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intheheartTitle: Hopes
Rating: PG.
Summary: Joanna tells Hugh she's pregnant.
Date: April 2010
AU: George
Notes: none.
Joanna looked nervous.
She let him talk through dinner, which was not entirely unusual-- unless something exceptional had happened she tended not to say much. But her downcast eyes, her white face, her very subtly shaking hands... and she picked at her food. Oh, yes. She looked nervous.
Joanna very rarely looked nervous. Her serene calm seemed to be as much a part of her as her headscarf, and as rarely discarded. But tonight, she was nervous, and Hugh was therefore paying very careful attention to her.
He didn't press, though. She'd tell him when she was ready. Instead he prattled of nothing in particular and watched her eyes, and held his breath.
At last, she put down her fork and knife, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye at last. "Hugh," she said, her voice steady. "I have something to tell you."
He put his own utensils down-- he wasn't hungry anyway-- and gave her the same intense attention. "I'm listening."
"You know I had a doctor's appointment today," she said, and sudden fear shot through him.
He managed to keep it off his face, though, he thought. He hoped. "Yes," he said, and was pleased that he sounded calm. "For the nausea, right?"
She dipped her head to one side, a sort of acknowledgment. "And some other things. I thought it was menopause." Another deep breath. "It's not menopause."
Hugh's stomach cramped. His hands were hidden in his lap, so he tightened them until the knuckles went white and his nails bit into his palms. "What is it, then?"
There were any number of things it could be. Lyme disease, the flu, stomach problems, and more dangerous things; her endometriosis coming back, liver problems, Addison's. He lived through all the possibilities in a nightmarish few seconds before Joanna looked away and said, "I'm pregnant."
Hugh stopped thinking entirely and just stared at her.
She flushed under his gaze, even though she wasn't looking directly at him. "I wasn't expecting it either," she said. "I... I don't know, Hugh. I'm sorry about this, but...."
"No," he said, impulsively and reached out, took her hand in both of his. "No, Joanna. Don't be sorry. Don't..."
She met his eyes again, hope and a little relief on her face. The relief hurt a little bit-- had she been afraid of him? "Are you all right?"
Was he all right. Lord. "A little in shock," he admitted, honestly. "I thought you were..."
"So did I," she said, and a little smile crossed her mouth. "I did want... I am happy. I never expected this, but I'm so, so happy it's real." She cocked an eyebrow at him then. "Are you?"
And there was a question with more layers of complication to it than he was really ready to admit to, right now. "I don't know," he temporized. "It's... surprising."
Joanna's other eyebrow went up, and she regarded him with the look that he imagined she must otherwise use only on people talking loudly in her library. "Dear," she said, her voice not quite testy, "that won't work on me."
Hugh sighed, and gave her a rueful look. "And here I was so hoping it would."
"You should know better," she said, and waited expectantly.
So distraction hadn't worked either. Hugh closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and thought about it.
Was he happy?
The obvious answer was yes. He loved children. He was a pediatrician, for heaven's sake. He loved children, and he loved his wife, and she was pregnant with his child. They'd have a baby soon, a child of their own. Of course he was happy.
And then there was the other obvious answer-- no, he wasn't, because of the ghost of a girl with dark brown curls and merry blue eyes. He'd never had the chance to watch his daughter grow, never seen her graduate from high school or go on her first date. He'd failed her so completely the thought of it still made his throat close over. How could he possibly contemplate replacing her?
Replacing her, as if she were a toy, or a plant that had died. No. That was wrong, inconceivably wrong. Olivia was his child, his own heart. It felt sometimes like there was no space left for anything but her memory.
And that was wrong as well, because he'd given his heart to Joanna, to the woman who now watched him quietly across their dinner table. That had been easy, almost unnoticed. Surely he could find some space for the child she carried, too, for it was part of her.
Part of her. Part of him. Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe he'd never had a choice.
Olivia danced across his mind again, her feet flying across the grass, the sun brushing her hair with gold. She would have liked a younger sibling.
He opened his eyes again, and smiled at Joanna, wanly.
"Are you happy?" she repeated, gently.
"Yes," he said, and nodded to emphasize it. "Yes, I am. That's not to say I'm not..." and here he paused, unable to find suitable words. Eventually he just went on. "I am. But I promise you that somewhere under all of this, I'm happy." He leaned forward, brought her hands to his lips and kissed them, gently. "I love you, Joanna. I'll get over this."
She freed one hand from his grip to cup his cheek. "I know you will," she said, softly. "And you're a wonderful father, Hugh. You are," she insisted, when he shook his head involuntarily. "You're a wonderful father to Olivia, and you'll be a wonderful father to our child."
A better one, he hoped-- he hoped he wouldn't lose this child too.
But then, this child wouldn't face anywhere near the same troubles as his doomed daughter. It had a much better mother, to start.
"This will work," he said, half to Joanna, half to himself. "It will."
