A/N: These next two chapters will be from Raniq's POV and focus on a different series of events than the Korra stuff. They will deal with some pretty difficult/sensitive topics, including underage pregnancy. It should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: This story doesn't necessarily reflect my own opinions or biases regarding what happens. Different characters have different views and I've done my best to portray them in a balanced way while also staying in a deep 3rd person POV.
Another day.
Alarm. Snooze once. Get up. Put on robe and slippers. Tea, breakfast, morning paper.
Raniq had a routine. She thrived on routine. It was vitally important to do everything in the right order—otherwise, one step might be forgotten. She needed to brush her teeth for sixty seconds, or else risk becoming lazy and cutting corners. The kettle had to have a thermometer so that the water reached exactly ninety-five degrees so her tea was neither too weak nor too bitter.
Now more than ever, these small things mattered. How many weeks since she'd seen Kiriko? Too many. And while being around her certainly had its challenges, being separated was worse. But what could be done? She had to find Korra, or at least look for her.
Raniq's shoulders slumped as she nursed her tea. It had been too long. People didn't miraculously show up after weeks of being missing. Korra was gone. She felt it in her bones. Not that she was going to say it aloud.
As much as it hurt, she knew that her pain was only a fraction of what Kiriko must be feeling. Raniq would've been devastated if anything happened to her own mother, and they weren't even close. Not like Korra and Kiriko. Two peas in a pod.
But…life had to go on. She just hoped her friend would eventually come to her for comfort. It probably wouldn't be until all hope was gone. And of course, Raniq was not so deluded as to think it would change anything between them.
The irony was that grief was a pretty good remedy for…certain other feelings. There were some bad habits she was still trying to break—impossible fantasies that she would never speak of—and because of Korra's disappearance, it had been a while since she'd felt the urge to indulge her imagination.
Instead, she focused on just trying to get through each day. At least her work was satisfying. It gave her purpose. She loved helping women through the journey of pregnancy and childbirth, and longed to experience it herself. Now that it was pretty unlikely that she'd ever find a husband to build a family with, alternative options had started to look very appealing.
I can do it myself. I don't need a husband . Or a wife, for that matter.
The thought of that was still…strange. Accepting an attraction to women was one thing; being in an actual relationship with one was something entirely different. Would she have the courage, if it came to that? The depth of her feelings for Kiriko had made her brave, but the donkey kick to the gut that followed her confession had knocked her back down a few pegs.
She drained the rest of her tea and got up to wash the breakfast dishes. No more wallowing. There was paperwork to do, patients to check on, and—when all her usual duties were taken care of—babies in the nursery to cuddle and talk to.
Spirits… Am I too young to have one? Would it be stupid?
It was a long, busy day and she had little time to think of such things. And sadly, no time to visit the nursery.
But then, when she was finishing up some reports about a half hour before her shift ended, something unusual happened.
"Raniq!" one of her colleagues exclaimed. It was Suri, a nurse in her department. "You're not gonna believe this!" Despite the upbeat note in her voice, her expression was somber, brows furrowed.
"What's wrong? What's happened?" News of Korra…?
"They just found two kids outside the city—a boy and a girl. Both filthy and malnourished. The girl is pregnant."
Raniq's stomach dropped. The young ones, however infrequent they were here in Zaofu, always affected her the most. And yet, those cases drew her in like moths to a flame.
"I knew you'd want in," Suri continued. "Tomiko's been assigned the case, but I'm sure she'll take on an assistant."
"How old is the girl?" Raniq asked, already getting up from her desk to follow.
"I don't know. She's unconscious. They brought both of them in tranqed. I guess they struggled or something? I'm not sure. But she's small. I doubt she's more than twelve."
"Spirits…" It almost certainly meant rape, which was a rare crime in Zaofu. Certainly, Raniq had never had to deal with any cases involving children being the victim of such a heinous thing. She rubbed her arms briskly as they walked. "How far along?"
"Four or five months, maybe? I only got a glimpse."
"That could complicate things. If she's more than twenty weeks, Tomiko will have to make a difficult decision."
When they entered the room, her heart broke a little. The girl lying in bed was small and too thin. Her swollen abdomen, visible under the sheet, would've looked like nothing more than a bit of extra pudge on a healthy child.
Several people swarmed around her, hooking up an IV and other various machines. A nurse was rolling in an ultrasound cart. Tomiko, one of the senior midwives, stood with her hands on her hips giving stern orders. Gray hair in a tight bun gave anyone who didn't know her a glimpse of her personality.
"Wake her up slowly, but keep her lightly sedated so she doesn't panic. And give her an anti-emetic. I want her calm and able to hold down food."
Raniq dodged the others and went straight to Tomiko. "Are you taking an assistant?"
"I suppose I could, but why do you want it?" Her steely gaze bored into Raniq. "It'll be over with quick. I'm already prepping for a termination and D&C. I just want to have a look to determine gestational age, and explain the situation once she wakes up."
