Christine's POV:
Mike O'Malley's announcement to join us at St. Clare's Mercy was an event of much fanfare to some, namely to Chief Mattis. He counted it as our closest lead to locating the Phantom and Y/n.
"Just think!" He always said. "Monsieur O'Malley will know precisely where Y/n is, being her guardian and all. If he can't lead us to her, nobody can!"
From my friendship with Y/n, I knew few things about her Uncle Mike, but I knew just enough to discredit his coming as anything except a burden. According to Y/n, he was a jobless, raging alcoholic with anger issues. Not exactly the company an expecting woman wants to be around near the end of her term.
If only I had known that Mike O'Malley was exactly the company I needed.
We still had a handful of days until his arrival, and until then, I deigned to uncover why the nuns were secretive over Raoul's situation. This 'situation', as I mentally dubbed it, was a beacon of dread, though I refused to identify exactly why. But, deep down, I knew the truth. I feared a fatal case of this awful disease that the nuns were too afraid to tell me about.
And when did they intend to tell me? When things became either worse or better? After I'd had the baby to alleviate the stress it might cause? One thing soon became clear to me. I'd figure out the truth before the baby was here. I can not explain why, but that was the time limit my mind set for itself. Besides, I doubted I could bring any child into this world calmly until I had answers on this count.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
Over the next few days, as my health was nearly restored, I pleaded with all the sisters for just an ounce of information, especially Sister Maisie.
Finally, on the brink of tears, I said, "fine. If you don't tell me anything, I'll figure it out myself. I'm recovered enough to walk around some now, and I'll discover the truth on my own."
Sister Maisie, eyes wide, glanced down at her hands briefly, then flicked her gaze upwards to meet mine.
"You are determined, aren't you, madame? Well, I can't exactly blame you. But I refuse to let you go on your own. I..." She stopped, as her voice lowered to a whisper. "I'll take you myself, but please, be warned. There's a reason we've been hesitant to let you know."
My stomach twisted into knots.
"And why is that?"
I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. Did I want to know? No, my wants hardly constituted anything. I needed to know.
"It's what you feared, madame. The case is so painfully severe that nobody wanted to stress you, and in your condition, stress is obviously something worth avoiding-"
"So I was just never meant to know?" I asked, anger rising alongside my disbelief. I checked that in seconds. There was no point in growing angry with Sister Maisie, especially since she was just following her superior's orders, and I had bigger concerns to attend to. "I want to see him. Right now."
"Truly? Right now?"
Sister Maisie looked both stunned and hesitant, but I nodded, constructing a wall of bravery I did not actually feel.
"Yes. Why would I wait? Please, Sister Maisie, it would mean so much to me if I could go now."
Traitorous tears! Those horrid things returned for another round.
"And you're certain you can handle it?" The sister asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion, evidently weighing my response for the truth.
"I refuse to not be ready. My experience with this horrible disease has kept me away from him long enough."
Sister Maisie could not delay the inevitable any longer, and she must have sensed it.
"Fine." She sighed. "Follow me."
She helped me rise from bed and led me out into the hall. As a means of recovery, I had begun short daily walks down the hall and back, so I already knew my environment well. But which door would she lead me into? That was my most pressing question.
Sister Maisie did not survey my expression again. Apparently, when I was determined to go, she would not second-guess it anymore. She opened the door to a dim room and gestured me in ahead of her. With bated breath, I entered. I didn't need confirmation that this room would verify the depth of our trouble. The foreboding sense festering within my chest had already confirmed it.
The room was so dark that I could see very little, including Raoul himself. Turning about the room, my eyes finally landed on a shuttered window.
"Couldn't we open those, Sister Maisie, to get some light in here?" I asked.
"I'm afraid light would be troublesome for both your sakes. You don't want to see his full condition right now, whether you believe you're brave enough for it or not. And he sleeps better when things are dark."
"Is that the best that can be done? He sleeps it off?"
Even in the shadowy room, I glimpsed Sister Maisie's slight nod.
"I'm afraid so. This is what we call a severe case, and not much else can be done."
