CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL

by Marcher   (gama39@austarmetro.com.au)

PG13


Chapter 8 ~  Uncommon Fates


It had been four hours since Ross had returned from his hurried round trip to the hospital, yet the child seemed no closer to being born than before he left.  Moreover, there was a cold edge to the unsettled silence between the doctor and the ex-Legionnaire whom he counted among his friends.  The two men had almost come to blows over their conflicting opinions on whether or not to move Evelyn to the hospital.  A stubborn clash which only worsened an already unfavourable situation.  

The physician had taken the standard viewpoint of his profession, imperiously pressing his point that both mother and child would fare much better in a hospital.  A frame of mind which caused him considerable frustration when it met with O'Connell's obstreperous refusal.  The American was convinced that any move would be dangerous, let alone taking her to the stark, unsanitary wards of a hell pretending to be a medical facility.  His and Jonathan's experiences alone were enough to assure him of that!  If any doubt remained in Campbell's mind as to O'Connell's opinion on the matter, it was rapidly quashed when his friend took a firm grip on his shirt front, pulling their faces unpleasantly close.  Aside from cuffing the offending hand from his clothing, Ross' only retaliation was a stern, silent glare; enough to fill Rick with a sense of ignominy.  Embarrassed, the American took a step backward and ran a nervous hand this his hair. 

So, it transpired that Ross relucantly made the trip alone, returning with whatever equipment he was able to lay his hands on.  Now, time found him sitting in the armchair beside the bed with nothing to be done other than keep check on the young woman, and wait!

~o~

The Yorkshireman pulled a pocket watch from the inside of his crumpled jacket, letting the chain thread through his fingers, and lifted it into his view.  Frowning at the amount of time which had dragged it's heels since his return, he silently replaced the timepiece into it's hidden lay and stretched his arms along the rests of the chair.  Wearily, he tilted his head back and considered the ordeal facing the couple before him.  A thought crossed the doctor's mind that perhaps Rick's fierce, unyielding attitude had only served in
delaying the inevitable.  The state of his friend's wife was not bearing well, although she was doing her utmost to convince both himself and her husband of the contrary.  She clenched her jaw firmly during each contraction, willing herself to make as little noise as possible. So much so, that only the slightest of whimpers would creep past her lips while her body shook rigidly before collapsing into a temporary state of peace.

With an inaudible sigh of concern,  Ross struggled with the decision of  when and how to intervene; and while mulling over his thoughts his eyed drifted onto O'Connell and the sight which he knew he would have laid good money against ever seeing.  It wouldn't surprise him if at some point he probably had!  Yet, however unexpected, it presented itself to him now.  It did his heart good, although he would never admit it out loud.  The American was no longer the reckless youth of seven years ago who sat bleeding in his
medical tent refusing treatment, yet he was still the soldier of old.  He watched unobtrusively as O'Connell lay beside this girl, steadying her head to tilt a glass of water to her lips and easing her down before slipping his fingers back into her hand.   The old lion smiled mildly at the sight. The basics of the boy were still evident, but he found himself intrigued with the pattern time had woven on O'Connell's character.

"It's another boy, you know."  Evelyn's voice barely a whisper; her hand missing it's mark when she pulled it free to brush against her husband's cheek.

Clutching her fingers, Rick pulled her slumped hand into his chest and smiled gently, "You think so?"  His voice reflected hers as he added quietly, "I thought only girls were this much trouble?"

Evelyn didn't respond.  Rick wasn't even sure she had heard him.  She merely closed her eyes and let her head roll listlessly against his shoulder.  He cast a worried glance in Ross' direction, receiving nothing in reply.  He knew a blind man would have been able to see that Evelyn was getting worse, but Rick found it impossible to read the detached expression of the doctor. 

Evelyn coughed, scarcely succeeding in raising her head.  She opened her eyes and smiled weakly.  "I didn't tell you it was Ethan."

Unsure of her meaning, Rick could only shake his head and hush her.

