The moment had arrived, for Alan's closing statement. Mr Deck had just finished his, urging the court to look beyond Alan's attempts of giving the foetus he was carrying a face. It was simply an object of an experiment that never should have taken place, and therefore it had to be put down. Alan was shaking all over as he had to listen to this man condemning his daughter.
He entered the floor, pulse racing away in his chest. Alan could feel his daughter's frantic movements as he stopped at the center, knowing this was his last chance to influence the decision that was to be made later this fateful day.
"I am a lonely man," he said, a sad smile underlining his words as his eyes swept across the room.
"My days rush by in a haze, grey, dull, lonely... I try to blend in and to be one of the guys, but still nothing can change the fact that I'm different, I'm not a part of the group. I don't have many friends.. In fact I believe everybody I can call my friends are located in this very courtroom today."
No one dared to meet his gaze as he looked one last time for some comfort. Alan continued to pace as he let the courtroom have a peek at his loneliness:
"I call them my friends, and they even have a pet name for me, The Eel," he said, noting Jeffrey smiling from his seat: "Strangely enough I've grown to like it over the years. They say pet names is a sign of love, and as the Eel, at least I know my life at Chicago Hope is noticed. Sadly my condition may have ended most of the friendships I have, and for that I am truly sorry, for I knew to full extent what the consequences of my actions would be if I went ahead with the pregnancy. Still I went ahead and did the crime, knowing I would loose most of my precious friends in the process." Alan had to take a deep breath before he continued, struggling with the promise of tears if he halted too long.
"I wanted this child. I wanted it so much I decided to carry her forth my self when I got the chance. Not the wisest decision I've made, I'm sure. But I don't regret it for one second! I may have been wrong in my choices, I may have acted upon selfishness and loneliness, but you can't sentence the child I'm carrying to death because of *my* sin! There's a limit for abortions, and this is passed with several weeks, the only way to end the pregnancy now is by murder. If the hospital have grudges against my acting in this case they should punish *me* and not my daughter. At twenty-six weeks an unborn child is fully developed. The last remaining three months she grows and her lungs and heart matures to manage life on the outside. For me, personally, it's terrifying to think that Chicago Hope are willing to kill a child that have nothing what so ever with this to do at all. If she'd been carried forth by a woman she'd been safe from any hospital board in the world, protected even from her mother. My daughter isn't granted this right, why? If you're going punish somebody for this, then punish me! I went into this with open eyes, accepting what Ms. Dreyford was offering me. But don't, I say DON'T kill my baby girl for the mistakes her father is responsible for!"
There, now it was up to the judge, Alan could do no more.
*-*
The recess went by in a fog of mixed emotions. Alan spent most of the time in the men's room, simply sitting inside a locked stall to get some peace. He was so stressed out that his chest was aching, and Alan was worried his blood pressure was rising to new levels. First now he started to consider what would happen to him if he lost the case. If so he would have lost everything, both his life at Chicago Hope and his daughter. There would be nothing left to live for…
He had no idea of how long he'd been sitting there when Jeffrey entered the neighbor stall and announced that the judge was on his way back in.
Alan thought and rose on shaky legs. He patted his stomach for luck, and went outside, not knowing what would meet him as he entered the courtroom. Thankfully he wasn't the last one to enter the room, the judge was still missing… Alan sat down, trembling all over in nervousity. The courtroom was boiling with tension that silenced as soon as the wrinkled face of judge Aldrich appeared from a sidedoor back in the room. He dragged himself to his chair with a smirk on his face. Alan shuddered. Was that a good or a bad sign??
Finally the judge sat down, and after an elaborate pause he finally opened his mouth.
"In my days as a judge I've never come across a case as ludicrous as this!" he started, bending over his desk to look down on his audience.
"When men starts to give birth to children I seriously consider withdrawing from office! What kind of hospital are you running, Mr. Watters who don't notice a pregnant *man* walking around your halls?! Look at the little toad, it's plainly obvious something's going on; he looks like he's swallowed a beach ball for crying out loud! And you, Mr. Birch- as a lawyer I shouldn't expect much more. So you're lonely, boohoo, so you want to become father… Have you ever heard of the term *dating*??! But noo.. the smug lawyer knows his way around the law, the smug little toad decides to do it himself! The martyr of all men who wants to become a single parent! Why in God's name would you run the risk of suffering from all these awful medical conditions these doctors have been referring to all day? The experts can say what they will, but for a man to even consider the hardships of carrying a baby to term he has to be utterly mad!!"