Raniq nodded sadly and went to the bedside as soon as a space was clear. She picked up a small hand and looked at the dirty, drawn face. Black hair splayed out all over the pillow, a tangled mess. "I thought as much. But I want to stay with her."
"Suit yourself."
Tomiko went to the other side of the bed now that the ultrasound was set up, and pulled back the sheet. It was like watching two trains collide. Raniq couldn't tear her gaze from the monitor as Tomiko searched for a clear image.
"Spirits…" Raniq breathed when she saw it.
"Twins. Dichorionic, so most likely fraternal. They're both alive. Somehow. Looks like…around sixteen weeks. Maybe more. Hard to know in this case. I'm sure they're stunted from malnutrition, and certainly not viable to be delivered yet." She spent another minute or so looking from various angles. "Both female."
"Do you think she even knows what's happening? She probably only recently started menstruating. If she's an orphan, I doubt she's had any kind of reproductive education." It wasn't until then that Raniq remembered there had been another. "She was brought in with a boy, right? Her brother?"
Tomiko shrugged, most of her focus still on the ultrasound. "Don't know. They don't look much alike, but they're about the same age, I think. He's more emaciated. They sent him to the PICU."
"How long until she wakes up?"
"Probably an hour or so."
"Alright. I'll be back." With one last look and a comforting squeeze on the girl's hand, Raniq left to find some supplies. Her nurturing instincts had kicked into high gear and there was nothing to do but obey them.
Half an hour later, she'd managed to procure a hairbrush, dry shampoo, a sponge, a bowl of warm water, and some clean clothes. The girl's room was quiet now, aside from the beeping of monitors. Her vitals were stable, which was encouraging, and her eyelids occasionally twitched—a sign that the tranquilizer was wearing off.
Raniq shut the blinds over the window that looked out onto the hallway, pulled up a chair, and sat down next to the bed. "I'm sure you can't hear me," she murmured, pulling back the sheet to remove the filthy rags. "But it feels better to talk, anyway. My name's Raniq. I work here in the medical center. We're going to take good care of you, okay?"
As they frequently did, tears welled up in her eyes. Others often teased her for her 'bleeding heart' and sensitive nature, but Raniq was confident in who she was. Her heart broke almost daily and it only made her softer.
She wished she could provide the dignity of a proper bath, somewhere more private, but a sponge bath here in the hospital bed was better than nothing. All the while, she spoke softly, telling this nameless child about her life and what Zaofu was like. How much she'd like it when all of this was over.
"Maybe you can come home with me," Raniq whispered, not because she was worried someone would overhear, but because it seemed like such an outlandish idea. Foster a preteen? What about the boy? They would almost certainly want to stay together.
But the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. It would be like a crash course in parenting, and they'd be more or less independent. Start internships in a few years and be on their own a few years after that. Maybe if it went well, she could start seriously looking into sperm donation for her own baby.
Let's not get ahead of ourselves, she chided. They may not even be orphans. Maybe they're just lost.
Once clean and dressed, the girl looked slightly less pitiful. Raniq sighed and put her palm on the swollen belly. It was easy to use her bending to sense a fluid-filled sack, but much harder to distinguish two of them. She doubted she would've been able to tell without first knowing. A couple of the older midwives claimed to be able to, and Raniq was determined to hone her own skill. But…this was certainly a depressing way to do it.
She sat there for another half hour, catching up on some paperwork, until a soft noise drew her attention. One small arm moved, just a little. The girl's head twitched sideways and her eyelids fluttered as a look of confusion formed on her face.
Raniq hurried to pick up her hand. "Hey," she soothed. "It's okay. You're safe. Just relax." It occurred to her that the girl would probably want to eat something when she woke up fully. "I'll be right back, okay? I'll get you some food."
On her way back from the staff cafeteria, where someone had apparently already been given instructions on how and what to feed their new malnourished charge, she diverted to the pediatric ward to have a look at the boy. Earlier thoughts and musings pushed forward while she walked.
Even if they're not orphans, they're going to need legal guardians while they're in Zaofu. I'm the perfect person for that. I've got a spare room, and I can make sure the girl gets the care she needs…
In the PICU, she got her first look at him. It was…shocking. The girl looked downright healthy compared to him. How was he even still alive? Several different machines were hooked up to him, including a ventilator. That didn't bode well.
"Is he going to survive?" she asked one of the nurses in a quavering voice. "I've just been sitting with the girl that came in with him."
"Is she really pregnant?"
Raniq sighed. "Yeah. With twins, no less."
"Shit. This one's in pretty bad shape. He was showing early signs of multiple organ failure when they brought him in, so we induced a coma to gently reintroduce nutrition and give his body a break."
"Will it work?"
"The prognosis is good because of his age, but it'll be a few days before we can say for sure."
