The BLTS Archive - Blue Bleeding Hearts
Second in The Pohutakawas Are Bleeding series
by Amiroq. aka Gypzy (fitchett@netaccess.co.nz)

---

Disclaimer: Character theft? Me? Never! Stella is mine. This is a
sequel of sorts to Pohutakawa Blood - at least, it's set in that
universe. I plan to do many extensions.

(c) Amiroq. aka Gypzy, 2001

---
Day Three
---

You're so beautiful. Just like your mother, only smaller, and mine.

I'm sitting beside your bed, now, looking down at you. Your eyes are
closed, and you're smiling a little, curled up with your teddy bear.
You look so pale. The sheets are blue - your favourite colour. I lean
forward and brush a little bit of your hair off your face, lingering a
little over your skin. It feels hot; a little dry, a little moist with
your sweat. God, honey, I'm so scared.

I look up at the clock on the wall and realise that I've been here
longer than I thought. B'Elanna will be here soon, and she'll want to
know what's going on and are you alright and what can she do, and I
don't know what to tell her because I know nothing. So instead I'll
just repeat what the doctors said over and over, until it finally
sinks in. I'm glad it hasn't yet. I just want to take a little step
back from the world, maybe go back to the Voyager days when Tom and I
still talked and things were simpler. For now, though, I'll have to be
content with sitting in the corridor, waiting for something to happen.

B'Elanna arrives right when she said she would; she's very punctual,
your mum. I start to stand as she approaches, then she sits down next
to me and I fall back into the chair. I never know what to do around
her anymore. "She's asleep," I say. Admittedly it's a bit of a
monotone, but I don't think I sound that bad.

"Are you okay?" B'Elanna asks, though. Okay, I feel like crap and
probably look worse. I've been living off hospital food for three
days, can you blame me?

"Yeah, I think so. Uh, the doctor said it was a rare genetic
disorder... Herschaws-Mann, something like that. She said they don't
have a cure, they don't know much about it at all... They're just
treating the symptoms, she said there was nothing to do but wait."
B'Elanna shoves something into my hand and I stare down at it blankly.
A sandwich, made with wholemeal grain bread.

"It's food," she says drily. "You put it in your mouth, you chew, you
swallow. It helps keep you alive."

"The nurses give me patient food," I reply. Maybe a little inane.

"Yeah, this is real stuff though. Eat it." She waits until I start,
then adds, "Tom's coming later. He had to tie up a few things, he'll
be here tomorrow."

"What, so he can smirk and tell me it's just what I deserved?" It
comes out a little harsher than I meant it. I don't mean to be so
horrible to him, darling, but I'm really not myself today.

B'Elanna just looks at me with that darn infuriating way she has when
she knows I've been pushing myself too hard. "He cares, Starfleet."

"I know, I just-- I just-" start crying a little, it's too much "-god,
I'm so scared."

"Hey," and she pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, like she used to
give Before Tom, "it's okay. It's going to be okay, no matter what
happens."

So I let it out, right here in the corridor of a hospital in Beijing,
ward 22, while nurses and visitors occasionally walk past and give us
nothing more than curious glances. I need it, I really do, I'm so
tired of being the parent. And after a while, when my eyes are
starting to dry out, I look down and say the most ridiculous thing.
"Your sandwich is all wet now."

B'Elanna just laughs. I like her laugh.

---

We spend the rest of the afternoon watching you sleep and talking
about nothing, and then we go back home for the night, because
B'Elanna says I won't get any decent rest at the hospital. I guess
she's right, too, although it will be strange to sleep in the house
alone. I mean, your mum will be there, but she's not you, is she?

God, I don't know what I mean.

I lie awake in bed, listening to the silence breathe and wishing you
were there, and after a while I roll over to see the time, and it's
been an hour. I don't remember the last time it took that long to
sleep. I slide out of bed and head for the door, planning to get a
glass of warm milk and some cookies, or something silly and childish
like that, but B'Elanna must hear me because she comes down the
corridor and heads me off in the doorway.

"Can't sleep either?" she asks, and hon, that has to be the
understatement of the millienia. She sees it, I guess, because she
takes me back in and we sit on my bed and talk. Morbid things, mostly,
like what would happen if you... if we lost you, stuff like that. I
suppose it would be okay eventually, but I'd start by feeling like I
wanted to die.

So we sit there for half the night. I talk to her, I need her, maybe I
even love her in those hours. I know I kiss her. I once heard that in
disaster time, like wars and famines and plagues, people are
biologically programmed to go out and have sex, you know, to have more
kids. Well, I don't know about that, because you being all small and
alone in hospital sure doesn't make me any more horny, but I need this
contact with B'Elanna. She doesn't object, I don't know why, I don't
know what's up with Tom and her, and frankly, I don't ask. But I do
stop her when she has my shirt open to tell her, "I should warn you,
it's been a while since I've done this."

"How long is a while?"

I hesitate. I could probably tell her to the day, but I doubt it would
have any significance to her. "Not since... last time," I answer.

She smiles a little. "Smart ass." Then she realises what I really
meant. "Oh. Well, I don't mind."

