#moorenelli

Timeframe: Mar. 29, 1998 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The events that transpired next left Dudley’s mind in a blur: briskly walking alongside the gurney with Liza on it towards the operating room; getting walked through scrubbing up and getting into surgical garb; finally, manning his ‘post’ at Liza’s side, being given a chair to sit near her head. Just in the time it took him to enter the room, she’d already been transported onto the table, hooked up to an assortment of machines and monitors, had a mask strapped on her face, drapes positioned all over her body, and the surgical curtain had already been placed across her chest to obstruct Dudley’s view of what the surgeon would be doing to Liza. He nearly didn’t even recognize her beneath everything, which left him with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Almost unaware of what was happening around him as he focused solely on what little he could see of Liza’s face, he suddenly felt metal being pressed into the palm of his hand. “You’ll need to hold onto these for safe keeping until the surgery’s over”, a nurse spoke as she handed Liza’s wedding band and engagement ring to him. As he looked down at the bits of silver in his palm — these symbols of his love that he’d had to wait far too long to give to her in the first place — he felt an odd pang in his chest now looking at them in his hand once more and not on Liza. He glanced over at Liza’s hand, finger now bare; the imprints of her rings still visible. Even though he knew this were only temporary, that it wasn’t even her choice to take them off and that this was necessary, something about it just felt wrong to him. Perhaps it subconsciously stirred up some leftover feelings of rejection from the times he’d attempted to propose to Liza over the years when she hadn’t said yes; perhaps it was a fear of the unknown and a fear of potential finality in thinking of the “til death do us part” portion of their wedding vows; all he knew was the discomfort he felt in having to pocket the rings for now. His anxiety with the whole situation only increased as he reached for Liza’s hand; despite logically knowing it would be so, it alarmed him that she was so limp and lifeless. He could almost hear her snarkily teasing him about this in his head; ‘no shit, Sherlock, they knocked my ass out, what did you expect?’  It was a very different sensation than her just sleeping beside him; if he took her hand then, she’d instinctively squeeze his fingers, even in her sleep. The only time he’d ever encountered absolutely no response from her whatsoever had been the time she’d overdosed on his watch, and it frightened him just how much this brought that all back to him. It was his fault then, just like this was his fault now. Never having been one to handle the sight of blood or gore well, he intentionally fixated on just her hand and face, trying to pay no mind to everything else that was going on around him. He wished he had any way of communicating with Liza at this moment; that he was here, that he would reassure her he’d do everything he could to make sure she’d be alright, that he’d stay right at her side the whole time, and that he was keeping his promise he’d made to her so many times that he would hold her hand during their child’s birth. He also wished more than anything that he could apologize for things having to be this way, even though he knew there was nothing he could say or do that would give back the experience to Liza of what she’d anticipated, of what she’d so longed for, and now she wouldn’t be aware of any of it until it was all over. He knew he’d never hear the end of it either way, but god help him if this child didn’t make it… He didn’t even want to so much as entertain the thought, but between his melancholy feeling of finality even over something as small as Liza’s rings coming off, it wasn’t that large of a leap for his mind to make towards worrying if she’d leave him if Lily weren’t okay. Dudley wasn’t entirely sure if time was moving quickly or slowly; all he knew was he wanted to see his Liza May out of here as soon as possible, and to be able to hold her in his arms again. He’d have given anything to be able to hold her right then and there; it was killing him that all he was allowed to touch during the surgery was her hand. The hand on which the indentations from her rings were already fading away. He traced his thumb lightly over the delicate lines, inwardly questioning himself about why this bothered him as much as it did — he supposed he had to channel his anxiety into something. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that it read a little past 4 in the morning. Has it really already been that long? he pondered silently; it feeling as though everything had moved so hurriedly that an hour couldn’t possibly have already passed just since being woken up. How many things can change in such a brief amount of time… His attention suddenly caught by a flurry of motion, for the first time since he’d been in the room, he glanced over in the direction of the curtain just in time to see the head surgeon lifting the tiniest of babies he’d ever seen from Liza’s body. Dudley’s heart began to flutter as the reality set in that this was their child; what they’d tried for for almost two whole decades….finally here before his very eyes. For all intents and purposes, despite her tiny stature, she looked like a normal enough baby, complete with a full head of hair. However, something was very obviously amiss. For as much as she stretched and flailed her tiny arms and legs, she made no sound. Her lips trembled as she gasped and gulped for air, yet still not a sound was made. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that by the hushed tones of the doctors, plus the fact that they never made any motion to really bring the baby to Dudley’s attention, something was very, very wrong. Setting off even more alarm bells in his head, as the baby’s movements slowly began to still, this was taking him right back to that fateful evening 14 years earlier. Feeling his mouth suddenly go dry as sandpaper, he almost couldn’t even get his own words out to ask, “Do I get to hold—” Cutting him off mid-sentence, one of the assistants quickly interrupted. “Not until the pediatrician looks at her.” “But what’s wrong with her?” “I can’t fairly tell you anything until the pediatrician’s looked at her.” Growing increasingly frustrated that he couldn’t get any information whatsoever about what was going on, he began to stand up to try and get a better look at the baby, but to no avail. Virtually the entire surgical team had more or less abandoned Liza and had circled around this tiny baby, all trying to get a better look at what was happening. One of the surgeons produced a stethoscope from somewhere — he presumed it was a safe assumption that this must be the on-call pediatrician — and although he couldn’t actually see the baby, he could, however, see the doctor’s concerned expression as he listened intently. Dudley’s mind raced with all manner of possibilities of what could be wrong, ranging from minor to the worst case end scenario, and everything in between. For as much as he’d feared that he wouldn’t have any paternal instincts with Lily — as he’d also worried with his boys — he was feeling pretty overwhelmingly protective of her right now. He’d seen that she was moving when she first came out. Nothing was allowed to happen to her while on his watch. If he thought it wouldn’t get him thrown out of the room, he wanted nothing more than to push through the crowd of doctors so he too could see whatever was happening right now. He heard some murmuring about a light, some medical mumbo jumbo he didn’t quite understand, although “pneumothorax” didn’t sound like a good sign even to the untrained ear, and more hushed tones speaking about whether or not she was stable enough to send her for a quick chest x-ray or not. Deciding against the idea, this was the first time any of them directly addressed Dudley non-dismissively since delivering Lily. “Mr. Moore, your daughter appears to have a collapsed lung, which is easily treatable and very common with premature infants, but will require some minor surgery, and we need you to sign a waiver and authorize us to use any means necessary to save her—” Dudley’s breath caught in his throat, and the words were no longer registering in his brain. His mind was spinning with the possibilities of had she made it to term, would this still have happened? Would it have gone any easier for her? Or would it still have happened just the same either way? It only added to his feelings of guilt, regardless, in feeling like this whole situation was his fault in the first place, and now look at everything he’d caused? His mouth felt dry as he tried to speak. “Are you sure it’s safe for a baby that little?” Almost as soon as he’d said it, he instantly regretted how idiotic he was sure he’d sounded asking such an obvious thing, but his worries were through the roof. They had to save this baby. If he somehow made the wrong decision, and Liza never got to meet her…..he didn’t want that kind of responsibility hanging over his head. “Look, I’ll be blunt: if we don’t do the surgery, she’ll most likely die within the hour. She isn’t getting enough air, and what she is getting is getting trapped around all her other organs with no way out, and will essentially choke them off. It’s her only chance. If we do the surgery, she’ll most likely end up just fine. Being the parent though, you have to give us consent to be able to do it legally, so—” “Alright, alright, just….just hand me the paper, I’ll sign. Just… save her, please. Do anything you have to do, just make sure you save her life…” Dudley hated how pitiful and desperate he sounded, but it was the truth. The only thing that mattered to him right now was making sure that baby lived, by any means necessary. He quickly scrawled his signature across the page on a clipboard he was handed, and before he’d even handed it back, the head surgeon was paging