I nodded, nibbling on my lower lip. Her words all made perfect sense to me, but even then, that didn't make me detest them any less.
"Have you got your answers, madame? Are you ready to go back now?"
The anxiety in Sister Maisie's voice was hard to miss. Clearly, she feared the stress this might cause me and wanted me away from it all now. But, now that I found myself here, I could not tear myself away.
"I'd like to stay a bit longer, I think. Would you mind?"
In my head, I internally resolved that, even if I was refused, I would protest to stay until she had to give in.
Sister Maisie expelled a heavy sigh, saying, "I would have to leave you here, for I have other things to attend to, but yes, I suppose you may."
She turned to leave, but a question abruptly rising in my mind, I stopped her.
"Wait! How likely is it that he..." I could not say the word I intended to, so instead, I mumbled, "lives?"
In the doorway, illuminated by the light in the outside hall, she shrugged, shaking her head.
"In a severe case, it can be as hard to predict as a coin toss, madame. I'm sorry."
After that, Sister Maisie departed, and I was left to silence and my own ponderings. Oh, what a nasty mess this situation had tangled into! I had misgivings about America from the start, but if things worsened... If Raoul- No, even in my head, I blocked that concept. I would never forgive Chief Mattis for fooling Raoul into thinking this scheme was an excellent idea. Perhaps I was misplacing my anger, reader. I daresay I was, but in this time of upheaval, my aching heart needed someone to blame. Mattis appeared the easiest target.
I advanced nearer to the bed, taking one of Raoul's limp hands in my own. It burned to the touch. Oh, my poor, dear Raoul! My heart shattered, crushed under the weight of this sorrow. He was asleep now, but even then, I feared his sudden awakening and witnessing my state of distress.
I dropped his hand, sank into the nearby chair, and buried my face in my hands. How had this happened? What was I meant to do? This helplessness was suffocating, but I could not fight its encroaching despair.
I probably stayed in that chair for upwards of an hour, motionless, silent except for my stifled cries. Eventually, though, a nun found me there and guided me back to my own bed with a tender hand. The kindness of these women was unmatched; it eased my troubled soul at least slightly.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
Over the next few days, in the middle of August, my health dipped to worse once more. The nuns puzzled over it, and if I had the heart to talk, I could have explained myself in a few simple words: physical affliction no longer tormented me. It was solely emotional.
If I wasn't upholding silent vigil at Raoul's side, I wallowed underneath my blankets, mostly asleep. Once more, the days blurred past in a blank haze, though my mental suffering inflicted it this time.
A week after Mattis had sent his letter of reply to Mike O'Malley, the man himself arrived at St. Clare's Mercy Hospital Convent. Upon first sight, I mistrusted him. His tousled hair and unkempt mustache proved carelessness, and the vacant look in his eye declared liquor's influence. His cheeks were ruddy and inflamed, signifying that alcoholism was a longstanding habit. To top it all off, his angry, hard eyes betrayed a meanness I pitied Y/n for having to endure. Even from where I discreetly spied him in the vestibule's doorway, all this became clear to me.
I had intended to return to my own bed and drift into dreamless, depressed slumber for a few hours. I had been attached to Raoul's side since early this morning, and when I could endure the mental torment no longer, Sister Maisie had come in and, in a sterner tone than usual, ordered me out of the room.
Now, I planned on a long nap to ease my troubles, but this stir in the nearby vestibule alerted me.
"For God's sake, woman, I know you have a police chief in this hospital, and I've come to speak with him." Monsieur O'Malley snarled.
The nun attempting to greet him civilly- Sister Sophie, I believed- glared at him darkly.
"Monsieur, I need confirmation of who you even are. I was not informed of a visitor, nor do I know of another sister who was prepared for this."
"Mike O'Malley. The group of officers here just now are trying to locate my niece and arrest her kidnapper, but I heard there were difficulties." With a sigh indicative of his great inconvenience, he pushed Sister Sophie aside. Not once had I seen a nun so disgruntled. "I have a medical background in Paris, and I need these people healthy so we can retrieve my niece and-" With a slimy smile that made my heart clench, he added, "her reward money."
