Wow, the debate over what Preston will do when he finds out about Matthew has been fierce! It's been great to hear your opinions guys! We will get to that but first...can Rebecca go through with it???? Please read and review :)

Rebecca sat staring out of the train window, remembering how only a few short months ago she had been excitedly making the same journey to Denver to get married. She remembered saying to Preston about how trains were always taking her to important events. Well, getting rid of your child was an important event, but it certainly wasn't one she was looking forward to.

After Preston had sent the wire, they had quickly packed a few things and purchased tickets to Denver. As she had stood at the telegraph office, Rebecca had stolen a look at Horace and thought she could see pity in his expression. Before she could think any more on it, though, Preston had guided her onto the train and they had been leaving.

She glanced at her husband now, sitting opposite her, and told herself that she was doing the right thing. She loved him so much and couldn't bear the thought of a life without him. So much so, that she was willing to let someone take away her baby. As she thought about it, she let her hand drift to her stomach again, imagining she could feel the baby kick, or its heartbeat through her flesh.

When she looked up again, Preston was watching her and she knew he had seen the action. He shot her a tight smile and then leaned over and took her hands in his, effectively pulling them away from her stomach. "I was thinking we could go to Boston at Easter," he said. "It's about time I had the chance to show you off."

Rebecca looked down at their hands, entwined in front of her. "I suppose."

"It'll be nice for you to see Louisa again."

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again, "I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about."

Rebecca met his gaze, "In relation to what?"

"The…procedure. I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about. It'll be over before you know it and then we have the night in Denver before we come back." She nodded mutely. "I mean, everything will be fine."

"Stop saying that," she sighed, pulling her hands from his and leaning her head back against the seat. "I'm doing what you want. I don't need you to labour the point."

"I thought we agreed it was for the best?"

"Yes," she said, "yes we did."

"Well then." Preston said, sitting back himself.

They didn't exchange any further conversation until they reached Denver. The train station was busy and it took some time for them to get their luggage and make their way to the main entrance where they were to take a carriage to their hotel. The appointment wasn't until four-thirty which only gave them just over an hour. Preston had initially suggested that the appointment be made for the following day, but Rebecca had wanted to get the thing over and done with as soon as possible. The longer she remained pregnant, the more difficult it was to stick to her decision.

As the carriage wound its way through the Denver streets, her mind again wandered to her wedding day and how she had pledged herself to Preston, secure in her mind that a family didn't matter as long as she had him. If only she had realised then how she would feel at the prospect of becoming a mother.

The hotel was luxurious, not that she had expected anything less from Preston. It was strange, but she almost got the impression that he was treating this trip as some sort of holiday rather than for the real reason.

"Do you like it?" Preston asked once they were in their room.

"It's a very nice hotel, Preston. What's not to like?" She sat down on the edge of the bed.

He hovered around her, "Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"No." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "When do we have to be there?"

Preston followed her gaze, "We should probably leave in the next fifteen minutes."

"Fine." Rebecca stood up and walked to the window. She looked down at the street below, at people rushing backwards and forwards, completely oblivious to the torment raging inside her.

"Doctor Jones has an impressive reputation," Preston said. "Doctor Cassidy assured me that he's performed this procedure on a number of occasions with marked success. Whilst it's not generally discussed in public circles, he is widely accepted as the best."

"And just who in society has benefited from his expertise?" Rebecca asked, keeping her back turned.

"Well…" he paused, "I mean I don't know exactly…"

"No."

"I think you're being rather unfair."

She turned to look at him, "Unfair?"

"Yes," he said stubbornly. "You've agreed to do this. I haven't put a gun to your head. Do you intend to make me suffer for it forever?"

"I'm not making you suffer!" she exclaimed. "The only person suffering here is me!"

"You think that this doesn't affect me, don't you? You think I'm completely immune to the feelings I know you're experiencing. You think that it doesn't bother me!"

"If I'm being completely honest, Preston, no I don't think it bothers you," she replied. "You're just keen to get this over with and get back home and get on with our lives. You're not even considering how I feel about doing this!"

"I've thought about nothing else! I'm doing this for you!"

"You don't have to do anything!" she raged. "It's me who has to lie on that table and be cut open!" She watched as he closed his eyes briefly at her words. "Yes, Preston, that's what's going to happen today! You can't just…shut your eyes and pretend it's not happening!"

"And if you were to have the baby you would be lying on a table being cut open too!" He shouted back at her. "Only it would be in Colorado Springs where the medical care is, quite frankly, less advanced than it is here! You could die!"

"I could die today too!"

"Rebecca, I'm not listening to this," he put up his hand and turned away from her. "We made this decision and I'm not prepared to discuss it further. The appointment is at four-thirty. I am going to be at Doctor Jones' office at that time. You can decide for yourself if you're going to be there or not." He opened the door.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

"I'm going for a walk." With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

XXXX

Preston checked his pocket watch. The hands were just reaching four-thirty. He was standing outside Doctor Jones' office, a rather innocuous looking building in a pleasant part of town. He had been there for ten minutes, hovering anxiously at the door, scanning the street for any sign of Rebecca. He felt sick, nervous and worried, and it wasn't even him that was going to have to undergo the procedure. He thought back to Rebecca's words earlier and wondered if she wasn't at least partly right.

