muses_w_remotes | 11.8. Bagger Vance quote
11.8. "Yep... Inside each and every one of us is one true authentic swing... Somethin' we was born with... Somethin' that's ours and ours alone... Somethin' that can't be taught to ya or learned... Somethin' that got to be remembered... Over time the world can, rob us of that swing... It get buried inside us under all our wouldas and couldas and shouldas... Some folk even forget what their swing was like..."
| The Legend of Bagger Vance
Co-written with sexyinscrubs
Lachlan had his baby son hugged securely in his arms, finding himself lost in a daydream staring out the window into the hospital grounds below. The baby boy was a warm bundle against his chest, the little blond head tucked under Lachlan’s chin. The baby was sleeping, oblivious to the cuddling, but his Dad wasn’t and he was indulging in every minute of it. He patted his hand fondly against the little boy’s extensively diapered bottom. He was so small that it was just all diaper and was much the source of amusement for his parents when they were undressing him for bath time.
“Someone could set a bomb off in here and you wouldn’t notice, darling,” Pat said with a smile as he made his way slowly into the baby’s hospital room. He might be out of a wheelchair and back on his feet again, but it was with the aid of a walking stick, which might end up being a permanent fixture. It had been slow going recovering from this attack and he had come to face facts he had been deluded to see earlier… he just might not ever return to full health again. But he was still optimistic and having Lachlan and Tara’s new addition on the block certainly helped not to dwell in one’s own ball of misery.
Lachlan turned around with a smile. “Aye, well, we’re having a father-son bonding moment,” he said and nodded towards the arm chair nearby. “Take a seat, buddy. You might be able to convince me to hand him over for a wee bit.”
“Now, that would be a second miracle in his life. We don’t want to push our luck, do we?” Pat joked, but gratefully sat down anyway. He still got tired easily but was reluctantly learning to take it easy. He frowned and pointed to Lachlan’s arm which he had just now noticed was dressed with a bandage. “What have you done, darling?”
“Nothing like you think,” Lachlan assured him and brought his son over to carefully place him in his godfather’s arms. His hand stayed against the bundle until he knew Pat had a good hold on him and then he perched on the windowsill. “Tattoo. I couldnae see my only son’s birth without marking the occasion, could I?” he pointed out rationally.
Pat smiled and shook his head. “If you were anyone but you, I would probably have room to argue. Well, whip it out then, sweet cheeks. How many does that make now? Six?” He tucked the baby blanket down just a little with his finger so he could see the sleeping infant’s face.
“Aye, six,” Lachlan confirmed with a nod and started to unwind the bandage around his forearm. “The Celtic knot band around my left bicep, the crossed swords with wedding rings and our vows on my right bicep, Clan Campbell crest on my chest, Scottish flags on my hip, thistle on my arse and now this…” He dropped the bandage into his lap and revealed his newest tattoo. It was the Scotland and Ireland flags crossed with sprig of Christmas holly threading around the poles. Underneath in a delicate script was his son’s full name, date and time of birth. “This is equal favourite to my wedding one,” he said with a proud grin.
“It’s perfect,” Pat agreed, grinning himself. He looked over the design carefully and probably would have pulled Lachlan’s arm closer for a better look if his hands weren’t happily occupied. As it was, the tattoo was very fresh, still red and sore looking. “What does Tara think?”
Lachlan laughed and started to bandage his arm again. “She loves it. She cried. She’s still a little hormonal and emotional over Riley being diagnosed with diabetes. She’s blaming herself and the guilt is exhausting her. We’ve been chatting about it, but we’re both going to see a diabetes counsellor just to offload a little. I dinnae think it’s a bad idea when the Paediatrician suggested it. We’ve just been trying to keep our heads above water adjusting to the idea of caring for the bairn a different way and getting him levelled on an insulin regime that works. We’re just… drained.”
Pat nodded. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all, darling. Are you having him put on an insulin pump while he’s a baby? I’ve had a few infant patients through surgery with the pump. The parents swore by it. No jabbing four times a day with needles.”
“Aye, we think that will probably be the best option for now at least. He’s so young. He doesnae understand anything going on, just that he’s hurting. It was killing us every time someone had to inject him. At least with the pump, we’d only have wee jabs for the blood glucose monitoring and if we confine it to his feet, he should soon get used to it and stop flinching. Breaks my heart,” Lachlan said quietly, reflexively clutching at his chest a little as it seemed to really physically hurt in heart at just the thought. “But he’s going to have it his whole life, so we need to get our acts together now and realise we’ve just got to deal and keep him as healthy as we can. Tara gets panicky about breastfeeding him now, too. She thinks her milk willnae be enough. Hence why we need to chat to someone who knows what they’re talking about with diabetic bairns.”
