The rain had just stopped, and the moon started peeking out from beyond the leaded clouds, round, bright.
On the deserted road below with only the light from the moon shining off its reflective surface, a luxurious sedan was driving down the asphalt that was shining from the remnants of the rain. Inside were only two people, the driver in front, looking professional with his suit and gloved hands, and the woman at the back.
The woman was dressed casually, but that did nothing to hide the quality of her clothes which not many could afford, nor did it manage to hide the elegant temperament around her. She had long smooth red hair which had been combed to the right where it rested on her full chest.
With her head gracefully tilted to the other side and her eyes closed, she gave off the bearing of an elegant painting of not just beauty, but also maturity, and melancholy, the melancholy of a loss, and its lingering pain, its lingering emptiness.
Beside the red-haired woman, on the backseat, were a handbag, a suitcase, and heaps of documents, things that hinted at what had left her so exhausted.
As the night ride continued, smooth and comfortable, the far away lights of the city appeared in the distance as the car turned around another bend of the mountain road, only to suddenly screech to a halt.
The abrupt change caused the car to jerk, disturbing the woman at the back and making her open her eyes that were of the same green as a lake shining of a beautiful emerald under the sun. Frowning and covering her lower abdomen in pain, she questioned her driver, her tone composed despite her displeasure:
"What is it?"
The driver didn't turn around. Slipping his right arm into his suit toward his left armpit, he reported in a deep, baritone voice while keeping a careful look on the silhouette the beams were shining on:
"There is a woman in the middle of the road, ma'am. A pregnant, and apparently wounded woman."
The answer shocked the red-haired woman, but also drew something buried deep in her heart. When she leaned between the two seats at the front to see, she became alarmed. She threw her seatbelt aside and, while the alert driver was checking the road, both front and back, she pushed the door open to hurry out.
Getting a better view, the elegant red-haired woman froze for a moment. Blood, a great deal of it, signifying wounds, visible and hidden, that could prove to be fatal, torn clothes, and most importantly, a belly too big to hide.
Though the woman was standing, she looked ready to keel over at any moment. With one hand protectively covering her stomach, she seemed to be holding on and standing on her feet through sheer stubborn determination despite her pale face and her lips trembling from the cold.
The door on the driver side also open and the man came down, his right arm still at his left armpit, his face still calm but his eyes now sharp with alertness as he looked around:
"Ma'am–"
The call snapped the elegant red-haired woman out of her shock. Holding back her tears, she interrupted the driver with a firm tone that brooked no argument:
"Get us an open path to Arland Hospital. Have an ambulance meet us halfway and get both the emergency and the OB-GYN to get ready."
The driver paused, then swallowed the rest of his words to give the only answer possible with militaristic steely curtness:
"Yes, ma'am."
But by then, all the elegant red-haired woman's attention was on the bloodied pregnant woman. Cradling the latter's tottering form upon arriving, she spoke softly while leading her back to the car, uncaring of the grime and the blood:
"Come, I will take you to the hospital."
Meeting the concerned green eyes with warm brown eyes of her own, the pregnant woman snapped out of her concussed haze, and let out a shallow smile in relief before whispering with barely any strength at all:
"Thank you…"
Then she closed her eyes, and her body lost all strength. At the same time, beyond blood, something else broke out from between her legs and sharply splashed on the wet pavement.
_ _ _
_ _ _
A dark-haired doctor with a severe expression walked over to the bed beside which the elegant red-haired woman was standing with a tight composure.
"We cannot save both the mother and the child, Grace. I am sorry."
Pushing her nails into her palm, the elegant red-haired woman called Grace by the doctor forced out in a calm voice:
"Miranda, is there really no other way?"
The doctor whose name read Miranda Robin on her badge replied:
"Her wounds are grievous, but she still has a chance. As for the baby, only eight months into gestation, but he also has a chance. However, the situation is complicated. Saving the mother would give us no time to handle the baby, and saving the baby would take away the time that could have allowed us to save the mother. And she cannot handle those two procedures at the same time. That would kill her. You need to make a decision, Grace."
"I…"
Grace opened her mouth, but failed to give an answer with her usual decisiveness.
At that moment, a voice cut through the oppressive gloom of uncertainty:
"Save… him…"
The two women, red-haired and black-haired, turned to the wounded pregnant woman. At some point, she had opened her eyes which remained warm despite the haze her consciousness was battling through.
