Dawn Reclaimed

Thomas huffed for breath. His air supply cut off by a fist. "No...no I'm trying to... Save her..." he gasped. Grappling with the fist, he tried to pry his way free.

Claire lay on the table, panting against the pain. The scene faded in and out of focus. "Stop... Grant... stop..." She mouthed weakly. Something was wrong. With her. With the baby. There was so much blood and so much pain. Everything was happening so quickly. But, none of it made any sense to her. The agony was all she could think of. The only thing she could grasp.

Hunter pried Grant free of Thomas, shoving his brother away from the doctor. Claire was as white as the sheets that wrapped around her. Blood was everywhere. He dragged Grant away from Thomas, "Let him do his job. Let him help Claire." Grant struggled in his arms trying to get to the man. But, Hunter was stronger and he held him fast, dragging him toward the door.

Grant writhed and struggled against his brother's embrace. "He's killing her." His Claire was in pain. He was helpless to watch as she suffered. Growing weaker, each second taking her closer to death. He loosed an agonized cry.

"Get him out of here!" Thomas said as he sucked in air.

"Brother, let the doctor do his job." Hunter used every bit of his strength to drag Grant away from Claire's side. His brother's agonized cries echoed in his ears, twelve years ago the roles had been reversed, and Grant had been the strong one. Pulling him away from Marianne's side, so that the midwife could deliver. Now, he was repaying the favor. Helpless as ever as death claimed one life and laid another one to ruins. He pulled Grant to the floor and propped his back against the wall. Embracing Grant in his arms letting his brother's heaving sobs wrack through his body.

Grant gritted his teeth. Restraining the worst of the deluge. "I'm losing her," he said helplessly. His brother's presence did little to ease the agony that settled in his chest.

"Brother, there's still hope. Its not over yet." Hunter gritted out the same hollow words Grant had spoken to him years ago. The irony not lost on him. He wouldn't lie to Grant, just as Grant had not lied to him. But to take away the last glimmer of hope his brother had would be to condemn him prematurely to the same empty life that Hunter had lived for the past decade. Maybe, Claire would survive and for Grant things would be different.

"Claire! Help me out here. I need you to push!" Thomas demanded in his sternest voice. Her push was little more than a weak effort. "Claire! If you want this baby you're going to have to work for it. Come on! Help me help you!" Her vitals on the monitor were hovering precariously in the danger zone. "Come on! Push!" Thomas could see the baby's head protruding from Claire's pelvis. If she gave him, just a little, he could avoid the forceps and the risk of injuring her and the baby. She grew weaker by the second. Her attempts to help were feeble and ineffective.

Grabbing the forceps in a last ditch effort, slid them into position. Claire screamed and flailed on the table. She had enough awareness left to pin her stare on his. In her eyes he saw her determination and her resolve to accept the things she could not change. The decision made. Risk her life to save the baby. He carefully pulled and guided the baby's head free. "Come on Claire, give me one more good push!" Sweat rolled down Thomas's brow as he guided the baby's shoulders free and the rest of the naked, bloody, bundle of spindly limbs, followed. Thomas freed the baby's mouth of debris and wiped clean the baby's face. Rewarded with the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. The baby's first cry, loud and shrill, desperate for his mother and the comfort only she could give. "Come on Claire, we're not done yet."

Thomas handed the baby off to the Shaman. Clamping the cord as the placenta slid free of Claire's body. He shook with relief at the sound of the baby's healthy cry. "There's your boy, Claire," he said. Wiping a sheen of sweat off his upper lip.

The Shaman wiped the baby clean and wrapped him in warmed, soft blankets, holding him low for Claire to see. Doc was not unaffected by the wriggling bundle in his arms. A new life, so pure and untainted, so perfect and without flaw, so desperate to live, screamed for his mother.

Claire weakly reached up to stroke her baby's cheek and then dropped her trembling hand. Drifting away to someplace else. Silently sliding into a land of dreams. The pain subsided as she floated along in the blackness. Ignoring Thomas's urgent cries for her to stay with him.

Hunter led Grant into the room, keeping a tight hold on his brother's arm. Claire lay in a crumpled heap on the bloodied sheets. Thomas worked furiously at her side to save her. She was still alive.