Alan felt his stomach sink down to his heals. He was loosing! He couldn't believe it, he was loosing! He stared at the old man who stared back at him as he continued his speech without flinching.
"Yes, Mr. Birch- I consider you mad!!!! You're equally mad with all the women around this country bringing children to this world where the dogs eat the dogs! But no matter how much it repulses me that you've actually managed to knock your self up I can't find one smidge of reason as to condemn the unlucky child you're carrying to death. Maybe it is too bad for the baby.. but I can't sentence a child to death because her parent isn't of the right gender. Therefore I have no choice but to judge in favor of the defendant! I hope your ankles get so swollen you can't walk, you weird little toad! And keep out of my courtroom while you're breastfeeding!" And with that closure to his closing statement, old judge Aldrich left the courtroom that erupted into a chaos beyond anyone's imagination.
Alan sat like frozen for five minutes, so moved he'd forgotten how to use his legs. His daughter had been saved after all! From now on all of Alan's life would circle around his daughter, making sure she would get the best life possible. If that ruled him out of the picture he was willing to accept it, but he still had hope he would spend the future together with her.
Finally he got to his feet, closing his briefcase with shivering hands as the courtroom emptied behind his back. A horde of media people would attack him the second he left this room, but Alan didn't care. His daughter was safe, that was all that mattered! So filled with emotions, Alan didn't notice the man approaching him before he started talking.
"Alan.." Alan turned in surprise, a confused smile forming on his face as he recognized the man standing opposite him.
"I didn't believe you would ever talk to me again, Philip?" he asked. There was no hostility or bitterness in his voice, just surprised happiness. But no redemption floated to the surface in Philip Watters' dark eyes.
"I still intend to speak to you as little as possible Alan. But I'm not going to stand on the sideline and let you kill yourself with your stupidity! You're admitting yourself to the hospital at once; you're staying off your feet as much as possible the next months. When the child is born you can leave and never set foot in Chicago Hope again." With these words Philip turned and left, stubborn bitterness rushing his footsteps.
The smile had vanished from Alan's face.
*-*
"Here's your room Mr. Birch!" The nurse was stern looking and brief. Alan felt like he had joined some crazy hospital marathon, running around in the corridor trying to keep in touch with the speeding nurse.
"Wow!" he gaped as he entered the room and realized he had been granted a single room, something very rare on the maternity ward.
"Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake in the system somewhere?" he said as he looked around; bright blue eyes taking in the luxury: "I mean, I'm only twenty-six weeks along I wouldn't be the one taking this room from someone who's in more need of privacy, I wouldn't mind sharing." But his bright smile soon dampened when he met the sour glare from the fern nurse.
"Mr. Watters decided you would stay in a single room. It would be upsetting for the expecting mothers to share a room with you. You'll find your hospital coat on the bed there. Meals are listed on the sheet of paper stapled to the door. Good day Mr. Birch!"
"Learn when to shut up, Alan!" he mumbled to himself as the door slammed shut. He was occupying women's territory now, as a stranger in a foreign land. With a sigh he had another look on the white- painted room where he would spend the next months and picked up the garment he was going to wear for the next weeks. Pink. Of course he would be given the only *pink* hospital coat Chicago Hope had to offer… He wouldn't be much surprised if Jeffrey had ordered it especially for him…
Half an hour later he was tugging said hospital coat with a frown on his forehead. Of course *his* coat was missing some seems, something that caused it to show half his back and most of his ass… Still he hadn't been able to lay down on the bed, though. It felt unnatural for him to lie down in this state. He didn't feel much discomfort, and he was a man used to little or less spare time. What was he going to do for two bloody months?!?!? Gregory Deck stayed on as General Counsellor for the hospital, and according to Philip Alan no longer had a job at Chicago Hope. Alan only hoped Deck was more than a smug grin and expensive habits. He wouldn't stand see Chicago Hope run to the ground by this guy!
