Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We need to talk.”

He’s having flashbacks, there is no other explanation. Or maybe he’s dreaming. It would make sense considering he hasn’t stopped thinking about that night six weeks ago.

Looking closer though, the differences are there. Yes, Hannah is standing on his doorstep but gone is the paper bag full of food, gone is the smile that warms his cold dead heart. She radiates nervous energy. 

She’s looking expectantly at him, the anxiety in her eyes getting deeper by the second… probably due to the fact that he’s standing there, stunned and not saying a word. 

“Come in,” he says, stepping to the side.

She brushes past him, walking straight to the kitchen area. She doesn’t take off her coat, doesn’t sit. She’s pacing, twiddling her fingers. 

What the hell is going on?

“Is everything okay?” He asks, swallowing the ball of nervousness growing in the pit of his own stomach. Her restlessness is contagious. He can’t imagine for the life of him why she’d come by, let alone why she looks like she’s about to jump out of her skin. “Did you get the call from the surrogacy agency?” 

It has to be what’s bothering her, right? She’s been waiting for those results all day.

“No. I mean, yes, I did but that’s not- Well it is… kind of,” she rambles before she stops and finally faces him. She opens her mouth and he thinks she’s finally going to say whatever is on her mind. “Can you… Maybe you should sit down.”

“Okay,” he says. He knows better than to resist her. He’s never been able to before. Plus, whatever she’s here for is obviously weighing heavily on her. 

Could it be…? Is there a chance she wants to talk about what happened between them? He rejects the thought as swiftly as it came. No. They both agreed from the beginning. That night, for all intents and purposes, never happened.

Except it did, a small voice in his head murmurs as he settles on one of his kitchen stools. The images flashing through his head every time he looks at her are very real. Memories of her touch, the feel of her skin under his hands, the sounds she made, her voice begging him. His own delicious torment. Those can’t be erased, no matter how hard he tries.

They’ve done their best to pretend nothing has changed between them but there is still a twinge of awkwardness lingering. Until now that is. 

Because, right now, any remnant of unease from that night has left place to pure nerves. 

And Hannah looks like she’s ready to crawl out of her skin. 

“Hannah, you’re making me nervous.”

A snort bursts out of her. “Yeah, me too,” she mutters under her breath. She takes one more pass across his kitchen, shaking her hands as if trying to throw the jitters away and then places herself in front of him with a long exhale before she speaks again. “I’m pregnant.”

Blank. 

His brain quite literally stops functioning. Hannah is looking anxiously at him, waiting for his reaction. She looks like she’s about to be sick. He knows he needs to say something. Anything. He does open his mouth but no sound comes out. 

In retrospect, it’s a really good thing she made him sit down.

“Dean? Did you-”

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats.

“Mmhmm.” She swallows hard, her forehead crinkled with worry.

“You’re sure?”

She nods. 

“And it’s…” he starts.

“It’s yours,” she confirms. 

“You’re sure?” 

He hears his question before her face goes from nervous wreck to unimpressed in the span of a second. “Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“Glad we agree on that.” A hint of a smile stretches the corners of her mouth.

Seeing her relax, even momentarily, jumpstarts his brain. He cannot stand being still anymore and rises from his seat, pacing through the kitchen as a string of thoughts unravels inside his head. How can they be having a baby? How can he be having a baby? How could he be so careless with her? He can’t be a father again. He shouldn’t be a father again. What will everybody think? What is Hannah thinking? What will Sean think?

“Dean.” Hannah’s voice breaks through the fog and he realizes he’s been quiet for too long. “Can you please say something?” 

Her eyes are a little too shiny for his taste and he almost rushes to wrap his arms around her. Except he can’t risk touching her. Touching is what led them to this situation to begin with.

“I’m just trying to wrap my brain around it. I wasn’t expecting this.”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “That makes two of us.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, meeting her eyes. “I should have been more careful.”

“ We ,” she stresses. “We were both in it, remember?”

“I remember.” His eyes grab onto hers and he can’t help the small burst of pride when her face flushes. Just because they can’t go there ever again doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it, does it?

Until Hannah’s face goes from crimson to ashen. Her hand slaps to her mouth as she sprints down the hallway. Even the bathroom door slamming behind her can’t stifle the unmistakable sound of Hannah’s retching.

He winces at the sound, standing powerless in the middle of the room. He hates it. He hates that Hannah is going through all of this because of him and there is nothing he can do about it. 

He steps behind the counter, reaching into cupboards until he finds the only thing he hopes can help.

 By the time Hannah comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he has everything ready for her. Silently, he helps her out of her jacket, carefully laying in on the back of his couch and leads her to the stool next to the one he was occupying a few minutes ago.

“Ginger tea,” he says when she reaches for the steaming mug in front of her. “I thought it might help.” He shrugs when her eyes soften.

She wraps her hands around the cup, bringing it to her lips. By the time she puts it back down, her face is back to its normal color and he’s on the other side of the island, ready for whatever comes next.

She glances up at him hesitantly. “I kind of dropped a bombshell on you, didn’t I?”

The snort that comes out of his mouth is so unlike him even he is surprised by it. “That would be the understatement of the year. Does Lizzy know?” It’s the first thing he could think of and, judging from Hannah’s face, it was the exact wrong question to ask.

“She was the first person I told,” Hannah admits, dejected. 

“I take it it didn’t go well?”

A snicker puffs her chest. “Yeah something like that. I can’t exactly blame her. She spent years trying to become pregnant, thousands of dollars on IUI and IVF, loses a baby and I simply did it. In one night. How’s that fair?”

“It’s not,” Dean replies.  “But just because it’s not fair doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her support.”

“I know. I just…” She shrugs. “I just didn’t think I’d lose my sister again after getting her back.”

“Hey.” He walks around the counter, taking the seat next to her. “Give her some time. Maybe she’ll come around.”

Hannah narrows her eyes. “I don’t remember you being such a big fan of my sister,” she teases.

“It’s not that I don’t like her,” he replies honestly. “It’s just…” 

He lets his voice trail off. Now is probably not the time to get into this, Except it’s too late. He might as well have handed Hannah the bricks to build the wall of defensiveness coming together right before his eyes.

“Just what, Dean? You think she guilts me into every decision I make?”

Great job, Dean. Good luck getting out of this.

**********

She feels awful. Drained. The bout of sickness earlier took more energy out of her than she thought and yet, she can’t quite help feeling protective over her sister. Exhaustion or not, the claws came out before she could stop them.

“I don’t,” Dean replies. His voice is firm but calm. “I just worry about you.” 

The confession surprises her. The honesty between them isn’t new. They’ve never been afraid to tell each other the truth. It’s rarely been this direct though. That alone is enough to dissipate the cloud of anger shrouding her, the warmth in his eyes seeping all the way inside her chest instead. 

“I know. I’m okay.” She sends him a weak smile. 

A thick silence falls between them, both of them acutely aware of the conversation they need to have, neither of them knowing quite how to start it.

She’s too weary to skirt around it anymore. “So,” she starts, her eyes dropping back to the cup of tea in her hands. “What do you think?”

“I should be asking you that. At the end of the day, it’s your choice. What do you want, Hannah?” He asks. Even without looking at him, she can feel his eyes on her.

It occurs to her that Lizzie never asked her this question, that she hasn’t quite dared think about the answer herself. Until now. “Part of me wishes it wasn’t happening, that everything could go back to the way they were a couple of weeks ago. I could help Lizzy and…” The words get stuck in her throat. And I would still have her . 

She hesitates for a moment, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she reflects. The more time passes, the clearer the answer becomes. 

“But,” she continues, surprised when Dean lets out a deep breath. How long had he been holding it? “I want it, Dean.” The words slip out easily, like they’ve always been there, ready to bubble up to the surface. Once they’re out, she can’t stop them. “I didn’t let myself fully admit that until now, but I do. I want this baby. And I don’t expect anything from you,” she adds quickly.

“Hannah-” he starts, but she can’t hear him. Not yet.

“You can be as little or as much involved as you want,” she rambles on. “I know you didn’t sign up for this and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t w-”

This time, it’s his turn to shut her up by taking her hand in his, forcing her to set the cup down on the counter and turn toward him. “If you’re having this baby then obviously I’m gonna be there.” He squeezes her hand and her stomach flutters. “It’s my responsibility too.”

Oh . She can’t help the flicker of sadness washing over her. Of course he’d do the right thing. He could never abandon his child, not when he feels so guilty about his absence in Sean’s life. Is it wrong of her to hope he’d do it because he wants this baby, not because he feels like he has to?

She’s being unfair. She knows she is but right now, she can’t handle it. She slips her hand away, the emptiness echoing inside of her along a million other confusing feelings. Nausea is starting to build up again. “That’s good to know,” she replies, swallowing the disappointment with the bile rising in the back of her throat. “Listen, I’m beat. It’s been a long day. Maybe we don’t need to make any more decisions right now.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” he replies when she stands to her feet and grabs her jacket.

“Yeah.” She swallows fresh tears burning the back of her eyes. “I should go.”

“Do you need a ride? I can-”

She smiles at him as best as she can muster. “I’m okay, Dean. I can drive.”

She hates this awkwardness rising between them again. In the three years they’ve known each other, they’ve never felt more distant. Ironic when they’ve just decided to have a baby together. She’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. 

She reaches the door before Dean and opens it, looking back before stepping out. “I’ll see you at work.”

The cold air on her face stifles the queasiness as she walks around the block and a half to her car. She’s almost convinced it’s gone when it crashes over her again just before she can reach for her keys. She doubles over, losing the meager content of her stomach on the edge of the sidewalk. 

When finally, the cramps subside, she slips into the driver’s seat, leaning against the headrest as she catches her breath. The pregnancy-induced nausea was fairly predictable until last night. It did catch her by surprise a couple of weeks ago but back then, still oblivious to the real cause, she chalked it off as a mild case of norovirus. 

Maybe it’s psychosomatic. The effect of now being aware of the tiny creature growing inside of her. Her body reeling in the aftermath of her tense discussions with Lizzy, and now Dean.

She successfully pushes all thoughts away during the twenty minutes it takes for her to drive home. By the time she unlocks the door to her apartment, all she wants is sleep. She makes a quick pit stop to her kitchen, swallowing a couple of ginger chews to settle her stomach before changing and delving into the comfort of her bed. 

As she lays down in the dark, she’s fully ready for sadness and disappointment to wash over her. She won’t shy away from it. And they do. But they don’t overtake her. Surprisingly, peace settles in her chest. 

There is no doubt the path ahead will be rough but as she drifts off to sleep, her hand lying on her lower belly, she can’t help but believe.

It will all be alright.

Chapter Text

Having been a more-than-competent OB/GYN for the better part of the last two decades. Hannah Asher knew what symptoms her first trimester of pregnancy would likely bring. Sure, some women are lucky enough to skirt around a few of them but she didn’t expect to be so lucky.

Boy, was she right.

She got it all. From the sore breasts (she’d very much like a word with whoever invented the torture instrument they call a bra) to the fatigue that makes it hard to go through an entire day in the ED without a couple of discreet power naps. At least, she’s escaped night shifts recently. 

The worst of it though comes from morning sickness. She was fully aware that nausea would not be limited to the beginning of the day. What she didn’t see coming though, was how intense and unpredictable it would be. She’s tried everything under the sun, everything she normally recommends to her patients: ginger chews, ginger ale, seltzer, herbal tea. Nothing really helped. 

Let’s just say that, for the last couple of weeks, she’s become intimately acquainted with her toilet bowl. And today is no exception. 

She rises slowly from her bathroom floor, still a little too fast judging by the vague bout of light-headedness but she recovers quickly. Brushing her teeth and splashing cold water on her face have become a new recovery routine.

She debates calling in sick. She feels like crap and she wants nothing more than curling up on her couch with a thick blanket, or better yet, giving in to her body and sleeping the day away. That would keep the nausea at bay maybe. She won’t though.

Interestingly enough, she feels her best when she’s at Gaffney. The constant stream of patients keeps her too busy to remember she’s not feeling a hundred percent. As long as she only nibbles on saltines through the day and sips a minimum amount of liquid, she’s mostly able to avoid the rush to the ladies’ room. The few times she’s gotten sick on shift managed to stay unnoticed. A definite plus considering she and Dean have yet to tell anyone about their news. 

They didn’t exactly make this choice consciously. They would need to talk for that. 

That’s not totally fair. They have been talking.  At work. About patients.

She glances at her living-room clock as she exits her bathroom. She’s already running late and the thought of driving in Chicago traffic right now is more energy than she can muster. 

Uber it is.

When the voice of her driver brings her back to life less than half an hour later, she decides this is her new way of getting to work for the foreseeable future. A little pricey but the pre-work nap is worth every penny. 

Walking into the doctor’s lounge with only a few minutes to spare, she finds Dean, standing by the coffee station. Not a surprise exactly, she’s run into him at the beginning of almost every shift since the night she told him about the baby.

“Hey,” he greets as soon as he sees her.

“Hey,” she replies.

They dance awkwardly around each other as she slips past him to get to her cubby. At least, while she dons her doctor’s coat over her scrubs, she can focus on anything but everything they need to be talking about. Everything they are avoiding. Everything she is avoiding.

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m good,” she answers automatically as she turns around. The slight spin goes straight to her head but it’s nothing she can’t manage. A few blinks and she’s already steadied herself. As far as she can tell, Dean hasn’t even noticed it.

“No, I mean…” he starts, looking towards the ED to make sure no one else is within earshot. “Are you okay? You look a little…” He grimaces.

She raises an eyebrow. “Really, Dean? Way to raise a woman’s self-esteem.” She can’t help the teasing smile forming in the corner of her mouth. If the situation wasn’t so complicated, she would laugh at the unease splattered across his face. Instead she puts him out of his misery. “I’m okay. Just feeling a little tired is all.” And puking more than a newborn with GERD but she’s not about to tell him that.

He nods and almost looks like he’s about to say something else when Maggie’s familiar call of “Incoming” interrupts from the other side of the glass panels. 

She shrugs at him. “Duty calls.” 

He lets out a short sigh and she can’t decide if she is thankful for the interruption or frustrated that they stopped short of any meaningful interactions once again. Is that what it’s going to be like between the two of them from now on? Did she ruin them for good by not walking out his door a little over two months ago?

That’s a topic she’ll have to mentally torment herself about later because she’s temporarily swept away by the storm of patients coming through the emergency department. She’s grateful for it, though she wishes she could have nibbled a few crackers beforehand rather than start her day on a painfully empty stomach. 

Three hours and over half a dozen patients later, Hannah finally gets to sit down at the nurse’s station. Any other day and she’d check her patient’s labs on her tablet but truthfully, she needs a minute. She’s never felt this weary in her life. How is she going to last another 8 hours?

“Are you okay, Dr. Asher?” Maggie asks.

Hannah straightens up. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.” Same story. Same excuse. 

“Are you sure? No offense, but you look like crap.”

First Dean, now Maggie. If she didn’t feel so miserable, she would take offense. “Yep,” she comments. “All good. I should go check on Mrs. Pergman.”

She should have known better than to stand up so fast. It’s not possible but Hannah could swear she feels the blood leaving her head and rushing down to her lower body. The rest of the world disappears behind a black veil. She doesn’t quite lose consciousness or at least she doesn’t think so at least because she can feel Maggie’s arms wrap around her back.

“I need some help over here!” The nurse yells.

“I’m okay. Just got up too fast,” she mumbles. Even she knows there is no chance in hell Maggie is buying it.

Maggie doesn’t even acknowledge her feeble protest. “Let’s get you into a treatment room.”

By the time the nurse has her sitting on a stretcher, the entire ED has its eyes on her. Great . She can spot Dean directly across the floor, snapping off his medical gloves and disposing of them before he notices the commotion. 

She sees his reaction in his entire body. His first instinct carries him three steps in her direction before he checks himself. Other than Lenox, no one knows she’s pregnant. Certainly, no one knows he’s involved. 

When it’s Caitlin who barges into the room, closing the door and isolating them from the rest of the ED as Maggie hooks her up to the stats monitor, Hannah breathes a small sigh of relief. She might not have had the best start with the current Chief of the ED but she’s grown to appreciate her. At least, she trusts Lenox is in her corner.

Lenox looks at her, then quickly at Maggie before she turns her eyes back to Hannah. 

“It’s fine. People will have to know at some point, I guess,” Hannah says, turning to Maggie. “I’m pregnant,” she admits.

If this was one of those morning cartoons she and Lizzy watched together when they were kids, Maggie’s jaw would have hit the floor with an audible clank. 

“You’re about 9 weeks along now, right?” Lenox asks.

Maggie whips her head toward Caitlin. “You knew?” 

This time, Hannah can’t help but laugh. “Just about,” she confirms to Lenox. “She guessed a few weeks ago,” she explains to Maggie. “No one really knows yet.” Though judging from the dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at her from the other side of the wall, that’s about to change very soon.

“Not even Ripley?” Lenox frowns.

“Definitely not Ripley.” Gosh, she can’t even begin to imagine what that particular conversation is going to look like. They left things amicably and nothing happened while they were together but still… She can admit the situation is less than traditional.

Maggie puts a comforting hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I get it. Telling him he’s going to be a father when you two aren’t together isn’t going to be easy.”

Hannah winces, glancing between the two women on either side of her. “Actually, the father knows already.” Two beats of dead silence… and then it hits them. 

Lenox speaks first, stirring Maggie out of her shock. “Why don’t we figure out what’s going on with you first? We can worry about paternity later.” 

It’s a short reprieve, but Hannah will take it.

*********

“Do you know what’s going on with Hannah?” 

The fact that it’s Ripley, of all people, who asks him the question first must be the world’s idea of a cosmic joke.

“I’m not sure.”

Technically it’s the truth. From the murmur of gossip floating around the nurse’s station, all he knows is that Hannah seems to have had some kind of episode. She almost fainted, according to Trini. When he saw her on the treatment room bed, as pale as the sheet she was laying on, his heart almost stopped. He wanted to run to her side but stopped when he caught her eyes. 

He hasn’t moved since. She doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. He can read her vitals displayed on the monitor at her bedside. Her blood pressure is low but not life-threateningly so, everything else looks to be within normal range and Hannah doesn’t look like she’s in pain. 

And yet, he can’t help the knot in his stomach. He hates not being able to be there for her the way he should, hates not knowing what’s going on, but Hannah hasn’t given any indication she wants him in there with her. Mostly, he refuses to give away their situation before she feels comfortable doing so.

So, for now, he’s stuck on the other side of the floor, watching as Maggie draws Hannah’s blood and hooks her up to an IV. 

When Hannah first told him about the pregnancy, his first reaction 𑁋past the heart-stopping stupor anyway𑁋 had been pure terror. Now though, with some time to wrap his head around the fact that Hannah is carrying his baby, there is something new flickering inside of him. Something warm and light. 

Hopeful. 

The thought that there could be something wrong with Hannah, something wrong with the baby, that he could lose one or the other or, god forbid, both… it’s almost more than he can bear.

When Lenox and Maggie both exit the treatment room, he waits for the nurse to walk away, probably running Hannah’s blood to the lab herself, and catches Lenox as soon as she sets foot behind one of the desks..

“How is she?” He asks. He’s too eager for answers to bother with preambles.

Lenox glances up at him curiously. “Dr. Asher is fine. You know I can’t tell you more than that,” she adds before Dean has a chance to say anything else.

“But-” He tries to protest. But what? He can’t exactly admit to anything right now. Either way, Lenox would never violate a patient’s privacy, no matter who the patient is.

That hint of a protest is enough for the proverbial lightbulb to shine in his colleague’s eyes. To her credit, she only nods. “I see. I still can’t break doctor/patient confidentiality, regardless of what your… relationship to Dr. Asher may be. I suggest you go and talk to her yourself,” she adds, walking away and disappearing into another treatment room.

Trust Caitlin Lenox not to beat around the bush. As much as he’d like to deny it, she does have a point. Hannah and him need to talk and cut through this tangled web of uneasiness between them. 

He looks around. Most of the ED is now back to its regular hustle and bustle. The nurse’s station sits mostly empty, bar a few orderlies. Quickly, he makes his way to Hannah’s room, slipping inside before closing the door behind him.

He’s relieved when she greets him with a soft smile. “Dean.”

“Do you want me to close the curtains?” He asks her.

She shrugs. “They’ll know sooner or later. Go ahead if you want though.”

He shakes his head. “What happened? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?” He asks, taking the chair in the corner of the room and placing it next to the bed.

“I’m alright. I just… I haven’t really been able to keep much of anything down in a few days. I guess it caught up to me,” she admits sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” She catches his skeptical look. “I know how it sounds but you know what they say about doctors.”

“They make the worst, most stubborn patients?” He teases.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” Her head tilts and an amused smile stretches her lips. 

“I guess it’s my turn to take care of you,” he replies, dead serious.

The smile fades. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Why does she seem so surprised by his outburst? Doesn’t she know how much her presence meant to him back when he was sick? Doesn’t she know how important she is to him now? “It’s irrelevant anyway. You should have called me.”

“And said what, Dean? I’m puking my guts out, can you come and hold my hair?”

“If that’s what you needed,” he huffs.

“I don’t need you to take care of me. I can handle this by myself.”

“Evidently,” he throws back, the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before he can check himself. “The point is, Hannah,” he continues before she can interject. “I said I would be there for you. Didn’t you think I meant it?”

“I know you did.” No hesitation in her voice. At least there’s that. “You’re always going to do the right thing, Dean. That’s who you are.”

Understanding hits him like a ton of bricks. “Do you think I’m only here because I have to be?”

She shrugs, a heavy sigh leaving her body. “You didn’t exactly plan to have this baby.”

“Neither did you,” he points out softly. “Doesn’t stop you from wanting it, does it?” He pauses until she acknowledges it with a tilt of her head. “I do too. I know the situation is… complicated, at best, but I want this baby, Hannah.”

“Yeah?” She asks, a hopeful grin on her face.

“I mean, a kid with your smarts and my good looks? Who wouldn’t want that?”

Her chuckle is the best sound he’s heard all day. It feels like a cloud has lifted from above them and maybe, just maybe, they’re on their way to figuring things out.  

“Dr. Archer?” Doris opens the sliding door, peeking her head in. “We need you in Treatment 4.”

She glances back and forth between him and Hannah, giving no indication of leaving them alone. “I’ll be there in a minute, Doris,” he bellows. Thankfully, the nurse gets the message and retreats, sliding the door closed behind them.

“Go,” Hannah says. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything happening.”

Stepping back onto the ED floor is harder than he expects it to be. Through the next hour or so, he is kept busy by a string of patients. Every time he weaves in and out of rooms, he steals a glance towards Hannah. In most instances, someone else is with her, checking on her or keeping her company. As he walks from a broken wrist to a case of pneumonia, he notices Ripley sitting by her  bedside, the two of them engrossed in what seems to be an important conversation. He has no right to be jealous. There is no indication that this visit is anything but friendly and yet, a little green-eyed monster is clawing at his chest.

Part of him wonders if maybe Hannah would have been better off with Ripley’s child instead of his. His colleague is far from perfect and he loathes the way his downward spiral affected Hannah earlier this year but he has to admit, he seems to be doing a lot better. And he ticks a lot more boxes for expectant father than Archer does. He and Hannah actually had a relationship for starters, flawed as it may have been. He’s handsome. He’s young. How can he compete with that? 

He averts his eyes and steps into the next room, pushing away thoughts of all the ways he’s likely to fail this baby and their mother.

When the whispers start later on, he hasn’t even been able to go see Hannah again. He’s walking to one of the computers when he catches Doris and Trini huddled together... 

“When do you think it happened?”

“I don’t know. I thought they broke up.” Doris quiets down as he gets close.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” He snaps.

With a little luck, that’ll cut the gossip short.

Unfortunately, as soon as it’s clear that Dean overheard them, Doris doesn’t even attempt to hide anymore. “Did you know about Dr. Asher?” She asks, leaning towards him.

“Know what?” 

“Rumor is, she’s pregnant.” 

So the cat is out of the bag then. Well, half of it anyway. He does his very best not to react. “Isn’t you spreading this rumor breaking some HIPAA rule?”

Doris shrugs. “She’s not my patient.” She motions towards Hannah's room. “I wonder if Ripley knows?” She ponders.

He looks up from his monitor and glances at Hannah. She must have caught his deer in a headlight look because her shoulders are shaking slightly with laughter. He watches as she takes out her phone. His vibrates in his pocket the second she lowers hers.

I told Mitch earlier. Go for it.

Next to him, Doris is still musing out loud. “He has to know by now, right? I saw him in there earlier. I haven’t seen him since either.”

