muse_shuffle || February Disc Two
Track 12. Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I don’t know who you are
but I... I'm with you
[‘I’m With You’ - Avril Lavigne]
Co-written with agentfraser
[Follows THIS]
Marc had been more than stunned when a phone call from an ‘Ali’ was connected to him in his office. His stomach had launched up in his throat, making him almost gag on his coffee out of sheer nerves of speaking to her for the first time since he told her everything. He had thought she might be calling to give him a tongue-lashing over being a gigantic bastard, which was always a possibility with Ali. The last thing he had expected was her to be in tears, desperately pleading with him to come over because she needed him. There was no argument. Marc just walked out of the office and was at his old apartment as quick as he could get his driver to nudge through the busy New York traffic.
Ali’s door was open, so he only knocked once and went straight inside to her. All sorts of horrible scenarios were rushing through his mind about what would cause her to be in such a distraught state. He found her sitting on the floor by the sofa hugging her knees while the baby cried her little heart out in the bedroom down the hall. This hadn’t been the way Marc expected to meet his niece at all, but anything of late was hardly ideal.
First he had to make sure Ali was okay, though. He crouched down in front of her, first placing his hand on her shoulder and then moving it to brush her messy hair back of her tear-streaked face. “Al?” he said hesitantly, his eyes searching hers for any clues. “What’s the matter, love? Are you hurt? Sick? Is the baby?”
“I-I don’t know,” Ali sobbed, more tears spilling over. “I don’t know what’s wrong! I just can’t… I can’t…”
“Can’t what, love?” Marc coaxed, taking one of her hands into his and stroking his thumb against her palm.
Ali shook her head. “Any of it. I just can’t do it! She won’t stop crying and I won’t stop crying and Andrew is working a double shift because he’s the Head of his team.” She paused to try and wiped some of the tears away with her fingers but more just fell in their wake. “And goddamnit, you have those eyes again and that hair! I don’t even know why I called you, I just didn’t know what else to do!”
The baby was still crying up the hall and Marc was no expert on kids by any means, but she sounded distressed. He drew a bracing breath. Hell, he was a master in firearms and he took down some of the most devious and evil criminal bastards over the years, and an infant was scaring him? He could do this. He had to do this. He kissed Ali’s forehead. “You did the right thing, love. I’m going to help, okay? I don’t really know what the fuck I have to do, but I’m going to try.” He stood up and with a sharp exhalation, hurried up the hall in the direction of the crying.
What used to be his spare room was now a baby nursery decorated with Winnie the Pooh décor. Littered around were pink and pastel baby things; little tiny baby clothing and toys and opened packs of newborn nappies with a distinct smell of baby powder lingering in the atmosphere. He hovered for just a moment trying to take it all in. It was weird. He still couldn’t believe he was back in his old home or that Ali was a Mum. But the evidence was sprawling before him and the Pièce de résistance wailing in the room next door.
He continued on and discovered that Ali had a fluffy pink and white baby cradle set up in the master bedroom, which Marc guessed made some sense. Personally, he didn’t know how anyone could have a good hard fuck with a baby in the same room. He swallowed nervously and forced himself to go to the baby cradle. He closed his eyes briefly to gather the nerve to finally look. This was his baby niece and he was terrified of meeting her. Resting his hands on the edge of the crib, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at the baby. For some unknown reason, his heart immediately broke seeing her so upset. Should he pick her up? Was it even safe to touch her? And the hair… it was exactly the same colour as his and his brother’s natural shade. He stroked her cheek softly, awed at how soft the skin was and then bit the bullet, scooping her carefully up into his arms and cradling her awkwardly against her chest.
It felt strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held a baby and even then it mustn’t have been anything significant. The crying seemed to abate just a little bit, so he rubbed her back through the fluffy lemon jumpsuit. She was so tiny. How could something this small be a person? Her little heart must be no more than the size of a grape. Looking down at her, he stroked his fingers across her fine blonde hair. “My god…” he said softly. “Okay, possum, if you’re going to fill your nappy, you’ll have to wait til I get you back out to Mum because I’ll suck at it. You don’t even want to know how much I’ll suck. I have a feeling your Mum’s going to tell me she sucks, too, but how can she possibly think that? She’s a tough one… she just needs a bit of help…”
Trying to battle off the surreal feeling of the whole situation, Marc went back to Ali in the living room, the little girl still nursed securely in his arms. Holding a baby was apparently the easy part. He managed to ease himself down to sit beside Ali on the floor and for a few long moments, they just looked at each other, Ali seeming to fear anything that was going to come out of his mouth. “S-Say something,” she pleaded in a whisper, her knuckles almost white clutched around a wad of damp tissues.
