Chapter Text
Nothing in Ben’s life seems to work out, not even this. His girlfriend of just over a year and a half broke it to him that she was pregnant seven months ago. Money that he was saving for her ring, suddenly went to other items that they absolutely needed for baby. His girlfriend, Bazine Netal, didn’t exactly have the greatest reputation. People knew how she fancied her men and all of the nasty ways she’d get down, but Ben the hopeless romantic he is, saw her for more.
Well, he wanted to see her for more. He wanted to see her change, to get out of this horrid lifestyle she picked for herself and be the strong woman she could be. But, eight months into her pregnancy, he found out just how wrong he actually was.
He had his own house, willed to him by his parents. Baz moved in with him the day she told him she was carrying his child. It was in a nice enough location, close to town but still in the suburbs. The house itself had was burgundy in color with white trim. It had two floors, and his mother’s favorite space was the wrap around porch.
Over the course of her pregnancy, Ben worked overtime trying to save all of his earnings to handle everything, since Baz was unemployed. Ben was good. He thought he was. He thought he could handle anything, except for keeping the grounds clean. Over the course of her pregnancy, the only thing he could do when he got home was fall asleep. Because of it the grass was tall enough to seed, the bushes had over grown areas of the porch, and leaves from the fall had created a heavy blanket over the runoff drain causing the front yard to flood and often.
His neighbor, an older woman he’s only said hello to a handful of times since Baz moved in, always kept watch over him it seemed. She always had a kind word to offer when he got in late, or offered coffee in the morning when he looked like he could really use a week’s vacation to just catch up on the rest he was losing.
That day his neighbor saw a strange car pull up and then another one that didn’t look like his. She watched as large men and a sickly looking stick of a guy pushed their way into the house. Whoever they were happened to be there for hours until they all but fought their way out of the house. It was then when she called the police.
Ben received a phone call while he was at work, he remembers, from the frantic old lady watching his girlfriend being rushed off to the hospital.
“Ben! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you weren’t home! I would have called sooner!” she cried.
Ben who had not slept the night before due to Baz’s heavy snoring, rubbed his eyes trying to help himself focus on what she was saying.
“Maz...Maz... slow down. You didn’t what? I’m always at work during the week. I need you to slow down.”
“You need... You need to go to the hospital!” Maz wailed.
Ben figured maybe it was just those fake contractions being it was so early. Maybe she had some test she forgot about. Either way he got ready, thanking his neighbor for keeping an eye out.
“No! No! Ben... they took her. She’s... she’s...” the woman sobbed on the end of the line.
His brow furrowed remembering the scene. He left work without a word. A terrible cold sweat covered his body, hoping the dread was just an odd thought, not a premonition.
It doesn’t seem to get any better when he flies into the Emergency Room begging to find where his girlfriend was taken. Officers question him and his whereabouts like they would on every cop show he’s ever watched, finally allowing him access to Labor and Delivery.
He covers his face carefully cradling it in his hands while he sits in the empty visitors waiting room. Ben tries not to allow those images come back into his mind but he can’t seem to see past how unfaithful she was. He kicks himself over how blind he was knowing now that she never seemed to care about him, his dreams or his things. The house, his house, is now a crime scene, and she was gone.
The only last little piece of hope he has is little Solo. The baby would be a Solo, right? Even if it keeps her name they would never be alone. He promises this over and over again waiting for any news on his baby.
“Mr. Solo?” a woman’s voice waivers as it calls out for him.
He turns to see a nurse half the age he is, if he had to guess, trying to gauge his stability.
“My name is Kaydel, I’m one of the nurses that worked on your girlfriend,” her tone changed from professional to mournful, and his heart dropped. He could literally feel it fall out of his body. They were going to tell him that they lost the baby. He’s sure of it.