Grant took his son from the Shaman, holding the new life in trembling arms. This should be a time of great celebration and joy. He should be elated by the birth of his son, healthy and squalling loudly in his arms. The moment was filled with dread as Thomas scuttled about, trying desperately to save Claire. He had his son, but the cost was too high. She'd paid for his son with her life, which, which flickered in and out like a flame too close to the end of its wic. "DO IT THOMAS! Do whatever you have to do to save my wife!"

"God damn it Claire! DON'T YOU DIE ON ME NOW!" Thomas shook her hard. Increasing the volume on the IV and pumping filled syringes into the tubing. "Come on Claire! Don't give up. Grant needs you! Your baby needs you! Come on, Claire!" Her body was ice cold. Her heartbeat was fluttering dangerously across the monitor's screen. "Grant, we only have one option left."

Grant crushed his son to his chest. Holding on tightly to the infant, who looked so much like Claire, "Do it."

Thomas nodded to the Shaman. Stepping away from Claire. Magic had to work where medicine and science had failed. There was a danger, but no one spoke of it as the Shaman bit into his wrist and coaxed the first few drops between her lips.

Claire drifted in the darkness. This was a nice place, floating somewhere between life and death. That was the funny thing, she knew she was dying, but it wasn't so bad. There wasn't any pain. There weren't any pearly gaits. Nothing and everything filled the empty void at the same time. She wasn't afraid, but, the opposite, fascinated. She felt land beneath her. Smooth, cool, hard, rock against the small of her back. Heaven? Hell? She had never done anything exceptionally bad, but she'd never done anything exceptionally good either. She reckoned that she could be in either place depending on how the scales tipped. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

Hunter carefully took the bundle from Grant's arms. The baby snuffled and rooted in his blankets. Searching for his mother. "Shhhh..." Hunter whispered. Rocking the bundle of blankets and newborn baby, he stood helplessly to the side. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he relived his wife's death over again. Watching as Grant pled with Claire to live.

"Claire, please come back to me. Drink Claire. You have to drink." Desperate hot tears rolled down his cheeks. "Please, do it for me and our son." Grant gulped down the lump in his throat. "Don't leave me." He shot a pleading look at Thomas.

Thomas turned away from Grant's anguished face. "There's nothing I can do," he said quietly. Silently, he smoothed Claire's hair away from her brow. The monitor had shown no signs of life for over a minute. Her lips were waxy, dusky blue, stained red with the Shaman's blood. Her life was no longer in his hands. Life and death determined by some greater power somewhere off in a distant land where only mists and spirits dwelled.

She was in that place now. If she came back or not, was out of his hands. He draped an arm across Grant's trembling shoulders. Helpless as the man, watching as the woman they both loved so desperately died. Reaching above the bed, he flipped off the monitor. The equipment was unnecessary now. He didn't need it to tell him what he already knew, short of a miracle; Claire was gone.

Claire sat up and looked around. The scenery was breathtaking. Pristine snow capped mountains stretched across the horizon. A river, clearer than any she'd ever seen rolled gently by. Separating rocky shores and wide planes of fresh, green grasses. The sky was so brilliantly blue. Fluffy white clouds billowed and floated casually overhead. The sun was so warm against her cheeks. She must have accomplished something in her life. Surely, this was heaven.

A feminine chuckle filled the air. "Not quite heaven, child," a delicate voice chided.

|Claire covered her eyes. Shielding them from the radiant woman that emerged from a clump of pines. The woman shimmered with a silvery glow. Illuminated by a glow that came from somewhere deep with in. White hair hung loosely about her waist. Blending in with the white robe that gathered around a narrow waist. Bronzed skin glimmered with an inner radiance. Her face was wrinkled with time and knowledge. Her brown eyes were interwoven with specks of gold. Hinting to both kindness that knew no bounds and limitless wisdom. She was too beautiful to look at and too glorious to look away from.

"Are you an angel?" Claire stammered. She scrambled to her knees. Thinking it best to kneel before the heavenly, ethereal host.

Ripples of laughter answered Claire's question. "Is that what you think?" The woman stepped forward, cupping Claire's chin and lifting her face up. "I am Kokumthena, goddess of the wolf children."

"There's more than one god?" Claire asked. She didn't recall learning that in Sunday school class.

"I am but an extension of the one True God. You breeched my boundaries and are faced with a decision. Go on or go back. Your being teeters between life and death. Get up and walk with me." She extended her hand and gripped Claire's. Pulling her onto her feet.

