Dark Pasts, Hopeful Futures

by Thorned Rose

Consequences of actions must be faced and acknowledged in this extremely dark Rocketshippy sequel to A Diary Of Two Hearts. Six months apart can harden the gentlest of hearts, so how do they cope with the harrowing challenges they face?

14. 2nd April, 2001

                                                                                ~*~*~R—controversial, sensitive matter dealt with in this chapter~*~*~

          A lot of ridiculous theories and notions have reached my ears since my time on this planet began eighteen years, ten months and sixteen days ago. Many are harmless, such as a simple thought debating how life began—brain food for philosophers and scientists; it's the sexist remarks and prejudices that annoy me. They're not true, they've never been true, or at least not in every person's case, as is suggested by such wide and often hurtful generalisations. Women live to please men, and they are beautiful creatures, far too delicate and gentle so therefore forbidden to fight for instance. I actually agree with the latter, there's nothing uglier or sexless about seeing a woman battling it out with another (I never found mud-wrestling a turn-on), bulging muscles and nasty tempers should stay with fat old men who can't hold their liquor. Just try telling this to my partner—she makes herself beautiful with pretty clothes and make-up, but it's her temper that fails to make her fragility credible—well, that and her brutal strength, weapons…She doesn't live to please me though. I'll admit I didn't want this child at first, we're too young really to settle down with our baby, our darling daughter Alyssandra, but I loved the idea as soon as it truly sank in. With this loveable addition, we'd be a true family at long last. It's remarks regarding men being forbidden to show emotions and feelings or care in any way that annoys me the most—how could I not? Especially now, how could I do that?

                                                 Monday, April 2nd 2001

          James woke up in the dead of the night, sweating from the combined heat of both him and his wife, presently sleeping serenely on top of him. As much as he usually endured such situations in silence and without action, on this occasion his bladder was protesting and convinced him to opt differently this time. He kissed her forehead lightly to pass as a mild apology as he pulled her hips upward slightly to separate their bodies, hearing a familiar suction sound as he did. A smile passed his lips as he recalled the night's passion that gave their honeymoon a run for its money, but in spite of his nostalgia he was careful to make sure she didn't wake up as he positioned her whilst sliding out beneath her. He kissed her again as he settled her back on the bed; even though he could barely make her features out in the dark, he could almost guarantee that she smiled both times he did that. She'd always subconsciously do it when she was kissed by anyone in her sleep; he used to do it occasionally before she'd learnt his true feelings towards her. He left the bed, praying the mattress filling out his shape wouldn't wake her as he stumbled over a myriad of things as he headed towards the bathroom. He missed his almost perfect vision so much.

           He decided against flicking the light switch on lest it wake up his sleeping lover, and he realised a little late that he'd forgotten to wipe himself first, forcing him to hold onto his manhood (with much disgust) to urinate with hours-old fluid already there. He grimaced and reached for some tissue paper when he was finished, yet typically there was none left for him to use—it was yet another complaint to add to the list of flaws with their room. He exasperatedly shook himself and ran his hand through his hair, instantly regretting it as he did, feeling the moisture settling on his forehead. He turned on both taps yet not even a drop of water trickled out of the spouts, and he made a mental note to refuse to pay the bill when they left. He flexed his fingers to stop them sticking together before furiously rubbing his forehead dry as he thought of what was on him—even though he'd touched that formula before, it was brandishing it on his face that was another issue, especially since he wasn't horny. He ceased only when he felt positive his pores had absorbed the liquid and it wouldn't attract feathers from the bed linen to his face.

           He began to walk back towards the bed, interrupted momentarily by a yawn, which he automatically stifled (he grimaced again as soon as he did it) as he configured a plan to return to bed without waking Jessie up—if she rested enough now, she mightn't feel the sleepless nights as much when Alyssandra would require feeding at all hours in a couple of months. He involuntarily licked his lips as he surveyed her lying in the middle of the bed as he tried to formulate a plan to get more than two centimetres to himself, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. He headed straight back to the bathroom and flicked on the light, not caring if he woke her up anymore. As soon as he could look against the bright light without wincing or seeing a collection of colours, he examined his appearance extremely closely in the mirror.

          I love her I love her I love her. I've loved her since the day we met all those long, hard years ago. I've only told her this in recent months; I've wasted a lot of time where we could have been together happily as a couple. She's easily the most precious thing in my life, mine's nothing compared to hers. We've stuck together in every issue without selecting the good alone—we suffered enough hardships and rowed before we took our vows to last a lifetime, please don't let this be another one. I can't lose her now, it's just not possible. I'll love her until my dying day, just please don't let today be hers. I never meant to do it Jessie, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

                                                                                                                        ***

           His calm exterior shattered without warning the second he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror; he didn't know what scared him more: the image that stared back at him, or what it signified. He was positively panicking at this point, scratching repeatedly at his skin as he tried to remove the offending pigments; instead of the culmination of fluids they'd both created at the height of their sexual enjoyment as he'd previously imagined, blood lay instead on the walls, around his mouth, on his manhood, in his hair; it was similar to some twisted body paint one would adorn themselves with whilst making sacrifices to their gods. He tried the taps again but still nothing came out of them, even though they were twisted back to their full extents; tears began to well in his eyes out of frustration. He sped out of the bathroom and headed immediately towards the light switch, not caring what his wife would say to the sudden light if it stole her from her slumber. His worries heightened instead of decreasing when she didn't respond to the action in any way, plus his worst fears were confirmed when he saw the heavy spoilage on the white bed clothing; her hot blood was obviously the excuse for his uncharacteristic need to urinate in the night.

            He lifted her up to free her air passages as well as to hold her closer to him. In spite of his voice being strained from not taking medicine in a few hours, he ran the risk of becoming a mute by screaming her name out repeatedly next to her ear, each one with more decibels that the last. He shook her as he did it, but not overly so in case he created more dangers against his beloved's life. He kissed her deeply as another attempt to fight some response from her, yet she stubbornly refused to obey his wishes and made no attempt to show she was all right to him. He heard a few angry shouts and thumps on the wall adjacent to the bed, obviously telling him to be quiet so they could get some sleep or else they'd get the manager or something, but he chose to ignore them, if he indeed heard them at all.

             His voice was worse than it had been five months ago yet he persisted in shouting her name despite the almost unbearable pain and hoarseness, praying to all deities to ensure her safety, even if it meant he'd sacrifice something of his own for her life. As much as he despised relying on glasses for his sight, he'd readily become blind if it meant she'd survive even though it went completely against his personal fears. She needed to get some medical assistance so they could save Alyssandra, and the sooner she got that the better in case the haemorrhaging suddenly became too great, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her, even if it was only to run down two flights of stairs and across the street for a phone booth—it was just too risky an option for her to be alone for that time. His prayers and problems were partially solved mere moments later when he heard one of his offended neighbours hammering on the door with their fists. He took the latch off the door and opened it slightly without looking at who disturbed him—he'd already returned to his wife by the time they'd opened it properly. He tilted Jessie's head back and took the pulse at her neck as he thought how cold she was becoming, causing his own pulse to quicken whilst hers seemed to do the exact opposite. He noted his fingertips were slipping on her bare skin as a wave of anxious sweat washed over him. He used his other hand to examine the beats per second she had at the pulse point on her wrist, knowing that if it were slightly faster there he'd have a problem far more serious than losing his daughter.