“I’m sorry about your girlfriend... she died before she got here.” Nurse Kaydel swallows harshly, as if she can’t believe she’s been sent out to ask the question. She continues, asking him, “Do you know if you’re the father?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I’m the father!” Ben makes his way to stand from the hunched over position he was in on the chair. His towering form looks almost menacing and he sees another few staff members come up behind her.
One gives him a pitiful knowing look that makes him uneasy.
Just as soon as she does he watches as a couple of male nurses wheel his baby down the hall.
“What is it? A boy or a girl?” He asks while he tries to stand that much taller than he already is to see.
“It’s a girl,” Kaydel informs him. She’s almost positive Ben doesn’t hear her.
Ben’s mouth drops open as if the weight of his jaw has become too heavy to hold shut, and all of the color left in him drains from him. It’s in that moment he understands the question.
Bazine was just as pale skinned as he is, but Baby Netal isn’t. She’s darker skinned—noticeably darker—and it consumes him. Ben turns away from the group, hyperventilating about what he just saw.
She cheated.
Or she never was his.
He was hers. All hers. Everything was hers. And now? Now he was nothing, to no one.
Ben was so ready to be a father. He wanted it more than he ever imagined needing anything in his life. And now? Not even that is an option.
————
Baby Netal is given a pink card that all girls were given to indicate their sex on top of their enclosed bassinets down in the NICU. All premature babies, no matter their conditions, wind up in this unit. Her information makes it to Rey who is the head nurse in that department.
Since being promoted six months ago, Rey’s always been handed files to distribute among her staff, but Baby Netal’s case hits home.
Notes on what happened with Mr. Solo sit next to a picture that was snapped of him when he first rushed in, labeled as “possible father.” She huffs at this, ready to demote the individual that broke the code of conduct in doing this. Shredding the photo would be worse to do and would be acknowledging it without proper documentation, so she leaves the image instead.
The man looks distraught, just as anyone would if they were in his position. She once’s over him, collecting features to look for if he ever did make it down to her floor. Long black hair, intense dark eyes, long prominent nose, and longer face. Not necessarily off putting in any way, but it’s obviously different, especially in their facility as most of the people who come in seem to have slightly rounded faces. She assumes is got something to do with their ethnicity, which is completely fine, and she in no way would concern herself with picking on that in any way—just, he looked a little out of place.
Rey thoroughly reads over the baby’s medical chart, standing quickly, to prepare her capsule. She speaks with the specialists on about their expectations in dosage requirements, and prepares the lower cabinet with a new bag of premature sized diapers, a tube of Desatine, the brand of formula they usually give to non-breastfed babies since the mother is deceased, as well as other items she expects to use while handling her care.
Labor and Delivery nurses push through the doors and Baby Netal is situated in her enclosed bassinet. Nurses around her work on setting an IV in her arm and splinting it so that she can’t rip it out. The needle is heavily taped and looks more like a cast than an inserted IV. A pulse monitor is placed around her foot which is also taped to her, and heart monitors are hooked up to her chest and side, measuring the amount of oxygen she’s getting when she breathes. Finally, a CPAP mask is situated for her, to help push the oxygen into her lungs, as she’s still not completely capable of this on her own.
Babies born two months early in this day and age have a better chance of surviving, where they didn’t years ago. Back then, families were planning funerals for their loved ones instead of counting the minutes it took to get them well enough to bring the children home. This is the very reason Rey lives for this line of work. She finds it therapeutic to see a family beat all the odds and come out on top.
Baby Netal has no one though.
No one to survive for and it breaks her. Once she’s checked in and set up on her medicines to ween the child off of whatever lingering substance she was subjected to, Rey loses herself.
Her focus stays on the child, being pulled back in time to imagine herself in the same sort of contraption, with only the staff worrying over her. She had no family to know. No heartbeat to hear. No one to comfort her. Rey cries for this girl, not wanting her to have her lonely life. Rey promises her aloud for all the floor to hear, that she would make this right. It’s not a shout, and it’s certainly not a whisper, but she’s determined that she would make sure the baby is loved.
