Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

Why Love Fails

By Lola Presents

Chapter 6

"Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!" resounded in Lincoln's head.

The alarm clock on Lincoln's bedside table rang at five in the morning, well before the sun was up. Sleepily, an arm emerged from the covers bunched up near the head of the bed and slapped the off button, missing several times before connecting.

Lincoln preferred his old alarm, but now that he and Lola shared a bed, they needed something she would approve of, and Ace Savvy didn't cut it. Lola wanted something like a soothing song that would wake her more gently. Since they couldn't agree, they settled for a standard, dull alarm instead.

A moment passed before Lincoln yawned deeply, then slipped out of bed. Grabbing the clothes he'd laid out the night before, he headed into the restroom and went through his usual workday paces. He showered, styled his hair, shaved, and got dressed.

Lincoln saw that Lola hadn't moved since he left the bedroom and smiled. She always was a hard sleeper unless you messed with her diary. Of course, that was years ago. He wasn't sure she even kept one these days.

The young man walked around to his sister's side of the bed to ensure the baby monitor was still on, kissed Lola softly on her forehead, then stepped out into the hallway. There, he listened quietly at Nova's door, then peeked inside.

Nova was resting peacefully, nestled half-in and half-out of a blanket Leni had knitted for her. Nova's little chest rose and fell silently, letting Lincoln know she was safe. Having made his passes, Lincoln strolled down the hall into the kitchen, where he toasted a pop-tart while chugging some orange juice directly from the carton.

As soon as the pastry was finished heating, he caught it with a paper towel and headed out the door. It was a little brisk out, but nothing he couldn't handle. He did turn on the heat once the ignition turned, however. He saw little sense in being uncomfortable on purpose.

The car pulled out of the driveway and sped off toward the highway on-ramp. Lincoln turned the radio on and dialed into an oldies station where he found delight in an old Smooch song. The piece was nearly complete and on the last refrain when he approached a major intersection.

The light turned red, and Lincoln applied the brakes. However, the car did not attempt to stop and kept barreling toward the intersection. Lincoln's heart leapt up into his throat as he sailed through the crossing traffic, trying his best to control his vehicle and avoid a collision.

He had barely missed t-boning a small sedan when a massive Ford F150 careened into his left front quarter panel. The impact was so strong Lincoln's head hit the window as the car moved underneath him. The small hybrid was lifted off the ground and became airborne, flipping several times as it went.

All Lincoln could do was hold on for dear life as the view out of the front window spun before him. For all the confusion, though, Lincoln's mind processed it in slow motion, and he noticed something bearing down on his location. Then, there was another collision. The last thing Lincoln remembered before blacking out was his head hitting the steering wheel.

Lola awoke to the cooing of Nova coming through the monitor. Smiling, she removed her sleep mask and set it on the nightstand. Yawning, she got out of bed and donned her nightgown.

"I'm coming, baby," Lola whispered to the room. "Hang on."

The young mother proceeded to her child's room and peered into the crib Leni had made. Nova smiled and stared up at her, then ceremoniously spat up. Lola rolled her eyes, picking her daughter up.

"I wasn't this bad when I was little, was I?" she asked the baby, cradling it in the nook of her arm.

Lola then headed for the living room, grabbing the diaper bag on the way out. She then made a small, plush palette on the living room floor and turned on a cartoon to keep Nova occupied while preparing a fresh bottle in the kitchen.

Lola set the temperature on the stove and placed the bottle into a pot of water, then went to change Nova, who, for whatever reason, decided that today was the day to wiggle nonstop. Eventually, Lola finished the job and returned to check the formula against her wrist.

"Perfect," Lola said. "I think I'm getting the hang of this. Go, me!"

Lola returned to her child and held her as the Nova fed, swaying back and forth gently and humming one of Luna's old tunes. The bottle was soon empty, and Lola placed a burping cloth over her shoulder and patted Nova's back.

Two good eruptions later, Lola sat on the floor and placed Nova between her legs to play with her. Lola held Nova's little feet, kissed their soles, and then played pat-a-cake as the baby smiled. Just as she began a second verse, her cell phone vibrated.

Lola pulled out her phone and answered it without even looking at it. Not many other than family had her number anyway, so why bother?

"Hello?" she said. "This is Lola. May I help you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Loud?" a man on the other end said somberly. "Wife of Mr. Lincoln Loud?"

Something in the tone of his voice made Lola's insides lurch. Her face went blank, all emotion vanishing, and she sat upright.

