WIP Wednesday
Runaway - Chapter 29
A/N: No my loves, I haven't forgotten about this story. I just wasn't in the mood for angst for a while, and well, life happened, and so it took me a little longer. I'm back on my angsty bullshit though, so I hope you enjoy!!
The cabin is dark and quiet, filled with the particular hushed quality that comes in the deepest part of night. Nesta lies on her side, surrounded by the pillows Cassian arranged with meticulous care; one between her knees, one under her belly, one supporting her back. She should be comfortable. She should be asleep.
She's neither.
She's staring at the wall where moonlight filters through the curtains in pale strips. The baby is awake too, shifting and kicking with what feels like deliberate insistence, like she's nesting, trying to rearrange Nesta's organs into more favorable positions.
"You're not helping, baby girl," Nesta whispers, pressing a hand to the spot where a tiny foot—or elbow, or knee, or wing, impossible to tell—is jabbing into her ribs.
The baby kicks harder, as if in response.
Nesta shifts, trying to find a position that doesn't make her back ache or her hips scream or her bladder threaten immediate rebellion. It's futile. Every position is uncomfortable in different, creative ways.
But it's not just physical discomfort keeping her awake. It's a particular feeling that's been growing steadily since the party, since she found those eyes in the darkness, and some type of cold certainty had settled in her bones like winter. It's a knowing she can't explain, a certainty she tries and fails to ignore.
She'll be alone when the baby comes.
The thought makes her breath catch, panic rising sharp and immediate in her throat. The thought holds truth, sitting heavy in her chest, cold and certain as prophecy.
Another kick, this one strong enough to make her wince.
"Okay," she murmurs into the darkness. "I get it. You're awake. We're both awake. We could form a very anxious club."
Beside her, Cassian sleeps on his stomach, one wing draped over the edge of the bed, the other folded against his back. His face is pressed into the pillow, his breathing deep and even. One of his arms is stretched toward her, his hand resting on the mattress between them like even in sleep he's reaching for her.
She shouldn't wake him. He's been running himself ragged for her. He's exhausted. He needs rest. But she can feel the panic building in earnest now, pressing against her ribs, making it hard to breathe. The feeling of wrongness, of terrible things coming, of being utterly alone when she needs him most—
"Cass?" His name comes out before she can stop it, quiet and tentative and slightly ashamed.
He doesn't stir.
"Cassian," she tries again, a little louder, and this time her voice cracks on his name.
He makes a sound, something like a groan that ends in a question mark, his face burrowing deeper into the pillow.
"I can't sleep."
Another groan, this one sounding more awake. His wing twitches. Then, slowly—so slowly it's almost comical—he rolls onto his side to face her, his eyes still mostly closed, his hair sticking up in about twenty different directions.
"Wha's wrong?" The words are slurred with sleep, barely intelligible.
"Nothing. I'm sorry, go back to sleep."
But he's already moving, his hand finding her in the darkness with the unerring accuracy of someone who could locate her in his sleep. Which, she supposes, he technically is.
"Can' sleep?" he mumbles, his palm settling warm on her hip.
"No."
"Baby kickin'?"
"Yes, but that's not—" Her voice breaks again. "That's not why."
That seems to wake him more fully. His eyes open and even in the darkness she can see them focusing on her with sudden alertness.
"Hey." His thumb starts moving in slow circles over the fabric of her nightgown, the motion automatic, soothing. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I have a bad feeling."
He's quiet for a moment, his hand going still. "About what?"
"About the birth. About—" She swallows hard. "About being alone when it happens."
Cassian pushes himself up on one elbow, his brow furrowed with concern. "Alone? Nes, you're not going to be alone. I'll be right there with you the whole time."
"But what if you're not?" The words tumble out, raw and afraid. "What if whatever's coming—whatever was watching me at the party—what if it happens then? When I'm in labor and can't defend myself or her? What if it finds a way to separate us, to keep you away from me?"
"That's not going to happen."
"You can't know that." She sits up with effort, groaning with her hand pressed to her belly. "You make that promise, Cassian. No matter how much you want to."