For a raging Parisian drunkard, his English was polished. Perhaps he was fluent, but speaking French myself, I could not say for sure.
"Sir!" Sister Sophie hastened to stop him. "I need to know if you're even authorized to be here, if Chief Mattis knows you're here, as you claim. I-"
"Ah, Monsieur O'Malley, you've finally come!" Chief Mattis said, sailing into the vestibule.
I jumped back out of the doorway, unaware he had been approaching until now.
"Chief Mattis, I presume?" Mike O'Malley said. "Would you tell this idiotic woman that you were aware of my coming?"
"Oh, yes, sister. Not to worry. I asked Monsieur O'Malley here. He was a doctor in Paris, and I need those in my party healthy as soon as possible. We've lost enough precious time in this hospital."
Irritation nagged at me once more. Was that all Mattis cared about? Tracking down my angel and hauling Y/n back to France? Considering the fact many in his team were deathly ill with yellow fever, like my own husband, my annoyance was justified. The man was a headstrong fool, and this confirmed it.
"You expect him to help heal these poor souls?" Sister Sophie asked, exasperated. "Has Mother Superior approved of this? I'll tell you now, she won't be pleased if you went behind her back."
"Yes, all snags in the plan have been worked out." Mattis said with an over-familiar pat on Sister Sophie's arm that was meant to be conciliatory.
Sister Sophie sighed, shaking her head. She must have sensed her loss in this battle and decided to surrender gracefully.
"Well, Mr. O'Malley, welcome to St. Clare's Mercy."
Mike O'Malley and Chief Mattis were already headed towards the vestibule's inner door.
"Go to hell, you wench!" Mike O'Malley shouted, gesturing with his finger in a way best kept off a civilized page.
Sister Sophie, astonished by his outburst, crossed herself and departed into the vestibule's outer door, in high dudgeon.
Monsieur O'Malley swayed in his walk down the hall, and I watched with unease. The man was more than merely intoxicated. He was plain, vulgarly drunk, and I recoiled. I had little power with Chief Mattis. He often disregarded my concerns and protests, but this time, I would not be so easily brushed off.
I refused to have such a deplorable man involving himself in our recovery, particularly in Raoul's, which was my especial care.
No, this would never do. Hurrying down the hall, I caught up to both the surete chief and his repugnant guest.
"Chief Mattis, if I may have a word with you... privately?" I asked, side-eyeing Mike O'Malley.
I glimpsed the clear annoyance on his face, yet I refused to be deterred.
"If it can be done quickly." He said.
He gestured Monsieur O'Malley ahead of him and leaned closer for the privacy I requested.
"I hope Dr. O'Malley's coming is not objectionable to you. He was quite renowned in Paris."
The first thread of truth dangled in front of me. And, impulsively, I tugged on it.
"Was? Is there a reason behind the past tense there, monsieur? Perhaps there's a reason a renowned physician could drop his likely dozens of clients so quickly and travel to America? It's also funny that I've never heard of a Mike O'Malley in my life, and I've always lived near Paris."
Really, considering how often Meg contracted the illness of the month, I knew plenty of doctors. A Dr. O'Malley, however, was beyond my recognition.
Despite my concerns, Chief Mattis looked complacently smug in his decision.
"There's no need for all these questions. I assure you, Dr. O'Malley is very reliable."
"The man is drunk, Chief Mattis, nor does he have evidence of being a doctor at all! No license or anything! How can you have such faith in him?"
"You," he said, a quiet rage underlining his words, "have questioned each of my decisions thus far. Docking in New Orleans, going to Oklahoma, stopping in Arkansas, following Monsieur Rousseau's lead, visiting the Phantom and Y/n's apartment, leaving that boy Gabriel back in Louisiana. Each of these you've had some objection towards, and I'm sick of it. The fact Dr. O'Malley has a habit for drink shouldn't concern you, particularly when your morality preaching doesn't go all the way in your own life."
His final comment caught me off guard.
"What are you insinuating, monsieur? I sincerely try to live by what I encourage in others."
"Says the woman who's nine months pregnant but only married six months ago. The wedding was rather rushed, don't you think? I wonder why that was."
