Chapter Text
“Where are you?”
Catherine huffed, pushing her way through the people on the lower half of the bus. She had hoped, for a Monday morning, travelling from the city would be less crowded. Though it had been a while since she’d done anything but simply go to work on a workday. Moving against the flow wasn’t her usual action. “Good morning to you too,” she said, waiting at the door for the bus to reach the stop. “I sent you a message. I’m coming in late. I’ll stay late to make up the hours-” Not that she actually needed to do that. In the grand scheme of things she was owed. “-was there something you needed?”
“Yeah-” Lamb grumbled. “-my PA where she’s meant to be. Suppose I’ll be getting my own tea then?”
“I supposed you will, yes,” she agreed. The doors opened and she quickly alighted from the bus. “Try not to injure yourself, because you’ll have to fill in a form and I know how you don’t like that.”
“Exactly how late are you going to be?” he asked. “Only, I can’t see why I’d have to fill in the form - injured as I’m like to be - if you’re only going to be an hour or two.”
“So you did read my message-” she hurried across the road, snatching breaks in the traffic.
He sniffed and cut her off. “Jackson, I’ll be late this morning. Only an hour or two. I haven’t heard from Alice. Catherine. With a kiss.”
Catherine frowned, moving her hand so she could look at her phone. Double checking her message before she said- “I didn’t send a kiss.”
“Must have read it wrong. Can’t find my glasses this morning.”
Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t even begin to express how frustrating he was. “Then it’s a wonder you found the phone at all. Were you calling me to find your glasses? Or are you actually checking up on Alice?” She considered the options and gave a small shake of her head, listening to him huffing. Sitting up, no doubt. “If you slept on the sofa and they’re not on the coffee table, check underneath the sofa.”
The sounds of him moving continued. Either he was getting down on his knees - in which case he may get stuck down there until she got into the office - or he was leaning down to extend his reach. It was the only other place they could be. He often fell asleep with them hanging from his fingers. She usually found him like that and - if he was properly asleep - put them on the table for him. This was ridiculous. She shouldn’t have mentioned Alice in her message, he wouldn’t have bothered her then. Lately she’d felt like she was stuck in some sort of tug-o-war between the two of them. If she mentioned one, the other seemed to suddenly need to monopolise her time. Lamb was never more interested in utilising his PA than when Alice needed her attention. While Alice was never more interested in preparing for the baby when there was a risk Lamb was going to take her mother away.
Like father, like daughter.
She crossed the street as she neared her daughter’s townhouse. “Do I have to listen to you grunting your way through this exercise? Have you found them?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you.”
Her eyes flicked upward. “Goodbye, Jackson.”
“No, now hang on-”
“Jackson-”
“Could be there’s some other things that need-”
“Jackson, shut up,” she said quickly as she walked through the gate. Her free hand dug into her handbag, searching for her keys.
“What is it?”
“The curtains are all closed,” she said. Finally pulling the keys free, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. “Alice?” she called up the stairs. Her hand stilled as she pushed the door shut - something’s not right - she left it ajar.
“That cough she had the other day didn’t sound good,” came Lamb’s voice.
She ignored the part where he’d clearly been following one or both of them again and made her way up. Calling out her daughter’s name continued to draw no response. The only movement she could hear was coming from the phone she couldn’t bring herself to put down. “Jackson,” she said as she crossed the first floor to the next flight of stairs.
“Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t- she could just be asleep,” she said. Thought even as she said it something in her chest tightened. It felt like she’d just lied.
“Catherine,” his voice was firm. Awake, alert. A hint of a man long buried. “What do you need?”
“Ambulance,” she said instinctively, not questioning it.
