"Without Him: Part II"
By: Adrienne
Spoilers: Through season seven, some from eight
Author's Note: Told from Elizabeth's POV
Most nights I find that I cannot sleep. I'm too scared. What if he goes while I'm asleep? I want to spend every moment I can with him. But eventually I drift off. Every night it's the same dream; or nightmare, rather. We're walking through a park and he's pushing Ella's stroller. It's a perfect day. There's laughter and light, flowers and smiles. But then the world comes crashing down, the sun disappears, Ella's screaming and suddenly he's seizing on the grass. I stand there, frozen, helpless. I do nothing to stop my daughter's cries or my husband's pain. I'm paralyzed by fear. I stay there for an eternity, waiting…for what? Help, I suppose. But no one comes. They never do. And then I wake up with a start, breathless and in a cold sweat. I know the nightmares aren't real, but they could happen at any time.
I stare at him while he's asleep sometimes. I watch his chest rise up and down with every breath, confirming that he's still alive. I wonder why this is happening. To him. To us. Why? Is it fate? God's will? Punishment for some atrocity committed? Or is there no God and this is just random bad luck? I want an answer. I need to know why he's been given this death sentence…because it's not fair. But then again life's not fair. Isn't it ironic that a man who devotes his life to saving others can't be saved by his own seemingly all-powerful profession?
The mornings are just as bad as the nights. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't have the energy. I don't want to face the day and all the horrors it may bring. In that sense, the days are worse than the nights; there are no shadows to hide in. But of course no matter the time, there are always those damned responsibilities I have to answer to. Ella has needs and there are surgeries to perform and patients to attend to. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm is from post-partum depression. Or maybe it's dread and an overwhelming fear that today is the day it all ends.
I see the way people watch me when I'm at work. Like I'm an emotional time bomb. Like I'm already a widow. They treat me with caution, look at me with pity. I don't need their pity. Even Robert is different around me. He tries to be the same bureaucratic bastard, but in his eyes I see it, the "I'm so sorry for you" look, and I hate it. Even Kerry tries to be kind to me now. Luka Kovac treats me differently than the rest, though. Perhaps because he lost his wife and children, and knows what it's like. He doesn't give me pity; he shows a knowing compassion instead. I'm grateful for that.
I love him more than anything. He means everything to me, but just the same I'm angry with him. I'm angry with him because he'll leave me, because when he asked me to marry him and promised this was forever, he was lying. Forever isn't a year, and that's all we have left. And when I find myself angry with him, I become furious with myself; how could I feel this way about a man who loves me, who I love? He doesn't want to die. But I'm angry all the same that he's leaving me. It could be today, tomorrow or a year from now, but his death is always there, lingering in the future, like a black cloud. I hate myself because I should be enjoying the time we have left, but everytime he smiles I can't help but think how much I'll miss him. And I hate myself because I'm only thinking about how hard it will be for me, not how hard it must be for him, knowing he's going to die. I feel desperate, and I'm constantly on the verge of tears. I hate myself for that too. I used to be so strong. What happened? What happened to my confidence, to my professionalism…to my happiness?
He's started writing letters to Ella and Rachel, telling them about himself. He wants me to give them to the girls when they turn eighteen. I see the wistfulness in his eyes everytime he looks at Ella or talks to Rachel on the phone. Rachel's coming to live with us for his last year, and I know that makes him happy. Rachel hasn't lived with him since she was five years old. She's thirteen now, and I know he regrets missing out on so much of her life; I know how much he regrets that he won't be there for Ella…I regret that he won't be there.
Often I ponder what it will be like when he's gone. Will I be a grieving widow forever, or will I move on and find someone else? I curse myself for thinking that; Mark's still here. But sometimes it's almost like he's not…we're both preparing ourselves for when that happens. I've watched Luka Kovac; I've seen his constant depression until recently when he obviously fell in love again. I wonder if that's how I'll end up, moody and sorrowful…perhaps I should ask him for tips on how to deal with losing a spouse, I muse bitterly, and instantly kick myself mentally for thinking such thoughts. What kind of person am I? He's still here, and I'm planning what my life will be like when he's gone? I feel the tears burning in my eyes again, but I don't stop them. I'm tired of stopping them, and I'm tired of my life. Often the anguish I feel becomes actual physical pain. I feel it in my chest, a constant ache in my heart. I almost wish I had never fallen in love with him, and I hate myself even more. Will it be a relief when he's gone? God, how can I think that? I wish this was an awful dream that I could wake up from; I would wake up and there would be no tumor, we'd live happily ever after. But there is no such thing as happily ever after, at least not in this world.
I continue crying and I hear his footsteps as he walks into the bedroom. "Lizabeth? Lizabeth, what's the matter?" he softly inquires. I do not reply, and he takes me in his arms. For a few moments, lying here together, I can pretend nothing is wrong, but it only lasts a few moments. I wish I could die when he dies, but I can't. I have a daughter now who needs me to be there for her. I promise myself I'll always be there for her, even though no one will be there for me. I have to live for my daughter, even though her father will not live for me.
I wonder if this sorrow will always follow me, haunt me. Perhaps after he's gone I'll go back to Britain, be closer to Mother and Daddy. It would make Daddy happy if I took a job with his practice. There's nothing for me here without him. I do have a job and friends, but it won't be the same. At work, he is always there, and soon he won't be. My friends are his friends. It will just be too hard. But I suppose we'll wait and see. That's all there is now, waiting. Except I don't know when it's going to end…Oh God, please help me…