Disclaimer: I don't own it. You know that.
A/N:
"...did she just update? I thought she was dead!"
"Nope, just lazy."
"Oh."
Warning: Kleenex might be needed. Sorry.
Complicating Matters
"How is everything?" Pan was sure her voice relayed her nervousness, but she couldn't help herself, the doctor was still looking grim and she had been here for an hour longer than expected. "Am I okay? Is the baby okay?" She persisted when he didn't answer right away.
Still silence. He looked up at her with somber brown eyes that told her this was something she wasn't going to want to hear. Shaking her head in disbelief, she clutched at her rounded belly in slight distress and shook her head. She had felt the baby moving around minutes before, there couldn't be anything wrong.
"Everything will be fine." He told her quietly, shaking his head to rid her of some of the panic in her eyes. "Calm down. I'm simply want to call your husband back in the room so that we can discuss a couple of matters."
"What matters?" She snapped, not trusting the look that she had seen moments before or the fact that this visit had taken her so long.
This had not been an easy pregnancy. She hadn't thought pregnancies were easy, but she hadn't chalked them up to being this complicated either. Her 'morning sickness' had been extreme, her fatigue even worse, and her mood swings had even made Trunks weary of her at times. She couldn't say she blamed him.
Her ankles were always swollen and no matter how many bananas she consumed, she seemed to always get leg cramps in the middle of the night, right when she had finally managed to go to sleep. Oh, that was another thing, she hadn't been able to fall asleep for the entire night since she told Trunks she was pregnant. It was like admitting it out loud, to her husband, had resulted in all the symptoms swinging into full force.
To make matters worse, they had put her on a diet two months ago, fretting over her blood pressure. It was common, the doctors had assured her, nothing to worry about. But they wanted to make sure that she maintained a normal level because hers was getting a little high and that could lead to troubles later. And that, of course, was just something else that worried her.
Now she was in the doctor's office–they had increased her number of check-ups after that blood pressure issue–and had been in the doctor's office for two hours. Trunks was dying of nervousness and had been asked to take a walk to calm himself down; he was probably more on edge than she was.
He had been a perfect angel throughout the whole thing; he had dealt with her mood changes and her cramps and her swelling without so much as a complaint. At least, not one that she could hear. Her cravings had been outrageous and every time she turned to him with another new want, he had simply done his best to give it to her. When he wasn't there, though Mrs. Henson was living with them now and delighting in helping Pan through the pregnancy anyway that she could, Trunks had hired someone to be on her beck and call.
She had tried to talk him out of it, of course, but he had refused to listen to her. Anything she wanted, he'd told her, he would give her or find somebody that could when he couldn't. The only thing that stopped her arguing was knowing that if someone else were there, Mrs. Henson would not feel responsible for taking care of Pan. Lorraine was sick herself and didn't need to be caring for a pregnant girl to top it off.
The last six months had been filled with nothing but excitement for everyone in the family. Bra and Ubuu had snuck off, days before the baby was due in fact, and gotten married in secret. She had given birth four days later than expected to a boy named Parker. Bulma, of course, had been upset and forced them to redo the wedding thing with the whole family present. It was there that Pan announced she was pregnant for everyone to know, throwing a pointed look at her grandmother that told the woman she was happy about it.
She and ChiChi had been trying to make the best of their relationship but sometimes Pan could still feel the strain. Being pregnant, though, had made things so much easier between the two of them because ChiChi was looking forward to having a house full of children to babysit when the time came. And, Pan suspected ChiChi had always felt the closest to her so she was happy to have a chance to bond over something.
Pan had been getting advice from the women on Saiyan pregnancy and what it was like, wondering if she was supposed to be this drained. Each of them had told her that it had been hard on them, but that they couldn't predict what it would do to her since she was stronger than any woman that had ever before carried a Saiyan child–that they knew of, of course. This, honestly, had sent a shiver of pleasure through Pan that she still got every time she thought about it.
She had not gone through all of that, Pan thought angrily, to be told that there was something wrong now. She was going to get through this. She was eight moths pregnant for heaven's sake, well past the miscarriage stage and she was supposed to be out of danger.
"What matters?" She repeated again, because Dr. Brown was only looking at her and not answering. Perhaps it had only been a second since she'd asked, but that time had ticked by like an eternity.
"Why don't we wait until your husband comes back, Mrs. Briefs. Honestly, it's nothing that can't be resolved easily."
"Then why," but her sentence trailed off as the door swung open and Trunks stepped back into the room. He looked as worried as she felt.