She pressed on upstairs, turning to approach the master bedroom. Her eyes fell on the lump on the floor. A figure stretched out through the doorway. “Alice-” she hurried up the last few stairs and dropped down onto her knees beside her daughter. “Alice, love-” she smacked the back of her fingers against Alice’s cheek - she felt hot - trying to get a response from her. Leaning down, she put her ear to her lips. “Jackson, she’s unconscious- barely breathing-”
“Hang up. Triple nine. Ho will get ‘em there-”
The line went dead, kicking her into gear. She called the number. Facts, she was good with facts. Address. Twenty three year old female, unresponsive. Pregnant, thirty five weeks. She’d had what seemed like a cold over New Year. The cough had remained - it was chesty, recently it had sounded wet now that they asked her about it. Getting her to a Doctor beyond required visits had been a struggle, her daughter was particularly stubborn. If there was mucus or any fluid, she would have avoided saying anything. No glucose concerns during the pregnancy, everything had been normal at her last check up. The next appointment wasn’t for another two days.
Catherine followed the instructions given to her. It was, thankfully, something she was particularly good at. It calmed her, kept her focused. The phone sat on the floor, speaker on, volume turned up.
“You said you moved her onto her back?”
“Yes- yes, I was worried about the baby.”
“Understandable, but I’m going to need you to find something to wedge under Alice’s right hip. We need to tilt her hip up, between fifteen and thirty degrees, so the weight of the baby isn’t restricting blood flow. Using your knee is good if that works for you?”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “I can do that.”
“You’re doing great, Catherine. Are you familiar with CPR?”
“I do the regular First Aid course, but I’ve not had to actually do it.”
“That’s alright, I can walk you through it if it comes to that. But for now the fact that Alice is breathing - even if it doesn’t sound it - is good. The paramedics will be there soon. Having you monitoring Alice is really helpful to us.”
Catherine steadied her own breath as she studied her daughter. She created a pattern in her head of the checks she had to do. Bouncing from one to the other in a repeated cycle. The world shrank down until it was just her, Alice, and the woman on the phone. Everything else was held at arm’s length.
When she became aware of the paramedics setting up around her she was still focused on her task. There hadn’t been much change until she’d noted what looked like bruising on her lips. She’s turning blue. Two hands gripped her arms, pulling her back and away from the scene. They turned her, though her eyes remained on her daughter until one hand lifted to her cheek and forced her focus away. Her eyes met Lamb’s. “Jackson,” she breathed out.
“Come downstairs with me,” he said, carefully moving backwards down the stairs as he led her.
“I just found her-”
“I know,” he said. “She’ll be fine. We’ll leave it to the professionals.”
Her hands shook firmly until his took hold of them. She tightened her grip, holding onto him like he was a life raft in the middle of the ocean. He started to pull his hands away but she refused to let go.
“Catherine?”
Her eyes flicked up to his.
“I’m going to get you a glass of water.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though the words grated at her throat.
“She’ll be alright-”
Her eyes sharpened and she pulled her hands free. One clamped on the other, squeezing her fingers. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that-”
“What do you want me to say? It’s all going to shit? Here’s the other shoe dropping?” He took the opportunity to move around the kitchen, opening cupboards until he found a glass. He filled it with water and walked back to her holding it out. “Drink this.”
The hand gripping her fingers refused to let go. She stared at the glass.
“Christ, I’m not going to pour it down your throat,” Lamb peeled her hand free and pressed the glass into it. He wrapped his hand around hers, keeping the glass steady as she lifted it. Once he knew she had it he let go.
The water wasn’t cold. It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t as cold as she liked it to be. A stupid thing to get hung up on, she thought as she drank desperately. It all went down without her stopping for air. As she handed the glass back to him she expected some snide remark about her skills. Nothing came. It left her feeling strangely empty. Longing for his stupid offensive comments. She needed something to be normal.
They both remained silent. Listening to the noises upstairs. Every second seemed to stretch as far as it could. If someone had asked her how long it took - until she was watching her daughter being loaded into an ambulance - she would be hard pressed to find an answer. Seconds. Hours. Anything in between seemed unfathomable.
“Where are you taking her?”
Her eyes flicked to Lamb briefly before returning to her daughter.
“Whittington. We can take one of you-”
She started to step forward but he had her by the arm.
“We’ll follow.”
