December 1st, 2178
Crimson hair clung to sweat-drenched cheeks as the cry of a newborn echoed through the fluorescent lit room and bounced from the walls to strike the new mother in her heart. The woman weakly raised her head, the leather cuffs around her wrist clinking against the rail of her hospital bed as the nurses whisked away the child to clean her, standardized test after test. The monitor beside her combined with the erratic words escaping everyone around her growing to the point of being unbearable and she turned her head to her left, a tall man with graying blond hair standing uninterested beside her.
“Viable?” He asked.
"Yes, Mr. President.” The nurses voice was timid and soft as the man’s face contoured into one of disgust, the woman lifting her eyes to look at him.
The man walked to the nurse to gaze at the child. “Summon Commander Holmes.” He said under baited breath. “Tell him we have another package for him to get rid of.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Can I hold her?”
The room went deathly quiet at the soft voice emerging from the bed, the President turning to look at the woman who now clung to the bed frame with fire like hair hanging in sweat soaked tendrils around her pale face. Eyes narrowing, he turned without an answer and the woman's fingers tightened around the metal frame, anger rising in her chest.
“Just once, before you kill her. I'll never have the chance to have another child. Please.” The nurse's eyes dared a glance at the President as the woman pleaded with him, the newborn squirming in the nurse's skeletal arms. He froze, heart jumping to his chest when he found the President's eyes on him, a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Darting his eyes to the ground, the President jerked his thumb to the woman which sent the poor man staggering to her side, placing the baby into her outstretched arms that tugged against their restraints. The baby let out a soft cry, her face scrunching up while the woman smiled lovingly at her child, tears almost immediately welling up in her sky blue eyes.
“Oh, my darling.” Her voice was light, barely audible and the President turned to the nurses who quietly stood by, awaiting their next command.
“Has Commander Holmes arrived?”
“He's about ten minutes out, Mr. President.”
The President turned to the woman, his nose turned up as her fingers danced across the child's small features. The two bore striking resemblance to each other even now, only moments after the child's birth. From the way the infant's nose turned up slightly at the end to the small, out of control curls sticking all which way from her head, identical to her mother's.
“You have ten minutes with the child. No more. I hear another question, I'll kill her myself.” The President said, the woman's eyes raising to his back as he closed the door on his way out. Her breathing was heavy, shock written over her features while the nurses all visibly relaxed. The woman lowered her eyes to her child, smiling sadly when the babies eyes fluttered slightly, squinting at the bright light with an obvious face of annoyance. Green eyes gazed up at her mother and the woman lifted her child to her lips, pressing them against her forehead. Ten minutes flew by and, soon enough, the President stepped inside.
"Times up.”
“No…” The woman almost immediately burst into tears, tightening her grip on the baby and pressing her nose into the fine curls on her head. A nurse approached her, softly pulling the baby from the woman as she began to sob, his face sad and sympathetic. The woman collapsed into tears when the man approached the President, keeping his eyes down as the President opened the door and ushered him out. Beyond the door, a man stood with his arms tucked behind his back, shaggy brown hair hanging in brown eyes rising to the nurse.
“Just the one?” The man asked and the nurse nodded.
“Thank you, Commander Holmes.” The President said as the nurse handed over the child. A choked cry escaped the baby and Holmes lowered his eyes, lifting the baby closer to his chest, the movement causing her small fists to clench against the blanket she was wrapped in. “Please dispose of it quickly.”
“In all due respect, Mr. President, does she have a name?”
“Why does it matter, Chris?”
“For the tombstone.”
The President turned to look at the nurse, the mans shoulders tightening under the intense gaze of the President.
“Go ask her. Mr. Holmes wishes to know what its name is.”
The nurse nodded quickly, turning around to rush back into the room. The sobbing woman on the bed now held her blankets to her face, body shaking. “U-Um...does she have a name?” The woman raised her eyes at the question.
“What?”
“Your baby...did you choose a name?”