“I think he just went up to the ICU with a patient,” Trini says.

“I can assure you Dr. Ripley has nothing to do with what’s going on,” Dean cuts through the conversation.”

The nurses’ heads swivel to him curiously.

“Then who-” Doris starts, confused.

He should feel more nervous than he does at this moment but at this point, he’s more frustrated at Doris for not taking the hint. “I am,” he simply says, standing up from his desk and walking straight into Hannah’s room. 

By the time he slides the door closed behind him, Doris and Trini are still looking in their direction with their mouths hanging wide open.

“The rest of the hospital should be aware of our… situation by the end of the day,” he says, leaning against the wall.

“Doris was clearly the right person for the job,” Hannah chuckles. Silence falls between them and he watches Hannah fidgets nervously. “Should we talk about our… situation?” She ventures hesitantly, using his own words. 

“Probably.”

He doesn’t even have time to take a seat before the sliding door opens again. “I have your lab results back,” Lenox declares as she enters, spotting Dean. “I can come back later.”

“No, that’s okay. We’ll talk later?” He asks Hannah.

She nods and he moves to leave when she calls his name. “You don’t need to go. Stay?” She asks softly when he faces her again. “You probably should hear this anyway.”

Without a word, he resumes his earlier position, swallowing the slew of emotions bubbling in his chest. 

“Your blood work confirms what I suspected. Dehydration and low blood sugar due to excessive vomiting. I can prescribe you some Zofran for the nausea and hopefully that’ll be enough to take care of it. You should follow up with your obstetrician.”

“I don’t have one yet, but I will once I do,” Hannah confirms.

“I don’t suppose you need any names. We also tested your 𝛽-HCG levels,” she continues when her patient shakes her head. “And they’re well within range of what they should be at this stage of your pregnancy.”

He lets out a relieved breath. He hadn’t even realized how nervous he was until now. Judging from Hannah’s identical reaction, she was feeling the same way.

“If it’s okay with the two of you, I’d like to get an ultrasound to make sure everything is normal.”

And from the way she instinctively seeks his eyes, the anxiety is back in full force for her as well. “Yeah. Sure,” her voice quivers.

It takes less than five minutes for Lenox to close the privacy curtains, get the machine and position herself on the opposite side of the bed but in that short time, he manages to think about a dozen things that could go wrong. What if, in this moment, they lose it all? What if all those unexpected hopes are suddenly ripped away?

As Hannah lifts the bottom of her shirt and Lenox squirts some conductive gel on her stomach, he swears his heart stops.

Hannah’s face is now turned toward the screen and he follows, scrutinizing the gray blur on the monitor until finally, Lenox directs the wand in the proper position. 

And then it’s there. It’s small, barely even human-shaped at this stage but it’s there. Indisputably. A baby. 

Their baby. 

Hannah’s eyes are glued to the monitor, her mouth hanging slightly open, the same awe he’s feeling plastered all over her face. 

A small tap of Lenox’s fingers on the machine and all of a sudden, the most amazing sound Dean has ever heard fills the room. Hannah’s hand wraps around his and he squeezes back, enthralled by the image on the screen.

“163. Good, strong heartbeat,” Lenox says softly. “Everything looks great,” she adds, removing the instrument from Hannah’s stomach before looking at the two of them. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

As soon as she exits, Hannah grabs the handle on the side of the ultrasound machine and pulls it closer to the bed, still riveted by the frozen image on the screen. She looks back at him. “You heard that? Good, strong heartbeat.”

All he can do is nod. Her eyes are just as shiny as his must be right now. He wants to bottle this moment, make it last as long as humanly possible. Bask in the bliss of now before they’re forced to get into the maze of complications they’ll eventually have to comb through. “Wanna hear it again?” He asks.

She doesn’t even hesitate and grabs the ultrasound wand and puts it on her stomach herself and there it is again, a beautiful steady beat echoing around the room, surrounding them in a cocoon of pure joy.

Everything else can wait.

Chapter Text

“Sorry, surgery ran longer than I expected,” Hannah says as soon as she meets Dean in the hallway right outside the OR suites. “Have you been waiting a while?”

“Not too long,” he answers vaguely, handing Hannah a to-go cup of peppermint tea and a banana.

Truth is, the tea is most likely cold by now but he didn’t mind having to wait. Since he found out she was ubering to work every morning, driving her home every day after shift has become his favorite moment of the day.

She takes his offering, her eyes softening with gratitude. “You know, you don’t have to keep bringing me food. I’m okay now.”

“You just spent over four hours resecting half a dozen fibroids. I think you’re entitled to a snack,” he shrugs. “You’re ready to go?”

“Just about. Give me twenty minutes to get some post-op orders in and change and I’ll meet you at your car?” 

“I can wait here.”

She pauses, briefly gnawing the inside of her cheek before she answers, the hint of a smile on her lips. “I’ll be quick then.”

He follows her as far as the main waiting room, by the elevators, where she updates her patient’s husband and daughter. Seeing her talking to patients and their family is always awe-inspiring. Her kindness, her compassion shines through every time. He knows exactly how much it means to these people at a time where they’d rather be anywhere but here. He’s been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to admit. 

Once she’s done, she looks back towards him quickly before disappearing into the locker room.

“I’d suggest you stop staring at her and do something about it but from what I heard, you already did.”

“Well hello to you too, Dr Tanaka-Reed,” Dean sighs, turning towards the voice.

The sarcasm dripping from Archer’s voice doesn’t seem to faze the resident. “I just wanted to extend my congratulations on the good news. I have to say Dr. Archer, I’m touched that you took my dating advice to heart,” the young man says, bringing a hand over his heart. “I didn’t see it coming but you and Dr. Asher make a cute couple.”

Archer rolls his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business but we are not. I’m not sure what “advice” you think you gave me but rest assured, they were left where they belong. Unused.”

He hates to admit it but the arrogant smirk splattered on the young doctor’s face reminds him of a young version of him. “Interesting,” Kai observes, his eyes flickering towards the door Hannah walked through. “Maybe you should rethink that,” he adds.

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before turning around and making his way towards the operating rooms.

Archer is left standing in place, leaning his head backwards against the wall and barely repressing a frustrated groan. Things have been less strained between him and Hannah in the last couple of weeks. Hearing their baby’s heartbeat for the first time bridged the gap its surprise conception had created but, even though they can’t pretend that night between them never happened now, they've left it decidedly in the past, never to be mentioned again. 

Instead, they’re back to where they were almost three months ago now. Not that it’s any clearer what they are. “Friends” doesn’t seem to cover it. On the other hand, one night brought a lifetime of consequence and left them on a teetering edge. Anything more than that… 

No, that’s not a place they can ever go.

Right now, they already have a lot on their plate and he knows that they’ll have to discuss what lies ahead. That’s nerve-racking enough.

When Hannah reappears, changed into a pair of jeans and a bright-colored blouse, he feels like he’s the one who could use some stomach-soothing tea.

They walk to the staff’s parking lot mindlessly talking about their cases of the day and Doris’ new baking monstrosity, which they both know to avoid by now. As soon as they sit in his car though, Hannah grows quiet, pulling something out of her purse.

“I talked with Dr. Patchefsky this morning,” she explains. “She had a last minute cancellation and she was able to squeeze me in. I tried calling you but you were busy…” She hands him a small strip of paper. “I thought you might want these. I have copies.”

He finds himself staring at sonogram stills. The trained doctor in him can tell the baby is growing. The father has to ask anyway. “What did the OB say?”

He can’t stop looking at the shape of this tiny little being, tucked away in Hannah’s warmth, barely the size of his thumb. He remembers feeling this awe during Leanne’s pregnancy as well. Except back then, he was convinced he’d do everything right. He’d be the best father. As much as he wants to do better this time, he knows how easy it is to fail. 

What if he ends up messing up his second chance too?

“Everything still looks on par for 11.5 weeks.” Hannah’s voice brings him back to the present. “All good, just your regular normal pregnancy. She…” Hannah hesitates. “She gave me a due date.”

He tears his eyes from the photo to look expectantly at Hannah. “When?”

“December 25th,” Hannah says, a nervous smile stretching the corner of her lips.

“A Christmas baby?” He says, swallowing the knot of emotions rising in his throat. “Think we can find a stocking big enough for Santa to fit it in?” He adds when she nods. Deflecting with sardonic humor is what he does best after all.

She lets out a small laugh. “That will make for an interesting holiday season for sure.” They both fall quiet, looking at the polaroid prints Dean still holds until Hannah speaks again. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s Sean taking all this?”

Sean. That’s a topic he’s been carefully avoiding for the last month or so. “It’s getting late. I should get you home,” he says, turning the key in the ignition.

He has barely pulled out of his parking spot before Hannah figures out exactly what’s going on. “You haven’t told him, have you?”

There is no judgement in her voice, just complete understanding. “I…” he starts, but immediately grows quiet. How to even begin to explain to her everything he’s afraid of. “You’re not even out of the first trimester. I thought maybe I could wait a little.” It’s a bullshit excuse and they both know it.

“We already told everyone else,” she points.

They sure did. As they predicted, his little bombshell announcement to Doris and Trini rippled through Gaffney faster than a bullet train. Goodwin herself made her way down to the ED before Hannah was even discharged. She was surprised, though not as much as he expected her to be, but mostly concerned with Hannah’s heath. She also reminded them they'd have to disclose their relationship, whatever it may be, to HR. He suspected the latter was Peter Kalmick whispering (or most likely anxiously screaming) in her ears.

“I know,” he says as he turns onto S Racine. “I’ll tell him soon.”

“Do you want me to be there?” She volunteers hesitantly.

“As much as I appreciate the offer, it should probably come from me. Since we’re not… You know.”

That’s one way to make it awkward, Dean.

“Yeah, I know,” Hannah says, her face turning towards the passenger-side window. 

Silence fills the cabin of his car, broken only by the sound of traffic and the dulled music of the radio in the background. It’s only when they pull up in front of Hannah’s building that she finds her voice again.

“I haven’t told Lizzy either,” she says once he turns off the engine. “She knows I’m pregnant,” she explains. “She just assumed it was Mitch’s.”

“Still?” He asks. 

He hates the idea. He’d never admit it to anyone, let alone Hannah, but the notion that someone still doesn’t know that she is carrying his child makes him irrationally upset. The fact that Lizzy would think it’s Ripley’s makes it worse. It shouldn’t. The conclusion makes sense. He’s fully aware that everybody else thought the same thing at first, but he can’t help the wave of possessiveness washing over him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ripley and Hannah used to date. Not at all.

Here’s that green-eyed monster again.

He pushes the thought aside and turns his focus back on Hannah.

“I haven’t heard from her,” she admits. “Not since I told her I was pregnant. I thought that maybe if I gave her some time…” Her voice breaks and he feels the crack all the way into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Hannah.” 

He reaches towards her but before he can take her hand, she shakes herself. “I honestly don’t know if telling her what really happened would make things better or worse.”

“It can’t be worse than it is now though, can it?”

She turns her head towards him, a pensive smile on her face. “How did you become so wise?”

“I had a good teacher,” he answers, eyes locking with hers. He’ll never grow tired of how warmth spreads through him every time she directs one of her earnest smiles at him. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Dean. Soon enough, you won’t even need the teacher anymore.”

The reply forms on his lips before he can even comprehend it. “I’m always gonna need you.”

The smile on Hannah’s lips falters as she inhales sharply. The air in the car grows thick, the magnetic pull between them back from the shadows they forced it into. 

The same pull that led them to where they are now.

It seems the exact same thought popped into Hannah’s mind too because she suddenly averts her eyes and reaches for the door handle. “I should go and…” she awkwardly gestures to her building. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice a little more gravelly than he wishes. 

It doesn’t matter though because the door closes before she can hear it. He watches as she disappears through the front door, barely resisting the impulse to repeatedly bang his head against the steering wheel. He needs to do a better job at controlling his words, his reactions around her. 

Let’s face it though, It would be a lot easier to forget the fact that he once explored Hannah Asher’s naked body if she wasn’t carrying the very real proof of it.

He blasts music on the radio during the entire drive home, hoping to take his mind off the incredibly inappropriate memories intermittently popping back to the surface. 

He’s at his front door, keys already in the lock when his phone rings. Quickly, he goes inside before reaching into his pocket and pulling it out. 

Sean.

He takes it as a sign. He can’t avoid this any longer. It’s bad enough he let it drag on for so long. He needs to tell his son what’s going on. Now.

“Hey son,” he says as soon as Sean’s face appears on the screen. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Sean replies. 

Something’s not quite right, Dean can tell. Maybe it’s the tone of his voice or the way Sean doesn’t fully look at the screen. It’s just… off.

“What’s going on?” He asks. 

“You tell me.”

Dean tenses. “I don’t understand.”

“Remember Jamal? We met at the halfway house, right after I got out of jail,” Sean starts.

“That rings a bell. I didn’t realize you were still in touch with him.” Wherever this is going, Dean has a sinking feeling he isn’t going to like it.

“On and off. Anyway, I got a message from him today. He was at Med today for some appointment and he overheard some nurses talking apparently. Dad, can you explain to me why he was congratulating me ‘on the good news’? Is there something I should know?”

At the mention of the hospital, Dean’s stomach drops. Part of him wants to track down and murder whoever thought appropriate to gossip about his personal life within earshot of patients but truly, he only has himself to blame. 

“I’m sorry, son. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He stops. How does one tell their adult child they’re about to have a sibling from one night of passion?

Sean looks utterly confused. “Dad, what’s going on? It is good news, right?”

“Yes. Hopefully. Yes,” Dean asserts. He takes a deep breath before he continues. “Hannah’s pregnant. She’s having a baby. My baby.” The precision seems necessary.

For a second, he thinks Sean’s screen is frozen. As far as reactions go, stunned isn’t the worst possible one, is it? “Oh wow,” Sean finally says. “I didn’t realize you and Hannah… well, I suspected you two would eventually…”

“We’re not,” Dean cuts. “I mean, obviously we did… were…” 

Sean waves his hand around to stop his father. “I don’t need any detail, Dad.”

“I’m just saying, we’re not together.”

“But you’re having a baby?” Sean repeats, obviously trying to wrap his head around that particular piece of information. Dean nods. “Okay. Yeah, that’s… definitely news.” 

The look on Sean’s face is undecipherable as he becomes silent again. “Sean?” Dean calls after a moment. “Are you okay? I know it’s unexpected. Trust me, I… We didn’t plan on this-”

“No, it’s great,” Sean cuts in. “It’s really good news, Dad. I’m happy for you. Listen, I gotta go now but tell Hannah congratulations for me, okay?”

Dean frowns. “I w-”

Sean hangs up before he can finish his sentence. Dean drops the phone on the kitchen counter as he sits, a hand brushing over his face, unsure what to think. He never expected his son to be thrilled, especially not right off the bat. He hoped they would at least have a chance to talk it through.

The fact is, Sean has every right to be upset. It’s one thing to be confronted with that kind of news, it’s another for it to come from an outside source. Once again, Dean’s old habit of avoiding a difficult talk backfired. 

When will he learn? When will he stop making the same mistakes? He’s failed over and over again at being a good father for Sean. He may know where he went wrong the first time around but from the look of it, it’s not helping his relationship with his first child. It also occurs to him that he certainly won’t be in this kid’s life for as long as he wishes. 

All of a sudden, the odds feel stacked against him.

How can he make the most of his time with this baby and how could he possibly be the father they deserve him to be?

**********

Hannah’s stomach is churning again but for the first time in weeks, it has nothing to do with the small being growing inside of her. No, on that front, everything is actually going as well as one could hope at the end of their first trimester.

Ironically, the unexpected pregnancy might be the easiest thing she’s got going on right now.

Technically, her professional life isn’t terrible. Sure, she’s tired and her body aches more at the end of the day than it ever has. Not even during the grueling hours of residency does she remember being so bone-deep exhausted but she’s still as competent as ever and it’s all that really matters to her. Even the whispers following her around the hospital don’t really bother her. She’s had her fair share of them before and she’s turned dealing with those into an art form.

Her personal life on the other hand, that’s another story entirely.

Things between Dean and her are still… 

Honestly, she has no idea. 

Fine? That probably works. 

Confusing? She snickers to herself. Yeah, that definitely works better.

She thought they were turning a corner. Slowly but surely, it felt like they were getting back to the way they’ve always been around each other. A little banter. A little dose of honest truth. 

A little avoidance. 

Everytime it looks like they’re moving forward enough to land on solid ground though, something seems to send them two steps back, teetering towards awkwardness or worse, dangerously close to the same cliff they dove off of three months ago. 

And, she knows for a fact, that is the last thing they both need right now. 

So instead, she chooses to focus on the other area of her personal life that could use some patching up. 

From where she exits the Blue Line, she can already see the light shining through the bay window of the diner. She’s not even sure Lizzy is working tonight but since her sister still isn’t taking any of her calls, nor answering her door the few times Hannah made the trek to Irving Park, showing up unannounced is her only choice.

It worked well enough last time.

Except today, Lizzy’s face straight out drops the second she sees her sister through the glass. She doesn’t come outside. Instead, she simply turns around and proceeds to the next table.

Hannah sighs, closing her eyes to will her frustration away. 

When she pushes the front door and sits at a booth, Lizzy finally walks up to her. 

“Lizzy-”

“I can’t talk right now,” Lizzy cuts her off. “We’re slammed and I don’t get off for another two hours.”

“Fine. I’ll wait.”

She’s made it this far, she isn’t leaving until they had a chance to talk it out.

Lizzy looks unimpressed but doesn’t send her packing. “Do you want anything?”

“Just some tea, please.”

Bringing her a steaming mug is the only interaction she and Lizzy have until, one by one, the tables finally clear out as the restaurant edges towards closing time. Eventually, Lizzy’s manager waves her off and she has no other option than confronting her sister.

“Not here,” Lizzy says curtly. “I’m dead on my feet. If you want to talk, you can walk with me to my car.”

She walks out the door before Hannah even has a chance to grab her purse. She scrambles after her sister, jogging to catch up. “Lizzy, wait!” She calls. “Come on, we can’t keep going like that.” She grabs her sister’s arms, forcing her to stop and turn around. “We have to talk about it!”

“We already did, Hannah!” She yells, yanking her arm out of her sister’s hand. “What else could you possibly want me to say? That I’m happy you and Mitch get to live happily ever after with your little bundle of joy? What?” She asks when Hannah winces at the mention of Ripley’s name. “Did he run off and leave you to be a single mom? Do you need my help with that too?”

“That’s not- It’s not about that. I know you’re upset and I’m sorry it happened this way but you’re acting like I did this on purpose!”

She’s doing her best not to get frustrated but talking to Lizzy right now feels like facing a wall.

“I know you didn’t. You simply didn’t think. As usual. Gosh, Hannah, it’s like every time you went on a bender. You never cared about how your decisions would affect the people you left behind. You just hoped that I’d help clean up your mess. I’m not doing that again.” She turns around and starts walking away.

“This isn’t that, Lizzy,” Hannah explains as she follows her. “The father’s gonna be in the picture, I just-”

Lizzy stops suddenly. “The father? Wait, it’s not Mitch?” She rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, this is even worse than I thought. Did you get knocked up from a random hook-up?”

“It wasn’t like th-” Hannah starts but Lizzy doesn’t even seem to be listening to her anymore. How is she supposed to mend their relationship when her sister is so easily willing to think the worst of her?

“You know, I don’t even care. You knew the risks you were taking and it didn’t stop you. Just like old times.” 

There are a lot of things Hannah has done while she was under the hook of heroin that she’s not proud of. She’s owned up to it. It was a crucial part of her recovery and she’s made amends to the people she hurt, Lizzy included. 

Hannah isn’t quite sure what does it. Maybe it’s the fact that her sister, who she thought had finally turned the page and forgiven her, throws it all back in her face. Maybe it’s the fact that she won’t even give Hannah a chance to explain what truly happened. Or maybe it’s equating that night with Dean to something meaningless, degrading, disgusting almost.

She’s had enough.

“It doesn't matter what I say, does it?” Something in her demeanor must have drastically changed because Lizzy shuts up this time. “No matter what, you’re going to find a way to blame me. Well, guess what? I’m done taking it. I know what I put you through all these years ago. I made plenty of mistakes and I’ve done everything I can to make up for them but it feels like it’s never going to be enough for you.” She can feel the tears welling up behind her eyes and she forces them down. She’s going to take this off her chest once and for all. “I love you, Lizzy and I don’t want to lose you. There’s nothing I want more than for this baby to know their aunt,” she continues, placing a hand on her stomach. “But until you can look at me and see the person that I am now, and not the person I used to be, I think you should stay away.”

It’s been a while since she’s seen her older sister speechless and truthfully, Hannah is more than a little satisfied with it. She said everything that needed to be said and the only thing left to do is walk away. 

“Hannah!” She hears Lizzy call from where she left her standing. 

She looks back, a tiny ember of hope flickering in the back of her head. Is this all it takes? 

It dies as soon as Lizzy speaks.

“Who’s the father?” Lizzy asks. “You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything. Not anymore. I’ll tell you because I want you to know it wasn’t meaningless. The baby’s Dean’s.”

Without waiting for her sister’s reaction, she walks away.

Chapter Text

She wants salt. Or maybe something sweet. If the cravings had hit before she left home this morning, she would have dug into the jar of peanut butter in her pantry. Damn, a spoonful of crunchy peanut butter sounds absolutely amazing right now. Or some peanut butter cups. Yeah, that would hit the spot.

Ever since she hit her second trimester a couple of days ago, she’s feeling a lot better. The almost-crippling fatigue stopped overnight, to the point where she started driving herself to work again. She’ll admit she misses Dean driving her home a little, but she no longer feels guilty about him having to cross downtown twice to drop her off before heading home in the opposite direction.

On top of her energy surging back, the nausea is gone. It’s been fading gradually to the point where she hasn’t needed any pills in 72 hours. But today, oh god, today she’s ravenous. Unfortunately, her shift starts in less than ten minutes.

The doctor’s lounge is unusually empty when she reaches it. She stifles the small pang of disappointment. She’s gotten used to Dean being there every morning. It’s almost a routine by now. He pretends to run into her randomly. She pretends she doesn’t know he’s checking in on her. The drink and fruit (one of the few things she could really stomach for weeks) he usually has ready for her gives it away. It’s a small gesture but it’s sweet and it means everything to her.

The ED is packed this morning and it’s probably why he’s absent, already on the floor or maybe even in surgery. She sighs and walks to her cubby. She locks her purse inside the small safe and goes to grab her doctor’s coat when she notices it, waiting for her on the bottom shelf. He chose an apple today and 𑁋she grabs the insulated cup and takes a whiff𑁋 chamomile tea. The good kind too. Her favorite brand as a matter of fact. How did he know?

“Dr. Asher?” Hannah turns around to find Trini, her head into the doorway. “Dr. Ripley needs you with a patient in Trauma 2.”

Her simili-breakfast will have to wait. 

It’s over an hour before their pregnant patient is stabilized and on her way to ICU for monitoring. The contractions she started experiencing post-MVA have halted and her 20-week old baby girl is still safely inside her mother’s womb. 

She and Ripley find themselves exiting the room together, throwing disposable gowns and gloves at the same time. 

They were perfectly fine working side by side but without a patient as a buffer, it’s awkward as hell. They haven’t really talked since she told him about the pregnancy. Thinking about it, he’s mostly stayed out of her way. Even on the rare times they’ve worked on the same patients, he’d leave the room before she did, avoiding her. She noticed. How could she not? But truthfully, she’s been so tired and preoccupied, she hasn’t had the energy to do anything about it except hope he’d come around. 

“So,” Mitch starts, clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

“Good, I’m good,” she replies.

“Everything okay with…?” He motions towards her stomach.

She nods. “Yeah, you know… Just what you’d expect.”

“Listen, I wanted-”

“Dr. Asher, incoming ambo, pregnant woman with seizures. ETA 5 minutes.” Maggie’s voice bellows from the nurse’s station. “Dr. Ripley, we need you in Treatment 3.”

Mitch sighs, resigned. “Can we maybe catch up later?” He asks Hannah.

“Sure. Of course,” she answers before he walks away.

Whether or not this upcoming conversation is a good or a bad thing, there isn’t much she can do about it now, not with another patient heading her way. She doesn’t even realize she’s looking around the floor as she makes her way towards the ambulance bay until Lenox materializes next to her.

“He caught a trauma earlier,” she explains as they both walk outside. “Pretty serious. He’ll be in surgery for a while. You were looking for Dr. Archer, weren’t you?” She adds under Hannah’s questioning look.

“I was just curious, that's all.”