Rey feels Rose’s embrace and let’s it all out. Rey drops her head forward, sobbing horribly for this child as if she knew more than what the file said.
“Let it out, Rey,” her friend leans onto her shoulder. “Let it out.”
Rey doesn’t need to say anything. Rose knows why. She’s only ever cried when she truly connects with something or someone. Since therapy started earlier last year, she’s been able to let go of some of her pain. Rose doesn’t push for an answer, or information, but does offer to watch her babies while she goes to compose herself in the break room.
Rose is completely capable, just as all of the other nurses and staff in the NICU. It takes a certain level of crazy to be in their position, but as Rose has learned over the years, she knows that, and that babies are resilient.
——
Rey washes up, removing her gloves before sitting at her desk to call Human Resources. She needs to know all of the individuals she needs to contact for the orphaned girl, if there’s a father, if they can find out if he’s capable, or if they’ll be sending her on to St. Mary’s as soon as she’s released. She needs to be prepared, and more than anything, Rey needs to be able to let go if she can’t adopt her.
Personally, Rey’s been getting by just fine. Rose and Finn have been absolutely Godsends since, well, forever. But these last three years since she decided to get into having her own children, they’ve been there for her thru and thru. Today, Finn is covering ground at home while the two handle working at the same time. It’s rare that Rose works with Rey since she started the process, but the man upstairs must have known Rose is needed today.
Rey gathers her information, calling a few other places within the building and outside of it. She wanted to be sure that she had all of the documentation to go about adopting this girl if the chance arose. Yes, she had two of her own, but damnit she had to try. She had to for her sanity. She had to because she saw herself and couldn’t let it go.
——-
Throughout the day Rey is greeted with staff members that confirm information has been placed on her desk, or emailed to her, or calls are waiting for her, and each time she’d check them within reason of her dedication to the other patients on the floor.
Parents visiting were allowed two chairs next to their bassinet when they visited. Babies that are strong enough are swaddled and allowed Kangaroo Time with the mother. They find that it’s soothing for both the mother and child to connect like this, skin to skin. A wheeled, gated curtain is pulled around for privacy and some time is allotted to them depending on the health of the child.
Rey’s nearing the end of her shift when a particularly large man is reading all of the signs, washing accordingly with the individually wrapped sponges from hell, practically scraping the first layer of skin off of his hands. Rey shakes her head and goes back to tending to babies in the back of the room. She has her hands full right now, discharging three from her care to be sent to the Intermediate Care Unit upstairs. It was always a big party every time.
Rey would talk to each one, excited to give their card a sticker and warm words of encouragement. Each time she would shake the parent’s hands or depending on how long they had been coming, she’d throw in a hug, letting them know if they had any questions, the nurses in ICU are just as skilled. Though, they seemed to be the most relieved when she would hand her card to them with her extension and if they ever needed anything they could call.
Sometimes vacancies would appear upstairs and babies who were ready for the move were just sent making room for the next round of children that needed care. For those, Rey would send Rose or go herself so that she felt like someone was with them. Sure, they really had no idea what was going on, but this portion of care was more for her sanity.
Today, it’s Rey’s turn to take up the last baby in her unit besides Baby Netal. Being away from her is terrifying, but Rose practically pushed her out the door saying, “On your way back get me a lemonade.”
It’s not like she didn’t know why Rose made her request. It seemed odd that she would bring only an hour out from the shift change. She could get her own drink then, but Rose knows Rey will implode if her only focus is that child.
“Pink or regular?”
“Like you have to ask.”
Rey’s smile sets dimples firmly onto her cheeks. It’s a smile she’s needed all day, really. And she’s glad for her friend for it.