Dr Robin frowned:
"We are certain we can save you, madam. As an adult, you have better chances of survival, and as an obstetrician, even I can't assure you that your child will survive. Not only will he be born prematurely, the complicated situation might also–"
The woman whose brown hair could now be distinguished through the grime under the bright lights of the hospital smiled through the vapor her breath was forming inside the oxygen mask, her eyes glowing with fondness despite her pale face:
"He will survive… He will be strong… like his father… He will survive…"
The doctor frowned, but when she turned to Grace, she found the latter battling with herself as her eyes painfully bore into the warm brown eyes that did not even consider her own death, only the life that should not be snuffed out.
"Please… Save… him… please…"
Grace closed her eyes, forcing back her tears as she raised her head, then exhaled, and turned to the doctor:
"Do as she says. Save the child."
Dr Robin gave Grace a deep look, then nodded. Glancing at the pale woman on the bed, she exhaled, and finally allowed a difficult smile to melt the sternness on her face as she nodded, and promised:
"Since you have made your choice, I will let you hold him in your arms, at least once."
_ _ _
_ _ _
"Ma'am, we found the site of the accident. The remnants from the rain made it difficult, but we found traces of pursuits along with skid marks from desperate attempts to stop a car during a loss of control before a fall from the cliff. As for the woman, we found out her name, but she has no friends or family. We are still tracing her origin."
Sitting, composed but arms crossed in nervousness, Grace, still elegant and even more beautiful despite her now dirtied clothes, kept her green eyes tightly locked on the door across from her, giving no response to the words of her driver's report. Suddenly, she jolted up as the door was pushed open.
"Madam Lenner, the child is being taken out, you can come in."
Grace's eyes brightened, and soon, she strode into the operating room, covered in a blue surgical gown with her hands covered in gloves. She saw Dr Robin standing beside the woman she had saved, her posture careful and delicate:
"Here, your son…"
Receiving the small form with soft, loving movements, the brown-haired woman didn't even have the strength to voice her gratitude. She could only focus on the life that had come out from her womb, and smile while tearing up. Seconds passed as if they were minutes, hours even, with the sounds of the machines muted in the background.
When Grace came to stand beside the new mother, the latter finally raised her head, and looked at her savior, her weak eyes holding a contradictory mix of hesitation and determination.
"I am… Alexandria… Elaine… Warmwood… Can I… Please… can you… "
Grace understood without the stuttering gentle voice having to struggle further. Recalling the report from her driver, she felt her heart twist inside. Stopping the new mother from speaking further, she nodded firmly amidst the pain while promising in a soft but determined voice:
"I will take care of him, I promise. He will be my son, my third son. He will have two brothers and a family."
Alexandria's sweaty face brightened, then melted with such a relief that she lost the determination that had been holding her consciousness afloat. Her eyes dimmed, and she began to embrace the inevitable. Her bloodless lips curved into a soft, loving, and warm smile as she looked down.
Grace put a hand beneath the weakening arm holding the premature baby against the chest already losing its warmth. In the relative silence of the sterilized room, only the soft parting words of Alexandria seemed to resound as she touched the small wrinkled face against her chest while biting her lower lip to the point of drawing blood:
"Live well… son… Alex… live… well…"
The muted background with the noise from the medical equipment came back louder than ever, followed by a cry that felt startlingly strong:
Beep~ Beep~ Beep~ Bee~~~~p
"Wargh~ wargh~"
There was no need to check. The monitors said it all, at the same time as the blood full of regret and reluctance slid down the unfortunate mother's chin to fall into the toothless mouth of her son, and onto the small tongue within, something those present failed to notice amidst the tragic atmosphere.
As if he could feel something, or as if something was changing deep inside him, the prematurely born baby struggled to make himself heard, trying to voice maybe pain, maybe grief, maybe something deeper, after losing his first and most precious connection with the world.
Struggling to hold back her emotions, Grace picked up the thin baby from the now lifeless arms of his mother:
"Shh~... Alex… Alex Alexander Kenneth Lenner."
Looking at the young mother who had closed her eyes with a smile, Grace smiled despite the tears running down her face, and softly muttered:
"Welcome into the world, Alex. I will take care of you. I will be your mother."
That voice, strong but soft, with silent tears at the void being filled amidst a tragedy, brought an end to a night where some left, silent, and with a painful smile, while others arrived, not really loud, not really in tears, but with a part of the heart already missing.
That was how it all began, as the round moon shone bright in the sky clear of any drifting clouds above.
End of Vol 1