Lightning Crashes, an old mother dies
Her intentions fall to the floor
The angel closes her eyes
The confusion that was hers,
Belongs now, to the baby down the hall.

~~Live

>O~*~§~*~O<

“Where’s Laguna?”

“We don’t know . . . we’re trying to contact him . . . you just hush now.”

Raine felt a cool cloth wipe over her pale forehead, leaving behind a comforting dampness. Though she knew she had no fever, her body was weak and drenched in sweat. The pains in her abdomen were getting worse, the contractions closer together. She struggled to gasp in enough air to reply, “He’s not coming, is he?” Raine opened her weak eyes to look at Mrs. Worsey, the woman considered Winhill’s town nurse. Mrs. Worsey was old and without official medical credentials of any sort, but she knew more about childbirth, having had eight children of her own and delivered seventeen of her own grandchildren, than anyone else in town.

“No one can say. But besides, are you sure you want him here?” Mrs. Worsey smiled, "He would have passed out hours ago, anyways. Either that or he'd be so worried about you he wouldn't let you have any room to breathe."

Raine smiled at Mrs. Worsey's close-to-perfect rendition of her husband's predictable personality. The smile quickly disappeared. “But he promised. . . he promised me he would come back with Ellone before I . . .”

“I know, dear, I’m sure he’ll be back in time. You still have a while to go.”

Raine sighed, and closed her eyes again as another contraction took over her body. "I didn't know it was this painful . . . I should have taken anesthesia when I had the chance."

"There have been some . . . complications . . . but don't worry, it's nothing I can't handle."

"Thank you." Raine paused to take in a sharp breath. A bead of sweat ran from her forehead down her cheek. "Thank you for being so kind . . . for taking care of me. . ."

"There's nothing I'd rather do." Mrs. Worsey brushed her own long grey-white hair behind her ear, "You are a beautiful girl, Raine."

Raine almost smiled at this. She could see herself in her mind, laying across the small twin bed, sheets soaked with sweat and plastered to her body, brown hair in jumbled knots, her whole body shaking with pain and fear. How could she be seen as beautiful right now? "That's what Laguna would say if he were here." she whispered, as tears began to sting her eyes. *He'll come,* she told herself, *He'll be here in time to . . .*

"Yes, he would, because it is true."

Raine arched her back and let out a startled scream as a particularly strong lightning bolt of pain shot through her body. Some of her tensed muscles relaxed, while others only constricted more, making her fall back onto the bed. She was dizzy, extremely dizzy, and felt too weak even to try to move. All she could do was throw her head slowly back and forth, as if trying to shake the pain away. She heard Mrs. Worsey call to the next room for another of her daughters with a shaky voice -- Mrs. Worsey was afraid. It was now that Raine realized there was something seriously wrong.

She could hear many people around her now, their concerned voices muffled by the pain that rang in her ears. She was crying now, terrified . . . her thoughts jumbled, her mind cloudy . . . she barely knew what she was saying, only able to say what she felt; "Save the baby . . . his name is Squall . . remember, his name is Squall . . . if I don't . . ."

"Raine! Stop thinking like that!" Mrs, Worsey's voice became a sharp needle, overcoming the jumbled instructions of the others that were telling her to push, counting for her, practically breathing for her. They all seemed distant stars she could not reach. Her body was a machine of shudders and reflexive muscle contractions that she was slowly losing control of. "You will be able to name the boy yourself!" Mrs. Worsey continued, "Just stay awake, Raine . . . stay awake for me . . . stay awake for Laguna. And for the child."

"He's not . . . " Raine's voice was barely audible now, her eyes open but focusing on nothing, " . . . not coming."

"Don't give up, Raine! Just stay awake!"

"I love him, please tell him . . ." Raine's eyes were now fluttering open and shut, the words butterflies on her shimmering lips. Her head felt so light that it may as well have been detached from her body. She wanted to escape from the pain that numbed her so; to fall asleep and make it go away . . . just for a moment.

"You'll tell him yourself!" Mrs. Worsey could no longer hide the fear in her voice. But it was no use--she didn't need to try anymore.

Raine's body slowly stilled. A tear, her very last, ran through cold beads of sweat down her cheek. Her shivers and helpless moans ceased, only to be replaced by new cries: cries of a beautiful baby boy, with thick brown hair already topping his head, big grey-blue eyes already open and dancing around timidly.

Mrs Worsey's daughter, Marone, placed two fingers to Raine's neck. She shook her head, her waist-length, baby-blonde hair falling into teary eyes. It was over now, and dread filled the hearts of everyone in the room when they realized that someone would have to tell Laguna . . .

Mrs. Worsey took the child into her arms, holding him close to her as she watched her daughter lift a sheet to cover Raine's head. "Beautiful." she whispered, as one of her tears fell onto the baby's forehead. Momentarily ceasing his screams, the child blinked up at her curiously. Mrs. Worsey did her best to smile back. "I can see your mother in you." she whispered, carefully handing the boy to Marone and leaving the room quietly. Upon closing the door, the old woman slid her back down the wall and burst out into tears on the floor.

>O~*~§~*~O<

So whatcha think? I hope the "Lightning Crashes" theme isn't to cheesy . . . It just seemed to fit the story.

I know this can't be terribly accurate, having never given birth myself, or witnessed it, for that matter. I unfortunately only had television to draw from.

I wrote part two! Check it out!