Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Breath: Intermission I

Breath
Intermission I
by Rebeckah

In the depths of an underground facility a man lay hovering between life and death. Doctors had managed to stitch up the various cuts that had allowed far too much of his life’s blood to escape. They’d reconstructed his shattered leg as best as they could, which, since they were the best, was pretty good. They’d removed his burst spleen, repaired torn arteries and veins to the kidneys, and reset the rib that had punctured his lung. They’d given him transfusions of blood that had been flown in from the four corners of the USA, because AB- is never in great supply, bandaged him, and pumped him full of antibiotics and painkillers.

But they could do nothing for the concussion but wait and see. His heart had stopped three times while they were operating, which had further compromised the oxygen flow to his brain. The doctors couldn’t tell the black suited men who’d coopted their services whether the man they’d labored over would ever regain consciousness, much less whether or not he’d retain his formidable intelligence if he did.

The men accepted this news with grim resignation, packed the surgeons up and returned them to their positions, with stern admonitions not to speak of this experience, ever, and settled down to around the clock nursing and surveillance. Three of the black suited men took turns sitting by the man’s beside, waiting, hoping, for his return to consciousness.

*****

The other nightmares, the really bad ones, featured Lyle. I don’t honestly know exactly what they entailed, because I couldn’t remember more about them than the fact that Lyle was there, and I was terrified and hurting. Given my prior experience with Lyle, I suppose it wasn’t much of a surprise that he starred in my worst nightmares, but the upshot was that the doctor and the nursing staff were becoming increasingly concerned about my mental stability.

Sally had told them my story of an abusive spouse, but that wasn’t enough to explain the horrific dreams or the way I practically jumped out of my skin if anyone approached me from behind. I don't know who was more relieved when I went into labor again three weeks after I'd entered the hospital; the doctor and staff, or me.

When the doctor agreed that it was safe to finish the labor and deliver the children, I felt the first spark of hope I'd had since Sally had brought me into this place. A part of me was convinced that I wasn’t going to leave here on my own, that I was doomed to return to the Centre and Lyle’s attentions. But I told myself that if I was out of the hospital there might just be a chance to escape again.

Eight hours later I welcomed my son, Brennan into the world. Brone was born thirty minutes later. Both of the boys were a healthy 6 pounds some odd ounces. Both were alert, vocal, and were given high APGAR scores. Deirdre took almost an hour longer to be born. She was a few ounces short of five pounds and her cry was weak and tentative.

In the hours that followed it was determined that Brennan and Brone were as healthy as any full term child and just as ready for life. After nursing them I made my way to the nursery to find out about Deirdre. I knew the lack of news wasn't a good sign. It turned out that in addition to being a little underweight Deirdre's lungs and breathing reflex weren't developed as fully as her brothers'. She was placed in a preemie incubator where the air could be warmed, moistened, and extra oxygen added to it.

We spent another nerve wracking week waiting for Deirdre to mature enough to leave the hospital. I spent the time waffling between sending the boys away with Sally, so they'd be safe, and keeping them with me, so they'd be near their mother. I always chose to keep them with me, but each day brought me closer and closer to deciding to send them off.

With that decision hovering in the back of my mind, I spent almost every moment with them, learning their personalities and quirks, building memories to treasure. I was far too aware of how fragile our family bond was; how easily the Centre could rend it to pieces.

Brennan was a quiet child, rarely crying and quickly appeased. He was alert, though, gazing around him during his brief periods of awareness and trying to see everything his nearsighted newborn eyes could see. I wondered if he was going to be scholarly, like my first son had been.

Brone was noisier, more active. Sometimes he seemed to wail just for the joy of exercising his lungs. He wiggled his way to the very top of his bassinet every time he was laid in it until his head touched the far end. I foresaw a great career for him in sports. Even if he turned out to have no athletic ability I had a feeling I’d want him in sports just to give him an outlet for all of that energy.

Deirdre, though, she was special to me right from the start. It wasn't just because she was more at risk than the boys, or that she was the only girl, although those facts helped, but it was her quiet determination to get her own way, starting almost as soon as she was born. When I went to the nursery to find out how she was doing she was crying quietly, lacking the lung development to put any force into it. The moment the nurse handed her to me, however, she quieted, drifting off to sleep in moments. When she was placed in the incubator she'd cry if I wasn't close by, and calm if I was near enough to touch the plastic of her little shell. The nurses had tried to let her "cry it out", but they gave in when she was still crying three hours later. As the doctor said, crying is good for the lungs, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!

