Gone Too Soon
Back in Tree Hill, Haley awoke on Christmas Eve morning to raised voices coming from the living room below. Pulling on her dressing gown quickly, she made her way down the stairs to find Jamie and Lydia decorating their Christmas tree. The fake pine glittered with fairy lights and tinsel, but the honor of placing the paper Christmas angel Jamie had crafted a few years ago was currently causing a heated argument between her kids. "I wanna do it," Lydia whined, standing unsteadily on tiptoe and straining to grab the angel Jamie was holding out of her reach with a naughty smirk.
"Well, you can't," he said coolly. "I made it, so there." He wandered over to the tree and triumphantly balanced the angel on the highest branch, then turned to face his baby sister again; "Besides, you're too little to reach the tip," he laughed as her lips quivered pitifully.
Haley stood watching the exchange from just out of sight, half-way down the staircase, and now cleared her throat loudly. "James Lucas Scott, why are you being mean to your sister?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at his sheepish grin.
"Well, it's true," he said defensively. "Lydia's too big for me to pick up but too little to reach the tip, simple."
"Mean," Lydia grumbled and stuck her tongue out at her brother.
Haley opened her arms, and the three-year-old nuzzled in her mother's embrace. "Where's your father?" she asked, giving Lydia a comforting squeeze.
"Out for a run," Jamie said dismissively. "I would have let Lydia put the angel up if he was here. He can still pick her up."
"Weak," Lydia mumbled, frowning at Jamie. "Mean and weak, yup yup yup!"
"Oh God, she's quoting Ducky again," Jamie groaned, referring to Lydia's favorite character from the animated dinosaur adventure The Land Before Time. "I'm gonna go find Dad. Since Lydia seems to think I'm so mean and weak," here Jamie etched air quotes in the air with his fingers; "I'll just go for a run and leave the girly stuff to you, Mom."
"You do that. See you later, kid." Haley waved at his retreating figure with a laugh before returning her attention to the pouting three-year-old. "You're lucky, Lydia Bob," she informed her daughter. "When I was your age, I had to fight six brothers and sisters to get to place our Christmas angel. At least you only have one."
Lydia stared wide-eyed at her palms as she counted up to six on her fingers. "Ouch," she said simply. "Six is big."
"Very big," Haley nodded thoughtfully. "You wanna know a secret?" she said mysteriously, and Lydia shot her a toothy grin and clapped her hands enthusiastically.
"Secret, yay," she squealed happily.
Haley bent down and scooped the little girl into her arms, settling on the couch before she made the big revelation. Lydia giggled as her mother's warm breath tickled her ear. "Well, you're not supposed to have a favorite brother or sister," she began; "But the truth is, I always did."
"Wolfy is my favorite brother," Lydia said simply, sticking her thumb in her mouth after the confession. "He woulda let me make the angel fly," she said, pointing at the lopsided paper figure balancing at the tip of the Christmas tree across the room.
"I don't know about that, honey," Haley laughed. "Jamie is bigger than Logan, you know."
"But Jamie is mean," Lydia grimaced. "I want Wolfy to come home."
"He will," her mother promised. "You're a lot like me, Lydia Bob," she said, stroking her daughter's soft brown hair. "Your Aunt Quinn was always my favorite sister too."
Meanwhile, over at Raleigh's bustling hospital, the time for the dreaded ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage had arrived all too soon. When the technician warned Quinn that the gel would feel cold against her skin, she didn't even flinch. But the moment the monitor flickered to life, her head turned away from the screen in a rapid, jerky motion. Her wide blue eyes stared at Clay's hands instead, wrapped tightly around hers but trembling visibly. "I love you," he reminded her softly, stroking his thumb across the cold palm of her hand. "No matter what happens, I love you."
"I can't look," she whimpered, her voice quiet and hoarse from hours spent sobbing at the crack of dawn. "That one picture can end a whole dream…I can't handle it!"
