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Title: I Can't Lose Him Too (1/?)
Series: Daddy's Girl
Characters: Ten2 and his daughter Sarah (OC), AU Donna, AU River
Genre: Character Study. Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU Ruver bashing (yes, I hate her so much that I would create an AU version of her just to bash her, but if you happen to like her it's not that bad.)
Summary: Sarah has an average day at school, but what happens when she gets a phone call.
Author's Note: This is the third in the "Daddy's Girl" Series.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3
I groan as my eyes protest opening, and a warm slimy sensation greets my fingers. I stick out my tongue and roll over on my side gazing at the large back lab taking up a bit more than half of a twin sized bed.
“Sampson,” I mutter, as Greyson squeaks from is night cage, protesting my obliviousness to him. “And Greyson.” I add nodding in his general direction and releasing the latch on his cage.
“It’s only Saturday I don’t know what you guys are so anxious about,” I said, as I trudged out of my room and into the kitchen, when realization set in.
“It’s the second Saturday of the month isn’t it?” I ask Sampson, who cocks his head with a textbook ‘No der Sherlock’ look. “Okay,” I mutter glancing at the wall clock. “It’s only 7:00 in the morning, we’ll be fine, just let me get in the shower and you…well, have a romp outside, but no mud I don’t need to clean you too.”
Sampson circles excitedly and runs into the back yard’s still inky black light.
***
I quickly grabbed my backpack and Greyson, as I ran out the door with Sampson in tow. I quickly let Greyson slip into the enclosed basket on my bike and tether Sampson to a lead while we petal towards the hospital.
The mile ride was over in less than five minutes much to the protest of my still sleep tired legs, but we made it.
I chain the bike to the rack and try to ignore the fact that Dad’s not here too. Tethering Greyson with an orange harness and sliding a matching orange vest onto Sampson, we walk inside the double doors.
A smiling face greets me at the front desk, as piercing green eyes meet mine from behind a dark fringe. He shuffles his papers and hands one of them over to me, as his gaze turns sympathetic.
“Hey, Sarah,” he replies.
His voice is sad and remorseful, why are people like that? They want to offer sympathy when all you want to do is forget. I’m glad he cares, but I’ll be fairly useless at cheering up kids if I’m crying myself.
“Hey, Gareth,” I reply, taking the paper and glance at the child’s name on the sheet. I recognize her from the previous times I visited here before. Dad always had a fondness for the spunky five year old with dark brown eyes and once had curly brown hair, and I had to admit that I did too. I wasn’t sure that there was anyone in the hospital that hadn’t met her and immediately fallen in love.
“Lilly,” I say, skimming through her recent treatments. “How is she?”
“Tired,” Gareth replied scrubbing his face. “Chemo’s hard on adults I can’t imagine what it’s like for a kid as young as her.”
Gareth saw my face fall slightly and offered a grin.
“Hey, don’t worry, she’s still just as feisty as ever,” Gareth winked, before he pulled out another sheet of paper and handed it to me. “And, if you’re not too busy there is another patient we would like you to visit, you might recognize him.”
I glance down at the sheet of paper, and see ‘Dr. John Smith’ printed on the top.
“But, we never have authorization to go into Intensive care, Sampson and Gareth, I’ll have to take them home and come back I think, yeah that might work…” I ramble out nervously.
“Calm down Sarah,” Gareth said, reaching out and touching my shoulder. “I set up everything, as soon as you finish over with Samantha you can spend the day with your dad, with these two clowns.”
Gareth jerked his thumb in the direction of Sampson and Greyson.
“Thank you,” I told him earnestly and plastering another smile on my face.
“Now, go spread joy and what not,” he said, waving me away with his arms in a dramatic gesticulation.
***
I knock gently on the wooden door, which swings open to reveal the smiling face of a tall slender woman with dark—almost black—eyes. Her eyes are my favorite feature of her they portray all her emotions so well, and the most prominent one is hope.
“Good morning, Mrs. Johansson,” I greet with a smile.
“Hi, Sarah,” she replies with a gentle smile, as she peers around my shoulder. “Where’s your dad?”
The words slam into me, but I won’t burden Mrs. Johansson with my problems, she’s got enough to worry about.
“He can’t come,” I say quickly, my eyes silently begging her not to ask more.
“Okay,” she says, but those eyes portray more, she knows. Am I really that easy to read when I’m hurting?