He came towards her instantly, taking the seat next to hers and grabbing her hand, intertwining their fingers in a comforting gesture. "What's wrong?" He questioned her, looking from her to the doctor. "What is it?"
"The both of you are on edge," Dr. Brown told them, a cutting tone to his voice. "Stress isn't good for the baby. I want you to calm down Mrs. Briefs and leaving the worrying to the professions. I mean that," he was giving that stern look again. She nodded, controlled her features, but did not release the breath she was secretly holding in. He hadn't told her anything to relieve her yet.
"Now, I've got the results of your blood test back and it seems that your blood pressure level had exceeded the normal bounds, once again, and gone into dangerous territory."
Both she and Trunks opened their mouths but Dr. Brown held up and hand that told them not to interrupt.
"I'm putting you on bed rest until the baby's born; I'm also going to prescribe methyldopa. It won't harm the baby and it will help to control your blood pressure. My main fear, Mrs. Briefs, is that you'll develop preeclampsia. It's a condition that causes hypertension, water retention, and a possible kidney problem. This concerns me because it leads to premature birth and poor nutrition for the baby."
Pan gasped, covering her mouth as she listened intently, still holding her stomach securely with one hand and Trunks with the other. They were all she had in this world. She wasn't going to lose either one of them.
"Don't worry, we're not going to let that happen. That's why it's imperative that you stay in bed for the next month, Mrs. Briefs, if you get up for anything other than necessity it's possible you could upset the baby. If you don't think you can do that then we'll have to schedule delivery as soon as possible."
"I can do it," Pan replied automatically, looking at Trunks to grasp his reaction.
He looked white around the lips but he was smiling reassuringly at her and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles lovingly. "Of course you can," he told her before looking back at the doctor.
"So, there's no danger then, is there?" Trunks asked as casually as possible, wanting to know exactly where they stood. "As long as she stays in bed, I mean."
"This is still a high-risk pregnancy, Mr. Briefs, don't get me wrong. But most pregnancies are 'high-risk' no matter what we classify them as so, no, I wouldn't worry about anything." He shuffled some of his papers, an indication that he was nearly done with them, and rubbed his hands together, considering his next words carefully. "Just in case, however, I have a neonatologist on call for the next two months."
Trunks, who had sat up in his chair in preparation of leaving, leaned back again. "What," he asked slowly. "Is that?"
"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Briefs, simply a precautionary matter. A neonatologist is a pediatrician that specializes in newborns. She's very good, the best in the hemisphere, in fact, but I doubt we'll need her."
"Then why did you," he stopped himself, feeling the first touches of anger seeping into his body. Why would the doctor call a neona-whatever if they weren't going to need one? If everything was perfectly fine? This wasn't good.
Taking a calming breath, he told himself that he needed to stay positive. For Pan's sake. The doctor had already said that stress wasn't good for her. And in her condition...
"Right," he relaxed himself out loud. "Right. Okay, thank you Dr. Brown. Is that all?" His voice betrayed him by shaking the slightest bit. He knew Pan had heard it but she didn't say anything.
"Yes, that will be all for today. You have my number, cell and home, both of you. Feel free to use it anytime."
When the hell did doctors say that, Trunks thought angrily, if not because there was a problem. "Hopefully, we won't need to." He told him tightly, massaging his wife's hand as he helped her out of her chair and toward the door.
They had to be careful from here on out, he realized, or else things would get complicated.
She hadn't been allowed out of this stupid bed for nine days, besides getting up to go to the bathroom, and even then Trunks had carried her. It was quite embarrassing, in fact, but she would do anything to protect her baby. Even if it meant letting him undress her every time she was ready to take a bath, because he didn't want her to do that kind of thing–it required standing up and moving about.
Not that she had minded that part too much...
A smile crept onto her face that was wiped off when she felt the stab of pain shooting through her back and all the way up to her temple. She'd had a headache for a month now, more like a migraine, that was not going away. Along with the swelling of her fingers and face and ankles, she had been experiencing a very severe head pain. Dr. Brown had assured her that it was because of her high blood pressure, when she saw him nine days ago. But now the headache had escaped her hand and moved all the way down to her back.
She felt uncomfortable. Her stomach was cramping and no matter how she moved she couldn't get rid of the feeling. Then she realized that her back had been aching for a while and that was the second time today that she'd felt that pain shoot through her body like that.
Something was wrong.
Leaning over, she grabbed the bell that Trunks had equipped her with and gave it a hearty ring. Trunks had gone into the den to get some of his paperwork done so she knew that he would hear her, it was right next to their room.
