Chapter Twenty-Eight

She is rushed to the hospital by the girl who lived next door, whose parents had lent her a car. Everything is chaos and screaming and pain. She is admitted and laid down on a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and doctors. She is still tired and she can't focus at all. The only thing she can think of was the pain and the squeezing and Oh God, the baby's coming. Whose will it be?

Her thoughts are interrupted by one of the doctors.

"Is there anyone you need us to call? Anyone you want informed as to your state?"

"Madame…Pommier…" her voice comes out in short, hard breaths.

"Not the father?"

She turns and looks at the doctor. Her eyes are deep and angry and hurt. "No."

And that is the end of that.

It goes on for hours and hours. There is no real sense of time here, just poking and prodding and pushing and pain. And so her mind wanders.

She imagines Erik, with his white mask and black cloak, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. In her mind's eye, she sees him tapping his fingers in impatience and worry. He gets up and paces around, stalking to and fro and making everyone nervous. A small smile comes to her lips at the thought.

But another contraction comes and he is pushed out of her mind. It makes her more aware than ever before that he is not here, and his absence tears a hole in her heart again.

Why can't you come back to me? If not at any other time, I need you here. I'm strong, I know I'm strong, but I can't do this without you. It has to be your child. Please, and her thoughts have a desperate tone she had never had before, please come back.

But the waiting room remains empty of Erik and the only person who comes to visit her was Madame Pommier, who sits in the waiting room even though she has classes to teach. Alison hears and is grateful, as much as she can think through pushing and stretching.

Erik is there, sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, then driven away by her screams of pain. Flitting in and out of her room like a shadow, and the doctors never see him. They never see anything. Nobody seems to understand: no one, no one. She imagines that they saw hundreds of girls like her in a year, college kids with no father for the baby. But how could she explain that the father was dead?

One way or another, he would be dead. Even if it was Erik (oh god pleasepleaseplease let it be Erik I can't love a baby that's Patrick's) he's gone. Long gone. Unless anyone can live for two hundred years.

Thoughts shattered, splintered. Contractions, pain. So it goes, over and over and over again.

Too long. Is it taking too long? It's not like she's had a baby before and she's nervous, so nervous. How can a college kid take care of a baby on top of homework? But she can't give him away, not when he could be Erik's. It all comes back to this, doesn't it? Patrick versus Erik. But in her mind it's never a choice.

Strange things that she thinks about when she's having a baby. Although she supposes it's only right. Why can't her mind function properly? If nothing else, after this she won't be fat anymore, although there will be marks.

Now Alison has to push, trying as best she could to bring her baby into the world. Erik's, Patrick's. It doesn't really matter now, does it? Seven billion people in the world, and all Alison has to do was bring in one more.

Fear, now there's so much fear. What if there's a problem? What if the baby dies? What if she dies? For the first time, she is inordinately glad that she did not stay in Erik's world for this. It would have been messy and scary and there would have been so much more of a chance of dying. And she hadn't gotten this far just to die now.

The doctors whisper encouragement. "This is it, it's almost there, come on, you can do it…" Their voices fade together in her mind.

One final push-

Then-

Silence.

Everyone waits with bated breath for the baby's cry. Oh god please let it not be dead-

A soft, musical coo fills the air. Less abrasive than a normal baby's cry. The doctors look surprised but it is a cry after all. It does the crucial job of making the baby breathe, so it doesn't really matter what it sounds like.

She keeps her ears open, desperate for any bit of information, and receives some. "It's a boy!"

Madame Pommier comes in to congratulate her, wiping the sweat off her brow and combing her tangled hair with her fingers.

"Wonderful job, Alison," she says, voice tender and affectionate. They had gotten closer during the pregnancy, even though Alison didn't take French anymore. She couldn't. It just hurt too much. But it's okay. Madame Pommier doesn't get it, but she understands.

Doctors rushing around, doing tests, making sure that the child is okay. Alison and Madame Pommier wait together.

In her nervousness, Alison is babbling. What she doesn't realize is that she's babbling in French. Madame Pommier, however, notices.

"Oh God, what's going on? Where is my baby? I need to see my baby. Erik's baby. I get too fixated on things, I know, but I need to know. I need to hold him. They said it was a boy. I need a name! I couldn't even think of names before I knew what he looked like. It needs to fit him. Where is everyone? Who-"

"Alison. Alison." Madame's voice is concerned and shocked.

"What?" Alison asks, stopping in mid-sentence, strangely giddy.

Madame starts to say something, hesitates, then: "You're speaking French. I thought you didn't like the language."

Alison closes her eyes. It all comes flooding back in those two sentences. No father for her baby. No lover for herself. No life. No dancing. No Paris. Of course.

Uncomfortable and pained, she shifts back to English. "Yes, well, doesn't mean that I don't know it." She turns her face away and says nothing more about it. But she is still trapped in the glow of motherhood, waiting to see her baby.

The doctor comes over to her and stands beside the bed. Why is she walking so slowly? Is there a problem? What's going on?

"Congratulations," the nameless doctor says softly. "He's beautiful."

And she places the baby in Alison's arms.

Even after all of this waiting, she is nervous. What if there's a problem? What if it's Patrick's? What if…what if…

There's no point in doing this waiting. So her eyes float down to look at her baby and gasps.

On the beautiful, unmarred face of the baby, she sees Erik's eyes.