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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 91: Contingency

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, references to anxiety, generally chaotic/anxiety-inducing situations, pregnancy... ❧ Word Count: 5.7k

❧ In This Chapter: It's been a week since Aaron and Gabriel left to investigate a settlement, and two days since Daryl left with Hornsby and the Commonwealth Army to find them. Now, you're alone, with the kids, and nine months pregnant. It can't get worse, right?

❧ A/N: We're back??? With a new chapter??? Wow. Cool. Crazy. So um we're getting to the end of The Beginning! Or is it? Is there ever really an end? Or a beginning for that matter? These are the existential questions of the series I guess? Idk it's not that deep. Anyway, there is (sadly) no Daryl in this chapter. He's off being a sexy boyboss with great hair and trying to get back to his family to get them out of Commonwealth, but for now, it's Reader (she's basically her own character by now lmao) and the kiddos just hanging out in Commonwealth, trying to stay alive lol. Lots of stuff going on in their world rn, but the priority is, of course, Daryl Jr.

Two days, and no word about what was going on with the soldiers they sent out to investigate the attack at Riverbend. When you’d tried to ask, inquiring about the safety of your husband and brother, you were told that you were on a “need to know” basis. In other words, if you needed to know, they’d tell you.

Hornsby must’ve decided you didn’t need to know, because when you confronted Mercer, he told you the same thing.

The stress of it all was beginning to get to you, more than it ever had before. You swore that even living on the road for six months after you lost the farm was easier than this. Then again, you weren’t about nine months pregnant, taking care of four children, and worrying desperately about Daryl and Aaron, all while outside your apartment, hundreds of Commonwealth citizens protested in front of the City Hall, demanding justice after learning about Sebastian’s schemes. At least you had a roof over your head, and plenty of food.

Food that was burning as you stood staring out the kitchen window, watching the protesters brandishing handmade signs, with the words Find him!, Money for LIVES, and How many more have you killed? You absentmindedly held the ten-year-old amethyst around your neck as you chewed your lip in thought, wondering about nothing and everything.

The people chanted, “We want justice!” over and over and over again. You couldn’t blame them. You’d be out there with them if you weren’t cooking breakfast for the kids.

What’s that burning smell?

“Aunt (Y/N),” Judith’s voice alerted you.

“Hm?”

“The pancakes are burning.”

“Oh!”

You scurried back to the stove, where sure enough your pancakes had been charred beyond edibleness. “Shoot,” you huffed, always mindful not to curse in front of the children. “Sorry.”

The four children, Judith, RJ, Gracie, and, of course, your Robin, were sitting at the circular dining room table, each tending to their own crafts. Judith and RJ were drawing, Gracie worked on her beaded jewelry, and Robin was experimenting with watercolors (Daryl had bought her a new set a few months ago).

As you scooped the burnt, lifeless pancakes into the trash can, Robin stood up to take her water cup and brushes to the sink, where she diligently washed her art supplies. “Mommy,” she said, “when are they coming home?”

You didn’t have to ask, you knew she was referring to her father and her uncle.

The other children’s heads perked up at the question, as if they, too, were very curious about the answer.

“Soon, I’m sure,” you replied, offering them a reassuring smile. It was oh, so tiring to pretend that you weren’t incredibly worried that something had happened to them, but you had to put on a brave face for the young ones, especially Robin and Gracie. “Don’t tell me you like their cooking better.”

Robin shrugged as her lip quirked into a precious little smirk. “No… I like Daddy’s pancakes better, though.”

Daryl could only really make two dishes: blueberry pancakes, and stew with squirrels or possum or some other type of roadkill.

You scruffed up her hair in faux teasing. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I do too.”

The little girl returned to her seat to continue her painting, and just as you were about to prepare another batch of pancake batter, you felt a sharp tightening in your lower belly, which you were reluctant to admit you had been feeling a lot more lately.