            He could vaguely hear the unknown person talking—whether it was to him or someone else he'd never know—which is understandable when his concentration was so obviously directed in another location, plus he felt inhuman being covered in the blood of his lover and their child's. He wasn't even aware he was naked in front of a total stranger/s; all he could contemplate was the disaster in front of him, and he was desperately attempting to fathom why it had started, and why she would not awaken despite his strongest desires for her to do so. He placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and gently eased her eyelid back, noticing a brief fluctuation in the rate her pulse undertook; everything seemed normal yet why was all the blood here? Why was she tearing their lives apart when she hadn't done any strenuous or dangerous work lately?

            He jumped as he felt someone touch his shoulder—not because their hands were cold or the grip was tight, but because he'd genuinely lost sight of the information that someone else occupied the room other than the wedded couple, and being brought back into the living was an act that startled him, then disappointment followed suit when he realized it wasn't Jessie that had done it. Familiarity flicked across both their faces yet neither was able to place the others' name, and both felt it impolite to phrase questions as trivial as that at a crucial moment in time like this. He remembered opening the door now, but he felt discomfort as he saw the woman focusing on the blood adorning his body and genitalia as opposed to helping him in some manner.

            She brought herself out of her minor trance and explained that she'd rung for an ambulance and given them full instructions on how to get there and what room to look for, then she said they were on their way and for him to calm down in case they needed assistance. The words had little effect on him, however; almost as soon as she'd started telling him the paramedics were coming, Jessie had become decidedly colder and a little stiffer. He thought it was a mere affect the chilly atmosphere was having on her, but his anxiety peaked when her pulse dropped. He propped her up properly again and shouted out her name as he ensured her airways were clear, then he realised that no matter how soon the ambulance came, it wouldn't come soon enough if her pulse continued to plummet. He massaged her chest to get her circulation working again, and thankfully it picked up a bit and returned to almost normal. He knew that she had to wake up and fast if survival was to become an option, so with deep regret he struck her once across the face, and the unexpectedness of this move caused the other woman to shriek in shock. He murmured an apology to his wife as he delivered a kiss to her dry lips before doing it again, only this time her eyes flickered open just as his palm collided with her face.

             Oh gods, the way she looked at me then…the way her beautiful eyes stared at me…I'll never forget, no matter what procedures I take to do so. Her accusations were easily the worst—they shredded me in a split second like nothing I've ever known before and devastated my soul almost more than the threat of her death did. They still are. Were they justified? No, but then again there is some truth to her cries. Am I really like this to her? Am I such a terrible person? She's right. I am, and this is my entire fault. I deserve her contempt and more. I don't care if she never forgives me—how can I when I can't forgive myself? I'm sorry Jessie, I never meant to do this I swear, I love our child, and I'll freely swear I do. Stop making me feel worse, make this disaster cease, just for one minute. Please.

                                                                                                                    ***

             She didn't say anything at first as she registered the fact that her husband had just hit her; he'd never done it before even in jest, so why had he chosen to start it up now? And what was that on his body? She sat up properly of her own accord, not fully awake yet, still trapped in her question-filled thoughts. She moved slightly when she'd decided which curiosity to quench first, then she winced sharply from a calamitous pain originating between her legs and it all became frighteningly clear for her. She instantly wept her heart out and tried to stand up to examine the damage, but failed because the blankets were too tightly secured around her body. She also failed to note the presence of the other woman straight away, and even when she did it was of little importance to her. Her sudden movement accelerated the blood's escape course from her weakened body, so she immediately halted her struggle, feeling terrible as the thick fluid oozed swiftly from her body. She crossed her trembling legs in a feeble attempt to reverse the event and allowed her husband to hold her against his equally quake-riddled body, and felt slightly comforted as he kissed her hair; he would have kissed her lips instead but it he didn't want to risk letting her taste her blood like he was doing every second.

             The nameless girl politely excused herself and left, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with a miscarrying woman and her partner covered in her blood a few feet away from her, but her departure wasn't noted by either of them. As she pushed her way through the minor crowd outside the couple's door, she felt a wave of empathy stronger than before, and she was grateful to have done her part in helping them, even though there was a serious possibility she'd intruded with her request for them to stop making such a racket at all hours of the morning just a little too late.

              Jessie tenderly touched her cheek where he'd struck her, fully comprehending his reasons for doing it, yet still despising how far he'd wandered out of his characteristic thoughts and actions to do it. Her temperature was steadily ascending, shooting suddenly past what it usually was as she went from extremely cold to dangerously warm. He immediately noticed the change before the fever kicked in fully and he asked her how she was feeling as he knew she could fall victim to a heart attack from such sudden deviations, but her mind was too busy comprehending new terrible possibilities that had failed to enter her head before now.

              "You did this to me?"

              "What did you just say?"

              "You did this to me, you did it"

              "Jessie what are you talking about? I didn't gain any great pleasure out of hitting you, make no mistake regarding that. I hate hurting you Jess, you know that don't you?"

              "Why should I believe you when this is entirely your fault?"

              "I've accepted it without question when you've blamed me for things in the past, but you can't honestly expect me to accept responsibility for this; I admit I hit you, but I didn't do anything else when you were asleep, believe me"

              "Why should I believe you when everything I hear from your bloodstained mouth is a lie? You made me lose her"

              "Do you think I enjoy watching you like this? I love you, I love her, and seeing this is killing me. You're twisting the knife deeper each time you say you think I caused this to happen. You're not the only one capable of being hurt"

               "Cut the crap you lying bastard; you fucked me twice last night, and what's a remedy offered to relieve overdue women of their burden? Sex, that's what. I'm seven months pregnant James, you should have realised that it would happen, especially when you decide to take risks on more than one occasion per night"

               "I've never heard of that, but then again you've let me know very little about your pregnancy and things you've learnt. Had I known that, then there would have been no possibility of us having sex, even on our honeymoon. I love you and please get it through your head I haven't maliciously wished curses on you to ensure your pregnancy terminated. I wanted to share parenthood with you, and it's not too late so we still can"

               "You've killed her so stop trying to build up my hopes when it isn't going to work. Get the hell away from me; I'm not going to let my daughter hear you attempting to clear your filthy name in her dying moments. I'm not using you as a scapegoat for my anger, you deserve all the words I give you and many more I can't waste my vital energy voicing. Regardless of the golden yarn you're attempting to weave, we both know you're the reason behind this. You've killed her, and for this I can never forgive you. Get the hell away from me, NOW"

              His tears doubled as she completed her sentence with heart-breaking articulation, enunciating all too clearly how she hated him for what was evidently all his doing. The tears increased even more a moment later when he was roughly pushed aside by the medical crew from the ambulance as they tried to determine the extent of damage the foetus would have undergone by this stage, and what method would be most appropriate to move the mother without adding further risks. He felt more than cold as he caught her hate-fuelled stare when she was secured into the stretcher; he'd never seen anything that looked as inhuman as those normally beautiful sapphire eyes did then. It was then he realised that it wasn't shock, anger or panic talking in her venomous statements—she really did blame him for the potential miscarriage, and she probably meant it when she said she wanted her baby murderer as far away from her as possible. In spite of this revelation he made, he still followed his wife as they carried her from the room, but then his world truly fell to pieces when one of the paramedics pushed him backwards, with a gruff explanation saying that the patient didn't wish for his presence, and regardless of the fact he was her husband and father of the child in danger, she still called all the shots as it was ultimately her decision to refuse anything that could add further trauma to the situation and be a potential factor for the baby's death.

