Day 22 - Bedridden

A/N: The postnatal life was not as straight forward as her mother had made it sound. Set during Part III after Marty departs for the future.

At the beginning of their domestic life together, Clara had been almost offended at the extent her went to to try and keep things clean around the house. Explaining his insistence on constantly boiling fresh water and reluctance to reuse certain items to the townsfolk was awkward at best, and embarrassing at most.

This scenario, Doc thought quietly, was the exact reason behind his madness.

He was well aware of the dangers that women faced in this period without modern interventions, but having that fear come to fruition was on a whole other level. Although Jules had been delivered without any apparent complications, and as hygienically as possible, Clara's condition had quickly deteoriated in the days that followed, leading to her current fever-ridden state as her body struggled to regain control of the mysterious infection plaguing her.

The house had been constantly filled with midwives and the town doctor, all working around the clock to stabilise his wife with the limited supplies they had. It was the most involved that the townsfolk had been with them since their wedding. Seamus and a few local farmers brought spare vegetables and meat from the day's harvest, saving Doc from having to scavenge for food, while Maggie had moved herself in to assist with cooking and feeding Jules. "I'm still nursin' William, after all," She'd said to Doc, "I'd hate for your little one to go hungry."

If it had been anyone else, Doc would have said no. But the more he interacted with Marty's ancestors, the more he realised where his faithful friend's kindness and sympathy came from.

He wiped the persistent beads of sweat from Clara's flushed forehead, though she remained oblivious to the world, lost in a dreamless sleep when she wasn't being plagued by terrifying hallucinations. Giving her a gentle kiss, Doc took shuddering breath before allowing a few of his own tears permission to fall, the faint sounds of Jules's crying registering in his ears.

She has to live.

She has to.

I can't imagine a future without her!

I know nothing about kids! How can I raise a child on my own?!

Doc was startled from his rumination by a firm hand on his shoulder. He glanced up to see the tired but sympathetic gaze of the town doctor. "Have faith, Emmett. The good Lord hasn't taken her yet, and I don't think He intends to. Her bleedin' is much improved and I think her fever will finish runnin' its course very soon."

The scientist collected what was left of his social energy and gave the physician a polite nod. "…Thank you, doctor."

"Take care, Emmett. Make sure you get some rest too."

Doc's eyes followed the older man as he collected his briefcase and departed, finally leaving him alone with his unconscious beloved. He pulled Clara's clammy hand into his own and squeezed it tenderly, pressing it against his forehead as his tears fell faster.

Don't make me regret staying here, Clara…please…