Good, I think. "Good," I say. And hon, I know I don't even let people
swear in front of you, let alone talk about sex, but your mum is
incredible in bed. She knows exactly what I need - sometimes the
roughness, sometimes she's gentle. And then she just holds me when I
slide into her, and I cry when I come. I think my eyes are going to
turn permanently red.

She stays there until I finally go to sleep, but when I wake up she's
gone.

---
Day Four
---

I go back to the hospital straight after breakfast, while B'Elanna
heads to the port to pick up Tom. He doesn't know where to go like she
does, he's never visited me. Well, once. But that was nearly three
years ago, hon, when you were only just walking right and talking in
sentences, so I doubt he remembers the way.

You're awake when I walk in, and you give me a big happy smile and
hold out your arms. You look so lovable, lying against those big
pillows in your medical clothes, teddy bear with his big floppy ears
hanging over the side of the bed. I grin, and swing you up out of the
sheets, leaving them in a big crumpled mess. "Your mummy's here
today," I tell you, and you giggle.

"Mama! Where's she?"

"She'll be here soon. She's gone to pick up Tom at the port."

You frown, and for a moment you remind me of B'Elanna when she's
working on some Engineering thing. "Why's Tom here?" you ask;
sulkingly, accusingly.

"Because he wants to see you. Because you're an angel. And you're
going to behave like one, aren't you?" You nod, and I smile. "Good.
Did you have breakfast yet?"

"Yeah! We had cereal and jell-o today, daddy."

I don't comment on the jell-o. I put you back down and smooth the
covers over you, and we prattle on about nothing until B'Elanna and
Tom arrive. Do they seem strained? Is B'Elanna holding herself at
arm's length a little more than usual? I don't know, I haven't seen
them together for 18 months, the last time we were in New Zealand. But
B'Elanna gives me this little look, and a small smile, and I smile
back a little. Our secret - just like last time, until you made it
impossible. Not that I mind.

We stand around your bed: B'Elanna affectionate, me trying so hard to
be strong, Tom unsure and off to the side. Later I might talk to him a
bit. I think it's time to talk to him some. At some point before lunch
the doctor comes in and asks me to step outside. I follow her, trying
to remember her name.

"You know that your daughter's a very sick girl," she tells me. I nod,
I know that. I see it everytime I look at you. "You probably also know
that up til now we've only been treating the symptoms. But it doesn't
appear to be having any effect."

I don't know what she wants me to say there, so I simply nod again. I
don't look at her face, because I know that if I do I won't be able to
hold on. I think her name starts with an M.

"Mr Kim, I'm going to be blunt. I don't think Stella will live out the
week."

She says more, but I don't really hear it. I nod, but inside I'm
tearing apart and screaming. What do I do? What do I say? Can I tell
you this, or do I have to be the parent that knows all and hides it? I
don't want to be selfless like that, I don't think I can.

Maudlin. Her name is Maudlin.

She leaves me eventually, and I open the door. B'Elanna looks up and
sees my face. She stands up and pushes me back out again. "It's bad,
isn't it." Statement.

I nod.

"She's going to die." Somehow it's more real when I say it out loud.
She hugs me, your mum, and then I do, I start crying because I'm going
to lose you and there's nothing I can do. I wasn't made for this, I'm
a scientist. I like problems I can fix. B'Elanna holds me so close I
can feel her breath, and the tears running down her face. The pain is
all-consuming.

---

Tom's surprisingly good. He jumps across the road to get us some real
food, and on the way back he calls my parents to tell them. I don't do
anything but sit by your bed, holding your hand. I don't even let go
to eat. In the evening, a nurse comes in to make your bed. I pick you
up gently and hold you all the time they're changing the hospital
sheets. You're too light for this.

You have your hand on my fears. Most of them are black and white:
losing you, dying, not dying. Then I think about your mother, and
things get complex. I don't understand what I feel for her, whether
it's friendship or love, or just the crisis coming through. What if
she stays until all this is over, and then just up and leaves? Or
maybe she'd stay longer, with Tom of course, and I have to keep from
touching her all that time. And then I look down at you, sleeping with
your thumb in your mouth and one hand wrapped around the teddy with no
name, the one that looks almost like a rabbit, and I feel guilty for
thinking about it at all. You wake up, and start crying because it
hurts.

My parents are coming tomorrow. It's the first time you'll ever see
them.

---
Day Five
---

Most of the day flies by in a mess of visitors and hospital meals.
You're sleeping more, but when you wake up the pain is worse. My
parents arrive around lunchtime, and they tell me how beautiful you
are. Four years ago they didn't want to see you because your mama was
half-Klingon. Things change, I guess. A fortnight ago I thought things
couldn't get any better.

Late in the evening, a woman comes in who I don't even know. She wants
to touch you. I don't know why. You almost wake up, but you settle
down again and she leaves.

Some of your friends from playgroup stop by with their parents. By the
end of the day, the room looks like a tropical garden. I stay the
night again, and B'Elanna takes Tom back to the house. I wake in the
middle of the night to find you crying into the pillow. "What's gonna
happen to me, daddy?" you ask.

