Generations: The Long Game

The Other Shoe Dropped

TW: potentially fatal illness/disease

The absence of her weight on his chest and against his body startled him as he roused. Her side of the bed was cool to the touch and his brow furrowed as his mind tried to workout where she might be before he even opened his eyes. In recent weeks she has ventured out more and needed he and Mia less, but the last few days she seemed to be struggling again. His mind still jumped to the most devastating conclusions at times. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. As he stood, he got a sinking feeling.

He padded down to the nursery. The room was dark, and the little girl snored softly in her crib. He smoothed her hair and fixed her blanket before turning back into the hallway. He headed toward Emery's room when the sense of dread settled in his chest. As he pushed the door open, he saw her lying on the floor and the fear and anxiety that had manifested as tightness in his chest started to ease. It seemed, to him, that she had just come into sooth him and fell asleep alongside his bed.

In the nearly two months she had been home he and Mia had become accustomed to carrying her when they needed to, or in his case, wanted to. He knew he could wake her, and she would walk with him back to their room, but he couldn't see the point when she could just rest. She laid on her side turned away from him. He rolled her back onto his arm when he heard it. The rattle in her chest filled the room and his ears. As fear began to rise in his chest, he hoisted her into his arms and made his way to their room. He fumbled with the thermometer in one hand while trying to dial the phone with the other. "Marjorie? Wake up Marj. Marjorie? Marjorie wake up."

The chaos of the next few hours was overcast by the chaos in his own mind. She had developed pneumonia. She was septic again. That much they could tell him. When he arrived, he had the children with him. Someone had picked them up, but he couldn't remember who. He seemed to be collecting details and losing them all at once.

Mia and Viv flanked him when the doctor came to talk to them. "Mr. Knight" was all he heard before his mind was grasping at what all of this meant. She was unconscious because her lungs couldn't draw or absorb enough oxygen to keep her awake. The idea of her being put on a ventilator terrified him. His mind was already making a list of things to research. The ventilator, the repercussions of being vented, and what were her chances of getting off of it once she was on.

Just as he had with her diagnosis he began researching as soon as the doctor left the room. Understanding how it works and why it works was almost as important as knowing whether or not it would work for her. His mind needed certainty, but he was unlikely to get it this afternoon or the next few days. The unknowns were worse then the known, so he needed to find as many answers as possible.

Mia knew she wasn't going to be able to push him to go home to his children that night. Marjorie would be his only priority until she woke, but she knew the kids would need him too. She kept her promise to Marjorie; she gave him one day and night and then sent him home to the children.

He had fought her, but his mind was too exhausted to win. As he walked through the door, he was met by the sound of the children giggling in the lounge. He loved that sound. Adored it. He just couldn't face it. Face them. Not yet. He ventured to the kitchen. Without her this was his home. His comfort and his calm.

He started to organize the things he would need to make her favorite casserole. As he pulled that dish from the cupboard others fell to the floor in a clatter. As he bent down to pick up the shards and clear away the pans, he felt the burning in his eyes as the first warm tear drifted down his cheek. She had been padding around this kitchen just a few days ago. He had been annoyed with her for emptying the dishwasher ands putting these away. She had just wanted to feel useful. To be helpful. He had snarked at her and told her she was doing it wrong. Reece you bloody idiot!

"Reece? You alright?" Embarrassed, he wiped the tears away before turning to face the brunette. "I am fine, Char. It was just stacked ... wrong." He flinched at the word. "Reece you've been crying." She looked at him with panic on her face. "Did something... is Marjorie..." He cut her off. "She's fine. Well ..." He couldn't finish the sentence anymore than he could face that she might not be. "Mia sent me home for the children. Marjorie would want me here for them, but ..." Before he could say more, she wrapped her arms around him. She didn't have words to pull him through this. Not this time.