The cramping chose that minute to get worse, however, and she dropped the bell in pain. Trunks came in a moment later, confusion written all across his face.
"What's wrong?" But taking one look at her, he knew what it was. She was going into labor.
"You're not in labor Mrs. Briefs." The nurse told her with a grin, looking just as relieved as Trunks felt. Pan only felt confused.
"What?" She asked, shaking her head at the nurse. "Yes, I am."
"No, you're not. You're not due for another month and you haven't dilated at all. If you want, I can call the doctor in here to check as well."
"No, no," Pan shook it off, feeling dazed. "I'm not in labor?"
"No." The nurse told her again. "It's false labor, actually, and I'm just going to get a shot that will stop the contractions for you. I've read your file," she told her before Pan could interrupt. "I know what medicines you're on and I know this is 'high risk,' don't worry. It's a simple shot and, on the obscure chance that I'm wrong, if you really are in labor the shot should have no effect on you at all.
"It's going to put you to sleep, so you can get some rest, but if you are in labor you'll wake back up. It's a simple as that. Now, let me get the shot so you two can go home." She smiled warmly again and headed out of the room. A minute later she was back with a syringe in hand. She prepared it, then Pan's arm, and shot her with it.
"She should be asleep within the hour. Feel free to call or come back if something goes wrong." She told Trunks before bustling out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Trunks was laying Pan in bed before lounging on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. Something didn't feel right and he wanted to be here in case she woke up.
She felt the pull through her sleep but she fought it, drawing herself deeper into the covers. Everything was hazy around her and she couldn't think, but for some reason she knew she needed to. She needed to open her eyes.
The dark was encompassing her, though, and she felt so warm. Snuggling deeper, she pushed all thoughts away and gave into the comfort of feeling weightless. She was dreaming about floating in a pond, swimming in water. Lots of water. It was everywhere and she felt like she was at the bottom of the ocean.
Her legs were squishing in it. Her body was being rocked by it. She was a feather on the moon. Nothing but air and floating and wetness.
Then she realized what it was.
She actually was wet. She couldn't have used the bathroom on herself, she hadn't done that since she was a little girl. But she had been knocked out because of that shot.
That shot!
She needed to wake up. She fought against the darkness and the weightlessness and the water. Pushing herself up, she threw her body from side to side, trying to pull herself out of her dark place. Feeling like a drowning fool, she pulled her body up and pushed away the dark. She felt her eyes opening and realized that Trunks was shaking her.
Looking at him groggily, she tried to mumble that she needed to get up, but no words would come out. She could hear him though, as if he were distant, standing meters away.
"Pan, wake up. Please wake up. You're wet, sweetheart. The bed is soaking. Your water broke,"
Your water broke. Your water broke.
There was nothing she could do about that, now was there? She wasn't a water-fixer-man, she didn't know how to repair water. It would just have to stay broken, she was sleepy. Couldn't he see she was sleepy?
"Pan, wake up," he continued to plead. "The ambulance is on the way, but I need you to wake up baby,"
Baby. There was a baby. She was having a baby. In fact, she was having a baby right now. She had to open her eyes, she had to but she couldn't.
Everything faded out again. She caught snatches. The flashing lights. The noise. Her husband's hands around her face, his kiss on her cheek, his comforting touch. Then voices, foreign voices:
"Don't push, lady, we don't know how to deliver babies."
"Try and wake her up, Sam, will you?"
Don't push lady. Don't push. She couldn't open her eyes. She was having a baby and she was going to miss it! How the hell was that fair? She was asleep and they were telling her not to push?
"I'm so sorry," this was a feminine voice. She recognized it. She had heard it earlier today. But she couldn't place it. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think you were...You hadn't dilated...I..."
"You said she would wake up!" That one she recognized. That was her husband. "Why the hell can't she wake up?"
I'm so sorry. I didn't think.
Your water broke.
Don't push.
I'm so sorry.
She was going to die. She was going to be smothered by the dark and the water and the weightlessness. She was going to die and Baby was going to go with her if she didn't wake up.
She couldn't wake up.
"Sleep," she heard her own distorted voice mumble. "Need. Sleep."
Then things were distant again. She understood different things throughout her stages of sleep. There were brighter lights now, and beeping, and voices. She was in the hospital.
"You can't stay in here," one of the voices informed. But she couldn't get her legs to work so she ignored him and kept on sleeping.
"I have to stay with her."
"This is ICU, you have to wait outside. I'm sorry, sir."
