elle marshall đ„đ [wynonna earp] (peacemaker) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2018-02-20 18:28:00 |
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The pain was like nothing Wynonna had ever felt before -- and sheâd felt a lot of that in her life, especially since returning to Purgatory. If you asked her, Wynonna would say she had a monopoly on pain, physical and emotional and anything else in between. But this? This was unreal. None of those other times had anything on this. It wasnât how Wynonna had imagined it, those brief moments when she had. In those few moments, she pictured a hospital, somewhere clean and sterile and bright. Waverlyâs hand in her own. Gus hovering in the corner, anxious but always there, always ready to get Wynonna whatever she needed. Doc looking scared out of his wits one moment and looking at her with awe the next. Instead, what she got was a pool table in the middle of the bar, Waverly shucking her boots off while Docâs newest girlfriend covered her with a towel. It wasnât fair. â... Motherknuckles!â She heard Waverly vaguely tell her to breathe, but Wynonna didnât know how. Rosita said sheâd get towels. âAnd whiskey! All the whiskeys. And rum!â She could hear the panic in Rositaâs voice as she walked away. It wasnât helping. âOh, why did I lie on the pool table, there are multiple couches right over there?â Waverlyâs face filled her field of vision. âYou never were much for tradition. And I guess our baby,â hearing Waverly say it like that made Wynonnaâs heart hurt, âwonât get the chance to learn ours.â âNicole told you the plan.â Of course she had. âItâs the only chance we have to keep it safe.â Wynonna believed that with all she had in her. It was all that mattered, the safety of her baby. She would have done anything, climbed mountains and âIt matters that you didnât ask me, I couldâve helped!â But Waverly was helping, Waverly always helped. She always knew what to do. And it was out of Wynonnaâs desire to protect her family as sheâd tried to do for so long and failed at so many times that sheâd kept Waverly from those plans. Waverly would have wanted to go, and she might not even be able to. Hell, the baby might not, either. But if the baby could -- the best thing was for it to be far, far away from Purgatory. Far away from the revenants and Black Badge, at least for now. But all of that was gone in a second, lost in Rositaâs threats to take her baby away and give it up to the highest bidder, lost in the sound of Wynonnaâs screams. âYou donât know me at all,â Rosita warned her, stepping out from between Wynonnaâs legs. She wasnât interested in talking about Doc, and frankly, neither was Wynonna, but she knew it was a sore spot in Rositaâs ego. âI know youâre the type of woman who made this about a guy. I know youâd better be wearing a good sports bra âcause youâre gonna have to run so far, so fast. I know it wonât matter âcause Iâll never stop hunting you.â That seemed to work. There was a flicker on Rositaâs face that betrayed her bravado and her plan, and it was enough for Waverly to get the jump on her. âIâm not goinâ anywhere.â Wynonna could hear her sisterâs voice, but she couldnât really see her from where she was. A gun cocked. âYou wouldnât.â The gun misfired. âYou canât, youâre not 27, youâre not the heir.â Wynonna heaved herself up onto her elbow. âBut you are my sister. Waverly Earp, yes Earp, you listen to me, you are one of the good guys, the best of us, and you are just as much a part of me as this baby.â She grabbed Rositaâs hair and yanked, but it didnât last long. She felt Rositaâs fist hit her face and heard Waverlyâs shout. It wasnât enough, the gun wasnât responding. âPeacemaker!â It glowed blue and fired, shattering the glass bottle in Rositaâs hand. They watched Rosita run, and the gun thumped down onto the table by Wynonnaâs feet. Another contraction rocked Wynonnaâs stomach and she groaned. âItâs coming!â Wynonna thrashed under her blankets as she tried to sit up, her heart pounding and her chest heaving. Of all the dreams sheâd had over the last few months -- deeply traumatic in different ways, often violent dreams -- this was a new one, This was worse. Her hand went to her stomach -- still flat, a wave of relief washing over her in realization. What did it mean when you had a dream about being pregnant? she wondered. No, not just being pregnant; giving birth.. âItâs probably nothing,â she muttered, flopping back down onto the bed. It had to be nothing. She and Hunter were safe. There was no way. It wasnât possible. Right? Elle closed her eyes and tried to think about anything else but the way her stomach had jutted up towards the ceiling in her dream, and the way it felt to know there was a life in there and to know that life was about to burst out of her. She shuddered, trying to force the anxiety down. Did she want to throw up right now because she just couldnât stop imagining the dream, or because her mind was trying to tell her something? She dragged herself out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. Somewhere in the back of a drawer, she had a stash of tests -- old ones, but not too old. Just leftovers from a life before Hunter, where sheâd been younger and stupid, more reckless, more careless. Waiting was the worst part. The steps were methodical and straightforward, but they did nothing to keep her mind off the hypotheticals running through her head. She picked up her phone instead and started playing Candy Crush while she waited. âHa, gotcha!â she exclaimed as she hit one star and then another during the cascade of candies. It was then she looked up and remembered: oh, right. One line. âOh, thank fucking God.â |