The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

Old Memories

Don't force me from my fortress, she wants to scream. Let me acclimate to who I've been made into before I introduce her to you.

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Michelle runs her hands above the edges of the NICU, hovering within reach of her grandson, but never really committing to touching him. Under her eyes Alexander is exposed, bare legs and arms spread desperately as he squalls. He kicks but it's in slow motion around the wires confining him to the plastic box that has held him for the past few days.

The heart monitor with its sticky prongs spread across his skin thrums. It's a sound she's come to find as peaceful. The beeping means life, means hope treads nearby.

"Despite his problems before the C-section the doctors say he's thriving."

Michelle turns to Jaclyn, who's holding Lillie against her bare collarbone, and she softens at the sight. Lillie rests peacefully, her head of dark curls contrasting Jaclyn's pale skin. Her daughter's smile is a beacon here in the nursery, always at peace tracking the health of her littlest babies far from the blubbering opinions of others.

Still, her eyes lull from time to time, glazing over like she'll fall, and her ghostly features screw up in discomfort more often than not. Now most of her problems are internal, but her mom has the power to turn her inside out, to glare upon her ligaments and bones and curse them for not supporting her.

Anticipating the musty tears welling in her eyes Michelle turns back to Alexander. For a moment he stalls one single blue eye opening to peer up at her as if assuring he has her attention. "Of course he is, he's your son."

Michelle won't tell her daughter how frightful that first day was for him, how frail he seemed in comparison to the other preemies around him, even his younger sister. Skin not just pale but white, and veins so colorful and thin she couldn't believe he was real.

It was horrible deciding where she needed to be. Jaclyn on the precipice of slipping away, and Alexander an extension of his mother's life force. She almost thought if one faded the other would go to like their breaths and pulses were linked and dependent on the other.

Almost comically Alexander's little lip begins to wobble and with practiced hands Michelle leans in and eases him into her arms. The pout fades, lips stretching into what could be a smile. It reminds Michelle of holding Caleb, his red scrawny limbs stretched out similarly, his personality already so apparent in the way he got things.

"You like their names, right?" Jaclyn asks, and Michelle turns to see her daughter chewing at her lip, hands still on Lillie's back.

She sits down beside her, both their hands occupied, but their words closer. "I love them. I love that you got to pick them. After everything that's happened, and everything they've put you through-"

"Mom," she warns.

"I'm just saying. I know you said they only had that plan to be prepared, but I haven't liked how they've been treating you lately. Even now they're using you, trying to help themselves instead of letting you heal."

Jaclyn's glare is radiating off her, and yet Michelle refuses to meet her eyes. Focused solely on the baby in her arms. "You know that's how it is; you've known this from the start-"

The NICU door opens and in comes Caleb, severing their conversation in the air, but perhaps it's for the best. The last thing she wants to do with Jaclyn is fight right now. 

"Hug," Caleb announces before unceremoniously propping his chin on Jaclyn's head and wrapping his arms around her. They all took Jaclyn's precarious situation harshly, but Caleb perhaps struggled the most.