His English Heart- A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction

Drive. Faster.

“Drive faster!” You grit between your teeth, grip tightening on the handle above the passenger door. You fondly called it the “Oh-Crap-Bar” because that was typically when it was grasped. This very moment, you’d never been more grateful for its existence.

“I’m going as fast as I can, honey,” Tom says, his eyes never separating from the roadway. Cars passed by the dozens as the two of you raced down the streets, headed for the Royal London Hospital.

You almost scream out the bloody question of “Why?! TOM?? Why did we not just go to Wellington?!” And then- too late, you realize you already had let it slip from your lips.

Pain was rippling through your body, sharp bursts beginning at the base of your spine and traveling through your abdomen and spreading- or, rather, was it the other way around? You’re too distressed to care.

“We’re not that far, darling-” he says in a normal tone, checking his mirror so he could pass the insanely slow car ahead of you.

“How are you so calm?!” You try not to get upset about it- but it’s no use, the pain is far too great for you to currently bother about possibly hurting his feelings. You just needed to know his secret. How is he acting so normal? How is he being so calm? How is he not freaking out about this baby coming now when neither of you are prepared for it?

“I’m not!” His voice rises in pitch, foot shoving the gas pedal farther to the floor, “I’m just better at holding it in!”

“WHAT?!” You yell, another surge of pain blasting through you at top speed. The pressure between your legs was beginning to intensify, and you feel the tears pouring down your cheeks.

“Tom-” you choke out, mood changing instantly. You want his hand- you want him to somehow lessen the pain.

“Joanna?” he asks, eyes deviating for half a second to see you crumpling in the passenger seat.

“Tom...” you groan out, reaching for his arm- that pressure increases and increases, “Drive. Faster.”

 ~

You begged for the epidural, begged and pleaded for them to just let you sink into a better feeling- but they said you were too far along. No pain medication for you.

“It’s going to be fine, honey,” Tom keeps repeating, wiping sweat away from your brow, and squeezing your hand, “Everything will be alright.”

You want to scream at him, that no, everything will most certainly not be alright- he was not the one pushing a baby through his body- he was not the one going through this tremendous amount of pain.

All you do is stare ahead and practice your breathing, try to ignore the indescribable pain and concentrate on the bigger picture.

“Mrs. Hiddleston-” you barely hear the doctor say as another contraction hits, “On the next one, I want you to push. Can you do that for me?”

 ~

You see stars. His fingers slip from yours as your grip loosens.

There’s a small cry and you force your eyes to focus on the end of the bed where the nurses and Tom were standing. They were all staring at the same thing- something you couldn’t see yet.

All you know is that Tom’s eyes are as wide as saucers, his mouth hanging open. He’s stopped breathing. He’s stopped moving.

And then, before you know it, he lifts his head, tears gathering in his eyes as he somberly says- “It’s a girl.”

 ~~

The frantically beeping horns outside in the dark barely worm their way into the room. Dimly lit, aside from one bright lamp, his wife was asleep in the hospital bed. She was exhausted from the night’s escapade, and he was to make sure Jo received the rest she needed.