Archive of Our Own ^beta

Her grin falters for a bit when she remembers how they found out, but luckily that’s all behind them now. Giving her stomach, still flat, an instinctive rub, she cuddles Evie closer.

“Still puking more than you should?” Tom asks. He does that every day, too. And though it makes her want to roll her eyes, she appreciates it.

“Yup. But the crackers help a bit. So does the ginger beer.”

“Eeeeeeeeewww,” Evie interrupts them, making clear what she thinks about that particular beverage. That has both of them laughing.

Tom gives her one of those ridiculous winks. “Eew indeed. Charlie’s gone crazy.”

While Charlie huffs, Evie giggles. “Craaazy, craaazy,” she chants, bouncing so that Charlie shifts away from dangerous flailing elbows and knees.

There’s the faint sound of an announcement on Tom’s side, and she watches the concentrated frown on his somewhat tired, still way too handsome, face.

“That’s my flight. Time for boarding.” Now he’s the one who’s all bouncy. “Before you know it, I’ll be in front of the door and I can give you both loooots of hugs and kisses.”

Though the tone and wording are directed mainly at his daughter, he holds Charlie’s gaze for a long moment. Whoa. Yes, she wants loads of hugs and kisses, please. Now, preferably. Those hours until his arrival are going to drag on forever, she just knows it.

“Be safe. Can’t wait to see you.”

He blows them a kiss, smiling at Evie’s big wave. Then the call is cut, and Charlie looks at the little girl that feels so much like her own daughter now. Will Evie have a tiny sister? A baby brother? She’s sure the girl will be an amazing big sis–and Tom will be an even more amazing father.

“How long until Daddy’s here?” Evie asks, and Charlie puts the child’s new mathematical knowledge to the test by showing her on the wall clock and holding up fingers.

Soon. Very soon.

She is bored, though. Horribly so. Of course, she feels bad about it. Because more time with Evie and Tom should be a blessing.

But the truth is, she’s more than used to working. But pregnancy paired with her stressful job means that Charlie’s not allowed as many hours in the hospital as before. She’s fine with that. Spending no long hours in the emergency room does wonders for her stress level.

She’s normally also fine with working though, and – as she realises especially today – playing board games with little Evie is at least as stressful as a twelve-hour-long work day in the hospital. That child has clearly gotten her competitiveness from her father.

“Charlie, there are still sirens outside,” Evie now says as she looks out of the living-room window, Boots in her lap while Blanket rests in the bit of sunlight coming from the window, warming the wooden floor.

She’s right. It seems to be busy for a an early afternoon shortly after lunch.

“You don’t have to go to work, right?” she continues as she readies the cards for a new game of Memory.

“No, I don’t.” Just as Charlie answers, her phone alerts her to a new message. She checks, reads, then checks again. It’s a message from a news site she has on alerts.

‘Explosion in Heathrow Airport’ it reads. Charlie swallows and with a shaky hand lowers the phone to the table. It’s fine, she would have to read more to be sure, but it’s fine. It’s a big airport, and everything simply has to be fine.

“Your turn!”

Charlie forces a smile and turns a card.

“You’re not paying atten-shun.”

Yikes. Well, it’s true. She isn’t. She’s far too busy telling herself not to worry one moment, then worrying her head off the next.

“Sorry. I’m…” She’s what? Terrified? Hopeful? Impatient? All of that. “I’m a bit bored, I guess. Or maybe you’re too good at Memory.” She forces a smile, hoping it isn’t just a baring of teeth.

Evie rolls her eyes in a move that she’s perfected recently. But she stops sulking a moment later, starts bouncing. “Does that mean we can stop and go watch TV instead?”

Well, hell. “Okay,” Charlie concedes, flinching when she hears yet another siren. TV at this time isn’t ideal but she can’t take another moment of forced card game.

So the two of them get up and cross over to the sofas. Charlie switches on the television and finds a cartoon channel. Evie, now even bouncier, tugs on her sleeve. “Can I get popcorn too? Because today’s a special day and we’re still waiting for Daddy?”