You exhaled a sharp hiss as you held your belly instinctively, slightly doubling over. It was the worst cramp you’d felt yet, and it’d only been getting increasingly strong. Of course, you were brushing it aside as Braxton Hicks contractions, but the closer you got to your due date, April twentieth, the more you began to worry. Really, the baby was due to come any day now, though you were too afraid to even acknowledge it. Daryl wasn’t here, and him not being here terrified you. There was no way you were going to have this baby without him holding your hand. It simply couldn’t happen that way. He gave you strength, made you feel safe. Most of all, you knew he’d hate himself if he missed it, seeing his son’s first moments.

“You okay?” asked Judith, while Robin looked wide-eyed and panicked as you winced in pain. “Aunt (Y/N)?”

You shook your head, as if to dismiss the concern. “I’m fine,” you said. “Baby’s just… restless.”

When you lifted your head to calm yourself, you found your eyes drawn to the crowd outside again, particularly to two people, a man and a woman, who were fast-walking through the crowd with a stern, cold determination in their eyes and a harshness in their step. They looked to be heading towards the downstairs entrance to your apartment building, and when you stepped a little closer, you could recognize their faces.

Eugene had told your inner circle about a run-in he’d had with two of Hornsby’s minions. If you remembered correctly, it was them, and you weren’t about to risk anything.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gracie, noticing your face deepen with concern.

“Um… maybe nothing…” Your paranoia got the best of you, and you turned to face the children, trying your hardest not to scare them, though you looked drained of color and slightly wide-eyed. “Okay, we’re gonna play a game.”

Judith furrowed her brows. “Game? But what about breakfast?”

“We’ll have breakfast later,” you said, frantically beginning to clear up the counter. “Right now, we’re gonna play the, um… Quiet Game.”

Judith and RJ hid in the shower, while Gracie hid under your bed. Robin was the last one to hide, while you scrambled to make the place look less lived-in, in case Hornsby’s goons really were after you and the kids. After all, you had quite a bit to do with Connie’s exposé, and you were starting to wonder if Daryl and Aaron were facing problems with the Commonwealth outside the walls. It’d make sense for them to go looking for you and the kids, to ask you questions… Robin didn’t understand that, but she wanted to.

“What’s going on?” she asked, with all the innocence of a six-year-old (almost seven, she would have you know). “Why are we hiding?”

You sighed as you knelt down to hold her hand, looking her sternly in the eyes as you spoke. “I’m not exactly sure, but… I think there might be some people looking for us, some people we’d rather not talk to. Do you understand?”

Her silvery blue eyes blinked rapidly as her mouth gaped slightly in confusion. She was much too precious, much too young to really understand everything that led to this.

You held her shoulders and offered a smile, though it was hard to smile when you began to hear the heavy, fast-paced footsteps coming up the stairs in the hallway.

“Look at me, baby,” you said. “Everything’s gonna be fine, just… listen to me. I need you to hide in that cupboard, the empty one by the fridge. Quiet Game means you gotta try to be as quiet as possible, otherwise you’ll get caught. Like Hide and Seek, but you really don’t want to be found. I’m going to be outside, right on the balcony. I’m too big to hide anywhere in here without getting caught, but if they find you, you make a lot of noise and I’ll help you, okay?”

It was a lot for her to process, but she was a smart child, and obedient. If told to stay quiet, you knew she would, even if she didn’t completely know why. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “What about the baby?”

You looked down to follow her gaze, which was directed at your belly. “He’s fine,” you said, and when you heard those footsteps begin to slow, but come closer, you stood up to quickly open the cabinet and coerce Robin’s small body into the cupboard. “Stay in there until I say the coast is clear, and be quiet.”

Before heading towards the balcony door, you pulled a freshly sharpened butcher knife from the wooden block on the counter, then silently opened and closed the door to hide against the wall on the balcony, waiting.

Soon, you heard a knock at the door, and you were sure your paranoia had paid off. The door opened just a few seconds later, and though you couldn’t see inside the kitchen, you knew they were there. You felt them there, as if your motherly instincts told you your child was frightened, and she was.