I flushed from a mixture of shame and anger. That was positively none of his business, whether it was true or not, and I'd had enough.
"I hardly see how that's pertinent to our discussion about Monsieur O'Malley." I said, trying to appear unaffected, ultimately to poor results.
"You're quite right about that. Now, as to the subject at hand, Dr. O'Malley is staying, and that is final."
His words stung, but even then, I would not be ignored. If I annoyed him, good. He probably deserved it after all the headache he had caused me.
"You'll promise me one thing, then, if you insist on having him here." I said, my voice lowered in warning, daring him to refute me.
Sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do you want now?"
"You can have that excuse for a doctor work on the rest of your officers, though I'd advise against it. But he is not allowed to be involved with Raoul's treatment. Do I make myself clear?"
To my dismay, he did not promise right away. Instead, he took on a condescending expression I could barely tolerate.
"This excitement has overtaxed you, Madame de Chagny, and taking into account your situation, I can't allow that in good conscience. I insist you return to bed this instant."
I flushed, placing one hand over my stomach. Call me prudish, dear reader, but now, he had overstepped any sense of propriety, and I'd had enough.
"I beg you to watch yourself. You are not my doctor, so you have no right making judgments. Now, the moment you promise that Monsieur O'Malley has nothing to do with my husband's recovery, I'll leave you alone."
This promise, apparently too tempting for Chief Mattis to resist, got me what I wanted.
"If O'Malley's involvement is so disagreeable to you, I'll see what I can do."
Without awaiting my response, he marched down the hall, far away from me.
At first, satisfaction swept over me. There! Now, I had kept that good-for-nothing man away from Raoul. But, as Chief Mattis' words replayed in my mind, doubts poisoned this satisfaction. He'd see what he could do? That barely constituted a promise at all.
Quickly, I turned around, aiming to call him back, but it was too late. He was already gone, probably tied up with his shiny new doctor who would surely save the day.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
Over the following days, I watched the dubious Dr. O'Malley like a hawk. The man, after his introduction, turned increasingly sober. I never saw him drink anything actually, and when he wasn't under such influences, he could be a rather skilled doctor and even conversationalist. But I would not reform my opinion of him where Raoul was concerned. The nuns handled things well enough without the doctor who'd made an unfavorable first impression. I began to tolerate Mike O'Malley's presence better, but I still did not welcome it.
In another week, we saw a drastic upswing in Raoul's health. As a matter of fact, all the officers experienced vast improvement, but my sole concern laid with Raoul. When Sister Maisie bustled in one day, ready to inform me of more splendid news, I dropped the girl's dress I was hemming. By now, I'd fully recovered, but growing bored out of my mind, Sister Maisie had found various tasks for me. One was working on the various clothes the nuns sewed for the nearby poor. I passed hours hemming dresses, sewing buttons, and practicing light embroidery. I was really growing quite proficient with a needle and already anticipated Meg and Madame Giry's pride at this discovery.
"Madame, I have news for you."
The dress fell to the floor, forgotten. I jabbed two pins, which I had been chewing on the edges of in concentration, back to the pincushion and looked up.
"What is it?"
"Your husband is doing remarkably well. He's asking for you."
I clumsily scrambled up from my chair.
"Truly? Let's go."
In my eagerness, I did not await Sister Maisie's reply. I tripped out of the room, hurrying down the hall, which I knew like the back of my hand now.
Sister Maisie had to trot to keep up with me, but at Raoul's door, I paused, breath abated, nerves rippling in my stomach. Sister Maisie said he was remarkably well, not better. And if I shouldn't like his condition? Would I respond in a way productive for everyone? If I could, I would have shaken myself. That fear was ridiculous. I may not like his condition, but that was to be expected. I would simply have to brave it.
Noticing Sister Maisie behind me, slight concern on her face at my pause, I pushed the door open.
Much to my surprise, light filled the room, far unlike the dim quiet I now associated it with.
Best of all, Raoul sat up in bed and, fully cognizant of things around him, smiled upon my entrance.
