And Then, They Fell in Love

A scream ripped through the tiny hospital, letting everyone within a hundred feet know that Sara Adams was in major pain. A few stray visitors stopped and stared in fear at the delivery ward, before hurrying on with their business. Nurses that stood outside shook their heads, amused and lost in their own thoughts of going through the same thing.

Inside the room, it was a completely different story. Thirty hours after Sara had complained of severe cramping, she lay in a delivery room in Moore Hospital. It was the worst pain she had ever known in her entire life. The pain of having her wisdom teeth cut out a year ago was now a distant memory, meaning absolutely nothing in comparison with the pain of childbearing. From across the room, Kara chuckled, her face a mixture of amusement and absolute horror.

“I think it will be ages before I even think about this.” she mused.

Amanda Adams gave her a stern look that confirmed this thought. Ichijouji Rika gave a small snort, resting her tired body against the wall. The four women had been in this room almost all night. Sara’s father had conveniently disappeared as soon as they wheeled their daughter into the hospital, but Sara knew he was only a phone call away. Not that she wanted him here. No, she had all the support that she needed.

Rika had flown down from Japan a week previous. She told Sara she was determined to see the birth of her grandchild - and to share a new surprise with her. The Ichijouji’s were expecting another child. Rika had arrived on Sara’s doorstep six months pregnant. “We found out about a month after Osamu died,” she explained quietly. “It has caused quite an uproar among the press. Many tabloids are accusing us of trying to replace him.” She shook her head. “Shin is taking it okay. I was terrified to tell him. He took it better than I thought he would, though. He seems excited.

“I feel for this child. He’s going to grow up in a world different than he would have six months ago. He’ll never know his older brother. He’s going to be born into a broken family.” Rika slumped against the couch and ran a hand through her hair. “I failed miserably with my first child. Do I really deserve a third?”

It had been a thought Sara shared with her mother-in-law. Did she really deserve this child? It was the last little thing Sara had left of Osamu. A child they had created.

All romantic and lovely thoughts were escaping Sara at this particular moment. As another wave of pain wracked her body, she gripped the bed sheets and swore that had her husband had not already been dead, she would have murdered him now.

The doctor, nurses, and all relatives were muttering words of encouragement to her. Sara couldn’t hear them, though, focused on her task. As she began to push, it seemed like the longest few minutes of her entire life. Finally, she slumped against the pillows, exhausted, and heard the first sharp wail of her child pierce the air.

“A girl.” the doctor announced with a smile. Sara watched, dazed, as they cut the cord, and cleaned her baby. The newborn wailed the entire time, as if the world had suddenly done her some great injustice. They lessened when the nurses wrapped her in a small blanket, and moved toward the bed. Before she knew what to think, Sara was holding her newborn daughter in her arms.

The girl instantly became quiet. Sara had always heard newborns were not the prettiest creatures in the world to look at. It was true to an extent - her daughter was red, wrinkled, and still had traces of gunk all over her. But as she stared at her, Sara was convinced she had never seen a more beautiful baby in her life.

Her wide blue eyes were suddenly alert and focused on Sara’s face, as if I was some amazing thing. They shifted as people moved around the delivery room, wide and curious. Suddenly, her face scrunched up and she began crying once more.

Amanda chuckled. “She’s probably hungry.”

It took Sara a moment to realize it was now her job to feed her. She blushed, stammered, and stuttered as the nurse showed her how to properly feed her child. For the millionth time that day, Sara was glad her father was elsewhere in the hospital. Amanda rolled her eyes. “I had two children,” she declared. “If you think he’s never seen someone breastfeed before, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t his daughter.” Sara corrected, choosing to ignore that disturbing imagery.

“What’s her name?” Rika prodded gently, moving from her place against the wall.

Sara hesitated. This was different than naming an animal. If she became sick of the name after a few days, she would not be allowed to change it. It didn’t matter though - she had had this name picked out for months.

“Alicia. Alicia Rose.”

“Alicia?” Amanda questioned. “That’s pretty. Where did you think that.”

“Osamu liked that name.” Sara gazed back down at her child. “When I told him I was pregnant, he immediately started thinking of names. He told me once that if he were to ever have a daughter, he would want to name her Alicia. Now he has a daughter. That’s her name.”


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Osamu,

Time and time again, I wished I could have relived those last moments. The last time I held you. The last time I kissed you. The last time I told you I loved you. The last time we made love. Everything. I wish that I could have it all back.

It all happened so suddenly. One moment you were in this world - happy, carefree, and fun loving. Of course, like anyone, you had your down time. Who doesn’t? Sometimes it would be worse than others . . Such as when you hadn’t been on your medication, or had a bad day with the interviewers. For that, I don’t blame you. The blood sucking paparazzi had tried to ruin our relationship in more than one way. From spreading rumor’s about me, or about you.

I never believed a word of it. Not even when I read those words in the newspapers, saying you had murdered a man. You never murdered anyone - you killed in self-defense. In your eight year old mind, you most certainly would have had something horrible done.

It’s been hard. I threw a tantrum the moment I got home. It was amazing that Kouji and Aoi even tried to have children after my year with them. I placed them through the wringer that day. If it could be thrown, I threw it. If it could be broken, I broke it. At the end of my tirade of both yelling and throwing, I simply curled myself into Kouji’s arms and bawled for all I was worth. He was good to me - holding me and letting me cry into his shoulder. For the rest of the day, Kouji became the only person I would listen to. When my parents called from the state, I refused to talk to them. I turned off all televisions, radios, and threw papers away.

The words “Ichijouji Osamu” and “death” did not seem to mix. Not in my mind at least.

I now sit here, watching our little girl in her crib. She giggles every one in a while, and plays with the bells above her play pen. It took me ages to tell my parents. I was eight months pregnant before I uttered the words “Dad, I am pregnant.” It killed me, Osamu. Truly killed me. I have never seen hurt in my Dad’s eyes as I did that day. It looked as though someone had stabbed him through the heart and then twisted the dagger. I suppose, in a sense, I did. Those are words no father ever wishes to hear, even if she is eighteen.

He is finally accepting the fact that he is a grandfather though. And he loves Alicia. Did you hear that? Alicia. Alicia Rose Adams Ichijouji. I figured it would keep the gossip down if I gave her my last to go by here when she lives in America. Have no worries though, Osamu. She will carry your last name.

She looks so much like you, too. Her hair is dark. . That same dark black, almost blue, that you and your brother are so well known for. And even though all babies are born with blue eyes, I can already trace a hint of the violet blue I loved so much.

Our baby is defiantly our baby. She looks and acts like both of us. She is us. And she is gorgeous.

Someday, when I am ready, I will tell her about you. I will tell her your story. About how you were beautiful, and brilliant, charming, and a genius. A people person, and one of the most charismatic men I ever knew, yet so lonely at the same time.

I will tell her about us.


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Author's Note: And there we have it folks. That's it. The end . .

Or is it?

Lullabye

This was not how Ichijouji Osamu would have imagined death. He paced around the seemingly endless room, wishing there was something to do. Maybe he had been wrong; maybe there was something of a purgatory that he had to go through. It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered right now.

“Osamu.”

He immediately tensed at the voice. Although it had been ten years since the incident, Osamu would have known his uncle’s voice anywhere. But why was Maka here? What purpose did he have? Maybe this wasn’t purgatory. Maybe this was Hell.

Coming Soon - Lullabye