“I understand. It’s natural you seek him out considering your situation,” Lenox says.

“You really see everything, don’t you?” Hannah remarks, a small smile on her face. “It’s kind of impressive, you know that?”

Lenox shrugs the comment off. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“I am actually. I think this is the first day I actually feel like myself in a while.”

“Ah yes, the turn of the second trimester,” Lenox says. “You’ll probably be able to enjoy this baby a lot more now.”

“Yeah.” Something catches in Hannah’s throat, almost like a tiny fishbone stuck on its way down, too small to make any damage but undeniably there. 

Of course Lenox notices it. “You don’t look too happy about it.” 

“No, I am,” Hannah assures her. “I really am. It just… It still doesn’t feel real, you know?”

“That’s understandable. I’m sure it will soon enough. That would be my ambo,” Lenox says as the vehicle stops in front of them and she walks away to meet the paramedics.

Part of her wishes she could linger on this feeling she’s just uncovered. Truth is, she’s been so focused on all the complicated parts of this equation, she hasn’t really been able to look at what it will add up to. It doesn’t help that a little over a week later, she still hasn’t heard a peep from Lizzy.

Part of her is definitely thankful when her own ambo pulls up in front of Med. After that, it’s one patient after the other and there is no time to think at all. 

By the time she’s able to go back to the doctor’s lounge, it’s way past lunchtime. She’s starving and her stomach is going to start audibly rumbling soon if she doesn’t get any food in her. Any other day, she’d take a break to grab a sandwich in the cafeteria but with how busy the emergency department is today, she’ll be lucky to have enough time to sit and eat a snack.

Apparently, Mitch had the same idea. He’s already sitting at the round table, a fresh coffee in front of him. 

“Hey,” he greets her with a shy smile.

A few months ago, her insides would have flipped at that. “Hey,” she replies, going to her cubby to grab the apple Dean left for her earlier. 

Imagine her surprise when she notices the bag of pretzels nestled right next to the fruit. She grabs both and turns to Ripley. “Did you…?”

He raises his hands in front of him. “All Archer. He dropped by quickly and left that there. I think he had to go back upstairs,” he explains. “Can we talk?” He asks, motioning to the seat across from him.

She nods and takes the chair “I just want-” 

“Look, I-” He says at the same time. 

“Can I start?” Hannah asks when they both fall quiet. She continues when he nods. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that you got caught in the middle of this. I know this must be weird for you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he replies instantly. “I admit I was caught off guard when you told me about… everything. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I just… I guess I just needed a minute to wrap my head around it. The truth is, we’d been done for a while and you didn’t even have to tell me directly. I really appreciate that you did though. All I want to say is that I’m happy for you, and for Archer. I’m glad you get to have this.”

“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.” There’s a small lull in the conversation, neither of them really knowing where to go from here. In time, she hopes the uneasiness fades. “How are you?” She asks genuinely.  She may not be in love with Mitch anymore but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.

“I’m good, actually. Really good,” he answers. “I…” He blushes, legit full-on blushes. “I actually met someone. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”

She’s surprised with how relieved the news makes her feel. “I’m happy for you, Mitch. You look like you’ve made a lot of progress.”

“I still have a long way to go but yeah, it’s been going pretty well.” He looks at his watch. “I should go. I’m afraid Lenox is going to come at me for slacking if I don’t discharge my patients as soon as possible. I’m glad we got to talk.”

“Me too,” she answers before he leaves. 

By some miraculous feat, she ends up with a full 20-minute break. Almost unheard of on such a busy day. She devours the bag of pretzels and oh boy, the salty crunch combined with the sweetness of the apple really hits the spot. How does something so simple feel like the best meal she’s ever eaten?

When the end of shift comes, she hasn’t spotted Archer once. Apparently, he’s been just as busy as she has, caught up in one trauma, one surgery after another. She takes her time changing out of her scrubs, hoping maybe the extra few minutes would be enough to catch him. After driving home with him almost every day for the last month, not seeing him at all feels wrong somehow.

As she makes her way to the staff’s parking lot, she catches herself listening for footsteps, for a shadow behind her. Any sign that he might catch up to her. She frowns as she slips behind the wheel. This is ridiculous. She’ll see him tomorrow. 

On the way home, she impulsively drives to her favorite bakery. Now that she had her salty fix (for now anyway), her sweet tooth is begging for attention. Out of the half dozen cupcakes she orders, the chocolate-filled one calls her name and disappears before she pulls into her parking garage.

She doesn’t even feel guilty about it.

She debates eating a second one right away, potentially making it her dinner but the doctor in her thinks better of it. Now that she actually has her appetite back, she should probably get some actual nutrition in her. Vitamins and supplements have been a lifesaver but nothing beats real food.

Come to think of it, she probably should have stopped by a grocery store rather than a bakery. 

Her fridge is desperately empty, save for half a loaf of bread and a mostly-empty tub of greek yogurt. 

Take-out it is then. And maybe she will have that second cupcake while she waits for the food to arrive.

Her phone is in her hand, ready to order when someone knocks at her door.

She feels the smile stretching all the way to her ears when she discovers who’s on her doorstep. 

“Hey,” Dean says, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the next as he holds up a plastic bag in his hands. “I brought dinner.” 

“How did you know?” She asks, confused. At times, it seems like they can read each other’s mind but it feels a little too coincidental, even for them.

He shrugs. “Eh, you know, the ED talks.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Dean Archer?” She says playfully, planting a hand on her hip.

“I plead the fifth,” he chuckles.

She opens the door wider. “Come in.”

It’s not until he’s standing in her kitchen, the bag on her counter, that she realizes the similarities between this night and another one, roughly 3 months ago.

When he spots the box of cupcakes and remarks, “I feel like I should make a comment about the lack of dietary substance there,” she realizes he sees it too. “I won’t though,” he adds with a twinkle in his eyes. 

That glint is mesmerizing. “Probably a smart choice.” She means it as a teasing retort. Instead her voice comes out low and soft.

His eyes drop down to her lips. It’s just a quick glance but she catches it. The same way she catches his pupils dilating.

How do they keep getting back there?

*********

Maybe knocking on Hannah’s door was a bad idea. It’s just dinner, he kept saying to himself on the drive over. Just him doing whatever he can to be there, be present, be helpful. 

Except dinner is what started it all and, if he’s not careful, history could easily repeat itself.

Reluctantly, he tears his eyes away from Hannah, unpacking the food he brought. “I’m afraid I’m not as good of a chef as you are. I hope Chinese is okay.”

“It’s perfect. I was just about to order some actually.” 

Her voice is back to her regular tone. Friendly, joyful and warm. Gone is all lingering trace of more. He’s not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

They sit and eat across each other, a safe distance away. Just two friends sharing the events of their day with no risks of accidental skin contact to set them ablaze. 

Just like they’ve always been. 

Well, with one monumental addition. 

When silence falls between them, it only becomes bigger. Impossible to ignore.

“Should we start talking about how we’re going to do this?” He asks eventually. 

He hates the way her brow crinkles with concern and her shoulders suddenly tenses. She pushes her food away. “I guess we’ll have to at some point. Any pointers?” She asks with a weak smile.

“Not really. The first few months will be hectic. We should probably keep the baby in one place. Here?” 

She nods. “I’ll have a couple of months of maternity leave. You can come anytime. Spend as much time as you need.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

She looks at him, puzzled. “You don’t need to thank me, Dean. You’re the father. You have as much right to this as I do.”

Their eyes meet again and all he finds there this time is warmth and affection. If he looks more closely, could he see more? 

He drops his eyes to the empty plate in front of him. “Do you think we should get some kind of agreement on paper?”

“You mean like custody?” She looks almost hurt by the thought. “No. I mean, I don’t need that. I trust you, Dean. But if you do𑁋”

“No. No,” he counters immediately, catching her eyes and shaking his head. “I trust you too.” He clears his throat before the air between them turns magnetic again but he can’t bring himself to look away. God, he hopes the baby has her eyes. 

“We can do it, can’t we?” He hears the same tremors in her voice that he feels inside. Hope and fear mixed in an impossible turmoil. “We’ll be able to have this baby and still be us, right?”

“We haven’t let anything stop us yet,” he shrugs with a light smile.

He’s not sure exactly what triggers it but he knows right there and then. He’s fallen in love with Hannah Asher. It should be shocking, it should be like a burst of lightning striking him in place.

All he feels is peace. 

Maybe he’s known it all along. 

He expects panic to set in but looking at her, blonde hair falling in soft strands around her face, those deep blue eyes which took down every last brick of the walls he spent years, decades even, building, how could he be scared of these feelings? 

She never even had to try. She was just there. She came into his life at the exact right moment, simply snuck past his defenses and he was powerless to stop it. He didn’t even want to. His entire being recognized it before he did. She’s his anchor. His safety.

She’s the one.

“Dean?” 

A small flicker in his primitive brain almost tells her right at this moment but the sensible side of him wins. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Where did you go just now?” Of course, there was no way she wouldn’t notice. Not when she’s always been able to see right through him. “You seemed a million miles away.”

“Just thinking ahead I guess,” he brushes off. “It’s been a while since I’ve looked forward to the future.” 

“You’re not scared?” Her own question seems to surprise her.

“Of course I am,” he answers looking straight in her eyes. “I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t want to run and hide.”

“But you’re not?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I won’t,” he assures her. “When I said I wanted this baby… I meant it, Hannah. Obviously, this is not the way I thought it would happen. Hell, I didn’t imagine it would ever happen again but now that it is… I’m glad.”

Glad barely covers it. He can’t even really wrap his head around the fact that, by the end of the year, they’ll share a brand new human being. The thought itself is almost inconceivable and yet, if he lets his mind wander, he can see it. He can picture he and Hannah, holding their child and that image is enough to let his doubts disappear, if only for a fraction of a second. Even knowing that he and Hannah can never be more than what they are now, two people who deeply care about one another, raising a kid together, he’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time.

His feelings for her don’t change that. If anything, he’s more thankful for it than ever. His only hope is that she feels as fulfilled as he does.

“Are you?” He asks.

“Am I what? Scared? Glad? Both, I guess.” Hannah raises her shoulder in a powerless move. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s all happening at the worst possible time and there’s so many things that we still need to sort out, that I need to sort out,” she explains. “I have no idea how anything is going to work out but I know I want this. And also…” Her voice trails off. She purses her lips as if she’s not sure whether or not to say more. He doesn’t press, simply keeps his eyes on her, ready to listen to whatever it is she hesitates to speak out loud. “Also,” she starts again, a timid smile blossoming on her face. “I’m glad it’s you. There is no one else I’d rather do this with.”

The knot in his throat appears with such a force it almost brings him to his knees. A sheen of moisture prickles behind his eyelids. “Right back at you.”

Not his most eloquent moment but from the tilt of her head and the tender smile that springs on her face, it did the trick.

Eventually, one of them will change the subject, get back to less emotional, safer, lighter topics of conversation and he’s okay with that.

As long as he gets to be on this journey with her, he’s okay with just about everything.

Chapter Text

“Dr. Archer, there’s a patient waiting for you in Treatment 5,” Maggie says, handing him a tablet the second he walks onto the ED floor.

“And good morning to you too, Nurse Lockwood.”

“Oh I’m sorry, should I tell Mr. Heller and his wife they need to wait until their doctor can properly greet his colleagues?” The charge nurse quips. 

He should know better than to try and go against Maggie Lockwood. “Treatment 5 you said?”

“That’s what I thought.”

He takes the tablet, looking around as he makes his way across the room. He hoped to catch Hannah on her way in but construction on N Ogden slowed traffic down. The curse of summer in the city. He’s lucky enough he made it to Med on time, lest he suffer the wrath of Gaffney’s most intimidating charge nurse. 

“Mr. Heller?” He calls as he pulls the door to the treatment open.

“Mark, please. Mr. Heller is my dad,” the man on the hospital bed replies. “This is my wife, Lauren.” He turns towards her and it’s impossible to notice how these two look at each other. They’re both in their late 30s, maybe early 40s, he gauges, and obviously very much in love.

Dean almost feels like clearing his throat. “I’m Dr. Archer. What brings you here today?”

His question brings the man’s attention back to him. “I’ve been having these headaches for the last few weeks. I didn’t think anything of it but this morning…”

“He woke up and got sick immediately,” his wife takes over, taking her husband’s hand. “He was in so much pain. It doesn’t feel right.”

Mark squeezes his wife’s hand affectionately. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s a bit better already. It’s probably just a migraine or something.”

“I’d rather the doctor tells us that, honey,” Lauren says. 

“I just feel like I should be the one taking care of you right now.” Mark turns his attention back to Archer. “We’re trying to have a baby through IVF and all the injections… It’s a lot of side effects, you know.”

“I told you I’m fine. It’s all worth it to have our child,” Lauren insists, her free hand gently patting her husband’s shoulder. “And right now, you’re the one in the hospital bed. Let the doctor examine you.”

“Alright,” Mark complies. “But as soon as we…”

The man’s voice trails off as his eyes glaze over.

“Mr Heller? Mark?” Dean asks, stepping closer to the bed.

The man doesn’t answer. All of a sudden, his eyes roll over to the side, his entire body tensing.

“I need a nurse in here!” Archer calls. 

“Mark! Oh my god, what’s happening?” Lauren cries as Dean tries his best to protect the man from hurting himself against the sides of the bed.

“He’s seizing,” he explains as Trini enters the room and goes straight for the medicine cart. “Ten of Versed,” he instructs the nurse, even knowing full well she’s already well on her way to prep the injection.

Thankfully, it only takes one dose for the seizure to subside. “Let’s get a CBC, CMP and liver panel,” he orders Trini. “I also want an MRI ASAP.” 

“Dr. Archer, what’s going on?” Mrs. Heller asks. 

He’s no stranger to tragedy. His days as an emergency physician are full of it. It doesn’t mean the look of pure anxiety on the woman’s face doesn’t break his heart. “It’s hard to say right now but we’re going to figure it out.”

He leaves the room as he inputs his instructions into the tablet. 

“Tough case?” A familiar voice calls behind him as he reaches the nurse’s station.

He turns to find Hannah. “I don’t know yet. I’m hoping it’s just some kind of infection but I have a bad feeling about this. How are you?” 

“Good. Actually, I was looking for you. I made an appointment for my next ultrasound. It’s next week. I thought maybe you’d like to come? No pressure.” She quickly adds.

He doesn’t need to think twice about it. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Great.” She smiles at him and it’s enough to lighten his day. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Dr. Archer!” Trini calls as alarms start ringing. “He’s seizing again!”

This time, it takes a lot longer and a lot more medication to finally get Mark Heller stable. There’s no time for waiting anymore and he takes it upon himself to wheel the man to Imaging himself.

Half an hour later and his fears are confirmed. By the time Heller is back in his treatment room, now fully conscious and coherent, Sam Abrams has joined them.

“Your MRI shows a growth in your temporal lobe. It’s increasing the pressure in your brain and causing your headaches and now your seizures,” the neurosurgeon explains, showing the images to the patient and his wife.

“A growth?” Mark asks, looking anxiously between Abrams and his wife. “Like a tumor? I have cancer?”

“It’s too early to tell,” Dean jumps in. “We’ll need a biopsy to confirm but from the shape of it, we’re hopeful it’s benign.”

“Right now though,” Abrams continues. “We need to get you into surgery to remove it. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll keep seizing and it will eventually cause some brain damage.”

Lauren Heller grabs her husband’s hands, squeezing it tightly in hers. “Will my husband be okay?”

“I will do my best to remove it all but I can’t make any promises.”

Both doctors exit the room. A glance back shows the couple embracing, Mark gently caressing his wife’s face as they lean their forehead against each other.

“Poor couple. That diagnosis is going to throw a wrench in their plans,” Archer muses.

Abrams turns to him. “What do you mean?”

“They’re in the middle of a cycle of IVF. They’re probably going to have to reschedule the whole thing if they get more bad news.”

“Why would they? She’s not the one going to surgery and he’ll be recovering anyway. Unless you’re suggesting I’m going to botch this surgery.” Sam raises his eyebrows at him. If he didn’t know the man any better, he would think he took offense. 

“I would never dare,” Archer retorts with a smirk, holding his hand up in mock apology. “But you have to admit, it’s hardly the best timing.”

“I think you and I both know that timing has nothing to do with having children.” Touché. “Speaking of, I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks. I definitely did not think I would be doing this again, let alone in these circumstances but it’s good… I think,” Dean admits.

Abrams lets out a small laugh. “Trust me, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“How are Michelle and Mason by the way?” 

Is he genuinely curious about Abrams’ wife and son? Sure. Is it a way to circumvent the question he really wants to ask? Also yes. If Sam’s half-smile is any indication, the man sees right through it.

“They’re great,” he humors Archer. “Mason’s 18 months now. Walking around everywhere.”

Archer nods, non-committal. “Ah yes. Tough age to keep up with.” 

“Why don’t we cut to the chase and you ask me what you really want to ask me?” Sam sighs. “I have a surgery to get to.”

He should just say it but here, in the middle of the ED, feels like the wrong place to have this conversation. “You should go then.”

Abrams shakes his head. “Didn’t peg you for someone who gives up that easily, Archer,” he says. He starts walking towards the elevator before he stops and turns back. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

He watches, defeated, as the neurosurgeon disappears, soon followed by Mark Heller wheeled up to the surgery floor with his wife walking beside him, their hands still clasped together.

Why does he have to be like that? Why can’t he just ask the burning questions in his head? If anyone would understand his situation, it’d be Sam Abrams and yet, Dean has to make things more complicated than they are and evade difficult conversations. After what happened with Sean and the way he came to learn about the arrival of his new sibling, one would think he’d learn. Especially since his son is mostly avoiding him now.

The great thing about being a doctor in a very busy emergency department is that he doesn’t get to be frustrated with himself too long. It will come back later of course, he’s used to this wave of self-disappointment whirling over and over in his head. However, when two semis crash into each other on I-90, causing a massive pile-up, most of the critical victims end up at Med. With this kind of patient influx, he barely has time to breathe, let alone spin out. 

He ends up in the OR, performing a splenectomy on one of the truck drivers. The man is touch and go for a while but ultimately, he pulls through. Once he scrubs out, Archer takes the opportunity to find Mark Heller’s room in recovery. He gets there just as Sam Abrams exits.

“How’s he doing?” Archer asks.

“Pretty good, considering.”

Funny how one word can make your heart sink. “Cancer?” Archer asks.

“No, it was benign. Gangliocytoma. It was just too entrenched in his temporal lobe and I couldn’t get it all,” Abrams explains. 

Archer sighs. “What’s the prognosis?”

“Recurrence usually happens within ten years and it won’t be operable at this point. Not with the scar tissue from this surgery.”

Archer glances inside the room. Through the glass panel in the wall, he can see Mark and his wife embracing, grief-stricken. “How are they taking it?”

“It’s not the outcome anyone wanted but overall… as well as can be expected. They still have a lot to look forward to.”

But probably not the family they were hoping to start. Archer feels for the couple. To be on the verge of starting a family only to get a death sentence… What a terrible twist of fate. “I guess so. Life sure has a way of throwing you curveballs when you least expect it.”

Abrams raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you equating your unborn child to a tumor?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just saying, they’re young and the life they expected just got taken away from them. Meanwhile…” Dean’s voice trails off.

“Meanwhile, some old geezer gets a second chance?” Abrams offers.

Archer chuckles. “Something like that. How do you reconcile with that? How do you make sure you’re worth it?”

“You just do,” Sam shrugs as if it was the most obvious in the world. “The benefit of age is experience. If you know what you did wrong the first time around, all you can do is try and do it differently this time.”

“That easy, huh?” Archer gives a derisive snort.

“Hell no,” Abrams answers. “It’s the toughest thing you’ll ever do, and that’s coming from a brain surgeon. Doesn’t mean it’s impossible though. Well, for me anyway. I rarely fail at anything,” he deadpans, turning on his heels and leaving Dean standing alone in the hallway.

He’s about to make his way back downstairs when the door to Heller’s recovery room opens and his wife steps out. 

“Dr. Archer, I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” Lauren says.

“I was just coming to see how the surgery went. Dr Abrams updated me on the situation. I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. We hoped for better news but it could be worse. If Mark hadn’t come to the hospital today, we might not have had any time at all.” She looks at her watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go. You should go in though. I’m sure Mark would appreciate it.”

He watches the woman disappear around the corner before he steps into the room. 

“Dr. Archer,” the man in the bed said. “You just missed Lauren. She had to get home in time for her hormone shot.”

“Hormone shot? You’re still going through with the IVF even with everything that happened today?” Archer asks. 

“You mean, knowing I’ll probably be dead before my child gets to middle school? Maybe it’s selfish but my wife and I have always wanted to be parents.” Heller looks determined. “I know I won’t be around for as long as I’d hoped but ten years is a long time. If we’re lucky enough to have a child, I can still be there and make sure they’re loved for however long I have left.”

The words resonate in Dean’s head long after he leaves his patient. Heller’s reasoning seems implacable when he explains it.

Could it really be that simple?

**********

“Hey, how was your day?” Hannah asks when Dean walks into the doctor’s lounge at the end of shift. She frowns when she sees the pensive look on his face. “Everything okay?”

“All good. Just a long shift. I’m ready to call it a day,” he answers.

She feels that. The truck collision on I-90 left the entire ED bustling non-stop. Her entire body is sore and she’s ready for the night shift to take over. Truth is, though, she’s glad she managed to see Dean before she could leave. 

“Come on,” she says as he grabs his personal effects. “I’ll walk you out. I still need to give you the details for next week,” she remembers. 

“Right. The ultrasound.” He hesitates. “17 weeks… We could find out the sex of the baby.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. These last couple of weeks, she feels like she’s just been going through the motions. Her renewed second trimester energy means she’s been able to resume her regular routine and she feels more like herself. The pregnancy is still in her mind of course, but it’s fallen more in the background. The guilt builds as the realization sets in. 

“Yeah, I guess we could.”

“Would you rather keep it a surprise?” Dean asks. “I don’t mind either way.”

“No, I don’t either. We should,” she says. Maybe knowing whether they’re having a boy or a girl would allow her to project herself in the future. Despite her clothes being just a little tighter around her waist, at barely 16 weeks, her stomach is still mostly flat and this baby remains a very abstract thought. “Besides, I think we’ve had enough surprises for a while,” she jokes.

“There’s also the fact that one of us is a highly competent obstetrician and would spot that detail in a heartbeat,” Dean adds with a smile.

“That too,” she grins back, warmth spreading in her chest at the compliment.

“Any plans tonight?” Dean asks as they make their way out of the doctor’s lounge. 

“Just a very hot bath.” She stretches her back slightly at the thought. It’s become a new post-work ritual and she cannot wait. 

Of course, he notices. “Everything okay? Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine, Dean.” she reassures him. “Just normal second trimester aches and pains. Twelve hours on your feet will do that to you. You don’t have to worry about me, Dean,” she insists when he looks her over, bright blue eyes filled with concern. “I’m good now, I swear.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she assures him

“Good but if there’s ever anything-” he starts.

“You will be my first call, I promise.” 

His shoulders relax and he seems relieved. “Good.”

As soon as they step into the sweltering July heat, a voice calls Hannah’s name. Both she and Dean turn.

“Lizzy?” After weeks of radio silence, her sister was the last person she expected to find waiting for her outside of Med. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t even think he does it consciously but, as Lizzy takes a few steps closer, Dean angles himself to stand slightly in front of Hannah. She can’t blame him, she’s feeling a little defensive herself.

“I was hoping we could talk?” Her sister says, her eyes flickering between Dean and her. She’s not the only one who noticed the move. “I thought about going to your place but I wasn’t sure you’d open your door.”

Hannah crosses her arms in front of her. “That’s your play, not mine.”

For a fraction of a second, Lizzy looks like she’s about to fire back but instead, she gulps and takes a deep breath. “I guess I deserved that. I know you probably don’t want to see me but can you give me a chance? Please.”

Hannah’s anger deflates immediately at her sister’s plea. She looks sincere and the truth is, she really misses her sister. 

She turns to Dean, pulling him aside. “You should go.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, glancing over between her and Lizzy. “I don’t mind staying if you need some back-up,” he adds, lowering his voice so Lizzy can’t hear him.

She smiles softly at him. “I appreciate the offer but I think we need to sort this out just the two of us.”

“Alright. Let me know how it goes?” 

She nods

“Lizzy,” he says sternly with one last look towards her sister as he starts walking away.

“Dean,” she responds in kind. Hannah’s pretty sure she sees a tiny smile poking through her sister’s seriousness. It disappears as soon as he’s out of sight and she turns her attention back to her sister. “How have you been?”