The trip to drop Baby Boy Anderson off is a short one. One elevator ride up two floors and a sharp right has them right at the Intermediate Care wing. Rey buzzes for them to push on inside. She waves as little Anderson is wheeled in and the other nurses take over. Two large hydrologic doors ease back on themselves, locking them in place as if this section of the hospital is a quarantine ward.
It sort of has to be. They live in bubbles in there, and as the babies mature, they’re allowed out of the enclosed bassinet into an opened one which is a huge milestone. They didn’t need them getting sick, she reminds herself. Rey waves to the closed doors as if she could still see through them and turned to complete her next task.
The cafe Rose prefers her pink lemonade from is downstairs on the ground floor. It’s always a madhouse and she knows Rose loves it. It gives her a sense of time. When they’re on the clock in the NICU, the windows are too small to really see out of. The only time they know it’s night or day is based on whether or not they need additional lighting in the rooms. The little cafe is practically made of windows, and people, while it’s crowded, are completely capable —handling themselves on their own.
It wasn’t to say Rose didn’t love her job, but taking care of babies all day every day has its limits on what conversation she could have.
So far Rey’s already heard about several people’s views on the doctors that they or someone they knew were seeing. She’s overheard a few that she wishes she could erase from her memory, and it’s then when she gives up on being out with the “normal” crowd.
Babies are safer. They are to her at least. She has hers at home with Finn and Rose’s kid—soon to be picked up—she reminds herself. Ah yes, her little ones, if she could even call them that anymore. They were three, almost four... in two months and six days. They gave her exactly what she needed back then and always, she’s sure of it.
In vitro isn’t a guaranteed practice, sometimes women’s bodies fail. It’s just life she was told. But Rey’s problem wasn’t necessary an infertility issue, per se. Being that she had no known resource of her lineage, she really couldn’t rule it out. She wasn’t one to take chances, knowing full well that a chance was a wasted opportunity. Taking a chance meant she could lose everything, and Rey wasn’t about that—especially not gambling with lives either.
To this day she counts her blessings. Having a baby was the goal, but having two was the icing on the cake. She had one of each: a boy and a girl, naming the boy Anthony, and the girl Addy. They have brilliantly black hair, grey eyes, Addy’s changed though to match her own, keeping some of the flecks of grey within them. They both have the longest eyelashes she’s ever seen, and the cutest smattering of freckles across their nose and cheeks, similar to herself. Addy has less features that remind herself of her own such as her nose and the shape of her eyes, while Anthony did. The same could be said about their fingers and toes, too.
God, she loves them. Their little hearts and minds always making her day... this day would be no different. Sure they will be wild after her shift, wanting everything under the sun as soon as they go home. It’ll be an obnoxious night, what with the potty training and goodness—probably another shower where she bathed in her swimsuit, but they were a little too curious about everything.
She smiles at the thought when she gets back down to her post. Rey places the drink on the desk letting the nurse there know that it’s for Rose.
“Mrs. Phasma from ‘Care for Us’ called. She said she would be able to sit down with you at any time,” the young woman told her.
“Thank you. I’m waiting for two more calls. I’ll have them forwarded to my cell tonight because of it. Actually, if you could set that up for me now, I would appreciate it.”
The girl nods and stands to head to Rey’s office.
Rose pops out of room one where a lot of the babies had moved on from, thanking the stars that Rey came back as soon as she did.
“So we... have a situation.”
Rey’s eyes widen, needing to know if it has anything to do with Baby Netal. Rey washes up diligently, scrubbing every last bit of her hands with that awful sponge, asking for Rose to give her every last detail.
“Well, it’s not a baby. It’s Baby Netal’s Daddy. I tried to get him to leave because he’s not —“
“I’ll take it from here. Thank you Rose, “ Rey clears her throat while she pulls on her gloves, and fastens her sleeved smock so the tie is in the back.
Rose watches her curiously knowing that her bedside manner was why she was offered the position in the first place.