My fears had eased slightly now the babies were born and we could be mobile again in an emergency. I still wasn't happy, though, and I still had the nightmares. Deirdre was kept in my room, except for periodic exams, and it seemed that every time I awoke from a nightmare she was crying too. Even as my body began to tighten back up and regain its pre-pregnancy shape, my face began to reflected my lack of sleep and hours of worry.

I knew, when the doctor finally, grudgingly allowed that it should be safe for us to leave, that he only agreed because we met the minimum in health standards and that he'd have preferred to keep us longer. I think he was afraid that I'd suffer a complete nervous breakdown if he did, though, and that prompted him to authorize our release. I was grateful that my anxiety hadn't caused him to question my fitness as a mother and try and separate me from my children. He couldn't possibly have understood how valid my fears were.

So at noon, exactly four weeks after I'd entered the Lander Valley Medical Center, Sally and I and my babies left. Sally had already secured the boys in the RV in their carseats and I was being wheeled out with Deirdre bundled to my chest in a baby carrier when I heard the noise behind me.

I remember that moment with vivid clarity to this day. It replays in my mind in slow motion, and even at the time there was an amazing sense of deja vu, as if I’d already lived through this moment a hundred times. I looked behind me to see the dark suited figures of Centre Sweepers, and even as the fear crashed over me like a tidal wave, another part of me simply stood back and said; "I knew it! Didn’t I tell you this would happen? You’re in trouble now!"

The rest of me just leaped out of the wheelchair and began to run for the exit, knowing all the while that it was too late for me. I saw Sally come in the front doors, probably to see what was taking me so long and I screamed at her to get away. In the next instant I felt something strike my leg with the force of a mule's kick and very faintly heard the sound of a gunshot. Horror spread over Sally's face and I went down when the leg gave way under me. I felt no pain. I didn’t even understand at first that I’d been shot, and tried to stand again, but the leg buckled again.

"Get out of here, Sally!" I yelled again as I fell the second time. "Get the boys to safety!"

I ignored the gorilla in the black suite crouching down to grab my arm, as if I was going anywhere anyway. I was intent only on saving what I could of my family, resigned to my own fate. I fleetingly wished that Deirdre was safe too, wished that I hadn’t kept her with me, but the pain from the gunshot finally made itself known, and for a few minutes it was all I could do to stay conscious.

At the door Sally wavered, obviously torn, but she finally spun around and dashed out of the hospital when the goon holding my arm began to bring his gun up on her. Tears of pain, regret, and grief filled my eyes as she retreated. Joy that she and the boys were getting away warring with an astonishing sense of abandonment. Deirdre and I were on our own.

Slowly, trying to think past the pain that crashed over me now in waves, I pushed myself up to a seated position, ignoring the iron grip on my arm. I had already lost a lot of blood, a puddle was growing on the floor beneath me. Doctors, nurses, orderlies, and anyone else who'd heard the shot were in the hall talking frantically. I felt the world beginning to narrow into the tunnel of vision that indicated loss of consciousness, and struggled to stay aware, afraid of what might happen to Deirdre if I passed out.

"A bandage might be a good idea." I managed to say in between pain cycles. "Unless Lyle has no more use for my uterus."

I had no idea at the time how prophetic that statement was. The guard shouted something down the hall, and a Sweeper separated himself from the fray to administer some rough first aid to me. Dr. Ventura had started to come to my assistance at that call, but an impassive black man that I knew to be Raines' personal sweeper, Willie, blocked him firmly. Ventura spat out something, obviously incensed, but lost the argument when Willie produced an official looking document and waved it under his nose.

I felt guilty again at the sick look of comprehension he shot me. He finally understood my need to be gone from the hospital, but it was too late. One more life changed simply because I passed by. One part of me even started to believe I deserved what was coming next simply because I’d caused so much pain to so many people.

A pair of legs, covered in black wool trousers blocked my vision. I looked up, my heart sinking to a new low because I already knew who I'd see. Lyle gloated discretely over me and leaned down slightly to say;

"Miss me, Eve? I certainly missed you. I can’t wait to show you all of the wonderful plans I’ve made for us in your absence."

He chuckled cheerfully when I closed my eyes and covered my face with my one good hand.

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