              For what seemed like an eternal moment in time, he stood there stunned as the truth finally hit him; in their darkest hour as a couple, he was trying to bring them closer so they could come out of the ordeal with at least each other, and she hated him for it. He failed to understand why she was acting so heartless towards him when he hadn't done anything wrong, or at least not to his knowledge. Had he really caused this like she'd accused him of doing? His thoughts were immediately drawn back to the way she'd stared at him, and he questioned his worthiness to stay alive whilst his daughter was having that right taken from her without her having a say in the matter. His mind was suddenly flooded with things close to his heart that he'd lost without a choice in the matter, such as his grandfather, his eevee and, more recently, Weezing. With a new sense of grievance, he snapped out of his thoughts and went to head out of the room, blatantly refusing to accept Jessie's order on this occasion, no matter what obstacles would arise in his path.

               His first impediment arose as he left the room, when he felt someone catch him sharply at the elbow with such power that he was unable to remove the grip without breaking his stride. He was surprised when he turned to ask whoever it was what they were doing when he discovered it was the nameless girl again, only this time she wore day clothes and had footwear protecting her feet from the cold floor. She advised him to get dressed quickly unless he wished to be detained and arrested by the police for indecent exposure in a public area, and he saw logic in her statement, even though he knew it would cause him to lose valuable seconds in getting to his wife. He still had a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that he should know her, and he assumed that were the situation less tense and vital for his marriage, he'd have probably recognised her immediately. She was also dealing with that sense of half-knowing the man before her, but she felt like asking him trivial questions such as what his name was at a time like this would be both inconsiderate and awkward so she held her tongue in case she made the ordeal any worse for him. As soon as he was dressed he bolted out of the door, wasting not even a second in catching up with his wife.

               A blast of adrenaline brought him to the ambulance without feeling pain in his leg, and when he stopped to argue with the paramedics again it kicked in, yet he didn't feel it because he was too busy concentrating on the situation at hand to allow pain to be a worried thought in his head. They'd secured her properly in the gurney inside the vehicle, and it pained him to see her with so many pieces of equipment attached to her. Her usual colour looked like a deep bronze compared to how deathly pale she was now. He didn't know if it was because of whatever drugs they'd given her, or if she'd changed her mind, but her gaze was beset with fear and worry, as if she was looking for comfort from him instead of blaming him for it. Maybe they'd told her the blood she'd lost already was too much for the baby to survive and she wanted help from her husband as opposed to the war zone she'd initiated. Regardless of her apparent change of heart, the paramedics remained firm with their decision against allowing the young male to board with his wife, as she'd been so distinct at her not wishing him there. They roughly pushed him back and refused to tell him which of the three hospitals she'd be admitted into, and as they slammed the door shut James had never felt so unwanted and Jessie had never felt so cruel, or so bitterly alone.

               She tried to call out she wanted him there with her, but the oxygen mask got in her way and absorbed most of what she was saying, then she felt a sharp jolt in her nether region as the ambulance accelerated sharply down the road and made a hard left. She cried with pain as she had yet to accept the anaesthetic into her system, when what she really needed right now was for James to hold her and say everything would be all right, but because of her, she was unable to have that comfort. She hoped that against all odds, he still loved her and would find a way to the hospital, because she avoided thinking that if she lost her daughter and her husband wasn't there, she'd be utterly alone with no family to call upon to help her share her encumber.

               Marriage is supposed to be the ultimate stage of commitment and devotion in a relationship, yet ours has only been in existence for a day and a half, and already it's in ruins. She doesn't want to see me, she doesn't want to tell me how she feels or how I can make her feel better, she doesn't want to know how I feel or how hearing her voice could make me feel quite a bit better. I never knew sex could create something so beautiful, so fragile, and later try to take it away again. I swear I'd never have done it if I had; a few minutes of pleasure for a sorrow far greater than the joy we felt in those times? It's not the kind of bargain I experience gratification with; I want Jessie to be strong enough just to hold onto our dear little Alyssandra until she makes it to the hospital where they can make the situation all better. I hope she's not going to suffer any long-term damage to her body  for losing so much blood, I couldn't imagine a life without Jessie, not after all these years together. To lose your first child, the one conceived the first night we made love is tragic; to lose your soul mate too is unthinkable.

                                                                                                                         ***

               How he was still able to stand as the ambulance pulled away was a mystery; the pains his body felt struck him all at once and he felt his world crumbling around him, until he felt like he was standing in a street filled with people staring at him for being able to turn his relationship into a powder within a matter of minutes. He felt a hand resting on his back, a small deed which in itself offered the distraught male a great deal of comfort. He turned around and saw the girl offering him a warm smile and he heard her asking where they were taking her. When he sombrely said he didn't know, the look on her face changed and she grabbed him by the elbow again, this time pulling him in the opposite direction to that they'd gone there in. he tried to break her vice-like grip off so he could continue watching the ambulance leave, as he'd felt like that way, he'd at least been a little bit aware of where she was and how she was feeling. He immediately stopped doing it as she told him she'd parked her car in that area, and she was willing to tail the vehicle for him since she felt, in spite of what his wife had said, they should be together at a time like this, and she'd just been too frightened to say it when she'd woken up bleeding heavily. James thanked her in a rush, unable to get the words out coherently because of both his tears and his astonishment at her needless munificence.

               He felt another stab of recognition as he put his seat belt on in the passenger seat, and at this stage he could allow himself a minute to think about who she might be, yet his mind still drew blanks when he thought about it. He couldn't have seen her in the last year as he didn't know her from the pub and he thought very little of women in the months leading up to when he first asked Jessie out (he'd made a resolution on his birthday for her to be his next girlfriend, or he should have at least asked her out by hers in September). He thanked her again as she turned the key in the ignition, this time making certain he'd taken a good long look at her face to assist him in his possibilities to her identity, but all seeing her properly did was make her look more familiar without telling him anything about where she'd grown up or how he knew her.

               She politely accepted his gratitude and told him she'd only done what any considerate human being would have done for another, and since the roads were empty at that hour of the morning, she had no difficulty in seeing the ambulance in the distance and had very little traffic to overtake to get to it. She later added she'd have personally dragged him there if he hadn't tried to get there himself and just given up, as there was something about his charm that reminded her of someone else. She didn't admit that she couldn't put a name to the person she was trying so desperately hard to remember, as it would make her feel more than a little stupid. Something else suddenly occurred to her, so she decided to go through with it, as it might help her decide who he reminded her of as a result.

               "Please excuse my lack of manners; I've forgotten to introduce myself in the heat of what's happening. My name's Violet, pleased to meet you, though I would have preferred for us to do so under more pleasant circumstances"

               She noticed immediate recognition visible on his face, which gave her hope but her heart sank slightly when she saw discomfort flash up in his eyes for a second, which meant this guy was probably the same guy she was trying to remember, and she now wanted to know how she knew him more than ever. He outstretched his hand to meet hers while they were behind a red light and clasped it gently, and with a warm smile he said:

               "James, your ex"

               She was suddenly very glad that the car wasn't moving as her first thought would have been to control the car, as that was an answer she wasn't expecting although it was abundantly clear how she knew him so well now. She felt like venting the years she'd spent hating him in one go now she had a chance, but luckily the traffic light changed colour and her return to driving acted as enough of a distraction for her to calm herself down and remind herself of the situation at hand, and she told herself that no matter how much he deserved it, she couldn't add more pressure to him when he was facing losing his wife and child.

               "So you're married, huh? That's surprising to hear"

               "We only got married on Saturday, if that's what you're wondering. I'm still not completely keen on the whole idea, as you know"

               "You claimed I was the only girl you ever told about your past, is that right?"