"Yes, this is she," Lola replied with a sense of dread. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," the man said. "Your husband got involved in a motor vehicle accident this morning. He's in critical but stable condition at the moment. However, he's in a coma. Is there any way you can come to Royal Woods General?"

"Yes," Lola said, beginning to weep. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," the man said. "There will be somebody in reception who can help you."

Lola hung up her phone without acknowledging the man's last statement or saying goodbye. Her entire body felt numb. It wasn't the same sensation she got while having an anxiety attack, though. It was more devastating.

Lola looked at Nova, who was more interested in looking at her foot than anything else, then wept into her hands. She couldn't even determine what she was afraid of, but fear was all the young mother knew at the moment. Eventually, Nova noticed her mother's emotional state and tried her best to address her.

"Aaa!" she said. Nothing more, just a single, sharp syllable, but it was enough to snap Lola out of her stupor.

Purposefully, she picked up her phone and dialed her parent's house.

"Hello?" said Rita. "Rita Loud speaking."

"Mom?" questioned Lola, her voice weak and muted. "Lincoln's been... been in an accident. I need somebody to watch Nova and take me to the hospital."

"What?!" exclaimed Mrs. Loud. "Is he alright? What happened? How bad is it?"

"I don't know, Mom," cried Lola. "Only he's in a coma in serious condition. They want me there, like now."

"I'm on my way, baby," Rita told her child. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Lola wasn't sure she believed her mother's words. If the past year taught her anything, it's that if something can go wrong, it will. At least she had the mind to smile when she finally looked back toward Nova.

"Alright, baby," Lola cooed through her tears. "Mommy has to get dressed so I can visit daddy in the hospital. You sit tight, okay? I'll be right back."

Lola then stood and nearly ran to the bedroom to change. It didn't even matter what she wore, but it had to be something other than her robe. Unlike the beauty pageant queen she once was, Lola put on the first thing she saw.

Lola slipped on the same pair of socks she wore the day prior, forced her feet into her pumps, then grabbed a brush before running back to where Nova lay. There, she ran the utensil through her hair, using the mirror in the den. That way, Nova wouldn't be alone for too long.

The old family van pulled up a few moments later, and Lola bolted out the front door as her father exited from the passenger side.

"Dad!" Lola cried, shoving the diaper bag in her father's arms. "Nova's in the living room, and everything you need is in the bag. Thanks so much for watching her!"

"I would watch Nova," Rita said as Lola entered and buckled her belt. "But you know how your father is with stress."

"It's fine!" declared Lola, leaping inside the van. "Go, go, go!"

Rita put the van into gear and drove off toward the hospital, unknowingly following the same path Lincoln did earlier. Traffic was thick, and both women became agitated.

"What, in the name of hell, is the holdup?" yelled Lola impatiently. "I need to see my baby!"

Lola's tears had given way to pure intent and mostly dried, though her eyes were still puffy and red. Rita took a moment of stillness in their advance to take stock of her daughter's condition. The girl seemed to be holding up well, but Rita knew better.

Just under the surface was a torrent waiting to happen. Things hadn't been the same in their home since Lincoln and Lola declared their love for each other. Yes, they'd accepted it, but some things remained unchanged.

One of those things was how Rita saw them. In a way, they reminded her of Lynn and herself when they were young. They weren't as young as Lola was or as far apart in age, but their passion seemed to match. Given Lola's pension for having anxiety attacks, Rita prepared herself for the worse.

Eventually, the large container truck in front of them turned right and opened up their intersection view. Debris and several vehicles littered the four-way intersection. Lola's eyes grew wide as they landed on what appeared to be the remains of Lincoln's little car.

The small hybrid was nearly unrecognizable. The only thing giving it away was the "I Love Anime" bumper sticker and a Horde crest on the remains of the back window. The rest was a crumpled, mangled mess, and the top looked as if it had been ripped open. Lola's hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped sharply, then pointed.

"Mom!" she cried, barely able to get the words out. "That's his car!"

Rita glanced in the direction Lola was pointing as she waited for the flagman to indicate that it was her turn to drive. She immediately knew what to expect when she caught sight of the car. She may not have been a medical doctor, but she took many of the same classes as they did in dentistry school.

"Lola..." Rita said insistently and firmly. "Look away. I know it's difficult, but you need to turn away."

