January 17th, 1983
It had been a very long day.
Hephzibah had been up all night, only falling asleep for a quick nap right before the crack of dawn, but she had woken up from a nightmare and had been in no mood to try to go back to sleep, so she had another cup of coffee from the truck-stop and tried to take her mind off of her problems. Obviously, that didn't work, and she went to her job, but then got a call that Stanford wasn't waking up, so she left the hospital and came home. She had the next day off to rest, thank God, but after catching a demon inside her husband's body, running away, going to work, coming back home, going into Stanford's mind, banishing Bill back to where he came from, and having a family meeting with Fiddleford all afternoon, Hephzibah was having a hard time keeping her eyes open by dinner. She kissed Stanford goodnight and left him and Stanley alone to talk in the living room while watching Cash Wheel.
Hephzibah had already slipped out of her clothes and into her light-purple silk pajamas and had brushed her teeth when Stanford came in and closed the door behind him. Hephzibah let her dreadlocks loose from her high-ponytail and set the red scrunchie on her nightstand with a pleasant smile. "Wow, Stanford Pines in bed before midnight. It's a miracle." She said sarcastically.
Stanford chuckled and slipped off his dark-blue turtleneck sweater, revealing a black t-shirt, and he pulled out his blue-flannel pajamas for the cold night ahead of him. "I'm excruciatingly tired."
"N' with good reason." Hephzibah chuckled and slipped under the covers and sat up to chat with her husband.
Stanford smiled lovingly at her, but it turned sour when he saw her wrist. Her sleeves were short, unlike the sweater she wore today, and therefore her wrists were exposed and showed how one of them was coated with a bruise; it looked like someone had grabbed her and squeezed tightly, hurting Hephzibah. He knew where it came from and he was, to say the least, disgusted with himself. He sighed and looked down in shame. "I'm sorry."
Hephzibah was a little confused as to what exactly he was sorry for, but it all clicked in her mind, the way Stanford looked at her and then down, telling her that he knew what Bill did while in Stanford's body. Even though it was too late, Hephzibah slipped her hand under the sheets to hide the bruise from view. "That wasn't your fault, love."
"Yes, it was."
"But ya didn't…"
"No, but if I had never let Bill use my body, that would have never happened." Stanford said, his voice dripping with shame, and he looked down at his six-fingered hands, the ones that dared to touch Hephzibah in a way she didn't deserve. He had looked at his hands in reproach and disgust plenty of times before, but this was different. His hands had hurt Hephzibah.
"That's true," Hephzibah said slowly. "But your heart was in the right place. Ya thought Bill was your friend n' tryin' to help, so ya let him do what he needed in order to help ya best, right? Let's not even mention the fact that it's just a bruise."
"That's not an excuse." Stanford snapped and gritted his teeth together.
"No, it's not." Hephzibah agreed. "But I know ya, Fordsie, n' I know you'd never hurt me. I trust ya."
"You shouldn't."
"I know, but I'm an idiot who's in love."
Stanford looked up at her to snort, but he didn't have the heart to do that when he saw her kind smile. Through the family meeting and talking about what had happened, Hephzibah had been surprisingly mature, patient, and understanding. Yes, there were a few times where she smacked the men over the tops of their heads as punishment for their stupidity, but it was almost always followed by a held hand or a pat on the back to assure them that they were forgiven. Stanford felt that familiar wave of love and appreciation for his wife and he climbed into bed to hug her.
Hephzibah happily hugged him back and held him a little tighter than normal. "I love you, Stanford."
"I love you, too, Hephzibah." Stanford whispered into her shoulder. "So much. And I'm so, so sorry."
"I know." Hephzibah said and rubbed his back. She opened her mouth to say "it's okay", but she decided against that; it wasn't okay to make deals with unholy demons, but she could say this: "I forgive ya."
Stanford held her a little tighter and was comforted by her hand that combed his fluffy brown hair and her other hand that rubbed his back. He slowly sunk into her grip, eventually lying down under the covers with his head in her lap. Hephzibah petted his hair and sat against the headboard of their bed and smiled down at her husband as he hugged her around the waist. Stanford fell asleep like that and soon Hephzibah followed.
