Some Things Are Worse Than Death

Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: Season Nine, Episode Eighteen
All of my websites are down. I have three I like, but five I'll use, and not one of them will stop buffering. 

I need a distraction because Liam Payne is dead, and even though he's become a pretty shitty person (drugs and alcohol abuse are not an excuse to act the way he did. They may be a reason, but he needed help. He had the money to have PLENTY of options, he should have taken them. He doesn't have an excuse. His CHILD should have been enough of a reason to get help), he was part of my childhood. Most of my memories of him are of the person he was before. Liam Payne was a good example of how drugs and alcohol can destroy you as a person. Sorry, this turned into a rant, but yeah, I'm gonna be writing a lot to try to get through this. So, uh, enjoy and I'll try not to do anymore rants.

And yes, I did absolutely bawl writing this

Trigger Warning: Infant Death

Y/n's POV

"Sometimes Kangaroo Care can help stabilize infants," The doctor suggested as he's administering the last dose of medication he can safely give Emory. He was still seizing after all of the other doses, so this was our last hope. A nurse helps the doctor lift Emory out of his incubator as I lean back in my wheelchair and begin unbuttoning my gown. My anxiety was already at an all time high, but I needed to make Emory comfortable. Ivory, the nurse who's name I finally learned, helps me safely hold Emory. Within seconds Emory's shaking stops and he falls a little limp. "Oh," Spencer's voice is small as he finally sees what I mean. "Will you call our families? Diana will never forgive us if she doesn't get a chance to meet him," I plead, and he nods. He doesn't go far, just a few steps away. We both knew nobody would make it to say goodbye. Hell, Diana won't be able to make it to say hello. "I doubt it's going to make a difference, but what's wrong?" I ask Dr. Patel, trying to rock him. This was going to be the only time anyone ever holds him, I was going to make the most of it. "He has NEC, Necrotizing Enterocolitis. There's a hole in one of his intestines that's leaking bacteria into his gut and/or bloodstream. I can't say which one for sure without doing surgery, but he's already in such bad shape that he wouldn't survive the surgery. If I had to guess, it's more than likely in his bloodstream. We can give him pain medication to bring him comfort, but unless he stabilizes fast I don't think he's going to make it through the night," Dr. Patel explains, trying to be as gentle as he could. Hearing the words come out of his mouth was worse than already knowing the truth. "We can bring him a cooling bed after he passes so that you can have more time with him of course. If you want him to spend time with his siblings it needs to be before he passes, because after he can't be near them," He offers, and I nod as I try not to cry. "Spencer!" I plead, my voice cracking. He covers the speaker on his phone as he comes closer. "We... We need to get pictures of Emory with his siblings, Dr. Patel doesn't think he's going to make it through the night," I couldn't cry, not while I was holding Emory. "I'll get our team and arrange for a plane for your mother, go," Hotch's voice echoes over the phone before the call ends. "Can we place him in the other's incubators for pictures while he's...?" I couldn't finish the question, but he understands what I'm asking. "You can have a nurse hold him next to his siblings, but there are too many wires and tubes for him to lay with them," His response made sense, but it was still devastating. Ivory comes back over, offering her help. For the next five minutes Spencer and I taking as many photos of Emory as we could. Solo shots, some with me, some with Spencer, some with each of his siblings, and then group shots. Our last picture was of everyone together. Emory stayed pretty close together. He did his best on my chest, that was where his vitals stayed the best. I sat down in the recliner in the corner with Emory as we waited. That was all we could do. Ivory came back with his pain medication, giving it to him in his IV as we cuddled. I realize that I'm only going to have this chance to sing to him, and I just know I have to do it. "Spencer, can you pass me my phone?" I ask, my voice raw. Confused, he does as I ask and I take it. I unlock my phone, remembering a song that Ed Sheeran dedicated to his oldest daughter, 'Welcome to the World.' I pull up the lyrics, my voice cracking as I try not to cry.