“I know,” Mrs Martin said, full of empathy and support. “I know it hurts, sweetie, but you need to keep breathing through the pain, or your baby won’t have enough oxygen.”

At Clementine’s worried, choked out sob, James stroked his hand comfortingly down the length of her arm, his anxious eyes finding her own. A few tears slipped when he nodded at her, confident of her strength, and his heart swelled with pride when she leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, making efforts to steady her frantic gasps.

“That’s it, Clem. Slow breaths,” Ruby encouraged. “You’re going to have to start pushing soon, okay?”

When Clementine nodded, the red haired medic gestured to him to get his attention. When she did, she requested solemnly, “James, I’m gonna need you to get me some more hot water, please.” At his look of protest, she pressed, “She’s about to start pushing out her child, and I need hot water to help make sure the procedure goes as smoothly as can be. If you value their health, you can absent yourself for a few minutes and help me and Mrs Martin make sure that everything goes without further complications.”

His mind stayed frozen on the last words, breath hitching a little. He had been right in his assumption that something had been wrong.

But with a reluctant nod, he gave one last kiss to his best friend’s hand and whispered a promise to return, before disappearing in the kitchen of the small house, tenser than he’d ever been in his life.

Swallowing hard, James tried not to pay mind to the bad feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach.

When he stepped back into the room a while later, James nearly dropped the bowl at the sight of the blood covering the bed sheets, feeling himself growing faint.

His fear was quickly appeased as Mrs Martin noticed him by the door and smiled, wiping the sweat at her brow with her forearm.

“It’s alright,” she reassured, gesturing him over. “Some blood is normal in childbirth. Can you come set the bowl on that stool there? I’ll be in need of it soon—Clementine’s about to start pushing.”

James hesitated, then nodded. He strode over to abide to her request. When he’d set down the bowl, he hurriedly padded over to Clementine’s side. His lips mulled together worriedly at her form panting harshly, body overcome with tremors. She gave him a pained smile, her hand searching for his. He slipped his fingers between hers without a moment’s breath, letting her cling to him.

“James,” she uttered, bleary-eyed. Her hand clenched his tighter.

“I’m here,” he whispered, brushing sweaty locks from her hair. His thumb brushed her cheek, his eyes warm and resilient. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

“Are you ready, Clem?” Ruby asked.

She broke their gaze and tipped her head back, squeezing his hand and taking in shallow breaths. She nodded.

“Push!”

Her grip tightened around him, nearly cracking his bones, but James held onto her, steadfast, teeth gritting together as she choked back a cry and quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Push!”

Another wrenched out cry, another squeeze, and James’ stomach churned, lips brushing in encouragement on his best friend’s hand.

“Push!”

Her body jolted backwards, head knocking against the wall, and he stiffened, mind fogging at her deafeningly sharp, crippling scream. He’d heard screams like that before, far, far away in his past.

“Push!”

Her face twisted in agony, body shaking against the intolerable pain, and he couldn’t help but to look away, unable to bear looking at her like this. He could never stand seeing her hurt.

His hands squeezed hers harder, and he hoped it was enough.

“Push!”

Another cry tore out of her mouth, and he felt his stomach turn again, eyes slipping shut angrily. He felt so helpless. Should he have taken those medical lessons Ruby had offered to give him, all those months ago?

He wished he would have.

“Come on, Clem, don’t let up! Just a little more! You’re almost there!” Ruby encouraged.

“C'mon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He pressed a trembling kiss to her hand. “C'mon, Clem. Hold on. Don’t give up.”

“Push!”

He heard his best friend shout once more; heard the exhaustion and strenuous effort, heard her sobs of torturous suffering. Heard her straining to endure, to do her best to put their child safely to this world.

And her agony was so acute that James found he wanted nothing more than to vomit, unable to endure seeing her like this anymore. It was simply cruel. Vicious.

Clementine didn’t deserve this.

But then a cry ripped into the room, one new and young and so very, very fragile, and James’ heart stopped in his chest, disbelief washing over his face. He felt his mind spinning with startling clarity, head lifting to peer over their clasped hands.

When his wide eyes settled over a very red-purple, wailing mess, covered in blood and fluids that Mrs Martin was already cleaning off, he lost his breath, and felt his heart swell with relief.

Her child was born.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, as the older woman checked her over and washed off the grime from her purplish-red skin, before closely wrapping their newborn in a warm, fluffy towel. Feeling a wave of intense, intense love and pride wash over him, he leaned his forehead on their still joined hands and pressed a few quick, warm kisses there, something like a breathless laugh leaving him. She was so—

“Beautiful,” Mrs Martin said, as if reading his thoughts. Or maybe she could see it on his face. Standing from her seat, she took a few steps and carefully offered him the tiny child, smiling. “That is one healthy baby girl.” Ruby encouraged gently, wiping away sweat from her forehead.