Stanford was suffocated in darkness. He looked down at his hands and body and gasped to find his flesh now transparent, like a ghost. He looked around the darkness wildly, his heart hammering in his chest and his breathing picking up speed, until his eyes landed on something other than his spirit. Unfortunately what he saw did not calm his nerves.
Hephzie and Ford were standing in front of each other, far away, and from the looks of it were arguing, but when Stanford curiously floated closer to the scene he saw that the man's eyes were yellow; Bill was possessing his body again, but this time he wasn't asleep. Bill used a six-fingered hand to grab Hephzie's wrist tightly, so tightly she winced and bent her knees a little, at the demon's mercy.
"Ow! Stop it!" Hephzie demanded. "Ford, lemme go!"
The real Stanford was in a state of panic, floating to her and trying to get her attention. "No! Hephzibah, that's not me! I would never… that's Bill! That's not me!" But she was deaf and blind to him. Stanford was practically a ghost in the Mindscape.
Bill cackled out of his newfound mouth and glared his glowing yellow eyes at Hephzie. "Aw, I like 'em fiery!" And he gave an evil, dangerous sneer that did not look natural on Ford's face. He squeezed even harder on Hephzie's wrist and her hand was beginning to change into an ugly color.
"No! Stop it!" Stanford shouted. "Let her go!"
"Ow, ow, ow! Quit it!" Hephzie yelled and pulled as hard as she could.
Bill then delivered a fierce left-hook on Hephzie's cheek, and Ford's body was the messenger. Hephzie ceased resisting to glare at her opponent as a line of blood trailed down from her mouth and along her chin. "Why don't you shut up like a good girl, sweetheart, and maybe I'll play nice if you behave." And he licked his lips hungrily.
Hephzie's eyes widened with horror. "No… no, no! Leave me alone!"
Stanford held his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop it, STOP IT! Just leave her alone! Stop hurting her!"
"Stanford?"
His eyes flew open at the sound of the quiet, timid voice. Ford now suddenly found his wife in front of him, his body was solid again and Bill was nowhere to be found. Hephzie's mouth was still bleeding and she held her sore wrist to try to hide the bruise, but her hand wasn't big enough to hide the way her hand curled inward in pain or the way her wrist and base of her hand was discolored.
"Stanford, wh… why… what did I do to…"
Ford's hand flew to his mouth. He could feel tears roll down his cheeks. He let them fall. "H-Hephzibah, I… I would never… I didn't, I… that wasn't… l-l-let me help y…" He reached forward slowly, but Hephzie quickly drew her hands inward, holding them to her chest, and hurriedly took a step backwards. Her eyes were wide and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Ford felt like throwing up; Hephzie wasn't just afraid of him, she was terrified of him.
"No, leave me alone." Hephzie said bravely, trying to hide the way her voice trembled, but failed. "Just… forget it, leave me alone." She winced and let a small groan escape her lips, her hand curling in on itself as pain shot through her limb. She turned away from Ford, meanwhile all he could do was cry silently.
"Hephzibah… please… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Stanford woke up and sat up in bed quickly, panting for oxygen and sweating thickly. Hephzibah was stirred, oblivious to her husband, and honestly she was unsure of what woke her at first, but she had been down this road before enough times to know what was going on and what to do. She sat up in bed slowly and rubbed her eyes and face. "Stanford, honey?"
He jumped out of bed and stood with his hands up in surrender. "I-I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Hephzibah turned on her lamp and looked at Stanford carefully, her face littered with concern. "Whoa, hey, what's wrong? It's okay, it's me."
He swallowed and tried to relax, or at least be better at hiding his anxiety. "I… I know… I know it's you, I just… you…" His mind was going a mile a minute, too fast to really compute anything.
Hephzibah sat patiently, but her eyes grew sad as a thought came to her. "Are ya… afraid of me? Did I do…"
"No!" Stanford yelled, and then quickly lowered his voice. "No, that's not it, no. I… Ijustdon'twantyoutobeafraidofme." He spat out so quickly that it took Hephzibah a moment to digest that.
She smiled softly, understanding what was happening a little bit better. "Stanford, sweetheart, I'll never be afraid of ya. Millions of years from now that fact won't change. I love ya too much to be afraid of ya."