Her mention of Tom makes something squeeze tight around Charlie’s heart and she needs to take a deep breath. It’s all fine. She’s overreacting. Maybe it’s a false warning, one of those bomb alarms that turn out to be nothing but an unattended parcel or luggage. Or maybe it’s at a totally different area in the vast airport complex and Tom won’t even get detained much. Any moment now, he’ll step out of a cab.

“Okay. But only today.”

Evie races to the kitchen with a squeal and Charlie sinks onto a sofa. It’s all going to be alright. Instinctively, one hand rubs her belly, flat but sheltering new life.

With a sound she dreads, BREAKING NEWS flashes across the TV screen. She should zap to a different channel so Evie won’t see this upon her return, but she’s frozen in place. Grainy images of surveillance camera footage appear and show a detonation of sorts, alongside other pictures of people in terror, people injured. She can’t really hear everything that the grim-faced news anchor is saying because there’s a ringing in her ears and a bitterness in her throat. A few words stand out, making her queasy. Heathrow airport…arrivals gate…explosion…several casualties…

Blindly fumbling with the remote to access Cartoon Network, Charlie presses her other hand to her mouth, shoves up from the sofa and runs for the bathroom. She’s barely closed the door and bent over the sink before her breakfast forces its way out and she retches and retches.

Yes. And then Tom will step into the bathroom, rub first her lower back and then her tummy, and prepare a glass of water for her.

Instead, Charlie – now sweaty from throwing up and clammy and cold at the same time – hears Evie’s voice outside.

“Charlie! Your phone ringed. And there was a picture of Granny and me. That was Granny, right?”

Right. She’s probably seen the news. It was Diana. Or does she maybe know more? Has she contacted him? God! Charlie needs to contact Tom.

She sighs. What she needs to do, is calm down. “I’ll be out in a minute, Evie. Thank you for telling me.”

Charlie hasn’t even finished when she hears Evie’s feet running back.

So, she quickly washes her face and gulps down some water.

Back in the living-room Charlie picks up her phone with a shaky hand. Diana answers on the first ring. “Charlie, it’s probably nothing, I just wanted to check when Tom’s due home today?”

“Uhm–” Glancing at Evie, who is engrossed in some cartoon Charlie can’t even pretend to understand, she continues, “he should be here any minute.”

“He was at the airport then?”

Charlie gulps. “Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m sure he’ll be fine. They said it’s not a terror attack at least. It was gas.”

“Yes, but…” It doesn’t matter. There are casualties and Tom’s not here. But Charlie can’t say that. She can’t even think that.

Praying that this channel won’t show breaking news, Charlie sits down next to Evie. Her face is a mask. She feels hot and cold in turn. There’s a twinge in her lower belly that she MUST NOT focus on because that would be too cruel.

She can’t lose the baby, SHE CAN’T. It’s just nerves. She’s probably clenching her muscles due to stress, or something. Or it’s the aftermath of vomiting so violently. This isn’t serious. She thinks of all the patients she’s treated and controls her breathing. In. And out. In. And out.

But it doesn’t help much. With shaky fingers, she dials Tom. Why hasn’t he called her yet? Doesn’t he know that she’s worried out of her mind? Something mean nudges her brain, adds another achy twinge. What if he hasn’t called because he isn’t well? What if… No. No, not going there.

With a white-knuckled grip, she listens to the dial tone. Nothing. His phone’s dead. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Charlie realizes she’s rocking herself back and forth for comfort, and she should absolutely not do that because it’ll worry Evie. Evie! God, what if something has indeed happened to the girl’s father? How fucking unfair would that be, losing her daddy so soon after losing her mommy?!

She wants to hug the girl that is almost her own child too. Cuddle her close and pretend their world isn’t falling apart. Instead, she forces more breath into her lungs and stares unseeingly at Tom the cat chasing Jerry the mouse around the garden on TV.

Why doesn’t his phone work, dammit???

Charlie gets up from the sofa, glad that Evie isn’t paying attention. She walks into the kitchen on legs that don’t feel her own, and she swallows against another bout of nausea, knowing there’s nothing to puke out anymore.

If his phone doesn’t work, he was probably affected. And that means he could be among the patients being sped away to the hospital. Closing her eyes against the sheer terror of the possibilities, Charlie dials the hospital, states her name and position in a wobbly voice so someone will actually talk to her.

