"Give me liberty or give me death!"
--Patrick Henry
Alfred F. Jones is very surprised when he arrives home one crisp autumn evening to find his wife, Lili (formerly Zwingli) Jones, smiling so brightly that it outshines the setting sun and the rising moon together against the indigo sky.
It is not that Lili never smiles, or her other smiles are ever dim, oh no – but there is just something different about her smile this particular night. She is positively glowing; her green eyes shining with pure happiness and her hands a bit nervously keeping each other occupied as she stands in the front door, her outline radiating in a white light and Alfred thinks she is even more angel-like than usual. She has been waiting all day for her husband to arrive home around 5:30, as he usually does, and Lili had immediately gone and opened the door once she saw the lights of their car cut through the windows and their gifted drapes from Alfred's parents as he drove in.
Alfred, slightly confused and worried and concerned and curious, comes up to her and gently takes her petite hands in his much larger (but still soft) ones and he squeezes them lovingly. His cerulean eyes, hesitantly pleased, gaze into her emerald eyes and are unsure. "What's up? Is there something wrong?"
Lili's hands tremble, just a little, and she offers him a reassuring smile. "N-No, it's more the opposite, a-actually."
Her shaking voice and trembling hands do nothing to console Alfred's growing anxiety, and he stares deeply into her eyes, deadly serious. He remembers Lili once used to stutter when shy or embarrassed while on their first date on a walk through their now favorite park, and he remembers holding her hand and squeezing it softly while admitting he was scared too. She had smiled, hands quivering, and uncertainly returned the display of physical affection. (She had easily overcome her initial anxiety, following how accustomed she became to Alfred's general lovable dorkiness.) "Yeah?"
"Yes," and she smiles again, tears starting to pool at the corners of her lovely eyes, and alarmed, Alfred pulls her into a tight hug, unknowing what else to do. He wraps his arms protectively around her, wanting to shield and defend her from even the smallest possibility of any harmful threat for the rest of eternity. He waits as she holds onto his shirt, clinging to it like it is her last hope for peace in this world, and she inhales deeply and smells the apple pie he dropped on his shirt accidentally only an hour earlier.
"I'm pregnant."
Alfred, who has been worrying and panicking and growing more and more angry at the possibility that Lili is hurt, suddenly stops breathing for a moment.
Lili, hearing the breath become caught in the American's throat, leans back and looks up to see her husband's expression. She is not surprised in the least to see tears starting to roll down his rosy cheeks, now matching hers, and she leans forward to kiss him.
Alfred is seemingly broken from whatever spell that had been cast on him, and he kisses her chastely back. When their lips break apart, Alfred's arms are still wrapped around Lili, but now he is grinning stupidly as he has tear streaks down his face. He cannot believe it because they have been trying for a year now for a child of their own (every time lead to more and more tears, it was so unfair), and they had been starting to lose hope.
They hold each other and don't move, sobbing with such happiness and relief and love that the beings high above in the heavens smile down on the couple with hearts warm with tender kindness.
---
Five months later, Lili's belly is swelling and endearingly huge, and she can occasionally feel the kick of her daughter every now and then when the child seems to be restless with her (not an it) place in her womb.
Alfred kisses Lili and her enlarged stomach every day and night, and presses his hand gingerly against it with Lili's permission to feel the baby kick. And although there have been many bumps on their road so far ("Alfred, I want chocolate-covered salmon with pickled plums from Taiwan and lots and lots of raw carrots smeared with Nutella and sour cream"), Lili is perfectly healthy according to her doctor, and they are faring well and could not be happier or more in love.
One day in April with the showers drizzling and the raindrops playing a pretty song on the glass of the window pane, Lili sets down a large and rather thick book that is simply titled, "Baby Names".
Alfred takes one look at it and shakes his head, beaming. "We don't need a book, Lili! I'm sure we can come up with some names we like by ourselves."
Lili smiles and pats her stomach, a habit she has been doing more and more often as it continues to grow. "Okay, we'll try. You can go first." She moves the book to the side of the table, setting down a piece of paper and a pen to write down the names they take a fancy to.
He hums to himself for a moment, drawing out a somewhat dramatic pause, a habit he's had ever since he was a young child himself. "Rose. Or Chrysanthemum," he says proudly.
She laughs, and writes down the names. "Flowers, I see."
