Chlollie Fanfic: Beauty in the Breakdown XI: Baby Love, Chapter 3
Hi y'all,
...Back again with more Chlollie goodness! :-)
ETA 05.10.14: I noticed a few timeline issues in this chapter, and I've amended it slightly so that it makes better sense.
Enjoy. Awesome banner by Chleansmile; thanks, Sunny!
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown XI: Baby Love
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13) New Series.
Warnings: A Re-telling of Chlollie post-Warrior
Timeline: Season 9
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Series Summary: With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.
Story Summary: Following the loss of their beloved baby, Chloe and Oliver find their way back to a place of love and hope
Feedback: …Always. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter Three
The last smidgeons of sleep vanished from Oliver’s eyes instantly and he sat bold upright in bed.
“You’re in labour?” he yelled.
She held a hand up reassuringly. “It’s early in the day, honey; no need to panic.”
“No need to panic?! You’re in freaking labour!”
“The latent phase, yes. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” he echoed, currently unable to do anything except repeat his wife’s words. He threw the covers off and scrambled to his feet, almost tripping on the sheets as he did so. “You’re having the baby, like now!”
“Not for a few hours, at least,” she corrected.
“And until then, I just, what…? Stand here and scratch my ass while you’re doubled over in pain?!”
“It’s just labour, honey,” she said patiently. “I admit, it hurts; but in terms of the actual progression of delivery, nothing’s happening at the moment.”
“It shouldn’t even be happening at all! You’re not due for another two weeks!” he said incredulously.
“It’s always give or take with the last couple of weeks, you know that,” she replied calmly. “They told us this could happen at any time, and I’m coping with the pain quite well, even if I do say so myself.”
He didn’t believe her. “How long have you been awake?” he challenged.
“I … I haven’t slept,” she admitted.
“You haven’t slept?!”
“But I’ve been resting between contractions,” she hastily added. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“Well you should have!” he admonished. “Oh, God, to think I was dreaming about cheese when all the while, you were sitting here in pain…!”
“I’m okay, really…”
He swore under his breath. “Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have had that second helping at dinner.”
Chloe sighed deeply. “Oliver, calm down…please…”
“My God, this is really happening.” He turned on the overhead light and reached for his car keys. “I need to get you to the hospital-”
“It’s still too early for that. We go now, we’ll just be sitting there for hours.”
“After what happened to our last child, I’m not taking any chances,” he said grimly. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“I’ve been timing them since before dinner-”
“Dinner!”
“…and they were ten minutes apart then.”
He glanced at the clock and his gaped. “That was six hours ago! God, Chloe, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew...” she paused and breathed deeply through another contraction, her breath exiting in long, slow whooshes. After about a minute, she continued.
“Because I knew you’d panic, and I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before you absolutely needed to be awake. This is probably going to continue all night, and trust me, when the pain really hits, you will not be sleeping through that.” She managed a grin. "And this is just the beginning. Once she’s here, uninterrupted sleep with be a thing of the past.”
“Huh,” he mused. “I didn’t even think about that.”
She smiled. “I did. This is your last night as a baby-free man, and I just wanted you to enjoy that.”
He returned her smile, his heart swelling with love at his wife’s generosity. Here she was, in constant pain, and her only thoughts were of him. It was humbling, to be so blessed with unconditional love.
“Have you at least called the hospital?” he asked, injecting some calm into his voice.
“I’ve spoken to Lola; she’s on standby. She said to come to the hospital when my contractions are three minutes apart, or if my water breaks; whichever comes first.”
He paced up and down. “And how far apart are they now?”
“Seven minutes…” she winced as another contraction took hold, and glanced at her watch when it was done. “Oww. Make that six.”
“Shit. I’m getting you to the hospital now-”
“Oliver.”
He paused at the stillness of her voice and turned, and she smiled and beckoned with her forefinger. He walked unsteadily over to her and knelt in front of her, and she took his hands in hers and rested her forehead on his.
“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “I know this is scary for you; it’s scary for me, too… but I need you to be calm, and I need you to be strong, for both me and the baby. Can you do that for me?”
Oliver swallowed and nodded. He’d read somewhere that babies in the womb could sense stressful environments, and he was doing his damnedest not to panic, but…
“I’ll do my best,” he promised, not half as confident as he wanted to be.