“How is Lilly?” I ask, tugging at the back of my blonde ponytail.
“She’s doing much better,” Mrs. Johansson replies. “She’ll be very excited to see the three of you.”
I grin a reply and subconsciously rumple Sampson’s ears, feeling some of the tension leave my body.
“Well, come on,” She says stepping aside as letting our menagerie enter the cramped hospital room.
Lilly is sitting up in the bed with her legs crossed, in a hospital gown covered in smiling puppies and a pink ball cap. Her hands grasped a book that I recognized from home, as Dad’s copy of the ‘Complete Works of William Shakespeare.” He was reading it to her; because he saw how clever she was. I knew what he meant now that I saw her gently mouthing the words to one of Shakespeare’s works and squinting at the words every now and then, as if they angered her.
“Lilly,” her mother says to get her attention. “I’m going for a few minutes, but Sarah’s here with Sampson.”
Greyson let out an agitated squeak.
“And Greyson, Mummy,” Lilly pointed out, as I scoop up the ferret and lay him carefully in the five year-old’s lap.
“And Greyson,” Mrs. Johansson adds with a grin, hugging her daughter close before stepping out the door.
I watch as she leaves and pull up a chair next to Lilly’s bed.
“What were you reading?” I ask her, as I sit.
“Hamlet,” she replies with a frown. “Or trying to.”
“It is a bit difficult,” I tell her logically.
She nods thoughtfully while stroking Greyson.
“Is the Doctor coming?” she asks suddenly.
“Not today, Lilly,” I reply giving her a smile and quickly running some excuses over in my mind that a five year-old would believe. “He’s sick,” I tell her (it’s not a total lie).
“Like me?”
Her eyes peer concernedly at me, as she closes the book and scoots on the bed to be closer to the chair I’m sitting in. I never realized how much Dad must mean to this little girl.
“Not really, he was hurt,” I explain, while I rub her shoulder gently.
“Bad?”
Very bad.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell her.
He will won’t he? He’s Dad. He’s invincible right, my hero?
“When can I see him?” Lilly asks.
I want to lie and tell her tomorrow or next week, sometime soon, but I can’t find it in my heart to do so.
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.
“Can I visit him, like he visits me?”
She really is a sweet little girl.
“Maybe another day,” I tell her, as her face falls, so I quickly add. “When he’s feeling better; he doesn’t read well when he’s not feeling well.”
Lilly nods understandingly, as she holds the content ferret in her hands.
“Did he read to you?” she asks suddenly.
I smile and nod.
“Yeah, all the time,” I reply remember the countless nights I spent sitting in my bed, in his lap or curled into his side; while he clasped a
heavy book and made the perfect voices for all the characters. Sometimes, I would wonder if he wasn’t really reading and more making up
stories for his own amusement, but I never cared.
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it,” I told her, as a big grin spread on my face and I joined her in a snuggle on the bed. “I still do.”
“He still reads to you?” she asked dubiously. “You’re too old.”
“Lemme, tell you something, you’re never too old to love spending time with your dad,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m sure loads of six-teen year-olds act out scenes from Hamlet with their dad before bed.”
“Really?!” she asked excitedly.
“No,” I chuckle. “I think they’re probably out with boys.”
“Gross.”
“I know, right,” I say sticking out my tongue and tugging her into a tight embrace.
My job was to brighten her day, but somehow Lilly was managing to brighten mine.
***
I give Lilly a final hug good-bye, and I can feel her sliding a piece of paper into my hands. I look down and grin.
“What’s this,” I ask her kneeling down to her level.
“Me and you and the Doctor with Greyson and Sampson all reading and playing out Hamlet in my room at home, ‘cause that would be fun,” she explained as she pointed out the different elements of the drawing.
“It’s lovely,” I tell her. “You want me to give it to Dad right?”
Lilly nodded crawling over the bed and picking up another piece of paper.
“He drew me this the last time he was here,” She showed me an almost perfect drawing of a monarch butterfly holding what appeared to be a light saber with glowing red eyes, only Dad would theorize that a butterfly had was in any way evil.
“I’ll give it to him as soon, as we get to his hospital room,” I promise.
“Thank you, tell him to get better or I’m gonna tell the butterfly to come after him while he sleeps,” she says, as she pushed her face against my chest again.
“I promise,” I tell her wiping a stray tear from my eye behind her back. “See you later, yeah, and rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replies seriously.