"WHY?!" Stanford screamed as his eyes filled with tears. "Why do you still love me at all?! After everything I've done to you?! I lied to you, I HURT you! How can you even stand to be in the same room as me?!"
"Stanford, you're hyperventilatin'." Hephzibah pointed out, worried for his safety, and she held out her hand to him. "C'mere, let's just talk, like we always do, okay? Please?"
It was too much, it was all too much. How could someone be so forgiving and loving to someone who has wronged them in so many ways? Stanford collapsed; he threw himself on the edge of the bed, on his knees while he folded his arms on the edge of the bed and hid his face in his arms, and he burst into tears.
All the overwhelming emotions, all the pain and suffering and betrayal he had been through the past few weeks, were crashing down, like a damn that had burst, and Stanford was crying over it all, not just over his disbelief in his wife's loyalty and love.
Hephzibah held her breath. Only a few times had she seen this side of the man she loved, and even fewer times had anyone seen this side of him at all; Hephzibah guessed that the only person who might be more experienced in this matter was Stanley. Still, she knew what to do, or at least thought she did, and so she gave her husband a minute or two to let it all out healthily before petting his fluffy brown hair.
"Stanford," She said quietly. "Listen to me. I love ya n' I always will, nothin' will change that…"
"But why?" He moaned and looked up, only freeing his eyes from his arms; he wasn't wearing his glasses.
"Cuz I do, that's that!" Hephzibah said firmly and kept a stern face to portray how serious this was to her. "Ya don't get to try to tell me who I can or can't love, alright. That's mine, that belongs to me, not even to ya. N' no one can take that way, especially not Bill, ya understand me?" She used the back of a finger to wipe under Stanford's right eye to try to clean away the tears. "No matter what anyone says, no matter what you say, you're a good person, Ford. You've blessed me in more ways than I can say, not to mention you're handsome inside n' out, n' have a good mind n' strong heart to go with it, so if it's a bad thang to love ya than send me to Hell, cuz I ain't never gonna stop, okay?" Hephzibah asked, her voice much softer now and accompanied by an inviting smile.
Stanford couldn't help but to return the sweet facial expression, his more blushy and timid. "Okay. Okay, my darling." He found the strength to climb up onto the bed and hug her. "Thank you."
"That's what I'm here for." Hephzibah said light-heartedly. "Can't have my man thinkin' so low 'bout himself, can I?"
Stanford chuckled weakly. "Your man? I believe that is a new one."
"Eh, thought I'd try it out…"
"I like it. Because it's true. I'll always be yours… as long as you'll have me."
"I always will."
Hephzie was smiling on her way home from work. She got off her motorcycle with a song in her throat and she cheerfully shut her bike down and removed her helmet. The Stanmobile was in front of the house, so the twins were home. Hephzie's smile shifted from peaceful to enjoyment over the idea of seeing her family after a long day at work.
She walked up to the door and opened it before calling into the house, "I'm home!" She hung her helmet on the coat-rack and called to anyone who bothered to listen, "Ya guys just wouldn't believe the day I've had! Emma was released n' in perfect health, n' then I helped Emmanuel with an emergency case. Y'all will love this, it was twins! Mom n' Dad were so happy, two beautiful little girls, n' they only ever stopped cryin' when we kept 'em in the same crib." Hephzie hung up her black-leather jacket and waited for a reply, but heard nothing. She smiled and poked her head into the living room, only to find it empty. "Ford?" She called as she walked to the kitchen. "Stan? Are y'all even home, or am I talkin' to my…"
Hephzie felt like her world had shattered. She stood at the doorway solid as a rock for only a moment until the shock sunk in and she swayed on her feet. She bumped into the left-side doorway and a framed photo of the three of them out on the lake fell and the glass broke, but Hephzie was deaf to it's sound. All she could do was stare as her family was lying on the kitchen floor.
Ford lied on his front, his hand above his head and lying open-palmed, his six fingers just barely curling in on themselves. He laid closest to the door and not too far from his brother, whose back was to Hephzie. There was no blood, no sign of a struggle or an attack, but they lied so still that it looked like they were…
"NO!" Hephzie yelled like her heart was broken (there was no doubt that it was) and collapsed to her knees. She couldn't hold herself up anymore. Her body decided to quit working properly since her boys' bodies seemed to have done so, but she made herself crawl to her husband as she prayed that he was alive.
