You've always been barely alive
Title: Blues Like Me (48/?)
Author: Logan
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: R
Previous Parts: (found here)
Summary: "She doesn't even have a name."
A/N: I know I'm taking forever between updates but I like to have the next part at least half written before posting and I just can't seem to work out the next part. Hopefully it will come together soon... Thanks for sticking with me, it really means a lot. Oh! And I'd love to dedicate this part to generationxhero just cause she's been pestering me to post for over a week now and she's just awesome, y'know?
Billie Joe opened his eyes and blinked. His eyelids felt heavy, heavier than usual, almost as though he were ready to fall asleep. Which was weird considering that he had just woken up.
It was dark outside, silent save for the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. But he didn’t care. He shivered and curled his arms around his torso, clad in nothing but an old, thin t-shirt to shield him from the wind.
But he couldn’t go back for a jacket. Going back for a jacket would mean taking those few extra minutes. Wasting the moments in which he should be hurrying towards the crying. The cries of the baby that he still had yet to find.
He wanted to call out for help but couldn’t. He had no voice to call out. No one was around to hear him anyways and besides, the baby didn’t even have a name. Not that calling the baby’s name would work because even if it had a name it wouldn’t recognize it.
Billie shoved his hands up against his ears and groaned loudly. The crying wouldn’t fucking stop and he was starting to get real sick of it. Mix the crying in with the fact that the waves were growing in size and sound made Billie Joe feel like giving up.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up and go back home because that would be failing. Failing the baby, failing Mike, failing Callie and failing himself. He had to find the fucking baby. He had to find him and make him stop fucking crying.
And then Billie saw it.
His baby. His little baby boy, curled up in a dark green blanket and resting in a crib made of dark, almost black, wood.
He was perfect. Blonde hair and the brightest of blue eyes. Cheeks that were rounded and rosy red. Lips that were spread in a wide smile. And two little hands reaching out towards his mommy.
And Billie couldn’t reach him. Couldn’t grab onto his hand, couldn’t even brush the tips of his fingers up against those teeny-tiny ones. But at least he had stopped crying. He had finally stopped crying.
But Billie couldn’t stop.
He jolted awake at the feel of someone, something, shaking him. A concerned voice calling out his name as soft lips pressed up against the side of his head.
“Billie? You okay?”
He shook his head and shoved Mike’s warm body away from him. He didn’t want his fucking sympathy right now. He didn’t want his boyfriend to baby him for the sixth night in a row. It only made him feel more torn up than he already was.
“I’m going to the living room.” He pushed his way out of the bed and walked towards the door. He bent over to grab at a hoodie lying on the ground and winced, one hand flying to his stomach as he groaned in pain, “I’m fine. Don’t say anything about me sitting the fuck down and relaxing, I’m not your child.”
Mike sat up, rubbing at his eyes as his mouth dropped open, “Bab--Billie,” He hated being called baby, slapped Mike across the face the first time it left his mouth. He knew that Billie hadn’t meant to slap him, the other boy had gone wide-eyed and panicked the moment after it had happened. But still, he had slapped him for calling him baby.
“I’m just going out to the living room to watch TV. And I don’t need your help getting there or--or staying there.” Billie crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at his boyfriend as if challenging him to say anything else.
“I wasn’t saying that you needed help, I just worry about you.” He sighed before shuffling out of the bed and walking over in front of Billie, “Is it okay to worry over you?”
Billie’s breath caught in his throat as Mike’s hand fell down on top of his shoulder. He felt like running away, he felt like collapsing onto the ground, he felt like crying. Most of all, he felt like giving up. Instead, he looked up into Mike’s blue eyes and gasped. The same blue as his baby’s eyes.
“Hey, hey…don’t cry, Beej. C’mon, talk to me about this.” Mike’s hands moved to hold either side of Billie’s face, his thumbs wiping at the tears that continued falling down the pale cheeks, “You aren’t going through this alone.”
“I’m fine. Just a bad dream and I really don’t feel like going back to sleep right now. So if you could just let me leave an--”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to me if it gets too bad.” Mike bit down on his lower lip as he scanned Billie’s face for some kind of sign.
“Promise.” Billie sighed and shoved his hair off of his forehead, “Could you just let me go now?”
Mike let go with a heavy sigh, turning and crawling back into the bed as Billie walked out of the room and down the hallway.
He paused to check on his daughter. He leaned himself up against the doorframe and watched her as she tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep about something that Billie couldn’t understand. He gave a weak smile, at least his little girl was okay.
He continued on to the living room, his entire body tensing as he walked past the room that belonged, was supposed to belong, to the twins. He thought about looking inside out of nothing more than pure curiosity, but he decided against it.