As he stood there, on the floor, not really knowing what to do another nurse entered the room. Alan spun around, trying to cover his displayed back with a shameful smile.
"Camille, what a surprise!" he exclaimed.
Aaron Shutt's wife gave him a quick, nervous looking smile as she hurried towards the bed where his charts hang.
"You should be in bed, Alan!" she said as she scurried about, checking the windows, the bathroom, the bed…
"Yes, I know.. but it feels awkward going to bed when I feel just fine." His grin grew as she started fluffing the pillows on the bed. She looked restless, like some deer smelling a hunter.
"Well, you should lay down anyway," she answered quickly, and suddenly Alan understood.
"You don't want to be in this room at all, do you?" he stated as she made sure the sheets on the bed were perfectly folded.
"What do you mean?" she snorted, trying to smile him off: "Why should this make me feel uncomfortable?"
"I don't know, maybe you should tell me," Alan answered. He was fed up with everybody of some influence in his life avoiding him. Now it was time for some answers. Camille sighed, apparently knowing her cover was blown.
"I simply can't get used to the thought that you are… that you're…"
"pregnant," Alan gently finished for her. She drew a deep breath.
"Yes," it came heavily: "I seem to have some problems with accepting that you should be granted the possibility to have a baby when there's so many women out there who'll never have that opportunity."
"Thank you for your honesty, Camille," Alan said and patted her shoulder, before he clumsily crawled into bed.
"I'm sorry Alan, I try to be happy for you, but… I'm just jealous I guess..." A sad smile appeared on Cammile's face as she tucked the lawyer in.
"I wish you all the best, Alan."
*-*
The first night in a hospital bed is always the worst. Alan struggled to catch some sleep, but after spending most of the night in bed already he wasn't the least drowsy. He ended up watching TV, and was repeatedly shown reports from the trial earlier that day. Was it really just some hours since he'd walked out of the courtroom? It felt like ages ago.. Now Alan was being imprisoned in the hospital for his own good, bored out of his wits already. At least Camille would bring him some crossword puzzles tomorrow to keep him occupied, and he was scheduled for several tests.
"But I have *you* to keep me company, haven't I?" he murmured towards the bulk beneath the blanket. His daughter was stirring and acting restless tonight, probably reacting to all the adrenalin that had been floating around in Alan's system most of the day.
Four different newspapers had offered him enormous sums of money for the exclusivity of his story. Three TV-stations wished to make a Documentary on him. Alan had turned them all down, even with an uncertain future, when money's concerned, ahead of him. He'd put away a nice little sum during the years and reckoned he had enough saved to go two years without working if he had to. There was no way he was going to sell his little girl to benefit on it financially!
"Just the two of us," he whispered softly and brushed the top of his belly, humming an old nursery rhyme. He'd won the battle, now all he had to do was endure the following weeks. It would be the easiest task of his life!
*_*
He was wrong. He'd never been more mistaken in his entire life! Alan hated lying immobile in a hospital bed like some invalid Vietnam Veteran. After three and a half weeks he was ready to climb the walls! He'd grown considerably around the waist on those short weeks, and that only made him more desperate to get out of bed and get some exercise. It couldn't do his blood pressure or the baby any good to lay cooped up like this. Day in and day out he spent glaring on white hospital walls, hoping for visitors that never came. Camille showed up on a regular basis, though, as a nurse. Jeffrey was nowhere to be seen, neither was Philip, and Alan wasn't really surprised. He was some dirty little secret tucked away in a room, and it seemed like the surroundings tried to forget about his presence. And as his discomfort in feeling useless and forgotten rose, his blood pressure rose with him. This only added more to the load, and Alan was worried sick about how Deck was running the hospital in his absence.
Finally he couldn't stand the uncertainty any more and called Deck with his hospital phone by the bed.
"You've come to Mr. Deck's office, what can I help you with?" a woman's voice answered.
"This is Alan Birch, I wish to speak with Mr. Deck, please."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Birch, but Mr. Deck is in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?"
