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

Why Love Fails

By Lola Presents

Chapter 7

Rita had barely opened her mouth to reply when Dr. Webber returned.

"Mrs. Loud?" she questioned. "You may go up and see him now if you wish."

Lola sat up and sprang to her feet, filled with anxiety and anticipation. All manner of outcomes had crossed her mind since learning of the accident. All of which ended in her crying even more. Part of her wanted to go to him and stay by his side, no matter what. Another wanted to run, run far away, and hide.

"I'm ready," Lola timidly announced as she flattened her shirt.

"Alright then, follow me," said Dr. Webber, leading Lola and Rita toward the elevator.

Lola recognized many things along the way, having been there before. The foyer, of course, the long hallways, and the elevator. She remembered a pair of drink and snack machines along the first-floor hall. Lola kept her hands together, wringing them the entire way. Her nerves became numb, and her mind blank. After a few minutes, they arrived at his room, and Lola stood before the door motionless.

She not only wondered about his injuries but how well he would recover. Would there be any scars or lasting effects? What would life be like if he could not care for her and Nova? What about his appearance? Would she still feel the same about him? What about his boyish charm and that comforting smile?

Lola looked up at the door and drew in a quick breath. Lincoln had the same room that she did, only one floor up. Though Lola was still young, she recognized the serendipity. Was it possible that one floor up from where life began, another may end?

Slowly, she pushed the door open and entered, followed closely by her mother.

"Lincoln?" Lola softly called as if speaking too loud would hurt him somehow.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Loud," apologized Dr. Webber. "He's still in a medically induced coma and cannot respond. He can most likely hear you, however."

Lola gingerly approached Lincoln's bedside and scrutinized everything. The extent of the damage took a few moments to process. Bandages covered most of the left side of his head and many places along his left side. Much of the gauze had a rosy tint, indicating that the bleeding had not entirely stopped.

There were tubes in his nose, an I.V. in his right arm, and several electrodes around his chest. The machines on his left side beeped and recorded his vital signs. The sterility and antiseptic scent dug into Lola's brain like a parasite intent on engorging itself.

Lincoln's body lay bruised and swollen, the left side of his face nearly unrecognizable. Lola put her hands to her mouth and began to weep but took mild solace in his chest's rhythmic rise and fall. Lola shot a look at Dr. Webber, pleading for an explanation with her eyes.

"I know things look rough right now," the doctor began, "but the swelling will recede as he recovers. Due to his injuries, we have him in a medically induced coma. Doing so prevents him from moving, which would further aggravate the stitches. It also helps alleviate some of the pain he would otherwise feel. We have full confidence that the lacerations he endured will heal quickly. Our concerns are what his condition will be once the swelling in his brain shrinks. There is a distinct possibility that motor control to his right side may be impaired or non-existent. There may also be some loss of memory and higher brain function. However, it's too early to tell. Do you have any questions?"

"You said he might not be able to control his right side?" asked Lola, her face full of confusion. "But, he hit the left side of his head. Didn't he?"

"Correct, ma'am," Dr. Webber acknowledged. "The left hemisphere of the brain controls the right and vice-versa."

"Can I touch him?" pleaded the young woman. "Please?"

"Of course, but for now, stay on his right side," the physician said, nodding politely.

Lola pulled up a nearby armless chair, then pensively reached over and wrapped her fingers around those of Lincoln's. She squeezed his hand gently, not knowing if he could feel it.

"Please come back to me, Lincoln," she whispered. "I can't do this alone. Nova needs you. Fight, baby. Please? Oh, God..."

There were no tears left in her ducts to spill, yet somehow she managed. A single tear billowed and fell upon Lincoln's arm, which twitched slightly.

"Did you see that?!" exclaimed Lola, turning to face the doctor. "His arm moved!"

Dr. Webber approached and looked over at Lola incredulously.

"No, I don't think so, honey," she said. "It was probably an involuntary muscle spasm, which happens in comatose patients."

"No! Look!" said Lola excitedly, kissing the spot on Lincoln's arm where her tear fell. "Watch it!"

It took a moment to respond, but Lincoln's arm moved slightly.

"Well, I'll be," conceded Dr. Webber. "He seems to be a fighter, which is a good sign."

The doctor redirected her attention to Lola, handing the girl a small packet, a pen, and a clipboard. "Now, if you don't mind, I have other patients to see, so I'd like to give you these insurance forms to fill out while I'm away."

Lola kissed Lincoln's arm again, scooting her chair back and accepting the items. "Of course," Lola replied, settling in to fill them out.

She had only read the first few lines before having a question and stopped the doctor from leaving.

"Wait," Lola requests. "Here, it says, parent, spouse, or legal guardian. I'm not sure which to put since we're not legally married. What should I check?"

"Oh, so you're not his wife?" the doctor asked politely.

