OBLIVION [SEQUEL TO SATELLITE HEART: BARLEY LIGHTFOOT x READER]

chapter eighteen

Elsie was born two months earlier than she was expected. While it wasn't what you or Barley were anticipating, with the long nights in the hospital, visiting her and unable to take her home, holding her in the palms of your hands because she was just that breakable, you were thrilled to be parents to your perfect little girl. She was so beautiful, and Barley thought that she was the spitting image of you, which you might've agreed with until you saw her eyes and recognized Barley's in them. Her middle name was your first name, and you were absolutely in love with her. 

"Pretty soon we'll be going home," Barley said, holding Elsie in his hands, rocking her gently to sleep on the little rocker in the corner of the visiting room. "Just wait 'til you see your little room. Your mama painted it all purple and covered it with mystical creatures. And your papa is going to read you every single book on the old days of yore that he has. I know you'll enjoy them. I mean, you're my kid. You don't really have a choice."

"Barley," you laughed, walking over to the stereo and turning it down slightly. Ever since she'd been born, her days and nights (when you and Barley were allowed to visit) were filled with the sound of the mix tape he had made for her. She was born to the songs and she went to sleep to the songs. 

"Do you need to sit down, babe?" Barley asked you. He was always so worried, but you knew he couldn't help it. You'd felt so sick and weak since you had the baby.

"No, it's okay," you said, waving your hand. "I'll sit down in a minute." 

"No, come on," he said, setting Elsie down gently on his chest. He stood up, cradling her small body with his right hand. "You sit down and hold her. You can't stand up forever." 

You didn't argue because your legs were exhausted. You sat down and sighed in relief. Barley waited until you were ready to place the baby in the curve of your arm, where she fit so perfectly that you wanted to cry. You looked down at her light blue skin and tufts of sapphire blue hair and you smiled. "Hey, pretty girl. Did you just spend all that time with your papa? You love when he talks to you, don't you?"

Her big eyes blinked up at you. A yawn stretched her mouth open and her hands flew up over her head, little hands clenching into fists as she stretched out her legs.

"Oh, big yawn," Barley said, kneeling next to you in the chair. "And look how far you can stretch! Here pretty soon, you'll be so tall and big, they'll let you out of here before you know it. Then you can see your grandma and grandpa, and Uncle Ian... I know you're usually asleep when they call you to talk to you, so I'm sure you won't really recognize them. But then we'll get to go home for good."

You sighed. The hospital was hours away from where you and Barley lived, so visiting family was impossible. You hadn't slept in your own bed for almost a month. Elsie needed the two of you close, not that either of you would ever dream of leaving her behind, so you'd been staying in the same hotel room since you were released from the hospital. "Home sounds so nice." 

"I know," he agreed. He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, prompting a smile out of you. "We'll be out of here soon." 

"I hope so," you said, and you just sounded so tired. You let your head fall on Barley's shoulder for a moment and the two of you just stared at your baby, who was so tiny that it was worrisome.

"She's healthy," he reminded you, "and that's more than we could've asked for."

"You're right." You kissed his cheek and sat up. Elsie's hand opened around your finger and then she gripped it tight. You smiled and started to hum one of the songs from her tape as you gently kicked your feet off the ground, rocking the chair gently. 

You fell asleep around noon, and you were vaguely aware of Barley taking Elsie from you and helping you to the small couch at the end of the room. He covered you with his jacket and you fell back under for another hour. 

When you woke up, the sun had moved. The entire room was bright with the sun. Barley was sitting in the rocking chair again, the baby in his hands, his fingers stroking her arms and the sides of her face as she cooed and grunted, small hands grabbing for his face.

"I'm telling you, princess, you look just like your mama," he said. "I've seen the pictures of her as a baby. I would know. You've just got your papa's eyes. And I think you look like baby pictures of your grandpa too, but I'l have to ask Grandma just to make sure." He was quiet for a long minute. "You might grow up a little confused, but Grandpa isn't going to be around. Well, Grandpa Bronco will be. But not Grandpa Lightfoot. My dad. But that's okay. He really wanted to meet you, you know. I'll tell you the story one day, but not until you're older. But you'll know that he loves you anyway, even if he isn't around. I know it's scary thinking that someone won't be around, but I'll be around. I promise you, sweetheart. Your papa will never leave you." And he kissed her on the cheek, letting her grab at his beard and hold on tightly.

You sat up slowly with a yawn. "Are you okay, Barley?" 

"Mhm," he said, looking at you with a smile. "How about you, kid?" 

"I'm okay," you said. "Let me hold her." 

And this was the game you and Barley played for the rest of the day and for the rest of your lives, passing the baby you loved so much between the two of you, never letting her go.