A/N: Thanks so much for all the love, everyone! This story was definitely an out of the ordinary idea but I'm glad those of you who have read it up until now have loved and supported it. Your kind words regarding my writing mean a lot to me. It's been my dream since second grade to be a writer and publish my own work and your kind words really inspire me to move forward with that dream. So thank you!
Anyway, before I start getting emotional, I was debating whether or not Lana would struggle to love her child but since I've already written many stories in that direction, I wanted to try something new.
I also wanted to update this as soon as possible, I couldn't wait lol.
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TWENTY-FIVE
Flesh and Blood
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Oliver had begun to work longer hours at his practice. He had taken on two new patients to save a little more money for the child. Lana wanted to tell him not to, that maybe they wouldn't even be raising the child after all but her heart refused to let her speak and she remained silent. She spent her days looking through Oliver's records, tired of the puzzles and the midday soap operas. She listened to a variety of jazz records but found that she liked Johnny Cash a lot those days.
There was an album Oliver had, titled "I Walk the Line" that debuted the year after Lana was locked away in Briarcliff, 1964. The words of Cash's songs and the strum of his guitar made Lana pensive and nostalgic but they calmed the anxieties that tended to linger. She felt herself slowly begin to feel like a living person and slowly brought wisps and bits of memories from the past. They weren't quite what Lana would call full memories but feelings and flashes of random scenes.
She put the record on and sat on the sofa, looking out to the street. The sky was covered with dark and dreary clouds. She began to remember random things like a silver brush on a white vanity, a red lipstick on a coffee table, a pair of shoes by the door. Just small little things with no real significance.
Then, like a quick gust of wind out of nowhere, she felt the little twirl in her stomach tumble and flutter. Lana instinctively placed her hand on her pregnant belly and that soft yet sad smile brushed her lips.
At first the the fluttering movement had startled Lana. It had taken her by surprise and jolted her from her deep slumber but after she registered what it was, she felt the emotions overwhelm her. She knew the little one was truly in there but feeling it move made it that much more real. Even more real than her growing belly.
"Do you like it?" She asked, referring to the music. She felt the flutter once more, "I do too." Lana leaned against the sofa, eyes still out the window, half expecting it to rain at any moment. The weather had been so strange as of late, making Lana lazy.
She hated not having much to do throughout the day. Before Briarcliff, Lana was a career driven woman. She was always on her feet, chasing her dreams and her stories in hopes of fame and notoriety. Now she just saw around, reading and listening to Johnny Cash records. She wanted more of a purpose but the world outside was still so scary and unknown. Besides, what would Lana go out to do?
She sighed to herself as she gently rubbed her stomach. She could feel the flutter begin to settle. "Your father says I used to be someone. Out there, in the real world…" the music continued in the background, "But I don't remember any of it." She tried to smile but failed, "It was taken from me. Everything I ever had."
Lana felt the tears begin to swell and she knew it was partially due to the hormones but she also felt that deep sadness embedded into her skin; engraved in her bones. The street was silent. The children were in school, the husbands at work and the wives inside their homes.
"I want to have a purpose again." She felt him twitch again and looked over to the coffee table where another unfinished puzzle sat. She made a sound of disgust and looked away, "But I'm not really good at anything these days…" Lana watched a few birds flutter among the trees across the street and fly away, "That's why I think you'd be better off with someone else." Her hand stopped on her side where she felt the twitch. "Instead of with me…"
Her words to the little baby broke her heart. Lana could feel her heart yearning for the tiny life inside of her and her instinct to protect it was on full alert but her mind tried to reason with her heart. What would be best for the child? What kind of life would he have alongside a mother with a broken mind? How many nights would she wake him with her night terrors? How would she help provide for him? She couldn't even bring herself to venture past the stop sign down the street.
Then Oliver came to mind. Oliver who spoke of the child with softness in his voice and excitement in his eyes. Oliver who already loved his child unconditionally without even having to say it out loud. Oliver who also had a say in the child's life.
Lana couldn't help but to think of him. She wasn't alone in raising the child. Oliver was with her every step of the way. She had to stop thinking she was alone.
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Oliver sat at his desk, listening to the rambles of a narcissist as he scribbled notes in his pad. He tried to focus on his patient but his mind wandered to Lana and the child like it did every hour of the day.
Lana was a week from reaching five months in her pregnancy and so far everything was going well despite the fact that Lana refused to go back and see a doctor. Just the mention of a hospital sent her into a panic but Oliver was growing nervous. He needed to know the child was doing fine so he began to look into hiring a midwife to help Lana. She was already upset that he had made her quit smoking and was sure she'd feel more comfortable if a woman came to their home instead. He wanted to be prepared when the time came.
Every day he waited eagerly for the clock to strike five and once it did, he bid the receptionist a good night, helped lock up and jumped into his car. He drove home, anxious and excited to see Lana greet him with that brilliant smile of hers. He was sure Wendy Peyser had come home to that smile a hundred times over and it baffled him that she still managed to let Lana go. And still, in the back of his mind he wondered if Lana would ever remember Wendy.
That selfish part of him that wanted Lana all to himself hoped she never did.
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Oliver had wanted to stop treating Lana like a patient during their sessions and more like a supportive partner with an open mind and an open ear so that evening he opted to take her for a stroll around the park. She had been cooped up inside all day and he was sure she was growing tired of the same old scenery in their neighborhood.