She should probably inquire after the general situation. The news anchor mentioned so many casualties. They’re all people with families, all valuable lives. But the only thing she can force through chattering teeth is the following all-important question: “Rani, it’s me. Has Tom been admitted to hospital alongside the other patients?”

Silence. It stretches and stretches. A sigh. “I should probably not tell you this, but yes. Yes, he has. I saw him brought in a few minutes ago. There was all that blood and…”

Charlie doesn’t hear a single word spoken after that. She doesn’t hear anything. Only rushing, like a not-so-distant waterfall. And then her vision darkens.

She mustn’t faint. No, no, no.

So, she grabs the counter in front of her, the knuckles of both hands turning white from the pressure. Charlie holds on. Tight.

“Charlie?” she hears faintly through the speaker. “Are you there?”

“I…,” she croaks. “I’m here.”

“I don’t know anything, you’ll have to wait a little bit, okay? We’re going to call you and his family as soon as we know more.”

She just hangs up. She understands what Rani is saying. If it’s bad they’ll call to update her. Well. Diana, James, Sarah, and Emma probably. Or is she Tom’s emergency contact? God, there are so many, many things to consider.

Charlie holds on tighter. And though she’s a strong woman and deals with all of this on an almost daily basis, it’s way different when you’re not the doctor delivering the news.

She sobs. One tiny one, then again. And before Charlie can stop it, she lets out heavy sobs, tears running down her face, as her body curls in on itself. She needs to breathe. Desperately.

But all she does is whimper and sob some more.

What stops her though, are the sounds of feet running through the living-room and then stopping at the kitchen door.

“Charlie?” comes Evie’s soft voice, and Charlie straightens. She takes deep breaths that feel as if she’s got 500 pounds pressed against her chest. Then she wipes away the tears that have been streaming down her face. And then she turns to the door.

“Yes, munchkin?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“But I heard you crying, Charlie.”

It takes everything to stop herself from crying now. “Everything is all right, I promise.”

“Daddy said I need to look out for you, are you sure that you’re okay? Because you need to tell me.” The little girl comes closer and before Charlie knows it, little arms wrap around her legs, and Evie’s head comes to rest against her lower tummy.

“You’re doing a great job. I promise, I’m fine and everything is okay.”

With one hand she strokes Evie’s head, with the other Charlie dials Tom’s number again. This time it’s ringing longer than before.

“Oh God, Charlie,” comes from the other end of the line, and again Charlie almost faints.

“Charlie?” Now he sounds even more frantic.

“Y-yes. I’m here.” And then she realizes that Evie’s also here. What if Tom, though he can at least speak, has bad news? Oh god, oh god, oh god. Struggling to keep it together, and relying on years of professional experience, she nudges the girl away.

“Evie, be a darling and get me a glass of water from the table in the living-room. That would really, really help me. Okay?”

Nodding earnestly, the child half-runs off, and Charlie simply slides down bonelessly until she’s sitting with her back against the counter.

“Tom? Tom, are you still there? Are you okay? Oh god, Tom, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I honestly am, Charlie. I mean, I’m shaken…and…and…god, I don’t know how I’m feeling. But I’m alright.”

For the first time in hours, she can breathe more freely. More tears slide down, this time of relief too. But then she clutches the phone tighter to herself. What if he was lying so she wouldn’t feel bad? Hadn’t Rani mentioned a lot of blood? And if he was okay, he wouldn’t be at the hospital, right?

“Tell me the truth,” she insists, stifling a fresh sob.

“I am telling you the truth. Love, I’m okay. Please don’t worry.”

He sounds exhausted. Or in pain? “But they told me you’re covered in blood, and…and…” She really needs to stop imagining all the injuries he might’ve sustained.

“It’s not mine.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. “What do you mean?”

“Charlie, listen to me. It’s not my blood. I…there was this woman close to the explosion and she had blood running down her face, and I just reacted on auto-pilot and tried to help. I carried her to an exit and stayed with her, and everyone ignored my protests that I’m fine and made me ride in the same ambulance, and so I ended up at the hospital too. I promise, I’m okay. Just a few scratches.”

