Secret Santa: Always Be With You.
Just before the deadline is upon us; here is part one for the wonderful @internallydeceased <3 I wanted to get it perfect and the second half isn’t finished yet, so I thought I’d post it in two bursts. I hope you like it. Merry (late) Christmas and a Happy (tardy) New Year, lovely one.
It was a cliche and she knew it, but the way she felt when he wrapped his arms around her lit her up from the inside. She recalled all of the conversations they’d ever had -in those small moments when he came up behind her and placed his large hands over her ever expanding belly- her mind replaying each and every sentence. And it made her smile.
She remembered what he’d said after their first date. The bliss of their wedding night. The joy as they discovered she was pregnant for the first time and the tears that were shed days after she lost the baby. The relief as they discussed their options -talk of adoption and surrogacy- the words finally out in the open and, finally, she remembered his vivid blue of his eyes in the mirror as the pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test she’d held between her fingers only months ago.
“I can hear ye thinking.” He whispered, her hair rising a little and tickling his nose as he spoke.
“Every time,” she began, her heart pounding in her chest, “just at that point when I think it’s not possible to love you anymore - my heart swells, and expands and I find that I can.”
“How’re you feeling, sassenach?” He asked, rubbing her belly softly. His brows were drawn together, his eyes closed as he focused on the feeling of the baby beneath her t-shirt, beneath her skin...beneath his hands. It was coming up to five months and the closer they got to seven the more their love and fear grew in equal measure. Seven was the magic number - it had been when they’d lost Faith, their first. But now the doctors were more vigilant - checking her at every available opportunity though Jamie had more than enough hope for the both of them.
“Fine, really, better than ever. I’m just--”
“Worried? I ken. But ye havena bled as you did before, aye? And Doctor Fitzgibbons told us she thought we’d a much better chance this time.”
Claire blushed. They had been told the odds were greater that their baby would live second time around. Even under constant supervision by the nurses, they had a home heart rate monitor and they knew the signs something was about to wrong better than they had before.
The bleeding had started much earlier on in her first pregnancy, and Claire had felt the feeling of dread in her belly as the months had progressed. So it was true that they stood a much better chance this time but that didn’t stop her from being ever vigilant when it came to their unborn child. This time she had stopped work incredibly early. Being a surgeon kept her on her feet for too many hours a day and the fatigue that came with the pregnancy had meant that she wasn’t able to keep up with the shift hours as she had before.
A silent blessing, Jamie would whisper to her as she slept. It meant that she was honest enough to admit that working until her actual maternity leave began was foolish and dangerous. The hospital, understanding the risks, had been generous and with Jamie now working from home, it meant she always had someone around to entertain her.
“How about I take ye to find some lunch, we can walk through the park - it’ll ease ye to have the fresh air around ye rather than hiding yerself away in here as ye have been, aye?”
“You’re going to make an amazing father.” She sighed, closing her eyes, envisioning him with their child wrapped tightly against his chest. Waking groggily from the pain relief, she had seen him the first time with the fresh streaks of grief washing across his face in waves as he held their little girl. He had spoken to her in Gaelic, words the wean would never have the chance to understand, but he gave her the benefit of his wisdom nonetheless. It wasn’t a soothe for the ache of their loss, but in that moment she’d known he’d do everything in his power to keep their family safe.
The second he took his hands away from her she felt the loss of it acutely. Though he’d only gone to fetch her coat, her belly felt cold without him there to hold them.
“Jamie,” she said softly, “it isn’t that cold.” Seeing the large winter coat he’d brought her, she shook her head and scoffed as she placed her arms through the sleeves. She had a tendency to disagree with him on certain matters but she also saw the seriousness in his eyes as he kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Aye, I ken that. But there’s a storm coming in. Ye can see the clouds gathering on the horizon. I just dinna want ye to get stuck out in the rain wi’ a thin coat on.”
“Must you always be right.” She chuckled, taking him by the hand whilst grabbing her keys with the other.
The walk down the river proved a little chilly, but the rain abated for long enough that they both managed to stay warm and dry. It was light enough beneath the boughs of the trees, the speckles of light casting particular silhouettes over the path as they strode hand in hand along the public bridleway.
“He’s going to have your hair.” Jamie said suddenly, breaking the silence as he gripped her more tightly. “I dinna ken why I saw it, but I did. Yer hair and my eyes...and he’ll be bonnie and braw.”
“What else do you know?” She whispered in return, too shocked to say any more.
“I had a verra vivid dream last night,” he began to explain, his eyes glancing far in the distance as he spoke, “it was peculiar at first. I was locked in a dark room. It felt so real that I thought I was going to panic wi’ the feel of it but then I saw him. As the inky black began to clear I could just see him - his sea-blue eyes staring at me knowingly as the curls started to float around his face. It was then I kent it was our son - enough of both ye and I that I could place him as he smiled across at me.”
Taking a stunted breath, Claire felt incredibly light as they walked onwards. She watched the particles of air as they wafted around her face and disappeared into the atmosphere around her and the weight of the heartburn that had been plaguing her all morning seemed to dissipate as the notion sank into her chest.
“You think he’s a boy?” She replied eventually, accepting (almost immediately) the gender Jamie had assigned for them.
“Oh aye, mo nighean,” he returned with a glint in his eye, “and I canna wait to be with ye when he’s born.”