Rebirth – Chapter 4: Choking on Afterbirth
-Notes-
Wah! Where'd all these reviews come from? Well I would have updated sooner if the site hadn't been under construction and all, but I apologize for the wait all the same.
Agent182: Yeah, sorry about the shortness! That little chunk didn't seem to fit in anywhere else, so I just sanctioned it off on its own. Thanks muchly!
Angelgardian666: I was actually starting to think that I was the only one who saw the connection or the possibility of the couple until I started posting here. Yay! Thank you!
Kaliska Vanka: Hospitals suck. Bleeeh. Thank you, I hope I keep you in DIRE SUSPENSE! Um…okay…maybe not so much. Enjoy!
Merry-2004: Ah yes…writer's block…Grr. Thanks for reading, I'm thrilled that everyone seems to like it so far. I'm surprised—no pointless bashing comments yet.
Anyway, read on, my pretties…
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His eyes were so unforgiving. Sometimes he wished that he never had to open them again. Then maybe he would never have to remember the horror…After all…his dreams were so much more pleasant. Behind closed eyes, he had seen the energetic figure of a young child. A little girl with dark hair, reaching for him, gripping his leg, laughing mercilessly as he found his own hands going to grab her. Switch over into a memory from longer back…that same little girl. Just a toddler then. As he came into the room of his house, loosening his tie and still carrying his suitcase with a tired sigh, there she sat in all her glory, covered in blue paint. Handprints adorned every wall, smattered also on the carpet and bedspread with tendrils of blue streaked through her hair. She had looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes…and offered him up a dripping handful of paint. He tried so very hard to be angry with her—she was certainly not supposed to be in this room while it remained unpainted and half-finished—, but he couldn't breath from the stabs of laughter hitting him again and again and again from the sight of his mess of a child. …Diana…
For some strange, unfathomably gracious reason, these dreams had won out over the nightmares.
His eyes flickered open hazily. Damn those bright lights…the all too familiar whir of machinery met with the awkward feeling of numbing painkillers and groggy pain still lingering despite them. His leg was aching terribly. But he was alive…He didn't know for how long, but he was alive. And thirsty as hell. How long had he been here?
He slowly turned his head to look around the room. White walls, the blue-green curtains used to separate beds even though he was alone here, and the undeniable aroma of a hospital bed. All of which were out of focus and dreary. "Oh…" he moaned slightly as he tried to raise a hand to his head, but another hand made it to his wrist first.
"Dr. Gordon?" a woman's voice.
"Mmmhuh?" he forced his eyes to open again, squinting against the awful lights and trying to find the face of the speaker above him.
"Dr. Gordon? Are you awake? It's…it's me, Jennifer. Do you remember?" the voice continued, and Lawrence tried hard to pull it out of his memory. Jennifer…Jenniferrrr- Alvin! Jennifer Alvin, of course, one of the nurses. Thirty-two, single mother, constantly forgot her name tag…
"Yes…" he answered in an exhausted tone. "Sure. Jennifer."
"How are you feeling, doctor?" the hand moved to his head, then to his wrist again, which he now saw was attatched to the plastic IV ropes filled with blood and medicine that he had so often administered himself into his patients. It made his arm sore. He then turned his attention back to the question, furrowing his brow. What kind of a question was that? She had no idea, she couldn't possibly. Kidnapped from his car, chained to a wall, forced to hack his own foot off to escape a rabid maniac hellbent on torture. She had the nerve to ask him how he was feeling? "Just relax for now. You've lost a lot of blood and you need to rest."
"…I…" he croaked out, but before he could get any further, a straw was pushed up into his mouth. He coughed a little and feebly reached up a hand, but it didn't quite make it. He drank a good deal, a stream of water pouring from his mouth as he swallowed painfully one last time.
"There you go." Jennifer said soothingly, taking the cup away.
"…" he clenched his eyes shut for a minute before finding her face again. Lightheadedness was sinking in slowly and he wasn't entirely aware of what brought out his next quandry. "…Who was the doctor that sutured me…?"
"Dr. Krovan." She answered in a cheery tone, wiping the water away from his chin with a napkin. "You were in surgery for a full six hours."
"Six hours…?" this time he found the strength to lift a hand to his head, shakily rubbing his temple.
"Yes. The blood transfusion and the re-attatchment. You're very lucky, you know." She said matter-of-factly.
"What…?" it hurt too much to think right now. He didn't know what she meant. He made a brave test to move the foot he knew to be missing, but felt nothing but the very real pain in his leg.
"Don't strain yourself, doctor." She ordered motherly, pulling the thin white sheet up to his chest a little more. "Just rest. Relax."
"N-don't…" he let out a frustrated growl, but it came out as only a choppy whisper. She actually seemed to stop and listen to his protest. "My wife and daughter…where are…Allison and Diana…"
"They're just fine." She held up a hand. Lawrence felt like he could die of joy then and there. They were fine. Meaning they were alive. "They were here for the first few hours, but it was very late by the time they left. They'll be back in the morning to see you, I'm sure."
"Oh…that's…wonderful…" his eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath, tears absorbed into his eyelashes. They were alive. They hadn't been killed…It had to be some kind of miracle. "What about Adam?" his eyes snapped open. "Oh God, Adam!"
"Calm down, doctor!" Jennifer placed her hands quickly on his shoulders as he jerked, almost as if she were afraid he actually had the strength or intent to leap out of bed and escape. "Just lay back and sleep for now, don't worry."
"Where is he?" he hissed, wincing in pain as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position.
Jennifer cocked her head a little to look at him, a bland, curious expression on her face. "Who?"
"Adam!" he yelled out, this time successfully breaking the bonds of his weakness to bark out a sufficiently intimidating cry. She jumped back, startled. "God, you found him! Tell me you found him!"
"O-Oh, you mean th-the young man that came in with you?" she raised her hands up to try and appease him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know his name."
"How could you not have even asked him his God damn--?" he ground out, but quickly clenched his jaw shut, forcing his head back down onto the pillow.
His name is John. He's a very interesting person…
"Where is he?" his voice now thuroughly scratched by his outburst, she had to strain to hear him.
"He'll be alright—" she began.
"Jesus…" he gasped in relief, rubbing his head again.
"You really shouldn't worry right now, doctor. The most important thing is that you get some sleep."
Lawrence didn't have the option if he wanted it. Within a few more aching minutes, after the nurse had left and the lights were dimmed, he fell rigidly again into a somewhat uneasy sleep.
