The only sounds in the ICU were the bleeps and buzzes and whirrs of machines and monitors. Peter was nearly overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of the still, pale figure nearly hidden beneath tubes, wires, and IV lines.
He approached the bed slowly and wondered where he could find a safe place to touch his wife without affecting some of the equipment attached to her. "Oh, Kace," he moaned. "How could I let this happen to you?" He had only the word of the doctors that his wife was going to recover. {My God, our last morning together seems like a lifetime ago.} He caught his breath with a gasp and looked at the small monitor that was registering the baby's gradually slowing heartbeat. {Sweet Jesus, it was a lifetime ago, my baby's lifetime.}
Carefully taking Kacie's fingers in one hand, he laid his other palm on the top of her head, kissing her forehead with trembling lips and tasting the salt of his tears at the same time. He squeezed her hand and rested his forehead against hers. Emotion welled up and broke his voice. "The doctors say you're going to be fine, Sweetheart. But…no matter what else happens…please don't give up. I love you…and I need you. I-I-I know I'm a sorry excuse for a husband, and you deserve better." He sniffed and choked, "But if you stay with me…I swear…I'll spend the rest of my life making things up to you."
The fetal heart monitor dropped another three beats, and Peter's hand spasmed reflexively around Kacie's fingers. Putting his mouth close to her ear, he choked back sobs, "Please…keep fighting, Kace. My world would end…without you. Please…don't give up."
He pulled a chair close to the bedside and sat, resting his head on his arm and clinging to Kacie's hand, the sounds of the equipment ringing in his ears. He was exhausted in body and spirit, and his soul was corroding from the acid of self-vilification. {I should never have left her that morning. I had a feeling. When will I learn? Now our baby is dying. Oh, God, a part of me is dying, too.} He groaned aloud. {Oh, Jesus, Kacie went through this all by herself those months ago. She'll never forgive me for this. I'll never forgive myself.}
He raised his head and slowly turned it, staring at the bare flesh on Kacie's abdomen where the fetal monitor was attached. Reaching out his hand, he rested the palm on the gently rounded mound, careful not to disturb the wires there. Throat aching unbearably, he stood up and leaned over to plant a kiss on Kacie's belly. Not really knowing why, he started speaking to his child, tears rolling unchecked as he tenderly caressed the flesh that covered the womb.
"Your mom keeps telling me that you're a boy, and since mom is always right, I'll-I'll go with that." He sniffled. "How do I tell you how much I love you? You don't know me yet, but I'm your dad. Mom and I love each other so much that in our love we made you." Kissing the spot again, he went on, words stumbling over themselves.
"We love you so much already, Little One. I watch your mom sometimes, and I can always tell when she's thinking about you. She gets this special smile, kinda like she knows this secret, and I get kinda jealous 'cuz she can feel you and I can't. But she..." His voice gave out and he had to stop to collect himself, wiping tears on his sleeve. "She promised me that I would feel you…soon...and you…you have to help Mom keep her promise, because you see, your-your-your mom is so great, and-and-and she's fighting so hard to keep you. She-she-she drinks this stuff that my Pop, your grandfather, makes for her, and she can't stand the taste of it, but she…but she forces herself to drink it anyway, because she knows it's good for you, and-and-and, oh, please, Baby, please, don't leave us! I want to-to-to teach you how to throw a football and-and-and how to play hockey, and-and I just want to hold you and love you and be there for you." He wiped ineffectually at the tears that streamed down his face. "Oh, please, Little One, don't leave us!"
Letting go of Kacie's hand, he placed both his palms over the baby, somehow hoping to feel the flicker of life before the flame was extinguished forever.
He closed his eyes in concentration and felt a strange tingling in his fingers that traveled in a warm rush up his arms and throughout his body. The room and its muted lights faded away; he felt himself sinking and somehow floating. It was dark and warm, with a pervading sensation of the purest kind of love, a love as new as a freshly uncurled plant leaf, yet as timeless as creation itself. A rhythmic lub-dub provided a soothing and comforting background, and all was peace and harmony.
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An ancient voice began to speak, and a vision of an old man and a young boy sitting beside a stream filled Peter's mind. The old one spoke, his words coming from somewhere far away. "Does not the pebble entering the water begin fresh journeys? Such is the journey through life. It begins; it ends; yet fresh journeys go forth. Father begets son, who becomes in turn, father, who begets son."
A young boy's puzzled voice responded with a dawning understanding, "Then the roots I have are me, and I am they?"
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The words reverberated hollowly in Peter's mind: "I am they. I am they. I am they."
His head twitched in his trance-like state, his body quivering as sweat beaded and ran down his face and back, his shirt instantly soaked. A new voice spoke, a firm, strong baritone with commanding authority. "You have my strength. Use it! My strength, use it! Use it!"
Time ceased to exist as currents of energy surged in an ebb and flow of power. The air popped and crackled, and the room glowed strangely, as Peter threw back his head and screamed at the searing pain that tore at his vitals.
The door to the ICU room flew open, and Caine caught Peter in his arms as the young man collapsed in an unconscious heap.
Albin and Sabourin rushed to check their patient, who had remained quiet and motionless throughout. "What the hell went on in here?" Albin demanded in bewilderment. "The fetal monitor was showing a heart rate of less than ninety just ten minutes ago, and look at it now: a steady one forty. This isn't medically possible. This baby was dying." Snatching up the receiver of the wall phone, he snapped into it, "I want an ultrasound machine and a tech up in ICU room seven STAT!"
Caine ignored the doctors as he cradled Peter in his arms and carefully slipped some herbs under his son's tongue, rocking him and whispering softly as tears slid down weathered cheeks. "You have done well, my son. You have done well. I am very proud of you." Raising his face to the ceiling, he stared off into a distance only he could see. "Thank you, Master Po. Thank you."