for more staff to come assist. He’d known going into this that Lily’s birth would never be an entirely smooth one, even if Liza had made it to term, but he wasn’t expecting all this… …nor was he expecting the other sudden turn of events that immediately began to transpire. The monitors hooked to Liza began beeping their alarms wildly, and an even larger commotion began to swirl around him. One attendant took Dudley by the arm and started ushering him towards the door. “Mr. Moore, we’re going to need you to wait outside, there’s going to be too many people in the room—” “But my wife!!” he cried in a panic, feeling all the blood drain from his face as he heard the non-mistakable sound of a flat-lining machine. “Liza, you can’t!!” he tried to call over the attendant’s shoulder, trying once again to push his way back into the room, only to be more forcefully removed; the last thing he heard before the doors swung shut behind him was the high pitched whine of a charging defibrillator. “We’re doing everything we can to save them both,” the attendant quickly tried to reassure him before rushing back inside behind the heavy doors. Dudley raced back over to the doors and stood on his tiptoes, trying to see through the window pane what was happening now, but signed in defeat that once again, as with most things in his life, he was too short. He walked dejectedly over to a nearby chair and slumped into it, burying his face in his hands heavily as hot tears began streaking down his face. This was not how this was supposed to go, and he couldn’t help but curse fate for being so senselessly cruel. He never figured his entire world could be ripped out from under him in a matter of minutes…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Liza? We have quite the situation here, and there’s not a lot of time to waste devising an alternate plan of action,” the doctor said as he pulled a thin blanket over Liza, having completed checking her and now removing his gloves. Fearfully, she asked, “Is my baby going to be alright?” She squeezed Dudley’s hand tightly, desperate for this nightmare to be over and to know one way or the other what was going to be the outcome. The wait was absolutely agonizing to her, and the worst part was simply not knowing which way things were going to go. Even if it weren’t the outcome she were hoping for, at least she’d be able to have closure if knew. “I can’t say for certain one way or the other given how premature she is, but here’s what’s going on: the baby is already beginning to descend into the birth canal. If we hurry, we can still get you in and deliver her by cesarean; she’s nearly at a borderline point though where that window of opportunity is about to close. If her head fully descends, you’ll be forced to deliver vaginally, it’ll be too late to operate. If that happens, you’ll be at even higher risk for damage to your hips than you already are. The danger is that with how fast you’re progressing, if you push so much as once, she’ll be too far down, that’s how close you are. It’s also very possible the damage may have already been done to your hips and that’s why you’re in so much pain.” Liza’s voice trembled as she asked, “Isn’t there any way you can make things stop, and put her back, and let her finish growing?” She felt absolutely helpless, not to mention horribly guilty that this whole thing was no doubt her own fault. As par her usual, she didn’t so much care if anything bad were happening to she herself; just so long as everyone else involved was going to be alright. The doctor shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry… Once the water breaks, that baby is coming out. I wish we could just put the baby back in there and let it keep growing as if nothing ever happened, but there’s no way to do that. I’m sorry… But we need to start prepping you for emergency surgery. A nurse is going to come in to give you an epidural and a shot to knock you out, and the next thing you know, you’re going to be holding your baby. It’ll all be over before you know it.” Liza began to cry harder, feeling like the absolute worst failure of a mother a person could possibly be. “But I was told I’d get to be awake for her birth! This is my last chance at getting this right, and if she doesn’t make it, you expect me to have to miss what little time she does have?” She was nearing the point of hysterics, hardly able to so much as catch her breath between choked sobs. “That was ideally the plan, yes, if you’d made it to term — or even just closer to it than this — and ended up having an arranged c-section where there was more time to prepare. But as this is an emergency situation, there’s not enough time to get you numb enough to keep you awake for the procedure, and this isn’t something we can perform without you fully numb. You’re going to be in a lot of pain afterwards, so you’ll thank us later for not putting you through that awake without appropriate anesthetic.” “I don’t care if I’m in pain or not! All I care about is that I get to see my baby alive!” Liza