The nurse laid a sympathetic hand on Quinn's other shoulder, but she ignored it and kept staring at Clay. The pain in her eyes spoke volumes, silently begging him to change the outcome of this scan they both knew was coming. The very thought of what they were about to lose made the tears forming rapidly in her eyes spill over, uncontrollable in her devastation. "Quinn, stop," Clay begged, swiping at the fresh tear tracks streaking down her cheeks. "Just breathe, okay?" He leaned towards her and kissed her gently on the lips, then renewed his firm grip on her quivering fingers. "You don't have to be able to handle this," he told her. "Hell, you think I find it any easier to look at that thing? Not at all!" With an involuntary shudder, he pressed on: "There's only one way to look at that screen, understand? We'll do it together, I promise."
"On the count of three?" Quinn suggested faintly, and Clay closed his eyes for a moment and braced himself with a deep breath before giving a consenting nod. "One…two…three," she murmured under her breath and turned her head towards the monitor quickly before she could lose her nerve again. Where just a week ago their very first scan had shown a pulsing heartbeat, there was now painful silence, and Quinn stared at the technician, clinging to a futile sliver of hope until the worst was verbally confirmed. "Is it really…gone?" she asked quaveringly, and the other woman nodded sympathetically.
"I'm afraid so," she said. "I'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am."
With those words, Quinn abruptly found it as difficult to breathe as if someone had sucker punched her right in the stomach. "No," she moaned, wondering how much more it would take for the agonizing denial to stop hitting her in waves like this. One hand pressed against her stomach, but when she tried to pull the other one from Clay's grasp, his grip tightened abruptly. Swiping at her eyes firmly to prevent another onslaught of tears, Quinn sucked in a shaky breath and looked at him instead. "Oh no," she grimaced at the glassy look of his dark blue eyes. "Can I sit up?" she asked the technician hurriedly, barely allowing the woman to finish wiping the gel off her belly. Before the nurse had even granted her permission to move, Quinn straightened up and braced her hands on Clay's shoulders. "You looked on the count of two, didn't you?" she asked softly, and he nodded mutely.
"Old habits die hard," he sighed. "I know I said we'd handle it together but seeing nothing on the sonogram…I guess it just reminded me how I could have lost you last night. That's one thing I absolutely can't live with, sorry." With every word of the gut-wrenching confession, his head had sunk lower and lower, until it was pressed hard against her shoulder. Quinn closed her eyes as her fingers trailed through his hair, searching for the right words of reassurance when she felt so broken herself. "I love you too much, Q," he said, the words muffled as his lips pressed against her collarbone, and the shift in his tone from supportive to needy gave Quinn the perfect response.
"I'm still right here, honey," she promised, willing her voice to stay calm and steady. "I…um, I don't see how that's worth very much right now, but I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
"Not worth much?" he repeated in disbelief. He grabbed his wife's hand firmly and pressed his thumb against the little emerald-green stone on her engagement ring. "You do remember I already had to bury one of these, yes?" Quinn opened her mouth as if to say something else, but Clay shook his head and cut her off with a desperate kiss. "You are worth everything, Q," he said softly, grimacing when he pulled back and saw the tears coursing down her cheeks once more. "I don't care how cheesy that sounds. The thought of how often I've almost lost you in the last few years is absolutely terrifying. Seriously, cry as much as you need to, but never ever say you're not worth anything again, understand?"
"You're such a cheeseball," Quinn sighed, shaking her head at him. She bit her lip, clinging to his hand as if her life depended on it. "Do you think Logan knows already?" she asked softly.
"No idea," Clay shrugged, frowning apprehensively at the very thought of having to break this news to his son. "My Mom called last night and said she might tell him, but I don't know if she actually got around to it."
"If it helps, you have the all-clear to go home now," the nurse on Quinn's case said by way of greeting, entering the room just in time to catch the last part of the conversation. "From a physical perspective, nothing is stopping you from trying again as soon as your monthly cycle regulates. When you find yourself ready for the experience on an emotional level is a very individual thing, of course. Best of luck," she smiled sympathetically and shut off the ultrasound monitor, oblivious to the fact that the simple action made Quinn go utterly rigid and almost stop breathing.
