Maybe It's Better This Way

Chapter: 14: Endless

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Hey lovely people of the fanfiction world. Big apologies for the delay; between an OC marathon, the 2006 Brosnanathon, results and staying up till 5am far too often this chapter just kept not happening. I had to reorganise the next 5 chapters and add more to this scene to make it a whole chapter so as not to mess up those already finished! Thanks for bearing with me. Good luck to anyone with A/AS level results!

So damn tired so haven't properly checked this. Sloppy I know. I'll do it tomorrow!

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'You've got a check up with Dr Marks this morning haven't you?'

Kirsten nodded, taking the coffee Sandy handed her.

'Do you want me to come?'

'I'm not made of glass Sandy; I think I can manage,' she snapped. Sandy opened his mouth then closed it again without saying anything.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Since she'd cried last night she didn't seem to be able to stop. It felt as though the moment she'd opened her eyes they were swimming. She didn't feel in control and hated it. She couldn't seem to keep her temper in check either and poor Sandy was suffering the brunt of it.

'No worries,' he said, pecking her on the cheek, 'I get it.'

She sighed; it was more than she did.

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But there were a lot of things she didn't seem to understand. Her tears for one. Crying in front of anyone, bar Sandy occasionally, was not something Kirsten Cohen did. It was a sign of weakness and yet she had walked into the doctor's office, been asked how she was feeling and burst into tears. It was highly embarrassing, frightening in fact. She wasn't this person. Was this what it was like? You lose a baby and then completely lose it yourself? Several minutes after the storm subsided, she discovered that Dr Marks now knew about the nightmares, the visions, the abortion, and she had no recollection of sobbing out such confessions.

The doctor had shaken her head worriedly and turned to the computer, bringing Kirsten's records onscreen. 'This is important; I'd like to discuss it after the examination.'

She had nodded and silently accepted the thermometer, blood pressure cuff and other paraphernalia. Then the questions began. Conscious admissions didn't come so easily and the doctor had to resort to listing her suspicions.

'Obviously you're under a lot of emotional strain with your loss and the issues it brings up with the abortion. This often manifests itself in nightmares, sleeping problems…have you experienced the latter also?'

Kirsten would have smiled if she could remember how. The endless sleepless nights were evident on her face. She had woken early that morning from another nightmare. The world was in that still, silent limbo before the sunrise. Not dark, not daylight. A pale, smudged, watercolour landscape met her at the window, muted colours, greyness. She padded into the bathroom, not wanting to see the sun rise and make the world that should stay grey streak into bright technicolour. Her reflection was smudged too, or maybe that was because she couldn't focus on it. Couldn't meet the vacant eyes. She looked old she thought; her face thin and pale, stubborn mauve shadows ringing her eyes, even her hair looked lifeless and lacklustre. She still felt clammy after waking sweat soaked from her nightmare and she languidly undressed and climbed into the shower. Ten minutes under the spray didn't prove refreshing, mainly because the noise meant she let herself cry. Now she just felt heavy and still not properly warm. Sandy was still dead to the world; the smudges beneath his eyes echoed hers. He was exhausted with grief, looking after her and trying to keep up with a full-time job.

She lay down beside him, pulling the covers up to block out the growing brightness, her thoughts and the memories she didn't want to remember. She remained in her cocoon, sleeping fitfully, eyes pressed tight shut against tears, ignoring the sunshine and her husband who stretched and departed as soon as he realised she was awake. Today seemed like another good day to not get out of bed.

'Can't sleep,' Kirsten muttered. 'But can't get out of bed.'

'Are you finding it difficult to function normally? To follow a regular schedule? To start making peace?' The doctor questioned in quick succession, reeling off various scenarios and reading Kirsten's face when the woman couldn't bring herself to nod. Eventually she stopped and glanced at her notepad.

'I'm concerned that you're showing…depressive tendencies and anything I prescribe simply to help you sleep won't help in fighting that, could make it worse.'

'Worse?'

'Treating both means a substantial drug undertaking.'

'I don't care. My husband will but I don't.'

'Well it's as you wish but you also need to accept that it's early days yet, perhaps look into natural remedies or such like. The doctor began talking sympathetically about 'time' and 'therapy'. Kirsten felt sick.

'I don't want to talk about it,' she forced out. 'I just want it to stop.'

'I'm afraid it's not that easy.'

'Please. Just something, to make it all stop for a few hours at least. You know what I saw last night? Last night there were faceless babies in my head. Not even babies, just the beginnings of them. They didn't have mouths and yet they were screaming. They didn't have eyes and yet they were staring at me. There were two with scars on their chests, over where their hearts would have been. Their hearts were missing; I could see through the translucent skin. Those two babies were mine.'

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'So, um...' Sandy began hesitantly that afternoon, having come home for lunch to see his wife. 'How…what did the doctor say?'

'Not a lot.'

'How are you feeling?'

'Fine.'

'What are those?' he asked, gesturing at the prescription bags in her hands.

'Medication.'

'There's a lot.'

'I had preeclampsia Sandy, I'm still on antibiotics.'

'And the others?'

'What is this? The LSAT?'

'Honey…I just…'

'You're not gonna approve so you may as well not know.'

'OK now you're worrying me.' The concern in his eyes got to her and she relented, slightly, glancing at the labels. 'It's just Trazodone and Estazolam.'