"Raoul!" The single word came out as a choked cry, as I rushed to his side. In my excitement, I didn't even notice Sister Maisie loiter in the doorway, the ghost of a smile tracing her lips. Taking both his hands into my own, I asked, "oh, are you better? I knew it! I knew it was only a matter of time."
He only laughed at my enthusiasm, squeezing both my hands.
"I will be soon with that eagerness," he said, voice slightly raspy from disuse, "but I am relieved about one thing, Lotte."
"And that is?" I asked.
He was already back to chatting like before, which signaled a fast recovery to come.
Patting my shoulder, he lowered me into the nearby stool, then said, "I almost feared the baby would be here by now. But I see I've recovered right on time."
"Any day now," I reminded him, "so you are right on time. I can hardly wait. When do you think you'll be fully better?"
"Oh, I don't think it will take long at all. Maybe a few days, a week at the absolute most. How are the others doing? How are you doing?"
I waved a hand vaguely to reassure him. Everyone else was honestly mending very well. At this rate, Raoul himself was the farthest from complete health.
"Me? I've been fully recovered for days, and I don't think the baby or I have incurred any lasting damage. The nuns don't believe so either. As for the others, most are ready to go, but some are still on the very cusp of a full recovery."
"According to that doctor- I can't remember his name for the life of me- we should all be on the way to Oklahoma in no more than two weeks."
"Doctor?" I asked, arching a brow. My grip on his hands tightened. "Surely, you don't mean Dr. O'Malley?"
Raoul merely smiled, thankful I had jogged his memory.
"That was his name! O'Malley! Thank heavens the man came when he did. He's a godsend."
My grasp on his hands loosened, as I rose from the stool in shock.
"No! I told Chief-"
I cut off, alarm and resentment making my tone short. Anger boiling just beneath my lungs, I turned to leave, but Raoul grabbed one of my hands before I could fully turn away.
"Christine, are you all right?"
"No. I'm furious. Let me handle it. I love you."
Before Raoul could stop me, I was out the door, storming down the hall.
"Chief Mattis!" I shouted.
Yes, I gave credence to the madwoman rumors by running through St. Clare's Mercy, yelling at the top of my voice, but right now, I barely cared.
At my second shout of his name, Mattis poked his head out of an open door, and I stalked the final few steps to meet him.
"What is it now?" He asked, not bothering to hide his frustration.
"You and I need to talk because, clearly, some points I've made in the past didn't get through to you."
It was no secret I had problems with Mattis, but this tone was so wholly unlike anything he had heard from me before that he didn't dare question my request.
"Of course, Madame de Chagny," he said, then briefly moved his attention back inside the room, "Dr. O'Malley, if-"
"No, bring your renowned doctor with you. I'd like to speak with him."
Chief Mattis, still alarmed by my tone, didn't try to refuse.
"Dr. O'Malley, if you wouldn't mind joining us for a second."
Mike O'Malley, looking deceptively professional in his white coat, stepped out of the room with Chief Mattis. I led us down the hall until I came upon an empty room, likely used for clerical work judging by the shelves lining the walls and the desk in the center of the room. I ushered both men ahead of me, then shut the door behind us all.
"I believe, Chief Mattis, we struck a deal that Dr. O'Malley was to have nothing to do with my husband."
Suddenly, the room grew too warm for him, and his collar became just a little too snug. He tugged on the thing, as if to relieve some pressure.
"Well, you see, Madame de Chagny, I sometimes have to make decisions you don't agree with. It's part of my job."
His tone was condescending, the kind you used to talk to a child- and not a very bright one, at that. Perhaps it was meant to placate my anger, but it managed quite the opposite.
"But you promised me. This is purely dishonorable of you, to go behind my back like this. How long has this been going on? Ever since Dr. O'Malley arrived?"
"Quite," Mattis said, lips pinched in a stern line, "and, in truth, madame, Dr. O'Malley was helping your husband heal faster than any of these quacks calling themselves nurses could. You're just angry I've quit listening to your idiotic demands."
"Demands? Since when have I demanded anything of you? At the very least, I haven't gotten many of my wishes since this stupid stint in America began."
