Beautiful
"Where are you taking her?!" I'd asked the nurse my voice raw and desperate and my eyebrows pulled together nervously.
The baby had been cleaned and swaddled, her cries dying down and eventually ceasing. It was a speedy process, and before I'd had time to make sense of what was happening, the nurses were hurrying her from the delivery room.
They looked over their shoulders as I followed them out the door, and the one with the baby nodded to the other before speeding off. I made a move to catch up with her, but the remaining nurse stopped me.
"Lisa's taking her to the NICU," she explained. "The baby's premature and underweight. Did you notice her weak wailing?"
"Her weak... what?"
"She needs to be assessed for bradycardia – her resting heart rate is below sixty bpm."
It sounded serious in medical terms, but I'd had no idea what it meant. Staring blankly, I repeated, "What?"
"Beats per minute," she clarified.
It could have been that tears were still clouding my vision, but I couldn't make sense of it.
"Is her heart all right?" I asked. "Is she gonna be okay?"
"We'll do everything we can."
I shook my head as I swallowed, hating how sinister she made it sound. "What does that mean?" I pressed.
"She'll be placed in an incubator," the nurse said. "It will keep her warm and allow us to monitor her heart and her lungs. As long as she receives the proper care right away, there's no reason she shouldn't be well."
Not entirely reassured, I rubbed my lips together and nodded. The nurse looked like she wanted to get away. Lisa had rounded the corner with the baby, and I'd no idea where she went.
"Um... so she's in the Nic... the... um... ?"
"The NICU," she repeated. "Neo-natal intensive care unit."
"Oh. Right." Those were just words to me – a jumble of letters swimming before my eyes. "Which is where? Is she far?"
"No, not at all. It's on the fourth floor, Mr. Styles. You can visit her if you'd like."
"No." I gulped, shaking my head and reaching behind me for the doorknob. "I need to stay because Misty—I can't leave her."
She'd looked like she'd had something to say, but the nurse had merely nodded. "All right," she agreed, backing away.
"But just in case, it's the fourth floor."
I'd stored the baby's whereabouts in the back of my mind, wondering about her little hands and her little cheeks and her little fighter's heart as I made my way back inside.
*
Hours later, Muffy remained in a coma. They'd wheeled her out of delivery into her own room where she was being closely monitored and administered doses of magnesium sulfate, though it seemed too late to be pumping her with antidotes.
Her parents had arrived in a frenzy, demanding to know how this had happened and why. I'd been by Muffy's stationary side the whole time, but when her father yelled at the doctor for the second time in an hour, ordering and threatening and unable to control his devastation, I had to leave. I couldn't take it. Their worry and hysteria was not the reassurance I needed.
Not that I had any right to expect reassurance from them. After all, Muffy was their daughter. Her grave situation had to be more difficult on them than anybody.
I'd taken a leisurely walk around the floor to avoid her father's raised voice. Halting in front of the door upon my return, I stared through the narrow window as her father smoothed back Muffy's hair, leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. Her mother had taken my chair by Muffy's side, clasping her hand tightly as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
That was when I knew I couldn't go back in.
This was their time to be with her. Maybe, I thought with a ball of dread knotting in my stomach, their last time. As soon as they'd heard that she was in trouble, they'd dropped what they were doing and rushed to Cheshire, like any parents should. Like anyone who loved someone else would.
Where was my father, then? On an entirely separate continent, wearing a stuffy suit and tie and shaking hands with men with briefcases. Never there for me. Never there for his pregnant wife.
I wasn't certain how I'd gotten to the fourth floor, but before I knew it, there I was. Wandering aimlessly like a lost duckling until a nurse, who'd been eyeing me from behind a desk, called me over.
"Are you looking for something?"
"Oh. Um..." I trailed, nervously rubbing the back of my neck. "A baby, I guess."
She was younger than the other nurses, probably only a year or so older than I. She chuckled softly, setting down her pen.
"Well, we've plenty of those," she joked.
I tried to smile, but it was like I couldn't remember how. Instead, I managed to stammer, "R-right. I know. Sorry."
"What's the baby's name?"
My eyes widened as I racked my brains, horrified and furious with myself until I remembered that she'd never been assigned a name to begin with.
"She doesn't have one," I said sheepishly.
"Surname will do," the nurse giggled.
"Styles, I guess."
"You guess?" she repeated, raising a brow.
"No, that's her last name. I've just never thought about it until now."
Styles. She had my last name. As I followed the nurse along the hall, it finally clicked in my head: we were connected. We shared genetic material. We were a part of one another. And I had an obligation to her not because she was my father's child, but because she was my sister.
"Are you her father?" the nurse asked.
I shook my head. "Long story, but... I'm her brother."
The nurse laughed, and I relaxed my shoulders. "Sounds pretty simple to me," she said. We stepped into an open room with soft blue walls – a welcome contrast to the stark white floors and walls of Muffy's floor. Big machines with many hook-ups lined the walls, complex and frightening until I noticed that inside each one was an infant. I inhaled a sharp breath as we passed the first incubator – for some reason, I hadn't expected a baby to be inside. Such gigantic machines for such tiny people.
