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cmncisspnandmore · 2 days

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One Night Stand: Part 8

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Reader

Warnings: Preterm babies? mentions of medical things.

Word Count: 2k

New to the series? Catch up here: 7

Getting into the wheelchair was the most humbling thing you had ever done in your life. You had really taken for granted how easy walking around when you were pregnant was. Now as the nurse and Simon held onto your arms and helped you into the wheelchair as you gasped in pain, your entire body shook with the effort. As they carefully lowered you into the wheelchair, you caught a glance of Simon's face. His face was slightly pale, his eyes worried as he watched you.

He looked like he was the one who could pass out at any moment, not you. “There we go, you alright?” the bubbly red headed nurse asks. She straightens up after she puts the foot rests down, her badge clip clinking together. Kelsey, her name was Kelsey.

“Yeah, i didn't expect it to feel like that…” You mumble, and she gives you a soft smile.

“Kinda like your organs are just gonna fall right out of you?” She smiles, and you can't help but laugh.

“Yeah, pretty much. It wasn't painful, just really uncomfortable… But I'm okay.”

“You sure?” Simon's voice is rough, his brow still pinched as he listens to the conversation between you and Kelsey.

“I’m fine Si, I promise.”

He doesn't reply, he just gives you another once over before stepping out of the way so Kelsey can wheel you out of the room. The hallways were long and white, a few vitals carts hanging around. Nurses passed every few moments as they went about their days. A few pressed themselves against the wall as Simon walked by. His large form takes up most of the hallway. He was the poster of intimidating, all muscle and an impassive face to match.

As we reach the end of the hall our nurse Kelsey waves her badge in front of a sensor that controls the large windowless doors in front of us. As the door slowly open the soft hum of white noise and beeping monitors fill your ears.

“This is the NICU, its where we keep my personal favorite patients,” kelsey smiles as she pushes me through the doors. There's a typical nurses station in front of us, but instead of the regular hospital rooms that you see in the rest of the building. There are two long walls with large glass windows that allow you to look into two rooms with 3 rows of incubators. Each room housed 9 of them, not all of them were full. Some were just waiting to be occupied. A few sets of parents stand around them, wearing pink overgowns, as they reach their hands into the incubators to touch their babies.

Kelsey disappears for a moment and comes back wearing her own overgown and hands one to simon. “You have to wear these, its to prevent germs from your clothes getting on the babies. It just helps us keep them safe. We also need you to use hand sanitizer before you enter and when you're done. It's important we do everything to keep them safe.” she explains as she helps you put yours on. You look over your shoulder as Simon attempts to put on the overgown, its stretched tightly over his arms and chest. His larger than average form filling up most of the pink overgown. A small snicker leaves your lips as you take him in with the pink gown. He’s usually dressed in all black or dark colors. To see him wearing something so bright was actually funny to you.

You never thought you’d see the day Simon Riley wore pink, but here he was, stuffed into a too small overgown, small frown on his lips. You can’t help the small smile that plays on your lips despite the nerves you were feeling growing inside you. What if you couldnt handle seeing your baby like that? Would they look okay? Would they even look like a baby?

You had no idea what to expect, your stomach was turning as Kelsey gave you some hand sanitizer. After you and Simon rubbed it in, she wheeled you into the room, it was warmer in here than in the hallway. The constant hum of the machinery louder, as she pushed you towards the last incubator on the left. It was a large plastic box, with 4 little circle windows, a soft yellow glow emitting from a light on top. As you get closer you can see some of the stuff inside A soft pink blanket, and the smallest baby you have ever seen. They wore a hat so small you weren't sure if it was even possible for them to call it a baby's hat. It seemed more fit for a doll.

Your daughter laid in the center of the incubator, an array of tubes and wires connected to her too small body. Her eyes were covered with gauze, and she had a mask over her nose, and a thin white tube coming from her mouth. She was mostly still, the only occasional movement was her arms or legs moving in a sort of jerking movement. Her diapers were too big for her, even in the Nano- Preemie size they had on her.

“Shes… shes so small..” you whisper, your hand coming to rest against the warm plastic of the incubator.

“She is, but she's been doing really well. She’s been stable since we put her on the oxygen and she hasn't shown any signs of distress since. I think she's got a real chance.” Kelsey smiles as she looks between you and Simon.

“If you want you can reach in through the little windows, just try not jostle any of the wires,” she smiles, as she walks over to another family standing around an incubator.

