𝙎low down.
Please—just slow down.
The automatic glass door closed behind her body with an almost silent whoosh as she passed through it, quickening her steps to keep up with the pace the paramedics were pushing Blake's stretcher. Between the few seconds in which the ambulance parked outside and she was unloaded, an EMT had replaced her standing position with a straddling one, pumping down on her lover's chest.
Emiko's eyes watered as her body jerked up and down, but her lips remained blue and her hands continued to limply hang at her side, twitching with each forced movement.
This is all my fault.
If I didn't distract her in the hallway—
"We need to get the baby out!" a command flooded her ears, "It's killing her!"
Her eyes magnified in exceeded terror as the EMT that had once been administering chest compressions suddenly stopped everything and leaped off, landing on the ground with a dull thud. The paramedic-issued monitor that showed her vitals sat on the corner edge of the bed, no longer beeping with an indication of life, but rather flattening with lifelessness.
She parted her lips to ask why the hell they were stopping their work when the cornered view of the wall slipped out of view and inside a trauma room she was pushed. Tracing after their movements like a semi-lost puppy, she attempted to step inside with the rest of the group, but at the last second, a nurse spun and grimaced at her before slamming the door shut, trapping her outside.
"Wait, what are you doing to her!?" she cried out.
No one listened.
The scene was too familiar—unknown hands covered every inch of a body that mattered to her more than it ever would to them the moment she was out of these four walls. Piles and piles of bloodied towels taunted her through the transparent door, covering each squared section of the flooring. Images of a hospital room she'd been forced to endure just a few days ago took hold of her vision.
A tense pounding in her head overflowed the rational part of her brain that kept her from forgetting how to breathe—that room was just like this; it hadn't even been two fucking days.
Electrical currents in the forms of paddles were pulled from the benched area they belonged to as shouts of clear and all set rang through the inch of plexiglass that separated her from the woman she'd spent the majority of her life with. Oxygen bags covered the vicinity of her mouth while pasties coated her skin—the beep of life returned.
But she had seen this movie before.
False hope took the most victims.
Her mind flashed again, muddling her thoughts and memories to two indistinct pictures—Damien alive, then dead; Blake dead, then alive—what was real, and what the hell was fake??
"Excuse me!" a new voice interrupted.
Emiko had less than a second to move out of the way before the doctor was shoving her shoulder absentmindedly into her collarbone, brushing past her without so much as a huff of breath. She would have voiced her reservations about the obvious mistreatment, but the only thing her mind was trained on was the fact that this doctor had left the door ajar just a crack.
She was about to go against everything she thought was right—which was letting the doctors do their damn jobs unbothered—but as she reached toward it, the bustling crowd of EMTs crossed through the threshold, pushing her even further away.
"Wait!" she turned on her heel, "Where are you going?!"
"Our job here is done," one of them looked at her sympathetically.
"She's still dying in there!"
"We're not doctors," he said briefly, "It's out of our hands."
Anger almost had her pressing him more, almost had her telling him to shove it where the sun didn't fucking shine and assist anyway, but her eyes caught sight of a confusing commotion in the emergency waiting room and her words fell short, sticking to her tongue.
It took that moment of solace and aloneness to realize that her journey chasing the gurney had been done solo and that Caycee was not stuck to her side but at Kai's. Her fingers were shoved deep into the mess of brown and green on her head, in clear distress, and it made her want to dwell on the fact that she hadn't even noticed him when they got here, but all of that changed as she understood the situation.
Caycee's frantic cries landed in her heart like a deadly virus as Kai was slammed to the ground so hair, blood from his nose painted the dull tiles. Two to three cops pinned him down, and despite his struggles, managed to click a pair of handcuffs on.
Is he getting arrested?!
A foot in their direction was all she was allotted before reality snapped at her, reminding her what was serious and what was not. If he was spending a night in jail, he had to do something to earn that vote—it wasn't her problem; swinging around, she paid attention to what was.
Loud voices filled the depths of her eardrums as she looked over her shoulder and watched Blake once more being wheeled out of the trauma bay room.
"Where are you taking her?" she said to a nurse.
He shot her a glance, but other than that, merely brushed her off and followed the crowd.
"Hello!?" she shrieked at him, "Will anyone answer me!?"
"Momma, you're scaring me!"
Emiko sucked in a fat gulp of air as she glanced a chin-length down and spotted those beautiful jade saucers that belonged to her adopted son. His thumb was pressed to the inside of his baby teeth as he nibbled on it, clearly trying to stop the flow of tears that were already steadily running down his soft brown cheeks.