His eyes twinkle and spark with boundless enthusiasm, glowing brighter than a star in the evening skies they liked to go and watch together whenever they could. "A beautiful flower for a name, just like her mother!"
Lili's cheeks warm, and she murmurs a serene thank you. She thinks again that Alfred is far too sweet and cute and kind to her, but she is far past trying to deny anything he says. She now knows after several years of experience that it is practically impossible to attempt to be modest around him, and has succumbed to accepting his loving words with flustered gratitude.
"I like Amelia," she says, searching for confirmation in his eyes, "and Independence."
Alfred's blue eyes light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and he resembles (more so than usual) an exuberant puppy greeting its master returning home and receiving a scratch behind the ears for being so thoughtful. "Independence is a name?" She nods, stifling a giggle at how adorable he is, and writes it down. "I love it!”
"Me too." Lili ponders for another moment. "What about Liberty?"
It's almost funny how wide Alfred's pupils dilate and how wide his grin stretches broadly across his face. "Yes, that one too!"
It is decided, after approximately seventeen or so minutes, that their daughter's name would be Liberty Rose Jones. Alfred favors the name Liberty much too greatly for Lili to even attempt suggesting another name; but she likes it too and is just as enamored with it as her husband is. The middle name Rose was agreed upon by both of them, for Alfred's insistence she be named after a flower like Lili. Lili does not mind, and blissfully agrees with a blithe smile as she continues to rub her swollen stomach while she listens to him excitedly talk.
---
On July 11th, Lili's water breaks.
It is the day before her birthday, and she jokes to Alfred on the way to the hospital, “What a lovely birthday present!” while crying out in pain as the anticipated contractions begin. They have started sooner than anticipated, she notes, and no amount of self-pepping over the past eight months could have prepared her for this. She groans because of the horrendous cramping, sweat beginning to bead on her soft skin, and she clutches to the side of the car door, squeezing and clinging and she wants to scream but tries to stifle it as much as possible as not to worry Alfred.
Alfred is already worried enough, doing his best not to speed with his emergency lights flashing wildly and reach the hospital as quickly as possible without breaking the law.
They soon reach their destination and Alfred hops right out at the entrance of the emergency room and opens the door, picking Lili up bridal style (as he did appropriately at the end of their wedding two years ago) and is trying very hard not to start panicking.
The nurses move quickly and they are relocated to a room in the large, white halls, and Lili nervously clutches to her sheets as she tries to brace herself for the onslaught of physical pain, far worse than she thought was humanly possible. But Alfred is there with her and she does not want to take his hand out of fear she will injure him by squeezing too hard.
Yet Alfred takes her hand anyways, and like that night Lili told him her news, he squeezes her dainty and warm hand lovingly in his own. Nothing has changed since that chilled night; except, perhaps, Alfred's love has grown even more for his cherished and beautiful wife. He is very anxious and scared because the way Lili's expressions twist in agony and her hand desperately squeezes his for comfort, which he immediately squeezes back to let her know he is there.
---
Six hours pass by and Alfred's hand is very sore and painful, but he knows it is nothing in comparison to what Lili has been feeling. She is panting, eyes screwing shut in restless and strained concentration, trying to push and push and push.
The nurses have cautioned the baby may take at least ten to possibly twenty hours to be born, and maybe more, but one remains in the room and coos to Lili she's doing a wonderful job and everything will be over soon.
It sort of creeps Alfred out and feeling quite protective (and maybe a little bit possessive), he wants to request she leaves but then he remembers he knows next to nothing about helping a woman give birth, so he stays quiet but is mildly annoyed by her presence.
Another few hours go by and soon it is nearly midnight. The nurse has left long ago, Lili is clearly exhausted and Alfred is too, but he does not want to fall asleep and leave her alone to endure the Hell she has no choice to endure or not.
She has walked around, strangling moans of pain before they can leave her throat, and she has squatted many times in an effort to feel more comfortable. Nothing seems to be really working and Alfred feels helpless. He is unable to do anything to relieve the physical torment and wishes with all of his heart and more that he could transfer it to himself and take the burden from her so she can just rest.
But that is impossible because Alfred is not a hero with super powers and he fidgets out of despair.