"Well, no. I mean, we're together and have a baby, but..." Lola said, shaking her head and looking at her mother.

Rita saw no recourse but to respond honestly. If not, things could get complicated quickly.

"They're siblings," Rita explained. "But Lola is emancipated, so she should be treated as an adult."

"I understand," Dr. Webber replied, taking Lola's items and handing them to Rita. "However, legally, she can't fill these out. I'm going to have to ask that you do it."

Rita nodded solemnly, accepted the forms, and entered the requested information as the doctor smiled and left the room. Once the doctor was gone, Lola stood and began to pace the floor, her arms crossed and held tightly by her chest.

"Why is this happening?" muttered Lola. "It feels like my whole life is falling apart!"

"Oh, honey," reassured Rita. "I'm sure things will turn out alright. You saw him move. What's the Loud motto?"

Lola shot her mother a condescending look. "Louds never quit?" she whispered.

"Right," confirmed Lola's mother. "Now, have a little faith, alright?"

Lola unclasped her arms, which fell limply by her side as she paced.

"It's just..." she began. "First, I fall in love with my brother, then end up pregnant, then we're separated for a while, and finally, Lincoln ends up in the hospital. On top of all that, I can't even sign some stupid forms. Is this how it's going to be from now on? Will everyone look at me differently, like some freak?"

"Now, honey..." Rita said, putting the clipboard down and standing to embrace Lola. "You're not a freak. Sure, things are a bit unusual, but that's alright. Don't you think Lincoln would want you to be strong right now?"

Lola snuggled into her mother's neck. "Yes," whimpered Lola. "I'm just overwhelmed right now."

Then, just as the two parted, a uniformed man entered.

"Excuse me," he announced, pulling out a small billfold and opening it to reveal a badge. "I'm detective Bryce. Can you spare a moment to talk?"

Lola looked the man up and down, assessing him before replying.

"Fine," Lola nodded, retaking her seat. "I need something to distract me right now anyway."

The man nodded and sat a few feet away, opening a briefcase and taking out a yellow notepad and pen.

"Alright, Mrs. Loud," he said, void of emotion. "First, I must inform you that we had your husband's vehicle moved to forensics, and there are crime scene investigators on your property. I trust you are amenable to them being present?"

"Uh, yes?" Lola stammered. "What do you mean crime scene?"

"Due to the unusual nature of Mr. Loud's accident, it is customary to examine the vehicle for defects or evidence of tampering," Bryce informed Lola. "What they found was that somebody intentionally scored the brake lines."

Lola shook her head. "I'm sorry. What does that mean?"

"Somebody made a small incision in the lines that control the brakes," explained the detective. "Sure, it'll hold for a few minutes. That is, until the pressure builds. Then it bursts, resulting in no brakes."

"Are you saying that somebody did this to Lincoln on purpose?!" Lola cried.

"I'm afraid so, ma'am," the detective replied. "The lines are protected fairly well by design, and the cut too precise. The move would have been intentional. Now, please stay with me. I know it isn't easy, but I need you to think. Do you know anybody who might wish harm upon Lincoln? Did he have any enemies of which you are aware? Had he quarreled with anyone recently?"

"No, I don't think..." Lola began. "Wait..."

Bryce furrowed his brow, recognizing the look of realization, and looked at Lola sternly. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees.

"What is it?" he asked. "This may be important. I need to know."

Lola opened her mouth to say something but closed it shortly after and stared plaintively at her mother. Rita saw the fear and uncertainty on her daughter's face. No other may have done so, but being her mother brought particular insights.

"Go ahead, honey," instructed Rita, hugging Lola tightly. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you. The detective is trying to help and needs to hear whatever you say."

Lola released her grip on her mother and turned to face the man. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she began to explain. Lola's account took the man back several years to where it all began. She was precise and did not leave out any detail, regardless of how embarrassing it was for her. Several minutes later, she concluded her tale when she received an apology letter from the day before.

"Then, today, well..." Lola finished, looking over at Lincoln's motionless body.

Detective Bryce wrote down everything Lola said and made some notes of his own. Soon, he put away the pad and pen and handed her a business card.

"Thank you very kindly for your time," he announced. "I will be in touch. Should you need me or think of anything else, you can reach me at the number on the card."

Lola nodded, still red in the face, accepted the proffered card, and smiled weakly at him.

"Thank you for your trouble," she said, almost apologetically.

"No trouble at all, ma'am," Bryce said before leaving.

"Mom?" pleaded Lola, facing her mother. "Can we go home? I'm exhausted and need rest."

"Of course, honey," Rita said, gathering their things as Lola stood and leaned over her beloved to kiss him gently on his right cheek.

"I'll be back, Lincoln," she whispered. "I promise. You concentrate on healing, alright? I love you."