“I’m good.” Despite her sister’s contrite look, Hannah can’t help but feel on edge. She wants to hope for the best but after everything that transpired the last time they faced each other, hoping feels risky. 

“Good,” Lizzy repeats. “That’s good. I rehearsed what I wanted to say in my head a million times on my way here,” she laughs nervously. “And now I can’t come up with anything. I guess I should start with ‘I’m sorry’”.

Hannah lets out a breath, a little relieved. They seem to be going in the right direction.

“I could give you a dozen excuses about why I said the things that I said but they’re just that. Excuses,” Lizzy goes on. “The truth is, you were right. I never stopped holding the past above your head. I built up all this resentment, even before you started using drugs, and I never dealt with it.”

Her sister’s eyes become glossy. Hers are heading the same way. “Because I took Mom away?”

“Yes,” Lizzy admits before shaking her head. “No. You didn’t. I never thought what happened to Mom was your fault but…”

“But you blame me for it anyway,” Hannah finishes.

“I didn’t realize I was doing it until I thought about…” She motions towards Hannah’s belly. “When you told me you were pregnant, it all came back to the surface. It felt like you were taking my chance at being a mother after you took everything else. Mom because you were born. My childhood because I had to take care of you and Matt. And then with your addiction, I still had to worry about everything, you know?” Hannah nods, quickly wiping a tear away. “But none of it was fair. You were a kid then and it wasn’t on you. And you’re not the person you were when you were using either and I should have seen that earlier. I’m really sorry, Hannah.”

When Lizzy bursts into sobs, there is nothing left to do for Hannah but to reach for her. Both of them hold onto each other, letting tears flow, until finally Lizzy pulls away. “I said so many awful things to you.”

“You were hurting,” Hannah says.

“That wasn’t a reason to hurt you . Can you forgive me?”

Hannah pulls her into another hug. “Are you really okay with all of this?” she whispers in her hair. 

Lizzy shrugs as they come apart, a wave of sadness passing across her face. “I’m not going to lie to you, it’s hard. Knowing you’re going to have a baby and I’m not… But I am happy for you and I do want to know my future niece or nephew.” She looks up at Hannah expectantly. “If you’re still okay with that.”

“Of course I am. They’re going to be lucky to have an auntie like you.”

“Do you want to grab dinner? My treat,” Lizzy offers. “We could catch up.”

As eager as Hannah was to go home earlier, spending the evening with her big sister sounds amazing. “I’d love to.”

“So you and Dean huh?” Lizzy wonders as they walk down the street.

“There is no me and Dean. I mean, obviously there was a me and Dean,” Hannah corrects when Lizzy’s eyebrow almost touches her hairline. “But we’re not… It’s complicated.”

“I guess so. When…?” She asks.

“Almost 16 weeks ago.”

Lizzy stops and looks up and down Hannah’s body. “You’re 4 months along and you still look like that? Okay, now I’m jealous. I felt like a bloated mess by then.”

As they both laugh their way to the nearest pizza place, it almost feels like no time has passed. Hannah isn’t naive enough to think all of their problems disappeared with one conversation. The jokes and teasing comments let them pretend they’re picking up right where they left off but, if she pays enough attention, it’s clear Lizzy is overcompensating. She can still feel Lizzy’s eyes on her stomach, see the sorrow flashing in her eyes at times but, for the first time in weeks, she can allow herself to be optimistic about their relationship. With time, she hopes everything will go back to normal.

And with one mess mostly resolved, maybe she’ll be able to finally focus on the baby.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been a doctor, being on the other side never gets any less nerve-racking. At least not for Hannah. Sitting in the waiting room for the last 45 minutes, the lump in the pit of her stomach is only getting bigger. She doesn’t even know why she’s so nervous. It’s only a routine ultrasound.

Except, she’s reaching the stage of her pregnancy where Lizzy lost her baby. She hasn’t told a soul, least of all Dean, but it’s been in the back of her mind. There is no reason to think her pregnancy isn’t perfectly normal. She can tell the baby’s been growing. In the last week, her stomach has fully popped out and there is no masking it. Shopping for maternity clothes is becoming urgent. Especially scrubs.

Dean noticed the new roundness of her belly right away. He didn’t say a word but it’s impossible to miss the way his eyes dipped to her waist. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Looking at her, seeking her out from across the room. She knows it’s his way of making sure she’s okay, that their baby is okay, but sometimes, she could swear there’s more. Or maybe she just wishes there was.

Or maybe second trimester hormones are messing with her head. 

Dean sitting right next to her in this waiting room isn’t helping. He looks just as anxious as she does. Several times, he gets to his feet to check in with the nurses, asking for an ETA from Dr. Patchefsky, only to be told over and over again she is being held up by an emergency and she’ll come as soon as she can. Eventually, she grabs his arm to stop him.

“If you go to those nurses one more time, they’re going to kick you out,” she jokes. “They can’t help it. We just have to be patient,” she adds more seriously. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he grumbles. 

But he sits back down and her hand stays there, in the crook of his elbow. Eventually, he reaches over and lays his on top of hers.

It’s funny. Before the night they ended up crossing the line between friends and more, they barely touched. Since then however, even though they both firmly agreed to remain on the friendship side of the line, they can’t seem to help it. Of course, these gestures are only there for comfort, for support. Why then, when his thumb starts mindlessly stroking her skin after a while, does it spark lightning from the back of her hand all the way up her neck? How can such an innocent touch stir so much inside of her?

It’s definitely hormones. It has to be.

“Hannah Asher?” A nurse finally calls.

They both stand, letting go of each other and the twist in her stomach cranks up to eleven. They’re led down the hallway, to an exam room where Hannah slips behind a curtain divider to change into a hospital gown. As soon as she lies down on the exam room bed, Archer puts the sheet over her legs and pulls the chair next to her head. 

His hand slips right back into hers. 

“What do you think?” she asks, desperate for a distraction as they wait for the obstetrician. “Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” he says without missing a beat.

She looks at him, surprised. “Given it a lot of thought, have you?”

He grins. “Just a little.” He tilts his chin toward her. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Truth is, she’s still having a hard time picturing what it will be like, roughly five months from now. What does it say about her, about what kind of mother she’ll be when she can’t even picture herself in that position? “It doesn’t matter either way though, right?”

He squeezes her hand. “Of course not. I just want our baby to be healthy.”

Our baby. Dean and hers. 17 weeks in and she still can’t fully wrap her head around that. It doesn’t matter what the future holds, even if they’re not together, once this baby comes, they will be a family, tethered to one another forever. This should be one more thing bringing her to the edge of panic but it doesn’t.

There isn’t time to reflect on that particular realization. There’s a knock on the door quickly followed by Olga Patchefsky entering the room. “Sorry to make you wait so long. How are you two doing?” Olga makes deft work of Hannah’s physical exam, alternating between questions about the pregnancy and small talk with both her and Dean before she finally turns to the ultrasound machine. “I’m sure you two are eager to see your baby. I understand you’re both okay to find out the sex?”

When they both nod, she grabs the wand and applies it to Hannah’s stomach. Within seconds, the first image pops up on the screen. Hannah looks at Dean. He’s seen it too. 

“Is the baby…?” He asks, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Yep,” Patchefsky confirms. “Looks like she found her thumb.”

Hannah whips her head back towards the screen. “She?” Her trained eyes see the proof immediately, even before her colleague confirms it. 

“That definitely looks like a little girl to me.” 

Another press of Dean’s hand brings her attention back to him. This time, his eyes are trained on her, an unmistakable gloss in them. “We’re having a girl,” he repeats, his voice barely high enough to hear. 

She nods, swallowing hard to stop her own tears threatening to escape. 

“The heart looks good,” Patchefsky says as she continues her examination, bringing both parents’ attention to the screen. “All four chambers are defined. Heartbeat is strong.” She moves the wand around. “Kidneys are normal. Liver looks fine. Alright, let me take a look at her brain now.” The obstetrician’s voice trails off as she realigns herself. 

Hannah sees Olga’s slight frown before she can hide it. “What is it?” She asks right away. “What did you see?” She looks back and forth between the doctor and the monitor.

Her colleague turns the monitor toward her, momentarily blocking Hannah and Dean from looking at it.

“Is there something wrong?” Dean asks too. “What is it?”

Patchefsky squints at the monitor. “It may be nothing. Give me one minute…” She taps a few keys on the machine, readjusts the transducer, taps again. “Okay, every major organ looks good and well within the norms of what we want to see at this stage of the pregnancy.” She pauses as she turns the screen back towards them. “However, as you can see, there’s just a little more fluid at the back of the baby’s neck that I would normally like.”

“What are you saying?” Dean wonders, his eyes automatically searching for Hannah’s.

She knows exactly what it means. So does Dean, there’s no doubt about that, but knowing and hearing the words out loud are two very different things. 

“It means there’s a chance our baby could have some genetic abnormalities. Down Syndrome or another trisomy,” Hannah says. She sees his heart sinking the same way hers did the second she saw the measurements on the screen. 

“A chance,” Patchefsky stresses. “Hannah, you know as well as I do that it only means an increased risk. It’s not a definite diagnosis. I’d like to send you for an amniocentesis. I would have suggested one anyway considering your age but with those findings, the sooner the better.”

Dean’s hand is still holding on tightly to hers and she squeezes it right back. It feels like the only thing stopping her from spiralling entirely right now. “Of course. When?”

Olga moves to the computer on the side of the room. “I can probably fit you in next week? Does that work for you?”

Hannah nods. “I’ll make it work.”

“Alright then.” She looks back and forth between Hannah and Dean. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Once the door closes behind the obstetrician, a leaden silence engulfs the room. Neither of them can move, let alone speak. She can barely even look at him right now. There’s enough scenarios hustling through her mind, she doesn’t think she’s strong enough to confront Dean’s.

And then the immobility is too much. Her entire body yearns to run away from this place, from the hospital, from the news. She lets go of Dean’s hand and jumps off from the bed.

“Hannah?” Dean asks cautiously.

She has no choice but to face him. He seems just as lost as she is and part of her wants to run in his arms and crumble but she can’t. Not here. Not now. “I’m just going to get changed and then… Can we get out of here?” She pleads.

She disappears behind the panels when he nods. By the time she’s back in her jeans and shirt, she feels a little stronger. More importantly, she knows exactly what she needs to do. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks her the moment she steps back in his sight.

How can this man ever think he’s unworthy of anything? True, when they first met, she pegged him for a hardass, self-centered jerk and maybe, to some extent, he was. It couldn’t be further from the truth today. He should be reeling right now. He probably is, and yet, his attention is turned to her. 

“Not really. You?”

“Not really either,” he says, a weak smile on his face. “Let’s go,” he adds with a soft tilt of his head toward the exit.

They manage to leave the hospital, appointment date and time in hand, without running into anyone they know. It’s a small miracle and she’s thankful for it. When they reach their car, parked only a few spaces from each other, she turns to Dean.

“I need to hit a NA meeting but after…”

He understands immediately. He doesn’t want to be alone either. “My place or yours?” 

“How about I grab dinner and meet you at your place in a couple of hours. We can talk about all of this?” She ventures.

“Anything you need,” he replies and starts turning around.

She grabs his arm to stop him, waiting for him to face her again before she speaks. “It works both ways, you know.” He looks at her quizzingly. “You’ve been there for me through all of this so far but just so you know, whatever you need, I’m here too.” Her hand trails down until she can wrap her fingers around his. 

She watches as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “I’ll remember that,” he answers, his voice low. “Go to your meeting and I’ll see you after. That’s all I need right now.” He gives her hand one last comforting squeeze before she can let go. “The rest can wait until then.”

**********

The next two hours are nothing short of torture. He makes it home way too fast and it leaves him with nothing to do but wait. And think.

Holy hell, does he think.

The fact that Hannah took it upon herself to go straight to a meeting is both distressing and reassuring. He trusts her to know how to handle this in a way that works best for her peace of mind and her sobriety. Himself? He doesn’t trust his coping mechanism one bit.

For starters, he’d need to have one and he’s pretty sure pacing relentlessly in his living-room doesn’t qualify. On the other hand, his muddled thoughts make it impossible to sit still.

Just when he and Hannah manage to find a way to navigate the new waters they’ve been thrown into, a new storm seems to head their way. It doesn’t matter how many scenarios he foresaw before the ultrasound, nothing could have prepared him for the news that something might be wrong with the baby.

With their daughter.

They didn’t even have time to relish this discovery. In the days leading to the appointment, he’d caught himself daydreaming about a blonde baby girl with the same bright eyes and soft smile as her mom. He’s torn between the joy of this image possibly coming to fruition and the terror of it being ripped away.

He’ll love this child no matter what, he knows that. He just can’t fathom the thought of their little girl suffering in any way. 

The knock at his door comes as a relief. Whatever anxiety he’s feeling, Hannah is obviously right there with him. The two of them have been able to deal with everything so far, they’ll be able to confront another curveball, won’t they?

“I got burgers,” Hannah says as she steps into his home and he takes the bag of food from her. “I hope that’s alright.”

“You know me. I’m easy.” He hesitates. “How was the meeting?”

“Good,” she answers, nodding her head. “It helped a little. How about you?” She asks softly. “How are you feeling about all this?”

He sighs, dropping the food on his kitchen counter before looking at her. He meets her eyes, only to find the same angst he feels. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I can’t help but wonder…” 

“Wonder what?”

“If me being older could-”

“No, no, no. We’re not playing that game,” she stops him instantly, closing the gap between them. “Whatever happens, it’s not your fault and it’s not my fault. It’s just bad luck.” When his eyes drop to the floor, she reaches for him, her hand coming to a rest on his shoulder. “Hey, look at me. We don’t even know if there is something we need to worry about.”

“And if there is?” He asks. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

The wave of uncertainty that flashes in her eyes almost topples him. She deflates as if he pointed out the one flaw in an otherwise perfect argument. Her hand falls down his arm but he grabs it before she can walk away from him. “Of course I have. I’m an OB, I’m painfully aware of everything that can go wrong. I’ve given those diagnoses many, many times. I had to give my own sister the worst possible one not too long ago. It almost feels like karma.”

“What happened to not blaming ourselves?” He teases.

She lets out a derisive chuckle. “It’s a lot easier when you’re on the other side of the advice. I know those things happen and it’s nobody’s fault…” Her voice trails off as she looks away.

This time, it’s his turn to force her gaze back to him when he links their fingers together in what he hopes is a comforting touch. “But?” He knows it’s coming. He can hear it in her voice. Whatever is weighing on her, he hopes she shares it with him. 

“I feel guilty. It’s like I took Lizzy’s dream away. I told her her baby died. I couldn’t save her uterus and now I’m pregnant when I should be carrying her child? And a girl too? Maybe this is life’s way of righting some wrongs.”

 A wave of anger flames behind his face. “Did she tell you that?”

Hannah shakes her head. “She felt that way at first but she doesn’t blame me. Not anymore at least. We’re okay, for the most part,” she assures him when he frowns. “I’m just having a hard time shaking it off. I’m not sure you’re aware but when it comes to my sister, sometimes my reactions are not clear-headed.”

He pretends to think before he answers. “I hadn’t noticed, no.” 

The amused smile tugging the corners of her mouth sends a jolt to his heart that leaves him almost light-headed. Until she grows serious again. “I’m almost at the same point Lizzy was when she miscarried. Part of me wonders… Is this history repeating itself?” 

A better man than him would reassure her, tell her that everything is going to be alright. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. 

“Why does this feel like yet another battle I have to face?” 

When her voice breaks, he pulls her against him. He’s as surprised as she is by it but she quickly relaxes, her head dropping to his shoulders. His chin comes to rest on the crown of her head. “Hey, you’re not alone this time. I’ll face this one with you.” He feels her nodding against the crook of his neck. As much as he wishes they could stay like this forever, he moves away slightly, just enough to be able to catch Hannah’s eyes. “We’re in this together. No matter what.”

A strand of blond hair falls in front of her eyes and before he can stop himself, he reaches and brushes it away, his forefinger tucking it behind her ears. He should let go, he knows it, but his body refuses to obey. His eyes are drawn to her lips as they part slightly open. 

He doubts she’s aware of how her entire body leans into his touch, her eyelids fluttering close at the scrape of his fingertips. And so he does the only thing he can think of.

He gives in.

The first brush of his lips against Hannah’s is slow, a ghost of a kiss. Both their breaths catch in their throat as time stops between them. When her mouth moves under his in the same languid, torturous way, the sparks of it tingles down his body and jump-starts him.

Before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing, his hands are traveling down her sides, snatching around her waist as he pulls her flush against him. He swallows the small whimper escaping her with a searing kiss and she’s right there with him.

Her fingers are on a journey of her own, trailing upward over his shirt until they snake around the back of his head. When they burrow into his hair, her fingernails teasing his scalp, he loses all sense of space and time. 

The only tangible in his universe is Hannah. The only thing that matters is her body against his.

He never wants to let go.

Chapter Text

It’s a whirlwind. 

A tornado of touches and feelings all rushing through her and she’s powerless to stop it. The second he touches his lips to hers, a primal force takes over and dictates her actions. He’s an assault on her senses and she welcomes it with full abandon.

Enthralled that she is by the taste of his mouth and the vibrations in his chest every time she tugs slightly on his hair, she doesn’t notice his hands leaving her waist until they slide over her ass. They linger there briefly, setting her skin ablaze through the fabric of her jeans, before he hoists her up. Her legs instinctively link around his waist as he walks them backwards. Why have they been separated for so long? For the life of her she can’t remember the reason. His arms around her, his broad chest pressing against hers, surely that can’t be wrong? Not when it feels so right. Her calves tighten around his waist. She needs him closer. They could fuse themselves to one another and it still wouldn’t be enough.  

Even when he props her up on the kitchen counter, they never pull apart. 

Breathing is irrelevant as long as he’s kissing her.

It doesn’t matter anyway because as soon as she’s sitting, his mouth dips into the collar of her blouse, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. She bucks against his hips, desire pooling low between her legs when she feels him right there against her. The friction is delicious and frustrating all at once, the fabric between them an annoying hindrance. 

His fingers are brushing the outside of her thighs, slowly scorching their way up until they find the tiny band of skin between her blouse and jeans. The rough calluses of his thumbs roam her lower abdomen, just above the button of her pants and she almost begs him to open it.

It’s as if no time has passed and they’re right back to where they were four months ago.

The thought washes over her like a cold shower and she tenses up.

Dean feels it immediately and freezes over her as her legs fall on each side of him.

“We can’t do this, Dean,” she whispers. “Not again.”

He bows his head as he sighs against her neck before he pulls away “I know.” She ignores the goosebumps spreading all over her skin as he helps her down. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not on you,” she replies, trying her best not to notice how tousled his hair is. The blood rushes to her face at the sight of her handiwork. “Not entirely anyway,” she adds, walking past him to the other side of the room. 

Distance is good. Distance is safe.

“Please, don’t leave.”

She turns to face him. His eyes pleading at her almost cause her to run back in his arms. “I’m not leaving, Dean,” she assures him. “But we need to talk about this because it can’t keep happening.”

He seems a little relieved now that he knows she’s not bolting out of the door but she can tell he’s dreading the talk ahead of them. So is she in some ways. She and Dean have just found a semblance of balance in the midst of this unexpected pregnancy and now they might be right back where they started.

That’s exactly why this conversation needs to happen. If they can’t stop repeating the same pattern over and over again, what happens when a baby is thrown in the mix? What happens to them?

“Okay,” Dean says as he places himself behind the kitchen island. “Let’s talk about it then.”

If she’s so adamant about keeping apart, why is she so disappointed when he follows her lead? Most importantly, why can’t she stop wishing the hands gripping the marble countertop were still holding onto her?

“What are we doing here?” She asks, her shoulders dropping. 

He shrugs, a weak smile forming at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. It turns out, I’m not exactly good at thinking when you’re close.”

Even from where she stands, she can tell his pupils are still blown, the blue of his eyes so dark they could pass for black. “It’s not funny, Dean,” she whispers and he at least has the decency to look contrite. “This,” she continues, motioning between the two of them. “Is not the way to deal with bad news.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” He questions.

“Isn’t it?” She retorts. “The first time it happened, we were both lonely, looking for comfort. And today…” She trails off, letting him fill in the blanks. “I know I was the one who started all this. If I’d walked away that night…” 

She stops, unwilling to finish her sentence. 

“Do you regret it?” Dean asks suddenly, a pang of anguish flashing across his face.

“Of course not,” she replies softly, her hand instinctively smoothing over the small bump of her belly. “How could I? I’m not denying there’s something between us.” Hard to argue they’re just friends when five minutes ago, they were making out on his kitchen counter. “But everything is different now. It doesn’t matter if this feels safe and comfortable, we can’t do this again. It’s not just about us anymore.”

“We have to do what’s best for our daughter.” 

“Exactly. It’s complicated enough without muddling it any further.”

Dean opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but seems to think better of it. Instead, he simply nods. “I guess you’re right. So… Friends, then.” It’s not really a question.

“Something like that,” she agrees.

She could swear she notices his features drops but he turns away from her too quickly to be sure. He riffles through a couple of cupboards, taking out plates and cups to set the table and by the time he faces her again, all lingering traces of whatever transpired on his face is gone.

“How about friends who have dinner together?” He tilts his chin towards the untouched brown paper bag she brought.

It’s his way of saying they’re okay. She’s relieved of course. After all, this is exactly what she wanted. The dull tightness in her chest is beside the point. This is what they need to be. She walks to the island and grabs the food out of the bag. A simple cheeseburger for him, ketchup, mustard and onions, no pickles. And for her…

“What is this abomination?” Dean asks when she carefully unwraps the wax paper.

“It’s a burger,” she replies innocently as she sits down. 

He leans in, his eyes narrowing on the content of her plate. “Is that peanut butter?”

She hums a confirmation. “And pickles. And banana peppers. It’s delicious. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He pretends to wrinkle his nose as he sits in front of his own meal but there’s a flicker of mirth in his eyes. “I suppose the baby wants what she wants.”

She pauses, glancing down at her plate. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the strange topping combo she’s been obsessed with these last couple of weeks could be pregnancy cravings. She takes a bite, savoring the gooey salt, sour and spicy combo on her tongue. “Well, the baby has good taste,” she says, her mouth still half-full. “I know it shouldn’t work but it really does. You sure you don’t want a bite?” She offers, holding her burger toward him.

He laughs. “No, thank you. I’ll stick to mine.”

It’s amazing how they can fall back into easy talk. It’s always been this way. From the beginning, they’ve never let anything stand between them for too long. That’s just who they are. Two friends who have dinner together. Two friends who now share a child.

Maybe it’s not that complicated after all.

*********

This is déjà vu and frankly, Dean’s not a big fan.

Three weeks ago, they were sitting in the same waiting room. Three weeks ago, Olga Patchefsky dropped a potential bombshell on them.

Hannah and he have talked about it at length since that day. He was by her side for the amniocentesis the following week, holding her hand through the procedure and forcing himself to look anywhere but at the needle piercing Hannah’s skin. At least, that appointment had been routine. No side effects. No complications.

Small blessings, right?

He’s been counting the days since. Twelve to be exact, from the procedure to the result. Yet another moment that could drastically change their future. They’ve agreed on the course of action, for the most part. Both of them are ready to go through with the rest of the pregnancy unless the test shows a dire genetic anomaly that would only mean pain and suffering for their daughter.

He reaches for his phone, checking the time on the screen. Five more minutes until it’s time. Hopefully, there won’t be any delay today. He’s not sure he could take it. Glancing to the seat next to her, he’s not sure Hannah could either. She’s been unusually quiet, the lines on her forehead deepening with each tick of the clock.

They both took the day off. Whether they leave celebrating or with more decisions to make, neither of them would be keen on spending a full shift in the ED.

His phone buzzes in his hand and Hannah turns to him. “Is that Sean?” 

“He’s waiting outside,” he reads the screen. “He wishes us luck.”

While they kept the ultrasound discovery away from their colleague, Dean told his son about the potential diagnosis. To his dad’s surprise, Sean insisted on flying to Chicago and being there for the news, whatever it may be. Every time they’ve broached the topic of the baby so far, they stayed superficial. Mostly “How is everything?” and polite nods at updates. Maybe Dean should have tried to go deeper but at least, this has triggered something and he is thankful for Sean’s presence.

He quickly sends Sean a response and slides the device back in his pocket. “I’m sorry Lizzy couldn’t come.”

As far as he knows, Hannah and her sister are getting along. After some hesitation, Hannah told Lizzy about the testing being done and she was supportive. 

“That’s okay. She tried to get off work but she’s run out of personal days,” Hannah explains. 