“Are you holding up okay, though? I know it’s really tough, Lachie, but you and Tara are two of the strongest people I know. You’ve caught him early enough for it not to have caused any lasting damage. Plus, he seems content considering,” Pat said, looking down worriedly at his godson. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
Lachlan nodded and began to bite on his thumb nail. “Aye, well, we just take it. He needs us to take it, nay matter how hard it is for us, it’s harder for him. He needs us to make it better. He cannae make it better himself.” He tapped his nail against his lip in thought. “Tab and I were about to sign that record deal together, but I dinnae know if I’m going to be able to pull it off. I cannae be away from him in New York recording and I wouldnae leave Tara to face all this alone. It’s just not in question.”
Pat’s forehead creased as he listened to the predicament and nodded in understanding. “He and Tara are always going to be your priority, darling. But I know you were excited about recording with Tab. Is there no other option to negotiate around it? Recording in Princeton, maybe.”
“Hm,” Lachlan murmured distractedly. “Even then, I wouldnae be home, unless I…” He stopped and scratched his head. “I guess I could always build a studio at home. I mean, I’ve thought about it a wee bit recently, just never really put much stock into it. It was before Riley was born, though, and obviously before we knew he was going to get so sick. There’s plenty of room in the backyard for an extension and I have the compensation money from the shooting just sitting there. Plus, if Riley ever wanted to explore music, he would have his own studio there. I’d basically be building it for him, anyway…”
Pat tilted his head with a small smile. “Just do it, darling. Don’t over-think it. What reason could you possible have not to? It sounds like a perfect solution and if your little boy doesn’t grow up with musical talent, pigs will fly out the window towards hell frozen over.”
“Construction work in the backyard with a sick newborn in the house?” Lachlan suggested, trying to look for reasons not to do it because as much as he hated to admit it, he was scared at how simple a solution it seemed after battling against the world for what seemed like forever.
“That’s what godparents and family are for,” Pat reasoned.
Lachlan went back to chewing on his thumbnail. “We might need the money if Riley gets really sick with the diabetes.”
“You aren’t going to use all of your compensation pay out to build a studio. If you let the what-ifs eat you up, you’ll lodge him in a bubble and never live life again,” Pat returned automatically, fully prepared to volley this out with his friend if need be.
“What if Tara and Riley both get really sick at the same time?” Lachlan tossed back, almost choking on the horrific suggestion as he fell from his lips.
Pat remained calm, eyes closely on Lachlan who was sounding much like he was going to work himself up into a state. “Princeton Plainsboro is one of the best hospitals right on your doorstep,” he said and then sighed softly. “Lachie, stop. Take a slow breath. Without the what-ifs or the maybes, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t build a studio for your son. Hell, with your talents, you could start your own independent record label.”
Lachlan swallowed, drawing a small breath and letting it out slowly. “There isnae any good reason,” he admitted.
“Then go for it,” Pat urged softly. “And love every fucking fabulous minute, darling, for you and your son.”
Word Count | 1,555
| The Legend of Bagger Vance
Co-written with sexyinscrubs
Lachlan had his baby son hugged securely in his arms, finding himself lost in a daydream staring out the window into the hospital grounds below. The baby boy was a warm bundle against his chest, the little blond head tucked under Lachlan’s chin. The baby was sleeping, oblivious to the cuddling, but his Dad wasn’t and he was indulging in every minute of it. He patted his hand fondly against the little boy’s extensively diapered bottom. He was so small that it was just all diaper and was much the source of amusement for his parents when they were undressing him for bath time.
“Someone could set a bomb off in here and you wouldn’t notice, darling,” Pat said with a smile as he made his way slowly into the baby’s hospital room. He might be out of a wheelchair and back on his feet again, but it was with the aid of a walking stick, which might end up being a permanent fixture. It had been slow going recovering from this attack and he had come to face facts he had been deluded to see earlier… he just might not ever return to full health again. But he was still optimistic and having Lachlan and Tara’s new addition on the block certainly helped not to dwell in one’s own ball of misery.
Lachlan turned around with a smile. “Aye, well, we’re having a father-son bonding moment,” he said and nodded towards the arm chair nearby. “Take a seat, buddy. You might be able to convince me to hand him over for a wee bit.”
“Now, that would be a second miracle in his life. We don’t want to push our luck, do we?” Pat joked, but gratefully sat down anyway. He still got tired easily but was reluctantly learning to take it easy. He frowned and pointed to Lachlan’s arm which he had just now noticed was dressed with a bandage. “What have you done, darling?”
“Nothing like you think,” Lachlan assured him and brought his son over to carefully place him in his godfather’s arms. His hand stayed against the bundle until he knew Pat had a good hold on him and then he perched on the windowsill. “Tattoo. I couldnae see my only son’s birth without marking the occasion, could I?” he pointed out rationally.
Pat smiled and shook his head. “If you were anyone but you, I would probably have room to argue. Well, whip it out then, sweet cheeks. How many does that make now? Six?” He tucked the baby blanket down just a little with his finger so he could see the sleeping infant’s face.