It was too late; the petite girl was starting to hyperventilate and lose color. One hand gripped the edge of her seat, the other clamped firmly on the door handle, both turning white under the pressure she was exerting.

"Lola!" Rita shouted just as the officer waved her forward. "Snap out of it! Lincoln needs you and doesn't have time for a panic attack!"

As the van drove away from the accident scene, Lola began to calm down, her mother's words echoing through her head. It was true. Lincoln needed someone as much as she was hurting, and Lola would be there for him.

It took a lot of effort, but Lola's breathing became more regular when they arrived at the hospital. She had replaced her anxiety with a fierce determination to be by Lincoln's side, and so far, it held. Seeing several ambulances near the emergency room entrance brought home the reality that other people got injured, not just Lincoln.

Lola felt deeply for everyone involved; they must have loved ones somewhere. But for her, there was only one she needed to focus on; Lincoln. She swallowed hard and with difficulty as her mother parked the van and stepped out.

Lola blinked a few times to clear her eyes and exited as well, making sure she had her purse and phone with her, then followed her mother, hand in hand, into the reception area. Rita insisted that Lola sit while she checked them in, and Lola obediently sat as though she were still a child that needed instruction. In a way, she was. Lola felt lost and welcomed any chance not to think for herself.

"Hi, I'm Rita Loud, and we're here to see Lincoln loud," Rita announced as she approached the desk.

Several other families were present, all trying to get information from receptionists, and things were hectic, but eventually, the lady looked up at Mrs. Loud.

"Ah yes, I found him," the receptionist announced. "He's in the intensive care unit at the moment. Please, have a seat, and I'll send for the attending physician."

"Thank you so much," replied Rita before returning to Lola, who sat motionless in her seat. "They're getting someone, honey. It'll be a moment, but try and relax, alright? I know most of these doctors, and they're all exceptional."

"Most?" Lola gasped with alarm. "What if he gets the one shitty one?"

"Now, Lola," her mother reprimanded her, attempting to maintain her composure. "I understand you're upset, but that doesn't mean you have to swear."

Lola furrowed her brows and stared at the floor. How many imperfections could she find in the cement joining the tiles? Let's see. She ran her eyes lazily across the seams and counted every flaw she saw until the doctor arrived. Later, she couldn't recall the number, having forgotten it when the doctor came.

"Mrs. Loud?" a well-dressed young woman said.

Both Rita and Lola replied, "That's me."

"Excuse me?" the physician said, somewhat confused. One of the women looked too old to be married to Lincoln, the other too young. "I'm looking for the wife of Mr. Lincoln Loud?"

"Oh, right," apologized Rita, pointing at her daughter. "I'm so used to answering that question. You want Lola."

Though the doctor raised an eyebrow, she remained professional and didn't let her curiosity invade.

"Alright, my name is Anne Webber, and I'm the attending physician in charge of Lincoln," the woman said, taking a knee before them. "Your husband is in critical condition. I don't know the accident's specifics, but I can tell you that the first responders had to cut him out of his car. He's taken severe trauma to the skull and left side of his body. He sustained several lacerations and has lost a lot of blood. For now, he's stable and is receiving a transfusion to replace lost..."

Lola's mouth contorted as the woman talked, and she began wailing at the visions the doctor's words created within her.

"But when can I see him?!" Lola bawled, interrupting Dr. Webber.

"...blood," the doctor finished before addressing Lola's concerns. "I'm sorry, but we need a few more minutes to complete the transfusion. Even then, as the liaison told you on the phone, Lincoln is in a coma. He won't be able to respond to you, though research has shown that comatose patients can hear everything, so when you can see him, be mindful of what you say."

Lola nodded, trying desperately to hold back the fresh flow of salty liquid streaming from her. "Is there anything else?" she said through quivering lips.

"This is always the hard part," Dr. Webber sighed. "But I believe in being direct. Mrs. Loud, there's a chance that your husband may not be the same when he recovers due to his cranial trauma. I'll let you two discuss things while I tend to Lincoln."

The woman patted Lola on the leg, stood, and walked off.

Lola was emotionally devastated. Nothing could have prepared her for any of it. It was as if she had lost her will to live, and her body crumpled into her mother's slap. No tears came, just the steady rise and fall of her chest and the occasional sniffling of mucus. Rita tried to reassure her by running her fingers through her hair, just as she did when Lola was little after losing a pageant. After what seemed like forever, Lola finally spoke.

"Mom?" the distraught girl asked. "Is Lincoln going to die?"