The sound of Alex crying from the next room filtered through and Evelyn immediately strained her head towards the door, attempting to roll over and get up, "We can't leave him out there alone.  It's not fair."

There was no effort needed in order to prevent her feeble attempt to rise, just a gentle pressure to her shoulder and her head slumped back down onto the pillow.  Rick leaned in close to whisper that Alex was fine, "Jonathan's with him.  Remember?"

"Jonathan!"  She looked up at Rick with genuine surprise and joy, "He's back?  All the way from the Continent?"

Rick humoured her and kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, Honey.  He's back."

Ross leaned over the arm of the chair, delving his hand into the depths of his ragged tan bag and produced a small cylindrical, wooden object before he stood.  He placed his hand into the arch of his stiff back and stretched before leaning over Evelyn and pressing one end of the instrument against the child and the other to his ear.  Pulling himself upright, he insisted that she lay quietly from now on and tossed his OB stethoscope back into the bag.   Without missing a beat, he then pressed his hands firmly around the
bulge of the child.  The mother groaned at the painful proceedure, offering a pathetic wriggle as resistance to the discomfort.

Alex's cries continued to dominate the activity in the next room,  like a shrieking omen of bad tidings.  Jonathan's efforts to quiet the boy were proving fruitless and once again Evelyn attempted to go to him.  Rick wished passionately for his brother-in-law to simply bundle up his son and carry him to some place else.  Anywhere, so long as his wails were no longer a distraction.

Searching for her pulse, Ross grabbed hold of Evelyn's wrist still without passing a single comment.  Obviously dis-satisfied with his findings, he pressed his large hand to her forhead and grunted. 

Rick watched every movement.  Heard each unspoken word.  Still his son's crying echoed from behind the closed door.   The unease which had been lurking in the pit of his stomach since Evelyn was found crumpled on the floor was now surging it's way into his throat.  Ross was still infuriatingly silent and Rick felt as though he would suffocate in the void!  Any time for obedient patience was now gone and Rick abruptly demanded.  "WHAT?"

Non sparing of a glance towards the father, Campbell replaced a hand onto Evelyn's stomach and pressed again,  "She's delirious."

"No kidding!"

Lifting his weight from the bed, Campbell gave a friendly tug on O'Connell's shirt.  "On ya toes, then!  This baby needs t'be born sooner rather than later; an' you 'n' I are just the blokes t'do it!"

O'Connell's heart missed a beat!  He didn't know what the hell that meant or what was going to happen!  He couldn't even decide if he was horrified or just a little apprehensive of what had just been asked of him.  But he was given no room to react.  Once again  Evelyn squeezed hard on his hand, but this time she cried out, and loudly!  She half rose from the bed, lifting her free hand to Rick's arm and pulling him into her.  Her body shook violently as she continued to squeal through her clenched jaw, then just as suddenly she collapsed backwards and passed out!

"Move off the bed!"  Ross boomed the order and Rick obliged with a stunned, awkward movement. 

The pain in his leg that normally would have made him catch his breath, now only felt like a dull ache.  He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and could have sworn that time and movement had ground to a halt!

In sharp contrast to Rick's staggered response to events, Ross was in full swing.  Ignoring all modest bedside manner, which had never been his trademark anyway, Campbell flung back the sheet covering Evelyn to reveal a blood-soaked mattress, "Get towels, sheets...whatever ya can grab!"

Rick stood still a moment too long.

"F'God's sake, man!  NOW!  Don't just stand there gawking at me!"

Snapping himself into the here and now, Rick took the few short paces required of him, making no effort to spare the pain of his own injury.  When he turned back, Ross had a lain a cluster of the most gruesome looking surgical instruments along the foot of the bed, one of which was a scalpel.  For an instant Rick stared in disbelief, then demanded, "What the hell are you gonna do with those?!"

"We're gonna save 'er life."  Ross responded so calmly that it irritated the already apprehensive father.  "Me, and you!"

Rick shook his head with defiance, "NO!  You save them both!  Don't leave me with explanations for one or the other, Ross!"