Robin’s breath hitched as she peered out through the small crevice between the cabinet doors, allowing her to see the large, bald man walking around the kitchen, while a woman with dark hair entered her bedroom, then Judith and RJ’s bedroom, then the master bedroom, then the bathroom…

The man stayed in the kitchen, though, his presence terrifying the young child, though he seemed to not know she was just a few feet away from him, cowering in the cabinet.

Memories floated to the surface, invoking that same feeling of dread as when she’d hidden herself in that secret compartment within her closet back at home, while the evil giant in the dead man’s mask who still haunted her dreams a year later lumbered around her bedroom, looking for her.

When she felt a lump begin to form in her throat, and a whimper about to release from her lips, she cupped both hands over her mouth to silence herself. The man came closer, though, examining the fridge, upon which were several drawings, paintings, and photographs that had been collected by your family the last seven or eight months.

There was one that had been taken at the Autumn festival, with you, Robin, RJ, and Judith in your costumes, and Daryl dressed as he normally did, but a sweet, soft grin upon his face as he held Robin’s hand, who held yours, too. His other hand rested on Judith’s shoulder, and yours on RJ’s, with your belly much smaller than it was now. Carol had taken the photo, and when it developed, you were almost tempted to make holiday greeting cards, though you knew that kind of thing was both unnecessary and slightly annoying. In any case, it belonged on your fridge, until the bald man took it, and stuffed it in his pocket.

He moved away from the fridge then, allowing Robin to silently release her breath as a small tear trickled down her cheek.

The woman soon emerged from the hallway. “It’s empty,” she said. “Are you sure he didn’t say anything else?”

“Dixon was the only name that came through,” the man replied, sending a fresh wave of panic through the youngest Dixon’s chest.

She watched the woman cross the kitchen to peer out the glass door leading to the balcony, and for a moment, Robin feared that the woman would open it, though if she knew her mother well enough, she figured that woman would be in big trouble if she did open the door and find you.

Indeed, you held your knife close to your chest, blade pointed upwards and ready to strike if the woman came outside.

There was silence for a while, when the woman crossed back over to the dining room table where Robin and the other children had been sitting just minutes ago.

She investigated the assortment of craft materials splayed out on the table, and spoke once more before they left: “Let’s check the school.”

When you heard the door close, and waited a few moments in silence, you quickly returned to the kitchen to open the cabinet, ushering Robin out. “Come on,” you said, still trying to be quiet. “We’re leaving.”

To where, you weren’t exactly sure, but you had friends here, so surely someone from Alexandria would take you in. One thing was certain, you weren’t going to leave the Commonwealth, not with your baby so close to his due date.

You retrieved the other kids, and instructed them to pack their school backpacks for the day. Whatever was going on, you didn’t like the sound of what the man had said, about the name “Dixon.” It seemed as though you were wanted, by Hornsby.

When the kids were prepared, you slung your purse over your shoulder and picked up the emergency hospital bag Daryl had meticulously put together (intending to be even more prepared this time when the baby would come). You turned to face the curious, confused, and slightly concerned children, then gave them yet another assuring smile. “We’re going on a little adventure today,” you said, in a slightly sing-song voice. They weren’t buying it. They were all too smart.

As you turned to open the front door, you heard more footsteps just outside, and the sound of shifting movements. Great, you thought. We’re America’s Most Wanted.

Your voice turned serious once again. “I need you guys to go back to the bedroom and wait,” you said quietly, gesturing towards Robin’s room. “And don’t come out until I call. Go.”

They each nodded obediently, retreating to Robin’s bedroom.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as you prepared to answer the door. This time, though, a familiar voice called out to you from the other side. “(Y/N),” said Carol, whispering rather loudly. “Are you home?”

With a sigh of relief, you slowly opened the door, revealing Carol, and then Jerry behind her. The further you opened the door, the more surprised you became.

Negan’s face showed itself, slightly smirking at you. It was a familiar sight, but not an expected one.

Your brows furrowed as your jaw dropped a little. You hadn’t seen him in… almost a year. Not that you particularly missed him. “Negan?”