               "Yes, Jessie found out by herself. I didn't tell her"

               "Jessie, Jessie, why does that name ring a bell? Oh yeah, she's the one you attacked my Gym with on two occasions, isn't it?"

               "Yeah, it wasn't my idea and I tried to get them to raid other areas instead but they were determined. I'm really sorry, but I'm going to tell you I'm not the jerk I was when we went out"

               "You mean in four short years you've changed completely? Well then that's a real shame, because you were the nicest guy I've ever met, you were just an unbelievable bastard when you left"

               "I told you I couldn't stay longer than a few months, and I mean it when I said you've always held a strong part in my heart, but if I hadn't left so cruelly I don't think I could have left you at all, and there was a lot about me you still didn't know. I used your proposal as an excuse to get away before you got into danger, I just wasn't man enough to stay and explain why"

               "I loved you so much; do you know what it did to the rest of my life? I've had very few boyfriends since then, and I've got rid of them quickly because I feel men are afraid to commit to me"

               "I was going out with you for two and a half years, and I was there with you at your home for a good portion of that time, except for when I couldn't avoid leaving for a couple of weeks at a time. I didn't cheat on you with another girl once, and part of me really wanted to settle down with you when you asked me to marry you, but that opened my eyes. You couldn't marry scum like me and destroy your life, you deserved so much more than me. You still do"

               "How could it destroy my life by settling down with the man I love?"

               "You were the only girl I told about my history, but I was still a useless coward and failed to tell you about my then-present"

               "What are you saying?"

               "I was messed up when I met you, and I have to emphasise now that I never used you, or involved you with what was going on. You saved me from sinking into unknown ground even further"

               "What the hell are you talking about?"

               "I was on drugs when I met you, not really by choice but I'd seen something I shouldn't have so getting out wasn't an option. One of the tasks I had was to get women to like me, and then when I'd convinced them to sleep with me I'd bring them to an arranged place and I wasn't the one to have them, usually it was more than one person that gained pleasure from it"

               "Is that why you kept saying you'd never have sex with someone until you'd married them?"

               "In a way, but I'd wanted to be married first from an early age. The only reason I broke that aspiration was because Jessie wanted to, and as we were both outlaws at the time I didn't see marriage as a possibility. That was when she got pregnant"

               "Would you have sold my virginity out, like you did to the other women?"

               "Never; I saw us as having a future together which is why I risked life and limb leaving that city to be with you. I should have been killed for staying with you, and I would have been if the authorities hadn't arrived when they tried to go through with it. I swore not to return to you again after that; I didn't want to endanger you again, and I didn't want you to see me for what I really was either. In spite of how it must look now, I honestly did care about you"

               She didn't say anything else about the matter, though he could read pain in her expression without any great difficulty. For one short moment, he forgot about Jessie and wanted to make Violet feel better, knowing it was his fault she felt depressed, yet he couldn't think of what to say as there was no excuse for all the times he'd hidden important information from her in their relationship. He was drawn out of his reverie as the car pulled in sharply, and before he could say anything, she mutely pointed straight ahead and he saw that she'd pulled in at the hospital's parking area, and Jessie was carefully being unloaded from the ambulance. He thanked her repeatedly as he unbuckled his seatbelt, then she snapped out of her own trance and caught his hand, looking into his eyes as she showed him she'd forgiven him without the need to say anything. He smiled and kissed her on her cheek before leaving the car and running over to his wife, calling out her name as he raced towards her, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he made it to her as there were more medics helping her than there had been before, and he soon learnt why—she was deathly white and unconscious.

               His first thought was that she was dead, but then logic interfered and told him that if that were the case, then he wouldn't be able to see her as she'd have the blankets over her fully, which acted as a minor comfort to the panic-ridden male. He asked a couple of the medical experts around him what was going on, but he didn't receive a sufficient answer to sate his constant stage of fretting. He was told by the nearest medic to cease obstructing their paths, and before he realised it they'd started directing her towards the operating theatre. He was shown to a nearby room where he'd be granted permission to wait, but only if he stayed there and didn't disturb them for information again, as they'd feed him with every update they'd consider he should know.

               He sank down into his chair, not really aware of the fact he did it, his mind living in a different room, hopefully with his family still alive in it. Possibilities raced through his head without mercy, telling him why it might have happened, or worse, what might happen to them if the ambulance had arrived too late to save her. He felt numb when part of him told him that he'd never be able to hold his daughter, and when he thought about it a violent tremor rushed through him. He glanced up at the clock to see how long he'd approximately been enduring it, and he was horrified to learn it was only 05:34—he was having the worst time of his life when he'd usually still be asleep. He saw a sign on the wall that indicated there were restroom facilities in the vicinity, so he stood up and headed in that direction to clean himself up a bit, feeling horrendous to still have a coat of his wife's blood on him.

                When he was in there, he used the hottest temperature the water would reach to scrub himself clean, and he scalded himself raw in a few places from the constant rubbing of his skin in his desire to remove the terrible markings. Without cause, another violent jolt went through him—he thought perhaps he'd rested on something electrical with wet hands, but upon further inspection he found that wasn't the case. Without him being able of finding a reason to justify it, he suddenly broke down crying more bitterly than before, and he felt almost ashamed that he was unable to take a hold on himself and stop it. He felt incredibly weak and alone right then, and it took him over fifteen minutes to control his sudden outburst of depression.

                As he left the restroom to return to his seat, his heart literally stopped for a few seconds; there was a doctor standing there, and James could tell by his expression that the news he bore would be far from good. The doctor insisted he should sit down before learning the news, and since the male felt like the world was being dragged out from beneath his feet, standing was hardly an option he could go through with for very long anyway. Hydrochloric acid rose immediately to his mouth as he learnt the news since he hadn't digested anything in hours for him to vomit, and he felt in so much shock when he heard all of it that he was unable to react in any way—he felt as alive as chunks of unwanted marble after a sculpture had been finished.

                I know who I am and why I'm supposedly here, but how did this happen? Couldn't they leave me for a few minutes to grieve before accusing me of atrocious things I haven't done? I know my history's against me in this route, but how they found that out I'll never know. Do they really think that I'm capable of killing her, especially when I fought all odds at home just to be with her? I'm not at all like that bitch I used to call mother…is she behind this? No, she couldn't be, because if she learns my past I wont be alive for two minutes thereafter. I've learnt that it wasn't my fault at all, that the last words Jessie said to me weren't true, but how can I prove my innocence, especially when I know so much about it? Beautiful Alyssandra, you never had a chance at life, for this I'm eternally sorry and I wish you could have. I'm grateful the bankcard wouldn't work; not because I didn't want to spoil you but because it would make it all the harder for me to cope with this, my heart is breaking at losing you. And you dearest Jessie, my love…

                                                                                                                    ***

                He sat immobile for what appeared like a thousand countless eternities to him, slowly absorbing what he'd just heard. How could it be true? He couldn't comprehend why such a disaster had to occur just when they'd found their niche in life and even though he'd thought it a possibility, he hadn't properly considered losing someone so close to his heart that night. Jessie had haemorrhaged too heavily through the night, and there had been a time in the ambulance where her situation became critical, then she'd lost the baby whilst they were operating on her. Jessie was still unconscious and her situation deteriorated further by the minute since her body was less likely to accept the analgesics and medicine required to allow her a full recovery. The only change in his actions was he began shaking as he realised the shudder through his body had occurred the same time Alyssandra had been rejected by her mother's body. He felt number by each passing second and couldn't show any emotion as he thought about the harsh reality of the situation, and he knew losing his wife was a terrible but probable possibility, especially when he remembered how tired she'd felt lately—it could be connected to her not being strong enough to support herself and a baby.

