A/N: I'm giving a warning on this part -- I had a bit of a hard time writing it, some may have a hard time reading it. If you read Part 10, you probably have a fair idea what's ahead. It ain't sunshine and puppies. Someday I'll write sunshine and puppies. Today is not that day. I can only hope that I did the subject matter some form of justice.
Secondary A/N: Updates are going to be less frequent in the near future, as grad school is going to require my serious and rarely divided attention until after I complete the final draft of my thesis in early April. After that, I will only have the oral defense left, and should be able to write more regularly again.
Growing Up Chase
By Rebel Yell
Part Eleven (Age 16)
"Robert, I'm sorry, but there's been a car crash -- I've been called downstairs."
"It's all right, Father Foley. You've done all you can. So have the doctors. Go on. Those people need you more than Mum."
" Right now, I'm more concerned about you, Robert."
" I'll be all right, Father."
" You shouldn't be alone now, son."
" I'm all right. Mum and I, we're right used to it just being the two of us."
" I'll be back as soon as everything is settled downstairs."
" Don't rush a sacrament on my account, Father. Those people need you. Their families may too. We'll be just fine up here."
" I'll send in one of the nurses on my way past the station."
" I think that's a good idea, Father. Thank you, for everything." Rob hadn't looked away from his mother once during the conversation, and didn't look up when he heard Father Foley leave the room. To be honest, he hadn't looked away from her since Danny and his parents had left when visiting hours were over, several hours ago now. Rob was pretty sure that Mrs. Kelleher at least had wanted to stay with him, but he'd assured her that he'd be fine on his own. At nine o'clock, the doctor had told him that they expected it to be tonight. She was unconscious, had been for a day. Her vitals were dropping, slowly but surely. It was only a matter of time before she just stopped living. She'd signed all the paperwork that nothing more was to be done when she was still capable. Rob fully intended to be at her side when it happened. She'd seen him into the world, and he would see her out. He stared at her face, trying to burn her features into his mind. He knew, one day, he'd need a picture to remember clearly, but he wanted to put that off as long as possible. He tried to remember what she had looked like, before the drinking and disease, and struggled to do so. She'd been beautiful -- he had pictures to prove it -- but he couldn't really remember her like that. For some reason, even in his earliest memories, she looked like this worn, sick version of herself. He'd lost the memories of her from when she was beautiful. He didn't want to lose this too.
" Rob? Are you all right?"
" We're fine, Karen. How's Mr. Corrigan next door? His wife looked happier today."
" His heart rate is improving, and he's off the ventilator now." Karen reported, although they both knew she wasn't supposed to give him any information about another patient. Normally, Rob just asked Mrs. Corrigan, but he'd been distracted today when she stuck her head in the door to say "good night" at the end of visiting hours. She seemed really nice -- she brought in cookies and cakes and all sorts of sweets for him. She said it helped her not worry so much about Mr. Corrigan's stroke, if she was baking. Rob just enjoyed the fruits of her labors. It had been awhile since anyone baked special, just for him.
" Good. He'll get to watch his grandkids grow up after all."
" Well, it's a step in the right direction after all. You must be the only teenager I've met who actually knows what all those machines do -- and can explain it to other people."
" My dad's a doctor. Any afternoon he had to take care of me, I spent in a hospital. I used to wander about a bit. Always liked the ICU. It was quiet, and the nurses thought I was cute. I asked loads of questions."
" Should we call your dad, Rob? I'm sure he'd come in for--"
" No, he won't. The divorce was…not amicable. I called him several days ago. He's not interested." He hadn't said as much of course, but he hadn't called back at all. Rob rather figured that meant that Dr. Rowan Chase wasn't at all interested in his son and ex-wife. Or he just didn't think it was important. Rob had spent a lot his life being less important than whatever article was being written, or new research being looked over. He hadn't expected this to be much different.
" I'm sorry. Isn't there anyone who can…be here?"
" It's just me and Mum, Karen. Thanks though."
" What about the people who were in earlier?"
" I'd rather not bother them at one in the morning."
" Well, do you mind if I sit with you a bit?"
" Don't you have patients?" Usually, the nurses had two each, on nights. He usually shared Karen with Mr. Corrigan, lately. It had been an eighty-nine year old widow before that -- Mrs. Hurst. She'd died the day before Mr. Corrigan came in.
" Just your mother, tonight."
" Then I don't mind."
Three hours later, Karen paged for a doctor. Rob knew, without her saying a word, that it was time. The monitors were telling him enough anyway, in their mechanical way. He forced himself not to cry, trying to think about how much better his mum would be without the pain of her disease, and the addiction, and all her other problems. Nothing could hurt her after this. She'd be safe and she'd be happy and she'd be loved. It was all Rob could have ever wanted for her. Still, he couldn't help holding her hand a little tighter, couldn't help the selfish part of him that wanted her to stay -- even if she was sick and she was a drunk, she was his mum and he wasn't sure what he was going to do without her. The doctor arrived, turned most of the sirens off on the machines, and stood back to wait. If Rob had looked up, he might have seen the group of night-shift nurses in the doorway, watching and waiting. He didn't look up. He was holding her hand and looking straight at her face at 4:28 am when the doctor made the declaration.
At 7:00, after the necessities had been taken care of -- including a long trip to the hospital chapel -- Rob asked Karen if he could use the phone. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he asked them if he could walk on the ceilings, the nurses would do their best to help him right now. He hadn't been able to actually say it, that his mother was dead, when Mrs. Kelleher picked up the phone, but she'd known nonetheless. He couldn't remember much of the conversation, short as it was, even the moment after he hung up.
At 7:30 am on the day his mother had died, he'd finally started crying when Danny's arms wrapped around him and he couldn't help it anymore. He thought he'd calmed, until Mrs. Kelleher took over for her son, hugging him tightly and petting his hair that way that mothers had and he'd started sobbing again. He held it together, barely, a half hour later when Lizzie tore into the ICU lounge, tears streaming down her face and she'd pulled him into another embrace. He didn't even ask how she knew, or whether her parents would be angry that she was skipping school to be with him. For now, he was too grateful to have both his best friends with him. Just this once, he'd not worry about how much trouble he might be getting them in. Just for now, he was going to be selfish.