"Little Rousseau." He reminded me, smug in the fact that would win the conversation.
"That was the one time! And I'm sick of you hanging it over my head! You just hate to admit that my suggestion that time was justified. What else were we meant to do with the child? Concede I was right there, and we can settle that point for good."
"I don't find that necessary, madame."
Prideful man! I was fed up with this rubbish. Instead of responding, I turned to Mike O'Malley.
"And you? What do you have to say for yourself? I'm sure, to keep your work secret, Chief Mattis made my wishes known to you."
Opposed to Mattis' thinly-veiled insults, Monsieur O'Malley didn't aim for a fraction of that politeness.
"Frankly, lady, you're overreacting. Your husband's specific case was out of the nuns' ability."
"Nothing, monsieur, is out of God's ability." I said.
"How pious," Monsieur O'Malley sneered, "but we're trying to discuss science."
"Don't be fooled, doctor. Her piety is all superficial," Mattis said, "she was married six months ago, only to be nine months pregnant now. You don't read of such things in her precious Bible, now do you?"
How many people had he shared this tantalizing bit of gossip with? Unease rippled in my stomach, only to be overpowered by growing shame.
Mattis' barking laughter made my self-control slip even further from my reach. O'Malley regarded me in a new light, as if my reputation faded before his very eyes. Blazing heat surged onto my cheeks, and I feared my blush was another concession of guilt.
Was I exactly proud of this truth? No, certainly not. But it was a decision I could not revoke now. Besides, if I raised the child who originated from premature relations in the way of our Lord, it must atone for my mistake.
Even then, Mattis' smug face was insufferable. I was this close to smacking that self-righteous look off him, but I kept myself in check. For now.
"Do you share this piece of information with everyone, Chief Mattis? You can't seem to keep quiet about it, but you have no right to be rude or disrespectful to me, no matter my slip-up."
"So you admit he's right?" O'Malley asked, the ghost of a smile tracing his lips.
"No! I- Oh, if you'd shut your mouth for a minute, Monsieur O'Malley, we might be able to return to the point of this discussion."
"Both of you need to calm down," Chief Mattis interjected, "this is all a simple misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?" I laughed ruefully. "A damn misunderstanding? No, this is lying and breaking promises. You can't play that down."
Apparently, Mattis' temper finally got the better of him. He reeled on me, eyes blazing with fury.
"I think you've thrown around quite enough accusations, Madame de Chagny. Forgive me for overstepping your judgment, but considering your reputation, I can't help recalling your more unstable side and find my overruling justified."
The remark about my 'unstable side' sent me over the edge. Anger rose from my stomach, up my chest, into my throat.
"I beg your pardon, monsieur!"
I could not control myself a second longer. Maybe it was rude; it was undeniably wrong of me, and really, I felt guilty about it later. But, in that moment, it was the only thing I could do.
The skin of my palm cracked against Mattis' jaw, as I slapped that smug look right off his face. A red, angry mark burned on his cheek, and I couldn't immediately regret it.
"How dare you!" I screamed. "You have no right passing judgment about my mentality! You have lied to me and broken promises, and it's high time you own up to it!"
I expected anger as a response, but something else flickered in Mattis' eye. Fear? He raised his hands over his face, as if to ward off another slap. No, his real reply was infinitely worse than anger. I'd much preferred if he had hit me back instead of fearing an enraged 'madwoman.'
I could not explain my reaction to this change, why it cooled my temper faster than anything else, but hot, regretful tears burned in my eyes.
"I'm so sorry! Oh, I shouldn't have-"
But my apologies died on my lips. Only one thing could both quiet my pardon-begging and increase my tears.
As if an invisible string was tied around my stomach, it tightened. Alarmed, I hunched over myself, using the nearby desk for support.
"Madame, is everything all right?"
Mike O'Malley, with one hand on my shoulder, a note of concern which must be fake in his voice, was the last I could tolerate.
"Don't touch me! Everything is fine."
Unlike the usual false contraction, deep breathing did nothing to settle me now.