“Good.”
Series: Daddy's Girl
Characters: Ten2 and his daughter Sarah (OC), AU Donna, AU River
Genre: Character Study. Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU Ruver bashing (yes, I hate her so much that I would create an AU version of her just to bash her, but if you happen to like her it's not that bad.)
Summary: Sarah has an average day at school, but what happens when she gets a phone call.
Author's Note: This is the third in the "Daddy's Girl" Series.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3
I groan as my eyes protest opening, and a warm slimy sensation greets my fingers. I stick out my tongue and roll over on my side gazing at the large back lab taking up a bit more than half of a twin sized bed.
“Sampson,” I mutter, as Greyson squeaks from is night cage, protesting my obliviousness to him. “And Greyson.” I add nodding in his general direction and releasing the latch on his cage.
“It’s only Saturday I don’t know what you guys are so anxious about,” I said, as I trudged out of my room and into the kitchen, when realization set in.
“It’s the second Saturday of the month isn’t it?” I ask Sampson, who cocks his head with a textbook ‘No der Sherlock’ look. “Okay,” I mutter glancing at the wall clock. “It’s only 7:00 in the morning, we’ll be fine, just let me get in the shower and you…well, have a romp outside, but no mud I don’t need to clean you too.”
Sampson circles excitedly and runs into the back yard’s still inky black light.
***
I quickly grabbed my backpack and Greyson, as I ran out the door with Sampson in tow. I quickly let Greyson slip into the enclosed basket on my bike and tether Sampson to a lead while we petal towards the hospital.
The mile ride was over in less than five minutes much to the protest of my still sleep tired legs, but we made it.
I chain the bike to the rack and try to ignore the fact that Dad’s not here too. Tethering Greyson with an orange harness and sliding a matching orange vest onto Sampson, we walk inside the double doors.
A smiling face greets me at the front desk, as piercing green eyes meet mine from behind a dark fringe. He shuffles his papers and hands one of them over to me, as his gaze turns sympathetic.
“Hey, Sarah,” he replies.
His voice is sad and remorseful, why are people like that? They want to offer sympathy when all you want to do is forget. I’m glad he cares, but I’ll be fairly useless at cheering up kids if I’m crying myself.
“Hey, Gareth,” I reply, taking the paper and glance at the child’s name on the sheet. I recognize her from the previous times I visited here before. Dad always had a fondness for the spunky five year old with dark brown eyes and once had curly brown hair, and I had to admit that I did too. I wasn’t sure that there was anyone in the hospital that hadn’t met her and immediately fallen in love.
“Lilly,” I say, skimming through her recent treatments. “How is she?”
“Tired,” Gareth replied scrubbing his face. “Chemo’s hard on adults I can’t imagine what it’s like for a kid as young as her.”
Gareth saw my face fall slightly and offered a grin.
“Hey, don’t worry, she’s still just as feisty as ever,” Gareth winked, before he pulled out another sheet of paper and handed it to me. “And, if you’re not too busy there is another patient we would like you to visit, you might recognize him.”
I glance down at the sheet of paper, and see ‘Dr. John Smith’ printed on the top.
“But, we never have authorization to go into Intensive care, Sampson and Gareth, I’ll have to take them home and come back I think, yeah that might work…” I ramble out nervously.
“Calm down Sarah,” Gareth said, reaching out and touching my shoulder. “I set up everything, as soon as you finish over with Samantha you can spend the day with your dad, with these two clowns.”
Gareth jerked his thumb in the direction of Sampson and Greyson.
“Thank you,” I told him earnestly and plastering another smile on my face.
“Now, go spread joy and what not,” he said, waving me away with his arms in a dramatic gesticulation.
***
I knock gently on the wooden door, which swings open to reveal the smiling face of a tall slender woman with dark—almost black—eyes. Her eyes are my favorite feature of her they portray all her emotions so well, and the most prominent one is hope.
“Good morning, Mrs. Johansson,” I greet with a smile.
“Hi, Sarah,” she replies with a gentle smile, as she peers around my shoulder. “Where’s your dad?”
The words slam into me, but I won’t burden Mrs. Johansson with my problems, she’s got enough to worry about.
“He can’t come,” I say quickly, my eyes silently begging her not to ask more.
“Okay,” she says, but those eyes portray more, she knows. Am I really that easy to read when I’m hurting?