She smiled. “Good. Get as comfortable as you can, honey. My best estimate, we’re probably going to be here for at least another two to three hours.”
She breathed deeply again as her womb contracted and clutched hard at his hands. He could see her struggling to endure the pain that was lancing through her body, and it was killing him that he was responsible for her pain and that there was nothing he could do to take it away.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital right now?” he said helplessly. “They can give you something for the pain…”
“I don’t want… pain relief,” she replied, breathing slowly between her words. “Just… hold my hands for now, honey. This is okay; this is working.”
“Is it?” he asked, his voice doubtful. “Is it really?”
She nodded and smiled. “Oh yeah. You’re ready for this.”
***
One Year Ago
Oliver smiled as the door to his colleague’s apartment opened in front of him.
“Hi, Oliver,” Trent Noble said with a smile. “I really appreciate you coming over so late.”
“No problem at all, Trent,” Oliver replied honestly. As head of Queen Industries’ Applied Sciences division, Trent was one of the few people in the world trusted with full details of Oliver’s hero identity. It was Trent who had devised and designed the Green Arrow weapons and costume, and he’d personally handled the upgrades to Victor Stone’s computer systems. He’d optimised and redesigned the Watchtower, and amassed tools and ammunition used by the League on all their operations.
Due to the sensitive nature of Trent’s work, Oliver often met him at unconventional times and places to discuss official matters; on this occasion, the discussion was to be had at 10pm in Trent’s front room.
“I trust all details of our conversation are strictly confidential as always?” Oliver asked, more as a formality than anything, as they walked through to the front room.
Trent made a wry face. “Well, uh…actually there will be another pair of ears listening in on this occasion.”
Oliver stiffened and narrowed his eyes, but Trent smiled.
“…however, I can assure you that he will not be sharing trade secrets with anyone.” They walked into the den, and Oliver stared into the wide brown eyes of Trent’s young son, looking curiously up at them from behind the bars of his playpen.
“Wow,” Oliver whispered. He bent down and ruffled the curly dark hair, and was rewarded with a gurgly smile. “It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Trent replied, his pride evident. “Just coming up to eleven months. Kathy hasn’t had a day off since he was born, so she’s spending the weekend with her sister in California while I hold the forte on the home front.”
“That sounds fair,” Oliver agreed, smiling even as a dull ache pitted in his belly.
Eleven months… Oliver closed his eyes and mentally pictured his own lost child, who would have been about the same age as Charlie if he or she had made it.
Chloe had been wondrously patient with him all year, and he was hoping that by the time the anniversary of what would have been their baby’s first birthday arrived, he would be mentally ready to try again to increase their family. He wasn’t there yet; but he hoped he soon would be.
***
They started the meeting, managing to discuss business around the occasional babble and thump from Charlie's xylophone, mini drum kit and a host of other squeaky, rattly toys within his reach. Oliver listened intently to Trent’s improvement plan, although he constantly found his attention drawn to the small child in the playpen.
“If he’s distracting you, I can always put him down for the night,” Trent offered.
“What? Oh, no! No, not at all,” Oliver replied hurriedly. He gave Charlie a smile, and the baby responded with a squeal and a two-toothed grin in return.
“He’s been quiet all evening,” Oliver observed. “I’m no expert, but he seems very well-behaved for one so young.”
“Yeah, right,” Trent scoffed. “He should have been in bed two hours ago, but he knows Mom is out of the house and he’s testing my boundaries, the little scamp.”
Young Charlie, aware of all the visual attention, clung to the bars of the playpen and pressed his face through the gap. He extended one chubby arm out and moaned in protest, clearly demanding to be picked up.
“Can I hold him?” Oliver found himself asking.
“Uh… yeah, if you’re sure,” Trent said, glancing at Oliver’s expensive suit. He lifted Charlie out of the playpen and balanced him expertly in one arm and reached for a large square napkin with the other. “You might want to put this on your shoulder first, though. He’s teething and dribbling like crazy.”
“That’s fine.” Oliver swallowed nervously as Charlie was placed in his lap.
The first thing he noticed was the pleasant aroma of baby powder. He smiled as a host of happy memories surfaced in his brain, and shifted Charlie to a more comfortable position.
“He’s adorable, Trent,” he said honestly.
Trent smiled. “Thanks. Kathy and I think so, too; but then, we kinda have to.”
