Work Text:
The sound of her wailing echoed through the apartment.
The stressed hushing of an overtired father following behind.
She’d been crying for what felt like hours. Arthur had expected that at some point she’d tire herself out and stop, but she still screamed in his arms as if her little life depended on it.
He couldn’t really blame her, he supposed. Faroe was sick. The doctor had said it was nothing serious, just some stuffiness and a slight fever and as long as he kept a good eye on her then she would be ok.
The doctor had instructed him on several things to help lower the fever and such, but he’d offered no remedy to his daughter's tears.
Pounding came from the nearby wall, an annoyed neighbor shouting at him to get his daughter under control.
Arthur stuttered out an unheard apology as he rocked her harder, begging her to stop crying.
“Shhhh, please don’t cry, shh shh, daddy’s here please don’t cry.”
Arthur was near tears himself, he had tried everything he could think of, every bit of advice he’d received on being a new parent. And still she cried.
He paced nervously with her in his arms, muttering out pleas and platitudes that she ignored. Eventually his words gave out and he was only humming.
A tear rolled down his cheek. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of upset tears that threatened to break through. He was exhausted and nervous. Spiraling thoughts overtook him as he held the tiny body close to his chest, holding her as tight as he could.
She was going to die. She was going to cry so hard she was going to suffocate. Or maybe the fever was worse than the doctor had initially thought, maybe he had missed something and Faroe was actually succumbing to a violent disease that would strip her away from him. He had failed as a parent. He was an unfit father, and now his daughter was going to die because of it.
He felt a hot tear roll down his cheek in tandem with his daughter. Some parent he was turning out to be.
“Shhh, hush now little one. It’s alright my dear. Please stop crying, my darling.”
“Please stop crying”
“Please stop crying”
Please stop crying
“Please… It’s ok, John”
His voice was weak and it hurt to speak- to move.
Hot tears that were not his own flowed down his cheeks, adding to the growing pool of dark liquid he lay in.
There was a sharp point of pain in his stomach from where the creature had punctured him with its claws. It was warm and dripped red.
His thoughts seemed foggy and slow- John was yelling at him, pleading with him to keep his eyes open, to stay with him.
Arthur tried to respond with a comforting word, but all that escaped him was a choked cough.
He could feel the blood spreading beneath him. The pain was fading into a duller sort of feeling.
He wouldn’t stay much longer.
Arthur caught his breath and reached for John’s hand.
“Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry, it’ll be alright.”
This too shall pass.