The nurse scanned her clipboard as we walked, stopping in front of the third incubator in a row. She double-checked her clipboard before nodding to herself and then looking to me. I approached slowly and with soft steps, as if I was afraid of waking her.
"This is Baby Styles," she said with closelipped smile. "You're her first visitor."
...
Her smile and her statement were supposed to reassure me, but they only made me sad. Babies were supposed to bring joy and excitement. They were supposed to be the center of their parents' universe. If it were my baby – if it really was Fitz who'd been pregnant all those months ago – she would have been the centre of mine. For some reason, this little unborn innocent had brought me dread and anguish and resentment.
The moment I saw her, I couldn't remember why.
She was inside the incubator hooked up to all sorts of tubes, swathed in a blanket and a little pink hat. She was unmoving, but I bent down to her level and saw her tiny hand rising and falling as it rested on her chest. Her skin was pink – not as though she'd been in the sun for too long, but like her body had just worked itself through a great trauma. Which I supposed was true.
I'd never seen anything so small before. So fragile. So oddly perfect.
She didn't have a name, and I'd never even seen her open her eyes. Even so, the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that millions of strands were bleeding from my heart, knotting and locking tightly with hers. That was all it took for me to feel inarguably, unconquerably devoted to her. And instead of someone else walking my life's path, sharing my experiences and suffering in the same way, I knew instantly that I wanted to protect her from all of that.
I wanted her to be loved without ever having to question it.
The nurse read off her clipboard: "Forty three centimetres long and weighing twenty-one hundred grams. Born at 9:33 a.m. on the twenty-third of December."
I nodded slowly, unable to peel my eyes away from the incubator. Softly, I agreed, "That's her."
"She's warm in the incubator," the nurse said. "Her heart rate's increased even from a couple of hours ago. We'll see how she responds to feedings, as she needs to gain weight – but I'd say things are looking good. I think she's going to be just fine."
I nodded again, still in complete and utter awe. "Is she sleeping?"
"Newborns sleep almost constantly, but she's been responsive so far. Alert. You can rock the incubator a bit, if you'd like – just be gentle about it."
For the first time, I tore my eyes from the baby as I placed a hand on the side of the incubator, looking to the nurse for approval. When she nodded, I gave it a slow, relaxed push. After a few rocks back and forth, my heart flew to my throat as her hand raised in the air, clenching into the tiniest fist before settling back on her chest in stilted movements. Then her lips moved, like she was opening her mouth to say something. I never stopped rocking her, gazing in fascinated adoration as her little legs kicked inside her blanket.
"I reckon she likes you," the nurse commented with a chuckle.
I was going to give her a smile until I realized I'd already been smiling.
The nurse left us alone after that, but I sat there rocking the incubator and staring for what could have been hours. I wasn't sure how long, but it didn't matter. Everything else faded away. All I could focus on was the fact that she was here. I had a sister.
And when her eyes fluttered open to gaze at me for the very first time, I saw green staring back at me.
Funnily, I didn't see my father at all – her eyes were too innocent, too trusting for that. But I saw myself. I gave her a warm smile, waving my index finger at her through the glass and marveling at how calm and composed she was.
It may have been the emotional traumas of the day getting to me, but I could have sworn she found comfort in me – because maybe she saw herself in me, too.
*
When my muscles were stiff and sore from sitting in the same place and a nurse came by to feed and change the baby, I got up to go to the loo and take a quick stroll around the floor to stretch. I returned to the unit but paused outside the room, staring through the window with my hands in my pockets. The baby was being re-swaddled after kicking and tangling her blanket from when I rocked her, and I smiled to myself as she was carefully placed back into the incubator.
"Harry."
My name echoed in the hallway – neither an exclamation nor a question, just a statement of fact. Instantly recognizing her voice, I turned my head in question.
It wasn't just Fitz. Though she led the pack, she was trailed by others, all dressed in hats and coats and scarves having come straight from the winter weather. The others – Louis and Josie, Niall and Finley – slowed their pace while Fitz sped up, eager to reach me.
My lips parted slightly in shock as I turned my body in her direction, my hands falling from my pockets just in time for her to walk straight into my chest, immediately embracing me. Instinctively, my arms went around her back, fingers gripping the material of her jacket and tugging her closer. Eyes squeezed shut, I bent my head and buried my face in her shoulder, turning toward her neck to breathe her in.
I'd fantasized about seeing her in person for so long, but never had I expected it would be under these circumstances. As soon as I'd rushed to the hospital instead of the airport, I'd abandoned my hopes of seeing her before Christmas. How she'd gotten here – and how the others had followed – was beyond me, but I didn't care.
She was here. She'd come to me. She was real, and she was in my arms.
I tried desperately to hug her closer, knowing that if I did, I'd probably crush her. She didn't seem to mind, locking her arms around my neck and clutching me just as tightly.
"I'm so sorry, bunny," she murmured, her voice strained. "Are you okay? Are you all right?"
Overcome with emotion, I could only shake my head against her neck. "You're here," I croaked.
"Yeah. I'm here," she said, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and cradling my head on her shoulder. "I'm here now. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you had to be alone."
