crossing_lostrp | [Claire] Day 17: Hopes and fears

Claire couldn't remember waking up this slowly, not ever. It wasn't like any hangover she remembered.. and.. and.. there was a reason why she couldn't be hung over.. What? Sooo confuuuused.. The air smelt funny. She wasn't sure whether it was the same waking up stretch either.. everything was fuzzy as hell. Really. Fuzzy..

Her eyelids flickered again. Was this still the now from before, or something that came next? Did that even make sense? Why was it so hard to think? So.. so tired..

She heard voices murmuring, just out of reach. Beeps. Noisy. Need to sleep. No! Not sleep. Too much sleep..

The beeps increased in frequency as Claire tried her best to move, to groan, anything, but her body just wasn't willing. A blurry figure appeared. Help! But no sound came out, just a huff of fog. Mask? Hospital? The figure patted her hand lightly, murmured soothingly, straightened her arm gently, applied slight pressure.. Ow! Sharp! Nothing.. sleep.. A nudge from.. somewhere below ..(wherewhowhat?).. whatever it was, it gave Claire a short dose of adrenaline. No! No sleep! Wake! Wake?.. Not enough, clearly.

When Claire stirred again there were several figures around her bed, but her eyes were blurry and unfocused.. ears uncooperative. She felt something cold on her belly, cold and gooey, familiar but in a guilty pleasure kind of way. Cotton wool for brains.. Something was spreading the goo around now, and the figures - people - were talking.

Doctors? Ultrasound! Saved!

But something told her that couldn't be right. Saved from what? Claire's brain simply wasn't working. Why? Cotton.. wool..

That strange pressure on her arm came again, and with it a sense of fear, but Claire's eyes slid closed before she could act on it - if that were even possible - her hazy consciousness barely registering the hand that smoothed her hair.

Current Mood: confused

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From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

The doctor responded with so little emotion that Claire wondered whether he was human. He probably wasn't even a doctor. She didn't exactly feel herself either, too lightheaded for starters. It felt like she wasn't allowed to have any background thoughts any more, but Nameless Wanker here assured her that dizziness was a normal side effect. "Side effect of what" hadn't gotten her a straight answer though.

"But you're asking me to hand over my baby to a bunch of strangers!"

"That was your original plan, was it not? I assure you that the child would be well cared for."

Claire chewed her bottom lip, her nails digging into sweaty palms as she tried to focus. First the guy irritated the crap out of her with his barrage of psycho-crappy questions - most of which only succeeded in making her feel sub-standard. Ok, so he hadn't expressed any opinions of his own. He hadn't even blinked! But the way he just plodded on through this questionnaire like some kind of call-centre operator was driving her batty. Being assessed made her bloody batty too, even at school, and the idea of her personality being picked apart was just creepy.

..and now he was trying to convince her that her little boy should stay here, of all places.

Yes, she had boarded the plane to give the baby up for adoption in LA, but.. this wasn't how it was supposed to work!

"You show me who's going to care for my baby, where he'd live, all that kind of stuff, and I'll consider it." Because you've got me trapped in a bloody box, all groggy thanks to whatever's in that drip.. "Maybe."

The man scribbled on his clipboard, flicked to the next page and produced a set of cards bearing those silly ink-smudge pictures Claire'd only ever seen on TV. "Look at the image and tell me what you see."

"Butterfly." Another. "Uh, two trains?" Another. "What's the point of all this?" Silence. "Hello?"

"What do you see?" he repeated, not even sounding bored.

Claire tried to cross her arms and failed, thanks to the IV, but her inner monologue didn't care. "I'm tired, I'm close to my due date, and you're wasting your time if you think I'm going to answer any more of these questions."

"What. Do. You. See?"

"You taking a running jump?" she suggested sweetly.

Finally the man set his clipboard on the table and approached her bedside, though his face was as blank as ever.

"All right, Miss Littleton, I will accept that you are tired. You may have your rest. But please bear in mind that, as you say, your baby is very nearly due. In fact he could arrive any day now and will most likely be delivered in this facility. Goodbye."