Raniq nodded; it wasn't the worst news. Satisfied, she returned to the girl's room to find her struggling with a nurse.
"Please, you need to lie down!"
"Wh– Where's Jojin!" She was clearly still feeling the effects of the sedative, her speech slurred and her body too weak to fully sit up.
"Hey, shh," Raniq soothed, hurrying inside. "I just saw your friend. He's okay," she lied. "Just sleeping. You can see him soon."
Scared tears streamed from the girl's eyes, though she seemed to have stopped resisting for now. Raniq set the food down and put an extra pillow behind her head so she could sit up a little.
"Are you hungry? I got you some egg dumplings.
With a deeply mistrustful look on her face, the girl reached out to take one from the plate. Heavy-lidded blue eyes stared at Raniq the whole time, even while she ate with tiny, hesitant bites.
Raniq sat back down in her chair. "You can have another in a few minutes. In the meantime, can you tell me your name?"
"...Mara."
"What a pretty name. I'm Raniq–"
Before she could say anything else, Mara's eyebrows furrowed and she shifted her still somewhat confused gaze to her swollen belly. Small hands reached up to press against it.
"My baby… It's still in there?"
"You– You know you're pregnant?" Raniq asked with some surprise.
"Yeah."
"Well, I have some news for you. You're actually carrying twins."
Mara glanced up with an uncertain look. "What's that mean?"
Spirits, how does she know about the pregnancy but not know what twins are? "It means there are two babies."
"Two?" Her head fell back against the wall and she stared up at the ceiling, eyes full of fear.
"Do you…know how you got pregnant?"
Mara turned her head, one eyebrow arched skeptically. "You don't?"
For the first time all day, Raniq felt a glimmer of amusement bubble up. "Yes, of course I know how," she said with a soft smile, though it quickly faded. "What I meant was… Did a man…hurt you? Did he force himself on you?"
"Oh. No…" She blinked a couple of times, clearly still a little sleepy. "Me and Jojin… We didn't know what would happen."
"You mean your friend? He's the father?"
"Yeah."
"Spirits… Um, okay–"
Tomiko breezed into the room before she could continue. "Good to see you awake. How are you feeling? I see Raniq has gotten you something to eat. Holding it down alright?"
The brisk onslaught of words seemed to distress Mara. She shrunk in on herself and glanced at Raniq, who jumped in to rescue her, knowing that her colleague's bedside manner left something to be desired.
"Mara, this is Tomiko. She's the midwife who's in charge of your case. She just has a few questions for you, okay?"
"...Okay. Can I have some more food?"
"Of course. Here. Just eat it slowly."
Tomiko pulled up another chair on the opposite side of the bed. "Did Raniq explain everything to you?"
"Um… She said there's two babies." Her free hand was still resting on her stomach. A small thumb worried a fold in the sheet.
"Yes, that's true. But don't worry–"
"Outside, I was feeling bad pains. Does that mean they're ready to come out?"
It suddenly occurred to Raniq, with a lurching sensation in her gut, that Mara might be attached to her babies. There was something in the way she cradled her stomach. Women who wanted abortions didn't usually do that.
"Well, no," Tomiko said. "They're not ready. Not even close, actually. But it's better that way. We'll just inject a drug that will make them go to sleep, and then their hearts will stop. They won't feel anything–"
"No!" Mara interrupted, now clutching at the sheet with white knuckles. "I– I don't want that. At the beginning, I was scared and I thought maybe it would be better if it—er, they—just died. But not anymore. I want them. I've tried so hard to keep them alive."
"She wasn't raped," Raniq said to Tomiko discreetly. "The twins were fathered by the boy that was with her. Consensually."
"I'm glad to hear it, but I don't see what difference it makes." She returned her attention to Mara. "Child, listen to me. You're too young and too small. If it were just one, perhaps you might be able to carry to term. But your body is almost certainly not capable of carrying twins long enough for them to survive. And that's if they haven't already suffered the effects of your malnutrition."
Mara looked to Raniq for help, clearly confused and upset. "I don't understand. Where's Jojin? I– I need to talk to him first."
"I'm sorry," Raniq said as sincerely as she could. "He's in a very deep sleep, just like you were before. It'll take a long time for him to wake up. But what Tomiko's saying is that it would be hard, maybe even impossible, for you to keep growing the babies in your body. You're so small. You said you were having some pains outside? Well, that was your body telling you that it's already having trouble."
"Please… I– I don't want you to kill them. I couldn't bear it. I know maybe they'll die anyway, but I want to try."
"I don't think you–"
"Tomiko," Raniq interrupted. "Maybe we should reconsider…"
"Excuse me?"
"Can we talk privately for a minute? Please?"
Tomiko shot a hard look at her, obviously not pleased with being spoken to like an underling. But after a tense moment, she gave a short nod. "Fine."
"Mara, we'll be right outside the door. Here—eat this. And here's some water for you. Just shout if you need anything."
