A/N: So, the whole taking Chemistry over the summer thing has basically inspired me to write more fan fiction. Not really sure why, but I always get more inspired when taking Chemistry.
Anyway, this came to me a few nights ago and I couldn't sleep, so I sat down and wrote it out. Catharsis, I suppose.
Not a cheerful story, but I don't think it could go any other way. TW: loss of child.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story; I'm just playing with them. All rights are reserved to their respective owners.
Katherine Churchill, the daughter of Charles and Evelyn Churchill, hadn't been anything extraordinary at the banquet her parents were throwing in honor of her brother's engagement. But, to Irene Adler, Miss Churchill had been the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on. Having heard rumors of Miss Churchill's sexual preference, Irene knew she had a shot with Katherine.
Lo and behold, Katherine, who despised being called Katherine, was as intrigued by Irene as Irene was with her. They knew that they had each found their perfect equal. The One, as clichéd as it sounded.
Both women were young, but knew what they wanted from life and how to get it. Kate, a young lawyer, wanted kids and plenty of them. Irene, on the other hand, loved showing off her looks and playing with people's minds. She knew how to make people bend to her will, and as a psychology major in uni, she excelled in all of her courses. She had used some of her will-bending tricks with Kate, but hadn't bothered to touch the topic of kids with her.
Children had never been on Irene's horizon. She knew, from an early age, that babies were dull and noisy. She had had enough exposure to young children while in the care of her many nannies to know that babies could be bypassed. But, because Kate was so adamant about babies and Irene was so adamant about making Kate happy, she reconsidered the idea of kids.
In fact, when they decided to try for one of their own, Irene volunteered herself to be the one who got pregnant. She insisted that Kate shouldn't be the one who would go through the trouble of the fertility treatments or the actual pregnancy part. Besides, Irene liked Kate as she was, and even if Kate were the one who would be pregnant, Irene would still like her, but Irene wasn't too keen on the thought of Kate losing her figure.
As they progressed with the fertility treatments, Irene couldn't wait to get fat and hormonal. She couldn't wait to pore over her stretch marks and varicose veins. She couldn't wait for the birthing classes or the penultimate moments before their child would be born—anticipating the coming arrival and what he or she might look like. She couldn't wait to see the tears of joy streaming from Kate's eyes as she held their child for the first time. So, Irene drew in a breath and quickly jammed herself with the syringe and injected the hormones, thus starting the fertility treatments.
The hormones were awful. Irene often found herself on the verge of tears during her sessions with her clients, and she knew that her hormonal imbalance was impacting her work. Some of the men were turned on by the weight gain she had experienced from the drugs, but she couldn't pinpoint a single man who would have been aroused by a crying woman. But every time she walked past a baby in a pram or saw tiny shoes, she snapped out of her pity party and kept up with the hormone treatments.
When their doctor informed them that she was ready for implantation, Irene started to overthink the situation and almost psyched herself out of the entire process. But, once she was in the gown, in the stirrups, that anxiety went away.
Kate was there when she came out of the procedure, a huge grin on her face. "What?" Irene asked groggily.
"I love you," she replied as she kissed Irene's cheek. "I love what you're doing."
Irene smiled and let her grogginess consume her.
A few weeks later, the pregnancy test came back negative. Even though Irene was crushed by the defeat, Kate reminded her that it was only their first time and it would take some time for things to work. It was okay for it not to work on the first go.
Every few months, the cycle would start again. Irene would go through the tenuous hormone injections, then they would do the implantation, wait a few weeks, do a pregnancy test, and determine if they wanted to go through with it again because it hadn't worked the last time. They always decided to go through with it again.
Sometime towards the end of year two, Irene woke up with horrible nausea. She spent most of the morning in the bathroom, which suggested that maybe the treatment had worked. Excitedly, Kate hurried to the closest chemist for a pregnancy test as Irene became further acquainted with the toilet bowl. However, upon further investigation, it turned out that Irene had caught a stomach bug and was not pregnant. But, it reignited the thought that they could actually have a baby with this. So, they kept going.
By the time they reached the end of year three, their outlook on things had returned to being rather bleak. They were fast approaching their surrender, and were less and less keen on the thought of kids. In fact, they had agreed that if things didn't work this time, they would only go through it one more time before looking into alternative means of having children.
Irene went into the situation knowing that the stakes were high, but tried not to let this psych her out. For whatever reason, she was confident that this round would go through. And, as it so happened, it did.
The day that Irene found out that she was pregnant, she promptly called an interior designer to start planning the nursery. By the end of month four, the nursery had been mostly finished because they had found out that they were having a little boy.