Both Oliver and the baby observed each other with curious eyes. Charlie stared at him openly, his large brown eyes taking in every facet of Oliver’s face. He gurgled and reached for Oliver’s chin, and Oliver marvelled at the softness of those tiny hands as they brushed experimentally up and down Oliver’s cheeks.
Trent smiled. “He’s wondering why there’s no fur on your face,” he explained, tapping his own bearded chin. “It feels different to mine.”
“Clever boy,” Oliver said, impressed. “Nothing gets past you, huh, little fella?” He ruffled Charlie’s springy hair, and Charlie grabbed hold of Oliver’s forefinger and started moving it towards his mouth.
“No, Charlie!” his father said sternly, intervening and unclasping his son’s tight grip from Oliver’s hand. “We do not gnaw on our visitor’s fingers!”
Charlie’s chin wobbled, and those large eyes quickly filled with tears. He jammed his own fingers into his mouth and clamped his jaws down on them, moving them back and forth ferociously. Trent excused himself and disappeared briefly, quickly returning with a teething ring which the baby gratefully accepted and chomped down on instead.
“I do apologise, Oliver,” Trent said. “It’s the teething; he’s putting everything in his mouth these days.”
“It’s totally fine,” he replied, smiling as Charlie started dribbling. Instinctively he lifted the bib that was fastened around the baby’s neck and dabbed the moisture away. “There; all better.”
“Wow,” Trent said, impressed. “Anyone would think you have kids of your own. “You’re a natural at this.”
Oliver swallowed. “You think so?” he asked thickly.
“Of course. Charlie’s very picky with people, he doesn’t go to just anyone. He’s really bonded with you.”
They continued with the meeting, but for the rest of the evening Oliver focused on the child in his arms. When the baby sniffled and rubbed his tired eyes with a chubby hand, Oliver rose to his feet and rested the boy’s head on his shoulder, murmuring soothing words as he gently patted his back. Long after Charlie was asleep, Oliver was reluctant to release the child from his arms.
Not for the first time that evening, Oliver thought of what his life would be like if his child were alive to share it with him. But for the first time, that thought was accompanied not by pain, but by hope.
At the end of the night, Oliver smiled as he handed the sleeping baby over to his father and took his leave.
He was ready.
***
Chapter 4…
...Back again with more Chlollie goodness! :-)
ETA 05.10.14: I noticed a few timeline issues in this chapter, and I've amended it slightly so that it makes better sense.
Enjoy. Awesome banner by Chleansmile; thanks, Sunny!
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown XI: Baby Love
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter PG-13) New Series.
Warnings: A Re-telling of Chlollie post-Warrior
Timeline: Season 9
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Series Summary: With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.
Story Summary: Following the loss of their beloved baby, Chloe and Oliver find their way back to a place of love and hope
Feedback: …Always. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter Three
The last smidgeons of sleep vanished from Oliver’s eyes instantly and he sat bold upright in bed.
“You’re in labour?” he yelled.
She held a hand up reassuringly. “It’s early in the day, honey; no need to panic.”
“No need to panic?! You’re in freaking labour!”
“The latent phase, yes. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” he echoed, currently unable to do anything except repeat his wife’s words. He threw the covers off and scrambled to his feet, almost tripping on the sheets as he did so. “You’re having the baby, like now!”
“Not for a few hours, at least,” she corrected.
“And until then, I just, what…? Stand here and scratch my ass while you’re doubled over in pain?!”
“It’s just labour, honey,” she said patiently. “I admit, it hurts; but in terms of the actual progression of delivery, nothing’s happening at the moment.”
“It shouldn’t even be happening at all! You’re not due for another two weeks!” he said incredulously.
“It’s always give or take with the last couple of weeks, you know that,” she replied calmly. “They told us this could happen at any time, and I’m coping with the pain quite well, even if I do say so myself.”
He didn’t believe her. “How long have you been awake?” he challenged.
“I … I haven’t slept,” she admitted.
“You haven’t slept?!”
“But I’ve been resting between contractions,” she hastily added. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“Well you should have!” he admonished. “Oh, God, to think I was dreaming about cheese when all the while, you were sitting here in pain…!”
“I’m okay, really…”
He swore under his breath. “Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have had that second helping at dinner.”
Chloe sighed deeply. “Oliver, calm down…please…”
“My God, this is really happening.” He turned on the overhead light and reached for his car keys. “I need to get you to the hospital-”
“It’s still too early for that. We go now, we’ll just be sitting there for hours.”
