18
Ram shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair, which had become well-acquainted with the shape of his backside these many days. Has it been ten now, or eleven? When he glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was after midnight, he sighed. “Eleven.”
It seemed an eternity since Roth had told him the news, and Eryn had run from her apartment to avoid him. Even longer since she’d been accosted by small-minded hate mongers so close to her home. And a lifetime since her body, unable to take the trauma of her injury and the stress of her pregnancy and preterm labor, had slipped beyond consciousness into what Juna called a coma.
As he watched her breathe with the help of a machine, he frowned at the ugly tube forced past her once soft, pink lips which were now pale and dry. At first, the breathing tube helped, and her color had improved, the vital signs Juna constantly spoke of had stabilized, and her kidneys had started to recover. But in the last day or two, there had been a change, something the doctors had no explanation for. Her oxygen levels kept dropping despite the life support machines, her pulse rate stayed accelerated, more than the doctors liked, and she wasn’t perfusing, whatever that meant.
Ram only knew Eryn was getting worse and slipping farther away from him.
It hurt, seeing her this way, but he wouldn’t leave her side. He wondered what she knew of her surroundings. Could she feel anything while locked in her cocoon of unconsciousness? Did she know he was here? Or that Maggie hadn’t left her side for more than a few hours, and only when Roth insisted she eat or sleep? And did she hear her friend Lana reading from her favorite book for hours every day in hopes her voice or the words, or a fond memory would get through? Most important of all, did she know she had given him a beautiful child?
The doctors said Lana’s methods wouldn’t hurt, and familiar voices might stimulate her injured brain and, if nothing else, bring her comfort. They all tried, hoping to break through. Except Ram. When he spoke, she often became restless, so he tried not to do so often and not directly to her. The idea she might not want him there bothered him. But she’d been running from him minutes before her attack, and it wasn’t the first time.
Therefore, asking the Maker to intercede, he kept silent watch.
While he did so now, gazing at her pale beauty, he noticed something distressing. From the corner of her eye, a single tear tracked slowly across her temple.
The door opened behind him and Juna entered. At midnight, she should have been home, but for Eryn, she often checked in at all hours. He didn’t greet her, letting her move around the room, inspecting this and that, doing what needed to be done.
When she appeared to be finished, and came to stand on the opposite side of the bed, he expressed his concern. “She’s crying again.”
Juna looked at her patient who was also a dear friend, and ran her hand over her forehead and down her cheek. She also touched her fingers to her throat and glanced up at the monitor.
“We can’t know what she feels in a coma, Ram. Her pulse is slow and steady. I would expect it to be racing if she were hurting, and her other vital signs are stable. She shows no other outward signs of discomfort.” Glancing at Eryn, she frowned then wiped the tear away. “Perhaps her eyes are irritated. I’ll order some drops.”
“I don’t want her to suffer, like when the baby was coming. What if tears are her only way of communicating to us she’s in pain?”
“Pain meds suppress respiration, so we need to be cautious unless we’re certain.”
“There is an alternative.”
They both turned to the doorway where Ellar and Mordrun, one of the elders, stood. “It’s derived from herbs on Primaria. I’ve sent for it. It works differently than your opiates and has none of the side effects.”
Ram didn’t need more convincing. “Use it.”
“As soon as it arrives. I have ordered other medications to have on hand and some other equipment. Back home, transcranial stimulation has been successful in similar cases of persistent unconsciousness.”
Ram erupted from the chair, glaring at the older man. “If that is true, why haven’t you tried it before now?”
“The resources weren’t available on the Intrepid, Ram,” Mordrun explained, coming to the other man’s defense in the face of his anger. “We received word the Dauntless will arrive in a few hours. It is equipped with anything our physics might require.”
Beyond frustrated, he drove his hands through his hair, his grip harsh, welcoming the sting of pain that helped him regain control. “I’m sorry for my outburst, Ellar.”
“No need to apologize. I realize your distress.”
“Tell me something. If this had happened on Primaria, would you have been able to cure her by now?”
“Yes. The facilities here are inferior. I have already spoken to Commander Roth about establishing a full-service med-bay here on the base. It will take time, waiting for shipments of equipment, and will require uladite power cells, but…”
“It will be too late to help, Eryn.” He sat down again, grasping her hand where it lay limp at her side. “The day I saw her on the Odyssey, she told me she had the flu. I should have trusted my instincts, claimed my mate, and taken her home. If I had, this would never have happened.”