In the midst of all the chaos, even though he was curled into her arms, she completely negated his existence, caring solely for the woman that was dying, rather than the living, breathing child in her arms. Part of her wanted to curse herself out for being so negligent toward his feelings, but most of her just wanted him to be somewhere safe while she dealt with losing the second person she loved within a handful of days.
Kneeling, she placed Tripp on his feet.
"I'm sorry, baby," she cooed, "I didn't mean to freak you out—mommy is just worried about Auntie Blake right now."
"What's wrong with her?" he whined.
"The doctors have to figure that out," she emitted a small white lie.
"Is she going to die?"
She winced at the last word, but otherwise kept her plaster-of-Paris smile stuck to her face like it was pasted on there by someone his age. If there was one thing that she wanted to shield him from, it was that word—she hadn't even found the courage to tell him that Damien died.
"No, baby, of course not—she's just having her baby."
"It hurt?"
"Yes," she nodded quickly, "But enough of that—can you do me a favor?"
Tripp nodded sadly.
"Through those doors over there," she pointed and waited for his eyes to follow her finger before she continued, "—is your Auntie Caycee. I need you to go in there and wait with her while I deal with these big girl problems, okay? Can you do that for me?"
"No!" he suddenly raised his voice, "I want to stay with you Momma!"
"I know," she softened hers, "But little boys aren't allowed back there."
"Don't care! Stay here!"
She didn't have time for this.
As much as she loved the twerp, he was acting exactly like one. She understood better than anyone that his convictions lay with the scene that occurred at the house because even a god couldn't have protected his eyes from seeing the fucked-up mess, but it wasn't enough for her mind to be on him.
Instead of focusing on his wilting cries, she lifted her head and bore her gaze through the door, hoping to sear the back of Caycee's head with it so much so that she would turn around and face her. A silent prayer shot through her internal monologue as she did so within a second.
"Go to her, Tripp," she commanded this time, "I mean it."
At the same time, she motioned with her eyes at her.
Strength pooled in the bottom of her pit, mixing like gasoline and water with the anxious bubbles already present as she watched Caycee wipe the clear tears off her face and pass through the sliding doors, heading for Tripp. She wanted to stay and console her because she knew better than anyone that she was the poster child of a woman who just lost a love so scorned.
Dammit—was it Kaedyn?
Letting the thought flitter out of her head, Emiko moved and sprinted away from Tripp as she neared him; his crying screams trailed her as well as the fighting words he spit at Caycee's bounding grasp, but she pushed on. As shitty as it sounded, she didn't care who else was hurt right now—the only person on her mind was the one that entered at five years old and never fucking left.
Where did she go?
Where did they take my precious girl??
Emiko's head swiveled as she danced across the ground, straining her neck over and over, running and skirting across the white tiles each time she stopped in front of a trauma room. A frightening gasp passed her lips as the idea of her leaving the trauma center period crossed her mind, but it disappeared as fast as it appeared as her foot stopped in front of the biggest room down here.
"Blake," she whispered to no one.
Ignoring the droplets of blood laced to the bottom of her shoes as she raced through them, and the sound of frantic nurses trying to stop her in her tracks, she grabbed the flimsy door that separated her from the love of her life and bolted into the room, standing just off to the side.
"Excuse me!—miss!—you can't be in here!" one of the female attendants shouted at her.
"Blake!" she said instead, "Blake, please wake up!"
"Someone get her out of here!"
Her eyes widened to the size of baseballs as flashes of pale blue scrubs hounded her vision. In a fit of pure fear, she reached across to the discarded table next to her and grabbed the closest tool. The minute her fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the scalpel, she flung it in front of her, protecting herself with the blade, making the nurses pause in stride.
"Don't come near me!" she threatened, "She is my girlfriend!—I'm staying!"
"Someone get security in here!"
"NO!" she bit through her clenched jaw, "I'm staying!"
"Everyone shut up!" a louder voice boomed, "—we don't have time for this!"
Emiko's eyes slid across the room, locating the woman whose voice it belonged to. She recognized her as the doctor that had shoved her aside earlier, and whilst she somewhat allowed her to be in the room, her heated glare was anything but friendly.
Sharpened blades of black bore into her skull and almost made her up and walk out of the room on her own accord, but they slicked away from her in a moment's time and landed back on Blake's shown stomach—that, which was drenched in sterilizer.
"Scalpel," she held out her hand.