“Hannah Asher?” The nurse calls.

The lump of anxiety tightens in his throat and drops down to his stomach as they get to their feet. “Ready?” He offers his hand to Hannah.

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his as they walk towards Dr. Patchefsky’s office. She’s already waiting at her desk when they enter, getting up briefly to shake their hands before they all sit down.

“I’m sure you’re both very anxious to know the results of the amnio so I’m not going to beat around the bush,” she starts and he hears Hannah’s breath hitch at the same time as his. “Everything looks normal. No chromosomal addition or depletion.” A gush of air flows out of his lungs as he turns to Hannah. Her eyes are wide with relief and incredulity. “As far as we can tell, you are expecting a very healthy baby girl. The genetics confirm it.”

He hears the obstetrician’s voice go over the details of everything they tested for but he can’t bring himself to listen too closely. As the lists of conditions their daughter has officially evaded scrolls through, Hannah’s smile becomes brighter and it’s all he can do to blink back the moisture in his eyes. 

When finally, the appointment comes to an end and Patchefsky leaves the room, Hannah finally looks at him. “She’s okay,” she whispers, bewildered. “She’s really okay.”

She wipes her eyes as the relief washed over her and he’s no longer able to contain his own. What else is he supposed to do but wrap his arms around her and pull her to him? She holds on tight as they both ride this wave of pure joy. He allows himself to drop a soft kiss on the crown on her head. When she tenses suddenly in his arms, he pulls away. Did he go too far?

She waves him off before he can even start to apologize. “It’s not that. I… I think I just felt her move.” She smoothes a hand over her stomach, dropping her eyes to it. “There, again… It’s just a flutter but I think it’s her.” 

Part of him wants to reach for her and try to feel it himself but they both know it’s too early for that. He envies this early connection she has to their daughter but watching her mouth stretch with awe is worth having to wait a few more weeks. 

“Come on,” she says eventually. “We should go meet Sean.”

They find him close by, sitting in one of the shaded benches outside of Gaffney. As they approach, he rises to his feet.

“So, how did it go?” He asks without preamble.

Hannah looks over at Dean, signaling him that the good news is his to deliver. “Clean bill of health,” he says to his son. 

The way Sean deflates with relief floods his heart with warmth. It’s the first time since he told him about the baby that they’ve seen each other face to face and until recently, he wasn’t even sure Sean would have much interest in his sibling at all. 

“That’s amazing, Dad,” he says, pulling Archer into a hug before he turns to Hannah. “Congratulations,” he starts. “I wanted to apologize,” he continues once Hannah thanks him. “To both of you. I know I’ve been a little weird about this and I just wanted to say it has nothing to do with you. I was just surprised and...” 

When he pauses and glances over at Dean, Hannah understands. “I should go and call Lizzy. She’ll be waiting by the phone.” 

When Hannah walks a few feet away to make her call, Sean motions towards the bench. As they sit on it, he grabs a small plastic bag. “I bought this on my way here,” he says, handing over the bag to Dean. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it or anything.”

“That’s okay, son,” he replies. “What is it?” 

“Open it.”

He reaches in and pulls out two small garments, smiling at his son when he realizes what he’s holding. He lays the two onesies on his lap. They’re both soft, white cotton, the only difference being the print on the front in bold letters. “Little Sister” on one of them, “Little Brother,” on the other.

“Sean…” Dean’s voice subsides, swept by the flow of emotions rushing through him. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past couple of months. When you told me about Hannah and the baby, I wanted to be happy about it. Part of me definitely was but I also felt…” Dean stays silent, waiting for his son to find the right words. “Upset, I guess, and I couldn’t understand why.” Dean’s heart sinks. Once more, it appears he caused more aches for Sean. “I ended up reaching out to my sponsor and we talked about it. A lot.” He cocked his head to the side with a chuckle. “In the end, I realized I was jealous,” he admits.

Out of all the ways he expected Sean to react, anger was top of his list. “You’re jealous?” 

Sean nods. “I am… Was,” he corrects himself. “Well, I guess I still am in some ways. This baby, it’s a fresh slate for you and I know you’re going to be such a good dad for this child. I can’t help but wish I had this version of you growing up too.”

Dean bows his head. “I’m so sorry, son. If I could go back and change the way I was back then…”

“I know you would,” Sean assures him with a soft smile. “And it’s okay. I would change a lot of what I’ve done too but I’m at peace with the past. It is what it is and there’s nothing we can do about it. No point dwelling on it now.”

“You can’t woulda, coulda, shoulda your life.” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. His eyes dart to the side, glancing over to Hannah, still on the phone in the distance, before he focuses his attention back to his son.

Sean follows his father’s gaze. He tries to stifle the smirk on his face but there’s a very good chance he knows exactly whose words Dean was repeating. “Something like that. What’s important is where we are now and I’m so grateful we have each other again. I still have some work to do over all this but I’m excited about having a sibling.”

“That kid is lucky to have you as a big brother. I love you, son,” Dean says, his voice thick with the tears prickling the back of his eyes. 

“I love you too, Dad.”

Dean grabs the “Little Brother” onesie, still splayed on his lap and hands it back to Sean. “You can return that one by the way.”

Sean’s grin stretches wide. “It’s a girl?” 

“It’s a girl,” Dean confirms, a matching smile on his lips.

“You’re in so much trouble.” Sean chuckles at his dad’s confused look. “My little sister is going to have you wrapped around her little finger. Especially if she looks anything like her mother. I wonder if I should let Hannah know about that.”

“Please, don’t.” There is no point denying it. He’s known it to be true from the moment his wandering mind pictured their daughter. 

“I guess she’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

From the grin still on Sean’s face, Dean has a feeling his son isn’t talking only about his parenting abilities. Not a stretch of the imagination considering he saw the sparks between him and Hannah before either of them did. 

That doesn’t mean he’s willing to acknowledge it now. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to. From the other side of the parkette, Hannah hangs up her call and walks back toward them. “How do you two feel about pancakes to celebrate? Lizzy invited us to drop by.” 

“I’m in,” Sean says, standing up. 

As they make their way to their cars, Dean finds himself falling a step behind and taking in the picture in front of him. 

Sean, Hannah and his daughter, still safely tucked away inside her mother. 

His family.

He never thought he’d get this lucky again and he’s never going to take it for granted. No matter how many fears and doubts he needs to get through, he vows to make the most of this second chance. Whatever comes their way, he’ll be ready for it.

Chapter Text

“You alright there, Dean-O?” 

Dean looks up from his phone at Daniel Charles’ voice. He never noticed the man enter the room, let alone make his way to the coffee station. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, his eyes dropping back to his screen. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve just never seen you this captivated by a screen before. If you frown any more, I might have to get you checked out for a stroke,” the Head of Psychiatry deadpans.

Dean rolls his eyes at him from the table.  “Very funny. I’m just trying to figure out what to buy for the baby. There weren't that many choices thirty years ago, were there? What the hell is even a 6-in-1 crib? How many beds does a baby need?”

His eyes fall on the untouched salad in front of him. Did he spend his entire lunch break scrolling through pages of baby equipment stores?

“Don’t look at me,” Charles answers, a hand lifted in front of him. “I’m afraid I didn’t have much of a part in the shopping stage. Both times. I left CeCe and Susan to do the heavy lifting unfortunately.”

“I was at the base more than I was at home during Leanne’s pregnancy,” Dean admits. “I would get through the door and boxes were waiting for me, ready to assemble. That was the extent of my contribution.” As much as he and Leanne were excited to start their family, he’s forced to recognize he was a lousy partner from the beginning. 

No chance he does it again. 

Since the minute he got back to his place after the celebration at Cozy Corner almost a week ago, he’s buried himself in research. What kind of stroller should they get? How to properly install an infant car seat? Is a crib sufficient or is it wise to start with a bassinet? 

He already emptied his home office. Since it’s located right next to his bedroom, it makes sense to turn it into a nursery. The desk, computer and bookshelves are currently relegated to his downstairs gym, the room now split in half and serving double duty.

At the end of the day however, he’s found himself with more questions than answers. He spends his time browsing endless websites, occasionally driving to a physical store. Parenting books are piling up on his nightstand and despite all that, he’s unable to make any decisions.

In other words, he feels utterly useless.

“Maybe Hannah knows a thing or two about it? Didn’t she do any of that with her sister?” Charles wonders.

“Possibly,” Deans answers vaguely. 

He’s tried to talk to Hannah about it once or twice but something always comes up. They keep getting interrupted by calls or texts or patients. He’s trying his best not to get frustrated by it but he’s ready to start getting things ready for the baby and the lack of progress is driving him crazy.

Is that what they call nesting? Feels a bit early for that if you believe the books.

“Dr. Archer?” Doris says as she pokes her head into the doctor’s lounge. “Are you free?”

Dean sighs. At least, on the ED floor, he can be decisive. “What do you have for me?”

“MVA. Peds vs auto. ETA 5 minutes.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Doris disappears as Dean stands up and heads to the staff’s fridge, stuffing his untouched salad amidst the rest of his colleague’s lunches. 

“Dean?” Dr. Charles calls as he’s about to leave the room. He flips on his heels, door half-opened. “Plenty of people in the ED have kids. I’m sure at least one of them would be able to give you a couple of pointers.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Dean replies. “Thanks.”

On his way to the ambulance bay, his eyes instinctively seek Hannah. Unfortunately for him, she’s nowhere to be seen, probably busy with a patient herself.

The pedestrian turns out to be a nine year-old girl clipped by a sedan running the red at a crossing. Thankfully, her injuries are minor, a broken arm easily reduced without surgery and some pretty nasty but overall harmless road rash on her legs. 

He exits the room after his initial exam at the same time Doris does. “Let me know when her parents get here so we can get consent for treatment, will you? Prep 2.5 of Morphine and material for casting too.”

“Right away, Dr. Archer,” Doris replies automatically as she starts walking away.

“Hey, Doris? You got kids, right?” He inquires when the nurse stops to face him. 

Her left eyebrow shots to the roof. “Yeah, I do.” 

“What’s your take on strollers?” He asks before he can change his mind.

The way Doris looks at him, you’d swear he just ordered her to recite the alphabet backwards. “They’re necessary?” She ventures, obviously confused.

“You know what? Nevermind. Just… go.” He tells her, waving her away.

She seems more than relieved to do so. Dean sighs, frustrated as he makes his way to the nurse’s station, tapping the treatment orders into his tablet.

“You’re probably going to need a stroller with a car seat at first.” Dean lifts up his head toward the voice, only to find Ripley, sitting at the computer right across from him. “Some of them can turn into toddler strollers too,” he continues without so much as looking at Archer. “They’re a bit bulky but they’re convenient. You only need one at the beginning.”

Dean can’t help but gawk at him, speechless. Mitchell Ripley is probably the last person he expected to get shopping advice from. For a whole array of reasons. His surprise must be noticeable because Mitch looks up when he doesn’t hear any feedback. “What?” He shrugs. “I learnt a thing or two with Nate.”

“What do you mean you only need one at the beginning?” Dean blurts out.

“Most people end up with two or three as their kids get older. I think Lynne has four, but they’re all second-hand.”

At this point, Dean is just too shocked and confused to care about the amused smile on Ripley’s face. “Four? How…? Why?” 

“The bigger one with storage is easier for walks and shopping, especially in the snow.” Mitch explains, counting on his fingers. “Then two umbrella strollers, one that stays in her car, one at home and another mid-weight stroller she uses on and off. It’s probably a bit much but it works for her.” He stands up for the workstation and walks around the desk, tapping Dean’s shoulder as he passes. “Don’t worry, Dean. You’ll figure it out.”

He watches as the younger doctor enters Treatment 1. He’s only worked a handful of cases with Mitch Ripley in the three months since the news of Hannah’s pregnancy became public and their interactions had been polite but firmly professional and he’d wondered if the man resented him in some way. 

Or maybe it was Archer himself who was walking on eggshells around him.

After today though, it’s clear whatever feelings he attributed to Ripley, they’re both past it. An unexpected but welcome relief.

A streak of burgundy scrubs and blonde hair crosses the floor, right at the corner of his field of vision. It’s ridiculous how attuned he is to Hannah these days, as if his mind wants to know where she is at all times, his body transformed into a radar going off whenever she’s close by.

She walks all the way through the ED, passing the door to the waiting room and he follows. He can tell himself he just wants to make sure she and the baby are okay but deep down, he knows the truth. Selfishly, he needs a moment in Hannah’s light.

He finds her studying the vending machine selection. “Anything interesting?”

The way her face lights up at the sight of him never fails to send a jolt of adrenaline to his heart. “Too many,” she laughs. “Salt and vinegar chips sound amazing right now.” She ponders her choice for a second before she presses a few buttons and a bag of mixed nuts falls into the collection area. “But I’m going to be a responsible adult for today and go with the better nutritional option.” She retrieves her snack. “What are you doing?” She asks, puzzled as he steps in front of the machine and makes his own selection. 

“Sometimes, being responsible is overrated,” he states innocently, pulling the bag of chips she was eyeing a minute ago out of the vending machine.

“You don’t even like salt and vinegar chips,” she points out.

He pretends to look more closely at the snack he’s holding. “Are those salt and vinegar? What a shame,” he deadpans. “I should have been paying more attention. Here,” he hands them to her. “They shouldn’t go to waste. You’d be doing me a favor,” he insists.

She tilts her head to the side, her mouth pursing as she tries to stifle a grin. “Well, in that case.” She takes the snack from him. When her fingers brush his, he acts as if he doesn’t notice. Friends. That’s all they are after all.

“I was wondering,” he starts as they walk back into the ED. “Do you think we should buy the same things for the baby? Would it make going from one home to the other easier for her?” Focusing on nursery shopping is safer than dwelling on how much he misses her touch.

Her eyes drift away from him. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Isn't it still a little early to think about?”

He’s about to counter that they’re slightly over halfway through the pregnancy when Lenox appears from behind a curtain.

“Dr. Asher, I need you for a consult.”

She smiles apologetically at him as she stuffs the snacks in her pockets and disappears into the treatment room with Lenox. He could swear she seems relieved by the interruption. Thinking back, it becomes obvious that she’s avoiding any practical talk about the baby lately. 

He frowns. He knows she’s happy about the pregnancy and she cares about the baby. Her reactions last week were proof enough. Something is bothering her though, that much is clear.

What the hell is going on?

**********

Why is she so eager to flee? 

There’s no chance Dean missed it. Not when she almost ran into Treatment 3 after Lenox flagged her. He’s the one she would usually turn to when she’s feeling out of sorts but he’s been so excited about shopping and getting things ready for the baby, she doesn’t want to take that away from him.

Even if it wasn’t the case though, how could she share with him what has her so unsettled when she can’t put a finger on it herself? 

In the treatment room, she’s able to put any thoughts away, stuff them deep down to be examined later. It’s a slippery slope, she knows, but the patient comes first.

“Anita Ibarra, 36,” Lenox starts. “21 weeks along with her first pregnancy, tripped and fell on the sidewalk, No LOC, dislocated shoulder. I was about to set it when she started complaining of cramps.”

Hannah turns to the patient on the bed and introduces herself to her and her companion. “Looks like you took a nasty fall.”

“It’s so stupid really,” Anita says sheepishly. “I didn’t notice the crack on the sidewalk.”

“It’s not your fault,” her partner intercedes. “They’ve been doing work outside our building all week. It’s such a mess. I swear I should sue the city.”

Anita puts a calming hand on the other woman’s arm. “Remy, please. It’s okay. I’m fine. Pardon my wife, Dr. Asher. She can be a little protective.” She smiles tenderly. “I did my best not to land on my stomach, which is why I hit my head.” She motions to the gauze-covered injury on the back of her skull. “But I started cramping a few minutes ago.”

“Alright, I need to examine you, is that okay?”

When Anita gives her consent, Hannah gloves up and performs a cursory pelvic exam. 

“It looks like you’re having some contractions.”

Both women look alarmed. “It’s too early!” Remy exclaims. “She can’t be in labor yet!”

“We’re going to give you some medication to stop that from happening and we’ll hook you to a monitor to make sure it’s not progressing. In the meantime, I’d like to do an ultrasound. Make sure Baby is alright.”

Hannah keeps her voice calm and steady. The situation is far from dire but, in her experience, keeping the patient and their family calm is half the battle. Everyone in the room knows full well how important it is that the treatment works. Anita’s baby wouldn’t survive out of the womb this early. Hannah’s hand instinctively reaches for her lower abdomen and her stomach churns. Something feels wrong with this patient and yet, from the exam and the history, she’s decently sure she’s covered all her bases.

Lenox jumps in. “We can also give you some pain medication until we can reset your shoulder. It will help with the cramping too.”

Anita nods slowly as she takes in all the information.

“That’s good, honey, maybe that’ll help this headache you’ve been having,” the wife comments.

“Headache?” Lenox asks before Hannah has the chance.

Anita waves dismissively. “It’s nothing. I have those often in the summer. It’s honestly not bad. Just a dull ache on and off for the last couple of days.”

Hannah frowns, glancing over toward the Chief of the ED. Lenox catches her look and tilts her chin towards the exit. “We’ll be right back.”

“What are you thinking, Dr. Asher?” Caitlin asks as soon as they’re out of ear range. 

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t fit the criteria for a head CT, her blood pressure is within limits and there’s no sign anything is wrong with the pregnancy,” Hannah lists.

Lenox stares at her colleague, arms crossed over her tablet. “But there’s something bothering you.” It’s not a question, it’s never a question with Caitlin Lenox. “Let’s do the ultrasound and treat her shoulder. We should have the results of her intake blood work then and we can decide on further testing.”

Hannah nods. “Sounds good.”

It only takes a moment for both doctors to return to their patient’s sides. As Hannah positions herself on Anita Ibarra’s side and turns on the ultrasound machine, the woman looks up at her.

“How far along are you? I’m sorry,” she quickly adds when Hannah whips her head towards her, taken aback by the question. “I know you’re not supposed to assume but I noticed earlier…” Her voice trails off. 

“Not at all,” Hannah cuts in with a reassuring smile. “I’m 21 weeks along myself, actually.”

Anita gazes back at her wife. “We just finished the nursery last week. I can’t wait to bring our baby home, but not right now, you hear me Anna-Banana?” She says to her bump as Asher squirts some gel onto it.

“We have one of those apps that tells you how big your baby is compared to fruits and vegetables,” Remy explains, chuckling. “We’ve taken to rhyming names with them since we can’t agree on an actual one. Last week was Rocco-Potato.” This one earns a snort from even Lenox. 

“We were actually on our way to pick up some baby clothes from my sister when I fell,” Anita continues as Hannah glides the wand over her stomach. “Who knew babies needed so much stuff? We’re still short a changing table and a car seat. Thank goodness there’s nine months to get ready, right?”

She feels her smile faltering. Nothing to do with the image on the ultrasound screen though, Anita and Remy’s child looks like the picture of health. No, the woman's excitement, which should be contagious considering Hannah’s stage in her own pregnancy, only bolsters the anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

“Alright,” Hannah chimes, changing the subject. “Everything looks good here. What do you say we pop that shoulder back in?” She asks, putting the machine away and wiping the conductive gel off of the expectant mother’s belly.

Remy winces. “I am going to leave you alone for that one, honey.”

Anita lets out an outright guffaw. “You go and grab coffee. I’ll be fine. You’re of no use to me if you pass out.”

Remy leans over the bed to kiss her wife. “I’ll be back in a bit. I love you. And you,” she adds, this time hovering her wife’s protruding stomach.

“We love you too.”

Once their patient’s wife is gone and Lenox injects some sedative and additional pain relief to Anita’s IV, it doesn’t take long for both doctors to pop Anita’s shoulder back into its socket. The woman thanks them, her head falling back into the pillow, drowsy from the combination of medication.

“You can rest now,” Hannah tells her as Anita closes her eyes. “We’ll check on you later.”

They don’t make it halfway to the nurse’s station before alarms start blaring behind them. She and Lenox run back into Treatment 3 to find Anita not responsive, not breathing. Pulseless.

Hannah knows. From the moment they start CPR to the third round of epi. It doesn’t matter how many times they shock her heart.

Anita’s dead. So is her unborn child.

When Lenox checks the woman’s eyes, only to find blown pupils, and finally calls, “Time of death, 16:43.”, Hannah barely hears her, the voice of her colleague seems so far away, as if someone was pressing pillows against her ears. Or maybe it’s the pounding of her heart in her chest. God, she feels like it’s going to explode.

“Dr. Asher?” 

“What?” She mumbles when she realizes Caitlin is calling her.

“Someone needs to tell the patient’s wife what happened,” the Chief of the ED says, her voice as poised as ever. 

She can’t. She simply can’t. She swallows, the taste of bile suddenly rising in her throat. “I… You do it.” How she manages to maintain any kind of composure, she’ll never know. “I need to… I’ll be…” 

She makes it to the locker room. If anyone understands what’s going on, they don’t stop her. Fat chance of that happening because she doesn’t comprehend why she’s reacting this way herself. The room is thankfully empty, the cacophony of the emergency department so distant she might as well be miles away. 

It does nothing to stifle the noise in her head. Thoughts are swirling so fast around her head they can’t fully materialize. The blood rushing to her ears drowns everything around her in an incessant buzzing. All she knows is the knot in the pit of her stomach, the tightness squeezing her chest, the sense of inevitable doom overtaking her as she leans against the cold metal door of her locker.

Gasps are echoing around her. Her gasps, she realizes. 

She slides to the ground, clutching at her throat as she heaves for air. The room is starting to spin around her. She can’t get enough oxygen. 

She’s going to die.

Like Anita Ibarra.

Like Elise Thompson.

Like her mom.

“Dr Asher!” A voice pierces the fog. Fingers pressed against the side of her neck. “Dr. Asher, look at me!” Her eyes focus in front of her. When did Lenox get here? “You’re having a panic attack.” Is that what this is? She grabs Caitlin’s arm, holding on for dear life. “You’re going to be okay,” the Chief continues. “I need you to take some deep breaths. In.” Lenox inhales and Hannah finds herself mimicking her. “And Out.” They both exhale, Hannah’s breath coming out shaky and staggered.

She has no idea how long they stay here, with only the sound of air flowing in and out between them until Hannah finally feels the panic receding, the tsunami of emotions leaving only numbness and exhaustion in its wake.

Once she releases Lenox’s arm, the doctor stands up, walking to the sink on their right before she kneels back next to Hannah, a wet towel in her hands.

“Here,” she says, wrapping it on the back of Hannah’s neck.

Hannah nods her thanks. It takes a little longer before she can actually speak. Lenox ends up sitting next to her, patiently waiting for Hannah to recover.

“How’s Remy?” Hannah asks, her voice raspy.

“Devastated. Dr. Charles is with her for now until her family arrives.”

“I don’t understand what happened. Was it the head wound? Should we have sent her for a CT?” 

“She didn’t fit the criteria, you said it yourself. There will be an autopsy but if I were to guess, I’d say there was probably an underlying condition no one knew about. Aneurysm maybe?” Lenox ventures. “Right now, I’m more concerned with what happened to you.”

“I don’t know,” Hannah answers honestly, pulling the cold terrycloth off her skin. 

“Is everything okay with the baby?” 

Hannah nods. “We had a scare a couple of weeks ago but everything’s fine now. Why?”

“You seemed to avoid the subject earlier,” Lenox says.

So she didn’t hide it as well as she thought. “It’s complicated.”

“Most things are.” She pauses, letting the silence stretch between them. “It’s starting to feel real, isn’t it?” Hannah whips her head towards Lenox, her brow furrowed. “You told me a while back that this baby didn’t feel real yet.”

“In the ambulance bay,” she remembers. She’d forgotten that day, just as she hit her second trimester and was feeling like herself again. So much has happened since. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling to be honest with you. I know I want this baby and I wish I could be happy and excited but it’s like there’s this…” She stops, looking for a word that could describe it adequately. “Trench between me and where I should be and I can’t figure out how to get to the other side.”

“What do you think is in this… trench?” 

Up until Lenox asks, she’s convinced she has no idea. Except she does. The myriad of thoughts that whirled through her head in the midst of her panic attack now sharp as a knife. “My mom died giving birth to me. My sister lost her baby before she even got there, almost died in the process too. I think… I think I’ve been scared it’s my turn now. Like some kind of sick family curse.”

“I didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”

“Neither did I,” Hannah chuckles derisively. “I’m not sure what to do with this,” she admits eventually.

“You’re healthy though?”

“Yeah. But so was Anita,” Hannah points. “How do I know for sure nothing will happen?”

Lenox shrugs. “You don’t.”