“I’m sorry,” Marc managed to get out, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything. For leaving you, for not keeping my promise, for not being here to help you and trying to convince myself you were strong enough to cope without help. If I could take it all back…”
Ali’s tears were still coming in heavy streams. She looked at her daughter, who was still crying softly in Marc’s arm, but no where near the wailing she had been doing minutes ago. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t do this. I thought I was okay, but I can’t do it…” she sobbed. “I-I need you. I don’t give a fuck about any of the other crap or who you’re supposed to be now. I need you… I need James. I don’t care how or why or what that means. Y-You have to help me. I’m scared of what I might do to her if I don’t get help.”
Marc knew then that this wasn’t just a half-hearted cry for help. Ali was begging him to help her and he knew it was beyond just needing a hand with the baby. It was even beyond the support she was getting from the new boyfriend, which Marc didn’t doubt was extensive. She was ill. He just wasn’t sure she knew it and realised immediately a lot of it was probably his fault. “Al,” he said in concern, leaning forward so he could see her dark eyes. “Do you think this is post-natal depression? Have you been checked for that?” At least that was something he understood. His years working with women and children in the FBI, post-natal depression was something he had come across often.
“I don’t know,” Ali whispered hoarsely, making no move to reach for her daughter. “Will you help me? Please? Promise me you won’t go away again,” she pleaded, clutching his forearm.
Marc nodded. “I promise. I swear on my life,” he told her and kissed her temple. “Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.” Thoughts on how he was going to carry off his promise were already rushing through his head coupled with anxiety about Harri and how she might take this. His rationality was teetering and threatening to derail. He was worrying he was putting Ali and the baby in danger, worrying that he had no idea how he was going to actually help Ali, worrying he would hate her new lover, and realising that he really would do anything - risking his life included - to protect Ali and this tiny little girl in his arms.
Where to fucking start in the whole mess was the million dollar question.
paramedically referenced with permission
Word Count | 1,478
take me somewhere new
I don’t know who you are
but I... I'm with you
[‘I’m With You’ - Avril Lavigne]
Co-written with agentfraser
[Follows THIS]
Marc had been more than stunned when a phone call from an ‘Ali’ was connected to him in his office. His stomach had launched up in his throat, making him almost gag on his coffee out of sheer nerves of speaking to her for the first time since he told her everything. He had thought she might be calling to give him a tongue-lashing over being a gigantic bastard, which was always a possibility with Ali. The last thing he had expected was her to be in tears, desperately pleading with him to come over because she needed him. There was no argument. Marc just walked out of the office and was at his old apartment as quick as he could get his driver to nudge through the busy New York traffic.
Ali’s door was open, so he only knocked once and went straight inside to her. All sorts of horrible scenarios were rushing through his mind about what would cause her to be in such a distraught state. He found her sitting on the floor by the sofa hugging her knees while the baby cried her little heart out in the bedroom down the hall. This hadn’t been the way Marc expected to meet his niece at all, but anything of late was hardly ideal.
First he had to make sure Ali was okay, though. He crouched down in front of her, first placing his hand on her shoulder and then moving it to brush her messy hair back of her tear-streaked face. “Al?” he said hesitantly, his eyes searching hers for any clues. “What’s the matter, love? Are you hurt? Sick? Is the baby?”
“I-I don’t know,” Ali sobbed, more tears spilling over. “I don’t know what’s wrong! I just can’t… I can’t…”
“Can’t what, love?” Marc coaxed, taking one of her hands into his and stroking his thumb against her palm.
Ali shook her head. “Any of it. I just can’t do it! She won’t stop crying and I won’t stop crying and Andrew is working a double shift because he’s the Head of his team.” She paused to try and wiped some of the tears away with her fingers but more just fell in their wake. “And goddamnit, you have those eyes again and that hair! I don’t even know why I called you, I just didn’t know what else to do!”
The baby was still crying up the hall and Marc was no expert on kids by any means, but she sounded distressed. He drew a bracing breath. Hell, he was a master in firearms and he took down some of the most devious and evil criminal bastards over the years, and an infant was scaring him? He could do this. He had to do this. He kissed Ali’s forehead. “You did the right thing, love. I’m going to help, okay? I don’t really know what the fuck I have to do, but I’m going to try.” He stood up and with a sharp exhalation, hurried up the hall in the direction of the crying.