"Yes, would you please notify him that I would like a meeting with him? He knows where to find me," Alan answered and hang up, still feeling restless.
"I sure wish I could stay up more, pumpkin," he said as his daughter turned inside him: "It's not much exercise going to the toilet and back, and I have to ask permission every time I'm having a shower. No respect!"
*-*
Alan was about to drift into a nap, the only enjoyable thing to do in his boredom. Laying on his back, his hospital coated belly exposed, he felt relaxed and even contempt. He had one of his better days for a change, and the discomfort brought along with a distended gut didn't bug him at all. In his state of half sleep his subconscious mind was stirred as the door to his room was silently opened and closed.
"Camille?" he mumbled as he turned his head lazily towards the direction of the sound. A tired smile broke on his face as he opened his eyes to welcome whatever nurse who had entered his room. His heart stopped.
"Standing by the door a man Alan never had laid eyes on before glared back at him, with something that couldn't be interpreted as much else than loathing and hate in his eyes. Fear struck Alan as his eyes caught the reflection of something glinting in the stranger's hand.
"Who are you?! What are you doing here?!"
He held a knife. Alan felt panic hit him like a ton of bricks as a horrible smile rose upon the face of the intruder. He reached for his call button but the stranger stopped him with one fierce move with his knife.
"Don't. Move!" he snarled and slowly crept closer. There was no way of escape for Alan. All he could do to move further away from the intruder was to sit up in the bed.
"What do you want?" His voice was barely audible. He'd received some pretty nasty emails lately, and Alan knew there were many people out there not happy for his condition. Black eyes peered at him as the stranger slowly approached him, knife in front of him as a warning.
"Please, take my money.. I keep them in that closet over there… but don't hurt me!" Alan didn't beg for his own life, he prayed for the safety of his daughter.
"I want no money!" the stranger hissed, and Alan forgot how to breathe. He wrapped his hands protectively around his waist knowing he was a sitting duck completely in the mercy of a maniac with a knife..
"You're carrying the spawn of Satan! Doomsday is upon us all!" A hideous scar ran from the left side of the stranger's forehead and down to the right side of his chin.
"Please… don't hurt my daughter!" Alan whispered, still backing towards the grind of the bed in hopeless desperation. Dark eyes laughed at him in superiority as filthy hands grabbed a hold of the fabric of Alan's hospital coat. The cold steel from the blade of the knife could be felt through the fabric before it was ripped apart in one harsh move. Naked skin shone towards the man whose face lit up in a demonic smile.
"Please, Sir I beg you! Don't hurt my.." Alan begun but never finished the sentence as a sharp blow to his jaw shut him up. So this was it then. He was about to be slain in a hospital bed, supposedly the safest place on earth for someone in his condition. Alan's eyes filled with tears as he realised the horrible facts. But still he covered his defenceless stomach the best he could, his arms getting sliced in the process. The colour red towards white bed sheets. And then a burning sensation started to spread from one side of his stomach and over to the next. At least the stranger wasn't jabbing, he was just cutting in the top of Alan's stomach, as if he was engraving something to his skin.
A last, horrible plan formed in Alan's head as the dreadful truth peered inside his brain and showed him the only option. His face contorted in agony as he tried to protect his belly one more time, concentrating on covering the middle where he could feel his daughter's frantic moves.
"HEEEELP!!!" he cried as loud as his pain stung lungs were able to. Once more he received a blow from the stranger's fist as he cursed and snarled.
"HEEEEEELP!!!" he cried again, and the miracle happened. The stranger finally panicked. Alan could hear the knife being tossed across the room where it hit the wall, and the door was ripped open as his attacker escaped. Nurses started shouting. Alan slowly opened his eyes, shaking all over as it all rushed through his mind.
"Oh my god! What's happened to you!?" He heard the voice, but he couldn't see the person saying it although she was no doubt standing right beside him. Everything went black. He couldn't breathe, hands clasping to his chest, moaning, panting, crying.. People rushed to, and Alan still wasn't able to see. He stared blindly out in the room, chest heaving for breath as the panic attack that wrenched his mind, made it impossible to think. But he still was able to feel and to hear. Warm and moist..
