Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
By the time they arrived at the hospital, Al's water had broken, the contractions were about two minutes apart, and Al was somewhere else inside her head. She grabbed his hand and squeezed during every contraction, which was about as much communicating as she could handle.
Tim supposed he should be surprised that her labor had gone from predictably regular to super-progressed in a relatively short period of time, but the one thing he did manage to learn in baby school was that every woman and every labor is different. At the hospital, he careened into the parking lot and screeched up to the Emergency Room entrance.
"Park the car," she managed to choke out.
"Al, I'll drop you off and then park that car." He tried to keep his voice reasonable and steady, hoping that she wouldn't argue with him.
"Don't leave me alone." Her normally husky voice was even deeper and Tim could see a bit of fear in her eyes.
"OK. Worst case, I carry you across the parking lot. Deal?"
She nodded and squeezed his hand, even tighter than the last time. He threw the car into gear and headed for the parking lot, relieved to see an open spot near the door. He had to do an asshole move, accelerating and stealing the spot from an old guy, but he didn't care. The old guy, when he saw the state of Al, didn't care either.
Tim helped her out of the car, put his arm around her and half-carried her into the hospital. Once inside, she consented to sitting in a wheelchair, which was a clue that she was really struggling. He wheeled her up to the information desk, where a pretty blonde girl about his age was sitting.
"Tim Riggins!" she said.
Tim groaned inwardly. He knew he should know who she was, knew he probably knew her at one point, but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember.
He pulled out his most charming smile and hoped for the best. "Hi, I think we need to go to the birth center."
The girl suddenly seemed to realize that there was a Mrs. Riggins in the picture. Her smile dropped in brightness by half as she directed them to take the elevator to the fourth floor and someone would assist them there.
"That one too?" asked Al. Even though she struggling to speak, he could hear some amusement in her voice. At their wedding, she'd had great fun in the receiving line, guessing after each girl came past just how well he knew her. She was scarily on target and he'd had to ask her secret. She'd laughed and nodded at Tyra. "I just watch Tyra's face. It tells me everything I need to know. That girl forgets nothing."
When the elevator doors opened, Tim barged right in without waiting to see if anyone was exiting.
"Hey, watch out...Tim?" said a familiar voice.
"Lyla?" Tim tried to make sense of what he was seeing, Lyla standing inside the elevator, wearing a white lab coat. He hit the button for the fourth floor, then realized that he probably should have let Garrity get off the elevator first. If Lyla was uncomfortable or in a hurry, she didn't let on.
"Yeah, I'm an ER rotation. For med school, you know?"
Tim nodded and watched the numbers at the top of the elevator light up. 2....3.....
"Good luck, Al. I hope everything goes well for you."
Tim thanked Lyla, relieved to hear the bell ring as the doors opened. He pushed Al out of the elevator and tried to remember where he was supposed to go and what he was supposed to do. They'd had a tour of the place as part of baby school, but he found he was too nervous to think clearly. He looked both ways and saw a desk a little ways to the right, so he took Al over there.
He could barely focus as the desk attendant asked questions and then led them to a room up the hall. It was a weird mixture between a hotel room and a hospital room. At least it didn't smell like disinfectant. A nurse soon arrived and helped Al into bed while Tim put her I-Pod in the stereo dock, found her specially-made Birth playlist and set it on shuffle. Then he pulled up a stool, adjusted the height so he could be at eye-level with Al, and took her hand.
She gave him a weak smile. The first song the I-Pod picked was Pearl Jam's "Wishlist", one of her favorites.
"I wish this was over," she said.
"You're doing great. Really." He pushed her hair back from her face.
She opened her mouth to say something else, but a contraction took the words from her. Tim found himself nearly holding his breath and was relieved that she'd specifically told him that she didn't want him breathing at her or coaching her like some sitcom dad-to-be. (Stephen kept doing that and it made me want to seriously punch him in the face. In fact, I might've even taken a swing. It's all a bit fuzzy now.)
Time started to do funny things, expanding and contracting, losing all meaning. He'd look at the clock and find only five minutes had passed. But the next time he looked, it was an hour later, even though it had felt shorter than five minutes. Various health care professionals appeared and did different things, but it was all just a blur to him. He was barely aware of anything but his wife. He didn't talk much, somehow knowing that her preference was for him to quietly be there for her. His hand was nearly numb from all the squeezing and he was pretty sure it'd be bruised the next day, but he didn't care.