She turns her head towards the ED Chief, raising an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Her colleague remains unfazed. “The truth is, no one knows what the future holds. Some people know when they’re going to die, some people don’t. Anyone of us could walk out of here today and meet our end while crossing the street. At the end of the day, all you can do is find a way to make peace with it, live your life to the best of your abilities and make sure what you leave behind helps the people you love after you’re gone.”

Hannah frowns as Lenox stares in the distance. For a moment, she could swear the advice isn’t only directed at her. The moment is gone in an instant though as Lenox suddenly shakes herself.

“I should get back to the ED.” She glances at her watch. “Take the rest of the shift. Go home and rest, Dr. Asher.”

“Are you sure?”

“We can survive without you for the next couple of hours,” Lenox assures her.

“Thank you. Caitlin,” she calls as her colleague starts walking away. “Could we keep what happened between us? I just… need to process this alone for now.”

Lenox looks at her sharply, nodding before she exits the room.

Alone again, Hannah leans her head back against her locker. She’s worn out and some anxiety still lingers but finally understanding what’s been going on with her head helps. 

All that’s left for her to do now is learning to deal with her fears. She snorts. Easier said than done. 

A brief burst of movement inside of her catches her attention. Her hand smoothes over the growing bump under her scrubs. The kicks are getting stronger, she can almost feel them from the outside now.

“Hey Little Bean,” she whispers before she realizes what she’s doing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention. I’m here now.” Her voice catches in her throat. Whatever is coming, she’ll be there for her daughter somehow. “We’re going to be alright. I promise.”

Chapter Text

“Why do people keep thinking playing with fireworks is a good idea?” Hannah asks as she plops down on one of the chairs at the nurse’s station.

Dean glances up from his tablet, the interruption from charting always welcome. “Not enjoying the holiday, are you?”

Hannah looks up at him, unimpressed. “I’d appreciate Labor Day a lot more lake-side, with an iced tea. Ugh, when are they going to fix the A/C in here?”

Unfortunately for all of them, the power in the ED was unreliable at best today. A heat wave across the state left the power grid overwhelmed with its resident’s air conditioning running full blast. Power outages have been rampant across Chicago for the last three days and as of four hours ago, Gaffney’s direction had been clear: use only essential services. 

According to them, the cooling system doesn’t fall into this category.

“I’ve been calling,” Maggie says as she walks by. “Goodwin is supposed to come downstairs at some point to evaluate the situation but chances are they won’t budge. We were lucky to get fans.”

Hannah groans, throwing her head back in frustration. “Fans are great… when it’s not 200 degrees outside. I bet the admin floor is still in the 70s.”

Archer bites back a smile. There’s something quite endearing about seeing this new side of her. The heat has turned sweet, kind, sunshiny Hannah into a grumbling irritable grouch. She’s downright pouting at the moment. 

It’s adorable.

“A little grumpy today, Dr. Asher?” He regrets the taunt the instant it leaves his mouth. If looks could kill, his unborn child would be fatherless.

“What? Afraid I’ll out-grouch you? You try carrying a cantaloupe around your midsection in this heat. And these scrubs are so uncomfortable.” She tugs at her top, doing her best to pull it away from the unmistakable bump growing underneath. 

Seeing Hannah’s stomach growing these last few weeks has been fascinating. He hasn’t said a word, he knows better than that, but he’s noticed how taut her shirts lay across her belly. She doesn’t seem self-conscious about it. As a matter of fact, lately, she appears to be more relaxed. She’s smiling more and he catches her running a hand across her belly from time to time. He could swear she talks to the baby now and then. Overall, she seems happier than she’s been since the beginning of the pregnancy.

Well, until today that is.

“I can take a couple of patients off your hands if you need to take a break,” he offers.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. “I’m fine. I don’t need preferential treatment.”

Okay, this is getting frustrating. “It’s not- You know what? I’m going to stop talking and go make sure the interns aren't killing anybody.” It’s probably better to leave Hannah be for now. 

Dean may be walking away but throughout the next few hours, he keeps an eye on Hannah. With patients, she lets nothing on. She’s her usual professional self, maybe less cheery than any other day but the smile is there. As soon as she leaves a room though, her face drops and he can tell her discomfort is only increasing. When she walks into the doctor lounge, he follows. 

He finds her shedding her lab coat and stethoscope on the back of the chair, stretching with her fists pressed into her hips.

“Are you okay?” He asks, slightly worried.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles. “Okay, I’m not,” she admits when he arcs an eyebrow. “But it’s nothing. Just some mild cramping.”

“Cramping?” He asks, alarmed. 

“It’s perfectly normal. You know that,” she reminds him with a pointed look.

Of course he knows. He may not be an obstetrician but he’s still a doctor. Yet, somehow, it does nothing to alleviate his concern. “Maybe we should get you checked out. Just in case?”

“It’s not necessary, I swear. I just need to sit, maybe prop my feet up for a minute,” she says, pulling a chair out from under the lounge table and lowering herself onto it. As she does, her stethoscope slides off the chair and lands on the floor behind her.

She moves to retrieve it but Dean is across the room before she’s halfway to her feet. “Thank you,” she mutters as he lays the instrument back across the chair. “I could have gotten it, you know. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t do things.”

“I know,” he responds softly, relieved when she seems to relax a little. 

Dean makes a quick stop by the fridge before joining her at the table. “Here,” he says, handing her a very cold bottle of water before taking the seat next to hers.

“Thanks,” she says as she instantly sticks the bottle to her neck. The moan she lets out is entirely too enticing. “Should I leave the two of you alone or…?” He can’t help but quip.

She glares at him, effectively silencing him. Her mouth opens, no doubt intending to put him back in his place, but before she can say anything, she bends forward slightly and her hand reaches for her stomach.

He hates seeing her in pain and he wishes she’d take his uneasiness seriously. What if her body is trying to tell her something? What if there’s something wrong?

“Hannah?” He tries again, a little more forcefully.

She waves it off immediately. “It’s fine. This one was just a little stronger.”

“Hannah, I think we should-” He starts, his own annoyance mounting.

“I don’t need to get checked out, Dean,” she says, the frustration clear in her voice now. “The cramps are irregular, some stronger, most of them very mild and without any patterns. At most this is normal cramping, at worst, Braxton-Hicks.” She’s listing the criteria on her fingers, like she would for a student… if said student was in kindergarten.  “Can you trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

“You know just as well as I do that being a doctor and being a patient are two very different things.” He’s getting louder too but he’s intent on getting his point across. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m saying it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

“The ED is full right now and the last thing everybody needs is an incapacitated doctor, especially over nothing!”

Why won’t she listen to him? Can’t she tell he’s just trying to make sure she’s alright? That their daughter is alright? “What if it’s something? For God’s sake, Hannah, can you just humor me this one time?” 

“What is going on in here?” They both turn to spot Goodwin standing in the door. “I come downstairs to check on the current situation in the ED and imagine my surprise when I can hear two of my doctors fighting from the hallway.”

“Sorry, Miss Goodwin,” Hannah starts with her head bowed.

“She’s having contractions,” Dean interjects.

Hannah whips her head back at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “They’re not contractions, just cramps,” she says to Sharon. 

“I just want to make sure!” Dean continues. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Whatever you’re doing, you two better start doing it more quietly.” Sharon’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Don’t force me to put you both on separate shifts.”

That sobers him up on the spot. There’s no way he risks not working with Hannah everyday. “Understood,” he acknowledges.

Luckily, Hannah seems to agree. She bows her understanding to their boss and Goodwin leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Hannah.” Dean breaks the silence.

He’s not sure what does it, if it’s Goodwin’s threat or the helpless plea but with a deep exhale, Hannah’s arms fall to her side. “Fine, I’ll get on a monitor. Just for 20 minutes,” she adds, raising a finger. “And then you let me get back to work.”

“Fine,” he agrees. 

Fifteen minutes later, when it becomes clear that Hannah was right and the cramps she was experiencing were merely false labor, the relief is worth the ‘I told you so’ look Hannah sends his way. 

He raises his hand in defense. “Okay, you were right. I bow to your expertise,” he jokes, faking a little curtsy.

The gesture melts her glare. He even spots a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth before she grows serious. “No, I’m sorry, I’ve been awful to you today.”

He shrugs, helping her sit on the side of the stretcher. “It’s alright. I’ve been known to take my frustration on people too. You were due for a turn,” he says, taking a seat next to her. “Besides, you have a good excuse, growing a human being and all.”

She bumps her shoulder with his. “Thanks. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

He frowns. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Just some things I need to figure out for myself. I’m not quite ready to talk about it but I’m okay. I swear,” she continues when his eyebrows furrow deeper. 

That doesn’t help settle his anxiousness but if she needs time, he’ll give it to her. 

Hannah tilts her head towards the door. “Should we get back out there?” When he opens his mouth, she rolls her eyes at him. “I swear if you ask me one more time if I’m sure…” She lets the unspoken threat hang in the air. “You have to trust me to know my limits, Dean.”

“I will. I do. But promise me you’ll ask for help if you need it. It’s not preferential treatment, just me being there for you.” His eyes seek Hannah’s. “I know I don’t always go at it in the best way but I want to be there for you. For both of you,” he clarifies, glancing down to her bump before looking back at her face. “I don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t,” she assures him.

Once again, her certainty hits him straight in the heart. Even so, he can’t help the deprecating smile to sprout on his lips. “My track record says otherwise.”

“Dean,” Hannah says, the softness in her voice turning his insides upside down. “You need to stop tormenting yourself with what happened all these years ago. I trust you,” she says sincerely. Her eyes suddenly widen with surprise. Beaming at him, she takes his hand and places it flat on her stomach. “Looks like she does too.”

A thump strikes his palm, the unmistakable proof of the life they made together. Another comes soon after. He sits, frozen in awe, his eyes drifting to Hannah’s stomach.

“She’s never been this active before,” Hannah tells him, her hand still on top of his. “I think she likes you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” he croaks, his voice thick with emotions.

When their eyes meet, both of them grinning at their daughter’s movements continue to ripple under their joined hands, he can barely contain the wave of feelings coursing through him. Pregnancy is a very emotional experience, he told her once. He’s experienced it once before and, just as intensely and yet, somehow, it’s like it’s the first time all over again.

As Hannah leans into his side, he can barely resist the urge to kiss her. It doesn’t matter how much he wishes she could feel his love for her, his love for their daughter right now, she made her boundaries clear weeks ago and he will not cross them. 

He can’t stop himself from brushing his lips to her temple though, marveling silently as Hannah relaxes against him. “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair. 

Everything else, he keeps quiet, a safe secret tucked into the recesses of his heart. 

**********

The heat wave breaks in thunderous storms two days after Labor Day as Hannah drives into the staff parking lot at Gaffney. She pulls into her assigned spot and turns off the engine, sitting in her car while she waits for a pause in the rain. The water falls into such a thick curtain she misses the silhouette walking to the driver side window. The knock startles her.

There stands Dean, sheltered under a giant umbrella. She grabs her keys and bags, exiting the refuge of her vehicle for Dean’s side.

They walk briskly toward cover, huddled together under the nylon canopy. The wind generated by the late summer storm wafts around her, bringing the temperature down. It’s much cooler than it’s been the last couple of weeks but it’s not until Dean wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him as an attempt to protect her from the rain drifting under the umbrella, that goosebumps rise on her skin. 

Once they reach the elevator and he pulls away to shake the water off his umbrella before folding, she almost whimpers with disappointment. 

Hormones, Hannah, that’s all it is. How many times has she answered patient’s questions about their overactive libido during their second trimester of pregnancy? She knows exactly how common what she’s currently feeling is.

What’s not helping however is the many, many dreams that wake her up at night, gasping and sweating and mostly, incredibly frustrated. Dreams of a salt and pepper beard deliciously scraping all over her body, of strong callused hands stroking her back, of Dean’s head disappearing between her thighs…

“Hannah?” 

She jumps, Dean’s voice tugging her back into reality. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking if you were feeling better,” Archer says, his eyes trained on her face.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. “Oh, yeah. Yes,” she stammers. “All good.” 

The elevator doors open and she launches herself into it. Dean follows, his brow furrowed.

“No more cramping?”

The doors close and the elevator starts moving. It’s almost worse now. It’s as if all her senses are heightened. They’re standing side by side, inches apart but she swears she can feel the heat radiating from his body, a hint of cologne reaching her nose. 

She swallows and clears her throat. She needs to push these images way down in the back of her mind. “Nope. None. I think the heat was just wrecking havoc on my body.”

“Glad you’re feeling better.”

They fall silent until the elevator opens on the ground floor and they walk together to the doctor’s lounge. Setting foot in the openness of the ED apparently resets her brain and she’s thankful for it. Whatever urges her body is experiencing are just a side effect of the pregnancy. That’s it. Even if they weren’t, they need to be squashed before another slip-up happens. For both her and Dean’s sake and, most importantly, for the sake of their daughter. 

Which just so happens to choose this moment, just as they both don on their doctor’s coat, to make her presence known. “Good morning, Little Bean,” she whispers to herself, her hand going straight to her stomach. 

Apparently, loud enough for Dean to hear. “Little Bean?” 

She shrugs. “It seemed to fit. Though maybe Little Spring might be more appropriate,” she winces. “She sleeps in but once she’s awake, it’s like she’s training to be the next Simone Biles in there.”

His eyes drop to her bump. His hands twitch at his side and he shoves them down his pocket, as if stopping himself from reaching to feel the baby moving. She’s about to take his hand and place it on her stomach herself but thinks better of it. Not here, not now, not when they need to get to work, not when her feelings are all over the place.

“I was thinking,” she starts, drawing his attention back to her face. “Have you bought anything for your nursery yet?”

“Not really,” he replies, his right hand leaving his pocket and rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t seem to decide on anything. You?”

She shakes her head. She’s only recently starting to look ahead. The future still feels terrifying and overwhelming, but not as much as it did three weeks ago. She’s still searching for a way to reconcile with those feelings but she’s done avoiding them. Building a nursery seems like the natural step forward. “Maybe we could do it together? I think you were right, about buying the same things. It would probably make it easier for her.” 

He does his best to hide but she can tell he’s surprised by her offer. The small smile on his lips says his answer before he does. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow? We’re both off, I think.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees

His eyes linger on her, an unreadable expression floating over his features, before he finally gestures to the ED. “Ready to start the day?”

When she nods, they both make their way to the nurse’s station. It doesn’t take long for Maggie to assign them their first patients of the day.

They lose track of each other through the day, as they often do on shift. Different patients, surgeries, the overlap is rare. 

Today, it’s Frost who flags her down after she dismisses one of her patients. 

“Do you have a minute? I have a patient in Treatment 4 who needs a pelvic exam.” He hands her the file. “Kali Williams, 19, came in with abdominal pain and urinary urgency. I thought it was a UTI because of her medical history,” he explains.

Hannah takes a cursory look through the patient’s file. Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “She has MS?”

Frost nods. “Childhood-onset, diagnosed 6 years ago.”

“Damn,” Hannah can’t help but react. “That’s pretty rare. You said you suspect a UTI? Is she having bladder issues already?”

“Actually, she isn’t. And the urine test was negative for everything… except chlamydia. I actually think she has pelvis inflammatory disease.”

“PID would make sense,” Hannah agrees.

“I was hoping maybe you could do a pelvic? I think she would be more comfortable with a female doctor.”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

With only a few steps, they reach the treatment room. As soon as the young woman sees them, she closes the notebook she was scribbling on, threading the pen through the metal spirals on its spine.

“Kali, this is Dr. Asher. She’s a gynecologist here,” Frost says, motioning to Hannah.

“Hi.” The young woman lifts a hand for Hannah to shake. “Nice to meet you. Gynecologist?” She suddenly turns her head back to Frost. “This isn’t a UTI, is it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Hannah chimes in. “Your urine test came back positive for chlamydia.”

“Are you kidding me? I knew this dude was bad news.” She shrugs, a derisive smile appearing on her face. “Well, at least it’s better than a new symptom. Silver lining, right?”

Frost turns to Asher. “You see, Kali always finds the silver lining.”

Hannah’s gaze travels from the patient in the bed to the young doctor standing next to her. “You two know each other?”

“Kali was my very first patient at Jackson Monroe,” Frost explains. “First day as a third-year medical student in the ED.”

“You should have seen him,” Kali smirks, pointing her thumb at the doctor. “He still had the same haircut as his ‘Nick of Times’ character. My mom recognized him. It was so embarrassing.”

“And you,” Frost interjects, the same amused smile on his face. “were the sweetest kid. I guess we all changed.” All three of them laugh. “Today, Dr. Asher is going to take over. We think the STI might be causing your abdominal pain.” 

“I just need to perform a pelvic exam to confirm it,” Hannah continues.

“I’ll come back later to check on you, okay?” Frost says. “Orange Jell-o still your favorite?” 

“You know it, Dr. F,” Kali says.

When Frost leaves the room, Hannah proceeds with the exam. “As I suspected, the STI caused a more generalized infection. It’s called Pelvic Inflammatory Disease,” she explains to the young woman once she’s done. 

Kali frowns. “It’s not serious, is it?”

“It can be. But hopefully we caught it early on and antibiotics should be enough to treat it. The chlamydia infection too. You’ll need to inform any sexual partners so they can get treated too,” she tells her as she disposes of her gloves.

“It’s just the one guy.” She rolls her eyes. “Though I suspect I’m not his only.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannah says.

Kali shrugs. “Don’t be. The condom broke but I didn’t think much of it. I should have though. We weren’t exclusive and honestly, I knew he was a player. I just didn’t care. It was fun and light and exactly what I wanted. He even made it to the journal.” She motions to the notebook, still on her lap. “I write it all down. All the fun things I want to do.”

“Like a bucket list?” Hannah wonders.

“It’s more than that. I want to remember it all. I know eventually this disease is going to take away a lot from me. But this,” she grabs the journal and waves it in the air. “Reminds me that I can still live my life to the fullest even though the disease progresses. Plus, laying it all down on paper is very therapeutic. I started it three years ago and I haven’t stopped since.”

“I’m glad it’s helpful.” Hannah smiles. “I will get your prescription and then you’re free to go. I’m sure Dr. Frost will be back soon as well.”

As it turns out, she almost runs into him as she exits Kali’s room. “How is she?” He asks.

“She’s good actually. Very resilient.”

“She’s a great kid,” Frost agrees. “It’s amazing she’s still this optimistic after everything she’s been through.”

“You mean the MS diagnosis?” 

“I mean everything. She’s been in the hospital a lot over the years. Her MS is progressing fast and then the car accident three years ago. Her sister was driving. She was killed on impact. Kali took it hard but she kept on going.”

Three years ago. Just when she started the journal, according to Kali herself. Never could Hannah have suspected this 19 year-old girl, all smile and tenacity, be holding such sadness and tragedy. 

She’s still thinking of her, hours later, when her shift ends. With her lab coat back on its hook and her purse over her shoulder, she’s walking towards the elevator to the parking garage when on impulse, she turns around. The hospital gift shop is a bit out of the way but she makes it just before it closes for the day.

Hannah’s not even sure what may end up in the leather-bound notebook she purchases but she has a feeling that, just like Kali, this journal will turn out to be her way to cope with her anxiety over the future.

Chapter Text

The drive to O’Hare is a nightmare, the I-90 is at a stand still a few miles before his exit and he is forced to finish the trip on side streets, not that they’re much better. Parking is a struggle too. On the bright side, he’s getting his steps in. 

By the time he is in view of the arrivals gate, Sean’s plane has already landed. 

The last thing Dean expected was for his son to drop in for another visit barely two months after his previous one. This time though, it’s planned ahead and Sean has agreed to stay in his guest room instead of a hotel by the airport. 

Ever since their conversation outside of Med, they’ve been talking almost everyday. Text, calls, Facetime, Sean always asks about his sister and Dean is more than happy to talk about how  the pregnancy is going. 

The journey they’ve been on never ceases to amaze him. Hard to imagine that not even three years ago, they were completely estranged.

And here they are today, falling into each other’s arms as Sean passes the gate, backpack thrown over his shoulder. 

“How was your flight?” Dean asks as he releases his hold on his son.

“Long,” Sean says. “Bumpy. I’m glad to be on solid ground.”

“I’m glad you’re here too.”

They both retrieve Dean’s car. Sean opens the back door on the passenger side, throwing in his carry-on backpack. He’s smirking by the time he slides into the front seat.

“I see you’re all set.” He tilts his chin toward the carseat, hooked and secured to the leather seat being his. 

“Far from it, trust me,” Dean says. “That’s the only thing I’ve done so far. The nursery is… a mess. I’m not sure what to do with it. I’ll admit, I’m out of my depth.”

“Come on, Dad. It can’t be that bad.”

Dean manages to steer the conversation away as they drive back to his place, but once he’s parked and the two Archers make their way through the front door, Sean is forced to admit it.

“Okay, it is that bad.”

In his defense, the crib, changing table, rocking chair and stroller were all delivered today, much later than anticipated. He barely had time to sign for the packages and bring them inside the living room before he dashed out the door to go pick up Sean. 

On the other hand, he has no excuse for the state of his home office turned nursery. He accompanies his son upstairs where he drops off his belongings inside the guest room 𑁋his for the next four days𑁋 and shows him the room next door.

“I mean,” Sean starts, wincing. “At least you started?”

That he did. Once the room sat free of his office furniture, Dean had decided the slate gray and white color scheme  was too cold and impersonal for a child’s environment. He ripped the carpet off the floor, painted a couple layers of primers over the wall… and then nothing.

He’s stumped.

“I was thinking of putting new hardwood floors but then the room needs a carpet. And I can’t choose a carpet unless I paint the room. And to paint the room, I need to decide on a color.”

Sean frowns at his dad. “I think you’re overthinking this.” 

“Thank you, I’m aware,” Dean snorts. 

It’s easier to overthink the baby’s room decoration rather than worrying about the future. 

“I could give you a hand, if you want?” Sean offers tentatively.

Dean waves him off. “I’m sure you have better things to do this weekend than home renovation. Besides, it will be a little while still before this room gets used.”

“What do you mean?” Sean wonders.

“The baby is going to stay with Hannah full time for the first few months. After that… well, we haven’t really made any decisions yet.” He looks around the naked walls and barren floor. Once the room is done, how hard will it be when it still sits empty?

It’s almost as if his son is able to read his mind. “How do you feel about that?” He asks cautiously.

Dean shrugs. “It’s not ideal but what other choice is there? We’ll make it work.” He has little doubt they will. Hannah and he have managed it so far, even with a few bumps along the way. He knows they’ll share custody and he’s thankful for it. He just wishes he could be with his child fulltime. Any less feels like wasting precious moments.

“Well, even if this room doesn’t get used for a bit, I’d still like to help. And I came here to spend some time with my dad, that’s what matters to me. Two birds, one stone,” Sean says. “Please?” 

They’ve come a long way indeed. What kind of dad wouldn’t want to embark on a father-son bonding project? They never had the chance when Sean was younger 𑁋Dean’s fault entirely𑁋, why not now?

“Alright then. We can start tomorrow. In the meantime, how about I order us some pizza? From Pat’s?”

“Yes!” Sean’s eyelids close in delight. “I’ve been dreaming about their pepperoni pie for weeks. Do you know how hard it is to find good Chicago pizza in Tampa?

By the time the pizza gets delivered, both men are hunched over Dean’s laptop at the kitchen island. Over dinner, they argue over colors until they finally settle for a pastel purple for the walls. Not a color Dean would have come up with but he’ll admit, the Pinterest photos Sean shows him of the combination of white, pale periwinkle and bright fuschia is lovely. His first instinct is to send it to Hannah and ask for her opinion as well. Would it be overstepping? 

As he and Sean head upstairs for the night, it hits him just how much he’s missed having his son around. He travelled to Florida a couple of times on top of Sean’s few visits but it’s nowhere near the same as having him a short drive away. At least, they’ve managed to keep their relationship as strong as it was before Sean moved. Now he can only hope he’s still up to the task once the baby is born. Maybe there’s a way to get both his children to become close too.

It occurs to him that not having his daughter around half the time will be just as challenging, if not more. How many firsts will he miss when she’s with Hannah? How many will Hannah miss when she’s with him? There is no way around it, it’s a fact but he knows his time with his youngest child will be limited. If he’s lucky, he might see her graduate college but in all likelihood, he’ll barely see her become an adult. It tears him apart knowing he’ll miss so many important milestones in her life. Knowing that she won’t have a father with her then. Missing even a second of her life before the inevitable… He tries not to think about it too much.

