The Adventures of James Dean.

38.

I woke up with a stiff neck, sitting in the chair beside the bed. Funny how you can fall asleep and momentarily forget something huge from the day before, but I assumed I'd fallen asleep on the sofa, the light ribboning in from the hospital blinds perfectly imitating my expensive blinds at home. With a yawn, I blinked once, then twice, before I acknowledged the snuffle noises coming from the crib by the window.

And then the woman standing over it, reaching down to retrieve her daughter.

Our daughter.

I got out of the imitation leather monstrosity and went to them, lips aching for Kennedy, and she didn't let me down. Capturing my lips in a clinch that nearly collapsed my freakin knees, she passed me the most mischievous smile.

'Should we be kissing like that, you know....' I nodded down work where Fiona lay in her arms, blissfully contented by her mothers presence. And I felt a pang of jealousy. Not because Kennedy was paying someone else attention other than me, although granted that would take some getting used to, but because I wondered whether my mother ever held me like this. Would thoughts like this become commonplace now?

'It's good for her to see us locking lips.' She promised, with a cheeky wink, as she headed back towards the bed. 'So don't hold back, playboy.'

I scowled. The minx had a baby less than twenty four hours ago and she was already back to her playful self. She set about feeding our little girl and I escaped the room with the promise of a hearty breakfast. I hated hospitals, even more so after my three month stint in this very building, but I felt like everything in my brain had shifted. I was thinking about car seats and high chairs and fucking nursery furniture. What the hell had the woman done to me? I shook my head, laughing to myself and getting all kinds of crazy looks from passers by as I headed to my old favorite restaurant.

The last time I was here, I had some nameless woman backed up against a sink, and if you asked me what she looked like I couldn't tell you whether she was a blonde, brunette or redhead, white, black or green with pink spots. My brain swam with images of my little girl, nestled in Kennedy's arms but as I paid for our order I felt my legs collapse beneath me.

..............

Far off voices again. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

Had I been shot, again?

I tried to speak, and all I heard was a slur, my tongue thick, feeling like it was far too big for my mouth. Then I opened my eyes. This time the light didn't sear my retinas.

Kennedy clutched my hand, resting her other palm against my forehead.

'You fainted.' Her voice was strained, and she stroked down my cheek. I moved into her touch, seeking out all the comfort I needed.

'If this is too much for you, just say. I won't be mad, Jimmy.'

'I love it when you call me that.' I smiled at her, eyes sore and bleary.

She passed me a weak half smile, and I knew something was wrong. Sherlock Holmes would have the battle of his life trying to decipher what was on a woman's mind. They were elusive beings. I was learning this.

'I feel a little out of control, that's all. It's not the baby, it's not.....' I trailed off, panic suddenly gripping my chest, a leaden weight pressing down in my gut.

'She's with Aunt Jen.' She soothed, planting a kiss on my cheek, chestnut hair water falling onto my chest. I sucked in a breath as her bronze tinged brown eyes captured mine. 'Don't worry about her. She's fine....Talk to me?' She knotted her hand with mine and perched on the edge of the bed. The noise and the hustle and bustle up in here told me one thing. I'd been brought to the ER. I may as well rent a room in here, it seemed like I was spending most of my life under medical care of late.