She was first aware of a dim beeping. Her mouth was dry. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids were incredibly heavy. She moved her head back and forth, taking a deep breath. A hand placed itself on her head, and she finally, wearily, opened her eyes.
The man sitting beside her was a stranger. He held onto her hand with one of his, his other in her hair. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to pull her hand away but she was stopped by immense weakness. "Who.." she rasped, the dryness of her mouth making her cough.
"Shhh," he said. "Is me." Her husband's voice left the strangers mouth and she was incredibly confused. His hand left her hair to pull a chain out from inside his shirt. "Came in handy." He grabbed a glass of water, helping her to drink.
She recognized the image inducer, but was still confused. She couldn't imagine a single scenario in which Azazel would use something like that. Moira shifted, slowly bringing her hand to rub her eyes. "What's going on?"
Azazel looked to her sadly. "You are in hospital."
Moira shook her head. "I told them no. I told them to call you."
"They did," he said. "But they call hospital too."
She moved a bit, wincing in pain. "Where are the children?"
"With Margali," he told her.
Moira nodded, moving her hand back down her body, pausing as it felt over her abdomen. Her eyes grew wide. "Where's the baby?"
Her husband was quiet, looking away from her. Moira shook her head. "No…" she trailed off, blinking as tears fell from her eyes.
"He was too early," Azazel told her. "He did not make it."
"No," she told him. "My water didn't break. I wasn't in labor." Moira shook her head.
"He was sick," Azazel continued. "Even if he stayed in you, he would not make it."
"That's not true," Moira shouted at him. "He was strong. I know he was."
"Moira," her husband began.
"You don't know," she met his eye fiercely. "I felt him, I know him. I-" she was cut off by a sob.
Azazel moved to her, putting his arms around her as she cried. She could feel his own tears against her as he held her close. Moira continued to shake her head. "He was strong." Her husband simply held on to her.
~&Q~
It had taken time for Moira to calm. A nurse had come in with needle, giving her an injection which calmed her down. She was in disbelief, absolute shock. She'd carried this child this long, to have him stripped from her. It didn't make sense. Everything pointed to a healthy baby, why had this happened?
Azazel was beside her through it. The hospital wasn't letting her leave any time soon. She found out that she'd been sedated four days. Upon finally coming to terms with the fact her child was dead, she was sent into another emotional tailspin when she found out he was gone. His body had already been dealt with, she couldn't even hold him. She felt robbed of this chance to say goodbye, and was angrier when she found out even Azazel had not had a chance to see him. She felt a massive betrayal by this institution, but also by her husband. Why hadn't he fought harder?
"I fought for you," he told her, when she voiced this. "You almost died Moira. You were close. I almost-" he was cut off by a shuddering breath. "Am I to live my life without you? How? How can I? How can our children? Had to make choice."
She shook her head. "No."
"You say no, you don't know what it was," he told her. "They did so much to save you. Yet in same turn they tell me, prepare for worst. It was too much." Azazel paused. "You were almost dead. Baby was gone, Moira. No saving him. But you, I couldn't lose you too."
Moira frowned as she felt tears coming again. How had this happened? Everything was going so well. Her husband's hand closed over hers again. She turned to see a pained look on his face. There was something he wasn't telling her.
"What is it?" she asked him, unsure if she could take any more bad news.
"Moira," he began, but lost his words. She squeezed his hand.
"Please tell me."
Azazel closed his eyes. "You cannot have more children."
The idea of having another child was so far from her at the moment, that at first she was fine with it. But as the concept traveled into her mind, her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
"When they were working," he began. "There were complications. Damage, too much damage. They had to take it all out. You can't have any more babies."
Her head shook of it's own volition, then she turned and sobbed into the pillow. How much more could she take? She'd lost her baby and now she'd never have another. It seemed cruelly unfair. Her husband took her hand and squeezed it.
"Is ok, koroleva," he pulled her hand up and kissed it. "We get through this."
It was easy for him to say, she thought. He hadn't been violated in this way, stripped of something so integral. After losing this child, she wasn't sure she'd ever consider having another, but at least she could make that choice. Now, it had been taken from her.
It didn't make sense. How did this happen? She'd brought two children into this world under much harder circumstances and it had worked out. This pregnancy was easy, how could it have possibly had this end?
Her sorrow felt unending. How much could one person lose?
~&Q~
As always, reviews are appreciated!