She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Yes," she said. "It will."
Rating: PG.
Summary: Joanna tells Hugh she's pregnant.
Date: April 2010
AU: George
Notes: none.
Joanna looked nervous.
She let him talk through dinner, which was not entirely unusual-- unless something exceptional had happened she tended not to say much. But her downcast eyes, her white face, her very subtly shaking hands... and she picked at her food. Oh, yes. She looked nervous.
Joanna very rarely looked nervous. Her serene calm seemed to be as much a part of her as her headscarf, and as rarely discarded. But tonight, she was nervous, and Hugh was therefore paying very careful attention to her.
He didn't press, though. She'd tell him when she was ready. Instead he prattled of nothing in particular and watched her eyes, and held his breath.
At last, she put down her fork and knife, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye at last. "Hugh," she said, her voice steady. "I have something to tell you."
He put his own utensils down-- he wasn't hungry anyway-- and gave her the same intense attention. "I'm listening."
"You know I had a doctor's appointment today," she said, and sudden fear shot through him.
He managed to keep it off his face, though, he thought. He hoped. "Yes," he said, and was pleased that he sounded calm. "For the nausea, right?"
She dipped her head to one side, a sort of acknowledgment. "And some other things. I thought it was menopause." Another deep breath. "It's not menopause."
Hugh's stomach cramped. His hands were hidden in his lap, so he tightened them until the knuckles went white and his nails bit into his palms. "What is it, then?"
There were any number of things it could be. Lyme disease, the flu, stomach problems, and more dangerous things; her endometriosis coming back, liver problems, Addison's. He lived through all the possibilities in a nightmarish few seconds before Joanna looked away and said, "I'm pregnant."
Hugh stopped thinking entirely and just stared at her.
She flushed under his gaze, even though she wasn't looking directly at him. "I wasn't expecting it either," she said. "I... I don't know, Hugh. I'm sorry about this, but...."
"No," he said, impulsively and reached out, took her hand in both of his. "No, Joanna. Don't be sorry. Don't..."
She met his eyes again, hope and a little relief on her face. The relief hurt a little bit-- had she been afraid of him? "Are you all right?"
Was he all right. Lord. "A little in shock," he admitted, honestly. "I thought you were..."
"So did I," she said, and a little smile crossed her mouth. "I did want... I am happy. I never expected this, but I'm so, so happy it's real." She cocked an eyebrow at him then. "Are you?"
And there was a question with more layers of complication to it than he was really ready to admit to, right now. "I don't know," he temporized. "It's... surprising."
Joanna's other eyebrow went up, and she regarded him with the look that he imagined she must otherwise use only on people talking loudly in her library. "Dear," she said, her voice not quite testy, "that won't work on me."
Hugh sighed, and gave her a rueful look. "And here I was so hoping it would."
"You should know better," she said, and waited expectantly.
So distraction hadn't worked either. Hugh closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and thought about it.
Was he happy?
The obvious answer was yes. He loved children. He was a pediatrician, for heaven's sake. He loved children, and he loved his wife, and she was pregnant with his child. They'd have a baby soon, a child of their own. Of course he was happy.
And then there was the other obvious answer-- no, he wasn't, because of the ghost of a girl with dark brown curls and merry blue eyes. He'd never had the chance to watch his daughter grow, never seen her graduate from high school or go on her first date. He'd failed her so completely the thought of it still made his throat close over. How could he possibly contemplate replacing her?
Replacing her, as if she were a toy, or a plant that had died. No. That was wrong, inconceivably wrong. Olivia was his child, his own heart. It felt sometimes like there was no space left for anything but her memory.
And that was wrong as well, because he'd given his heart to Joanna, to the woman who now watched him quietly across their dinner table. That had been easy, almost unnoticed. Surely he could find some space for the child she carried, too, for it was part of her.
Part of her. Part of him. Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe he'd never had a choice.
Olivia danced across his mind again, her feet flying across the grass, the sun brushing her hair with gold. She would have liked a younger sibling.
He opened his eyes again, and smiled at Joanna, wanly.
"Are you happy?" she repeated, gently.
"Yes," he said, and nodded to emphasize it. "Yes, I am. That's not to say I'm not..." and here he paused, unable to find suitable words. Eventually he just went on. "I am. But I promise you that somewhere under all of this, I'm happy." He leaned forward, brought her hands to his lips and kissed them, gently. "I love you, Joanna. I'll get over this."
She freed one hand from his grip to cup his cheek. "I know you will," she said, softly. "And you're a wonderful father, Hugh. You are," she insisted, when he shook his head involuntarily. "You're a wonderful father to Olivia, and you'll be a wonderful father to our child."
A better one, he hoped-- he hoped he wouldn't lose this child too.
But then, this child wouldn't face anywhere near the same troubles as his doomed daughter. It had a much better mother, to start.
"This will work," he said, half to Joanna, half to himself. "It will."
She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Yes," she said. "It will."