Rey steadies herself, already having a connection to the baby. She wants nothing but Baby Netal’s protection, and this man, who clearly followed all of the dressing steps besides being the actual father, clearly had some interest in that as well. She rounds the bassinet as she would for any other parent, introducing herself with the baby’s file in hand.
“Hi. I’m Rey, head nurse here. Are you the baby’s father?” her gaze connected with his red rimmed eyes as she asked the question. She knew, but he had to say it. He had to know he wasn’t, as painful as the thought obviously is.
The man blinks away tears trying desperately hard to get them to stop falling. He shakes his head to the left and right just slightly, only enough really to move a few strands of his long dark hair.
“Who are you then?” she asks him softly.
“The boyfriend. I was her mother’s boyfriend...” he tries to get a handle on his feelings about that revelation.
Rey reaches out to place her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry—“
“Are you going to tell me to leave too?”
“—for your loss.”
Ben is silent, not knowing what to say at first. Most of them have been trying to get rid of him all day, saying terrible things, all humming around the freedom of it all. He wanted this child though, he wanted the responsibility. He wanted a family. Being from a broken home of sorts, it’s all he really ever wanted.
He watched his friend’s parents being parents to them. It was something he absolutely craved. Instead he found himself alone. Tossed to the side as if he should be able to figure this life concept out alone. That’s what men do... don’t they? Figure it out alone?
Well— now he’s alone again. Baby Netal has no connection to him. He’s technically, exactly what they called him... a free man. The reality of it is awful though. Never in his life did he need someone as much as he feels he needs this child, and Rey can feel this too.
The second he sniffles, he feels her move to put down her file. Within seconds she’s there to offer the man a hug.
“It’s going to be alright. She’s in the best care here. You don’t have to worry.
A dam breaks inside Ben and he just cries over her shoulder. She didn’t ask him to leave. Not yet. Maybe she would let him stay. He nods to himself, he’d do anything to get her to let him stay.
“Let it out...” She pauses not knowing his name. “What is your name?” Rey asks thinking she would actually need that information to help this guy calm down.
“I’m Ben,” he croaks.
“Well Ben, I’m sure your Ms. Netal would be grateful knowing you’re here and loved her daughter. There aren’t many men out there that still—“
“Want to take care of a baby that isn’t theirs?” he asks acidly backing away from her hug.
“You need to stop doing that. You may not have been treated well by others either in your life or in this building over this situation you’re in... but painting me in the same shade as everyone else isn’t going to help you see the light.”
Rey’s hard words settle with him in a way he hasn’t had to accept before. His face contorts as if he wants to sneeze but asks a question instead.
“Are you, do you have kids?” Ben asks as if she didn’t just put him in his place.
“Twins,” she answers, turning to Baby Netal’s IV hook up to press a new code releasing the next fluids to her. Rey works on her file, taking down her levels, temperature, changing her diaper and situating a cloth mask over her eyes before situating a Bili light on top of the bassinet. Rey marks the time before turning on the blue light.
“This is to combat her jaundice,” she informs Ben who is watching her every move. “The IV is a combination drug helping her with her withdrawal. I assume you know.”
“I know now... since her mother’s death,” he frowns.
“And you’re not in any way connected with—“
“No!” Ben rakes his fingers through his hair, not completely able to hide the fury in what he assumes to be an accusation.
Rey’s eyes narrow into slits, warning him not to yell at her.
“I don’t know you, Ben. Our hospital is in a rough neighborhood. You could be some Joe off the street looking to sell a baby for all I know and I’m taking a chance on you because I have a feeling you’re more than that,” Rey hisses.
His face falls, asking “People do that?”
Rey nods slightly. “None have made it past the doors, thanks to the wristband policies, but there are plenty shady people around her that will take the chance if they get it.” Rey pauses and opens up Baby Netal’s file. “Now, I’m going to ask you a few hard questions and you’re going to answer me without a tantrum, do you understand what I said?”