With tears in her eyes, Hephzie sat on her knees and lifted Ford's head up onto her lap and turned him so he lay on his back, but he was deadly still. Hephzie took his hand and gripped it tightly. He didn't grip back. His pulse was still. His breathing was never detected because it was never there.
Hephzie bit her lip and let her tears flow down the side of her face. "No, no, no!" She sobbed and held Ford's hand so she could actively look for a pulse with her fingertips, but it wasn't there. "No, no, NO! Stanford, ya… ya can't do this! Ya can't! Ya were supposed to grow old with me, my… my poor… my…" Hephzie lowered Ford's hand, but never let go. She used her free arm to hug his body tightly by the shoulder and she bent her body so she sobbed on his chest. Hephzie had always been so strong and so careful not to cry, but damn it all! She'll cry over her husband's death, goddammit!
Hephzie petted Ford's brown hair like she always had and slowly kissed his lips; she sobbed even harder when she found that they were a little warm. Hephzie cried as she thought of how Ford had died mere minutes ago. If, whatever had happened, had happened only a few minutes later, Hephzie could have been there and at least say goodbye to Ford, hold him and keep him comforted rather than have him die on the cold floor with…
"Stanley!" Hephzie yelled and looked up at the back of her brother-in-law.
She gently rested Ford on his back on the floor and made herself crawl to Stan. Hephzie put a hand on Stan's exposed shoulder and turned him a little to look at him, but he was motionless and unresponsive. Hephzie bit her lip and made herself check; it was only fair, she checked Ford. Hephzie gently put two fingers on his neck.
"Goddamnit, NO!" Hephzie howled and hugged Stan close to her chest. "No, no, please! I know wherever one goes, the other goes, too, but… damn it, it isn't fair!" Hephzie wailed like a child and hugged Stan tightly, like if she hugged tight enough he would hug back, but he never did. "Aw, Stanley, ya… I should've… my poor little brother… y'all were the only family I had left!" Hephzie cried and she looked at Stan's face. He was so peaceful. There was no sign of pain or fear in his final facial expression. Hephzie looked back at Ford and found the same thing. What the hell happened? Had they both fallen asleep, collapsed on the floor, and never woke up? Had some new anomaly taken her family away and left her alone?
"Ya knuckleheads," Hephzie whimpered as she tried to wipe the tears from her face, but they were replaced with new ones, so what was the point? "Why'd ya have to leave me all alone, huh? You're my entire world."
Hephzie felt a chill go down her back when she heard a distinct high-pitched laugh. Hephzie suddenly had an idea of what caused her family's premature, peaceful death. Hephzie felt a shadow loom over, and she turned to confront it, but then she woke up.
Hephzibah opened her eyes and lied still. This wasn't a frantic nightmare where she woke up short of breath like she had just run a marathon; this was the kind of dream you wake up from and then lie awake wondering what the hell is wrong with you. Hephzibah did just that. She put a hand to her heart. Yup, it was definitely beating too fast. The vision itself didn't feel too realistic, but the feeling she had did. That overwhelming grief, that sickening sensation of loneliness, that feeling like her heart had been snapped in two, it was all so real and she still felt it. Like a child in the dark, Hephzibah suddenly felt very alone and wanted somebody, anybody!
Numb from the overpowering emotions that plagued her soul, Hephzibah slowly turned her head and listened. She saw her husband's sleeping form. She heard his snoring. It was constant and small, like the purring of a cat while it was being petted. Hephzibah smiled when her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw that Stanford was lying so he faced her, one arm under his pillow and the other resting on the bed. He looked (and sounded) like he was sleeping peacefully. Hephzibah was beyond grateful for that.
She didn't need confirmation that Stanford was alive or that she wasn't alone, so she was happy to watch Stanford sleep. Hephzibah turned so she lied on her left side, facing her husband, and smiled peacefully. As content as she was to just look at Stanford at the start, a small desire for a little more crept up on her until she gently covered Stanford's left hand with her right and grazed it with her thumb. Stanford kept snoring soundly, thank goodness, but after a few minutes Hephzibah came to terms that she wanted to fall back asleep against his chest, so she edged closer to him and lied so she was curled up against his side. At peace, Hephzibah closed her eyes for more rest.