"Does he have fingers yet?" Lana asked. She couldn't remember much about the science of pregnancy and always had a question or two for Oliver. They walked along the park, side by side, breathing in the fresh air.
It did bring joy to Oliver when he saw the progress Lana had made during her five months of pregnancy. Even though the fear and doubt still lingered deep inside of her, she seemed more optimistic and welcoming of their child. Oliver could tell by the little things she did throughout the day. Such as when she'd place her hand upon her stomach when she was nervous or anxious, the small comments she made to her belly when she thought he wasn't listening and the way she referred to the child as "him" instead of "it".
But reality was not lost upon Oliver. Lana still suffered from post traumatic stress over her time in Briarcliff and she struggled greatly with her condition. It worried Oliver but he had faith. When it came to Lana, he always had faith. Besides, she wasn't alone. He wouldn't abandon her the way Wendy Peyser did. He had already swore to that a long time ago.
"Yes. The hands and fingers have formed. Feet and toes too." Oliver walked with his hands in his pockets, wanting nothing more than to reach out and hold Lana's hand as they walked.
This made Lana smile and she looked ahead of them, down the tree canopy. It was nice to be out and about for once. Lana was usually afraid to leave the house but when she was with Oliver, the fear dwindled and she felt brave and capable.
"So a boy, huh?" Oliver asked. He had noted that Lana had begun to refer to the child as "he" and had wanted to ask. She had done so the previous night when she felt him move for the first time.
Lana merely shrugged. A teenage couple walked past them, laughing to themselves as they held hands without a care in the world. Lana watched them walk away, "I don't know. Just feels like it's a boy."
"Would you like a boy?" Oliver asked, his eyes on her.
"Hmm. I don't think I'd mind either." The baby just felt like it would be a boy but Lana did like the idea of a little girl, "What about you?"
Oliver smiled softly, his hands twitching in his pockets, "I suppose it would be nice to have a son." His smile widened at the thought of a little girl that looked much like her mother, "A daughter would be lovely too."
Lana's heart skipped a beat at his words. "I thought fathers only wanted sons?"
"Where did you hear that?" Oliver raised a brow.
She shrugged, "Just something that came to me."
Oliver nodded, "Well, that is very common. I didn't have a father so I guess I never understood that kind of bond. Nor do I really understand the importance of producing male children. I guess it has to do with carrying on the family name. Daughters leave home and take their husband's name. Sons don't."
"Does that matter to you?"
"I never really thought about it to be honest. I guess I just want him or her to be healthy and happy."
"That's fair." Lana leaned her head back slightly, eyes up on the canopy, gazing at the leaves above them. She placed her hand on her stomach. She could feel the little baby flutter again. He had begun to move often throughout the day and especially at night when she tried to sleep.
"What's it feel like?" Oliver asked. He could tell when the baby moved. Lana always had this surprised look on her face that lasted but a second followed by a half smile, content that he was doing okay.
She tilted her head, "Kind of like a bubble?"
"A bubble?"
Lana laughed. She was so beautiful when she did. "Yes, like a bubbling sensation or like something in there is tumbling around or twitching. I can't really pinpoint it but it's a funny little feeling."
"Does he move often?" Oliver was curious.
Lana nodded, "It's all day and night with this one." She sighed again, eyes on the world going on around them. She wondered if she would ever be right enough to bring her own child to the park without the fear looming over her.
Oliver looked down to the pathway beneath their feet. "Lana…"
"Mm?" She turned to look at him.
"I know I said I'd give you time but have you thought of any names?"
"Names?" She seemed confused for a moment until she realized what he meant. "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it."
Oliver stopped at a bench and motioned for Lana to sit down. She did and he sat next to her. "I figured if...if we were to find him another home with another family...maybe, maybe they'd like to name him."
Oliver's heart broke at this. Lana was still doubting herself. He grabbed a hold of her hand and held it. "You know what I think?"
"That he belongs with us?"
Oliver nodded. "Yes."
A little smile gently brushed her lips, "Well, Dr. Thredson, what would you like to name your son?"
Her question and her change of mood made Oliver chuckle. Lana always needed a little push to help her stop second guessing herself. "James is a nice name. So is William." Oliver continued to keep holding her hand, not seeing a reason to let go and Lana didn't pull away.
"William?" Lana raised a brow with a smile, "Sounds very respectable. I like James too." She watched another older couple walk past them, enthralled in their own conversations.
"And if it's a girl?"
"A girl? Hmm." Lana thought, "What about Anne?" She joked.
Oliver laughed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Never." She laughed.
They sat at the park bench and talked for what seemed hours. At least until the sun slowly began to set. They talked about the child and names they liked or disliked. Lana asked Oliver who had given him his name since his parents were not in the picture. He told her that as far as he knew a nun at the orphanage where he was left had named him. Lana claimed not to remember who had named her. If her father or her mother had chosen her name. She didn't recall them much, only that they were not in her life before Briarcliff. She also had a hunch on the reason.
At one point Lana stopped and her face turned pensive. "What last name will he have? Mine or yours?"
Her question left Oliver frozen in place. He had not thought about the fact that his son or daughter would be born out of wedlock. That fact alone didn't matter to Oliver. He didn't see the importance of keeping up appearances but he was a man of his word and a man who believed in principal. Of course he was going to give the child his last name.
He looked at Lana knowing very well that he wanted her to take his last name as well.