                Minutes turned into hours as he sat there; he was unaware of his surroundings as all he could think about was his late child and the prospect of losing the woman he loved, then all his emotions came to a boil as he heard a newborn baby crying down the corridor; it brought it all home that he'd never be able to hold Alyssandra and soothe her until her tears turned to laughter. He heard its mother singing softly to it to help it calm down, which made him wonder if he'd ever be able to hold Jessie closely against his body whenever she felt upset, or whenever he just wanted to let her know he loved her. His attention was almost immediately captured when he heard the doctor saying, to someone he didn't recognise 'that's him there, he was the one that came in with the woman in question this morning'. He looked up to see if there was any information on Jessie's condition, but words failed him altogether when he discovered it was a police officer who immediately placed handcuffs on his wrist and declared him under arrest for infanticide and attempted homicide. He protested and wanted to know the grounds for such accusations, but he wasn't told anything other than his rights, and where he'd stand if he refused to use them.

                 The cell was cold, the whole idea of the accusations and atmosphere colder. The police consulted both of their medical history after an anonymous caller had donated a very generous tip-off, and they'd followed it up and learnt of his knowledge of highly illegal substances, which was a highlighted point as it seemed so uncharacteristic for a law-abiding citizen, as well as a few that were legal only to people in the medical profession. Since he had no qualifications, it was evident he'd partaken in some illicit actions to gain both knowledge and substances, yet they seemed uninterested with the notion of the unpaid bills they'd collected over the years. He was sitting there alone, not yet interrogated for information about his shady history and this made the waiting worse, since he didn't know exactly what the person to throw this spanner into the works had said, so he didn't know to what extent he could be liberal with his knowledge and experiences. He was fretting about Jessie's safety so he'd tell them anything they wanted, provided he wasn't too free with his words since it could result in him serving time in prison when he should be piecing his life back together with Jessie. He was finding it difficult to deal with the indictments that made him think about the worst parts of his life, combined with thinking about the very worst part of his life and how he was unable to cope with the situation and grieve with his wife, who could be dead for all he'd learnt of her condition.

                 The questioning didn't go well for him, though he did divulge information on Team Rocket like there was no tomorrow to get that bastard of a Giovanni back for raping his wife, plus to make it worse Alyssandra had existed at the time, so she'd suffered the ordeal almost as badly as Jessie had. He could never forgive that instance, as the deception on him had worked and his instant but easily explained assumption she'd been unfaithful caused her to suffer one of the worst crimes a woman can face (AN let me assure you it's not fun or enjoyable in the slightest) whereas he'd frisked with the bitch that was trying to kill him. So many times he'd thought their marriage would have happened a lot sooner and without even a week's disruption would have been if Mondo hadn't screwed around with him that day to nearly kill Meowth and have it off with his wife when she was in misery on the way home. He'd rip that filthy rapist he'd once considered friend asunder if it weren't for the fact he was already dead; he couldn't believe there could be so many ways in which he'd made Jessie suffer, as all those problems rooted back to him or his family. He hated her suffering now, alone to discover the results of her first attempt at motherhood. He'd lost concentration frequently in the questioning session as he pondered whether or not she'd still be alive whenever he got out of the mess in which he presently dwelt.

                 Suddenly he came up with the conclusion it was Tyra that had shopped him since he realised Violet wouldn't know his involvement in unlawful and frequently fatal abortions with deliberately infected equipment and nebulous thyroproxine, yet Tyra would know whatever Chopper had told her at the end of his life, jealous that he was not waiting to settle with the baby of his she supposedly had carried until the miscarriage. He felt insatiable rage building up in him at her doing it to him; he couldn't allow himself to think his sperm must be tainted and unable to let a child make the whole nine months of a pregnancy since it would involve him thinking about having sex with Jessie. After what he'd seen, the likelihood of them engaging in any nocturnal activity of a carnal nature was not possible, as he'd always think of the heavy clumps of clotting blood seeping like a river out of her and would be unable and unwilling to perform.

                 Meowth stared at his former female companion and partner in crime from a safe area that was mainly unnoticed from humans. He couldn't believe he'd allowed his emotions to blind him to the extent of him messing up the formula last night—he'd given her enough to poison her female organs, so if the nightmare became worse and she'd require a hysterectomy he'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd never wanted her to lose the baby; he'd just wanted to make them fret about its safety so they'd never think about him until he received an opportune moment to remind them of the partner they turned their back on and forgotten. His midnight blue eyes were constantly building up with moisture, but never once did he let any drop in case he made a sound that alerted staff to his unlawful whereabouts, which made his suffering harder to cope with for the feline.

                 He couldn't remember a time when he'd seen her look so frail, so helpless, so pale. It was worse for the little cat-type to deal with the loss of the baby he'd always imagined himself getting stuck minding whilst the teenage parents danced the night away at a party when he knew it was his fault, and that since he hadn't been around for months leading up to the birth anyway he would never have been chosen for such a job. He'd rung the police with a little hint towards James' past to throw the limelight of blame away from him, but he'd never considered the possibility of them being heartless enough to take a grieving father far away from his almost-dead wife. The whole idea of such an abominable atrocity was simply unforgivable to him, and he wished he could call them back and say it wasn't true, but, of course by now James would have poured his soul open if it meant he could be near Jessie again.

                 He felt that cold jab of horror return to his stomach as he dwelt on his actions, the same one he'd felt when he'd returned from giving her the dose and saw that instead of the bottles of poison and nebulous thyroproxine holding the same capacity since the same amounts were withdrawn from each at the same time, there was a great difference between the amount of remaining in each. He couldn't even blame Butch for this mix-up, as he'd been so determined to do it himself from the way he'd given Jessie some, as unintentionally as it had been, in the middle of the day a few days ago. That had made him lessen the amounts to give to her over the following days as he hadn't wanted her to lose it, but now all his careful calculations were useless because of his stupid and needless mistake, and he wanted more than anything else to be able to bring the child back to life. This was the first time since he'd been released from his comatose state that he'd thought like he used to, the first time he'd felt sympathy and acted with a conscience, the first time he'd truly wanted to turn the clock back so his friends could be happy together, even if they chose for him not to exist in their equation.

                 James buried his face in his hands and cried bitterly when his emotions overwhelmed him in the prison; it had just been too much for him to recall all of the women he'd betrayed into their gang rapes, his witnessing of women losing their children for their disobedience in some way or another…at least he hadn't been a part of Alyssandra's departure from this world. He'd been told of the suspicious levels of illegal substances in her body, such as an almost lethal quantity of nebulous thyroproxine and a culmination of two nasty poisons that would have eventually caused a heart attack if she was given them at a regular basis for long enough. He made it clear that although he'd never given her anything, or knowingly taken anything himself at any time over the last two years, he told them she wasn't ever a part of his world and never touched anything that was illegal, unless they included their drinking together even though neither was old enough to drink yet.

                 Since he could be used as a valuable source for information on the drugs world, he was injected with a truth serum to ensure every word was true, though he held back on a few facts in case du Paor ever found out he was still alive and a threat to his evil circle. Now the interviewing period was finished, the serum was reacting badly to his body and he thought about all the chances he should have had to save Jessie, and if he'd woken up earlier he could have saved their daughter. The sickening thought rushing through his head was that if it had been a regular miscarriage, the chance of her living through it would have been almost guaranteed, as a seven-month-old foetus is more likely to survive through premature birthing than an eight-month-old, so all he could think about was the likelihood of her dying from the poison accumulating in her body. He wished he knew who could have done such a terrible deed, or when they could have slipped the fluids into her without either of them knowing.