He smiled, lifting his hands a little as if to present himself as a gift. “Well, if it isn’t the goddamn Ice Queen herself. How are you, sweetheart?” His eyes immediately trailed to your stomach, where one hand cradled your baby bump. “Ho-ly shit, you’ve been busy.”

The three visitors came inside, with Jerry standing “guard” behind the front door. Though at first you were mostly irritated to see Negan again, he quickly made himself useful, sitting down with you and Carol to inform you about what was going on outside the walls. But of course, the first question you could ask him was, “Daryl and Aaron, are they all right?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘all right.’”

You glowered at Negan, both worried and incredibly annoyed by his Negan-isms. “Now is not the time.”

“They’re alive,” he said. “But they’re being hunted. Maggie and Gabriel are with them, too. What I know is that Hornsby brought Daryl, Aaron, and Gabe to Hilltop with the whole Stormtrooper Squad, and Maggie didn’t, uh… respond well.”

“What exactly happened?” asked Carol.

“Hornsby tried to scare Maggie by interrogating Hershel, so the thought is that he is somehow gonna use the kid to draw her people out.”

“And Daryl wouldn’t let that happen,” you said, understanding your husband’s motivations to turn against Hornsby. “Right?”

“Your man turned an automatic rifle on the bastard and tried to hit him with a car at full speed,” he replied. “I’d say they aren’t exactly on good terms.”

“And that’s why they came here,” figured Carol.

Negan nodded. “Uh huh.”

You thought for a moment, processing the whole thing. “But if Hornsby sent those two,” you said, “that means he’s keeping it under the radar.”

“Which means we might be able to get ahead of them,” Carol added. “And him.” You could see the cogs working in Carol’s mind. She always had a plan, even if they weren’t always the best plans. At least she thought of something. “Jerry, do you still have access to that attic space?”

You looked wide-eyed between Carol and Jerry, not knowing that there was such a thing. “Attic space?” you asked.

“Contingency plan,” replied Jerry. “It’s stocked with supplies, too. No one knows about it. Well, except Carol.”

“Keep the kids there and get word to the others,” instructed Carol. “Tell them to be ready to move on your signal.”

“Get ready for what?” you asked. “I mean, it’s not like we can just… stroll out the front gate.”

“That’s why me and Negan are gonna try to get some insurance,” she replied.

That sounded all fine and dandy, but there were still some things to be discussed. “I hate to sound self-centered,” you said, “but, where exactly do I fit into this plan?”

“Aren’t you pregnant?” asked Negan. “Or are you hiding a watermelon under that dress?”

If you weren’t trying to get along with Negan for the sake of your family and friends, you’d consider telling him off, but there was no time to argue. “I’m pregnant,” you said, “but the kids are my responsibility. If anything happens to them—”

“(Y/N),” said Carol, reaching over to place a hand over yours. “Jerry will take care of the kids… You should stay here. You can’t be running around.”

Indeed, your feet were swollen and aching terribly, and your legs could barely carry you. To get through the crowd undetected, you’d have to be quick on your feet. You weren’t physically able to do that now. Not with a good ten pounds added to your abdomen.

Still, there was that other terrible feeling: loneliness. If Jerry took the kids by himself, you’d be alone, and you were scared. As much as you hated to admit it, after everything you’d been through, being without Daryl, or even Aaron, this far into your pregnancy, when you were sure you were going to go into labor soon, was difficult. You couldn’t say that in front of Carol, though. She was known to be unforgiving and, at times, rather coldhearted, even to you.

“Okay,” you said. “But… Jerry, please don’t let anything happen to them.”

He offered a smile. You trusted him immensely, but he wasn’t you. “Of course.”

You fetched the children from Robin’s room, telling them that they were to go with Uncle Jerry and to listen to everything he said. The other children joined Jerry in the living room, but Robin took a moment to hug you, holding her stuffed white rabbit in one hand as it dangled over your back.

“I love you, sweet pea,” you said, squeezing her tight as you kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later, once this whole thing outside dies down. Maybe Daddy and Uncle Aaron will be home by then.” You pulled away to smile at her, and to brush her bangs aside. The almost blonde highlights in her wavy, caramel colored hair shone in the sunlight that poured through her bedroom window. She looked so much like her father, especially when you first met him. Her cheeks had that same delicate contour, but she was more youthful, and more perpetually curious looking. You supposed she inherited that from you. “You’re so precious to me,” you said. “You know that?”

