Perfect

Date/Timing: 14 August 2003
Setting: birthing center or RAAF base Medical; Medowie, Australia
.
Angie throws him out of the room, shouting that she hates him, never wants to see him again.
Herc, heart fluttering, stumbles out to the waiting area.
Nurse Draper pat-pats his arm. "This's normal. She'll forgive you soon as the 'welcome to the world' hormones start flowing."
Now he perches on an impossibly uncomfortable chair, hands between knees, twisting his wedding ring.
Venomous cursing from behind the not-quite-soundproof suite door.
He cringes.
Quiet.
Takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair.
Sighs.
Another burst of invective.
Cringes anew, checks his watch.
Nine hours.
No wonder she hates him.
/He hates /himself right now.
Scrubs his hands over his face.
An almighty yelp—
Herc drops his hands, sits straight.
—and an indignant squawk from a tiny set of lungs.
The world gets a bit swimmy and Herc's ears ring.
Ten deep, /deep breaths.
High, thin screaming, on and on.
Herc's heart stutters.
Quiet.
‒ /Please please please please please— ‒
The door opens and Draper /skips over.
Herc droops.
"You're wife and son are doing /great, Mr Hansen," she chirps.
"Ca—" Clears his throat. "Can I?"
"Not /just yet." Sheepish smile. "It'll be a couple more minutes: we're still waiting for those hormones to kick in."
Herc snorts a laugh.
"I'll come get you when they're ready."
"Thanks."
She ducks into the suite.
Herc sags into the chair, lets his head fall back.
He memorizes the holes in one tile, then a second.
"She's willing to see you again," announces Draper.
"Thanks," he croaks, hauling himself to his feet and plodding over.
Draper gets the door.
Herc creeps—
"I still hate you," greets Angie.
—folds into the chair at bedside.
"And it's your fault he's gonna be bullied at school."
His son.
"Wha?"
"He's a /ginger."
Herc leans closer, catches a glimpse of of wisps of reddish hair plastered to bruised skin between Angie's protectively curled fingers.
Herc covers the tremble in his voice with a chuckle. "Blame the Irish genes."
"Oh, I do."
Baby—
His /son!
—squirms deeper between Angie's breasts.
"We talking too much for you, Baby Bear?"
Baby grunts.
"'s'okay, Charlie," she coos. Without looking away, to Herc: "He's opinionated already."
"Oh?"
"All that yelling? He started when they put a hat on him and didn't stop 'til it was gone. Calmed right down then."
"Sounds like a Martijn. Complaining 'til they—"
"Don't. Start."
"Sorry." Herc rubs the back of his neck.
"I suppose you want to hold him," she huffs, but her eyes are laughing.
Herc swallows. Blinks rapidly. Swallows again.
Angie eases the tiny thing in his little blue blanket with his perfect little ears and red hair and squashed nose and puffy eyes and fat little cheeks into Herc's arms.
He tucks Charlie tight to his chest, wipes his eyes on his shoulder.
"Say 'hi' to Daddy, Charlie," encourages Angie.
Charlie yawns with perfect little pink lips.
"Hi, son," Herc chokes. "Welcome to the world."
His Brother's Girl | Bells | Cold Feet | Perfect
Category:Ficlet
Category:Herc
Category:Herc's POV
Category:Herc (ficlet)
Category:Angela
Category:Angela (ficlet)
Category:Chuck H
Category:Chuck H (ficlet)
Category:Medowie (setting)
Category:Ficlets with images
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