That was it. No actual threats, no growling, not even a bloody huff, but the calmness with which he'd reminded Claire of how vulnerable she was here was terrifying. She didn't have much choice, that's what he wasn't saying, and suddenly Claire wanted nothing more than a giant hug from Damon.

I - we - have to get out of here.

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

The sound of gunfire chased Claire from her daydream quick smart, and the screams that followed made her quiver in fear. Who was that? It sounded female - was it one of the other girls?

Another shot sounded, echoed by the increasingly rapid beeps from the machines surrounding her bed.

Tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as a man and woman burst into the room, one running straight to her IV while the other tried to ease her back down to the pillows. When had she tried to get up? Claire didn't know, but then that wasn't the issue.

"What happened? Who's screaming? Who got shot?!"

All she got in response was a stern scolding for panicking the baby with all this needless emotion. How could they be so fucking calm? Someone just got shot in a fucking hospital! The words washed over her because they meant nothing. If they wanted her baby they could show a little more emotion themselves, bugger it!

"Tell me!"

But Claire's voice was weaker now. They'd sedated her, the bastards. She wanted to yell that them some more, but all that came out was a plaintive squeak.

"One of your friends tried to escape, and another paid the price. It's as simple as that, Miss Littleton," she was finally informed, just as her eyelids gained the upper hand over conscious thought.

No! I want to stay awake! Need.. to know..

"Sweet dreams."

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

When Claire awoke this time, she had to blink a couple of times before believing her eyes. Where had all these people come from? Two nurses and a doctor by the look of them: the doctor and one male nurse talking by the machine, and the other nurse (female) taking various readings from the machines, all looking scarily efficient. She gulped, blinking away sudden tears - shouldn't they be looking after whoever the hell it was they'd shot?!

"Wha-" she coughed weakly, her mouth dry.

The nurse by the machine's looked up sharply, quickly placing her clipboard on the end of the bed before rushing over to the jug of water. Her expression was all business, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in her eyes as she encouraged Claire to take small sips. After everything else that had happened here, that probably freaked Claire out more than the sudden attention.

By the time Claire was settled back against her pillows, Dr Anonymous was glaring at her sternly from the end of the bed. Cowering despite her best intentions, Claire bit her lip and waited for whatever it was he was about to share. For all she knew he wanted to shoot her too.

"You should learn to control your reactions, Miss Littleton," the man stated, finally. "Sedation at this stage of pregnany should only be used as a last resort, and yet you have forced us to take action several times in one day. If you're not careful -"

Her reaction was immediate and indignant. "Hey! You bastards kidna-"

One of the machines - the foetal monitor, she thought - began to beep rapidly, causing one nurse to roll over an ultrasound kit while the other rolled down the bedsheets to expose Claire's abdomen. Worried about what this might mean, Claire's own pulse rose to the point that the sound of the foetal monitor was joined by her own. Oh shit. She desperately tried to remember those irritating ante-natal classes she'd been assigned (skipped, more than not) and did a bunch of breathing exercises in an attempt to calm down.

Dr Bastard approached, smiling tightly as he pulled an oxygen mask into view and over her mouth and nose. "That's the spirit. No drugs, just good old meditation. Anything else could be.. well.. I don't believe that 'fatal' is too strong a phrase."

She stared into his eyes as she breathed in and out, too terrified to do anything else until he placed a hand on her head and turned her gaze towards the ultrasound.

"See that, Miss Littleton? That is your child. We do not wish to harm either of your, however circumstances have not been kind." He tut-tutted at Claire's whimper of protest, patting her head patronisingly before moving back to the foot of the bed. "I do not need you to like me, Miss Littleton, merely to listen. Your attitude towards this pregnancy has never been wholehearted, something that has not changed despite an intensely traumatic plane crash. Not only that, but your diet over the last two weeks has been poor at best, your medical supervision primitive, your emotional state precarious.. To be frank both you and the child are lucky to be as healthy as you are, although I do use the word 'healthy' loosely."

"Wha-" Claire swallowed when his eyes flicked back to hers, as disapproving as ever. She desperately wanted to hug her middle, reassure the baby the only way she knew how, but all this medical equipment prevented it. "What do you mean? Am.. are.. we're not dying or anything, right?"