"I'm not dead?" Claire expected the hard pebbles beneath her feet to bite and sting as she walked beside the goddess. But, there wasn't. In fact, she didn't feel anything at all. Water lapped up at her toes as the river's tide ebbed and flowed, she knew her toes were wet, but couldn't feel the moisture between them.

"Clinically, yes. Biologically, no, not yet. There's still a spark, Claire. With a whisper I can ignite that spark and breathe life back into it. When you're in this state, anything is possible."

Claire thought back to her days working as a nurse in the ER. She thought about Robbie's parents, pronounced dead on arrival, bodies mangled and twisted into a bloody pulp. "Not everybody gets this choice do they?"

"No. Sometimes, the choice is made for them."

"Why me?"

"Because, my daughter, love keeps you bound. Grant's love for you and your child's love, calls to you. Holds you tethered to your body."

"Then this isn't where I belong. I want to go back." Claire regretted leaving the serenity of this place. Abandoning perfection for an imperfect life, riddled with ups and downs, pain and joy wasn't that hard of a choice. Life, as crazy and harried as it was, won over death.

"You have been given a great gift and responsibility. Don't take it for granted. Love your husband and your son with all of your heart. And know, that someday, our paths will cross again."

Claire snapped painfully back into her body. Life jolted back into her as her mouth filled with something sweet, unbelievably good, rich and decadent, filled with an intoxicating flavor. She heard Grant's voice. The sound of her son's cries filled her ears. She felt Thomas's hands on her cheeks. She swallowed, encouraged to take more. Gulp after gulp. Torn tissues and ruptured vessels knitted back together. Writhing in a new even more unpleasant agony Claire cried out. Riddled with numbing cold spreading through her veins.

Hands stroked her cheeks. Voices reassured her. She held on. Waiting for the pain to subside. Hazarding to open her eyes when the worst of it subsided. New waves of pain assaulted her body as her ears heard every sound that they'd ignored before. Colors wove in patterns dancing wildly before her eyes. Her nose burned at the antiseptic scent of the room. Her stomach churned nauseated by the smell of her blood.

"It will pass, Claire." Doc eased. Relieved that his blood took. Made her whole without turning her into something other than what she was, a plain, extraordinary human female.

Thomas patted Grant on the back. Standing on shaky legs, his hand trembled slightly. Slowly, he brought his lips to her brow. "You did it, Claire." He left the room. Giving her over to Grant for safekeeping. Almost losing her changed his perspective on many things. She belonged with Grant. That was a fact that there was nothing he could do to change. He had accepted it. She would live a happy and long life, deeply in love with Grant. And he would not stand in her way. What he felt for her was friendship and love. But, he was not in love with her. Never had been, he was merely in love with the illusion of being in love. She was right for Grant, but not for him.

"Claire, say hello to your son." Hunter handed the baby to Grant. The past was forgiven. Watching his brother almost lose the love of his life had forced him to realize how much he'd given up. How many years he'd wasted begrudging life and refusing to live it. He was ready to take the first steps. Step by step, just like he coached Gina. Little by little he'd learn to live and love again. And he knew just where and exactly what he needed to do to start. He clapped his brother on the back and left the trio to get reacquainted.

"G.T. Hello, baby," Claire cooed softly. The baby had a shook of thick black hair and a pretty round face. His pug nose was just like hers. His eyes, shaped just like his fathers. He was a mix of the both of them. He was the best of both of them. She held his warm, wiggling body in her arms. Blinking back tears of joy as Grant kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Look what we made."

Grant ruffled Claire's hair and draped his arm across her pillow. Snuggling in as closely as he could over the rails of the hospital bed. "We did it, Claire." He stared down at his wife and the child she held in her arms. He could not remember a happier time than the one he was having right now. His gifts were irreplaceable wrapped in cotton sheets. The love of his life and the child, their love had created.

They had a lot of help. But, yes, Claire agreed, they did it.

Prologue

The storm was over. Leaving the world silently dozing in the dawn of a new day. The world would wake, fresh and washed clean. Home was a lonely place that Thomas didn't want to go. He was too wound up, nerves too raw for celebrating at the compound. He signaled and pulled into the only place besides the truck stop open at this hour.