Hephzibah was almost asleep when Stanford's snoring stopped, but he wasn't quite fully awake, and his arms wrapped around her and kept her close. Hephzibah smiled and hugged him back before falling asleep.
It started as a memory that was so real Stanford believed it was happening right in front of him, in real time, in real life.
One night Hephzibah sat in bed, washed and in her pajamas, and was looking down at her held hands that rested on her lap without really seeing. If Stanford had to guess, she was deep in thought, but she didn't look troubled.
"Hephzibah, is something wrong?" Stanford asked after he closed the bedroom door and pulled off his black sweater to get ready for bed.
Hephzibah looked up at him and smiled. "No, just thinkin'."
"Ah. About?"
Hephzibah took in a deep breath and watched her husband open a drawer for his pajamas. "I was thinkin' 'bout how I was gonna tell ya that I'm pregnant, but I thought it might be best to just say it."
Hephzibah had spoken so casually and had said it in such a calm manner that it took a minute for Stanford to register what she had said. He whipped around with a dropped jaw to look at his wife and his kind face formed the biggest grin Hephzibah had ever seen, right next to the one he wore when she said yes to marrying him.
"What?!" Stanford hissed happily, only quiet so Stanley wouldn't hear, but if given the chance he would have yelled to the top of his lungs. "Really?!"
Hephzibah nodded and opened her mouth, but Stanford hurried around the bed to her side and got on his knees to hug her tightly. His grip loosened as he had a fear in the back of his head that he would hurt the baby, but he continued to hug his wife as he laughed nervously into her chest. Hephzibah hugged him back and petted his fluffy brown hair.
"Oh, Hephzibah, this is… that's amazing!"
"You're really excited 'bout it?" Hephzibah asked with a nervous chuckle.
"Of course I am!" Stanford said and let go just enough to look up at her like the queen that she was. "I mean… yes, we weren't exactly trying, but we had always talked about having children of our own some day, and I think we're ready."
Hephzibah ran her fingers through Stanford's hair gently and said quietly, "I'm so glad you're excited. I know it won't be easy with the portal…"
"Oh, we will be finished with the portal by the time the baby gets here." Stanford reasoned and couldn't help but smile even bigger. Just saying that made it feel so real. "And if not, the project can wait."
"Stanford," Hephzibah gasped teasingly. "Willin' to put a hold on work?"
"Anything for my family." Stanford said seriously, his heart swelling as he was talking about more than Hephzibah and Stanley now. Stanford held Hephzibah close and allowed his head to rest on her lap, not too far from her stomach. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Sweet Lord, a baby… we're going to have a baby… I'm going to be a dad…"
"Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart." Hephzibah chuckled warmly, the kind of chuckle that made Stanford feel like he had laid in a hot bath. "You're already a dad."
Stanford had no response to that except heavy breaths and he turned his head to bury his face in his wife's abdomen, just where an apple-seed-sized baby laid.
The next two days Hephzibah was off work. She and Stanford scheduled a doctor's appointment and their plan was to surprise Stanley. On Monday, Hephzibah's doctor's appointment was at ten o'clock and so thirty minutes before the hour the happy couple left for the doctor, returning a little after lunch with anticipation radiating off of them.
"How's it hanging?" Stanley called from the living room and waved as he sat in his armchair.
"Hey, Stan," Hephzibah said casually as she hung up her black leather jacket on the coat rack and peeked at the TV. "Oh, new episode?"
"Nah, just a rerun." Stanley turned the volume down and asked, "What have you two love-birds been up to?"
Stanford and Hephzibah exchanged such quick looks Stanley barely noticed it. "We had lunch after having a special picture developed."
"Oh, nice, which one?"
"See for yourself." And Stanford pulled out a photograph from his trenchcoat and held it out to his twin.
Stanley carefully took it so he wouldn't get fingerprints on it; it took him a minute for his eyes to focus on the picture and absorb the image. He had heard Hephzibah talk about work for six years, long enough to know an ultrasound when he saw one. His eyes widened and he leaped out of his chair. "NO! No way!"