“Aye, six,” Lachlan confirmed with a nod and started to unwind the bandage around his forearm. “The Celtic knot band around my left bicep, the crossed swords with wedding rings and our vows on my right bicep, Clan Campbell crest on my chest, Scottish flags on my hip, thistle on my arse and now this…” He dropped the bandage into his lap and revealed his newest tattoo. It was the Scotland and Ireland flags crossed with sprig of Christmas holly threading around the poles. Underneath in a delicate script was his son’s full name, date and time of birth. “This is equal favourite to my wedding one,” he said with a proud grin.
“It’s perfect,” Pat agreed, grinning himself. He looked over the design carefully and probably would have pulled Lachlan’s arm closer for a better look if his hands weren’t happily occupied. As it was, the tattoo was very fresh, still red and sore looking. “What does Tara think?”
Lachlan laughed and started to bandage his arm again. “She loves it. She cried. She’s still a little hormonal and emotional over Riley being diagnosed with diabetes. She’s blaming herself and the guilt is exhausting her. We’ve been chatting about it, but we’re both going to see a diabetes counsellor just to offload a little. I dinnae think it’s a bad idea when the Paediatrician suggested it. We’ve just been trying to keep our heads above water adjusting to the idea of caring for the bairn a different way and getting him levelled on an insulin regime that works. We’re just… drained.”
Pat nodded. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all, darling. Are you having him put on an insulin pump while he’s a baby? I’ve had a few infant patients through surgery with the pump. The parents swore by it. No jabbing four times a day with needles.”
“Aye, we think that will probably be the best option for now at least. He’s so young. He doesnae understand anything going on, just that he’s hurting. It was killing us every time someone had to inject him. At least with the pump, we’d only have wee jabs for the blood glucose monitoring and if we confine it to his feet, he should soon get used to it and stop flinching. Breaks my heart,” Lachlan said quietly, reflexively clutching at his chest a little as it seemed to really physically hurt in heart at just the thought. “But he’s going to have it his whole life, so we need to get our acts together now and realise we’ve just got to deal and keep him as healthy as we can. Tara gets panicky about breastfeeding him now, too. She thinks her milk willnae be enough. Hence why we need to chat to someone who knows what they’re talking about with diabetic bairns.”
“Are you holding up okay, though? I know it’s really tough, Lachie, but you and Tara are two of the strongest people I know. You’ve caught him early enough for it not to have caused any lasting damage. Plus, he seems content considering,” Pat said, looking down worriedly at his godson. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
Lachlan nodded and began to bite on his thumb nail. “Aye, well, we just take it. He needs us to take it, nay matter how hard it is for us, it’s harder for him. He needs us to make it better. He cannae make it better himself.” He tapped his nail against his lip in thought. “Tab and I were about to sign that record deal together, but I dinnae know if I’m going to be able to pull it off. I cannae be away from him in New York recording and I wouldnae leave Tara to face all this alone. It’s just not in question.”
Pat’s forehead creased as he listened to the predicament and nodded in understanding. “He and Tara are always going to be your priority, darling. But I know you were excited about recording with Tab. Is there no other option to negotiate around it? Recording in Princeton, maybe.”
“Hm,” Lachlan murmured distractedly. “Even then, I wouldnae be home, unless I…” He stopped and scratched his head. “I guess I could always build a studio at home. I mean, I’ve thought about it a wee bit recently, just never really put much stock into it. It was before Riley was born, though, and obviously before we knew he was going to get so sick. There’s plenty of room in the backyard for an extension and I have the compensation money from the shooting just sitting there. Plus, if Riley ever wanted to explore music, he would have his own studio there. I’d basically be building it for him, anyway…”
Pat tilted his head with a small smile. “Just do it, darling. Don’t over-think it. What reason could you possible have not to? It sounds like a perfect solution and if your little boy doesn’t grow up with musical talent, pigs will fly out the window towards hell frozen over.”
“Construction work in the backyard with a sick newborn in the house?” Lachlan suggested, trying to look for reasons not to do it because as much as he hated to admit it, he was scared at how simple a solution it seemed after battling against the world for what seemed like forever.
“That’s what godparents and family are for,” Pat reasoned.
Lachlan went back to chewing on his thumbnail. “We might need the money if Riley gets really sick with the diabetes.”
“You aren’t going to use all of your compensation pay out to build a studio. If you let the what-ifs eat you up, you’ll lodge him in a bubble and never live life again,” Pat returned automatically, fully prepared to volley this out with his friend if need be.
“What if Tara and Riley both get really sick at the same time?” Lachlan tossed back, almost choking on the horrific suggestion as he fell from his lips.
Pat remained calm, eyes closely on Lachlan who was sounding much like he was going to work himself up into a state. “Princeton Plainsboro is one of the best hospitals right on your doorstep,” he said and then sighed softly. “Lachie, stop. Take a slow breath. Without the what-ifs or the maybes, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t build a studio for your son. Hell, with your talents, you could start your own independent record label.”
Lachlan swallowed, drawing a small breath and letting it out slowly. “There isnae any good reason,” he admitted.
“Then go for it,” Pat urged softly. “And love every fucking fabulous minute, darling, for you and your son.”
Word Count | 1,555