Charlie’s head thumps against the counter and she closes her eyes, taking some more deep breaths. Her free hand rests on her tummy, stroking. He was okay. Really okay. They would all be okay.

“Thank god,” is all she manages, her voice still wobbly.

“Charlie? Charlie, are you crying? Goodness, don’t cry, love!” Now Tom sounds as if though he’s going to bawl too.

“Okay, Love, listen. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. You and Evie are too. I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

“No, don’t.”

Tom stops a little at that, and now Charlie feels even worse. “Don’t what? Come?”

“Sorry. Sorry.” She tries to dry her tears desperately, because she can hear the telltale sounds of Evie coming back to the kitchen, a glass of sloshing water that she just poured from the bottle on the living-room table probably in her hands.

Charlie also tries to actually make sense. “Just, don’t promise. Just be here. You don’t know how long it’ll take with the traffic. And I don’t want to wait for you again today.”

“Oh, Charlie,” he sighs, and she can hear Tom’s deep breaths as well. “Okay. I’ll be there. Whenever today.”

“Thank you.”

One moment later Evie is back. “Water!” she shouts, putting the glass down next to Charlie, before running to her other side, sitting down close to her. “Is that Daddy?” Evie then asks. “Why isn’t he here?”

Before Charlie can answer, Tom has started to talk into her ear. “Calm down, Love. You’re doing great for Evie. Now, put me on speakerphone, okay?”

Charlie nods and does as he says, only just realising that Tom can’t actually see her. “Done.”

At Tom’s “Hello munchkin!” Evie starts bouncing. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you still good for Charlie?”

“I am! Where are you?”

Charlie spent a few minutes telling the girl that pregnant women can get very emotional, and convincing her that everything was alright. Then she made herself a seriously sweet hot chocolate because a strong coffee wasn’t such a good idea.

A hand curled around the mug even after it had cooled down, the other still absently rubbing her lower abdomen, Charlie is sitting on the couch with Evie. It’s been two hours of Cartoon Network, and thankfully no breaking news.

There’s a sound at the door that indicates a key turning, and Charlie startles. Oh god, he’s finally here. Ignoring a hard rule Tom and she usually enforce–Evie’s not to open the door or go running when it opens before they’re sure it’s Tom or another family member–she gives Evie a soft nudge.

“Go on, Daddy’s finally home.”

With a ‘yay’, the child takes off. Charlie holds herself very still. Everything inside her yearns to jump up and race to the door like the girl, to throw herself into Tom’s arms and weep in relief. But she shouldn’t. Biting her lip, she listens to what happens in the hallway.

“Daddy!” That’s Evie, sounding happy and probably launching herself at her father like a rocket.

“Heeey, munchkin.” That’s Tom, sounding emotional, exhausted and also deliriously happy.

“Daddy, you’ve got scitches!” Evie says on a gasp.

“Scratches,” she hears Tom correct automatically, and shivers. He’d said he was okay. Scratches?! So was it a lie, did he get injured? Or is it really just a scratch or two? Jesus, how close to the explosion was he?

Charlie digs her teeth into her lip even harder, tasting blood.

Charlie can’t. She needs to wait, needs Evie and Tom have this moment together. Also, she can’t be a weeping mess in front of the little girl again.

She folds her hands in her lap, fingers picking at her wrists.

“Where’s your… where’s Charlie?” she hears Tom ask, his voice coming closer.

“She’s watching TV.”

And then Charlie feels him behind her. And yes, when she turns around, Tom’s standing in the door, Evie in his arms.

“Hi,” he whispers, and Charlie feels her face contort as she tries to hold back tears and sobs. So, she takes a few deep breaths instead.

“Hi.”

She studies him as he comes closer. He must have changed his shirt as it’s free from blood. Good. But his hair is a mess and there are a few wounds on his cheeks and temples.

“How are you?” Tom asks. And then he’s sitting next to her, Evie in his lap.

Charlie shakes her head. “I…” she murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Daddy has scratches!”

“I have. But I’m fine.”

And at that, Charlie moves closer and snuggles up to both Tom and Evie, letting Tom’s scent calm her. She needs to hold him, and she needs to be held.

