All I can give to you is loving
Title: All I can give to you is loving
Author: Phelipa
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sawyer/Juliet
Summary: Written for Prompt #1: Birth (philosophy_20), Sawyer/Juliet
Disclaimer: I don't own LOST or the characters used, and I don't make a profit from my work
Sweat pools in the deep hollow of her throat, leaving damp, flushed skin in its wake. Her heart pounds in her ears and the sound of her own breathing fills the otherwise silent, but busy, room. Her legs are spread wide, propped up in cold metallic stirrups that make her tremble uncomfortably and she flushes as Ethan peers unashamedly between her thighs.
She arches up off of the sterile delivery table as a contraction winds itself up her spine and sweat trickles slowly down her bowed back. Ethan says her name sharply and tells her to focus and push, push through the pain. But she’s scared, scared because this is the island, scared because everyone dies, scared because no one has ever made it this far before.
As she lurches forward, bearing down and letting out an agonized moan, there’s an ominous tearing noise and her body abruptly goes limp, paralyzed on the cold metal slab as thick liquid pours from between her thighs. The room reeks of warm, metallic blood and she feels her skin blanch as her blood pools on the white tile, a sickeningly stark contrast.
As the blood drains she can feel the soft curves of the baby through her skin, writhing and struggling frantically as she suffocates slowly...
She wakes with a start, horrified tears pricking her eyes as she struggles to reorient herself. She fights against the confines of the blankets until her heart rate slows and the panic slowly ebbs away when her fingers caress the swell of her belly. She twists her head and finds Sawyer sleeping next to her, his jaw slack as he snores quietly, his arm slung over her grossly swollen midsection. The baby gives a sharp kick at the side of her belly and his grip tightens on the swell of her stomach, his fingers reassuring against her milky white skin.
She shifts uncomfortably, rolling onto her back, and that’s when she feels the slick dampness between her thighs. Her pelvic muscles tighten tentatively, painfully, and she laces her fingers with his, resting them over her belly and squeezing gently. He wakes slowly, blinking confusedly in the dark and squinting up at her,
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head gently and murmurs, “Nothing’s wrong, but I think my water just broke.