Lili notices and bites her lip as she squeezes his hand. He looks to her, blue eyes bright with anxious grief, and he wants to hug and cuddle and kiss her all over and hear her giggling because she's just a little bit ticklish everywhere. But he cannot in her current state, so he settles for kissing her chastely on her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment over her plastered skin. He can taste the salty sweat from her tormented concentration, and he squeezes back.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and Alfred wants to say she should not be thanking him because what is he doing except sitting here and watching his wife suffer the inevitable agony.
“I love you,” he whispers back like it is a big secret that no one knows, brushing a few straying strands of hair from out of her face, and his heart is heavy with his uselessness.
“I love you too,” she says with a flush, just as she has for the last several years, never getting used to hearing those particular three words, and leans against him for support so she can rest for maybe just a moment.
Nothing more is exchanged between them, because Lili closes her eyes and quiets and Alfred knows not to say anything more, but gingerly wraps a long arm around her to keep her close.
---
Morning comes, quickly, but not quickly enough for Alfred. It is thankfully a Sunday and therefore he has no work, so he is free to remain with his wife and give as much moral support as he possibly can.
Lili is thankfully sleeping and getting what little rest she can when he quietly stands and picks up his phone to call his family and Lili's brother, praying to God Vash will not overreact too much.
---
Vash overreacts.
He swears and cusses and screams threats over the phone if anything happens to his beloved sister because he cares too much and Alfred winces; it reminds Alfred of Arthur when he did something unforgivable when younger and this is not going as well as he hoped. But then the man quiets and his voice is soft and concerned, “How is she?”
“Resting,” he says, filled with such relief rising in his chest he is almost breathless. His skin feels gross and disgusting and he knows he should return to his and Lili's little house to shower, but he cannot bring himself to leave her side. “The nurses say she's fine, and the baby'll be born soon.”
“Good,” Vash says, voice curt and a poor attempt to camouflage his worry; Alfred can just imagine him pacing back and forth nervously, “I'll be over shortly.”
He hangs up the phone before Alfred can speak his acknowledgment, and Alfred sighs before dialing his parents. He hopes they will react in a much more calmer manner.
---
Arthur and Francis react in a much more calmer manner. Francis is overjoyed for his son, congratulating him and wishing him the best and “Let us know as soon as she is born!”, and Arthur is happy too – Alfred can tell.
“Lili's doing well?”
“Yeah, dad, she is,” Alfred peeks over again at his wife to see her still sleeping, and he is relieved. “Sleeping right now, she needs it. We were up all night, you know.”
“Oh, I'm certain,” Arthur makes a noise similar to a snort and Alfred can't help but smile since Arthur doesn't snort; that's not what a proper English gentleman does, after all.
“So are you comin' around soon, or do you want me to call you when Liberty's born?”
“Give us a ring. I think Lili will want as much rest and privacy as possible for now.” His voice is wry, but Alfred can hear the smile and he smiles too at the hospital's parking lot outside the window.
“Sounds good! Talk to you then."
---
Alfred is the most pleased to call his beloved brother, Matthew. He is the most dear to Alfred, so of course he saves the best for last.
"Hello?"
"Mattie!" Alfred cannot contain the excitement in his words but remembers to be quiet for Lili's sake; he sounds just like he did when they were younger and Arthur and Francis would announce they were going out for ice cream in the summer nights. "Guess what!"
"You inhaled too much sugar and finally gave yourself diabetes?" Matthew's voice is playful, the tone as light and sarcastic as always when Alfred was overly enthusiastic about something as children. Alfred pouts and Matthew laughs. "You're pouting right now, aren't you?"
"No," Alfred says indignantly, but Matthew hears the familiar pitiful inflection of his voice.
"Then what is it?" Matthew smiles as he holds one of his approximately one year old daughters and rocks her gently, the other currently being held and fed by his husband with a colorfully decorated bottle with cheerful animals.
"Lili's in labor," he says, all of a sudden his nervousness flooding back to him in overwhelming amounts, threatening to drown him.
Matthew makes a noise of surprise but it is gentle and pleased as it always is. "Congratulations, Al! How's she doing?"
"Great! She's really strong, you know, and she's resting right now."
His brother hums. "That's good. She'll definitely need it."
"Yeah," Alfred sounds incredibly subdued and Matthew is concerned -- he only ever sounds subdued when he is worried or anxious.