Once the door clicked shut, Tomiko laid into her, quiet but harsh.
"Who do you think you are? I've been midwifing for twenty-five years—longer than you've been alive—and you're barely out of your apprenticeship. You're my assistant on this case, and you don't get to drag me out into the hall because the conversation upsets your delicate sensibilities."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say," Raniq protested, embarrassed. Everyone at the nurse's station was now listening.
"Oh, I think I do. Everyone knows you jump on every case involving a minor, hoping that one of them might hand over their baby. We're not stupid."
"I don't do that…" It was a half-hearted lie, but still a lie. "And don't you remember that I agreed with you before? That termination was the best option for her? But doesn't the fact that she's begging us not to do it change the situation at all? She has a right to choose what happens to her own children."
"They're not children. They're fetuses. Most likely very sick, underdeveloped fetuses who will not live to take their first breath. Is that the fate you want for this child?" Tomiko gestured through the open window blinds at Mara, who was watching them with furrowed brows. "To go through an uncomfortable pregnancy, risking her own health in the process, only for them both to die anyway? And what's the best-case scenario? They're both born healthy, and she suddenly becomes a mother at her age? Because it's clear that she wouldn't want to give them up."
"Exactly! I don't want to take her babies. I want to help her. I want her to have agency over her own life."
"Well, that's not how the laws work in Zaofu. She's a minor. If she were fifteen or sixteen, things might be different, but she is obviously much younger and the law is clear in this case. Her medical decisions must be made by her legal guardian. As she has none, that responsibility falls to me. And I say, as an expert in my field, that termination is the best thing for her long-term physical and emotional well-being. The fact is that she is not mature enough to make such an adult decision."
Raniq was near tears, on the verge of storming off. But what good would it do? "Please," she begged, her mind working furiously for a solution. "At least just…wait. Talk to her. Give her a chance to accept this or it could completely destroy her emotional state."
Tomiko crossed her arms and fixed her with a surly glare. After several long seconds, she finally said, "I know you see me as the villain in this story, but I'm not unreasonable. I'll talk to her, and hold off on doing anything for a few days. If the vitals of the fetuses are strong, perhaps I'll consider a reduction instead."
It was better than nothing. At least there was time. "Okay. Thank you."
"Don't ever second-guess me in front of a patient again," Tomiko added sharply. "Working here is a privilege, not a right. No matter how many Beifongs you know."
With that she turned and stalked away, leaving Raniq red-faced where she stood. The listeners quickly went back to their tasks, clearly intent on pretending they hadn't heard anything.
It wasn't the first time someone had thrown her connections in her face. As much as she'd tried to avoid benefitting from nepotism, it was impossible to sever those ties.
And now she was about to take advantage of them. It might cost her her career, but it would be worth it. Hopefully.
It took some time to get Mara calmed down. Finishing the last dumpling seemed to help a little, but mostly Raniq was forced to tell her half-truths. And she felt terrible about it.
"Try not to worry, okay? I've spoken with Tomiko and she's going to wait a little while before making a decision. In the meantime, why don't you tell me more about yourself? How old are you?"
Mara just shrugged. "Dunno."
"Do you have any family?" Raniq said weakly, saddened by the answer. What kind of kid didn't even know their own birthday or age?
"Jojin."
Hearing that was a bit of an unpleasant shock. "He– He's related to you?"
"What's that mean?"
"Um… Did you have the same parents? Or the same grandparents?"
"No. He found me."
"Oh," she said with a relieved breath. "And there's no one else that you two know?"
At that, Mara's expression became guarded once again and she just shook her head.
Well, I guess that means they're not simply lost... "You must be pretty good at surviving on your own," Raniq prodded.
"Yeah. I'm an earthbender."
"Oh, yeah? How did you learn? Did someone teach you?"
"I teached myself."
Raniq couldn't get over the fact that this girl had the vocabulary and speech patterns of much younger child. And yet, there was a certain mature shrewdness in the way her eyes settled on whatever she was looking at. Both things spoke volumes about the life she'd led.
"Wow. You must be pretty talented to have figured it out on your own. I'm a waterbender, myself, though I had a lot of teachers."
"A waterhealer?"
"Yep. And a midwife."
Mara's face fell into a frustrated pout. "What's that?"
"A midwife is kind of like a doctor, but specifically for women who are pregnant or have just given birth. We help them through the whole process—pregnancy, birth, and the first few months after the birth."
"Does it–" She stopped and stared down at her lap for a moment, wearing a troubled frown. "Does it really hurt a lot? A woman told us… She said it hurts a lot."
"Well, it can. Here in Zaofu, we have ways to lessen the pain, but I don't want you to be worrying about any of that right now." Because I can't guarantee you'll ever get that far. "Can you tell me more about the woman you talked to? Did she explain things? Is that how you found out?"
