The Red String of Fate

DeathBed

"Mr. Ackerman,"

Levi recognized the man in front of him, Nathalie's Assistant. The man who helped save Anya's life once before. The man Nathalie claimed she trusted with her patients' lives. The man Levi knew Nathalie would send to deliver bad news to the families of patients when Nathalie could not leave her patient's side. Levi choked back a sob as he felt that hope shatter even more. His voice was barely a whisper, "What's going on?"

"Sir, Dr. Burgess sent me to explain to you..." he started, and cleared his throat, "I know this isn't what you were hoping to hear, but... your wife is in a critical condition, and due to scarring and prior trauma to her uterus and cervix, which is the source of the bleeding and pain, as well as an obstruction-"

"Just spit it out!" Levi barked at the man, holding back another sob.

He sighed. "Basically, her uterus and cervix has too much scar tissue to have safely delivered the children. It is... unlikely... that both your wife as well as all three children will survive,"

Levi felt numb. He knew he was supposed to say something. He was supposed to let the man know that he had acknowledged what he had just told him. But he couldn't utter a word. His eyes widened. A hand reached for his head. Fingers buried into his hair, clenching painfully. So, he was going to lose Anya and his children. That's it then. He was going to lose it all. He had no idea what he'd do if he lost it all. He had no idea what to do, where to go. How to spend his days till his dying breath alone. All alone. Just like it had always been. Maybe he was just meant to live his life in misery and then die in misery as well.

"I... I understand," Levi choked out. There was no way he could hide the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He didn't care to hide them. All that he cared about was praying to whatever ruthless God was making this a reality, to just stop and save her. Saver her and his children.

"Sir, Doctor Burgess... She asked me to escort you back in, but you need to know that your wife doesn't know the reality of the situation, and at any point your wife may-"

"Don't," Levi cut him off, he didn't need to hear the words to understand. These were his final words with her, his last goodbye, the final time he would look into her eyes and see the light he so adored, that had gotten him through so many years in that dark, damp hole in the ground. The eyes that he pictured seeing again during all those years fighting. It would be his last time hearing her voice, and seeing her face, and holding her hand. It was going to be the last time that he would see her as a living being, before she would become another corpse to bury. Another loved one lost. "Just take me to her,"

The man complied, and during that short walk from the small room meant to tell loved ones that Nathalie's patient was likely to die until they reached the door of the room Anya lay in, Levi's mind raced.

He knew he had to tell her he loved her, but what else? What else could he possibly say to bring her comfort in her dying moments? He had never prepared himself for this. He had never practiced a speech. He spent his entire life thinking that she was dead. Thinking that he'd never have to tell her something whilst she was dying, because she was gone. But now - now she was dying for real, and he was going to watch her. He was going to be there, and watch, and be unable to do anything about it. What the hell was he supposed to say? Was a mere I love you enough of a last word to a so-dearly loved one?

No. Of course, it wasn't. Whatever he'd tell her, no matter how many years and nights, and days he'd spent telling her he loved her, none of it would be enough to describe exactly what he felt for her. So tense, and so much, that it wasn't enough. The few months he had been with her - they weren't enough. The nights he spent staring at how beautiful and peaceful she looked as she slept. He couldn't bring himself to sleep because he knew this moment was going to come, but never did he prepare himself for what he was going to say.