I nuzzled her neck and breathed against her skin, "I missed you so much." My hands wandered her back, one sliding to her waist and the other slipping underneath the hood of her jacket, fingers curling around her shoulder.
"I know. I missed you too."
It was unreal to hold her. To believe that she was actually here, in my sight, in my arms, whispering to me in real time rather than through a phone line or a Skype call. I could feel her warm to my touch and melt into me like we'd never spent a day apart, but never before had we clung to each other with such desperation.
We were swaying slowly in the hall, glued to one another and moving as one for God knows how long. Eventually, when my heartbeat began to slow and I lost my breath against her skin, I gradually lifted my head and loosened my grip.
Face flushed and eyes clear, I straightened to get a good look at her. Hair shorter and lighter with freckles dusted across her nose from the sun, but she was still Fitz. Inquisitive eyes questioning my motives, I knew it with certainty – she still made me smile, even if it was weak.
I reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She turned her cheek to meet the palm of my hand, eyes fluttering dreamily as I ran my thumb gently along her cheekbone. I wet my lips as I admired her, so infinitely grateful that she was standing before me; so reluctant to believe that this was real but so desperately hoping that it was.
I could have stared at her for the rest of my entire life, but I sensed that we were being watched. I glanced over her shoulder to see four pairs of eyes on us. Louis, Josie, Niall, and Finley stood nearby, unabashedly witnessing our emotional reunion but giving us our space.
"You're all here," I murmured with a slight frown of confusion.
Serious for once in his life, Louis nodded. "You surprised? 'Course we're here." He gestured to the four of them in a row, adding, "You need your mates. And your..." he trailed, nodding in our direction, "... and your Fitz."
I gave her hip a light squeeze before I knew what I was doing.
"But you all have work and... Christmas," I reasoned.
"Fuck that," Niall said rather crassly, still in his GuardTech attire. "We're here. We want to be here."
Nodding slowly as Fitz turned to face the others, still cuddled into my side, I asked, "How did you get here?"
"I came with Claire straight from Heathrow," Fitz answered. "The others followed in Lou's car."
"You must be knackered."
"Can you stop worrying about us?" Lou chimed in. "How's Misty? How... what's happening?"
"I don't know," I said helplessly, shaking my head as my hand went limp curled around Fitz's hip. "I haven't... they're all just waiting." Before they could ask another question that might send me into a panic, I glanced through the window of the NICU and saw that the nurses had disappeared. Turning to the others, I said, "Wanna meet someone?"
Fitz's hand slipped naturally into mine as I led the pack into the NICU, glancing over my shoulder and holding my index finger to my lips as a warning to keep quiet. I slowed at the third incubator, rounding the side as a small smile crossed my face.
"That's her," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The others crowded round, their brows raised in intrigue. "She doesn't have a name yet, but that's her."
"She's so small," Finley observed, squatting to get a better look.
"Oh, look at her little hands!" Josie cooed, touching the glass with her finger. "She's the cutest thing!"
"What's all that stuff hooked up to her?" Niall asked, and I didn't miss the swipe of his pocket for his mobile in order to snap a photo – when he realized what he was doing, he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them still.
"It's like... feeding tubes and something to monitor her heart rate and her lungs... Muffy was having seizures when she was born so I think that complicated her."
"Poor little baby," Josie said softly, watching her with a pout. "She's been through so much already."
I gave them a few moments to get acquainted – to stare at her in awe as I had done for the past couple of hours. After a while, I shifted my gaze to Fitz. She sensed my sight on her and looked up, her eyes glistening with tears but a smile across her face nonetheless.
"That's your sister, Harry," she said.
I nodded, my heart overflowing.
"She's prettier than you, Haz," Lou said from beside me, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Probably smarter and better at football, too. You're from the shallow end of the gene pool."
I grinned, inhaling deep into my lungs and puffing out my chest. Fitz squeezed my hand, reminding me that she was here, and brought her other hand to wrap around my arm as she stepped closer. The six of us surrounded the incubator: the baby's first visitors, the only ones lucky enough to watch her stretch her tiny arms and open her mouth in a yawn.
"She's too tiny for this big machine," Niall remarked quietly, ripping his eyes from her only for a moment to look up with worry etched on his features. "Is she gonna be all right?"
I had no real answer for this other than the nurse's positive speculations, but to me, nothing and no one had ever seemed more real.
"I think so," I said, nodding hopefully. I didn't miss the arm that Finley wove around Niall's back as if to reassure him. "I think she's gonna be fine."
*
We knew we couldn't remain in that hopeful place on the fourth floor forever. Eventually, the six of us pet the glass of the incubator farewell, vowing to visit soon before dragging our feet to the lift. We shuffled along feeling heavier with each step, knowing that we may not face such promising news at Muffy's bedside.
The first trepid sign was in spotting Claire outside Muffy's room, slumped against the wall with her face buried in a pile of tissues. Hearing our footsteps, she glanced up as we approached, her face red and puffy with black makeup smeared underneath her eyes.
I looked to Fitz. She gave me a subtle shrug before looking to Niall. Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, Niall looked innocently to me.