"It'll be okay, you'll see," He comforts, and wishes he could be there to hug him. He know that physical affection is liked by Alfred and hugs were always welcomed. But he is miles away with his own family, and he can't help right now. His husband, Lovino, is tired and irritated from their daughters' incessant screaming and sends him a questioning look. Matthew mouths "Lili is in labor" and Lovino's eyes light up with surprise and he smiles his rare genuine smile. He is ususally quite irritated with people and prefers little social interaction, but Lili is his sister-in-law and a very sweet girl who made him a flower crown once when he and Matthew had one of their few fights. He knows first-hand how wonderful and scary and lovely it is to finally have children and she is one of the few people he is willing to sympathize with.
"I know," Alfred says, and it's a little unsure -- but he makes himself smile anyways for reassurance. Pessimissm never helps anyone, especially not during something so exciting and hopeful as bringing a new life into the world.
"Well, I should probably let you go. You're busy right now."
"Yeah, probably," agrees Alfred, and he cannot help but smile. He's so excited and anticipating what it will be like within the next few days, having a newborn baby girl to cradle and love and care for and kiss. The days soon stretch into years, and Alfred can already imagine a lovely girl with soft blonde hair and bright green-blue eyes, smiling in a graduation uniform in front of a camera. He thinks of Lili and himself being older and their hair graying as their little girl grows up, and he sighs softly as the images fade as quickly as they appeared.
"Let us know when Liberty's born, and we'll come to see her."
He laughs warmly and nods out of habit, despite there not being anybody to see him. "Got it, bro! Talk to you then."
Matthew murmurs a farewell and Alfred ends the call, and a muffled groan is audible. He whirls around like the tops he used to play with as a child, spinning them endlessly on his bedroom floor for only a minute until he found himself bored, and sees Lili straining to smother another cry of pain and smiling.
"Good morning," she greets, and Alfred rushes over to kiss her forehead and take her hand once more.
"Happy birthday," he says, and he feels terrible because he left his wonderful and carefully crafted gift at home hidden in his sock drawer and did not want to leave to retrieve it. He doesn't need to voice his internal dismay for bring so selfish for he can see that Lili understands in her eyes, but Alfred still cannot help but feel guilty.
"Thank you," her smile widens and his guilt deepens. She looks so pitiful with her hair messy and lacking her usual lovely ribbon pinned delicately on the side of her head, and in the light green hospital gown with tiny blue dots; but her charming green eyes remain bright and pure, continuing to shine with love and determination.
He wants to lay his head gently down on her lap but he is sure that would only worsen the situation, and he remains as still as he can without tapping his foot because he has been told it's irritating and distracting countless times by his family.
The room is silent, but not uncomfortably so, and peace reigns yet again.
---
It is just a little past three in the afternoon when Lili begins to push the baby physically out of her body, panting heavily and exhausted and a little bit hungry. The hospital food is decent but not as satisfying as a home cooked meal, she thinks, inadvertently taking her mind off her task for a fleeting moment. There are doctors and nurses surrounding her and she subconsciously begin to block out whatever they are saying, and she's almost unable to see Alfred who still clings to her hand like she's the last thing he has in the world.
(Vash had arrived long ago, visiting his sister, eyes softer than the finest of silk pillows, and his expression was fearful. He, like Alfred, had realized he was unable to do anything to ease Lili's hurting, and had taken Lili's other hand and held it firmly in his own. Vash was not able to see for himself he had helped bring some comfort to Lili's soul, and had been shuffled out initially against his will, but then he had grudgingly complied when he heard Lili beg for him to leave and not to torture himself by listening to her screams.)
She tries to smile again at him, but it's broken gracelessly by a shriek -- where did that come from? Oh, that was her -- and she squeezes her eyes shut as tight as she can, as if it will help take away the agony of giving birth.
There's probably nothing she can do, she knows, but that doesn't mean she will stop trying. This will be over soon, soon, soon, and it will be a blur in the past to remember and to celebrate with both hers but especially Liberty's birthday. There will be cakes of all kinds for years to come, happily colored and brilliantly decorated -- she can imagine her father-in-law, Francis, beautifully designing them custommade just for Liberty.
There would be a bell on top, she can just picture, one that rings free with Liberty. Another scream comes from her small mouth, and Lili concentrates as best she can on imagining what life will be like with Liberty as she grips Alfred's hand.
A doctor is holding a bundle, what Lili assumes to be her precious darling Liberty. It appears she is wrapped in a white sheet, like it seems babies are seen in fictional television shows, and Lili weakly sits up with the help of two nurses.