"Yeah… I got real sick and Jojin found her in a town. She told us some stuff. We didn't know nothing. Nobody ever told us." Her bottom lip trembled and she took a few shaky breaths. "She said to find someone that could help us."
"Why didn't she help you?"
Mara shrugged, staring at her hands. "She was like us…"
"Like you?"
Rather than answer, Mara's eyebrows pulled down into a worried frown and she looked up. "My bag! Where's my bag?"
Raniq spotted a leather strap under the bed and pulled on it. "This?"
"Yeah," Mara said with tentative relief. She rifled through it for several long seconds, then finally relaxed when she found a smaller bag inside. Carefully inspecting its contents seemed to bring out a new emotion. "I– I can't believe it. It's all here..."
"What?"
"Our money. We been saving it. Sometimes people gave us a little." She looked around the room with an expression of fretful consternation. "I dunno if it'll be enough. This place… It's so rich. I never seen any place like it."
Raniq finally understood what she was trying to say. 'She was like us.' Poor. She meant poor. It took a few seconds to swallow the lump in her throat. "You won't need money here. You can keep what you have. Save it in case you ever leave the city."
"What do you mean?" Mara's wide-eyed gaze swiveled over. "We'll have to leave?"
"Oh, no! I didn't mean that. You can stay as long as you like. Zaofu is open to anyone."
"But if we can't use our money here, what do we use…?" How quickly her emotions shifted from one to another. Desperation now laced her voice. "We don't have nothing else…"
Raniq's eyes welled up with tears. Spirits but she wanted to scoop that little girl up and give her a hug and tell her she'd take care of her forever. "You don't need anything. Really. You're safe here. I don't know exactly what will happen, but there are no homeless people in Zaofu. You'll always have a place to live and food to eat and medical care."
Mara was crying now and it was becoming a struggle not to join her. "F-for free?"
"Of course. You're a child. Adults have to get jobs, but you won't need to worry about that for a few years." And if my plan works, you'll come home with me and I'll be your new mom.
The administration wing of the medical center was on the opposite side of the building as the maternity ward. There, Raniq found a rather bored clerk behind a desk.
"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me with something."
The woman seemed pleased to have a visitor. "What is it?"
"There are two children who were just brought in from outside. Orphans."
"Mm, I saw their files. Riveting! And very sad, of course," she added almost as an afterthought.
"What kind of policy is in place for this sort of thing? Do they go into the foster system?"
"Mhmm. It could take some time to process the paperwork, though. Probably a week or so. In the meantime, they'll remain in the care of the doctors in charge of their cases."
"Can I volunteer? Can I take responsibility for them?"
The woman's eyebrows lifted. "Oh! Um… I don't know. Good question. But why?"
"Because they're going to force the girl into having an abortion that she doesn't want," Raniq said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, hm… That's unfortunate. Tough situation."
For the life of her, Raniq couldn't tell if this woman actually cared or was just pretending to. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Let me check through some of our…hm, lesser-used forms. I'll be just a few minutes."
It ended up being closer to a half hour before she returned and slapped a dusty piece of paper on the desk.
"This might work. I didn't even know we had this. It could be too old and the registrar won't accept it… But he's an old paper pusher so he'll probably be delighted to see something so unusual."
Raniq scanned the form. It appeared to be an emergency stop-gap measure for minors whose only parent or guardian passed away while at the medical center. However, it didn't specifically require there to be a deceased parent present…
"Can you make me two copies?"
The forms required three letters of recommendation—one each from a family member, friend, and colleague.
The friend part was easy. She went straight to Suyin, whom she also hoped would put in a good word for her with the registrar and help expedite the process.
"Mother of Faces, Raniq," Su said with a sigh once the situation was explained. "What have you gotten yourself into? Are you sure you're prepared for this kind of responsibility? If the babies survive, you'll be responsible for them, as well. Two adolescents, two newborns."
"I can do it," Raniq said with her head high, not sure at all that it was true but determined to convince herself and everyone else. "I've made up my mind."
"I'll write a letter, of course. But are you sure you want me to use my influence with the registrar? I thought you didn't want any special favors?" she added with a smirk.
"This is different. It's not about me. I'm not trying to get ahead in my career. In fact, I risk losing it. But I believe it's for a good cause."
The next part—a family member—required her to call up her dear old dad and beg him to come to Zaofu. He did so without hesitation, as expected, but it always felt weird asking him for things, like there would always be some catch or hidden consequence. He was just so unpredictable.
"Hey, Sweet Pea," he said while making her endure a big bear hug and him messing up her hair like she was a child. "What's the emergency?"
"I need you to write a letter of recommendation for me."
"That's it? Well, that's easy enough. What is it for?"
Explaining it to him was much harder than explaining it to Su. He burst out laughing when she got to the part about fostering Mara and Jojin.
"Well, I'll be damned. Looks like you inherited the crazy gene, after all! I love it! Wait– Does this mean I'm going to be a grandfather? And then a great -grandfather soon?"