"You need to lay down, madame. I think this could-"
Any day now. My words from only five minutes ago returned to haunt me. Not now. No, it was a bad time. Couldn't this wait just a week longer? Even a few hours longer would be preferable, but I had no choice in this matter.
Still, denial was a force that I could hardly resist in this circumstance.
"No. It's a little false pain. Nothing to concern yourself with."
As I said this, a thin trickle of water ran between my thighs, and my expression dropped. All right, maybe this was serious, but spite prevented me from complying with O'Malley.
Then came another labor pain, and sucking in a sharp breath, I leaned against the desk again.
"Madame, I-"
"No! I can handle it myself."
I did not appreciate being lorded over by people I did not respect, and in this unfamiliar, vulnerable situation, I was especially uncomfortable with it.
"But you're going to hurt yourself-" Monsieur O'Malley began, as I lurched towards the door.
I hated to admit it to them, but lying down probably was for the best.
"I'll be fine on my own." I snapped, hand on the doorknob.
"Damn this! Stubborn woman is going to hurt herself." Mattis muttered.
Before I could protest, he lifted me from the ground and carried me out the door himself.
"Put me down this minute! I can walk, you know!"
I kicked and put up a fuss, but it did no good. Chief Mattis dropped me in my bed without problem.
"Will you need anything, doctor?" He asked, addressing O'Malley.
"He will have no hand in delivering this baby." I said, realizing what they were trying to do.
"You don't have a choice," O'Malley snapped before turning to Mattis, "no, but bring in a nun if you'd like. It never hurts to have an extra set of hands."
Mattis nodded, turned on his heel, and left me with the doctor I wanted no association with.
"When a nun arrives, I want you gone."
Perhaps I was being too imperious than I ever should be, but I so disliked O'Malley that it seemed reasonable.
"Because a bushel of virgins will know exactly how to go about this," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm, "I'm staying, and it's for your own good."
"As if you'll be much better at this! I doubt you've ever touched a woman in your life!"
It was petty, yes, but the insult flew off my tongue before I could control it. He glared at me, and that was our excellent start to a difficult afternoon.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
For the next hour, I resented his presence. But, as the hours waned later into evening, I grew too tired and pained to care.
Nobody's words, no matter how blunt or honest, can give a woman a true idea of such an experience. It's a transient thing, miserable in the moment, but when the ordeal ends, you're too happy to truly remember such suffering in reminiscences.
But transient also means short-lived, and so the entire trial is. With a sliver of sun left tracing the horizon, there was a babe in my arms.
Tears streaked past my cheeks at the dear sight, my own sweet little daughter, who was no bigger than my forearm and rapidly calming herself after the entire ordeal.
She was still flushed, but she was clean. Slowly, her eyelids started to flutter, at last opening. Her gray eyes wandered around, a little uncoordinated. After a moment, I swore at least one of them landed on me, and I broke into a smile.
I knew her name at once. After the struggle from months ago, we had finally settled upon something.
"Hello, sweet Charlotte. I've wanted to see you for the longest time." I whispered, running my fingertip along the bridge of her tiny nose.
She closed her eyes again, and I held her tighter, more protectively. She was rather small and more fragile than I imagined a baby should be, but Monsieur O'Malley assured me she was completely healthy. Besides, she could easily put on weight and grow more hardy in a few weeks; that wouldn't be unheard of.
She had pale tufts of hair and the most perfect face I'd ever seen, though it was rather squished up just now. I could see past it. In fact, I saw past everything in that moment. I saw Lotte's entire life ahead of her, and I already crafted my dreams for her.
Only one thing could snap me from such a once-in-a-lifetime reverie, and that was Raoul's entrance. Thank God he was well enough for this moment. Perhaps I would have to thank Mike O'Malley sincerely later. At the very least, I owed the man an apology for my heinous attitude earlier today.
Raoul collapsed at my bedside, and tears welled in my eyes once again. Magical was the only right word for such a moment.
I smiled down at Raoul and said, "sit up now and meet Charlotte. The hard part of tonight is over. Now, everything is wonderful."