His night is full of fitful dreams. Some are happy, flooded with images of Sean bouncing on his knees the same beautiful little blonde head he’s imagined before. Others are filled with angst and unease. In those, he only meets stern faces, his son’s, his daughter’s, Hannah’s, all of them retreating further and further away until he can no longer reach them.

He wakes up well before dawn, his limbs tangled in his bedsheets. The rest of the house is still quiet, Sean probably still asleep.

To Dean’s surprise, he only has time to start the coffee maker before his son meets him in the kitchen. 

“Did I wake you up?” He wonders.

“Nah, I’m still on Florida time,” Sean explains. “What’s gotten you up before 6am on a day off?”

“Nothing.” 

The word comes too fast, too short, for Sean to brush it off. He doesn’t say a word but Dean can feel his son’s eyes trained on him as he pours black coffee into two mugs. 

Two sips in, Sean finally caves. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“What makes you think𑁋” As usual, his impulse is to deflect and pretend everything is fine but Sean’s raised eyebrow and pursed lips tell him there is no point. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

Sean snorts. “That part was clear. Anything I can help with.”

Dean looks up at his son. The last thing he wants is to lay his fears onto his son. They’re not his responsibility. At the end of the day though, isn’t staying silent what brought them apart in the first place? “I’m wondering how to make it all work.”

“You mean, with Hannah and the baby?” Sean frowns. 

“Amongst other things,” he says. “I know that things are going to be quite… hectic, I guess, early on and I’m worried that if I’m not available that maybe we would end up back where we started,” he finally admits, his eyes darting away.

“You mean you’re worried we’re going to stop talking? Dad, that’s not going to happen, not because you’re too busy taking care of my sister. I’m a grown man and I get how much attention a newborn needs. We didn’t stop talking when I went to live with Mom, did we?” Sean waits for Dean to shake his head before he continues. “This is not going to change that either. Besides, I’ll be closer this time around.” 

Dean’s head whips back towards his son. “What do you mean?”

“After Mom died, I didn’t have much tying me to Florida anymore. I’ve only been doing short-term jobs here and there and I didn’t mind it for a while but it’s time for me to really make something out of my life. I started looking into jobs closer to Chicago for obvious reasons and once I finally got my head out of my ass and started to wrap my head around becoming a big brother, it just became more pressing.” 

“You’re moving back?” Dean asks, dumbstruck. 

“Not to Chicago,” Sean specifies. “To Madison.”

“Wisconsin?” Sean nods. “It’s only a couple hours away,” Dean realizes, his heart leaping in his chest. It’s not Chicago but it’s close enough that they can see each other on a single day off. 

“I found a bakery that hires former convicts. They’ll train me in different areas, bread making, pastry, and the business side of it too. It’s different from anything I’ve done but I’m excited.”

“That’s fantastic, son.” Dean stands for his seat and walks around the kitchen counter, pulling his son in a tight hug. “I probably don’t say it enough but I’m really proud of you,” he says as he embraces Sean.

“Thanks, Dad.” Sean squeezes him tighter before they eventually pull apart. “Hopefully, this way, I can drive down every now and then and spend some time with my sister… if that’s okay with you and Hannah, of course.”

“Of course it is. You’re her brother. You can visit any time you want and we’ll visit too.”

Sean looks relieved, a true match to what Dean is feeling. With the knowledge that his son is actively looking forward to building a connection with his sister, some of the weight lifts off his shoulders. 

When he’s not able to be there for her, maybe her big brother will.

**********

“Wow, your dad really outdid himself,” Hannah says to the bump as she scans the photos she just received from Dean. “Sorry, Little Bean, you’re not going to get a full reno here. I’m afraid I’m not that handy.”

And truthfully, she’s already having enough trouble putting together furniture as it is. Her growing stomach is in the way and despite a support belt, her back is getting achier by the day. How is it that she still has over ten more weeks to go? She’s not sure how she’s going to move by the time December comes, let alone Christmas.

But at least, she is looking forward, getting things ready. Unlike Dean, what used to be her guest bedroom is now a mess of boxes and strewn around crib pieces but, according to him, he only started nine days ago, when Sean was visiting. She’s not that far behind and she is determined to catch up by the end of the weekend. 

At least, that’s what she promised herself and her daughter, right there, in the journal on her lap. She started it about a month ago and from the moment she put a pen to the lined pages, the words seemed to flow out of her, as if they had been waiting for a way out all this time. They turned into letters to her unborn baby, not so much about her fears and anxiety but about every moment Hannah can finally embrace, every sensation of this life inside of her, growing, shuffling, kicking. About every image Hannah can allow herself to picture, hopes and dreams of a healthy baby girl and the existence ahead of her.

And hopefully both her mother and father along with her. 

The fears aren’t gone. No, that’d be too easy but they’ve become more of a dull possibility in the back of her mind. Like Lenox told her weeks ago, she can’t control what happens. So far, she’s as healthy as she’s ever been and there is no reason why everything shouldn’t be fine but if, somehow, they aren’t… 

The only thing she can do is make sure she doesn’t waste any more time. She speaks to the baby almost constantly, revels in every movement, hoping that her Little Bean, even from inside, knows how much she’s loved and wanted already. The written words will be there to tell that story if she can’t. Should the worst happen, her daughter will still know her mother.

With the anxiety mostly out of the way, her energy is now channeled into getting her home ready. 

She closes the journal, setting it aside on her coffee table. Getting up from the couch seems like a workout in itself. A few stretches and she heads into the nursery, sighing as she gingerly lowers herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged and grabbing the building instructions for the crib. 

It can’t be that hard, can it? It’s basically LEGO, just a simple puzzle. All she needs is a screwdriver. She does own one of these. She bought a toolbox for emergencies ages ago…

… Which currently sits in the back of the cupboard above her fridge, the one out of reach where she puts everything she barely uses.

She groans and she gets back to her feet, in the most ungraceful way known to humankind. Her protruding belly has shifted her center of gravity and it feels like she’s learning how to move all over again every week or so.

In the kitchen, she pulls one of her dining room chairs in front of the fridge. Climbing onto it and retrieving the toolbox ends up being easy. Getting down… Well, that’s another story.

She’s as careful as she can, placing the toolbow on the counter before bracing herself on the side wall and the top of the fridge for support but it’s not enough. She feels the shift in her balance before her foot hits the ground and there’s nothing she can do to avoid the fall. Instinctively, she twists herself to avoid landing on her stomach. Unfortunately, it results in her right foot making contact with the floor at a weird angle. Pain explodes from the middle of her foot to halfway up her calf as she lands on her hip. The shock knocks the wind out of her and she is left on her back, gasping for air for a few seconds before she can manage a deep breath. 

She lays still for a few minutes, panic rising in her chest until, finally, she feels a hard kick in her lower abdomen. It’s reassuring for the moment but she can’t stop her medical brain from listing all the possible complications her fall could cause. 

She sits up, propping her back against the kitchen island. The pain in her hip is dull enough that she can safely assume she won’t suffer more than significant bruising. Her ankle however, is still throbbing. A quick self-exam reveals no fracture 𑁋thank god𑁋 but it’s most likely sprained. How bad? There’s no way of knowing without an x-ray. 

Before she thinks twice about it, she reaches into her legging pocket, pulls out her phone and dials Dean’s number.

“Hey,” he answers on the first ring. 

“I need your help.”

He arrives at her door fifteen minutes later 𑁋she’s tempted to lecture him about speeding laws but considering her current situation, she thinks better of it𑁋 flanked by the superintendent of her building who lets him into her apartment. He barely thanks him before he beelines for her, kneeling at her feet.

“I’m okay,” she reassures him as his hands go straight for her ankle, now doubled in size. 

His eyes roam her body, looking for any other trace of injury and finally settle on her face. “Are you in pain?” 

She shakes her head. “Not unless I try to stand.”

“The baby?” He asks, his voice shaky.

“She’s active.” She takes his hand and places it on her belly. He seems to relax slightly when he feels their daughter’s rolls under his palm. “We’re both good, I think.”

“You’re not. We need to get you to Med and check you out,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

She wasn’t about to make one. 

The next four hours are a blur of waiting room, blood tests, ultrasounds and xray. Dean doesn’t talk much, probably resisting the urge to chew her up for not being more careful. Not that she’d blame him, she’s been admonishing herself since she hit the ground. He looks lost in his head at times but he never broaches the subject. He is by her side through every minute however, only leaving the Treatment room to get her dill pickle chips and a bottle of water when her stomach starts rumbling. 

When all results come back clear and they confirm her only lasting injury is a mild sprain to her right ankle, the sun has started to set. By the time they walk through her front door, Dean’s arm wrapped around her as she limps on her taped ankle, it’s dark outside. 

“So much for catching up today,” she mutters to herself, dropping onto her couch.

Dean looks quizzingly at her. “Catching up?”

He kneels beside her, gently removing her shoe before propping her leg up on the couch.

“I was going to set up the nursery this weekend,” she explains, pointing at the forgotten toolbox on top of her kitchen counter, trying her best not to react to the goosebumps rising on her flesh when Dean slides his hand under her calf, lifting up her leg slightly to slide a pillow under her foot.

“Is that why you climbed on that chair?”

Her shoulders droop. “It was a bad idea, I know. You don’t need to lecture me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he answers earnestly. “It was an accident. It happens.” For a moment, it looks like he’s about to say something else but he walks to the kitchen instead. 

She watches him as he puts the chair still standing in front of her fridge back to the dining room where it belongs. He opens cupboards and drawers until he finds a kitchen towel and grabs an ice pack from her freezer. He walks back to her, sitting on the other side of the couch, by her foot, the frowning lines carved on his forehead deeper with every passing moment.

He barely registers her startle at the cold when he drapes the ice pack on her swollen ankle.

“What is it?” She asks. 

“I was thinking…” He stops, looking for his words, before he shakes his head. “Nevermind. It’s not a good idea.”

He moves to stand but she reaches out and grabs his arm as he attempts to walk past her. “Dean, sit down.” He obliges. “Just tell me,” she says softly.

“Move in with me.”

She freezes. Did he really say…? “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighs. “Temporarily. I’ve been thinking… What if today had been worse and you couldn’t have called me? Or what if you’re in labor and I can’t make it on time?”

“Dean,” she tries.

He holds up a hand. “Hear me out, please. Once the baby’s here, I would be here a lot anyway, right? You shouldn’t be doing everything by yourself and I want to be here. I want to be here for it all, not just the easy parts.” Once he starts, it’s like he’s unable to stop and she’s happy to hear him. “Every midnight feeding. Every diaper changes. Every sleepless night rocking our crying daughter. I want all of it.” His face lights up when he pictures taking care of their baby and her stomach does a somersault when the same image pops in her head. “I’ll stay here if it makes you feel more comfortable,” he continues. “I will spend the next few months on your couch if that’s what it takes. Please.” 

His eyes bore into hers, the hopeless supplication in them matching the one in his voice. It reaches all the way inside of her, squeezing her heart until she thinks it might stop altogether. “How long?” 

It’s his turn to stop, she can feel his entire being attuned to her every expression, every inflexion of her voice. “As long as you want.”

Her brain is in overdrive. It sounds crazy. It probably is crazy. How many more lines would it blur into their already hazy relationship? 

And yet… It makes sense, doesn’t it? He’s right. She would feel better, safer, having someone around 𑁋having him around𑁋 for the rest of her pregnancy. And she already expected him to spend time at her place, bonding with their daughter. Wouldn't living under the same roof make everything more convenient?

And she wants it. It scares her how much she wants it. The semblance of a normal family with him, even for a little while. At the end of the day, isn’t that the best thing for their child too?

“Okay.” 

He looks as stunned by her response as she is. “Okay?” He asks back.

She nods. “I’ll move in with you.”

He chuckles, dumbfounded. “I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admits.

“Regretting it already?” She can’t help but tease.

“Never.”

The seriousness of his reply turns her inside into mush and she’s forced to clear her throat. “I do have one condition.” The panic flashing into his eyes almost makes her laugh and she decides to put him out of his misery. “Can you help me put together the furniture? I don’t think puzzles are my strong suit.”

Chapter Text

When Dean made the offer, he’s not sure what he expected. Truth is, he asked on impulse, rattled by the fear and stress her phone call had induced, by the anxiety of waiting for test results and scans making sure everything was alright.

He didn’t expect her to say yes. Not that easily at least. He would have argued his case, that’s for sure but she surprised him by accepting with little hesitation. 

Things moved fast after that, faster than he anticipated. He wanted it but the mere eight days between Hannah’s accident and her setting a still-wrapped-but-no-longer-limping foot in his home leave him frantic.

Their home, he reminds himself. It’s her home as much as his for the foreseeable future. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit the thought sends a thrill down his spine.

He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t a little apprehensive about it.

He hasn’t shared a space with anyone for years. Make that decades. Since he got out of the Navy, he’s made a point of being alone, at least when it comes to living arrangements. What’s it going to be like cohabitating with someone?

Not just someone.

Hannah.

He should be nervous and he is, to some extent. He’s been a busy bee all week long, buying and washing new bedding for the guest room, clearing the bathroom across the hallway and stocking it with everything Hannah might need, clearing shelves in the living room for her books or anything she might want on display. He even freed half of his pantry cabinet for her to use. Everything he can to make her feel welcome.

Behind all of this however, he can’t help but feel excited. Of course, knowing he won’t miss a moment of their baby’s first few months, knowing they’ll be bringing their daughter home together, that alone is enough to make him almost dizzy with joy. 

Having the woman he loves under the same roof? That feeling is indescribable. 

As evidenced by the way his heart leaps and splutters when Hannah walks into the house, rolling one big suitcase inside, while he follows, two cardboard boxes in his arms.

Once they’re both inside, he kicks the door closed with his heel before setting the boxes down by the couch. When he turns around to face her, she’s standing in the middle of the room, halfway between the kitchen and living-room, her hand still resting on the handle of her suitcase. 

“Here,” he says eventually, breaking the uncomfortable silence stretching between them. He walks to her and grabs the handle. Her hand retreats, maybe a little too abruptly for his liking. “I’ll show you upstairs. Your room, I mean,” he adds, clearing his throat. 

She nods. They climb the stairs quietly. By the time he rolls the suitcase in the guest𑁋 Hannah’s𑁋 bedroom, the air is thick with awkwardness. God, he hates it.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” he starts, gesturing haphazardly toward the door.

“I know,” she says, a timid smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I’ve been here before.”

His eyes dart to her growing stomach. She sure has, except the last time she was on the second floor, she didn’t use the second bedroom, or bathroom for that matter. “Right.” He clears his throat. “Well… uh… Make yourself at home.”

He retreats downstairs, giving her the privacy to unpack. He grabs a book from his bookshelf and sits on his couch, knowing full well no amount of reading will be done. Even with the pages splayed out before him, he can’t decipher any word. All his attention is focused on any sound he can make out coming from the upper level.

A door opening and closing, feet going back and forth across the hall. It’s a half hour of barely-creaking floorboard he tries to identify before he can’t take the inactivity anymore. 

He ends up in the kitchen, grabbing some ingredients out of the fridge. He’s no Gordon Ramsay but he can still whip out a mean grilled cheese sandwich and a simple salad for lunch. 

Chopping vegetables has the benefit of steering his mind away from trying to decipher his new roommate’s movements. 

“Can I help?”

Maybe the distraction worked a little too well. He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of her voice, the blade of his knife landing uncomfortably close to his left finger. Somehow, he manages to swallow the curse as he turns to face her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says. The corner of her mouth quivers upwards. “I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard Dean Archer yelp.”

“I did not yelp,” Dean counters, the same amused smile spreading on his face. He gestures towards the counter. “Why don’t you finish the salad and I’ll take care of the sandwiches?”

How do they keep doing that? One minute, they’re overwhelmed with this strange feeling between them, the knowledge of what happened months ago, this attraction still present but unspoken, only for it to disappear and leave them back to the way they’ve always been, working side by side in complete unison. 

It’s impossible not to flash back to the last time they were both cooking in his kitchen. He can’t help but wonder what would have happened between them if the circumstances were different. Is there a world where he and Hannah could be happy together? He’d like to believe if he was younger it would make a difference but the truth is, the younger version of himself isn’t someone Hannah deserves. Hell, he doubts the older version of himself would be either. He’ll make sure he is the father his daughter deserves though. 

Funny how none of it would be possible if Hannah never came into his life. Her constant faith in him, even when his was non-existent, pushed him to become a better person, a better father to Sean. Never in a million years would he have imagined she’d be the one to give him a second child.

He’s brought back to reality by Hannah reaching to open one cupboard after another. “Where are your…” She pauses when she pulls the door out of the third one, an eyebrow quirked in his direction. “What is all this?”

“Tea,” he simply replies, turning back to the pan and dropping the sandwiches into it.

“There’s gotta be at least twenty different kinds.”

He shrugs. “I know.” So, maybe he’s been picking up boxes of Hannah’s favorite brand since the night she told him she was pregnant. Just in case. It’s not a big deal, is it?

“Dean, you don’t drink tea,” Hannah remarks.

“But you do.”

He can’t help but glance at her. Her attention is fixed on him and for a second, he wonders if he’s crossed a line. The glint in her eyes says otherwise. Her head tilts to the side and her shoulders relax as she releases a long breath through parted lips. His eyes are drawn to those, luscious and pink and his mind floods with the memory of how she tastes. 

Hannah suddenly averts her eyes and the spell is broken. “Thanks,” she whispers, avoiding his gaze as she closes the cupboard full of tea and opens the next one, taking out the seasoning she discovers at last.

He flips the sandwiches in the pan 𑁋no, they’re not burnt… just a little more toasted than he intended𑁋 and soon, they’re both eating in silence.

Or rather she is. He might be too, he’s just paying no attention to what’s going in his mouth. They’ve had dinner together before, plenty of times, both here and at her place. This… This is the beginning of months of them being close constantly, of sharing every moment. As the food disappears from their plate and they both get up to load their dishes into the dishwasher, the immensity of it strikes him and a surge of panic rises in his chest. 

How is he supposed to keep his feelings to himself? He knows they’ll never be more than what they are now: close friends, coparents. But this, having a regular Thursday lunch in the kitchen they now share, seeing her first thing in the morning, last thing at night, sharing the domesticity of everyday… he can almost see what his life could be if they were a couple.

When she moves to sit on the couch, he follows, taking a place on the opposite side of the sofa. He lets her choose the movie. He knows he’s not going to remember any of it anyway, lost as he is in his own head.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he notices Hannah’s hand smoothing over her stomach. 

“Is she kicking?” He asks.

“Not exactly,” she says, her voice filled with mirth. 

She beckons him closer and he’s happy to oblige. She takes his hand and places it where hers previously stood. He doesn’t have to wait long to figure out what’s going on. Every few seconds, there’s a twitch under her skin, strong enough that he can feel it, even with the layer of clothing separating his palm from her stomach. 

“She’s got the hiccup,” Dean realizes, glancing up at Hannah.

“Her first hiccup,” she replies softly. 

It’s such a small thing but when he meets her gaze, he can tell she knows exactly how much this moment means to him. The first of firsts he won’t miss. 

If he looks at her any longer, he’s convinced he’ll blurt out the three little words that he needs to keep silent so he tears his eyes away and focuses on the little life under his palm. Another twitch, followed by a forceful kick.

“Don’t worry,” he starts impulsively, lowering his head until he’s hovering over Hannah’s belly. “I know those hiccups are annoying but they’ll go away soon.” He feels the baby shift under his hand, another body part poking from inside. “That’s right, honey, I’m right here. Daddy’s here now.”

And in the end, it’s worth every fear in the world.

**********

“So you got the house to yourself?” Lizzy asks over the video call. 

“Just until tonight,” Hannah explains. “Dean drove up to Madison yesterday to help Sean move into his new place.”

“Must be nice to be alone for a little bit.” 

She and Lizzy might have been estranged for a solid chunk of their adult life but she’d recognized the mischievous smile on Lizzy’s face anywhere. She’s not biting. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll be at work most of the day so it doesn’t make much of a difference,” she shrugs.

Truth is, being alone in Dean’s house doesn’t feel right. Not that she doesn’t feel at home, Dean’s made sure she did. Two weeks later and her belongings have already found their spots around the place. Books on shelves, shoes on the rack by the front door, coats in the entryway closet. 

The awkwardness lasted only a few hours. By the time they’d gone to bed, it was all but gone. There was a moment maybe, when he wished her goodnight at her bedroom door. A pause. 

Longing.

She sure felt it herself, but he turned away and walked into his own bedroom. She laid in her new bed for a long time before sleep claimed her, keenly aware of his presence two doors down. 

She did sleep eventually, deeper than she had the entire length of her pregnancy so far. That night and all the nights since. She tries not to read too much into that.

A couple of weeks later and it’s like she’s never known anything else. Waking up in the morning and finding him in the kitchen, usually with a cup of tea ready for her, seems like the most natural thing in the world now. 

Through the days, she’s discovered a myriad of new things about Dean. He wakes up freakishly early for starters, not surprising for a former military man. He’s also diligent about his routine. She’s caught him twice after his morning session on the treadmill as he stopped by the kitchen to drink some water before heading to the shower, his shirt stained with sweat clinging to his chest in all the right places.

Her cheeks flush at the memory. 

Stupid hormones. 

It’s been months since the last time they kissed and he’s done nothing but to respect the boundaries she set. She’s thankful for it and yet, every time he touches her, every time he bends close to her stomach to talk to their daughter, her breath stops, her heart lurches and for a split second, she catches herself craving more before she remembers none of it is real. Her hormones are wrecking havoc on her senses and the only reason they’re this close now is the tiny human being they’ll share in two months. Without that, they’d just be who they’ve always been. 

What had they been exactly?

“Hannah?” Lizzy’s voice comes through the speaker. “You’re still with me?” 

How long has she been lost in thoughts? “Yep, I’m listening.”

“Yeah, you were definitely focused on something alright,” Lizzy smirks. “Have you booked prenatal classes yet?”

Hannah ignores Lizzy’s teasing smile. She has a feeling this is not the first time Lizzy asked her that question. “I will do it soon, I promise.”

“You’re not planning on skipping those, are you?”

“No, it just… slipped my mind, I guess. It’s been a crazy couple of months.”

“Wait until your baby’s born, this will feel like a walk in the park. God, I remember when Matt was born. He was a terrible sleeper, Mom could not get him down. Dad was working late a lot so I would help with him when Mom made dinner. Even as an 8 year-old, it felt like a tornado rampaged through the house. And that was before he learnt how to walk.”

Hannah’s heart tightens at Lizzy’s recollections. She’s familiar with the bittersweet feeling. On one hand, she craves stories about the mom she never got to know. On the other hand, she can’t help but feel a little jealous that Lizzy holds those memories, that she got to learn from their mother.

She forces a chuckle. “Sounds like you had hands-on experience early on then.”

“I loved it. I begged Mom to teach me how to do everything. Change diapers, feeding, burping, you name it, I did it.” She sighs. “I wish you could have known her. She was the best mom. Patient and kind. A bit of a wild spirit at times. You remind me of her sometimes,” Lizzy admits.

“I do?”

Lizzy nods. “That’s why I know you’re going to be a great mom.”

“Thanks,” is all Hannah is able to say. She feels a familiar tingle behind her eyes. “I’ll definitely look into those classes.”

Sounds like she’s going to need those. As an obstetrician, she knows what to expect for the birth, the recovery… not so much about what comes after. A surge of panic rises in her chest. She suddenly wishes she had Lizzy’s faith in her abilities. How can she be a great mom when she’s never had one in the first place? Sure, she’s had Lizzy and she’s so grateful for her sister, but Lizzy was a child herself. At least, she got to see their mother in action, if only for a short time.

“Do you need a partner?” Lizzy’s voice brings her back to the present.

She can deal with the present at least. It’s definitely easier.

Hannah hesitates. “I don’t know.” Would Dean want to go with her? Images of Dean by her side, holding her hands through labor, holding their baby flash through her mind. Her heart flip-flops.  So much for easier. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Absolutely,” Lizzy answers. “I’m here for you, you know that?” She asks more seriously after a pause. 

“I know you are,” she says. 

“I mean, about everything. Like, say if you wanted to talk about that forlorn look on your face for example.” Lizzy’s grin leaves little doubt she knows exactly what’s going on in her sister’s head.

“There’s nothing to talk about really,” Hannah assures her.

Clearly Lizzy isn’t convinced. “If you say so.” 

“I better get going before I’m late for work. Talk to you later,” she says, hanging up the call once Lizzy replies.

It is the truth. The fact that it allows her to avoid more of Lizzy’s questions is just an added bonus. 