I'm not crazy! "It doesn't work like that. This is just a legal arrangement for guardianship, not an official adoption."
"What's with all the rigmarole, though, eh? I'm sure a nice, fat donation to the medical center would sort this out, sans headache."
"No! No. Please don't do that. I want to do this the right way."
"Alright, alright. Fine." He scratched his chin and gave her a piercing look. "Have you told your mother about this?"
That was the question she'd been dreading. "I don't want to bother her about it until something actually happens."
"Worried she might talk you out of it?" he said with a knowing smirk.
"...She's very persuasive."
"Oh, you don't have to tell me!" His expression became abruptly somber. "But seriously, if you want me to do this, I have to tell her. You know how much trouble I'll be in if I don't."
"Can you at least…wait a day or so?"
The 'colleague' part proved to be the most difficult. Her first choice, Suri, politely declined.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you, but Tomiko has a lot of influence among the maternity nurses. You don't seem to care about getting fired, but I sure do."
The other nurses and midwives in the department felt the same way, apparently—when they didn't outright disagree with her cause. And by the time Raniq had asked them all, Tomiko managed to get wind of it.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
"Look, I realize you probably think this is all about me challenging you, but it's not. I really care about those kids and I'm going to do this whether you go ahead with the termination or not."
"I have half a mind to do it now. Because if I wait, and you succeed, it'll be out of my hands."
"What's stopping you?" Raniq asked in a small voice.
"I don't go back on my promises. I told her I would think about the situation for a few days, and I intend to follow through on that. But I don't see myself changing my stance."
"And if I succeed?" She swallowed hard. "Will you ruin my career?"
"I'm not that petty. You're good at this job. Passionate and skilled, even if you do form attachments to patients too easily. But you know what I will do? I'll make you stay on this case as my assistant. I'll make you see it through 'til the end. And if those babies die, you'll have to hold their lifeless little bodies in your arms. You'll be the one to tell Mara that she suffered for nothing."
In the end, Raniq went back to the administrative department in desperation, hoping the clerk that had helped her before would be there.
"Excuse me," she asked the man on duty. "There was a woman here yesterday. I don't know her name, but she's got glasses and brown hair with a bit of gray. She's about my height but a little heavier. Around forty, maybe."
"Hm, you must mean Darila."
"Is she here today?"
"No, sorry."
"Um… I hate to ask, but it's kind of urgent. Do you know where she lives?"
The man scratched his chin skeptically. "Are you sure it's not something I can help you with?"
"Not unless you feel like writing a letter of recommendation for me, a perfect stranger."
"How is Darila any better? You didn't even know her name."
Well, he had a point. "I like to think we bonded the other day. Anyway, she knows the situation and she's my last hope."
He sighed and opened a file cabinet to search through it, mumbling to himself. Finally, he pulled out an index card and brought it over to the desk. "What's your name?"
"Raniq. I work in maternity."
"Surname?"
"...Varrick."
His eyebrows shot up. "As in, Varrick Railways?"
"Yeah… That's my dad," she muttered.
"And you're begging a filing clerk for a favor?" With a weary shake of his head, he scribbled something on a scrap of paper. "And here I thought people like you preferred to simply throw money at all your problems. Well, here you go. Here's her address. Good luck, I guess."
When the door to the small apartment opened, a familiar face greeted Raniq with confusion. "Uh…can I help you?"
"Heh… Remember me?"
"Yeah, sure. The crazy woman who wants to adopt the pregnant orphan."
I'm not crazy!
"How in the world did you track me down, anyway?" Darila continued. "Was it Yunao? I bet it was Yunao."
"I promise I'm not a stalker or anything," Raniq said weakly. "And I feel really bad coming here, but I don't know who else to ask. I need a letter of recommendation from a colleague, and none of mine are willing to stick their necks out for me. But I figure you don't have anything to worry about since you're in a different department."
"Wow. You don't make a lot of friends, do you?" But she chuckled. "Me neither. Come in. You want a cup of tea?"
"Uh…sure?" I have friends…
Darila continued while she filled up the kettle. "Well, I guess I better interview you."
"What?"
"How else am I supposed to recommend you? I don't even know you."
"You mean you'll do it?!"
"Sure," Darila said with a shrug. "Let's see… Where to start…"
They talked for a good hour. Raniq told her about Mara, and then all about herself—her family, growing up in Republic City, moving to Zaofu at age seventeen. Many times, Kiriko's name came up, especially near the end, though she didn't tell Darila the really personal stuff.
"I miss her," she murmured. "I know she's busy looking for Korra, but I wish she'd take a break and come visit. That sounds selfish, I know. She's grieving. I just feel like…maybe I could help a little, if she let me."
Darila nodded sagely. "You love her."
The words shocked Raniq and it took her a second to respond. "Well, of course I do. I've known her my whole life. She's my best friend."