                 Without a prior word of warning, the door suddenly opened and two guards harshly picked him up and dragged him out of the cell. James shut his eyes against the spinning world as the serum attacked his pitiful vision, and when he opened them he was in a room with a female standing before him in plain clothes. He struggled to hear what she was saying against the ringing in his ears, but he was able to catch most of it.

                 "My name is Special Agent Pryer; I'm with the Intelligence sector of this region. It seems that your story checks out, and that you did not attempt to kill your wife or unborn. However, we are unable to overlook your knowledge and experiences against the law over the past six years, so we are unable to allow you to roam around freely with such a threat to society building up in you, and you could be an even bigger threat after this morning's event. You have a choice; you can be treated as such a threat and escorted everywhere by armed police officers who are trained to shoot first, question corpses later, or you could wear an irremovable tag around your ankle for the rest of your life, where we can monitor you and act immediately if anything else of a suspect nature occurs, the sooner you reply equals the sooner you may return to the hospital"

                 He nodded mutely and signed the forms proving he'd consented to being wired even though he despised the thought of people listening to his life; he was still unaware of where the bug Tyra had planted on him was, but had learnt the art of not thinking about it too much, though now he wondered what sick pleasure she'd gain from hearing the goings on of the miscarriage. He winced in pain as the sides of the tag were pinched shut, a stray spark of electricity singing the skin caused him to remember the device Deryck had used to nearly destroy his voice but failed to kill him, causing more detested memories to enter his head. He knew that whatever way this contraption acted as a disturbance in his destiny, it didn't really matter as long as he was taken back to the hospital to be with his wife when she truly needed him. He demanded to be driven back as he didn't know which hospital it was as he hadn't bothered finding out in all the hours he was there as it was needless for him to retain worthless information like that, and surprisingly they complied with his request as he'd followed their orders and questions without causing too much hassle.

                 When he was back in the hospital at a time of morning where the city was beginning to spring to life, he was informed she'd reached a more stable condition and had been moved to a private room of her own, owing to the gravity of the matter, but if he promised not to disturb her he'd be allowed in the same room as her for a brief period. He sat beside her, watching her struggle for oxygen even though an oxygen mask rested on her mouth, watching how unbearably grey she appeared next to the crisp white linen, watching the lack of a swell on her abdomen. He was grateful the linen was there, otherwise he wouldn't have known what to do if he could see the bloodstains leading down her thighs, or if the gown was dislodged, the offending stitches that acted as a reminder she'd lost the baby. She'd visibly aged through the ordeal, and looked older beyond her years even though she looked only slightly older than her real age the night before, the strain of the horrendous situation obviously hadn't consulted her vanity before taking its vicious toll.

                 Meowth felt cold and jealous again as he watched his partners in each other's proximity, even though Jessie was still unconscious and there was no bodily contact going on between them; he wanted to be able to ease his misery by showing him he wouldn't be alone if she didn't make it, but that would only scare or enrage the male even more when he discovered his close existence. He felt his existence contemptible as he saw the extent to what his actions had reached, and how he'd slaughtered two humans, yet left them alive to suffer eternally without the premier fruit of their passions, left them with nothing pleasant for the moment. They failed to resemble anything of the bright young thieves he'd once known, ready to prove themselves to the world, but with minimum danger and a guarantee they'd have a blast whilst at it; all those nights they'd spent happy even when they had nothing entered his head, where they'd talked, danced, eaten or done whatever they'd wanted that was free and gave them fun. Those carefree teenagers were now forever lost, and that magical sparkle that made their friendship, and ultimately their relationship might never be reclaimed again because of him.

                 The hospital staff gave him a complimentary hot meal at two o' clock, and he wasn't going to eat it at all as he concentrated on watching his wife, but he decided to consume it when his stomach began to voice its loud complaints that he hadn't eaten in well over nineteen hours. He thanked the young trolley woman when she returned for the empty plate in an hour, and it was shortly afterwards he noted a slight change in Jessie; she twitched her hand involuntarily and he immediately hit the panic button beside the bed to alert the doctors of her condition whenever they appeared. He was escorted out of the room but requested he be the one to tell her what happened, but conceded that if she asked them, he'd feel no bitter resentment if they went against his wishes. They revealed they intended running a few tests on her now and advised he leave the building for twenty minutes or so to get some fresh air and to stretch his legs; since her condition was practically stable, there was no possibility of anything life-threatening occurring again for the moment due to the intense medical care she received. He nodded but wished to be told of even the remotest change in her condition, which the nurse agreed to doing.

                 His head felt clearer as he stepped into the air that wasn't a retch-inducing warm or stale from being recycled for hours on end; this helped to shake off the final traces of the truth serum that dogged his senses. His nose detected the faint but distinct fragrance of tobacco, and he suddenly craved a cigarette to loosen his tight nerves and crumble some of this pent-up tension—it was a method he used to use as a young teenager when he needed to momentarily escape from whatever nightmare he suffered. He had no desire to smoke anything other than a cigarette though; even when he'd been on drugs he'd never been able to slow down the blasts he'd received, especially the times he'd chosen to smoke cocaine rather than snort it. He felt in his pockets and found his wallet was located in one of them, so he headed to the shop in reception to bow to his cravings on this occasion, and he knew that he'd probably have the rest of the packet for months on end as he was not overly fond of the concept of smoking.

                 He exhaled deeply as he first lit the nicotine filled object, and he thought of Violet, since it used to be something they did together even though it was an infrequent pastime they shared. He'd met her shortly after Jessie had left him to study to be a nurse, when he was just getting into du Paor's more respected ranks as a mainly reliable minion, but she changed everything in him. He knew he loved Jessie, but when she wasn't around and this new girl was, he felt like his feelings for his best friend were little more than a strong infatuation with a mere crush. He stayed with her in Viridian City for almost two years, then when she announced she was going back to Cerulean City to become an official Gym leader, he made the rash decision of wanting to follow her to be together and made the move, even though it ran the risk of him dying if du Paor caught up with him. He'd started feeling guilty with the possibility of du Paor arriving and slaughtering Violet for her part in depriving him of an extremely loyal subordinate, so as they drew nearer their three year anniversary he knew he had to leave, in spite of him needing to sacrifice his heart's feelings in the process.

                  The night he was about to explain the whole situation to her, along with his announcement of his future departure he intended never happened, as she did the worst thing his feelings could take—she asked him to marry her when they hit the legal age as they were together all the time anyway. He used it as an excuse and left her the next day, stunting her trust in men and their ability to commit to her as a result, and it was only today, a couple of years on she learnt part of the real reason why he left her after building her heart closer to his for two and a half years. It was another part of his life where he despised his cowardice and how inconsiderately he'd acted towards other people.

                   He stubbed out the cigarette when it hit the butt and swallowed a mint to destroy the evidence of it on his breath, feeling dirty at having to rely on something inhuman to make him feel better even though there was nothing illegal about what he used this time—it still acted as a reminder to how bad he used to be. He was allowed back into the room after ten minutes when the specialists had finished running their tests on her, and they warned him that she'd probably be disorientated when she finally did awake, but they admitted they had no idea what her health would be like as they'd never had a case such as hers in the history of the hospital. He knew a lot more about the drug than he'd told the police, and he was almost proud of himself for avoiding their truth serum by not lying but by not telling all he knew. He felt eyes on him, yet every time he turned around there was nobody behind him, or if there was they weren't facing his direction.