In those now blurry yet somehow still painfully vivid moments after the explosion, his first thoughts were Evie and Charlie simultaneously, and that he needed to somehow survive and get back to them.

But now everything’s fine and he really shouldn’t return to those harrowing thoughts of imagining them alone. Or of the others who were more severely injured, like the woman with the head wound who bled and bled and bled when he carried her to safety.

He clutches his daughter closer, which makes her wiggle. “Daddy, how did you get the scratches?” she asks, earnest worry on her face when she sits back to stare at him.

Tom swallows. He hates lying to her but he really doesn’t want her worried.

“There…there was a small accident somewhere close to where I was on my way here. A big glass window broke and I was near enough to get nicked. But it’s all good. I’m a big, brave dragon-slaying warrior with a princess on my lap, I don’t mind a scratch or two.”

His tone is a bit off but Evie giggles anyway. Then she sobers up and presses little kisses to his cheeks and forearm. “There, I kissed all the boo-boos better, Daddy.”

His heavy heart swells with love and Tom has to swallow some more. For a moment, he buries his face in his daughter’s hair, then gives her a kiss too.

“You’re such a good daughter, taking care of me. Thank you, munchkin. And were you a good girl for Charlie too, while I was away?”

His child nods enthusiastically. “I was, I promise. When Charlie cried some time ago because of the hor-moons, I bringed her water and cuddled her.”

Heart lurching, Tom gazes over her head at Charlie, knowing full well that it wasn’t hormones that made her cry. Removing one arm from around Evie, he pulls the woman he loves closer so all three–wait, four!–of them form a little bubble of safety.

Charlie inhales, her face pressed into Tom’s chest. He’s a little sweaty, and she can smell a somewhat smoky scent, that seems to stick to him.

Oh god. She swallows down the bile that rises in her throat. She can’t think about what Tom went through now. And Charlie definitely shouldn’t think of all the things that could have happened to him.

Like, how he got the scratches. Because she doubts that Tom’s story for Evie is that far from the truth. He must have been close to some kind of glass. And then he cut himself. God. Are there scratches somewhere else on his body? Larger ones? He changed his shirt, maybe because there wasn’t just blood from that woman on it?

Charlie swallows again and takes one, two, three deep breaths, and feels Tom pulling her closer as well as Evie resting her head on Charlie’s chest. She shivers. Instead of Tom’s scent calming her, all she smells is fire and smoke and sweat.

“Charlie?” she hears somewhat close to her ear, but can’t really react. Her eyes are closed, but the world swirls around her.

“Charlie?” That’s Evie. She doesn’t want to scare the child, but she’s seriously considering just turning around and vomiting right there on the carpet.

Instead, she is indeed turning around, but scrambles to her feet, mumbles a quick ‘Sorry,’ and runs for the bathroom for the second time in the past few hours.

Charlie thinks she can hear voices behind her, but they fade as she kneels in front of the toilet and throws up her hot chocolate.

Vaguely aware of Tom running the tap and crooning soothing nothings to her, Charlie tries to get a grip. She knows it’s the nerves that have triggered the new bout of vomiting, and that she really needs to calm down and think of the peanut in her tummy. Tom’s here, it’s alright.

After a while, she realizes that these are also the words Tom’s whispering to her as he strokes her. “I’m here now, love. I’m here. It’s alright. Charlie, it’s alright.”

She focuses on that, then splashes cold water on her face and wrists, rinses her mouth and spits until she feels marginally better. When she lifts her face, she sees her own face in the mirror over the sink, splotchy and with dark circles under her eyes. She looks horrible. Tom, to be fair, somehow still looks devastatingly handsome, but also worse for wear. Exhausted, worried, serious.

Charlie makes herself stare at the little cuts on his face, her empty stomach turning to lead.

“Let me look at those scratches,” she croaks, turning so she can access the cabinet with the first-aid kit.

Tom’s grip on her arms tightens. “No need. They were treated at the hospital. They don’t hurt. You should rest.”

She shakes her head a bit too frantically. “No, Tom. Let me. I need this.” Taking a deep breath, she sends him a pleading look, all but drowning in his stormy blue eyes. “Concentrating on something I know how to do will help.”