"Mm, no, I think it's more than that. I can tell. I know what it looks like. Know what it feels like, too."
"...Oh!"
"Don't worry, I'm not hitting on you!" Darila said with a laugh. "You're cute, but you're way too young for me."
Raniq blushed up to her ears, earning another laugh, and couldn't figure out how to respond.
"Hey, it's none of my business. You don't have to say anything."
"N-no, it's okay. I was just surprised. But…" She let out a heavy breath. "You're right."
"I know." Darila gave her a sympathetic smile. "Have you told her how you feel?"
"Yeah… It didn't go well."
"Ah. Been there, done that. It sucks."
Being able to have this conversation was so cathartic and freeing. Since the Big Confession, Raniq had considered asking Korra or Asami for advice—Kiriko had actually suggested it herself—but it felt too weird. They were her parents. It was much easier to discuss it with a neutral party who didn't know anyone involved.
"We're still friends, though. We talked and everything's alright. She's not avoiding me because of that. Things were actually really good until Korra went missing. Now she's just…so laser-focused."
Darila nodded, though there was a complicated expression on her face. She chewed her lip for a few seconds. "I can see you're the kind of person to wait around for her to need you, once she accepts that her mom is most likely not coming back."
During their conversation, Raniq had adapted to her blunt way of speaking, but this was bordering on offensive. "Of course I'll be there for her when she needs me. How is that a bad thing?"
"What I mean is…you're so wrapped up in her. Emotionally. Even though you know it's never going to happen. It's a tough situation because you've known each other for so long. So a clean break seems cruel, and maybe even impossible."
"You're right. It is impossible. I tried it for three months and it made me miserable."
"There's no good answer." Darila fixed her with a firm gaze. "But here's some unsolicited advice: You're not going to be able to move on until you let go of her. Until you stop relying on her for emotional support, and offering your own to her. I'll leave it up to you to figure out how to do that without ending your friendship."
A long, tense silence grew in the space between them. Raniq didn't want to argue. Her hands were already trembling from the mere hint of conflict. Besides that, she actually wanted to be friends with this odd woman. And of course, she wanted something else from her—the letter that would allow her to help Mara.
So she just sat there and sipped her tea, trying in vain to think of something to change the subject. But it was Darila who broke the tension.
"Well. Anyway. That's that. I don't envy the mess you're tangled up in, but I hope everything works out for you. You seem like a good person. I'll write your letter and bring it to work tomorrow."
The morning after her talk with Darila, Raniq submitted the forms along with her letters, and even made a personal appeal to the registrar, saying it was urgent. He told her, very sternly, that he would get to it in his own time. So she called Suyin and begged for help.
The only thing left to do now was wait. To try and occupy her thoughts, she spent every spare minute sitting with Mara, trying to get her to open up. She even borrowed a television from one of the conference rooms, which Mara found fascinating.
The next morning—the third day since all of this had started—she stopped by the PICU to check in on Jojin.
"He's doing well, actually," a nurse said. "Better than expected. If he doesn't have any regression, the doctor is going to start weaning him off the ventilator tomorrow."
Raniq wrestled with herself as she left. Mara grew more agitated and impatient every day, often refusing to talk at all. Would seeing Jojin unconscious and with all manner of tubes sticking out of him make her feel better…or worse?
But those concerns evaporated when she got to Mara's room and found her sobbing. Tomiko was there, as was a janitor—the latter of whom was busy repairing the floor from what looked like wild earthbending.
"...upset, but this feeling will fade," Tomiko was saying. "You're too young to see the big picture, but you'll thank me one day."
"What's going on?" Raniq asked.
"It's been long enough. The longer we delay, the worse it will be. Don't think I haven't given this a lot of thought. The other midwives agree with me. Otherwise one of them would've written a letter for you. I'm going ahead with a reduction. The nurse is getting the supplies right now. Doing your job, actually!"
She was practically yelling by the end of her little speech, partly because of Mara's noisy crying, but mostly because Raniq kept trying to get a word in edgewise.
But it was futile. There were so many scathing things she wanted to say to her superior, but couldn't. Instead, she just gave her a poisonous glare and sat down on the edge of the bed. Mara always flinched away from any attempts at physical comfort, so she didn't bother trying.
"Hey, listen," she said gently. "I know you're upset, and you have a right to be. No one your age should have to deal with something like this." In a desperate bid to delay just a few more minutes, she went back to Tomiko and lowered her voice. "At least let me take her to visit her friend first. Maybe it'll calm her down a little."
"You really like pushing me, don't you? Fine. You have fifteen minutes. We'll begin when you get back."
Mara must've heard because she instantly stopped crying. "I can see Jojin?"
Raniq was surprised when she actually consented to be lifted into the wheelchair, so as not to risk pre-term labor. It was a testament to how desperate she was to see Jojin.