Simon stands behind the wheelchair, his hands coming to rest on your shoulder. He's quiet for a few moments, the warmth of his large hands seeping into the fabric of the hospital gown. You shove down the emotions that are bubbling up inside of you, taking a deep breath you lean forward in the wheelchair. A dull ache pulling at your lower stomach as you carefully move yourself towards the edge. Your hand shakes a little as you reach your hand up and through the small open window. You hesitate, your hand hovering over your daughter's tiny frame. The only place where she didn't have monitors and iv’s was her small hand. It was no bigger than your thumb nail. Barely big enough for the tip of your finger to fit in, taking a deep breath you gently touch her tiny hand with the tip of your finger.

Reflexively she grabs onto your fingertip, her tiny fingers gripping the tip of your finger. Emotion clogs your throat, but it's not you who makes a sound, instead it's Simon. It was quiet, and if you hadn't become accustomed to him over the past few months you never would’ve mistaken his sharp intake as annoyance. But you knew better, it was him trying to keep himself together. You glance over your shoulder and notice his brown eyes are glassy. A single tear falling down his cheek and dripping onto the pink overgown.

“Simon…” you whisper, reaching your other hand up to rest on his hand that is still firmly in place on your shoulder.

“Sorry..” he mumbles, wiping his hand across his eyes, before he clears his throat.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” You smile softly at him, “Come over here.”

Simon hesitates, but moves a little closer, coming to stand on the side of the wheelchair, you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His entire body was stiff, every movement seemed almost painfully slow.

You pull your hand out of the incubator and grab Simon's much larger hand, “It's okay, you won't hurt her.”

Simon's brown eyes searched your face, looking for any signs that it was a bad idea, he was so much larger than her, even you. His hands weren't the gentlest, and they had done terrible things for many years. How could he possibly touch something so small, something so innocent. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as you gently guided his hand into the incubator. As his index finger touched her small hand she grabbed it just like she had yours.

“See? You didn't hurt her,” you smile, leaning your head against his upper arm. You hated to admit it but even this small venture had you drained. The events of the past 24 hours are catching up to you fast. Your body was starting to hurt, and sitting was uncomfortable but you didn't want to leave.

How could you?

The image of Simon standing in front of the incubator was something you wanted burnt into your brain for the rest of your life. His hand, which was larger than your daughter's entire body, hovering over her as her hand gripped his finger. After a few moments, Simon pulled his hand out and looked down at you. His brow slightly furrowed as he took in your expression.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his fingers catching the side of your chin and tipping it up so he could see your face better.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you force a small smile, but Simon sees right through you.

“Don’t lie to me, you just had major surgery,” he grunts softly, his hand sliding to rest against your cheek. You instinctively lean into him, his palm warm and comforting.

“I’m just tired, and a little sore, but I don't want to leave her…” You whisper, your eyes falling shut. You were more than just a little sore, whatever pain meds they had given you were definitely wearing off. You could feel the incision now, it was a dull constant ache. But the headache that was starting to form behind your eyes was worse. It was like someone was taking an ice pick to the space behind your eyes.

“You need rest,” Simon frowns, his brown eyes trailing across your face, “we’ll come back later okay?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and give a small nod. As much as you didn't want to leave you knew it was best that you got some rest. You weren't any good to anyone if you didn't heal. But it didn't stop the nagging feeling in your chest when Simon carefully pushed the wheelchair out of the room.

Once you're in the hallway Simon helps you take the overgown off, he throws the light pink objects in the trash and turns back to you.

“Ready?” He asks, “You can go take a nap and we can come back okay?”

Would they let you?

Did they have visiting hours here?

God why hadn't you researched the hospitals sooner?

What if something happened while you were resting?

What if she stopped breathing?

What if she died....

She was so small, so fragile, so breakable.

And it was all your fault. You couldn't do the one thing you were supposed to. You were supposed to keep her safe until she was strong enough. Your body was supposed to nourish her and carry her until she was bigger. She was too little. Who would protect her now that you, the person who's supposed to, couldn't.

“Hey,” Simon's thumb sweeps under your eye, “why are you crying?”

“It’s my fault…” You sob, tears falling rapidly now. “This is all my fault.”

“Love..” Simon whispers, now kneeling on the floor in front of the wheelchair. One hand resting on your knee the other on your cheek as he wipes away the flood of tears.

“None of this was your fault,” he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to his. “None of it okay? You didn't do anything to cause this. It wasn't something we could have stopped okay? No one is blaming you, and I know that she won't either. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this okay? We’ll get through it together.”

“Okay…” You managed to breathe out but the tears didn't stop, and neither did the guilt eating a hole in your chest.

Next Part:

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