The doors closed. She turned to him as he moved towards her. “I could have-”
“No,” he said, taking hold of her elbow and forcing her to walk towards his car which was sitting half on the pavement. “They’ve got her. I’ll drive you to the hospital. It’ll give you a minute to calm down.”
“Calm down? You think I’ll calm down?” she asked, even as he opened the door and started pushing her down into the car. “What if she doesn’t make it, Jackson? What if the baby doesn’t make it? What if neither of them make it? Calm is so far from my state of mind. You can’t just-” He shut the door and she pulled back, stopping abruptly. Everything that had been accelerating through her mind ground to a halt.
Five weeks early. It was five weeks early. A cruel twist of fate. Five weeks early, just like her mother. Alice had been small, underdeveloped. Which she was certain was her fault. One of the nurses had even said as much. Unable to keep her opinions to herself after learning where she’d been brought to the Hospital from. You’re lucky that’s all that was wrong with her. She closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to the middle of her brow. History had a way of repeating itself, she just didn’t expect it to be so blatant.
The movement stopped.
Catherine opened her eyes, looking at the hospital. It should be a mad rush to get inside, find out what she needed to know, and inevitably sit with her anxiety for however long it took. Instead she sat in the car, perfectly still.
Beside her Lamb sat, unnaturally quiet. One hand rested on the door and the other sat above his stomach, fingers rubbing idly.
Neither of them moved. Sitting in open rebellion of the changes being forced on their oddly symbiotic relationship. Part of her wanted to say she wasn’t cut out for this and go home. That would be easy enough. Except even if she didn’t think she was capable of fulfilling the role asked of her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she left Alice to do it all alone.
With a small nod of her head, Catherine undid her seatbelt.
“We going in then?”
She looked at him. For the first time she realised he wasn’t wearing his overcoat just his jacket. His tie was gone instead of hanging down his front like a loose noose. He almost looked- put together. “You’re coming in?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He sniffed, looked out the windscreen, and gave a small shrug. “Traumatic event. Need to make sure you don’t confuse the pub for the Hospital.”
Glaring at him for good measure, she forcefully pushed her way out of the car. Half surprised the door didn’t come off in the process. She didn’t care what he did - she really didn’t care. There were far more important things to be worried about. Two of those things being in Whittington Hospital. Still when he wandered in to the waiting room twenty minutes later and sat down beside her, a coffee in his hand, she was relieved he was there.
He held the takeaway cup towards her.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Which is why it’s tea,” he said.
She frowned and took the cup, taking the lid off carefully. It was the right colour, so presumably the right strength and amount of milk. She was surprised when he held his other hand open for her. A stirring stick and five packets of sugar. She took them all and set the cup down on the little table so she could organise her tea. When she was satisfied, she sipped it- Likely as good as a hospital tea was going to get.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lamb sniffed, crossing his arms and resting back against the chair.
“They’ve taken her into theatre,” she said, glancing at him. He met her eyes only briefly so she returned her attention to her tea. “They had an obstetrics team monitoring the baby while they examined her. There were signs of foetal distress so they’re delivering her caesarean, which they say should take a lot of pressure off Alice’s system.”
“Early, isn’t it?”
“Five weeks,” her voice broke and she sipped her tea to try and clear her throat. She swallowed and licked her lips.
Lamb lifted one hand, rubbing his knuckles hard under his chin. “You said-” he cleared his throat. “-she was five weeks too.”
Catherine nodded. Her fingers were latched together around her tea, holding the cup barely an inch from her lips. “Alice has pneumonia, developing into sepsis. Which could have developed because she was pregnant and at risk, or because- I am an alcoholic-”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? How is this about you?”
“She could have a weaker respiratory or immune system because of me. I don’t know. I’m not familiar with her complete medical history but it’s a possibility, Jackson, you know how much we both drank-”
“So it’s on me just as much as it’s on you.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Thought it was supposed to one of those fifty/fifty deals. Half you, half me. You don’t get a monopoly on inherited trauma.”
Catherine opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t work out what she was supposed to say to that.