He didn't need to be told twice. Standing once more, he looked down at Lotte, serene and peaceful in my arms. At first, he had no words. Then, he turned to me, and I witnessed the overwhelmed smile on his face for myself.
"Oh, Christine," he said, laughing a little, in spite of the tears shining in his eyes, "oh, Christine, she's perfect."
His adoring words were my undoing. The tears rolled onto my cheeks. I'd rarely cried with joy in my entire life, but now, I gave into my sobs wholeheartedly, oddly pleased to have them.
"Isn't she just wonderful?" I said between my cries. "She's everything I could have hoped for, Raoul. Here, you can hold her. It's your turn."
Like Lotte was made of glass, I placed her in Raoul's arms. Raoul stiffened at first, moved to hand her back, then stopped. Charlotte wiggled some, finally settling down with her face pressed against his chest. This gesture melted any of Raoul's fear, and he held the baby calmly.
Many tranquil moments passed between us and our little Lotte, but the matter of signing the birth certificate soon brought us back to earth.
Handing the pen back to Monsieur O'Malley, I said, "please, won't you stay a minute? There's things I ought to say." His shoulders rose in alarm, probably fearing a tirade. Ashamed he formed such a perception of me, I flushed, adding, "I'd like us to be on friendly terms now, monsieur. I was rude to you earlier, and it was abominable of me. You are, in fact, quite a skilled physician and deserve the renown Chief Mattis claims you enjoy back in Paris."
True, I did not know this man's full past. The little I did know- the things gleaned from Y/n- were far from flattering even, but still, he had done a good thing for me today. He had proven himself worthy of my respect, so I refused to withhold it any longer.
In response to my apology and subsequent praise, he waved a hand through his hair and appeared almost... guilty?
"I accept the apology fully. I know you'll feel better if I do, madame, but I do not deserve this praise. My so-called renown in Paris has not existed for years."
"Oh?" I asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "But Chief Mattis said-"
"I know what he said, and he's partially right," Monsieur O'Malley began, "but the full story is less heroic. Many years ago, my medical license was revoked for a fatal mistake on an operating table. That's when I took to less... ideal means for spending my time. When I arrived at St. Clare's Mercy, though, something came over me. In only a day or two, I believed in myself as a doctor again. Besides, I've delivered more than enough babies over the years, so I knew I could do this today."
This story melted the last of my reserve. One mistake had swiped away this man's entire career, and although I never expected it, I found myself pitying Mike O'Malley, the infamous uncle, the once-beloved doctor. Apparently, there truly was two sides to every story.
I extended a hand in his direction, a sign of my goodwill, in my hope that we would endure no more spats like the last one.
"No matter your past, I thank you for what you've done today. Both Lotte and I are no worse for wear, after all."
With a slight chuckle, he took my hand and shook it heartily. Tucking a sleeping Lotte back into my arms, Raoul offered the same gesture to Mike, and everyone was on good terms from then on.
And, after that day, I never looked upon Dr. O'Malley with animosity again.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
Dear Meg and Madame Giry,
The baby is here, a darling little girl named Charlotte (or Lotte, as Raoul and I are far more fond of calling her). She's smaller than I would have guessed, almost fairy-like if you ask me, but she is a dear. Her arrival has detained us at St. Clare's Mercy Hospital Convent for two months longer, just to ensure things will be all right before we travel again. Imagine Chief Mattis' face when he heard that news! He looked ready to wring Dr. O'Malley's neck! I don't know if two entire months is necessary. Both Lotte and I are healthy, but I am grateful for that time before we have to travel again. Managing a newborn is tricky enough. I can't imagine doing it on those untrodden roads.
No more updates on Y/n and the Phantom's whereabouts, I'm afraid. I think that's the part making most of the officers, including the chief himself, restless. Still, I will appreciate this moment of calm before we must plunge back into the wild (likely fruitless) chase.
I hope all is well at home. I miss you both so desperately, and I can hardly wait for you to meet Lotte. I hope it will be soon. I'll try my best to write regularly, but it always becomes more difficult on the road- not to mention a baby on top of it. But I love Lotte more than words can say. She is quickly turning half my universe into hers.
All my love, Christine.