"I've got plans. Very big plans."
"I'm looking for the family of Mrs. Sarah Jane Baker." The doctor's eyes scanned the room, stopping on the man who had just stood up. He waited until the man had come over to him before he asked, "Are you, Tom Baker, Ms. Baker's husband?"
"No, I'm her brother-in-law. I'm Mark. Tom's out of town. How's Sop... how is she?" Speaking with the doctor for a few moments, Eliot was allowed to see her, his heart feeling heavier with each step he took toward her room. Very critical condition. Taken the baby. Bleeding internally. All added up to a bleak picture.
Eliot paused outside Sophie's room just long enough to call Hardison, tell him what was going on, and to work on getting Nate to the hospital in time to see his wife. Eliot hit the end button as soon as he had finished speaking, then steeled himself before taking the last corner into the room. Even every ounce of his self-control couldn't stop Eliot's sharp in-take of breath at seeing Sophie. Although he didn't get much time to dwell on the fact she looked paler than the sheet covering her, for at that moment dull eyes opened and struggled to focus on the hitter.
"I'm here, darlin'," Eliot said softly, moving closer to her. "Nate's on his way."
Sophie said with remarkable clarity, "He won't make it."
He didn't bother to tell her not to say such a thing, because they both knew she was right.
"Can you ask them to bring my baby here?"
Three minutes later the baby was cradled in her arms, sleeping peacefully unaware this would be the only time his mother would hold him. Watching her trying to fit in a lifetime of love in a few minutes was one of the most heart rendering things he'd ever seen in his life.
Once the nurse had taken the baby back, Sophie grabbed Eliot's arm. "Promise me... promise me you won't let Nate drink himself to death... after I'm gone."
Tears glistened in his eyes, and his voice was softly solemn when he answered her, "I won't. I give you my word I won't let him."
"Tell Nate I love him?"
"I will, darlin'."
Sophie smiled weakly, "Thank you, Eliot. For everything." She grimaced then gasped. "I'm so cold... tired."
As Eliot pulled the blankets further up over her, he heard her exhale a long breath, and saw no life in her eyes when he looked at her face again. "Oh, Sophie..."
When Nate arrived an hour later, Eliot was sitting vigil with Sophie and rocking their son who had started wailing inconsolably at the very moment of his mother's death.