I don't know what to say.

---
Day Six
---

When I was a kid, my mother always used to say that the saddest thing
in the world was a parent outliving a child. I think I know what she
means, now. I want to protect you, to hold you close and to tell you
that you can't go alone, please can you take me with you?

Tom says that today is Anzac Day in New Zealand, to celebrate the
sacrifice of the soldiers who landed at Gallipoli on April 25, 1918.
They went up the wrong bay and were practically slaughtered because of
it, but they did a heck of a lot of damage in the process, and Greeks
have loved New Zealanders ever since. I feel like we're in a battle,
you and I, and I have to wonder how much damage we can do before it's
over. You've always been a warrior, but this time we're sailing up the
wrong bay.

I don't wake up until after breakfast, when B'Elanna and Tom come in
about 8.30. B'Elanna brings you a cute little stuffed kiwi that speaks
when you squeeze it: "keewee! keewee!" You sit up in bed, looking so
so pale, and have it playfight with your teddy. Laughter all round.
The nurse comes in to administer some more painkillers, and you smile
and remember her name. You've been here too long, I think. The nurse
admires the kiwi and calls Tom "Commander Paris".

I remember making cookies with you three months ago, the old way, with
a stove. We made a royal mess, guesstimating amounts and eating half
the mixture. I think we completely demolished the chocolate chip
packet, too. We managed to wait a whole five minutes after they were
done before we started eating them, because they're best when they're
still warm and soft. I put some away while you weren't looking.
They're still in the cupboard, waiting for a rainy day.

Then I remember the time I woke up late and grumpy and found you'd
left your toys all over the floor. I yelled and sent you to your room,
and started to work. I couldn't concentrate, honey, I couldn't think
of anything but the look on your face when your Fun Daddy got angry. I
never wanted to be the kind of parent who yelled.

You go back to sleep about ten, and I share those memories with Tom
and B'Elanna, never looking away from your face. Somehow I don't cry.
Then Tom tells about how jealous he was when your mum was pregnant,
how we'd always used to sit together and talk about baby names. I
didn't really think about how that would make him feel. Sort of a
reminder about what we did, I guess. B'Elanna talks about when she
came up last June, and she was teaching you those words in Spanish.
You only remember a few: "mama", "azul", "feliz navidad", "estrella".
Back then, you could even make a few sentences. Tom says he should
have got one of his Kiwi friends to teach you Maori.

You wake up for lunch - watermelon, a muffin, some sandwiches - and
afterwards, some of the nurses come in with a wheelchair. "We've got
permission to go to the park!" Corynn Whys says. You cheer, and they
put you in it, bundled up, and we all go down the block to the park.
You can't use any of the equipment, obviously, but we watch a dog
chasing sticks and play I Spy. When we get back my parents are there,
and my mother even cracks a smile at our antics as we get you back
into bed. Someone changed the sheets while we were out. You fall
asleep almost straight away, and my father insists on taking us all
out for some Real Food.

We go to a good Korean ethnic restaurant about twenty minutes walk
away, and Tom attacks the menu with gusto - since Voyager, he seems to
have developed a craving for ethnic food. B'Elanna watches him with
amusement and orders a conservative meal of steamed rice and beef. I
order Bibam Bab, and the cook gives me part of everyone else's, as
well. In return, I let the other four dip their food in the yolk of my
egg while we wonder aloud how they got one so big.

We never once talk about you.

When we get back, Maudlin tells me you've gotten a little worse, and I
stay with you long after everyone else gets tired and leaves - mum and
dad to the hotel room they insisted on renting, Tom and B'Elanna back
to our place.

---
Day Seven
---

I doze off at some point during the night, and wake up at 3.37 am. So
do you. The painkillers must have worn off long ago, I think, and I'm
about to call someone when you say sleepily, "Don't hurt no more,
daddy." Your voice sounds so small and alone. I sit back down, and
stroke your hair until you drift off to sleep again.

At quarter to four, one of the night nurses comes in to check your
vitals. She smiles at me when she comes in, but it fades as she scans
you. "What's wrong?" I bring myself to ask. She looks at me briefly,
but her only answer is to pull the sheet over your face.

I can't believe I never even noticed you leave.

I don't cry. Not then, at least. Instead I take a walk, walk all the
way down the stairs instead of taking a lift, until I'm out in the
gardens. I manage to hold on until I see a strip of blooming
daffodils. They were always your favourites. Then I start to sob,
standing in front of the daffodil patch at Hyung Mi Hospital at four
am on a Monday morning.

I wonder how I'm going to tell everyone, and whether I should call
them now or wait until they come in. I wonder what to do with myself
now, later today, and in two week's time. I think about how peaceful
you looked. I think about how cheerful you've always been, how much
you loved life and your teddy, and I think about how much pain you've
been in. I don't begrudge you this, not by a mile, but I do wish
things were different. You've taken five years of my life and used
them to make me a better person. I've taken a week to discover it, or
maybe four years, ten months, seventeen days. It all depends on how
you look at it.

Five years ago, I could never have loved you like this.

---

The End