Hephzibah and Stanford nodded proudly and they were brought into a tight bear hug while Stanley cheered and yelled until his throat was sore and their ears were ringing. Stanford only chuckled and let his brother celebrate being an uncle again.
The months flew by. By the holidays Hephzibah was showing, but at the end of January Stanford was trapped in the Mindscape. She ignored everyone's warnings and orders and went into battle to try to save her husband. Before anyone knew it, Stanford was in chains and he watched helplessly as his wife was captured, her chin held by Bill and he gazed at her evilly.
"Well, well, let's see if torturing Mrs. Sixer and Junior here will make you get back to work." And he raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers.
Stanford screamed like he had never screamed in his life. "NO! NO, NO, PLEASE! LEAVE THEM ALONE, PLEASE! DON'T HURT THEM!"
But Bill ignored his old partner's plea and snapped his fingers. Hephzibah wiggled and tossed and turned in her prison as she was tortured mentally. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes and tried not to scream, but soon it became too much and she opened her eyes and gasped in pain that was so overwhelming mentally it was becoming physical. If Stanford hadn't been looking for it, he may not have seen it, but he swore he could see the baby kick and turn in the mother's stomach, trying to ease his pain.
Tears freely spilled from Stanford's eyes. "NO! I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE, JUST LET MY FAMILY GO!"
Bill cackled and squinted his eyes happily. "That's what I thought, IQ, but maybe you need to be taught a lesson, to make sure you don't chicken out again."
Stanford struggled against the chains until they drew blood on his wrists and neck. "NO! That wasn't the deal, Bill! Just let them go!"
"Don't worry, I'll let Dreadlocks live." Bill said casually and raised his hand again.
"NO! NO, PLEASE! NOOOOOOOOO!"
Stanford sat up quickly and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and oily. His heart was pounding. He took in a deep breath and counted to ten to calm down. He was nearly completely mellow when he looked to his right, expecting to see his wife, but his heart skipped a beat to see that he was alone in the bed. He hardly had time to freak out before he remembered that Hephzibah was working a five-to-five today. Stanford looked at his clock and saw that it was almost ten o'clock.
The nightmare had been so livid and clear. He hadn't thought about the miscarriage for a few weeks, his thoughts preoccupied. Still… it still hurt. He shivered and he desperately wanted to see Hephzibah, just for some reassurance that she was okay, but reality set in and Stanford knew she was safe. She worked at a hospital, a heavily guarded building flooded with health experts; there was nowhere else safer for her to be, except for maybe home.
Stanford yawned and stretched as he got out of bed and slipped on his slippers. An idea came to mind, an idea that had no room for uncomfortable thoughts or bad visions, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. He looked outside briefly through the stained-glass window over his bed; it wasn't snowing anymore, but the soft glow told him that the snow was still on the ground. Stanford smiled and decided to go through with his plan.
After having coffee with Stanley and pleasantly chatting with him while they threw a ball for Everest down the hall, the Saint Bernard taking turns on who to deliver the ball back to, Stanford hopped in the shower and changed into his brown sweater-vest and baby-blue dress-shirt. He also shaved and spruced up with some cologne. After checking his appearance in the mirror and declaring himself fit to go out, Stanford slipped on his trenchcoat, his black scarf, gloves, and hat, and borrowed Stanley's keys and took the red Diablo out into town.
Remembering Hephzibah's favorite flowers, Stanford picked a small bouquet of purple, red, and white tulips from the grocery store and hid them in his trenchcoat carefully when he got out of the car for the hospital. He had never done this before and wasn't sure if he would be allowed to do this, but at least he could see her.
Stanford had been to the hospital one other time, and that was when he had been attacked by the Gremloblin, so he knew generally where to go, but at his last visit he had been dazed, guilt-ridden, and a little panicked. Now he could appropriately appreciate the architecture of the first-floor lobby. The smell of fresh sandwiches graced his nose, as well as brewed coffee, sweet doughnuts, and, for some odd reason, cherry blossom lotion. Stanford journeyed to the back of the vast room for the elevators and read the guide that explained what floors were for which needs. The fifth floor was for babies, newborns, and expecting mothers, so Stanford took an elevator up there and saw Hephzibah's workspace for the first time.