"It's gone," she said in an incredibly small voice, staring down at her lap when Clay's hands squeezed her shoulders firmly.
"Well, I'm not," he reminded her gently. "Just keep breathing, okay? I think going home is an excellent plan right now."
"Agreed," Quinn nodded miserably, tugging her shirt straight as she climbed down from the examination table and pressed herself into his arms. "I love you, you know that? I don't know how you're so brave…but I am so thankful that you are."
Clay shook his head slowly, breathing in the flowery scent of her favorite perfume as Quinn's head tilted wearily against his shoulder. "Trust me, I'm not that brave," he told her. "If you weren't here right now, conscious and speaking, I mean…I'd be a total wreck. And that is a fact," he said solemnly.
"I don't understand how that's enough for you," she replied sadly. Her arms looped around Clay's neck, and he squeezed her tightly when Quinn's whole body weight sagged against him. "I feel so…incomplete," she murmured dejectedly.
"It'll get better, sweetheart," he promised, holding her head against his shoulder tenderly. "It hurts like hell. Of course, it does! But you're the one I really couldn't bear to lose. Our family will get through this, you'll see."
"Our family…I like the way that sounds," Quinn whispered, and from the strained smile that didn't reach her eyes, Clay knew the phrase had reminded her of the conversation before his spontaneous marriage proposal two years ago. "Just don't let go, okay? Please," she begged. "I know I've been saying that a lot, but I just…"
Clay cut off her quavering speech with a gentle kiss; "Who's babbling now?" he teased half-heartedly, but his arm slid firmly around her shoulders. "I've got you, I promise. Let's just go home, even that will feel better than hanging around here."
When Nathan arrived home from his jog around Tree Hill, the house was oddly silent. He smiled at the massive Christmas tree with pride of place in the living room before starting up the stairs. "Anybody home?" the athlete called, and Haley darted out from Lydia's bedroom and pressed her finger to her lips. "There's my girl," he grinned. "Is Lydia down for a nap?"
"Just got her settled, so be quiet, or she'll be up like a shot," Haley warned. "You know what a Daddy's girl that one is."
"Sure do," he nodded proudly. He pulled his wife in for a hug deliberately, laughing when Haley grimaced at how sweaty he was. "She's just like her mother, can't resist me," he winked.
"Down boy, shower first," Haley demanded, shoving him away playfully. "What are you staring at?" she asked when his brow furrowed suddenly.
"What are you doing with Lydia's hairbrush?" he asked curiously, and Haley glanced down at the metallic golden brush she'd been absently twirling between her fingers since emerging from her daughter's room.
She traced the engraving on the back of the brush with her finger and murmured the words: "My girl," softly before answering him. "It wasn't always Lydia's brush, you know. My Mom had this engraved for Quinn when she was born, and she gave it to me on top of dibs on Mom's name."
"That was nice of her," Nathan smiled. "What are you doing with it now?"
"It's Christmas," Haley said simply. "We don't know that she'll have a girl yet, but I think it's a good time to give it back, you know? Just in case she does."
"I like the way you think, Haley James," he said approvingly. "That's a great idea. Even my run was actually boring as hell without the company, Clay has a way of pushing me to the limit."
"That used to be his job as your agent, I guess old habits die hard," Haley reminded him. "Lydia's missing Logan loads too; it's kind of adorable. Ah, well, they'll all be back soon."
"Until then, how would you like to shower with me?" Nathan suggested mischievously. "Jamie ran into Chuck on the River Court; it's going to be just us for quite a while."
He tugged open the ribbon on the front of her dressing gown with a naughty smirk and pulled her into the bathroom. "Nathan Scott, you are a menace," she protested, kissing him hungrily. "Merry Christmas, indeed."
A / N This story is becoming seriously depressing for my OTP heart; hope everyone enjoys! xx