Work is a good distraction too from yet another anxious subject, even though not seeing Dean during her shift at Med always throws her off. In between patients, she pulls out her phone, her fingers hovering above Dean’s name on top of her text conversations when a notification comes in. She leans on the nurse’s station desk and taps it. A photo of Dean and Sean appears on her screen, the two of them smiling in his new apartment with countless boxes spread around them in the background. 

I think my son is a hoarder. My poor back is screaming. Send help.

She catches herself almost giggling before she answers. I’d offer my pregnancy pillow but we both know I love it too much to let it go. How’s everything going?

Good. We’re taking a break for lunch. Sean says hi by the way.

Another text comes through almost right away. How are you and the baby?  

We’re both fine. Baby misses you. She hesitates a second before hitting the backspace button. We miss you. She types instead. Tell Sean we said hi too. She adds before pressing send.

The three little dots at the bottom of the conversation start fluttering.

Will do. Then, Miss you too.

Her stomach flips. She puts her phone back in her lab coat pocket before she can dwell too long on whether Dean misses the baby or her or both.

As soon as she raises her head, she finds Maggie on the other side of the desk, a knowing grin on her face. “How’s Archer doing?”

There’s no missing the double entendre but Hannah refuses to take the bait. The heat rushing to her face is probably enough satisfaction for Maggie.

“He’s good. Got anyone for me?”

“Actually𑁋” Maggie starts.

She doesn’t get the opportunity to speak any further. A loud shriek resonates from the back of the ED.

“No needle!”

“Chloe, come back here!” 

Hannah barely has time to turn her head toward the commotion before a very short whirl of red hair runs past her. Hannah manages to catch the child but the little girl spins on her heels, lounging towards Hannah’s arm and sinks her teeth into it. She yelps and her grip loosens for only a moment but It’s enough for the child to slip through her fingers and disappear down the hallway. Frost appears on her tail.

“Which way?” He asks, hurrying in the direction Hannah and Maggie point to.

A young woman follows, a wailing baby in her arms. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Hannah lifts her hand. “I’m fine. She didn’t even break the skin.”

“She’s never done anything like that before but since Elijah was born, it’s been challenging.” the mother explains, gently bouncing the infant to soothe him. “And she really doesn’t like doctors.”

“I couldn’t catch up with her,” Frost pants as he joins them back. “I lost her by the elevators.” 

Chloe’s mother’s eyes open wide with terror. “What do we do? What if she gets out on the street?”

Maggie rests a hand on her arm. “I’ll call a code pink and get the hospital on lockdown. She won’t be able to leave.” She turns away to grab the closest phone.

Hannah turns to Frost. “I’ll help you look for her.” 

“What can I do? I can’t leave Elijah,” the woman asks, her voice shaking.

“Stay down here in case she comes back,” Frost says. “We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

The woman nods and Maggie, her call to security done, gently coaxes her to the family room.  

Hannah turns to Frost. “She can’t be that far, right?”

“Probably not, but little kids can be really good at finding hiding places. Security will do a sweep but we might as well start. The sooner we find her, the better.”

She doesn’t like the apprehensive look on Frost’s face. “What is she here for?” 

“Appendicitis. She seemed pretty stable,” he adds quickly. “But we didn’t have time to do an ultrasound yet. She freaked out when I mentioned an IV. You know the rest.”

“I’ll start on this floor, you take the next one?” 

Frost nods and off they go, each in their respective direction. It only takes four rooms before Lady Luck graces her with her presence. Frost wasn’t wrong though, she almost missed Chloe in the small supply closet dedicated to stocking up the ED. She’s about to leave the room when she heard the smallest shuffle. Sure enough, when she bends over, she’s able to spot two socked feet poking out from behind a box of disposable underpads.

Silently, she closes the door behind her, pulling her phone to text Frost her location before sliding it back into her doctor’s coat pocket.

“Chloe?” she calls softly. “Hi, my name is Hannah.”

Silence.

“I know you’re here. I can see your feet.” The toes quickly disappear from view as Chloe makes herself smaller. Hannah sighs. How is she supposed to convince this terrified little girl to come out? “Your mom’s really worried, you know.”

“I don’t care!” 

At least, she got Chloe to answer. Now what? “Why don’t you come out here and we can talk?”

“I don’t wanna talk. Mom said we could talk about no needles with the doctor and they still wanted to poke me.” 

Hannah bites the inside of her cheek. The absolute indignation coming out of this little girl might be adorable but laughing is probably not going to win her graces. What will though? Honesty maybe? “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fun but they only wanted to help. Your tummy hurts, right?” A hum of acknowledgment comes from behind the box. “We need to give you medicine to help that.”

“I want the drinky medicine. Not the pokey one,” Chloe counters.

“I wish we could Chloe, but the drinky medicine isn’t enough,” Hannah tries to explain.

“I don’t care!” Chloe retorts. “I don’t. Want. Needles! I don’t. Want. Needles!” She keeps repeating the words, her voice getting louder at every turn until she’s screaming at Hannah.

She tries calling the girl’s name to calm her down but the little girl refuses to hear her. Finally, the door opens behind her to reveal Frost.

“What happened?” The resident asked, his eyes darting from Hannah to where Chloe is still yelling.

Hannah presses a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know. I tried to get her to come out but I’m only making things worse.” She feels tears pressing behind her eyes as John crouches right in front of the box.

“Her Chloe, remember me? I’m Dr. Frost.” 

The girl stops at the new voice in the room. “Like the snowman,” she remembers.

John chuckles. “Something like that, yeah.”

“You’re a doctor. You’re gonna want to poke me too.” Her voice quivers. The poor girl sounds spent. “I don’t want to. It hurts worse than my tummy.”

“What if it didn’t hurt?” John offers, moving to sit cross-legged across Chloe’s hiding place.

“It always does,” Chloe replies right away. “Grown-ups always say it doesn’t hurt too bad but it always does.”

The resident leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Well, I have a very special cream I can put on your arm so that it won’t hurt at all.”

For the first time, Chloe’s head appears from behind the cardboard box. “You’re lying,” she says, her eyebrow scrunching.

“I never lie,” Frost replies, his right finger drawing a little cross above his heart.

The little girl glances up at Hannah. 

“It’s true,” Hannah assures her. “If Dr. Frost says it, then it’s true.”

Chloe seems to ponder whether to trust the two grown-ups in front of her. Frost stays quiet, waiting patiently for the little girl’s next move. Hannah doesn’t dare move, lest she makes things worse again. Eventually, after several torturous seconds, she crawls out from the hiding place. “My tummy hurts a lot now.”

“I know,” Frost says, rising to his feet. “Let’s go back to your room and we’ll make you all better, okay?”

When Chloe nods, he bends and picks her up. “Is my mommy mad at me?” She asks.

Frost shakes his head. “No. I think she’s just worried. She wants you to feel better too.”

Hannah opens the door to the closet, letting Frost carry Chloe out. When they pass her, the little girl looks at her. “I’m sorry I bited you,” she says, lowering her eyes to the ground.

“It’s all forgiven. I hope you feel better soon.”

She watches as Frost and Chloe disappear down the hallway. She leans back against the closet door. Thank god the resident showed up when he did. All she did was say wrong words after wrong words. One thing is clear, when it comes to children, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And why would she? She never had her mother to show her. Her father did the best he could but he mostly let Lizzy handle Matt and Hannah and Lizzy was a child herself.

And now, in two very short months, she’ll have a child of her own. How in the world can she be the mother her daughter deserves when she has no idea how to handle… well, all of it. She can learn to change diapers and prepare a bottle, but how is she going to figure out how to be a parent?

Chapter Text

The encounter with Chloe and her subpar attempt at reaching the little girl left her reeling internally for the remainder of the day.

She caught up with Frost right before she left Gaffney and he assured her the little girl was doing well in recovery, her surgery gone without a hitch. That was a relief but despite Chloe’s mother’s gratefulness to Hannah for finding her daughter, Hannah hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything she should have done better.

Once back home, she nibbled on some dinner. She tried going to bed but found herself unable to settle. As if she sensed her mother’s anxiety, the baby was restless too. Eventually, she gave up and went back downstairs, wrapping a thick cardigan over her flannel pajamas. She turned on the TV in the background but she’d be hard pressed to say which rerun is currently airing.

By the time Hannah hears Dean’s key turn into the front door lock, she’s sitting on the couch, legs gathered up underneath her, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, the only light in the room coming from the screen and a small lamp on a side table.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I didn’t expect you to be up. Everything okay?” He frowns at her, his eyes roaming over her frame like he’s trying to assess her for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I couldn’t sleep.” She smoothes a hand over her round stomach. “Little Bean is wide awake too,” she explains. 

It’s technically the truth, even if it’s only half the reason she’s awake.

Dean drops his bag by the front door, shedding his shoes and coat before walking over and sitting next to her. He raises one hand before his eyes flicker to her face. When she nods, he lays it gently over the bump. Right on cue, a foot kicks his palm. 

“You got to let your mom get her beauty sleep.” Dean says, leaning slightly over Hannah’s stomach. 

He looks back at her, eyes warm, twinkling with mirth… and maybe something else? They stay motionless, eyes locked, Dean’s thumb gently stroking the bump over her pajama top. Her stomach does a flip and it has nothing to do with the baby this time. No, she’s suddenly still as can be.

“How did you do that?” She asks, clearing her throat when her voice comes out a little hoarse.

Dean looks confused. “Do what?”

“She’s been rolling around almost non-stop for two days and all it takes is your voice and she falls asleep.” She can’t stop looking at the ocean-blue eyes staring back at her. She can see the moment Dean understands what she means. “It’s like she needed to know you were here. She missed you.” We both did, she almost adds.

His head turns back towards her belly but his eyes keep darting back to her. “I missed you too, honey,” he says, his voice low and deep.

She could almost swear he’s not just talking to their daughter. She hears her breath hitch and forces it out in a long exhale, trying desperately to ignore the jolt of electricity coursing through her. It’s all in her head though. She knows the biology of it all. More blood volume during pregnancy means she’s more likely to be flushed, as evidenced by the heat she feels in her face. It also means she’s getting aroused more easily. Apparently, all it takes is Dean’s voice dropping an octave to send blood pulsing between her legs. 

She readjusts herself on the couch and Dean retracts his hand, sitting straighter next to her, his upper body angled so that he’s still half-facing her. Part of her wants to grab his hand and puts it back on her. Part of her wants to grab him and𑁋

Instead, she plasters her hands firmly on each side of her, willing her raging hormones to stillness once again. 

“How was the drive from Madison?” She asks, desperate to break the loaded silence between them.

“Fine,” he answers. “The benefit of leaving after dark is that I avoided rush hour.” His eyes narrow slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. as if he’s trying to read her mind. “How was your day?” 

Her mind flashes back to the supply closet and Chloe’s screams as Hannah tried to calm her down. 

“What happened?” Dean asks. She must have hesitated just a beat too long… or maybe he can simply read her like an open book.

“It’s nothing really.” 

Her poor attempt at shrugging it off is cut short when Dean puts a reassuring hand on her knee. Good thing he can’t see the goosebumps his touch generates. “If you’re bothered by it, it’s not nothing.”

There it is again. The earnestness he reserves for her. His blue eyes are full of concern but he’s not prying, only giving her the space to confide in him.

“There was a scared little girl who ran away from the ED today,” she explains. “I found her hiding in a closet but I couldn’t get her to come out. The more I talked to her, the angrier she turned. If Frost hadn’t been here, I don’t know how we would have gotten her to surgery.”

“She’s okay now?” Dean asks.

“Everything went well. I just realized that as much as I know about pregnancy, I know next to nothing about what comes after.” She lifts a shoulder, swallowing the dampness gathering behind her eyes. 

A small smile lifts the corner of Dean’s mouth. “You and every new parent in the history of humankind.”

“Except most people at least had some kind of example of what it looks like. I never knew my mom. My dad was…” she sighs. “He tried. He really did but he was stuck between his grief and working 80 hours a week to provide for us.”

“You had Lizzy,” Dean volunteers. 

“She was a child. Don’t get me wrong, she did as well as she could and I’m grateful for it but she was a little girl trying to care for two small children. It wasn’t exactly healthy. How do I…” She hesitates, unsure how to voice the question in her head. “How do I make sure I don’t fail her?” She asks finally, her right hand instinctively finding its place on her stomach. 

Dean’s smile turns lopsided. “If you figure out the answer, let me know. I had two parents and a decently happy childhood. That didn’t stop me from making mistakes after mistakes with Sean. With Leanne too.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring.” 

“Thing is, no one really knows how to be a parent. You just… become one. You’re going to mess up a few times in the process, everybody does, but I don’t doubt our daughter is in good hands. She’s gonna love you.” 

He stops there but for a second, it almost sounds like there is more lingering after those words. He stays quiet though. Probably just another trick of her imagination.

She wraps her fingers around his hand, still laying on her leg. “She’s going to love you too.” The image hits her. Dean with their little girl in his arms, talking softly to her, rocking her to sleep. “You’re gonna be a good dad,” she murmurs, her voice thick with the tears she’s struggling to keep inside.

He snickers. “That part, I’m less confident about.”

“Don’t do that again,” she counters immediately. “Don’t take what happened in the past and think you’re doomed to repeat it. I know you, Dean. I know the person you’ve become. Do you really believe I’d be here right now if I thought for one minute you’d willingly hurt our child?”

“I never thought I’d hurt Sean either,” he confesses, lowering his gaze. “I abandoned him. I abandoned them both.”

“You’re not the same man you were back then.” Hannah squeezes his hand, forcing him to look back at her. “Just like I’m not the same person I was five years ago. You said it yourself, we’re not going to be perfect. If you don’t expect it from me, you shouldn’t expect it from you, okay?” She waits for his nod before she continues,a teasing grin on her lips. “Maybe we just try to not make mistakes at the same time.”

He chuckles and the weight seems to lift off both their shoulders. “Deal,” he answers. 

His thumb starts mindlessly rubbing the base of her wrist and her eyes drop to her lap. Somehow, their fingers have become intertwined. How can such a small gesture feel so loaded all of a sudden? She can’t even bring herself to pull her hand away from the warmth of his. When she raises her head again, he’s right there, his eyes boring into hers like he’s searching for answers she doesn’t have.

The air between them is growing thicker by the minute and she nearly lets it. Her entire body is screaming at her to give in and it’s almost enough to quiet her brain. 

Almost.

“Speaking of being responsible parents,” she starts, gathering every ounce of strength she possesses to detangle her fingers from his and pull her hands back to her side. His leaves her knee as well. “Lizzy reminded me I should sign up for prenatal classes. She offered to come but I thought I’d ask you if you wanted to. No pressure, of course.”

“Of course I’ll be there.” There is no hesitation in his voice. “Unless...” His voice trails off.

She shakes her head. “I’d like that.” She gets up from the couch before she gets caught up in another moment. “I should go to bed. We can figure out the details tomorrow, right?” 

He seems slightly taken aback by her sudden move but he only nods, wishing her goodnight.

She lays awake for a long time, hearing Dean’s footsteps as he makes his way to his room a half hour later. She wonders if moving in with him was the wisest choice. It’s the best thing for their daughter, she knows it, and she loves being around him. A little too much. 

If her body could stop betraying her, begging for his touch, it would just be a lot easier.

***********

The moment he opens his eyes, he knows he’s in hell. To be fair, he’s felt it coming the last couple of days. Nothing really significant, a little tingle in the back of his throat, a bit more fatigue than usual. His body was slightly more achy than usual after yesterday’s shift but it was easy to ignore all those symptoms. 

Not so much the case this morning. 

He must have gotten encased in concrete some time during the night because it takes tremendous effort to even lift his hand to shut off the alarm. He pushes the cover away and regrets it instantly. His bedroom isn’t even cold 𑁋the furnace is set to kick in half an hour before his alarm so the house is at a comfortable 70 degrees by the time anyone is up𑁋 but a deep shiver runs across his entire body. He understands why as soon as he pulls the cover back over him. They’re damp. So is his skin. He’s been sweating all night. 

That’s not good.

He needs to get up. Start his routine. 

Bed.

Run. 

Shower. 

Breakfast. 

With Hannah.

He smiles. That’s indubitably the best part of his morning. Maybe he can just skip to that part.

“Dean?” 

Hannah’s voice brings him back to consciousness. When did he fall asleep?

A hand touches his shoulder, cautiously shaking him. “Dean? Are you okay?”

He peels his eyes open. Is it possible for eyelids to hurt? The sun is already piercing through his curtain and there’s more than enough daylight already to make out her face. 

“What are you doing here?” He mumbles. He curses himself silently. Why does he always sound like such a grouch? 

“I came downstairs and you weren’t up. I got worried.”

She was worried about him? His gaze focuses on her face, bent over him. There’s a deep line between her eyebrows. Her skin looks so soft there. He wonders what it would feel like under his fingers. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Hannah asks.

He’s not fully aware of the fact he’s tracing the line until he feels it deepen under his index finger. “You really are worried.”

Hannah places the back of her hand over his forehead. He closes his eyes at the cool touch, an appreciative hum rising in his throat. 

“You’re burning up. Don’t move,” she orders.

He watches her as he stands and leaves the room. Her absence somehow forces his mind to fully emerge from his half-asleep feverish daze. By the time she comes back, thermometer in hand, he’s managed to sit himself up on the side of the bed.

“I thought I told you not to move.”

“I’m okay,” he mumbles. 

“You’re not,” she counters.

Her voice is stern but her features seem more relaxed now that he’s actually fully conscious and talking. She sits next to him, pointing the contactless thermometer to his forehead. “103.”

Well, that explains why he’s feeling like shit. 

“What symptoms do you have?” Hannah asks. 

She barely waits for his response before she starts prodding at him, checking his neck for swollen lymph nodes.

“I’m just a little achy, bit of a sore throat. It’s nothing.”

“It’s hardly nothing,” she says, her hands covering his cheek as she checks his eyes for any signs of anything more serious. God, this feels good. His eyes close out of his volition. “I think you have the flu.”

The flu. Of course. How fogged is his brain that he didn’t think of that? Alarm bells ring. His eyes shoot open. “You shouldn’t be here.” He grabs her wrists and pushes them away from his. “I don’t want you to get sick.” 

He rises to his feet suddenly. Unfortunately, his brain has decided the world is now a turntable and it only takes two steps before he starts to wobble. Hannah catches him at the same time he steadies himself with both hands on her shoulders. 

“I, unlike another doctor I know, got my flu shot. I’ll be fine,” she assures him. 

“Work𑁋” he protests but she doesn’t let him go any further.

“Dean, you can barely stand on your own two feet, you’re not going anywhere,” she says as she helps lower him in the armchair next to her bed. “Your shirt is soaked. You sit here, I’ll get you something dry and change your bed.” 

She walks away and opens drawers, looking for the one he keeps his T-shirts in.

“You don’t have to𑁋” he starts, trying to stand again. Surely if he goes slower, he’ll be fine.

She spins on her heels, facing him. “Dean Archer, I swear if you even think about getting up, I will tie you down to your bed.”

He plops back down. Though, to be fair, the image her words elicit isn’t half-bad. “You know,” he mutters as she rummages through his clothes. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’ve definitely found your mom voice.”

Hannah squints at him. “What did you just say?” 

“Nothing.”

She’s trying to look offended but the sparkle in her eyes tells a different story. “That’s what I thought,” she says, an amused smile twitching on her mouth.

She finally finds what she’s looking for, as well as fresh bedding. Even seven and a half months pregnant, she’s remarkably fast. Or maybe it’s just that his eyelids are heavy and he misses part of it. When she’s done with his bed, she walks back to him. 

“Here, let me help.” 

She pulls his damp shirt over his head. One would think the graze of her knuckles on his chest would get lost in his feverish stupor but he relishes every single jolt of electricity her touch sends coursing through his body.

“Let’s get you back in bed,” she says softly, wrapping one arm around his back as he gingerly gets to his feet, left with no other choice than to wrap his own arm around her shoulders.

He suddenly wishes his bed was in another room. Maybe in another state entirely. Her body plastered against his side feels too damn good. Why can’t they ever be like that?

“You feel nice,” he sighs. He probably shouldn’t say things like that but for the life of him, he can’t remember why not. 

She chuckles against him. “That’s because you’re warmer than the surface of the sun. I must feel like a cooling blanket.” She helps him lie down again. “I’ll be right back. This time, I better find you where I left you,” she warns.

She’s gone all but five minutes and he still misses her. Craves her presence. Maybe Hannah is his own addiction. 

“Dean?”

Damn him, he fell asleep again. When he opens his eyes, Hannah’s leaning over him, sitting on the side of his bed. Her hair is framing the side of her face, dangling towards him like golden waterfalls. The smell of her shampoo wafts in the air around him. Coconut and some kind of flower he’d never be able to identify. He lifts a hand 𑁋it’s worth the pain𑁋 and threads his fingers through the silky strands, tucking it behind her ear. It’s just as soft as he remembers.

He becomes fascinated by her lips. They part slightly at his touch. Unfortunately, she grabs his hand with hers and gently pushes a glass of water in it.

“You need to take this,” she says as he lifts himself into a half-seated position. She wraps an arm around his shoulder to support him. “It’s just some Tylenol for your fever.” He does as instructed, plopping back down on the pillow as soon as the pills have disappeared. Hannah places the half-empty glass on his bedside table, grabbing something else he can’t quite make out. “This should help too.” 

The cold damp washcloths she wraps around the back of his neck startles him at first but he soon rolls to his left side, giving Hannah more access to press the terrycloth material against his skin. He finds himself facing the side of her, transfixed by the rounded curve of her stomach. His fingers reach for it before he understands what he’s doing. Almost immediately, an elbow knocks against his hand.

“Hey you,” he whispers, shifting closer.

Hannah leans her back against his headboard, swinging one leg onto the bed as the baby continues to move under his palm. “She’s been rolling around since 5am.”

“She’s a morning person,” he says. He wants to hold onto this moment, with Hannah in his room, on his bed, their daughter bringing them closer. 

“Just like her dad.” He can hear the tenderness in her voice. She may have some doubts about her capabilities but he doesn’t. She loves their daughter already. So does he. He loves her mom too. His musings are interrupted by Hannah’s hand, joining his on her belly. “She always calms down when you talk to her. She’s definitely going to be Daddy’s girl.”

It’s amazing how easily he can picture that. How he can see this little person like she was already in his arms. The perfect mix of Hannah and him. She’s not even born and she already has him wrapped around her tiny little finger. “She needs a name.”

“You’re right. We’ll start talking about that when you’re feeling better.” She removes the washcloth, now warm from his body heat. Gently, she strokes the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair. “You should sleep. You need rest,” Hannah murmurs as she moves to stand. He barely contains a whimper of disappointment when she removes her hand from his scalp.

He tightens his hold on her. “Don’t go.” He doesn’t care if it crosses boundaries.  “Let’s talk now.” As sore and weary as he feels in this moment, having them both next to him just feels right and he doesn’t want to let go yet. 

She relaxes against the head of the bed, lifting her other leg to join the first one on top of the covers. “Any ideas?”

He’s more awake now, whether the medication is kicking in or Hannah’s presence on his bed jolts his brain into awareness, he isn’t sure. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to name her after your mother?” 

He looks up at her. Her features have gone soft, overwhelmed by his offer. “That’s very sweet. I thought about it too at first but then I realized… Her name doesn’t have a special meaning for me. She was my mom but she wasn’t,” she explains. “Does that make sense?” 

He gets it. “Lizzy was the one who cared for you.”

“Exactly. Even when things got complicated between us, she was still that person for me, you know?” He nods. “ So what do you think about Elizabeth as a middle name?” She asks. 

“It’s a good name, I like it. Middle name only?” He wonders. Elizabeth wouldn’t be a bad first name. Maybe not his first choice, but if she wanted it, he’d be more than okay with it.

She shakes her head. “She doesn’t feel like an Elizabeth.” 

He drops his gaze to her stomach where his thumb is tracing circles over her shirt. Her hand is right next to his again. “You’re right,” he realizes. “She doesn’t.” 

“How about your mom? Do you want to name the baby after her?”

He falls in love with her a little more for offering. “My mom’s name was Mildred,” he deadpans.

“Or maybe not,” she cringes. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he chuckles, wincing as the sound racks against his sore throat. “Any other ideas,” he mumbles. His eyelids are growing heavier despite his best efforts. Whatever burst of energy he had earlier is completely gone.

“None as catchy as Mildred,” she jokes. Her fingers are back at the nape of his neck, softly massaging his scalp. 

He feels himself starting to drift away. He resists it for a few more seconds, worried she might leave but when she doesn’t move, he finally allows her touch to lull him to sleep, his hand still resting over her belly. 

He could spend the rest of his life like that.