wailed; having a hard time lying still enough as a nurse began preparing her for the epidural. “Liza, there’s a good chance your baby is going to be just fine, even born this early. You’ll be able to see her as soon as you wake up.” “But what if you’re wrong? What if she’s not fine and you’re robbing me of my only chance to hold her while she’s still alive?” Liza wailed; crying even harder as the needle punctured her back. Dudley stroked her hair and held her close, trying to comfort her any way he could from the emotional and physical agony she was going through. “I know this isn’t what we’d planned, but we don’t have any choice, Liza. And I know it’s not the same, but if it comes down to it, if things really do get that dire, I’ll hold her for you and tell you everything—” “It’s not fair!” Liza wailed, not even caring how much like a little girl she sounded. “You’ve already gotten to be a daddy! You’ve done this before! If this is the only chance I’ll ever have, and I miss it, how is this fair? I did everything right this time!” she sobbed, her whole body shaking from the force. “Why is this happening to me again?!” The words cut Dudley like a knife; he agreed, it wasn’t fair that this was happening to her again, and if he could do anything to stop history from repeating itself, he’d go to the ends of the earth to see to it. But this was truly out of his hands, and the mixture of guilt and devastation at what was happening left him speechless. “I don’t know why it’s happening again, love. I need you to trust me that we’ll find a way to make everything okay though; I need you to calm down and let the doctors do their job. I need that, and you need that, and most importantly, Lily needs that. We’ll get through this together, baby. But you need to try and relax a little and let them do their job to help save her—” “I can’t relax, Dudley!” she cried, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his sleeves. “You know what this means to me, and I’m going to miss it… all of it.”  “Liza…” he whispered softly, stroking her hair some more as he saw the second needle approaching and knowing Liza would soon be out like a light. “You won’t miss anything. Everything’s going to go just fine, and I’ll be right here with you the whole time, and I’ll tell you everything that happened while you were knocked out. And I’ll tell you all of it while you’re holding our little one… You’re going to be a mummy so soon, Lize. Everything you’ve wanted for so long is about to be here… a little sooner than we’d banked on, but Lily just can’t wait to meet her mum.” Watching Liza’s eyelids slipping heavily to half-mast, he leant down to kiss her gently before whispering, “I love you, Liza.” Whether or not she actually heard his words was anyone’s guess as she began to slip into unconsciousness. 

Timeframe: Mar. 29, 1998 Guest author: royaltyisshe64 Notes: This piece of the story might be a little confusing, but hang with us. This bit is written to be between Judy and Vincente in the afterlife, watching all the events transpiring below them. The inclusion of Judy and/or Vincente in the spirit realm is a recurring theme throughout the saga, but this is the first piece I’m posting that includes it. Keep an open mind; even if you don’t personally believe in spirits or an afterlife, in the fic!universe, they exist, and have been carefully written in such a way to hopefully not be overly preachy or to sound too closely linked to any one particular religion or anything. We’ve taken creative liberties in the abilities of spirits/ghosts/angels/paranormal/whatever you’d like to call them, and yes, they probably have more powers in this story than they actually do in reality. Our story, our rules. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “My god, it’s an absolute disaster down there! …Mmm, well, I certainly hope she has better luck this time… She does have the most talented genes — well, I have the most talented Gene now — and it would be frightful if she couldn’t…you know, pass them on. I always thought she’d make a splendid mother. I told her so. I always — always — encouraged her. In that direction. Don’t you think she’ll make a splendid mother?” “Jesus, you’re being cavalier,” Vincente replied, a hint of annoyance cutting through. “The last time this happened, you were no help at all, and this could so easily go the same way. Do you want that to happen?” Judy felt the words catch for a moment in her throat, about to say one thing, then choosing another. “Well of course not, darling, but what can I do?” Vincente crossed his arms, looking at her incredulously. “I can’t believe you. You saw what this did to her all those other times — and then you just let it happen to her again!” Judy fumbled for words, unprepared with an answer for that. “…You have no idea what it was like for me to see my baby cry like that. You have no idea.” Beginning to poke a pointed finger accusingly into his chest as she spoke, she continued, “Don’t you dare pretend like you’re the only one who cares about her. You’re not the only one who wants to see her happy. I just… what can I do?? Isn’t it… you know, some fate thing? Que sera, sera, or some such…nonsense?” Vincente straightened, towering height-wise over Judy even in the afterlife, choosing his words with pinpoint accuracy. “With an attitude like that, I don’t see how it’s an unreasonable assumption that you just don’t care! You were always the same way with her — as long as she was able to bounce back well enough from whatever hideous experience you’d put her through to keep taking care of Mama, that was all you were ever concerned with, wasn’t it?” The words hit their target like an expert bowman striking a bullseye, leaving her speechless. “That’s not true! …You…you know that’s not true!” “Oh really?