The clock on the building opposite chimed the half hour and he wondered how long he should wait, or what he should do if Rebecca didn't turn up. What would it mean for them? "Preston?" He turned and saw Rebecca standing behind him.

"You're here," he said.

"Yes," she said, looking at the ground.

He stepped towards you, "Are you…?"

"Should we go in?" she raised her chin and looked at him defiantly.

"Yes…" he said, opening the door for her. He followed behind her as she climbed the stairs to the surgery. At the top of the stairs, there was a woman sitting behind a desk. She was older, her hair pulled back in a severe chignon, her features tight and drawn. She looked up as they approached.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Preston stepped forward. "Rebecca Lodge for Doctor Jones."

The woman consulted a sheet of paper in front of her. "Yes, of course." She glanced past him to where Rebecca was standing. "If you'd like to take a seat in the waiting room, Doctor Jones should be with you shortly." She gestured to a door at the end of the corridor.

They made their way down the corridor and into a plush room with comfortable looking chairs and a whisky decanter on the table. Rebecca picked a seat as far away from the door as possible and sat wordlessly down.

"Do you want a drink?" Preston asked, hovering at the decanter.

"No," she replied.

"Well, I think I'll just…" he poured himself a large measure and drank it down in one go before sitting down beside her. "It's rather elegant, isn't it?" Rebecca didn't reply. "I wasn't sure you would come after all."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, but…"

"Mr and Mrs Lodge?" The door opened and a large, portly man with a white beard and glasses was standing there.

Preston got to his feet, "Yes, I'm Preston A Lodge III, and this is my wife, Rebecca."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Quentin Jones. Would you like to come through?" They stood and followed him back down the corridor, past the older woman, and into a clean, sterile looking room with a bed surrounded by a curtain and a large mahogany desk. "Please sit down," he gestured to the chairs at the other side of the desk. They did as requested. "Now then," he smiled at Rebecca. "You must be the lady in question."

"I suppose," she replied uncertainly.

"There's no need to be worried, my dear. Despite rumour and innuendo, it is a relatively straightforward procedure." He looked at Preston. "I presume that you have…"

"Oh yes," Preston reached into his pocket, extracted his wallet and pulled out a large sheaf of notes which he passed across the table.

"Thank you," Doctor Jones replied, opening a desk drawer and slipping them inside. "Mrs Baker will give you a receipt on the way out." He turned back to Rebecca. "Now I understand that you want the procedure due to a heart condition?"

"Rebecca has been advised by eminent doctors in Boston that carrying a child to term would be needlessly dangerous," Preston said before Rebecca could speak. "Unfortunately, one cannot always control events."

"Indeed," Doctor Jones said. "Then this is a medical necessity."

"Exactly," Preston replied.

He turned to Rebecca again. "Would you like me to explain the procedure to you?" She nodded wordlessly. "You will be unconscious for perhaps half an hour. I'll make an incision in your abdomen and remove the foetus. Afterwards you may feel disoriented for a time so you should rest in bed. You may also experience pain and bleeding but that will reduce over time. And you should visit your own doctor when you return to Colorado Springs so that he can ensure that there are no complications." He smiled at her. "Does all that seem clear?"

"Yes," Rebecca said, her voice barely carrying.

"Good," Doctor Jones got to his feet. "Mr Lodge, if I could ask you to return to the waiting room where I'm sure Mrs Baker can provide more whisky if it's required. Mrs Lodge, if you would like to step over to the bed."

Rebecca got unsteadily to her feet and turned to face Preston. "Well then…" he said, hesitantly. "I suppose I'll…I'll see you afterwards." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He bent and kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek before hurrying out the door as quickly as possible and closing it behind him.

"Don't worry my dear," Doctor Jones said again as she made her way over to the bed. "It will all be over before you know it."

XXXX

Preston closed the door of the room behind it and leaned back against it briefly feeling rather light headed himself, having seen sight of Doctor Jones' instruments lying innocently on the shelf by the door. It had been one of the biggest knives he had ever seen.

"Are you all right?" He opened his eyes to see Mrs Baker eying him from her desk.

"Fine, thank you," he replied, straightening his cravat. "Absolutely fine." He started to walk back down the corridor towards the waiting room.

"Would you like some more whisky?" she called after him.

"Yes," he replied, "yes I would." Back in the waiting room he sank down into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. He tried not to think about what would be happening in the room.

"Here you are," Mrs Baker announced her arrival. He looked up to see her placing a fresh decanter on the table.

"Thank you," he replied faintly.

She looked at him sympathetically. "She's in very good hands. Doctor Jones is an excellent physician."

"Yes I know."

"She'll be a fit as a fiddle in no time. Most of them are."

Preston latched onto her last sentence. "Most of them are?"