With a gulp, I turned back to Claire. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, releasing Fitz's hand so I could step forward and rub Claire's shoulder. "Are you... I mean, is everything... what have you—"
I was cut off as she flung herself toward me, her arms wrapped so snug around my neck that I emitted a choked sound of surprise and tried to back away. As soon as I realized that she was shaking, however, I softened and returned the embrace, albeit awkwardly.
"I had to leave the room," she sobbed into my shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder at the others, who watched curiously but who made no attempts to take my place – least of all Niall. "I couldn't listen to the doctor explain it anymore. They just don't know. They say she should have responded by now."
"Is Dr. Wong in there? What's going on?" I asked, wishing she'd remove her head from my shoulder so that her words weren't so muffled.
She nodded, and with some gentle coaxing from me, she lifted her head. A line of black makeup leaked down her cheek, and she sniffled, trying to regulate her breathing but closer to hyperventilation than anything else.
"The seizures were affecting her brain," she said, "and so far, they can't detect any activity. Which means it's possible that she's..."
Claire couldn't finish, but I didn't need her to. That familiar dread found its way through me again, sinking into my bones and coiling around my organs. My hands slipped from around her and hung numbly at my sides.
"Is it all right to go in?" Louis asked, taking the lead with his hand on the doorknob.
Claire nodded.
I followed the pack inside, all of us ignoring the doctor's surprise at seeing so many of us crowd into the room.
"... everything we can to ensure Misty's recovery," Dr. Wong concluded. "It's turned into a waiting game."
Like Claire, Muffy's mother was holding a handkerchief to her mouth to muffle her sobs, but her husband was holding it together.
"But?" he asked, knowing the doctor was withholding.
Dr. Wong was constrained – for a moment, she toiled over the most gentle way to respond. "But... this isn't a situation we see often. Most women bring themselves to the hospital at the first sign of discomfort in a pregnancy, be it a minor or non-issue or something more serious. Had Misty been in days ago, we would have induced her, safely delivered the baby and proceeded as normal. The fact that she waited so long for her condition to develop into eclampsia... it's much more rare and makes things much more complicated."
"So you're saying..." Misty's father trailed off, prompting the doctor to finish.
"I'm saying we're doing the best we can given that her condition progressed to this stage. The nurses in the NICU have assured me that the baby is responding well and her heart rate is steadily increasing, which is a very positive scenario considering—"
"What about my daughter!" he interrupted, losing his cool only for a moment and shouting.
Dr. Wong may have been used to being attacked, for she didn't so much as flinch. "What we're doing right now is continuing to monitor her closely."
"When will she wake up?"
"I can't answer that, sir."
"Why not?"
The doctor sighed, as if she didn't want to be the one to break the news. "With the severity of the seizures and their frequency during the C-section, it is a possibility that her brain was quite negatively impacted. There's a possibility that she may not regain consciousness. At that point, a very serious decision will have to be made – but we're looking forward with positivity, and right now, we don't see a need to seriously consider that option."
But it was an option. As Muffy's doctor, she'd voiced it – and that meant it was more than just a shot in the dark.
She might never wake up.
My limbs felt distant and detached from my weakening body as I glanced around the room. Muffy's father consoling her mother, who wept into her handkerchief. My gran – my father's mother – who'd been wheeled into the hospital and who sat with her cane on her lap and a frown on her face. My friends – five of them – who'd dropped everything in their lives to be here for me and who were just as crestfallen as everyone else.
The only one not present was my father. The one who should have been by Muffy's side the entire time. The one who'd done this to her in the first place. He wasn't there. As always, family took a backseat to business.
I observed my friends huddled in a tight pack, their heads bowed except for Louis, who was carefully studying me. I paused at Fitz, letting my gaze rest on her as she leaned into my side, hugging my arm and intertwining our fingers with a strength I wasn't able to provide. These were the people I could rely on. The ones who'd do anything for me without me ever having to ask. It didn't matter if my father wasn't there for me. If I came in second to his work.
It didn't matter because I had them, so I could let him go.
So when I felt fury bubbling in my blood, it wasn't fury on my own behalf. I was furious on behalf of Muffy, who'd given up so much for him only to be left alone. I was even more furious on behalf of my sister, who had nobody in the world because he didn't care to be here.
With Muffy gone, she'd have nobody.
I'd never hated anyone before, but I hated him then. I hated him for what he'd do to her. I hated him in advance for making her cry and breaking her spirit. Her heart was fighting to survive and all he'd do was crush it.
Grinding my teeth so hard I was in danger of cracking them, I pried Fitz away from me and turned on my heels to leave the room. I did it so quickly and in such a livid haze that I wasn't sure if anyone had even noticed.
I'd forgotten that Claire was in the hallway, but as soon as I saw her crying there, I whirled in the opposite direction and stormed off. I had to punch something or run ten kilometres screaming at the top of my lungs; she didn't need to witness that.
I rounded the corner and sped down the hallway, passing nurses and doctors and visitors but pausing for no one. I wasn't sure if it was my brisk pace that was causing people and objects to blur or if it had something to do with the tears welling in my eyes. I cut another corner only to find myself at a dead end; nothing but a lift and two chairs seated in front of a tall window.