The only response came from the machines monitoring Lincoln.

After a quick run by the Burpin' Burger drive-through, Rita made her way home with Lola slumped over in the front passenger seat, her head lolling against the window.

It was nearing three in the evening when they arrived at the house and pulled into the driveway, and Lola's old school bus stopped shortly after their arrival, depositing her remaining siblings.

Seeing Lola home took them by surprise. But to see her in such a raggedy state was even more shocking. Immediately, they knew something was wrong and rushed to her side, clamoring for an explanation.

Rita hushed them firmly, insisting that they allow Lola to at least get inside and make herself comfortable before questioning her. Once they had, and Lola was seated in Lincoln's favorite chair, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, beginning her retelling. Mouths gaped and dropped as Lola recounted, yet again, everything that had transpired.

"What an awful creep!" exclaimed Lily. "I'm glad you didn't end up with him!"

"Me too," agreed Lisa. "What a bastard! I have a few inventions I'd like to test on him! All safety protocols disabled!"

Lisa's offering made Lola chuckle for the first time in what seemed like forever. Doing so was familiar and comforting, and she was glad she had a family to help her through everything.

"Well, had it been me, Winston wouldn't have had the chance!" Lana spat. "I'd have clobbered him before now."

Lola shook her head.

"I don't know, guys," Lola admitted, "something isn't right. I can't place my finger on it, though."

"What do you mean, dear?" asked Rita with much curiosity.

"I mean, since when would Winston know how to cut a brake line?" she submitted. "And why apologize if he's just going to do something that would land him in jail?"

Rita raised her brow. Lola's observation was indeed intriguing. But rather than jump the gun, she would let the investigators handle things. If need be, she'd mention it later.

"Well, you get settled," Rita chirped. "I have to pick up your father and Nova. I think it best if you two stay here for a while. That way, you have people around you who can help and support you."

Lola nodded, and her mother exited the house, satisfied.

Discussion continued for some time, mostly centered around recent events. But eventually, a sense of normality returned to the siblings, and opportunities for laughter ensued.

If one thing is sure, families tend to begin reminiscing in times of stress, especially stuff they find humorous. For their family, that meant many things, and the children revisited them individually.

Once Rita returned with her husband and Nova, the group broke up and went their ways. Nova had become fussy as Lynn's fathering skills were a bit rusty. Lola cheerfully took her infant and resumed her motherly duties so her father could cook dinner.

Nova went down about halfway through whatever it was Lynn had prepared. It looked like meatloaf but tasted like salami. Still, it wasn't bad. Lola's father was an excellent cook, though he saved most of his talent for his restaurant. Occasionally he'd surprise them, but tonight was a make-the-best-of-leftovers meal.

After dinner, the girls headed to their rooms to do homework or indulge in their respective hobbies. For Lola, this meant not having anything to do other than flop onto her old bed and lay there reflecting. Most of her belongings were at her new home, and little was left.

The one thing that caught her eye was an old tiara lying on a nearly empty shelf. It was her first, she believed, though she could have been wrong. Why she hadn't taken it, she couldn't fathom. Maybe it was the excitement of moving, or she wanted her family to remember her.

Either way, she stood and placed it upon her head, staring into the full-length mirror. Frowning at her appearance, she removed the tiara as Lana entered the room.

"Going back to your old ways?" Lana jokingly said as she plopped onto her bed.

Lola looked at her twin. "What?"

"You know, bratty and all about how you look?" Lana refined her query.

"Of course not," declared Lola defiantly. "Just realizing how much has happened. Is that a crime?"

"Well, no," admitted Lana. "But honestly, I still see it."

"How?" questioned Lola becoming upset.

"So far, all I've heard from you is how things have affected YOUR life," stated Lana, "and how much things may change. You haven't said one thing about Lincoln himself. I mean, are you still in love with him?"

Lola closed her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lola!" snapped Lana, regaining her sister's attention.

*pop*

Lola brought her hand to her cheek. "What was that for?"

"How dare you!" cried Lana. "Yes should've been your only answer! That man has given you everything! Did you know he turned down a lucrative, six-figure career as a digital animator in Los Angeles for you? He cares so much for you that he was willing to walk away when he thought it was in your best interest! This morning, when the accident happened, he was on his way to work for you! But all you can think about is how it all affects you! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Lana then folded her arms, scowled, and turned her back on Lola, who once more began weeping and fell to her knees.

"You're right, Lana," admitted Lola through a torrent of tears. "I'm sorry. I've been acting like a little child."

Lana turned once more to face Lola, arms still folded. Her anger had risen since she began her monologue, and she could no longer contain herself.

"Do you know what I would do to have a man like that?" Lana scolded. "No... TO HAVE LINCOLN?!"

Gasping, Lola peered up at her twin, leaning over her.

"That's right," Lana stated. "I said it."