A nurse, a little younger or just about her age, listened to her instructions easily and passed over the instrument. Emiko's legs shook with sadness and hope alike as the doctor shouted out medical words that made no sense to her; her knees threatened to give out.
Her wide and empty eyes were forced to simply watch with sheer sympathy as they began carving into the only person who ever had her heart.
"One day, when we're old and together," Emiko happily jumped in place, watching the light in Blake's face turn on with her words instead of the ones on her sneakers, "—I'll wear a pretty pink dress, and you'll wear a pretty yellow one, and we'll be married and in love forever!"
"Is that so?" Blake smiled one of those gentle smiles of hers.
"Yup!," she grabbed her hands, gaping at her eleven-year-old face, "I'll even let you toss the bouquet!"
"You might have yourself a deal then."
Tears flew down her cheeks as the memory replayed in her mind. A promise made by children was nothing that should be brought into adulthood, so she couldn't exactly remember why she was thinking about it right now other than the fact that it was one based on sentimentality—one that ensured that if not by her side, she was at least somewhere on this planet.
Her hands slowly covered her mouth as she tried to physically hold her sobs in her mouth, not wanting to emit any more selfish acts and distract the medical team that was desperately trying to save her life.
"Promise you're not going anywhere," she begged him, sobbing into his suit, "Mila's gone, I can't bear to lose you, too. Is it selfish to ask you to quit your job?"
"A little," Damien patted her head.
"I need you—I can't lose the both of you!"
"I'm not going anywhere, Sis," he smiled at her, "You can't get rid of me that easily."
Promises that couldn't be kept.
People that couldn't be saved.
Everyone around her was slowly slipping out of her fingers—everyone she cared about was being forced to shove their feet into early graves, shattering connections and word-created contracts left and right. It was like no matter how much she tried, no matter how much she loved, she was always meant to be where she was—a few seconds from collapsing to the floor and never recovering.
"I've found the placenta!" the doctor announced.
It dawned on her now that she must be an obstetrician on top of a trauma surgeon.
"Pulling it out!"
Emiko's formally placed hands, there to hinder her feelings, now pressed against her lips as she tried her best to keep the last meal she ate in her stomach and not on the floor. Blood slapped the area around and underneath Blake's gurney as they sliced it open and shoved their hands in, reaching for the little human that'd been growing inside for the last seven months.
That's impossible—
It's two months too soon!
Blake's words bounced off her head as her palms tore themselves off her cheeks. Her entire attention was captivated by the small ball of flesh that was now a tangible being. It was probably no bigger than the size of a football, and it looked a little pale, but for the first time, a minuscule smile latched onto the lips of the doctor.
"It's a b—"
Her voice faded just as her own thoughts circulated to one central point.
"Why ...?" she whispered, "Why isn't it crying?"
Emiko didn't realize she had been pointing at the kid, but all eyes were turned on her and that faint rainbow of happiness that entered the room at the sight of a newborn completely crumbled, mixing with the rhythmic dripping of Blake's blood.
The stillness of the room was interrupted by the blaring beeping that presented on the EKG monitor. She moved to take a desperate step forward, as she could not see the screen from her standing spot, but she stopped as the bodies inside the small room swarmed.
"She's Tachycardic!" one of them said.
"She's slipping from us!"
"Fuck!—she's bleeding out from her uterus!"
Emiko's face morphed into someone's out of a horror movie as her eyes traced the movements of the doctor. Instead of handing the baby over to the collection of colleagues behind her, she stood up and carried it, focusing her eyes on it rather than the woman that was dying in front of her.
"What the hell are you doing!?" she screamed, startled by the sound of her own voice.
"I hope you're not talking to me," the doctor replied, not even looking at her.
"I am!" she recovered, "—save Blake, not the baby!"
"Are you the legal guardian of the child?"
"No."
"Married to the patient?"
"No," she grit her teeth, growing frustrated.
"Then I'm afraid you need to let me do my job and shut up—you have no authority here," finally shoving her chin over her shoulder, she motioned at a nurse, "Get her the hell out of my ER."
"What?—no!" she yelled, raising the scalpel again, "You can't kick me out!"
"Get security."
Blood pounded in her ears so loudly, it was in tune with the heart monitor in front of her. She had three choices—either she could walk out of here on her own accord, let security drag her out, or find a good fucking reason to stay here and fight against them. Every second they left unspent on Blake was a second of her life she might never get back.
Against her better judgment, she opted for option number three.
At the same time she saw security out of the corner of her eyes, a new body joined the room and attempted to whisper a cautious statement to the doctor.