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, arms still folded across his chest. “You spent all those years crying on her shoulder, telling her your sob stories, how you wanted to die, how you couldn’t bear it anymore — she was a child. Or trying to be one. What right did you have to put all that worry in m— our baby’s mind?” Judy grew increasingly flustered as she knew she was getting cornered on this issue and that there was no way out of it. Her words began to run faster and more jumbled as she felt increasingly trapped. “She — she never complained — I’d’ve stopped, I’d’ve done whatever she said — she never said anything, she never said it bothered her! She wanted to help her mother. Like a good girl. She was always a good girl.” “That’s not what you told her.” “I did so! I told her—” Interrupting her mid-sentence, Vincente began talking over her. “Oh, that’s right. You’d tell her that when she was tucking you in, when she was drying your tears, when she was stroking your hair and holding your hand. You’d tell her that then…but all those other times… She never told me, but I saw the way she started to look at herself — the way she STILL looks at herself — what she does to herself. YOU started that.” Beginning to lash out defensively, Judy shouted “For god’s sake! I told you — I would’ve told her — it was for her own good! So they couldn’t do to her what they did to me! I wanted to get her out of that whole awful business! And wasn’t I right? You’ve heard what they all say about her, how cruel they are? Wasn’t I right to warn — to prepare her for that? Hmm?” Not backing down in the slightest, Vincente maintained “It wouldn’t have hurt so much coming from them if she hadn’t of heard it from you first!” Attempting to spin the conversation to make Vincente look not as blameless in all this so as to try and redeem herself somehow, she practically spat “I know how you feel about her — I mean, jesus, do I ever know that she can do no wrong as far as you’re aware — but you can’t blame everything on me! I didn’t make her stay with that no good son-of-a-bitch instead of doing the sensible thing and marrying Dudley then and there; I didn’t make her in—into a lush, and—and a, I don’t know, some kind of drug fiend! You—YOU were there for all of that! YOU indulged her! How is this more my fault than yours?!” Knowing that this conversation was beginning to go much the same way the majority of their marriage had, and knowing it was far too important to let Judy miss the entire point he was trying to make, he paused for a few moments, making sure she was done yelling long enough to drive a point home when she’d actually listen to him. Not above hitting where it hurts, especially when he knew it was absolutely relevant, he finally spoke, “You could have stopped him. You were there, but you wouldn’t see it. God, I could forgive everything else you put that little girl through, but that? TEN YEARS. She let him do that — she didn’t say a WORD — because she wanted to be there to protect you. From him… from yourself. And how did you repay her? How did you repay her for that, and all the other things she did for you? For letting him… do that to her… over and over again… for pumping your stomach, for keeping you and Lorna and Joey alive? You called her a tramp. You threw her out, but you kept her on a string; you kept calling her back and she kept coming back. You made her hate herself, but she loved you — she STILL loves you — SO much. Now, are you going to let her heart break again? You broke it first. You owe her, Judy. You OWE her this.” Feeling shell-shocked and speechless, there was nothing Judy could do but concede at this point. She knew Vincente was right; every word out of his mouth was 100% true, no matter how much she hated it — how much she hated herself for it. She knew it was wrong then, and had had nothing but time on her hands to feel increasingly guilty about all of this ever since. Quietly in resignation, she asked, “…What do I have to do?” “Just… just go down there, and don’t let that baby die. No matter what. Tell her she’s got to stay, that she can’t come here… not yet, anyway. She’s got to stay there, and let her mother give her all the love she’s got, and she’s got to love her back. Do whatever you have to do, but you MAKE her stay.” 