I turned around with the intention of moving on but found myself face-to-face with Fitz. I must have looked like I wanted to escape, for she tilted her head and pleaded, "Don't run away."
"I have to," I told her, removing my beanie and running a hand through my hair, tugging at the short strands. "I'm losing it."
"Then lose it," she urged gently. Taking a step toward me, she shrugged. "Nobody expects you to be strong all the time. That's why we came, Harry."
"For them, I need to be," I said, ignoring a tear as it slid down my cheek. "For Muffy and, if she's gone, then for—for her. The baby. Because she won't have anyone."
"Yes, she will."
I shook my head, brushing my nose with the back of my hand as I sniffled. My eyes darted to the wall behind her as they filled with tears.
"No. I know my father. If Muffy's gone, he won't want her. He'll give her to nannies all her life."
"Harry, you don't know that—"
"Yes, I do," I insisted, tears spilling over. "He'll be checked out. And she'll be too young to understand... she'll think it's her fault."
At a loss for words, Fitz simply walked forward and hooked her arms under mine, wrapping them around my waist.
I couldn't stop my tears from leaking, although my hysteria had died down. Staff and visitors alike glanced over in curiosity as they walked past – to avoid their stares, I turned my head and buried my face in Fitz's hair. I took a shaky, quivering breath, and as I gasped to inhale, she began to rub my back to soothe me.
And I let her. I reminded myself that she was here and that she just wanted me to be okay. I focused on breathing in and out even though a part of me was screaming to push her away and stalk off to find a way to make myself numb instead of facing everything I felt. Fitz didn't say a word, knowing just as well as I did that I needed to get a grip on myself.
When I wrapped an arm tighter around her and wove a hand through her hair, she rested her chin on my shoulder and whispered comfortingly to me. When I gave myself over to her, it worked. The tension in my shoulders dissipated nerveby-nerve, my blood simmered, and my breathing slowed.
But my thoughts never really left my sister.
"I can't let her grow up that way," I murmured, pausing for a gulp. "Not like I did. She's so small and defenseless. She didn't do anything to deserve it. He won't be good to her. And I can't..." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to finish, "... I can't watch that happen. I can't let him hurt her. I just want to protect her. Keep her safe from him."
"She won't be alone," Fitz assured me, running her nails along my shoulder blades. "No matter what happens, she won't be. We'll be there for her."
I sniffled as my brows knitted. "We?"
Fitz pulled back, biting her lip as she took me in. "You and me, Harry," she said, as if it was obvious. She caught a tear falling down my cheek and wiped it away with her thumb. "We'll take care of her."
Smacking my lips together, I nodded fervently. Me and Fitz. I knew from the insistence in her eyes that she wasn't just saying it – she meant it. She'd walked back into my arms and we fit together like we'd fit before, but this time – today – it was different. I could feel it already – the rope wasn't just knotting us together; it was fusing, turning into something more than string. Something meant to last through storms and over time, and she knew it just as much as I did. Neither of us pulled away.
"Harry, I think Muffy's gonna be fine," she said, trailing her hands down my arms and threading her fingers through mine. "I know what the doctor said, but nothing's for sure yet. We just have to wait and see, and I don't want to let go if I don't absolutely have to."
It took me a few moments to be able to swallow the lump in my throat, but I nodded.
"Okay," I agreed. "We won't let go, then."
*
Fitz was right when she said that all we could do was wait and see. Muffy's room was too small and we didn't want to overwhelm her family, so the six of us set up camp in the floor's waiting room, equipped with a boxed television set, a leather couch, various chairs, children's toys, and outdated magazines.
Once everyone had settled and we were well into the waiting period, Fitz and I watched from the uncomfortable chairs as Niall approached Claire outside of the waiting room to express his apologies – for Muffy's condition or for treating Claire the way he had, neither of us were sure. Teary, Claire pulled him into a hug, which he graciously returned. Then, with a final nod, Claire slipped back into Muffy's room and Niall joined us in the waiting area, peeling off his jacket and squishing in between Louis and Finley on the couch without comment.
In the middle of the afternoon, when we realized how famished we were, Lou and Josie took off in search of the cafeteria and returned with a couple of trays of mediocre food to share.
We took turns visiting the baby after that, going in pairs so as not to overwhelm her if she ever opened her eyes. Fitz rocked the incubator gently while I stared through and marveled at how small she was – how something so small would need to be hooked up to so many tubes to keep her tiny organs functioning. How even a light breeze could knock her over or a giant hand could break her bones.
Once our turn was up and Lou and Josie took our place keeping her company, Fitz and I found that the couch was free in the waiting room. Niall and Finley returned but took the chairs, saying that on their jaunt around the floor, they'd heard from Claire that things hadn't changed. Knowing we were in for a long haul, Fitz fell asleep, tremendously jet lagged from her flight. She brought a knee to her chest and covered herself with her coat and mine, resting her head against my shoulder as she drifted off.
