I see the lights before I hear the sirens. The pulsating red and blue are blinding and disorienting through the shattered glass. I shut my eyes and turn away.
Opening them, I see my wife; her form is limp. I call to her, but she doesn't answer. I try to reach for her, but I can't feel my arm. It's pinned between me and the center console. It's probably been dislodged from the socket, if not broken.
I try my other arm, but fall short. I can't turn my body. My seatbelt is locked. I'm strapped firmly in my seat.
Suddenly, I'm surrounded by people. They wrangle my door open and gentle hands take hold of me. My seatbelt is cut and, slowly, I am pulled from my car—at least the mangled mess that was my car.
As I am taken away, I call out for my spouse.
I'm told not to worry; others are taking care of her. They tell me to focus on me.
I can't.
I'm placed on a stretcher and wheeled away to a waiting response team. Almost instantly, they descend upon me, placing IV's and ECG leads. One ECG set is applied to my chest, the other to my stomach.
One tends to my wounds, another performs an ultrasound.
“The fetus seems fine,” I hear someone say. They continue to go about going to the hospital.
I don't care. It shames me to admit, but right now, I don't care about my child. I care about my wife. Why won't anyone tell me about my wife?
She laughed and smiled, taking my hand in hers.
“I'm glad we did this,” she said.
“Me, too,” I smiled, “It's nice to get out while we still can.”
“That's what parents are for.”
“...or babysitters.”
A warm blanket is placed around me. I ask the paramedic about my wife.
He tells me another team is working on her.
I ask to see her, but am denied.
They're getting ready to take me to the hospital.
I try to fight, but everything hurts. My arm is in a splint. My neck is in a brace. ECG's are still hooked to me. They are still monitoring my child.
They're worried about my child.
I smiled as a hand brushed over my distended stomach.
“Only a few more months” I said.
“Four months is too long to wait.”
“They will go by just as quickly as the other five.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed, “I just can't wait to hold her. It's no fair that you get all the fun.”
I laughed. “We agreed that I would carry the first one.”
“No,” she joined in the gaiety, “we flipped a coin, and I lost.”
I playfully punched her arm, “I was trying to be nice!”
The paramedic tells me that we need to go and they prepare to load me into the ambulance. But I protest.
I want to see my wife; I need to see my wife.
I need to know she's okay.
I need to know she's alright.
I need to know...
Our fingers interlaced as the world passed us by. She gave me a slight smile, ever keeping her eyes on the road.
She'd always been a good driver. She commanded the car as a captain commands her ship. I'd always felt safe with her behind the wheel. I knew our unborn child was safe with her at the helm.
I leaned back in my seat and glanced toward the night sky, trying to distinguish the various stars that shone that night.
The moon was in full. Her light bathed the world in a warm, soft glow. The radio was off, and all we had to listen to was the monotone rumble of the tires on the asphalt.
A boring sound, but a relaxing, calming sound. It might as well be a lullaby.
"We're ready to go!" I hear a paramedic say.
“No!” I cry, “I need to see my wife! Why won't anyone tell me about my wife?”
It's then that I see it. A stretcher being wheeled away from our mangled mess of a vehicle. There's somebody on it. A dark sheet lies draped over the assembly.
My heart plummets.
I can't see who is under it. But I know. Somehow, I have always known.
This only confirms it.
It is now that I feel it--a large portion of me ripped away.
I lose myself.
I cry, I scream, I try to jump out of my gurney.
Strong hands grab me and force me back. The alarms on the monitors begin blaring.
“We need to go,” I hear someone say, “We risk fetal distress.”
Against my protests, I'm loaded into the ambulance. I make a final cry for my wife as they close the doors.
A paramedic tries to comfort me while another tends to my child.
I cling to my blanket, my wails rival the sirens.
I don't care.
Just let me grieve.
I was first alerted by the blinding white lights. I shielded my eyes with my hand.
I heard my wife growl as she tried to evade the oncoming driver. “Idiot!” she cursed, blaring the horn.
“Do something!” I cried. My body tensed.
“I'm trying!” she said, “I can't shake him!” She swerved our car from one side of the highway to the other. Our movement was only mirrored by the other driver.
“Twilight,”
In a flash, her cyan eyes met mine. What did I see in them? Fear? Hope? Sadness?
“I love you.”
Tires screeched as she made a hard swerve and time slowed to a crawl. Everything went silent, the only sound I heard was the beating of my own heart.
Then, it happened.
There was a loud bang and the car lunged to the side. The jolt slammed me into my door. The airbags did their work and deployed. My head and side airbag collided, throwing my glasses off my face. They flew somewhere and became lost in the fray.
When things finally settled, we were in the middle of the highway. Outside, people yelled and other cars slammed on their breaks.
I took in slow breaths. My vision was blurry—more so than usual. Everything felt stiff, but the adrenaline coursing through my system numbed any pain I may have had.
I slowly turned my head. In the dim light, I can make out her figure.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, before my vision faded to black.
Epilogue: Four Months Later
Twilight leaned back in her bed, gently rocking the tiny bundle in her arms. She gently ran a finger along a tiny ear. She gently stroked the soft hair.
The newborn stretched as she happily nursed. Tiny fingers reached out and wrapped themselves around the mother's.
Twilight held her daughter tighter. That night a few months ago, though still fresh in her mind, seemed so far away.
Despite her own injuries, the baby had been largely unharmed. They did have their moments, but in the end, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
Still, a sorrow hung over this happy occasion. She couldn't be here. She wouldn't get to meet her daughter.
Their daughter would never know the woman who saved her life; the woman who gave her own life so her daughter could have a chance.
Twilight smiled sadly, thinking of how she would have to raise their child alone. Though, it brightened slightly as she thought of her family and friends waiting outside. Yes, she was alone, but not completely alone.
She jumped slightly at a rapping on the door. Twilight looked at the figure standing in the doorway.
“You ready for visitors?”
“Yeah,” she said, “but, you and Dad get first viewing.”
“Grandparent privileges, huh?” Velvet joked, “I'll tell the others. Oh, by the way, the princess is here, too.”
“Princess Twilight?”
“No, the other one.”
“Then, she can come in with you.”
Velvet smiled, “I'll be back.”
Twilight's spirits were lifted as she was slowly surrounded by her family and friends. Each had brought a little something for the newborn. Everyone wanted to hold her.
“You still haven't told us her name,” said Cadence.
Twilight lightly chuckled, “I was waiting for everyone to be present when I announced it.”
“Well, it had better be something completely awesome!”
“You can do that to yer own child, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack chided.
“What?” Rainbow whined, “I only want a name that she would've approved of.”
“Oh,” Twilight said with a twinkle in her eye, “I'm sure she would have approved of this.” She held up the baby for all to see, “Everyone, and everypony, I would like you to meet Sunshimmer.”
Author's Note
Hey, folks!
As mentioned before,this was written for Oroboro's Sunset Shipping Contest.
Go check it out, if you haven't already.
Also, since this is one of three stories written, go check out my other two here and here.
Till later, y'all!
