Work Text:
Elizabeth felt that her whole body was screaming and something was getting ripped off from her body. Which it technically was; pregnancies and childbirth weren’t fun as one may think. An unholy shriek was heard in the medicine room, which she soon realized was her own. It felt like her skin was ripping apart. The bloody smell from the linen underneath her seamed to gnaw to her hair and skin.
‘Miss, push! You must push!’ said the nurse near her.
But pushing was oh so painful. Pushing meant tearing her skin apart. Slowly, agonizing like a form of torture. But any thoughts of pain and misery vanished as she thought of the little baby in her hands. Soon enough that wouldn’t be a fantasy. A baby with soft brown eyes, like her dearest. Or maybe also her blonde hair, or her pouty lips. She couldn’t wait to find out.
‘Amalia, I need a scalpel, and a towel! Quick!’ a woman nearby rushed to get a…scalpel? Why would they need a scalpel for?
‘Erin, the towel, god damn it!’
She could understand the towel, to soak up the amount of blood she was swimming in, but a scalpel? What for?
‘Quick. It may suffocate!’
What may suffocate?
With horror she realized that it, was her child.
A hand squeezed hers and she heard a faraway voice, as if altered by the wind.
‘It will be alright, miss. Just hold on little bit.’
She could almost imagine Will saying those words, as if he was with her.
Suddenly she felt that her skin stopped ripping as if something was finally pushed out. Her baby was out, but it was numbingly silent. As if a god scooped out all of sound from the world. Just ear-numbing silence.
‘Why…Why isn’t he crying?’ asked her trembling voice.
A nurse started doing something with a rag of linen, which Elizabeth soon realized, was holding her baby. She suddenly stopped and breathed out.
‘A pulse.’
Everybody in the room let out a breath of relief.
‘It is weakening.’
Everyone started collecting something, doing something, trying to get the baby breathe, but something in Elizabeth knew; her baby wasn’t going to make it. It was as obvious to her as the fact that the sun rose every day. Her baby was going to die, no matter what these skilled women did.
A sudden realization hit.
She could still save her baby. Or at least to some extent.
She climbed and rested on her elbows, her chin on her chest.
‘Miss, you need to lay down.’ Said a woman next to her, the one who was squeezing her hand, she noticed.
‘Take me to the sea.’
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her.
‘Miss, pardon my hearing, what?
‘Take me to the sea.’ Said Elizabeth determined. ‘Take us to the sea.’
‘Miss, your baby is-‘
‘He is dying, he didn’t cry.’ Elizabeth said. ‘Let him at least look at the sea. One time.’
The women took pity on the eccentric woman and took her to the sea. Where the baby died while Elizabeth was morning him in her hands while sitting in the waves.
***
It was another tiring day of guiding the souls of the dead. Will found out that the mental aspect of the job was far more tiring than any physical labour he did. Sometimes the dead were old gentlemen who were peaceful with meeting death, or old ladies who gracefully embraced him, while still calling him ‘handsome’ or in funnier cases ‘honey’. But sometimes they were children, and he had to explain to them that they weren’t going to see their parents anymore. And no, they could not play with their toys anymore. No, that was the last time you probably ever saw Aunt Matilda. And yes, this was death. The end. Or maybe just another adventure.
But this time he saw a baby. But he child had something special about him; with the little child, there was a letter in the properly sized boat. A letter to him. Will dove into the water and reached the babe. He quietly settled into the boat and opened the letter.
‘My dearest William,
Oh, how I miss you, your voice, your eyes and even more so your loving smile and presence. But unfortunately, I could not lament these past few months and yearn for your touch as I was pregnant and had to focus on keeping myself healthy. And of course, a little part of you was with me. With your child. I could not have been happier, love. But during your son’ birth something happened. Well, you guessed it, haven’t you?
I hope you know what to do, my love.
Sending a kiss on the cheek, and one on your lips,
Love,
Yours, Elizabeth
Will held the child in his arms. His son, his precious little son. Will cradled the babe to his chest, entranced by this magical child in his arms. The warmth and the absolute love radiating from him was overwhelming and he barerly noticed as Will started crying. The child did not know what death was, or even fear, but Will knew the goddess who was Calypso would take mercy on him.
‘Hello, my little life.
Do you fear death?’