“How is Lilly?” I ask, tugging at the back of my blonde ponytail.
“She’s doing much better,” Mrs. Johansson replies. “She’ll be very excited to see the three of you.”
I grin a reply and subconsciously rumple Sampson’s ears, feeling some of the tension leave my body.
“Well, come on,” She says stepping aside as letting our menagerie enter the cramped hospital room.
Lilly is sitting up in the bed with her legs crossed, in a hospital gown covered in smiling puppies and a pink ball cap. Her hands grasped a book that I recognized from home, as Dad’s copy of the ‘Complete Works of William Shakespeare.” He was reading it to her; because he saw how clever she was. I knew what he meant now that I saw her gently mouthing the words to one of Shakespeare’s works and squinting at the words every now and then, as if they angered her.
“Lilly,” her mother says to get her attention. “I’m going for a few minutes, but Sarah’s here with Sampson.”
Greyson let out an agitated squeak.
“And Greyson, Mummy,” Lilly pointed out, as I scoop up the ferret and lay him carefully in the five year-old’s lap.
“And Greyson,” Mrs. Johansson adds with a grin, hugging her daughter close before stepping out the door.
I watch as she leaves and pull up a chair next to Lilly’s bed.
“What were you reading?” I ask her, as I sit.
“Hamlet,” she replies with a frown. “Or trying to.”
“It is a bit difficult,” I tell her logically.
She nods thoughtfully while stroking Greyson.
“Is the Doctor coming?” she asks suddenly.
“Not today, Lilly,” I reply giving her a smile and quickly running some excuses over in my mind that a five year-old would believe. “He’s sick,” I tell her (it’s not a total lie).
“Like me?”
Her eyes peer concernedly at me, as she closes the book and scoots on the bed to be closer to the chair I’m sitting in. I never realized how much Dad must mean to this little girl.
“Not really, he was hurt,” I explain, while I rub her shoulder gently.
“Bad?”
Very bad.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell her.
He will won’t he? He’s Dad. He’s invincible right, my hero?
“When can I see him?” Lilly asks.
I want to lie and tell her tomorrow or next week, sometime soon, but I can’t find it in my heart to do so.
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.
“Can I visit him, like he visits me?”
She really is a sweet little girl.
“Maybe another day,” I tell her, as her face falls, so I quickly add. “When he’s feeling better; he doesn’t read well when he’s not feeling well.”
Lilly nods understandingly, as she holds the content ferret in her hands.
“Did he read to you?” she asks suddenly.
I smile and nod.
“Yeah, all the time,” I reply remember the countless nights I spent sitting in my bed, in his lap or curled into his side; while he clasped a
heavy book and made the perfect voices for all the characters. Sometimes, I would wonder if he wasn’t really reading and more making up
stories for his own amusement, but I never cared.
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it,” I told her, as a big grin spread on my face and I joined her in a snuggle on the bed. “I still do.”
“He still reads to you?” she asked dubiously. “You’re too old.”
“Lemme, tell you something, you’re never too old to love spending time with your dad,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m sure loads of six-teen year-olds act out scenes from Hamlet with their dad before bed.”
“Really?!” she asked excitedly.
“No,” I chuckle. “I think they’re probably out with boys.”
“Gross.”
“I know, right,” I say sticking out my tongue and tugging her into a tight embrace.
My job was to brighten her day, but somehow Lilly was managing to brighten mine.
***
I give Lilly a final hug good-bye, and I can feel her sliding a piece of paper into my hands. I look down and grin.
“What’s this,” I ask her kneeling down to her level.
“Me and you and the Doctor with Greyson and Sampson all reading and playing out Hamlet in my room at home, ‘cause that would be fun,” she explained as she pointed out the different elements of the drawing.
“It’s lovely,” I tell her. “You want me to give it to Dad right?”
Lilly nodded crawling over the bed and picking up another piece of paper.
“He drew me this the last time he was here,” She showed me an almost perfect drawing of a monarch butterfly holding what appeared to be a light saber with glowing red eyes, only Dad would theorize that a butterfly had was in any way evil.
“I’ll give it to him as soon, as we get to his hospital room,” I promise.
“Thank you, tell him to get better or I’m gonna tell the butterfly to come after him while he sleeps,” she says, as she pushed her face against my chest again.
“I promise,” I tell her wiping a stray tear from my eye behind her back. “See you later, yeah, and rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replies seriously.
“Good.”