Tim didn't even realize that the doctor had arrived until he spoke.
"OK, Mama, you ready to start really pushing?"
Al's eyes flashed in annoyance and Tim remembered her request.
"Sorry, sir, but this is going to go a whole lot better for everyone if you'd just call her Al. Please."
The doctor nodded and then got down to business, giving brusque instructions to Al and the nurses. It seriously felt like an eternity passed before the doctor announced that he had the head and asked Al to stop pushing for a minute while he checked for the umbilical cord. Al looked up at Tim, panting and sweating worse than he ever had, even after running an hour of bleachers. He leaned his head closer to hers and whispered that she was nearly finished. She squeezed his hand gently.
The doctor was ready to continue and, a few more pushes later, Tim was officially someone's father. He felt dizzy from the excitement and the relief that came when he heard the baby crying. He kissed Al's forehead and then looked up at the doctor, who quickly toweled the baby off and then laid it on Al's chest. Tim put his hand on his baby's back, the skin feeling impossibly soft under his calloused hand. He ran his hand up to the baby's head, feeling the fine hair, admiring the headful of dark blonde curls.
"Who is it?" Al asked, her voice hoarse.
He understood that she was asking whether they had a son or a daughter. He gently shifted the baby to check.
"Nicky. This is Nicky."
The doctor interrupted them, asking Tim if he wanted to cut the cord, but Tim shook his head. The thought of it, of cutting through tissue, made him feel a little woozy. After the cord was cut, the doctor took the baby to the corner of the room to do whatever tests that needed to be done and get him cleaned up a little more. Tim felt his attention drawn in two directions, but he stayed with his wife.
"You can go with him," she said.
He smiled. "I know, but I want to stay with you, since you can't go."
"Gotta tell you, he felt more like a linebacker than a fullback."
Tim shook his head and smiled. "Nah, any kid of yours is going to be too smart to be a linebacker."
The doctor returned their son to Al. The baby had on a diaper and a little blue hat. Tim watched in amazement as the little guy tried to look around, his little mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Soon, he was latched onto Al and feeding and Tim wondered how many man points he'd lose if he just started crying right there. Instead, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Al's, listening to the music and trying to burn the whole experience into his memory for safe keeping.
Tim was dimly aware that the doctor and nurses were still around, making sure the placenta came out and fixing Al up. But all of his attention was on his wife and son. He heard enough to understand that everything had gone well, that Al was fine. He was in tremendous awe of her, especially when he heard that Nick weighed over 8 pounds.
"Damn. Two weeks early, too," said Al.
"Imagine how big he'd have been if he'd gotten to cook for two more weeks."
"He'd have been a monster. Babyzilla. I don't think I could have done that."
Tim smiled. "After today, I'll believe that you can do anything."
After Nick had finished eating, he fell asleep with a contented sigh.
"You want to hold him?"
Tim must have looked a bit nervous about it, because Al laughed and promised that he wouldn't break.
"Come here," she said, pulling him down and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. Then she put Nick up to his chest. Tim put one hand behind the baby's head and the other over his lower back, and then stood up slowly. He remembered from baby school that it was important to have the baby on your skin, something about it being calming and reassuring.
He looked down at Al, who was smiling up at him with tears in her eyes.
"You okay?" he asked her.
"Never better. I need a shower though. Desperately. Make yourself comfortable on the couch over there. I might be awhile."
"Do you want me to help you?"
"No, that's what the nurse is for. You go spend some time with our son."
Tim watched as the nurse helped Al over to the bathroom. She seemed to be moving pretty good for someone who just gave birth to an 8-pound baby. Tim walked over to the couch and carefully sat down. He rubbed the baby's back, still amazed by the soft skin.
Tim slipped a finger under Nick's hand and gently pulled it away from his chest. He was fascinated by the skinny little fingers with their perfectly shaped, tiny fingernails. Then he felt a small burst of pressure as Nick squeezed his finger.
"Wow, that's some grip you got there, for a little guy. You're definitely your mother's son."
Tim felt a little odd talking out loud to the baby, who was still dozing. But he found he couldn't help himself. Soon, he was whispering to the baby, telling him about his mother and his Uncle Billy and all the fun he was going to have growing up. The things he was going to teach him, like how to tackle and how to throw a spiral.