Mysterious Taylor! (A John Deacon fic)

Worries and Support

“Don't forget: you must not move, and you must be relaxed. If you follow those instructions, everything will go well.”

The doctor smiled at Taylor and helped her cross her arms under her head. She sighed and looked up, feeling the machine purring. She had to be examined several times, so the doctors could finally figure out what was going on inside her. She was lying down on the uncomfortable white mattress, which reminded her more of a tray. Knowing that she had to go through a narrow tunnel, she tried to lie still, not really wanting to have an arm ripped off.

Though the doctor told her to keep calm, she could only feel otherwise. Cramped in that awful machine, with the fear of the final diagnosis, away from John and Robert, how could she even be able to feel relaxed? Everything was going wrong. She had just given birth to her first child, who she already cherished as much as John, and she was not here for him. It was the very beginning of his life, and she was away. How could she even tolerate such a thing? She did not want to be like her relatives, who never cared for their family.

As the machine eventually started to move, she closed her eyes and sighed.

“I'm going to explode.”

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Inside the Deacons' house, baby Robert was peacefully resting in his father's arms, staring at him curiously. Who was this man looking at him with this wide smile? Without knowing why or how, Robert felt incredibly comfortable with this man, who was taking care of him during the previous days. He felt loved, but still, he was confused. Where was the woman who took care of him like that before?

John was grinning at his son, tenderly stroking his head, feeling the tiny and silky dark hair growing there. The baby yawned, making his heart leap in his chest. His son was such a treasure. The baby caught one of his fingers, clenching his tiny ones around it. John chuckled and kissed Robert's forehead.

Although he felt relaxed and very happy to be with his son, which actually was true, he felt completely empty inside. Since the incident that night, he had seen Taylor awake only twice, and it was driving him mad. He could not stand seeing her with those nasal cannulas that ruined her gorgeous face. Besides, knowing that she was likely to have another cancer, much more dangerous this time, made him feel like dying. If there was a god somewhere, he could take everything from him: his fame, his skills, his house, his career, his car, his clothes, his food, his oxygen. But never his Taylor and their son.

John sighed, as he felt tears coming to his eyes. No, he could not cry. He was with his son, the apple of his eyes, how could he even cry?

But it was Taylor. How could he not?

An unexpected ring interrupted his flow of thoughts. He looked all around him to try to remember where this ring came from. Was it the door? The telephone? It rang a second time, and this time it was sure. It was the door.

John carefully put down Robert in his cot, kissing his forehead tenderly.

“Daddy's leaving for a few minutes, okay?”

He smiled and ran out of the baby's bedroom, heading for the front door. He unlocked the door, seeing that he left the keys in the keyhole. When he opened it, he saw three figures standing there, with worried expressions on their faces, in spite of their grins.

“Hello, Deaky” one of them said.

“Hi, Roger” John replied. “Hi Freddie and Brian.”

“Are we disturbing anything?” Brian asked. “We came over just to check if you needed anything, like... buying some food, or taking care of the baby.”