "she's so perfect, you know? And I'm so full of flaws and not to mention a ton of doctors warning me my PSTD or whatever the hell it's called will eventually make me snap and I just… I want to be…good. I want to be there for her, and help guide her and make the right decisions and I don't know if I can-"
He was cut off when Flaky pressed a finger to his lips.
"Flippy," she said, shaking her head, "please don't say that. You are the best thing to happen to me," she paused when he scoffed, "No I'm serious! You are a great person and who cares about your past? I'm a grown woman who still behaves like a 9 year old and I can't be comfortable with anyone but you and our friends. I'm not exactly a model parent either. And yet…I'm not scared."
When she slid her finger away, Flippy was quiet in confusion.
"I'm not…for some reason. I mean, I know we are going to make mistakes and we're going to have to adjust to having a baby in the house, and I'm not the sharpest tool in the tool box but…this feels right. And when I look at her," she motioned to the little bundle asleep between them, "I feel like she is the entire world. And I know you feel the same. And if we love her that much, how can we possibly be bad parents?"
Her eyes were pleading, pupils swimming at the honesty that hung between them. The doubts, the fears, the future that had suddenly become so mysterious. A million roads that had opened before them and any one could either nurture or destroy. They had created new life, and the fragility of that fact was frightening.
But it suddenly became clear in Flippy's head, like a sudden spark of electricity.
He would give up everything, fight and die, before he let the family he had created be put in any harm. This was different from the carelessness he felt towards death in the army. It carried more weight now, more purpose, and he realized he played a significant role. He was meant to be here, and if life was dictated by things that were meant to happen, if there was a higher power at work, a design and pattern to humanity, then he was prepared to venture into it. To take the risks and learn, and pass on that knowledge to the clean slate that lay next to him. Pure, unadulterated, fresh; and the same flesh and blood as him.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment.
And that was exactly the way it was supposed to be.
For the first time in a long time, he found himself thinking,
'If you can hear me, to whoever may be listening, let me just say thank you.'
Flaky was smiling now, a warm, infinitely welcoming smile. The kind of gesture Flippy could both live and die in and be completely happy.
"We haven't even named her," he said, laughing helplessly.
"I know. It seems too surreal to do it. Just yet…"
"I know what you mean." It was still hard to believe the blessing they'd been given.
And whatever this blessing brought, the price would be worth the wound.
Two days later, the baby would mumble. Three days later her cries would split the air. And less than 24 hours later she would make unrecognizable burbles and murmurs that instantly seemed to light up the feel of the house.
It was music. Even the harshest tones and loudest screeches, the nights that turned into weeks of screams at the crack of dawn, the shifts they took between trying to get adequate sleep. They were all worth it, indescribable, a song that would play like the sweetest music. It became the soundtrack of their lives, and one week later, without really thinking, Flaky said a name out loud. And it fit like two puzzle pieces; their masterpiece completed.
Melody.