He sits up too, reaching for her, but she pulls back slightly. "Nesta, listen to me—"
"No, you listen." Her voice is shaking now. "I've had this feeling for days. Since the party. It's like—it's like I know something terrible is coming, and it's going to happen when I'm at my most vulnerable. And I know I'm going to be alone."
"You're not—"
"I can't do it without you." The admission bursts out of her, desperate and terrified. "I can't bring her into the world alone, I'm not strong enough. What if something goes wrong? What if I make the wrong choice because I'm in pain and scared and you're not there to help me think clearly? What if I fail her because I'm by myself?"
"Hey, hey, hey." Cassian moves closer, cupping her face in his hands. "Look at me, sweetheart. Please."
She does, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
"You are not going to be alone," he says firmly, his voice steady and certain. "I will be right beside you, holding your hand, supporting you with whatever you need. I promise you, Nesta. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could keep me from being there when our daughter comes into this world."
"But what if—"
"No what ifs." He gently holds her face in his big hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have started falling. "I will be there, every step of the way. From the first contraction to the moment we hold her. You will not be alone."
"You can't promise that," she whispers. "There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong."
"I don't care." He pulls her closer, carefully arranging her against his chest. "All I care about is you, and her. About our family. I will not let anything or anyone keep me from being there when you need me most."
Nesta closes her eyes, breathing in his scent of pine and snow and home. "I'm so scared."
"I know." His hand moves to her lower back, rubbing slow circles. "I know, sweetheart. But this feeling you're having, this certainty that you'll be alone, it's fear talking. It's your mind trying to prepare you for the worst possible scenario, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen."
"It feels so real."
"I know it does." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "But feelings aren't always facts. Sometimes our minds lie to us, especially when we're scared. Especially when we're about to do something as terrifying as bringing a life into this world."
His other hand finds the swell of her belly, settling there with gentle weight. The baby kicks against his palm.
"Hi, little one," he murmurs. "Be gentle to your mama, okay. Give her some peace. We'll be right here when you’re ready to meet us, together."
Despite everything, Nesta feels something loosen in her chest. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple." He tilts her face up to look at him. "Not easy, but it is simple. You, me, and her. That's all that matters. Everything else—the threats, the fears, the what ifs—we'll deal with them as they come, if they come, together."
"I can't—" Her voice cracks again. "Cassian, I can't do this without you. If something happens, if you're not there, I won't be able to—"
"Stop." He kisses her forehead, firm and decisive. "Stop borrowing grief from futures that might never happen. You are strong enough to do anything, with me or without me. But you won't have to find out, because I. Will. Be. There."
He punctuates each word with a kiss to her forehead, her temple, her cheek.
"But what if you can't—"
"I can. I will." His arms tighten around her. "Nesta, look at me, sweetheart."
She does, meeting his eyes in the moonlight.
"I have never been more certain of anything in my life," he says, his voice low and intense. "I will be there when our daughter is born. I will hold your hand and tell you how strong you are and how much I love you. Nothing will keep me away. Not threats, not attacks, not the end of the world itself. Do you understand me?"
"I want to believe you."
"Then believe me." He rests his forehead against hers. "Trust me and that I mean what I say. Trust that I will move the sky and the earth to keep this promise."
Nesta closes her eyes, letting his certainty wash over her, trying to let it chase away the cold dread in her chest. "I'm trying."
"I know." His hand resumes its gentle wandering, tracing the curve of her belly, the line of her hip, back up to her face. Soothing and grounding. "You don't have to conquer all your fears tonight. You just have to trust that I'm not going anywhere."
"I do trust you. It's just—"
"It's just that you've been hurt before, by people who promised to be there and weren't. By circumstances beyond your control. By a world that's been cruel to you more often than not." His voice is gentle, understanding. "I get it, sweetheart. I do. But I'm not them, and this isn't the same as all those times. I promise you, on everything that I am and hold dear, that I will be there."
The baby kicks again, stronger this time, and they both feel it.
"She agrees with me," Cassian says, and there's a hint of his usual playfulness in his voice. "See? Already taking my side."
Nesta can't suppress the smile pulling at her lips. "Traitor."
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Read the story up until now here