The lobby was crowded with chairs, but it was empty apart from a pair of grandparents who sat with a little boy in front of the small TV that hung from the ceiling. A front desk sat an old lady with her hair up in a bun and a jar of dum-dums by her side. She smiled up at Stanford the minute the elevator doors opened and he walked up to her. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, I'm looking for my wife, Dr. Hephzibah Pines?"
The old lady gasped happily and said, "You're Stanford?! Oh, Hephzie's told me all about you! I'm Ms. Nelson." And she held out a hand to shake.
Stanford smiled and shook it; he remembered a story or two from work involving this nice lady. "Oh, yes. Hephzibah mentions you quite a bit at home. It's lovely to meet you, ma'am."
"Not as nice it is for me to meet you, sir! Tell me, is the whole twelve PhD thing true, or does she just say that to get the interns to shut up and stay humble?" Ms. Nelson chuckled.
Stanford chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's true. I was… very ambitious in college."
"I should say so, Dr. Pines." Ms. Nelson then laughed and said, "Wow, good thing you don't work here, or that would be confusing!"
Stanford laughed along with her, catching that she was referring to there being two Dr. Pines. "I suppose so. Anyway, where exactly…"
"Oh!" Ms. Nelson pointed down the hall and said, "She's working in Nursery A today, I'm sure she would be more than happy to see you, Emmanuel always loves it when Sherrie pays a visit."
"So I am allowed to steal her away from work for lunch?" Stanford asked with a smile.
Ms. Nelson nodded. "As long as it's during her break and she's back before it's up."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, sugar." Ms. Nelson held out the jar of candy and offered him a piece.
Stanford politely took a cherry lolli and put it in his pocket for later. He walked down the hall and kept an eye peeled for Nursery A. He remembered correctly, Hephzibah said that Nursery A was for "normal" births while Nursery B held NICUs and had special equipment for the disabled or premature newborns. Stanford was grateful that she was with the healthy newborns so he wouldn't have to feel guilty for distracting her from new lives that needed her. Then again, if his timing had been accurate and she was due for a break, which was his plan the whole time, then he would have no guilt, simply joining her in her daily routine.
Nursery A wasn't hard to miss; there was a giant sign by a door that told Stanford what nursery it was and there was a giant window displaying the room. Stanford smiled when his eyes instantly found his wife. Hephzibah was bending over a crib and tucking a baby in a soft blanket (it was a girl, Stanford was guessing, because of the pink blanket). Stanford looked down the hall a bit of his left and smiled at seeing a man and woman watching the baby girl being tucked in for a nap. Stanford focused back on his wife and happily watched her work, petting the baby's head softly and when he saw her lips moving he knew she was singing.
When Hephzibah was done she filled out a clipboard hanging from the crib and glanced up at the window before moving onto the next task. Stanford bit his lip to keep from laughing when she did a double-take and stared at her husband. He waved and Hephzibah grinned and waved back, and then pointed to a door on the farther end of the window. Stanford met her there and hugged her. He was cautious to hug her in a way that wouldn't squish the hidden tulips, but he still hugged her tightly and grinned. His back-seated anxiety had jumped out of the car.
Hephzibah let go and gasped, "Whatcha doin' here, Fordise?! Is everythang okay?! Is Stan hurt?!"
Stanford laughed and shook his head after taking a minute to understand what was going through Hephzibah's head. "No, no, my darling, he's fine." Stanford pulled out the small bouquet and said, "I just wanted to take you out to lunch, that's all."
Hephzibah's jaw dropped and her eyes sparkled like stars. Stanford's only regret was that he hadn't done this years ago. Hephzibah gently took the tulips and said in a voice smoother than silk, "Oh, Stanford, they're beautiful. Thank you. I'd… I'd love to go out, but I already had my break."
Stanford's smile dropped for a second, but then he quickly picked it back up. It wasn't her fault she had already taken her lunch break for the day. He pocketed his hands in his trenchcoat and said, "Oh, I… that's alright. I'm sorry, I should have called you."
"No, no, I'm sorry, honey. This is really sweet."
Stanford smiled when he detected that she felt as guilty as he felt. "It's nothing, I'm just happy to see you for a minute."