'Because that's really helpful.'

'It's what it says,' she said nonchalantly, turning to leave.

'Wait, Kirsten…Trazodone? Didn't you take that after you had Seth? When you were…'

She turned back to face him, her face emotionless. 'What? Depressed? Yeah, I did.'

Kirsten walked off. The conversation was evidently over.

Sandy watched her go and sighed. The moment he was back in the privacy of his office he reached for the phone, tapping in the now familiar number. Fortunately the doctor was between patients and Sandy was immediately put through.

'Hello?'

'Hi, it's Sandy Cohen, Kirsten Cohen's husband.

'Sandy,' she said pleasantly. 'Is everything alright?'

'Yes… and no; Kirsten saw you this morning didn't she? And…um, well she doesn't really want to say anything about it so I wondered what you could tell me.'

'Well I'm sure you know all about confidentiality,'

Sandy gave a sympathetic laugh before Dr Marks continued. They'd known each other a long time. She was the family doctor. He knew she would tread the fine line between appeasing his anxieties and remaining loyal to the code of practise and his wife's privacy.

'But I think this is a little different. I can speak generally. Kirsten's healing physically, emotionally, not so much. I suppose you know that though'

'Yeah,' Sandy agreed, asking desperately, 'Is there anything I can do?'

'These things take time Mr Cohen, just be supportive, talk to her.'

'That's kind of a problem; communicating her feelings isn't exactly a favourite pastime of Kirsten's.'

'There's always counselling. I did broach the subject but…'

'I can guess the response. I'll have another go. But I can't make any promises. Another thing though…the pills you gave her.'

'She said you wouldn't be happy.'

'It's not like that, I just worry.'

'They're mainstream drugs. Estazolam is a mild sedative, barely stronger than Nightol or something you can buy at the drugstore.'

'She doesn't need sleeping pills.'

'She thinks she does.'

'And you don't?'

'Sandy. Your wife needs more rest than she's getting for recovery and if this helps I'm happy to prescribe them, at least for a couple of weeks. That's all.'

'I guess can't deny she's not sleeping.'

'I'm not saying they will put an end to the nightmares or even borderline hallucinations she's having, but they should help her relax.'

'Relax. Don't know if we know that one anymore.'

'You know if you're having problems too…'

'No,' he responded sharply. 'I mean, thanks but…we have two teenage sons. Someone has to sleep with half an ear open.'

The doctor laughed. 'Don't push yourself too hard, you're under emotional pressure as well. But going back to Kirsten, the other drug, Trazodone…'

'Is an anti-depressant. Kirsten took it after our son was born.'

'I saw that in her records, so I knew she wouldn't have an adverse reaction.'

'That's not the point though is it?'

'I think I know where you're going with this. Kirsten needing them isn't any reflection on you or her, or on how supportive you're being.'

Sandy didn't answer.

'With or without them you're going to have to be patient. She's still going to be upset but this way it should be easier to cope. They won't start working for maybe a month or so though so keep the Kleenex handy and try to get her to open up to you. She was adamant she didn't want to talk to the psychologist.'

'I don't know what else I can do.'

'It's not up to you to fix this Sandy. Kirsten will either come round or…'

'Or what? She's like this forever?'

'No. Or she'll come to terms with things by herself.'

'I don't want her to have to do this alone.'

'She knows she's not. I just mean, eventually, the reconciliation is going to have to come from within.'

'I guess,' Sandy admitted, a little bewildered by the doctor's psychobabble. 'Well thanks doctor.'

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He held off the conversation until the evening when they were alone. Kirsten was sat at the table in their room watching the sun set on the ocean horizon. He paused in the doorway taking in two of the most beautiful sights on earth. 'Hey,' he said softly as he sat down beside her.

'Hey,' she echoed, 'how was work?'

Sandy noticed she didn't listen to a word of his answer; the question had merely been posed as a distraction.

'Talk to me,' he said, tired of watching her secret thoughts flit across her face as though he wasn't there.

'I'm talking to you now aren't I?'

'You know what I mean.'

'Perhaps I don't want to talk about it.'

'But if you're not talking, you're not dealing. And if we're not talking, we're not okay.'

Kirsten fixed Sandy with an open stare; 'Things haven't been okay for a long time.'

'I know.'

'And you think talking is gonna put everything right?'

'It's a start.'

'I don't know Sandy, I just don't know anymore.'

'I was thinking perhaps you could…go see someone…you know, talk about things.'

'You're sending me to a shrink?'

'I'm simply saying it might help, you're obviously not coping and you won't talk to me…'

'Why do we always have to be talking? I've told you I don't want to talk. I've talked enough.'

'No you haven't and now you're going to hide behind a load of pills and potions.'

'You don't know what it's like inside my head Sandy.'

'No but we could figure it out,' he offered, dropping the drugs question for another day, another argument when they were less emotionally exhausted. 'We could both go to therapy, together.'

'You go if you want to. I can't. I don't want to admit it hurts. I really wanted that baby Sandy, and now she's gone. I'm just supposed to cope with that?' She stood up and turned her back on him. 'I'm going to bed.'

Sandy ran a hand across his face; he didn't know how long he could do this. Watch his wife spiral and not be able to save her.

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