Texts from Tom Hiddleston
30. Long Night
Trigger warnings: Miscarriage, blood, hospital, most-likely inaccurate depiction of hospital/medical procedures.
“Jill! Jill, wait!” Tom anxiously watched you chase after your boss, not knowing what to do. Then he saw you keel over in pain, and immediately ran to you.
“Y/n? Y/n! What’s wrong?” he asked frantically. You suddenly seemed out of it, and you weren’t responding. He placed a hand on your back to let you know he was there. “Are you okay?” You started to sway where you stood so Tom grabbed your shoulders in an attempt to stabilize you. Something was very wrong. “Darling, talk to me!” He was practically yelling, trying to get through to you, but in the next second your eyes closed and your knees buckled, slipping out of his grasp as you collapsed on the floor. He kneeled next to you, cupping your face in his hands and shouting your name. You were unresponsive. He pressed two fingers to your neck and leaned down so that his ear hovered just above your mouth. He let out a breath, relieved that your heart was still beating and you were still breathing— for now at least.
He took out his phone and tried calling Chelsea, hoping she would know if there was something going on with you that he didn’t know about, but she didn’t answer. He quickly texted her instead.
Tom set his phone aside and examined you closely. You were getting paler by the second. Just then, Chelsea ran up to where you and Tom were on the ground. “Oh my god, y/n!” Chelsea exclaimed as she crouched down beside you, opposite of Tom. “What the fuck happened?” Tom was about to answer when Emma appeared too.
“Shit,” she cursed as she came up on the scene. “I was wondering what was taking you so long, when I saw Chelsea take off.” She was clearly out of breath from running after Chelsea. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, she just collapsed out of nowhere,” Tom explained to the two of them. “Emma, call an ambulance. Chelsea, has she seemed ill or anything lately?”
Emma quickly made the call, as Chelsea tried to remember anything unusual. “No,” Chelsea answered in a panic. Then she remembered something. “I mean, she said her stomach has been a little sensitive, but there wasn’t anything to indicate something was seriously wrong.”
While they waited for the ambulance, Tom and Chelsea continued to check your vitals and attempt to get you to respond. Meanwhile, Emma had found someone who worked in the building to help her redirect passers by. By the time the paramedics arrived— thankfully only a few minutes later— your pulse had slowed down dramatically. After Tom explained what happened, they asked their standard questions about your basic medical information, most of which Tom or Chelsea could answer, until the last one: “Is she pregnant? Or is there a chance she could be?”
Tom looked at Chelsea and she looked at him, and then they both looked back at the paramedic. “Not that I know of,” they both said in unison.
Having gotten all the information they could, the paramedics lifted you onto a stretcher. It was then that Tom saw the large blood stain on the floor where your lower body had just been, formerly hidden by your black dress. The sight ushered gasps and expletives from Tom, Chelsea, and Emma all at once.
The paramedics quickly carried you away, followed closely by Tom and Chelsea, both of whom raced to their cars as soon as the ambulance doors shut.
“Why the hell would I go? If anything, you should go and I should stay,” Chelsea spat at Tom in the private waiting room at the hospital. You were in surgery at the moment and the nurse had told them once you were out of surgery, there could only be one visitor in your room overnight.
Tom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get that you don’t like me very much right now, but someone needs to try to smooth things over with your boss and make sure Y/n will still have a job when she recovers from this. Not to mention her dogs need to be looked after.” He looked at her more earnestly. “Chelsea, I’m not leaving this hospital until I know Y/n is okay.”
Chelsea’s face fell. “Goddammit. You really love her, don’t you?” she asked.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” he replied simply.
She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated huff, resigning to give in to his request. “Keep me updated about everything and I will be back first thing in the morning,” she told him firmly as she grabbed her bag and left.
A few minutes later, Tom decided to text his sister.
After about an hour and a half, the nurse came back. “She’s out of surgery and she’s stable,” he explained. Tom let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “But she’s just coming out of the anesthesia so it might take her a bit to fully wake up. Would you like to see her?”
“I very much would, thank you,” Tom told the nurse before anxiously following him to your room.
You woke to a steady beeping noise, the feeling of a pair of warm hands on your right forearm, and a soreness in your lower abdomen. You felt extremely groggy, making it hard to open your eyes. After several attempts, you were finally able to open them, only to find yourself in a hospital bed. There was an IV going into your left hand, along with one monitor clipped to your finger and another stuck to your chest.
Suddenly, you heard an all too familiar voice say your name. You looked to your right, still working hard to keep your eyes even halfway open, and you were met with a small, tearful smile from Tom. He was sitting in a chair next to you, leaning on the bed with his hands resting on your arm. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked in a soft voice. He looked tired, and you noticed he hadn’t even been home to change. His suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, his sleeves were rolled up, and his tie as well as the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
You closed your eyes and swallowed, thinking for a moment. “Tired,” you replied horsley. You cleared your throat. “And a bit sore.” You went to put your hand on your belly, and winced at how tender it was, so you placed it back down at your side. You looked back at Tom, confused. “What happened?”
He looked back at you with a look of sadness and concern etched across his face. “You fainted— at the gala.” He lightly rubbed his thumb back and forth over your forearm. “When we couldn’t wake you, we called an ambulance.” He looked down at the floor. “I should let the doctor tell you the rest.” He began to get up from the chair, but you grabbed his hand to stop him.
“I’d rather hear it from you, if that’s okay,” you requested hesitantly. You were more awake now, and your heart was beating slightly faster. Unfortunately, the monitor gave it away.
He sat back down, holding your hand in both of his. “Of course, sweetheart.” Your breath hitched. It had been so long since he had called you that.
“The doctor said you had an ectopic pregnancy,” he began, “meaning the embryo was growing in your fallopian tube instead of your uterus.” He paused to let you process this.
You looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “So the pregnancy wasn’t viable in the first place.” You weren’t asking him, but simply stating the one thing you knew about ectopic pregnancies.
“According to the doctor, yes,” he confirmed quietly. “And then, last night,” he continued shakily, “your Fallopian tube burst, causing you to lose a lot of blood, so they took you in for an emergency surgery.” He squeezed your hand, and you got the feeling that it was just as much for his own comfort as it was for yours. “I assume they’ll give you more details now that you're awake.” His eyes earnestly scanned your face for your reaction.
“Okay,” is all you could say. You continued looking up at the ceiling, a tear falling from the corner of your eye. You were the one to squeeze his hand this time, as you both sat there in silence for a moment. When Tom spoke again, he sounded even more timid than before.
“Y/n, they asked me if I was the father, but I didn’t want to assume…” he trailed off.
You immediately turned your head to look at him, but he was looking down at your hand that he was holding. “There was no one else, Tom,” you told him as more tears fell down your cheeks. He looked back up at you, and you suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, just barely above a whisper, before you began to sob.
“Y/n, y/n, sssshhhhhhhh,” Tom tried to console you as he quickly stood up from the chair and sat on the bed next to you, pulling you forward so you could lean into his chest, and wrapping his arms around you. He stroked your back with one hand, and your hair with the other, softly shushing you as you wept. Some of his own tears fell as well, landing on the top of your head. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, okay?” he assured you. You nodded your head against his chest, and he held you like that for a while. As your sobbing subsided, you began to drift off, falling asleep in his arms.
Tom gently laid you back against the inclined bed and began pulling away when you mumbled “Please, stay.” You turned onto your side and he carefully shifted to lay with you so that your body was perfectly cradled in his. He placed one arm under his own head, wrapped the other arm around you, and you both fell asleep.