Timeframe: Mar. 29, 1998 Notes: Posting a shorter chunk this time, but still far from done. May make for easier reading though. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ambulance ride was mostly a teary blur to Liza as panic continued to consume her further and further, with no signs of stopping any time soon. Most of the words from the medics weren’t registering in her mind as she heard them; it all became background noise to her as the worry of losing another child took over all else. Dudley held her hand, inwardly feeling both helpless and guilty for this sudden turn of events and that it likely wouldn’t have happened if he could have resisted Liza’s advances this time. As Liza had grown very quiet aside from her sobbing and occasional cries of pain, he knew there was nothing he could do or say at this point to make things better; she’d definitely let her mind get wrapped up in the trauma of the 1984 miscarriage all over again. Both for the delicate nature of the emergency and to help preserve Liza’s privacy and maintain a low profile as possible to try and avoid any potential media circus from developing, she was rushed through a back entrance and into a private exam room. Her general quietness in the ambulance had only been the calm before the storm; no sooner was she asked to change into a hospital gown and told the doctor on call would be in to examine her shortly, the reality of the situation came crashing down and her panic escalated. “On-call? No! I need my doctor! He knows the case better than anyone; I can’t have someone new take over!! I need mine; get him here!!!” As she sat up to continue her protest, another sharp pain cut her short and forced her back down; realizing that the only position lessening the pain whatsoever was on her back served only to make her feel even more helpless. “He’ll be contacted, but there’s not enough time to get him here. You need to be seen immediately, your baby’s not waiting.” Dudley began to ease the robe off of Liza, caring not that the nurse was still in the room and only wanting things handled as quickly and smoothly as possible. Despite Liza swatting at him and generally being difficult, and even a few failed attempts at taking a couple of swings at him, he managed to get her switched into the gown; dodging her fists of fury all the while. “Why are you doing this to me?? Why are you siding with her?!” Liza cried, trying to swat at Dudley again as she flung herself back in resignation. “I thought you loved me! Aren’t you supposed to side with your wife over other women??” Dudley sighed in frustration, trying to both maintain his composure and to also keep himself calm enough to collect his thoughts. “I do side with you over other women, Lize. This isn’t a matter of taking sides though; this is a matter of life or death! If you want this baby as badly as I do, you’re going to have to start cooperating with what they tell you to do. I’m serious, do you want this baby, Liza? Do you want her to live?” Beating her to the punch as it were, he grabbed for Liza’s wrist as her hand began to raise again and he held it firmly at her side, leaning closer to make sure there was no break in eye contact. “Do you WANT this baby, Liza?” Startled both by Dudley grabbing her and by he suddenly raising his voice toward her a little, Liza sunk back against the pillow fearfully; some part of her mind regressing to the days of Gero and the need to be entirely submissive and complacent. This was not lost on Dudley, and as he immediately recognized the fear in her eyes, he let go of her immediately and knelt beside the bed to be eye-level with her. She was unaware of the nurse exiting the room as Dudley stroked her cheek, softening his tone as he spoke to her sorrowfully. “I’m sorry Liza, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I need you to—no, Lily needs you to just do what the doctors say so they can help you. And her.” Watching the silent tears stream down Liza’s cheeks, Dudley’s heart ached even more with the utter helplessness he felt for not being able to do anything to actually fix the situation. The doctor on-call entered the room and introduced himself and apologized for non-ideal the situation was (the nurse had briefed him on Liza’s discomfort with the situation) and reassured her that he’d be as quick and gentle as he possibly could, and did his best to reassure Liza that he’d see to it that she’d be fine. ‘It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s Lily,’ she thought silently, despite nodding without comment. Before he even managed to get her so much as in position to examine her, more nurses began entering the room, quickly hooking Liza to IVs and monitors, which, while a welcome distraction from the doctor’s poking and prodding, only caused her anxiety to soar through the roof over feeling too exposed in front of all these people; it was bad enough getting used to the idea of a strange doctor she didn’t know having to see her, but she wasn’t banking on so many nurses being a factor as well. “Dudley, I don’t want to do this anymore!” she wailed as she gripped his hand, sobs wracking her whole body. “Make them all go away, I can live without a baby if you just make them all go away….” Knowing full well that Liza didn’t honestly mean this, but that she was being pushed far beyond her comfort zone into full panic territory, he lent down to kiss her forehead and gave her hand one more squeeze before asking, “Doctor? Could I talk to you for just a moment?” “I really need to get this exam done on Liza—” “It’s important, and it can’t wait, please? And I think it’ll make the difference for making Liza more comfortable…” He looked pleadingly towards the doctor, who reluctantly pulled the sheet fully down over Liza’s legs before standing to follow Dudley into the hallway. “Alright Mr. Moore, what’s the problem?” “I think there’s a few things you should know about Liza…”