He knew that the room wasn’t the same room it had been a couple weeks ago when they were preparing for their newest additions. He knew that because Mike had been in there, along with Tre, working to fix the room up. Trying to erase the memory of that horrible day clear out of Billie’s brain.
But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t erase what happened and that made Billie sick to his stomach. He knew what had happened last time and he did not want a repeat of that, not one bit. But it was hard. Hard to keep promises, even the promises he made to himself.
He sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. His stomach was aching. His war wounds closed shut with neat stitches but causing him more pain that he could even think. He swore it hurt worse when he thought about him. About them.
It had been eight days since they’d been born. Since the doctors had ripped his babies out of his body and taken them away. Eight days since the news that had changed his life.
He had been home for five days and having nightmares for the past six nights. The nightmares started in the hospital after they’d picked out a name. Filled out a birth certificate and a death certificate with a name that was painted on a wooden sign hanging above one of the two cribs in the nursery.
Except that Mike had cleared it out, hadn’t he? He had taken down the extra crib and packed everything else into boxes. Only leaving the purples and pinks. No greens and blues.
Billie gave a loud sob, not even realizing that he was crying until the noise reached his ears. He pushed off of the couch and stumbled towards the nursery, not even caring that he was being louder than he should be.
He opened the door to find the room completely set up and ready for his baby girl, whenever she would happen to come home. He saw no traces of the boy except for one blue teddy bear leaning next to a pink one on the top of the dresser.
He wandered over to run his hand across the soft fur of the bears, fingering the letter ‘O’ stitched on both of them. Olivia and Owen. The two names they’d finally settled on. He gave a small smile as he thought back to picking those name out a few weeks ago. Him and Mike had fought over names for the longest time before finding those two. Two names that fit together well enough without being the exact same. Plus, Callie liked the idea of both names, walking around putting emphasise on the oh’s in both names.
But that was then and this was now. Their baby boy had a name on his birth certificate. Owen Noah Pritchard. Noah had been a last minute decision. It meant rest and peace, something both he and Mike agreed would be fitting for their little boy. There was no hyphenated last name like Callie. Billie didn’t want that, he just wanted one name. He just wanted Mike’s name.
Moving away from the dresser he wiped his hand across his face, wiping at the tears that continued pouring down his face. He gasped loudly as he turned and bumped into someone.
“M--mike?”
“An’ Callie!” The three-year old threw her arms up in the air and giggled as Mike switched her from one arm to the other, “Yous cryin’, mommy so we came to help.”
Mike shrugged and grabbed onto one of Billie’s hands. He pressed a kiss to the side of his boyfriend’s head, “I thought you didn’t want to come in here.”
“I don’t, but…” He motioned towards the dresser, “Why keep the bears? Why did you keep them in here.”
“I--” Mike glanced at the twin bears sitting side by side on the dresser, “I didn’t want to pack it all up. Besides, we still have a baby girl that can use both of those bears.”
“She doesn’t even have a name.”
“Because you refuse to fill out the birth certificate.”
Calico let out a heavy sigh, “Guys? Movie and cakes?”
Billie raised an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his daughter’s messy hair, “Did daddy tell you that he’d make you pancakes?” He gave a shaky grin at her nod, “It’s really, really early in the morning, baby girl.”
“But--but. Da-a-addy!” She tilted her head to look up at Mike, sliding her bottom lip out into a pout that made him smile.
“You look like your mommy, little girl. Why don’t we go sleep for a little bit and then we’ll get up and have some pancakes and watch a movie.” He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and moved to walk out of the room, pulling Billie along with him.
“An’ then we can go see my baby?”
Billie stiffened at the words, his feet stopping all movement as he awaited Mike’s response. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and wanted to cry out an answer of No! but he kept quiet. Even if Mike said yes to Calico’s response, Billie didn’t have to go with them. And he wouldn’t go with them.
He hadn’t gone to see the girl. He knew she was alive and doing well but he refused to see her. There was too much guilt coursing through him to be able to actually go see her. The exact reason she was still being referred to as ‘Baby Pritchard’. Too much guilt.
Because as much as everyone said it wasn’t, Billie couldn’t help but think that it was his fault.
“Sure, we’ll go see her.”
Billie just shook his head.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So the baby names. I always wanted the girl to be Olivia and hadn’t picked one for the boy.
However, last minutes decision I decided to give him the name Noah because my Aunt had a baby boy, named Noah, that passed away almost immediately after his birth roughly eleven years ago.
But Noah didn’t sound right as a first name and then I was watching Criminal Minds and the unsub’s name was Owen and I decided that I liked that name and Owen fit okay with Olivia.
So yeah. Insight into my mind.