“She’s going to die anyway…” She pulled the blankets back up. “So why does it matter?”
“Ma’am.”
The woman remained silent, her body still shaking before sniffing and rubbing her nose. “Willow. Willow Holmes.” The nurse stiffened and nodded, turning to leave the room again. The President and Commander Holmes looked up as the nurse closed the door behind him.
“Well?”
The nurse cleared his throat, eyes aimed at the child. “Her name is Willow.”
“Thank you.” Commander Holmes shifted the baby to one arm and saluted to the President before turning and walking away. The nurse remained silent as the President sighed.
“Clean her and finish tests and return her to Dr. Kerminer.”
“Sir...if I may ask, does Commander Holmes know that it’s his?”
The President remained silent, turning to glance at the nurse’s downturned expression. “No and if he finds out, your team will pay the price. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Commander Holmes held a small, tightly wrapped bundle close to his chest, his feet barely making a sound as he traversed the unsteady ground a mile from the tall wall surrounding Gardenia, trees whistling in the wind harmonized with a bird singing and the scampering of squirrels disappearing into their homes. The sun had set two hours before, it's grasping rays of purple, pink and yellow clinging to the sides of buildings a cue to leave Gardenia. Keys pressed hard into his hip, shoved into the waistband of his uniform while his gun rested on his other hip, the clip holding it in the holster undone to allow easy access. The bundle in his arms began to fuss and he paused in his tracks, lifting the blanket covering the child's face before shushing and bouncing the baby softly as her face scrunched and relaxed.
Commander Holmes raised his head and squinted his eyes, struggling slightly to see the moss enveloped entrance to the sewer system nestled in the trees, dark bricks standing seven feet tall and six feet wide with an entrance sealed off with a simple metal gate in the middle of the forest. He made his way forward slowly, shifting the baby to one arm and pulling the keys from his waistband, the gate now within an arm's length. Shoving the key into the lock, it swung open with a bone chilling squeak that made him involuntarily wince before stepping inside.
"Chris?” The voice that spoke was soft, a torch illuminating his face shortly after.
“How many times do I have to tell you to wait for me below? You know it's a risk to meet me here.” He said and a woman stepped forward, the left side of her face concealed by bandages as her mahogany hair brushed against her hips, an annoyed look finding its way to her features.
“It's also a risk for you to do this but you do anyway.” She said and Chris couldn't help but smirk.
“I have to come see my best friend every once in awhile, Guinevere.” He said which only made the woman roll her bright blue eyes.
“Lancaster would have you killed if he knew you do this.”
“Which is why he doesn't.”
Guinevere sighed. “What'd you bring me?”
Chris lifted the baby slowly, Guinevere holding her free arm out to take it as he pushed the blanket back from the child's face. “She was born around four hours ago. I got a first name but the last name was redacted and I didn't want to press any harder.” Guinevere smiled down at the baby who now slept soundly against her chest, curls a mess sticking all directions from her head.
“Poor thing… I'll give her mine. Keaton and I always wanted a girl to be our next child.” She said softly, Chris offering her a sympathetic smile when she raised her eyes back to his face. “What's her name?”
Chris gazed down to the child, his heart tugging for a reason he couldn't place as he lifted his hand up and rubbed the top of the child's head. His mind went to the woman he loved, teeth catching his bottom lip as her terrified face found his, newly revealed brown dyed crimson hair flying as she was yanked away from him, the bottle she'd intended to dye her hair with rolling on the ground as a feeling of horror welled up into his chest.
“Willow.”
“Willow Aellana….” Guinevere turned her eyes back to the baby and smiled. “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?”
“It does.” Chris moved forward and wrapped his arms around her and the child, making sure to mind the flame from the torch as he hugged the two tightly. “Keep an eye on her. If she grows up like you, she'll be a handful.” Guinevere snorted as he pulled back.
“And the most lovable pain in the ass you've ever seen.”
Chris chuckled, shaking his head. "Touchè. Stay safe, Guin.”
“You as well, Chris.”