There were a few stragglers seated at tables and at the bar. Desperate lonely souls, just like him. He saw a forlorn figure slouched at a table. Staring off into the distance. Looking at nothing in particular. "Mind if I join you?" Thomas flung his jacket across the back of an empty chair and sat down next to the woman.

Jan looked up from the watered down drink she'd been nursing for the better part of an hour. Her favorite person took the seat next to her and waved the waitress over. What the hell? Even his company beat being alone. She didn't have the strength right now to send him away. Nonchalantly, she shrugged, "Sure. Why not."

Thomas sighed and plopped down in the chair. He'd showered and changed, gotten something to eat before leaving the compound. He'd stuck around long enough to make sure Claire and the baby were doing fine. Fine? Hell, they were great. It still boggled his mind and probably would for a while. Claire had named the baby after him. Not entirely after him, but his name was on the birth certificate or whatever official record the pack kept. Grant Thomas Blake Samuelson-Wolfe. Boy, she wasn't kidding when she said that kid's name was a mouthful.

He ordered a beer and enjoyed the companionable silence. He hadn't delivered a baby since med school, and now he remembered why. Goddamned nerve wracking, asshole clenching, awe inspiring, renew your faith in humanity and in miracles experience. He was a godfather. He still wanted to chuckle at the way Grant had readily agreed with that. He'd gone from being scum of the earth to some kind of hero in Grant's opinion. Not that he minded. But, at the end of the day, the only thing he'd done was his job. Thomas wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to climb up on the table and shout it out to the whole word. Hell, he didn't know exactly what he felt. But, damn was it beyond words.

Jan said nothing. She sat sipping her drink, leaving Thomas to his thoughts. Apparently, he needed the companionship of another person just as badly as she did. And that was ok. They were both miles away in their heads. Sitting together at a grimy table, sharing experiences without words. And that was ok too.

Blake draped an arm over Dena's shoulders. Staring down at the bundle in her arms. Smiling as she cooed adoringly at their grandchild. Grant Thomas Blake Samuelson-Wolfe, GT for short.

"Isn't he adorable?" Dena lovingly cooed. Stroking the gentle curve of the newborn's chubby cheek with her finger. "Oh yes you are. Simply...whimply... Adorable." She snuggled GT, inhaling his new baby scent. Nothing absolutely nothing smelled better than a brand new baby.

Things were different between them since the night they shared. United by the wedding and the birth of their grandchild. Neither one of them spoke of the future nor where they were headed. If they'd continue on their paths separately or give it one more shot together. Blake pressed a kiss to Dena's forehead as she passed the baby to him. "Oh, by the way, he's left you a little something in his diaper," she teased.

Blake took GT from her arms. "I think he meant that for you," he playfully retorted. "Come on, we'll tackle this with the team approach."

Dena threaded her arm through Blake's. "Team approach huh? I like the sound of that."

Hunter reached the city just as dawn was clearing the horizon. He pounded on Gina's door. She answered his incessant knocking, dressed in a short cotton sleep shirt. Hair rumpled in wild disarray. Before she could slam the door in his face he pushed his way through. Enveloping her his arms, covering her mouth with a kiss, he gave her no chance to protest or make dozens of lame excuses why this wasn't happening. He was acting out the impulses of his heart. Following the best advice he'd ever been given, he'd come back to get the girl.

He kicked the door closed with his foot as he lifted her in his arms. Carrying her down the hall toward the bedroom, he whispered, "I couldn't let you go," in between breathtaking kisses.

"You came back for me," Gina breathed in between Hunter's assault on her mouth. Overwhelming didn't begin to describe this man carrying her in his arms. Hunter was a puzzle she might never solve. But, at least he was willing to give her the chance to try. A chance, she was more than willing to take. It wasn't lost on her that he made a beeline straight for her bedroom or that his eyes flashed with deep longing, intense masculine desire, and that glimmer of something more. Something that had her curling her toes and holding her breath.

It had taken tragedy to break him down to bring him to this next step in his life. It'd taken almost dying to let go and learn what it meant to truly be alive. Losses happened. The people you love died. But, none of it had to be the end. If you truly loved the ones who marched bravely forward, you lived. And instead of shutting yourself off from the world you loved that much more. "Of course," Hunter said. Dipping low to claim her mouth one more time before he stretched her out on the bed and went there to join her. He said, "Gina, I'll always and forever come back for you."