                   The breakthrough in her condition came as the clock neared the end of the evening, albeit a heart-breaking one. She murmured in her sleep 'Stop it Alyssandra' then eased her eyes open as the beating of her stomach became unbearable. She squinted to try stop the double vision from which she suffered and saw James looking at her with what appeared to be relief in his expression, which was the exact moment she realised she didn't recognise her surroundings and that she was in bed when it seemed to be late at night. She sat up, and this small process absorbed all the strength she'd built up in all the hours she'd been unconscious mercilessly. She outstretched her hand to James' and let him clasp it loosely; he'd somehow refrained from touching her as he'd sat with her in case it affected the needles in her veins, and he refused to run the risk of something worse happening for the sake of touching her skin.

                   "Shit, I always feel messed up when I wake from a dead sleep, so why am I feeling it now? What time is it and why am I here? Damn it; give me a break for two minutes Alyssandra"

                   "Jessica, there's something you need to know, and I am getting no satisfaction out of telling you this in case for some reason you think I am"

                   "Not the full name, it must be serious!"

                   "Jess, this isn't a time for jokes. You've lost her"

                   "Lost who?"
                   "Our daughter Jess, that's who; our lovely little Alyssandra. There was nothing they could have done to save her"

                   "What sort of sick joke is this you're trying to pull off? I can feel her kicking as usual, so go creep out someone else James. Are you telling me you don't want to raise her, and that's why you're telling me this cruel crap?"

                   His eyes were long misted over with tears by the time he'd told her, which helped her realise it was probably true. As he explained she'd been operated on and it was probably just the affected tissue throbbing because it was so tender, she glanced down and saw her stomach swollen, but not to the extent it had been when her memories were clear. Flashes of the ambulance ride stormed through her head and she realised with horror that every word he said to her was true, and she felt something close to a lightning strike attacking her body as the terrible truth swarmed her, blaming her for not being a good enough mother which is why her body rejected the baby on her behalf. Then the tears started as she crumbled away from a human state, weaker than the baby she should have had in a couple of months and unable to cope with the malicious and entirely unforeseen twist in her providence. He squeezed her hand gently and kissed it to show he cared and felt just as upset and fraught as she was, though most of his lifetime's supply of tears had been used that morning, on many occasions.

                   "Started up on cigarettes again?"
                   "Sorry, I needed something to calm myself down with, though it didn't help at all. How did you guess?"

                   "My nose is still functioning correctly so I can smell the smoke on your clothes, plus there's usually only your wallet in your pocket, which begs the question what lies in the other"

                   "You should have worked for the law, not against it for those years. You'd make a great detective"

                   "That's not true, if I'd detected this sooner then we'd never have lost her, would we?"

                   He dropped out of the conversation and remembered his constant blaming of himself all day and the night before, and realised she was doing the same to herself, but probably at a greater pace to catch up with him. He kissed her forehead and promised he'd return as the medics rushed over to check on her condition, and he decided they'd need a good bit of time to ensure her safety, and that it'd go faster if he wasn't under their feet. A doctor caught his wrist to get his attention before asking him if he wished to use one of the hospital's phones instead of coin phones in case he didn't have change, and James dejectedly informed him that there was nobody else he could inform of the situation as he wasn't on talking terms with his parents and hers were dead. He controlled himself against wanting to ring his aunt as she'd probably want to be there, then he'd have to explain why he was so close to her to Jessie in case she got jealous or hurt, and divulging even more information about his near-incestuous relationship was not something he wanted to do. Suddenly he thought about Elora, and he asked the doctor if it was okay if he could ring someone other than family. The answer he received was affirmative, so he was ushered into an office with the warning he was liable to be prosecuted if any of the patients' files were altered or removed.

                   He sat in the chair and dialled the number of what he thought was The Silver Bullet, though he wasn't overly sure if it was correct as he had seldom rung it whilst working there. He became more uncertain as it seemed to just ring out, even though he was positive it was open at that time; then he heard her voice as she answered it and it suddenly dawned on him how difficult it would be to talk about it without being able to see the other person's face. As he gave her a few pleasantries to begin with, needless as they were, he heard a tone in her voice that made it clear she was glad to hear from him. He also noticed the momentary pause and change in her voice when he said he'd married Jessie, which was nicer than her hanging up in a jealous rage with the news. He broke down again as he relived the details of watching their baby ebb out of Jessie's womb. He gathered a little comfort from the way he heard another change in her voice, only this one showed she was crying and was filled with sympathy for him, without any hint of her previous envious state. He found that however difficult it was for him to talk, from both his tears and the burnt insides of his throat, he felt better as he spoke to her about it—she was the only employer he'd never ended up resenting at one point or another, but then again she'd always treated him well as he'd never given her reason for complaint.

                   It took him almost five minutes to talk her out of her visit to the hospital she was determined to go on; it would have been a nice gesture but it was too far away for her to travel to and Jessie might not appreciate anybody else around for fear they viewed her as a freak in a carnival show that was unable to go through the simple procedure of childbirth without messing it up. He didn't think that of her for one second, but the way he saw it was that it's too easy to hurt a woman's feelings, and this moment was too tender for her to run the potential risk of making her depression worse. He prayed silently that it wasn't bad enough to make her contemplate suicide, because then he'd have no choice but to follow suit as he'd have nothing left to live for in life. He politely excused himself from the call, saying that he wanted to get back to his wife to see if she was finished her tests but with the vow to ring her again if anything changed or if he needed to talk to her again, and she revealed how glad she was that he'd confided in her as a problem shared is a problem halved.

                    He placed the handset back, and spent a moment thinking about how vastly different his life was now as it was when he was in Team Rocket; he then reached the conclusion he should never have asked Jessie out, or left it a week when she wouldn't have been ovulating and liable to get pregnant the night they did it. He stood up and stretched to pop a few vertebrae in his back to ease the stiffness created from sitting in the same uncomfortable chair all day, but it caused a spark to be emitted from the new tag adorning his leg, making him curse and growl in disgust from feeling like a caged pokémon without any chances of being released to the wild to experience a true meaning of living. He accidentally hit something with his elbow and he immediately turned to see what it was, and he saw he'd moved some papers from the top of the box. Curiosity overwhelmed him when he saw it was a patient with the same surname he had and he peered into it, immediately wished he hadn't from the view of what met his eyes.

                   Why did I do it, why did I subject myself to something actually worse than what the circumstances had been like before? This is an unforgivable crime, I can't believe my memories of today have been tainted and made me hate this even more, which is something I didn't think possible. I can't tell Jessie, there's no way I can do that, but how can I go through knowing this on my own? It must have been a set up right from the start; I've never heard of a generous doctor offering the use of a private room for a phone call, so he must have know it would happen, otherwise he would have given me a different office to use. Just let us out of this inhuman prison please, they're not trying to cure us, they're trying to kill us through misery and close the walls completely. Seeing Giovanni about to sleep with Jessie and taunting me with it was a far more enjoyable sight than this; in fact I nearly wish I'd seen him raping her that night, making her bleed all over the place even though she'd stopped bleeding during sex after our fourth time together, just so I could say I'd rather watch that than what I saw today. If these doctors are on our side, I'd hate to meet our enemies.

