Do You Believe In Magic? || Amelia & Teddy

amelia-hurricane-shepherd:

     She knew it. She knew it was her boy – her magical unicorn son – and still to hear the words was like a shot through the heart, almost enough to knock her off her feet. He had done incredible things; amazing, life-altering things. Forty-three minutes of life had been all it would take to save dozens of young lives. Burn victims, blind kids in need of new corneas, babies who could lead full and happy lives if only they could have one tiny valve, or an organ that could replace their own broken ones. Babies could go home from the hospital because of him. They could have futures because of him. But she never thought she would meet one.

     An audible gasp escaped from her lips, and the neurosurgeon stepped back, eyes fixing on the blonde girl asleep in the bed next to them; a girl who wouldn’t have lived past infancy were it not for her. She was the good to come out of that horror show. She was the light.

     Amelia swallowed, desperately fighting the impulse to cry, battling every fibre of her being to keep standing. What the hell was she supposed to do? Should she be mad she wasn’t told sooner? Or relieved? Sad? Proud? So she nodded, sniffing, and righted herself. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she tried to remember what she was supposed to do now. She needed time to process.

     “Okay,” she breathed. “I, um– Is there anything else? That I need to know, I mean. Other procedures, health risks…”

Teddy felt like a voyeur, witnessing the expressions that crossed Amelia’s face — but she couldn’t seem to pry her eyes away. She needed to see, to know that her debt had been paid in even the slightest way. And, to some extent, she did see it — something had thawed between them, and words too long unsaid simply lost their weight in an instant. 

Was she forgiven? Could she stand to look Amelia in the eye now, and see past all the baggage and obligation? Teddy would hope so, but she knew better than to underestimate her human blindness. Amelia might know now, but nothing could take the pain of losing her son away — not a hundred lives saved; not a thousand. 

And Teddy couldn’t bring herself to be sorry. There was nothing to pity about strength, and Amelia had that in abundance — strong was the word to describe those who had been through what Amelia had. Without this woman’s strength, Teddy would never have known her daughter. This selfishness was not in Teddy’s nature, but there were no lines she wouldn’t cross when it came to Delia.

“She has a predisposition for contracting VHL. It’s hereditary,” Teddy said, swallowing. Even now, she balked at her use of past tense. It seemed cold, this change of subject; there was something missing, something owed.

“Listen, Amelia…” she began quietly. “I didn’t know how to say this before. But I think I need to say it — thank you. You’ve given me everything. Your son saved more than just my daughter’s life that day.”