Mrs Baker looked annoyed with herself. "Don't worry. I'm sure that everything will be fine."

"But you said most of them are fit as a fiddle in no time," he said, getting to his feet. "Does that mean that some of them aren't?"

"Forgive me," she said, backing out of the room, "I shouldn't have said…"

"No, wait!" he reached out and grabbed her arm, causing her to gasp. "I'm sorry," he said, loosening his grip, "but I need to know."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Some women find it difficult to overcome," she said slowly. "The loss of a child is painful enough without knowing that you made the decision yourself. I have known some who…who have driven themselves mad with grief over it. Then there are those for whom…physically…"

Preston swallowed hard, "Physically?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," she turned and walked briskly back down the corridor. "It's not my business."

"I know that there is a risk," he said, following her, "there is with any surgery…"

"This is different," she said, sitting down slowly. "You have to know that this is different."

Preston turned back to the closed door, behind which Rebecca lay, being cut open, her blood perhaps spilling onto the floor, while the doctor put his hands inside her, not to bring life, but to end it. In his minds eye, he could see her, angry, grief-stricken, perhaps never the same again and he had forced her to do it. Had paid for it to be done.

Without further hesitation, he threw open the door. The curtain was drawn around the bed and he strode over, pulling it back, startling Doctor Jones in the process.

"What on earth…?" he exclaimed, knife in hand

"Stop!" Preston exclaimed. "I want this to stop!" He looked at Rebecca, unconscious on the bed, dressed only in her slip, her stomach exposed. He hurried round the bed and proceeded to drag her into his arms.

"Mr Lodge!" Doctor Jones said, "You cannot just burst in here…"

"I've changed my mind," Preston said, hitching her up in his arms. "I don't want her to have this operation."

"But…I'm about to begin!"

"No you're not," Preston retorted. "I'm not having you…butcher my wife! I'd rather she take her chances with the pregnancy!" He saw Rebecca's dress, laid neatly over the chair, but decided to leave it. He could buy her another one. He could buy her another ten. He just wanted her out of this room.

"You've already made payment!"

"You can keep it." Preston made for the door.

"Mr Lodge!" he stopped and turned back to face the doctor. "You realise you're putting her life at great risk by proceeding with this pregnancy!"

"I understand that," Preston said, swallowing hard, "but I'd rather that than this." With that, he left, sweeping out into the corridor, past a startled looking Mrs Baker, and down the stairs to the main entrance. He hailed a carriage as best he could and took Rebecca back to the hotel, where he put her in bed and waited for her to come around.

It was over an hour later when she stirred and he hurried to the side of the bed and knelt beside her, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, he smiled and pushed her hair back from her face. "Hello," he said gently.

She looked at him, slightly confused, "Where am I?"

"Back at the hotel," he replied, "everything's going to be fine."

"Is it over?" she asked. "I don't…I don't feel any pain…"

Preston clasped her hand in his, "You didn't have the procedure." She frowned. "I…I couldn't let…" he trailed off as emotion threatened to overtake him. "I think it's for the best." He met her gaze.

"You mean…I still have the baby?"

"Yes my darling," he said, "you still have the baby." He saw tears spring into her eyes and he reached over and buried his face in her neck. "My wonderful Rebecca…" He climbed onto the bed beside her and lay over the covers, pulling her down to rest against him.

"Why did you change your mind?" Rebecca asked after a long silence.

"Well," he said, "I was waiting in that room and…thinking about what was going to happen and…" he didn't want to mention the conversation with Mrs Baker, "and I just couldn't let you go through with it." He squeezed her tightly. "I'm sorry. I should never have made you come here."

"I came of my own free will," she said.

"No you didn't," he said, "not really. You did it to keep me happy. I could see, even on the train, how much you wanted the baby."

"That's true," she said, "I did. I do. But I was prepared to do this to make you happy."

Preston sighed heavily, "I'm not sure it would have ultimately made me happy to know you had done something which made you so unhappy."

Rebecca craned her neck back and looked up at him. "I'm sure that…with Michaela's help…everything will be fine. I want this baby so much, Preston. I know I'll be a good mother and you'll be a wonderful father."

He lowered his head and kissed her. "I'm sure that's true."

She could see the slight uncertainty in his eyes. "You're still worried, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't love you, I wouldn't be your husband if I wasn't worried about the effect this might have on you."

"Would it make you feel any better if I stopped working at the store?"

"I'll confess it would. I don't want you doing anything too strenuous. Your body will be under enough strain with the baby without doing anything extra."

She smiled, "Then I promise to take things easy. I can still do bits and bobs at the hotel and maybe help you out at the bank…what?" she stopped. "What's so amusing?"

"I think you should concentrate on doing the most important job of all," he said, "looking after our child." She took his hand and brought it under the covers to rest against her still flat stomach. "I can't feel anything," he said after a moment.

"Not yet," she replied with a smile, "but soon."

"Soon," he echoed, gathering her to him, hoping and praying that he had done the right thing.