                                                                                                         ***

                    He jolted backwards and knocked into a desk when he saw it; his eyes wanted to be removed from his head at the sight in front of him, and he had an immediate flashback to how he'd reacted when he'd found Weezing. He couldn't draw his eyes away from the sight—it was so haunting it was impossible to look away even though he wanted nothing more than to do just that and run out of there as quickly as possible. In the box was a bell jar, containing the foetus Jessie had lost, labelled as 'vaginal waste induced by illegal substances, LCX 7309', and he could make out every feature in her small but fully formed face even though it was coated in thin blackish blood as it was thickly clotting, but the jar was airtight so it couldn't dry. Her right hand was balled in a loose fist and her other was outstretched, making the small corpse look eerie in death as it looked like she was trying to catch hold of the walls of Jessie's womb, almost as if she knew when she swam out in the choking fluid she'd asphyxiate on blood, amniotic fluid and oxygen. He was frozen solid to the spot with terror at being unable to stop staring at his dead daughter—he wasn't even blinking—and he found himself involuntarily drawn towards her eyes, open but he was unable to determine what colour they would have been, though they looked a shade of aqua green to him, a pleasurable culmination of those of her parents. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, and around the blood he could see a faint show of white in her gums, which meant she was going to be born with teeth, and her teething problem would probably be the reason behind her kicking Jessie's insides to a pulp in recent times. It was the first and only time he was grateful his vision wasn't pure, since he was able to pick out such aspects with astounding clarity with the poor vision he maintained, he shuddered to think how crystal clear it would be if he had his former acute sense returned to him.

                    He felt bile return to his mouth at the sight of her, and no matter how much he wanted to do it, he couldn't bring himself to scream or make any noise to alert somebody of his present situation. It was like a cruel jest, making a distraught man suffer seeing his deceased daughter in a position depicting pure terror in a jar, making her look as unloved and needless as a jar of pickled onions. The more he saw her, the more he wished he had never slept with Jessie, even though it would mean he'd still be unhappy and forever thinking what it would be like to kiss her—sex had been enjoyable but now he hated it, hated it giving them something so lovely then smashing that dream in an instant. His knuckles popped in his clenched fists yet he still couldn't bring himself to move, still drawn to watching the grotesque imagery in front of his eyes, his mind playing illusions of her moving her thumb slightly, but only so slightly he registered and sensed a movement but when his eyes were locked on target he detected nothing.

                    The door opened and the generous doctor stepped in, then suddenly he went immobile when he comprehended the situation he'd created and not understanding to what level of terror it would have on the former father-to-be. He returned the jar to the box and sealed it wordlessly, still trying to think of a perfect sentence that would remove the blame from his name and make the other room's visitor break out of the apparent horrific state of being and that sentence eluded him, if it did indeed exist at all. He couldn't even think of any words that could snap the other male out of his trance, staring frantically at where he'd seen her, in spite of her being completely hidden from sight due to the heavy duty cardboard creating her tomb. He picked the box up and placed it on what seemed like a semi-raised panel above the desk, and before James could properly see what happened, the doctor had pressed something and it slid down a chute on its own and out of the room. James immediately shot into action and raced to where the box had disappeared, asking where it had gone and when she'd be back.

                    "I'm sorry sir but that item won't be returning here, as it summons professionals to work on it, yet nobody in this hospital wants to risk messing it up by making even a minor slip-up on it, so it's been sent away for people with the right skill to perform their duties"

                    "My child is not an it" As the words departed from his mouth, he fully recalled the time where Jessie had demanded sex and he wouldn't comply with her wishes—had it really been less than two weeks ago?

                    "My humblest apologies sir, but although you may see the effluent matter as possessing a gender, it is better not to name the children as three have been too many incidences in the past where students have cried upon seeing a name written on a jar the same as someone they knew, and then the whole procedure is wasted. A terrible shame it is when that happens"

                    "Don't you dare refer to my baby as sewage, you're the demented bastard that set this whole thing up anyway, and why did you call her by an experiment number when giving her true name on the glass would make collecting her foetus a little easier for my wife and me, rather than considering this as a sick laboratory test?"

                    "First of all alter your manner when you're addressing a person known as one of the best in the medical profession, and secondly I don't think you understand what's happening, junkie; you're not getting that useless matter returned to you, ever. So tell that to your wife if you want, because that was a fine specimen for showing kids why drugs are wrong. Did you get a good look at her? Keep that thought in your head for the rest of your life"

                    James didn't know what happened for a few seconds; all he felt was a strong stinging in his hand and a squawk from the other person, barely realising he'd hit the doctor. Part of him wanted to immediately apologise for his actions but the rest of him told him to kill the man for insulting his daughter (the comment referring to him as a drug abuser was nothing new and it slipped by without a second of offending him). It took a lot of gritting his teeth and thinking prison would mean Jessie being utterly alone to stop the latter from coming true, as he was sorely tempted to go through with it to vent his anger. He walked out of the room with more whirring thoughts in his head than when he'd gone in there. Unaware Meowth had heard the whole thing.

                    Jessie tried moving up in the bed when the tests were done, feeling electrifying stabs of torture in her womb in each second of it, then the unbearable throbbing commenced when she conceded defeat to the pain. Angry salted capsules slid freely down her face from both heartache and extreme discomfort, making her question what was so wrong with her life and what number of countless serious crimes she must have committed in past lives to deserve such seemingly endless suffering of losing her first child and her husband keeping on abandoning her in times like this. She knew it was not a nightmare from which she could awaken and still carry Alyssandra, but she was hoping that the cruelty would cease with a nurse bringing her baby in, wrapped up in fleecy blankets with an apology that there had been a mix up, but they'd told her she was dead when really they were cleaning her up and ensuring she was fine. She suppurated bitterly as she knew she'd never hold or love her daughter as a mother should, forever in wonder how she'd have grown up and who she resembled more, both in physical appearance and attitude.

                    Telling Jessie they were unable to cremate their child was the hardest thing James had ever had to do; losing her so suddenly was one thing, but for the option of them being able to officially say goodbye to them to be stripped away completely was soul-shatteringly difficult, yet only one of them knew the reason why. It appeared the world took everything from them to learn of their ultimate breaking points, and as that horrendous day wore into the night, they slipped further from the determined strength their adrenalin had concocted and decided their respective partners could carry on fine should they proceed to take their own lives to be with their daughter. The sedatives they received from the medicine trolley made little difference to their states of being, other than draining them mercilessly of what little strength they possessed, and their dreams were more horrific than ever before, chaotic tides of blood invading both heads and sweeping each with the drowning gurgles of a baby. The only thing the medicine did was stop them waking up from their terrifying nightmares, which became more terrifying and blood-lusting as the night wore on, endlessly it seemed.

                    Unknown and unseen to everyone that night, Meowth stole into the storeroom where the foetus was being held until the morning, where it would be transported to a place with a wider range of state-of-the-art machines to carry out the tests perfectly. He picked up the bell jar and sprinted out of there, as he wanted her to stay in one piece and not allow them to defile the innocent baby's body when she'd hardly sampled life. He ran in the city, searching for somewhere secluded to reduce the risk of someone seeing him, or worse, him tripping over something and dropping it, making the fragile glass scatter everywhere. He found a park and pawed a deep hole in some bushes in an almost lightless area in it, so when someone noted the top layer of soil as disturbed, they' have to dig for quite some time before they could defile her. He tore away the experiment coding written on it and embedded the thick glass with her full name by using his claws, regardless of the pain he endured or the loud noise it made. He carefully laid her to rest and left a flower on the top to signify her departure of the world would be remembered by more than just two people, and that her memory would be ever-living in their hearts.