“After what happened to our last child, I’m not taking any chances,” he said grimly. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“I’ve been timing them since before dinner-”
“Dinner!”
“…and they were ten minutes apart then.”
He glanced at the clock and his gaped. “That was six hours ago! God, Chloe, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew...” she paused and breathed deeply through another contraction, her breath exiting in long, slow whooshes. After about a minute, she continued.
“Because I knew you’d panic, and I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before you absolutely needed to be awake. This is probably going to continue all night, and trust me, when the pain really hits, you will not be sleeping through that.” She managed a grin. "And this is just the beginning. Once she’s here, uninterrupted sleep with be a thing of the past.”
“Huh,” he mused. “I didn’t even think about that.”
She smiled. “I did. This is your last night as a baby-free man, and I just wanted you to enjoy that.”
He returned her smile, his heart swelling with love at his wife’s generosity. Here she was, in constant pain, and her only thoughts were of him. It was humbling, to be so blessed with unconditional love.
“Have you at least called the hospital?” he asked, injecting some calm into his voice.
“I’ve spoken to Lola; she’s on standby. She said to come to the hospital when my contractions are three minutes apart, or if my water breaks; whichever comes first.”
He paced up and down. “And how far apart are they now?”
“Seven minutes…” she winced as another contraction took hold, and glanced at her watch when it was done. “Oww. Make that six.”
“Shit. I’m getting you to the hospital now-”
“Oliver.”
He paused at the stillness of her voice and turned, and she smiled and beckoned with her forefinger. He walked unsteadily over to her and knelt in front of her, and she took his hands in hers and rested her forehead on his.
“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “I know this is scary for you; it’s scary for me, too… but I need you to be calm, and I need you to be strong, for both me and the baby. Can you do that for me?”
Oliver swallowed and nodded. He’d read somewhere that babies in the womb could sense stressful environments, and he was doing his damnedest not to panic, but…
“I’ll do my best,” he promised, not half as confident as he wanted to be.
She smiled. “Good. Get as comfortable as you can, honey. My best estimate, we’re probably going to be here for at least another two to three hours.”
She breathed deeply again as her womb contracted and clutched hard at his hands. He could see her struggling to endure the pain that was lancing through her body, and it was killing him that he was responsible for her pain and that there was nothing he could do to take it away.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital right now?” he said helplessly. “They can give you something for the pain…”
“I don’t want… pain relief,” she replied, breathing slowly between her words. “Just… hold my hands for now, honey. This is okay; this is working.”
“Is it?” he asked, his voice doubtful. “Is it really?”
She nodded and smiled. “Oh yeah. You’re ready for this.”
***
One Year Ago
Oliver smiled as the door to his colleague’s apartment opened in front of him.
“Hi, Oliver,” Trent Noble said with a smile. “I really appreciate you coming over so late.”
“No problem at all, Trent,” Oliver replied honestly. As head of Queen Industries’ Applied Sciences division, Trent was one of the few people in the world trusted with full details of Oliver’s hero identity. It was Trent who had devised and designed the Green Arrow weapons and costume, and he’d personally handled the upgrades to Victor Stone’s computer systems. He’d optimised and redesigned the Watchtower, and amassed tools and ammunition used by the League on all their operations.
Due to the sensitive nature of Trent’s work, Oliver often met him at unconventional times and places to discuss official matters; on this occasion, the discussion was to be had at 10pm in Trent’s front room.
“I trust all details of our conversation are strictly confidential as always?” Oliver asked, more as a formality than anything, as they walked through to the front room.
Trent made a wry face. “Well, uh…actually there will be another pair of ears listening in on this occasion.”
Oliver stiffened and narrowed his eyes, but Trent smiled.
“…however, I can assure you that he will not be sharing trade secrets with anyone.” They walked into the den, and Oliver stared into the wide brown eyes of Trent’s young son, looking curiously up at them from behind the bars of his playpen.
“Wow,” Oliver whispered. He bent down and ruffled the curly dark hair, and was rewarded with a gurgly smile. “It’s Charlie, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Trent replied, his pride evident. “Just coming up to eleven months. Kathy hasn’t had a day off since he was born, so she’s spending the weekend with her sister in California while I hold the forte on the home front.”