Now, as any impending mother would, Kate and Irene would spend their nights planning out the future for their son. Kate often fell asleep with her head on Irene's chest, gazing lovingly down at the growing bump as she spoke to Irene and their unborn son. "I want to name him after my father," Kate announced one evening as she traced her fingers gingerly around Irene's navel.
"Charles?" Irene asked.
Kate nodded against Irene's breast. "Charles Adler-Churchill."
"I like it," Irene hummed.
To say that Irene enjoyed pregnancy would be a gross understatement. She loved it. She had never felt more beautiful or goddess-like in her life: Kate couldn't keep her hands off of her, her clientele expanded to those who felt like being dominated by an expectant mother, and for the first time in her life, she felt comfortable in the skin she was in. Most of all, she couldn't believe how much love she felt, from Kate, from the people on the street who smiled at her in passing, and towards her unborn son. Charlie, as she called him, would be the most beloved thing in her world.
She would do this a million times over if she could. Anything to see the smile on Kate's face.
By the time she was five months along, it seemed like everything was going very well. Charlie was growing well; during the most recent scan, he had been sucking his thumb. The nursery was completely finished and the plans for the baby shower were well underway. Business was booming now that Irene's clients had spread the word that she was pregnant. It was a little strange for Irene, knowing that these clients were seeking sexual gratification from her simply because she was pregnant, but when she realized that she was able to keep some things personal, she simply saw that her clients were attracted to her confidence.
A week shy of six months, Irene woke up feeling a little off. Thinking little of it, she went about her day as normal. The following morning, she woke up and knew something was wrong. She called her obstetrician and scheduled an appointment for later that morning. At the appointment, they received crushing news: there was no detectable heartbeat.
The physician scheduled Irene to be induced the following day, giving Kate and Irene almost twenty-four hours to make the necessary arrangements and to process the information.
After leaving the clinic, Irene and Kate were silent. Kate had gone into preparation mode while Irene shut down and lost herself in the flurry of thoughts that were going through her head. Upon returning home, Irene silently stalked off to one part of the house while Kate started making phone calls and gathering things for the hospital stay.
A few hours later, Irene sat quietly at her dressing table. Kate had gone out for the afternoon, so Irene was alone. With a glance at herself in the mirror, Irene let out an angry cry and threw herself to her feet. She marched out of the bedroom and soon thereafter, found herself in the nursery. She had lied to Kate when she said that she would be fine staying home alone while Kate ran some errands. She lied to herself when she said that she was fine with this. Of course she wasn't fine with this.
Slowly, she eased herself into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Her hands were planted on either side of her bump. She prodded around, seeing if maybe the doctors were wrong, and he was still alive, just sleeping. Since she would be going in to be induced the next day, there was still time for him to wake up and assure Irene that all of this was just a nightmare. "Come on, Charlie… wake up…" Irene murmured as she continued prodding.
He was right there; she could feel him. Just the day before, she had felt him moving around and could almost guess whether those were knees or elbows she felt. "Charlie… come on. Please wake up," she pleaded, pressing her fingers in a little deeper, trying to spur some sort of life out of him.
"Please wake up. Please wake up… for Mummy. Can you do that?" she asked, losing all concern with how mental she sounded.
Irene decided that she didn't want to be induced. She never wanted him taken from her. She never wanted this to end, because if it ended, she'd have to accept that her little boy was dead. The doctors couldn't take him from her; she'd fight them before they did. If it meant that she would die if she didn't deliver, she would die.
Irene moved to the floor. She lied down on the plush, royal blue rug in the center of the room and stared up at the ceiling, keeping one hand on her belly at all times. Because the strain on her back was uncomfortable, she brought her legs up so that her knees were pointed at the ceiling but her feet were planted on the floor. Irene tried not to think of how ironic this position was; instead, she kept pleading with some higher being, whether it was a god or the universe, for something to change and to make the pain go away. All she wanted was right there, within her, and here she was, unable to have it.
Kate returned a few hours later, several bags in hand. "Irene?" she called out.
When Irene did not respond, Kate started to worry. "Irene?" she repeated, her tone becoming more and more worried.
Irene had moved into the bathroom. It seemed as though her body was working against her in her battle to keep up the illusion that nothing was wrong with the pregnancy. "In here," Irene answered in a strained voice.
Kate found Irene draped across the bathtub, her hands gripping the side of the porcelain tub and her face pulled into a grimace. "Oh god," Kate murmured. "Okay… it's time to go to the hospital."
"No, Kate. No."
"Irene, you're delivering," Kate answered.
