A/N: This story has been in my mind for quite some time now. It'll be a bit different from what is on this site but I hope that you will still give it a chance. It's BB, AH and lots of friendship all the way!
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing! If I did, this wouldn't be happening (you'll see!).
He hated hospitals. He always had an aversion to them ever since Robert Longfield had pushed him off a swing in the fifth grade and had broken his arm. The doctor who had treated him had been horrible, causing him terrible pain and scarring the 10-year-old for life. He hadn't set foot in one since then, until today. He was pretty sure that the events that had taken place here wouldn't help him change his view of hospitals.
Nothing great ever happened here and nothing ever will, he thought with bitterness.
He felt invisible. Not only had he been kicked out of his girlfriend's room by her, he was under the strict orders of a nurse to let his girlfriend rest for a couple of hours. He was now stuck sitting in a waiting room, with its bright lights, nurses walking past him, not even bothering to ask him if he needed anything, and the families of some other patients who were anxiously waiting for the results of some test or other. Unlike the other families, he didn't need to wait for test results.
He could have gone home. He'd been there close to twenty hours. He hadn't slept in two days, not since his girlfriend had had her first contractions, and the dark circles under his eyes must have been dropping close to his chin by now. He knew he should go home, try to get some sleep while she rested in her room but he couldn't bring himself to leave the hospital. Not while she was here, not while she needed him.
The room was dark and silent, the kind of profound silence you can hear only in hospital rooms, the only noise coming from the air conditioning somewhere in the ceiling. The drapes had been shut tight to prevent light from penetrating in the small, sterile room. The door was closed but, if she listened carefully, she could still hear the footsteps on the other side. She hoped with all her heart that none of those footsteps would stop in front of her door.
She was surprised that the doctor had given her a private room. She had been afraid that she would have had to share a room with another patient. She was in no mood to talk to a stranger about what had happened. All she wanted right now, all she needed, was to be alone, alone with her pain. She had the right to it. Her second baby had died and, this time, they had been so close. Unfortunately, little Jade Gabrielle would never see the world. They barely even had the time to name her before her little heart, which had been so focused on surviving, had stopped beating. Five and a half months. A couple more weeks and Jade probably would have been able to survive.
She knew right away what the doctors had been thinking. She had seen it written clearly on their faces. There was something wrong with her. No women lost two children in a row without having something wrong with her.
More tears fell at the thought that this might have been her fault. What was wrong with her? Her first child hadn't survived more than eight weeks and now she had caused Jade to be born way too early.
The door to her room opened. She turned on her side and pretended to be asleep. With her eyes closed, she heard the nurse tip-toeing around her room, picking up the untouched dinner on the bedside table and rearranging the blankets on her bed. A minute later, probably after checking that everything was right in the room, the nurse was closing the door behind her and her footsteps were fading down the corridor.
Turning onto her back, Angela opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling but her mind was somewhere else. She wondered how Jack was coping. She had been rude, kicking him out of her room but she hadn't been able to face him. The sadness in his eyes matched the one she was feeling and she didn't think she would be able to deal with his pain as well as hers.
He probably hated her for not being able to carry their children, for causing him so much grief. They had tried for so long to get pregnant and she had managed to screw it up both times.
She thought of the empty bedroom in their home. They had already begun painting it and Angela had been supposed to go buy the furniture with her best friend the following week.
Sniffling loudly, Angela turned her back on the door once again and closed her eyes. Her eyes were burning from all the crying she had done and she couldn't stop the yawn that escaped her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she thought of her daughter. Tomorrow, she'd start planning the funeral. Her daughter deserved a proper burial, a proper celebration of her short life. It was the least she could do for her. If she couldn't give her a long life, she could at least give her that.