I slipped my hand underneath our jackets and hooked it above her bent knee, but I didn't think I'd be so lucky as to fall straight asleep like her. Instead, I drew circles on her thigh with my thumb, my lids gradually growing heavier the more relaxed I became. I watched as Niall retrieved his iPod from his pocket, opened up a downloaded film, and shuffled his chair closer to Finley's. He glanced at her questioningly, offering her an ear bud. She held his gaze fondly for a moment before accepting, and the two of them shared headphones as Niall held the device in front of them and played the film.
Eventually, my head dropping against the back of the couch, I dozed lightly until Claire popped in with more news: no news. The medical staff were continuing to pump her with antihypertensive drugs and had ruled out a cerebral haemorrhage.
Which was good, of course... except she still hadn't woken up, so how good could it really be?
Agitated again, I carefully stood up and propped a couple of pillows next to sleeping Fitz to keep her comfortable while I was gone. Then I took a walk around the floor. I'd intended to work out my tension, but after two laps, it was still there. I slowed my pace and pinched the bridge of my nose as I walked. Claire found me strolling aimlessly just outside of Muffy's room and beckoned me inside.
"Your uncle came to pick up your gran and take her home," she explained after I'd asked where everyone went. "And my parents went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. After that, they were going to visit the baby for a little while."
Hands in my pockets, I nodded. Claire looked longingly to Muffy before turning back to me.
"Do you want to sit with her for a bit?" she offered.
I shrugged.
"Take my seat," she said, standing up and smoothing her hand over the chair. "I'll give you two a minute. I could use a walk, anyway."
Before I could protest, Claire had closed the door on us. There was nothing to do but sit.
So I did.
Inhaling deeply, I stared at her with all her tubes and her medical bracelet and her hollowed cheeks, hating myself for not paying more attention to the signs that she was ill. I tapped my fingers on the rail of her hospital bed, raking through my hair with my other hand and filling my cheeks with air before letting them pop.
Rather hesitantly, I took her hand in mine. I was gentle about it, careful to avoid the IV, but I couldn't help giving her a squeeze. Then, eyes on our hands, I waited.
"No," I murmured to myself when she didn't squeeze back. Silly of me for believing that she would.
I returned my hands to my lap, bothered by the absolute silence in the room. Muffy wasn't one for awkward silences, and I felt like I owed it to her to say something.
Covering my mouth with a fist, I cleared my throat. "Once, Niall was watching a medical drama and I heard them say that sometimes people in comas can hear what's going on around them," I began, keeping my voice soft yet steady. "I don't know if that's real or not. I guess I could ask the doctor, but I'd probably sound stupid. So if it's all the same to you... I'm just gonna talk."
I leaned forward, focusing on her expressionless face.
"I wish you'd called me sooner," I confessed, softer than before. "I wish you hadn't felt like you had to go it alone; but I know it's my fault that you felt that way. I've been pushing you away."
I dragged my eyes down the bed and ended up staring at my knees, head hung. My words came out slowly as I gathered them, but neither she nor I were in a rush.
"I'm sorry for that. Sometimes I don't know how to deal with things – stressful or emotional situations – and I have to find a way to cope. Usually that means I shut down somehow. Or I shut people out."
With a dry chuckle, I shook my head.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. I mean, it's pretty obvious I get it from my dad." Raising my head to look at her again, my smile faded but my voice grew stronger. "But I'm not like my dad. I know you see similarities in us, but I just want you to know that. I'm not like him."
I licked my lips, wishing she would nod in affirmation. I might as well have been talking to a wall... but I kept talking anyway.
"I'm lucky because I never had to suffer as much as he did," I reasoned, surprising even myself with that realization. "So it's easier for me to trust in people and to let them in because even though my heart's been broken, it's never been ripped apart and totally annihilated like his." I nodded, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose the person I loved the most. The thought was so unbearable that I had to keep talking to push it out of my mind. "I don't know what would happen to me if I ever went through what he did. Maybe there would be so much pain that I would need to cut out the world, just like him. I don't know for sure, but I don't think so."
There was a long pause as I considered my next words, twiddling my thumbs in my lap.
"When Fitz... she... when we broke up, she said to me that as far as me and my dad are concerned, our hearts are different. I didn't really understand what she meant. I was angry with her – and angry with myself – so I brushed it off. But I've been thinking about it a lot, especially lately, since the day I came to Cheshire for lunch – and I think I get it now.
"I think my dad can love a great deal, and quite deeply. I think he can love something so much he'd die for it... but that's not always enough. When he lost my mum, I think it terrified him of loving something so much again. So he tried not to. He avoided it. Close to two decades later, you came along, and you must be magic." With a short chuckle, I continued, "Whatever you've done, you've made him see a new life. One where he can start over and he doesn't have to be plagued by memories of a dead heart. Most of the time, that's what I think I am in his eyes: just a terrible memory. A reminder of something he would have rather closed the door on to save himself the pain."
When we ate dinner together, he'd have his laptop in front of him or his mobile to his ear. I never had to worry about sneaking to my room late at night when I came home drunk because he was always barricaded in his home office. He never read me stories or tucked me in at night.