What used to be his spare room was now a baby nursery decorated with Winnie the Pooh décor. Littered around were pink and pastel baby things; little tiny baby clothing and toys and opened packs of newborn nappies with a distinct smell of baby powder lingering in the atmosphere. He hovered for just a moment trying to take it all in. It was weird. He still couldn’t believe he was back in his old home or that Ali was a Mum. But the evidence was sprawling before him and the Pièce de résistance wailing in the room next door.
He continued on and discovered that Ali had a fluffy pink and white baby cradle set up in the master bedroom, which Marc guessed made some sense. Personally, he didn’t know how anyone could have a good hard fuck with a baby in the same room. He swallowed nervously and forced himself to go to the baby cradle. He closed his eyes briefly to gather the nerve to finally look. This was his baby niece and he was terrified of meeting her. Resting his hands on the edge of the crib, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at the baby. For some unknown reason, his heart immediately broke seeing her so upset. Should he pick her up? Was it even safe to touch her? And the hair… it was exactly the same colour as his and his brother’s natural shade. He stroked her cheek softly, awed at how soft the skin was and then bit the bullet, scooping her carefully up into his arms and cradling her awkwardly against her chest.
It felt strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held a baby and even then it mustn’t have been anything significant. The crying seemed to abate just a little bit, so he rubbed her back through the fluffy lemon jumpsuit. She was so tiny. How could something this small be a person? Her little heart must be no more than the size of a grape. Looking down at her, he stroked his fingers across her fine blonde hair. “My god…” he said softly. “Okay, possum, if you’re going to fill your nappy, you’ll have to wait til I get you back out to Mum because I’ll suck at it. You don’t even want to know how much I’ll suck. I have a feeling your Mum’s going to tell me she sucks, too, but how can she possibly think that? She’s a tough one… she just needs a bit of help…”
Trying to battle off the surreal feeling of the whole situation, Marc went back to Ali in the living room, the little girl still nursed securely in his arms. Holding a baby was apparently the easy part. He managed to ease himself down to sit beside Ali on the floor and for a few long moments, they just looked at each other, Ali seeming to fear anything that was going to come out of his mouth. “S-Say something,” she pleaded in a whisper, her knuckles almost white clutched around a wad of damp tissues.
“I’m sorry,” Marc managed to get out, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything. For leaving you, for not keeping my promise, for not being here to help you and trying to convince myself you were strong enough to cope without help. If I could take it all back…”
Ali’s tears were still coming in heavy streams. She looked at her daughter, who was still crying softly in Marc’s arm, but no where near the wailing she had been doing minutes ago. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t do this. I thought I was okay, but I can’t do it…” she sobbed. “I-I need you. I don’t give a fuck about any of the other crap or who you’re supposed to be now. I need you… I need James. I don’t care how or why or what that means. Y-You have to help me. I’m scared of what I might do to her if I don’t get help.”
Marc knew then that this wasn’t just a half-hearted cry for help. Ali was begging him to help her and he knew it was beyond just needing a hand with the baby. It was even beyond the support she was getting from the new boyfriend, which Marc didn’t doubt was extensive. She was ill. He just wasn’t sure she knew it and realised immediately a lot of it was probably his fault. “Al,” he said in concern, leaning forward so he could see her dark eyes. “Do you think this is post-natal depression? Have you been checked for that?” At least that was something he understood. His years working with women and children in the FBI, post-natal depression was something he had come across often.
“I don’t know,” Ali whispered hoarsely, making no move to reach for her daughter. “Will you help me? Please? Promise me you won’t go away again,” she pleaded, clutching his forearm.
Marc nodded. “I promise. I swear on my life,” he told her and kissed her temple. “Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.” Thoughts on how he was going to carry off his promise were already rushing through his head coupled with anxiety about Harri and how she might take this. His rationality was teetering and threatening to derail. He was worrying he was putting Ali and the baby in danger, worrying that he had no idea how he was going to actually help Ali, worrying he would hate her new lover, and realising that he really would do anything - risking his life included - to protect Ali and this tiny little girl in his arms.
Where to fucking start in the whole mess was the million dollar question.
paramedically referenced with permission
Word Count | 1,478