Alfred is beside the doctor holding Liberty, and his face contains only one emotion: shock.
The doctor seems to murmur something to Alfred, and they move a few feet away and Lili sees the doctor talking inaudibly. She is confused at to what is going on and why isn't she holding her baby? Wasn't she supposed to be holding her by now? That's what happened after birth, right? The mother gets to finally see her child for the first time and smile like there is peace in the world and all the universe even, and hold them.
Something does not seem quite right, but she cannot put her finger on what. Lili cannot see Alfred's face anymore and she sits patiently, wondering what was wrong and being relieved the birth was over. It was most certainly a life changing experience, she thinks tiredly, but she had not expect anything less.
"You did very well," a nurse says to her, and there is a touch of sadness to her voice. Her eyes are downcast, shadowed, and they are very gray. Lili has no idea why, and thanks her puzzledly.
"Is something wrong?" She asks, and before anyone can answer, Alfred has turned around and is stumbling back over to Lili. He nearly collapses in his seat, dropping with a thud, and he takes Lili's hand in his. He is trembling.
Lili looks up to see those sky blue irises she loves so much, and they are filled with tears. They spill down his face, running, running, running like rivers to the ends of the Earth. Alfred is choking back sobs and his other hand is curled in a fist which he is biting.
"Lili," he whispers hopelessly, utterly disraught, and Lili suddenly understands.
"No," she says, eyes wide. "No, no, no..."
Now it all makes sense. There is no deafening crying filling the room. There is no screaming of a newborn baby. It's utterly silent except for the horrible wailing of Alfred in broken sobs and he repeats over and over again "it's not fair". The doctors and nurses can only look on with pained faces; they have seen this before, but they had never wanted to see it ever again.
"It's not fair! It's not
fair! It's not fucking fair!"Lili cannot move, tears marring her once glowing cheeks, and there's a gaping hole in her chest. It feels as if she's been stabbed treacherously in the heart, what she had kept open for all to admire, and the culprit had viciously twisted the knife until there was so much pain she could not even comprehend it anymore. Her knuckles are white as she clenches Alfred's hand, and she wants to scream her frustration and shock and anger at this wretched world for taking away her daughter's life before she was even born into it.
But she does not. She remains numbly quiet as her husband grows more desperate and tragic and depraved of hope.
The hospital staff have begun to leave, wanting to give the couple time to accept the cruel reality, and the only one who soon remains is the doctor cradling Liberty as if she was alive and genuinely needed to have her head supported so gingerly.
"I... Can I see her?" Lili's voice is tentatively strong, only cracking on the last syllable. She has a motherly urge, a maternal instinct. She needs to see her child. Just once. She must.
"Of course," says the doctor without hesitating, and his lips are upturned in the slightest hints of a sympathetic smile. It is very sad, and this has only happened once before in all of his delivering of children -- but at least this one appears to be fine and appear humanlike. He approaches and places what would have been Lili's daughter in her quivering arms with care.
Lili looks down. Her daughter was beautiful; a lovely angel. Wisps of blonde hair reminiscient of her parents was on top of her head, and they were wonderful. There is plenty of baby fat on her cheeks and pudge, and she cannot help but to just touch Liberty's face to feel and know this is actually happening. Her skin is cold, oh God, so
cold. There's no warmth, and Liberty is unbearably lifeless. She is light in her arms, probably only seven or eight pounds. Her eyes are closed, and Lili cries because she will never know if Liberty would have blue eyes like her father or green eyes like her mother.
Alfred is losing control of himself in the abyss of loathing for life that life is unfair, and Lili is doing her best not to lose herself too. But it is so easy to be swept away, she knows, and she stays firm as neverending tears continue to roll down her face.
The doctor waits, and he gives the ephermal family their privacy, but he does not leave the room. Time passes, and soon he gently tells Lili he must take Liberty away. She nods silently with understanding, and her eyes are still watering. He is sorry, regret wrenching deep in his chest, but he takes the baby's body and leaves without another word.
Lili and Alfred hold onto each other. They are all they have right now, alone, in their mourning for their unborn daughter. It is so horrible, so terrible, so despicable, and so
unfair. What had they done to garner the attention of Hell? To deserve this unbearable punishment of losing the daughter they never even had the chance to know? To be forced to carry this burden of pain for the rest of their life?
The answer is nothing. They have done nothing. Life is simply unfair, and that is all there is to it.