He cant his head as if trying to decide. "Not presently, no. However I must inform you that we have detected signs of foetal distress, which does not bode well."

"Like what?"

"When was the last time you felt the foetus move?"

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

Blinking in fright, Claire panicked. When? She couldn't remember! The drugs didn't help, but still - she couldn't remember! The nurse who'd taken over the oxygen mask replaced it over her face until she calmed down, her expression blank and unsympathetic while the doctor frowned impatiently.

"Miss Littleton, I thought you might realise by now that maternal distress does not ease foetal distress in the slightest. Please, have a care for your child."

Like I can just forget the fact that you just told me my baby might die, you bastard! she raged silently, tears trickling silently. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of all out hysterics, nor to look like she was out of control. The fact that this played into his hands only hit her when his frown became a smug smile.

"Excellent, Miss Littleton. A good start. Now.."

The doctor rattled off a series of questions regarding her medical history, her parents', Thomas' and his parents', and wasn't at all happy when many of Claire's answers consisted of "I don't know" or "like I'd have a clue?" It was the truth though - she'd never had any operations herself, so how was she to know if she was allergic to penicillin, and it wasn't the sort of thing that cropped up in every day conversation.. not in her family anyway.. and as for Thomas..

Claire's ever more worried mood was shattered by the rattling of a trolley at the door. The male nurse, who'd apparently left at some point, approached the doctor with an array of needles and vials - and a sharp glance from both men was all it took to regulate her breaths into something less emotionally charged.

"As I said, Miss Littleton, we will not sedate you again. Unfortunately that does appear to leave your child in a rather precarious position, as you are rather unstable at present - physiologically speaking, of course."

"Yeah right," Claire muttered under her breath, needing to make a token objection. "C'mon, what's the deal then?"

"The 'deal' is that these injections are protective and necessary in order to protect the foetus from your more extreme mood swings and their resulting effects." He gave each nurse a nod, causing one to clean the remaining gel from her abdomen and the other to prepare a syringe. "A minor local anaesthetic first of all.. Yes, Miss Littleton, remain calm."

"Don't - don't I get any choice?" she stammered, unable to accept that they were simply going to pump her baby full of whatever the fuck that was without a by your leave.

"No," came the cold reply as Claire watched syringe number two sliding into her flesh numbly.

From:

sophiedb.livejournal.com

The doctor continued his work calmly while the male nurse attached a print-out from the ultrasound to her IV stand, apparently under orders. Claire realised with a shock that neither nurse had spoken since she'd woken up, nor offered any kind of support. Even the abuse she'd gotten from the very first nurse was better than this. This.. this was like some kind of horror movie, with no friends and some crazy scientist with emotionally defunct minions.

The thought of Rose, Ami and Daisy made her squeeze her eyelids shut, frightened of what might have happened to any of them. After those gunshots, Claire's imagination was her worst enemy and it wasn't like these people had done anything to ease her nerves. She trembled, biting her lip against a sob.

"Stop that, you silly child," Dr Bastard ordered. "See what you made me do? Nurse, a clean swab if you please."

Claire reopened her eyes and winced. Her small movements had caused a syringe to scratch across her skin and blood was welling up. The sight made her mouth go dry, so she fumbled for more water, knocking the plastic cup over in the process.

"Shit. Sorry.." she whispered, fighting the urge to weep in case it distressed her baby some more (whatever that meant).

"Of course," the doctor replied wryly, placing what was apparently his last needle back on the tray. "Now, a few more questions."

"More? Like what?"

"Is there a history of paranormal ability in your family?"

What? "No."

"In the father's?"

Claire looked away, hating the fact that this guy could seem so bothered about her child's well-being and so callous towards her at the same time. It wasn't her fault that they'd crashed on a tropical island, let alone been kidnapped. Everything else in between hadn't actually been that bad.. not perfect by any means, but at least she hadn't felt so bloody helpless.

"How's this going to help my baby?"

"Surely you need only know that it will?" the doctor snapped impatiently. "Now, is there a history of paranormal ability in the father's family?"

Shite. "Not that I know of."

"How disappointing," he commented blandly as he flipped to a new page. "Has there been any occasion in which.."

Claire lay back against the pillows and sighed.