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
She was awake enough to realize that Trunks was leaving. His ki was missed when he walked away. She didn't realize her hand was reaching for him until someone forced it down. He was gone.
He wasn't allowed to be here. Now he was missing Baby's birth and so was she. In fact, Baby might miss Baby's birth if Mommy couldn't wake up.
She was going to die.
She caught more snatches. Some beeping had stopped and now there was an incessant screech, a continued beeeeeeppp. She knew what that meant. She couldn't remember. Was she dying? No, she was breathing, she couldn't feel it. Baby. Baby was dying. Heart wasn't beating.
"...can't cut her, it'll be too late for that."
It'll be too late. Too late.
"She'll have to deliver normally..."
"...how if we can't get her awake?"
"...just have to make her push..."
Deliver. Awake. Push.
Baby was dying. She could feel herself thrashing in her sleep. She could feel them holding her down. She was trying to shake off the darkness, trying to fight it. She just wanted awake. But she couldn't wake up. She heard her own voice, moaning in agony, and thought that she was listening to someone dying in her room. She didn't realize that she was listening to herself.
That was when the light exploded into her vision and the darkness scattered away. Her baby was dying. She wouldn't let her baby die.
"Push Pan." She heard a comforting voice tell her, his soft hands brushing the strands of sweat matted hair on her face. "Just one push, sweetheart."
She knew that voice. She had to catch it. It was going away, moving farther away from her, still chanting for her to push. If she reached out, if she just reached, she could get it. Get him. She pushed herself up, breathing in and out as he coached her, his voice floating all around her.
Fighting, fighting, fighting, she opened her eyes. She had to see him. Gabriel. There was a flutter of brown whizzing by her eyes before he disappeared and his voice left her completely. She gave the final push, heard the constant beep stop, and caught her breath in her throat.
It was quiet.
Then, a minute that seemed like centuries later, she heard the cry from her child that told her something had saved her baby's life. An angel, perhaps. Gabriel, certainly.
Then she laid back and closed her eyes, drifting off again into her unnatural sleep.
"She's flatlining." Dr. Brown noted urgently. "Get the baby to the neonatologist, now!" He rushed one of the doctors out, pulling up his sleeves. "We've go to stabilize her."
Trunks was dying in the anticipation. They wouldn't let him in the room. He had tried as many times as he thought he could, without heeding progress, but he couldn't take it any longer.
His father was pacing the hospital halls, looking as if he were ready to murder someone, he was so nervous. His mother, sister, and Videl were all huddled together, trying to stay calm but crying. ChiChi was sitting on one of the chair and looking almost as nervous as Trunks felt, and everyone kept shooting him sympathetic stares. Goten and Marron were hugging each other for support and he had no one to hold on to. His life was inside that ICU room and that wouldn't let him in there.
Even when they had rushed his child out of the room and into another unit, he was offered very little explanation. The baby was still in danger and, apparently, so was Pan. But they expected the baby to pull through just fine. No mention, however, of the same prognosis for his wife.
He couldn't stay out here! If something were wrong, if she were dying, he had to be with her right now. His body nearly crumbled at the thought but he forced himself to remain calm. They really wouldn't let him inside the room if he lost control. It would get in the way and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to kiss her, to see her, to be with her if something was going to happen.
"Listen," Trunks said, approaching the nurse guarding the door for the fifth time. He had tried explaining that he had to go inside that room but the man seemed unresponsive. "Have you got a wife?" He asked, trying for the empathetic approach.
"No." The male nurse answered dryly.
"Well then you don't know what I'm going through right now, so let me explain it to you. That woman in there is the only thing that keeps me grounded. She's been there for me through every stupid mistake I've ever made in my life, and she's forgiven me for each one of them.
"She's never thrown my past back in my face. She's always been supportive, a friend even when I swore I didn't need one. She's been the person who held me when I cried, who loved me when I had no one else, and who would do anything just to make sure I was happy. That woman would turn down the world if it were a choice between that and me.
"She had been unselfish, right to the very end," his voice cracked a bit when he got to that part, not willing to admit to himself, yet, that this probably was the 'very end'. He knew if she died he'd probably just curl up and follow her.
He couldn't think about that.
"And if you've never had a wife then you've never experienced that kind of love. But I have. And if this is it," his voice cracked again. "Then I'm not going to stand outside this room while she slips from my grasp. I don't give a damn what your policy is, let me make myself perfectly clear, heaven and high waters couldn't keep me away from her when she needs me the most. I've never loved anyone or anything the way I love her; and if it means knocking you out of my way to get in that room, then that's what I'm willing to do."
