Chapter 104 Hopes and Fears
ISLA
Dawn is three hours away. The medical station is as prepared as it's going to be.
Twenty cots. Surgical supplies. Antibiotics. Pain medications. Dr. Wickham's healing poultices. Everything I could scrape together or steal or accept from suspicious sources.
It won't be enough. Not even close. But it's what I have.
I check equipment one more time. Sterilized instruments. Organized supplies. Evacuation routes marked in case the station gets overrun.
Preparing to save lives while knowing most will die anyway.
"Isla?" Marian appears in the doorway. Eight months pregnant. Pale. Sweating.
"What's wrong?"
"Contractions. Started an hour ago. They're getting closer." She grips the doorframe. "I think the baby's coming."
No. Not now. Not three hours before battle.
"How far apart are the contractions?"
"Seven minutes. Maybe less."
"Fuck." I guide her to a cot. "You're going into early labor. Stress-induced probably. The tension, the fear, the proximity of violence."
"Can you stop it?"
"Maybe. If we had proper facilities. Hospital. Specialists. We don't." I examine her. Cervix is dilating. Baby's coming whether we want it or not. "This is happening. Question is whether it happens safely or dangerously."
"How long?"
"Could be two hours. Could be six. First babies are unpredictable." I start preparing. "Either way, I need to be here with you. Can't leave mid-delivery."
"But the battle."
"Starts in three hours. If you deliver quickly, maybe I can still help. If not..." I meet her eyes. "I'm sorry. But I can't leave you to deliver alone. You could die. Baby could die. I won't risk that."
Marian starts crying. "I'm ruining everything. Everyone needs you for the battle and I'm pulling you away."
"You're not ruining anything. You're having a baby. That's not optional." I hold her hand. "This child is worth my time. Worth missing the battle. Worth everything."
Another contraction hits. Marian screams.
I time it. Five minutes since the last one. Labor's accelerating.
"We're doing this now," I say. "Focus on breathing. I'll handle everything else."
The next two hours are brutal. Contractions every three minutes. Marian's exhausted. The baby's in distress. Nothing about this labor is easy.
I'm doing everything manually. No epidural. No monitors. No medical team. Just me, my training, and desperation.
At hour two, I hear sounds outside. The crew mobilizing. Callum shouting orders. Fighters taking positions.
Battle preparations.
I should be there. Should be ready to treat wounded. Should be with my community.
Instead I'm delivering a baby.
Marian pushes. Screams. Bleeds. The baby's crowning.
"Almost there," I encourage. "One more push."
She pushes. The baby slides free. Tiny. Perfect. Crying.
Girl. Hybrid. Half wolf, half human. The child Professor Fell wanted to study. The child Cormac tried to force Marian to abort.
Alive. Healthy. Beautiful.
"You did it," I tell Marian. "She's perfect."
Marian's sobbing. Relief and joy mixing with pain and exhaustion.
I clean the baby. Check her vitals. Everything's good. Healthy hybrid infant against all odds.
"Her name?" I ask.
"Aoife. It means beautiful." Marian holds her daughter. "She's beautiful."
Outside, I hear gunfire. Distant. But getting closer.
The battle's starting.
I look at the medical station. Twenty empty cots. Supplies organized. Ready for casualties.
But I can't leave yet. Marian needs monitoring. The baby needs care. Post-delivery complications are common, especially with hybrids.
"Isla?" Callum appears in the doorway. Armed. Bloodied already. "We need you. Casualties are coming."
"I can't. Marian just delivered. She needs immediate post-partum care."
"People are dying."
"People are always dying. This woman and child need me right now." I finish checking the baby. "Danny can do basic first aid. I taught him. Use him until I can get there."
"How long?"
"One hour. Maybe two. Depends on complications."
"We might not have two hours."
"Then you'll have to manage." I look at him. "Callum, I'm sorry. But I can't abandon a woman who just gave birth. Not even for the battle."
He stares at me. Frustrated. Angry. Understanding.
"One hour," he finally says. "After that, people will be dying from injuries you could treat."
"I know." The guilt crushes me. "One hour. I promise."
He leaves.
I'm alone with Marian and baby Aoife.
Outside, the battle intensifies. Screaming. Explosions. The sounds of war.
Inside, a baby cries. New life in the middle of death.
"Is it always like this?" Marian asks quietly.
"Like what?"
"Choosing between people who need you. Knowing you can't save everyone."
"Yes. That's exactly what it's like." I check her bleeding. Normal post-delivery amounts. "Being a leader means making impossible choices. Today I chose you and Aoife. Tomorrow I might have to choose differently."
"Do you regret it?"
"No. You both needed me. The battle will still be there in an hour. You wouldn't be." I clean up the delivery materials. "I made the right choice. Even if people die because of it."
Another contraction. The placenta. I guide her through it.
Outside, the war continues.
Inside, I'm focused on this woman and child.
This impossible choice between immediate need and broader responsibility.
This moment where I have to decide: save the one in front of me or leave to save the many.
I chose the one.
Hope that was right.
Fear it was wrong.
But at least baby Aoife is alive. Breathing. Perfect.
That has to count for something.
Even if it costs lives I could have saved.
"One hour," I whisper to myself. "Then I go help. One hour."
Marian's bleeding increases. Not dangerously yet but concerning.
Maybe not even one hour.
Maybe I'm trapped here until she stabilizes.
While outside, my community bleeds and dies without me.
Hopes and fears. That's all I have.
Hope that they survive the next hour.
Fear that my choice killed them.