"The guy sliced him up pretty good!"
A rattle went through his chest as he gave in to madness and cried, all his misery and grief was pushed up his throat. The stranger had killed his daughter after all..
*-*
Philip Watters kept in his office most of the days he wasn't attending surgery. This whole business with Alan had caught him off guard, and the aging man had crept into his shell and wasn't able to find his way back outside. He had never been fair with Alan. The boy drew himself too hard, still Philip demanded more from him. He kept the hospital floating, he wasn't appreciated for all the hard work he actually did. Shuffling papers and long lunches.. That was what the doctor's of Chicago Hope, and often Philip as well, had believed Alan's work consisted of. It wasn't until he was gone Philip saw the enormous workload the young man carried on his shoulders. Gregory Deck did what he was told, but nothing more. The kindness and silent efficiency that was Alan's trade-mark was replaced with cold ruthlessness and media crawing when Deck joined the ship of Chicago Hope. But Philip wasn't one who admitted mistakes, and no matter how much Alan's skills as a lawyer was missed he still had betrayed Philip.
"Now what!" he hissed when his beeper told him to get to the maternity ward for an emergency. He reckoned Alan was suffering from haemorrhaging and needed emergency surgery, and although there was no way in hell he was going to forgive Alan for his actions, his moral standards as a doctor sent him pacing down the hallways towards the west wing.
"On your way down to Alan?" Aaron Shutt met up with him in the corridors and joined him.
"Yes, any idea of what's going on?" Philip barked.
"Apparently he was attacked by some knife desperado.." Aaron told, in his usual slow manner. Philip stopped.
"WHAT?!?!?" His eyes squinted in disbelief.
"Camille said something about a man calling himself the avenger of God or something. The security guards caught him as he tried to escape a few minutes ago. Hasn't Deck notified you??"
Philip didn't answer. He put his energy in running the last bit of the way.
Alan's room was filled with nurses and doctors, mostly trying to hold the panicked man down. Alan looked terrible, blood poring from open gaps in his arms and his stomach, his face wrenched in horrible grimaces that clearly stated his hysteria.
"What the hell are you doing?" Philip bellowed as he entered the room, clearing a path to the bed with fierce elbows.
"He's hysterical; give him some sedatives for god's sake!" He had to pry Alan's right arm away from the stomach it was protecting, there was no sign of recognition in Alan's face as Philip faced him.
"Alan. Alan! Do you hear me? It's me, Philip!" he said, loud and clearly.
"Try to relax, Alan. You're safe now!" The magic words. Philip could feel the whole posture and tenseness of Alan's body change as the words reached him.
"Safe? Philip?" he croaked, blinking frantically.
"I.. I can't see… I can't see…" Philip leaned closer and started stroking Alan's hair with soft comforting strokes.
"Hush, boy. Just relax, you're safe now. You're safe now!" Slowly the frightened man started breathing easier as the panic slowly let go of his body, but still his left hand was clasped around his stomach.
"The baby.." he whispered after a while: "How is she? Is she all right?" Philip received an affirming nod from one of the obstetricians.
"She's just fine, Alan, just fine," Philip told him and continued to stroke his hair. Alan slowly opened his eyes, and this time recognition dawned in his watery gaze. The corners of his mouth bent downwards and he squinted his eyes once more as relief as much as fear washed over him.
"Thank God!" he whispered, hanging on to Philip like a scared child: "I thought I had lost her, Philip!"
"Don't you worry anymore, Alan. I've given you something to sleep on, and I'll see to that someone patches and cleans you up while you're resting." Philip embraced the shivering young man and could feel old grudges let go and disappear.
"Will.. you stay with me till I sleep?" Alan whimpered: "I'm afraid…"
"Of course I will, Alan. Sleep now," Philip hushed, as his heart started beating again.
*-*
Alan slept for ten solid hours. The stress of the attack had drained him completely, and with the safety of having Philip nearby he found the peace he needed to fall asleep. Philip didn't move from his side the entire time, afraid of Alan waking up if he left him. He realised now what a putsch he'd been. Looking down on the weary face in the hospital bed Philip finally forgave Alan for his betrayal.
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