"I'm not going to that bloody hospital, Kate. If he has to come now, he's coming here."
"Irene, this isn't safe."
"Fuck safety!" Irene growled as another contraction came on.
"Irene, don't be stupid. We need to get you to the hospital. I've already lost enough people today. I don't need to lose you too."
Irene let out a sharp cry and ripped one hand away from the tub and clutched her lower abdomen. "No! This is not happening! Stop it now!"
"Irene!" Kate exclaimed as she took the opportunity to try and help Irene to her feet.
Irene shoved Kate away and curled up into the fetal position, her left hand still gripping the tub. "Kate, I swear to god, if you even so much as breathe on me, I will scream," Irene hissed as tears streamed down her face.
Kate stepped back from Irene. "I'm calling for help. I will be right back," Kate assured Irene as she ran out of the bathroom.
Only three minutes later, when Kate returned, Irene was unconscious on the floor. Her entire body was covered in sweat and she was pale. Fortunately, the paramedics were not too far away, and were able to reach the house and get Irene to a hospital within fifteen minutes. Once at the hospital, Irene regained consciousness and was whisked away to a delivery room, where she was put on oxygen. The entire process took under five minutes, and before Irene knew it, she was being asked to push.
"Kate? Where is Kate?" she asked, wholesomely disoriented and distraught.
"Miss Adler, I need you to push," the doctor instructed her.
"Not without Kate. Where the hell is Kate!" Irene screamed, becoming more and more aware of what was going on.
The doctor threw a look at one of the nurses, who hurried off to go bring Kate into the room. Once Kate was there, Irene burst into tears and finally accepted that she had to do this. She had to let go of Charlie and let him go to his destined place.
It took half an hour of pushing before the doctor would let Irene have a moment's rest. "I need to maneuver the baby," he explained as Irene glared at him.
Another five minutes passed before the doctor silently passed the baby over to one of the nurses to be cleaned up. Irene collapsed against the bed and let out a huge sob. Kate pressed kisses to Irene's sweat-covered temples and gripped her hand. "You're okay. You're okay," Kate murmured over and over again into Irene's ear. "It's done now."
When a nurse asked if they wanted to see him, Kate nodded silently and held out her arms to take the impossibly small bundle. She smiled tearfully, moving the blanket so she could get a better look at her son. "Oh, Irene… he's gorgeous," she breathed. "Absolutely perfect."
Kate smiled sadly down at Irene. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked her.
"What do you think?" Irene spat.
"Irene… it isn't your fault."
"How? I was the only thing keeping him alive, so how is this not my fault?"
"Sometimes these things don't work out," Kate answered plaintively.
Irene closed her eyes as the doctor palpated her belly to deliver the placenta. "Are you sure you don't want to at least look at him?" Kate asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Yes, you want to see him?"
"No. I don't want to see him."
She already knew what he looked like. He had beautiful brown hair and her eyes. The donor was also a brunette, but as a child he had freckles. Charlie eventually would have had those freckles and would have been about six feet tall. He had a perfect little button nose and plump lips, and his hands and feet were the tiniest things you could imagine. His arms and legs were covered in thin skin and downy lanugo. The veins and capillaries that were the sole basis for his circulatory system wove around his tiny appendages, painting the blood flow that originated in Irene.
She didn't need to see her son. She knew what Charlie looked like. She had known from the moment she had discovered she was pregnant. There was no need to destroy that portrait.
Another nurse came in and aided in the clean up from the delivery. He wore a sorrowful expression on his face as he quietly stripped away the pads and helped the doctor with his final touches to the ill-fated delivery. Kate still held Charlie and still admired the little boy's features, but did not try to coax Irene to look at the baby again.
An hour passed before a nurse came in and began the necessary documentation for Charlie. Kate filled out all the documentation and handed Charlie over to the nurse, who assured them that his remains would be handled with the utmost amount of respect. She expressed her condolences and then walked out of the room, cradling the little boy as she quietly wiped a tear from her eye.
The following morning, Irene was discharged from the hospital. They returned home, privately grieving because neither knew how to express to the other how they felt. They would eventually figure it out, but for then, it was a private matter.
Two weeks after Charlie's birth, Irene decided it was time to get back to normal. She slowly reemerged into her work, handling the easiest clients and building up to the more challenging ones. During this time, she made acquaintance to one of the HRHs and got herself into a bit of a pickle. (But had loads of fun whilst doing it.)
Little did Irene know was that within another two months, her life would yet again change. Her life would yet again be ripped out from underneath her feet by one Mr. Sherlock Holmes.