I was listening to my iPod when one of my favorite songs, Me and Emily (by Rachel Proctor) came on. And this plot bunny came to me. This is only a one-shot, about why Chase left Australia. The lyrics to the song can be found here Enjoy!
No one in New Jersey knew why Chase had left Australia. No one knew why he had left the seminary. Most days, Chase preferred not to think about it himself. But every once in a while the memories crept up on him and he was thrown back in time, remembering...
Chase had been in seminary school. His father was furious, he thought his son should be a doctor, follow in his footsteps. Which is precisely why he had chosen this path. His father had screwed him over, so he would do the same to him. He didn't mention that in any of his seminary classes, it wasn't exactly Christian.
A year into school, he had found himself at a local bar. He went there sometimes to be alone with his thoughts. And in a weird, twisted way, to pay respects to his mother. He missed her a lot. He sat alone, drinking a Coke and watching the people. A woman had come up and sat next to him. She smiled and flirted. She was drunk. She reminded him painfully of his mother and when, after a few hours, she became really sick he took care of her.
Her name was Calla and she was beautiful. She pretty much glowed every where she went. Men and women alike flocked to her. Chase was kept around because he took care of her. He sat with her when she was shaking, crying, vomiting, or just plain drunk. She was his second chance to save his mother. They needed each other. Occasionally she became violent and it was always Chase she would lash out at. She would hit him, kick him, and he would stay, trying to soothe her.
Three months after he had met her, she became pregnant. He could tell she was angry and didn't want to be pregnant. He found her at the bottom of the stairs once, she claimed that she had fallen but he knew she was trying to terminate the pregnancy. He didn't leave her alone after that.
The day she went into labor, there was a hurricane outside. The two young people were stuck in their house. It was the single scariest day of Chase's life. He held her hand and tried to soothe her as she struggle to end the agonizing experience. It was also the single most amazing day of his life. He watched his daughter being brought into the world. He helped his daughter into the world. She cried a little when she was born, to let her parents know that she was alright.
He tended to Calla, who fell asleep almost immediately and then turned his attention to his daughter. In his arms, she didn't cry but looked up at him with her blue eyes. She knew that he would protect her from anything in the world.
When Calla had awoken and Chase tried to get her to bond with her baby, she wouldn't do it. Fortunately, he already knew she didn't want to nurse so they had formula. She refused to be the one to feed the baby, so Chase did it happily. This baby was a miracle and he loved her more than anything. He wouldn't be his parents, he would be so good to her. Calla didn't want to name her either, so he picked Emily, after his mother.
Two months after Emily had been born, Calla went into a drunken rage that far surpassed anything he had ever seen before. She was throwing things and screaming and hitting Chase. Chase could tolerate the hitting, she wasn't all that strong. And then, without warning she stopped, turned and headed to the baby's room. Chase was filled with terror as he tore after her. She was just about to reach into her crib and get the baby and so Chase got there first. She began swinging again, her blows intended for little Emily this time. Chase shielded her with his body as the baby cried tears of fear.
Eventually Calla passed out. And instead of picking her up off the floor, like he usually did, Chase rushed around the house. He packed a baby bag and as much of her stuff as he could. He made sure that he grabbed her favorite blanket. He had made it for her. Calla still passed out on the nursery floor, Chase gathered his baby and left.
As he drove aimlessly, he would glance into his review mirror and see the sleeping baby. He finally pulled off the highway and took a room at a cheap motel. The baby was awake, but scared. Chase had held her tightly as she cried. She couldn't see him or comprehend it, but he cried, too. He would never let anything bad happen to Emily. He made her a promise right there and then.
The next day her body was covered in bruises so he took her to the local ER. He wanted to make sure that Calla hadn't done any damage to his baby. Because that's who she was, she wasn't Calla's baby, she was his. The ER staff had immediately suspected Chase, but when he broke down crying when they took his sweet girl away, they had consented to let him stay with her. He told them the truth and they tested her.
The next day, the results of the testing almost killed Chase. Emily had leukemia. It was so far advanced they couldn't do anything for her, except make her comfortable. They had asked why this hadn't been caught earlier. He realized that Calla had never taken her to any of the appointments he had made. Calla had to take her because Chase was medical school, studying. Emily had not been checked up since her birth. He blamed himself.
They admitted Emily to the NICU and for forty five days, Chase sat by her bedside. They didn't even treat her because the cancer was so far advanced. He cried most nights over her tiny incubator. He watched babies come and go. He watched happy parents take their now healthy babies home. He was angry because they couldn't make Emily healthy. And then one day, Emily's monitors let out piercing whines and minutes later, Emily was gone. She was only a memory. He had failed her. They took off all her wires and removed the IV in her little hand, and teary eyed, handed the devastated father the lifeless infant. Emily hadn't even made it to six months.
Chase cried harder than he ever had in his life. He held her body close to him and shook with screams and sobs. He had to be removed from NICU, but they let him hold onto his baby. They cried watching him. He took her down to the chapel and sobbed. He was there for hours, wondering where God was. Why he had done this to her, to him. After four hours, her body was cold and ashen and he had cried all the tears that he had. He made a slow walk up to NICU. He kissed his sweet baby for the last time and handed her to the doctors. And as he left the hospital for the first time in forty five days, he knew what his specialty was. He couldn't save his mother, he couldn't save Calla, and he couldn't save Emily, but maybe, just maybe he could save someone else.
He finished medical school and left for America. And no one knew why.