But he did eat dinner with me when he wasn't away on business. And he never did go to bed before I did on a night I'd been out, whether I returned at midnight or four a.m. And even though I fell asleep alone, sometimes I'd wake up in the night with my blankets pulled up all the way to my chin or my hair brushed neatly to the side.
It was almost as if he loved me but he never wanted me to know it.
I dragged my tongue along my lower lip, furrowing my brows at the instances that had never cropped up before.
"As for me," I finally said, barely moving my lips as I talked, "I don't think I'll ever be scared of loving people, no matter how life beats me down. Even when I was dragging my feet to Myriad and looking around at the grey walls and everyone's robotic faces, I didn't know how to completely give myself over to it. Maybe it's because I went my whole life without hearing my dad tell me he loved me – maybe that's why I know I'll never take love for granted."
I sighed, feeling less tense and awkward talking to my unconscious stepmother and draping my forearm along the bedrail.
"When Fitz used to tell me she loved me, it was like..." I trailed, having to pause to collect myself, "... it was like the whole world opened up in front of me." My voice cracked and softly, I finished, "Like it was saying: this is what we're here for. Not to plug away on computers or make a pile of money, but just to give our hearts away – and, if we're lucky enough, keep somebody else's safe in exchange."
I hesitated, heaving a shaky breath. I realized I was mostly talking to myself, and I had to smile weakly, knowing that I'd worked myself up so much.
"Sorry," I said to Muffy, as though I was making her uncomfortable. "I'm really not an emotional bloke – not on the outside, anyway. Today's been rough, though. I felt like I had to say all of that because I don't know if you're planning on holding on. But I hope you will. I hope you stay with us, because you're a good person and you've made my father happy and your family loves you so much."
I scooted to the edge of my chair, knowing my next words were more important.
"And now you have a baby," I breathed. "She's really beautiful, Misty. You'd fall in love with her the second you saw her – I did." The corners of my lips tugged into a small smile. "You need to wake up for her. She needs a name. And I think she got used to your voice the past few months and you'd probably be a comfort to her with all of us strangers crowding around her and staring like she's a circus animal."
I bit my lip, my eyes travelling Muffy's sunken, weary face with regret.
"And she needs a mother. Everybody does," I concluded gently. "I think you'd be the best mum in the whole world. I'm not just saying that – I really, really do."
My heart was in my throat, and as much as I tried to swallow, I couldn't push it away.
Voice thick with emotion, I went on, "But in case you have to let go, I want you to know that she's gonna be all right. We're gonna take care of her – me and Fitz." As an afterthought, I added, "And Niall, probably." I rolled my eyes at the unwelcome image of Niall waving an infant around in the air a-la-Lion King.
Then I reached forward and sandwiched her hand between mine, relaxing my shoulders as I held it on the bed.
"We're gonna make sure she has everything she needs – that she goes outside and plays sports and does well in school and makes good friends. We're gonna love her. We're gonna tell her so every day, I promise. And she'll always know that you love her, too, and that you're with her. I swear. I just want her to be happy, and I have a feeling that's all you'd want for her, too."
It was only when a tear dripped onto our hands that I realized I was crying. Swallowing thickly, I wiped my eye and took her hand again.
"Okay," I said, followed by a sharp intake of breath, "that's all I had to say. Your family probably wants back in, so I'm gonna go for now." I hesitated before adding, "Please try to wake up. My dad always told me to try harder and I hated it – but I don't think there's anything wrong with trying for what we really want. So try. Try like hell. Trust me, you want to see your daughter's face." I nodded fervently despite the fact that no one was looking at me. "It's seriously gonna rock your world." I let go of her hand, stood up and brushed myself off. I ran a hand through my hair and pushed it back despite the fact that I didn't have the length to do that anymore and it simply fell back in place.
I left the room as strongly as I could, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, I covered my mouth with my hand and hunched my shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut to contain my tears, but they seeped through anyway.
"Harry?"
Startled, my eyes flew open and my hand fell lifelessly to my side. Claire was approaching me in the corridor, her face infused with concern. Quickly wiping my eyes, I sniffed in an effort to compose myself.
"Yeah?"
It seemed that I'd done a poor job masking my emotions, for Claire pouted before opening her arms to me, cooing, "Oh, Harry."
I held up my hand before she could trap me in another hug, backing away slightly. "I'm all right. Honest," I insisted. I gestured to Muffy's room. "You should go in. She needs the company."
Before Claire could respond, I was on my way down the hall to the lift, burying my hand inside my sleeve and using it to dab at the dampness under my eyes. Inside the lift, I concentrated on breathing in and out, and by the time I was on the ground floor, I felt calmer.
I wandered into the cafeteria for the first time, surprised upon entry that it felt so familiar to me. Once I'd had strep throat and difficulties breathing when I was young – my nanny had taken me to the hospital, but I'd never been past the emergency room. And yet I winced when I walked through the cafeteria doors, my mouth filling with saliva when I imagined myself swallowing something sour – grapefruit juice.
To my confusion, I found grapefruit juice in a pouch as I was in the queue staring through the glass doors of the refrigerator.
It was a small cafeteria with not much for seating, but I could remember being lifted onto a big white chair at a blue table – the chairs had a dip in the middle, and I'd thought I'd fit perfectly. I'd sat at the table with an ice lolly in hand, happy as a clam because I had a sweet.