“That sounds fair,” Oliver agreed, smiling even as a dull ache pitted in his belly.
Eleven months… Oliver closed his eyes and mentally pictured his own lost child, who would have been about the same age as Charlie if he or she had made it.
Chloe had been wondrously patient with him all year, and he was hoping that by the time the anniversary of what would have been their baby’s first birthday arrived, he would be mentally ready to try again to increase their family. He wasn’t there yet; but he hoped he soon would be.
***
They started the meeting, managing to discuss business around the occasional babble and thump from Charlie's xylophone, mini drum kit and a host of other squeaky, rattly toys within his reach. Oliver listened intently to Trent’s improvement plan, although he constantly found his attention drawn to the small child in the playpen.
“If he’s distracting you, I can always put him down for the night,” Trent offered.
“What? Oh, no! No, not at all,” Oliver replied hurriedly. He gave Charlie a smile, and the baby responded with a squeal and a two-toothed grin in return.
“He’s been quiet all evening,” Oliver observed. “I’m no expert, but he seems very well-behaved for one so young.”
“Yeah, right,” Trent scoffed. “He should have been in bed two hours ago, but he knows Mom is out of the house and he’s testing my boundaries, the little scamp.”
Young Charlie, aware of all the visual attention, clung to the bars of the playpen and pressed his face through the gap. He extended one chubby arm out and moaned in protest, clearly demanding to be picked up.
“Can I hold him?” Oliver found himself asking.
“Uh… yeah, if you’re sure,” Trent said, glancing at Oliver’s expensive suit. He lifted Charlie out of the playpen and balanced him expertly in one arm and reached for a large square napkin with the other. “You might want to put this on your shoulder first, though. He’s teething and dribbling like crazy.”
“That’s fine.” Oliver swallowed nervously as Charlie was placed in his lap.
The first thing he noticed was the pleasant aroma of baby powder. He smiled as a host of happy memories surfaced in his brain, and shifted Charlie to a more comfortable position.
“He’s adorable, Trent,” he said honestly.
Trent smiled. “Thanks. Kathy and I think so, too; but then, we kinda have to.”
Both Oliver and the baby observed each other with curious eyes. Charlie stared at him openly, his large brown eyes taking in every facet of Oliver’s face. He gurgled and reached for Oliver’s chin, and Oliver marvelled at the softness of those tiny hands as they brushed experimentally up and down Oliver’s cheeks.
Trent smiled. “He’s wondering why there’s no fur on your face,” he explained, tapping his own bearded chin. “It feels different to mine.”
“Clever boy,” Oliver said, impressed. “Nothing gets past you, huh, little fella?” He ruffled Charlie’s springy hair, and Charlie grabbed hold of Oliver’s forefinger and started moving it towards his mouth.
“No, Charlie!” his father said sternly, intervening and unclasping his son’s tight grip from Oliver’s hand. “We do not gnaw on our visitor’s fingers!”
Charlie’s chin wobbled, and those large eyes quickly filled with tears. He jammed his own fingers into his mouth and clamped his jaws down on them, moving them back and forth ferociously. Trent excused himself and disappeared briefly, quickly returning with a teething ring which the baby gratefully accepted and chomped down on instead.
“I do apologise, Oliver,” Trent said. “It’s the teething; he’s putting everything in his mouth these days.”
“It’s totally fine,” he replied, smiling as Charlie started dribbling. Instinctively he lifted the bib that was fastened around the baby’s neck and dabbed the moisture away. “There; all better.”
“Wow,” Trent said, impressed. “Anyone would think you have kids of your own. “You’re a natural at this.”
Oliver swallowed. “You think so?” he asked thickly.
“Of course. Charlie’s very picky with people, he doesn’t go to just anyone. He’s really bonded with you.”
They continued with the meeting, but for the rest of the evening Oliver focused on the child in his arms. When the baby sniffled and rubbed his tired eyes with a chubby hand, Oliver rose to his feet and rested the boy’s head on his shoulder, murmuring soothing words as he gently patted his back. Long after Charlie was asleep, Oliver was reluctant to release the child from his arms.
Not for the first time that evening, Oliver thought of what his life would be like if his child were alive to share it with him. But for the first time, that thought was accompanied not by pain, but by hope.
At the end of the night, Oliver smiled as he handed the sleeping baby over to his father and took his leave.
He was ready.
***
Chapter 4…