She chewed her lip, then lowered her head as she spoke. “I don’t wanna go,” she said. “I wanna stay with you… Daddy told me to take care of you.”

Your eyes widened as you let out a chuckle and a snort. “What? That’s silly, I’m supposed to take care of you.” You poked her belly to elicit a small hiccup from the child. “Dog will take care of me.” You nodded to the sleeping canine, lounging on Robin’s bed.

She shook her head vehemently, with an adorably stern look on her face. The tightness in her lips was uncharacteristic of her, but it was always interesting to see a new side of Robin. “No,” she said, for the first time in her life being particularly disobedient, and stubborn. “I’m not going nowhere. I’m staying with you. That’s what Daddy would want, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

You tilted your head and sighed. “Robin Elizabeth,” you said, and she knew that when you used her two names, you were serious, “where is this coming from?”

“Dixon’s stay together,” she said, showing you her bracelet, the familiar beads spelling out DIXON. “And you shouldn’t be alone. You and the baby.”

“Robin, I—”

“Almost ready, kiddo?” Negan’s voice interrupted you unintentionally, and Robin smiled at the man, though her eyes remained serious.

“Hi, Negan,” she said, crossing her room to hug him. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, here and there… Hey, you ready to go with Jerry?”

She looked between you and Negan, then firmly stood her ground. Well, as firmly as she could. She still wasn’t quite used to this “rebellious” thing. “I want to stay with my mom,” she said, putting on her grown-up voice she’d recently developed. “I’m not going anywhere without her.”

You shook your head and crossed your arms, unsure of what to do. “She should go with the others,” you said. “It’ll be safer once they get to the attic.”

“Kid, why don’t you let me talk to your mom for a minute?” he asked. “Maybe I can talk some sense into her.”

Negan? Talking sense? Into me?

Robin headed into the living room, and Negan gently shut the door behind her, turning to face you as you sat yourself on the rocking chair by Daryl Jr.’s crib. “She can be stubborn,” you said. “But not like this. She always listens to me. She might… fight it a little, but she listens.”

Negan huffed as he leaned against the wall, his eyes trailing around Robin’s bedroom, then finally landing on you. “She should stay,” he said. “In case…” He gestured with his finger towards your abdomen. “You know.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “What is my six-year-old daughter going to do? She’s just a child herself. I need… I need Daryl. I’m so scared. Everything is just… not working out the way I thought it would.”

“How did you think it would go?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I didn’t think Daryl and Aaron would go rogue, but I know they have their reasons. This place isn’t like what we thought it was. Or maybe it’s exactly like what we thought it was… I don’t know. I just… I thought I could have the baby here, and then go back to Alexandria, once everything was fixed. Carry on, like it was before the Whisperers. What I really want is to not be afraid for once. For a while, I guess I wasn’t, but it’s always there. Fear. The older I get, the more I realize that it never goes away, and that we just find more things to be afraid of.”

You felt the baby kick inside you, as he had been doing for a while now, though this one felt stronger than all the others. “Now, this baby… I’m afraid he’s not going to have the life Robin did, and I’m afraid that Robin won’t have that life again, either. I thought… I thought they would be okay. I think I got my hopes up again. I always get my hopes up. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” replied Negan, in that serious tone of his. “You were trying. Trying to live. And, Hell, it’s working. You’ve made it this far.”

“But you said they’re hunting us, hunting our people. Trying to kill them. What kind of life is that? And for this?” You gestured to the air around you. “This place is corrupt. It’s like… everything bad about the old world in one place.”

“Maybe,” agreed Negan. “But what’s important right now is sticking together, and your kid, she’s smart. She knows that. Let her stay with you. Besides, no one can keep her safer than you.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Well, Daryl could… But I would do anything to keep her safe.”

