Chapter 5

The prayer ended without my notice. There are two sets of arms around me. I realize that of all things, I fell asleep which jolts me awake. The arms and the corresponding soothing voices belong to Mom and Peter. It's daylight already. Amanda hands me a cup of coffee. I hold her hand for a second before I take it.

"Ok," I say after two or three sips, "What'd I miss?"

"Not much." Peter stretches. "The answer to every question is "stable for now but let's wait and see."

"Fuck."

"Oh yeah. Been sayin' that a lot tonight."

"Where's she?"

"Which she?" Mom asks quietly.

"Ame!" I snap, "What the fu-" then I stop cold, "A girl? We have a girl?"

"One of each."

I grab Mom and hug her 'til she hollers. It's like sunshine. I'm a Father. I have a little girl. And a son. The next McElroy. "Can I see 'em?" I jump up and find a nurse. Peter is right behind me to hear the nurse saying how sorry she was and directing me to the Doctor - who is off shift.

"Alex." His voice stops me before I can start a rampage. "Breakfast. Now."

For a moment, I contemplate punching him first. He doesn't understand. He doesn't have kids - he's not married. He's been so...

He's been so wrapped up in taking care of my life that he's never had time for his own. Now he has Trina and Trina's kids. He understands. I let myself fall into his arms and he holds me. He gives me a couple minutes then gives me a light shake.

"Come on, pull it together. Fag."

I laugh - or cry, I'm not sure which - and punch his shoulder, "Asshole." We go get Mom, Amanda and Foster and go scrounge some food in the cafeteria. Only the self-serve is open so there's not much. We spend most of the meal complaining about how bad the food is. It's about an hour or so but I begin to feel a little less ragged. And a little more focused. I have a phone. I pull it and call Ame's doctor.

He sounds like I woke him, "I wanna to see Ame. I wanna see my kids. Put 'em in any order you like but I wanna see 'em now." I glance at the worried faces around me, "An' the family. They need ta see 'em too."

He sighs deeply. "I'll meet you on the 5th floor."

When we get there, he looks like I woke him, "You look like shit." I offer as a greeting.

"I've got rotten patients." He says with a sour look at me. He asks the nurse at the desk for Ame's chart then reads and yawns as we walk down the hall.

He taps lightly on a door before opening it into a room with Ame, IV'd, asleep on the bed. I take her hand, kiss her cheek, and feel her warmth. She's too pale and her breathing is too labored - but it's hers. No machines. Mom asks all the right questions about what happened; I just sit with her. Amanda sits on the other side.

"Thank you." I say softly.

"Your welcome. For what?"

"Ame told me she asked you to, uh, take care of them if, you know, something..."

"Oh. Yeah, well, I didn't really - I mean, I knew nothing would happen. So it didn't really matter what I said."

"Yeah. But she wanted to hear yes, so. Thank you."

A nurse struggles into the room and Amanda moves aside to allow her to poke and prod my poor Ame some more. She winces and wakes slowly.

Her eyes are still beautiful but glazed and clearly not focused. "Good morning." I say softly.

"Oww. Bitch." She mutters. I smile. Identity confirmed. I stroke her cheek and she turns toward me, "Alex?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Did I do it?"

"Yeah. Twins. One girl, one boy."

"By myself?"

"Just you, Amelia, just you."

"Where are they?"

I hesitate, "They're sleeping." I kiss her cheek, "I'll bring 'em down when they wake up. You go on back ta sleep." She's halfway asleep already. I kiss her hand and her cheek and pull the covers over her shoulder. Peter's right behind me when I stand up, which is a good thing. I don't care if anyone questions how he's holding me, I'm glad of his support right now.

We all leave her room and file into an empty room across the hall. "That was the easy one, I'm afraid." Her Doctor says. "The good news upstairs is that the babies are both alive and stable. But they're both under weight -"

"Babies in our family run small." Amanda cut in "My Brittney was only five pounds, nine ounces."

"And Alex was SGA himself." Mom adds.

"These two are small." He says softly, "The boy's five pounds even, the girl's four pounds, eleven. Now I'm not gonna lie to you - that's bad. I've seen worse but that's bad. There are" he hesitates, "Some developmental problems."

"What kind of developmental problems?" Peter asks for me.

"I'm talking physical. They're small and they're premature."