Every Day [Bechloe Fan Fiction]

24) The One Where There's A Flight To Catch

Beca sat back in her uncomfortable airline seat, trying to forget where her eventual destination was. She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't think about it.

Instead she tried to distract herself with happy thoughts. She thought about Beatrice. Her goofy smile, frizzy hair and sparking eyes. She was everything Beca wasn't. And everything Chloe was.

"Trust me to end up with a daughter just like my ex," she cursed silently. "Just my luck." This was a thought she had been thinking for a very long time - the irony certainly wasn't lost on her.

"Push, Ms Mitchell! Push!" The doctor yelled up from between Beca's legs. Beca let out a grunt, followed by an angry scream.

After nine months of hell, it was finally time to deliver her baby. The months leading up to this moment hadn't been easy on Beca. Every time she's felt a kick or seen her bump, Beca had felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. It was an all too painful reminder of what she'd done - what a slut she was.

Most of her pregnancy had been spent trying to find a job, going to parenting classes and sobbing in the corner of her tiny apartment. The more her bump grew, the stronger her anxiety became. Soon she was in the mist of full-blown panic attacks, and going into labour hadn't helped.

Except she wasn't having a panic attack now. Instinct had taken over and Beca found herself so focused on the increasing pain, and burning desire to push, that she couldn't focus on anything else. Beca's personal problems fell away. All that mattered was her baby.

"I am pushing!" Beca yelled at the doctor, tempted to kick him right then and there.

"Push harder!" He encouraged,  peeping at a part Beca certainly didn't want him to look at.

"You do it then, if it's so easy!" She snapped between pants.

The doctor slowly came up, peering at her over her bent legs. He raised a silent eyebrow Beca. For a moment, the whole room was quite. The nurses hid smirks behind their arms.

Beca rolled her eyes, dropping her head back against the pillow in an attempt to hide her blushing cheeks. Only she could feel even more embarrassed than most women with her legs wide open for the whole hospital to see.

In protest, she let out another blood curdling scream.

Shouts of 'push, push push' coated the air, making it hard to breathe.

"Oh God," Beca groaned. "Oh God..."

"Almost there, Beca," her doctor muttered, concentrating. "You're crowning. Keep going."

"Oh God," she replied, failing to conceal her horror.

"Come on, you can do it!" He cried.

"GET IT OUT OF ME!" Beca screamed back. "IT'S GONNA KILL ME!"

The doctors and nurses offered a series of encouraging words, but to no affect. Beca simply continued screaming.

Then, all of a sudden, Beca felt as whoosh and with an almighty yell, the torture subsided to a painful throbbing.

Slowly Beca's screams ebbed away to a soft whimper.

It was over.

Well, it was over for a second before another pair of lungs started screeching.

"Make it stop, make it stop," Beca groaned, trying to burry her head in her pillow. She had momentarily forgotten the cause of her pain. Why she was in a hospital. And who's crying she could her.