"We only have one type A bag left," his eyes flashed to Blake, "She's not gonna survive the night on that—she's lost almost a fourth of her normal intake; it's a miracle she's still alive, even if it's barely."
"I can give you blood!" Emiko straightened up, "I'm O positive!—a universal donor!"
"Absolutely not," the doctor scoffed, "You're a liability."
"Give me the papers!" she yelled, "I'll sign anything—just save my girlfriend," her once strong voice suddenly fell under the weight of pressure as tears pricked the corners of her eyes once more, whining for their release, "—please," she begged, "Save my Blake."
A flicker of empathy passed her black eyes before she blinked and it was gone. Stripping her gloves off and allowing the NICU nurses to take care of the baby that still wasn't crying, she marched over to her and yanked a thermometer from the same table in which she'd stolen the medical knife.
Pressing the cold device to her forehead, she dragged it from the center of it to down and under the lobe of her ear. It only took a second for the number to come through, but from the tick of the doctor's lips turning down, and not up, she knew it couldn't be good.
"Just as I thought, you're running a fever," she showed the 100.2 number, "We can't take your blood."
The doctor turned on her heel, heading back to the baby.
Something unhinged in her snapped.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarled, getting the eyes of everyone in the bay, "I sat through an entire ambulance ride from one hospital to this one because they had no room for us—they told us that everything would be fine—that Blake could get the medical attention she needed. I trusted them. I trusted you," she heaved, "And now you're going to tell me that not only are you not going to take my blood, you're not going to even focus on Blake, but her stupid fucking baby?!"
"Watch it—"
"She's a goddamn woman—she can make more kids!" her voice was so loud, her throat was rubbing raw as she spoke, "But she can't fucking do that if you don't do your damn job and save her life!"
"Even if we wanted to, we can't operate on her! She needs a hysterectomy! The moment I open her up, she's going to bleed out even more than she is right now, and as you know, we don't have the resources to operate!—the least I can do is save the kid."
Unbelievable.
Blake was dying and here she stood, arguing with the doctor.
It was mentally deranged, but nothing could have prepared them for what she did next.
She didn't even care that by hysterectomy, she meant she would never be able to conceive again—as disgustingly sick as it sounded, she'd prefer Blake here than the baby. As bad as the thought was itself, she would rather Blake hate her for making this life-changing decision than be dead.
"You need blood, I have blood!"
Emiko lifted the scalpel to her wrist and dug into her skin, bypassing the burning sensation as nothing more than a bump in the timeline—she dragged it horizontally, slicing her in half. Hot, red liquid poured from her wound and spilled across the floor in dangerous levels, but all she did was outstretch her hand and offer it up as if she were a goddamn sacrifice.
"Take it! Save her!"
Dark dots danced around the sides of her vision, and her legs wobbled more than they had before, but she pushed on. She would do anything for Blake—there was nothing, no part of her, she wouldn't give to her if she simply desired, or fucking needed it.
"I won't let you kill her!"
"Get Psych on the phone!" the doctor demanded.
"Save. My. Girlfriend!" Emiko declared, readying the knife to her next wrist.
"I told you, we can't take your blood," the doctor tried to sympathize with her, but all it sounded like was cold, hard pity, "It's infected with a fever; if we were to do a transfusion, the cells in your blood could cause an infection in Blake's or even kill her—think rationally!"
"Screw rationality!"
Emiko dipped the blade into her skin again.
If she can't be here with me, then I'll be there with her.
A drop of blood was all she managed to withdraw before a firm hand grabbed the one holding the scalpel and pulled it away. The force of the yank was so powerful, the blade flew out of her grasp without purpose, clanging to the ground.
Her eyes barely had time to register who the woman was before a flash of silver appeared in front of the room and silenced everyone.
"I'm type A—I just checked in and filled out the paperwork," she rolled her sleeve up, "Now do your job and listen to the lady—use your resources and save Blake."
Emiko fell to the ground in a pile, shock, and exhaustion besting her.
"Auden—"
"Shut up," she looked down on her, "I'm not doing this for you."
"Then why are you?"
Something sad had a grasp of her expression.
"To at least save one life today."
That was the last thing she uttered before the doctor whisked her and Blake's gurney out of the room, dispersing to a room that was less infected with her sick cells.
Somewhere in the fog of everything, a nurse landed at her side and gripped her open wrist as hard as she could, stopping the blood flow.
The pain dawned on her then—
—but when she opened her mouth to cry, someone else overpowered her.
The baby.