:)
( Next Part )
Author: Logan
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: R
Previous Parts: (found here)
Summary: "She doesn't even have a name."
A/N: I know I'm taking forever between updates but I like to have the next part at least half written before posting and I just can't seem to work out the next part. Hopefully it will come together soon... Thanks for sticking with me, it really means a lot. Oh! And I'd love to dedicate this part to generationxhero just cause she's been pestering me to post for over a week now and she's just awesome, y'know?
Billie Joe opened his eyes and blinked. His eyelids felt heavy, heavier than usual, almost as though he were ready to fall asleep. Which was weird considering that he had just woken up.
It was dark outside, silent save for the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. But he didn’t care. He shivered and curled his arms around his torso, clad in nothing but an old, thin t-shirt to shield him from the wind.
But he couldn’t go back for a jacket. Going back for a jacket would mean taking those few extra minutes. Wasting the moments in which he should be hurrying towards the crying. The cries of the baby that he still had yet to find.
He wanted to call out for help but couldn’t. He had no voice to call out. No one was around to hear him anyways and besides, the baby didn’t even have a name. Not that calling the baby’s name would work because even if it had a name it wouldn’t recognize it.
Billie shoved his hands up against his ears and groaned loudly. The crying wouldn’t fucking stop and he was starting to get real sick of it. Mix the crying in with the fact that the waves were growing in size and sound made Billie Joe feel like giving up.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up and go back home because that would be failing. Failing the baby, failing Mike, failing Callie and failing himself. He had to find the fucking baby. He had to find him and make him stop fucking crying.
And then Billie saw it.
His baby. His little baby boy, curled up in a dark green blanket and resting in a crib made of dark, almost black, wood.
He was perfect. Blonde hair and the brightest of blue eyes. Cheeks that were rounded and rosy red. Lips that were spread in a wide smile. And two little hands reaching out towards his mommy.
And Billie couldn’t reach him. Couldn’t grab onto his hand, couldn’t even brush the tips of his fingers up against those teeny-tiny ones. But at least he had stopped crying. He had finally stopped crying.
But Billie couldn’t stop.
He jolted awake at the feel of someone, something, shaking him. A concerned voice calling out his name as soft lips pressed up against the side of his head.
“Billie? You okay?”
He shook his head and shoved Mike’s warm body away from him. He didn’t want his fucking sympathy right now. He didn’t want his boyfriend to baby him for the sixth night in a row. It only made him feel more torn up than he already was.
“I’m going to the living room.” He pushed his way out of the bed and walked towards the door. He bent over to grab at a hoodie lying on the ground and winced, one hand flying to his stomach as he groaned in pain, “I’m fine. Don’t say anything about me sitting the fuck down and relaxing, I’m not your child.”
Mike sat up, rubbing at his eyes as his mouth dropped open, “Bab--Billie,” He hated being called baby, slapped Mike across the face the first time it left his mouth. He knew that Billie hadn’t meant to slap him, the other boy had gone wide-eyed and panicked the moment after it had happened. But still, he had slapped him for calling him baby.
“I’m just going out to the living room to watch TV. And I don’t need your help getting there or--or staying there.” Billie crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at his boyfriend as if challenging him to say anything else.
“I wasn’t saying that you needed help, I just worry about you.” He sighed before shuffling out of the bed and walking over in front of Billie, “Is it okay to worry over you?”
Billie’s breath caught in his throat as Mike’s hand fell down on top of his shoulder. He felt like running away, he felt like collapsing onto the ground, he felt like crying. Most of all, he felt like giving up. Instead, he looked up into Mike’s blue eyes and gasped. The same blue as his baby’s eyes.
“Hey, hey…don’t cry, Beej. C’mon, talk to me about this.” Mike’s hands moved to hold either side of Billie’s face, his thumbs wiping at the tears that continued falling down the pale cheeks, “You aren’t going through this alone.”
“I’m fine. Just a bad dream and I really don’t feel like going back to sleep right now. So if you could just let me leave an--”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to me if it gets too bad.” Mike bit down on his lower lip as he scanned Billie’s face for some kind of sign.
“Promise.” Billie sighed and shoved his hair off of his forehead, “Could you just let me go now?”
Mike let go with a heavy sigh, turning and crawling back into the bed as Billie walked out of the room and down the hallway.
He paused to check on his daughter. He leaned himself up against the doorframe and watched her as she tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep about something that Billie couldn’t understand. He gave a weak smile, at least his little girl was okay.
He continued on to the living room, his entire body tensing as he walked past the room that belonged, was supposed to belong, to the twins. He thought about looking inside out of nothing more than pure curiosity, but he decided against it.