With a nod, Tom presses a kiss to her forehead. He gives her arms a last squeeze, then sits down on the bathtub’s rim. Mechanically, Charlie gets out what she needs to tend to the tiny wounds, soothing herself and Tom with the practiced gestures.

The scratches really don’t hurt, but Charlie looks so pale and fragile that he simply can’t deny her the simple request. It’s not like she’d do any harm.

“You’re good at this,” he mumbles, one hand resting on Charlie’s hip as she stands before him. “Have you ever though about doing this professionally?”

He hopes he can make her smile again. With the baby news and the way they both reacted to it, the morning sickness – that lasts all day –, and today’s news, he hasn’t seen her smile in a while.

She doesn’t have to be the strong one, their relationship has long moved past that. But Tom thinks sometimes Charlie still feels like it. But she can let herself fall into his arms. Sometimes quite literally.

Charlie does grin a little, despite still being way too pale for his liking. “I’ll think about it,” she mumbles. “Tom? I’m sorry.”

He squeezes her hip. “What are you sorry for?”

“I wasn’t very brave today. Neither for the peanut–” Tom grins at the nickname, “nor for Evie.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been a great mum. You’ve protected her. Didn’t let the bad things get to her.”

Tom stops. She has been a great mum. Has been for the past year, actually. Slowly, gradually. It’s true what he’s said to her more than a year ago. He doesn’t want Evie to forget her mummy. But Charlie somehow manages to keep the memory of Emily alive and still gives Evie everything she needs. And he knows that the little girl probably loves her as much as she’s loved her mum.

It was the first thought today. What if something happens to him? What will happen to Evie? Charlie has no rights whatsoever despite being such a big part in her life.

He almost jumps at the realisation. He needs to change that.

“What?” Charlie mumbles. “Did it hurt?” Tom stares into her eyes, her hands stop on his face. “Tom?”

“Adopt her.”

“What?”

“Evie,” he says more firmly. “Adopt her.”

“What?” she asks again. It sounded like ‘adopt her’, but that can’t be what Tom said. How could he? “Tom, did you hit your head?” She didn’t see a bump, but maybe she can feel it? Charlie presses both hands at either side of Tom’s face.

But Tom just shakes his head. “Didn’t hit anything,” he mumbles and then swallows. “I want you to adopt Evie. I want you to have rights. Just as I have. Just as Emily had. You’re part of her life.”

His eyes are so serious, he’s staring at her now, and Charlie almost feels sick again. “But I’m not…”

“You’re like a mum to her,” he interrupts, before Charlie can finish her thought. How does he do that?

“Tom… How…?” She swallows against the bile in her throat again. This day has been too much.

“When what’s happend happened today all I could think of were you and Evie. You’re everything to her. Her mum is never going to come back.” Charlie stares. He’s never quite said it that bluntly before. “What if I go too early as well? What if something happens to her when I’m halfway around the globe? You need rights, Charlie. You need to see her, you need to care for her.”

She says nothing. Can’t say anything. But tries. “That’s…” not very articulate, so she stops.

Now, Tom looks uncertain as well. “If you want to, of course,” he says as he pulls her close by her hips again. “Please, want it.”

“Thank you.” She barely hears his words but feels a soft kiss on her hair. Just when she wants to burrow deeper into his secure hold, Tom draws back. A finger lifts her chin, and she drowns in his intense gaze, forgetting to sniffle.

“You’re my world, Charlie. You’re Evie’s world too. I’ll see to it that the rest of the world knows it.”

God, does he have to be like this? This…this…perfect?!

“I love you,” she says tearfully, the rest of the day’s tension slowly melting away too.

“I love you too.” His kiss gets cut off by frantic knocking on the bathroom door.

“Daddy? Charlie? Are you okay? Can I come in? Can I?”

“Yes,” they call out in unison, sharing a watery smile.

Charlie hastily tries to untangle herself from his arms and wipe her eyes. She should probably move, get the first-aid things back in order. But Evie barrels straight into her and Tom, and suddenly they’re all hugging each other and it’s a moment she’ll remember for the rest of her life. A family moment, in many senses of the word.