"Well, if ya want, ya can stay with me n' give a hand." Hephzibah offered and jabbed a thumb back to the nursery.
Stanford blinked like a confused owl. "Wh-What, you mean... work with the newborns?"
"Ya don't have to, ya can just sit in one of the rocking chairs n' keep me company if ya want, but if not that's fine…"
Stanford grinned over the idea of watching his wife work. She did such an amazing job and it made him swell with pride to see her do what she loved. "That's a great idea! I would love to watch you work!"
"Great! Just wash up n' c'mon in!" Hephzibah said, jabbing a thumb to the sanitizer bottle by the door, and went into the nursery.
Stanford did as he was told, disinfecting his hands, and walked into the room and let the door close behind him. The nursery only had two patients today, the baby the man and woman were watching through the window and a fussy little Indian baby with mittens on his hands and his hat off by his head. He didn't really cry, but he wiggled in his crib and was upset about something.
Stanford watched as Hephzibah cooed sympathetically and cupped his cheek to calm him down. "Aw, what's wrong, love? C'mere, up ya go." Hephzibah slid her hands under the baby and scooped him up. She shifted him so he laid in her arms and she worked to swaddle him in his blanket. Stanford smiled as his wife kissed the baby's cheek and the little guy was sleeping soundly. "There, much better, huh?" Hephzibah whispered.
"What's his name?" Stanford asked.
"Muhammad." Hephzibah and playfully rolled her eyes. "If I had a dollar for every little guy I've come across named… well, who cares? He's in perfect health n' all we gotta do is babysit him for a while." Hephzibah glanced up at the clock and commented. "Hm, Janice will probably take him back to his parents in a half-hour."
"Is Nursery B empty today?"
Hephzibah sighed and shook her head. "No, but that department is covered so I could give this little guy an extra hand. Poor wittle guy's gotta bent leg, bless him. Normally we wouldn't be concerned, but it seems to hurt him a bit, so we're gonna go ahead n' work on a plan to help him out." Hephzibah sat in a rocking chair and began to rock the baby in her hold. She looked up at Stanford and smiled at him, nodding her head to the chair by her side for him to sit and rock if he wanted. "So, are the gnomes still bothering Everest?"
Stanford shook his head as he chuckled and he sat down to chat. "More or less. It's just that one gnome, Jason, who is bothering him. I think the gnome is curious about Everest, but our boy doesn't trust Jason."
"He knows not to let Papa become a sacrifice for the Gnome Queen." Hephzibah giggled at the memory.
Stanford pinched the bridge of his nose and smiled with gritted teeth. "Please do not remind me."
Hephzibah giggled and changed the subject, meanwhile Stanford happily sat and held a very long, flowing conversation with her that was absolutely nothing but fluff, but it was much needed fluff.
It started like buzzing in his ear, but it gradually became worse. Horrid voices whispering, hissing, screaming. Ford covered his ears with his polydactyl hands and squeezed his eyes shut to try to ignore everything else. He tried counting to ten and back, he tried to regulate his breathing, but nothing was making the horrible noises, the voices, go away.
But then, what first joined harmoniously with the dreadful voices, rose from the chaos like a flower blooming in Spring. It was quiet, but then it gradually got louder. Or maybe the other voices got quieter. Or both. Ford relaxed to try to hear it better. A song? A tune? It reminded him of humming. It was familiar, like a lullaby for an old folk song whose words were long forgotten. Ford smiled, having no clue where the voice was coming from, but he liked it and his breathing was slowing down peacefully, so he allowed it to linger as he faded away.
Hephzibah had been woken up by her husband. Again. But she swore to God if he apologized one more time she was gonna give him a Pines-style left-hook. Luckily he was still asleep from the looks of it, but restless. Hephzibah, still lying down, turned to watch Stanford and he tossed and turned in his sleep, his face fixed with worry. Still sleepy and not quite fully awake, Hephzibah smiled and put a hand to his fluffy brown hair. Without even realizing it, she began to hum. She was like Stanley; they both had a habit of singing or humming or whistling to fill the silent air.
As Hephzibah soothed Stanford he relaxed and even smiled a little in his sleep. She closed her eyes and kept petting and humming until she fell asleep with her hand still in his hair.
The nightmares couldn't haunt them tonight.