“Don’t torture yourself, Ram,” Juna whispered.
“She was unwilling to stay,” Mordrun said. “The treaty gave her the right to choose.”
“Do you think a treaty could have kept me from what is mine?” he growled, his temper boiling. “This is my fault. I let anger and wounded pride guide me.”
Juna rested a hand on his arm. “I suspected, too. She had all the signs, yet I let her convince me otherwise, and let false negatives override my instincts.”
“We aren’t without hope,” Ellar interjected. “It is grave, but we have options coming soon.”
Ram nodded at the man, unused to being so powerless. “Do whatever you think will help.”
“I will exhaust every effort.”
“Until these medicines and treatments arrive, I’ll order those drops, and, in case she is in pain, I’ll give her a mild muscle relaxant and see how she responds.”
“Thank you, Juna,” he murmured moving closer to the bed, stroking his hand up her arm in the barest of touches, even though, if she were aware of his presence, it might not be welcome.
They left him alone with her, but didn’t go far, only out into the antechamber where they thought he wouldn’t overhear their discussion of Eryn’s dismal prognosis.
He bent to her, his lips by her ear, determined to get through. “I need you to prove them wrong, little rebel, and show everyone how strong you are. I need you to fight for yourself and for our brand new perfect baby, but most of all, galita, I need you to live.”
Ram’s hushed, yet insistent whisper drew her back to his world. Her perception seemed a bit foggy, as though disturbed from sleep, but she didn’t mind with him. If the others who visited became too much, she could tune them out. When he talked to her, which wasn’t often, she perked up and hung on each word, although she often couldn’t make out all he said with the constant blips and whirs of the machines.
It was so damn frustrating to be aware, yet unable to communicate and ask the endless questions whirling in her head. Each time she faded out, back into her dreams, she missed large chunks of the present. And no one, not Ram, or Maggie and Lana, or Juna, ever filled in the gaps, just confused her more with vague clues she couldn’t piece together.
“Can you hear me, Eryn?” He spoke louder this time or maybe moved closer.
“I’m here,” she called out to him. As usual, the words remained thoughts in her head.
“I have someone who wants to meet you. Our little one is waiting, patiently now, but I don’t know for how much longer.”
Our little one. In all their talk of her baby, would it be too much to ask for someone to mention if she had a girl or a boy? Were they trying to drive her crazy?
“We need you to come back,” he went on, his breath warm against her cheek, his hand gently stroking her hair. “You don’t want her to lose patience, Eryn, for believe me, she has a set of lungs on her.”
Distracted by his lips brushing her skin and his endearing tenderness, she almost missed his use of the pronouns “she” and “her.”
We have a daughter!
She wanted to laugh, to cry, and shout her happiness to the world, to hold her baby girl and smell her sweet baby scent, to count fingers and toes, and to celebrate with him, with them both as a family.
“She needs you, Eryn. Come back.”
While she wanted to revel in the moment, she also cursed whatever had this relentless hold on her. Too soon, the fatigue which pulled at her during these awakenings began dragging her back down. Something nagged at her, however, and she refused to go until she had it figured out.
Ram spoke of their little one, what she wanted and needed, but not once did he mention himself. What if nothing had changed, except for the baby? Was his presence here merely out of duty to the mother of his child?
Pain gripped her heart—not like what plagued her before, the physical force stabbing and tearing into her body. However, the emotional pain didn’t hurt any less, especially when mixed with guilt and regret.
She listened to his continued murmurs, words of encouragement and descriptions of their baby. Her daughter should have been enough to send her soaring back. Instead, she felt worse, more dispirited, and became engulfed once again in the exhaustive undeniable nothingness.
With his cheek against her hair, Ram continued talking about their baby girl, telling her things she would want to hear.
“You should see her, Eryn, she’s so beautiful. Perfect, with ten fingers and toes, and she has your pretty green eyes. Your daughter wants to meet you, little rebel.”
He thought if nothing else, talk of their daughter would trigger a reaction, but she didn’t respond. Neither did she become restless at the sound of his voice as she had earlier. He didn’t know if the lack of reaction was good or bad. Desperate to believe the former, he pressed his advantage and, with a feather-soft touch of his lips against her temple, he spoke with all the longing of the past six months and eleven heart-wrenching days. “Please, Eryn, you have to come back. I need you, too.”