An older administrator appeared in front of them. Behind her a large man in a security uniform - who would make an impressive Dog - loomed ominously. “Hello. My name is Marie,” she said with a soft smile. Though her eyes suggested a ‘take-no-prisoners’ kind of hardness. “I understand you’re waiting for your daughter to come out of theatre?” Her eyes flicked to Lamb but returned to Catherine, clearly assessing who would be the best to speak to.
“Yes. And our granddaughter,” Catherine said.
“Of course,” Marie’s hands were clasped in front of her, fingers steepled. “It’s an incredibly trying time and I appreciate how frustrating it is to sit in the waiting room. But I must ask that you keep the noise to a minimum while you wait.”
Lamb shifted his weight as if about to get up and offer a piece of his mind.
Catherine caught the sleeve of his jacket.
He stilled.
“Thank you, we’ll keep it down,” she said, offering a tight smile. She let go of his sleeve once they were left alone, her eyes sweeping over the waiting room. It wasn’t particularly full, but there were enough people to cause chaos. That was one thing they didn’t need more of. “You don’t have to stay,” she told him quietly.
“Way I see it-” she noticed his hand shift towards his pocket and then stop. He wanted to smoke. Or, at least, he wanted to hold his cigarette. “-better to have two onsite. On account of Critical Care being on floor two and the Neonatal Intensive Care being on floor three.”
She frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Read it on the map when I was waiting at the café.”
That made sense. Still it surprised her. “So you take one and I take the other?” she asked.
“Unless you’ve got a better idea?” he looked at her, eyebrow raised. The smallest smile curling the corner of his mouth.
“If that’s the plan you should go outside and smoke,” she told him. She finished off her tea and licked her lips. Most of the sweetness was at the bottom. “You won’t get another one for a while.”
“Why, Miss Standish, I didn’t know you cared.”
Catherine scrunched up her nose.
Lamb got up - slow and steady - sniffed and headed for the door.
The weight of his movement was often put on, she knew that much. But somehow in that moment as she watched him walk away, it felt like she was seeing all of him. The history, the hardships, the heart. Everything that truly weighed him down. It made him look old. Which was absurd, they were old by most standards. She felt like she’d been old for decades. A lot of that was his doing. Including the baby she had when she was almost forty. Though she had to admit some fault in that situation. Slough House certainly didn’t help things. In fact, she was sure it aged people faster.
She shook her head slightly. Her hands lay in her lap, her thumb rubbing hard against her palm. What did it matter? Age. What use was living a long life when the people you loved didn’t get to live at all? Alice was twenty-three. She’d been pulled into the Service before she even got to do anything for herself. Committed to a cause, dedicated to something… grander, instead of travelling the world and exploring. How is that any different to what happened to you, a little voice said in the back of her mind. It sounded unnervingly like Lamb.
He sat down heavily beside her again and she eyed him warily. “What?” he asked. “News?”
“No,” she said with a small shake of her head. “No, news.”
He gave a nod and - strangely - patted her knee before assuming the position and promptly nodding off. She frowned. He really could sleep anywhere.
Though by the time the Obstetrician appeared she was close to dosing off herself. The woman sat on the other side of the small table separating the row of seats. She introduced herself and quietly walked through everything. They were very happy with the delivery. The baby was already showing significant improvement and was about to be transferred upstairs to the NICU.
“What about Alice?” she asked.
“Still in theatre. The team should have an update for you soon,” the Obstetrician said. “Do you want to see your granddaughter? You can accompany her up to the NICU if you like?”
“Oh- I should really-”
“Go,” came Lamb’s voice behind her.
She startled and turned to look at him. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was awake.
“Go with her, I’ll stay and wait for Alice. Don’t argue with me.”
Catherine nodded. She picked up her bag and her coat. “Yes, thank you, I’d like to go with her,” she said.
As she followed the Obstetrician she glanced back briefly. Lamb had leaned forward. Elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. Alert. Ready. The man was a disaster at the best of times, but when it mattered most- She allowed herself a small smile, ducking her head and heading into the corridor.