"I have to warn you," Raniq said as they headed down the hall at a brisk pace. The pediatric ward was a five-minute walk each way, so they needed to hurry. "He won't be able to see or hear you. He's in a very deep sleep. And he has a lot of machines attached to him."
"When will he wake up?"
"It could be a few days, or maybe around a week."
"Why is it taking so long? Is– Is he really sick?" she asked in a quavering voice.
"Well, sort of. He hasn't been eating enough for a long time. It's hard on the body and he needed a big rest."
"He made me eat most of the food," Mara said tearfully. "For the baby. Babies. That's why he's so skinny." She started crying again, though more quietly. "I wish I could talk to him. He'd know what to do. He's smarter than me."
"You're doing great. You're standing up for yourself, which is more than lots of grown women can do. I'm sorry Tomiko won't listen. But she really is a good midwife. She's just doing what she thinks is best."
More silent tears streamed down Mara's face when she saw Jojin. She reached out for his hand and brought it to her lips. "Can I sit with him?"
"Alright."
Once settled on the bed—they were small enough that both fit easily—Mara rested her head on his chest as if to listen to his heartbeat. The gesture made Raniq's own heart ache. Here was this child, surely no more than twelve, who had no one in the world other than the boy lying in bed. The bond between them was unfathomable. It wasn't hard to see how they had matured far too quickly and gotten themselves into this mess.
Raniq noticed suddenly that Jojin had several burn scars on his arms. She traced her fingers over one of them lightly. "How did this happen?"
Mara took several seconds to respond.
"...His dad," she said finally, in a very small voice. It was the first time she'd mentioned anything about Jojin's past.
"Is his dad a firebender?"
"Yeah. He was a…bad man."
"'Was'? Is he dead?"
She just shrugged. "Dunno. We left. We went far, far away." The conversation seemed to be upsetting her and she turned back to Jojin. "Why does he have that thing in his mouth?"
"The medicine that makes him sleep is very strong—strong enough that he needs help to breathe. The tube is connected to that noisy machine. It pumps air into his lungs so they can rest. And this tube in his nose puts food in his stomach. And this small one here, on his hand, is just like yours. It puts medicine in his blood."
"Does it hurt him? Does he feel those things in his throat?"
"No, don't worry. He's not even aware of them."
"Jojin," she murmured near his ear. "Wake up soon, okay? Please. I need you."
Spirits. Don't cry, don't cry, Raniq told herself, blinking quickly. It made her think of Kiriko. Please come see me. I miss you. I need you. I don't care what Darila said. She was wrong. I'll always need you.
After another minute or so, she sighed regretfully. "I'm sorry but we need to go back now."
"No, please. Just a little longer."
"We've already been here too long. I'm sorry."
Mara became increasingly agitated the closer they got to her room. Tomiko was not impressed.
"I thought you were calming her down."
"She was perfectly fine a few minutes ago," Raniq said coldly after she returned Mara to the bed. "She doesn't want this."
"She's a child. Children often don't want to get vaccinations or take their medicine or have life-saving surgeries, but we do it anyway, for their own good. Now give her a sedative and get her prepped."
Stubborn as she was, Raniq was determined to see this through. Refusing would only get her kicked off the case, so she injected the sedative into the IV with a resigned sigh. "You're going to get a little sleepy, okay, Mara? It'll help you relax. You won't feel any pain."
Mara said nothing. She was just curled up on her side, silently sobbing. But the sedative worked quickly and she went still after a minute or so. Raniq rolled her onto her her back, folded down the sheet, and exposed her swollen belly. It seemed bigger than it had been a few days ago, as if she'd already put on weight.
A nurse waiting nearby handed her the ultrasound wand and she searched the monitor to find the best location for the injection. The twins were the same size as far as she could tell. So small.
How do I choose?
She looked down at Mara, whose heavy-lidded gaze bored holes into her.
"What are you waiting for?" Tomiko asked.
"Which one?"
"It doesn't matter."
And that's how I know you're making the wrong choice. How can it not matter? It matters to Mara. If these children were unwanted and would be subjected to a life of uncertainty, things would be different. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be justifiable. This isn't.
She chose the one closest to her and used a marker to make a small X just above its heart. Angry tears streamed down her face as she cleaned the spot with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze and injected the anesthetic. Tomiko stepped forward with a much larger syringe. The needle bore was one of the thickest they had.
It pierced the skin. Raniq could see it on the ultrasound.
"Stop!"
She whipped around to see Suri standing in the doorway. "What?"
"The paperwork went through. It was approved–"
"Take the needle out," Raniq demanded, maybe a little too harshly.
Tomiko did so without hesitation, though she sighed and gave her a baleful look. "I hope you're prepared for the consequences of your decision."
A/N: I am not a doctor, nor have I ever worked in the medical field. Please don't come at me with 'this is medically inaccurate'! I tried my best, okay? XD