And when the ice lolly began to melt and dripped onto my shirt, a big hand came toward me with a napkin to wipe it away. That hand took hold of my chin and forced me to raise my head so that my sticky face could be cleaned. As soon as my head was lifted, I found myself staring into the eyes of my father.
"Finish up your treat," he said, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it as he gently wiped my face. "Mummy still wants to hear about your day – are you going to tell her about your art project in school?"
Dumbly, I nodded.
"What else?"
I had no idea, but my lips moved of their own accord: "I want to say that I wode my bike to Andwew's house, and we pwayed on his twampowine, and we pwayed cops and wobbers and he didn't catch me."
"All right," he said patiently, his lips twitching as he pet my hair and fought to contain a smile of amusement, "she'd like to hear all about that. Are you ready to go and visit?"
It was as I was nodding again that I shook myself out of it. It was like a dream, but at the same time... it wasn't. It had happened before, in this very cafeteria.
We used to come here all the time, my father and I. Every day after dinner, he'd buckle me up in the car and we'd drive to the hospital to visit her. Sometimes my gran and granddad were there too. Other times, it was just us – mum and dad and me. He'd lift me onto her bed and I'd cuddle up to her while he lowered the rail on her bed and sat along the edge, facing us. She'd always ask about my day, and dad would smile proudly while I recounted every insignificant detail of my life. Sometimes the two of them would talk and I'd cross my ankles and close my eyes and pretend that we were at home where we were supposed to be.
I'd wanted so badly to take her home with us, but dad always said she had to stay.
"Can I help you, sir?"
The women behind the cash register stared expectantly at me, and I gulped with difficulty before placing an order.
I returned to the waiting room not long after. Niall and Finley were still watching their film, their legs stretching onto the coffee table. Lou and Josie had passed out next to one another on one end of the couch. On the other end, Fitz was sitting up with bleary eyes – she'd just woken up.
Without a word, I handed her one of two teas in my hand, stirred with milk the way she liked it. She accepted with a grateful smile, her hands poking out from the sleeves of my jacket that she was wearing to accept the paper cup.
It took some effort, but I was able to smile in return as I eased myself into a seated position next to her. I leaned against the back of the couch and sighed, exhaustion seeping into my bones from the tumultuous events of the day.
Her eyes were on me, and it wasn't long before she asked quietly, "You okay?"
I turned my head to gaze at her, and after considering it, I said, "Yeah. Are you?"
She nodded, taking her lower lip between her teeth. I studied the freckles dusted across her nose, in love with the way she looked at me. Like she was studying me, too, and she couldn't get enough.
"If I haven't told you already," I said lightly, "I'm really glad you're home."
"Me too," she agreed. "Although I don't think it's sunk in yet. It's hard to believe this is real. Not just you sitting beside me and bringing me tea, but the whole thing. This entire day. It's been... unreal and disorienting."
"Yeah. I know."
We'd planned to go for lunch in London and do a bit of Christmas shopping for her parents and Muffy. I was going to drive her to Derbyshire and have dinner with her and her parents before wishing her a Happy Christmas, hopefully followed by a kiss. Then I'd bid her farewell and promise to pick her up on Boxing Day, when she'd accompany me to Cheshire.
I'd been looking forward to this day for months, but it hadn't gone according to plan in the slightest. I felt guilty, but Fitz didn't seem to mind.
Instead, she surveyed the others before turning her attention back to me. "We were thinking that we'd order a few pizzas to share with everyone – Muffy's parents and Claire, too. Better than the hospital food, which is ghastly."
I nodded, captured by the grey in her eyes and how much I'd missed them watching me.
"And then we thought it might be nice to drop by your place in Holmes Chapel to pick up some pillows and blankets for Muffy's family," she went on. When she said 'we', I knew she really just meant herself – that was Fitz, perpetually scheming and planning. "They'll probably want to stay the night in the hospital, but we could make it more comfortable for – why are you staring at me?" she asked, cutting herself off mid-sentence with an offended frown. "Are you even listening?"
"Yeah," I answered, unperturbed.
"Fine. What did I say?"
I gave her a shit-eating grin. Both of us knew I had no idea what she'd said. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, groaning under her breath. "You're such a —"
"I really love you."
I hadn't meant to interrupt, but I had to say it. She may not have known the context, but it had never been more important to me to spit it out.
Taken aback, her brows raised and her lips parted, her next words lost on her tongue. She blinked, eyelashes fluttering as if she couldn't understand what I'd just said.
Leaning my shoulder against hers, I pushed a section of her hair behind her ear, wetting my lips. "Should we go pick up pizzas and whatever else you said, then?"
Dumbfounded, she slowly began to nod.
I stood, offering my hand to pull her up. Once she was standing, she didn't let go. Niall and Finley looked up from his iPod, and I waved them goodbye holding my tea.
"Ring me if there's any news," I said.
Niall nodded. Satisfied, I squeezed Fitz's hand and laced my fingers through hers. She gave me a small smile, which I returned, and we left the waiting room hand-in-hand.