Through Me (The Flood)

Phoenix looks just like you.

Well, mostly like you. There’s a little bit of Simon there too. A balancing of the scales since Orion has so much of him.

Cami thinks it’s fitting, and as she holds the baby at your bedside, she looks between the two faces, holding it as a small piece of joy.

She’ll take anything she can get, she guesses.

“She was big, of course, though I know it’s not a surprise,” Nix is asleep, cradled to Cami’s chest. She and Gaz have been trying to lighten Simon’s load anyway they can, and today they finally convinced him to take a break. It’s too hard to balance the hospital with home and a brand new baby, too heavy of a weight to carry alone. “At least you had a c-section this time?”

Phoenix is two weeks old, delivered at thirty nine weeks since there was no need to wait for you to go into labor on your own and it was terrible. Because of your coma, Simon wasn’t allowed in the operating room and had to wait for Nix to be brought to him. He was a wreck, still is.

Two parents, unable to be there for the birth of their child.

Cami knows it wrecks him. She sees how his arms shake when he holds Nix, how he’s already grieving these losses, grappling with the possibility you won’t wake up. She’s heard the conversations, the pendulum swinging, like they’re all waiting for a doomsday clock to count down.

Simon is a ghost. He tries, really tries for Orion but it’s so obvious hes dying inside, he’s slowly losing the light, his hope. If you don’t wake up, she doesn’t know what will happen.

She pushes it from her mind. “They’re all being so dramatic, you know? I don’t know why everyone is freaking out. You’re going to be fine. You’ll wake up when you’re ready.” There’s no other option. None. You have two kids, a husband, waiting for you, and you have her. You’re her best friend, her closest, the one she relies on, loves, and vice versa. You’ve always said you don’t know how you’d survive without her, but you never realized how mutual it was. You taught Cami how to survive, how to stay positive during the long weeks, months, when the guys are away. She needs you.

So no, there’s no other option. You’ll wake up.

“Hey love,” Gaz is warm at her side, leaning down to stroke Nix’s wispy hair. “Can’t get over how cute she is.”

“I know,” she’s still asleep, but Cami rock her anyway, at least until she loses it. “She looks just like her.”

“Hey, hey.” He crouches, rubbing her knees. “It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.”

“I’m scared she won’t wake up,” Cami usually holds it together, but occasionally, with Kyle, she lets herself fall apart. Only because she knows he’ll be there every time to catch her. “What if-“

“We’re not doing what ifs, remember? We’re not going to do that. We’re going to stay positive and take it one day at a time, right?” She rubs her face with her free hand.

“Right.” He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He squeezes her thigh, and the strokes it, soothing the distress away. “We have Orion tonight. Si is going to take the baby.”

“Alright.” She loves little man, he lights her heart up, and it kills her how traumatized, how scared he is now, constantly looking for his dad, Gaz or herself in a room, lip wobbling when he can’t immediately find anyone. “What’s he want for dinner?”

“His mom’s pasta bake, but he says yours is second place.” Cami smiles, a little weepy.

“Okay, that sounds good. He can have whatever he wants.” She glances at you, so quiet, so still. Chest rising and falling, breathing on your own, but never awake.

She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know how to make this better or fix it, she doesn’t know anything. All she knows is she’s clinging to Gaz like a life raft.