ChiChi, who had been sitting close enough to hear the entire conversation, felt something within her soul stir in that moment. Hearing the distress in Trunks' voice, the love, had reminded her of something she couldn't ignore. Goku would have done that for her, she realized. He would have been that passionate if she were in Pan's place. He wouldn't have wanted to see her hurt or in danger.
He had never stood for anyone placing a risk on her life.
She had been wrong about so many things. Trunks clearly loved his wife with a passion ChiChi couldn't have ever fathomed. And no one deserved to go through this kind of stress or pain.
She got up quietly from her seat and walked around the corner to where Trunks and the male nurse were standing.
"What my grandson means," ChiChi intervened, dropping the 'in-law' for the first time since Pan and Trunks had married. "Is that if you don't let him inside that room, this entire hospital will be so far into a malpractice law suite, by the end of the evening, that even your grandchildren will owe us money. Who, exactly, injected my granddaughter with that shot, anyway?" She added as a 'helpful' reminder.
The nurse swallowed and stepped silently away from the room.
Trunks looked back and ChiChi briefly, telling her 'thank-you' with his eyes.
"You can thank me by telling my granddaughter everything you just told this man. Something tells me she doesn't hear it enough," ChiChi informed gently, thinking, I certainly didn't.
The doctors didn't even look back at him as he stepped into the room.
"Clear," he heard one of them call as another placed something on her chest and she jolted. Her heart was beating, he realized.
There was blood everywhere. He got slightly queasy, looking around, but shook it off, approaching the bed with caution. They repeated the process two more times before her heart started beating again and Trunks let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.
Dear Dende.
There really was blood everywhere. He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat and stood beside the side of her bed, looking down at her with loving eyes. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat and wearing a bloody hospital gown. He only hoped that this wouldn't be the last time he ever saw her breathing.
He didn't even feel the tears rolling down his cheeks until one of them slide into his mouth and rested on his tongue. When had he started crying?
Swallowing, he drew his shoulders back and watched, distressed. They were hooking more machines up to her, but mostly they were backing off.
"What's he doing in here?" He heard someone ask.
"It's all right," someone else intervened.
"No," someone argued. "It isn't."
Trunks couldn't bother to take his eyes off his wife long enough to find out who was saying what.
"Look at them," the same person who had responded the first time answered. "Are you going to tell him to leave?"
There was a ring of silence before Trunks felt a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not leaving." He whispered hoarsely, sounding sick even to his own ears.
"I wasn't going to ask you to, Mr. Briefs. I've pulled up a chair, is all," Trunks recognized this voice as the one who was defending him; Dr. Brown. "Take a seat."
"How is she?" he asked, his voice still scratchy, not moving.
"If she doesn't wake up in the next hour," Dr. Brown told him seriously, his voice sounding solemn. "I don't know if there's anything we can do."
"Why?"
"The medicine that she was taking along with the shot and her...apparently, her heritage, caused a volatile reaction in the blood stream. If she doesn't wake up, she's going to slip into a coma. If that happens, when she starts to have seizures as a result of preeclampsia, there will be nothing we can do to stop them."
"If she does wake up?"
"Then we can flush the medicine out of her system and keep her occupied enough to ward off the seizures. After she's stabilized, she'll be out of danger."
"What are her chances."
There was tense silence.
"We didn't know the medicine would disagree wit her ancestry, Mr. Briefs. There was no way we could know. I'm sorry."
"What are her chances?" He repeated, not paying the rest any attention, his jaws clenched in annoyance. Why couldn't he answer the question?
"It would take a miracle, sir."
Trunks swallowed the lump in his throat and caught himself before he collapsed to his knees. Nodding stiffly, he made his way over the chair and scooted it closer to her bed.
"That'll be all." He told the doctor, who was the only one still in the room.
"There's a grief therapist down the hall, Mr. Briefs, who will be here when you-"
"That will be all." He told him thickly, hearing the tears before he tasted them this time.
Trunks leaned over and took Pan's small hand in his own, resting his head on the edge of the bed so that he was just barely touching her. He cried himself hoarse, praying for a miracle. One he needed desperately.
A/N: Yes, that's a cliff-hanger because I'm evil and I enjoy torturing you. If I made you cry, though, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, also, that it took me so long to update. I should finish the rest of this scene tonight and then the epilogue, and you should be set–before the beginning of next year. I'm not telling how it ends though. evil laughter
Review or I might forget to update with the rest...-cough- I wouldn't do that...-cough-