You thought for a moment, stroking your abdomen as you felt another kick, and another, stronger contraction. Negan eyed you worryingly, then stepped closer, kneeling down to face you. “You all right?” he asked.

“Mhm. Fine.”

Negan was suspicious, but he also knew you well enough to know that if you really thought it was bad, you’d say so. “What’s the story?” he asked, nodding towards your stomach.

“What do you think?” you asked. “Do you know how babies are made, Negan? Or is that beyond your comprehension level?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah… You know, I got married.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What?”

“Yeah, met a lady out there… Her name’s Annie. She’s with Daryl and the others right now, actually.” He smiled as you continued to stare at him in bewilderment. “What, are you surprised?”

“Frankly, yes. What woman in her right mind would—” His smile began to fade, and though you had no reason to, you felt a little bad. You still hated him, but you felt bad. Just a little. “I mean, um… I am a little surprised, yes. You don’t… seem like the marrying type.” That was a nicer way to say what you were really thinking, which was that any woman who would willingly marry Negan either didn’t know about his past, or knew about it, and was an equally morally bankrupt person.

“Hm, you know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Ice Queen is a little jealous.”

Your eyes widened in amusement. “Jealous? Oh, please, don’t make me laugh. I’m nine months pregnant, my bladder can’t take it.”

“Oh,” he said, standing back on his feet, “that reminds me, Annie’s pregnant, too.”

You huffed and folded your arms over your belly. “You’re messing with me, right?”

“Nope,” he said, hitting the p sound especially hard. “Not as far along as you, but she’s got a bun in the oven.”

You tilted your head and glared slightly at him. “Is this information supposed to make me like you or something? Some kind of… Negan redemption arc?”

He only chuckled, then turned to leave Robin’s room. “You gonna be okay, you and her, and the baby?”

“Fine,” you said. “Daryl Jr. isn’t coming out today. I won’t let him.”

Famous last words.

Robin sat upon the window seat in her bedroom, looking out to keep an eye out for Jerry and her “cousins” as he led them through the crowd. The protests continued, with chaos remaining mostly under control, which soothed your anxiety just a little as you worried about the children.

Wherever Negan and Carol were, you hoped they were getting the information they needed to intercept Hornsby and his men and get Daryl, Aaron, and the others back home. Meanwhile, you just had to stay vigilant, hoping no more goons showed up at your door to question you.

At least you got to stay home, keeping watch at the living room window, and trying not to worry too much about the increasing strength and decreasing intervals of your contractions.

Dog sat curled up on the couch, keeping an eye on you, as if Daryl had instructed the canine to keep you safe, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had. “What are you looking at?” you asked him. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t fine.

Not long after that, you felt a much larger contraction, one that had you completely doubled over as you dropped your binoculars on the hardwood floor. “Oh, God!” you cried out, now kneeling on the floor, already tearing up from the pain. Your hand reached out to grab the edge of the couch as Dog jumped up to stand by your side, his nose nudging you repeatedly. The canine began to whine loudly, and soon Robin was hurriedly approaching, eyes wide and voice full of panic. “Mommy?” she asked. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

“I…” You shook your head vehemently, your speech gone for a moment as you tried to process the pain. “The baby’s coming… The baby’s… definitely, definitely coming.”

The child froze, unsure of what to do. After all, what was she supposed to do? She had no idea how to help you, but she knew about the emergency bag by the door, the one Daryl constantly was adding things to. She scurried across the room to pick up the bag and bring it to you.

“What do I need to do?” she asked frantically.

“H-help me up,” you said, holding out your hand. You felt horrible, having to ask little Robin to help you up, but there wasn’t any other way you could get up, and you needed to get to the hospital. She did what she could, though she was too weak to help you up completely.

Once you stood on your feet, you took the bag from her, and shakily crossed the room to sling your purse over your shoulder. “Come on,” you said breathlessly, realizing you had no choice but to take Robin with you. There was no way you were about to leave her alone. “We’re going to the hospital.”

It was at this moment you desperately wished you still owned a car. You hadn’t driven one in so long you wondered if you even remembered how to drive in the first place, but that didn’t matter—all you could do was walk.