He knew that the room wasn’t the same room it had been a couple weeks ago when they were preparing for their newest additions. He knew that because Mike had been in there, along with Tre, working to fix the room up. Trying to erase the memory of that horrible day clear out of Billie’s brain.
But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t erase what happened and that made Billie sick to his stomach. He knew what had happened last time and he did not want a repeat of that, not one bit. But it was hard. Hard to keep promises, even the promises he made to himself.
He sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. His stomach was aching. His war wounds closed shut with neat stitches but causing him more pain that he could even think. He swore it hurt worse when he thought about him. About them.
It had been eight days since they’d been born. Since the doctors had ripped his babies out of his body and taken them away. Eight days since the news that had changed his life.
He had been home for five days and having nightmares for the past six nights. The nightmares started in the hospital after they’d picked out a name. Filled out a birth certificate and a death certificate with a name that was painted on a wooden sign hanging above one of the two cribs in the nursery.
Except that Mike had cleared it out, hadn’t he? He had taken down the extra crib and packed everything else into boxes. Only leaving the purples and pinks. No greens and blues.
Billie gave a loud sob, not even realizing that he was crying until the noise reached his ears. He pushed off of the couch and stumbled towards the nursery, not even caring that he was being louder than he should be.
He opened the door to find the room completely set up and ready for his baby girl, whenever she would happen to come home. He saw no traces of the boy except for one blue teddy bear leaning next to a pink one on the top of the dresser.
He wandered over to run his hand across the soft fur of the bears, fingering the letter ‘O’ stitched on both of them. Olivia and Owen. The two names they’d finally settled on. He gave a small smile as he thought back to picking those name out a few weeks ago. Him and Mike had fought over names for the longest time before finding those two. Two names that fit together well enough without being the exact same. Plus, Callie liked the idea of both names, walking around putting emphasise on the oh’s in both names.
But that was then and this was now. Their baby boy had a name on his birth certificate. Owen Noah Pritchard. Noah had been a last minute decision. It meant rest and peace, something both he and Mike agreed would be fitting for their little boy. There was no hyphenated last name like Callie. Billie didn’t want that, he just wanted one name. He just wanted Mike’s name.
Moving away from the dresser he wiped his hand across his face, wiping at the tears that continued pouring down his face. He gasped loudly as he turned and bumped into someone.
“M--mike?”
“An’ Callie!” The three-year old threw her arms up in the air and giggled as Mike switched her from one arm to the other, “Yous cryin’, mommy so we came to help.”
Mike shrugged and grabbed onto one of Billie’s hands. He pressed a kiss to the side of his boyfriend’s head, “I thought you didn’t want to come in here.”
“I don’t, but…” He motioned towards the dresser, “Why keep the bears? Why did you keep them in here.”
“I--” Mike glanced at the twin bears sitting side by side on the dresser, “I didn’t want to pack it all up. Besides, we still have a baby girl that can use both of those bears.”
“She doesn’t even have a name.”
“Because you refuse to fill out the birth certificate.”
Calico let out a heavy sigh, “Guys? Movie and cakes?”
Billie raised an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his daughter’s messy hair, “Did daddy tell you that he’d make you pancakes?” He gave a shaky grin at her nod, “It’s really, really early in the morning, baby girl.”
“But--but. Da-a-addy!” She tilted her head to look up at Mike, sliding her bottom lip out into a pout that made him smile.
“You look like your mommy, little girl. Why don’t we go sleep for a little bit and then we’ll get up and have some pancakes and watch a movie.” He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and moved to walk out of the room, pulling Billie along with him.
“An’ then we can go see my baby?”
Billie stiffened at the words, his feet stopping all movement as he awaited Mike’s response. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and wanted to cry out an answer of No! but he kept quiet. Even if Mike said yes to Calico’s response, Billie didn’t have to go with them. And he wouldn’t go with them.
He hadn’t gone to see the girl. He knew she was alive and doing well but he refused to see her. There was too much guilt coursing through him to be able to actually go see her. The exact reason she was still being referred to as ‘Baby Pritchard’. Too much guilt.
Because as much as everyone said it wasn’t, Billie couldn’t help but think that it was his fault.
“Sure, we’ll go see her.”
Billie just shook his head.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So the baby names. I always wanted the girl to be Olivia and hadn’t picked one for the boy.
However, last minutes decision I decided to give him the name Noah because my Aunt had a baby boy, named Noah, that passed away almost immediately after his birth roughly eleven years ago.
But Noah didn’t sound right as a first name and then I was watching Criminal Minds and the unsub’s name was Owen and I decided that I liked that name and Owen fit okay with Olivia.
So yeah. Insight into my mind.
:)
( Next Part )