Future Spalistair

Claire (Part 2)

22nd of September 2037

Sherman Oaks, CA

With the Dodgers on the road playing the Cubs, Alistair had the girls to himself. He loved them so much, and being part-time helped him take advantage of that.

Everything went as planned. Usually.

Earlier that day, Claire had complained of a tummy ache, but she was still able to eat some of her breakfast. Alistair figured it would be alright to send her to school, hoping that his baby was okay.

But that hope ended rather quickly. Just before lunch, Alistair received a call from their school. Claire was in the nurse's office with a fever of 100, and she had already thrown up once.

On the way, he was built up with apprehension. Alistair felt horrible for their daughter. The girls were truly their princesses. Beyond that, with any pain that their babies had, he and Spencer always wished they could take it away and give it to themselves. That is why Alistair didn't bother to tell his husband yet. The game at Wrigley Field would be starting soon, and the Dodgers needed their 3rd baseman at his best.

When Alistair got to the nurse's office, the first thing he saw was his sleeping daughter on one of the beds.

"Mr. Porter-Reid?" the nurse asked, getting up from her chair to shake his hand.

"That would be me," he replied.

"I'm Lily, the school nurse," she stated, smiling warmly. 

"Nice to meet you," Alistair said, shaking the nurse's hand. 

Claire squirmed a bit and then opened her eyes. She was so relieved to see him.

"Papa," she said in the quietest voice, reaching her hand out.

"There's my girl," Alistair stated. He quickly walked over to the bed.

"Her fever has stayed the same since we rang," the nurse began. "She vomited once, half an hour ago, but I gave her some ginger ale...which seems to have calmed it down."

Alistair knelt down beside his daughter and kissed her forehead.

"Papa..." she muttered again.

"Let's get you comfy at home," Alistair said, running a hand through her soft red hair.

The nurse walked to the foot of the bed.

"I recommend that she see her primary provider as soon as possible," the nurse said. "She will likely need an antibiotic...and fluids if she vomits again, particularly ones with electrolytes."

Claire whimpered when the nurse mentioned vomiting. Alistair took her hand in response.

"We will be sure of that," he answered, giving Claire's palm a light squeeze.

After gathering his daughter's Frozen-themed backpack and lunchbox, Alistair helped Claire out of bed. He then took her hand and thanked the nurse, and the pair headed out the door and into the hallway.

"Will you carry me?" Claire muttered. The poor little girl was pale as a ghost.

"Of course, princess," Alistair replied. With strong arms, he scooped her up carefully. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

He did not set her down until she was in the backseat of the Range Rover. Claire was quiet for the entire ride, only with an occasional whimper of tummy pain.

Once they were in her bedroom, Alistair helped his daughter into her Minnie Mouse pajamas and tucked her into the pink four-poster bed. He then set a bottle of Gatorade on her nightstand to keep her hydrated and handed Claire her plush Olaf. 

"Stay, Papa..." Claire said. She was shivering a bit, so Alistair pulled another blanket over her.

"I'm here," he assured. Claire nodded and whimpered a bit.

"Does your tummy hurt?" he asked. He watched his 6-year-old worriedly as his baby girl's lip began to tremble.

She nodded, and tears began to fill her eyes.

"Don't cry, angel," he sighed, taking her tiny hand. "Let me go call Dr. Silverstein, and then I promise I'll stay with you.

And he did just that. When Alistair returned, he kissed his daughter's head and then cuddled her close. Even when sick, she was so beautiful--both of his girls were. Never in a million years would he have imagined having such an incredible husband and family.