Ben nods slowly. Only his mother ever spoke down to him like a child, and now the head nurse, who looks too young for the position, is doing the same.
He watches her pull up a larger chair for him and sits on a stool with her clip board next to the counter lining the room behind the bassinets. She takes out a few documents that she had been collecting over the course of Baby Netal’s care and set it aside. First it was time to get all of his information, including his drivers license to prove his ID.
Ben does his very best explaining his life before Ms. Netal, every last thing he could remember about her including odd behaviors that were out of the ordinary, such as self harm. Her questioning honestly seemed more like she was taking notes to follow up with the police report, somehow linking him to Baz’s departure. As he answers he watches the baby breathe, entranced by how tiny her fingers and toes are.
Surely, he was of the right mind to handle this, he thinks.
“I can’t let her hold your finger or anything, Ben. You aren’t a legal guardian yet. But if this is something you truly want,” Rey reaches for a stack of papers beside her. “You’ll need to follow through and register yourself as an adoptive parent.”
Ben looks at her as though she’s grown three heads. “I can adopt her?”
“Research has to be done on the father through DNA testing. Assuming, Ms. Netal was in with the wrong crowd, it’s likely that the police station has the information we need to allow your request over the biological father’s. By doing this we eliminate the possibility of him finding the baby, and having the right to remove her from your care.”
It hurts Ben to imagine this. The pain he feels stabs him in the chest. He sucks in a breath and she’s almost positive he’s ready to ask a question, but stops when his hands connect with the stack of paper.
“Do you have anyone to help you, Mr. Solo?”
Ben shakes his head no.
“Do you have family leave from your job?”
“I’m not sure. I can find out.”
Rey nods. “Find out. You’ll need the time to adjust and find daycare when you have to go back to work.”
“I don’t want her in daycare.”
“If you have no one, then that’s what you’ll need to do.” Rey said then moved on saying, “if there’s no option to work from home, that is. Health care is expensive without a job and she will need it before she’s discharged into your care if your approved as an adoptive parent.”
“When will that be?” He asks sheepishly.
“When she’s healthier. But she won’t be in my care by then.”
Ben looks absolutely terrified. “Who will release her?”
“The staff in Intermediate Care. She has to maintain her temperature outside of the box, eat at least two ounces every feeding with assistance, keep it down, and pass five pounds before she can go home with you—IF, Ben... If you follow the instructions here.”
Ben nods his head.
“Will I be able to come back tomorrow to see her?”
“No.” Rey carefully eyes Ben, repeating what she said. “You have to be a legal guardian to come back,” Rey stands by his side, expecting him to do the same.
“Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes.” Rey looks up at the clock, holding a finger to him. “Down here, were on twelve hour shifts. During shift the change we ask that all visitors leave so we can go through the rounds discussing observations and meet with their doctors to make sure we’re all up to speed. In your case though, you won’t be coming back in until you’re an approved guardian.”
Ben’s skin prickles with anxiety. How was he going to handle not being able to come back tomorrow? He lets out a shaky sigh, trying desperately to sound as if he can do as she asked.
It seems to be the confirmation Rey needed to see, when she pulls her gloves off, stunning him when she asks for his phone.
Ben fumbles in his back pocket, and unlocks the phone for her.
“This is my cell number, Ben. If you ever find you need someone to talk to or something in general, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Her generosity isn’t lost on Ben. He could hug her again, but won’t. Instead he asks sheepishly, “Won’t your husband mind?”
“No.” Rey looks at him curiously, wondering why that was the first thing he thought about. Ms. Netal’s infidelity ran through her mind, which told her to give him something. “No, I’m a single parent, by choice Ben.”
She watches as he frowns trying to understand.
“In vitro. There was no father,” she steadies herself. “Now, you should go. Do what I asked. Call if you need me. Baby Netal will be fine. She’s under my exclusive care, alright?”
Ben nods thinking maybe it would be alright while Rey escorts him out.