Avoiding his friend's glance, Campbell offered up a pearl of  his of wisdom while deftly reaching for the scalpel.  "The tide turns at low water as well as high."

Rick shook his head, unable to take his eyes from the object in Ross' hand, "What the hell is that supposed to mean!!"

Right or wrong, Ross only had his friend's best interest in mind as he continued to speak in a calm, reassuring manner,  "I've said it before, learn to co-operate with the inevitable.  Just tie a knot at t'end of ya rope 'n' hang on, Lad.  Now's nowt time t'panic."

"It's no time for your fucking philosophical views on life either!"  Rick spat back, now wholly unable to prevent himself shaking with anger. Or was it fear.   Evelyn was laying pale and motionless in a pool of blood and he was getting no answers as to why.  Alex's cries had now reached the point of hysteria and he wanted to slam his fist into the door, shouting anger at all around him.  He was the Captain, the soldier.  It had been he who had faced countless enemies and survived, even triumphant on occassion.  He was the one
able to control or manipulate whatever situation he had been faced with.  Except this one.  In the pit of his gut he knew that when this was over he'd be lucky to have either Evie or the baby, not both.  But he wasn't ready to acknowledge that yet.  He wasn't sure if he'd ever be.

"Hold this!"  Ross pushed an long, curved instrument into Rick's hand and ordered,   "Give it over when I say."

O'Connell held the object at arms length, staring at it in disbelief.  He hated this shit!  The unconsious wife with unborn baby, the reticent doctor, the endless damn crying from Alex!  He was sweating.  He could swear the walls were closing in on him and he barked savagely at his friend.  "Damn you, Ross!  Stop ignoring me!" 

Campbell reached out and took the forceps from his friend's grasp and spoke solemly, "I'm sorry, Lad.  But I'll only be leavin' ya with one of 'em."

His heart stopped!  He didn't want or need to hear this.  He knew it!  Had known  for hours now, but hearing it was another thing entirely.  He watched with dread as Ross went on with his god-awful, thankless task and tried to force himself to breathe.  He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him.  All he could muster was low, broken murmur, "What?"

Just for a moment, Ross stilled himself and pressed his chin into his chest.  This news was never easy to hear.  What's more, no matter how many times he'd seen it, the telling was always the most wretched part, "The child's already dead."

He had heard the words as clearly as he could hear Alex crying, and they registered cold and blunt.  Rick stood.  Staring.

"Nowt 'er fault either.  In cases like this it's more n'likely to happen whether she fell or not." Ross didn't need to look over at Rick in order to see he had stepped back and turned away from him.  Neither did he expect the man to speak.   The ex-Legionnaire's silence spoke volumes. 

~o~

It was another half hour before Alex ceased his cries.  Most likely exhausted himself and fallen asleep, Ross had thought to himself. And glad of it, he was too!  He side-stepped his way out of the bathroom, drying his hands as he walked and saw Rick still leaning his weight onto one fully extended arm pressed against the opposite wall.

Casting the towel onto the floor, Campbell silently moved over the still unconcious Evelyn, taking her pulse and temperature.  "Will more 'n likely be a few hours before she's awake.  Do ya want me t'stay on?"

Rick spoke without turning.  Without even thinking, really.  "Yeah.  We could both use a drink."

A dismal silence followed for the next few moments, awkwardly broken by the doctor.  "Are ya gonna take a look at him, at least?"

Rick hung his head, then turned slowly to see the tiny, lifeless form lying in the frilly edged crib which Evelyn had bought months before Alex had been born.  Something inside him was hounding and tormenting him, telling him over and over that he should have been able to prevent all this.  His shoulders were tense and his stomach felt as though it was filled with stones.  His feet felt like lead as he moved closer to the crib and looked in, "She said it was going to be another boy.  She even told me his name."

Exhausted, Rick let himself fall into the bedside chair.  For the first time in what seemed like a thousand hours, he allowed himself to stretch his injured leg and noticed the pain.  He pointed to the door as he threw his head back against the rest and closed his eyes, "The whisky's through there."