Shaking, James slipped his hand from his best friend’s and reached out to accept the bundle, cradling her so carefully against his chest, lips dipping down so he could kiss her small head. He shifted his hold until he was confident she was safely tucked in one arm, fingers of his free hand brushing her pudgy little cheek as he looked down at her with the tiniest smile.

He turned to his best friend, unperturbed to the feeling of proud tears welling at the corners. He didn’t care if the older woman babbled about the all-too-famously-formerly-callous-Whisperer cried at the birth of his best friend’s daughter—he was happy.

But that happiness dropped short in his stomach as his eyes landed on Clementine’s pale, still face.

“…Clem?” he murmured, reaching to touch her hand.

It was cold.

He recoiled with maddening shock, grasping her hand tighter. “Clementine…!”

She stirred a bit, but so weakly he felt dread creep into his bloodstream. She wasn’t doing well, and if they didn’t get help soon—

He heard a sound like a gasp somewhere behind him, but his mind seemed to pay no mind, seize by the terrorizing fear towards his best friend’s condition. Blood pounded in his ears, so much their surroundings faded around him, and the fumbling of the stressed Mrs Martin and Ruby became nothing but buzzing noise.

“…James…” she murmured, her voice thick with fatigue, her breaths unstable and too soft. She blinked slowly, so slowly, half shuttered golden eyes hazy and unfocused. “…How is she…? How… how’s my baby girl…?”

His throat grew tight, and grief struck over him, different tears clouding his vision. Squeezing her hand, he replied hoarsely, “Perfect. She’s perfect, Clem.”

A relieved smile spreads across her lips, one so frail and fragile it had him getting choked up, because god, he knew where this was heading, he knew what that meant—knew that if Clementine slipped out of consciousness right now, she wouldn’t ever wake up.

“Good…” she whispered, head lulling to the side. He stiffened and reached out to cup her sweaty face, feeling his legs shake. “I’m so glad…” She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. “But… I’m so tired… So I think I’ll rest… at least for a little while… you can take care of her, right… James…?”

The tears threatened to spill, and he rasped out her name, bowing his body into hers. He pressed her child between them, wrapping her arms carefully around her baby.

“In a bit,” he said, his smile tight and quivering as he brushed his lips to her feverish forehead. “Let’s talk a little more,” he went on, cupping her face. “Or I can talk, and you can just listen, right?”

“S'kay…” she murmured to him. “It’s gon'be ‘kay… Promise… me…”

Her fingers twitched, like she was trying to move it, to touch him, and he clenched his teeth to drown the imperceptible noise of anguish in his throat. His hands found hers in a tight grip, and this time, it was him who clung to her.

“Stay with me,” he begged. His head dropped to her chest, heart tightening so painfully in his chest at her sickeningly slow heartbeat. “Stay with us.” He touched her beautiful baby girl’s head with such desperation admits his gentleness. He looked up at her, but her eyes were closed. The tears sting harder. “Your daughter needs you.”

Clementine took one breath, and then another, and then another. His heart was thunderous in his ears as he felt the constant rise and drop of her stomach—the proof that she was still alive.

And then one long, deafeningly silent moment later, she exhaled… and didn’t take another breath.

Ruby began sobbing, her hands cupped over her faces, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” Mrs Martin whispered, weeping quietly as she stared at her blood-soaked hands. “I’m so, so sorry. I did… I did everything I…” Her shoulders shook harder, and she bowed a little into herself, ashamed. “There was nothing I could do.”

With tired, misty eyes and a numbed out heart, James kept his gaze on Clementine’s sleeping baby girl and continued to rock her gently, fingers tracing her tuft of dark brown hair and poking her soft cheeks. He could only hope she would grow to look more like Clementine, in looks and soul.

Because maybe then she wouldn’t be so sad about never meeting her mother. Maybe looking at herself in the mirror, and seeing her staring right back—maybe that would be enough.

“Papa’s here,” he murmured to his adopted daughter, the warm tears finally slipping over his cheeks. “Papa’s here, and he’s gonna take care of you. We’re gonna be alright.”

It had to be enough.

A/N: I know I’m the devil incarnate please don’t kill me ALGJAGJGAGAJLGAGAJ

YOU CAN YELL AT ME ALL YOU WANT THO I DESERVE THAT