One hand holding your bag, the other holding Robin’s hand, the two of you walked quickly through the protesters, trying to tune out their shouting as you walked.

You were fortunate that the hospital wasn’t too far away, but when the sound of a man’s voice over a megaphone sounded, you stopped in your tracks, keeping Robin close.

“A swarm has been detected five miles out!” he said. “Lockdown has been instituted by order of Governor Pamela Milton. Return to your homes immediately.”

The chanting began to die down, but the citizens still bickered in confusion. “After curfew, anyone found on the streets will be arrested for their own safety.”

He continued speaking, repeating his message, and mentioning something about “the brave Commonwealth Army.” You didn’t care to listen, as you had no other choice but to keep walking in the opposite direction of your home. You came here with the intention of having your baby at a hospital, and that’s what you were going to do.

Robin held your hand tighter as you moved faster, the contractions getting stronger and longer with each passing moment. “Come on, baby,” you said, not wanting to lose her in the chaos. “We’re almost there.”

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“I don’t know… but we need to keep moving.” You tightened your grip and kept her closer as people began to move faster, anxiously returning to their homes. Soon you were swarmed, people everywhere you looked, pushing and shoving as a stampede began to form. “Stay close to me,” you said to Robin, pulling her against your leg. “Stay—”

Another intense, sharp contraction had you doubled over, stopping momentarily as you lost feeling in your legs. You felt the wetness of your water breaking, dripping down your legs underneath your maternity dress. If you had any lingering, hopeful doubts that this was actually labor, they were gone now.

The immense, terrible pain of your contraction forced you to let go of Robin’s hand as you fell to your knees on the concrete sidewalk, with dozens upon dozens of people trampling over each other, and over you, too. You quickly realized you no longer held your child’s hand, and you turned your head frantically to look for her—she was nowhere to be seen.

“Robin!” you cried out, tears flooding your voice as it cracked in desperation. “Oh, God! Robin!”

You tried to stand, but several people had pushed you back down as they stumbled over you in the stampede, of which you were in the middle. Another contraction had you screaming in agony, holding your stomach as you wept, crying out Robin’s name in the ensuing chaos.

“Help!” you finally yelled, no longer able to pretend you could do this alone. “Please! Help me!” It was humiliating, and you felt so weak, but at the same time, what else were you supposed to do?

For a moment, your eyesight became hazy, and your head swayed back and forth deliriously until you began to fall over completely, but when a hand cupped underneath your arm, lifting you up, you came to.

“(Y/N),” huffed Ezekiel. “You all right?”

You shook your head as you tried to make out his face, and when you tried to break free from his grasp, he held you tighter by your arms. “Robin!” you said. “Robin, I can’t find Robin! She was holding my hand, and then…”

Ezekiel noticed the water around your feet, and the stain on your dress. “Your water broke?” he asked, and you could only nod, sobbing as you looked around for Robin.

Soon, you felt another hand on your shoulder—it was Connie, with Kelly by her side, and thank God they were there. Ezekiel’s mind moved at the speed of light as he thought of what to do in the chaos of the moment. “You two get her to the hospital,” he said, making sure Connie read his lips. He turned back to you, making sure you were paying attention to him. “I’m going to find Robin,” he said. “Get to the hospital.”

In your panic, you could only nod and wipe your face of your tears, as Connie and Kelly held your arms and helped direct you towards the hospital, clearing the way through the crowd.

You couldn’t say you were completely conscious, because at times you felt like you had passed out from the pain and the worry and the fear, but your friends kept you stabilized, until the pristine whiteness of the hospital flooded your vision, and soon you felt yourself become horizontal, on a hospital bed, you presumed, if your mind was in any state to make presumptions.

The rest was a blur, a cocktail of profound agony and confusion. Outside, you swore you heard screaming, and something akin to canisters being dropped, but maybe that was your imagination. In any case, at some point you’d passed out, but not before hearing one last thing. It was very faint, fragile, blurred by the heavy beating of your heart.

It was the sound of a baby crying.

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